Chapter 35: Paths
"Gravitational stability achieved!"
A ragged cheer went up through the control room, dozens of voices jubilant in their success. Hands slapped backs and pounded consoles. Miranda held up a hand to her mouth to hide a smirk that spread unbidden across her features when one of the communications techs, a turian, leaned across the aisle to plant a kiss on her human companion's lips. From the way surprise changed to distracted pleasure she strongly suspected that was one celebration that would be continuing in private.
"Shepard made a wise decision placing you in charge of an impossible task," Liara said behind her. "He knew you'd never settle for failure."
She turned and saw that the asari was smiling as well, flanked by Javik and Ashley Williams. The air of excitement finally won out and she let her own amusement show through. Liara's assessment wasn't an exaggeration, at least in their cycle no one had ever attempted to move trillions of tons of mass through a relay, much less dragging that considerable mass all the way into the galaxy's core to nestle in a narrow safe zone between half a dozen black holes.
But that was exactly what they had done. Weeks of engineering and careful calculations, dozens of ships flying in careful unison… all focused in on one pivotal moment. They had used the station's own mass effect field and literally pulled it through the relay like an ancient unpowered sailing vessel with half a dozen dreadnoughts as tugboats. Now the station was poised precisely in the same position as former Collector base, massive generators holding it in place against the constant tug of the gravitational anomalies.
"I am well aware of my own, not inconsiderable, capabilities… but I did have my doubts," Miranda admitted, turning back to look at the celebrating techs.
"If you'd had doubts you would have been supervising from the deck of one of the carriers, not standing on the station that was in danger of being thrown into a black hole," Liara pointed out. "We all would have been."
Javik's always pointed commentary interjected.
"Indeed, this achievement will assure that your name will be recorded in histories for thousands of years. That is, of course, assuming that those histories survived the Reaper's cycle of annihilation which is unlikely."
She arched a dark brow at the prothean standing in the doorway of the control room.
"I might have been double checking the calculations and coordinating, but this effort was the combined work of thousands of individuals from every species in the galaxy. I am not quite arrogant enough to claim credit for myself, though you are correct in assuming that the Reapers might make it a moot point."
"Many wonders of engineering and science wrought by the Prothean Empire were lost in much the same way," Javik said, his tone becoming oddly reflective for the usually brusque alien.
"Then we don't lose," Ashley spoke up finally, shaking her head. "We've come this far… we'll go the rest of the way. Shepard will see to that."
Liara gave the human marine an odd look.
"Considering your previous… doubts, I find your sudden faith interesting."
"Faith is strongest only when it's been tested," she replied immediately, meeting Liara's look with an unwavering expression. "I know what he can do and I won't make the same mistake again."
The asari's only response was a serene nod of acknowledgment. All around them voices rose in a chatter as ships were directed into position around the now stabilized station, along with the still ecstatic buzz of success. One of the technicians spun in his chair and looked directly at her.
"Ma'am! I have Commander Shepard on the comm… the Normandy is on her way through the relay!" one the comm tech said excitedly.
Miranda blinked once and shook her head.
"That man certainly has a sense of timing."
"You have no idea," Liara muttered beside her.
The galactic core snapped into smoldering focus as the Normandy exited the relay. Just as he remembered, the area was a sea of ancient wreckage backlit in the red-gold glow of the black hole's accretion disk. When they had come through before it had been into an area devoid of life and nearly resulted in a collision with drifting debris. Breathtaking in the same way as the weight of an ancient graveyard pressed against the senses.
Now it was an entirely different sense of awe that coursed through him.
Like massive broadswords of old, half a dozen turian Legatus-class dreadnoughts hung in the void surrounding the mushroom shape of Omega station. Swarming between them were another dozen cruisers and two more dreadnoughts of human design: Kilimanjaro-class vessels. Outside the Normandy's view ports he could see more vessels hanging at the very edge of the safe zone: a pair of carriers and one vessel that could only be one of the quarian liveships.
More civilian vessels were clearing away debris below them as they passed, while fighters made passes around the outskirts of the safe zone. This was more than a fleet, it was an armada. And every single weapon was pointed directly at the exit point for the mass relay. A wolfish smile crossed Shepard's features.
"Well, someone is certainly feeling… creepy," Joker said next to him as he piloted the ship towards Omega's dock.
"I was just thinking of the reaction of the first Reaper that crosses that threshold."
Joker's expression became a mirror of the Commander's.
"Oh yea, man. 'Fear me, I am an all powerful Reaper… wow, that's a lot of guns.' The expression on their faces would be priceless."
"Reapers do not have faces, Jeff. They cannot have expressions," EDI pointed out.
"Well… yea. But if they did it would be awesome," he said, reaching out to tap the comms. "This is the Normandy, requesting final docking instructions."
The warship slipped among the massive fleet and finally came to rest nestled against the side of the rocky station near the upper levels. He immediately gave the crew limited leave. Omega was still very much in bad shape, but after seeing what had happened to Thessia he knew many of them just needed time off the ship. Much of it likely spent in a bar.
