Author's Note: A few of you have expressed concern over Ashley's treatment of late... I can understand why.

Let me just say, I love Ashley as a character. However, I'm not afraid of bad things if they help her grow as a character, so, for now, I hope you'll survive the angst. Things won't get better for a while yet. It's always darkest before dawn...


Chapter 7

Nurse Tate must have talked to Doctor Chakwas, judging by the conversation I had with my physician a few days after the first nightmare. Once the Doctor paid some extra attention, she noticed I was eating light and sleeping less. I pushed her concerns aside, unwilling to talk about the reasons behind these issues. I tried to avoid both Chakwas and Shepard whenever I could.

I grunted under exertion as I continued to spar with Kaidan Alenko in the mako bay. He was a very defensive opponent, I noted, and I used that knowledge to push him into a corner. As he came up against the mako, I brought my rod down on his shoulder, pulling the impact only slightly at the final possible moment.

He was forced down to one knee from the impact, and I pushed my left-hand rod against his jugular, forcing him to lean back against the mako's tire. "I concede," he growled breathlessly.

Immediately, I let up, removing myself from his personal space and accepting victory in the match. If I were in a more amicable mood I might have been gracious, given him a compliment or tip, or at the very least helped him to his feet. Today, I did none of those things. Kaidan got up on his own, switching his rods so he held them both in his left hand. He reached up with his right to massage his left shoulder. His face contorted briefly with pain.

"You all right there, El-Tee?" I asked, slightly worried.

"Just my pride, Gunnery Chief." I didn't believe him for a second, but it was obvious he wouldn't admit to anything.

Feeling guilty, I did what I could to work around it. "Sorry, Sir."

"No need to be sorry. I think I need a break though." Kaidan strolled towards me and handed both his rods over. I accepted them. Each rod measured beyond the length of my forearm and had a grip coming straight out of it near one end; this allowed one to hold it like a shield along your forearm, or grip the main body and use it as an offensive weapon. Hand-to-hand fighting with simple weapons was one form of combat I actually enjoyed practicing—exercise and honing skills combined. Now that I was finally back on duty, it was almost the first thing on my mind.

I felt bad that it was over so quickly; if I'd maintained a little more control, I wouldn't have forced Kaidan to stop. I still wanted to do more, but without a partner, I knew I'd have to give up on it for the time being.

"You were fighting very angrily, even for you," Kaidan pointed out quietly.

"Was I?" I threw it back at him. I stowed the weapons in their container and closed it up. Turning around, I sat on top of it. It was short for a chair, but it did the job.

Kaidan, unfazed, did the same, grabbing his water bottle from where it had been discarded earlier and taking a few full gulps. Finished hydrating for the moment, he looked to me while I stared at nothing, not wanting to give anything away.

"What's wrong? I hope you're not upset with me for some reason."

Sarcasm whipped through my lips before I could even give it a moment's thought. "Wow, flatter yourself much?" In my sour mood, I skirted with insubordination. "Not everything has to do with you, so the answer is 'no.' Go away, Alenko."

"That's 'go away, Lieutenant,' to you, and you don't give me orders, Chief," his voice warned. "I'm serious. Before, I might have let it go, but now I'm ordering you to tell me what the hell's going on with you."

In a burst of motion, I practically jumped to my feet, putting a good meter and a half between us. I didn't want to get into trouble for socking my nosy lieutenant in the face, and I'd had the sudden compulsion descend upon me. Instead, I scowled at him, using the distance and my better judgment to convince myself to let it go. He was completely correct, I had no right to talk to my superior officer like that.

It had felt so good to let go that, although I wouldn't lay a finger on him, I didn't want to stop attacking him either. "We're not on duty, so take your orders and stuff 'em, Lieutenant," I shot back irritably. "It's none of your business, so get the hell out of here, Sir!"

"Fine, Chief, we don't have to be friends, but we do need to respect each other," Kaidan growled lowly. He massaged his injured shoulder again, looking wearied, closed his eyes and seemed to wait for his own emotions to cool down. The guilt was beginning to get to me, so I also attempted to reign myself in. "I'll let it slide for now, Williams. It's just the two of us here right now, and it seems you have a lot on your mind. But this is your unofficial warning, Gunnery Chief. This is unacceptable. Don't let me catch you disrespecting a superior officer again. Get yourself back in line, fast."

He stood and left. Even as I waited for him to succumb to my demand and leave, I was still secretly thankful; immensely so. Many lesser officers, more consumed with themselves and their own rank, would have simply written me up for it and not cared about what was happening with me in the slightest. Kaidan was being invasive, true, but he just wanted to help me.

Time seemed to slip through my fingers as I returned to sitting on the weapons case. I wasn't really thinking or doing anything; simply existing in a trance. That trance disappeared abruptly, however, when Commander Daniel Shepard emerged from the elevator and strode purposefully right towards me. I could tell he wasn't happy to be here, and I reciprocated the feeling. I'd rather stay as far away from the Spectre as I could get. He looks like he was sent here. Wow, Kaidan, sure didn't take you long to bring in the next batter. Do you really think I'll talk to Shepard?!? That's rich.

"Something's wrong," he stated.

