PART TWO: THE WORLD WILL END IN FIRE
"I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence." - Neil Gaiman, The Sandman
The outpost wasn't big enough to warrant its own habitation dome, so the small oval of thick glass that was Liara T'Soni's window looked directly out and into the red-swept terrain of Mars. Only two hundred kilometres to the north-east was Lowell City, the colony's capital, but the outpost's staff, including Liara, lived on-site and rarely left.
It was easier to control information that way, and the project here may be amongst the most vital in galactic history.
Her terminal dinged. She turned from the window. The room was tiny, barely big enough to fit her bed and the desk and she crossed it in a couple of strides. But, tiny or not, it was much needed privacy.
She disliked being so cut off from her network, given how little of her equipment she could bring with her, but it was necessary. She was no engineer or physicist but her expertise and unique grapes of the Prothean language had been useful for Project Crucible when translating Prothean theories from the late war period.
She sat and accepted the incoming call.
Her screen resolved into the image of Rear Admiral Anderson in a dark office, dressed in his dress uniform. He was frowning. He was often frowning these days. A bottle of dark human liquor was visible on his desk.
"Admiral," she said.
"Doctor T'Soni."
"I found him."
Anderson straightened at that, gaze sharpening in interest. "Who?"
"The deputy director of the AIA, Nathan Westley." A man who was, by all accounts, a patriot. A career spy who'd noticed Hackett's attempts to prepare for the Reapers, because redirecting anything as big as the Alliance was always going to spread ripples no matter how discrete you attempted to be.
"Damn," Anderson breathed out loudly. "You're sure?"
"Of course." Westley had seen Hackett as a threat to the Alliance's democracy and in his eagerness to defend it, he'd very nearly doomed them all.
Anderson was quiet for a moment. "I need to talk to Hackett about this."
Anderson had to be weighing it up in his mind. His anger at the man for attempting to kill the woman he considered his daughter versus his morals and concern about the implications of removing Westley, violently or otherwise. Deputy Director was a political appointment and he was well connected.
The equation was rather more simple to Liara. Shepard was dear to her, but more importantly she was potentially the key to surviving the storm to come.
"I can send the proof through encrypted channels."
"Thanks."
When she ended the call, she stared at her screen for a long moment before she sent a simple message along an encrypted channel to Feron on the Citadel. Feron, who was currently acting as her liaison to the Shadowbroker network, carrying out her orders and advising her of key developments.
Deputy Director Westley was a paranoid, well-protected man, but everyone had their weaknesses. In the way of all too many powerful men and women, Westley had gotten away with things his agents never would - in his case, an affair with a socialite. He would often tell his wife on Benning that he was on business trips when he was visiting his mistress, and in his need for discretion he'd left himself vulnerable.
Feron's acknowledgement came back and Liara let out a heavy breath before standing.
She needed some tea from the cafeteria.
The SSV Constant drifted sedately through the dark of space, bracketed by two destroyers, like pilot fish accompanying a shark.
Commander Rita McCormick made a slow, pacing circuit of the bridge, hands clasped behind her back - mostly so she wouldn't fidget. It was important to look calm and collected. Especially when she felt anything but. She had to look the part of the executive officer if she was ever going to get her own command again.
Not many officers' careers survived losing a ship.
She was lucky. She took pills to sleep at night, but she was lucky. Half of her crew had died when Sovereign had cut the Trenton in two and the stern section had been shredded by the drive core detonation. Seventy-five civilians had died when the bow portion slammed into a skyscraper on Tayseri Ward.
She was lucky.
She passed Captain Ling, sitting in the captain's chair. He was frowning down at a datapad, creases between his dark eyebrows. He'd been tense for days - Rita could tell after three years of working together, ever since the Constant had launched for her first space trials.
This should be a simple enough mission with the Constant and her two escorts patrolling near the Exodus Cluster's relay. Standard.
But this didn't feel like every other time before.
The brass were nervous and that anxiety was trickling down to the servicemen manning the Constant's bridge.
"Hey," Lieutenant Commander June O'Riordan said when she stopped by the tactical action officer's station. The ship's combat systems officer had transferred in eighteen months ago and they'd bonded quickly over the novelty of being on the same ship as another Irish officer. Their friendship had blossomed from that into spending most of their time off-duty together.
"Hey yourself," McCormick replied, "all good?"
"You'd be the first to know if it wasn't, Commander," June said with a small smile that quickly morphed into a concerned frown, blue eyes darting from her screen to Rita's face. "Have you heard the news?"
Rita grimaced. "It's all the media talks about at the moment."
Seeing her ex-wife on the HV wasn't exactly unusual but the context was surreal. Whoever the Navy prosecutors were making Shepard out to be, it wasn't the woman Rita knew. And she'd seen Shepard at her very worst.
"It's got to be hard on you," June said quietly, gaze sympathetic.
"I haven't spoken to her in years," Rita replied honestly. They'd faded to 'barely acquaintainces' before Shepard's...disappearance. Loving and being loved by Shepard had felt consuming, and then the anger had felt just as consuming when their marriage was falling to pieces around them. But now she barely remembered what it had felt like to be the person she'd been back then.
God, they'd screwed each other up.
"But still…"
"I'll be fine."
June didn't look convinced, but she didn't have time to say anything else.
"Captain," one of the servicemen called, "the Relay is registering traffic."
That was far from unusual, given the Exodus Cluster included two of the Alliance's largest colonies.
"Scan them once they come out," Ling replied and went back to his datapad.
Rita crossed her arms, watching June's screen - a tactical net of the space surrounding the Constant, collated from the ship's sensors and the CIC. The Bosworth Field and Borodino were two blinking blue icons either side of the battlecruiser. The Relay showed up like a miniature sun on the ship's eezo and heat sensors, clear against the cold of space.
