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1.16.2173
Macapa, Brazil
Shepard
"You enjoying the show, Shepard?" someone called from one of the shower stalls across the steam-filled bathroom.
Shepard stood at the entrance wearing standard issue Alliance sleepwear. Her clean uniform sat folded up on the counter next to her with her small bag of toiletries. She leaned against the wall at an exaggerated angle with her long legs blocking the passageway, her eyes averted from the occupied shower stalls in the humid room.
"You're not giving me one." Shepard had to shout over the noise of the water. "Just hurry up. The private showers are all taken by visiting brass and this is one day I can't go without."
A woman with short, choppy blonde hair looked out from the next stall and grinned at Shepard, soap bubbles running down her forehead. "Maybe you shouldn't be such a wuss and come shower with everyone else."
"Sometimes I like my privacy."
Another voice carried through the steam from a few cells away. "You'd rather stink up the whole barracks for the better part of a week before you'll jump in with the rest of us." The water shut off in the stall at the end of the row and a woman stepped out, water sheeting down her dark brown skin. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, then grabbed another to wrap around her long brown hair. "Some officer you'll be."
Shepard straightened up and faced the woman, crossing her arms across her chest. "I don't need to be naked to get to know my soldiers. There are rules about that, Lacerda."
"I'm sure that's not what Carla was saying." Sheila shut off the water and grabbed a towel, her expression making her large blue eyes seem too large for her face. "Is it?"
"All I'm saying is," Shepard said to Carla, "if you need to get naked to know people, you're gonna be real busy if you ever get to command a whole battalion."
"That's not what I meant and you know it," Carla said. "I don't see how you ever caught the general's attention with such a bad attitude. It explains the promotion, though."
"Shepard deserved her promotion as much as you did yours. You're both good at everything. You two should be going to OCS together, as friends," Sheila said with an innocent smile.
"Pick a side, Sheila," Carla snapped as she tied her dress shoes on.
"Between you two? Not on your life." Eyebrows raised almost to her hairline, Sheila grabbed her bag and walked toward the entrance, her hair already drying into tight blonde curls that sat like a halo around her head. She smiled at Shepard as she let her pass by.
Once she was gone, the smile disappeared from Shepard's face. She looked at Carla, who was at the mirror tying back her hair. "She's in my squad, not yours," Shepard said. "There isn't a side to choose."
Before Carla could respond, a chime overhead marked the hour. The rest of the showers shut off as the other women kicked into high gear. One of them shouted to where the two women still faced each other. "It's too crowded in here. Take your drama outside, no one gives a shit."
Carla didn't look at Shepard as she walked out. Shepard tucked her clothes under her arm and walked over to the showers to wait for the others to clear out.
The room was empty within minutes, all of them rushing to the parade grounds where she should be headed, too. Shepard checked to make sure everyone had left, then stripped her clothes off and jumped into the nearest stall.
She washed hurriedly, then wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed a spray can of cover-up from her bag. She took care of her arms first, twisting them to make sure both of her tattoos there were completely covered.
Today had been a close thing; she'd always managed to find a way to keep the markings hidden. At least she was almost finished with this. She wouldn't have to be so careful once she left Earth.
Grabbing her hand mirror from the bag, she turned so that she could see her back reflected in the big mirror, the red ink as bright as it was when it was first etched into her skin. The image reflected in the hand mirror blurred as she focused on the person standing at the doorway a few feet away, watching her.
"Can I help you, Carla?" she asked testily. She began to spray her back down with long, even strokes. Her face was smooth, belying the way her heart was thundering in her chest. Shepard watched her from the corner of her eye as Carla grabbed her jacket from a hook on the wall, then walked quickly from the room without looking back.
Strains of the Alliance anthem floated on the air when she ran from their platoon's barracks a few minutes later. Her dress blues were pressed perfectly; her black shoes shone in the bright sun. Her eyes were shadowed by the brim of the hat pushed forward on her freshly shaved head, looking every inch like she had been bred for the military.
Her platoon was already marching in formation, headed onto the field behind the rest of the company. A conspicuous hole waited for her in the rear rank of the column. Taking her position, she fluidly stepped into the rhythm of the march. The column moved with practiced precision, their steps landing in time with the sound of their drill instructor's voice.
Marching in formation was something that immediately resonated with Shepard after she came to Brazil. After a lifetime of marching to her own beat, moving her legs and arms in sync with the others in her platoon completely broke open her perception of freedom. Moving as a team, it turned out, was no different than operating alone. When she walked with a group like this, she was an integral part of the whole. She felt complete.
