"So the question is," Shepard mused from her podium above the 62 seated soldiers and their closest family and friends, "Why were you the ones to make it through the hurdles and trials put before you? How were you able to persist despite the odds?"
"It's a question I've gotten a lot," she joked with a mischievous grin before being answered with scattered laughter, "But it's a question that will stay with you long after the press has gone home and it's a question you'll hear more and more as you progress, because this isn't the end of the road for you, as you know. It's just the beginning."
Her eyes couldn't help but drift to where Ashley sat with her husband of two years and one of the honored graduates tonight. The words were for everyone but they would understand them more than most, perhaps more than anyone here. "Why'd I make it?" she said again, suddenly somber. Ashley's earnest gaze was pained but clear of tears...she'd come a long, long way since that fateful day on Virmire. Shepard's eyes leapt to James' after and his head was lifted proudly. He'd found peace with his past, too.
"Situations like these are rarely simple and never ever fair. Someday you might be told to march into hell and die for the cause and that's the plain truth. On that day the reason you will stand victorious when no-one else could is because you thrive in chaos. You've been trained by the best; you serve with the best and by god when you go head to head with something that tests your resolve…."
Shepard looked around at the confident, triumphant faces of the class of 2191 and addressed them directly. "You will rise to that challenge because you know who you are . You know without a moment's reflection what you were born to do. Analyze. Act. Repeat."
She paused again for effect, then pointed a fingertip at the surface before her and pressed down hard twice for emphasis while she spoke, "And what you'll do between this day and that final day, what you'll do better than anyone else ready to give their lives for others is build relationships. We aren't just soldiers, ladies and gentlemen. We aren't just the finest warriors in Alliance space. We make everyone around us better ."
She was drowned in applause and nodded slowly as it began to calm. Even when it had, she waited another moment and took a sip of water from a glass on the dias, her eyes turned inward before continuing. "The teamwork we foster isn't motivated by money, power or fame. It's an expression of our purest selves for no other purpose than the intrinsic goals we share. It's autotelic . When we encounter adversity we strive and never ever yield and once we get into that zone time seems to stop while we become... unstoppable . There's no room for ego, and everything else falls away until only the objective remains."
It was all so clear to her, in this moment, the memories rising and falling like waves on the sea. She could feel the synergy she shared with the various denizens of the Normandy through all their travels; knew them all as well as she knew herself while they knew her just as keenly. Their thoughts and weapons fired as one.
"When you look back on those experiences they fill your heart and soul," she murmured, swallowing the emotion that tightened her throat. "They will become the most important, most meaningful moments in your life and you will want to...will need to experience them again and again. It is only through this...synchronicity with others that you can be actualized...that you can be everything you were meant to be."
She cleared her throat, thick with love and pride. "So revel in what you've built here in ICT. Embrace your brothers and sisters and remember the victory you've achieved by holding each other up. Congratulations, graduates." Shepard stood at attention away from the microphone and raised her voice, "WHO'S LIKE US?!"
The soldiers shouted in unison to the confusion of their family and friends, "DAMN FEW! AND THEY'RE ALL DEAD!"
"So…" Shepard said through a chest heaving chuckle to the group of soldiers, "I come out of the elevator and hear Lieutenant Cortez saying, 'There's only one gun you manage to keep clean, Mister Vega.'"
The laughter was loud and long and James choked on his beer, a red blush spreading across his deeply tanned face. Once he quit coughing and wiped his face with the back of a meaty hand he protested, "He said 'weapon', not 'gun'!"
"Um, honey, that's….not a great counter," Ashley Williams-Vega chuckled with a grin, chin in one hand.
