Chapter 5: From Hero to Pariah
As the Normandy docked at the Citadel, I noted that it looked exactly the same as it did two years ago. You'd never know it had suffered an attack by Sovereign, Saren and the geth. Not too surprising: appearances mean everything sometimes, and TPTB would be sure to make it look like things were back to normal.
The first sign that things had changed was the fact that you couldn't just stroll from your ship, go down the elevator and struggle your way through C-Sec customs. Now, every berth had a small contragravity speeder, like the ones you see buzzing above any metropolis, which would take you to a designated C-Sec customs site. I guess it streamlined things somewhat. Only problem was, the damn thing could only seat four people. It was fine for now—the only people accompanying me on this trip would be Miranda and Jacob—but if my posse got any larger, I might have some problems.
I mentioned this to Miranda while I flew the aircar over to C-Sec customs. (1)
"For a small fee, you can order additional aircars to be stationed at your berth," she informed me. "I could have arranged it beforehand if you'd told me."
"Why are we here anyway?" Jacob asked.
"I got a message from Councillor Anderson just before we were ready for takeoff, requesting a private meeting," I replied. "Figured it was worth a detour before we go to Omega."
I didn't say much for the remainder of the trip, mostly because I was busy looking at all the neon lights scattered throughout Zakera Ward, the Ward we had docked at. I remembered someone saying that the lights were always on as there was no artificial day-night cycle down here, unlike the Presidium. Still, there weren't as many lights twinkling away as I recalled. Come to think of it, there was an awful lot of damage throughout the Ward that had yet to be repaired. Clearly the Council hadn't gotten around to fixing everything—just the areas they regarded as important. That prompted me to double-check the seals on the aircar—back in the day, the Wards didn't maintain breathable atmosphere above seven metres or so. Who knows whether that was still the case or not.
The seals were intact though, and we made it to C-Sec Customs without any problems. Exiting the aircar, I was struck by how much colour there was. The old C-Sec Academy and its Customs area had always struck me by its uniform blue colour, which was exacerbated by the pervasive blue lighting. Here I saw purples and yellows and oranges… pretty much every colour of the rainbow. Well, a technicolour rainbow. And there were a lot of C-Sec officers milling around. A lot more than I remembered from two years ago.
There was a nearby news terminal which I quickly moved to check out. Always good to get some news that wasn't filtered through Cerberus firewalls.
"...Shepard Memorial Plaza on Elysium was voted this year's hottest wedding destination. Under Admiral Hackett's orders, money raised from wedding fees goes to funds for Alliance veterans."
Oh for crying out loud. Not again. And they named a plaza after me? Beats the giant statue they were planning to erect but still. I guess it wasn't all bad. I mean, at least some good's coming out of this hero crap.
My musings were interrupted when someone called out "Commander Shepard. Enter the password and receive a free gift."
Looking around, I saw one of those advertising terminals. Standard issue—tall, cylindrical, wrap-around screen projecting some advertisement. Iris scanners to ID you so the VI can personalize the advertisement, all the better to sucker you into parting with your hard-earned creds. Never mind the Big Brother issues.
This particular terminal was currently showing nothing but static. As I watched, though, a picture of a woman appeared. The angle was such that we could only see her shoulder and her head. A hood obscured the top of her face in a swath of shadow. The only notable feature we could see was a small purple strip of makeup or something extending downwards from the centre of her lower lip. This must be the ad terminal TIMmy mentioned.
I should explain that.
According to TIMmy's e-mail, he had hired some master thief, skilled infiltrator, hacker and information specialist extraordinaire to help me out. No small feat, considering that she'd been 'acquiring' stuff across the galaxy without ever getting caught. Anyways, to pick up this recruit, I was supposed to go to some ad terminal in the Zakera Ward and input a password.
Just for the hell of it, I decided to just stand there like an idiot and see how many canned phrases this VI had installed.
"Got problems with collectors? Try Kasumi's credit services!"
Wordplay on 'collectors.' Cute.
"Commander Shepard. We have the finest companions waiting for you. Perhaps something petite, smart and Japanese would be your style?"
No comment.
"Just enter your password for a fabulous prize package worth millions of credits!"
Okay. Bored now. I walked towards the terminal. The motion sensors must have sensed my approach, as the woman appeared again.
"Please tell me your password, Commander Shepard."
"Silence is golden," I said.
"Good to finally meet you, Commander Shepard," the woman replied. "Kasumi Goto. I'm a fan."
Voice held a bit too much personality for a VI, especially one with the same name as my recruit. Either this was a custom job, or I was talking to the recruit herself. Masking a real-time transmission as an advertisement. Nice.
"What's with the password and the sneaking around?" I asked. "Are you in trouble or something?"
"I'm the best thief in the business, not the most famous. Need to watch my step to keep it that way."
Fair enough. Smart, too.
"I also needed to make sure all this was legit," Kasumi added. "And I have no doubts now—you're the real Commander Shepard."
"What makes you so sure?" I wondered.
"There's a certain… aura about you. Like you've seen things no one else has. Even without knowing what you looked like, I knew it was you."
If only she knew. "Has Cerberus filled you in on the mission?"
"Honestly, I'm shocked they didn't come to see me sooner," Kasumi admitted. "My fault for being hard to find, I guess."
"What brought you to them in the first place?"
"That's a bit of a story. Short version: they were looking for me, so I trailed them to find out why. Turns out they were looking for someone to join you on an important mission… and were offering a serious signing bonus. I had a thing I needed help with, so I made them a deal. And here we are."
"I assume this deal is something I should know about," I said dryly.
