Chapter Fourteen: The Companion at the Cocktail Party (Part One)
John Shepard had forgotten how boring security work was, how heavy the rifle was in his hand, how uncomfortable the black security armour was, how hot his face felt under his mask, helmet and goggles. He stood on the fringes of the party, observing the guests with rifle in hand, making sure that Mrs. Raddison wasn't getting to drunk and flirting with the waiting staff.
He observed the vaulted ceilings of the Old Art Gallery building, with the golden motto - standing on the horizon (casting shadows) - standing out proudly against the white brick. It was amazing it had lasted through the bombing, but then, even the Reapers must have had an appreciation for art. He watched the crowd, all dressed up in their finery and clinking champaign glasses, congratulating themselves on this impressive show of wealth and their minimal donations to the public good with it. He contemplated the outdoor square that had once been Robson Street, but had been closed to vehicles in the early part of the 21st century, and noted the hastily erected blockades that stopped casual pedestrians getting too close to the guests.
None of the major political players had arrived yet. Alliance Admiral Stephen Hackett had spotted him about thirty minutes ago. Looking smart in is Alliance Navy blues Hackett had smiled at Shepard when he saw him, and invited him to join the party, rather than patrolling the perimeter. Shepard had declined as politely as he could, but was now wishing he'd taken the Admiral up on his offer. All this waiting was making his feet itch.
James sidled up to him, before mirroring Shepards position: back to the wall, eyes towards the guests.
"All quiet on the Western Front?" James had asked.
"Well," Shepard had responded, "Currently no issues to report, but if Mr. Raddison catches wind of how much Mrs. Raddison has drunk, I think someone will get a stern talking to." Shepard pointed with his right hand towards a slightly tipsy older lady with grey hair done up in a fancy bun. Her red dress matching her red shoes, her red painted nails moving to pat the young boy serving drinks on the shoulder, her red lips muttering something about him being such a handsome young man.
"Just be lucky she hasn't spotted you yet." Vega commented of Mrs. Raddison's drunken flirtations. "You're just her type." He tried, and mostly succeeded to hide a smile, but Shepard rolled his eyes.
Shepard rather thought that James Vega was enjoying putting his former Commander through this torture. And while Shepard could still pull rank if needed, he allowed James his small fun. It was easy work, and the warm late afternoon air lent a haze of civility and summer laziness to the proceedings.
It was only a few moments later that James and Shepard heard a crackle in their ear pieces.
"Alpha one, this is Charlie three. We have eyes on approach. Dynamo is first to arrive."
James nodded to no one in particular as a sleek black hover car pulled up to the designated drop off zone.
While the front doors of the gallery were open, and civilian guests could enter through the impressive double doors, the square behind the gallery, and the entrance to the gallery proper from the back were all VIP access exclusively. Only those who had given a significant amount to Iaso or its sister charities were invited to the special reception.
The current peace in the city was tenuous at best, and due to the increased risk of violence, the Alliance Navy had insisted that codenames be used for the most valuable players.
James had scoffed at this, responding that if Renard was responsible, he wouldn't crash his own party. But Admiral Hackett had insisted, claiming that it was better to act out of an abundance of caution than not at all. And so Dynamo was Gerry Houghton, Blueprint was Renard and Hackett himself was Swordfish.
Dynamo's car door was opened by a man in a suit, with an obvious ear piece and an even more obvious muscle density. His huge neck straining against the edge of his shirt collar, Shepard wondered how this boulder of a man was able to actively open car doors without ripping them from their hinges. But, alas, no such spectacle was afforded to them. The car door was opened and Shepard got his first look at the man set up to save democracy.
Gerry Houghton was a small man. Not as imposing or magnetic in purpose as Renard, but he had a quiet surety about him, and an honesty in his face that would do him no favours in politics. He wore his expensive suit well, but it was clear he felt slightly uncomfortable in it, as if it chaffed in unexpected places. His companion - the board member that everyone assumed he was having an illicit affair with - also made her appearance. Her modest heels made her the same high as Houghton, so Shepard guessed her hight to be around 5'8". Her dark hair complimented the deep blue of her dress, and while it too fitted her well, she didn't seem quite at home in it.
