Chapter 11: Cast off
Another long elevator ride, the last one of the day, up to dock four-two-two, where the Normandy was waiting to receive the latest additions to her crew. Most of the elevator's occupants seemed content to pass the journey in silence.
"So, Williams, you think you could take the turian?"
"Not this again," the Chief groaned. "Drop it, krogan."
Wrex let out a snort and kept mercifully quiet for the rest of the ascent.
The elevator slid to a halt and the doors opened soundlessly.
"Dock four-two-two," the elevator VI's synthesised voice announced.
They traipsed out onto the dock. The Normandy was waiting patiently for them, the faintly blue-tinged light from the Serpent Nebula sparkling off her hull.
"That's your ship?" Tali asked Shepard, staring at the docked vessel. "Keelah – it's beautiful."
"The SSV Normandy," Shepard said, surprised to hear a note of pride in his voice. "Isn't she a sight? Mind you," he added, "she'll probably be a lot less shiny by the time this is over."
His eyes were drawn to a solitary figure at the end of the dock. It was leaning on the railing, taking in the view over the ward arms.
"Go ahead and board," Shepard told the others. "I'll just be a minute."
He parted from them as they headed down the gangway to the ship's airlock, walking up to the end of the dock and settling himself against the railing.
"Captain."
"Commander."
"Good work today, Shepard," Anderson said after a few moments' silence.
"I didn't really do all that much," Shepard said modestly. "It was Vakarian's lead that got us to the evidence. And we only had that because of Tali."
"It only came together because of you, Shepard," Anderson said firmly. "Even when the Ambassador was prepared to dismiss me as obsessed, you wanted to keep trying. Thank you for that."
Shepard nodded.
"So," he said at length, "the Brass decided to turn our finest ship over to the Council. That's going to make them some friends back home."
"They may not like you, Shepard, but they know they need to support you regardless. You needed a ship. And the Normandy was the obvious choice."
"Even if it means you stepping down."
"Even then."
Shepard sighed. "It's not-"
"You're a Spectre now, Shepard," Anderson interrupted him. "You can't be double-checking every decision you make with an Alliance officer."
"Yeah," Shepard said reluctantly. "Still doesn't seem fair, though, after your history with Saren."
Anderson didn't answer. Shepard finally turned to look at him.
"I think it's about time you came clean with me, sir."
The Captain exhaled deeply.
"About twenty years ago, I was on a mission with Saren out in the Traverse."
"As part of your Spectre evaluation."
"Yes." Anderson turned to Shepard. "Harkin," he said knowingly.
"Harkin," Shepard said. "Was that why you didn't want me talking to him?"
"Only partly – the man's still as unreliable as they come. Anyway, it doesn't matter now.
"I'll spare you the grisly details," Anderson said tiredly. "It's a long story and I don't feel like telling it right now. But all you need to know is that on that mission, Saren made sure I lost my chance at becoming a Spectre. And he let a lot of innocent people die along the way."
Shepard looked back out over the vista before them.
"So?"
He felt Anderson's stern gaze on the side of his face as he went on. "That's war. Sometimes... you've gotta let a few go."
"I know how the galaxy works, Commander," Anderson said stiffly, "I know sacrifices have to be made. But only if there's no other way. Those people – they didn't have to die. Saren didn't care. Mission accomplished, as far as he was concerned. He'd kill a thousand civilians to stop a war in an instant."
"Maybe I would as well."
Anderson shook his head. "No, you don't understand." He thought for a moment, then said, "if you had two levers to pull that would accomplish the same thing, but one of them would kill a thousand people in the process, Saren would reach for the one that was closest. He doesn't put any value on the lives of others. He's twisted, broken. He-"
"How far apart are these levers?" asked Shepard.
Anderson sighed and shook his head ruefully. "If anyone else were asking that, Shepard, I'd be worried. At least with you, I know it's just pedantry."
"Thank you, sir."
"Just," Anderson started, then hesitated before continuing. "Just be prepared for when you go after him, Shepard. He'll know you're coming. And he'll do whatever it takes to evade you. Or kill you. You can't let yourself go to those lengths to stop him. Make sure you don't- that you stop him, Shepard."