"Never thought I'd keep coming back here," Garrus said. "Certainly not when it was under friendly terms and under Alliance control."
"Necessity is the mother of invention… three years ago I wouldn't have thought of anything this ambitious either," Shepard agreed.
The turian nodded and shook his head.
"Sure it still smells, though."
When the airlock finally cycled, though, Shepard was greeted not by the acrid tang of Omega's atmosphere and low roar of its unruly crowds but by the loud snap of booted feet on metal deck plating. Outside the airlock a dozen marines in Alliance uniforms stood at attention flanking the airlock. At the end of the line stood two women, one human, one turian. The human he recognized immediately and a small smile crossed his lips.
"Permission to come aboard, Miranda?"
"Permission granted."
"Praetor on deck!"
A dozen hands snapped into a salute as soon as his foot touched the station's deck plating. It felt strange. The last years he had spent scrapping and fighting just to get the barest of support for a war that only he believed to be inevitable. Now he was being treated with the same respect as an admiral or state figure. Some part of him felt gratified by the change… but the far greater part twisted his guts into a knot.
"At ease," Shepard ordered immediately, moving to the last soldier in the line and giving the man a tired smile. "I appreciate the welcome, Sergeant, but I'm sure you and your men have better things to do. Dismissed."
The soldier nodded and returned the smile, motioning for his men to move out.
"Your idea?" he asked.
Miranda shook her head and gestured to the woman next to her. She was a turian with colony markings he didn't recognize. As tall as he was with less bulk than Garrus, but when she offered her hand in a surprisingly human gesture, he could tell from her grip that she was no administrator or functionary. The pistol on her hip with it's well-worn grip only served to reinforce that impression.
"Nyreen Kandros," the woman said. "I felt that this station was due for some traditions being followed… maybe it will remind the people that this isn't the lawless jungle it once was."
He released her hand and looked around. Indeed, they were not alone, though a heavily armed ring of soldiers kept people at a distance. Dozens upon dozens of people, many of them clearly Omega natives, were watching. Most of them looked tired and more than a little dirty, but as a whole, they seemed to be buzzing with excitement.
"They were all given the opportunity to leave Omega before we brought it through the relay, seek shelter among the united fleets," Miranda explained, glancing at the crowd. "Less than a thousand took that offer."
Kanrdos clicked her mandibles loudly and shook her head.
"The galaxy might not think much of Omega, but we're strong. This is our home, we're not abandoning it… even if it's been dragged into the center of the galaxy."
"When all this is over the galaxy will need that kind of stubbornness if we're going to rebuild what's been lost," Shepard said.
Garrus' dry tone interjected from behind as the turian exited the airlock and took up position next to him with a smirk.
"Stubbornness certainly isn't something that Omega is lacking in. It will be nice to see it put to good use for once."
"Took your time to leave the airlock?" Shepard asked with a raised brow.
"Didn't want to spoil your big entrance. Would have been embarrassing if they all saluted me… you know, on instinct," the turian said smugly.
He would have had a comeback of his own for that, but Nyreen stepped forward. She stared at the other spectre with intensity, mandibles tight against the side of her face. When she spoke it was with far more reverence than Shepard had been afforded.
"You're him… Archangel."
"Not anymore," Garrus replied flatly.
"You are here. You always will be," Nyreen countered, shaking her head. "The only reason the Talons exist in their current state is because of what you did. You showed people that someone could stand up and make a difference. You were Omega's first hero in a hundred years."
For the first time in a long time, his turian friend was at a loss for words. The silence lasted for an uncomfortable moment before he was saved by a shimmer in the air. Kandros tensed and took a step back, hand dropping to the gun on her hip, when Kasumi materialized next to Garrus. Shepard raised a hand in warning and to her credit the turian woman immediately backed down.
"He does like to show off," the slim thief chirped and gave Shepard a sidelong glance. "Maybe we shouldn't indulge him in front of such a big crowd, though… his ego is big enough."
"A very good idea," Miranda agreed. "We can let these soldiers get back to their duties. We've been using Afterlife as the CIC. This way."
He caught a grateful look from beneath Kasumi's hood before they began to make their way through the crowd, an escort of marines around them. Hands pushed past the soldiers, reaching for him. A human woman dropped to her knees a few feet away as if in prayer. Somewhere in the back of the crowd a chant began: Shepard. Shepard. Shepard.
It was strange. Even after the Battle of the Citadel, when he had been hounded by reporters or approached by starstruck survivors of the battle it had never been like this. The marines kept them moving even as the press of people thickened and the chant continued. A part of him couldn't help but feel buoyed by the sudden outpouring of faith.
The Spectre's expression quickly soured when the counterpoint crept up from the back of his mind like a snake moving through the weeds. What happened if he failed and those chants became screams?
Omega had certainly changed in a short time. It wasn't exactly night and day, the place was centuries old and had spent most of that time being barely maintained. But the feeling of the place was nothing like the first time he had set foot aboard. Lights along the major walkways were all lit and people moving back and forth didn't look nearly so suspicious and terrified of every movement.
