Chapter 36 – Civil Disobedience
"I care so deeply about this matter that I'm willing to take on the legal penalties, to sit in this prison cell, to sacrifice my freedom, in order to show you how deeply I care. Because when you see the depth of my concern, and how 'civil' I am in going about this, you're bound to change your mind about me, to abandon your rigid, unjust position, and to let me help you see the truth of my cause." - Mahatma Gandhi, freedom fighter and the Father of India.
"So I have tried to make it clear that it is wrong to use immoral means to attain moral ends. But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends." - Dr Martin Luther King Jr, civil rights activist, Letter from a Birmingham Jail.
"I was not a messiah, but an ordinary man who became a leader through extraordinary circumstances." - Nelson Mandela, civil rights activist and President of South Africa.
x
Alliance Vancouver Base
Vancouver, Canada
UNAS
Earth
x
One of the things I liked about being back on Earth was the opportunity to read paper books once again.
I remembered them from my childhood. Mum and Dad had a library they'd been given by their own parents. Although we moved around a lot, we'd always take our books with us. I'd go through them on rainy days and when I didn't have a friend to kick around a ball with, which happened more often than I liked. The omni-tool was faster, although unwieldy to use. Datapads were everywhere, but somehow the feel and smell of old paper was much nicer.
After I'd been thrown in jail, one of my first requests was for paper books on political icons who had been locked up themselves. The Alliance brass had duly obliged. Asking for books wasn't illegal. Yet. I sat in my room, peacefully reading about the exploits of civil rights leaders and non-violent politicians while the biggest media firestorm Earth had ever seen raged outside my front door.
According to Admiral Hackett, he had been flooded with requests for interviews and statements about the Bahak Relay incident even before I'd reached Earth. My trip was to be under maximum security. No one could ever remember a single prisoner having to be escorted by a dreadnought before. I wasn't even allowed to speak to my mother, who had been given temporary command of Fifth Fleet while Hackett was away.
I was denied permission to read the news reports, but from what I gleaned from friendly crewmen, it wasn't good at all. The batarians were screaming for my head. The Council was making noise about a full-scale investigation. Even Prime Minister Shastri didn't defend me in the only statement he made to the press, instead choosing to reinforce that this was strictly Alliance business and that I would be tried and if necessary punished under Alliance law.
Nobody was talking about the Reapers.
I wish Hackett had given me a chance to speak publicly. The galaxy had to be told about the Reapers. But he said he couldn't do that, and I thought I knew why. Causing a mass panic was something the Alliance was keen on not letting happen. Ever.
I'd instructed Joker to help Miranda get away, along with the rest of the Cerberus personnel who didn't feel like letting the Alliance go over their past history with a fine-toothed comb. He'd complied, and EDI had faked a malfunction that gave Miranda enough time to lead everyone out. Jack too. I was glad to hear that she'd bailed as well. I was willing to vouch for her if needed, but I wasn't sure if my word carried as much weight as it once was. I just hoped she would take my advice and seek help at the Jon Grissom Academy school for biotics. Jack treated my orders like suggestions at the best of times, and this was one instance where I'd really hope she'd listen to me.
Upon touching down on Earth at Colombo, Sri Lanka, I was immediately hustled to the most secure brig they had at the base. Although the Alliance had hoped to forestall some of the media attention by incarcerating me in a relatively quieter place (although no place on Earth could be said to be truly quiet these days), it was a lost cause. The city became jammed with journalists and reporters of every stripe. Eventually they'd given up and moved me instead to a larger base they had in Vancouver, in the UNAS. The offices of the Admiralty Board (Earth liaison) were also located there, and in all likelihood it would be the place where my court martial would be held.
Someone informed me I was the sole prisoner in the Vancouver brig. Maybe that was supposed to make me feel special. It just made me feel frustrated. So much effort expended in shutting me up when they could have used the precious days and weeks and months preparing for the Reapers.
I was allowed a comparative amount of freedom, and a nice little room with an open window that looked out onto the city. Living on ships so long, it was weird at first, but I'd begun to enjoy the sunlight waking me up every morning. I ate most of my meals alone, although occasionally I was allowed visitors. Mostly it was Admiral Anderson. I hadn't seen him since before my mission to eliminate the Collectors, and it was nice to catch up. I'd learned he'd resigned as Councillor, promoted to full admiral and been assigned to the First, and he was shuttling back and forth between Arcturus Station and Earth. It gave him a good excuse to check up on me.
Through Anderson, I managed to learn most of the news that the Alliance in their infinite wisdom were denying me. Apparently not all was going as planned. Despite the best efforts of both the Alliance and the Citadel Council to deny all knowledge about the Reapers, there was a small but significant percentage of the galactic community who believed I was right. Although they worryingly and frequently overlapped with the most insane of conspiracy theorist groups, at this point I was happy to take what I could get.
"Most of the rank and file are on your side," confided Anderson one day, over salad and soup and sandwiches. "They haven't forgotten Elysium. They haven't forgotten Saren."
"Nice to hear they remember," I said, in between chomps on my hoagie. Another perk about living planetside, real food at last. Much less vat-grown meat and MREs.
