PART THREE: THE SUMMIT
"Take diplomacy out of war and the thing would fall flat in a week."
-Will Rogers
Part of Shepard had hoped that when the Reapers came, people would finally start working together, put aside old grudges in the name of everyone not dying horribly. But she knew, as the hologram of the asari Councillor winked out, she'd been wrong. Fear had just made all too many stupid and selfish.
She turned on her heel and headed for her cabin, deep in thought. The turians were the real 'prize' as far as the Alliance was concerned and Hackett's orders had been clear - do whatever it took to get this alliance across the line - but the asari pulling out just made them even more dependent on getting turian support. She'd read the reports. They needed logistical support and soon, or the rest of Alliance space would follow Earth with barely a fight.
"EDI, can you please send up Commander Vogt and Mr Castillo?" Shepard asked as she stepped through the door of her cabin, running a hand through her hair. She hadn't had a chance to really even talk to Castillo since the two lawyers had come back aboard, but now seemed the best time.
She just needed a moment to get over the urge to hit her head against the wall courtesy of her conversation with Councillor Tevos. How were the asari being even less reasonable than the salarians over this?
"Of course, Captain."
The two lawyers didn't take long to arrive. Their office was a cramped wardroom, and the look on Castillo's face was one of relief to be out of the tiny compartment. Vogt didn't look too bothered - just tired.
The pair of them wore utility uniforms, with Castillo's nametape crooked and hastily stitched on. Despite it all, Castillo was cheery.
"Morning, Captain."
"Morning ma'am," Vogt echoed, a little stiffly. It was still uncomfortable.
"Good to see you both," she said politely and not entirely sincerely, "I'm sorry I couldn't meet you when you came aboard, Castillo." That she did mean.
"Not at all, not at all." Castillo waved his hand in front of his face. "You're busy, I understand."
"I've been showing him around. Familiarising him with the ship. How things are done in the Navy."
"Yes, and Commander Vogt's been keeping me busy." Castillo was quite enthusiastic. He'd never been one to shy away from hard work if his career was any indication, but the Navy was new to him.
"Apologies for the lack of space. Frigates are pretty cramped. Take a seat, please."
She'd set up her desk so she could at least use her cabin as an office. It still felt like a ridiculous extravagance.
They both did, finding a chair opposite Shepard. "It's not what I'm used to," Castillo agreed. "But a lot of that pomp is unnecessary anyway."
"My office didn't even have a window, on Arcturus. More headroom though." With the joke, Vogt smiled. At least he was making an effort.
She tapped her fingers against the desk. "I'm afraid I have to start with bad news. The asari have pulled out of the summit."
Vogt sighed. "For fuck's sake."
"I'm not at all surprised," the Spainard said. "They've always been self-interested and, at this stage, they feel they're not involved in the conflict."
"The commandos are going to be no match for a sustained Reaper assault. An inevitable sustained Reaper assault."
Castillo shrugged. "Probably. But that's not our problem. The way I see it, we have two options. We can either try and find a way to get them back in, or we can spend our energy on the turians and salarians."
"Tevos is stubborn - and afraid. I leaned on her as hard as I could but she didn't budge. The turians are in if we can get the krogan onboard, and Wrex…he'll be reasonable, he's just gonna posture a bit first. It's the salarians I'm most concerned about."
The Republics would hide in their own space until the Reapers came for them, and then no one would be able to come to their aid.
"Their usual tactics won't work on an enemy like this." Vogt stroked his chin, rubbing his fingers against the stubble. "They're going to be uncomfortable."
"And they hate the krogan more than the krogan hate the turians. I'm… not confident that we'll be able to get their support."
"Then we need leverage," Shepard said grimly, "because what Wrex wants - the salarians have the best chance of giving."
Castillo seemed to understand, but Vogt had a puzzled look. "What does Wrex want?"
"He wants a cure for the genophage. Always has."
Vogt was silent for a moment. "In the middle of a war? Is he insane? If that's even on the table, the salarians won't give us anything." He sucked air through his teeth. "Besides. A cure could be decades away."
"It's not," she said, carefully. "There was a salarian who came very close to a cure last year. I didn't tell Wrex but I believe he knows."
Before Mordin had splattered his brains against a wall. But the data survived.
Silence again fell. After a few long moments, Castillo spoke. "Okay," he said slowly. "So we can get the krogan on board with a potential cure with the help of the salarians. The turian will follow if we get the krogan. What do we have that the salarians need?"
"Not ships."
"Their military is fragile," Shepard offered, "they're not designed for peer-to-peer combat. They need our or turian troops. But leveraging that means…well, threatening to just let them get killed by the Reapers."