Shepard turned away from the drop off and observed the crowd, scanning the faces of those present.
The group was a mixed bunch of individuals. Mostly containing a human crowd, Shepard observed the odd Asari or Turian, there was even a Drell, Shepard wondered how they were managing, cut off from the majority of the rest of their species. However, while the interactions between the different species appeared amicable on the surface, there was an underlying tension that rolled off the attendees, and it was only about to get worse.
"Alpha three to Alpha one"
James was immediate in his response. "Go ahead, Alpha three."
Shepard turned his head to the right speaking clearly into the mic mounted under his right shoulder pad.
"Alpha one, Dynamo is approaching Swordfish."
Hackett stretched out his hand to Houghton, and as the pair began exchanging small talk, Shepard turned his head back to watch the entrance.
"Charlie three to control, Big Bird is in the sky with Blueprint in tow."
Shepard flicked his eyes upwards and watched the hovercar holding Leo Renard drift down to street level. Renard didn't wait for the boulder sized security guard to open the door for him, instead stepping out easily, greeting the citizens milling about on the street as if he was a movie star as opposed to a politician.
Renard, in stark contrast to Houghton and his companion, was at complete ease. His deep red suit jacket practically screaming his proficiency with the situation. Renard, too, had a companion, but according to James she was of little note, and would soon be replaced. Shepard had wondered allowed how this string of affairs had not tarnished the prospective world leader's reputation, but James just shrugged in response.
The pair of new arrivals entered through the gateway, before greeting and shaking hands with various attendees throughout the square. Given his political leanings, Shepard expected Renard to bypass or ignore the alien guests, but the politician surprised Shepard. Both Renard and his companion were overtly polite to their alien counterparts, and Renard even posed for a photo with an uncomfortable looking Turian.
As Shepard observed the pair, he was once again drawn to Renard. He had a dark magnetism that made you want to talk to him, listen to what he wanted to say, and Shepard could see how he had easily convinced so many to agree with his political views.
The pair continued to walk around, before Renard eventually stopped in front of Shepard and James Vega.
"First Lieutenant Vega." Renard nodded towards James, "And you must be Commander Shepard. I'm sorry it's taken the end of a war for us to meet."
James Vega put his hand up to his ear, and then nodded at no one in particular before disappearing into the crowd.
"I'm surprised we never met on the Citadel Commander Shepard. We seemed to have shared some similar social circles."
Shepard raised his eyebrow in response, before realizing that Renard couldn't see the movement under his protective security face mask and responding with a questioning "How so?"
"I'm talking about Councillor Udina."
Shepard laughed softly, "I don't think that Udina would consider me in his social circle."
Renard smiled a his response.
"True. But then I doubt that Udina considered anyone as his social equal."
Shepard raised an eyebrow at that.
"Don't miss understand me, Commander, I agree with some of his politics. Alas, his person was the thing disliked by so many."
Renard folded his arms and looked out across the crowd before continuing,
"It's amazing to see what humanity can accomplish in such a short time. To think, this was all rubble three months ago, and now, we are doing what we can to support those in the greatest need."
"Wasn't just humanity." Shepard said, gesturing to the Turian that Renard had posed with for a photo.
Renard turned his head to observe Shepard in profile.
"You mustn't think I'm biased." Renard said, the pitch of his voice raising slightly, "No, no, no. I just want humanity to be recognized for its invaluable contributions to the galaxy. Our civilians and our military personnel are already stretched to breaking point, they must wait in long lines to be given access to the already limited basic necessities, or choose to go without. The remains of the Citadel Council is somewhere, ineffectually trying to restore Galaxy wide transport and communication, without realizing that we cannot have a strong galactic community without first have strong community on our home planets."
"That's a lofty goal. You think you can achieve it?"
"I envision a Galactic Republic, built on the principles of thousands of previous generations: the interest in cooperation and compromise, where no single species has the power over the independent governments of others."
"But with humanity at the front of the line, right?"
"I'm surprised, Shepard. I would have thought you of all people would agree with me. Didn't you warn the Council that the Reapers were coming, and they completely ignored you? If we had a Republic, a single person could make a decision to act, without the need for all the backroom dealings."