"Yeah, I guess it slipped their minds," Kasumi confirmed. "I'm looking for my old partner's greybox. A man named Donovan Hock took it, and I'm planning to get it back."
As she talked, I felt a tingling at the back of my neck. Not quite like the previous times, where my life was about to face sudden peril. Still, my gut was apparently trying to tell me something. I decided to stall for time, hoping I could figure out what that something was. "Got any more details on this lil' heist of yours?"
"Not here, Shepard," Kasumi said. "You'll get a briefing when the time comes. I need time to nail down the details anyway. I've taken the liberty of getting you some evening wear, though. You'll want to look presentable."
Still hadn't figured out what the tingling was all about, though I had the strangest feeling. Like someone was watching me. "What can you tell me about Donovan Hock?"
"Mr. Hock is a well-respected 'businessman.' Arms dealer, murderer, generally not a great guy," she replied cheerfully. "His mansion's famous for being hard to crack. But I have a way in, and I think you're going to love it."
We'll see. I definitely felt like I was being watched. Question was, where? The image of the ad terminal showed someone who was talking, but not moving. Nobody around me fit that description. It was possible that she was using a VI program to provide an artificial image while subbing in her own voice, but somehow I didn't think so.
"I doubt Hock's the kind of guy who takes kindly to people sneaking into his house," I said in a deadpan voice.
"I always expect trouble. That's why you're here."
"Now, about this 'greybox.' What is that, exactly? I assume it's some kind of hardware."
"It's a neural implant, illegal in most places." To demonstrate, she tapped the side of her head. A blue holographic visor appeared over her eyes. "Stores memories, thoughts… secret codes, illicit information. (2) This one in particular belonged to my partner, Keiji Okuda. We worked together for a long time, before Hock killed him."
"Tell me about this former partner of yours," I prompted.
"Keiji was the best hacker and entryman I've ever known." She bowed her head for a moment before continuing. "Unfortunately, he slipped up and made himself infamous. He stole something he shouldn't. He warned me it was bad, something that could spark interstellar war if it got out. That information… got him killed."
For a moment, the sound in the transmission changed. Just for a brief moment, but it was enough for me to get a tentative idea of where Kasumi was. I just needed to keep her talking for a little while longer… "What could he have found that's so bad?"
"He wouldn't say what it was, just that it was dangerous. He said if it got out, humanity would be in trouble. He encrypted it, wrapped it up in his own memories. To decode the information, you have to sift through all the time we spent together. Now those memories are all that's left of him."
At that point, I figured out two things. One—this former partner meant a lot to her. Possibly beyond mere professionalism. Second—I had a fix on her position.
"I can understand why you'd want to get it back," I said sympathetically, not letting on that I knew.
"Getting it back will be easier with your help, Shepard."
"Well, if that's what Cerberus promised you, we'll get it done," I pronounced.
"It'll be fun," she replied lightly. "And if we're lucky, you won't even have to draw your gun."
The terminal descended into the floor. Kasumi's voice rang out, unencumbered by speakers. "We should probably wrap this up. You look pretty silly talking to an advertisement."
I turned around and looked up at the catwalk above us. Sure enough, Kasumi was standing there. My companions followed my gaze. Jacob looked shocked. Miranda just nodded—her enhanced hearing probably told her where Kasumi was lurking.
"Funny," I smirked. "I thought making me look silly was all part of the plan."
"Busted," she grinned. She tilted to the side, putting some weight on her hip and cocking her head ever so slightly. "See you on the ship, Shepard." With that, she walked off.
With that out of the way, we walked through the security cordon, which basically meant going through a corridor that connected the docking area with the rest of the level. Kinda like an airlock.
As we reached the end of the corridor, a beam of light swept over us. It didn't do anything for Miranda or Jacob. Only when it hit me did a soft tone ring out.
"Obviously, security has tightened since you were last here," Miranda observed.
The turian tapped something on his console, tapped it again, and then activated his comm. "Shut it down," he said. He listened to the voice on the other end and frowned. "What? Do you seriously think... yeah, okay. Sorry for the inconvenience, sir," he apologized. "Our scanners are picking up false readings. They seem to think you're, ah, dead."
"I was only 'mostly' dead," I joked. "Try finding that option on government paperwork."
The officer laughed politely. "We need to get that cleared up for you. Why don't you speak with my captain? He can reinstate you in our system. Just go through the airlock and take a right. You can't miss him."
The officer was right—we couldn't miss him. As soon as we turned, we saw the only C-Sec officer who could possibly be a captain. A middle-aged man with close-cropped grey hair sitting behind a desk, he was positively screaming of authority. "Yes?" he said automatically as he looked up.
He took one look at me, looked at his console, and allowed a slight twitch to jerk at his lips. "I see the problem already, Commander Shepard. My console says you're dead."
"That was fast, Captain..." I paused.
"Bailey," he answered in a gravelly voice.
"Captain Bailey," I repeated. "You're not worried that I'm some imposter pretending to be me?"
"We have the best screening equipment in the galaxy," he replied, sounding matter-of-fact rather than boastful. Those scanners can sample DNA from skin flakes. Hell, if you have unregistered gene mods, they can even figure those out."
So either Cerberus didn't do any tinkering when they were stuffing implants every which way or C-Sec was woefully behind the curve. But I couldn't worry about that right now. "Well your scanners sampled my DNA and matched it with my KIA status. Which is obviously out-of-date." I gestured over my shoulder. "Your sergeant said you could fix that for me."
"Usually you'd have to go through the Station Security Administration to reactivate your IDs. Then to Customs and Immigration to regain access to the Citadel itself. And probably a stop by the treasury." He paused before informing me "'Spending a year dead' is a popular tax dodge."