"Do we have any idea what Hackett and Victus could spare?"
"Right now? Not much. But, we're not trying to defend the Local Cluster so that frees up several fleets at this point. What the turians can spare will hinge on getting the krogan onboard."
Vogt nodded. "Well… We have a sensible plan of attack, then. Maybe we should simply consider a back-up for the krogan. Would they go for anything that's not a cure?"
"Getting rid of the DMZ, ships, planets? If we want them to be an effective fighting force, military advisors might be a good idea anyway." The krogan were tough, but in war, disciplined militaries with functioning logistics systems won the day.
"I worry about providing planets, given their… history," Vogt opined. "But it's your call ma'am. And Victus'."
"Do you two have any suggestions for me?"
"The turians are our closest allies." Castillo held his hands close together. "My suggestion would be to get them on the same page before we sit down with the salarians and the krogan. We know what they want and vice versa. The fewer unknowns we have in that room, the better."
Vogt nodded sagely. "A united front. Even if the salarians don't know it."
"Victus is - sympathetic, and he's a general. He sees the writing on the wall. I'll talk with him."
"Good idea. Well, if there's nothing else, Castillo and I will start working on a detailed proposal for the krogan and the salarians. I'll… keep the potential cure in mind."
"Thanks. Here's hoping the dalatrass will see sense." She leaned back in her chair, scratching her cheek and wincing when she caught one of the scars.
Castillo chuckled. "Stranger things have happened."
"I still can't believe we're on the Normandy," Lance Corporal Bai Liao enthused, lying back on her 'bunk' which was really just a stretcher. Liao was twenty-two and beautiful, with a dozen admirers throughout Alpha Company, all of whom she had absolutely no interest in.
Sergeant Rāhera Hohepa hid her smile, looking down at the wood she was slowly whittling into a horse for her daughter. Kaewa loved horses, to the point she'd had taken to running around and neighing like she was a horse, while she and Nikau tried not to laugh.
She was going to see them again and when she did, she'd give Kaewa this.
"So," the burly Corporal Schaper said in his accented burr. "This is the yacht."
Schaper was built like a truck, with a jawline to break rocks on, and until they'd arrived on the Normandy, he'd been acting squad leader while Hohepa was acting platoon sergeant.
The Normandy certainly was cramped aside from the civilian comforts of unusually large viewports and large captain's cabin, with the Marines more or less camping out on the aft cargo bay. It was still more comfortable than being in the field. They even got hot food.
"Come on," Liao complained.
Her best friend, Corporal Li, whose similar name had caused Hohepa no small amount of paperwork issues, rolled her eyes.
A pair of Marines sat cross legged next to their racks, a deck of cards split between the floor and their hands. One of them, a black twenty-year-old from the eastern UNAS, PFC Eric Watts piped up. "The amenities are much nicer than the other crap we normally have to put up with." He handed a card over to his partner.
"Cheers Watts," was the reply. PFC Alex Dressler, a chipper Australian with dirty blonde hair and a goofy smile, was currently beating Watts at Go Fish. "And you have to admit, Corp, we're on the most legendary ship in the Navy. Seven?"
"Go Fish."
"If you count the first one, yeah. Though... Normandy ain't a great name for my German ass." Schaper humoured drily.
"Same captain, though," Liao pointed out.
"Yeah, potato tomato," Dressler replied.
"It's 'po-tay-to, po-tah-to', idiot. Four?"
Dressler begrudgingly handed Watts a card. "Still. We're going to be in the thick of it on the ground - but we'll be safe in space. Which is the worst part."
"I don't particularly enjoy being shelled when I'm trying to sleep, Dressler," Hohepa observed, not looking up from her carving. "Enjoy the amenities while we've got them."
"It's just the noise that'll get ya."
Watts cocked a brow, throwing his cards at Dressler's face. "And not the screaming, hot shrapnel?"
Lance Corporal Klein sighed from where he was doing sit ups, sweat gleaming on his face and bare chest. He was a PT stud and due for corporal soon and Hohepa wasn't looking forward to losing him to another squad.
"Dressler, I'm starting to worry you're a little insane," he said.
"Good thing he just carries your heatsinks for you," Li replied. Hohepa noted the way the corporal was blatantly checking Klein out, but she didn't think Li was stupid enough to do anything more than window shop.
"I think you want your assistant MG to be a little insane," Dressler offered. He pushed the pile of cards off his lap and dropped to a knee in front of Klein, looking him in the eyes. "I'll run through a hail of gunfire for you! I'll cross any distance, any obstacle to make sure you have a heatsink!"