"But working with Cerberus really hurt your credibility among the rest of them. Remember, they've been fighting and dying at the hands of Cerberus for a long while now. Everyone knows someone who's been affected by Cerberus," said Anderson.
"Goddamnit. Yeah, I can't blame 'em. I hope you're at least telling them that I was working under duress. And that I got out as soon as I could."
"I'm trying, Jack. These things take time."
"That's not something we have a lot of," I said gloomily.
Reading the words of men like Gandhi and King helped me to gain a little perspective on my situation. They too had fought in their own way for the truth, and suffered for it. I was not the first, and I certainly would not be the last. Eventually I would be proven right. It was just a matter of how many lives would be lost as long as my words went ignored.
But that was something I couldn't change. It was stupid and asinine and tragic. But it was beyond my power to change, and I had to learn to accept that.
Between my quiet reading time, I did what I could do and filed extensive mission reports, filled with all the intel on Cerberus and the Reapers that I could remember. I was made to sit through several interviews that were a few degrees short of being interrogations. Although the questioning officer seemed more interested in discussing Cerberus capabilities, I always firmly stressed on the greater threat of the Reapers. They didn't like it, but I was past caring. It was too late in the game to sweat the small stuff.
The Alliance had assigned one Marine to be my personal bodyguard during my time in Vancouver. Although he was nominally there to make sure I didn't escape, I couldn't help but wonder if he was supposed to report back to the Alliance everything I said as well. But First Lieutenant James Vega didn't seem like the type. He was easy going and affable, and full of questions about my service record, most of which I was happy to answer.
Built like a two-ton slab of beef and with muscles even more impressive than Jacob's, James resembled a walking mountain with a fauxhawk on top. But under his bluster and charm I sensed there was something deeper going on. Apparently he had been assigned to this detail by none other than Anderson, and I could tell when someone was hiding something.
Once upon a time, I would have wondered about that secret, and tried to pry it out of him. I even had the perfect means to do it. Liara was the new Shadow Broker now and she could no doubt learn any secret in the galaxy, given time (and if I could get a message to her in the first place). But now I found it didn't bother me too much. If Vega wanted to be honest with me sometime down the line, that was fine. If he didn't, that was ok too. I had bigger things to worry about. In addition to the Reapers, my impending trial for instance.
Vega and I were walking back to my room after a workout session in the gym when the subject came up.
"So Commander, who are you gonna get for your lawyer? If you're short on ideas, I know a guy."
Vega insisted on referring to me by my old rank. I let it slide, and chuckled at his suggestion. Vega always claimed to know a guy capable of handling virtually any situation or problem. And if he didn't, he claimed to know another guy who could find the guy who could.
"No need for that Vega, I've already sent for my own lawyer."
"He needs to be a damn good one," said Vega. "Alliance brass are coming down on you like a ton of bricks."
"He's said by many to be the finest legal mind in human history. Ever heard of Bob Massingbird?"
"Strangely enough, I actually have. A really slick SOB."
Massingbird was a solicitor in high demand, retained by the wealthiest and the most powerful when they found themselves in hot water. My eyes misted over as I recalled his most triumphant successes.
"I remember Massingbird's most famous case, the Case of the Bloody Knife. A man was found next to a murdered body, he had the knife in his hand, thirteen witnesses had seen him stab the victim, and when the police arrived, he said 'I'm glad I killed the bastard.' Massingbird not only got him off, he got him knighted in the New Year's Honours List, and the relatives of the victim had to pay to have the blood washed out of his jacket."
"Lawyers," said Vega, making the word a curse.
"Hey if the Alliance are going to play games, I'm not going to make it easy for them," I said.
It was several days later before I received word from Bob Massingbird.
"Letter for you, Commander," said Vega, knocking on my door.
I got up from my bed and took the datapad he offered me. The news wasn't good.
Dear sir,
I regret to inform you that I am unable to take your case. I wish you the best of luck.
Regards,
Robert Massingbird, Esq.
"Bad news?" asked Vega, seeing my reaction.
"I've read suicide notes that were longer," I muttered.
"Didn't think he could handle the heat, huh."
"The bastard's defended dictators in the International Court of Justice! And he even managed to win some of those cases. If he's not going to even touch my case, I'm dead meat."
"Well I still know a guy," began Vega.
"Never mind, Vega. I'm not going to ruin anyone's career by letting them handle my case. I'll just wait and see which rookie public defender they'll assign to me."
xxxx
Vega led me through the hallways to the briefing room where I would meet the lawyer that had been scrounged up for me by the Office of the Public Defender. No doubt some wet-behind-the-ears kid, fresh out of law school with a C average, greener than paint. Why waste money on a dead man?
The other marines and Navy personnel in the base always did a double take when I passed by them. Some would automatically try to salute, then stop themselves, remembering that I was no longer part of the Alliance any more. Inevitably wherever I went, there would be whispers behind my back. To distract myself, I spoke to Vega.
"Have you met this kid?"
"Uh...yeah."
"What? What did you think?"