"Until you get someone like Udina in charge, and it all goes to hell."
"You can't be a politician without a little idealism." Renard smiled slightly, and then frowned, "I don't want humanity to be the whipping boy for a Council controlled by a fraction of the species it claims to represent." He smiled again, turning back to the crowd. "And with that thought, I should let you get back to work, Shepard. If you are interested, I think we could use a man like you on our side. Visit the campaign offices if you find yourself looking for something more."
And with that, Renard disappeared back into the crowd. Shepard shook his head as if he was coming out a daze. He could see why the politician was loved by so many. It was astonishing to Shepard that this man could be so engaging and yet, have ties to men like Caltree. Renard, Shepard thought, was truly a politicians politician.
"He's something else, isn't he?"
Shepard turned at the sudden voice to find Ashley Williams standing before him, clearly caught somewhere between guest and guard duty. Her navy pant suit fitted just enough that you could see her side arm, if you knew where to look.
"Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams." Shepard responded with genuine happiness to see her. "I hear your'e leading your own team now? Congratulations, Ash. No one deserved it more."
"Thank you. I don't think I could have done it if you hadn't pushed me." She trailed off, mirroring Shepard as he watched Renard mingle with the crowd, "Shepard, about everything …"
"It's done, Ash. It's over." He looked sideways at her and smiled a lopsided smile,.
Ashley smiled back, and the two of them stood in companionable, if slightly awkward, silence for a few moments.
"Hackett told me you'd come back. I didn't believe it at first, but you have a strange way of bypassing the Reaper."
Shepard smiled at the double entendre.
"You know me. A little death won't keep me down."
Ashley laughed. "Well that's certainly true. So what's happening? What have the Alliance got you doing?"
"Ash …" Shepard started. He saw her smile fade, the warmth leaving her eyes.
"You're not coming back to the Alliance." It wasn't a question.
"It's complicated, Ash."
"Don't Ash me." She folded her arms, staring directly ahead with the corners of her mouth turned down, a frown obvious from the wrinkle between her eyebrows. "And it's not complicated."
"I don't know what's happening." Ashley looked sceptical. "It's true. For once, I don't have a plan." Shepard shrugged, and went back to watching the guest who were all moving to stand where they could see a podium that had been placed at the top of the steps, awaiting the speeches that usually accompanied these sorts of events. "I'm tired, Ash. And this new world doesn't have space for people like me." He gestured with his head towards Renard and his velvet red jacket.
Ashley sighed, uncrossing her arms and looking down towards the floor.
"I know what you mean." She replied softly, also watching Renard schmooze with other guests, "Hackett has me clearing out the rubble from along the North Shore Launching Pads, but once that's done, it doesn't seem like there'll be a place for soldiers like us. We certainly don't fit in with his new world." She too gestured towards Renard.
Shepard turned his head, and raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Ash, you're wearing a pant suit."
She chuckled softly. "Never thought you'd see the day?"
"Not in a thousand years." The pair shared a warm smile before the clinking of metal on glass interrupted them.
It was Gerry Houghton who was taking to the stand to kick off the speech's and introduce the other important members of the congregation. Quite how he had earned the dubious honour of speaking first, Shepard didn't know, but as he stood there in his well-fitted suit, Shepard had to note, that he did look like a politician.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, distinguished guests. I want to thank you all for coming to this wonderful event. In a moment, I will let our host take over but I personally wanted to thank—"
Shepard zoned out as Houghton started his speech, and started observing the other speakers standing loosely at the bottom of the steps. He saw Houghton's companion. The slightly uncomfortable looking, dark haired woman. Shepard stared at her, and the longer he looked, the more familiar she became. He recognized her. He knew her.
She liked the adagio movement of Nielsen's Fifth.
She played the violin and wanted to go into colony development. She made a joke about it.
Shepard stared, open mouthed at the younger Lawson sister, but the greatest surprise was yet to come.
"Hello everyone." The voice was smooth, with a polished, well educated Australian accent. "I'd like to thank you all for your attendance here, but I'd especially like to thank my sister for her support in bringing you all together."
The space between the ticks of a clock seems to last eons.