I almost scoffed, but held it back with an eye roll that he wouldn't be able to see while my face was turned away. "Sure. Something's always wrong. Won't be right until we find Saren." I turned and glared at him, trying to make him feel unwelcome. I hoped he would take the hint and go back to running the ship; I'd damaged my career by telling off my superiors enough for one day.

"Let's talk about it," Daniel said and held my gaze now that he had my full attention. He was too strong a person to wilt under an angry gaze, even ones as intense as mine. I knew that, but that didn't stop me from wanting to blame him for it.

"Why?" I demanded. "You've never wanted to talk about it before. We've barely said half a dozen words that weren't about our mission since we got back." From Feros, I left unsaid.

"Then let's fix that."

"No," I said, flat and curtly. I had already decided that I would not open up to him. He was part of the reason I hated myself right now.

"I'll start," Shepard replied, equally clipped and defensive. "You have my permission to speak freely for the rest of this conversation, clear Chief?" He hardly waited for a response, and didn't get one before continuing. "I've been avoiding you."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I hadn't realized he'd been consciously avoiding me, same as I had been trying to avoid him. It was an interesting development, but it didn't change the fact that I didn't want him here, in my face.

He continued, "I know you didn't approve of a lot of my orders on the surface of Feros. Decisions in the field—they're never perfect."

"Who gives a crap about perfect? You made me kill them," I growled accusingly. "You sat back and supplied the covering fire. Like you just put it on autopilot, and then you left their blood all over my hands!"

"It was my order; it was hardly 'autopilot'!" Shepard roared. "Make no mistake, I know I am equally as guilty as you are! I wasn't trying to avoid it; I was simply being pragmatic."

"Pragmatic? Stuff it, Commander. I don't want to hear your excuses. You can tell yourself whatever you want, but you don't feel anything for those people, do you? You're everything that they say—the Butcher of Torfan! How can you be so cold, so heartless? When was the last time you ever felt like I do, like you've been ripped apart, so disgusted with yourself that it makes you sick? You don't know them, so you don't care. Casualties are just numbers to you. The mission is all that matters."

"The mission is all that matters," Daniel interrupted. "Make no mistake, Williams. The mission is everything, especially this mission."

"This isn't me. This isn't what I'm supposed to be," I began losing control, could feel the despair returning, and could hear the tremolo emerging in my own voice. I kept it at bay for the moment, unsure how long my resilience would last. "I shouldn't let anything change who I am. I shouldn't abandon my identity because of the mission. Freedom, beliefs, our very lives—that's what I'm trying to protect. If I can't do that without staying true to myself, then I still lose, no matter what happens with the mission."

Shepard lowered his voice similarly to mine, becoming more tender. "You're wrong about me, Williams. I do feel bad about them. I do hate what I had to do to them, but I always do what is necessary. If you can't do that, then you shouldn't be here."

I looked up at him, feeling one solitary tear slide down my cheek. "I won't. I won't let you turn me into another you." I stood up, full stature, and wiped away the evidence of my weakness, leaving nothing behind but a strong, hard glare. I repeated it with the utmost conviction and a voice filled with renewed power, knowing full well it could mean the end of my time aboard the Normandy. "I won't."

Shepard backed up a step, folding his arms together against his chest. "I never said you should be. Frankly, Chief, I don't think you could handle it, and that's fine. Believe me when I say, you don't want this, any of it. I don't even want it, but it's who I am and who they need me to be.

"I'm not looking to change who you are. Your morality sets you apart. I need you to cling to it, because I need that critical eye on the battlefield. I don't want someone who will blindly go along with whatever I say right into utter moral ruination. I need the reminder of the consequences, and that's why I need you, just as you are."

I was out of things to say, so I turned away from his steady gaze and looked down at the floor to one side.

Daniel unexpectedly reached out and grabbed me by the chin gently between finger and thumb. He attempted to turn my face to look at him. I recoiled from the touch, withdrawing until he couldn't reach me anymore, but complied with his silent request and met his eyes again.

He took my actions in stride, easily returning his hand to his side and fully restoring the space—physical and emotional—between us. I watched his face carefully as he spoke, "I'm sorry. The way things happened left me with no choice, but I'm still sorry that I had to give the order. I'm sorry I had to make you a party to it, and I'm sorry for all the broken families left behind on Feros. Really."

Instincts told me he was truly leveling with me. I nodded ever so slightly, but he saw it. He quickly nodded much larger than I had.

"Ok," he concluded, and he spun around, leaving for the elevator. I watched him leave, remaining so quiet and still that I barely breathed.

My mind finally seemed to clear for the first time since I'd touched the surface of that battle-scared planet. It felt like a reaffirmation of everything I was supposed to be. I couldn't risk letting the clarity leave me again, so I realized what I had to do next. I need to talk to Pressley. Today. Right now, even.

I was nursing a building rage against the aged executive officer, and Alenko got the briefest glimpse of that rage today when he agreed to spar with me. I hadn't meant to hurt the lieutenant, but doubtless he would be sporting a nice bruise on his shoulder before long. Another pang of guilt hit me.

With this line of thinking, the dream came back to me; that blasted dream. Nightmare couldn't begin to describe it because in reality it wasn't just a dream at all. Normal nightmares are nothing compared to the real ones. You can escape a normal nightmare simply by waking up. Real nightmares don't end just because you wake up; you end up living with them. They're completely inescapable.