"I think you'd better see for yourself, sir," said Vega, stone-faced. I gave him a sharp look, but he clearly wasn't interested in revealing more. Sighing, I pushed open the door of the briefing room and prepared to accept whatever fate had in store for me.
"Hopeful greeting: Hello, Mr Shepard. I am pleased to meet you."
I stared. An elcor was waiting in the room for me. As far as I could tell, he was young. Like all elcor he towered over me, and spoke in a monotone so dull even beta versions of VIs sounded more lively. Behind me, James Vega closed the door and sat down.
"Er...hello. Pleased to meet you too."
I held out a hand, then realised elcor didn't shake hands and settled for a small wave. As I lowered my hand, I thought I could hear Vega trying not to laugh.
"Friendly introduction: My name is Barsoom. I am the paralegal assigned to your case."
"Wait, paralegal? You're not even a full lawyer?"
"Defensively: No, not yet. But I will do my best to defend you in this case."
I sat down, trying to marshal my thoughts and say something without offending apparently the only person willing to defend me in court.
"Not to sound speciesist or anything, but I thought the Alliance would assign one of their own guys to the case."
"Clarification: The Alliance did ask my associate and superior, Richard Harriman to represent you in court, but he is away on urgent business in the colonies and will not be back in time. He delegated the task to me instead."
"I see," I replied shortly, while making a mental note to look for Richard Harriman, attorney-at-law and kill him.
"So counsel, what do you think my chances are?"
"Brutally honest: Not all that good, I'm afraid. You're as guilty as a puppy sitting next to a pile of poo."
"Oh, charming," I said. Vega couldn't help himself, he burst out laughing. "Let's get it over with then. What are the charges against me and when is the trial?"
"Clarification: You are charged with one count of desertion from the Alliance Marine Corps, and one charge of terrorism pertaining to your actions in the Bahak Relay system. More charges to be added later if necessary. Your trial is scheduled to be held in approximately four months."
"How could I have deserted the Alliance if I died in the line of duty?"
The elcor blinked. "Confusedly: Is this an attempt at humour? You are clearly alive, Mr Shepard."
"Well yes, I mean I am now, but I died after that geth mission and Cerberus used experimental technology called the Lazarus Project to restore me to life, including all my memories..." I trailed off as I realised how ridiculous that sounded when recounting it to people who weren't there. Also both Vega and the elcor were giving me odd looks.
"It's true!"
"I'm sure it is, sir," said Vega diplomatically.
"Anyway they gave me a dishonourable discharge without even having a trial," I added lamely.
"Musing: We could use that as a mitigating factor in the trial, but I do not think it would be of much help."
"Ok forget the desertion. What about the Bahak Relay incident? I had a really good reason for that one."
"Uncertainly: I have read your report, Mr Shepard, and I am afraid it would not be received too kindly in court."
"Why on Earth not?"
"Clarification: You have not submitted any physical evidence of the imminent arrival of the Reapers."
"I couldn't have, the entire system blew up!"
"Soothingly: Of course, of course."
"Anyway, what about the data logs I recovered, the ones made by Dr Amanda Kenson? She was crazy, you could hear it in every word she said."
"Pointing out the obvious: If she was indeed crazy, Mr Shepard, then admitting those logs into evidence might be prejudicial to your case."
I gave up. There was a good reason why I'd never made it to law school and became a soldier instead. We went over the case files again and came up with nothing new. I was beginning to wonder why the Alliance were even bothering with a trial. This would be the biggest farce since Donovan Hock got off on a charge of grand larceny.
"Frustrated query: Why don't I start by reciting my prepared opening statement?"
"Fine, you know what, go on ahead."
"Untruthful opening statement: Your honour, over the course of this trial, I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that my client is completely innocent of all the charges against him."
"Barsoom, what the hell?"
"Confused query: Pardon me?"
"You said 'untruthful statement' right in your statement!"
"Confused query: I don't understand you."
"Nevermind, try again."
"Untruthful opening statement: Your honour -"
"There, you said it again!"
"Perplexed reaction: I do not understand you, Mr Shepard."
"I know elcor need to state their meaning before every word they say, but do you have to be quite so honest? You're a lawyer, for crying out loud."
"With offense: It seems you do not fully understand subtle elcor communication techniques, Mr Shepard."
I sighed, and stood up. "Mr Barsoom, thank you for your time. We will meet and discuss my trial again another day."
"Insincere farewell: I look forward to it, Mr Shepard."
Vega and I walked out of the briefing room and back to the brig. I was swearing under my breath, he was still trying not to laugh.
"Looks like you have some problems, huh sir."
"This is a goddamn circus."
"Well I've got better news for you. Admiral Anderson dropped by, he wants to see you later after dinner."
"What, he's not having dinner with me?"
"Nah he's having dinner with the Deputy Director of the AIA."
"Life's a breeze when you make flag rank alright."
"Yeah. It's why I never want to get that high."
"Not at all?"
"When you get past Major, you're out of the front lines. You don't get to make a difference."
"The Marines need their commanders as well as foot soldiers Vega, you know that."
"Might be right for some guys," he said, shrugging. "But I signed up to fight. See you later, sir."
