Dark Messiah
4. Dead Man's Secrets
The Normandy was an impressive ship, but James wasn't given the luxury of a tour. As soon as the ship was aweigh, he was frog-marched to the medical bay by Nanny Alenko and subjected to a full physical by a grey-haired doctor. The first thing she did was purse her lips and frown when he removed his shirt and she saw his myriad scars.
"If those injuries had been treated promptly with the correct dosage of medi-gel, they would never have left behind such extensive scarring."
"Triage isn't an important aspect of prison life, Doc," James told her. "I'm sure I'll receive a much higher quality of medical care under your expertise."
"I'd prefer it if you wouldn't get injured in the first place."
"Really? Then you're in the minority. You should have seen the death-glares the crew gave me on the way down here. You'd think I was personally responsible for killing their childhood pets or something."
"They don't trust you. They don't have any reason to. Perhaps if you gave them one, they'd be less inclined to wish you ill." She booted up her medical omni-tool and began scanning his body. James treated her to the most sincere smile he could muster.
"That's why I like doctors. They treat everyone like equals. I'm going to make a point of getting injured on every mission just so I have an excuse to come down here and talk to you."
"I think you'll find me a little old for your flattery, Mr Shepard."
"Please, call me James," he told her. "As for flattery… you'll have to forgive me. Six years on a prison ship tends to erode the social skills somewhat."
"Hmph. If you ask me, there's nothing wrong with your social skills at all," she sniffed. But there was a twinkle in her eye as she said it.
James Shepard's First Rule of Life in Combat: Get on the right side of your medic. If there was any chance of that person having their hands inside your guts at any point in your life, make sure you made a friend out of them first. He'd heard horror stories about vindictive doctors leaving behind little 'presents' inside patients they disliked. If a doctor liked you, they'd probably treat you faster, and give you better pain medication. If there was any one person on this ship that James wanted on his side, it was Doctor Chakwas.
And possibly the cook.
But that was a rule for another time.
Towards the end of the medical, Anderson and Hackett reappeared to stand beside Kaidan, who'd watched the whole thing with a feigned lack of interest. When Chakwas indicated she was finished, James put his shirt back on.
"How's our newest recruit, Doctor?" asked Hackett.
"Aside from some old scar tissue which I can't do anything about? He's in surprisingly good health, considering he just spent the last six years in a prison. No signs of malnourishment or dehydration, decent electrolyte levels, bone density ideal for man of his age and weight, well-defined musculature—"
"Yeah, I like to work out," James interrupted. "Two hundred push-ups every morning, followed by five-hundred sit-ups. Then fifty pull-ups on the bar the Suns were kind enough to fit in my cell once I promised not to try hanging myself from it. Even managed to do a bit of wrestling, every once in a while. Most guys really let themselves go when they're sentenced to life in prison, but I liked to keep a routine. Helped me maintain my perspective."
"Well, your routine has certainly helped," said Chakwas. "Although you'll probably have to do some work to get your cardio-vascular fitness levels back up to peak efficiency, you're otherwise fit for duty."
"Thanks, Doc. I really feel validated as a person."
"Would you excuse us please, Doctor Chakwas?" asked Anderson. "We have a few things to discuss with James before we reach the Citadel."
"Of course, Captain. Admiral."
Chakwas left, and James found himself once more in the company of Hackett, Anderson and Alenko. It was like having his own fanclub… of people who detested and looked down on him.
"Now that you're officially a part of this crew," said Hackett without preamble, "there are a few ground rules you need to be aware of."
"I know, I know. Don't leave the bathroom light on, don't feed the hamster after midnight, don't open the airlock door in space… I have been on a ship before, you know."
"For God's sake, just shut up and listen for once in your life," said Anderson.
James straightened up and pulled off a regulation salute. "There's a thought. If I'm going to be obeying your orders, shouldn't I have my old rank back?"
"You've not been reinstated into the military, Shepard," Hackett explained. The guy had the patience of a saint. Or a father. Probably one of those poor men who'd been cursed with five daughters. "You don't get your old rank back. You're masquerading as a Lieutenant Commander and a Spectre; that's more than enough. Now, whilst you're aboard the Normandy, there will be areas which are no-go for you. You aren't to enter the cockpit, and engineering is also off-limits. Whilst you're in the CIC, your access to terminals will be restricted. You won't have an account on any of the ship's computers, save for the one in the captain's private quarters."
James nodded along. Pretty standard stuff, and he'd expected no less. He absently patted his pockets, looking for a spare cigarette, then belatedly recalled that Grillix still had the packet.
Shit.