I felt weak, but it wasn't because of a lack of sleep or food. True, they may have contributed small pieces, but the real source of my weakened state was completely emotional. These thoughts were sapping my very life out from me, and I was powerless to stop them. Until I refused my XO's order, it would only get worse. I knew that, and I still wanted to ignore the problem.

No delay could bring me a better option. Something would have to give. The question was, when the very foundations of my life were shaken—what would be left standing, and who would be standing next to me?

My mind was clear, but I was scared.

() () () () ()

Sovereign was a dreadnought, the largest in the known galaxy, and the most dangerous weapon anyone had ever even conceived. No one knew who built it or how Saren came into possession of a ship belonging to the most powerful class of starships. Dreadnoughts were siege weapons designed for long range bombardment: they fired rounds down their 0.8 kilometer-or-longer spinal-mounted mass accelerator cannons at such speeds that their destructive energy surpassed nuclear weapons upon impact. In true mass accelerator cannon tradition, they were also extremely rapid fire, making nuclear arsenals obsolescent in war.

All dreadnoughts in the galaxy were built, owned, maintained, and used by the military arms of only the most economically powerful races. Even when whole interstellar governments got funds together to build a dreadnought, none built them as large as this singular anomaly. The closest ship to its size, so far as I was aware, was that asari dreadnought called the Destiny Ascension that commonly guarded the Citadel. However, even the asari's flagship was easily surpassed in tonnage by Sovereign.

But as the Normandy attempted to stalk Sovereign, I came to realize that the extremely large vessel probably could never utilize stealth effectively while it traveled. While aboard his dreadnought, Saren was always limited to showing up with surprising, overwhelming force—but ultimately, we always knew when he went somewhere.

This wasn't the case for us. We could hide with our stealth systems and slip about unseen. It had to be making Saren extremely frustrated and paranoid to know he would never see us coming. I would be, when I imagine myself in his place. Furthermore, now that that Shiala had told us what to look for and had arrived on Feros so closely behind Saren, there was a chance we could track them down. I hoped so, for the sake of the galaxy and whatever colonies might be attacked next.

Everyone in the CIC was hard at work doing just that as I walked past the marine standing guard at the door and headed for Commander Pressley. The Commander noticed me and finished up giving a few orders and reviewing a few reports handed to him before allowing me to approach. We both pulled away from the center of the CIC, out of earshot.

"Gunnery Chief?" he asked cautiously.

My palms were sweaty. I didn't know what would happen after this. I didn't even know if my friends could forgive me if they knew—and yet here I was, about to burn my bridges with the Alliance right in front of the entire bridge staff.

I didn't like the thought of anyone seeing what happened next, so I spoke very quietly. "Sir. I've come to inform you I cannot in good conscience assist you in defrauding our allies or continue with this questionable investigation into their personal and private lives. It's over. I've made my final report, and you'll not find a single dubious inconsistency with anyone your investigation targeted. You're going to have to accept that."

"The hell I do," Pressley growled. "I am your executive officer, and when I give an order, I expect you to obey!"

A lump formed in my throat, but still I managed, "No, sir."

"What?" he asked, appalled.

"No, sir. I won't do it anymore."

With that refusal, I'd just shot down Pressley's only chance at convincing Shepard to remove his team from the ship, if that was even possible in the first place. The corners of Pressley's face drew back, and he regarded me with a hard look. I squared my shoulders and swallowed to clear my throat. Pressley's teeth bared, and he took the OSD from my offered hand. He commanded, "Very well. Chief Williams, I find you derelict in your duty. You are hereby suspended until further notice. Now get off my bridge."

Did he have to say it so loud? My mind protested at his tone, but that had more to do with my own fear of others overhearing than his actual speaking volume. I imagined I could feel so many eyes upon me from all around the CIC that my body temperature felt like it was ten times hotter. As my mind came up with worst-case scenarios, I could even imagine Joker, way up at the helm, overhearing the commotion. He could be grabbing desperately for his crutches to head this way and see for himself, Vrolik Syndrome be damned. I decided it was best to leave before it got any worse and my humiliation began to show.

I saluted Pressley. "Sir!" I acknowledged with a strong, confident voice. Pressley turned away without an answering salute. Belatedly, I realized that even the marines would learn of this with lightning-fast precision, seeing as a couple of my marines were standing at the doors, providing security for the CIC. They were all doubtlessly staring at Pressley and I. I didn't want to see their surprised faces. I just wanted to disappear.

I finished my salute and spun an about-face, heading directly out of the CIC and down to deck two. I studiously avoided all eye contact. At least everyone who heard was on duty with a job to do. None of them could chase me down or talk about it. Not for several more hours, when they got off duty. I wasn't sure how I'd handle the end of the shift, but I knew I'd have to endure.

This was one of my worst fears realized—but not all of them. At least it's over now, Ash. It's all over. I felt so much better with that knowledge that I wondered how I could have postponed it for so long. Still, losing my duty hit me hard, and I could hardly maintain my composure in front of everyone. I was in no condition to confess my reprehensible behavior to anyone, especially Wrex or Liara.

