4.
Kaidan's day doesn't start out any more or less strange than usual. He's awake at zero-five-thirty, feeds his cat, runs his regular three-mile route through the Presidium Gardens, and grabs a quick shower before he heads to his office.
Normal stuff.
Sure, when he looks at the plaque next to his office door, and sees the words 'Special Tactics and Reconnaissance' printed after his name it's still a little surreal, but it's been less than a week.
"Good morning, Major," his office VI says as he opens the door. "Your meeting with Councilor Anderson has been moved to sixteen-thirty. There are ten reports which need to be completed and routed today; the datapads are on your desk. You have eleven unread messages. Councilors Sparatus and Tevos have sent three each."
"If those two aren't complaining about something, they aren't happy," he says, switching his coffee maker on; while it sputters he notices that the ficus in the corner looks like it's a day closer to dying. The leaves still clinging grimly to the branches are a little yellow and seem to droop in defeat.
The VI ignores his remark. "Councilor Tevos seems very concerned about the relay technology which was stolen -"
"From the STG base," Kaidan interrupts, filling his coffee mug with water from the cooler on his shelf, dumping it into the ficus' pot. Not that he thinks it's going to help. The plant is terminal.
"And she should be worried," he continues. "We all should be. That much information? Someone's trying to figure out how to take a relay apart. I don't know if it's even possible, but you knock out one key relay and trade gets crippled."
The coffee maker beeps and he fills his cup, then spoons in powdered creamer. "What I want to know is why the salarians are being so quiet about this? You'd think they'd be screaming at anyone who'd listen."
"I am unable to compile a reply, based on your query," the VI answers. "Councilor Sparatus seems quite agitated as well."
"I'm sure." If Kaidan has to guess, Sparatus wants to send him out to investigate the problems the turians are having with their shipments coming out of the Nemean Abyss. A turian Spectre would be better, except there are rumors that humans are behind the attacks.
He doesn't place a lot of stock in it. Thirty years wasn't a lot of time; after Shanxi and the end of the war, there were plenty of bitter people on both sides who were eager to start rumors.
He sits down at his desk, toggling on his terminal screen, loading his mail. Six messages from the councilors. The usual spam that even advanced filters can't seem to eradicate. A note from Anderson, reminding him about their meeting. He sorts and deletes, making sure his calendar will alert him when it's time for the meeting.
It doesn't take long to lose himself in the stack of datapads on his desk, the endless paperwork. He doesn't remember Shepard signing form after form, but they'd all been a little preoccupied with a geth invasion and Saren and Sovereign.
He wishes he could talk to her again, gain a little perspective from her experiences. He'd always looked forward to their conversations on the SR-1, even though it wasn't entirely for professional reasons.
Not a good idea, thinking about her. Dealing with her dying had been hard enough. Horizon had opened old wounds. Now there were rumors going around that she was going to surrender her ship, turn herself in to the Alliance.
More rumors. These he hopes are true. The thought of her working for Cerberus...
He rubs his forehead idly with the back of his hand.
"Incoming message, Major," the VI says. "Marked 'urgent.' No routing information. Anonymous source."
"There's no such thing as an anonymous extranet message," he answers. " And they're all urgent."
Later, he'll be able look back and identify this as the point where things went from normal to what the fuck? because the VI is right: there is no routing information. The message is absolutely clean and anonymous.
He activates an additional firewall - no reason to download a virus that will lock up his system for the next week - then clicks on the header.
The message is short:
Congratulations on both your promotion and induction into the ranks of the Spectres.
You might find the attached video and data files interesting.
He reads the text file first, not quite comprehending. It's mostly medical jargon. Chemical formulas. He's a tech guy, and although he has a basic knowledge, he knows when he's out of his depth.
When he watches the video, everything clicks into place. He recognizes the STG lab as the one that recently got hit and lost critical tech. The salarians had provided a similar video from the raid.
What they hadn't shown was the krogan pacing behind the glass fronts of their cells. Or the way the attackers are clearly organized professionals, moving as a unit. Even though their armor is unmarked, their coordination and weaponry speaks of resources. Not a rag-tag group of mercs.
The final clip is from an outlying posting on the planet; a weather observatory if the quality of the video is any indication. Kaidan doubts the salarians even knew this vid existed; the enemy forces obviously hadn't realized they were being recorded, because they fly directly in front of the camera, giving a clear view of the side of each.
Three shuttles zip by. There's no mistaking the insignia on them: Cerberus.
"Shit." He leans back in his chair. Cerberus, again. And where did that leave Shepard? Was she involved?