"Dressler's right. Easier to carry if you travel light to begin with." Schaper quipped with a twinkling eye.
Klein laughed and shoved him. "Oh, it's just the billet, huh?"
"Exactly right!" Dressler fell backwards with a laugh.
"And this guy watches our back…" As he collected the cards and put them away, Watts chuckled.
"He's your best friend," Klein ribbed.
The door opened and Second Lieutenant Beaumont walked in, running a hand through straw-coloured hair. Beaumont had barely been an officer for five months and he hadn't seen combat yet, which worried Hohepa quietly.
To be fair, there was a decent handful of the platoon that hadn't, but cherries could be handled by their NCOs. A cherry officer could do a lot more damage if they couldn't handle combat.
"Sir." she rose to her feet, putting down her knife and half-finished carving.
"Captain Shepard wants to talk to you all," Beaumont said, he broke off and glared at Klein. It was kind of like being glared at by a labrador puppy. "Klein, put a shirt on."
"Aye sir," Klein said easily, rising to his feet and pulling on his grey Marine Corps shirt, tucking it back into his belt.
"Ooh, a rousing speech from the Hero of Illyria! Where does she want us, sir?" Dressler, playing squad clown as usual.
"Here's fine." Beaumont looked nervous.
Hohepa rose to her feet. Shepard had previously spoken with Hohepa and Beaumont alone, wanting their honest opinions on the Marine Detachment. "No sass, Dressler."
Dressler looked almost disappointed. "Aye, aye…" He approached Watts and helped him to his feet.
"Do you know what she wants with us, sir?"
That was answered when the door opened again and Captain Shepard stepped through.
"Captain on deck," Beaumont called and the Marines came to attention.
"At ease," Shepard said with a wave of her hand. The scars, glowing dully, were a little unnerving, Hohepa decided. "I wanted to introduce myself properly to you jarheads before we drop together. Welcome aboard the Normandy. It's good to have Marines aboard again. I'm not gonna make you stand here for twenty minutes while I go on - you know what we're fighting for and I remember being a lance - but if you have any questions for me, I'm happy to take them now."
"I have one, ma'am." Dressler shot a glance towards Hohepa - he seemed hesitant. "Is everything about the Reapers… true? They've been doing this for billions of years?"
Shepard frowned slightly, considering, "I don't know for how long, but I do know they were responsible for destroying the Protheans. But we have an advantage that everyone else before us didn't - we knew they were coming, and I can't talk of specifics but I can tell you that Hackett has countermeasures under development."
Dressler nodded. They were a scary enemy. Horrifying, really. Beyond anything that any of the council races had ever experienced. The closest had been the rachni - but at least they could be understood. Animalistic urges to reproduce, spread, consume. The Reapers… They defied comprehension.
"Are we going to get priority for equipment and resupplies from the Navy?" That was Watts, being pragmatic.
"Yes, though supply chains are fucked up enough that that doesn't always mean we get everything we want," Shepard nodded, "but I can get some stuff through the Spectre office. If there's something you guys want and can't get through normal routes, let Vega or Cortez know and we'll see what we can do."
Watts uttered a small "Yes! Spectre gear!"
Shepard smiled at his enthusiasm. "You're the platoon marksman, right, PFC Watts? I got my old marksman a M-99 Saber. Want one?"
Watts mouth was agape. "My God, yes I want one!"
Shepard laughed at that. "Alright. I'll get one for you. Any other questions?"
The Marines looked amongst each other, no one seeming to make any other requests of their new commander.
After a moment of silence, Dressler offered one remark. "Ma'am… It's an honour to be assigned to your ship."
"It's good to have you guys here. We're gonna be dropping into some hot zones, so if there's anything you're unsure of, anything you wanna brush your training up on, you let Vega know. No shame in it. Rah?"
"Rah!"
That was, Hohepa thought with some amusement, the first time she'd heard this squad of Marines unironically and enthusiastically saying 'rah'.
With a mostly full crew and two diplomatic delegations, the Normandy was starting to feel decidedly cramped. It was probably inevitable that eventually that at some point members of the disparate factions aboard would come to blows.
Electrician's Mate First Class Karjalainen had even started a betting pool. Most of those participating had bet on a fight between one of Wrex's warriors and one of the turian soldiers.
They were half right.
The turians were unable to eat the provisions the Normandy's cooks made, so most of them were subsisting of Hierarchy rations, handed out by one of the Supply Department servicemen in the mess.
"Can't cook, can't fight," one of the turians muttered to another. He was a tall, tan-plated turian with the unfamiliar markings of Hierarchy rank and tier on his collar. "What are we even doing here?"
