Chaos reigned as the Normandy fled Virmire, leaving only nuclear fire behind. But death had crept aboard to stalk the decks of the ship and refused to leave no matter how fast she flew. Shepard walked out of the packed elevator, Ashley Williams a dead weight across her aching shoulders, her chest tight and throat sorefrom Saren's talons squeezing. No Marine left behind, but she'd left two of her own on that fucking planet.
Because of fucking numbers.
She was followed off the elevators by stretcher bearers. The whole of Deck 2 soon stunk of metallic blood and fear as the wounded were rushed from the Kennel into the mess hall. The cooks and supply clerks had been press-ganged by a sharply-focused Chakwas into being stretcher-bearers. Greico and Sukarno rushed a pale, limp Nick Ki-tae towards the medbay and the Normandy's small operating room. The rest of the wounded were being carried into the mess hall and laid on tables or the floor; they'd have to survive with the help of Ling and the ship's first aid trained personnel for now. The corpsman crouched near a bloodied salarian whose leg had been mangled by geth weaponry, applying medigel below a tourniquet, black eyebrows drawn together in focus.
Shepard carefully laid Williams onto one of the stretchers and stripped out of her gauntlets and bracers. She snapped on sterile gloves over clean hands, glancing over at Steward Dreyer. He was young and baby-faced - still in his first year of naval service - and he was pale with horror, a first aid kit held limply in his fingers. She couldn't find it in herself to comfort him. Not when her nerves were rubbed raw and Ashley's life very much hung in the balance. Somewhere deep inside her was a little voice, pleading not her, not her too.
"Dreyer." Shepard's tone was hard, and he blinked at her, as she tugged Ashley's chest plate and armoured collar free, pockmarked and turned to dust by the fighting. She had to find where she was still bleeding from. "Get me out some medigel and the red tape." There. Blood pulsing from her shoulder. She accepted a tube of medigel from Dreyer's trembling fingers and twisted the top off, squirting it onto the wound and then pressing down as it hardened. "Now, on her other arm, put a length of that tape. Good."
The tape was bright red against the dull blue-grey of Ashley's armour. A quick visual reference for the medical staff - immediate. Shepard started filling out the triage card, trying to keep her thoughts clear and calm. A lake without waves.
She discarded the bloody gloves and passed the wounded Marine off to one of the surviving salarian medics, who started shouting for an oxygen mask.
Shepard was the Normandy's captain. Casualties didn't change that. She took the stairs up to CIC two at a time. The bridge buzzed with a low, anxious activity.
"Commander." Pressly's eyes widened at the sight of her and stuck on the ugly bruising on her throat. "We've cleared the Relay - I jumped us into the Attican Beta since that was the closest system with a friendly battlegroup around. That dreadnought was coming after us pretty hard."
You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it.
No, not just a ship. A thing of ancient, malicious cunning. A hungry monster from the dark of space.
She shivered in the cool air of the CIC, ice running through her veins. How did you stop something like that?
She looked at Pressly. "Stand the ship down to Condition Two and set a course for the Citadel. Have ambulances meet us at the docks - and some MPs from Mikhailovich's taskforce. We've got a prisoner the eggheads will want to talk to."
"Aye, ma'am."
"I want all the unwounded ground team members and yourself as well in the briefing room in half an hour. I'll debrief Williams and Draven later." If Williams came through surgery alright.
"I'll put it over the 1MC."
"Thanks." She turned to go.
"Ma'am?" Pressly's voice was low and hesitant.
She stopped. "Yeah?"
"I'm sorry about Alenko and Mohamed."
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, shoulders slumping. "Yeah. Me too."
Marines died. That was part of the job. She'd sent men and women to their deaths before. She would again. But sometimes she got tired of her friends dying.
Shepard stopped by her cabin to change into her fatigues, and the medbay to get an update. Her head and throat ached.
Chakwas was still focused, but there was a grim cast to her mouth as she laid a pale white sheet over Nick Ki-tae's young, slack face while Sherazi prepped a still unconscious Williams for surgery. "We did what we could, Commander, but he was in irreversible hypovolemic shock by the time he was brought on board, and went into cardiac arrest."
"I know you did everything you could, Chakwas. I'll come by later to see how Williams and -" What was the seriously wounded salarian's name? "Sergeant Yokan's surgeries went."
"You need medical treatment too, Commander. I want to run some scans after that beacon vision - and the concussion."
"Once you're through with the worst off, I'll let you do whatever scans you'd like," she promised, and with that, she escaped. There was no way she'd stick around to get checked out for some bruises and a concussion when some of Chakwas' patients had lost limbs.
