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Shepard was just getting ready to head down from the CIC to the mess hall for lunch when Traynor told her Admiral Hackett was on the vidcomm asking for her. She immediately changed course through the War Room, smiling when she saw the wavery blue representation of the no-nonsense admiral in front of her.
"Sir."
"Shepard. Good work with the quarians."
"They have the biggest fleet in the galaxy. We needed them." There was more she wanted to say, but she was afraid if she got started ranting she wouldn't be able to stop.
"And the geth!" Hackett added. "If it had been anyone but you, I wouldn't have believed it was the truth. The quarian fleet has offered to provide evac and life support, while the geth attack Reaper supply lines."
Shepard sighed. "Let's hope it's enough. How are we doing, Admiral? Will we be ready?"
"Given the situation everywhere else, as close as we can be. You've done well, Shepard."
She shook her head. "It doesn't feel that way. It feels like untangling spaghetti—every time you think you've got a clear path, two strands get stuck together, and you can't see a way to get through."
"Vividly put. You're trying to do something no one has ever done before—unite a galaxy. You can't be impatient if it's not easy."
"It would be nice if something was, sir."
"You can say that again."
"Admiral … I have a personal question."
"Speak freely, Commander."
It was hard to put this into words, and even harder to say it to a direct superior, but … she needed to get it out, and Hackett seemed like the only person other than Anderson who might understand. "Why me?" she asked. "Why did you put me in charge of all this?"
"Because you're the only soldier in this whole damned navy who knows how to kill Reapers—and because when faced with one, you don't quit until it's good and dead."
That seemed too easy. Shepard waved a hand. "You just have to be smart and hope you get lucky. Anyone can figure it out."
"That assumption is not borne out by facts, Commander. You are, to date, the only one who has figured it out. Look, Shepard, I knew you had potential when you stopped the batarian slavers on Elysium all those years ago. What you did … the people who survived that ordeal still thank you by name. Do you know how rare it is to find a commander who can fight and who has, and takes, the time to care for the people she's protecting as well?"
Shepard frowned. "Because of that, you think I qualify to save the galaxy?"
"Let me tell you something that I've learned the hard way: You can pay a soldier to fire a gun. You can pay him to charge the enemy and take a hill. But there's no amount of money that can buy his belief."
"I don't follow, sir."
"When you went up against Sovereign, there was no good reason to believe you'd win. But your crew followed you anyway. Your trip through the Omega 4 relay? That was a suicide mission if ever I'd seen one—and there your crew was, standing beside you. Why? Because they believed in you. Their leader. That's what I need now. People across the galaxy need a leader they can follow, someone they can believe in, someone who has proven that they won't stop until they get the job done." He paused a moment, looking her over. "What we're about to go through is liable to get pretty hairy—and I know you're the one who can get us to the other side."
"I wish I had your faith, Admiral."
"Well, Commander, that brings me to the reason I'm calling."
She lifted her eyebrows. "Oh? Is there a problem, Admiral?"
To her surprise, he chuckled. "You might think so."
"Sir?"
"I'm ordering the Normandy into dry dock. She's seen a lot of action lately and is in need of some repair. Let's not forget her refit wasn't done when Lieutenant Moreau flew her off Earth."
"Admiral, this hardly seems the time to—"
He held up a hand. "We don't have time for the Normandy to break down. Dock her at the Citadel, and then get your crew off her while a small army of techs gets her back into peak condition. Shore leave, Commander. All of you. That's an order."
"But—"
"Shepard. I know about the drell who died saving the salarian councilor. He meant something to you. That was no secret. And you haven't taken a break since before you were held for the tribunal. People have cracked under the kind of pressure you're under, and I can't afford to lose you, Shepard. Not now. Take the shore leave—that's an order. You and your crew."
Shepard sighed. You couldn't argue with an order from your superior—or, at least, not more than she had already tried to. What she would do on shore leave she didn't know, but she guessed she'd find out.
"Also, I have a message for you from Admiral Anderson. He says he as an apartment on the Wards, and he expects you to use it for your shore leave. Something about watering his plants, although I imagine he has a VI for that. Anyway, I hear it's a nice place."
"Yes, sir."
"Hackett out."
He disappeared and she stood there staring blankly at the space where he had been. Of all the things she had expected to be ordered to do, taking shore leave wouldn't have made the top fifty.