The other turian, a female officer who'd spent most of her time down on the flight deck asking Cortez questions about his bird, flicked her mandibles. "They can fight, Javius."
"And yet, they lost their homeworld in what, ten hours? While we're still fighting and bleeding on Palaven? And now they expect us to come in and save them. Typical."
There was a clatter of metal against metal and a heavy clunking of boots as one of the Marines nearby, crammed onto a table with his team, hastily abandoned his food. Dressler was no more than three steps from the turian and placed a hand on his shoulder to spin him around.
"What did you just fucking say? Can't cook, can't fight? We need you to save us?"
The turian flared his mandibles, his tone mocking, "You heard me. What good are you in an alliance if you can't hold your own homeworld?"
Corporal Schaper cleared his throat.
"This ain't a cruise ship, princess, and you're here as guests." The German Marine leaned over to look the turian in the eyes. "You guys have a millenia's headstart on us… We're all getting fucking mauled out here." Pieter's jaw tightened. "You're embarrassing yourself Sergeant."
The turian officer, Captain Isanion, stepped back, tilting her head and watching Dressler, as if curious about what he'd do. It wasn't the way of Hierarchy Army officers to intervene in individual disputes that could be worked out with fists until it affected the unit as a whole.
For a moment, Dressler tensed with a scowl, balling a fist at his side. The Marines at his table had stopped eating and were also watching. "You think we need you? When we're done liberating all of Alliance space - much bigger than the Hierarchy by the way - we'll take Earth back before you've even made it to Cipritine. You people can't win a fair fight."
"Dressler…" Schaper warned, tensing at the tone of his PFC.
But Javius kept going. "We're holding Palaven, we're the ones everyone is expecting to save them," Javius shot back, clenching his fists by his side. "We don't need you. You'll melt in a real fight."
Dressler's body relaxed. "Remember Shanxi?" Then, without warning, he threw a lightning quick jab into the side of the sergeant's jaw. "We do!"
Dressler wasn't exactly a small man - he was six foot something, broad shouldered and had an infantry Marine's fitness, but Sergeant Javius had a foot of height on him and plated skin to boot. It was a good hit though - Javius staggered back and then straightened, anger glinting in his pale yellow eyes, "You'll regret that, human."
He threw his own punch, claws tucked away, right into Dressler's stomach. The blow took the wind out of the Marine, and he staggered back, doubling over. With the distance created though, he leapt forward, taking Javius around the midsection and dragging him to the deck.
Dressler tried to flip the turian over so he could lock his arms, but they were strong, made of wiry muscle and little fat. Javius struggled against Dressler's grip, one elbow catching Dressler in the mouth.
They had an audience now - Marines and turians and a handful of Navy servicemen.
Li got up, a dark look on her face, and took a few steps - until the turian officer held up a hand, stopping her.
"This is between them," Captain Isanion said firmly.
"But-"
Schaper offered a pained expression. "Not according to the UCMJ, ma'am." He was so getting in trouble for this. Although part of him loved seeing the arschloch turian take it on the chin.
Javius finally managed to push Dressler off. He was bleeding from a cracked facial plate and he was panting. Dressler himself had a split lip. He took a step back, still frowning, staring the turian down. His tongue ran along the inside of his cheek and he spat blood. Then he charged again.
This time, he threw a left, which was blocked, but his knee came up to the turian's midriff and he made another attempt at grappling, this time trying to get Javius into a headlock.
Taken off guard by the Marine's aggressiveness, Javius was too slow to stop the headlock. He thrashed, trying to elbow Dressler's middle.
Dressler let out a yelp and his grip loosened - which Javius took advantage of, turning quickly and seizing Dressler's arm, bringing a knee into his back and locking his arm at the elbow.
"What's going on here?" a voice rang through the mess and the next moment blue light surrounded them both and tugged them apart, sending them tumbling to the deck separately.
Javius popped up to his feet, fury painted across his plates, "How dare you-"
"I don't think you want to finish that sentence, Sergeant," Master Chief Kouvelis said with a look on his face that said if the turian pushed him, he'd gladly go to the mat himself, his biotic corona winking out.
Dressler was doubled over, one hand on his side, and spat another mouthful of blood. In between heaping gasps for air, he said, "He fuckin - He said we couldn't fight. He said it wasn't a surprise we lost Earth so quickly! Thousands are dying every day…"
Kouvelis' expression was one of great exasperation. "We have enough enemies without fighting each other, fuckin' idiots. PFC Dressler, report to Staff Sergeant Vega. Sergeant Javius, get the fuck out of my mess."