He closed the door of my room and I heard his footsteps retreat down the corridor. Sighing, I walked over to the window and looked out at the evening Vancouver skyline. The sun was setting, and the first lights were already beginning to shine in all the buildings. A few blocks away from the base, there was a little garden which was popular with a few families living in the nearby apartments. After a few weeks I was able to recognise a few of them. There was the couple with the baby girl. An old man and his grandson. A gay couple with two teenage boys. And another couple with two teenage girls. The last two families seemed to know each other, they would hang out at the same time.
But there was another frequent visitor that caught my attention. It was a little kid, with brown hair, who liked to wear an oversized hoodie jacket and big sneakers. He always came alone, and left alone. I never saw an adult with him. He'd come to the park, play with his scale model toy of an Alliance cruiser, and just run around for hours at a time. I thought he might be a homeless kid or something, but he seemed reasonably clean and well-fed. Afterwards I'd just watch him play. Longer ago than I'd care to remember, that kid was me. Playing with a toy ship, dreaming of being among the stars.
The stars. They were my home. I was born in space, grew up in space. I lived and worked and fought for my life amongst the stars. I never really felt right staying planetside for an extended amount of time, even with all the perks. Up there was where I belonged.
But the stars were also where my greatest enemies lay, waiting and watching. The Reapers had taken the good feeling that I'd gotten every time I looked up into the night sky and turned it into an uneasy wariness. They would attack from above, and I had no way or knowing where or when.
My mood soured, I lay down lengthwise on my bed and thought about Jack. When I made the decision to turn myself in I knew I would miss her, but I just didn't know how much. It was more than just the sex, or someone to cuddle in bed with at night, although both were good. I missed the absolute certainty of knowing that I had someone who would back me up 100%. No matter the odds, no matter the risks, if I thought it was important enough to do it, Jack had my back. She was my rock, the one person in the galaxy I could rely on without needing to think about it. I had amazing friends, wonderful allies, but Jack's fierce loyalty was on another level. Only my mother would give me that kind of unconditional support. Being in such a hostile location, surrounded with unfriendly people, I missed her more than ever.
I watched the kid run off, then went back to my bed. I lay there and thought of Jack until a knock on my door made me look up.
"Shepard? It's me, Anderson."
I went outside and shook his hand. He looked resplendent in his dress blues, and smelled faintly of brandy. The good kind. "Hello Admiral. Nice dinner?"
"Tolerable. The Deputy Director's an old friend of mine. It wasn't just a social call, you know."
"Oh?"
Anderson's voice lowered a notch. "He's come over to our side on the matter of the Reapers. He's said he'll do what he can to streamline logistics and scout for advance warning reports."
I was pleasantly surprised to hear that Anderson had not been idle, during my time in the brig. I was heartened to know that at least someone had been doing something.
"Feel like having a drink?"
"Sure, why not."
We walked down the corridor to a nearby lounge. At this time of the night, the base was emptier than usual.
"Vega not here to make sure I don't knock you over and escape?"
"I gave him the night off myself. There's a few things we need to talk about."
My interest was definitely piqued. Anderson hadn't come all this way for just a social call. We reached the lounge and took a table far from the counter. Only a handful of other people were around. Anderson ordered another brandy, I went for a glass of scotch. When the waiter left he began to speak once more.
"First things first, Shepard. While you've been here, I've been working with Admiral Hackett and a few other contacts of mine to get ready for the Reapers. There's not a lot of us, but we have friends in high places."
"No kidding," I said. "Hackett himself is already the Admiral of the Fleet."
"Not only him," said Anderson. "We've got some support from the politicos as well. The Secretary of the Colonies, Takahashi Ujio, has already begun to put into place protocols for evac routes to and from Earth. The Deputy Director of Alliance Intelligence, the guy's a former Marine. He thinks you're full of shit, but he also thinks we can't afford to dither on the off chance you might be right."
"Gee, thanks," I muttered.
"Anyway Jamal's been providing me with a lot of intel. All strictly off the record, of course."
"What about the Citadel? Udina see reason yet?"
"The man will deny the Reapers exist even if one came up and chewed his head off. He's too goddamn happy to be part of that Council. But his replacement as Ambassador, Inara Serra is firmly on our side."
"Sounds like we haven't been totally wasting our time."
"You can say that again," said Anderson. Our drinks arrived and we clinked our glasses with a simple toast of salud, or good health. Anderson drank deep and set his glass down.
"So...what do I do?"
"You stay put," said Anderson. "The most important thing now is for you to not give the rest of the Alliance brass any reason to investigate me, or anyone else I just mentioned. Don't make any waves."
"What about the trial? The lawyer they gave me is a complete fucking joke."
"Little I can do about that," said Anderson, grinning as I recounted my encounter with Mr Barsoom, the elcor paralegal. "But let me tell you something else, Jack. You don't have to give shit one about the trial."
"Don't fuck me about, sir, I've had a long day..."
"No, I'm serious. Listen to me. Hackett's on your side. I'm on your side. The trial is for the batarians. Even if you do get a guilty conviction, the minute the Reapers invade you'll be back in uniform with a full pardon under your belt. Reinstated and with your rank restored, no questions asked."
