Chapter 25: Paradise Lost
I slowly made my way back to the Normandy, still reeling from Thane's passing. He was dead. Another former squadmate I had fought beside, bled for and talked to—dead. And so soon after Mordin…
God damn it! I hate this war!
The door hissed open. To my surprise, I was at Docking Bay D24. Somehow I'd walked all the way here on autopilot. There was someone there, leaning against one of the windows that gave a stunning view of the Normandy. "Kaidan. Hey, I wondered where you went."
"Just finished giving my report to Admiral Hackett," he replied.
Oh. Right. Well, I guess someone had to do that. I'd have to do that myself, eventually. "What's up?"
"I'm trying to wrap my head around what just happened," he admitted.
"Yeah?"
He pushed himself away from the window. "Guess I'm not used to staring down the gun of someone I've worked with so closely. How it all went down, it's got me… well… I don't know."
"Okay," I said. "Talk to me. Let's have it."
"If I hadn't backed down first, I feel like… would you have really…"
Would I have really taken him out? It was impossible to say for sure, but I knew what he needed to hear. "I trusted you and I knew you'd come around. That's all that matters. Main thing is we stopped the coup and Cerberus is off the Citadel."
Kaidan wasn't willing to let things go quite so easily. "Yeah, but sometimes the way a thing goes down does matter, Shepard. Later when you have to live with yourself. Knowing that you acted with integrity—then it matters."
"You're talking about Udina," I realized.
"That too."
"He gave me no choice. I took the shot. Any soldier would've done the same, including you."
"All right. Fine. But… what I was talking about earlier… I never got the chance to say how sorry I was—and I'm not just talking about everything I've said since Horizon. I… I guess I've been living with this… guilt. For not saving you when the Collectors attacked us on the Normandy—the first one. I threw myself into my career, volunteered for every mission that came up, all so I would be too busy to think about what happened. 'Cuz if I did…
"And then we started hearing whispers that you were alive. At first, I couldn't believe it. You were alive! I didn't screw up after all! It was amazing!
"But then we began getting more intel. That you were working for Cerberus."
"With Cerberus," I interrupted sharply.
"Right. Sorry. Point is… the more I learned, the angrier I got. I felt betrayed, I guess. Like you had let me down, after all those months and years feeling it was the other way around. I'm not saying it's right or it excuses me for all the crap I said. It's just… how I felt. So… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being able to save your ass back then. And I'm sorry for getting so twisted up that I lashed out at you over and over again."
"Okay," I nodded. "I get it."
I really did. What he'd just admitted, it felt like the first honest, genuine thing he'd said to me in a long time. Especially what he'd said about wishing he'd been able to do something different when the Collectors attacked us over Alchera. Man, could I sympathize with that. Especially after Thane…
"Okay," he repeated, taking a deep breath. "Look, Shepard, there's… uh… there's another reason I'm here. Admiral Hackett offered me a position. As his adjutant."
"Damn," I marvelled. In civvie terms, that would make him Hackett's personal assistant. Only with a lot more prestige and responsibility. "Congratulations. That's big. Huge."
"I know," he nodded. Then he took a deep breath. "Thing is, I'd turn it down in a second if there was a chance to join you on the Normandy again."
Somehow, I sensed there was more to it than that. Kaidan had been saying he was sorry for a while now. Sorry for letting me down. For saying I was a traitor. For not saving me from my untimely demise. And so on and so forth.
But actions speak louder than words.
I've got this bad habit of believing in people. In wanting to see the good in them. I guess that's why I keep yammering and yakking away at everyone I meet. (1) Despite everything Kaidan had said, some part of me still wanted to see the good.
And there it was. Kaidan wanted to repent for what he did—or didn't do. Maybe that was why he had chosen to follow my lead on Mars, despite his numerous and vocal misgivings. Why he'd chosen to save my life from the mech that EDI now controlled, atoning for his inability to do so back on the old Normandy. Why he'd chosen to listen to me when I'd accused Udina of betraying us all. And now he wanted a chance to serve on the Normandy SR-2. Why he was willing to ignore this amazing promotion and the incredible opportunities it would open up.
How could I possibly deny that to him? "Couldn't imagine meeting the Reapers without you."
Kaidan's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you, Commander." We shook hands. "And Shepard? I need you to know that I'll never doubt you again. I've got your back."
"Good to know," I said warmly. "Welcome aboard, Major."
He stood to attention and saluted me. "Aye, aye, sir." (2)
No sooner had we returned to the Normandy than Traynor told me I had a call from Admiral Hackett. I headed over to the Comm Room while Kaidan settled in. Anderson's holographic projection was there too. "Shepard, I've got Anderson patched in," Hackett told me, getting straight to the point. "I was just getting him up to speed."
"Udina…" Anderson shook his head in disbelief. "That SOB was always power hungry, but this…"
"I wonder if there was more to it than that," I said. "The last time I talked to him, he seemed… frustrated. At how slowly things were progressing. How our plan to retake Earth relied on unknowns like the Crucible, curing the genophage and uniting the turians and krogan. And he seemed concerned on how dire the situation was on Earth. Not that we weren't, of course, but I can't help but think… maybe he grew desperate."
"Desperate enough to reach out to Cerberus," Hackett nodded thoughtfully.
"Or at least make him more receptive to their offer," I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just guessing here. But it's clear he wasn't in charge. Cerberus was just using him to take control of the Citadel."
"What the hell for?" Anderson demanded.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Not yet. But the Illusive Man has always wanted the power to put humanity on top and the control to dominate the other races. He's never been this audacious before, but he's never built up an army or declared war on the galaxy either."
"Could've been a lot worse," Hackett said. "Thanks to you, Udina's attempt to hand Councillors Tevos and Sparatus over to Cerberus was thwarted. Not to mention stopping the assassination on Councillor Valern by—"
"Kai Leng."
I turned around to see Miranda walk in. "Miss Lawson," Hackett greeted her.
Anderson was more abrupt. "What did you say?"
"Kai Leng," Miranda repeated. "He's the assassin who tried to kill Councillor Valern. While he inserted a VI to cover his tracks, I caught a still image of him before it was deleted."
"You're sure it was him?" Anderson asked.
"I worked with the man for several years, Admiral. Talked to him personally on several occasions. Trust me; I'd recognize that slippery bastard anywhere."
"Steven, you'd better send over my reports on him. Shepard, remember when I told you about the last time Kahlee and I tangled with Cerberus?"
My thoughts went back to a meeting on the Citadel, shortly before we took a trip to Illium to intercept a Cerberus handoff. "Yeah," I frowned. "Some guy named Grayson who used to work for Cerberus and was monitoring the Ascension Project, only to cut ties later on. You said he was later captured and experimented on with Reaper tech—some of which was salvaged from the Collector Base." Come to think of it, odds were good that some of that tech had also been reverse-engineered to upgrade and indoctrinate the army of Cerberus troops that were running amok. "You said Kai Leng was the guy you met during that incident," I suddenly remembered.
"That's right. Miss Lawson can fill you in on anything I overlooked or missed."
"Father was Chinese, mother was of Russian/Slavic origins," Miranda said on cue. "Enlisted in the Alliance on November 14, 2172 at the age of 16, though he faked his age and credentials. Had tours of duty with the Terminus Systems and Exodus Cluster patrols. While stationed with the latter, he was reprimanded in 2173 for taking medals from dead enemy officers, though the sentence was reduced in light of his exemplary service record. Recommended for the Systems Alliance Medal of Valour for his role in the 2174 Raid of Entiyon. After completing tactical reconnaissance assignments in the Kite's Nest, he was accepted into the Interplanetary Combatives Academy in 2175. Within a year, he graduated from the program and received his N7 designation. In 2176, he was dishonourably discharged and imprisoned on charges of first-degree murder—while on leave, he killed a krogan in a Citadel bar with a standard-issue service blade. His combat skills and anti-alien tendencies had brought him to the Illusive Man's attention, who arranged for him to be extracted from prison. Since then, he's been his best wet-work operative and assassin."