"Whilst your presence will be required on some missions," Hackett continued, oblivious to James' impending nicotine crisis, "you won't technically be calling the shots on them. When your presence is unavoidable, you will defer at all times to Lieutenant Alenko. He will do all the talking to anybody you might encounter, and he will personally command each mission."
James shot his hand into the air.
"Yes?" Hackett said, suppressing a sigh.
"What happens if he dies?"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Whilst you're aboard the ship, Lieutenant Alenko will be keeping a close eye on you. At the first sign that you're causing trouble or trying to renege on our agreement, he's been ordered to contact the Fifth Fleet so that we can send a team to bring you back to Earth and have you permanently incarcerated."
"Oh, that's why he was watching my medical? I thought he just wanted to see me with my shirt off." He turned to face Alenko, who was looking more and more unhappy with the situation by the minute. "I'm telling you now, you're not watching me piss. I had enough of my privacy invaded on Purgatory. I have to know a guy well before I share a bathroom with him."
"Is it too late to request that transfer, sir?" Alenko asked Hackett.
"Sounds like your nursemaid's getting cold feet, David."
Anderson turned to Alenko, excluding James from the rest of the conversation, and said, "Take him up to his room and lock him in there until we've made the stop at the Citadel and you're en route to Noveria."
"Aye, sir."
"Guess this is goodbye for now then, David," said James. He offered another over-the-top salute. "Auf wiedersehen. Bon voyage. Ciao."
"Just remember, Shepard," his old mentor replied, "space isn't quite as big as humanity first thought. I can be back aboard the Normandy in a matter of hours, if necessary. And if you get it into your head to try running, there's nowhere you can go that we can't catch you."
"Run?" James laughed. "Now why would I run? I get to play at being a Spectre. I get to play with guns. Embrace the violence, and all that. I thought you knew me, David?"
"Just get the hell out of my sight," Anderson growled.
Kaidan chivvied him out the door and towards the nearest staircase. The few glances James caught from the crew were frosty. No doubt those faces had smiled happily at his brother. Their commander. Their bloody self-proclaimed saviour and egocentric hero. Well, let them glare. It wasn't his fault Johnny had gotten himself killed. It wasn't James' fault he had to be here, playing at being somebody he never had been and never could be. Fuck the stupid crew and their stupid glassy stares.
Fuck 'em all.
o - o - o - o - o
You could slice the tension in the comms room with a knife and serve it in dishes. Kaidan had the seat to James Shepard's right, and Ashley to his left. That unfortunately meant that Wrex, Tali, Garrus and Liara were arrayed in front of Shepard like a judging panel, and Kaidan had a sneaking suspicion he'd been shunted into position of bailiff. He didn't even have to look at Shepard to feel the man's discomfort, which hadn't lessened after the introductions had been made.
"Nobody told me there were aliens on this crew," James said at last. He'd clearly found his brother's wardrobe and now lounged in his chair wearing an Alliance shirt and pants. His brother's boots fit him like a glove, despite them being big boots to fill. Watching him sit there, emanating arrogance and displeasure, Kaidan couldn't help but feel James Shepard just wasn't going to measure up regardless of Udina's plan. It was a stupid plan anyway.
"It's like the start of some crappy joke," Shepard continued. "A krogan, a turian, an asari and a… well, I have no idea what the hell you are… walk into an Alliance ship—"
"I am quarian," said Tali. If she was miffed beneath her mask, her voice gave no indication. Quarians were used to hostility.
"One of the folks who created the geth? Well, that's just fantastic."
"Commander Shepard felt my expertise would come in useful. He saved my life, and I am dedicated to helping bring down Saren."
A smile tugged at the corner of Kaidan's lips. It was hard not to like Tali; she was as honest and enthusiastic as they came. Which was surprising, because he'd always heard that quarians were thieves and scoundrels. He'd been forced to re-evaluate that belief as soon as he'd met Tali'Zorah nar Rayya.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Kaidan asked Shepard.
James shrugged his broad shoulders. "Lemme get back to you on that." He interlinked his fingers in front of him and cracked his knuckles. "So. What's on Noveria?"
"Noveria is a privately-chartered planet owned by the Noveria Development Corporation," Garrus explained. "A couple of dozen major companies have stakes in it, and it's not technically part of Citadel space. The planet's predominantly mountains and ice, and some pretty big science and tech companies have research facilities located—"
"Look, I didn't ask for a bedtime story," Shepard interrupted. "I don't need to know the finer details. Just tell me who or what I'm going there to shoot, and why."
"Do we have to take him with us?" Williams complained.