So too had Afterlife changed. The guards at the door were marines, a turian and a human respectively, and the interior was no longer a sea of shadows pierced by pulsing neon lights and heavy bass thumps. The main dance floor had become a sea of computer terminals while makeshift offices replaced most of the seating, the bar itself having become a central desk. A thorough cleaning had also taken place. The carpet was still well worn red and the trim was dark reds and black, contrasting with the metallics and grays of the new equipment.
What had once been Aria's seat of power had been converted into a small command center and office. It seemed likely it had been Cerberus' work, the equipment and design didn't match the rest of the hastily added, pre-fab equipment. Shepard reached down and touched an icon on the holotable that occupied the middle of the room, watching a schematic of the station spring to life.
"You've accomplished a great deal in a short amount of time, Miranda," he said, impressed. "I wasn't expecting things to be nearly this organized after less than two weeks."
"It was a group effort. Nyreen's Talons bolstered our ground forces significantly once Cerberus' forces stood down. We were able to wipe out the remaining adjutants and begin work within days," Miranda explained, cocking an eyebrow at him. "If you hadn't shown up immediately after we successfully transitioned through the Relay the difference would have been even more noticeable."
"It's already noticeable," Nyreen added. "For the first time ever people aren't walking the streets afraid of being assaulted by thugs and mercenaries."
The former Cerberus operative nodded in agreement.
"I won't argue that it was a success… if a costly one. We lost good men. Zaeed included."
Shepard sighed, a flash of the scarred mercenary's face crossing his memory.
"He died with honor. It was more than I expected from one of the Terminus'
most notorious mercenaries," the turian said.
"The people we least expect are the ones that usually surprise us the most, Ms. Kandros," he said, a sad smile on his face.
"On a more positive note, there is someone I'd like you to meet, Shepard," Miranda interjected, reaching down to press a button on the console next to her. "Get in here, Lieutenant."
The doors to the office opened and a young man stepped inside. Or younger. After a moment's examination Shepard would guess the man was in his mid-twenties. Barely half a decade the Spectre's own junior, yet it felt like a lifetime.
His uniform was wrinkled and not quite the right size, lieutenant's bars on his right shoulder smeared with grease or some other grime. Dark brown hair and a long angular face were offset by brown eyes that looked more tired than they ought to for a man that was at the prime of his life. The sling that kept his left arm immobile might have had something to do with that.
"Miranda, I'm almost finished w-w-w…" the lieutenant began before trailing off in a stammer.
Anyone else might have missed it, but Shepard was certain that the corner of Miranda's mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly before she spoke.
"Praetor Shepard, may I present Lieutenant Thomas Carmichael."
To his credit, the man gathered himself fairly quickly, snapping a crisp salute that was at odds with his somewhat disheveled appearance. Shepard returned the salute and then gave him a small smile.
"At ease, soldier."
"Carmichael was the pilot of our shuttle during the initial landing," Miranda said casually. "He got us down safely and managed to maintain his composure in extremely demanding circumstances. It is not an exaggeration to say that his actions and decisions during this mission were heroic."
Shepard fought to keep his smile in check as Carmichael visibly reddened at the praise. He wondered if the man knew just how significant that praise was. Miranda had softened considerably since the first time they met, but she still wasn't one that handed out pats on the head. The content of her message also sprang to mind. Zaeed's final act had been to give this young soldier his most prized possession, entrusting him with the battered old rifle that had been the mercenary's one constant companion for his long life.
"I was just trying to survive, sir," Carmichael finally said, regret filling his tone. "I wish I could have done more."
The smile fell from Shepard's face and he stepped forward, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder when he spoke.
"If you had done anything less than everything in your power you wouldn't be standing here. Miranda Lawson isn't a woman that uses words like heroic lightly."
"I… don't feel like a hero, sir."
"You never do. No matter how hard you fight, how hard you try, you will always wonder if you could have done more," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry, son, but that's a weight you'll always carry. Don't let it drown you. Remember the people that are alive because of what you've done."
Carmichael visibly swallowed, but nodded once as he continued. Shepard let a small smile return to his features.
"I don't have a medal or commendation to give you, Lieutenant… after this war is over, maybe, but for now all I can say is thank you. You stood up when others would have faltered and because of that some of the people I considered my most trusted friends and allies are still alive today."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied, voice thick.
"While I don't have a medal to pin on your chest, maybe I can at least buy you a drink later, soldier. I'd love to hear an outsider's perspective on Ms. Lawson here or Jack for that matter," Shepard added after a moment, adding some levity to his tone.
"I… uh, I'm not sure if that would be good for my health. Sir," the younger man said.
"He's clearly not an idiot at least," Miranda commented dryly.
"Clearly. Which brings me to my next order of business," Shepard agreed and took a step back from the young lieutenant, moving to stand in front of the large desk that dominated the other half of the room.