When the first ships began to pop into normal space, Rita felt ice down her spine.
June's face went pale. "Sir! Reading batarian warships! A cruiser and three frigates - make that five!"
Ling's datapad fell to the ground, but the captain's voice was calm when he started giving orders. "Tactical! I want target solutions for their main thrusters and midships."
"Aye aye, sir!"
"X!"
Rita rushed to the captain's side.
"Keep some distance between us and them."
That would be difficult given how fast the batarian ships were barrelling towards them, but she simply acknowledged the order. "Helm, half ahead."
"Comms, tell EXCOMM we need reinforcements to hold the Relay," Ling called to the sailor manning the comm line.
"Firing solutions acquired, sir!" Commander O'Riordan called over.
"Tactical, lock target primary thrusters, main gun!"
"Target locked!"
Rita looked past Ling's shoulder at his tactical screen. Not at the menacing Rensa-class cruiser but at the smaller ships behind it. The heat readings of their thrusters just weren't right for a warship's thrusters.
She swallowed and spoke, well aware that if she was wrong she might be killing some of the crew of her ship, "Sir, those smaller ships - they're not warships. They're civilian passenger ships."
Ling blinked and then followed her gaze.
For a moment she thought he might order June to fire anyway but then he called for an open commline.
"Unknown vessels, this is Alliance warship Constant. You are infringing Alliance space. Heave to and state your intentions, or I will fire upon you."
Rita breathed out unsteadily. "Sir, they're slowing."
"Constant, this is Captain Eruz Mathat of the cruiser Krekkovan. I have under my protection close to a thousand civilians. We request asylum in the Systems Alliance. Over."
Commodore Hannah Shepard stared out of the Orizaba's port viewing deck and into the dark abyss of space. The black was broken up only by the distant, white-painted flank of the SSV Mumbai, one of the dreadnought's cruiser escorts. If she looked at the tacnet she knew she'd see the blue blinking icons of the entire Fifth Fleet arranged around its flagship.
And beyond that, the Third and Second Fleets. Three entire fleets, arrayed to protect Arcturus Station, and the Fifth Fleet was beyond the Relay in Earth's orbit.
A full half of the Alliance's combat strength in warships within one relay jump. Hell was coming, and soon.
Her duty was to be here, and Hannah knew it, but she hated it when every fibre of her wanted to be on Earth with her daughter. Emilia had said that it was fine, but she would. She'd never admit how difficult this whole charade had been for her.
Hannah sighed. A flash of blue crossed the window and quickly disappeared. A couple of her fighters on patrol around the dreadnought.
"Ma'am?"
She looked up to find her second officer and navigator standing in the doorway. Commander Duy Nguyen had his hands clasped behind his back. His uniform was crisp and perfectly to regulation. She'd likely lose him soon to a promotion to captain and a cruiser command.
"Yes?"
"The shuttle has arrived. I've put the midshipmen in Berthing E."
There was no point beating around the bush. "My son?"
"I pulled him aside and told him to report here once he'd put his seabag away."
"Thank you, Nav."
"Of course, ma'am," Nguyen said, like she hadn't done something easily labelled as nepotism. "I spoke to Major Chan. Given these kids were all trying to become Marines I thought he could take charge of them, give them something to do."
"Excellent idea."
Midshipman Nicholas Laurent-Shepard and his classmates had been on nearby Benning for one of the training exercises for Naval Academy midshipmen who wished to become Marine officers. Hackett had ordered all such exercises cancelled and officer trainees across the Alliance were to report to nearby installations or return to Arcturus Station.
War was coming, and the cadets and midshipmen would be needed as the replacements for the Marine officers who would inevitably fall.
But Hannah had pulled rank, thrown her weight around, made demands of the Fleet Admiral, until the shuttle with her son on it was redirected to the Orizaba.
"Where is your family, Nguyen?" She asked abruptly.
He paused, expression tightening. "My parents are still in Vietnam, ma'am. My wife is aboard the New York."
She nodded. "My husband is staying on Benning."
It was difficult to know where was safe, if anywhere was. She'd hoped that her daughter would be safe on Earth, but that relied on the fleets stopping the enemy here.
The selfish part of her wanted to gather them all - her husband, her son, her daughter - here on the Alliance's biggest ship with the thickest armour, where she could see and touch them.
She shook herself, gave the navigator a small, grim smile. "Thank you for your assistance, Nav."
Nguyen took it for the dismissal it was and was soon gone, leaving her alone in the observation deck.
It was a good twenty minutes later before the door opened again. Her son, nineteen and gangly in his Naval Academy uniform.
"Nicky," she breathed and crossed the room to hug him tightly. He was stiff for a moment before he hugged her back. He'd always been such a sweet child, affectionate and light-hearted.
"Mum?" He pulled back slightly. Both of their uniforms were now slightly askew. "What's going on?"
He was alarmed. She'd be the first to admit she'd not always been the warmest of mothers, and she knew she wasn't hiding her relief very well and it was unnerving him.
On top of being abruptly pulled off a training exercise.
"We're standing to," she said quietly, "I can't tell you more than that."
He frowned slightly but nodded. "Is Dad okay?"
"He's fine," she reassured.
"And…?"
"Emilia is okay," for a certain measure of okay. Nicky had been so angry at her when Hannah had told him that she was alive but unable to come home. He had no reference for the terrible burden his older sister was carrying.
"I heard on the news that some people think she'll be found guilty," he crossed his arms across his chest.
"It's possible," she admitted. Those they'd found who'd speak against her were far and few between, but they had the Relay data from the batarians that showed her ship transiting the Relay, they had the communications records that placed her on the asteroid. Ironically her attempt to save Aratoht's civilians may have been a nail in the coffin.
