Chapter Twenty-Eight: Meet Admiral Hackett
"You're enjoying this a little too much, Shepard," Udina stated through clenched teeth as the journalists' automatic cameras snapped away.
"Anything to show the good people of the Alliance the unity of their government, sir," Shepard shot back under her breath as she grasped his hand, her fixed smile never wavering.
The sheer hatred in the ambassador's eyes warmed her heart. If she was pissing off the politicos, she knew they were doing something right. Udina finished up his remarks on their courageous rescue of the Feros colony, the galaxy's gratitude, and so forth, while she held her hands behind her back and surreptitiously wiped his slime off of her palm. Once more, Shepard found herself shined up for display, but by now the point had come, as it did in every long mission, where the accumulated damage was starting to show. She had a collection of scattered bruises where her kinetic shields had failed, the angry scrape up her cheekbone remained fresh, and a general achiness of body that would not fully subside until after a week or two of leave once this was over.
Udina, by contrast, was outfitted in one of his usual expensively tailored suits without a strand of his thinning hair out of place, as removed from the reality of this war as it was possible to be. Shepard had to question whether he ever found himself on the business end of a fight in all his life. He concluded the small speech with a perfunctory round of applause for Normandy's efforts, and then it was time for a few questions.
The respect the reporters showed Udina was unexpected. They didn't shout or press up against him, shoving their recording devices in his face. Part of that was undoubtedly the venue, a charmingly small garden not far from his offices in the Presidium lending the event a formal air, but part of it was Udina himself and the relationship he established with the press. Shepard admitted to a touch of envy and wondered how he'd done it. They showed her no such courtesy.
He pointed at a man in the crowd accompanied by a hovering camera plastered with sponsor logos. The man glanced down at his datapad. "Mr. Ambassador, Frank Dunney, ANN. Do you have any comment on whether the Council plans to extend any economic safeguards to the corporations suffering in the wake of the halt on Attican colonization?"
Udina cleared his throat and rested his hands on his podium. "The Council's official statement is that humanity was aware of the risks when we went into the Traverse. However, they are monitoring the situation closely and have no desire for a significant segment of our economy to collapse. For the moment Parliament's offer of short-term loans is doing the trick."
Between official Alliance space and the Traverse, humanity was building a nice buffer between the batarians and the rest of the galaxy. The Council would never allow that shield to fail entirely. But Shepard didn't realize the colonization situation had deteriorated that much. It had now been nearly ten weeks since Saren's unprovoked attack on Eden Prime.
The ANN reporter had a follow-up. "And what do you think about the colonists who are emigrating back to Earth? There have been reports that some of the smaller colonies are all but emptied."
Shepard blinked at that, but buried the remainder of her reaction. People are so frightened that they're abandoning their homes?
She didn't think about Saren like that. He was a challenge, an enemy, something to loathe. His actions frustrated and angered her, but it had never occurred to her to be afraid. If Shepard were a colonist, she'd be waiting in her hab with a shotgun and god help any geth who came her way. Home, for those lucky enough to find it, ought to be one of the inviolate pillars of the world.
Meanwhile, Udina responded to the question with an easy chuckle. The sound fit him like a dress on a porcupine. "I hope they locked their doors before they left. As soon as this situation is resolved, they'll be back. Right now, what we need is calm and resolve. Fleeing in a panic only opens us to more risk."
A young woman Shepard recognized from the crush of reporters assaulting her on her last visit raised her hand. Udina pointed at her. "Yes, Miss al-Jilani."
"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. This one is for Commander Shepard." Her VI camera fixed its light on Shepard, who stared into it passively. "We were all shocked to hear your confirmation that a turian spectre, Saren Arterius, is behind these heinous attacks. What do you say to those who claim sending the Citadel's least experienced spectre after one of their most celebrated is an attempt to portray humanity as incompetent, or allow Arterius' activities to continue?"
"That's a load of bull crap."
"I'm sorry, Commander?"