"Oh," I said, surprised. I never thought about it like that.
"So don't worry about it, Jack. Stay on your toes. Don't worry that we're not doing anything to prepare for those squid bastards. We're doing everything we can. You're our best asset, the biggest gun we have against them. When the time comes, you'd better be ready to go at a moment's notice."
"You know me, sir," I said, finishing the last of my drink. "Just let me at 'em."
"That's the spirit," said Anderson appreciatively. "I'm going back to Arcturus for now, and I won't be back on Earth until your trial's scheduled to begin."
"Shame," I said, and I meant it. "I'll miss our lunches."
"So will I," said Anderson. "But before I leave, I've got something for you."
Anderson reached over and uploaded something to my omni-tool.
"Your fiancee has asked me to pass these along to you. I don't know if you can write back, they'll intercept and censor anything you send to me as long as I'm on Arcturus. But I thought you should get these letters, at least."
I shook Anderson's hand. I touched by his willingness to help, the pick-me-up from reading something written by Jack would be just what I needed to get through my time here.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, marine. Stay frosty."
"Aye aye, sir."
Anderson returned my salute, and walked out of the lounge, headed for Arcturus Station. I wondered if the next time we would meet, humanity would already be at war. But in the meantime, I had Jack's letters.
xxxx
Hey Jack,
It seems so fucking retarded to have to talk to you this way, but if this is the only way to do it, then I guess I'll take what I can get.
Guess what? I actually took what you said to heart for once. The Old Man put in a good word for me with Kahlee Sanders, the principal of Jon Grissom Academy. Except they don't call her a principal, it's 'headmistress'. Still, she seems alright. Kinda reminds me of your mom, in a way.
The school itself is nice. The food's nice. The rooms and classroom and everything are pretty high-end. Your tax dollars at work. I haven't been this comfortable since I started sleeping in the penthouse you call a captain's cabin on the Normandy. It's an okay place to be, but you know me. After sleeping in shitholes a vorcha wouldn't, I don't care too much for luxury.
The kids...what can I say? They're kids. Loud, irritating, don't know when to shut up. I've just started teaching. The first time, we just made some dodgeballs float. Nothing too complicated. They're all spread out when it comes to power levels, some are really strong, the rest not so good. But at least they listen to what I say and do what I do. If they keep it up, they might just survive the fucking Reapers.
You know Jack, before I met you I could have sworn that I would never, ever do half the things I've done since then. I've met Cerberus bitches and not killed them. I've fought the urge to kill you in your sleep and steal your ship for myself (you know I could totally do it). Now I'm a damn teacher. The last job I had before this one was blowing up Collectors when you told me to, the last one before that was to kill this turian on behalf of this krogan because his asari pal died. Not exactly what you'd call a predictable series of events.
Hell, I just want to say thanks, you big dumb marine. You've shown me things I never thought I'd see. Helped me to do things I'd never thought I'd do. Without you I'd still be killing people for fun, and I know now I would have eventually died in some forgotten corner of the galaxy. Once upon a time that would have been ok, but now I kinda don't want it to happen. I've got you now. I want to see where we're going, where our crazy, fucked-up lives will take us.
I miss you, big guy.
I keep thinking about what'd you say, or what you'd do. Especially when training these kids. I've never been through boot camp. You'd have them doing push ups and running four minute miles within the first hour. I wish you were here so I could talk to you about this stuff. You'd know what to do. But you're not, so I gotta figure it out on my own. Hope I don't fuck up too badly.
I know you'd want to hear about my medical condition, all that's happen is that they've taken some scans and run some tests. Kahlee's been really helpful, she said she'd help however she can. I actually think she's telling the truth. It's people like her that make me think the galaxy isn't completely made up of assholes after all, and strangely enough I keep running into people like her ever since I got together with you. Makes me think.
Anyway I'm doing fine, my head hasn't hurt or anything and I'm taking it slow during classes. I'll tell you if something comes up.
Ok, gotta run. Take care of yourself Jack, I know you're in jail right now so cover your ass. I mean that literally. I don't want to come get you and find out you're already married to some big mean skinhead named Bubba. I might have to find myself another fiance.
I love you Jack. I'm waiting for you.
Always yours,
Jackie.
I read the first letter slowly, savouring every word. It made me feel much better to know that she was safe, and that she was getting the help she needed. I was also encouraged to hear that she was trying her hand at teaching.
"I love you too. Wait for me," I said softly to myself.
I thought about rationing the letters, slowly reading one a day. Then I knew there was no way I would be able to resist, and read the rest.
x
Office of the Admiral of the Fleet
Arcturus Station
Themis
Arcturus System
x
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad you could make it," rumbled Admiral Hackett, looking around his office. He'd come to think of the men and women gathered here as Shepard's supporters. They were the people who believed Commander Shepard's warning about the Reapers, or else believed that they could not sit and do nothing in the event that Shepard turned out to be right. They had all arrived at Arcturus under some pretext, and they had all gathered in the office of the Admiral of the Fleet.
David Anderson was there, a good, reliable man. He'd just returned from Earth and spoken to Shepard about the need for secrecy and calm at this point. Shepard must not be allowed to be seen as a rabble rouser, or worse, a conspiracy-obsessed madman.