Nicholas said, just stepped forward to watch the slow blinking of the stars outside the Orizaba, the burn of her escort's thrusters. After a moment Hannah followed him to the window, resting a hand on his shoulder. When had he grown so tall?
Their moment of peace was interrupted by the intercom. "Commanding officer to the bridge."
Something in Hannah's chest clenched even as she turned on her heel with a hurried goodbye to her son and began to jog towards the elevator and her bridge.
Shepard settled into the dock and laced her fingers together in her lap. The court room was all too fucking familiar at this point, and it was packed as hell. There'd always been a contingent of reporters, but now half the journalists on Earth were here.
The chief prosecutor was sitting at the bar table. The verdict he had received could have been better, but the Commander was still looking down the barrel of life in a Navy prison. As he looked across to Shepard, however, he didn't look too pleased about that fact.
His side of the bar table was stacked high with datapads and Navy documents and, when he heard a voice behind him, he almost knocked a pile to the floor.
"It was a hell of a fight, Commander."
He turned, seeing Castillo in a clean, pressed, expensive suit.
"It was. Longest trial of my life."
"Ah well," the Spainard replied cheerily. "We'll see the Navy in the appellate jurisdiction yet."
Vogt gave him a nod. "I wouldn't expect any less."
And then Castillo crossed behind him, to the box that his client was seated in. "Commander Shepard," he said, eyeing the stoic Navy Master-at-Arms guard. "How are you feeling?"
She glanced over at him and gave a small, bitter smile. "Just fine."
No one had told her falling on her sword would be such a lengthy, drawn out process. Anderson and Vega were in the crowd. She'd expected her mother to be there - but she'd gotten an apologetic message. With the fleet standing to, the Orizaba needed its captain. Ashley wasn't there either - and Shepard wasn't sure whether to be relieved or upset by that.
She hated it all. Being here, waiting to hear her own fate. Being here, knowing something big was happening and being helpless to do anything about it.
Castillo did look somewhat downcast when he responded. "Just know we're not done today. We've already began drafting our appeal. Don't lose hope."
She nodded. "Alright. I'll try not to. Thanks."
He was being paid a lot of money to defend her, it was true, but no reason not to be polite.
Castillo nodded, wished her luck once more, and returned to his side of the table.
The associate, who had been sitting beneath the bench, stood, and walked through the side door to the judge's chambers. After a moment, he returned, but didn't sit back down.
"All stand!"
The courtroom obeyed and the Navy captain entered. He bowed to the throng before him and sat. Everyone followed suit.
Shepard kept her posture strictly military, jut as she'd tried to the whole of the trial. Though usually, the proceedings hadn't been filmed. They could take her rank, her medals, whatever else, but she knew who she was deep down. She'd walk out of here Alliance whatever anyone else thought.
"Mr Vogt."
"Your Honour." The prosecutor stood. "We return once again in the matter of Shepard. This honourable court heard days prior as to the extent of the Accused's crimes and the impact upon her victims. It also heard submissions in mitigation as to the Accused's circumstances. My learned friend and I would like to take the opportunity to go ahead and summarise the events to this point, if it pleases the court."
The Judge nodded, peering down from his seat. "Go ahead, Mr Vogt."
Shepard found her eyes settling on the man who'd convicted her of genocide and her mouth tightened. Intellectually she knew he'd just been doing his job - that no one here except herself and Anderson knew the real truth of what happened in the Bahak System, that she'd chosen to protect the Alliance by concealing that truth - but she couldn't help the prickle of anger in her gut.
"After an exhaustive trial, a jury of military personnel found the Accused guilty of one count of genocide, one count of aggravated dereliction of duty, and one count of conduct unbecoming. The elements were made out. It is the prosecution's submission that the conduct of the Accused was so egregious, so beyond the realm of normal offending, that we would be seeking a non-parole period far beyond any normal human - perhaps even asari - lifespan and thus one may not even be set at all."
Vogt paused, either to take a breath or for dramatic effect. His face took on a contemplative, perhaps mournful expression. "While the court heard submissions in detail on the previous occasion, I would like to remind the court that an actual genocide occured, the elements of which being that a whole race, an ethnic group of batarian non-combatants has been extinguished by the deliberate conduct of the Accused."
Ouch.
Did it make it better or worse that in reality, everyone on Aratoht had been collateral damage? She couldn't decide. She didn't know how to even wrap her head around it. She knew she'd done it but it felt unreal.
Anderson had told her that they were dead anyway - that inaction would have killed them just as surely as blowing the Relay had. Was that what this war was destined to be? A series of atrocities committed in the name of survival?
The camera drones clicked. Vogt carried on undeterred.
"Hundreds of thousands of lives. Gone." He shook his head in an exaggerated, somewhat theatric, though solemn manner. "There was a dereliction of duty in this professional Marine that undermines the values of the entire Systems Alliance Defence Force. For these reasons, I urge that Your Honour show no leniency. For any faith in these mechanisms to be preserved, Commander Shepard should never again feel the warmth of Sol."
Jokes on you, mate, I'm a Spacer.
She guessed now was when Castillo would try and give reasons as to why she shouldn't be tossed in the Benning military prison for the rest of her life - or at least until the Reapers showed up and the Council and/or Hackett went all 'break glass in case of emergency' on her ass.
As if on cue, Castillo stood and Vogt returned to his seat. "If it please the court and my friend has no objections, I would like the opportunity to do the same."
"Proceed, Mr Castillo."
"As the court has heard, there are a number of mitigating circumstances," Castillo began, before taking a long drink from the glass in front of him. Once he was done, he gently set it back down on the bar table and pushed his chair in. "Not the least of all that Commander Shepard was - quite literally - killed in the line of duty. Imagine, an SAMC officer dying in the course of her duties being charged with conduct unbecoming and dereliction of duty. This woman gave more than anyone for the SADF - Elysium, Akuze, Alchera. She is not a common criminal. She is a war hero."