Paperwork. Oh. Joy.
Bailey must have seen the pained look on my face, 'cuz he raised his hands reassuringly. "But I can see you're a busy man." He leaned forward towards me and reached towards one of the buttons on his console. "So how about I just press this button right here, and we call it done?"
As much as I loved the sound of that, someone had to point out the obvious: "Couldn't one of us—or both of us—get into trouble for that?"
"There's no way to fool the DNA scanners in that tunnel," the captain replied. You're you. Why wait in long lines and fill out a mass of useless hardcopy paperwork to get to the same place? Only reason is because the Council says so."
He rolled his eyes. "They do everything by the book. They've had thousands of years to write it." Then he slammed the desk in frustration. "Sometimes things need to get done without a committee vote."
"You're not big on formalities, are you?" I smiled.
He didn't return my smile. "I'm with them right up until they keep people from doing their jobs."
Man after my own heart.
He entered a few commands into the computer—guess it took more than just one button—and then looked up. "There. I just saved you about nine days of running around."
I nodded my thanks.
"That said, you should head up to the Presidium and tell them you're still alive. The Council probably wants to talk to the one who saved their scaly asses."
Definitely a man after my own heart. I looked around for a helpful sign before giving up and turning back to Bailey. "What's the easiest way to get to the Presidium from down here?"
"Just head over to any of the rapid transit terminals and take a public shuttle."
Easy enough. "I'll do that. Having access to the Council and the Spectres' resources would be useful."
"Yeah," he grudgingly admitted. "The Council can get anything. Best thing about working C-Sec is that any equipment, information or money you need, you get. Anyway—something else you need?"
"Just curious," I shrugged. "Last time I was here, there were no human captains in C-Sec."
"C-Sec took a lot of casualties when the geth boarded the Presidium," Bailey explained. "The Special Response division was hard hit. They stopped turning their noses up at human resumes. They needed bodies in uniform, and we had the most experienced bodies."
"It looks like most of the damage from Sovereign's attack has been repaired," I said casually. It'd be interesting to see if Bailey bought the public line about the Battle of the Citadel being just a rogue Spectre/geth attack or whether he believed that a greater intelligence was behind it all.
Bailey didn't seem to react. Either he believed in the existence of the Reapers, or he just accepted that Saren's flagship was called Sovereign. "The Presidium was pretty shot up." Bailey scowled before sarcastically adding "Of course they fixed that first.
"All the wards got hit with debris when the ship exploded. Most of the damage was superficial, and the keepers got things restored fast. Tayseri Ward got the worst—a big chunk hit near the Dilinaga Concert Hall." He shook his head sadly. "They're still clearing wreckage and trying to get power restored."
"Well, Zakera Ward looks like it got back on its feet," I commented. "Tell me about this place."
"All the Wards are more or less multicultural, but the other four are dominated by asari, turians or salarians. In Zakera, we've got major enclaves of volus, elcor and hanar. There's also a human commercial zone at Shin Akiba. We've got a few krogan walking around... I think I saw a quarian the other day."
"Well, I've taken up enough of your time," I smiled. "I should be going."
"Sure thing," Bailey nodded. "If you need anything else, let me know."
Just beyond C-Sec, I saw a news terminal spitting out random clips from Citadel NewsNet. And the anchor? Emily Wong, the reporter I'd helped out two years ago. Guess she made her way up in the galaxy since then.
Ignoring the krogan behind me who was wishing he could eat one of the fish on the Presidium, and his companion who just wanted him to shut up, I listened to the story. "The Systems Alliance 5th Fleet has begun its planned tour of the Attican Traverse," Emily was saying. "The fleet, centred around the dreadnought Orizaba under Captain Hannah Shepard, will stop in various systems over the next three months. A turian spokesman for the Council noted that 'Since the Battle of the Citadel, the Alliance has played an increasing role in securing our frontiers.' He added that the 5th Fleet's goodwill tour is a first step towards becoming a partner in turian peacekeeping patrols."
Huh. Mom must've gotten promoted. Last I heard, she was XO on the Kiliminjaro. Now she was a captain on the flagship of the 5th Fleet. Go Mom.
I saw Avina, the friendly Citadel VI, hanging about. Feeling nostalgic all of a sudden, I went over to its terminal.
"Welcome back, Shepard," it greeted me. "It has been two years, three months and seventeen days since the Citadel last welcomed you."
What? No hours, minutes or seconds? I was almost disappointed.
"This is the Zakera Ward transportation hub. Public shuttles and shopping are available through the C-Sec security cordon."
"It looks like this place has recovered from Sovereign's attack," I commented.
"Repair of the damage from the geth attack is ongoing. There is still extensive damage on Tayseri Ward."
"Geth?" I asked. "It was Sovereign who led the attack. A Reaper."
"I have no information on a 'Reaper,'" Avina told me. "References to the term exist in some para-historical theories on galactic extinction cycles."
"They've suppressed information about the Reapers," Miranda said. "Far easier to blame the geth, a known enemy."
No kidding.
"Besides, going around and talking about 'Reapers' might cause a panic," Kasumi said brightly.
Miranda and Jacob jumped. I didn't, but I came very close to doing so. Turning around, we saw Kasumi standing in front of us. She waved a hello.
"What—but you... huh..." Jacob sputtered.
I took over before Jacob could start embarrassing himself. "Weren't you going to put your stuff on the ship?"
"Oh, I already smuggled my stuff onboard," she replied cheerfully. "Set up shop in the port observation lounge. Hope you don't mind. Didn't look like anyone was using it, anyways. And it had a nice view."