Shepard chuckled hollowly. "Nice cover, sir. But we both know you were going to say something like 'that you don't become him'."
Anderson smiled grimly. "It's a valid concern, Commander. You've got a lot of power now: be careful how you use it."
Shepard waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, great responsibility and all that. I'll be fine, Captain. I'm sure the crew will comment if I become a deranged madman."
"Not an impossibility, now you have Joker to deal with on a daily basis."
They both chuckled, though not loudly or for long.
"Okay, enough lectures," Anderson said. "I've been given intel on some leads you should follow up on.
"Firstly: our colony on Feros, Attican Beta cluster, went quiet shortly after Eden Prime. They made a distress call mentioning synthetics. It's probably related."
"The Alliance sending anything out there?" asked Shepard.
"No." Anderson frowned. "The Brass is playing it conservatively; Feros is too deep into the Traverse to risk a relief force getting pounced by a geth ambush. The Normandy's stealth systems should help you there."
"Alright. What else?"
"That asari matriarch on the recording, Benezia?" Anderson said. "She has a daughter – Doctor Liara T'Soni. Archaeologist of some kind. We don't know whether she's involved, or even if she knows anything, but it couldn't hurt to find out. Maybe she can shed some light on why Benezia's joined up with Saren. Her last known whereabouts are the Artemis Tau cluster, working on some prothean ruins."
"Okay. That everything?"
"Everything – other than some other reports of geth activity, but the Alliance is responding to those."
"Right."
They stood in silence for a while, admiring the view. Enjoying a moment of peace in a way only old soldiers can.
"Well, I'd best get underway."
"Of course, Shepard," Anderson said. "I'll be at the embassy for the foreseeable future if you need anything."
"I heard," Shepard said. "I don't envy you in the slightest."
They walked back down to the Normandy's gangway together.
"Well," Anderson said, "good luck, Commander."
He held out a hand. Shepard shook it.
"Keep your luck, sir," Shepard replied. "If you're going into politics, you'll need it more than I do."
Anderson smiled, but said nothing. They stepped back from one another, then Shepard came to attention and saluted sharply. Anderson returned it.
"Carry on, Commander."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode back down the dock to the waiting elevator.
"Hey Commander." Joker greeted Shepard as he stepped into the cockpit. "Heard what happened to Captain Anderson. Survives a hundred battles and gets taken down by back-room politics."
"Welcome to the galaxy, Lieutenant," Shepard muttered.
"Just watch your back, Commander. If things go wrong, you'll be next on the chopping block."
Shepard grunted. "Let 'em try. I've got a tougher neck than most."
"Yeah, well, so did the Captain. No offence."
Joker tapped at some of his controls.
"Comm's open," he said to Shepard. "If you've got something to say to the crew, now's the time."
Shepard grimaced. "I'm not really a 'words' person," he said. "They know their jobs; they don't need patronising by me."
"Right," Joker said awkwardly. "It's just that the Captain told the crew you'd address them when you got back."
"Ah."
"Also, when I said it was 'open', I meant, you know, right then."
Shepard sighed. "I thought there was an echo in here."
"-cho in here," he heard his voice reverberating up from the CIC.
"So..." Joker said, "you want me to close it?"
Shepard waved his hand irritably. "No, no, I'm going to have to say something now. Just remind me to throttle you when I'm done, Lieutenant."
"Aye aye, sir."
"All hands, this is Commander Shepard."
Across the ship, crew members stopped shaking their heads at each other in amusement and looked up.
"We have our orders: find Saren before he finds the Conduit. I'm not going to lie; this isn't going to be easy. Saren has an army of geth, a ship bigger than anything in any fleet in the galaxy and he knows we're coming."
Several crew members swapped apprehensive glances.
"All we have is one small ship and this crew. That might not sound like much, but this is the finest ship in the galaxy and the best crew the Alliance has ever assembled. Trust her, trust each other, and there's not a thing out there that can stop us.
"Now, I don't make promises, but this is how this mission will go: Wherever Saren runs, we will hunt him. Wherever he hides, we will flush him out. Wherever the colony that he attacks next, we will be there to defend it. No matter how far we have to go – no matter if we have to follow to the ends of the galaxy – we will hunt him down and stop him. To avenge those who have died, and for the sake of those we have sworn to protect.