"The only reason Noveria's security let us land in the first place was because of Shepard's status as a Spectre," said Kaidan. He'd been expecting opposition, but not this soon. "Without James, we'll just be stonewalled behind bureaucracy. The ERCS know that the Alliance has no jurisdiction on their planet. Without Shepard's face we'll get to do nothing more than sit inside the Normandy twiddling our thumbs."
"For those of us who actually possess thumbs," James said, with a faux apologetic smile for Tali, Wrex and Garrus.
"Alenko," Wrex rumbled, "you need a third man for your team, and I won't take no for an answer. Last time I got left behind, and somebody ended up dead. Now it's time for a little payback."
"But Shepard promised me a place on the team," Liara spoke up. She didn't even flinch when Wrex glared at her; a sign of how determined she was to get her way.
"What's your interest in this, Blue?" asked James.
The asari lifted her chin. "My name is Liara." Then she shrank back into her chair, the momentary defiance gone. "As for my interest… my mother's voice was heard speaking on the same audio file which implicated Saren's involvement with the geth and his attack on Eden Prime. If she's involved, then I want to look her in the eyes and ask why."
"If anybody should go on this mission, it should be me," said Tali. "If there's even a remote chance that we may run into the geth there, then you need me on your team."
"Everybody calm down." Kaidan stood and took a step forward.
All eyes quickly fell on him. He was no John Shepard, but he couldn't let everything fall apart now, not after losing Jenkins, then Shepard… not after everything that had happened on Eden Prime. This was too important. The mission was too big for one man to shoulder alone. Countless humans were relying on the Normandy, and so was the rest of the galaxy, even if they didn't know it yet.
"Look," he continued, when he had everybody's undivided attention. "I know Shepard made a lot of promises… promises I want to try to keep, even though he's gone. The way I see it, the mistake he made when choosing the ground-team for Noveria was in picking a small group in the hopes of moving quickly and quietly. He wasn't expecting to meet with such resistance so soon, and I don't plan on making the same mistake again. I've lost three crewmates in the past week or so; two to early graves, and one to bureaucracy, and I'm not about to lose any more. This time, we're all going. We can all contribute. We work as a team, and we achieve our goals. That's all that matters."
"Aye aye, Lieutenant," Williams said immediately.
"Sounds like somebody took extra motivational speech-giving classes at the academy," said Shepard. He patted his pocket, then shook his head. "So. We head to Noveria, take out whoever killed my brother, find Liandra's mother—"
"Liara!"
"—and get her to spill the beans on this Saren character. That about sum it up?"
"That sounds about right," Kaidan agreed.
"Oh?" Shepard leant forward in his chair, shadows dancing across his face, giving it a more sinister cast. "Then why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything? For example, how'd Saren manage to gain control of the geth? And why would an asari be helping him? And if he hates humans so much, then why didn't he just launch a surprise attack on Earth? It's what I'd do, if I had a legion of synthetic soldiers at my command."
"Like you said, you don't need to know about the finer details. All you need to know that Saren is a threat not only to humanity, but to the galaxy itself. It was your brother's job to track him down and bring him to justice. Let me handle the rest."
"Sure. Okay. Just leave me out of your 'teamwork' speeches. I'm morally opposed to hypocrisy."
"That's an unfair accusation," Williams shot back.
"Not from where I'm sitting, sweetheart."
Ashley's eyes narrowed. The look she gave James could have melted a glacier. "Did you just call me sweetheart?"
But James ignore her. He pushed himself to his feet, fists clenched, face scowling. "Look at you all. Sitting here, playing at being heroes in your little ship, blindly groping your way, completely oblivious to how life really works. You're goddamn kids who were stupid enough to follow the biggest goddamn kid of all. I'll tell you this; it's a good job my brother died when he did, because sooner or later he would have got all of you killed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit in the dark, so that my geographical location has symmetry with my metaphysical place on this so-called 'team.'"
He left, and for a long moment silence reigned. Then, Williams cleared her throat.
"That guy is a major jackass."
"He does seem very hostile," Liara agreed.
"Maybe we should tell him about the prothean beacon, and the Conduit," said Garrus.
"No," Kaidan said immediately. "Absolutely not. Captain Anderson believes, and I completely agree, that no good can come from James Shepard—a man who is capable of as much evil as Saren—from knowing about the Conduit, or the Reapers. And that's final."
o - o - o - o - o
James paced the length of his newly inherited room, working off some of his energy. He wasn't pissed off at Alenko – not anymore. He'd learnt long ago not to let the little things bother him. Alenko was just doing his job like a good little jumped-up soldier boy, and there was a bigger picture to consider. Namely, how to get the hell out his new prison and find a way back to his much more important personal mission.