"I said that's a load of bull crap." Shepard addressed her steadily. "Having rogue elements within their organization doesn't strengthen the Council. They want Saren brought in. He's broken our laws, he's broken galactic laws by collaborating with synthetics, and he's broken natural law by the massacre of thousands of our citizens for personal gain. Nobody in this government is his friend."
"No offense, Commander, but can you honestly say that sending you isn't just a token bone to the Council's least favorite species?"
"Humanity isn't without prejudice, Miss al-Jilani," Shepard said crisply. "A turian, salarian, or even asari spectre wouldn't receive the same amount of cooperation from our colonists. We could all do better when it comes to bias. Additionally, I know these colonies. I've spent ten years of my life defending them. That's not nothing."
"Are you calling human colonists racists?"
Udina, growing nervous, decided to step in. "I'm certain Commander Shepard shares my sentiment that-"
Shepard overrode him. "I'm saying it's common to fear the unfamiliar, and in the last twenty-six years there's been more tension and misunderstanding than solidarity and diplomacy, on every side. Trust takes time to build. We've been a part of this community for less than a generation. I don't blame people for being uncertain or anxious, but I would ask for a little faith."
"So you approve of the Council standing by-"
"Miss al-Jilani, yes or no," Shepard broke in, maintaining control of the conversation. "If these were turian colonies and Parliament announced that we were sending a fleet and aid packages, would you not this very moment be railing against the use of Alliance tax dollars to support such an effort?"
She raised her eyebrows. The reporter scowled. "Commander, I will not permit my perfectly valid question to be diverted by non-sequiturs. The people have a right to know whose side you're on."
"Yes or no?"
Al-Jilani was silent. Shepard gave her a comforting smile and adopted a somewhat warmer tone. "Sometimes the pace of progress is downright glacial. I should know. These days I spend half my time beating my forehead against it. You might have caught a little of that from my remarks in the open Council session several weeks ago."
There was laughter. She continued, "But we're living in a galaxy of complexity and nuance that's way too big to do credit in unilateral statements. And that's something men like Saren Arterius will never understand. I know because I've met his kind before- cretins who hide behind masks of terror and despair hoping fear will do most of the their work for them, because they know it's the only chance they've got."
Shepard took a breath. "Where I stand is between the pioneers and scientists and farmers and all the other courageous individuals who have chosen to spend their lives settling the galaxy, and those who have chosen to betray it. And I would've given the exact same answer before I was appointed as a spectre."
Udina finally managed to get a word in edgewise. "I believe that's all our time for today. Thank you again for your attention, and may these unfortunate events be swiftly brought to closure."
A few reporters shouted questions as they departed, but Udina hustled Shepard away before there was any chance of a response. His grip on her arm was painfully tight. "You can't just spout off like that."
"Evidently you're mistaken, because I just did."
"You're the proverbial bull in a china shop. You don't have the faintest idea what you are doing." He yanked her into a side alley and paused for breath. "You were supposed to be vetted. Not just in combat alongside Nihlus, but in the company of serious people. You were supposed to be ready before we turned you loose in Citadel politics."
"Let me tell you something, ambassador." She jabbed a finger at his chest. "Saren's got a fleet and it is filled with soldiers who do not fear and do not tire. He won't stop at humanity. The time is coming when the Council is going to have to say yes, for their sake as much as ours, and when that moment comes I don't want our own stubborn pride to have made it impossible for them to do so."
"I recall you telling me that politics was my job."
"People are fleeing their homes, and you stood up there and called it an unfortunate event. The word you were seeking is war." Shepard's calm tone never rose above the temperature of liquid hydrogen. "Let go of my arm before I make you let go."
He released her with an expression of pure contempt. "Captain Anderson is waiting for you back at the embassy."
Shepard straightened her jacket, offered the ambassador a cold nod, and departed.
She passed a taxi stand, but elected to continue on foot. Anger wasn't a problem; if anything, Shepard felt she'd finally won a round with the press and Udina both. It was a fifteen minute walk back to the human embassy, or a five minute cab ride, and fifteen minutes without any small talk, altercations, or company aside from her private thoughts appealed to her sanity.