It happened in a split second.
A man stood up in the crowd and pulled something out of his jacket. Shepard saw the glint of metal.
Fuck. In the split second before the trigger was pulled she tried to pull a barrier up around herself and the Master-At-Arms standing beside her. Nothing happened. The next moment the courtroom rang out with three gunshots.
The first bullet buried itself above her head in the wall. The second hit the Master-At-Arms in the arm. He dropped like a stone, grabbing his arm and screaming.
The third struck her directly in the chest. All the breath was driven out of her lungs like she'd been struck with a baseball bat. She dropped to her knees, gasping for air.
The air split with screams and commotion.
She took a split-second moment to thank Anderson for insisting she wear a vest under her uniform and then she pulled herself to her feet and jumped out of the dock. She glanced over at the shooter - Anderson and Vega had pinned him - and then focused on her unfortunate guard. Vogt had leapt across the bar table and hauled Castillo to the ground.
His face was pale and terrified. He'd probably never gotten shot at before. She dropped to her knees beside him and tried to put pressure on the wound. It was spurting bright red blood. Had to be an arterial injury.
The back of the courtroom was chaos - the mass of press and spectators trying to get out the doors and blocking the Masters-At-Arms who were trying to get in.
The judge peeked over the top of the bench. "Is everyone okay?"
"One sailor wounded, Your Honour."
The sailor was clawing at her arm as she clamped down. He had pale green eyes and she could see the whites of them. "I need to stop the bleeding," she glanced at his nametape, "Nichols. Work with me here."
She inserted the old tone of command into her voice and even in his animalistic fear, he responded, letting her do what she was doing. The sleeves of her white dress uniform were soaked with blood.
She was finding it hard to breathe. Cracked ribs at best, blunt force trauma at worst.
As the throng fought its way, voices rose above the commotion. "Medics! Let us through!"
The two medics, dressed in navy uniforms, managed to force their way through to her.
"We'll take it from here, Commander," the more senior of the medics said as his partner pulled out a tube of medigel.
She stepped back and leant against the wooden wall of the dock, pressing her hand to her ribs with a grimace. "I think it hit his brachial artery."
One of the medics said to the other, "Hemorrhage control, then let's transport."
The junior medic, a woman in her mid-twenties, looked up at Shepard. "Are you okay?"
"I got hit in the vest," she replied, "might have some cracked ribs."
The senior medic cocked his head. "I got this. Check her quickly."
The woman stood. "Remove your vest and I'll have a look."
Shepard pulled the Star of Terra from around her neck and took off her jacket first, then her bullet proof vest, leaving herself in her undershirt. When she pulled that up, her side was already bruising, opposite the red-raw stab scars.
She glanced up then, suddenly afraid a photo of her partially bare and very battered torso might end up in the news, but the MPs had forced the journalists back towards the entrance of the courtroom.
The medic did a quick assessment. Poking at the bruises and tender areas with two fingers. "Most likely cracked ribs. It'll hurt, but you should be fine. But you'll need to go to the hospital and get some scans to be sure - beyond my paygrade."
He handed her jacket back, then expanded the collapsible board to load Nichols onto.
Masters-at-Arms had finally arrived, taking over control of the shooter from Anderson and Vega and putting him into handcuffs.
Vogt looked over to them. "Masters-at-Arms, Commander Shepard needs a guard."
Shepard resisted the urge to roll her eyes and spoke to the ranking corpsman, "I can wait for the next crew or the MPs can drive me, guys. Nichols is worse off."
The senior medic nodded and then they put Nichols on a stretcher and rushed him off.
Captain Chakir stood, placing his hat back onto his head. "I think I have no choice but to adjourn this court to another date." With that, he walked through the door that led to his chambers, to the right of the bench. He emerged a few moments later in the body of the court, to talk to the Masters-At-Arms.
"You alright?" Shepard called to her lawyer, rubbing her side and wincing. She'd spent far too much time in hospitals recently.
The courtroom's air-conditioned air washed over her and after a moment she put on her uniform jacket, putting her Star of Terra back around her neck. The metal was cool under her fingertips. The jacket was rumpled but there was nothing she could do about it right now.
Castillo pulled himself up, waving Shepard off. "Yeah, fine, fine. Vogt dove on top of me," he looked at his adversary. "Thanks for that."
"No worries."
Adalberto approached where Shepard was standing. "This… has never happened to me before, so I'm not sure what the process is going to be, but you haven't been sentenced yet at least, so I'm not sure if you'll be taken to prison today." He turned around, taking in the scene: Masters-At-Arms, hauling the shooter away with Vega's help; the jury and the last of the reporters filtering out of the room.
"But given this," he gestured, "I doubt it."
She just nodded.
That was when Anderson, having handed the shooter off to the MPs, approached the two of them. His face was otherwise impassive, but she could see the concern in his eyes, in the way he looked her over for injury.
"Alright, Shepard?"
"Yessir."
He stepped a bit closer and asked quietly, uncaring that Castillo was close enough to hear him, "Think you can move and fight with those ribs?"
She frowned. "Sir?"
"It's a yes or no question, Commander."
She wouldn't be a commander for much longer. If the sentencing happened without someone trying to kill her. "If I have to."
What was her old mentor getting at?
The lawyer's eyes widened in concern and he took a step forward. "Fight? Fight who?"
Anderson's expression was grim and he lowered his voice so the two of them had to strain to hear, "I just got a message from Hackett. A bunch of batarian ships just jumped into the Exodus Cluster - asking for asylum. The comm buoys in batarian space have gone dark."
"It's them," Shepard said, numbly. She'd wanted to be wrong. She would have chosen life in prison over what was coming. She could close her eyes and see Benning burning, see Ash's eyes turned husk-blue. None of it had ever happened but it felt as real as the past six months. Realer than her life before Eden Prime and the beacon.