"You did all that," Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Surveillance should have caught you."
"Yeah, there was an awful lot of cameras and bugs," Kasumi admitted. "I got past most of them, but I'm sure they picked me up when I started unpacking. Anyway, I got bored so I thought I'd catch up with you guys. What's up?"
I looked at Avina, shrugged, and then turned away. "I'm going to meet up with Councillor Anderson. After that, might as well check out the shops while we're here. See if there's anything worth getting."
"The rest of us can look through the shops while you're at your meeting," Miranda suggested. "That way, you can shop as efficiently as possible."
"I was just about to say that," I approved. "Well, we all have our assignments now. Let's get to it."
"Right," Miranda said.
"Sure thing," Kasumi chirped.
Jacob saluted.
It turned out that Anderson's office was Udina's old office, over in the Embassy section of the Presidium. I couldn't help but wait outside the doors and listen in, recalling how lousy the soundproofing was. Turns out that hadn't changed one bit.
"This meeting would be more productive if Udina was to join us," I heard the asari councillor say.
"My advisor is unavailable," Anderson replied. "As Councillor, I represent the voice of humanity and the Alliance."
He shouldn't have had to say that. Either the collective intelligence of TPTB had plummeted, in which case the galaxy was screwed, or they were trying to belittle the legitimacy and relevance of Anderson's position. (3)
"Shepard will be here any—"
I took this moment to step in. Seemed like good timing.
"Oh, Commander," Anderson smiled. "We were just talking about you."
Stifling the reflex to salute him in the nick of time, I offered a warm smile of my own and shook his hand. "It's been a long time, Anderson. I hope the last couple years have treated you right."
"There's been some rough spots," he admitted. In a softer voice, he added "It's good to have you back."
"We've heard many rumours surrounding your unexpected return," the salarian councillor butted in. "Some of them are... unsettling."
And why did I think these rumours had less to do with the Council's intelligence-gathering capacity and more to do with 'accidental' leaks from Cerberus?
"We called this meeting so you could explain your actions, Shepard. We owe you that much. After all, you saved our lives in the battle against Saren and his geth."
No good deed goes unpunished, huh? "The only action I've taken so far was to investigate the abductions of human colonists out in the Terminus Systems," I said, deciding to stick to the truth as much as possible without bringing up my unasked-for Cerberus pals. "So far, I've identified the kidnappers as the Collectors. Worse, there are indications that they're working for the Reapers."
"The Terminus Systems are beyond our jurisdiction," the turian councillor sniffed. "Your colonies knew this when they left Council Space."
As much as I hated the callousness behind his remarks, he had a point. Many human colonies were deliberately set up because they wanted to get away from Council authority for one reason or another. Of course, they conveniently forgot that every time they actually needed help, howling in outrage that they were 'abandoned' by the Council and the Alliance.
"You're missing the important part, Councillor," Anderson said. "The Reapers are involved."
"Ah yes. Reapers," the turian councillor said sarcastically, emphasizing the last word in quotation marks with his talons. "The immortal race of sentient starships allegedly waiting in dark space." He waved me off with his hand. "We have dismissed that claim."
Same old head-in-the-sand mentality. Go figure.
Anderson turned to face me. "Shepard, no one else encountered the hologram on Ilos that told you the truth about the Reapers. Only you and your crew ever spoke with Sovereign. I believe you, but without evidence from another source, the others think Saren was behind the geth attacks."
I turned to face the rest of the Council. "Saren was an organic," I pointed out. "The geth would never accept him as their leader. They only followed them because he was Sovereign's agent."
"Saren was a compelling and charismatic individual," the asari councillor rebutted. "He convinced the geth the Reapers were real... just as he convinced you."
"It was part of his plan to attack the Citadel," the turian councillor snapped. "The Reapers are just a myth. One you insist on perpetuating."
"We believe that you believe it, but that doesn't make it true," the asari councillor concluded.
"Why don't you go back to Ilos and talk to Vigil?" I tried next. "Or, heck, just look at what's left of Sovereign—it's obvious the technology is more advanced than ours!"
"The hologram on Ilos is no longer functional and we have found nothing to suggest that Sovereign was not a geth creation," the salarian councillor informed me.
"The geth are capable of remarkable technological achievements," the asari councillor pointed out. "This is probably why Saren recruited them."
"This Reaper theory proves just how fragile your mental state is," the turian councillor sneered. "You have been manipulated—by Cerberus and, before them, by Saren."
"With all due respect, no one was or has been manipulating me," I said politely. "I have always strived to serve and protect the greater good throughout the galaxy. Remember, I kept Saren from conquering the Citadel. I recommended that the Alliance send its fleet in to save this Council and ensure a more stable leadership in the aftermath, despite the sacrifice of over two thousand human lives."
"We are in a difficult position, Shepard," the asari councillor replied. "You are working for Cerberus—an avowed enemy of the Council. This is treason, a capital offense."
"That's too far," Anderson burst out furiously, before I could respond. "Shepard is a hero. I'm on this Council, too, and I won't let this whitewash continue."
"Regarding whatever rumours you may have heard, and your comments about my current affiliations," I added "you might be interested to know that none of this was my idea. I didn't ask Cerberus to find my body after the Normandy was destroyed. They did that on their own. I didn't ask them to bring me back from the dead. They did that on their own. I didn't ask for them to provide weapons, backup, even a crew. They did that on their own.
"I came here as soon as I could. The only thing I did beforehand was to investigate Freedom's Progress for any clues as to where all the colonists went. Why? Because two years ago, I was authorized 'to act as I saw fit,' to do whatever is necessary to identify and stop threats to the Citadel races as its first and last line of defence."