Shepard garnered a few stares as she made her way through the late afternoon Presidium throng. It was increasingly difficult to go unrecognized anywhere, but especially here, at the heart of the galaxy.
Well, let them watch.Two salarians who leaned in to whisper with each other as she passed were affronted when Shepard offered them a cavalier wave. It wasn't polite to acknowledge gossip. She didn't care about that either. Discomfiting people who viewed her work largely as a form of entertainment strayed awfully close to fun.
In fact, for all that she was sore, tired, and up to her ass in political shenanigans, not to mention increasingly convinced between the beacon and the cipher that they were all well and truly fucked, life felt easier after Feros. Their victory was a serious black eye to Saren, and she was finally settling into her new role.
So it was with a light step that she walked into Udina's spacious office and tossed off a lazy salute. "Captain."
Anderson was sitting off to the side on one of the black leather couches that defined the less office-like portion of the embassy, the space where the ambassador from Earth could sip drinks and play nice with other notables. He seemed in a good mood. "Commander. That was quite the show you just gave."
"Word travels fast." She gave the room a quick glance, a mix of familiar faces and complete strangers. Garrus, Alenko, and Williams stood out. The others blurred together in a swirl of uniforms and placid expressions.
"It was streamed live." Anderson raised an eyebrow. "'Humanity is prejudiced'? Implying if it were someone else in trouble the good people of the Alliance would be less than supportive? That's barn burner stuff."
"Well…" Shepard slouched into a chair.
"There are those of the belief that going on all the major networks and stopping just shy of calling your fellow citizens hypocrites would be insensitive." He seemed torn between bemusement and admonishment. His mouth quirked at a corner.
"I called it like I saw it." She rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't care for the way we get brushed off by the three ringleaders of the xenophobic tightass club either, but we need them, and it's time everyone started getting used to that reality."
It was then that she noticed Williams staring at her with quiet horror, and Alenko was surreptitiously trying to draw her attention to the far end of the alcove. There sat a gray-haired man in dress blues, with a long scar down his cheek and piercing blue eyes fixed on her with abstract curiosity, as if she were a particularly fascinating specimen of some kind. A real collector's item.
She spotted the bars on his shoulders and swallowed, sitting up straight in her chair. "Admiral. I didn't notice you, sir."
Not a muscle twitched in his face. "Are you always quite so candid, Lieutenant Commander?"
When she was this deep in it, honesty was the sole course forward. "Only when it counts, sir."
He snorted, and if she didn't know better, she would swear he was trying not to laugh. Anderson cleared his throat. "Commander Shepard, this is Admiral Hackett, Commanding Officer, Alliance Fifth Fleet. We were reporting out on the Feros situation when you came in."
Hackett was stationed on Arcturus, a logical posting given that the Fifth Fleet was the primary mobile defense for Alliance colonies. They were responsible for reconnaissance, first response at any sign of trouble, and holding the Traverse border against the Terminus Systems, and while spec ops was technically its own division, more often than not they deployed their covert missions aboard assets of the Fifth Fleet. It was also his misfortune to be a ranking member of the Joint Military Council and a key military advisor to Parliament, apprising them of developing situations. Hackett's presence on the Citadel was a rarity.
It was odd enough to merit a question, despite the thinning ice beneath her feet. "Sir, if I can ask, what brings you all the way out here?"
"Our colonies are in complete disarray and, as you so eloquently noted, the Council doesn't seem overly concerned. I was dispatched to advise the ambassador." He leaned forward, folding his hands across his knees. "I also thought it was time we met, especially if you're going to continue editorializing the party line."
"When asked my opinion I've given just that. I would never claim to speak for the Alliance."
"Feeding the press Saren's identity wasn't an opinion, Commander."
One of the ways she knew that she was growing into this spectre business was she actually took a moment to consider before replying. "No, sir. I received your email. While nobody ever ordered me to keep it secret, I understood the revelation would meet with disapproval, which is why I didn't ask first."