He took a moment to look at the gathered individuals. Garrus had remained silent for the entire exchange, leaning against the far wall with Kasumi perched on the railing next to him, feet dangling. Nyreen Kandros had been watching the exchange with interest and Miranda simply looked curious. Lieutenant Carmichael made a gesture that was clearly a silent question of whether he should leave, but Shepard held up a hand.
"I am still adjusting to my new title and authority, but I am becoming much more comfortable with it," he began. "And with exercising it. My first order of business was to sign this."
A few quick taps on his omni-tool and the document transmitted to the datapad sitting on the desk. He picked it up and tossed it to Miranda, who caught it easily. Her blue eyes quickly darted across the screen.
"A… pardon?"
"Technically you were still a part of Cerberus. Not a detail that mattered a great deal considering our current state of war, but something I wanted to make sure was taken care of."
He didn't bother to spell out the rest of the statement. It was in case he didn't survive the war. The last thing he wanted was for the people that had made their victory possible to be persecuted after they won. Even in the best case scenario there was going to be thousands of people left without homes, without families. Angry, grief stricken people acted irrationally. The least he could do was prevent any abuses he could.
"It also makes it legal for me to make the next offer."
Miranda's gaze shot up from the datapad, dark brows reaching even higher.
"You retook this station, Miranda, but that was only the beginning. You know as well as anyone of the importance of what we've done here. This is our one safe refuge and here is the one place in the galaxy that organic life might weather the storm if all else fails. And with that comes a great deal of responsibility. A responsibility I would like you to assume."
"Me?" she asked, for once actually seeming surprised.
"You. I am offering you an official commission in the New Systems Alliance, Miranda Lawson, as commanding officer of Omega station. Admiral Shepard will still command the new Omega fleet, but the station will be under your command."
"A former Cerberus operative? Command Alliance soldiers in what is the most important posting in the galaxy other than the Citadel?" she asked, shaking her head. "Do you really think that will work, Shepard?"
He gestured around him.
"It already has. This was your mission, and you accomplished it. You've begun something here and I want you to finish it. No more hiding in the shadows. And as part of this commission you'll also need to assemble your own command staff. I leave those choices to your discretion… if you so choose. I'm not making a demand, Miranda. But I do believe you are the best woman for the job."
There was a long pause, but he didn't prompt her further. He could envision the thoughts streaking through her mind, weighing risks and benefits, calculating every probability. It was no small responsibility nor was it a minimal risk to a woman that had spent her entire life avoiding the attention of the powers that be.
"Nyreen, I'll need a chief of security. I can't think of anyone better suited," Miranda said, breaking the silence.
The turian looked surprised, but quickly nodded.
"Gladly."
"I take it this means you're accepting?" Shepard asked, a lopsided smirk on his face.
"I am. I left Cerberus but I didn't leave the habits behind. As you said… it's time to leave the shadows."
"Then let me officially welcome you to the New Systems Alliance, Major Lawson."
She took his offered hand, squeezing it firmly. When she released his grip the newly minted officer turned to face Carmichael, hands resting at her back. She gave him a long look and the man quickly became flustered.
"What?" he finally demanded, catching himself a moment later to sheepishly add the honorific. "Ma'am."
"I've apparently been giving free reign to select my own team and if I'm going to run an entire station I'm going to need help. Specifically an aide-de-camp. It's not glamorous… but it is important. I need someone I can trust and I think that person is you."
Carmichael seemed nonplussed for a few long seconds before he raised his arm in a salute.
"I don't know if I'm qualified or not, but I'll do everything in my power to live up to the expectation."
"I'm certain you will, Lieutenant," Miranda agreed, a genuine smile appearing on her face for the first time before she turned her attention back to Shepard. "It seems I've got a great deal of work to do. Sings-Twilight, Javik, and Vega are all one level down working on the reconstruction effort. Did you want an escort to stop in on them?"
The image of Vega, flexing and showing off to a confused rachni and a thoroughly disinterested prothean sent a spark of amusement through him, but it quickly flickered out when his thoughts turned to their most recent mission.
"No. There is someone else I need to see first. I'll find my way. When you get a moment, contact EDI, Miranda. She was able to capture a large amount of data and Omega's system's might be large enough to contain it," he said, and moved to the door, pausing next to Carmichael. "Take care of her, Lieutenant."
With that, he stepped out of the command center. As much as he wanted to celebrate their success… first he had to deal with the consequences of his failures.
It appeared that Afterlife's main floor hadn't been the only area to receive some major renovations in short order. Where once a surly bouncer would have stood guard at the lower level of the busy nightclub, now a military grade security door silently barred the way, a small keypad with a biometric scanner graced the wall next to it. Before he could reach for it, the small glowing form of the drone Glyph appeared.
"Greetings. Please place your hand in the scanner for verification."
"Hello, Glyph. That was what I was doing."
"Very good," the drone chirped and then simply hovered in place, waiting. A second after Shepard placed his hand in the scanner the door slid open soundlessly and he stepped inside with Glyph trailing after.