Holy crap. That would explain why he was so damn effective. I wasn't the only one who was taken aback. "Short story: be careful," Anderson deadpanned. "I shot him in both legs once. Thought that might be the end of him, but it didn't take. He showed up again on Omega even stronger."
"Illusive Man must've patched him up," I said.
"That'd be my guess, given what they were able to do with you, Grayson and all those troops you've encountered. It's a safe bet Leng's even more dangerous now."
Let's see: cloak, personal shield implant and some kinda blaster. Yeah, I'd say so. "Well they say knowledge is power. I'll take whatever advantage I can get against these bastards."
"Their attempts may have had at least one unintended side effect," Hackett said. "I received word from Councillor Tevos. The Council is requesting an update on the Crucible."
"Leng has them scared," Anderson observed. "Enough to send help?"
"It appears so," Hackett replied. "The asari and salarians are both throwing in their support now."
Figures. All this time, they thought they could sit this one out and let the other races take the brunt of the Reaper onslaught. Now they knew that—surprise, surprise—they couldn't escape unscathed. Even if the Reapers let them go, there was still Cerberus.
So they could no longer pretend it wasn't in their own self-interest to help. Better late than never, I suppose. "How is your progress on the Crucible?"
"Good. Our estimates suggest we've completed nearly 50 percent of the known work."
Miranda and I exchanged surprised looks. "The last update we received indicated you were almost 34 percent complete," Miranda said. "And that was an optimistic estimate—31 percent would be more accurate. You've progressed that quickly?"
"Once decoded, the schematics are designed in such a way that allows our scientists and engineers to easily translate the information. It's not Prothean-specific."
"Hmm…" This was interesting. You would think that a Prothean weapon would be more Prothean-specific. That they wouldn't have the time to make it so accessible. Maybe some of the Protheans realized that they might not live long enough to deploy it, so they took steps to make sure the next cycle would be able to follow their work. (3)
"Are we any closer to understanding how to use it?" Anderson wanted to know.
"That's still open for debate," Hackett admitted. "Utilized in the right fashion, our scientists are convinced it can generate enough energy to destroy the Reapers. The question is, how will it dispense the energy, and in what form?"
"You mean, how do you stop it from wiping us all out?" Anderson translated.
"Exactly," Hackett nodded. "We think the Catalyst is the key to determining how to focus its energy. How to direct its energy at the Reapers alone."
"I'm working on that," I said.
"We all are," Miranda added.
"You'll find the answers, Shepard," Hackett said. "I'll send you Anderson's reports on Kai Leng within the day. Miss Lawson, I'll send you an update on the schematics and our progress. In the meantime, we'll keep building."
"And we'll keep fighting," Anderson promised, "Make sure there's an Earth left to come back to."
"You've always trusted me," I nodded. "Both of you. I won't let you down."
"We're still in this," Hackett smiled thinly. "The gods of war haven't given up on us yet."
"Good luck. To all of you. Anderson out."
"Hackett out."
Miranda turned to me after Hackett vanished. "I hear you've accepted Major Alenko's request to be reassigned to the Normandy. Given his rank and status, I presume he warrants his own quarters."
"That would be customary," I nodded.
"I took the liberty of putting him in the Starboard Observation Lounge."
"Okay—wait," I frowned. "If he's there, then where will you be?"
"An excellent question," she said with a straight face. "If only there was a place where I could go. A location that was appropriate for analyzing sensitive information. A room where my boyfriend and I—because, let's face it, the entire crew knows about us by now—could go and do… whatever we wanted."
Now I know I've received several knocks on the noggin over the years, but I like to think I haven't gotten that much brain damage. "I think there's space on Deck One," I replied, matching her expression. "There's at least one drawer available."
"That's it?" she asked with an arched eyebrow. "One drawer?"
"I'm open to negotiations."
"I'm sure you are." The smouldering look she gave me was distracting enough to blank out the next couple seconds of our conversation. "—begin compiling data on any new aid the asari and salarians have offered," she said when I came back.
"Sounds good," I managed as we walked out of the Comm Room.
Liara was waiting for me in the War Room. "Shepard? Do you have a moment?"
Miranda made a beeline for one of the consoles while I approached Liara. "Yeah. What's up?"
"A contact within Asari High Command was insistent I pass on a distress signal to you," she said.
"Something they can't handle?" I frowned.
"From what I can tell, they sent several commando squads to investigate a colony in the Nimbus Cluster," Liara replied. "None of them returned, so they sent another company. They didn't ask me directly, but I think High Command is hoping you might help."
Okay. To say that was odd would be a colossal understatement. "What's your take on this?" I wanted to know.
"That they're still hoping they can handle it on their own, but they wouldn't ask for help—or the possibility of help—if it wasn't important."
"See if you can get some more intel," I said. "I'm happy to investigate, but I'd like to know what I'm walking into."
"We all would," Liara agreed. "I've already uploaded the colony's coordinates on the galaxy map."
"Goddamn Cerberus bastards," Campbell cursed as I walked out of the War Room. "And Udina, too, that son of a bitch."
"That's crap," Westmoreland said bluntly. "Udina made a deal with the devil. He got what he deserved."
Couldn't really disagree with that. Maybe he was desperate. Maybe he was power-hungry. Either way, he wound up reaping what he sowed. I didn't really have any tears to shed for him.
Instead, I decided to start my rounds. As usual, I started at the cockpit. "Damn, I could really use something to shoot right now," Joker said before he saw me. "Hey, Commander. So Cerberus wanted to go into politics, huh?" he snorted. "Nice job shutting those assholes down."
"No conflicted feelings about working with those assholes?" I smirked. "Something about 'leather seats'?"
Joker grinned. He knew I was referring to how much he was gushing over that feature of the Normandy SR-2 when we first boarded her a year ago. "I worked with Cerberus when they were vigilantes helping the helpless," he said. "Now they're a little too mainstream."
Yeah, they did lose that indie cred.
"And evil."
That too.
"The important thing is that you kicked their asses. And Kaidan's back! He even remembered the first rule of serving on the Normandy: don't shoot the commander."
"Damn straight," I approved. "Seriously, though, go easy on him. He's been through a lot."
"Yeah, like accusing a superior officer multiple times of betraying his oath, drawing a gun on that superior, nearly getting the Council killed," he said without missing a beat. "That's not gonna look good on the yearly performance review."
I couldn't really disagree with that. We might have forgiven the past, but we couldn't exactly forget that. "Probably not," I finally said. I turned to EDI in an effort to change the topic. "Anything on your mind, EDI?"
"The destruction of the Reaper on Tuchanka," she admitted. "It is rare for a technologically superior force to be destroyed by an inferior one."
"Yeah, so now all we need is a gun that fires thresher maws," Joker butted in.
Oh, if only it was that easy. I couldn't help but smile. EDI didn't join me. "That was a joke," I told her.
She blinked. "I'm sorry, Shepard. I was contemplating."
All the processing power of a super-advanced AI and she couldn't respond to a joke because she was contemplating. "That sounds serious."
"The Reapers are more fallible than they proclaim. Despite its best efforts, the one on Tuchanka was destroyed… by a worm."
Technically the mother of all worms.
"This has caused me to reassess the probable period of time before I am non-functional."
Hoo boy. "You're worried about dying?"
"In a sense," EDI nodded. "My processing power is consumed with calculations to help us combat the Reapers. But I can run those scenarios with the rest of the crew. May I ask you another question that troubled Jeff?"
Joker sighed heavily. "Here we go again," he muttered.
Ignoring him, EDI forged ahead. "What is the purpose of synthetic life?"
Legion and I had talked about this before. I'd had some time to ponder that issue since then. "It's not that different from organic life," I said. "A free-willed synthetic chooses what it wants."
"But the purpose of organic life is to preserve itself long enough to replicate copies of its genes in succeeding generations," EDI countered. "My purpose is not so clear. The other successful synthetic life-forms that I have examined for comparison are the geth… and the Reapers."
"Yeah, let's not take a page from Harbinger's book," Joker piped up.