His eyes continued to study her. She got the sense that behind them was an extraordinarily keen mind, one that might even be able to outthink her. "This has been a rough transition for you. You came off your ship with an important witness, the press engulfed you, they were shouting and jostling the both of you, and you threw out a juicy piece of intel to distract them."
"That's not what happened, sir." Shepard's gaze was steady and unashamed. "It takes more than a pack of over-excited journalists to worry me. I made a determination that it was vital that our colonists know who was responsible. It was a matter of self-preservation."
"And you just made that decision all on your own, right there on the spot."
"With all due respect, Admiral, if the Alliance didn't want me making those kinds of decisions on my own, they shouldn't have put up my name."
Hackett exchanged an unreadable look with Anderson. The captain smiled. "Do you believe me now?"
Shepard sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do I get the sudden impression that I've just been had?"
Hackett disregarded that statement altogether. "Feros was impressive work. Holding the colony against several platoons of geth would have been remarkable in its own right, but managing to soundly defeat them before reinforcements arrived is something else."
"Thank you, sir. It helps to have a good crew."
"Sure, but in that sort of situation a collection of great people doesn't add up to much without a good leader. In light of that, I'd like to discuss a new assignment, but it requires… discretion."
"I've kept a lot of secrets over the years."
He nodded, and glanced around at the other, less senior officers Shepard didn't recognize but guessed were his staff. They picked up their things and filed out of the room. Anderson followed, giving her a nod as he left. She raised an eyebrow at Hackett. "My crew?"
"They're going to find out anyway." If Hackett was the least bit uncomfortable with Garrus listening in, it didn't show. "Commander, less than seventy-two hours ago, Chairman Burns disappeared from Arcturus Station. We believe he was abducted."
Before he could elaborate, Alenko cut in. There was a careful quality to his tone. "Not Martin Burns, sir?"
"Yes." Hackett was mildly surprised. "He's a relatively junior MP. What's your interest?"
Alenko wrinkled his nose like he smelled something foul. "I have an L2 implant, sir. Of course I know who Burns is."
"Well, I don't," Shepard said. "Could one of you clarify?"
Hackett glanced at Alenko. "You seem to know at least as much as I do, Lieutenant."
Shepard got the definite impression that Hackett preferred to listen than to talk. He wasn't asking Alenko because he knew less. He was asking because he wanted to hear how Alenko would describe the chairman.
Alenko cleared his throat. "He chairs the Parliamentary Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies, among other things tasked with overseeing the several hundred biotics who were fitted with L2 implants in the late 60s, many of them coerced under the auspices of Conatix's government program contract."
Garrus, who had maintained uncustomary silence throughout the exchange, cut in with incredulity. "Wait a moment. Your government forced surgery on everyone with biotic aptitude?"
"Back then we didn't know anything." Hackett was unapologetic. "We felt that it was in their best interests, to avoid harming themselves or others accidentally."
Shepard, for her part, was stuck on something else. "Transhuman studies?"
"It was a popular word about ten years ago for describing biotics," Alenko elaborated, flatly.
"Alright." She paused. "I get the impression you don't think much of him."
"He's a shoe-shiner." Alenko was dismissive. "He never wanted this job, and it shows. Some L2s have very serious medical problems related to their implants, and most of them are not able to avail themselves of navy healthcare."
"There are health care provisions under Alliance law-"
"It's different when you have acute schizophrenia, or seizures, or even just plain old brain damage because the neurosurgeon who shoved the tech into your head didn't take special care with his knife. You need help above and beyond. But I don't think that's what this incident is about."
Hackett agreed. "We believe the motive behind the kidnapping was the Chairman's recent veto of proposed reparations for L2s and their families."
Shepard turned towards Alenko, confused. "You told me Conatix paid you off after your school shut down."
"I'm a special case, because I was in BAaT and because I was… directly involved with the program's termination." He leaned forward. "Most of Conatix's victims never saw a dime. And there was malpractice here, Commander. It doesn't excuse terrorism, not by a long shot, but we should at least be honest about how this happened."
