Chapter Twelve: The Vice in Vancouver (Part Two)
"Admiral, Sir." Shepard reflexively snapped to attention and saluted.
"Stand down, Shepard." Hackett's voice, as commanding and gravelly as ever, cut through the surrounding noise. And then he did something that Shepard would never have predicted. He broke into a genuine smile, and pulled Shepard in for a quick, one armed hug. "You did it, son. Well done."
As Hackett took a step back, Shepard observed him with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't think you've ever hugged me before, Sir."
Hackett chuckled, surprising Shepard again with his response.
"I'd love to tell you that it was all over, but Shepard-"
"James mentioned you were having some trouble with the locals?"
"Yes and no." Hackett removed his military issue, Systems Navy cap, and rubbed his hand across his forehead, before flipping the cap back onto his head. "It's not really the locals that are causing us issues."
Hackett sighed and returned to the documents scattered across his makeshift desk, motioning for Shepard to follow him. Shepard gestured with his head, and Rachel and Zaeed joined the group forming around the map of the local area.
"What have you heard about the religious militia in the area?"
"We may have bumped into a few of them." Zaeed responded.
"Yeah." Shepard added, "James mentioned a man called the Preacher?"
"So they've made their introductions." Hackett moved over to a stack of data pads, sifting through them until he found the one he wanted. "Abel Caltree." He passed the data pad across to Shepard, who read through the limited information gathered about the mysterious preacher.
"We don't know if that's his real name, or if Vancouver is his home town, but we do know that he has had some military training," Hackett folded his arms and leaned back on the map table, "and we know he's got support from the remains of some old friends."
Shepard looked up at that.
"You say that like it means more than the local fringe groups?" Rachel responded, looking between Shepard and Hackett. The two men shared a knowing look, before Hackett continued.
"After the dissolution of their command structure, and destruction of Cronos Station, the remains of Cerberus went underground. While they had support, both in and out of the Alliance Navy, they never really offered a viable, political option. Cerberus preferred to work in the shadows, influencing current politicians, and those with political ambition."
Hackett turned to his right and pulled another data pad from the pile before handing it to Shepard. This one seemed to be a pamphlet of some kind, similar to the old mayoral and presidential flyers that gave policy pointers during election campaigns, but this one extolled the virtues of a man named Leo Renard.
"One day soon, control will need to be given back to the people. Martial law was only meant to sustain us until a civilian government could be formed, and this Renard thinks he's the one to lead it."
Hackett turned back to the desk, before pressing a series of buttons and enabling a paused holo-recording of Renard. He was tall, well dressed without being showy, and had an air of leadership, even through the fuzzy recording.
"This recording was taken a few days ago. He gave a speech up at Robson Square that drew quite a crowd. Renard offers humanity what Cerberus couldn't. A charming, smiling, political face, running on a platform of humanity first, without the xenophobic baggage of Cerberus, or so he would have the masses believe."
Shepard raised an eyebrow.
"You can't be serious?" Zaeed interjected.
Shepard silenced him with a look before facing Hackett and saying "I'm guessing you think that this Leo character is the one supporting Caltree?"
Hackett nodded.
"You've heard The Preacher's rhetoric. He shares a lot of that with Renard."
Hackett pressed a few more buttons, and the holo-recording began to play. Renard's voice was powerful and deep, urging you to listen, urging you to see the perceived plight of humanity in the universal conflict that was the Reaper War.
"Less than thirty years ago, we paid our entrance fee into Council space with blood. Less than three years ago, we paid for the safety of the Council and the Destiny Ascension in blood. And less than six months ago, we paid for the future of every species in this galaxy with blood! Every shot fired, every vessel destroyed, every human life, scarified on the alter of the greater good. We proved, on those days, that there is no power, organic or artificial, that cannot be shattered by our collective will, no enemy that will deny us our destiny of a life amongst the stars, and no cause too great that the might of humanity will not rise to meet it!"
Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Renard raised both hands to quiet the crowd.
"We have worked to earn our place in the Galaxy," he continued, "worked to be seen as equal in biotics to the Asari: To be seen as equal in intelligence to the Salarians: to be seen as equal in strength to the Turians and the Krogan: as equals of the Volus and Elcor in trade. And yet." He bowed his head in mock defeat, "and yet, we are still not seen as equals. We are still not seen for the sacrifices we have made. If we cannot be seen for the champions we are, then the entire galaxy will know, will be made to see, that if we cannot move heaven, then we shall raise hell!"
Hackett reached behind him and pressed several buttons before the video froze again, pausing on the image of Renard slamming his fist into the podium he stood behind.
"As you can see," Hackett said, gesturing to the paused video, "he's making some political waves."
Hackett pushed himself away from the desk, moving towards the tent entrance and looking out to the soldiers still milling around.