"That is all. Shepard out."
The crew turned back to their work, many of them with a little more grit to their expressions than they'd had previously.
"'Not a words person'," Joker quoted as he closed the comm. "You're such a kidder, Commander; that was a damn good speech. The Captain would be proud."
"Words aren't going to stop Saren," Shepard said harshly. "Action is. There's nothing to be proud of until we have that bastard in our sights."
He thumped the headrest of Joker's seat.
"Take us out of dock, Joker. It's time to go hunting."
"Yes, sir!"
Shepard punched the door panel and stepped though the door to the commanding officer's quarters. He threw a disbelieving look around the room. Apparently, the ship's designers hadn't been able to find anything else to fill up the space in this part of the ship; the room was not that much smaller than the medbay, and with none of the clutter of medical equipment to fill it. There was barely anything beyond the most basic furnishings: a work desk with integrated holographic display; a table, with two loose chairs – a zero-gee hazard if ever there was one; and a double bed. An actual double bed. Why exactly the designers thought the commanding officer needed a double bed was anyone's guess. Maybe they were worried the officer in question would get restless in the middle of their sleep cycle and want to roll over for the thrill of it.
It appeared Anderson hadn't taken the time to stamp his own mark on the place. Probably he'd had the foresight to know he'd be giving up the ship to Shepard soon enough. Or maybe he hadn't had many personal effects to bring aboard. Shepard sure as hell didn't. As he looked around, Shepard reflected that this was probably – hell, certainly – the largest personal space he'd ever had.
There was a bag dumped on the floor by the door. A quick inspection revealed it contained Shepard's gear. The Captain must have had it moved over before he left. His uniforms, the few civvies he had, a nondescript box and little else. On an impulse, he flicked the box open and rummaged through it, counting under his breath. Twenty-three. All present and accounted for. He left the dress blues untouched – the damn things could rot, for all he cared – and pulled out a set of fatigues, laying them aside before beginning to strip off his hardsuit.
'So... here you are. First human Spectre.'
This was not where he'd imagined he'd end up after being abruptly pulled from the field five weeks ago and reassigned to his first position of command aboard a ship. He'd had... strong words with a certain Admiral over that decision. Words he may now be forced to dine upon with a side of contrition.
He couldn't help but wonder why exactly he had been selected, out of all the thousands of operatives the Alliance had at its disposal.
'The only real candidate,' Anderson had said.
That made no damn sense. There were plenty of other marines who didn't annoy certain superiors as much as he did. Okay, he had a Star of Terra and a rep., but so did plenty of other N7's.
'You were not my first choice.'
Shepard snorted to himself. The Ambassador had probably had a fit when he'd seen his record. But was it Shepard's fault that the Alliance was ridden with officers who couldn't command a mouse into a trap?
Nihlus had seen the same record, but had come to the opposite conclusion. Strange, for a turian to apparently value a willingness to disrespect the chain of command. What had Nihlus been thinking? He'd never know, now. He felt a slight pang of regret at that.
And Anderson had said Hackett had supported him. Well, naturally. He and the Fifth Fleet's commanding officer went back a-ways. A fair few of Shepard's debriefs had involved the Admiral walking in and demanding to know why Shepard had blown up whatever it was he'd decided to blow up this time. They'd always ended with Hackett agreeing with Shepard's explanation. He was one of the few in the Brass who had started at the lowest rung of the career ladder. He knew what it was like to be in the shit without the security of a tac-screen to hide behind. And now he was the only officer in the Alliance military Shepard could be said to answer to. That was a blessing. He didn't think he could handle an Admiral who would feel the need to second-guess him at every step.
But it was the Council who'd actually said 'yes' and made him a Spectre.
He snorted again. He held no illusions: it wasn't in spite of his record, or because of his skill and expertise, or because his ruggedly handsome looks would look good in the holos. They'd said yes to shut the Ambassador up for a while.
Fine. He could live with that.
'I'm sure you're up to the task.'
A recent memory suddenly floated up in his mind and he retrieved the OSD Admiral Kahoku had slipped to him earlier. He tossed it onto the desk and finished redressing himself in his fatigues.