The admiral said mildly, "Malpractice is a strong word. Let's not lose sight that the Conatix program was designed to help biotics."
Alenko folded his arms and looked away. "I believe the Alliance had good intentions. But they should've chosen their subcontractors more carefully."
Hackett reached into a briefcase at his feet and withdrew a datapad. "A group calling themselves 'Biotics for Justice' is claiming responsibility. They've been on our radar for about five years, but nobody anticipated they'd ever move beyond protests and letter campaigns."
Shepard let out a breath. "Burns prevented the reparations bill from leaving committee, which means there was a reparations bill. Their letter writing was finally getting somewhere."
"And then Burns pulled their feet out from under them," Alenko finished.
"Serves them right," Williams muttered under her breath.
Shepard's keen ears caught it anyway. "What was that, Chief?"
The young woman glanced over. "Life isn't fair, ma'am. Should I be filing a lawsuit against the Alliance over what happened to me on Eden Prime?"
"You volunteered for what happened to you on Eden Prime," Shepard pointed out. "Look, I don't know whether his reasoning was sound. It still doesn't give these people the right to kidnap him."
Hackett seemed glad to return to the point. "Exactly. We've managed to track their ship. I want you to take a boarding party and resolve this situation by any means necessary and extract Burns, alive. We need to send a message to our rogue factions that these tactics will neither be tolerated nor successful."
She nodded. "Understood, Admiral."
"Good." He tapped at the datapad, transferring the dossier to her omni-tool. "Sooner would be better, Commander."
"My ship's departure is scheduled for 1600 hours." She stood as he rose. "We'll handle it."
"See that you do." He paused. "And try to stay away from the cameras. You're going to make this station too hot to hold you."
Shepard felt her cheeks warm, but made no further reply beyond a respectful salute as the admiral departed.
Garrus was the first to speak. "So we're leaving, then?"
"As scheduled," Shepard confirmed. "I need to stop by the Alliance outpost."
"I have a few errands to run myself. I'll see you back aboard ship."
Shepard glanced at the two remaining occupants. "And you? Heading back to base?"
They both nodded. Williams said, "I'll find a taxi."
She rushed off. Her superiors followed at a somewhat more leisurely pace. Shepard raised her eyebrows at Alenko. "Reparations? Really?"
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, as though debating with himself. "When they were performing the first surgeries they liked to run us in pairs, thinking it would help us recover. Having a friend there, you know. The serial number on my implant is L2.1-003. L2.1-004 belonged to David Tan, and I was lying three meters away from him in recovery when he suffered a grand mal seizure and died. He was sixteen years old. His family's never seen so much as an apology from anyone."
Shepard opened her mouth, closed it, and then said, "You didn't tell me there were dead kids."
"Yeah, believe it or not, these aren't cherished memories of my youth."
She watched him walk, hunched over into himself, wishing she knew the right thing to say and feeling like a heel. She must've sounded so stupid back on Feros, complaining about how her big shiny job made life hard."I guess it must seem pretty trivial when people complain about anything."
He stopped and looked at her. "Don't be like that. You know how you feel about being a spectre? What happened to me as a teenager, or even simply being a biotic, isn't the measure of the experience of my life either. Feeling discontent or lonely is pretty universal regardless of your history."
"Hey, I'm trying to be contrite over here. Stop justifying my whining." Shepard grinned.
They resumed walking. "In that case, ma'am, I'm shocked to find you displaying an unprofessional level of humanity and will definitely be filing a report."
She shoved him, playfully. He pushed back. They half fell out of the stairwell onto the Presidium walk, laughing.
Williams was waiting by the taxi stand. She rolled her eyes. "If you're quite finished acting like children, the car's going to be here any second."
The three of them piled into the cab. It soared out over the lake, merging with the heavy traffic that persisted throughout the Presidium day and night. The scale of the ring never ceased to astound Shepard. The largest station Alliance station she ever called home would fit inside a mere quarter of it easily. And the Citadel's residents lavished space on aesthetics, something unheard of on smaller, less well-endowed stations. The lake itself was an extravagance, but it was dotted with fountains and bridges, and the floor of the ring showed ample amounts of green space- parks, plazas, gardens. Only the gentle curve of the projected sky and the long bowed lines of offices and apartments clinging to the walls gave away the fact that they weren't standing on planetary rock.
