He looked down at the datapad. The date stared back at him. Two years. He was a free man, with a rather nice number in his bank account. Enough to go off planet, or live somewhere far from New York. Get a real job. Maybe try his luck as a...

Michael looked at his reflection in the glass of the window. The hair that had once brushed his shoulders was now less than a quarter inch in length. He'd hated the uniform for the first couple months. Now it was hard to picture himself without it. How the hell had a hard bunk and overcooked food started to feel like home? Michael looked down at the datapad in his hand. "That geezer is going to feel so smug about this, isn't he?"

The datapad didn't respond. He tapped the keys to bring up the reenlistment form, and started filling it out.

#

He wrapped his legs around the support beam and hung out of the small shuttle. The sniper rifle felt comfortable against his shoulder. The ship jolted slightly, and he controlled his breathing, anticipating the next movement as he lined up the shot. The shuttle jittered, then went smooth again. He judged the wind, and pulled the trigger.

In the distance, the crates began exploding. Within a minute, the compound was in flames, and the pirates were fleeing in all directions. Michael pulled himself back into the ship, and grinned at the pilot. "Pay up."

"I uh..." Zavala rubbed the back of his neck. "Might be a bit short."

Bai started laughing. "So not only were you stupid enough to bet against him, you bet with money you didn't have?"

"He made the shot." Brekin's voice was gleeful. "Fucking Shepard." He bumped his fist against Michael's.

"Land this thing." Michael grinned up at the pilot. "We've got some pirates to round up."

#

Major Kyle stared at them. Behind him, Shepard could hear Bai trying not to laugh. "Lieutenant."

"Sir?" Shepard kept his face composed.

"When you left here, it was in an alliance shuttle."

"Yes, sir."

The Major turned to look at the landing pad. "Where is my shuttle?"

"In the cargo hold, sir." Shepard stared straight ahead. Taggert was making choking sounds.

"In the cargo hold." Major Kyle nodded as his lips twitch. "Would you care to explain to me just how your team acquired a batarian frigate?"

"Carefully, sir."

Brekin lost his composure completely, and had to lean on Bai for support while he laughed. Major Kyle gave him an annoyed look before he gave up and started laughing as well.

#

Zavala smiled eagerly. "Think they'll let us keep this one?"

"I thought you liked the space ones." Michael glanced down at the pilot.

The other man pulled a lever, and the Mako launched into the air, clearing the ravine. It landed on the other side, throwing everyone against their harness. Zavala let out a whoop.

"Permission to shoot him, sir?" Brekin winced and rubbed his side.

"Granted." Michael rolled his shoulder. "Next time we are stealing something with a mass effect field."

#

"Lieutenant." Major Kyle gestured to Shepard. "Take your team to the north and get that gun offline. It's going to tear our backup apart."

"On it, sir." Shepard waved to his team, and headed towards his target. He pulled up the map on his omnitool as he moved, and let out a small snarl. This was going to get bloody. And worse, it was going to be bloody for his team. He turned and looked over his crew before dividing them in half. "Brekin, move in around back, get the shields down. We'll head in the front with the same objective. Last one to the shields buys the drinks." He yanked his rifle out of its harness.

Nods answered the order. They knew the situation as well as he did. The best they could hope for was one of the teams to draw enough fire for the other team to get in. Half of them weren't going to make it to the bar.

#

He dropped the first of the batarians with a silent shot from his rifle, and gestured to the rest of his team. His second and third shots also took out sentries. They were in the door when they heard the sound of fire from the other half of the building. "Fuck."

"We've got to help them." Aditi turned towards him.

"No." Michael kept his face expressionless. "We've got a mission, same as they do."

"Sir..."

"Move your ass. We don't know how much time they are going to buy us. We don't get those guns down, everyone dies here." He reloaded, and started moving again. Brekin had a girl, stationed on Arcturus. Michael headed sliced the security lock open. He'd asked Michael to be one of the groomsmen.

Batarians turned at the sound of the door opening. Michael opened fire.

#

Michael planted the charges in the shield generator and dove into cover. A few seconds later there were three small explosions, and the faint humming sound ceased.

The rear of the building had fallen silent. He'd tried the communicator, but no one had answered. "How is Monet?"

Taggert looked up from where he was applying the first aid patch. "He should be fine if we get him to medical soon."

There was the sound of footsteps coming in their direction. Michael took up position. "Just get him shooting straight."

#

The batarian held up his hands in a surrender. Michael gestured to Aditi. She and Meyer moved in carefully. Michael started to reach for his omnitool when he saw something flash in the batarian's expression. "Get down..." He grabbed Vasquez and pulled her behind cover just as the grenade exploded.

Dimly, he heard Meyer screaming. Taggert was moving towards the wounded man. Michael started for Aditi, but a second look made it clear there was nothing to be done for her. He looked at Meyers, and realized the same was going to be true there. Meyer's leg was lying across the room, and most of his torso was just char and gore. He screamed and convulsed as Taggert tried his best.

It was almost a mercy when he went still. Michael looked at the surviving faces of his team. Taggert. Vasquez. Monet. Three. Just an hour ago, they'd been twelve. "We need to stop them from getting those guns up again. Move, people."

Their faces were fierce when they saluted.

