Vega watched with interest as the jury deliberated. Alenko was right: watching Lola climb into the arena and proceed to work over all arguments? Priceless and hilarious. And now, Gerrel looked totally unstable, totally unfit for his post, and absolutely indefensible—both literally, and in the less literal sense.
The vein in his temple…
Which was good, although Vega wished Gerrel had given in to the look on his face, the one of wanting to assault Shepard, just so Shepard would have an excuse to work the man over without worrying about suit ruptures or broken visors. There was no way Shepard would put up with an attack like that. Nor should she have to. He wasn't sure the jury or the adjudicator would interfere on Gerrel's behalf, either, if he was that dumb.
But he wasn't that dumb, which was a pity. A good ass-kicking might help him with his problems.
A tall, thin quarian male stood up, once Xala addressed the jury.
"We have." The thin man cleared his throat, then looked down at a datapad which apparently had notes on it. "Han'Gerrel vas Neema nar Tonbay. Normally, for endangering the Flotilla, a quarian would be exiled. You know this, having participated in similar proceedings in prosecution of others. I was there for the most recent of such trials. We also agree that this would not be too harsh a sentence, given the situation."
Gerrel turned pale, fists tightening as he watched the jury representative. His mouth tried to twist contemptuously, but apparently the threat of exile was shock enough to keep it from manifesting fully.
"However, as this is a period of new beginnings, you are to be given a choice. You may go into exile under the usual conditions, or you may join the first company of quarian marines to be deployed for the Reaper War. They will be mustering before the end of the standard day, and you may join them as the lowest-ranked member of that unit. Make no mistake: you will not be in any kind of authority, you will be a man under authority. You may fight the Reapers, or Cerberus, or at whomever our Alliance allies decide to point out, and prove you are as willing to face danger yourself as to place others in it. I should add, this clemency was recommended by Spectre Shepard—new times calling for new ways of thinking. Should you choose to serve, you will be expected to thank her before you leave the room." He inclined his head to Xala to indicate that he was finished.
Xala looked at Gerrel. "Well, it appears you have a choice. Some might argue that you ought to be given a day to consider it. However, with your history of snap decisions, and with the first unit deploying tomorrow, I don't think it necessary. Choose. If you will not choose, the choice will be made for you, and that choice will be exile…and being remembered as a coward who piled his own people's lives on the bloody altar of his own sought glory and called the loss 'acceptable.'"
"Wow," Vega muttered, unable to stop himself. When put like that, it sounded pretty damn bad. Worse that it had so far, as if Xala was giving Gerrel a taste of his legacy before he made any decision—snap or otherwise. Even Shepard and Alenko winced at the formal venom in Xala's tone. It left Vega wondering how many of Xala's family members were killed when the Civilian Fleet couldn't withdraw.
Gerrel's skin turned blotchy at the threat of this final insult. He swallowed hard, mouth working furiously. "I will…go with the marines," he grated out. Then, as if to get the worst of it over with quickly. "Thank you, Spectre."
Sheaprd inclined her head, murmuring 'you're welcome.'
"It's good to see we can all be civilized," Xala noted. "There will be a ten minute recess." She got up, and exited.
Shepard sighed, rolling her shoulders.
"So…what would have happened if he hadn't admitted he was guilty?" Vega asked.
"Well, if he'd put up a decent defense, it would be considered. Normally, the trial process isn't too different from being called up on the carpet by the principal."
"You've been called up on the carpet by the principal?" Alenko asked, mock-shocked.
Shepard grinned wryly. "Absolutely." Then, returning to seriousness. "But I don't want to be here for a week of arguing with a wall, or a series of walls," Shepard answered. "I just sped the matter up a little. Removed doubt, proved he didn't have a defense to offer except bluster and deflection. It wouldn't have worked if he'd had half a decent argument. I'm not sure I'd have tried it if he had. But he's not accustomed to being taken to task, or having his orders questioned and inspected, and that threw him off balance."
"I said it once, I'll say it again," Alenko grinned. "If I ever get a speeding ticket, I'd love for you to be my advocate."
Vega blinked. For a moment, for a split second, he thought he saw…something. He wasn't sure what, but he was sure he saw it. Something…soft. Whatever it was wasn't in Shepard's face, though.
"I appreciate the thought, Major, but we're working here," she responded with a grin.
It sounded like a rehash of an old conversation, reworked to fit today.
"And Vega walks drag," Alenko grinned.
Definitely one of those old combat buddy conversations. Well, he was getting to the point of having a few of those. Still, from the look on Garrus' face—which was rather bemused—there wasn't anything in the conversation unexpected.
"We've come a long way from ogling at the Widow Nebula," Shepard agreed.
A moment of silence feel, as if Shepard, Garrus, and Alenko all considered just how far. They remained in silence until Xala, the jury, and those quarians who hadn't taken advantage of the chance to get up and walk around, returned.