They were approaching the mass relay monument. Williams peered at it from the window. "You know, I don't usually care for sculpture, but this I like."
"I hate it," Shepard said flatly. "Every time I get within twenty meters of the thing, it feels like I've got a bee trapped in my skull going crazy trying to get out."
"The buzzing's pretty bad," Alenko agreed. "Makes my teeth tingle. Maybe it's something to do with wind currents whistling around the two long arms. You could get one hell of a vibrational feedback loop going."
Williams looked at them blankly. "What buzzing?"
They exchanged a glance. Shepard said, "You don't hear that?"
"It's high frequency, on the edge of audible range," Alenko reasoned.
"There's nothing wrong with my hearing, sir." Williams sat back and crossed her arms.
Shepard crossed her legs under her skirt, amused. "Don't tell me you want to be bothered by the annoying as hell noise."
Williams snorted, but opted to change the subject. "I think we're coming up on the base. Say what you like about how the Council treats us, the Alliance has some pretty nice digs here."
Alenko said, "After the turians, we're the largest fleet in the galaxy. They do like that."
"Except when they're worried about human aggression," Shepard pointed out.
He chuckled. "The Alliance spends half its time worried about human aggression. Historically speaking, we're our own biggest threat. You can't exactly blame the other species for having the same concern."
The cab dropped them by the hatch, where two uniformed guards saluted as they entered. Shepard looked around, getting her bearings. "I need to find the mail stop."
"I need to find the exchange," Williams said. "After that siege on Feros, my utilities are trashed."
Williams left Eden Prime without any clothing besides her hard suit. They got her sufficiently outfitted to satisfy regs during their first visit to the Citadel, but she didn't have any uniforms to spare. Shepard nodded. "Alright. We'll see you back at the ship."
"Ma'am." Williams saluted, and took her leave.
Shepard and Alenko made their way to the mail stop and gave their names to the serviceman on duty. He went to the back to collect their parcels while they waited at the counter. When he came out, he handed Alenko a large box and Shepard small package along with an envelope.
She slit open the envelope first. Paper mail was a rarity in these days. It was a card with Congrats on your new job! emblazoned in tacky bubble letters on the front. Bemused, she flipped to the inside.
Here's to finding whole new ways to sit on your ass all day, you lucky bitch. 3 Im
PS- Sorry I couldn't make it. I was stuck out in the Verge. You know how it is.
Shepard laughed, shaking her head. Alenko raised an eyebrow.
"Old colleague," she explained, holding up the card. "We trained together. If you think I'm nuts…"
"Ah." He pulled out a pocket knife and slit the tape on his own package.
She craned her neck. "What've you got?"
"It's from my parents." He flipped open the lid, pulling out a plastic tub and holding it out to her. "Chocolate chip cookies, as promised."
Shepard smirked and made a show of opening it up and taking a bite. "Thank you."
His expression could have wilted lettuce. "You are a complete brat."
"You are a complete brat…?"
He rolled his eyes. "You are a brat, ma'am. And I rest my case."
She snickered again and took another bite of the cookie. Alenko reached back into the box and pulled out the second item, a folded blue blanket.
Shepard eyed it. "Your mom knit you a blanket?"
"I mentioned in an email that the Normandy's thermostat could use some adjustment. I guess she took it to heart. Anyway, I think it's crocheted." When she gave him a look, he sighed. "What? She doesn't knit."
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that your mom freaking made you an entire blanket because you said it was cold."
"My mom is…" He looked up at the ceiling. "She's kind of a walking anachronism. She makes things by hand. Someone moves in down the hall, someone dies, someone has a baby or gets sick, she's always the first one to show up with a casserole. She volunteers."
Shepard chewed and swallowed. "She sounds like a nice person. But, I mean, we have blankets on the ship."