For one brief moment I entertained the thought that perhaps God hated me today, because they were both waiting for the elevator when I reached the bottom of the stairs. There was no way to avoid them. "Williams," Wrex greeted.

My eyes widened in surprise and shot in the direction of his voice, coming upon both of them, and realizing the hardest part might be a lot closer than I had thought. I tried to wipe the stupid look off my face, but I simply hadn't expected to encounter anyone until I was ready. Idiot! You're so stupid, Ash. Think about it. You're on a frigate. Of course you'd run into them!

"Ashley!" Liara bubbled. "I'm glad I found you! How do you feel about dinner tonight? I think I've made a breakthrough in designing my Prothean data card reader, and I wanted to show you—."

I cut in, "That's great, Liara." That feeling of a lump in my throat was returning again. Damn it. Just stay away. This is hard enough already. Reasoning with my anatomy was a miserable failure. I pushed past the two of them, attempting to escape before they discovered my weakness. "Sorry, I have to go."

Wrex didn't answer, but Liara protested immediately. "But it will take all of five—minutes." Liara paused briefly, uncertain, when I refused to stop and let her finish. Just let me go, just let me go, I begged her silently as I kept walking away. I'm not ready yet!

I heard rushed footsteps as she chased me down, placing a hand on my shoulder just as we passed the mess hall and entered the secluded sleeper pod area. It was only the two of us now; Wrex had not joined her in attempting to intercept me. I shrugged her off, baring my teeth just as Pressley had done to me. I hadn't meant to do that at all, not to someone as kind as Liara. It had just—happened. I regretted it before I'd even managed to get myself back under control.

Liara was taken aback. She withdrew her hand instantly, but not all the way. She held it in-between us, unable to decide where to put it. "Ashley?" she asked innocently. "Have I made you upset?"

"Just leave me alone, Liara."

"If I've done it again, please, just tell me—you must know I'm sorry."

I was guilty, but she was always assuming herself at fault, despite her innocence. If I didn't feel so bad about everything, I might have valued her modesty instead of allowing it to grate me. I couldn't handle it.

"DON'T BE SORRY!" I exploded.

Her hand firmly dropped to her side then. How can she even think she should apologize! I'm the one! It's me; I'm the one who deserves contempt and hatred. She could never deserve that. She's too good for that. She never killed innocent civilians to complete a mission. You're evil incarnate next to her. She is so gentle, kind, and compassionate towards anyone and everyone. To think you could doubt her is a scathing indictment of who you really are.

I took a shuddering breath, attempting to stabilize myself. It worked, and my voice quieted to just above a whisper so Liara, and Liara only, would still be able to hear me. "You've got no reason to be sorry because nothing you've done even remotely compares to what I've done. OK? I'm the bad guy; I'm the one who's sorry. You deserve a better friend than me." It tore me into pieces to say what I was thinking, but I meant every word of it.

Liara was dumbfounded. "What?" she asked.

I couldn't do this right now. Another rigid swivel on heel and toe and I was heading down the rows of sleeper pods, intent on finding an empty one to hide inside. Liara pressed after my retreat, again grabbing me by the upper arm near my shoulder; however, this time it was very tentative and light. I could have easily broken free of it.

That's what surprised me most when instead I spun at her gentle pulling force and faced her. Liara seemed to freeze a moment along with me. We stared at each other, neither daring to utter a word. "Whatever—," Liara paused, uncertain. "Whatever it is, please tell me. I cannot forgive you if I don't know what it is you think you've done to wrong me."

Judging by the way my throat felt just then, I would have guessed I didn't have a drop of water in my entire body. I tried to work my jaw, but it resisted all motion.

Liara encouraged me to open up. "Please Ashley, we share so much in common. Our beliefs—we both place importance on forgiveness and confession. You know you want to tell me."

Her last proclamation took me a little off guard. How can she know me so well? I wondered. How is it even possible that she is this in-tune? "Yes," I ground out.

Like the breaking of a dam, as soon as the first word was uttered, there was no holding me back. "I've been investigating you and the rest of the aliens on this ship for signs of duplicity and betrayal for months now, ever since you all came aboard. Pressley—I didn't believe they could be completely honest or really care about our affairs because they weren't human. But everything I dug up, everything I've seen working with them—I was so wrong. I was wrong about you, Wrex, everybody. The whole team.

"And now I just feel so ashamed because all this time I've been a racist, just as bad as those damned Terra Firma party members, and I didn't even know it. I thought I was in the right.

"Now I'm just a bigot." It was all out in the open now. Liara had listened intently to every word.

I took a half-step back away from her, but that was all. Perhaps it was fear, or perhaps it was courage, but I was rooted there until she said something. I wanted her forgiveness. I also wanted her condemnation, because I was wrong, and I had hurt her and the others. The dichotomy made my head hurt. Liara has all the power now. That thought scared me. Can I be courageous and scared at the same time? At this moment, it certainly seemed that way.

"You just see me as an alien," Liara managed with considerable difficulty. She looked like she'd been slapped in the face. The hurt in her eyes was so overwhelming that it took me by surprise, even though I'd known this would happen, in some form. I—never expected her to look this raw, this hurt...