The feeling that came from being part of something bigger than herself filled her chest, making the tense moment she shared with Carla minutes before shrink to insignificance. It was sublime.
When she was in command, her team responded like a limb of her own body. As one, they responded to the primal needs of the moment even as they put into play their sometimes complex stratagems. Once her squad began winning wargames and completing exercises in record time, they enthusiastically mimicked her daring moves and risky tactics. Instead of feeling constricted by the demands of responsibility, she had grown from the experience.
It was around then that Carla had first taken notice of her. The other woman was on one of the "fast track" programs, like the one Emilio had arranged for her, and evidently thrived on competition. Shepard had been only too willing to up her game, unused as she was to this type of rivalry.
Eventually they stopped marching at the mark in the plasti-crete a few yards from the stage that had been constructed in the middle of the field. They stood at attention until the rest of the company had likewise taken their positions, then the DI's called parade rest. As one, the platoon moved to stand with their feet apart, hands behind their backs.
The base commander, Brigadier General Valis, approached the podium. "At ease."
The company relaxed and Valis set several datapads on the podium in front of him. Despite his dress uniform, he wore few medals. His broad, scarred face was proof of his experience.
The flags behind him crackled as the wind ruffled the sparse hair on his head. His sharp eyes squinted against the afternoon sun. He cleared his throat and leaned forward to speak into the audio pickup, his voice coming through even more gravelly than it did in person.
"We are proud to welcome each and every one of you into the Alliance. The way of the warrior has a long and noble history. Since before the time of Lycurgus in Sparta, men and women have been purified in the crucible of battle and come home heroes, marching to the songs of the victor and the cheer of a crowd. But fame and praise are not why we fight. And it isn't the food or the pay, that's for sure."
He grinned at the crowd as they smiled at his gruff comment. "No, we fight for something else. Even as we speak, powerful forces are moving in the universe. Fighting is on the rise. Abductions are rampant on our colonies. You all truly have your work cut out for you, protecting the people of our time. But before you do, take a moment, all of you, and ask yourselves: why are you here?"
Shepard listened thoughtfully, taking his words to heart. The experience of the last nine months had been perfect for the needs of an active but grieving woman. Still, after being thrust into this madhouse with no preparation, she wasn't sure what her purpose was. Between exhausting days of training and sleepless nights, she had little time to turn to philosophical questions. Despite the price she already paid for her freedom, she wasn't sure why she was here, or even who she was when it came right down to it. It was as if she had been cut loose by a damning god and now existed as a stranger in a strange land, but somehow, amazingly, she had come out on top in this situation.
Valis continued. "There is really only one reason to fight. To conquer our fear, of death or of life, and to face it head-on." His eyes roamed the crowd as his meaning sunk in.
"Others stay at home. Others live quietly, have babies and die old women and men. But not us. Not Marines." His deep voice boomed across the crowd from the loudspeakers. "Others live their whole lives without ever stepping beyond the narrow confines of their neighborhoods. Most are happy with the minimum, enjoying a life without discomforts. But not us.
"We endure hardship after hardship. We suffer wounds and scars and a shortened life expectancy. But while we are alive, we live like no one else." He pointed his finger at the crowd. "You are part of the greatest lineage of warriors this universe has ever seen. Each of you will hear the shots in the distance and will run to meet them, and I am damned proud of each and every one of you."
His words rang over the silent, captivated company, his searching eyes finally finding Shepard over the heads in front of her.
"There are certain qualities we look for in Marines. You have them in spades, never doubt it. We'll be watching your careers with interest." He held her eyes. In response to his rousing words, the fine hair rose on Shepard's arms.
His face split into a grin. "While the entire graduating class has performed exceptionally well, two amongst you earned superior marks during the nine grueling months of Basic Training you've all endured."
Shepard smiled smugly, fully prepared for what was about to happen.
"Both earned their first noteworthy accomplishments while in training." He picked up the two framed datapads from the podium and held them up. "Corporals Shepard and Lacerda, please come to the front."
Shepard broke rank and headed for the stage. Carla, making her way from the far side of the column, walked several paces ahead of her, her curly black hair pinned into a bun that jounced above her collar with each step. They reached the stage at the same time but Shepard's longer stride reached the podium first. She stood at attention on the near side so that the other woman would have to walk all the way around.
Valis walked around the podium to stand in front of Carla.
"I am proud to personally award this accomplishment badge for Superior Marksmanship to you, Corporal Lacerda. Skills like yours help the Alliance remain a dominant force in the galaxy. You do the Alliance proud."
He tapped into his omni-tool, transferring the award to the datapad. She smiled and shook his hand, taking the datapad with the other hand. They held the pose for a moment as the military journalist in front of the stage took a holo.