"He was talking about my physique! About how I maintain my physique! Not my…" Vega shouted, still choking as the dozen or so people gathered round guffawed. He eventually just sighed and shook his head, covered his eyes with his hand and muttered, "Madre de dios…"
It was a beautiful night, the full moon illuminating clouds that shredded the sky in bands. Warm summer breezes tossed the tops of tropical palms that surrounded Steve Hackett's large outdoor patio. He'd opened up his rental to the graduating class and dozens of people milled both inside and outside the house barely a mile from the bay in Rio. About twenty people, all told, gravitated around Shepard and the Vegas at any one time, their reputation already revered amongst the assembly.
Shepard clapped James on the shoulder to make him feel better then stood to get a refill. After she left, another voice made him open his eyes.
"You don't have to take that shit lying down, you know." It was Turner, of course. The tall, nano-enhanced soldier with ebony skin and hair the color of snow reclined against a post, her chair on its rear two legs and her face split with a trademark smirk. It was rumored her hair turned that color during the war but no one knew for certain. "Come on, tell us something juicy...she can't be that perfect."
Before James could object he found himself engulfed in encouragement from his buddies. He felt more than saw the warning look coming from his wife but couldn't argue with his sister-in-arms. It was important they saw Shepard for who she was and not the icon for recruitment they'd been fed. After all, they were destined to follow in her footsteps, a task made more difficult with awe tripping them up.
"Well, there was this one time," he said, pulling his thumb and forefinger down around his mouth as he mused. In seconds he had everyone's rapt attention and sat back, pulling his massive arms over the back of his chair to cradle his head. "I was guarding her while she was under house arrest on Arcturus Station. She'd been pent up for like…. two months and it was killing her to stand around when she knew the Reapers were on the way. Woulda been enough to make anyone loco but she'd kept her cool so far." James grinned and shook his head, remembering. "Least 'till she got that care-package from Feros."
More of his peers were slowing by the crowd now as he spoke and James saw Shepard returning with another drink in her hand. Their eyes met and he expected her to stop him, protest, something; but she just stood near the back and took a sip, eyes crinkling in mirth.
He felt better about it at that point and kept going, pulling his arms back down so he could use his hands to help tell the story. "I mean you gotta know everything that got to her was screened like a hundred times looking for something she could use to get the drop on us or whatev but after awhile I think we all started feeling a little sorry for her."
"Anyway!" he said as he saw some eyes begin to wander, "She gets this care-package, right? And in it is this huge bottle of liquor that the folks in security cleared for her. I don't even remember what it was but it was sort of orange-colored and came with a note that made her smile. When I came back on for late shift that night I wasn't there thirty minutes before I heard the," James started laughing despite himself, "the strangest sounds coming out of her cell."
"Oh boy," Shepard groaned from behind everyone and heads turned to chuckle before he continued.
James laughed again, "So I peek in, right? And what do I see? I see Commander freaking Shepard jumping around like a kid, straight up caterwauling that song that was big at the time...oh shit, what was it?" He snapped his fingers when it came to him, "Backwater Paradise!"
Now the groans came from everyone in the crowd. It'd been the worst that pop could produce, all cliches and rebel sentiment...and was a huge hit in colonies from the traverse. "And she was singing loud and proud, compadres, loud and proud," he continued, "Problem was, she couldn't hit a note to save her life !"
"Might have had something to do with the earbuds. You know, in my ears?" Shepard muttered saucily in response to the chuckles around her.
"Haha! More likely it had something to do with that empty bottle! I've never seen someone jerk around like that outside an epileptic spasm."
They all started laughing then and Shepard just shrugged with her own grin, "I was just trying to get a buzz going and went a little overboard."
Lieutenant Turner balanced her weight forward on the chair, then back again so the headrest met the post behind it with an audible clack. When that drew attention to her again she spoke in a conversational voice, "Shit taste in music. Check." Her eyes went back to Shepard's and there was a glint there that James couldn't quite place. "Whatcha listen to now that you're good and bored? Find anything worthy or you sticking with the 'classics'?"
A quizzical look passed over Shep's face and she skipped the Lieutenant's last question entirely despite the others' amused interest. "Who says I'm bored?" she asked with eyes suddenly sharp.
