The Thirty-Six Stratagems of Wáng Jìngzé

Chapter 4

Deck the Tree With False Blossoms

"Keelah, Shepard!"

Tali's voice jerked Shepard out of her datapad trance. She had read the same sentence five times already. She snapped awake, one hand instantly grasping her sidearm, eyes scanning the room for danger.

"What? What is it?"

The quarian grabbed her by the hand, hauling her to her feet. "You have to see what just arrived from Liara!"

"God, Tali, I thought we were under attack."

Shepard traipsed after her friend, unable to keep up the pace. It had been a very, very long month. Wrex had been the first of many meetings, and the best of them. In between arguing the point with people of every shape size and colour she actually had a war to plan. The geth and rachni were already setting up scouting posts in the far reaches of the galaxy.

This whole admiral thing was hard. There was a great confusion about what to call Shepard, now that she had officially resigned as both commander and Spectre, unable to command any respect in the Terminus if she was seen as just a Council henchman. Liara's PR campaign was almost as trying as the military one.

They'd docked at Illium less than an hour ago, Liara's team had organised the ship to be repainted to reflect their new allegiance while they were on the ground, and apparently sent some gifts as well.

Tali dragged her into the CIC, where a stack of boxes sat. Some of the crew were already ferreting through them, pulling leather and cotton from the folds of tissue paper within.

"Oh, God," Shepard groaned. "I thought she was kidding about getting us uniforms."

"This one is yours," Tali handed her a box, then dragged a larger box out from under the console, struggling with bow legs to move the weight. "And I think this one is your hardsuit."

Shepard tentatively opened the first box. Uniforms couldn't hurt – at least she wouldn't be wearing Cerberus colours everywhere. But if Liara hadn't been joking about the asari dancer/commando combination, she was going to fly straight to Hagalaz to kick some ass. She didn't pick it up right away, her hands stilling as the tissue paper revealed the left breast of a thick silk polymer affair.

A logo was embroidered in the fabric, shining silver against the black.

A shepherd's crook.

She looked up and saw Kasumi, Jack, Jacob and Tali all handling their own uniforms. They all smiled back at her, Kasumi holding up her new uniform with a look of undisguised glee. They were flying under her banner now. Not the Council, or the Alliance, or even Cerberus. She had an entire crew of Shepard loyalists.

For a brief moment she nearly teared up, but quashed the urge. It was just a stupid logo. Nothing to get emotional about, and she was sure that Liara would kill her enthusiasm soon enough. With a deep breath she pulled the uniform out of its packaging in one smooth movement, ready to survey the damage.

"Oh, Liara, you bitch," she hissed under her breath.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was still undeniably a catsuit. She let out a bark of laughter at the asari dancer neckline. Although this wouldn't show quite as much, the gaping upside down triangle neckline and the sheen of the fabric was a clear parallel. Miranda would be thrilled. At least the shoes weren't high heels.

A note fluttered to the bottom of the box and Shepard picked it up. T'Soni had better have a good explanation for this.

Shepard, did you know that drell find the lower back a very erotic area?

-SB

Shepard widened her eyes and grasped at the new uniform, whipping it around. No back panel. The small of her back would be completely exposed. It wasn't outrageous or immodest,. Except, apparently, to a drell.

After staring for a few seconds she started to laugh. The others looked at her like she was a madwoman, but she couldn't stop laughing. Through her shaking she managed to get her omni-tool open and type a quick message.

You will pay for this. And so will Feron for his complicity.

It took only seconds for her tool to beep with a reply.

You can thank me later.

When did Liara develop such a cruel sense of humour? Shepard stilled her laughter, though she couldn't keep the smile from her face, and looked up at the crew.

"Alright, since Liara's throwing money at us we may as well give her the satisfaction. Everyone get changed. EDI, tell the rest of the crew that we have new uniforms."

"Yes, Shepard."

She took the elevator up to her room and stripped off, eyeing her new suit suspiciously. No underwear if she wanted to avoid a pantyline. The fabric was soft, expensive, something she'd eyed for her undersuit many times but had always dismissed as an unnecessary cost. She could only guess that the point of this fiasco was that she could simply wear her hardsuit over the top of her uniform rather than having to do a full change whenever she needed to switch. Practical and convenient, but she wasn't going to admit that.

The too-tight pants dance was the only method of forcing the suit on. Every inch of material was spray-on formfitting, the buckles and straps seemed more for a false sense of modesty than any practical concerns. She pushed her arms through the short sleeves, stretching the suit over her upper body and arranging her breasts to allow the zipper passage. If Joker was watching this, she was going to kill him.