He forwards everything to Anderson with a message of on my way, transfers a copy to a datapad, and heads for the elevator.
Anderson's office VI is an older model; slow and deliberate. While Kaidan waits, he taps the datapad against his leg. As if things weren't complicated enough, he feels the beginnings of a headache building around his L2. It's not a migraine, not yet, but it could head that way all too easily.
"Good evening, Major," the VI intones as the doors slide open. "The councilor has agreed to see you early."
As Kaidan enters the office, Anderson looks up from a report, one of dozens cluttering the surface of his desk. He doesn't look rattled by the information in the message, but he hadn't gotten to where he was by panicking.
"So, Major, besides this," he waves his hand at his terminal, "you're not having any problems adjusting to the new pay-grade, are you?"
Kaidan shakes his head as he crosses the room, stopping behind one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. He tries to give the same appearance of calm that Anderson is projecting. "No, sir. No problems other than the paperwork."
"Paperwork. I hear you there." Anderson chuckles, nodding at the clutter on his desk. "I'd like to tell you that it gets easier with practice, but it doesn't. Almost makes a person miss fighting geth."
"Almost," Kaidan says, nodding at the datapad. "Sir, the salarians lied to the Council. They didn't only lose relay tech. They lost the cure for the genophage."
"So those files make it seem." Anderson sighs, nodding. "And whoever has that could control the loyalty of the krogan people."
"When you show this to the council -"
"They're going to try to blame it on humanity in general." Anderson leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his waist. "It's going to start a shit-storm, but we can't keep it to ourselves. And because it's Cerberus on that video, I am going to recommend we send you to figure it out."
"I appreciate the confidence, sir. But..." Kaidan shifts, hesitates. Then, because it's Anderson, who understands, he says quietly, "Even though she's a Spectre, one of theirs, they might try to pin it on Shepard."
"Hm." Anderson sits forward again, gesturing at the chair. "Have a seat."
Kaidan tenses at the command. Nothing good ever follows 'have a seat'. Have a seat, is exactly whatAnderson had told him two years ago. After the rescue ship had come, after the pods had been collected and he'd waited with the other survivors for hours. Anderson had pulled him aside, told to have seat and had said, I wanted you to hear this from me, first. She's not coming back.
"Major?" Anderson's voice sounds slightly sympathetic. "She's fine."
The words relieve some of the tension in him, at least he can breath again. He nods and walks around the chair, sitting down on the edge of the seat, unable to relax against the back.
"If she wasn't there, they're not going to try to blame her for any of it," Anderson says. His tone becomes more formal, as though he's reading from an official record. "Commander Shepard surrendered the SSV Normandy to Alliance command approximately four hours ago. The ship's flight logs will be examined by technicians to determine her whereabouts for the last month."
It's like catching a concussive round in the chest. Kaidan opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, because he can't quite find the words he wants to say.
Even if he could have spoken, Anderson holds up a hand to prevent it.
"Tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred hours there will be an official on-board change of command, following which she will be taken into custody."
Kaidan sinks back into the chair.
Damn.
She'd really done it. She'd turned herself in. Knowing she was here, on the Citadel...
His headache cranks up a notch. When it comes to Shepard, things are never easy.
Despite what had happened between them on Horizon and the things he'd said, he wants to believe she's cut ties. He wants to believe she's still the same person he knew two years ago. The commander who always came down on the side of right, and never flinched from her duty, even when the cost was staggering.
Where Shepard is concerned, his ability to see things clearly is skewed; too many of his memories of her are from before the Collectors and Cerberus. Seeing things clearly is a lot tougher when he remembers her teasing smile above him, the flash of white teeth in dark quarters and smooth skin against his. It's hard to make sense of a picture where someone he loved is also someone he can't trust.
Because, the thing he won't let himself ignore is that even after everything they saw together, all the horrors and atrocities and sick experiments, she had stayed with them willingly.
With Cerberus.
He should say something to Anderson, but all he can manage is voicing his earlier thought, "Damn."
"This is council-level information, Major, so I'll ask that you don't share it until official word has been released. I wasn't going to say anything, but," he gives a small, weary smile, "...I wanted you to hear it from me, first."
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate - " he says, only be interrupted by a chime from Anderson's terminal.
"That's our appointment with the council," Anderson says, pushing back from his desk. He stands and straightens his uniform, tugging his jacket down sharply.
Kaidan follows suit, trying to ignore the way his head has started pounding. He can only hope this is a short meeting, with the bullshit kept to a minimum. Given the contents of the pad, he doesn't see how that's remotely possible.
And the day had started out so normally.