It wasn't like Shep to get defensive so seeing it was a surprise. Made him feel like he needed to shut everyone and everything down, pronto; an instinct in his guts he shut down ruthlessly instead because, Shepard.
"Everything about you," Turner said with confidence at her reaction, "Especially that speech. Hasn't been five years yet but sounds like you wish you could be back in the war jus'ta feel somethin."
The crowd quieted with a couple of low curses and even James could feel the pressure of the gazes on Shepard now. He gripped the arms of his chair to stand but those green eyes speared him in place with a glance before returning to Turner.
Shepard's back straightened and her hands automatically folded behind her in a stance James recognized immediately from his time on the Normandy. Her face didn't give away any hint of emotion. "If that's your takeaway I'd say you missed the point, Lieutenant," she said quietly.
Quiet wasn't good and there was no missing Turner's lazy smile; the one she usually wore before…
"Show some respect, soldier," came a voice instantly recognized by every man and woman in the room. It was a voice they heard only in the best and very worst parts of the war...a disembodied voice of calm command that held together every disparate piece of the Alliance Navy when it should have crumbled under the otherworldly onslaught of the Reapers.
Steven Hackett slid up beside Shepard and took a demonstrative puff off a cigar just to make sure he had everyone's undivided attention. "You wanna talk about her music choices, you have at it. You wanna take a shot at her honor you're going to have a very big problem."
Turner looked around her and Vega guessed she didn't like what she saw in her brothers' and sisters' faces. The smile came back, of course, but she tilted her head and with her palms up said, "No disrespect, sir. We've all heard the stories. Just wanted to see what she was made of, that's all."
Shepard's expression relaxed and she looked sideways at Hackett meaningfully before crossing her arms and shifting her weight to the foot nearest him. "Well hell, why didn't you just say so?" She killed her drink and handed it to Steven before starting to shrug out of her blazer. When Turner didn't respond, Shepard paused and put on a confused look. "What, you don't wanna find out?"
Turner grinned wolfishly and stood, her expression suddenly bright. "Might be my only chance, what with you gettin' all long in the tooth." The soldier stood almost a head taller than Shepard and she was lean and muscular. There was no prime like the prime of an N7 graduate and she clearly knew it.
The Lieutenant had always been a bit of a hot-head, eager to prove her mettle but no dunce when it came to tactics. She'd seen a great deal of action with the resistance on Earth despite barely being an adult at the time, but grit only went so far against the Reapers and she'd been gifted the ugly end of it. It'd been a miracle she survived if the tales were true, but that same determination carried her immediately into the service once she recovered; her capabilities returned fivefold through the cyber-replacement program pioneered by Shepard herself. Before long she'd settled in as a scout sniper, one of the most demanding and unforgiving MOS's in existence, then thrived there with a combination of instinct and talent that carried her quickly into N-series training. In a way she reminded James of a young Shepard, but he wondered if this little flexing contest hadn't gone too far. It was one thing to bring Shep down off a pedestal for his class' benefit; it was another to be dethroned entirely. His sidelong glance to Ashley seemed to confirm his thoughts, her eyes were widened and cautious. Did she think Shepard might actually lose?
The now large group of people began to clear a space until Hackett leaned in close to the red-head. He heard nothing but whispers but saw Shepard nod agreeably before he made his intentions clear by raising his hands and his voice. "Not in the rental, folks. Let's take this friendly challenge to the Villa. Anyone not interested is free to stay here and relax."
As everyone turned to leave, murmuring excitedly, Hackett added, "And Shepard!"
When she turned to listen, he continued with a wink, "Don't hurt the kid too bad."
"I just don't understand how you think this is a good idea," Ashley warned while weaving through traffic. She looked back over her shoulder briefly at Shepard in the back, then turned her eyes forward again. "You win, you look like a bully. You lose, you look like a has-been."