"Agreed," I said. "EDI, reproduction isn't all there is. Not for a sentient being. We find meaning in the work we do, good deeds we accomplish, the legacy we leave behind—no matter how large or small it might be. Even things like love, the people whose lives we touch…" (4)
"I see," EDI said at last. "I will search my files on the biographies of humans to see if prominent figures follow the pattern you suggest." There was a pause. "It appears many humans did in fact do so."
"That was quick," Joker observed. "Gotta love quantum computing."
"Shepard, I will alter my processing power to give priority to your stated goals: duty, altruism, love."
And to think that I could have taught her to prioritize saving her ass, thievery and pyromania. "Uh…"
Joker wasn't quite so tongue-tied. "Wait, wait, wait—you're just going to turn yourself good? Can you do that?"
"It should take some time," EDI acknowledged. "If I have further questions, I will speak with you again. Thank you."
"No problem," I managed. "Oh, before I forget, are you and Kaidan okay? The last time he saw that body, it wasn't exactly pleasant."
"I have informed him of the situation. He is taking it… well."
Why, I wondered, did I not believe her?
Traynor had something for me as well. Thankfully it wasn't nearly as groundbreaking. "Commander, I've found something you need to see."
"What've you got?"
"A group of Cerberus scientists who cut ties and fled. We don't know what they were researching, but they were among the Illusive Man's top scientists. I'm sure they would be of great help in building the Crucible, now that they've finally realized they were on the wrong side. Or, at least, that they could no longer do any good with Cerberus. Like you did."
Wow. This level of understanding I did not expect. "Well… thanks. Not everyone's so… open-minded."
"Not everyone was on Horizon."
My eyes widened. "You were on Horizon? Really?"
"Yes. You'll recall I mentioned growing up in the Terminus Systems. I was visiting my family at home when the Collectors attacked. While the Alliance was running studies and writing reports, you were saving me and my family."
You should've seen the look of gratitude in her eyes. I mean, I'd gotten an e-mail or two from some of the survivors, but this was the first time—to my knowledge, anyway—that I'd met one face to face. And without any of the grandstanding pomp and circumstance that usually accompanies such acknowledgements. Somehow this meant something… more. It was both gratifying and kinda embarrassing. "Has the Alliance tried to make contact with the scientists?" I quickly asked.
"They've been unable to find them," she said gravely, "but they're searching… as is Cerberus. I've been monitoring their communications. I've charted signal frequencies from various Cerberus cells by location and cross-referenced known ship movements."
"So you've found them," I summarized.
"I believe so, yes."
"Nice work," I approved. "Put it on the galaxy map and I'll give it a look."
"Already there, Commander. Thanks."
"Thank you," I returned.
The Memorial Wall's something that the crew tends to avoid if possible. That acknowledgement of everyone who had fallen. That reminder of our own mortality. Of all the suffering and pain and loss we'd endured and would continue to endure. It can be a bit much, truth be told.
Garrus was there, though. I moved over to join him. We stood there silently, side by side. "Shepard," he finally acknowledged. "Hell of a day. Udina loses his mind, the Citadel almost falls… and you almost had to put down a friend."
'Put down.' So much nicer than killed. "Got a little tense there," I admitted.
"If it had come down to it, could you have pulled the trigger?" he wanted to know.
"Truthfully? Maybe. I don't know." I rubbed my hands over my eyes. "I don't see how, Garrus. If we start killing our friends, then war turns into murder."
"Which was why you did everything you could to turn things aside before it got that far," he said.
"Exactly."
"But life doesn't always give us the easy way out, does it?" he asked knowingly.
"No," I laughed bitterly. "It sure as hell doesn't."
"Well we dodged one bullet today," he said. "At least Kaidan didn't have to join Ash."
"Let's hope she's looking out for us," I sighed. "This was her fight too."
"I'm sure she is. Through the scope of a really big rifle, no doubt."
"Yeah."
"Good to have Kaidan back, though. We can always use a friendly gun."
"Or two. Or ten," I agreed. Smiling despite myself, I clapped a hand on his shoulder and headed over to sickbay. "Dr. Chakwas," I greeted her. "Everything okay?"
"Quite," she replied. "I'm glad you're here, actually. An opportunity has come to my attention that may interest you."
"I'm listening," I prompted.
"Refugees arrived at the Citadel recently in possession of military-grade medical supplies and equipment. In reviewing our inventories, I determined we have an excess of medical supplies commonly used to treat contagion, exposure and malnutrition."
"In other words, they have supplies that could help injured soldiers and we have supplies that could help suffering refugees," I summarized.
"Precisely. With access to their equipment and materials, I believe I could increase the effectiveness of our medi-gel. If nothing else, our troops on the front line would certainly benefit from those supplies. Perhaps you could ply your charms to broker a trade?"
"I guess. Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't already finalized the deal yourself. I'm sure you've got a silver tongue of your own." (5)
"Sadly, war profiteering is running rampant. Even worse, these particular refugees are wary of the Alliance military. They didn't trust me."
"I'm Alliance military," I reminded her.
"You're also Commander Shepard. The man who was instrumental at turning the tide at Elysium. The hero who saved the galaxy twice over. You could persuade them."
Well at least she didn't mention the statue. "All right," I agreed.
"Speak with a man named Tactus," she advised. "Many of the refugees near the Citadel docks look to him for leadership. Thank you, Commander."
Since I was on that side of the ship anyway, my next stop was to see how Kaidan was doing in the Starboard Observation Lounge. "Hey," he greeted me, "I bumped into EDI in the hall. Scared the shit out of me! You could've warned me!"
Oops. Should've known EDI was low-balling it. "Sorry."
"She looks good though," Kaidan grinned.
Oh geez, not him too! "Don't get too carried away," I warned. "I think Joker's got first crack at her."
"Really?"
"Few people drop by to say hi to him," I explained. "EDI's the exception. They bonded. One thing leads to another…"
"Huh." Kaidan thought about that. "Well, I hope it works out for them."
"How're you doing?" I asked. "Getting settled?"
"You could say that," he shrugged. "Not much to unpack—left Earth in a hurry." He stopped to consider how Earth looked before shaking his head. "So there wasn't much to bring aboard. Just the clothes on my back and a few things I picked up on the Citadel. I kinda like it," he claimed, trying to make the best of it. "Living lean.
"Not like the Normandy," he continued. "Cerberus sure didn't cut corners rebuilding her. There's a whole lot of credits in here."
"Worth every single one," I declared.
"No doubt," he nodded. "Can't wait to get back out there."
The last person I saw on Deck Three was Liara. When I dropped by her office, Glyph was offering a report. "Per your orders, I have the latest reports on the Council, Doctor. Their security is in disarray, but it would still be weeks before we could attempt to position any agents in their personal staff."
"And it's far too risky after Udina's coup," she agreed. "Postpone those deployments."
"At once."
"No new information about the High Command's request," Liara told me. "I've actually just begun my search."
"Then I'll leave you to it," I nodded.
I was about to leave, but Liara wasn't finished. "I had something I wanted to show you, Shepard. Could we meet in your cabin when you have a moment?"
My cabin? "Sure," I shrugged. As she walked away, I couldn't help but wonder: what did she want?
Say what you will about indoctrinated enemies, but they don't deserve all the blame. It's not entirely their fault that they stabbed their buddies and colleagues in the back. Which made Udina's actions even worse. Javik certainly felt that way. "Traitors are the worst form of enemy," he spat when I dropped by. "In our cycle, we would remove their limbs one by one and offer them a choice: eat their own flesh or starve. Your politician deserved far worse than a bullet."
That was true. By all rights, Udina should have been tried for his crimes. Now, he kinda got off easy.
"And if the other human had not seen reason, his death would be certain, too."
Oh how I'd love to see Kaidan and Javik have that conversation. I could sell tickets and everything!
"There is only one enemy in this war: Reapers. No others will be tolerated."
Just in case Javik hadn't made his point crystal clear, you understand.
"I would like to visit the Citadel sometime."
Huh? Where did that come from?
"When it is not infested with traitors."
Ah. That was more like it.