"Aye, aye…" The young Marine shot a glare at the turian as he slunk away. He opened his mouth to say something, but a steely look from Li made him think better of it. "I'll see the Staff…"
Having turian and krogan delegations aboard the Normandy had given the Alliance crew some headaches, Victus had realised early on. The Executive Officer, a short but fiery woman, had given Victus and his staff the starboard observation deck as a cabin and put the newly arrived krogan overlord and his honour guard on the engineering deck, kicking some of the engineering crew out of their quarters.
Victus could sympathise, but he was already feeling stir-crazy. There was a reason he'd elected to join the Army instead of the Navy or the Naval Infantry. The cabin was objectively one of the largest on the ship and had the sort of comforts few warships did, but it felt like the walls were pressing in around him.
Across from him, perched on one of the lounges, Major Vakarian was reading a report, his mandibles tight against his face. None of the reports were pleasant reading these days. Good news counted as taking less KIAs than expected.
Victus had already known Urdnot Wrex and Captain Shepard were friends, but it had been a surprise when the overlord had turned from greeting Shepard to clap Vakarian on the shoulder, hard enough to make him take a step back, and told him it was good to see the Reapers hadn't killed him. His greeting to Doctor T'Soni had been no less enthusiastic, albeit gentler.
The battlefield forged strong bonds.
Victus could only hope that friendship would be a solid enough foundation for the alliance between their peoples.
Especially now the asari had withdrawn. The salarians had nearly done the same, until Victus had placed a private call to Dalatress Linron, the current leader of the Union. Salarian politics was a labyrinth of blood ties, shifting alliances and betrayals and it made his head hurt.
Linron was far from pleasant but he'd reminded her whose ships were guarding the border between his nation and hers. Threatening to withdraw and leave billions of people to die sat uneasily with him, but if he had to strongarm Linron into doing the right thing, he would.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Victus called, and Shepard stepped inside, dressed in her dress whites and her medals gleaming on her chest, the Star of Terra at her throat. "Ah, good evening, Captain."
"Primarch Victus. I wanted to let you know we've entered the Pranas System and will be rendezvousing with the salarian ship shortly."
"Good. Time to get this summit over with and get back to fighting the war."
"Here's hoping." Shepard paused. "There was an altercation between one of your men and one of my Marines. The Marine has been dealt with by his platoon sergeant, but you have my apologies, Primarch."
That had to explain the story a very puzzled Lieutenant Kenatarius had told him about an Alliance Marine scrubbing the Normandy's flight deck with a toothbrush.
"Captain Isanion informed me, Captain, and said Sergeant Javius was provoking your crew and suffered the expected consequences," V ictus replied. He noted the way Shepard's eyes kept sliding past him to the open viewing port. He made a note to himself to try and make sure it was closed next time they spoke. "As far as I'm concerned, the matter is settled."
Shepard blinked and then nodded. "Good. As for what we discussed earlier…"
"You will have your 'united front', Captain."
"Thank you."
"Shepard," the ship's AI - and that had been something of a shock, but Shepard defended the machine like a mother shatha - spoke over the intercom, "Dalatress Linron and her delegation are requesting permission to come aboard."
"Permission granted. Shall we?"
"After you."
Codex Entry
SSV Normandy SR-2 Marine Detachment:
2nd Platoon, Alpha Company, 2/50th Marines onboard SSV Normandy
c/s 'Ranger'
Platoon Leader: Second Lieutenant Jacques Beaumont
Platoon Sergeant: Staff Sergeant James Vega
Platoon Medic: Hospitalman Second Class Rakesh Kulkarni
1st Squad
Sergeant Aislinn O'Neal
Corporal Saif Hakim
Lance Corporal Silvia Araullo
Lance Corporal Adnan Macar
Private First Class Walasma Garane
Corporal Aria Leach
Lance Corporal Sandra Pandev
Private First Class Bazyli Rusnak
Lance Corporal Sophia Demetriou
2nd Squad
Sergeant Rāhera Hohepa
Corporal Pieter Schaper
Lance Corporal Stefan Klein
Private First Class Alex Dressler
Private First Class Neves Meideros
Corporal Li Xiang
Lance Corporal Liao Bai
Lance Corporal Marcus Adamsen
Private First Class Eric Watts
3rd Squad
Sergeant Ren Tsukura
Corporal Samuel Cohen
Lance Corporal Jirair Gevorgian
Lance Corporal Michelle Tham
Lance Corporal Châu Ngo
Corporal Jamie Grieve
Lance Corporal Reena Darzi
Private First Class Takuma Yamauchi
Private First Class Michael Andrews