I
It started with synth music (That much was to be expected) a sort of jazzy number with a rolling drum beat and bouncy bass line placed over several establishing shots of the newly reconstructed Presidium. A salarian male and a blonde, human female sitting behind a desk in one of the new embassy offices pantomimed having a conversation as the camera slowly pushed in and the music began to fade.
"Hello there," said the salarian, pretending to speak directly to the viewer. "You know, we've been going through a lot of big changes here at the Citadel ever since the end of the Reaper War."
There was an awkward cut and suddenly the human female was standing at the salarian's side.
"As you can see the rebuilding efforts have been highly successful, but there's still a lot to do. Large sections of the Wards are still in desperate need of repair. Obviously this is a huge undertaking, but there's no need to worry. We know we'll succeed. Why you ask? Because of one thing."
The human and salarian looked at one another and with the biggest, phoniest grins possible turned to the camera and declared in not-so-perfect unison: "Team work!"
The bass-y synth returned and the viewer was immediately bombarded with images of a diverse sampling of Citadel occupants engaging in various reconstruction efforts: patching holes, reconnecting power lines, hooking up water mains, hammering, drilling, soddering, welding, etc. Engineers tinkered and tapped on their omnitools. New trees were lovingly laid in freshly sodded planters on the Presidium level. Supervisors layed out holographic blueprints of future projects. Seemingly very important conversations unheard by the viewer over the awful synth music were had between well dressed business looking types in pristine office spaces. There were friendly waves and nods and winks and smiles all around from everyone. The human and salarian officers who introduced the vid acted as narrarators throughout, extoling the virtues of cooperation while simultaneously promoting the benefits of living on the Citadel.
"Cooperation is the key to the Citadel's amazing recovery," cheered one.
"At the Citadel you're not just a citizen. You're part of a family," affirmed the other.
Images of citizens engaged in a multitude of leisurely activities flashed across the screen. The active nightlife was heavily featured: Nightclubs, casinos, restaurants, concerts and shows. Bartenders served up ice cold drinks to enthusiastically happy patrons as expert chefs placed generously proportioned plates of hot, steaming cuisine in front of the same. Couples walked hand in hand down dimly lit, romantically decorated avenues against gorgeous outer space themed backdrops, and all the while the two narrarator's exaltation of the Citadel continued unabated.
"Now, more than ever, the Citadel is a place for all species from all walks of life to come together and make a better life for everyone," declared the first narrarator.
"No matter who you are, be you asari, turian, human, salarian, elcor, quarian, krogan or anything in between, the Citadel wants to be a place you can call your own," proclaimed the second.
It went on like that for a while. Words like 'teamwork,' 'togetherness,' 'friendship,' 'cooperation,' and 'family' were repeated ad naseum. There were highly staged testimontials featuring nakedly obvious actors speaking of the Citadel with the same warmth and affection one might reserve for a loved one.
"What's life like on the Citadel? It's like a warm hug that's just the right size for everyone."
"Thanks to the Citadel I've been given the greatest gift of all: the gift of friendship."
Everything had an air of speciousness to it. Even the parts that felt geniune seemed inauthentic, as if everyone appearing in the vid showed up on day one, were given five minutes to memorize their lines, had a bunch of props shoved into their hands and were then told to look busy. People pointed and pretended to talk. Tools were held in ways that suggested the user had no idea what they were used for, and everyone that had the physical ability to smile did so with great big gobs of put-upon gusto as the jazzy synth track bounced merrily along.
Finally, after twenty brutal minutes the vid ended. The final image was a wide shot of several citizens standing on front of one of the Presidium's massive balconies. An asari beckoned to the viewer to come join the Citadel family and then the entire group declared in unison, "Together we can make a brighter tomorrow," before freeze framing in the midst of an enthusiastic cheer. The picture faded to black and the credits started to roll with the first words being 'Directed by Skalia Dakaran.'