Monitors and holo terminals lined one entire wall, while a military style cot and a few crates of effects had been relegated to one corner of the large room. A table, clearly scavenged from Afterlife itself due to the reddish colored glass it was made from and its irregular shape, sat in the middle of the room with a dozen data pads strewn across it with a handful of chairs ringing it. The only legacy of its original purpose as a lounge was the plush couch against the wall to his left.
Liara stood at the center of it all, the orange glow of the holograms in the otherwise dim light making her skin appear an even deeper shade of blue. Her hands were clasped behind her back as she stared at the sea of scrolling data. He was reminded of the first time he'd seen her after his return to life, in her office on Illium coldly threatening a man that was withholding information.
"Liara?" he asked.
The asari didn't turn to face him when she spoke, but that grim facade cracked when he noticed the way her body trembled.
"My people are dying by millions, Shepard."
"I know," the Spectre agreed quietly.
"I've spent most of my life studying the protheans… and my mother hid the most important discovery in the history of our cycle from me. I must have been such a joke to her when I began my studies," Liara said, bitterness and anger in every word. "And then I become the most powerful information broker in the galaxy, only to not know the one secret that could have prevented all of this."
"I wasn't aware you were precognitive as well. That seems like it would have been useful."
Liara's head snapped in his direction, unshed tears in her eyes contrasting with an expression of outrage.
"What?"
He took a step forward and crossed his arms over his chest, meeting her gaze without flinching.
"You were a scientist, and yes, an information broker. Not a prophet, Liara. We did warn your people, my people, the Council. For years, we've told them this was coming. Their inaction is not your fault. As for your mother…"
The memory of Benezia's final moments were one of those memories that would likely never leave him, always haunting his thoughts in the darkest hours of the night. In her final moments, the fallen matriarch had given them the key to their eventual victory… but he remembered the look in her eyes, the pain, regret, and the iron will that allowed her to make her final sacrifice despite it all. From his conversations with Liara about her childhood, Shepard had never gotten the impression that Benezia had been a particularly good mother. But she had been one in the end.
"She let me live a lie."
"She let you live your life," he countered, more gently this time. "The punishments for withholding prothean technology are among the most severe in Council space. I don't think any mother wouldn't try to protect their daughter from that."
Another shudder passed through Liara's slim frame as the tears escaped and began coursing down her cheeks, hands balled into fists at her waist. A small sob escaped her lips and the asari's shoulders began to shake.
"Maybe you're right," she choked out. "But Thessia is still dying while I'm here! I'm safe while my world is harvested… we were supposed to stop this!"
Shepard stepped forward then, placing his hands on Liara's shoulders and squeezing tightly.
"Liara, the galaxy is dying. In every breath and every heartbeat, lives are slipping away. We haven't given up. We fight, tooth and claw for every bloody scrap of ground. I promise you we will end this. But we have to keep fighting."
"What if we can't win? What if this has… has all been for nothing... a delusion?"
"It will always mean something. Our lives mean something," Shepard said firmly, maintaining his grip. "No matter how they end, we've made our choices. Our experiences, the lives we've changed for good or ill… the Reapers can destroy, but they can't change the fact that we lived. We've fought, loved, mourned, and never given up."
He let her cry, continuing to speak quietly.
"I will never stop. Even if it means in the end that we fail, surviving as a legacy for the next cycle… I promise you that when this ends, one way or the other, the galaxy will not be the same. Either we crush them once and for all or they will remember us as the cycle that finally stood against them, leaving them with scars so deep that they will never fully recover."
After a second, she sagged in his grip, her own arms coming to rest on his shoulders as if to hold herself up. He let her stay there in silence, more tears and a few quiet sobs eventually trailing off into silence. When she looked up the tears were gone, though her eyes still glittered wetly. A very tired smile had replaced the expression of anguish on her face at least.
"You've always known the right thing to say, Shepard," Liara murmured, shaking her head. "Killers, crime lords, monsters, politicians… even frightened archaeologists. After all this time I think that might be your real gift."
"That would be nice. Maybe in another life that would have been enough," he replied.
Liara nodded.
"Maybe."
Slowly the asari pulled away and turned her attention back to the bank of screens. Her fingers tapped hesitantly tapped at a few keys before picking up the pace. Finally, she nodded to herself and glanced over at him.
"You're right, though. We can't stop fighting. I can't save Thessia… but maybe I can save my people. There are refugees that have nowhere to go. The Shadow Broker's network is crippled, but I can use what influence I have left to try and get them somewhere safe."
"That's the Liara I know," he said.
"But not the same one you met in that ruin. I wonder if I'd known then what path my life would take… if I'd make the same choices. Become the same person."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But I think she became a woman her mother would have been proud of," he replied. "I'll let you get to work."
As he turned to leave Liara's voice stopped him when he was halfway to the door.
"Shepard?"
He looked over his shoulder, arching a brow in response.
"If the Normandy hadn't been destroyed that day… do you think things would have changed? Our paths have gone differently? Or are we all just part of some grand plan?"