Then he walked the few steps to where Shepard was still standing at attention. His smile grew as he approached her, his dark eyes twinkling in his weathered face. Incongruous for such a powerful personality, he stood more than a head shorter than herself.
"Corporal Shepard, it is my deep privilege to give you not one, but two accomplishment badges. The first is for beating my record time in the Gauntlet." His eyes twinkled as he tapped the code that transferred the first award to the datapad and handed it to her.
She took the datapad with a smile, thinking of that day. They had discovered her latent biotic potential during her run of the Gauntlet, the obstacle course that each recruit had to complete. She was so involved in pushing through the course, and in no small amount of physical pain, she didn't even feel the sparks of blue electricity when they began coursing down her back. That was when Valis had first taken notice of her and taken her under his wing, making sure she got the best first-gen biotic implants, then giving her more challenging assignments and responsibilities.
He tapped his wrist again, transferring the second award to her datapad. "The second accomplishment badge is for selflessly sacrificing herself in a wargame so that her squad could escape an ambush. Even though she herself was awarded no points for the exercise, her team won, in no small part due to her sacrifice."
They shook hands. He locked eyes with her and held her hand in both of his for a moment before turning to the journalist for their holo.
He leaned forward and spoke quietly in her ear. "I know we'll see you go far, Corporal. I personally look forward to seeing what you can do in OCS."
"Thank you, sir." Giving his hand one more firm shake, she turned toward the steps.
She and Carla walked down the stairs together. Noticing Carla's stiff bearing, Shepard felt a twinge of guilt. As hard as the other woman had worked during training, she should be able to enjoy this moment. When they reached the ground, Shepard turned to her and held out a hand.
"Congratulations, Corporal. We haven't always seen eye to eye, but I've appreciated the competitive spirit you've brought to our training."
"Likewise." Carla gave her a level stare.
They briefly shook hands, then Carla marched back to her position in the ranks without any further comment. Shepard lifted one eyebrow and smiled at the back of Carla's neck as she followed. At least she had tried.
Valis spoke after they were both once again facing front. "It's soldiers like those two that make the Alliance a major power in the galaxy. Knowing that men and women like you are joining us, I know that whatever enemies we find out there in the dark reaches of space, with the help of soldiers like you, humanity will prevail. I know, because I see it in your eyes.
"I wish you all luck in your careers. May you see many battles." His gaze swept over the company one more time before turning toward the back of the stage to shake the hands of the other officers there.
Their drill instructor about-faced. "Platoon, dismissed! Congratulations, Marines."
The entire company cheered as the band marched across the field behind them, playing the Alliance anthem. Shepard watched the ebullient response of the spectators in the stands, knowing there was no one watching for her there.
She grew very still in the midst of the milling crowd. On the highest level of the bleachers, she imagined she could see the one person she wanted to share this moment with, smiling with his tousled hair tossed on the light breeze. Tom still felt so close to her, even now. He would have done well in the Alliance, if he only could have grown up.
It hadn't even been a year since he died. She spotted features of her brother in the people around her, a flash of reddish hair or a wide smile bringing her fresh pangs of grief. In the fringes of her mind, his voice whispered something indistinct.
Someone bumped into her, dispelling the vision. She swallowed reflexively and tried to calm down, staring at the flickering shadows near her feet.
She felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up to see Sheila's smiling eyes sparkling under the brim of her hat. "Hey, Shep! You coming to the party later? Christo req'ed a vehicle so we can go to the Equator Lounge. A couple of the squads are going too, so it should be lots of fun."
"No thanks, you go ahead with the others."
"We've invited you out for every weekend pass, but you never come. What's your deal?"
"I've got some things to prepare for the trip to Virginia. You guys go ahead."
Sheila put her hand on Shepard's arm before she could move away. "It's our last night. You won't see some of us for a long time, if at all. We'll miss you being our fearless leader." She grinned. "We're meeting at Gate F after we get changed. I hope we'll see you there."
"I'll think about it," she said, with no intention of following through.
Sheila twisted her mouth to the side but said nothing about Shepard's deception. She shrugged and walked away.
Shepard began to negotiate through the crowd of well-wishers and enthusiastic graduates to get to the road leading to the barracks. There was so much joy and camaraderie around her, it was almost suffocating. Her throat began to tighten. She wanted to get closer with her squad, but distance felt safer. Bad things happened to people who got close to her.
It wasn't long before she saw Valis coming toward her way. She had the feeling that he'd been looking for her, and she had to admit she was glad that somebody was thinking of her today. Plus, she just liked the old warrior.