Shepard rubbed her throat as she walked into the comms room, wincing at the tender bruising. Fucking arsehole. Finding Saren had been her duty - now it was personal. He'd killed three of her men. If he hadn't shown up -
She'd never stopped believing she'd get back to Kaidan in time until that fucker had shown up. He'd stolen the time she'd needed.
She threw herself into her chair as the others filed in after her brief and frustrating call with the Council, crossing her arms. The empty seats stared at her accusingly. "We're heading back to the Citadel, where we'll offload our wounded to the hospitals, and Kirrahe and I will meet with the Council. They're deeply concerned by the fact that Saren was breeding krogan without their knowledge."
Wrex gave a low, rumbling half-growl, half-chuckle.
"More than that, as some of you know, 'Sovereign' spoke to me on Virmire. The dreadnought isn't merely a ship of Reaper design - it is a Reaper. It appears to be some sort of AI construct on a genocidal cycle of behaviour - it confirmed that the Reapers were responsible for the destruction of the Protheans and it appears to have hostile intent towards our own civilisation. Saren believes that by cooperating with it, he can save some of the galaxy, but I don't believe he's in control."
Pressly swallowed audibly.
She sighed. "Obviously, this changes the scope of our mission somewhat. While finding and eliminating Saren remains our top priority, we need to know more about Sovereign and the Reapers."
"What does the Council think?" asked Tali.
"They're less than convinced of the threat," she said dryly.
"Of course." Garrus' mandibles flicked, his tone sardonic. "What about the salarians and Marines?"
She paused. "Fifteen salarians survived Virmire, predominantly from Jaeto team."
"Out of an entire company? Spirits." His mandibles flared again, this time in horror.
"Yeah. One is still waiting to go into surgery - Williams is in right now. I'm sorry to say that Lance Corporal Ki-tae died of his wounds."
Dead silence filled the room. Shepard's head pounded like someone was taking a mallet to her temple. Tali hugged herself, leaning forward, pressing a hand to her face mask like she could stifle a sob with it. Shepard had made soldiers of her and Liara - innocents, young women who could've been other things. The galaxy needed soldiers, but Shepard had walked into this profession with her eyes open - had they?
"What about the beacon?" Wrex asked, knotting thick fingers together in front of him. The krogan had made it clear that his view of grieving was to get vengeance - rip Saren and his geth apart and let their corpses be the testament to their fallen krannt.
"Another vision. It's...not very clear." Richardson's fingers, wrapped around her throat. It had felt so real. Dread slithered in her stomach.
"Perhaps I can help?" Liara asked.
The thought made her want to curl up on the floor in a ball. Reliving the visions again -
She was the Commander. She really would volunteer to just get shot next time.
"With a meld? Do it." She pushed up from the chair, setting her feet apart in what may have looked like confidence but was mostly so she wouldn't worry as much about falling over on her face in front of her team.
"Embrace eternity!"
Black eyes. Black, black, black, enough that she was falling or drowning or opening up beyond the boundaries of herself.
The city is burning, and the air is thick with acrid smoke that burrows into her nose and her mouth until she can only cough after each breath, even as she struggles to keep her gun level, her finger on the trigger. Her men lie at her feet, their chests and their faces ripped open, fingers nerveless and eyes staring up.
They are coming, they are coming -
The sky is full of dark shapes, larger than the towers they knock over like toys, red light lancing from each claw. The air is full of smoke and the shrieking of horns. Tearing this city, this planet apart.
They are coming, they are coming, THEY ARE COMING-
She is alone, alone with the blue sparking in her blood and the rifle in her hands but there is a hand on her shoulder.
Shepard, listen -
There is no escape. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. They are coming.
Shepard.
The street is full of husks. They scrabble towards her with violent blue eyes, reaching as her rifle roars on cyclic -
Shepard -
She is in the void with the cold burning stars. Planets rush past, dizzyingly fast. She knows them, somewhere deep inside her marrow, even though she has never set foot there.
They are within the void as well. The hungry monsters in the dark.
They came for us, and they will come for you. You must fight. Survive. Win. Like we could not.
Shepard staggered away from Liara and collapsed into her chair, her head on fire. She put her head in her hands, trying to blot out even the cool, blue light of the comms room. She felt as if all the strength had been wrung out of her, like water from a rag.
"Ma'am?" A hand fell on her shoulder. Pressly.
She dropped her hands and straightened her shoulders, shrugging off his hand. "I'm alright. Liara, what did you see?"