"No, no, no!" The rest of my fears seemed poised to come true. I couldn't stand the thought, couldn't conceive of how I could survive it, but that was exactly what was about to happen if I didn't do something to stop it. I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry—Liara don't leave me too!

She took two steps back rapidly. "Really? Because that's what it sounded like!" she shrieked. "I'm your friend, but to you, I'm just a liability! I trusted you! You're just like everyone else on this ship—'Oh look out; it's Benezia's daughter!' It tears at my soul that my mother could abide such an evil man, but no one can stop for five minutes and see what it's been like for me. I am shamed, and her actions have hurt me so badly. Add to that all this distrust; everyone who just thinks I'm a heartless spy."

Her eyes began welling up with tears. "I could put that all aside because I had a few who believed in me. A few I could count on to stand with me and help me convince the rest. And now it turns out no one really believed in me. How could you lie to me like that? I thought we were friends. Didn't you realize what you were doing by lying to me? Because you're not lying to a real person—just some alien, right? It must not be the same thing."

With those words, tears spilled down her blue cheeks. She took one breath, barely keeping herself from fully wailing right here in front of me. I'd never seen her cry before. My heart flopped painfully in my chest, heaving as if it was dying. "Well, don't talk to me ever again!"

Liara spun quickly and marched away. I almost twisted an ankle trying to get to her. "Please stop, Liara! I'm sorry!"

"Athame turn you away!" Liara shot over her shoulder, brow contorted with pure unadulterated hate, and she refused to let up on her retreating pace, quickly turning to look where she was fleeing.

I paused as she passed the mess hall, and my attention momentarily diverted in that direction. All those people—if I continued after her now—and they saw me, saw us... I hated public drama. I certainly didn't want to encourage more scuttlebutt about myself or Liara. Truth be told, a part of me was simply scared that either she or they would see my weakness, and how much I needed her. It was too vulnerable. I didn't do vulnerable.

Now it was too late. I was vulnerable, I was hurting, and I'd driven my best friend away when I needed her the most. It felt like a piercing injury. It felt like bleeding into the water, surrounded by nothing but open ocean and hungry predators. I was sure one of them must have gotten to me, because it felt like a part of me had just died—no, a part of me had just been murdered. One sniper's bullet, right through my barriers, through my armor, and through my heart, ripping it to shreds and leaving a wake of decimation around it.

"Fuck!" I cursed, spinning about and beginning to pace in front of the pods. Spying an empty one, I grabbed the handle savagely and tore it open. I stepped inside and slammed the door shut, locking it in one shift motion. Feeling utterly destroyed, and deserving every bit of it, I whispered angrily at myself, "Fuck me." I took in a few ragged sobs, allowing myself to feel the whole pain and simply cry.

() () () () ()

Sweat dripped down my brow, and I took a moment to swipe it away with my right arm, continuing to punch the bag with the left. That accomplished, I returned to a full-blown assault on the inanimate object. I was sweating from every pore in my body. My workout clothes were clinging to me uncomfortably.

As I struck the bag, I envisioned it was the worst kind of the lowest pond scum. The filthiest example of a human being. An unrepentant jerk whose cruelties knew no bounds. Someone who had earned my undying hatred. I saw my own face there, and I hit it as hard as I could. Both of my arms felt like jelly, and the bag barely moved each time I hit it with as much force as I could bring to bear.

I was spent.

All around me in the workout room were various marines and a few crewmembers attempting to stay in decent shape. They were using up most of the machines. I kept catching two marines at the weight bench look at me whenever they switched. If I'd had the energy to do something about it, I would have pummeled both of them within an inch of their life and made them beg for mercy.

I knew from training them that Corporal Dennon would be easy for me to take on my own—he wasn't half the hand-to-hand soldier I was. On the other hand, his spotter, Private Vinton, was a tank of a man with extremely dark skin. Built with arms wide as tree trunks and over six foot and seven inches tall, he was also blessed with the skill to use that strength effectively. He could be damned quick for his size. Of all the marines stationed on the Normandy, he was without a doubt the strongest. I briefly imagined trying to subdue him in a fight. I didn't foresee a victory there, no matter how much I wanted it.

As my body protested and reminded me just how exhausted I was, I had to stop my weak attacks on the bag—on myself—and practically hugged it to keep standing until I recovered a little more energy. I panted heavily, and while I couldn't care less, I could smell the sweat on my nearby shoulder and arm. As I pushed away from the bag, I shot Dennon a very nasty look. He quickly looked away, pretending that spotting Private Vinton took his complete attention. That would have to do for now. I left the exercise area behind and headed for the communal showers.

Considering this was the middle of alpha shift, it was no surprise to find them completely empty. I discarded clothes at my locker and walked under the nearest shower head. The water was tepid the first few seconds, but grew warm and finally rather toasty within a short amount of time. I worked on lathering some shampoo in my hair and washing it back out again; and then cleaning the rest of me with the body wash. My arms ached the entire time, even with the hot jets of water to help limber me up.

I heard the door open and shut. My marines from the weight room had finally finished their workouts as well, and they were here for showers now, too. Soon they were entering the communal shower facility. There wasn't much privacy afforded on the frigate—floor-to-ceiling privacy walls and separate stalls would have cut into the limited floorspace available on a tiny frigate class.