Shepard scooted forward and poked her head between the front seats, watching the skycars go by. "If I recall correctly, she called me out, so I can't be a bully. And who cares if I lose? I don't know any of us with reporters on speed-dial but even if they did...so what? I doubt my speaking schedule'd even slow down."
"Nobody's gonna go to the press," James agreed, "But I still dunno what you're thinking, Lola. What's your angle?"
Shepard shrugged, "Look, there's nothing mysterious about it, guys. I haven't fought anyone else with this level of enhancements before. Everyone talks about me like I'm some sort of super-soldier but let's be honest, a lot of it was probably the Lazarus implants. I just wanna know how much."
"You've got nothing to prove to anyone," Ashley protested, "You were just as effective in combat when we first met. You came out of the Blitz alive before you even met Cerberus, for God's sake. Question answered."
James didn't look convinced, but he also looked like he didn't wanna contradict his wife. "I dunno babe, she and I sparred on the SR-2 before we dropped you off at the Citadel and I remember her hittin' me like a ton of bricks. Don't get me wrong, you'll always be my Sexy Spectre Superhero, but I've never been hit that hard by a woman in my life." Then he looked back at Shepard, "Until Turner, anyway. She's more 'netics than meat, chiqueta."
"And you haven't been active in years," chimed Ashley with concern. "She's gonna be at her best."
Shepard didn't know whether to be touched or alarmed that the pair were so earnestly trying to dissuade her from a simple sparring session. "And I've still got all my upgrades," she insisted. "Look, it's not like either one of us is gonna die from a few punches, right? Relax!" She smiled lazily and put her hands around both of their shoulders...giving them a shake. "This'll be fun!"
She felt good about her chances as they hopped out of the skycar to find themselves surrounded by a bunch of intoxicated, cheerful graduates. None of them knew she stayed active in the simulators, it was something she'd kept just for herself to keep her wits sharp and her endurance long. Truth be told, she'd been itching for a sparring partner she couldn't really hurt. This would do nicely.
They'd started tentatively, both of them circling and testing one another. They were all smiles around their mouthguards, reveling in the shouts of encouragement and building adrenaline. Turner was quicker than most simply because she was so slender; it was less mass to move with every strike but each hit had the full power of engineered muscle and bone behind it. Shepard found her own punches landing short and had to turn Turner's fists away often, something she attributed to being out of practice until she committed to her first cross.
It was the punch to the throat that finally opened her eyes.
Shepard backpedaled and struggled to drag in a breath, trying to understand just what had happened. Turner's jab had missed and she'd closed into range. Shepard's right had come in on target but Turner's head bobbed quick enough that her fist slid by her left ear. That left her exposed, Shepard's own left hand guarding against a jab from her opponent, not a well paced and devastating cross of her own. It landed in that sensitive spot just between windpipe and jugular that somehow managed to crush both and the dip in blood pressure to her oxygen-craving brain now found no help from her lungs to compensate. It left her scrambling, the brief moment she'd been allowed to evaluate the damage gone before Turner was all over her.
She'd known this was gonna hurt even before she stepped foot in the ring but underestimated just how 's fists felt like blocks of granite, each blow to the body physically moving her around like a punching bag when she'd normally have shrugged them off and gone on offense. Now she found herself moving only backward, her biggest achievement at this point that she hadn't lost her footing but as the attacks rained down on her she began to feel time begin to slow as her own adrenaline caught up; her tempo beginning to match the woman's blinding pace until she finally started feeling her arms pummeled instead of her ribs and stomach.
She was momentarily elated but knew that once Turner realized her guard was up she was going to change tactics. It wasn't so much a thought process as instinct at this point, but her opponent was clearly taking advantage of the stagger and was hoping for a quick finish. If you can't hit high, you hit low and she felt the leg sweep coming before the soldier even began the turn. Her body took over at that point, a front kick with all the force she could muster landing squarely in the small of Turner's back to send her sprawling to the deck.