A hundred answers ran through his mind, but none of them seemed sufficient. Finally, he simply shrugged, moving towards the door once. He paused at the threshold as he activated the door controls, meeting Liara's gaze.
"I don't think there's a plan, Liara. Just choices. All we can do is live with the one's we've made."
He stepped through the open door and let it silently slide shut behind him, leaving Liara alone in the dim light of the consoles to work.
"This isn't right, sir," he says.
The vessel is beautiful. All sleek lines that complementits aggressive, arrowhead like profile. Bright white letters along her bow proclaim proudly her name: Normandy. Fast, silent, and deadly, she is a vessel that would not command the prestige of a dreadnought or a carrier. But for men of a certain mind she was mechanical perfection.
"She's quick and quiet. The perfect ship for a Spectre," Anderson replies.
"Give me the truth, sir. You've always been straight with me. Why would you resign now?"
"A Spectre can answer only to the Council and you need a ship. It's… time for me to step aside."
Shepard shakes his head.
"It doesn't make sense. You saw what happened on Eden Prime. You shouldn't be sidelined when something like this is."
A sigh escapes from Anderson's lips and the older man turns to lean against the railing, looking over the warship. The pensive look on his face was an unfamiliar expression to the young commander, Anderson had always been a calm, decisive presence. That quiet strength was probably the only reason Shepard had chosen to remain in the service after Akuze.
"Twenty years ago, I was in your position," Anderson says at last, not looking at him. "It's a long story but the part you need to know is that I was on a mission with Saren. He made certain that when it was over the Council would never accept my candidacy."
He blinks in surprise.
"You mentioned this before."
"I screwed up, I had my shot and I lost it. Now you have the chance to make a difference and I am going to make certain you have everything you need. That includes a vessel worthy of a Spectre and a crew good enough to take whatever the galaxy throws at them."
Shepard feels his jaw tighten at the thought. After a second he moves to mirror the older man's pose, leaning against the railing to gaze at the ship. He swallows a tight feeling, forcing it down deep into his chest.
"I'm an operative, sir. I… work best without people slowing me down."
"You mean without people that might get killed if you screw up."
It takes every ounce of self-control not to flinch at the words.
"I understand the risks, sir, but-"
"You can't take on a man like Saren with a sniper rifle and extra magazines, son," Anderson chastises him, his tone firm but warm. "He has an army of geth, a powerful warship, and the resources of a man that has spent decades living in the shadows."
He tries to argue, but Anderson raises one weathered hand and the sound dies in his throat as Anderson continues.
"I know you never wanted to command a ship. You'd be happy being sent to every batarian backwater stronghold and pirate base, doing what you do best. But you are more than just a man pulling a trigger. You might not want to hear it, but the people you serve with look up to you. Even Jenkins."
Through another effort of will, Shepard doesn't look down at his hands. Jenkin's blood won't be there, but it feels as if it should be. The man was reckless, he knows that, but he'd also been a damn good soldier.
"If I was that worthy of admiration Jenkins family wouldn't have gotten a knock on their door yesterday," he says bitterly.
"What would you have done differently?"
The question surprises him, but Shepard takes a moment to think.
"I could have taken point, had the team set their omni-tools to alternate scanning frequencies. We weren't aware of the exact nature of the threat, I shouldn't have assumed it would be organic," he answers finally.
"Then why didn't you?"
"When working in small teams I generally provide overwatch to get a better view of the field of engagement and identify immediate threats. But I didn't catch the movement in time."
"So based on the information you had at hand you made a choice to use a strategy that you knew to be sound and allowed yourself and your team to be the most effective," Anderson states, nodding. "You made a choice."
"The wrong choice."
Anderson's laugh surprises him, though the sound is laced with bitterness.
"It's always the wrong choice, Shepard. You're always going to think later on 'what if I'd done this instead?' For the dock worker or the teacher? That regret might be a promotion they didn't get or just a movie they missed. Our stakes are higher. But you can't refuse to make the choice because you're worried of getting it wrong."
Memories flash through his head. Enrolling for the service. His encounter with the first drill instructor and the thrashing he'd received. That first step onto the path to becoming a train special forces soldier. The taste of a stolen kiss behind the mess on maneuvers. Screams of marines dying around him on Akuze. Waking up in a military hospital. Re-enlisting after his rehabilitation. He sees Anderson looking at him and realizes the silence has stretched on for minutes.
"Sorry, sir…"
"Don't apologize. You've got a lot ahead of you. And you're going to need a good crew to do it. That means relying on people, trusting them, and yes, putting them in danger."
He nods once.
"How do you do it, sir?"
Anderson smiles and gives a small shrug of his shoulders.
"You make choices. And when it's all said and done, when you're alone with your thoughts, you hope that you can live with them."
He turns and faces the captain fully, giving him a crisp salute that Anderson returns. Behind him he hears voices approaching. A deep bass rumble arguing with a sharper, flanged tone that sounds as if they're arguing.
"Thank you, sir. I promise I'll take care of her. She's a good ship."
"I know you will."