"Congratulations, Corporal," he said when he came close, holding out his hand.
She took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly. "Thanks again, sir. I wasn't expecting the second award."
His laugh sounded like rocks being rubbed together. "We sometimes make up new badges for worthy feats. My second year, I got one for launching a Mako a kilometer into the air off a mountainside on some godforsaken nowhere lump of rock. It was low gee, of course, but of all my achievement badges, that's my favorite."
"Sounds like a good memory, sir."
"Indeed it is. I suppose you're on your way to celebrate with your squad, so I won't keep you."
"I was actually planning on getting a head start on packing, sir." She gestured in the direction of the barracks.
He looked disturbed by this offhand comment. "The Alliance can't have one of its best officer candidates working themselves into an early grave. You've just finished thirty-six weeks of training. You find your squadmates and cut loose. Can't have you cracking up in Officer Candidate School. Am I understood?"
"With all due respect, sir, I don't do parties."
"I've seen your records, Shepard. You've been to the medic for panic attacks at least once a month. If you deny your needs as a human being you'll weaken your performance in the field. Can't have that, you're the most promising special forces candidate I've seen in a long time."
He reached up to give her arm a friendly slap. "Go out tonight and celebrate. You've earned it. That's an order."
"Yes, sir." She mournfully watched him walk away before continuing to the barracks. Once there, she changed into an Alliance tee and spacer cargos, leaving her dress blues neatly folded on her bunk.
Reluctantly, she left the barracks and walked toward the side gate where her squad was meeting. She rubbed the top of her shaved head reflexively, her scalp tingling in the light breeze.
This new existence still seemed fragile to her, like it could be taken away at any moment. She was fulfilled. It worried her.
She doubted that anyone could have traced her here unless Cong sold her out. That seemed unlikely. He made it plain that he intended to make another offer to her later on. She owned to herself that the offer was attractive, but the discipline of military life suited her needs at the moment.
And then there was Raul. Raul was the most passionate person she'd ever met. Bat-shit crazy, of course, but his adoration had more than made up for that, especially in those last few days. Her affairs before she met him had been easy to let go of, often chosen for some advantage they brought to her plans. They hadn't brought her much pleasure.
Raul wasn't the kind of man that just shrugged and walked away. The thought of being hunted by him both disgusted and thrilled her. Even though he was one of the most dangerous men she'd ever known, she remembered the intimacy they had shared with surprising tenderness. Their final week together had been as brief as it had been powerful. Her memories of him often crept into her dreams.
She shook her head at herself, dodging celebrants. Who was she kidding? There was no way that relationship could have survived. Raul was a killer many times over, not to mention the instigator of the worst night of her life. Her nightmares started when she lost her mother, but the panic attacks started after bajo de malecón.
As the words came into her head, memories of that night began to flood back. Her heart pounded. She stopped walking to catch her breath. Post-traumatic stress syndrome tended to bring out the "fight" in her "fight or flight", as her squadmates had discovered. If there was a worse place to flip out than in the middle of a military parade, she didn't know what it was.
She shoved the poisonous thoughts into the background. Raul was a killer, she reminded herself as she approached the gate where her squad was waiting. A killer with no moral rudder, with only his selfish desires to guide him.
"Alright, Shepard!" One of the two men from her squad, Lou, smiled from the driver's seat of the large transport idling on the far side of the road, his white teeth contrasting strongly against his black skin. The back of the truck was open to the sky, lined with benches. She jogged the last few steps and jumped over the tailgate into the back of the crowded truck, shoving Christo's bulky form aside on the bench to make room. She caught a glimpse of Carla wedged into the front seat as she got settled.
It was a ten minute drive on the ground through the thick forest surrounding the base. Shepard had only briefly been to the nearby city of Macapa nine months earlier, when she first arrived. Lou redlined the lumbering transport with Christo egging him on from the back, but it was still slow going. The road eventually twisted east, following the northern bank of the Amazon River delta. He slowed when they got close to town, following the twisting roads of the city expertly. She watched the buildings speed by curiously, having never seen the city when the sun was still up.
They eventually turned in beside a large square building on the shore with bright colored spotlights shining on the exterior walls, which were sculpted out of plasti-crete to look like a white shell. Its upper level was open to the sky and she could see people moving in the murky light emanating from the balconies on the floors below, their loud conversations spilling out to the roadway. Lou parked the truck next to several other military vehicles in the lot and the others jumped out.
Shepard lagged behind, staring out over the water. The sun was just dropping below the horizon. Unlike back in California, where she had memories of brilliant sunsets, the sun disappeared at the equator with almost no noticeable twilight. It made this part of the Earth feel slightly alien, piquing her curiosity about what she would see on other worlds.