With the vid complete, the green-hued salarian who'd been watching the presentation with almost unbridled excitement swfitly pulled up his omnitool and killed the picture and mercifully the repugnant synth music along with it, making the c-sec office quiet once more.
"So, Commander, tell me honestly," he said with a bright smile. "What do you think? Pretty great, huh?"
Shepard shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat before leaning forward and putting his elbows up on his desk.
"Uh...well, Mr. Dakaran-" he began.
"Please," interupted the salarian. "Call me Skalia."
Shepard smiled wryly.
"Yes...well...Skalia, it certainly was...interesting."
Skalia was bursting with the kind of faux excitement you only get from someone trying to sell you something as he quickly exclaimed, "I knew you'd love it. Now, all the vid needs is a little endorsement at the end from you, something like "I'm Commander Shepard, slayer of the Reapers, and I want you to join the Citadel family."
"Uhh..."
"Of course that's just off the top of my head. The writers will come up with something better suited to you personally. It'll be easy I assure you, an hour of your time at the most. A little wink and a wave and you're done."
"Yeah, about that," Shepard interjected quickly. "Of course I want to help-"
"Uh-huh," grinned Skalia.
"And I really do like the message."
"Yeah, yeah, the message, uh-huh."
"But...the vid. Doesn't the whole thing come off a little...I don't know...schmaltzy?"
"Are you kidding me?" asked Skalia, his grin not faltering. "Shepard, baby, haven't you heard? Schmaltzy is in. Cheesy is hip and corny is cool. Highest grossing vid last year? A Home for Rakka, a heart warming tale about the bond of friendship forged between a curmudgeony old krogan and an adorable baby pyjack whose lost his way. People are tired of conflict. They want cheap sentimentality, the warm gooies, the lovey-dovies, the touchy feelies. Trust me. When the extranet sees this new promo vid everyone will fall in love with it. They'll see that the Citadel is still the number one place to be in the galaxy. The businesses will return, the people will come back and the Citadel will truly be alive again."
Looking down at his desk, Shepard thought for a moment.
"I guess that makes sense," he said after a beat.
"Look, there's no need to make a decision now," said Skalia quickly. "Take some time, think it over. I'm going to have my hands full for the next week or so anyway. We're resuming production on A Home for Rakka 2. In this one the old krogan and Rakka make a new friend, a cute and cuddly kitten named Boom-Boom. We unfortunately had to halt filming for a few weeks while we looked for a new Boom-Boom. Rakka...sort of...ate the last one."
II
It had been three years since the defeat of the Reapers, since Commander Shepard and his team fought their way through dozens of indoctrinated soldiers on their way to activating the Crucible and annihilating the greatest threat the galaxy had ever known in one fell swoop. Shepard had been the only one to make it on board the Citadel, somehow managing to skirt an onslaught of earth shattering energy attacks from the Reaper headmaster Harbinger. He distinctly remembered limping his way into the transport beam and making it inside where he activated the arms and primed the device, but unfortunately after that the details began to get hazy. He recalled a message from Admiral Hackett saying something was wrong, that the Crucible wasn't firing. He remembered blood and pain and this horrible throbbing in his head as he fumbled with the control panel and then nothing. He vaguely recalled Admiral Anderson and the Illusive Man being on board as well, though official reports of the incident would despute his claims. The body of the Illusive Man would indeed be found sometime later amongst the wreckage, but Anderson was declared KIA with all official Alliance reports determining that he never made it into the transport and was most likely killed during the initial charge, incinerated by one of Harbinger's devastating energy attacks. Regardlless of the details the fact was that shortly after the message from Hackett, Shepard lost consciousness. When he came to he was lying in the smoldering remains of what had once been the Wards and a duo of Alliance soldiers were kneeling over him asking him if he was alright. He passed out again and when he finally woke up two months had passed. The war was over and the Reapers were dead, their utterly inactive remains littering the galaxy.