The voices grow closer and a new voice interjects, one colored by lilting accent that itself was given a synthetic edge by a suit's speakers.
"Commander Shepard?"
"Shepard?"
He started and blinked, feeling sluggish.
"John?"
A familiar visor looked down at him, silvery eyes amused. He blinked again and lifted his head away from where it was propped against his right fist.
"Sorry, I got distracted. I'll pay attention."
"Mhm," Tali hummed doubtfully, shaking her head. "Distracted. You fell asleep."
"Sorry, sorry," he repeated, and then reached out to snake an arm around her waist suddenly with a wide grin, pulling her down towards him. "I promise I'll make it up to you…"
"John!" Tali squeaked.
And then someone cleared their throat.
His brain immediately took a back seat as the unexpected noise triggered his instincts. The arm around Tali's waist tightened immediately and he pulled her in and away from the sound, even as he pushed himself forward. His right hand shot out, fingers quickly finding the well-worn grip of the Alliance issue predator that he kept beneath the small table next to the couch.
"John!" Tali barked, this time her voice was sharp and commanding.
It wasn't necessary, though, as he'd stopped halfway through the motion and only made it as far as standing. A woman in her mid fifties sat in the chair on the other side of the table, a smirk on her face and a steaming mug in one hand. Her auburn hair was lined with gray, more than he remembered, but her eyes were still as bright as ever.
"M-Mom?"
Tali, still trapped in his iron firm grip, sighed heavily.
"Keelah."
"I… but…" he stammered, his brain rapidly trying to catch up even as he felt heat rising to his cheeks. "You said your shuttle would be docking…"
"In an hour?" the elder Shepard helpfully finished for him.
"Which is what I was going to tell you," Tali interjected dryly. "You dozed off half an hour ago in the middle of our conversation about the drive core."
Shepard nodded, slowly, and chose his words carefully.
"And you've been here for…"
"Oh, only about ten minutes," his mother answered, still smiling. "Tali and I were having a chat while you were snoring."
It was around that time that his brain finally, completely, caught up to the present moment. Which meant that he finally realized that he was standing in front of his couch wearing his pants, no shirt, half carrying Tali with one arm. He quickly released the bemused quarian and moved around the table to his dresser, grabbing a worn Alliance shirt from a drawer.
"Please, not like I haven't seen it all," Hannah snorted in amusement, though her tone became slightly grimmer as she continued. "Though the last time I saw you there weren't nearly so many scars."
"Occupational hazard. Hello, Mom… sorry for dozing off," he replied.
Hannah Shepard merely smiled and sat her coffee down, standing to embrace him tightly.
"Another few months without communication… at least it was in the middle of a war this time," his mother chastised, but unlike their last reunion there wasn't any real heat to it. "This time around at least a certain quarian was able to help me keep tabs on my son."
"Sorry, it's-"
"No, I understand," she interrupting. "It hasn't been easy for anyone."
He returned to his place on the couch and took a seat across from his mother, while Tali dropped down beside him. Unlike the last time, they had been in this position Tali showed no nervousness and leaned against him easily. He quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering just how much she'd been talking to his mother.
"We lost too many good people in those first engagements," Hannah continued, letting out a tired sigh. "But we saved even more because of Hackett's quick thinking and your warnings."
He simply nodded, a grimace marring his features. There was little enough to say. In less than an hour, the human race had suffered more military casualties than they had in their history as a space faring species.
"Your actions saved lives as well," Tali added. "From what John has told me about Hackett's reports, your decision to disengage resulted in far fewer casualties than the other fleets."
"But it also meant leaving good people to die. That's a decision I never want to make again," Hannah replied, sitting her coffee down on the table. "What about Thessia?"
Shepard's frown deepened, his words coming out in bitter, clipped tones.
"There was nothing we could do. Cerberus beat us there. The only reason we're alive is because Kasumi was too smart to get caught and Kai Leng was arrogant. I should have made certain that son of a bitch was dead the first time."
A three fingered hand covered his own, squeezing tightly.
"Kai Leng is a monster. You aren't going to take responsibility for his actions."
"She's right," Hannah agreed.
"Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that Thessia has fallen. Cerberus has access to whatever data the prothean beacon had kept safe, and now all we have is whatever was uploaded to the Normandy's systems. And who knows how long it will take to interpret it."
"But we do have the data," his mother pointed out. "And some of the greatest minds in the galaxy here now, with more coming in every day."
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
"I just hope what we need is in there, because I'm out of options. I don't have enough data to track down Leviathan and we still don't know what the Crucible does. So I'm left with a war that we're losing, a safe place to build a device that we're not even certain of its purpose, and more people dying every day."
"We both know you're better than that," Hannah said sharply.
He looked up in surprise as his mother frowned at him.
"I've had to sit and listen to someone tell me that my son was dead twice. More than any mother should have to hear, but I'm one of the lucky ones. They were wrong and I'm sitting here with that son that everyone was certain was dead," she explained, voice firm and calm. "You are not going to let yourself be dragged down by one failure. You are the leader, not just of your crew, but of everyone. Our entire species, her entire species… we're all looking to you."