"We think he is responsible for the current climate in East Vancouver. The teams out there report finding groups of slaughtered civilians that look like they were killed by Krogan or Asari. We have no proof, but we think that Renard is staging false flag operations, with Caltree as his go to for getting his hands dirty."
Hackett sighed before continuing, "And it's working. He's gaining support for his more human-centric policies. And he's not running on a platform of complete xenophobia, so he appears to have more credibility than Udina or Cerberus."
"And people are buying this?" Shepard asked.
"Yes and no. There are groups who are pushing back, charities working in the worst hit areas, and other's in politics that are trying to fight against his rhetoric. But he's struck a chord with a lot of people, Shepard."
"So how do we stop him?" It was Rachel who asked the question, her eyes burning with the passion of helping the underdog.
"Right now, there's not a lot we can do. He's a legitimate politician, exercising his right to stand as a candidate in a democratic election." Hackett sighed again. "We keep trying to catch the people who work for him, but so far Caltree is the only on we've got close too. We know he must have others, but we don't know where to start looking to find them."
At this, Hackett raised his eyes and looked at Shepard.
"I'll be honest Shepard, we need a win."
"What can we do?" Shepard asked, conviction clear in his voice.
"For now, it's enough to know that you want to help. I have some ideas, but nothing concrete yet." The look that passed over Stephen Hackett's face at that moment was hard to describe. It looked a little sad, a little disappointed and a little thoughtful. A look that said, perhaps now, was the time to act, now was the time that the stars would align and bring success.
Shepard knew that look. It was a look that said too many things had gone wrong too many times.
"You should head up into town, we've given you some space in the Hudson's Bay building. I know James said he wanted to give you the tour. The old Vancouver Block has turned into some what of a social space for the men and women on leave, so I'm sure you'll find some thing to do."
Hackett smiled, the skin around his cheeks and eyes wrinkling.
"It's good to see you, Shepard."
Shepard returned the smile, "it's good to be seen, sir."
"Massani is free to head out with you, but Doctor Josephs, I'd appreciate it if we could use your talents in the medical facilities. We have some refugees that could use all the medical help we can provide."
Rachel nodded, before being escorted out of the tent by a solider. Shepard stared at her back, watching her leave, before Zaeed pulled him out of the tent and towards the downtown core.
It was a fairly quick walk up to the old centre of town. The building Hackett had directed them to was a huge square block of cream stone squatting on the edge of Georgia and Granville Streets. Previously a sprawling retail store spread out over 650,000 square feet, the six floor building was converted firstly to elite condos, and then a more conservative, small roomed hotel that offered business users a single bed, small bathroom and minimalist kitchen unit in the heart of downtown. During the war, the Alliance Military had used it as a make-shift barracks, fitting two men per room. As the downtown core was attacked, the east side of the building suffered physical damage, but the majority of the rooms remained mostly intact, and were again used as sleeping quarters for soldiers with minor injuries. Over the last several months, after the fall of the Reapers, the retail store turned barracks once again returned to relatively normal use, with the single rooms being used to house those contributing to Vancouver's return to normal.
It was in one of these rooms that Shepard found himself. The building concierge had been replaced by a soldier with a data pad, who directed Shepard and Zaeed to rooms 417 and 423 respectively. He informed them that their rooms came with basic rations, which would be served in the kitchen area between 6am and 8am. When asked how this was being paid for, the soldier turned concierge informed Shepard that credits were still the main currency of Earth, and that the Alliance Navy had fronted the bill for their stay.
"Indefinitely, it says here." The soldier concierge said, tapping his data pad. "I'll just update your omni-tools so that you can access your rooms, and then you're free to come and go as you like. Iaso provides some basic civi clothes for those who need"
"Iaso?" Shepard asked
"Local charity dedicated to helping those who need help getting back on their feet after, well you know-" he gestured around, "everything."
Shepard nodded, not really taking in the surreal normalcy of checking into a hotel with everything that had happened over the last few days. Taking the bag of clothes from the soldier, Shepard and Zaeed trooped up the stairs to their floor.
Zaeed disappeared into his room with a grunt, and something about raiding a mini-bar, but Shepard quickly showered and changed into a slightly too small tee, and slightly too large jeans. He left his stolen armour in a mildly organized pile on the floor, and headed out.
James Vega, it turned out, wasn't a difficult man to find. Luckily for Shepard, the 'social area' that Hackett had described was only a short walk out of Shepard current sleeping situation, and James Vega was easy to spot in a crowd. His impressive six foot, two inches, coupled with his two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle marked him as an obvious boulder in a group of pebbles.
Shepard worked his way through the crowd before punching James lightly on the shoulder. James cheered at the sight of his old commander, before excusing himself from the five other soldiers he had been in conversation with.