So much time had been lost on Purgatory. So many years of his life he wouldn't get back. Not that he particularly cared for those years, save for the fact that they'd kept him from fulfilling a promise he'd made almost fifteen years ago. This was his chance to get back on track. To make amends. And he had to move before the mission was over and he was trapped on Earth.
The computer on the desk, ignored during his previous exploration of the room and its various cupboards, now caught his attention. James slid onto the comfortable chair and switched on the screen. He was immediately presented with the Alliance's security-check page.
James smiled. "Well, Johnny-boy, let's see if you and I still think alike." His fingers skipped over the holographic keypad, spelling out TheresNoPlaceLikeHome#42. When he hit the return key the screen hung for a moment, then he was straight into John's account on the Alliance military's portal.
There were links in a menu down the left side of the screen, and one immediately caught his eye. It sat between Extranet Search and Saved Documents. He navigated over to Personal Logs and hit enter. There were a dozen or so, each neatly arrayed in date order, the newest files first. Without hesitation, he clicked the topmost file
"Noveria. It's our best lead. Why would Saren send Matriarch Benezia there? What is she looking for? I've asked Liara but she's been out of touch with her mother for so long…"
Boring. He skipped to the next file.
"I had the dream again. The same dream I've had every night since I was… I dunno… touched by the beacon?" Beacon? What the hell was a beacon? "Dream. More like a nightmare. But worse. Nightmares I can handle. God knows I've had enough of them. But this one… it's more real than anything I've ever experienced. More real than Eden Prime. More real than Virmire. More real than Mindoir." James felt his left hand curl into a fist, but he was compelled by some indescribable force to keep reading. "The worst part is… the ending is always the same. The reapers come, and civilisation ceases to exist. Fifty-thousand years of evolution, of progress… gone. Erased, as if it never existed. Or rather, almost never existed. The protheans were smart. The caches they left were undetectable by the reapers. Mars is proof of that. The beacon that gave me these goddamn visions is proof. Why won't the Council believe me? I can't let Saran find the conduit. I can't let him bring back the reapers. I won't let the cycle continue. It ends here. Now. This time it will be different. I'll make sure of it."
The log ended and James sat back in his chair. The ravings of a madman. Reapers? Conduit? Beacon? Cycle? What the hell had Johnny gotten himself into here? Whatever it was, it sounded big. Anderson and Hackett probably knew about it, along with the crew of the Normandy who were doing their best to keep it from him… but whatever it was, why weren't the Council taking it more seriously? Probably had their heads too far up their own asses to see the truth.
Feeling like he'd just stumbled across a mystery novel, James selected the next log.
"Damn, Therum was hot. Just finished up with Chakwas; she's given me something for the two lungfuls of hot dust I inhaled… note to self: don't do that again. It hurts like hell. Everyone else is okay. We got lucky; could have gone much worse. Liara seems to be settling in fine. She's shaken by what she's been through, and upset about her mom… wish I could say something to help, but she's got twenty years on me, and I'm not sure she wants to hear platitudes right now. It's strange… if she were human, she'd be pushing old age, but as far as asari go, she's little more than a kid. Guess that explains the wide-eyed expression she's been wearing ever since she came aboard. I don't know what it is, but there's something about her… her mannerisms, her outlook, her naïveté… she reminds me so much of Jasmine."
"You son of a bitch," James growled to his absent brother. "You don't get to say her name. You don't get to compare her to some blue-skinned whore. Not after what you did."
His finger hovered over the 'delete' button. With one tap of a virtual key he could rid himself of these logs forever. He could erase the last recorded thoughts of John Anthony Shepard. It wasn't as if anybody would care. Twenty years from now, these logs would still be classified. It wasn't as if they'd be preserved in a museum for future wannabe-Spectres to memorise and idolise. Nobody need ever know they had existed in the first place.
On the verge of pressing delete, he held back. There was one reason, and one reason alone, to keep these logs around. One day, no matter how long it took, James would find Jasmine. He would rescue her. He would bring her back here and he would show her these logs. And then Jasmine would know the depth of her elder brother's crimes. She would know that John had moved on with his life, after Mindoir. She would know that John had mourned her and left her for dead, a memory from his past to be placed like a museum piece, visited only when he felt nostalgic.
After he had rescued her, James would tell her exactly the hell he had been through to find her, the blood he had shed for her, the men he had killed for her, and he would show her these logs so that she knew he was the only one who had cared enough to keep hunting for her after the batarian slavers took her. She and he and mom… they would all be together again. These logs would prove Johnny was a traitor to his own blood. And after that, James would take care of mom and Jasmine. He would make sure they were safe. Nobody would ever lay a finger on them again, for as long as he lived.
But first, there was a lot to learn from these logs. Hating his brother even more than usual, James turned to the first entry.