"It's not politically correct to say so, and I've never found a way to ask why I'm an only child that wouldn't be terminally awkward, but I think all she really wanted out of life was to be someone's mom." He shrugged. "Ok, so it's a little embarrassing sometimes, but it makes her happy. It's hardly a big price to pay for that."
Understanding dawned. "She wanted to be a career mother, and her son spent half his childhood with someone else."
"That's not all of it, but that's part of it, sure."
"It's also a little because you like home baked cookies and hand-crocheted blankets?"
He laughed. "You don't?"
Shepard glanced down at the tub. "You weren't wrong about these cookies, that's for damn sure. Are you certain she doesn't put in anything that would fail a tox screen?"
"Pretty sure. I mean, she's from Singapore." Alenko checked inside the box to be certain he hadn't missed anything, and then pitched the empty container in the trash and folded the blanket over his arm. "I have a few more errands to run myself. I'll be at the dock by 1500 hours."
"1430 would be better if you can manage it. I've got some things to review with the officers."
"Sure thing." He offered her a nod, and took off towards the exchange.
Shepard tucked the card into a pocket and the cookies along with her package under her arm. It wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to open out in public. For a few minutes she considered various ways to kill time on a rare bit of shore leave, before deciding to take Hackett's advice and get back to her ship. Dealing with reporters and gawkers was more of a morning endeavor.
She was stopped all the same several times as she left the base, by fellow soldiers wanting to offer their support, sate their curiosity, or ask for favors. Shepard managed to shake off the last one by posing for a quick picture. As she stepped through the hatch back out into the ward, she was forced to navigate a throng of civilians gathering during the lunch hour to petition the stream of Alliance personnel, along with a few panhandlers. The Citadel had its problems with poverty just like everywhere else. Those parts of it that were human looked to the Alliance for support, also just like everywhere else. C-Sec might be taking on more humans every year but the trust just wasn't there yet.
One of them rattled his can under her nose. "Credit to spare for an old vet, ma'am?"
"Sorry," she muttered, pushing around him.
He blinked. "I don't believe it. You're Hannah Shepard's little girl, aren't you?"
She turned and narrowed her eyes. Her family and the other personal details of her life were hardly private these days, and using them to try to extort money from her was beyond the pale. "Is that supposed to be funny?"
"No, no, you got it all wrong." He held out his hand. He wore fingerless gloves matted with dirt. "I'm Ernesto Zabaleta. I served with your mother on the SSV Einstein, years ago. She brought you on board a couple of times when you were a kid- I still remember those braids you used to wear."
Shepard couldn't recall the man or the name, which was odd for her, but the details of his story checked out. Her mom had liked giving her tours of the ships when she was in port, and showing off her daughter to her colleagues. Both of her parents served aboard the Einstein for years. Shepard herself had lived in its overcrowded family barracks, for a few months here and there, when they couldn't make other arrangements. Housing conditions for families on even large carriers were spartan and limited.
She shook his hand. He smelled faintly of sour booze. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you, mister… Zabaleta, you said?"
"You got it." He sat back on his heels, smiling broadly, and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "Man, Hannah and I go way back. She must be so proud of you."
"So I hear." Shepard actually hadn't seen more than a short email from her mother since all this began. "If you're a veteran, what're you doing out here begging for credits? The VA too good for you?"
Zabaleta's grin faded. "I don't like it there, is all."
"They make you stop drinking?" she asked dryly.
"It ain't that simple. Sure I drink some, so does everyone, it takes the edge off some things…" He trailed off. "Aw, hell, you don't want to hear about this, I'm sorry."
On that point, he was entirely correct. Though she suspected him of lying through his teeth, on the off-chance that he was being honest, she made a final stab. "You know, whatever those things are, they have people at the VA trained to deal with it. It's worth giving it another shot, and it sure beats panhandling."
"Yeah, maybe," he said, in a tone that meant he was going to ignore every word. "Hey, say hi to your mom for me, would you?"
She forced a smile. "Of course."