"Maybe."
"You know it's them," she said, slashing an angry hand through the air, "and we're not fucking ready."
Castillo's jaw opened and he stopped breathing for a moment. "Now? So soon? I thought we had more time!"
Another lawyer approached. Vogt. "What's all this about?" He asked, the suspicion written plain on his face.
Anderson glanced at him and said, quite dismissively, "It doesn't concern you, Commander."
Vogt's eyes narrowed. "Yes, sir." He glanced at Shepard. "Just remember your conditions, Ms Shepard. You're not going anywhere."
Castillo whirled on him. "Do not speak to my client again, Commander. And, last I checked, she hasn't been stripped of her commission, so the proper form of address is still Commander." He jabbed an angry finger at the prosecutor. "Now fuck off."
Vogt looked like he'd been slapped. Castillo rarely swore - and he'd never once addressed anyone in that manner for the whole trial.
Shepard studied Castillo for a moment. He'd always been in control, the entire time she'd known him. But he was part of the nightmare-inducing club of knowing what was coming for them. It frightened her, and she'd known for years - and she was a soldier. It must be pretty fucking terrifying for him.
Anderson seemed to weigh something up, glancing at his omnitool messages. "We don't have time to do this gracefully." He didn't seem concerned that Vogt might hear him now. "The Fourth Fleet is moving into defensive positions."
Shit. The Fourth Fleet had been moved into Sol to protect the homeworld - despite the suspicions of the media and the various planetary governments who'd been kept in the dark about the real threat. If they couldn't hold Sol…
"I need to talk to Chakir," Anderson said, jaw firming. He'd assured her there was an exit plan in place for her when the Reapers showed up. She guessed she was about to see it.
His face now red, Vogt's expression shifted from shock to confusion. "I'll… get him for you, sir."
Vogt left, but returned less than a minute later with the judge.
"Good morning, Admiral," Chakir said. "I'm sorry about the mess. What did you need?"
"I understand, your honour," Anderson glanced over at her and then back at Chakir, "I need you to read this for me and acknowledge it."
He fished a datapad out of his briefcase and handed it over.
Chakir took it, tapping the power and reading. He paused after a moment and remarked aloud, "By the Office of the President of the Systems Alliance..."
The colour drained from Vogt's face. "Is that..?"
"Quiet please," Chakir cut him off. His lips moved silently as his eyes tracked left to right across the datapad. Once he was done, he handed the datapad to Vogt and looked over to Anderson. "I'm not sure exactly how this happened, but very well. The pardon appears to be in order."
"Pardon?" Castillo stepped over to Vogt and looked at the datapad over his shoulder, both reading together.
"As both lawyers are here, I call this military tribunal to order, at Seattle-Vancouver, Captain Chakir, Deputy-Judge-Advocate-General presiding. I make two orders this day: the home detention bail agreement of Commander Emilia Shepard and any conditions therein is hereby discharged; Commander Emilia Shepard is forthwith released from custody without condition. Any matters to be raised, counsel?"
Both of the lawyers were gobsmacked and shared a look. "No, Your Honour…"
"Good. My associate will engross the orders and provide them to counsel. This court is adjourned." Captain Chakir looked across to Shepard. "You are a free woman - and still a member of the Navy, Commander."
Vogt looked utterly defeated as he handed the datapad back to Anderson. "But, the conviction…"
Pardoned. Huh. It wasn't quite joy she was feeling - relief maybe, bemusement at how quickly it'd just been done.
Anderson handed her the datapad. "Better hold onto this, Commander. In case anyone thinks you've escaped or something."
"Aye sir." She looked down at it in her hands and wondered that a simple document could free her from the purgatory of the past six months.
"The Normandy should be close to flight ready...and a ship needs her captain."
She couldn't help the smile that leapt to her lips at that. She'd missed the Normandy. Her ship, her command, her home. Her friend, considering EDI.
"Well, congratulations, Commander," Castillo said, though hastily. "But I suggest that we get going."
"Where?" Vogt asked.
"The drydock-" Anderson began but then the entire building shuddered and shook. The lights flickered. Shepard dropped her hand to her side out of habit, but she was still unarmed.
The door to the courtroom opened and Vega, who'd gone out to help the MPs, came sprinting back in, pistol in hand. He skidded to a stop in front of Anderson, breathing hard.
"Report, Sergeant," Anderson ordered.
"Looked outside, sir," he gasped for air, "and I thought I saw-"
"Saw what?" the Admiral snapped.
"Husks, sir. On the street."
Anderson shook his head, as if in disbelief, "They can't have gotten past Hackett already."
Shepard's insides froze. Her mother, her brother -
She forced herself to speak through numb lips, "Like they couldn't get past the Citadel Fleet back in 2183, sir?"
Anderson looked at her and then pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "Fuck."
Anderson, who very rarely swore.
"Husks? Geth, here? Impossible." Vogt said dismissively.
"It's not geth," Castillo said flatly. "We need to leave before we're trapped."
"The Normandy can get us out," Shepard said, with certainty.
Anderson smiled. The SR-2 wasn't his love like the SR-1 had been both of theirs, but he clearly understood why she loved the ship so much. "That she can. I suggest we double time it over there. I'd suggest you three join us," he said, looking at the two lawyers and the judge.
"Definitely," Castillo said.
"What's the quickest way to the street?" Vogt asked the Captain. Vega, standing near Shepard, pulled his secondary - a slim pistol - out of his ankle holster and handed it to Shepard. She nodded gratefully to him.
"There's a staff entrance," Chakir replied, "Past the Judge's chambers and into the secretary pool. I can show you the way."
"Sir," Shepard said.
He frowned at her. "Yes, Commander?"
"Any chance of getting this bloody inhibitor off?"
"Can't it wait?"