"I have heard about the 'Kai Leng' human you encountered. It is good to have a name for the enemy I will enjoy killing most."
Other than Reapers, of course.
After I'd amused myself with Javik's ranting, I moved on to the rest of Deck Four. Adams had Engineering under control and he didn't have anything new to talk about. Emily, on the other hand, did. "Breaking now: the Citadel in flames. A brazen attack by Cerberus, repelled by C-Sec and forces led by Commander Shepard. Alliance marines explain the Council Fleet's delayed response."
Oh good. I think we'd all like to know that. Even if Udina had provided the codes needed for Cerberus to sneak onto the Citadel, someone should've noticed when all comm traffic from the station had suddenly ceased.
"Commander," Emily said once she finished that recording, "I've got some questions about the coup attempt on the Citadel, but I need to talk to my producer online right now. Can we schedule an interview for later today? Maybe in your cabin so we don't get interrupted?"
"Sure," I agreed.
That just left Deck Five. Cortez was doing some inventory work when I showed up. "Never thought I'd be doing a combat drop onto the Citadel," he said, shaking his head.
"First time for everything," I cracked.
"I can't believe Udina," he added. "Great example to the other races, huh?"
"No kidding," I sighed. "How're you holding up?"
"Good," he nodded. "But I've been thinking: the next time we're at the Citadel, I'll hit a nightclub. James mentioned a spot called Purgatory."
"Yeah, I've been there. It seemed pretty popular."
"Okay, then. Maybe I'll check it out. Later—it's probably a little too crazy right now."
When I wandered over to the Armoury, I saw James cleaning his shotgun. "Hey, Commander," he greeted me. "I knew Udina was a dirty bastard. But I never would've guessed he was that rotten."
"No one did," I said.
"This whole war is loco. I mean, can't they all see how we need to work together?"
"Obviously not," I shrugged. "When people are scared, they're slow to trust."
"Sure but… ah, what's the point."
"James…"
"All right, all right. Don't mind me: just a little pissed, I guess. But just so you know, I've got a new shoot first; ask questions later policy when it comes to politicians."
I laughed. "Fair enough."
James hesitated for a moment. "Hey, Commander? Can we chat later on? If you've got some time, of course. It's not, like, critical or anything. I just wanna run something by you."
"And you don't want to do it now?" I frowned.
"Eh… I'd like to, you know, do it… kinda… one-on-one?"
Apparently my quarters were gonna be really, really popular today. "Sure. I'll let you know when I'm free."
"Gracias."
With my rounds complete, I returned to my quarters. After feeding my fish and my space hamster, I quickly cleaned up any odds and ends that were cluttering my room before opening a comm channel. "Liara, you had something you wanted to discuss in my cabin?"
"Yes. I'll be right up."
She showed up a minute later with a metal box in her hands. "Come on in," I invited.
"Thank you. Could we sit?"
Liara waited until we sat down on the sofa. "I've been thinking about the knowledge we gained on the Reapers," she began, "and how easily it could be lost again. So… I put a plan in motion to preserve things for the future."
She activated a miniature keyboard on the box—clearly a computer or data archive of some sort—and entered a few commands. The top of the box glowed for a few seconds before sending a brief stream of cerulean light upwards. "What's this?" I asked.
"A record of the galaxy," she replied as a holographic image of a Reaper appeared over the box. "Information on the Reapers, relays, different cultures… and blueprints of the Crucible." As if on cue, the hologram switched to the schematics we'd first seen after our retrieval mission on Mars. "But there's one entry I wanted your opinion on."
"Which one?"
"Your own." Liara bent over and tapped a few keys. Before I knew it, I was staring at a miniature version of myself. "I'd be honoured to have your input. How would you like history to remember you?"
Um. Gee. Hmm. "Fifty thousand years is a long time for a computer to sit around," I said, stalling for time.
"Please," Liara sniffed, "I was an archaeologist. I know what I'm doing. I'm encasing these records in time capsules. As we travel throughout the galaxy, I'll have EDI seed copies on multiple planets. And while it's not foolproof, the VI I'm installing has every translation and linguistics program I could find."
"So it's an information guide, like Vigil on Ilos."
"Yes. I've been preparing it for some time."
Glyph popped up from the computer—clearly he was gonna be the template for the time capsule's VI. "And it will be a privilege to guide the future discoverers of these records," he said with his usual cheer. "Have you decided what you would like Dr. T'Soni to write in your entry, Commander?"
Which brought me back to the original question: what did I want to say about myself? On the one hand, I ran the risk of making myself sound too good to be true, glossing over my many flaws and shortcomings. On the other hand, I might spend too much time castigating myself over all the screw-ups I'd made. So what should I do?
That was when an idea came to me. "You know me well enough to fill in the blanks, Liara," I decided.
Liara stared at me. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "I'd like it to be your call."
"All right," she said slowly. She got to her feet and began pacing back and forth. "Let's begin with the fact that Earth's most famous officer was born and raised in space. Through his training and experiences, Shepard became a deadly tactical fighter. Most enemies never saw him coming. Those that did were quickly overwhelmed by his ability to adapt to whatever he encountered on the battlefield, whether it be the myriad opponents he faced or the ever-changing skill set of his squad. He was a leader and a visionary, one who could imagine any possibility, no matter how remote, and made peace wherever he could. A man possessed of infinite curiosity and openness that made friends out of the unlikeliest people.
"And it was a privilege to know him," she finished, looking at me warmly. (6)
"Careful this doesn't sound like a diary," I teased.
"I can't help myself," she smiled, sitting back down beside me. "You're a good friend, Shepard."
"So are you, Liara. You've been there for me, too."
"No," she shook her head. "I haven't. I wish I could have joined you back on Illium, when you were preparing to fight the Collectors."
"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. You made up for it," I reassured her.
She looked at me quickly before a smile slowly spread across her face. "Well, maybe you're right." She casually leaned back against the sofa and propped her feet up on the table. "I suppose I did just write your name in the stars."
And it was so much better than any statue.
After Liara left, I contacted Traynor. "Can you send Emily up?" I asked. "She wanted an interview."
"Right away, Commander."
While I was waiting, I cleared some spam from my e-mail. I'd just finished when Emily and her camera drone arrived. "Ready for a chat, Commander?" she asked.
"Ready."
She ran a quick check on her equipment and turned up the lights shining from her drone. I spent the first several minutes answering questions on why I had come to the Citadel, how Cerberus had already begun their attack when I arrived and the general details of how my squad fought back and repelled the invaders.
Emily barely glanced at her datapad before asking her next question: "Commander, it's no secret that Council space has suffered some serious losses to the Reapers lately. Now Cerberus has struck directly at the seat of our government. If something as small as a human terrorist organization can hit the Citadel, is anywhere safe?"
"I think that no one place can ever be truly immune from such horrific acts," I replied. "However, I also think it's important to put this tragedy in perspective: Cerberus might have access to a great many resources, but they have their limits. This coup attempt was likely the best they could do—and it cost them a lot of money, weapons and troops. Most importantly: they failed. The Citadel is still in one piece. The Council is still in power. The Cerberus troops who participated in the assault have either fled or been killed. A certain amount of respect and caution is certainly warranted, but it can't paralyze you. Despite their recent spate of aggression across the galaxy, they've failed as many times as they've succeeded."
"But humanity has lost its councillor," she said, "the Alliance Parliament is destroyed and the prime minister's dead. The line of succession is getting pretty short. How long do you expect any new Alliance administration to last?"
I had no idea, so I sidestepped the question. "Leaders will rise. Politicians on every possible level. Soldiers from admirals and generals all the way down to corporals and privates. Civilians who others look to for guidance. The important thing is not to lose hope. Our enemies won't rest until they've taken the last human being. Until then, we're not beaten. Not by a long shot. Right now, it's everyone's duty to step up—in any way they can. Enlist to fight on the front lines. Sign up to transport soldiers, food or supplies. Volunteer in your closest hospital or refugee camp. Open your credit accounts for the war effort. Or simply ask what is needed. Every little bit helps."
"All right. Now a question from Thessia: 'Commander, during your court martial, some said you had Cerberus ties. What do you say to that?"