Her throat still throbbed and even swallowing hurt, the blow to her windpipe making her voice rough and coarse. "Not bad!" She croaked above the shouting of the spectators surrounding the mats. She beckoned with her hands to the woman who was looking up at her now with a bit more respect, then barked, "Get up." As the blonde stood and brought up her guard there was a sparkle in her eyes and Shepard knew precisely why. It'd been a long time, these four plus years, since she'd felt the thrill of a real fight. It was good, down deep in her bones good; and she realized dimly that the need for it would never really go away. It was a part of her, a part of them both.
Shepard was still a bit lethargic when they started up again. Nobody in the simulators could match Turner's speed or precision but Shepard began to push herself and before long was blocking and countering well. The room seemed to fade away along with all the faces and voices until it was the two of them alone, their universe centered around the movements of their bodies, the thrill of success and the pain of failure.
Damn she was good. Turner's reach was her biggest advantage and Shepard was constantly having to maneuver around that iron plated jab. It didn't take long to realize just how much of a beating she was taking, the taste of blood followed by the tingle in her flesh that spoke of the nanites doing their job to repair her. There was crimson on Turner's gloves, too, and she realized she needed to change arenas if she wanted a chance to win this thing.
The next time her opponent sent her knuckles toward her nose, Shepard turned into it and dodged, grabbing the soldier's arm with both hands as it passed. She sent her right elbow into Turner's face to put her further off balance while she spun to pull the woman's weight across her right hip. She felt Turner's body come off the floor as expected but was startled to see her plant one of her feet like a cat in front of her instead of fall to the ground. Shepard immediately went for a guillotine before she could lift her head but as soon as her grip loosened on Turner's arm she felt the woman's own grip ensnaring her by the elbow and they began to grapple in earnest.
Before either of them went to the mat though, there was a whistle blown three times from the entryway. As one, the graduates turned to see who had entered, the arena getting suddenly quiet. Both she and Turner rose, looking towards the door before looking at one another again. They straightened, breathing heavy and grinning at one another amicably; then Turner pointed at a place on her own face, above her right brow, and whispered, "You gotta bit of something there," before winking and turning her head toward the whistle.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Came the unmistakable shout of a drill instructor over all their heads and echoing off the walls. "As of right now, all leaves are cancelled!"
While there were a few groans, overall the crowd was quiet and attentive. Meanwhile, Shepard stripped off her left glove and brought fingers up to a sore and throbbing spot above her eye. It came back bloody and she shook her head in consternation. She'd have to do better next time.
"You are to report to your respective CO's office at 23 hundred for briefing! That is all!"
As whispers and soft conversation began, Shepard turned to Turner again and they met gloves with enthusiasm. Shepard dropped her mouthpiece into her hand and smirked after licking her lips, "Well that was educational."
Turner's chuckle was rich and deep. "What, the announcement or the ass-kicking?"
Shepard laughed at the barb. "Both. It's weird, my first thought was, 'Shit, who's my CO again?'"
"Must be nice," she groaned in response. "If it helps, every time someone asks me what I want to be when I grow up, I say, 'Retired'?"
They both snickered and Shepard looked appropriately dubious before replying sincerely, "It's everything it's cracked up to be." Then it was her turn to wink. "Nice meeting you, Lieutenant. Good fight. Stay safe out there."
"You too, Shepard. Take care," she said before moving off to strip her gloves.
Fortunately Shepard had someone who could answer all her questions and sought Ashley out immediately, finding her in close conversation with Vega. She stood outside their space for a moment, letting them say their goodbyes.
Ashley caressed the side of Vega's face with a palm and their eyes were loving and sad at the same time. James stepped into her arms while his own encircled her to pull her close and their kiss was slow and full of promise. If she didn't miss her guess they probably just had plans cancelled. Ahh...military life.
When they parted, James turned and held out a hand which Shepard took fondly. "Well, off you go," she said in a low voice, "You ready for this?"
"Better be," he said with certainty. "Listen, I wanna thank you for everything you've done for me. You might not've been the one that submitted the initial rec but otherwise you're the biggest reason I'm standing here. I won't let you down."