Anderson had never treated her like she was a freak or a ticking time bomb, but he wasn't a biotic. He didn't understand how debilitating it was to lose an entire sense - how used she was to fighting as a biotic.
"Well," she said sardonically, "I thought my biotics might come in handy if we run into any husks. Sir."
"I can remove it," Chakir offered. He accessed his omnitool, tapping into an app and entering a few keys. In a few seconds, the software connected and the inhibitor clicked free. "There. I don't have an amp though."
Shepard reached back and practically ripped the inhibitor out of her amp port, tossing the chip onto the ground. Then she shivered as her nerves woke up', like an intense version of the 'bugs' she sometimes got when installed a new amp. She couldn't help it - she flared, blue light shimmering across her skin for the first time in six months.
"Thank you, your honour," she said, letting the corona fade, "I can't do anything too fancy without an amp, but if we really need it, I can probably still pull something off."
Thanks to Miranda. It'd hurt, but if it was between dying and giving herself a nose bleed or even a seizure, she'd choose the latter.
"Let's get moving," Anderson said urgently, "Vega, take point."
They fell in besides Vega, with Chakir directing them through the doors to the rear of the courtroom and then down a flight of stairs.
The world outside was loud, with a cacophony of various noises - screams, car horns, and sporadic gunfire.
Vogt broke the silence by quietly asking, "What in the world is going on?"
"The end of it," Shepard said quietly, "The Reapers have come." She could smell smoke. She wasn't an Earther - she'd never felt a strong connection to the place, but it was the cradle of humanity. The Reapers would wipe the slate of their accomplishments clean.
How many people were already dying? She clenched her fists by her sides. She'd killed three hundred thousand people to buy them six months and it hadn't nearly been enough.
"Reapers? Reapers? They're a hoax!"
"They're real," Shepard said flatly, "and they're here." She wasn't sure where the bitterness came from, but it felt choking. What was it? Fifty thousand lives to buy one month? What a fucking deal.
"Exit is that way, sergeant," Chakir said, pointing down a narrow hallway. "And then we'll be on the street."
"Williams is already at the ship," Anderson reported, looking at his omnitool.
"How far is it?" Castillo asked, the fear evident in his tone.
"Two klicks."
When they emerged out onto the street, Shepard could see smoke curling above the nearest skyscraper. The streets were thick with panicked people trying to get away from - something.
The something became apparent when husks boiled out of the nearest alleyway, with gnashing teeth and grasping hands. The air was rent with otherworldly howls. One leapt onto the back of a suited civilian, bearing the man to the ground. His screams were cut off by horrible crunching noises.
"Contact!" Vega shouted and squeezed off two shots. Shepard raised the borrowed pistol - but they were fast. Husks were always fast.
One charged her and she squeezed the trigger, putting a hole the size of her fist in its torso. It kept coming. She fired again, this time into its face, and it tumbled to the ground. "Castillo! Get behind me!"
Castilo obliged, diving sideways, and then crawling back to keep Emilia between him and the husks.
Vogt stood awkwardly to the side, with no weapon and another husk appeared from the alley beside him. He backed away, throwing a sharp jab, but the creature was unphased as it easily chased him and forced him to the ground. "Kill it!" He shouted, loud as he could as the husk raised its hands.
Shepard grabbed the husk by the shoulder, shuddering at the texture of desiccated flesh and skin under her bare fingers, and ripped it off with a grunt of effort. It fell onto its side and before it got up, she put a bullet in its brain. Or whatever it still had up there.
There was no time to check on the JAG - another jumped at her and she dodged its first swipe but its claw-like hand caught in the ribbon of her Star of Terra - pulled it tight.
For a moment she choked against the pressure across her throat - strangled by her own medal, wouldn't that be a way to go - but then the clasp broke and she got her pistol up and put the last of the heatsink's shots into it.
The street was silent for a moment except for the stragglers of the panicking crowd. Shepard breathed in deep, lungs burning, and leant down to pick up the medal, stuffing it into a pocket.
"Vega, need a heatsink," she said matter-of-factly.
He tossed her one and she slotted it in, catching the painfully warm one that ejected and shoving it into her uniform pocket with a grimace. One of those times where they might run out of sinks.
Castillo helped Vogt to his feet. "Are you okay?"
Vogt leaned heavily into the other lawyer, gasping for air. "Fine. Shaken… But fine." He looked across at Shepard. "Thank you," he said. "You saved me." He looked away quickly.
She shrugged. "You're welcome."
"If you can still walk, Commander, we can't linger," Chakir said.
"I'm not injured - let's go."
They followed Vega down the street, Shepard off his shoulder.
"The drydock facility is on the other side of the….the park…" Vega trailed off as they came to the edge of the nearby park, where the skyscrapers split apart for a kilometre.
A moment later, Shepard saw what the other Marine had seen. .
A Reaper hung above Vancouver, black as the night, dwarving the Alliance fighters that were flickering around it. Like flies annoying a lion.
Everyone was silent, necks craned to stare up.
"Sweet Jesus…" That was Vogt.
Castillo's mouth was wide open and his expression was frozen in pure horror. Chakir simply stood dumbly, head turned up and eyes fixed.
'What the hell are we supposed to do against that?"
"We need to get to the Normandy," Sheaprd said, close to emotionlessly. She remembered Harbinger's voice echoing in her head as the asteroid hurtled towards the Relay. You are dust struggling against cosmic winds.
The air shook with the Reaper's voice, the screaming of horns. She gritted her teeth against it. A slash of red split the air, cutting two of the fighters in half. The flaming wreckage fell to earth.
Ahead of her, blue flashed around Vega as his clip-on barrier deflected a shot. She snapped her pistol up in the direction the fire had come from.