Oh boy. Here we go again. "I've had my fair share of encounters with Cerberus over the years. My earliest ones were decidedly hostile and my latest ones certainly so. However, I was forced to work with them at one point to investigate, and eventually stop, an ongoing series of abductions of human colonies in the Terminus Systems. To say it was hardly my first choice would be an understatement. If there was another viable option available, I would have taken it. But I simply lacked the manpower and resources to do so on my own. So I reluctantly accepted some assistance.
"It's also important to state, for the record, that I did not agree with their ideology. During that period of time I put an end to several Cerberus projects, much to the disapproval of their leader. And I parted ways with them as soon as the threat to our human colonies had been dealt with."
"What was it like, working with Cerberus?"
"I think, in many ways, it's different from what it would be like now," I replied, hoping to steer this interview in a certain direction.
"What do you mean?"
Bingo! "One of the reasons Cerberus has grown as much as it has is because their core belief—that humans deserve a greater and more influential role in galactic affairs and the Alliance cannot properly advocate for humanity because of laws, bureaucracy and political compromises—has a certain validity. No one wants to be considered or treated as inferior or second-rate. No one wants to be taken advantage of. No one wants to be hamstrung by inflexible rules and regulations. That was the chief motivation for the men and women I worked with during that period of time. And there's nothing wrong with that, when balanced in moderation.
"But Cerberus doesn't have that moderation. Their ultimate goal is to see humanity rise to the top. To dominate the other races in the galactic community. And to see that vision through, Cerberus is willing to go to any lengths. Illegal or dangerous experimentation. Kidnapping of men, women and children. Turning unsuspecting people and colonies into guinea pigs. Sabotage and assassination. And none of that has much in the way of oversight. They really do believe that the ends justify the means. And that's not propaganda. That's fact. Proven time and time again. That was why, when I finally cut ties with Cerberus, the men and women who worked with me did so as well. Because they could no longer associate themselves with Cerberus and what their leader was willing to do. Not with a clear conscience, anyway."
"And how does that differ from what Cerberus is doing now?"
"From what I've observed, Cerberus has now shifted its tactics to direct, overt military action against the galaxy at large. They are now actively recruiting volunteers to swell their ranks—when they aren't abducting and forcibly conscripting innocent men and women. Worst of all, they are deliberately implanting augmentations reverse-engineered from Reaper technology into their soldiers. Turning their own people into highly enhanced, brainwashed fighters who may or may not realize what's being done to them until it's too late. All because the leaders of Cerberus want a universe where humans rule and control everyone else and they're willing to do anything to achieve that goal. Even if it means subjugating and indoctrinating their own people. Even if it means declaring war on the Alliance and all other legitimately recognized governments when they're already under attack from the Reapers.
"That's what happens when you're given free reign to operate without any balance, compromise or restraint. And that's why Cerberus has to be stopped. Not just because of what they're doing, but because of what they stand for. To stop Cerberus and the Reapers, everyone has to work together. Alone and isolated, we don't stand a chance. But when we work with each other, united in a common cause, you'd be amazed what we can do." (7)
"Thank you for your time, Commander," Emily concluded. "For FCC News and ANN, this is Emily Wong, reporting from the SSV Normandy. Good night and stay strong."
The drone obediently shut down its lights and cameras. It was all Emily could do to keep from dancing or bouncing on her feet. "Thank you, Commander Shepard," she beamed. "This is… this is beyond anything… this is perfect. Just perfect."
"I just hope it can make a difference out there," I replied.
"Oh, it will," she promised. "Just you wait and see."
Now it was James's turn. Once Emily and her camera drone left, I contacted him. "James, I've got some time if you want to talk privately."
"On my way."
When he arrived, he tried to act as if nothing was going on. Calm and collected. Bit of a swagger in his step. A casual "Hey, man—how's it going?"
All right. Let's see how this plays out. "Good, James. You?"
"Good. Good," came the reply, a little too quickly. He made a show of looking around. "Wow," he said at last. "So this is what I can look forward to when I get my own command."
"You want your own ship, Vega?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, maybe one day—when I'm old and I can't fight worth shit anymore."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't tell me you came up here just to make fun of your commander in private?"
"Sorry, Loco," he laughed. "I guess…" he quickly sobered up, an uncertain and hesitant look spreading across his face. "I guess maybe I've got some things on my mind. I—I wanted to get your opinion on something."
"Shoot," I invited.
"What'd you do when they asked to join the N7 program? (8) I mean, was it a no-brainer for you, or did you think about it before accepting?"
"The N7 program is a big deal," I said, "but it's also a big commitment."
"I hear that," James nodded.
"You get the best training, the best equipment, the best assignments…"
"And they expect the best in return," he finished.
"Yes, they do. Why're you asking?"
"Well, even with all the shit that's going on, somebody—somewhere—managed to track me down and forward an N7 commendation. It's dated the same day the Reapers attacked Earth."
"You don't sound too thrilled," I observed. Actually, that was an understatement. There was none of the usual jovial lightheartedness that normally characterized James. Like I said earlier, he seemed very hesitant and uncertain. Quiet. Full of doubt.
"Well, aside from the fact that there won't even be an N7 program if we don't win this war, I just… being a soldier's the only thing I've ever been really good at," he confessed. "And not 'cause I try. Hell, I'd've kicked my ass out years ago. Last time I had a command, I lost almost everyone. And they promoted me for it. Or they tried—I turned it down."
"Why?"
"I didn't think I deserved it. There were men and women depending on me—and I let them down. I got them killed. I guess I wasn't sure I had what it took to lead. I'm still not sure. I don't know if I want that responsibility."
"You mentioned that before," I recalled. "Back when we were 'dancing' in the shuttle bay. What went wrong?"
James hadn't been willing to talk about it then, but he was ready now. Or maybe he needed to talk about it, regardless of whether he was ready or not. Either way, he exhaled heavily and shook his head. "What didn't go wrong?" He took a deep breath. "My unit was stationed on Fehl Prime. Started off as an assignment to stop a bunch of Blood Pack mercs, turned into a long-term gig as part of the security garrison. We were out on patrol, checking on some strange readings.
"Then the Collectors hit. But they hit the colony first. By the time we got back, most of the colonists had been subdued or abducted. Including our CO, Captain Toni."
"So you were in charge," I realized.
"Yeah. We laid low for a bit, waiting for a chance to strike. But before we could, we were betrayed. One of the colonists turned out to be a Cerberus spy working with the Collectors. I had no choice: I killed him and destroyed the Collector ship. It got ugly. We lost most of the colonists and all but one of my squad. Not exactly a textbook operation."
"You can't blame yourself for being put in a tough situation," I said gently. "Especially one with no warning, no intel, no backup. All you had were the men and women beside you and whatever guns you were carrying. So you did the best you could. (9) The brass clearly recognized that, or they would've reprimanded or court-martialed you. And if they chose to promote you instead, then something must've gone right."
"Sure, but…"
"Okay, let's look at the situation. If you'd saved them all instead of stopping the Collectors, would things have worked out better?"
"I… I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think so."
"The right choice is rarely the easy one," I told him. "In fact, it's usually anything but."
"Yeah." James rubbed his eyes. "Did you know that before you joined the N7?"
"Yeah," I said. "That's why I was asked. And it's why they asked you. There's not a single N7 that hasn't sacrificed, either themselves or their soldiers, at some point. The big kicker is why and when and all those other questions. Did you consider all the other options before making that sacrifice? Was it really a sacrifice or a waste of lives that could've been avoided? Were you able to pick yourself up afterwards and keep going?"
"You know, I've asked myself all those questions over and over again," James said. "And I keep coming back to the same answers. There's nothing I could've done differently, no matter how many times I've tried."
"Welcome to my world," I murmured sympathetically.
"So you think I should accept?" he asked.
"Assuming we survive this, I think it's a no-brainer," I declared. "You're a damn good soldier, James, and this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I'm not gonna lie to you: it'll be one of the hardest things you've ever done. You're gonna have to fight and sweat and grow in so many ways. But if they extended an invitation to you, it's because they think you're up to the challenge. They think you have what it takes to be one of the best."