These days, military culture aboard navy ships had evolved to the point where leering at someone in the shower room was not only a judicially punishable offense—it was also frowned upon by friends and peers in the ranks. This meant that the fact we passed each other, stark naked, was not an issue. In the showers, everyone takes care of themselves, keeps their eyes to themselves, and all conversations are accomplished without so much as a glance at the person you are talking to. Things that might be acceptable in a normal conversation between clothed marines could be taboo in the showers. Everyone was more careful in here.

I may not have been on a frigate very long, but this phenomenon was one I caught onto very quickly. Honestly, it was the only way this situation could work for all parties involved. As I heard the marines start their own showers, I finished a quick towel-off and wrapped it around my body, covering the essentials. Without a word of acknowledgment, I left the shower room and headed back into the locker room, where I proceeded to pick out a clean Normandy marine uniform. I gathered all my soiled clothes and towel, intending to get them washed next.

The shower had refreshed my body and done wonders for the aching. I could barely feel the burn in my arms now; it wouldn't take long before it disappeared completely. Marked increase in stamina and its recovery were a part of my Class-B Alliance Infantry Upgrade package. The genetic enhancements made me into the best soldier I could be. I took it for granted; it was a natural part of me, whereas biotics were easier to spot in a human, and in my opinion, very freaky, unnatural stuff.

I spent some time in front of the mirror, working out the snarls in my just-barely-regulation length hair before pinning it up in my customary bun. I liked long hair. It was the one thing I missed most about civilian life. If I could, I would grow it out to the base of my shoulder blades. I enjoyed the extra warmth long hair provided, as well as its feel between my fingers when it was healthy.

You know you're going to be kicked off the ship at the next port of opportunity. What about leaving the marines entirely at that point? Then you could actually grow your hair out.

Don't be ridiculous, Ashley. After all that's happened: the attack on Eden Prime, Shepard's vision of the Reapers, another deadly attack, but on Feros—you're seriously considering walking away from the most important mission in the galaxy without a single protest?

No. As usual, I'm just seeing greener grass on the other side. That, and I'm pretty pissed off right now that my job cost me my newest—and best—friend. Oh, what I would do to a jerk like Pressley if only I could! I began to imagine the horrors that could befall an old man in a confrontation with me, a young, strong, and well-trained Alliance soldier. However, the more malevolence I indulged in, the worse I felt. Eventually, I had to stop and force myself to think about something else. Privately, I sent a quiet prayer to God for some assistance in bringing my thoughts back into harmony. It helped; I began to remember that I was just as guilty, if not more, for going along with the plan as Pressley was for coming up with it. Guilt wasn't exactly desirable to me, but it was definitely warranted.

I checked the time. I still had three and a half hours until alpha shift came off and started filing into the mess hall for lunch. I grabbed a deck of cards from my locker and headed up to find a corner table. I had plenty of time to kill.

Before I was even halfway to the elevator, the shipwide address whistle sounded, quieting all conversations instantly. Pressley's voice carried over the comm. "Now hear this. We have just received a distress call from the Terra Nova system. This is a Level One alert—Terra Nova is under immediate threat of attack. Shepard's team, report to the comm room immediately for a briefing. All Fireteams, gear up and stand by for further instruction from your officer in charge. XO out."

Part of me considered sitting this one out. I was afraid of taking on the responsibility for another mission. I had so much going on in my own head that my combat awareness would be negatively impacted. Things could go wrong. I could make mistakes. I was in poor form, perhaps even my poorest ever. I've been better—much better—than I am right now.

However, I'm not about to sit around when people need me. Shepard himself will have to pull a gun on me before I'll back down. My mind was made up then. I would always take the risk if it meant saving someone else. Immediately, I doubled back to the locker room. Dennon and Vinton were there, urgently scrambling to dress themselves. I opened my locker and threw my deck inside, grabbing my suit of armor—still having a bullet lodged in it. I ignored the damaged breastplate, and I quickly started to armor up. I headed for the comm room, not yet finished putting on my armor, but carrying what remained along with me.

I got there within three minutes, finishing connecting the armor on the arduous trip up the elevator to deck two. As I reached the comm room door, my radio crackled to life. Because of the wall between here and the CIC, it was very likely Pressley did not realize how close I was. "Pressley to Gunnery Chief Williams, you are hereby reinstated to your former position effective immediately, as ordered by Commander Shepard. Please report to the comm room immediately."

Hah! I rejoiced privately. Take that, Pressley, Shepard needs me. The doors swished open before me, and I entered the comm room mere seconds after being ordered back on-duty. Shepard looked behind him to the door, spying me and stating, "Ahh, Gunnery Chief. Good. Take a seat; you haven't missed much."

Since Shepard was standing near the holographics and manipulating an image of of Terra Nova's solar system, there were two chairs open for me to choose from. One was next to Liara and Garrus. The other was next to Wrex and Tali.

Not much of a choice anymore. I took the chair by Wrex and listened intently as Shepard continued with his briefing. "The signal was jammed, but it was on an emergency frequency, so we know it's bad. Terra Nova is the largest human colony thus far with over 4.4 million people down there. We need to get on scene and find out what's wrong. Considering the jamming, the most likely explanation is some kind of terrorist attack or strong pirate activity. It could be some very bold slavers. We'll know more once we get on scene and get some LADAR readings. Until then, there's no way for us to plan our troop landings or deployments. This colony is too big."