The pair made their way over to the bar, joking and laughing before James turned and lent his back against the bar itself. Shepard copied him, folding his arms and looking out over the crowd.
"It's good to have you back. Shepard." Vega said, his eyes scanning the crowd, some dancing, some sitting and some in groups standing and talking.
"It's good to be back, James. Although, I've got to admit its strange to see so many people go about as if nothing has happened. It's like the Citadel all over again."
"I hear you, Commander. But there are people working to try and make things better, you know? You've got Admiral Hackett - he's got Williams doing a lot of the heavy lifting for him."
Shepard raised an eyebrow before taking a pull from his recently acquired bottle of beer.
"So Ashley Williams survived this?"
"She did." James responded, taking a sip from his own beer. "She'll be around somewhere." He gestured around the crowded space, "Hackett gave her command of a small unit for smash and grab ops, but they've been focusing in on the North Shore the last few weeks. Getting some pre-fab units up and running for military relocation and use of the remaining landing pads."
Shepard nodded, before taking another sip of beer, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. James seemed to sense his question before Shepard had the chance to ask it.
"The others? Well, Jacob Taylor and Jack both made it out. I think they're in London training up some new recruits and tidying up that part of the world. Bryn had the baby, adorable little tyke, healthy and happy - Jacob sent pictures. We got word, all be it delayed, from Tuchunka, Wrex and Grunt are still working things out there. They have help from the remains of Mordin's Genophage team, so we expect them to connect their relay any day now. Kasumi is somewhere around too, she was supporting Hackett with intel gathering, rumours had her undercover in some charity groups, trying to find links to Renard's funding."
Shepard remained silent, taking another sip from his beer and watching the crowd dance and chat as if the world was still the same.
"That's about it for the good news though, Commander." James scratched the back of his head with his free hand, "We haven't heard anything from the Normandy. We know that they were attempting to jump through to the Relay to the Calestron Rift, but the surge from the Citadel caught up with them. There's been no word from anyone in that end of the galaxy since it all happened."
Shepard turned his back on the crowd, crossing his arms on the makeshift bar, bowing his head and sighing.
"They're out there, James. I know they're out there."
James copied his movements, leaning his massive forearms across the bar next to Shepards.
"I know, Loco." He clapped a hand on Shepard's shoulder, "We'll find them. One day, we'll find them."
James removed the comforting hand before continuing,
"What's Hackett got planned for you anyway? Any more galaxy saving missions?"
"Right now, I've got nothing planned. Just settling into the city, keeping Zaeed out of trouble. The usual."
"Well, if you're hurting for things to do, I'm a couple men down for a security detail tomorrow night. The pay is shit, but you do get the fancy food they serve to the guests."
"Political thing?" Shepard asked.
James chuckled, "Yes and no. It's a charity event, putting on a big spread to entice the local politicians to support economic and social development once the military give up major control of the area. Although the charity is doing good work, run by some of the civilian contractors who helped on the crucible. Their main focus is getting civilians and non-military personal to the right place, and getting them the help they need."
Shepard responded with a light nod before taking another sip from his beer.
"It'll be boring, standing around, security work, but I'd be glad to have you with us." James looked him up and down, "but first, we need to get you a hair cut."
A few hours later:
Shepard rubbed his hand over his newly cropped haircut, returning his hair back to his traditional military cut. James had taken great delight in dragging Shepard back to Vega's own apartment and butchering the job of cleanly cutting Shepard's hair. It wasn't until Shepard wrestled the clippers from James, who in turn had fallen about laughing about the mismatch of lengths and bald spots, that Shepard was finally able to finish the job.
It felt good to laugh and joke with James, talking about the good old days, their hopes for the future. James had filled him in on more of the changes and updates to the world in the recent past, including giving him some background on Renard's most obvious opponent, a man named Gerry Houghton.
"Of course he won't be the only one there. Renard is sure to make an appearance, but rumour has it that Houghton has pretty tight ties with the hosts of our little charity event tomorrow." James said from his placed sprawled across an old, previously red but now mostly faded orange, couch. Shepard looked up from the data pad he had been reading while sitting on the floor opposite James.
"Is this that Iaso I've been hearing about?"
James laughed before responding.
"Yeah." He chuckled again, before sitting up and swinging his legs round to sit normally, "Rumour is that Mr Houghton and a one of the major players of Iaso have been more than friends for the past few months, and that this charity event is more likely a way for them to formally test how a relationship would play with a wider audience, given his political ambitions."
"Why does it matter whether a politician dates the head of a charity?" Shepard asked, "Surely that is political gold?"
James shrugged.
"Who knows how politicians think, jefé. They all want what's best for them, not what's best for the people."
Shepard raised an eyebrow, before staring out of the window and watching the sunset, his mind thinking about how nothing had really changed in that regard.