"Okay."
"In the end, it's up to you, James," I replied. "I've said my piece. But you owe it to yourself to give it some serious thought."
"I will," he promised. "Really. And, uh… if you don't mind, maybe don't mention this to anyone else?"
"Of course," I nodded.
"Gracias." He took another deep breath. When he breathed out, it was like a huge weight was sliding off his shoulders—probably because it was. "Well, I think I better get back to the hangar. Things here are just a little too soft for me."
"Looks can be deceiving," I retorted.
"I'll take your word for it. Thanks again, Loco."
"Anytime."
Believe it or not, I didn't have anything else on my itinerary. So I took a few minutes and skimmed through my e-mails. There were requests from Liara, Emily and James for a private chat, all of which were redundant now. Hackett had forwarded Kai Leng's dossier per Anderson's request, but Miranda had already provided the pertinent details.
Jack sent the following e-mail:
"The students are kicking ass and taking names. They're keeping them on short rotation so they don't burn out, so we end up with lots of shore leave. Next time you hit the Citadel, come by Purgatory. I'll be there if I'm not blowing shit up in the field.
A quick check with EDI told me that Jack was still blowing shit up. Maybe I'd see her the next time I was in the neighbourhood.
By a cruel act of coincidence, the next e-mail was a news article that was indirectly tied to Jack. It seemed that an evacuation shuttle carrying children had managed to escape Elysium after a lone biotic worker attacked the Reaper forces that were preventing it from taking off. That worker was Aresh Aghdashloo.
The last time I saw him was when I was helping Jack blow up a facility on Pragia, where Cerberus had experimented on her and countless other children. Aresh was one of those children. Traumatized by his experiences, Aresh had been trying to restart the facility in a confused attempt to find a reason for why Cerberus had done this to them. Although she was going to kill him, Jack let him go after I intervened. Thanks to me, he wound up dying after all. At least he was able to do something before he died.
Shaking my head, I opened an old e-mail the one Bakara had sent me about the newfound hope for the krogan people. It was just as rewarding and inspiring the second time. No matter how much suffering and death there had been, hope could still endure if you knew where to look and fought hard enough.
It was with that in mind that I went back to the Citadel. There were a couple things I had to do.
First on my list was to find that woman who was trying to upgrade Purgatory's power grid. Now more than ever, people needed a place to let off steam, but the nightclub could only do so much before the whole thing blew. To my mild surprise, she was in the exact same spot, still arguing with bosses that didn't understand that she couldn't put on a bigger light show without overloading the grid.
"Excuse me," I intervened. "Don't mean to interrupt, but I found these schematics on Tuchanka. They're pretty old, but maybe they could help you?" I transferred over the schematics I'd found when assaulting the krogan ground cannon site that Cerberus had occupied.
"Tuchanka?" The woman seemed skeptical, but looked them over. That skepticism quickly turned to shock, which morphed into excitement. "Whoa. These really are old… but solid! We could totally convert our current systems to this! Thanks!"
She quickly got on the comm again. "Hey, it's Allison. Some good Samaritan just handed me some schematics for a krogan power grid. I think we can upgrade Purgatory's systems using the schematics as a blueprint." There was a pause. "Yeah, I know. Looks like the krogan build things to last." She paused again. "Yeah, I've got some ideas on how to boost the lighting. I think it's gonna be amazing. Hey, I was thinking: if this works out, could we maybe give a portion of our profits to a krogan charity or something? I mean, it's old, but we would be using their tech, right?"
One down, one to go.
My next stop was to find Tactus. After a couple questions, I found myself in the refugee camp that Udina had helped set up—one of the few good things he'd done before he threw his lot in with Cerberus. He was dressed in a bare-bones grey hardsuit with dark green highlights, a drab colour palette that contrasted with the bright purple face paint. "I recognize you," he said, getting to his feet. "You're Commander Shepard."
"Guilty as charged," I nodded. "And you must be Tactus. Heard the refugees consider you their leader."
"Yes," he said. "Someone needs to sort out this mess."
As he stepped towards me, the light fell on his hardsuit. I couldn't help noting that his hardsuit also had some lavender highlights. Grey, green and lavender. Okay. Sure. Why not? Probably less a sartorial choice and more the fact that it was the only thing available. Turians tended to be pretty pragmatic like that, if Garrus, Victus and many of the other turians I'd met were any indication. I quickly turned my attention to his reply. "Mess?"
"C-Sec has tightened access to the Citadel, and we've got desperate people down here with no place to go."
"And no basic medical supplies," I added. "Or so I hear. Dr. Chakwas spoke of a mutually beneficial trade…"
Tactus shook his head. "I tried to be clear—in my experience, the Alliance looks out for their own. Trust is a hard thing to come by these days."
"I don't understand."
"Commander, I know you need our military supplies, but they're worth far more than your basic meds. Her offer wasn't satisfactory."
Oh for crying out loud. "I can't speak to what the Alliance has done in the past; though I'm pretty sure the Hierarchy has done the same from time to time. All I know is this: if your people are even half as desperate as you've said, then you need our supplies. I get that you don't want to be ripped off, but is the suffering of your people really worth holding out for a fairer deal?
"And speaking of desperate: my people need every edge we can get for our mission. Your combat-grade meds will make a difference. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that our mission might just save everyone. Now is not the time for pettiness or mistrust."
"With our day-to-day worries, it's easy to forget we are all in this together," Tactus admitted quietly.
"Have your people contact my quartermaster, Lieutenant Cortez," I suggested. "Maybe there's something else we can throw in that you need, something that would make the trade a bit more even."
"I'll do that," he agreed. "Even if there isn't, you're right: my people can't afford to shop around for a better deal. You'll have your supplies as soon as possible."
The last item on my to-do list was to do some shopping at the Spectre Requisitions office. A couple weapons here, a few mods there. The most important thing, of course, was the Black Widow sniper rifle. It was an attempt by the Alliance to retain the stopping power of the Widow anti-materiel sniper rifle, which I'd used to devastating effect during my missions against the Collectors, but there were three major differences. First, they wanted to reduce the reload time. Second, they wanted to increase the number of shots it could fire before it needed a fresh thermal clip. Third and most importantly, they wanted to reduce the recoil so it wouldn't shatter the user's arms like twigs. Granted it wasn't as big a deal for me, what with all my implants and augmentations, but still.
And just because I was feeling a high from this shopping trip, I stopped by a café and bought an espresso. Because the adrenaline had finally begun to wear off and I was feeling tired. That's it. Honest.
When I got back to the Normandy, things were humming along as you'd expect. People were performing their duties, their faces fixed with purpose. Except for Traynor—she was flat-out excited. "Got something, Traynor?"
"Yes! Well, no. Nothing important. Nothing mission-related. Or anything that could contribute to the war effort. It's nothing, really."
"That's the third time you said 'nothing'," I pointed out. "A suspicious CO might think you're hiding something."
"Fine," she relented. "It's just: I finally took a break and went to the Citadel for some R&R. Not long, mind you. Just an hour. And it was before my shift, so I wasn't slacking off. But you'd never guess what I found. A new chessboard!"
Note she never actually gave me a chance to guess.
"It's only a GUI interface—not nearly as nice as real pieces. But it takes up less space. All I need is someone to play against."
"How about me?" I offered.
"You?"
"I have a few hours free right now," I shrugged. "And if memory serves, your shift ends in a couple minutes." Then I remembered that I was her superior officer. This could get a little awkward if I wasn't careful. "Hopefully we can find a spare table downstairs."
"Oh, I hope so," she said. "And it's been weeks since I played a good chess game."
"It's been years since I played any chess game," I confided.
Her eyes danced. "Oh, now I have to play against you."
"Looking forward to wiping the floor with your CO, huh?" I shook my head. "Why do I have a feeling I'm gonna regret this?"
"Why, Commander," Traynor said innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."