Garrus questioned, "Has there been an attack on Terra Nova prior to now?"

Shepard shook his head. "It's been relatively peaceful; it's not far from Earth and Arcturus. Considering the amount of ships in the fleets at both systems, it makes attacking Terra Nova very risky. Most pirates prefer to pick at us where our defenses are weakest—the budding colonies in the Skyllian Verge and Attican Traverse."

"Sir," I interjected. "I was stationed on Terra Nova for one year. I know the colony fairly well. It's well defended; hard to imagine what could overwhelm them."

"Thankfully we should have that answer soon, Chief." Shepard answered. "We arrive in Terra Nova's vicinity in ten minutes. I want all of you on this one. Liara, that includes you."

Liara blinked, surprised, but quickly recovered. "Of course, Commander."

"Ashley, Wrex, Garrus, and Fireteam One will form Alpha Unit. Kaidan, Liara, and Tali, you're with me as Beta Unit. Ashley, make sure Fireteam One is ready to go by the time we get there. I'll have deployment orders for you very shortly."

"Aye, Sir!" I answered proudly. I stood up and headed for the door.

"And Chief," Shepard called me back. I stopped and spun around.

"Sir?"

"You, Commander Pressley, and I are going to have a talk when this is all over. Clear?"

"Aye."

"Dismissed."

Liara looked perplexed by the cryptic exchange, but I didn't linger on her, fearing the pain would find its way past my attempt to repress it and return to the forefront of my consciousness. I spun around neatly and left the comm room, immediately getting on my radio to Fireteam One as I headed for deck three. I could hide my emotions behind duty again, and I was going to make the most of it. "Chief Williams to Fireteam One, get your asses in gear, marines. I want you ready to deploy and standing at attention in the mako bay in the next thirty seconds. Williams out."

Roughly thirty seconds later, I was on deck three, grabbing my weapons—all of them. I had the sniper and assault rifles collapsed on their hooks on the back of my armor, a pistol on my side holster, and the shotgun across my lower back. Marines didn't get more menacing-looking than this. I looked over at the mako and found Fireteam One standing at attention, fully armed and armored. I walked up to them.

Fireteam One was composed of Corporal Dennon, who lead the fireteam in the absence of a higher-ranked officer like myself, Private Second Class Vinton, and Private Second Class Deleon. All three were proficient with the standard issue assault rifle and pistol, which is precisely what weapons they each had on their person.

"Ok, listen up. Fireteam One is being absorbed into a larger unit designated 'Alpha', composed of yourselves, Garrus Vakarian, Urdot Wrex, and myself in command." I didn't like the look in their eyes—they were too eager to get into the battle, and that could become dangerous. They needed to be professional. "Do you call this attention, Alpha, because I'm not impressed! Wipe those stupid grins off your faces and start taking this seriously before it becomes entirely too serious for you. I won't tolerate any shit once we get down on the surface. That clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Ma'ams" followed and their discipline rose to my satisfaction. I trained my eyes on them all, staring them down. I had no time to accommodate any mistakes, so I had to be hard in order to impress on them just how important it was that they stayed in line behind me. Normally, I wasn't so rough, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Garrus and Wrex arrived a few minutes later, each geared up already and ready to go. I nodded with approval. The six of us stood ready for further instruction as the Normandy got into short-range LADAR range of the planet and could begin to compose images of the arena.

Shepard came down after getting a firm grasp on the situation. "The Normandy VI has informed me that there's a metallic asteroid designated 'X57' approaching the planet with three fusion torches lit to provide it with force and acceleration. I asked about the asteroid, and apparently X57 was formerly at the trailing Lagrange point of Borr, a gas giant in the system. Terra Nova is planning to make it into a new orbital facility, but first they had to decelerate it out of Borr's orbit and let it fall into Terra Nova's. That's why it's rigged with the fusion torches. The VI tells me their burn was finished days ago, but someone has turned the fusion torches back on. They're pointing that asteroid right at Terra Nova, but thankfully we still have time to fix this. We have a matter of hours to stop all three torches before it's too late and that asteroid falls out of its orbit and onto the planet's surface."

"How big is the asteroid?" I asked.

"Big," Shepard affirmed. "And the torches are located quite a ways apart from each other." Shepard opened his omni-tool and began sending information to mine, including a map of the asteroid that the Normandy VI had assembled. "Alpha, I want you to take torch one. Myself and Beta will take torch two. First one done proceeds directly to torch three. I've got two people who have never rappelled before, so we're taking the mako down. Ashley, you've got the Normandy as your taxi. Call Joker the minute you shut down the first torch."

"Aye, Sir. What are the ROE down on the surface?"

Shepard and I noticed a lack on comprehension of the acronym through the confusion in a few of the alien's faces. "X57 has a small civilian crew that is in charge of the entire operation to move the asteroid. I can't tell you who's friend or foe until we get down here. The rules of engagement are that you are all ordered to hold your fire unless fired upon."

"Aye, Sir!" I acknowledged.