While it was true Shepard had not been all that enthused with Skalia's vid (He was a firm believer that all it took to motivate people was honest sincerity paired with a helping hand as opposed to the emotionally manipulative treacle the director was pitching) he nevertheless was being completely honest when he said he liked the message. Truthfully he'd had a lot of concerns about what would happen when the war ended. Whether or not they could even win was only the start of his worries and he often sat up nights wondering about what would be left; if they could rebuild; if it would even be possible for things to ever be 'normal' again; if things could be better than they were and how long it would take before all the old hatreds and prejudices began bubbling to the surface once again, but what happened when the last of the Reaper's fell was far better than anything he could have hoped for. To fight the Reaper scourge the galaxy had banded together to find strength hitherto unknown to any living species and now that they were dead that strength did not falter. Men at arms turned into helping hands. Turian refugees recieved aid from asari supply ships. Salarian engineers worked tirelessly to repair human infrastructures. Together, in perfect unison, the galaxy picked itself up, dusted itself off, and began to heal. One world. One universe. One galaxy. It made Shepard proud to have been a part of it.
As for Shepard, his injuries combined with the not so minor feat of destroying the Reapers suceeded in earning him not only an almost embarrassing number of medals and commendations from various governments and institutions througout the galaxy, but also an honorable discharge from his service with the Alliance military, and once he was healed he signed a contract with the Citadel to oversee security during its reconstruction. It was an uneventful job; mostly a lot of paperwork and handling minor internal disputes. It was boring at times and occasionally Shepard wondered if perhaps he should have been doing more to help, but ultimately he figured it was for the best. He was done fighting. He was ready for peace and he would enjoy it. For however long it lasted.
III
The security job Shepard took did not offer many perks, but it did at least grant him a more than decent office in which to work. Spacious enough to fit a fine couch, it offered quiet comfort with a window overlooking the big fountain in the middle of the Presidium. It was here in this office that Shepard found himself now, sitting at his desk, typing away with vigor at his omniterminal. His meeting with Skalia had ended. He'd had his hour for lunch and now it was time to get back to work. Aside from the muted beeping and booping of his keystrokes the only other sound came from the holoscreen in the western corner of the room, the one currently tuned to the Galactic News Network. He usually liked to keep it tuned to GNN while he was working. Though he may not have been a specter anymore, keeping himself abridged on the goings-on of the galaxy remained important to him. Having GNN on in the background he believed at the very least helped keep him informed.
He was double checking his work, going over his spelling and punctuation and making sure there were no boxes left unchecked, when a 'human interest story' coming over the holoscreen caught his attention. Turning to the screen he found a well dressed, human field reporter speaking to the camera as he walked along an unnamed corridor somewhere on Illium.
"As their physiology improves and their immunities strengthen, more and more quarian men and women are finding themselves with the ability to step outside their envirosuits and enjoy lives free of the threat of contamination for the first time," said the reporter. "But for many this can be an difficult and even terryfiying endeavor."
There was a hard cut to an envirosuit-ed quarian male sitting in front of a vague office backdrop.
"I've been told my whole life never to take my suit off, even for a moment," said the quarian to the offscreen reporter. "My parents, they would tell me everyday as a child to never remove my visor unless it was a clean room. They told me I could die otherwise. That kind of stuff stays with you. Now, even though I know I can...I don't know...the thought still scares me. It's just hard to feel safe."
There was another cut and suddenly a light purple asari dressed in the familiar white of a doctor's uniform filled the screen.
"What people need to understand is that this is not simply a matter of 'just doing it," said the asari. "It's a state of mind that needs to be corrected through careful therapy. Breaking down these barriers, which have been strongly reinforced since childhood, is a process that can't be rushed. It takes time. Here at Free Living we help our quarian brothers and sisters find the courage to take that first big step out into the world."
A handful of testimonials later and the story ended. The field reporter signed off and the the head anchor, a turian named Kax Narlen, appeared on screen, rolling into the next story with very little hesitation.