He picked up the disk and synced it to his omni-tool. There were only two files on the disk: a plain text file and a short vid. He patched it through to the room's main holo screen. Kahoku's visage flickered into visibility. The Admiral was standing with his back to a blank wall, the vid apparently shot from a handheld camera. As he spoke, the Admiral's eyes darted back and forth from the camera, to his surroundings and back again.
"Commander Shepard," Kahoku said, quickly but clearly. "I apologise for the cloak-and-dagger approach I've been reduced to, but I couldn't send this message through official channels for reasons I'm afraid I'm unable to divulge-"
Shepard paused the footage, his finger wandering absent-mindedly up to his scar. If the Admiral couldn't send a message through channels – encrypted Alliance channels – then this was either incredibly highly classified or incredibly illegal. Or both. He resumed the footage.
"I know that you can be trusted. And right now, you're the only Alliance officer who can assist me." Kahoku stopped his ceaseless observation of this surroundings to stare into the camera, the holographic reproduction boring into Shepard's eyes. "I know that as a Spectre, you don't answer to me-"
Shepard paused the footage again. That meant this vid had been recorded only minutes before their meeting on the Citadel. Either that or Kahoku had been in the loop on the whole Spectre candidate business, which was unlikely.
"And it's that unaccountability I'm relying on. Two weeks ago, a recon team I had dispatched to a remote world went dark. When I tried to have a patrol sent out to investigate, I found the entire system had been flagged as level five restricted-"
Another pause. Level five restricted was the second-highest warning flag the Alliance issued, just below 'under no circumstances'. Level five meant Alliance military special operations only, at the behest of a Fleet Admiral.
"There is no explanation of why the system was flagged, or who issued the warning. Every request I make to reduce the flag is rebuffed." Kahoku cast a nervous glance around. "I have... a hunch on what may have happened – again, I can't give you the full details – and if I'm right, I can't risk going up the Alliance hierarchy-"
Pause.
After a long moment, Shepard resumed the vid.
"And that's where you come in, Commander. As a Spectre, the flag doesn't apply to you. You can get in there and find out what happened to my team. I've included the coordinates in the other file on this disk." Kahoku's face turned even more solemn. "I appreciate your Spectre duties take precedence, Commander, and I wouldn't blame you if you find this as suspicious as all hell. If you don't want anything to do with this, just forget it and walk away. Otherwise... just remember these are your fellow marines out there. After two weeks, I'm not holding out much hope... but we leave no man behind. If you follow up on this, do not contact me through channels; just turn up to the Embassy lounge on the presidium at sixteen hundred hours. I'm there at that time every day." Kahoku smiled a little. "If you're still listening, I presume you're agreeing, Commander. If that's the case... then thank you. Good hunting."
The vid ended.
A quick glance at the text file revealed the destination: Edolus, Sparta system, Artemis Tau cluster, followed by a set of latitude-longitude coordinates.
'Serendipity,' Shepard thought. It wouldn't be too far out of his way when he was out searching for Doctor T'Soni. Not that the distance made any difference to Shepard. A few swift commands on his omni-tool later and the new destination was sitting on the Normandy's navigation computer.
Shepard sat down in the chair, propping his feet up on the desk. Less than a day into this 'Spectre' lark and already he was up to his eyeballs in something suspicious. He flicked a few possibilities through his mind: accident, a run-in with pirates, communications malfunction. All of which were regular occurrences out in the Traverse, but did nothing to explain the sudden increase in the system's flag.
Coincidence? Maybe.
'Can't risk going up the Alliance hierarchy.'
'Do not contact me through channels.'
Kahoku clearly suspected that someone inside the Alliance had something to do with the disappearance. Someone who the Admiral was apparently afraid of catching onto this unofficial investigation.
'I have a hunch.'
So did he.
A/N: All together now: dun-dun-duuun!
This chapter was finished before the previous one - about a month before - and I actually like how it turned out.
And omigosh! Another review! At this rate I might reach double digits by the end!
::darkerego: Thanks! I'm not holding out much hope for masses of views, but I figure if at least one person keeps reading and enjoying, it's worth it! [/Optimism]