"C'mon, Shep!" Lou called out, waving his arm at her from across the lot.
She watched as the sun dropped the last inch, then ran to catch up with the others. The club was pounding with its own heartbeat, the muffled music crawling into her stomach and gripping her powerfully. Images of Chege and his father came immediately to mind, along with memories of hundreds of nights working the upscale bar in the Afrikka Club, hustling her way to the top.
In this moment, Valis' words came back to her: why was she here?
She discarded a dozen bullshit answers to that question in the time it took her to scan her ID at the side door and follow the others up the stairs, but it continued to haunt her.
The inside of the Equator Lounge pulsed with color and sound. The vaulted main room stretched up the top floor, while overlooking indoor balconies wound up to the roof deck, open windows allowing the breeze into the upper levels. Flashing colored lights illuminated the crowd in time with the beat, revealing celebrating marines like them mixed in with the locals everywhere she looked. As they skirted the central dance floor, the oscillating lights exposed couples in dark corners, blissfully ignoring the others in the club.
They finally found a table on the far side of the dance floor, near one of the smaller bars. She had barely settled in a chair in the corner before Sheila was pulling her up. "Nuh-uh, Shepard. You're not gonna hide out tonight."
Sheila pulled her over to the bar and ordered a round of cheap drinks, which they carried back to the table. Shepard sneered in distaste at the swill but chugged it down, remembering far better concoctions from the Afrikka Club.
The others bantered and cracked jokes, ordering round after round. It was tempting to jump into their conversation, but she held back, still clinging to her self-imposed isolation. By the fifth round, she was leaning against the wall, slapping the cold plasti-crete in time with the beat of the music. She didn't even realize she was bobbing her head with the beat until Christo punched her arm
Squinting, she looked up at him. His enormous barrel-chested frame seemed to take up more room in here than in the truck. He leaned in close to her, taking his cigarette out of his mouth to shout into her ear.
"Hey Shepard, are you dancing?" he laughed, his breath reeking of alcohol. "I didn't know you had any moves. Get out there and show us what you can do!"
She gave him a caustic look and refocused on nursing her drink. He shouted to the rest of the table, his words slightly slurred, "Shepard thinks she's under orders not to have any fun tonight. You believe that shit?"
She punched him in the arm hard enough to elicit an "Ow!", but the others had already jumped on her case, demanding in jovial terms that she "dance that pole out of her ass".
Carla snorted into her glass. "She's a kiss-ass with a chip on her shoulder. Ignore her, she won't be any fun."
Something about Carla's tone finally rose Shepard's ire. "I'm a kiss-ass, miss military academy? Go fuck yourself."
Everyone at the table turned and stared at her incredulously. Several pregnant moments passed before Shepard realized she'd said the last part in Spanish.
"Shit," she muttered. She was slipping up already. But then, maybe it was overkill to try and hide everything about herself. She kicked back the last of her drink, then pushed off the wall to set the glass on the table. "Fine, I'll dance."
Sheila shouted in wordless glee and grabbed Shepard's hand, yanking her down the stairs and towing her to the very middle of the dance floor.
"Okay, Shepard," Sheila grinned, shouting over the music. "Let's see what you've got."
Standing in the middle of the spirited dancers, Shepard felt even more out of place. At a loss for how to start, she closed her eyes and remembered the last time she had come to a place like this.
The night after Raul confessed his feelings at the UCC, they had gone out together to celebrate at a club up the coast. It was an unforgettable night. She imagined he was there with her now, his strong arm around her waist. She began to move.
The music was present in every part of her, her ears, her eyes, her skin, and underneath, the bass throbbed in her bones. The colored lights flowed across her closed eyelids, rainbows that moved in time with the beat. The heat of the other dancers embraced her, everyone in harmony as they gave themselves over to the music.
She could almost hear Raul whispering in her ear, chills shivering down her spine as she listened to him. She flung her head back, imagining him lower his mouth to the hypersensitive flesh of her neck.
Was that what she wanted - to go back to the Sangre Carnal? If he found her, would she be able to resist him? She wasn't certain.
Living in fear of being caught and locked up, or snatched and used as leverage for a rival gang, sounded unappealing to her after the last nine months. She wasn't certain she wanted to go back to a life of power plays and posturing. But was she turning her new life into a lie by hiding her true self?
She danced faster, working out her frustration.
The music changed, became heavier and harder-hitting, pounding up her legs and pushing the air from her lungs with each beat. Her legs bent and twisted in time with the music, her arms reaching for the lights. The bass dropped and she leaped up, pumping her fists while the melody rose, her spirits along with it.