Finally she affixed the neck and the last of the buckles, feeling like she'd just finished some sort of wrestling match. Wow. This was... supportive. Shepard wiggled from side to side experimentally, the suit holding her in place perfectly. She could feel a cold breeze on her back and ran a hand down the bare skin. No more chocolate cake for her. Ever again.

The suit was breathable and easy to move in. She was ready for a full gymnastics routine, but the final test was the mirror.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at her reflection. Damn. She raised her arms above her head, watching the smooth lines of her waist and bust move with the fabric. She turned, looking at the bare patch on her back. Her hair was up in a military-neat bun, and the whole effect was sleek and professional. She was looking fine.

Alright, maybe she wouldn't have to actually kill Liara. Not that there would be any admission that she liked this outfit, there just wouldn't be any murder.

Her sidearm – the only weapon she carried to diplomatic negotiations – fit neatly against her hip along with a few spare ammo packs. There were hooks and harnesses if she wanted be fully armed and for some reason wasn't in possession of her hardsuit. Liara had thought of everything.

With one more twirl in front of the mirror, she had to go be a captain again.

It was nearly time to meet with the Matriarchs, or the few who had been willing to listen. She could use a few asari commando units on her side. They were perfect for strike teams, near vital in removing husks and avoiding seeker swarms. The more she could get from the Matriarchs the less she'd have to pull from Eclipse.

The most frustrating thing with all this was how dark they were running. She had a very rudimentary plan on how to protect the Citadel, but if it fell then any information housed in any electronic format would be compromised. All of her planning could go to waste with a single unprotected terminal. So every person had to be met face to face, no updates could be given to anyone whose allegiance hadn't been bought and paid for, and even then they would have to be in the most primitive form of code, with silly names like Operation: Canary, to prevent the Reapers deciphering it.

The first point of attack was to stop thinking in electronic terms. Names and concepts with sentimental value would be baffling to the Reapers, giving the organics an edge. This whole war would be fought on old-fashioned terms.

The great problem was convincing people to give up their stuff when all she could say was that somewhere, maybe, there might be an army, and the resources to support that army, possibly with an ingenious plan to back them up. Perhaps. It was a hard sell.

She nearly bumped into Kasumi as she stepped onto the CIC.

"Shep!" The thief grinned at her. "Wow."

"You're one to talk. I didn't know you had skin below the neck. I was beginning to wonder if you were actually a quarian in disguise."

Kasumi wore a similar outfit to her own. Except, Shepard noted grumpily, that her back was entirely covered. Did Liara think Thane's affections were so fleeting that he'd follow just any bare back around? She made a mental note to ask the Broker next time she saw her.

"Don't get all defensive, I think it looks great. You've been stuck in those shapeless sweats long enough to forget that you even own a pair of hips." Kasumi gave her a peacemaking smile.

"Sorry, I'm a little on edge."

"Don't worry about it." The thief backed slowly away from her. "By the way, nice back."

Kasumi had cloaked and vanished before Shepard could choke her to death, so instead the captain took the hit with stoicism and surveyed the CIC. Miranda had slipped her perfect self into the new suit like a second skin and Shepard suddenly felt self conscious, wondering if she had love handles. She was a big eater. Biotics had to be. She discretely poked the padding at her sides and realised that she actually had forgotten that she owned hips.

Garrus walked by her and gave her a nod. Her hands flew from her sides, worried that he'd caught her assessing herself. He wore new black armour, the shepherd's crook embossed over his heart. This was kind of neat. They looked like a real crew.

She thought Tali looked the most striking of anyone, the usually purple patterns of her hood were now silver on black, the silk shimmering under artificial light. Where the other women showed skin she instead had interlocking silver plates. Even her mask had changed colour.

Shepard choked on a laugh when she saw Thane. Apparently Liara approved of his look, because his clothing was unchanged aside from the crook on his shoulder. The outfit looked a little newer, fewer scuffs and scrapes, and a darker shade of black, but otherwise the same. His eyes raked her up and down once, giving away nothing, and she was glad she had her back to the wall, because she really did have to talk with him.

Glued to the wall by her shoulders and hips, she beckoned him over. He complied without hesitation.

"Thane, have you heard anything from the hanar? I think they might have declared me krogan and decided to never speak to me again."

"Their politics are intricate, Shepard, it will take time. I'm sure they would have excommunicated me for associating with you by now if they thought you were... 'krogan'." The tiniest quirk of his lips.

"Alright, just let me know if it seems like they're taking too long. We can't afford to lose them as well as the elcor." She started toward the bridge, Thane by her side, never looking below her neck. "Do you think they'll come around?"

"Forging alliances can be a complex business, particularly when the Council aren't standing with you. The mere fact that you've already recruited so many allies in the space of a few weeks may have raised your expectations. Give it time."

She nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. Always the voice of reason. "I'm seeing Aria soon. If she agrees to the plan, I want to get Kolyat off the Citadel. If you send him a note about it now it might soften him up to the idea."

"I would... appreciate that, siha. Captain Bailey may not appreciate it as much."

"Leave Bailey to me. A lot of people on this ship have family in Council space, I'm going to save as many as I can." There was a beat of silence between them and she thought she felt something like nerves, she couldn't quite meet his eye. "I think he'd like to see you again. I think you being part of a real army could be a good example for him. Might set him on a better path."

For a heartbeat she thought she'd been too personal, too judgemental, then he gave his little half smile. "I've told you before the difference between a true professional and a man in custom armour."

"Oh, come on, this is better than just custom armour, this is a custom unitard. And I sure as hell better be wearing it for more than a game of toy soldiers."

That rumbling in his chest brought a grin to her face. He shifted his weight. "Yes, you look very... suitable."

She laughed outright. "I knew you had a sense of humour. You're just good at keeping it hidden. Which must be easy when your outfit leaves room for more than a tan. I don't know what Liara was thinking, dressing us like Chora's Den dancers."

Thane made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, quickly smothered by his hand. She baulked. She'd never heard that sound before, and it sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh. She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was really laughing at her for being dressed like a very belligerent stripper.

"Siha..." He had to pause, pressing his mouth to his hand again to keep his composure. "I think Dr. T'Soni might have based your outfit off an asari Matriarch, not a dancer. It was the dancers who appropriated the style from the Matriarchs, the highest symbols of power and sexuality in asari culture."

"... Oh." Now that she thought about it, Benezia also wore the inappropriately low cut, upside down triangle neckline. Breasts probably weren't a big deal in a society where everyone was female. Alright, yeah, he was right to laugh at her about that. "So, if you could not let the rest of the crew know that I'm an idiot, I'd really appreciate that."

"My lips are sealed."

"Thank you. Do you have any business on Illium or am I just keeping you hanging around the airlock for no good reason?"

"I have business, although I believe I have been ordered not to discuss it unless it is vitally necessary."

"Oh, I see. Well, guess we'd better stick to captain's orders."

Running dark was irritating. All official conversation was kept to minimum just in case a stray bug or security cam or eavesdropper was nearby. Then again it might have been the only thing keeping her sane; if she let them her crew would talk about nothing but the upcoming war.

Samara and Jack arrived together, and everyone studiously refused to look at Jack, who was ready to murder someone on days when she wasn't crammed into Miranda-esque attire. Shepard wondered if she'd find any comfort in the fact that they now depicted the very embodiment of asari power and sexuality. She doubted it. Though now she could see where Thane was coming from – Samara looked even better than Miranda, dignified and powerful. Maybe Shepard and Jack could set up some kind of gangly-people-in-catsuits support group. She was going to need it with all the curvaceous women on board looking so damn good.

"Everyone ready?" she asked.

"Shepard, you can't expect me to go out in public wearing this," Jack scowled.

"If I have to do it, so do you. Suck it up, princess. Any other objections? No? Great."

She hit the airlock controls and ushered everyone inside. Thane opened the far door like the paradoxically chivalrous man he was and Shepard opened up her omni-tool to get directions to the meeting place, examining the map as she walked past him onto the Illium docks.

The drell drew in a hissing breath through his teeth and Shepard froze, realising that she had just unthinkingly exposed her back to him. Play it cool, Shep.

She threw a nonchalant glance over her shoulder, pretending not to notice the dark, smouldering look in his eyes, or understand the reason for it. She just offered him her most innocent smile and continued on past the concierge, trying to ignore the way the back of her neck heated up, like hot hands caressing her skin.

She waited until she was well out of sight before letting a grin spread across her face, feeling like all her nerves were tingling. She'd never seen that look on his face before, hadn't thought he was capable of it. And now. Now she'd wear a pair of hotpants to a diplomatic meeting if it meant he'd give her that look again.

Samara and Jack surely noticed the skip in her step and the dopey smile, but mercifully said nothing.

Her omni-tool beeped and she flicked open her messages, finding a new note from Liara.

I said you could thank me later, Shepard. It's later.

Shepard whirled around and, upon spying the nearest security camera, made a special point of giving it the finger.

Still, the warm feeling that engulfed her made no move to go anywhere as she lost herself in the crowds of Illium.

Boys looking for love,

A young man needs violence,

Licking guitars, a little desperate.

Girls looking for love,

Their women dressed like violets,

Flicking cigars, a little desperate.

"The Others" - Dukes of Windsor