"Ilos! The beacon is on Ilos!" She sounded both winded and delighted. Shepard now realised what she'd had to do - sort through the fragments of memory and vision, find the information amongst the warning the Protheans had flavoured with places and faces Shepard knew, put it all away in the right places. "That's why Saren needed the location of the Mu Relay, that's the only way to get there-"
Liara staggered and would've fallen if Garrus hadn't leapt to his feet and steadied her. He eased her down into her seat.
"Then that's where we need to go."
"The Mu Relay is in the Terminus Systems - Alliance ships are not welcome there, nor are Spectres." Tali's voice was dubious.
"It doesn't matter," Shepard said hoarsely. "If the Conduit is there, we need to get there."
She was going to rip Saren's goddamned head off.
"Saren will have his geth fleet," Liara pointed out. "We will need one of our own."
"Good thing we're headed to the Citadel," she replied. "The Council is massing a multi-species task force in Widow - I'll have Normandy at the head of it if I have anything to say about it."
Consciousness bled in slowly until smears of colour resolved into the blue-tinged ceiling of the Normandy medbay. Until Ashley Williams could feel every inch of her aching body, centred in her left leg. Her body, with its very much beating heart.
She was alive. She was alive and Kaidan wasn't. She closed her eyes against the sudden prick of tears in the corners, clenching her fists until her blunt nails dug painfully into her skin.
I'm so sorry, Kaidan.
"Sergeant?" The voice was young, male, exhausted and close to teary.
She pried her eyes open. Jaz Teke's face swam above her as he leant over. His arm was a sling, and he was back in his fatigues, the blood and ash scrubbed from his dark skin.
"Hey Jaz," she managed through chapped lips. Her throat was dry. "Got any water?"
"Uh, yeah, one sec." He had a moment of consternation when he realised he couldn't both hold the little plastic cup of water and help her sit up at the same time. She solved his dilemma by silently taking the cup, leaving his good arm to gingerly ease around her shoulders, avoiding the IV still stuck in her arm.
The water was the best thing she'd ever tasted - cool down the back of her parched throat.
When she was done, Ash took a look around the medbay. Almost every bed was filled - there Draven sitting up and trying to do something on her omnitool despite an immobilised arm and an irate Sherazi, Ling bent over a pale orange salarian, Lieutenant Rentola staring at the ceiling blankly. She knew that look - it'd looked back at her from all the mirrors in the weeks following Eden Prime.
Nick wasn't in any of them. Dread dug claws into her belly.
"Doctor Chakwas!" Jaz called. "Sergeant Williams is awake!"
The silver-haired doctor came over with a click of boot heels, bringing up a scanner. "Hold still for a moment if you would, Ashley, I'll just run some scans. Have a look at your vitals."
"Sure."
Orange light washed over her. "You gave us quite the scare, Sergeant, but surgery went well. I repaired your superficial femoral artery and stitched up your shoulder - there was luckily no structural damage there."
"Nick," she said flatly. What had happened to her didn't really matter - she was breathing and still had her legs and arms.
A shadow flashed across Chakwas' face. "Lance Corporal Ki-tae didn't survive surgery, I'm sorry. By the time we got him onboard, it was too late."
"Oh." She looked at her hands. "I told them to move forward." She had, even though she'd known there was the possibility of geth air support. She had, because she'd needed those walls down.
Jaz's good hand gripped her forearm, tight enough to hurt. "It's not your fault, Sarn't."
"I'm sorry," she said wearily, closing her eyes, "I know Nick was your friend."
His grip loosened. "Yeah...yeah."
"How's everyone else, doc?" she asked softly.
"Shepard's team came through mostly unscathed." Except for Mohamed and Kaidan. "Shepard has some contusions from her scrap with Saren and a concussion, but she'll be okay. Draven's injury was mostly superficial, Fredricks has a concussion. Jaz here is fine too."
"'Cept for my fucked up hand," he said dourly.
Chakwas raised a grey eyebrow. "We saved your hand, which was in question for a time. It will, however, require reconstructive surgery beyond our capabilities on the Normandy."
"They're kicking me off once we get to the Citadel." Jaz was close to pouting.
Chakwas rolled her eyes. "We're not kicking you off, Lance Corporal, we're getting you the medical care you require so you can go back to shooting geth."
"The Citadel?"
"We've orders to return to the Citadel - the Council wishes to debrief Commander Shepard and Captain Kirrahe in person."
She blinked. "Yeah?"
"Skipper did the weird mind shit with Liara" - Jaz leant over - "so now she knows where we have to go to catch up with him. Some Prothean rock called Illos."
"So we get the Citadel fleet, go after the motherfucker and nail him to the wall," Ashley said with satisfaction, imagining cramming a grenade down Saren's throat.
"I believe that is the plan," Chakwas said dryly.