"And," I added firmly, "because it's the right thing to do."
"Maybe there is a compromise," the asari councillor suggested. "Not a public acknowledgement, given your ties, but something to show peripheral support."
Why did I have a feeling this was their plan all along?
"Shepard, if you keep a low profile and restrict your operations to the Terminus Systems, the Council is willing to offer you reinstatement as a Spectre."
Oh yeah. Definitely part of their plan. "What does that mean?" I asked. "Will I need to start filing reports?"
"That won't be necessary," the salarian councillor hastily added. "This is a show of good faith on our part."
"We cannot become involved in an investigation regarding the missing colonies in the Terminus Systems," the asari councillor said. "But Spectre reinstatement shows our support of you personally."
Right. They support me. They just want me to go far, far away where they never have to see or hear from me again. And they were generous enough to give me Spectre authority to take to a place where Spectre authority, not to mention Council authority, was not recognized. Still, I guess it was better than nothing.
I glanced at Anderson, who subtly nodded at me. "I accept your offer," I finally said. "It's good to have the Council on my side."
See? I can bull-shit, too.
"Good luck with your investigation, Shepard," the asari councillor concluded. "We hope for a quick resolution... and a quick end to your relationship with Cerberus." She reached down and tapped a control panel, cutting the transmission.
"Well," Anderson breathed a sigh of relief. "That went better than I expected." He looked at me sharply. "You realize the Council's offer is just symbolic. They won't actually do anything."
"I might have picked up on that," I replied casually. "What with the conditions of my reinstatement, the lack of authority I'd have out in the Terminus Systems, and their desire to stay completely in the dark regarding my investigation."
Anderson smiled.
"Still," I shrugged. "Even if they don't help, I might as well stay on good terms."
"True enough," Anderson agreed. "Don't worry about the Council or the Alliance. I'll find some way to keep them off your back. Shouldn't be too hard as long as you keep to the Terminus Systems."
At that point, the doors hissed open. A certain... individual walked in.
"Anderson, we need to talk about..." Udina stopped and stared at me. "Shepard? What are you doing here?"
"Stopped by to see how Anderson was doing," I evaded.
"You don't have to cover for me," Anderson interjected. "I invited Shepard here to speak with the Council. We just finished our meeting."
To say Udina was flabbergasted would be an understatement. "You what? Councillor, do the words 'political shit-storm' mean anything to you?"
"You can relax—everything went fine," I butted in. "The Council even reinstated my Spectre status. They're just happy I'm staying out in the Terminus Systems."
As I'd expected, that calmed him down somewhat. "Yes..." he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "I could see how that arrangement works best for both sides." He turned to Anderson. "But you really shouldn't have taken a step like this without consulting with me first, Councillor."
"I don't answer to you, Udina," Anderson replied bluntly. "Why don't you go to your office and think about that for a while?"
I really wish I had a vid-cam built into my hardsuit so I could take a picture of the look on Udina's face. "Of course, Councillor," he said silkily. "Good day to both of you."
Anderson waited until Udina left before turning towards me. "Sorry about that. Udina's never gotten over the fact that I got the Council position instead of him. Sometimes I need to put him in his place."
I was tempted to say that I enjoyed seeing Udina get spanked, but it probably wouldn't have been professional. Instead, I said "Udina's just doing his job."
"True enough," Anderson agreed. He headed for the balcony, with me close on his heels, and leaned on the railing. "He's got his uses. If you want something done on the Citadel, he knows who can make it happen. Plus, he's always happy to attend all those formal diplomatic functions I can't be bothered with."
I leaned on the railing next to Anderson. "How have the last couple years treated you?"
He pushed himself off the railing and started pacing back and forth. "Serving on the Council isn't how I planned to spend my twilight years," he admitted. "Sometimes it feels like I'm just beating my head against a wall."
"Knowing the truth about Sovereign is brutal," he said, propping himself against the railing again. "It's nightmare stuff. I can't blame others for not wanting to believe it. But I know how important it is, so I keep trying. Fighting the good fight, right?"
"You know, you could always just blow off Udina and the Council," I suggested, waving them off with my hand. "Join my crew and help me stop the Collectors. Beat someone else's head against the wall for a change."
He laughed. "I'm too old to go racing across the galaxy. Much as I complain, I've got an important job to do here. The front line—that's got to be yours."
"I'm surprised no one can tell Sovereign isn't geth technology," I sighed. "Didn't they examine the wreckage?"
"We don't have much to look at," Anderson replied. "Pieces of it rained all over the station. It was chaos, with who knows how many species combing the Wards for their dead. We secured as much of it as we could, but between the keepers and a whole lot of unauthorized salvage, there's no way to account for even half of that thing. Another reason why they don't want to acknowledge what Sovereign was."
"How long did it take to get this place back up to speed after the battle anyways?" I asked.
"Still counting," Anderson admitted. "The main areas of commerce and the most populated Wards are complete, but estimates for total restoration are sitting around five years."
"The keepers always surprise us, though," he added, shaking his head in admiration. "It's like... our repairs are annoying. We'll put up an ugly new bulkhead, and in a few days they've made it seamless. We've never really thought of them as heavy lifters, and I have no idea where they get the resources, but we'd never get done without them."
"They're definitely something else," I agreed. "How are things going with the geth? Last I knew, we were still fighting holdouts."
"We still are, here and there, but they are increasingly disorganized," Anderson replied. "It's long since stopped being called a war. More like cleanup. Not that you can ever discount them, but we haven't had serious casualties for months. A civilian ship will spot an enclave and we send in a squad to clear it. They're not quite the bogeymen they used to be."