"I've already told Pressley this, but the asteroid has automated rocket defense turrets around each torch and the main bunker facility. Depending on what's really going on down there, you may need to watch out for them if they treat us as hostile."

This keeps getting better and better. Don't know what to expect, don't shoot the civilians, and watch out for the killer rocket turrets. "Understood, Commander."

Shepard looked across the faces of my squad. "Good hunting down there. Stay calm and check your targets." With that, he turned and headed for the mako. His team followed quickly after him. A brief flash of pain and regret escaped to the surface when I saw Liara's Ursa light armor in amongst the rest, but I managed to repress it again.

I got ready to pull the lever that would throw the mako clear of the ship. Because there was no atmosphere on the asteroid, I knew the hanger would depressurize uncontrollably the moment we opened the hatch. To avoid this dangerous problem, I activated the depressurization systems, which immediately blared warnings to keep the rest of the crew out of this bay.

"Full-seal helmets, Alpha Unit. Now!" I barked. On my omni-tool, I enabled the full-seal mode. Extra material came out of the suit, proceeding up to my normal helmet, over my head, and sealing me off from the air in the mako bay. The full-seal wasn't a different suit of armor or a completely new helmet—it was the same armor with a little bit extra added to it. I still had my normal helmet integrated as a part of it if I ever wanted to deactivate the full-seal mode; thus my head was still protected in either case. As the final seals formed, my stored air reserves began giving me the oxygen I needed to breathe.

"Comm check," I ordered.

Private Deleon, the other woman in my unit, cut in, "Ma'am, I hear you loud and clear."

Private Vinton, still inspiring fear with stature alone, also confirmed receipt. "Ma'am, let me just say I'm glad I'm on your side."

I ignored the compliment. Corporal Dennon came in, "Clear as crystal, Chief."

Wrex and Garrus uttered similar confirmations. Satisfied, I moved down my mental checklist, checking that every preparation was finished.

The mako bay finished depressurizing, and I opened the hatch. Seconds later the mako and Beta Unit was away. My unit each grabbed a line and affixed it to the hooks over the mako doorway, strapping themselves in for the rappel. I grabbed one myself and similarly prepared myself, trying to get into a firm, focused combat mindframe, free of all distractions.

Since there was no leak around the bullet, I knew for certain that the inner layer of my armor was still holding. The bullet had been stopped by the ceramic plate resting between the inner and outer layers, breaking it into two fragments, but that was the worst of it. I still felt rather worried about it breaking further while we were on X57, but I hoped having the Normandy close by could compensate for any issues that might arise. Any further damage from bullets breeching the shields or fraying of materials through motion and wearing would only start a slow leak. That meant I'd have time to return to the ship if necessary. I still worried about it, though. I tried to push it aside and concentrate on the mission.

Joker came over my radio. "Chief, we've arrived at the torch, but I can't get us any closer because of the heat radiating from it. It'll overheat our systems. You've got one-half klick to the torch. I recommend you double-time it."

"I'm sure that's something you'd know a lot about, Joker," I replied, referring to his Vrolik syndrome with a certain amount of levity in my voice. I'd talked with him about it once before in the mess hall. At the time he'd joked about how he couldn't run or dance without snapping shins. I always got the impression he'd made peace with his limitations, so I felt it was a safe joke to me. We both knew he could make the Normandy dance from in his pilot's chair without breaking a sweat. I liked his cocky, arrogant attitude when it came to all matters flying, but I didn't tell him that. It only would have made him worse.

Not one to miss the opportunity to banter, Joker cut right back in with, "Oh, if you're going to be like that, I'll start charging double for your taxi rides, Chief. Might even make it a whole kilometer next time."

I smirked. Joker—what a character. And a dependable pilot, too. Half a kilometer is nothing. He must have really maneuvered the frigate well to get that close without overheating. I checked on the others, who all nodded their readiness. "Roger that. Move it out, Alpha Unit!" I bellowed into our unit's radio channel, jumping backwards off the platform and beginning to plummet towards the ground.

I braked and slowed my descent, bending my knees in perfect timing for a graceful landing that was devoid of the usual rising cloud of dust. I cut myself clean from the ship up above, bending over backwards to look up and watch the others finish their own descents. I watched every one to personally confirm they were clear before asking. Predictably, they answered that they were. "Normandy, we are clear!" I told Joker.

I turned away from looking up at the ship and pulled my sniper rifle. "Gotta move, Alpha!" I set off at a very ambitious jogging pace. I checked my omni-tool's readout on my air supply—it was holding steady at one hundred percent, for now. It'd begin to fall soon enough, leak or no leak.


Author's End Note: Your support so far has been wonderful. I'm almost done with school, and as a reward, I will try to pick up the update frequency as soon as classes and exams are behind me.

Now, who here felt their heart break at that scene in the sleeper pods? Who wants to give Ash a hug? What about Liara, is she being unnecessarily cruel? Think about that brief insight Ash received about her point of view. Is it right that she's so upset? I hope you also felt the emotional impacts this chapter brought on.

I won't be doing many sidequests, as it would really prolong the story to an incredible length, but BDtS and a few others might receive some attention. Of course, I'll be going off-script with them to make them seem more new, just like with the canon worlds.

Please let me know how you felt about this latest installment! I always sit in anticipation waiting to hear back from every one of you!