"There's more though. You know Saren's big fuckin' dread? Amina told me that it spoke to them. It's not a Reaper ship - it's an actual Reaper. Some kind of fucked artificial intelligence that wants to kill us all."
She stared at Jaz for a long moment. "Damn. I was hoping the Reapers would be a size that I could shoot, you know?"
"Tell me about it."
"Either way, things are coming to a head. I'm going to take your IV out - you can get up and move around, but you're to use crutches for the next couple of days and take it easy. No heavy lifting, no ground missions, no strenuous activity. Understood?"
Chakwas' gaze was surprisingly penetrative and intimidating. "Aye aye, ma'am."
"I believe that the Commander wished to debrief you once you were up. She should be in her cabin - grab something to eat and get changed first. Only easily digestible foods and water for now."
"Got it." Ashley found that she did very much want to talk to Shepard. Ask what the fuck she'd been thinking.
"I can feed myself," said Gung Ho Draven indignantly as Rosie Draven attempted to take her fork off her.
"You got shot in the bloody arm, Talitha," Rosie shot back, her face tight with barely restrained fear. Liara stared into the deep green of her tea and the curls of steam coming off it. A dour mood had fallen across the mess hall, strangling most conversation. It'd taken Kanu Medra and his division an hour and a half to scrub away all the streaks and pools of blood and sanitise the room before re-opening it for the crew.
It didn't feel quite real. Like the door might hiss open, and Kaidan would walk in, with his kind eyes and gentle demeanor. Or Nick might run in to start some mischief with Fredricks. She'd watched Waaberi and Fredricks put the black body bag containing their friend into the silver transfer case, and then put the Alliance flag over the top of it - and if either of them had cried, no one had said anything. There'd be no body bags for Kaidan Alenko or Akmed Mohamed. No coffin taken home to their families. Just an emptiness and ash left behind in a nuclear blasted wasteland.
She took a sip of her tea. There was only bitterness on her tongue. Three salarians sat across from Liara and the two Dravens, picking at the meals Kanu had whipped up for them. They seemed rather mystified by the married couple opposite them, still bickering over whether Gung Ho should be using her wounded arm at all.
Finally, they came to a compromise. Gung Ho would feed herself, but Rosie would cut up her meat for her.
"So, what now for you lot?" asked Rosie, poking at her own dubious beef.
"Jaesann will likely be disbanded," Kirrahe said matter-of-factly, despite the glassy look in his large, black eyes. "Barely enough of us to form a single team, let alone a company."
"I'm sorry." Liara clenched her fingers around her mug. It was all she could think to say, and it was terribly inadequate.
"They fought bravely and died for a cause greater than themselves." A pause, Kirrahe tilting his head. "A very turian sentiment, but one that is true. This is a bitter victory, yes, but it is a victory."
Rentola looked as if he might disagree, but all he did was stuff his mouth with a spoonful of rice.
"Yeah, well, when I next see that sonofabitch Saren Imma make sure we put a rocket up his ass for our boys," Gung Ho said sourly, stabbing at her dinner with feeling.
"You seem certain you will find him," Kirrahe observed.
"Hell yeah we will. Nothing scarier than an angry Emilia Shepard, man. Just ask the blinks." Draven grinned, sharp and savage.
Liara wondered when promises of vengeance had become almost a comfort. She did want it - wanted vengeance for her mother and for Kaidan. Saren Arterius had taken two flavours of family from her.
Her tea tasted like ash.
"Come in."
It was difficult to storm into a room when you had to use crutches, but regardless, rage crackled behind Ashley's ribs, drove her forward despite the pain not quite numbed by the oral painkillers Chakwas had insisted on that pulsed in her leg.
"Ma'am." The word was icy. Something flashed across Emilia Shepard's face and then was gone.
"Take a seat, Sergeant."
She carefully lowered herself, resting her crutches against Shepard's desk. The silence was cold and hard, and Shepard's eyes were unwavering and firm and dark.
"How are you feeling?"
She wanted to scoff or maybe cry, her chest seizing up. "I...I can't believe Kaidan is dead. How could we just leave him there?"
Shepard set her jaw. "Kaidan Alenko was a fine officer, and he died a hero. He knew the risk-"
The snarl was out of her throat before she could rein it in. "Knew the risks? You're gonna give me the fucking platitudes?"
It was very close to the cliff's edge of insubordination, but Shepard didn't crack. "It might not make it easier, but it's the truth. We all knew that the mission might demand our lives. Kaidan gave his for our, and I intend to make sure his sacrifice is respected by following it through."
Ash ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head. She couldn't look at her anymore. "It should have been me. You know that."