"What happened to Staff Lieutenant Alenko after the Normandy was destroyed?"
Anderson hesitated for a moment. "Staff Commander Alenko is still with the Alliance, but he's working on a special mission," he said finally. "It's classified. I can't say any more. Not while you're working with Cerberus. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," I said, ignoring the lump in my throat. Made sense—I'd have done the same in his shoes. Still hurt, though. (4)
The implications of Kaidan's promotion suddenly struck me—he was actually my superior now. Did that mean I had to salute him now? Weird.
"Hey, is there a spare room I could borrow for a while?" I asked on the spur of the moment.
Anderson looked at me blankly.
"I'd like to get out of this hardsuit and take a good look at it," I explained. "Maybe my omni-tool and weapons too, while I'm at it. Just to see that there aren't any bugs or spyware stuck inside."
Anderson smiled. "There aren't any, I'm afraid, but you can work here. I'm not expecting anyone for the rest of the day."
"Thanks," I nodded. I went over to a corner and took my hardsuit apart. You'd think I'd be embarrassed to strip in front of my former CO. Fact is, that happens all the time in the Alliance. Superior officers and subordinates, men and women. You get used to that sort of thing pretty quickly. Plus, it's not as if I was stark naked underneath.
I spent the next hour running every sort of visual check, test and diagnostic I could think of. Anderson lent me a whole suite of programs and subroutines to use, which added another ninety minutes. In the end, I came up with... nothing. That made sense—I'd been running a ton of subroutines ever since I got them, and I'd have noticed if there was anything extra lurking about. The lag time alone would have sent up red flags. Still, it was nice to get a confirmation.
I handed the programs back to Anderson. He took them, sifted through them for a minute, and then handed a couple back on an OSD. "These counter-surveillance programs were released to the civilian sector a few months ago."
"Because the Council and the various military organizations got updated versions," I guessed.
"Versions that are light-years ahead of the ones I'm giving you," Anderson confirmed. "These ones are still recent enough that Cerberus might not have developed countermeasures yet, but it won't cause us any problems if they do."
"Thanks," I said gratefully. "For everything." I paused for a moment before adding "I better go."
"Of course, Shepard," Anderson nodded. "I wish I could do more to help you, but if you ever want to talk, I'll be here. Just... do me a favour and be careful. You can't trust Cerberus."
You don't say.
I contacted Miranda when I left and met her, Jacob and Kasumi in Zakera Ward about half an hour later.
"I trust you had a productive meeting?" Miranda said.
"Kinda," I shrugged. "Got reinstated as a Spectre."
"Promising," Miranda nodded. "That sort of authority could come in handy."
"But the Council wants me to stay in the Terminus Systems," I dropped the other foot.
Jacob snorted. "Well that's useful."
"Better than nothing," I said.
"Besides, it's not as if they provided any more help when you were chasing after Saren," Miranda added.
"Unless you count the tip about Virmire," I said.
"True."
"So, what did you guys find out while I was stuck up on the Presidium?" I asked.
"We can do all our shopping right here," Kasumi replied. "Anything the other Wards have, Zakera Ward has too. And there are only four locations that have anything worth buying."
"Three," Jacob corrected.
"Four if Shepard wants model ships or fish," Miranda said. "That's over at Citadel Souvenirs. Meanwhile, there's Rodam Expeditions for weapon mods, Saronis Applications for tech upgrades and Sirta Foundation for medical-related hardsuit enhancements."
"They're all really expensive, though," Kasumi warned. "Haven't seen prices this high since Ilium."
"We can afford it. Let's go shopping," I said. Then I paused. "Never thought I'd say that."
Saronis Applications was our first stop, mainly because we were already outside it. A salarian was working behind the counter.
"Welcome to Saronis Applications," he started. "Can I interest you—ah! Shepard!"
"Do I know you?" I asked blankly.
"No, but I know you," the salarian said. "Even a senile hanar would remember the human who fought off the geth! I thought you were dead!"
"Yeah, I've been getting that a lot," I admitted.
"Please look around the store. It's a pleasure to have you here."
I obliged, scrolling through the kiosk. There were only two items worth buying. Both of which were quite expensive.
An inkling of an idea sparked to life inside my noggin. "You know... sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"I won't bore you with my full name," the salarian said. "Call me Marab. Everyone else does."
Thank goodness. Salarian names are amazingly long, what with their need to explain exactly where they came from. "Marab," I nodded. "I'd like to buy something."
"Oh, it's all automated these days." Marab pointed over to a kiosk on my right. "There's a catalogue interface over there."
"If everything's automated, why are you here?" I asked, scratching my head.
"Oh, you know. Customer service. Sweeping out the store." Marab grinned. "Carefully explaining things to the technologically illiterate. It's amazing how many people think light moves faster through expensive fibre-optic cables than it does through cheap ones."
I shook my head. Boy have I heard that one before. "Or they think their VI is an AI just because it responds to their questions."
Marab sighed. "It's a shame so few understand their own equipment. Besides the most obvious 'point and go' nav interfaces, anyway."
"You wouldn't believe how often I hear, 'Why's the ship turning around? We're only halfway there!'" I joked. (5) Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my companions roll their eyes in sympathy.
"Ha! Oh, I would," Marab laughed.
"You know, I use quite a lot of software in my line of work. And I like your products," I said. "Any interest in an endorsement from the human who defeated Saren?"
"I'd be thrilled!" Marab grinned for a moment. Then he frowned as something occurred to him. "But I don't think I could afford to pay you for it."