"Admiral Anderson, I understand you've spoken to Commander Shepard," said Hackett, formally starting the meeting.
"Yes, Fleet Admiral," replied Anderson. "I've emphasised the need to lay low, for the moment. I got the impression that he's frustrated, because he thinks that nothing's being done. But I told him we're on the case."
"We most certainly are," said Hackett.
"I hope he's holding up alright," said Captain Hannah Shepard, Jack's mother. Small and petite, with light brown chin-length hair and cool grey eyes, she nevertheless managed to command respect and project authority. It wasn't difficult to see her influence written deeply in her son.
"He is, Hannah. A little bored, but he's okay."
"That's good," she said, giving Anderson a warm smile.
Hackett turned his attention to their newest ally, humanity's Ambassador to the Citadel, Inara Serra. The ambassador, her beautiful orange evening gown and flowing black hair very striking against the military backdrop of his office, looked lively and interested.
"Ambassador, I trust the Councillor remains in the dark about our little secret?"
"Councillor Udina neither trusts nor talks to me much, I'm afraid," said Inara. "Fortunately, this makes my work a little easier."
The rest of the table laughed at this small joke, cutting through the tension. Hackett admired the ambassador's ability to defuse a tense situation with one deft quip.
"Good, this will go much easier without his interference," said Hackett bluntly. He called up a large hologram which hung in the air above the table. Keying in details, a chart with the eight Alliance fleets currently in service were displayed.
"Let's go over the basics first. Here is where we stand, as of now.
The First Fleet, scheduled to patrol the Charon Relay near Pluto within the next fortnight. Commanding officer, Admiral Ines Lindholm. Fleet strength is currently at two-thirds, after the Battle of the Citadel.
The Second Fleet, currently patrolling Terminus Systems space. Commanding officer, Admiral Muhammad Rashid al-Maliki.
The Third Fleet, currently stationed at Arcturus. Commanding officer, Admiral Nitesh Singh. Fleet strength is currently half of total, after the Battle of the Citadel.
The Fourth Fleet, permanently stationed in Earth orbit. Commanding officer, Rear Admiral Stanislaw Fabianski.
The Fifth Fleet, my fleet. Commanding officer to be Captain Hannah Shepard on occasion of her next promotion, when I formally hand over the reigns. Fleet strength at two-thirds, after the Battle of the Citadel. Currently stationed here at Arcturus.
The Sixth Fleet, currently refuelling at Terra Nova. Commanding officer, Admiral Blythe Parker-Prescott.
The Seventh Fleet, stationed near Eden Prime. Commanding officer, Rear Admiral Kurt von Richthofen."
And finally the Eighth Fleet, stationed at the Citadel. Commanding officer, Rear Admiral Moussa Nyobe."
Everyone pored over the details. A few made notes. They looked worried, but also resolved at the work that lay before them.
"How fast can we get the under-strength fleets back up to full strength?" asked Martin Wyndham, an assistant secretary at the Department of Supply.
"I've been strongly urging the Prime Minister to step up production," said Hackett. "Although he's not doing everything we'd like him to do, there's been some movement at least."
"We should move the fleets back to Alliance space," suggested Jamal Abdullah, the Deputy Director of the AIA.
"Good point, I'll send out the word."
"What about dreadnought production?"
"It takes too long to get one ready," said Hannah.
"According to Jack's reports, they are still the best defense we have against the Reapers," said Anderson.
"Given our resources and the time constraints...carriers are a better bet in my opinion."
"Dreadnought production is still bound by the Treaty of Farixen. I believe we should fully complete and equip whatever dreadnoughts we already have while mass-producing more of other ships," said Hackett. The rest of the table seemed to agree with him.
The meeting moved on to cover civilian preparedness, evacuation routes, emergency aid and possible diplomatic assistance from the other Citadel races. Hackett's contacts within the State Department were doing their best to spread Shepard's warning to the other major powers of the galaxy, while Inara promised to do her best to coordinate the whole effort.
Eventually Hackett stood up, satisfied that they had done all they could.
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen. I'm not sure when we can all meet again in one place like today, but I'll keep you updated. Do the best you can without drawing too much attention to yourselves. Every little bit we do will save lives down the line."
"Not to be the fly in the jam...but what we're doing isn't exactly treasonous, is it?" asked Martin. He looked nervous, probably because he had the most to do.
"We are contravening direct orders," said Hackett. "I've never hidden that from all of you. What we're doing might be technically illegal. But you know what's at stake here. We cannot afford to remain idle and hope everything turns out alright. Humanity's safety is in our hands."
Martin still looked unsure, so Hackett addressed him personally. "Martin, a long time ago before the Second World War, Prime Minister Winston Churchill of the United Kingdom was just a Member of Parliament, not part of the government, and yet he refused to do nothing while Adolf Hitler gathered his armies. A few of Churchill's friends stood by him, passing him secret and classified information even though it was illegal, and as a result they were better prepared when war was proven to be inevitable. Just like today, we will all be vindicated in time. Shepard most of all. Until then, we will do what we must."