Something staggered out from behind the corner. It had been batarian once, but now its face and features were bulbous and melted together. A cannon was melded with its arm. Beside it were two batarians - just batarians, in dark, SIU armour and armed.
"Run!" she shouted, firing at the twisted once-batarian. Three rifles fired back, filling the air with the snap of bullets.
Vogt didn't have to be told twice - he broke into a sprint, tugging Castillo along with him. Anderson followed them. Chakir was too shocked to move. In his hesitation, his chest caught a burst, and his shoulder a second. Without armour, a barrier, or a shield, he was dead on the spot.
"Fuck!" Shepard shouted in frustration. Beside her Vega fired at it as well and it fell - but there were more coming, attracted by the gunfire.
"I'll cover you!" Vega shouted, "Go!"
Goddamnit. She gathered herself and dashed across the open stretch of road and tossed herself behind the nearest bit of cover - the park sign. She fired blindly in the direction of the batarian husk-thing and its companions. "Set!"
The old processes were coming back, like riding a bike again.
Vega didn't wait, barrelling across the road as she did her best to cover him. Once he was off the street, she grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him along with her, running to catch up with the three men ahead of them.
As they neared the end of the street, they stopped, Castillo doubling over to catch his breath. "Haven't run like that… in years…" He muttered.
Vogt asked, "If we can hail the Normandy, could they get a shuttle to us?"
Shepard considered. "Yeah...The clearing over there should be big enough for a Kodiak, if it's got a good pilot."
"Esteban can do it," Vega said confidently.
Shepard blinked at him. "Who?"
"Lieutenant Cortez," he shrugged, "he's the flight deck officer assigned to the retrofits. Used to be a fighter jock. He can do it, easy."
Anderson tapped his comm implant, "Williams? Williams, it's Anderson. You're at the Normandy? Good. Sending you a nav point - we need a shuttle extract from our location. Yes, Shepard is with me."
Something in Shepard's chest unclenched. If Ash was aboard the Normandy, she was as close to safe as anyone on Earth could be right now.
Anderson ended the call. "Lieutenant Williams is organising a shuttle. I suggest we keep our heads down until the Kodiak can pick us up."
"Yessir," Vogt said. "Is there a spare weapon? If I have a weapon, I could protect Adalberto and Captain-" he paused, blinked, and looked around. "Where's Captain Chakir?"
"Dead," Shepard said flatly.
Vogt's face fell, and he looked back the way they had come. It seemed for a moment that he was considering going back, but he made no effort to leave.
"We should get off this road and hunker down," Castillo suggested helpfully.
Hiding amongst the trees of a park wasn't exactly the start to the war Staff Sergeant James Vega had expected. He crouched behind a stump, pistol held between his sweaty palms. Beside him was one of the lawyers - Commander Vogt. Anderson had given the JAG his spare.
Carrying two pistols had come in handy after all.
Above them the Reaper was making that awful noise, the sky burning with the red fire of its beam weapons. In the distance he could hear the rumble of a building collapsing. For a moment, when he blinked, he could see the scene transposed onto the more familiar skyline of San Diego.
He shook himself. He had to get Shepard out, those were his orders. Stick to Shepard like her shadow, Anderson had said. Then he could start the real fight. He just hoped his uncle, even his dad, had made it out. He'd only been able to send a quick message.
"Hope you're a good shot," he remarked.
The lawyer shrugged. "Good enough," he replied. "I passed my quals. Never fired a round in combat though." After a few seconds of silence, he added, almost absentmindedly. "I never thought any of this was real. I keep hoping someone will wake me up from this nightmare. The smell…"
"Yeah," Vega said, swallowing, "Just knowin' they're all over San Diego...fuck."
"San Diego…" Vogt repeated, finally peeling his eyes away from the horror in front of him. "Your hometown?"
"Yeah. I was so glad to leave but now…" he shook his head.
"You want to be fighting on your own streets," Vogt finished the thought. "I get it…"
After a moment's hesitation, he said, "I'm from Adelaide. Australia. Love that place dearly, but I used to call it a prison. It's why I joined the Navy - see the stars, do something good and, when I'm ready, I'll go home on my own terms." Not anymore.
"I guess, now, we just make sure we live to see San Diego and Adelaide again."
He nodded. "Exactly."
Vega looked up at the familiar sound of a Kodiak's thrusters. It came in hard and low, fast enough he wondered for a split second if it'd pull up in time. But he shouldn't have doubted Esteban - it came down gently in the open grass of the park, the blue glow of its thrusters scorching the ground beneath it. It didn't fully land - clearly Steve wanted out of here as soon as his passengers were on board.
The side door folded upwards, framing an armoured Lieutenant Williams. "Taxi's here, sir!"
"Thank God!" Castillo jumped to his feet and raced over to the door. Vogt pursued, sticking closely behind.
Anderson followed them, nodding to the lieutenant. She reached down and held out a hand to Castillo. It was quite the step up.
Castillo took it gratefully. He was on the heavier side so Vogt helped to push him up. When Castillo was safely on board, he also held his hand up and Williams hauled him aboard, followed by Anderson.
There was a split-second of hesitation when Shepard stepped up, but then she too took William's armoured hand and was helped up.
Vega was last. As soon as he was onboard he stuck his head through the cockpit door. "Look at you, Esteban! Playin' the fuckin' cavalry!"
Cortez hit the thrusters hard, and Vega had to grab the sides of the doorway to stay upright. Then, he tossed a quick grin over his shoulder. "You know me, Vega, love saving the day. Glad you're in one piece."
"You too, amigo, you too."
He stepped back to let Cortez focus on flying. Seeing that his best friend was alive was just - pure relief.
"Everyone okay?" he called. "Shuttle's got medigel somewhere if anyone needs it."
Castillo was strapped into a seat, head held back and eyes closed. "I'm fine," he said. "Just tired. Didn't expect the exercise."