"Don't worry about it," I assured him. "What if we just work out a discount?"
"Absolutely!" Marab pulled up a program on his console. "Just speak into my console here."
I leaned down. "I'm Commander Shepard," I spoke clearly, "and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."
"That will be splendid," Marab said excitedly. "I can edit that and have it working right away. Thank you so much!"
I pretty much did the same thing for every other shop, getting discounts that I quickly used to buy equipment for cheaper prices. By the end, they were all cheerfully playing my advertisement over their speakers:
"I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."
"I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."
"I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."
"I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on the Citadel."
Yes, I sold out and went commercial. The things I do to save the galaxy.
Believe or not, I didn't have a bad time shopping. It's amazing how good it feels to go into a store and know you can actually afford to buy something, instead of feeling like some poor shmuck who doesn't deserve to step foot inside 'cause he doesn't have two credits to rub together.
The only downside came when I bumped into a certain reporter on Level 28.
"Khalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News," she greeted me, holding out a hand.
Rather than shake it, I just crossed my arms and stared at her.
She must have thought I'd forgotten her. "I interviewed you two years ago, when you first became a Spectre? You presented your case very well on camera."
"No thanks to your efforts to make me look like I was selling out humanity to the Council," I said. "You trying to do another smear job on me?"
"Now, Shepard—you may object to my methods, but we're on the same side," al-Jilani said.
Bullshit.
"You're back, you're news. I just want to give your story its due."
Right. Still, I let her start up her camera drone. If I could beat her once, I could do so again.
"Sources claim you were at the heart of the Presidium during the Battle of the Citadel. It's fair to say the course of the battle hinged on your words. If true, you told Admiral Hackett to assist the Destiny Ascension, costing hundreds of human lives and securing the continued dominance of the Citadel Council."
She hadn't changed a bit. This time, though, I didn't need to waste as much time before coming up with a way to shut her up. And make her look bad in the process. "The turians lost twenty cruisers," I said. "Figure each had a crew of around three hundred. The Ascension—the asari dreadnought we saved—had a crew of nearly ten thousand, in addition to the Citadel Council."
"But surely the human cost—" al-Jilani tried.
I interrupted before she could waste any more of my time. "The Alliance lost eight cruisers. Shenyang. Emden. Jakarta. Cairo. Seoul. Cape Town. Warsaw. Madrid. Almost two thousand four hundred brave men and women sacrificed their lives for the good of the Council and the Citadel races. And yes, I remember them all. Everyone in the 5th Fleet is a hero. The Alliance owes them all medals. The Council owes them all a lot more than that."
I gave her a disgusted look before concluding "And so do you."
As we walked away, I heard her conclude the interview: "Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, hero of the Battle of the Citadel." Then she started talking to someone. "Check vid. We get it? Great, bull-rushed on my own show."
Like I said, it wasn't all bad. While I was on that level, I bought a whole slew of weapons upgrades and a couple bottles of Serrice Ice brandy. I even had a chance to talk to one of the Presidium groundskeepers.
"Do you know if there are fish in the lakes on the Presidium?" I asked at one point.
"I get that question a lot," he laughed. "I think it's right behind 'Where's the restroom?' Those are reservoirs. The Presidium's own supply, independent from the water storage tanks in the Wards."
Of course. Snobs.
"The only place I know of on the station to get a live fish is Deleia Sanassi's gift shop, Citadel Souvenirs."
"Funny," I scratched my head. "I could have sworn I saw fish there two years ago."
He groaned. "Yeah, some animal rights activist dumped them in there. Major pain in the ass. I mean, we purify it so the glass of water you pour for yourself isn't the same stuff that tourists throw litter in. But we had to take extra precautions after that stunt to make sure no bacteria got left behind."
"Bacteria could be a problem," I noted mildly.
The groundskeeper snorted. "Tell me about it. For example, if some salarian or human bacteria got in, and a turian or quarian drinks it—"
"Ooh boy. Allergic reaction or instant death," I winced.
"Exactly," he said. "Everything would be so much simpler if we all had the same DNA. But noooo, the universe loves diversity."
I should probably explain why I went out of my way to ask that question. Remember, that pair of krogan I mentioned outside C-Sec, one of whom was dying for a fish? I figured I'd help them out before one of them went nuts.
"What do you want?" the hungry one snarled when I approached.
"Just wondering why you're so interested in fish from the Presidium," I shrugged.
A dreamy look spread over his face. "It's so decadent," he moaned. "Eating a fish from the Presidium would be like screwing Sha'ira."
Ah yes. Sha'ira the Consort. High-priced asari renowned for dispensing sage advice, offering wise insights and... 'relieving stress' for clients who didn't mind making reservations months in advance.
The krogan's friend made a face. "Ugh. Asari are so... squishy. Where are you supposed to get a decent grip?"
I never thought of it that way, but what do I know? To each their own and all that. "I talked to one of the Presidium groundskeepers. He said there aren't any fish in the lakes."
"What?" the hungry krogan asked in a stunned voice.
"I told you, Kargesh," the other krogan said, shoving him.
"But... Rukar..." Kargesh started before his shoulders sagged. "Why have all that water if you're not going to store something to eat in it?" he asked morosely. "I don't understand aliens at all."
"Thanks for telling him," Rukar said to me. "It's all he talked about all damn day."
As we walked away, we could hear the two of them discussing my revelation. "This is depressing," Kargesh said sadly.
"How about we find a turian and beat the crap out of him?" Rukar suggested. "That always makes you feel better."
Before I left, I dropped by Zakera Cafe. I picked up a few thriller novels by some author named Drew Karpyshyn and 500 credits worth of high-quality ingredients for Gardner.