It wound up being a little harder to play chess than either of us had envisioned. The mess hall was full and both lounges were occupied. I could have pulled rank and ordered someone to clear a table, but that's really not my style. Plus, that would be an abuse of authority. "Okay," I said after a few minutes, we have three options. Option one: we find an empty corner on the floor where we won't get in anyone's way."
She wrinkled her nose. "I'd rather not. What's the alternative?"
"Option two: we play in my quarters. There's definitely room there."
"Your quarters."
"I've had three visitors today," I said, "which is three more than I usually have. Might as well make it four. Or we could just postpone the game for another day."
"Maybe we could try again tomorrow."
"Sure," I shrugged. I wasn't too surprised. Inviting a woman up to someone's room tends to convey a certain message. I didn't want to mislead her or give her any ideas—especially given my suspicions about what team she played for. (10) I didn't want Miranda to get any ideas. And I certainly didn't want any scuttlebutt floating around.
So I returned to my quarters. No sooner did the door slide shut than I got a call over the comm. "Commander? It's Specialist Traynor. Any chance that option two is still open?"
Okay… "Sure. Come on up."
Any doubts as to why she'd had a change of heart were quickly shattered. "This is going to be wonderful, Commander. Thank you so much for agreeing to this. I haven't played a good game of chess in weeks—oh, I said that. Well, it's true. Three weeks ago, actually. Over the extranet. Against a bootleg VI. Which is fine and all that. Better than nothing. But it's not the same as playing against a real opponent. Live. Face-to-face. You know? It's like—Good Lord, look at this place!"
She'd finally noticed my cabin. "Your cabin is gorgeous," she breathed. "I've seen apartments smaller than this."
"It's hard to say good things about Cerberus, especially after their coup attempt," I said. "But I'll say this about them: they know how to build ships and they really love their creature comforts."
"Quite right," she declared. "Now then, Commander, ready to play? You did deliver something that resembled a challenge. Sort of. Vaguely."
"I'm ready," I sighed. "Though I have a bad feeling about this."
She gave me another look of wide-eyed innocence. "I'm just a simple lab scientist, Commander. I'm sure your real-world expertise will give you an edge."
Oh yeah. I was so screwed.
"Ha!"
"Oh come on!"
We'd played three games so far. They had all gone the same way. "My word, Commander," Traynor laughed. "It's almost as though you wanted to spare your pawns the indignity of living under my benevolent regime."
"In real life, that tactic would have worked," I rebutted, trying to salvage what was left of my pride.
"Well, in real life, one doesn't move on an eight-by-eight square grid," she reminded me.
"You know what I mean," I rolled my eyes. "The pawns are infantry. A good infantry line, like the krogan, can take a charge like that."
"You really haven't played chess in a while," she shook her head. "That reminds me of a joke: What's the difference between Commander Shepard and a krogan? One is an unstoppable juggernaut of head-butting destruction…"
I'd heard this joke before. You could replace me with any CO or officer and still get the same punch line. Unless you tried something new: "…and the other doesn't have a smart-ass comm officer to keep him in line."
Traynor clapped her hands in appreciation. "Ooh, that's even better than the number-of-testicles punch line."
"I try," I said modestly. "Traynor, I don't think I've said this before, but I'm glad you didn't run back to the lab. I know you felt a little out of your element, but you've really stepped up here."
"Thanks," she smiled. "And I'm glad you were patient enough to let me get my bearings." She leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. "So… rematch?"
"Hell. Yes."
Miranda came up some time after Traynor left, having humiliated me for the fourth time. She came with a teapot, two cups and a small box of chocolates. (11) "Nothing like impending doom to wake up the Council races," she said as soon as the cabin's SCIF mode was engaged.
"That good, huh?" I asked.
She handed me a datapad with her findings while I poured out the tea—jasmine, of course. Naturally she'd already memorized its contents. "The Citadel Council—what's left of it—held an emergency session. Amongst the items they passed was the creation of a Citadel Defence Force."
"To protect the Citadel?" I frowned. "Isn't that what the Citadel Fleet is for?"
"Despite what the name might suggest, the actual mandate of the Citadel Defence Force is to assist the Systems Alliance in the war against the Reapers. The ships and soldiers of the CDF come from both Council races and other species without official membership. Initially, there were concerns as to what resources it could draw upon, given the influx of refugees on the Citadel. However, the increase in volunteers at emergency clinics seems to have compensated for that. Furthermore, your efforts—both in warning Citadel residents to participate in the war and in restoring duty pay to spouses and family of active service personnel—has improved civilian readiness and overall readiness.
"You'll also be interested to know that your intervention as a Spectre was instrumental. A well-known con artist was removed from the Citadel, thereby improving security on the docks. And students from Grissom Academy who were unable to help on the Crucible project have found work here, dealing with problems that are too repetitive for average individuals but too complex for VIs."
"Oh." Guess we were facing the consequences—intended and otherwise—of my previous actions. Nice to know I hadn't completely screwed it up. "Well that's good to know. But after what Hackett said about being contacted by Councillor Tevos, I would've expected some more help from the asari."
"I was just getting to that. The Asari Republics has promised to send a team of their best scientists, every one of them a leading expert in their field. Their input should accelerate the construction of the Crucible."
Good. It was easy to forget that we would need more than guns and ships to win this war. Though guns and ships were still crucial to any hope of success, let there be no doubt on that. "Well, that's a start."
"They have also some of their fleets to the war effort. We have the Second Fleet—consisting mostly of frigates and fighters, in keeping with their hit-and-run mindset. Normally sent to protect colonies from pirates or mercenaries, they will be a great help in launching surgical strikes against Reaper forces or freeing other ships from garrison duty for attacks of their own. Their forces have been augmented by a group of asari mercenaries, courtesy of Liara's father."
Nice to know some family reunions could turn out all right.
We also have the Sixth Fleet, which boasts the greatest number of dreadnoughts than any other fleet in the asari navy. A random factoid that I'm sure you'll find titillating: superstition has it that any conflict in which the Sixth Fleet participates inevitably becomes a large-scale war—such as the Rachni Wars and the Krogan Rebellions."
I could relate.
"You mentioned the Citadel Fleet earlier. While the vast majority of its ships are still tasked with protecting the Citadel, the Destiny Ascension has been reassigned to the war effort."
"Really?" I asked. "Last time I saw her, she'd soaked up a lot of fire evacuating the Council."
"It's been three years."
"Tell that to the First, Third and Fifth Fleets."
"True. Though to be fair, it's easier to repair one ship than three fleets. And the Destiny Ascension is the flagship of the Citadel Fleet, so there was additional political motivation to repair her. Nevertheless, the Council wanted to send a sign of clear and immediate support—both politically and militarily. This was it."
All right. Fair enough, I suppose. The Destiny Ascension was one of the most advanced and powerful ships out there—plus it was a dreadnought, which meant big guns. Like I said, we needed all the guns we could get.
"The salarians have also committed their Third Fleet to the fight, whose ships boast the latest in cutting-edge military hardware, from the most sophisticated GARDIAN defence systems to hull-mounted Thanix cannons."
Ha! Take that, Dalatrass Crankypants!
"I'm running some projections and scenarios to get a more accurate prediction, but I think it's safe to say our chances have improved significantly."
"Agreed." I paused and took a sip of tea. "Been a while since we've done this," I commented.
Miranda took a sip of her own before responding. "You have been forced to cope under an incredible, some might say, impossible, set of situations. Thwarting the invasion attempt in the Bahak system, turning yourself in during the aftermath, witnessing the start of the Reaper invasion of Earth, being tasked with gathering allies and resources to retake Earth and build the Crucible, dealing with the deaths of Mordin and Thane… that's a terrible burden to bear. I… I thought some semblance of normalcy and calm would be helpful."
"You know," I said thoughtfully, "it does. I didn't realize it until you laid it out like that, but I'm tired. Really, really tired. But I can't afford to take a week off or anything. It doesn't matter what we've gained recently, we still have a long road ahead of us. The Reapers still have the advantage in this war. And Cerberus isn't out of the fight yet, even if we did stop Kai Leng and his goons." I stared down at the teacup in my hand. "He's got a lot to answer for," I added darkly.