"Maybe," Shepard agreed very softly, and her head jerked up. "Thinking logically, tactically, I should have gone back to the bomb. Even if it meant losing most of my Marine Detachment. The bomb was the most vital objective of the operation. Not going back put that at risk."
"Then why?" She wanted to know. Needed to know. If Eden Prime had taught her anything, it was that there were usually no answers to the question why them and not me? Why had Penny stood those crucial ten metres to Ashley's left? Why had Nirali looked up at just the wrong time and Ashley hadn't? Why him and not me?
But Shepard could tell her. And Ashley needed to know, even if she had to pry the answers out of her.
Shepard suddenly looked very tired, her shoulders slumping. "Because I always intended to go back for him, Ashley. I knew you and Nick were in serious danger - I hoped that if I got to you first then the two of you could be saved, and then I could go back to Kaidan. If Saren hadn't shown up, I like to think I could've. But he did. And we ran out of time."
And Nick had fucking died anyway. Her nails dug into her palms. "You...ran out of time."
"Yes," Shepard said simply. The bruising around her throat was mottled in deep reds and purples, and there was an edge of hoarseness to her voice.
"It should have been me," she whispered again. The sharp pain of her nails contrasted the deep ache of her gunshot wound.
"Ash," the softness of her name was at odds with the intensity of Shepard's gaze, pinning her in her chair. "Is that what you want? Are you trying to be a martyr? Reclaim your family's honour with your blood?"
Ashley flinched as if slapped. "That's not fair."
But Shepard was as ruthless as she usually was, a knife of words finding every weak point Ashley had bared to her over the past few months. "Isn't it? What the court of public opinion and the Marine Corps did to your family was wrong - but getting yourself sent home in a flag-draped box won't underdo the past. I won't lose you because of it."
Her breathing came in ragged puffs. "Kaidan was my friend."
"He was mine too." Shepard's voice was low, vehement, pained. "I miss him already, okay? But I need you, Ash."
She looked up, met the dark burn of Emilia Shepard's eyes.
"I need you on my side. I need to know if you can lead the Marine Detachment. Things are coming to a head, and I need someone I trust at my six. Saren has to pay."
A thousand emotions clashed behind her ribs. Acrid anger because Ashley wasn't stupid - she knew Shepard had grabbed hold of the loose strings of her being, the weaknesses she'd voluntarily revealed, and tugged - pride because Commander Emilia Shepard ST wanted her watching her back, the thick, cloying cloud of grief over it all.
She breathed in, closed her eyes. Could she do it? Take Kaidan's place aboard the Normandy, even temporarily? See this thing through?
Ashley Williams opened her eyes and squared her shoulders. "I can do it, ma'am."
She could, because Alenko and Williams had both known that the difference between them was one bullet. She could, because he would want her to. She could, because Shepard needed her. She could, because her Marines needed her. She could, because it was her duty.
Shepard nodded slowly. "Good. Go get some rack time. We'll be at the Citadel soon, and I want you to come when I meet with the Council."
"Aye aye, Commander."
CODEX
103rd Marine Division (Raider): The 103rd Marine Division (Raider) is the Systems Alliance Marine Corps predominant special operations force and the main component of Marine Special Operations Command. It is currently commanded by Major General Adamu Mwangi, a veteran of the Traverse campaign. Mwangi recently took over command from the legendary Lieutenant General Tadius Ahern, who is now the commander of the Pinnacle Station Joint Training Facility.
The 103rd traces its roots back to the USMC Raider Regiment and the United Kingdom's Royal Marine Commando, in an unbroken line of descent from Raider units in Earth's World War II, and was founded by veterans of those units during the early years of the Systems Alliance Defence Force. Marines from the 103rd have fought in almost every conflict the Alliance has been involved in - the First Contact War, the Skyllian Blitz, the Traverse Campaign and now, the Eden Prime War. The division's dead are commemorated by the Raider Memorial in Rio De Janeiro.
The 103rd's mission includes such irregular warfare operations as: direct action, special reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, foreign internal defence, information operations, security force assistance, counter-insurgency, space interdiction operations, manhunting, and clandestine operations.
The division contains the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Marine Raider Regiments and the 1st and 2nd Marine Raider Support Groups. Each Marine Raider Regiment consists of a Headquarters Company and three Marine Raider Battalions (MRBs), which in turn contain four Marine Special Operation Companies, consisting of four fourteen man Marine Special Operations Teams. These teams customarily operate on their own, but retain the capability to work in larger units.
The majority of operational personnel in the 103rd are N5 Marines, though many support roles are filled by N1-N4 troops.