Everyone looked reassured. One by one they left the room, after bidding farewell to Hackett. Eventually only Anderson and Hannah Shepard were left.
"So I'm going to be an Admiral at last," said Hannah. But instead of sounding happy, she sounded like she was contemplating an unpleasant chore. Hackett had to laugh at her glumness.
"You should have been an Admiral long ago," said Hackett.
"I liked captaining my own ship, Steven. You know that."
"So did I," said Anderson. "But flag rank's not too bad, Hannah. More people have to salute you."
Hannah knew Anderson was joking, he cared less about military formalities than about getting the job done.
"What about Jack's ship? I know he loves that thing, almost as much as he loves his old mum."
"Alliance brass demanded a full lockdown and investigation, I can't overrule them," said Hackett. "The Normandy is currently being run over with a fine-toothed comb, docked in Murmansk, Russia."
"We have a base in Murmansk?" wondered Hannah.
"Yes. A very cold and remote one. They figured there would be less eyes around."
"What about his crew?" asked Anderson. "Jack's said repeatedly they're important to him, and he wants to work with them again. Can't you pull some strings?"
"I'm doing all I can, but I can't override the rest of the Admiralty Board," said Hackett. "Karin Chakwas was the easiest to clear, she really did a number on them by applying for full leave and sticking to the rules. The engineers, his flight lieutenant...it'll be tricky trying to prove they never did questionable things while in Cerberus's employ."
Anderson nodded. "The best we can do, under the circumstances. I'll set up a meeting with the rest of the Fleet Commanding Officers. The more we can get on our side, the better."
"Good job with getting the Ambassador on our side, by the way," said Hannah.
"Thank you, but it was the least I could do after resigning from the Council. I know Inara, she's not the type to lose her head in a crisis. She'll do a good job," said Anderson.
"I better get back to Fifth," said Hannah, getting up. "I'll see you later, Fleet Admiral. You too, David."
The two men bid her goodbye. Then it was just the two of them left.
"Anderson, do you ever wonder how things will be different if we'd only done something differently?" asked Hackett philosophically. Anderson was surprised, it wasn't often that Hackett was given to flights of fancy. He was usually such a rational, stoic man.
"Not really, sir."
"Not at all? For instance, you almost became our first human Spectre. Maybe if you had been, we could have stopped Saren sooner."
"Maybe, sir," replied Anderson, thinking it over. "But to my mind, since we can't change our choices, all we can do is to choose more carefully the next time around."
Hackett was silent for a while, and stared off into the distance.
"It looks like it'll be our fate to be the poor bastards in the biggest baptism of fire humanity has ever seen," he muttered.
"For what it's worth sir, and you know I never give you any bullshit, I am glad you're here. I couldn't imagine a better man to stand between us and the Reapers."
Hackett shook Anderson's hand. "Thank you, Admiral. But we both know it isn't just about us. We have one more ace in the hole."
"Sir, I have no doubt Jack will deliver when the time comes. He always has."
"For all our sakes, I hope like hell he always will."
x
Alliance Vancouver Base
Vancouver, Canada
UNAS
Earth
Some time later
x
James Vega was going through his workout routine in the gym, pumping iron with a couple dozen other soldiers. He'd invited Shepard to join him, but he had another meeting with his legal counsel. Shepard mentioned he was going to try to persuade Barsoom to try lying without actually announcing that he was lying today. Vega wished him luck.
A runner came into the gym. "First Lieutenant James Vega? Are you here?"
Vega put the weight back on the rack and stood up, mopping the sweat from his brow. "Yeah, that's me. What's up?"
"There's someone from Arcturus to see you, sir. An admin matter."
"Which way?"
"Briefing room 36-B."
"Alright, give me five minutes. I'll be there."
"Yes sir."
The runner left, and Vega went to the locker room to get his stuff. He was a little annoyed at having to interrupt his workout. He wiped himself down as best he could, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the briefing room. Vega didn't think he'd attracted enough attention to warrant a personal briefing with someone from Arcturus. Maybe some pencil-pushing officer wanted to question him about his botched mission against the Collectors. Maybe it was the Bureau of Personnel, come to assign him to another proper battalion once more.
He wasn't expecting quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life, olive skin, long black hair that flowed to her shoulders, and a coolly dangerous expression that suggested Do not waste my time. Ever. James stared, then realised he was staring and quickly sat down at the small table across from her.
"Uh...hey, I'm First Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Marines."
She shook his hand. No smile. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, Alliance Marines. It's my first time here in Vancouver Base."
"So what brings you to Vancouver, LC?"
Ashley seemed irritated by his easy-going, near flippant tone, but didn't comment. "I'm assigned to Admiral Anderson's office, and First Fleet at large. I'm here to prep for his arrival back to Earth. The Admiralty Board want to speak to me too, so I'm here for that as well."
"Gotcha. But what does this have to do with me?"
"I – ah – understand that you're the marine assigned to guard Commander Shepard in the detention centre."
"That's correct," said Vega. He noted her hesitation with interest.
"I have some messages from Admiral Anderson to be delivered to Shepard personally. Can you please hand this over to him?"