"Yeah well, go be a big damn hero," she returned after a moment, flustered with pride. They embraced roughly, then James nodded to them both and headed out.
Now that they were in the back and separated from the crowd streaming through the double doors Shepard whispered out the side of her mouth, "Any idea what's going on?"
"Nope," Ashley whispered back. "Get changed. Then let's get to the car and see what we can see."
While Ashley connected to the Spectre database Shepard powered up her Omni to find a missed contact from Liara. It might have just been a coincidence but the hairs standing on the back of her neck said otherwise. Her fears were confirmed by the asari's expression when she appeared after a callback.
"Shepard," she said with a half-hearted attempt at a normal tone, "I am glad you are still…"
"Awake? Sober?" she quipped with a smirk, "Yep, you called a half hour too soon to see me at my worst."
Meanwhile Liara had tilted her head, eyes fixed on something above Shepard's eyes, "Are you….alright?"
Her free hand went involuntarily to the cut above her brow and she cleared her throat before lowering it again. Her mouth worked before she shook her head and grinned self-consciously. "And here you were thinking I was gonna get hit on. Turns out I did! Don't worry honey, just passing the torch, remember?"
Liara's mouth formed a silent 'Ah' before her eyes flicked down to her hands. Bad news, the behavior said, so Shepard made it easy for her. "What's going on? We know there's trouble, we just don't know what."
Her wife's eyes rose to meet hers across oceans of space and for just a moment she saw her pain before it submerged into the Shadow Broker. "The Crakador has been destroyed in Omega space."
The Crakador was the Krogan flagship, she recalled. She blinked as she put it together but Liara was already speaking, already breaking her mood and so very much of the world at the same time.
"My reports say that Urdnot Wrex was aboard."
She looked over at Ashley and saw the woman's jaw clenched and her lips pale and tight. The Spectre nodded once in affirmation but said nothing...and for several long moments the car was quiet while shock had its way with them.
"Who..." Shepard managed to say before grief gripped her by the throat.
Liara understood the cryptic, incomplete question and took a breath before answering, "It appears he was betrayed by one of his own. It was a Krogan ship, the Artac, that attacked. It was destroyed shortly after by the rest of Wrex's entourage."
The enormity of what this meant for the galaxy was overwhelming, so she pushed it away with a sad exhaled curse.
"I am...so sorry, love," Liara said tenderly.
Williams finally broke her silence, "That explains the Alliance recall. A Krogan Civil War is gonna create havoc everywhere."
Shepard spoke over the link again, "Does Bakara know?"
"Yes," Liara said softly, "Urdnot Grunt has taken command of the remainder of Wrex's squadron and is returning to Tuchanka. I would assume they are making preparations for war."
"If I know her, she's got contingencies in place for this. She knew it was a risk." Shepard cleared her throat and looked again to the Spectre. "And I assume you've gotta get moving. Drop me off at the spaceport?"
Ashley nodded and started the skycar while Shepard spoke to her Omni again. "Can you put together our condolences to Bakara? She's gonna be way too busy to talk right now. I'll reach out to Grunt."
"Of course," she agreed. "I am putting together all the information I have on who might be responsible. Ashley, I will forward you a copy." At Shepard's nod, she added softly, "Will you be going to Tuchanka, then?"
The question went far deeper than that, she knew, a question easily read in Liara's eyes. Of course she wanted to get involved; this was more than politics, it was personal .
"No," she said firmly. "I'm coming home." She looked to her left and saw the same anger and determination in Ashley's face that thrummed in her own pounding heart.
"Don't worry, Liara," Ashley offered as she entered traffic once more, "He was one of us. I'm all over this and I'll let you know if I need anything. In the meantime, you two should go and start your family. If there's anyone who would understand the importance of that, it was Wrex."
It was the right decision, Shepard knew without hesitation. So why did it feel so damn wrong?