She could go back to Cong, who had helped her already. With his resources and backing, she could accomplish just about anything she put her mind to. But what would she do with it? Pursue Cong's corporate goals, shooting people for money like a merc?
Fighting for nothing was a repugnant thought. Recent memories of training with a team of dedicated soldiers behind her pushed that thought away. Sure, a lot of the people here were for the paycheck too, sending money home until they'd done their time. Or, like her, joined up because they didn't know what else to do with their lives or felt they had no choice. But there was more to it.
She'd known it would be interesting the first time the others came back from their first weekend pass. They'd come in through the window at the end of the barracks, rappelling from the roof. The lot of them were still piss drunk just an hour before first call. She'd been hard pressed to keep them from getting in trouble, but she covered for them the best she could, earning their appreciation.
Basic training, in her observation, was just a bunch of well-armed seventeen and eighteen year olds living alone for the first time, playing real-life video games. She smiled at the memory as she danced. She wanted so much to join them every time they went out. And here she was. She was cheating herself and them by not sharing who she really was. The danger had long since passed.
Eventually the beat slowed. She warmed to the new music, feeling the waves of sound course down her body, pushing her hips this way and that. Not thinking, just feeling. The sensation crackled through her spine. Her biotic implants began to warm up. Her eyes opened and she stopped dancing.
Sheila stopped to look at her curiously. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You're not a bad dancer at all!"
Shepard smiled. "Come on, I need another drink."
"Alright!"
Sheila eagerly followed, pushing past her just before they reached the long bar on the ground level. "Hey! Get us a round of Piledrivers."
"No," Shepard interrupted. "No more of that sludge. Get us a round of Salarian Lab Experiments."
"What the hell is that?" the bartender asked.
Shepard began to point out bottles on the shelf, shouting out lengthy instructions, but the bartender just looked confused and pulled a few beers for other customers.
Sheila touched her arm and spoke into her ear. "This isn't the kind of place you order exotic drinks."
"It looks like a place that would serve them. So why don't they?" Shepard waved at the bartender to get his attention again, but was ignored for her efforts.
"You want something done," she muttered, then launched herself over the bar. Waving the flustered bartender away, she pulled down the four bottles she wanted.
She rolled seven glasses down her arm and across her chest before setting them on the bar. The bartenders shouted at her to leave, then stopped to watch as she flipped the first bottle in the air and caught it behind her back. Onlookers cheered her on, calling their friends over as she flipped the bottle again, ducking under it and catching it with her off hand before pouring.
Back in L.A. she had her act coordinated like a dance, in time with the music. The customers loved it. She made more money than anyone else. If money alone had been her goal, she would have happily stayed there.
"Hey, can you make me one of those too?" someone shouted from down the bar. One of the bartenders began talking urgently into his wrist comm.
"You just love being the center of attention, don't you?" Sheila asked, leaning forward to be heard over the music.
Shepard grinned but focused on not dropping the bottles. She tossed a decanter of clear eezo-based liquor with glowing blue flakes floating in it into the air and put on another crowd-pleasing show before she poured, thoroughly enjoying herself. She set the glowing bottle down next to the others. As she reached for the last decanter, someone tapped her on the shoulder.
"You're going to have to leave, miss," a deeply accented voice said from beside her. She glanced briefly over her shoulder to see a large, dark man wearing a black shirt with the word "Seguridad" on the front.
"Just one more thing," she said, tossing the last bottle straight up. The crowd gasped as she caught it in a biotic field an inch from her head. The biotic field made the previously clear liquid glow purple. She lowered it and winked at the shocked bouncer through the sparkling bottle, the other wide-eyed bartenders amassed behind him, before carefully guiding it over to the glasses and pouring the last ingredient into the drink.
She snatched the bottle from the biotic field and set it down. "Still want to try and kick me out?" she asked the still-gaping bouncer.
Holding up a hand covered with blue lightning, she touched each one of the glasses. The eezo began to glow, the blue flecks turning a startling shade of purple. When she made these drinks back in the Afrikka Club she had used a live wire. She loved the theatrics of being able to do it this way.
Winking at the bouncer, she tapped her chit on the bar five times, transferring a large tip to the bar. "There you go, that should cover it." With an athletic leap, she moved to the other side of the bar, where a few of the other members of her squad were waiting, having come over when they heard the commotion.
Confusion and irritation were plain on Carla's face as she took one of the glasses. "Who are you? It's like you're from another dimension."
"You never know. I hear the Salarians split the eleventh dimension. I think that's what this drink was created for, come to think of it," Shepard said. She kicked back her drink, then huffed out a short breath. "It's hot in here. I'm going upstairs to get some air." She waved the hem of her shirt to let cooler air in.