"I will," said Vega, taking the datapad. "But couldn't you do it yourself?"
"I'd prefer not to meet the Commander right now," said Ashley.
"Is this something I should ask about?"
"It's sort of personal. I'd rather you didn't."
"O-kay, no go area, got that."
"Oh, and one more thing. Don't tell Shepard I dropped by, or that I'll be around here, okay?"
"I think he'll be a bit curious who's giving him these messages -"
"Lieutenant, that's an order. Do I make myself clear?"
Vega was silent for a moment. "Yes ma'am, absolutely," he said.
"Good. Just say it's from Anderson. Look, I need to get to another appointment. See that it gets to him."
Without a word of farewell Ashley left the room. Vega considered saying all sorts of things to her retreating back. Eventually he just got up and made his way to the brig, walking slowly and thinking hard. Shepard should have finished his meeting by then.
"Commander? You there?"
The door opened. Shepard looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a krogan. "Hey Vega."
"Good meeting?"
"No actually, it was horrible. But never mind that."
Vega held up the datapad. "Got something from you. It's from Admiral Anderson."
"Anderson? Is he back at Vancouver Base already?"
"Uh, no, he's on his way. An aide passed this on."
"Alright, thanks James."
"No problem, Commander."
Vega walked away, still thinking about Shepard. He'd known the man for several months now, spent time with him almost every day, and he still felt like he wasn't anywhere close to knowing who he really was. Shepard was professional, liked to joke, and seemed like an all-round nice guy, but someone who blew up the Bahak System had to have ice-water in his veins. Someone who allegedly died and was brought back by the Illusive Man, of all people, had to have something going on beneath the surface. Vega resolved to keep an eye on him until he'd proven he could be trusted.
xxxx
Barsoom wasn't budging. Each time I had tried to get him to lie, and each time the best he could come up with was "Untruthful qualifier: This is a truthful statement: My client is innocent." But at least I had something else to distract me from the pathetic performance of my legal counsel. Another bunch of letters from Jack.
Vega had said Anderson was about to come back to Earth, which meant that my trial would be starting soon. I hoped no one would laugh too hard before they sentenced me to a million years in jail or a public hanging or something equally fun. But screw that, I had letters to read.
I kicked off my boots, lay down on my bed and read the first one.
Hey Jack,
Well looks like you really can't write back to me. At least I'm hoping it's because the Alliance censors all your letters and throws them in the trash. Because if I find out it's just cos you can't be bothered to write back, I will hunt you down and do that thing I did to you back after we blew up that Cerberus Base in Tereshkova, except there'll be no safeword this time.
Lots to tell you. You won't believe how fast the kids are learning. At first I thought maybe like more than half would flake out and quit on me. But more are signing up every week. I guess word travels fast in such a small place. Their shields are good. Their bolts and waves aren't too bad, but they could use some work. But they're good, like, ready to fight good. I'd match any one of them up against any one of your sissy marines any day.
I mean, this one kid, Sarah Rodriguez. She's not that powerful, but she gets knocked down on her ass more times than I can count and she just gets back again, ready for more. This other guy, Jason Prangley, he's a quiet kid but you can tell he's got a lot going on upstairs. I talk about tactics sometimes, and he's the one who listens the most.
I think Sarah likes him, but he doesn't seem to have it figured out yet. Why are you guys always so clueless?
The rest of the class are really good too. But it hasn't been all smooth sailing. There was this kid, guy by the name of Harbhajan Singh. I gave him a hard time in one of the classes and he talked some smack and just walked on out of there. First time one of my kids ever did something like that.
You know what's funny Jack, I was so mad at the guy. I was so fuckin' mad that someone would talk that way to me, especially since all I was trying to do was to teach him something that might save his life someday. I was ready to punch his head off his shoulders. Then I realised something.
You wouldn't have done the same thing. You might have gotten mad, but not as mad as I did. The reason is because you've had someone way, waaaay fuckin' worse to deal with. Namely me.
Jack I tell ya, when I realised that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I have done so much worse to you and you still keep coming back for more. How you put up with it, I have no idea. But it made me realise something else. If you didn't quit, there is no way in hell I'm gonna quit either. The other kids still need a teacher. So instead of blowing the joint like I wanted to and going back to Omega to put the fear of God in them once more, I stayed. And I continued my classes. And whaddya know, Singh came back to apologise. Every fibre of his body did not want to do it, I could see it in his face. But he did it anyway.
I'm sorry Jack. I'm sorry for pushing you away like I did, for treating you like shit when all you wanted was to get to know me better. And even when you did, you didn't leave. You stayed right there with me. I guess back then, all I ever was afraid of was being loved by you. I thought I didn't deserve it, couldn't. Not with all the shit I've been through. But you helped me to realise that I was wrong about that. I'm not a broken little girl any longer, and I'm not the punk who kills for fun. I'm someone different. I actually like the person I am today. And it's because you wouldn't give up.
I love you Jack. Come back to me.
Always yours,
Jackie.
I stopped reading and just stared at the ceiling, thinking about what Jack had written.
"I will," I said to the night air. "I will, I promise. Soon."