Vogt checked himself over. "Couple of small cuts from where the fuckin' thing grabbed me. But nothing major." He pointed at Shepard. "She got shot though. Before any of this happened."
"What?" Williams asked sharply, looking over at Shepard, eyes narrowing.
"Hurts but I'll live," Shepard said, not quite looking at the other woman. They'd put themselves in opposite ends of the shuttle.
Awkward.
"You got shot?"
Shepard rubbed the back of her neck. It was almost kinda funny, seeing someone who always seemed so put together and sharp-edged be so off-balance. "I was wearing a vest. It's fine."
Vogt wisely closed his mouth and took great interest in his ripped uniform jacket. Castillo opened one eye to see the two women. "She was checked by medics already. But if the ship has the facilities, they suggested she get checked out for internal damage. Otherwise, she survived a stabbing six weeks ago. I'm sure she'll be fine."
Williams opened her mouth and then closed it, scowling. Vega decided that Lieutenant Williams, no matter how hot she was, scared the crap out of him.
"ETA on take off, LT?" Anderson asked.
"Joker said twenty minutes five minutes ago, sir. Cortez really booked it here."
"Good."
"I don't know how long the port defences will hold. They were pretty heavily engaged when we took off."
Anderson just nodded.
The hum of the shuttle's thrusters changed pitch, throwing Vega forward in his seat as the shuttle descended.
"Are there any Marines on the Normandy?" Shepard asked.
"Just a handful," Williams responded, "the ship's not even supposed to be out of drydock for another couple of weeks, so we're running a skeleton crew."
"Shit."
Cortez pulled the shuttle into a tight turn and they entered the Normandy through the flight deck. As soon as the thrusters died and the door opened, Shepard's lawyer jumped out, looking much more comfortable now that he was somewhere safe. Or as close to safe as it got.
Anderson brought up his omnitool and tapped something.
The ship's VI spoke, "Change of command accepted. Commander Emilia Shepard has command."
"Armoury's just over there," Williams said, pointing to the back of the crowded shuttle bay. There were a couple of Marines in armour at the bottom of the Normandy's ramp, and the lieutenant jogged over to join them. The Normandy was in some kind of hangar, the deck humming under Vega's feet.
Vega followed Shepard towards the bench and the handful of assault rifles lying there. As he picked one up, Shepard tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling and smiled.
"Hey EDI, miss me?"
"Of course, Shepard. Jeff says hi." The voice of the ship's VI emanated from the ceiling speakers.
"I'll be up once we're in the air. ETA?"
"Five minutes to finish reactor start up procedures."
Vega blinked. That was one talkative and expressive VI.
Vogt was clearly thinking the same thing. "Your VI's not standard Alliance," he remarked as he collected a rifle. "The Tobruk's was much more boring."
Shepard smirked, as if there was some joke the rest of them weren't in on. "Yep."
She took off her omnitool, tossing it aside almost carelessly and pulled on one of the standard combat spec ones stored in the armoury. Then she found the amp Anderson had had stored here for her. She whistled as she picked the box up, rubbing a thumb across the Serrice Council branding on the side before slotting the amp into the back of her neck.
Vega had always found it kinda crazy that such a tiny thing could help a biotic have telekinetic powers.
She looked over at Anderson, "What's the plan once we're up?"
"Hackett wants you to head to the archives on Mars," Anderson replied, "Uploading the OPORD to your omni now. I won't be coming with you."
"What?" Shepard and Vega chorused in unison.
"Mars?" Castillo, sitting on the floor next to the armoury, asked. "Aren't we going somewhere safe? Like Arcturus?"
Vogt also cut in, "Sir, you can't stay on Earth - it's too dangerous! You're a flag officer."
Anderson raised a hand, cutting them all off. "I'm needed here. The Alliance troops on Earth need a leader. We can't fight them conventionally, but we can resist."
"Then I'm staying with you," Shepard crossed her arms.
"Me too," Vega added.
He shook his head. "Shepard, we need you out there, talking to the Council-"
Shepard scoffed angrily. "Like they ever listened to me-"
"Then make them listen!" Anderson's voice rose, echoing through the shuttle bay. Then his expression softened. "We need you out there, Emilia."
Shepard sighed. "I don't like it...but alright. At least take Vega with you."
"No, I need him to watch your back."
What? He was supposed to leave Earth? Hell no. "Sir-"
"I don't need a babysitter," Shepard objected.
"Last time I checked the Alliance military wasn't a democracy," Anderson said sharply, "You have your orders, both of you."
Vega felt himself slump in defeat.
"Well… Where will you go, sir?" Vogt looked over to Shepard. "We need to make sure he makes it somewhere safe."
"The defences of the drydock facility haven't fallen yet," Anderson replied, "Once you're airborne I'm going to try and get as many of the troops here out alive."
"Reactor start-up complete," the ship VI - EDI? - announced.
"Get going," Anderson ordered and then turned and jogged down the ramp, stopping to say something to Williams. And then he was gone.
Vega stared dejectedly after him.
"I'm going to the bridge," Shepard said roughly, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. "Castillo...maybe head up to Deck Three. Most of the amenities are there."
Castillo struggled to push himself off the floor, clearly exhausted from the running and fear. Vogt helped him up. "Okay…"
Not like a civilian lawyer would be any good to them right now.
"I'll take him there, Commander," Vogt offered, letting Castillo lean into him. "And I'm bridge qualified, if it helps."
Shepard nodded. "Meet me on the bridge - Deck Two - once you've got him settled. Vega…" She shrugged. "Just do what Williams tells you."
"Aye aye, ma'am," he said dryly.
She turned and went for the elevator as the Normandy began to rumble. The ramp started coming up with the whine of machinery.
And James Vega stood in the middle of the flight deck, holding his rifle and feeling useless as his homeworld burned.