Hannah Shepard took a breath and placed her hands in her lap, glancing down for a moment before she continued.
"That's a burden I would never have wished on you, John. And I know that you aren't perfect, the things you haven't told me… the things that Tali even leaves out in our little chats. But I don't believe anyone else could have done it better. I'm proud of the man you became and I know your father would have been as well. Don't let your memories kill you. Because they can."
When she finished speaking there was a glimmer of tears in Hannah's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. He reached out with his other hand and placed it over hers, giving her a worn, but genuine smile.
"It's good advice. Advice I've been given before. Sometimes I just need to be reminded. I'm not giving up, Mom. I promise. Just some days I feel… tired. This is one of those days."
"I know," she said, returning his smile. "And when this is all over I hope you finally get a chance to rest and appreciate everything that you've worked so hard to save."
He glanced to his side at Tali, his smile turning into his usual lopsided grin.
"I hope so too. I have promises to keep."
"Really? Now that sounds like a conversation, I'd actually like to hear. Promises, hm?" Hannah asked, sounding far too innocent.
"I mean not like a p-promise promise just…" Tali stammered, caught off guard.
"Tali wants a house on Rannoch, I told her I'd build it for her. So yes, it is a 'promise promise'," he countered.
"History on the extranet says Rannoch was a beautiful world. Now that your people have reclaimed it, is it still?"
Tali nodded emphatically.
"Keelah, yes! We didn't even know but the Geth actually spent the last three hundred years fixing the damage done in the war! It's so beautiful, I hope you can see it one day."
The elder Shepard smiled and lifted her coffee once again, taking a sip.
"I fully intend to. Seems like a beautiful new world would a good place to visit grandchildren too."
For once, at least, he hadn't just taken a drink of some form of liquid which was good. The fact that Tali's grip on his hand suddenly became tight enough to be extremely painful even with his cybernetic enhancements wasn't quite as good.
"Grand… children?" she whispered.
"It's a choice, not one I'd force on anyone but I'm still a mother so I feel obligated to try," Hannah replied with a smile, then paused, examining Tali.
"I… I'm sorry but you… have to… I mean, J-John and I can't…"
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," his mother said immediately, leaning over to grab Tali's hand. "I wasn't thinking, just being a stupid old woman. I know the two of you can't in that sense. And I should have been smart enough to realize it might not be a subject you'd want to think about."
"It's okay, I was just-"
His omni-tool emitted a burst of squealing static without warning, causing all of them to jump in surprise as it cut Tali off. For a second he welcomed the interruption, but then a heartbeat later Joker's panicked voice came over the line.
"Shepard! Shepard something's wrong!"
"What is it, Joker?" he asked, on his feet instantly.
"I don't know! EDI just linked with Omega's main computer, we were going to try and move some of that data over… and then she just… her body I mean it just turned off! I'm locked out of almost every system! The readouts are going crazy!"
"I'm on my way, Joker. Sound all hands on deck!"
He was already out the door before he'd finished the sentence, both women on his heels.
It had been fifteen long minutes. The Normandy's systems were sluggish and barely responsive, still linked to Omega's computer banks. Miranda reported major power surges aboard the station while Joker could get no response from EDI's synthetic body. Unable to find a problem on the Normandy Shepard left Tali in charge of the ship and headed to Omega's CIC.
Within thirty seconds of entering the buzzing control room, his comm chirped again.
"She just… woke up, Shepard," Joker said, sounding relieved. "Sort of? She seems kind of sluggish but all the systems are coming back online."
The AI's voice interrupted.
"Shepard?"
"What the hell happened, EDI?" Shepard demanded. "Are you okay?"
Static crackled across the comms.
"EDI?"
As suddenly as it had begun, the static stopped and EDI's voice emerged from the comm.
"I am sorry, Shepard," the AI said, sounding almost confused. "My entire memory and processing reserve was overwhelmed by the data retrieved from the prothean beacon. I did not have the strength to restrict access once the download began. I couldn't stop it."
He stared at the image of EDI's metallic body on the other side of the screen, an anxious Joker constantly looking back and forth between the screen and her synthetic body.
"What do you mean couldn't stop it? Couldn't stop what?" Shepard asked.
Every other screen in the control room suddenly went dark, coming to life a moment later all with the same image. He blinked once, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Finally, the main holodisplay came back online, showing the same image.
The hologram's head was sloped, set with two sets of eyes over thin lips. It stood there at with arms behind at a parade rest. For a second he thought it was a still image before it snapped into even clearly focus, turning its head and looking directly at him.
"I can answer that query," the hologram said.
In the control room there was only the sound of breathing. The hologram inclined its head deeply in his direction.
"I greet you in the name of the prothean people, Praetor Shepard of the Greater Systems Alliance. My name is Yasira. In the words of your people… I am Vendetta."
I know you all have been waiting awhile, but here it is. The final piece of the puzzle before the 'end game' as it were. Sorry for the even longer delay than normal!