Chapter Nine: The Priest at Plattsburgh
The entrance into Plattsburgh had been much easier to secure than any of them had thought possible. The township had grown into a small city, with people bustling about in search of work, trade, or loved ones.
Once the trio had waded their way across the relatively shallow water between Marco and Daniel's boat and the shore, they had walked from their drop off point around the bay and into the city proper. No one gave them a second glance, but whether that was to do with the weapons they carried, or Zaeed's rather colourful, vocal description of the blisters caused by his wet shoes was yet to be determined.
The departure out of Plattsburgh had been about as difficult as any of them could imagine. With multiple groups offering safe passage, and others offering safe, in inverted commas, passage. They had had to rely on Zaeed's combination of favours, grizzled looks and physical intimidation to book reasonably priced spots on a shipping transport that would be leaving for Montreal the afternoon. Mostly full of able labourers, the transport was shipping both soldiers and mercs across the boarder into Canada. The rumour was that the clean up operation was starting simultaneously in Ottawa and Vancouver - Ottawa as the country capital, and Vancouver as the home of the Systems Alliance after the destination of Arcturus Station.
From Montreal, they would be able to book passage to Vancouver. Or so the slightly bruised, but mostly compliant, Volus informed Zaeed after the latter had prodded him a few times with the barrel of his shotgun. He had even given them a name of a transport merchant, which Zaeed had commented on as being a rather nice gesture, much like his gesture to leave the Volus with all his toes.
The endless days of travel began to wear on Shepard. The continuous movement without really going anywhere had left them all irritable, and so when Rachel and Zaeed ended up having a blazing row over mercenary employment contracts, Shepard simply stood up and walked out into the city.
As he walked, Shepard took no notice of his surroundings, the mid-morning sun glinting off puddles of water and hastily thrown up metal fabrication. He ignored the odd street merchant brave enough to approach him, and twisted the arm of a pickpocket who, too late, realized he had nothing to steal.
His wonderings took him back towards the water, away from the hustle and bustle of the city itself. He passed rows of quickly built tower structures, designed to house people temporarily, but that had clearly been inhabited by the current families for months at a time. He passed old bombed out buildings, the hulking remains of a Krogan Tomkah, and a memorial covered in dead flowers and faded notes.
He eventually came to a stop at what had once been Sailors Point Park, and he just stared out across the water.
"Not all who wonder are lost, but you seem lost in your thoughts, friend."
Shepard turned his head, before returning to his vigil of staring across the water. The voice belonged to an older, English accented, gentleman, his black cassock belying his reason more than words ever could.
The Christian faith of the twenty-one-hundreds was vastly different to earlier incarnations. There was still a belief in Christ as a saviour, and there were those who still used the Bible as a mantra to guide and direct their lives. However the vast majority of Earth's population preferred the interpretation that bible stories were metaphors: still a guide for morality, but with limited practical applications. With this, the faithful had wavered in numbers over the last one hundred and fifty years or so. The exploration to the stars had proved conclusively that earth was not a fairly young six to ten thousand years old, but in fact was part of a universe billions of years in the making.
During the Reaper War, their numbers had exploded, with many turning to faith to explain what they were experiencing. As more and more people turned to the cloth, small groups of hyper conservative New Christians had decried the use of sacrificing human lives to save the Council, while more covertly, supporting Udina's attempted coup on the Citadel. With support from the remains of Cerberus, these newer, more aggressive religious types were gaining more traction in the remains of post-war Earth, and while they weren't a significant threat yet, that was about to change.
Shepard sighed. He didn't inherently dislike priests or those of a religious disposition, but he really didn't feel like a sermon right now.
"Ah yes, the exhalation of one truly in need of saving." The priests voice was light, and full of barely disguised humour. A clear joke as Shepard, with his many arms and armaments, looked nothing like a man in need of saving from anything.
"No Father, I am not in need of saving, but it has been, many, many years since my last confession."
The priest laughed at that, a short bark of a laugh that was pushed from his chest with a triumphant "ha."
"My dear boy, considering the circumstances, I think He'll let you off" the priest responded with a warm smile.
Shepard smiled in return and shook his head, still staring out across the Lake.
"Now," the priest continued, "Why are you standing out here, staring off into the middle distance on this grey, grey day? I should think it is far too cold for a swim, Commander."
Shepard raised an eyebrow and turned his head to observe the priest's profile only to find him staring right back at him. He had been relying on his growing in beard and shaggy, un-cropped hair to keep his identity hidden.
"Oh yes," the priest continued, "I know who you are, but don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." The priest conspiratorially winked in Shepards direction, continuing to smile, and when Shepard did not respond, he continued,
"Although, I expect the correct terminology would be, I know who you were, because the man I see before me is no Lion of Elysium." This was said without malice, without judgment, merely an expression of fact at Shepard's currently run down state. "When was the last time you slept, John?"
Shepard sighed again.
"But then, in all things, there is a time for love, and a time for hate: a time for war, and a time for peace. Perhaps you are looking for your peace, Commander? Although I doubt very much that it is in the bottom of Lake Chaplin."
Shepard still did not respond, but he did turn his body to face the priest, folding his arms and leaning his weight back on his right leg.
The priest partially mirrored his actions, turning his whole body away from the water to face Shepard, hands clasped in front of him. Both stood in silence, the lapping of the water calming against the grey, stone beach.
It was the priest who broke the silence, turning his face to look out over the water he spoke softly.
"You are a primitive man on the Savannah." the priest began. He paused for a brief second before continuing,
"You see something move out of the corner of your eye."
He turned to face Shepard again,
"You assume it's a hyena. You run, you live." He paused again. "If you assume it's the wind, and you're wrong, you die. We have the genes of the ones who ran. We are genetically hardwired to believe in forces we cannot see. You will find your peace, Commander." He turned his face to look Shepard in the eyes and smiled. "Hope can be found, even in the darkest of places, if one only remembers to turn on the light."
With that, he bowed his head to Shepard, before turning and walking back towards the memorial.
Shepard frowned, and stared the priest. It occurred then, the he hadn't asked the Father his name. Shepard sighed again, shaking his head and looking down to the floor.
"Shepard. Shepard!" He started suddenly as Rachel placed her hand on his shoulder, unsure how long he had been standing there. "What are you doing? We're going to be late."
"I was talking to the … to the priest." He lifted his head and used his chin to gesture towards the memorial.
"Right." The first syllable was drawn out in a sign of obvious disbelief, "What priest, Shepard?"
"The priest." Shepard responded quickly, his voice rising in pitch as he explained to her, "the priest that was just here."
"Okay, well, whatever. We don't have time to be talking to priests. Our transport is ready to go. With any luck, we'll be in Vancouver by this time tomorrow."