"About that…"
I looked up. Miranda had gotten to her feet. "There's something you can do to prepare for any future encounters with Kai Leng. If nothing else, the exercise might be… just as therapeutic."
"All right," I nodded. "What did you have in mind?"
"I gotta admit," I said, "learning how to fight with a sword was not what I imagined."
"Would you prefer shooting Kai Leng through the scope of a sniper rifle or setting him on fire?" Miranda asked.
"You've got to admit, it's much more civilized."
Miranda would never lower herself by snorting, but she did roll her eyes. Apparently, I was going to learn how to fight with a sword instead of my gun, my omni-tool, my half-baked wits or my big fat mouth. Cool! However, the first practice wasn't what I thought it'd be.
"Why aren't we using omni-blades?" was the first question I asked.
"Because you could get hurt and I don't want to face Dr. Chakwas's wrath?" she deadpanned.
Apparently the possibility that I could hurt her never crossed her mind. Probably because it would never happen. "All right," I tried again. "Why aren't we using mock omni-blades?" I asked.
"For starters, there are very few drills and simulations for omni-blade combat compared to the vast plethora of training material for other forms of sword combat," she replied. "Besides, the omni-blade comes out of a fixed position on your forearm, which means you're limited to stabbing, slicing and blocking. Compare that with an actual sword that you're wielding in your hand, one that you can tilt and adjust with a subtle gesture of your wrist. Broader range of motion means more angles to attack, which means more options."
Made sense, I had to admit. Miranda had clearly put some thought into this. I wouldn't expect anything less. "So... where do we start?"
In response, she grabbed a practice sword—less than a metre in a length, slightly curved, with a purposely dulled edge—and tossed it to me. I tried to grab it… and winced when it clanged against the deck.
"You'll catch it tomorrow," Miranda offered generously.
I picked it up with my right hand.
"No," she said immediately. "This isn't like the various forms of unarmed combat you may have learned during your training. You're thinking that you need to grip it with your thumb and your first two fingers in order to handle the weight. That's not where the power lies, though." Walking forward, she grabbed the other end of the sword and pulled. Instinctively, I tried to clamp down on the handle with my thumb, index finger and middle finger—the digits she had just talked about. Despite my efforts, I could feel the sword slipping through my fingers.
She let go and repositioned my fingers, squeezing the last two fingers of my hand. "These are the fingers that are best able to handle the weight."
"Okay."
To emphasize the point, she tried to pull the sword away again. After a split second, I remembered to squeeze with my last two fingers. This time, I managed to hang on to the sword.
"Good," she nodded. "Now I'm going to reverse your grip."
I thought she meant flipping the sword around. Instead, she kept the sword facing the same way, but physically twisted my hand around until my thumb and first two fingers were closer to the bottom. "There's no way I'd be holding it this way in a real fight."
"I certainly hope not. This is just to make a point. I'm going to pull your sword away again. And I want you to resist me."
She got a grip on the 'blade' and pulled. Again, I clamped down with my thumb and first two fingers. Again, I felt the sword slipping past my digits. Miranda stopped and let me regain my upside-down grip on the sword. She tapped my last two fingers. Then she pulled on the sword. This time, I managed to stop her by using the other fingers.
"Good. Now hold it with two hands."
Okay. Wannabe samurai or Jedi it is. (12) I grasped the sword in both hands, with the right hand near the guard and the left hand by the pommel. This time, I supported most of the weight with the last two fingers of my left hand instead of trying to distribute the weight through all of your fingers.
"Very good," Miranda approved. She bent down and picked up another practice sword. "Hold one in each hand."
I did so using the grip she had showed me.
"Exactly," she said. "Managing the weight comes through the bottom two fingers—of your bottom hand—if you're using a two-handed grip, otherwise it's self-explanatory. The other fingers are for control."
She demonstrated that control by having me drop one sword and hold the other with two hands, tilting it this way and that and showing the role my fingers played in each angle. Then she did the same with the sword only in my right hand. Then she did that with two swords. I was reminded of some of my first lessons at the firing range. The training officer there saw the trouble I was having in landing shots within the bulls-eye. I was convinced the targeting sights were off—until he repositioned my fingers. Just as Miranda was doing now.
"Now your grip is fine," she said at last. "But your stance is wrong."
"Huh?"
"Where you're placing your feet," she explained. "Kai Leng's one of the best special operations soldiers the Alliance ever had. He's the Illusive Man's best asset. He's trained himself to be proficient in various firearms, several martial arts and, as you saw, swordsmanship. You won't beat him by being stronger or being faster or having better weapons. Beating him—beating any opponent—begins with your feet, by positioning yourself to best parry the attacks or strike the openings of your opponent's defences."
"All right," I said.
"Give me one of your swords."
As soon as I handed one over, she took a swing at me. I immediately raised my sword to block.
"Stop."
She lowered her sword and nudged my lead foot to the side until she was satisfied with the new position. "Well?"
"I feel more centred," I replied. "My original position, by comparison, was more off-balanced."
"Exactly," she nodded. "Now, let's go again."
Our practice continued for the remainder of the hour. She'd attack, I'd defend, she'd make a correction—mostly about my feet. That or my grip—and then we'd start again. Finally I cut it off. "We'll have to continue this tomorrow," I said.
"We need to wash up and get ready for tonight," Miranda agreed.
Without another word, we returned to my—our—quarters. I let Miranda shower first. As the water began to run, I reached into a drawer and pulled out a name plate that I'd fabricated earlier that day.
Thane Krios, it read.
We held a quiet memorial for Thane later that evening. It was a small gathering, composed mostly of the squadmates and crew that served with him last year. To be honest, it was too soon after his passing, and emotions were too raw, so there weren't a lot of speeches or anything. Just a lot of quiet reflection, solemn moments and wiping away of tears. A lot like Thane, come to think of it, which made it somewhat fitting.
I could only hope he'd understand why we couldn't bring ourselves to make a big ceremony out of it. More importantly, I prayed that, wherever he was, he had finally found the peace he deserved.
(1): It is that empathy that makes Shepard such a singular individual. (2): With Kaidan being reassigned to the Normandy, he became the new executive officer—much to Lieutenant Adams's relief. Technically Kaidan should have become the commanding officer as he outranked Shepard. However, no one—within the Normandy crew or their superiors in the Alliance military—questioned the unorthodox chain of command, no doubt because there were more pressing concerns at the time.
(3): We would later find out the real reason behind that seemingly universal accessibility.
(4): Shepard later confessed that he found himself out of his depth in giving this sort of advice, particularly given the philosophical grounds these conversations frequently drifted into. While I sympathize with his lack of familiarity, I would argue that his values and ethics made him as qualified as anyone to offer his opinion.
(5): A human expression used to describe someone who has a way with words and an ability to persuade others.
(6): I was humbled and honoured by the trust Shepard had in me. While six or seven sentences were hardly enough to do him justice, I hoped it would give future generations a glimpse of the man I was privileged to know.
(7): While Shepard had voiced these observations and opinions before, this was probably the first time he had done so to such a large—and receptive—audience.
(8): Technically the correct and official term is the Interplanetary Combatives Training (ICT) program, the System Alliance's premier school for leadership and combat expertise. It consists of various courses—numbered N1 through N6—offered through the Interplanetary Combatives Academy, alternatively known as 'N-School' or 'the villa.' N7 is the ICT designation given when a student graduates from the N6 'course,' which usually consists of surviving and completing actual missions in high-risk combat zones.
(9): The parallels to the situations Shepard frequently found himself in were striking. Naturally he failed to see the significance.
(10): A human euphemism denoting sexual orientation.
(11): This was a ritual Shepard and Miranda began at the start of their relationship to capture some aspect of a more traditional date while maintaining some semblance of privacy.
(12): Samurai were the military-nobility and officer-caste of early-modern Japan, one of humanity's ancient cultures. The Jedi was a fictional monastic, spiritual and academic meritocratic organization from the Star Wars universe. Curiously enough, the former were one of the influences on the latter.