#

Signals were coming over the communicator again. Bombs were still dropping, but it was mostly a cleanup operation now. Major Kyle radioed for him to head back to the rendezvous point.

Michael got his arm up under Monet's shoulder, letting the man lean on him as they started to make their way through the wreckage. They hadn't gone far when a dozen batarians appeared.

Their weapons came up, and immediately the batarians threw up their hands. "We surrender." The one in the lead actually had a little white flag. None of them appeared to be armed.

Meyers' screams echoed in his ears. He wasn't sure who fired the first shot.

#

Major Kyle's face looked worn and haggard. "They'd surrendered, Lieutenant." He shook his head at Michael.

"Sir..."

"I saw it, Lieutenant." Major Kyle narrowed his eyes.

"I gave the order." Michael met his eyes. "We didn't have the manpower to deal with taking prisoners in that situation, sir."

Major Kyle's tired face gave way to disgust. "I'll add that to my report, Lieutenant." He shook his head. "We'll be picked up as soon as the bombers are..."

The communicator crackled. A voice came over. "Sir..."

Michael stared at the unit, and answered. "Brekin?"

"Sir I..."

"Location."

"Rear of..." The voice was weak. "There's a red pole."

Immediately, Michael started to turn back to the building. One of the nearby MPs grabbed his arm. Major Kyle shook his head. "The bombers have already started their..."

His fist connected with the MP's jaw and he was moving. A couple others tried to grab him and he pulled his way free. He heard Major Kyle's voice calling after him. "Get back here, Lieutenant. That's an order. Shepard. Shepard!"

#

Hackett opened the cell door and stepped inside. Michael looked up from where he was sitting on the cot. He immediately got to his feet and saluted. "At ease." Hackett took a deep breath. "You going to tell me the truth, kid?"

"I stand by my official statement, sir." Michael stood in parade rest, but he didn't meet Hackett's eyes.

"Yeah." Hackett shook his head. He looked down at the datapad. "Major Kyle backed up your statement." He folded his arms, and stared at the man in front of him. Then he sighed, and shook his head. "They want to court martial you, kid."

"I have been informed, sir."

"They want to discharge you and put you in prison for a couple years." He took a deep breath. "That's not going to happen."

Michael blinked. "Sir?"

"You disobeyed a direct order." Hackett narrowed his eyes. "Your freedom, your career, your life..." He chuckled. "To go back into the fire for a survivor. And here you are again, taking the court martial so the survivors of your team don't have too. We both know you didn't give that order."

"Sir..."

"Shut up." Hackett let his arms drop to his sides. "I'm not excusing you. You may not have given the order, but you discharged your weapon same as the rest of them. I thought you better than that." He threw the datapad onto the cot. "This isn't a reward, and you damn well better get that through your thick skull. I put you down for the N7 program."

"N7, sir?"

He let the silence drag on long enough for Michael to shift awkwardly. Military regulations said Michael Shepard should be thrown out on his ass, hard enough to bounce. A waste of a talented soldier. Not to mention it would be trading a problem for one that could be far worse. Michael Shepard with no course to hold was a frightening proposition. "I think the galaxy is a lot better off with you pointed firmly at the enemy, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

Hackett started to leave the cell, then hesitated. "Son, do yourself a favor and find an anchor. Or one of these days you're going to find you are so far out to sea you've got no way back." He stepped out of the cell and closed the door behind him.

#

Anderson looked across his desk at his most recent acquisition. The N7 on the man's armor was still fresh enough to be shiny. He scrolled through the datapad. Exemplary sniper. Bypassed security systems easier than some people opened doors. Had a history of getting into fights and several incidents on record of disobeying direct orders. And Sanders had referred to the guy as a thug.

He continued scrolling, this time looking at the commendations. A thug that got the job done when no one else could. "Shepard."

"Sir?"

"You're something of a problem child." He glanced at a note at the bottom of the file. "Most marines learn not to mouth off to their drill sergeants at some point before their pushup total hits six digits." He met the man's eyes. Fourteen years, Hackett had held onto that favor. And now he was calling it in. For the Butcher of Torfan. "Of course, most marines never achieve N7 status, least of all manage it in under a year." He gave the younger man an appraising look. "How big a headache are you going to give me, son?"

"I'm not your son, sir." Shepard met his eyes levelly.

Despite himself, he smiled. "No. You'd be a damn sight better looking if you were." He glanced one more time at the service record, then tucked the datapad into his desk. The most surprising part about the record was that despite the number of hells he'd walked through, the man kept coming back. "It seems you're my problem now."

#

"Well, what about Shepard? Earthborn..." Ambassador Udina frowned as he looked over the datapad. "But no record of his family."

"Doesn't have one. He was raised on the streets. Learned to look out for himself." Captain Anderson leaned back in his chair. He flicked his eyes to where Admiral Hackett was standing. He'd been expecting Hackett to back the suggestion.

"He got most of his unit killed on Torfan." Hackett folded his arms.

"He gets the job done." Anderson nodded in acknowledgment. Torfan had more than its share of disasters, and frankly, it had been a miracle Shepard had succeeded at all. "No matter what the cost."

Udina narrowed his eyes. "Is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?"

Captain Anderson sighed. "That's the only kind of person who can protect the galaxy."

"I'll make the call." Udina took the datapad with him as he left the room.