"I'll go with you," Carla said. The others watched in surprise as they walked away together.
It was well after midnight when they stepped onto the roof. The air outside was warm and moist, as it always was here, but still cooler than it had been inside. Shepard lifted her face and stretched her back. Her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton after dancing in the loud club for so long, but she felt wonderful.
Should she be sobering up this quickly? Maybe it was her biotics. The implants were first gen, so who knows what benefits and side effects she'd discover. She tried to ignore the warnings they tried to impress on implant candidates, preferring to focus instead on potentially being able to levitate like an asari.
They walked to the corner of the roof deck together. It was much quieter out here, though the bass still vibrated under their feet. The moon was incandescent in the sky, everything on the deck aglow in its bright light.
Shepard leaned over the edge of the waist-high block wall surrounding the deck and looked out at the river. "Do you think there are any predators in the water, like sharks?" she asked.
Carla chuckled. "It's freshwater, so no sharks. But there could be some Amazonian predators in there."
"A shame. I'd love a swim right now."
"Would it wash off the cover-up?" Carla asked.
Shepard was silent for a moment before she answered. "No, it should stay on for another week."
"It must have been hard to keep them secret. Why did you hide them? You're allowed to have tattoos."
"It's not to hide them from you. It's to hide me from - other people." Shepard hopped up on the wide wall, dangling her legs over the edge above the alley next to the club. She moved several half-empty bottles and glasses out of the way and patted the chilly stone surface, indicating for Carla to join her. Carla sat next to her, glancing apprehensively at the ground two stories below.
"Truthfully," Shepard said, "It was harder to keep myself from getting close to anyone."
"Is that why you've been so awful to me?"
"Have I really been that awful? Yeah, okay, I have," Shepard said. "I guess you remind me of someone I used to know. I had to leave her behind when I came here."
"What was her name?"
Shepard hesitated before responding. "Lola."
"Was she your - girlfriend?"
Shepard smiled. "No, not like that. Not my thing."
Carla looked disappointed. "Oh. Never mind. "
Shepard took a moment to contain her surprise at this revelation before responding. "If I'd known it was like that, I might have been nicer about it. I'm sorry I'm such a bitch."
Carla shook her head. "You just love to be admired, don't you?"
Shepard shrugged audaciously, making the other woman laugh.
"I've worked so hard to get where I am," Carla said. "But you make it look easy. Do you even have a military background?"
Shepard hesitated again before responding, wondering how much she should reveal. "No. I didn't even know I was coming here until the day before I left. I suppose you could say that I was raised in a war zone, though. I've never been to a real war, but that's what it felt like to me."
"It must have made you strong. It shows."
"Seems like you've done just fine without a lot of hardship."
Carla shrugged. "I'm not going to apologize for having loving parents or having gone to a good school. I've done the most I could with what I had to work with, just like you did."
"Interesting it should bring us to the same place, though."
"We're intersecting here, but we're on different paths. In five years, we could be as far apart as Sol is to the Horsehead Nebula."
Shepard frowned. "I have no idea what my path is supposed to be. I've been trying to figure it out this whole time."
"Really?" Carla cocked her head to the side and a breeze lifted some of the hair that had come free from her bun. It blew across her face as she spoke. "That's surprising. You seem so driven."
"I'm just doing what I always do. Whatever needs to be done at that moment."
Carla smiled. "Well, you seem to have no trouble advancing."
"Maybe that's it. I've always looked for a way to take things to the next level. I don't like to settle. In the military, the path is laid out for me. It's almost too easy."
"There's more to promotion than what you've seen in Basic."
"I know that, but as long as I stay on the fighting path, all I have to do is keep kicking ass."
"And that's all there is to it?" Carla asked.
"It helps to have some flair, so you get noticed," Shepard said.
"I suppose you're right."
Downstairs, the bass stopped. The two of them sat in silence. Only the conversation of the scattered people behind them occasionally broke the peace. The lights on the deck flashed. Last call.
A shuffle from below them caught their attention. They both peered over the edge of the building to see two men escorting a stumbling woman down the alley next to the club. The men were indistinct, wearing dark clothes that blended in with the dark alley, but the woman wore a bright red dress that sparkled in the light filtering from the riverfront. Her voice carried up to where they were sitting.
"Where're we going?" the woman slurred, leaning heavily on one of the men. "This isn't my sister's house."
The man on her left said something that they couldn't hear, and the other man laughed. The woman shoved at the one who had spoken and fell back a step.
Shepard and Carla glanced at each other, concerned.