While I was picking out the food, I caught a couple news clips. Destiny Ascension finishing some big tour. Relief ships mobilizing to help out Freedom's Progress, though there were questions as to whether there was anybody left to help. Oh, and another story about Mom.
Apparently she could've made admiral, but she turned it down to remain captain of the Orizaba. According to the news, she considered the offered promotion a 'political ploy,' and said she could best honour my legacy by captaining a starship.
That's my mom. Which reminded me—I should probably contact her at some point. Let her know I was back. Mind you, she'd probably go from 'Are you all right?' to 'Why didn't you call?' to 'So have you met anyone yet?' to 'Even with the genetic enhancements available today, I'm not getting any younger' within the first minute. Then again, if I didn't call, she'd go ballistic on my ass. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Anyways, that was the last stop we made before taking the shuttle back to the Normandy. Thank goodness—I'd spent almost 90% of my savings on these purchases, even with the discounts I'd managed finagle. I checked to see that all the purchases I made had arrived, and then headed down to Deck Three. There I stopped long enough to hand the ingredients over to a delighted Gardner, then headed over to sickbay.
"How may I help you, Commander?" Dr. Chakwas asked.
"I have a present for you, Doc" I replied, holding up a bottle.
"Serrice Ice brandy. You didn't," she said, getting to her feet.
I shrugged.
"Thank you."
"Any time," I smiled.
Dr. Chakwas looked at me thoughtfully. "I've always regretted not opening that original bottle—while I still could. I won't make the same mistake again. Why don't we open this bottle right here, right now? You and me?"
I shouldn't drink on duty but... screw it. "You crack open the bottle. I'll get the glasses."
"Bottom shelf in the cabinet on the far left," Chakwas told me. "In the box marked 'Personal Use Only.'
I mentioned earlier that I never spent that much time talking with Dr. Chakwas. Oh I saw her plenty of times while running around the old Normandy, chatting to see how she was doing, but I never really sat down and talked with her. Boy, did I miss a lot. She'd gathered a lot of stories about the crew before I was assigned to the Normandy, some from firsthand experience. Like this time where Jenkins, the overly-eager corporal who'd gotten himself killed on Eden Prime, had convinced Kaidan to demonstrate his biotics by levitating the table. After Kaidan had lifted the table up for a minute, Jenkins jumped on a chair and hopped from there onto the table, where he rode it like some oversized surfboard. Caught off guard, Kaidan could only keep the mass effect field stable for a couple seconds before the whole thing collapsed, sending Jenkins sprawling on the floor.
"I thought Alenko's biotic display might have broken Jenkins' back, but Jenkins pops up and yells, "That was awesome!" Chakwas demonstrated this by jumping to her feet and waving her hands around.
It was entirely possible that Chakwas had had a little too much to drink by that point.
"Ah, Jenkins," she smiled, sitting back down. "Soldiers like him make the Alliance great. Cerberus lacks the same... enthusiasm," she finished sadly.
I kinda felt like a cad for doing so while she was clearly loosened up, but I just had to ask again: "With your service record, you could have gotten a tour of duty on any Alliance ship. Why did you really leave?"
"Maybe it's less about leaving, and more about staying," Chakwas replied. "As a military doctor, I mostly treat people who are in bad shape. Often, they die. And if I can help them, they move on. Either way, they leave."
So, what? She was lonely? "Don't you have any friends or family?"
"No, not lacking friendship—just stability. Jeff... Joker will always have Vrolik syndrome. He would never admit it, but he needs my help. And he always will. I wish it weren't, but sadly, it's true."
Now I got it. "Treating Joker gives you a kind of stability."
"So does this ship," she smiled fondly, "even if it's a copy." She was swaying from side to side, even in her seat. She'd definitely had too much to drink. Wouldn't be long now before she passed out. Mind you, there are worse places to do so.
"Or, hell, maybe it's you," she continued with a laugh. "Shepard, our immovable centre. A place for a person to stop and catch her breath.
"Or maybe I'm just happily drunk," she said happily. "Would it hurt if it was simple like that for once?"
"To the simple things in life, and the people we care for," I toasted.
"May we never take them for granted," Chakwas smiled, clinking my glass.
Sure enough, Dr. Chakwas passed out shortly after. I left her on one of the beds and stumbled out. Yeah, that's right—stumbled. Normally I'm pretty good about holding my liquor, but that brandy was strong. I swear the deck was swaying back and forth, and my vision blurred when I started to move.
Still, it was good to let loose with an old colleague and friend. It was just starting to hit me that I'd been effectively exiled, and sentenced to spend the foreseeable future with a bunch of people who I'd have hunted down and arrested in my old life. After all that, I needed some time in familiar surroundings, if only to remind myself that I was still me.
Whatever that was.
(1): Officially designated X3M, these vehicles have a wide variety of informal and more colloquial names, including aircars and skycars. Shepard had some experience in driving such vehicles. In fact, he used that knowledge on one of his earliest missions, before the Battle of Elysium. The details of that mission are not relevant, however, and need not concern us at this time.
(2): Greyboxes were originally developed to help treat Alzheimer's disease. However, they were prone to causing severe brain damage—either from software errors or attempts to remove them for maintenance. In the end, researchers and spies were the only individuals willing to use them.
(3): No comment.
(4): I didn't like it any more than he did.
(5): A little known fact of space travel, starships typically point themselves towards their destination and engage their engines until the halfway mark. At that point, they flip themselves around so the thrusters face 'forward.' This allows for a safe, controlled deceleration while still allowing for as optimal a travel time as possible.