"Keresy Communications announced today that their long awaited P2P communications project Audible is nearing completion," declared Kax, a graphic sporting the afore mentioned electronics company appearing to his left. "Vin Keresy, CEO and founder of Keresy Communications had this to say."
Another cut and a volus in a sleek black and white envirosuit standing behind a podium before a room of energetic reporters appeared.
"The final satelite...is finishing construction...as we speak," breathed the volus into the microphone. "As soon as it is launched...and properly synched up with the rest...of our network...our customers will at long last...be able to send and recieve transmissions to anyone...in Citadel space...directly from their omnitools. True connectivity...is finally within our...grasp"
The audio faded quickly and Kax appeared once more.
"The Audible project, which began in 2184, was forced to cease construction at the start of the Reaper War three years ago. Though Keresy Communications experienced many setbacks during the course of the project, it now confirms a completion date as early as next week. It promises for the first time ever lightspeed fast communication between persons anywhere in Citadel space."
Seeing both news stories back to back, Shepard couldn't help but feel that perhaps he had been too quick to judge Skalia's promo vid. Maybe it was schmaltzy, but there was no denying that the galaxy seemed to be heading in a much more positive direction now, and if it helped the rebuilding process and brought more revenue into the station then maybe taking the time to throw the project a little endorsement wasn't such a bad idea. Before any decisions could be made however the small reciever on his desk flashed green and booped to life with an incoming communication from his receptionist.
"Commander, you have a visitor," said the speaker.
Shepard did not have any other meetings scheduled for that day and was somewhat surprised by the announcement. Nevertheless, figuring he had the time and that it was probably something minor anyway, he asked that the visiting party be shown in. He returned his attention to his reports and was giving them one final going-over on his data pad when the office door swished open and a worn but all too familiar voice greeted his ears.
"So they finally managed to get you behind a desk, eh?"
Shepard's head snapped up as his old CO, Admiral Stephen Hackett made his way into the room.
"Sir," Shepard practically shouted. Old habits took over as he instinctively leapt to his feet and greeted the senior officer with a stiff and sturdy salute.
"I think we're well past that, son," Hackett replied with a smile, making his way over to the desk and offering Shepard a firm and respectful handshake which he gratefully accepted.
The Admiral had not changed at all, almost appearing frozen in time. He had the same sturdy exterior, the same studious gaze and bold way of speaking. Old age had not diminshed the respect and authority he seemed to command by his very pressence alone. The man had seen more action, participated in more battles and commanded more military opperations than anyone Shepard had ever known and yet what he found most remarkable was that through it all, throughout all the pain and bloodshed, all the victories and defeats, the Admiral had never lost that one most important thing. The Admiral had never lost his humanity. He was a serious man, but that served only to illustrate how much he cared.
"It's good to see you again, Admiral," said Shepard, his smile genuine.
"Likewise," replied Hackett.
Shepard gestured to the seat in front of his desk, inviting the old soldier to sit. He did and the two took a moment to get comfortable.
"So how the hell are you, Shepard?" asked Hackett once comfortable. "You look like you're keeping fit."
Shepard looked down at himself, at the way his C-Sec uniform fit snugly to his body and showed off his still very impressive arms and chest.
"The synthetic implants do their share of the heavy lifting. Also I was never one to just lie around," replied Shepard with a small grin.
"Clearly."
"What about you? How are the rebuilding efforts on Earth?"
"Better than expected. It took some time, but the lights are finally on again. The salarians have been a major asset. We're just fortunate that their homeworld and its neighboring colonies were mostly ignored during the war. Without their help and resources repairs would have taken considerably longer."
"Why do you think they were spared?"
"Don't think they were inteded to be. They've never really been a major military superpower. I imagine the Reapers were most likely just saving them for last."
Shepard nodded.
"Makes sense," he said. "So what can I do for you?"
The question seemed to cause the old soldier some discomfort as he shifted a little in his chair.
"Shepard," he said after a moment's preparation. "I need to ask you a favor."