"No, no," she said. "Take me - take me back. I can call my sister, she can come get me."
The man who laughed before threw the woman up against the wall. He slapped her, then began tearing at her clothes.
Up on the roof, Carla swung her feet back over the ledge. "We have to help her. Come on," she said.
"It could be too late by time I take the stairs. I'll meet you down there."
Carla looked at her oddly, but nodded. "I'll go get the others." She ran toward the stairs, tapping at her wrist comm.
Shepard turned back to the scene below and scooted all the way to the edge of the wall. Her heart thumped in her throat. In theory, her biotics should stop her from hitting the ground hard. It was the first time she had tried it, though. As she looked at the tableau three stories below, deciding which direction to jump, she wondered that she had been able to jump out of Cong's window like she had. She balked at the vivid memory of her extensive injuries.
The woman below broke away long enough to scream. Without another thought, Shepard leaped into the air.
Bright blue light radiated from her as she fell, shining on the dull stone walls. Her feet hit the ground, her biotics cushioning most of the shock. She flung her hand out, throwing a shockwave through the men and sending them flying into the dumpster several yards away. The deep boom of the shockwave resounded in the narrow alley, momentarily dizzying her.
Then everything happened at once. A low black door leading into the club behind her opened and two bouncers stepped out, one of them the big one who tried to kick her out earlier. Down the alley, a dozen marines ran around the corner. The woman against the wall collapsed, evidently having fainted, and one of the men who attacked her pulled out a pistol.
The bouncers jumped back behind the door when they saw the weapon. Shepard quickly brought up a kinetic shield and ran toward the armed man, a top-heavy behemoth with legs that looked far too spindly to hold him upright. A panicked look appeared on his face as she came at him, her left fist already cocked at her hip. The pistol flashed several times, but the shots deflected off her shield into the walls on either side.
She dropped the shield when she came close enough to see the stubble on his chin in the dark alley. Still running, her left hand slapped the gun away and she slammed her assailant into the wall behind him. His breath left him with a loud exclamation.
All of this happened in just a few moments while her squad ran down the alley. When the shots stopped, the door to the club opened again.
Her right fist hit the would-be rapist in the groin just as her squad arrived. A wheezing sound came from his throat and he toppled over.
"Shepard!" Carla's voice came from behind her.
Shepard ignored the other squad leader, turning to the man who had torn the woman's dress. He wasn't as big as his friend, but similarly built. He cowered against the dumpster, staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.
"No!" he shouted, holding his arms out.
"Shepard," Carla shouted. "He's terrified, stop! It's over!"
Her fist glowed blue as it flashed through the air. It connected with his groin with a sickening crunch. He heaved and doubled over. Then he dropped to his knees, retching violently onto the filthy ground.
Shepard straightened up and glanced over to where the bouncers were helping the woman up. One of them was already on his wrist comm, calling the police. She nodded with satisfaction and walked over to where Carla was standing with their squads. The other marines murmured to each other, some of them plainly disappointed at missing out on the action.
"He was already giving up, Shepard. Why did you hit him?" Carla asked.
"There's only one way to deal with rapists," she said. Carla nodded, but didn't look convinced. Shepard looked at the bouncers one more time. "They've got this now. Let's go back to the base."
"Hey," a voice from behind her said as they moved away.
She stopped and looked over at the bouncer from behind the bar earlier. He was hefting the unconscious woman in his arms. "Yeah?"
"Thanks," he said. "One of us would have gotten shot, for sure."
"No problem." She gave him a terse nod, then trotted down the alley toward her squad.
She ran to catch up with Carla and put her arm over her shoulder as they walked back to the truck. Shepard suffered through some good-natured ribbing as they climbed in, which she took with good grace. Lou smiled up at her as he closed the lower door of the back of the truck, leaving the top half open to the night.
"Good times, Shep. Glad to see you had some fun."
"Me too, Lou." She watched him walk around the corner of the truck. The doors on the cab slammed shut and the old eezo drive of the truck whined as it started up.
Shepard didn't sit down with the others. Instead, she straddled the ledge of the door, hanging half out of the truck as it began to move. The wind caressed her face and her bald head as they headed back to the base.
When they drove into the forest, the sound of the engine reflected off the trees, mixing eerily with the cheerful conversation of her squadmates. The moon shone into the back of the truck, revealing the happy men and women she served with. Her new family, if she chose to let them in. But perhaps there really wasn't any choice about it after all; it was what she had wanted all along.
She raised her face to the sky, to the stars which would soon be her home, and finally felt a small measure of release.
Thanks as always for reading. Please don't hesitate to give me any feedback, I welcome all kinds.