========A/N: I have updated the description; all further chpaters should be treated as though there is a trigger warning for PTSD and claustrophobia.========
Chapter 6: Arrival of the orders
One day after the arrival of the SSV Kilimanjaro
"Admiral, the Lietenants McDougal and Shepard are on board."
"Direct them to meeting room 13, Ensign."
"Yessir."
...
Five minutes later.
Admral Gendon walks into the room and sees two still exhausted soldiers. He quickly says "at ease, soldiers.
"What you two did on the ground at Elysium was amazing. I've had men go over your helmet cam footage; you did everything right in a situation where panic would not have been unexpected. The civilians on Elysium have named you both hero; I have personally put you forward for the Star of Terra for your actions, as well as recommended your promotions to Commander and N7."
Clara speaks up; McDougal just looks out of it. "Thank you sir, from both of us. I'm just glad you arrived when you did; we were near the end of our respective ropes. If you hadn't arrived, we wouldn't be here."
"Be that as it may, you both held a position while vastly outnumbered and outgunned. It would be remiss of me not to give you an award or five.
"I also came to warn you; you are both heroes to humanity - in the Alliance military and on Elysium now, soon to be across the galaxy. You are likely going to attract some attention from fans, and the Alliance is likely going to use you in recruitment campaigns. You won't be giving speeches, but you will be up on posters and whatnot. Your days of just being a pair of soldiers is over. Once we return to Arcturus, you are likely going to be swarmed by reporters and admirers. I would suggest simply moving to your room as quickly as possible.
"Shepard, your mother has taken leave and should arrive at Arcturus within two days. I'd suggest letting her know where your room is; we'll be arriving in three."
McDougal speaks up. "Sir, I take it the Alliance has a spin they want us to put on the story? You wouldn't go this in depth if the Alliance wasn't planning a media blitz."
"Correct. We will forward the relevant information to your omnitools.
"Any other questions? No? Then I will take my leave. Deck 17 is where you'll be staying while on board; talk to Sargent Andrews for information on that."
...
One hour later, deck 17 mess.
"You'd think that bring based at Arcturus, they would have non reconstituted food on board."
"It's still food, Clara."
"Debatably."
"Aren't I supposed to be the one complaining about the situation?"
"Well, we didn't get the best nights sleep last night if you recall. I'd like that briefing to arrive soon so we can hit the pods."
*Ding*
"Speak of the devil..."
"And he shall appear" Clara finishes. "What does it say?
"We probably don't want to take it in the mess; I guarantee you it's at least level three classified."
"Um. Armory?"
"Probably the best bet. Not like anyone's there anyways; the Marines are ten decks below us."
The pair stands up and starts walking off towards the armory, dropping off their empty trays at the garbage can.
"So, it's signed as from Hackett, six other Admirals of varying ranks, and - get this - 27 representatives. I think we're getting into something a bit over our heads here."
"Oh, atop being such a downer, Dougal. Yeah, they each make enough to buy a house on the Citadel, but they won't harm the Alliance. Intentionally."
"And we both know that qualifier was necessary. Often, they don't know what they're doing. I'm not exactly the kind of person you want answering questions for the media; I think that most of them are little better than tabloid writers."
"That's not true. There are plenty of reporters who go more than skin deep."
"And they're all in Asari media. I might not like the policies of the Asari government, but dammit do I respect their media and soldiers. When you give someone 500 years to get good at something, they are going to get damned good at it. Hey, ops chief. We need the room for fifteen minutes. Go get your lunch."
"Yessir."
After the door closes behind him, McDougal opens the message.
-Level five classified document. Please confirm surroundings are secure before opening.-
McDougal groans. "Level five? Damn. That's as high as you can go and still have it be accessible electronically." McDougal starts up a pair of programs on his Omni-tool, locking the doors and searching for cameras and microphones. "Just the one camera in the corner. Going to take it offline until the doors unlock. Done."
"Then let's read it."
-Level five classified document. Please confirm surroundings are secure before opening.-
McDougal and Clara Shepard ("I hate it when they put our names like that. It makes it sound like we're married." "McDougal, we've been inseparable since boot. It's an easy mistake to make."), these orders are to be treated as coming from Admiral Hackett.
We have scheduled a press conference where you will address the media with a prepared statement and answer media questions ("Yes, that's what occurs at a press conference." "No fair taking my line, Clara."). It has been scheduled in Galaxy Hall in five days time, at 15:00 GMT.
Part of the setup will involve adjusting your look. A day after the conference, we will be launching our recruitment campaign, in which you are to be the central feature ("Does this mean I'm going to have to wear makeup every day now?" "Pfft, girls do it all the time Dougal." "But I'm not a girl." "I'm sure they know that."). What little has been decided involves Clara's hair; we are going to ask her to let it grow down to her shoulders and wear it back in a tail.
The slant we want you to take with your speeches and Q&A period is that humanity cannot be conquered so long as we have soldiers to fight for us. That we are peaceful, but if we are threatened, we will strike back. We will let you write your own statements, but we will look over them and clean them up a bit.
Also, this is the official notice. You are both promoted to N7. There will be an awards ceremony in two weeks time once the politicians figure out how many medals to pin onto you; at that ceremony, you will get the public promotion. As per your outstanding request, you have both been promoted at the same time.
Arcturus out.
-End document.-
"Well, this is gonna be fun. Admiral Gendon wasn't lying when he said our days as just a pair of soldiers is over."
"Yeah." McDougal unlocks the doors to the armory before continuing. "I'm too tired for this shit. Let's get to the pods and meet in the mess in 12."
"Sounds good to me. Let's just swing by the mess, grab a drink first."
...
Fifteen minutes later
McDougal and Clara are standing outside the sleeper pods, wrapping up their conversation.
"McDougal, I'm too damn tired to deal with this shit right now. I want to sleep. See you in 12."
"Fine."
They both head to their pods, McDougal slinging himself inside his and pulling the door shut. Clara simply falls into hers and lets it close on its own.
She's drifting off to sleep when she becomes aware of a loud thumping coming from outside the pod. It almost sounds like someone is smacking at metal with a rubber hammer. Clara waits a while longer, but the sound doesn't stop. Finally, she groans and opens up the door, planning on yelling at whatever idiot is disturbing the first bed rest she's gotten in over a day.
There's no workman outside.
Blinking, she scans the room, trying to locate the source of the sound. Its still muffled, but much less so. She pinpoints the sound as coming from McDougal's pod.
Now on high alert, Clara leaps out of her pod and over to McDougal. She quickly locates the emergency release lever and pulls it then flings the door open.
McDougal falls out of the pod, landing heavily on her. He's breathing fast and shallow and thrashing around in obvious panic; he doesn't seem to realize where he is.
Disentangling herself from McDougal, Clara quickly calls up the bridge. "This is Lieutenant Clara Shepard. We have a medical emergency on deck 17, room 26. Send EMT's ASAP." She hears the confirmation and immediately puts it to the back of her mind, turning back to the still thrashing McDougal.
"Dougal, it's gonna be all right. Medics are on their way. What was that?"
McDougal is muttering over and over, interlaced with his gasping breaths "can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see..."
Clara sits down as the medical team rushes in. "He's hyperventilating. I need a shot of sedative. Christ, he's completely torn up his hands and arms. 20 cc's of sedative, here! Good, put it in the side. We need him calmed down so we can get him to the medbay. He's calming down sir. Good. Lift on mark. 3, 2, 1, mark. Ensign Reeves, bring the woman there along. She was the first responder, and I want to figure out what happened here."
Clara stands up, almost in a dreamlike state as she walks behind the hustling medtechs towards the medbay.