Why the hell would I want to talk about that? Bloody hell, fine. I swear you lot are more interested in satisfying your own morbid curiosity than actually trying to treat your supposed patient. Yes, I've died. Twice now actually. First time was when they were trying to remove my implants as a kid and I was actually medically dead for a minute or so before they were able to resuscitate me. I was unconscious the whole time, so of course I remember jack all from the actual experience. About the only thing I do remember was just colossally pissed I was at my mother for having nearly gotten me killed.
Second time I died was after killing Saren. I'd activated Extremis even though my AI partner was halfway across the galaxy from me, and I had to override the failsafes to do so. And then I went and detonated the biotic charges in my implants and armor in order to make sure Saren, or that husk-like thing he turned into, stayed down. That one I do remember, and it hurt like hell. After I blacked out though, it's all a blank. So if you were expecting me to tell you all about the pearly gates or the flaming pits that I saw before getting yanked back to the land of the living, I'll have to disappoint. It was all a big zip. So why the hell are you all even bothering to ask about this?
*beat*
Wait, what? This was a prompt because you lot thought putting my own death in context would help me cope with John's!? Oh fuck all of you, you sanctimonious-
-Evangeline Shepard, Mandatory Counseling Log 010, restored upon appeal over original rejection of entry
Chapter 9
Dulce et utile
"Okeer was the best lead Cerberus could find for someone that might be able to work with Collector technology," Miranda said. "Losing him is problematical, on a variety of fronts."
The three were gathered in the conference again for the mission postmortem, with Shepard seated at the front of the table and Miranda and Jacob on the two sides. Though the statement by Miranda was clearly directed at Shepard, the woman spoke it looking directly at the man opposite her.
"C'mon, Miranda, there's no way we could have known the mission would pan out the way it did," Jacob tried to assuage the woman. "Considering the Charlie Foxtrot down there, we were lucky to even get there before the Blue Suns gutted Okeer!"
"But we did get there beforehand," Miranda retorted, "which means we were the ones that lost Okeer. The only thing we got out of the effort is that supposed perfect krogan tank bred of his, which amounts to little more than a fancy paperweight at this point."
"Well, we could try popping him out," Jacob suggested. "See if Okeer taught him anything useful about the Collectors."
"The Colonel has already made clear Okeer didn't transfer any of his technical aptitude to the tank bred," Miranda however quickly shot it down. "We'd probably learn more about the Collectors by dissecting it and seeing how their technology performed this training or nurturing that Okeer claimed it to have done."
Amidst all this, Shepard had remained otherwise silent beyond providing the initial precis. The woman's legs were propped up on the table in a horribly informal poise. Had anyone else walked into the meeting, they could easily be forgiven for presuming Shepard was not actually paying attention at all.
"Perhaps you would like to contribute something further, Colonel?" Miranda said somewhat testily.
The actual occupants could be similarly excused. Despite the implicit admonishment however, the colonel's legs stayed propped up.
"Okeer was Cerberus' best lead," Shepard began. "Should I take it then that the organization doesn't have any others worth pursuing?"
Miranda frowned. "That, might be a mild exaggeration."
"Yes or no, Ms. Lawson," Shepard said. "If Cerberus has another lead we can follow, then let's go follow it. Otherwise we try things my way."
That caused Miranda to blink and exchange quizzical glances with Jacob. What the former presumed was another backhanded criticism of her organization was turning into something a bit more. It was probably still a backhanded criticism.
"What are you thinking, ma'am?" Jacob asked.
"We need expertise," Shepard stated. "We need it badly enough that Cerberus is casting a net amongst non-human specialists despite its usual modus operandi. Well, considering I'm on slightly better standing with a few of the other races than your organization, it is one of the reasons your Illusive Man keeps trying to recruit me, I might have better luck finding such a specialist, if one exists, amongst the other races."
Miranda considered the answer for a moment before grudgingly nodding. "That makes sense. Where do you intend to look?"
The colonel was still not putting her feet back on the floor. Instead she leaned back a bit further.
"Joker," she said over the internal comms. "Plot a course to the Citadel, best speed."
"Uh, the Citadel, ma'am? Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright ma'am, plotting course to the Citadel. Hopefully they don't impound us or something."
"Begging your pardon ma'am," Jacob said after a moment, "but I gotta agree with our pilot. You sure it's a good idea to be heading to the Citadel in this ship?"
"Well, I've been assured that our credentials will withstand any sort of official scrutiny," Shepard said, glancing over at Miranda.
"They will," Miranda stated confidently.
"And the Council owes me one for helping save the station. It might take a little bit of diplomatic greasing, but they should leave us alone."
Jacob grunted, indicating willingness to trust in the colonel's judgment on the matter.
"What do you intend to do once at the Citadel?" Miranda asked the next salient question.
"Check in with some old friends and a few associates," Shepard said. "Admiral Anderson has been posted to the station as the Empire's naval attaché ever since his promotion, and he might be able to put me in touch with any of his Council counterparts looking into the Collector attacks. Garrus is a Spectre now, but Executor Pallin or some of his other C-SEC colleagues should still be able to get in touch with him. And C-SEC's connections aren't to be scoffed at either. I'd also probably be able to get word to the STG or the Blackwatch once on the Citadel. The STG especially might have someone in their records that could do the sorts of things we need, considering how tech savvy the salarians are."
Jacob and Miranda exchanged another look. A reminder, this, that for all Cerberus' own extensive reach, the colonel was not without contacts and resources of her own. That even if Cerberus' assistance was extremely useful, in the end, the colonel did not absolutely need them. Whether the same could be said the other way around, was less certain. Especially if the colonel really did find a tech capable of counteracting Collector technology via her network of contacts instead of relying on Cerberus. They would need to redouble their efforts to demonstrate their indispensability to Shepard. Miranda grimaced slightly. The thought of needing to do so ground at her.
"It'll also provide us with a controlled environment to decant that krogan," Shepard said. "Somehow just popping the cork on it down in the cargo hold doesn't feel like the brightest idea, especially if he turns out to be belligerent."
That the other two could agree on wholeheartedly. Although.
"Are we certain the risk is warranted at all?" Miranda asked.
Shepard finally deigned to glance over at the woman. "You suggesting we keep him on ice forever?"
"That, or hand him over to specialists that could examine him."
The colonel snorted.
"I'm serious, Colonel," Miranda said reprovingly. "If Okeer did employ Collector technology, that's the same as having employed Reaper technology. We've all seen how dangerous that can be. And this, nurturing, mechanism. Surely I'm not the only one to see parallels between it and Indoctrination?"
Jacob actually winced at that, indicating the thought had not occurred to the man. Shepard's expression however remained nonchalant. Indeed she was picking up her mug of coffee and taking a long sip.
"We've built up a significant amount of data about Indoctrination, both from examining victims directly and from all the data we pulled from the base on Virmire," Shepard finally said. "Included amongst that data is a catalog of the sorts of physiological changes that occur within the victim's brain as they are Indoctrinated. I've been having EDI run comparisons, between the scans Okeer took of his own tests subjects, his perfect krogan, and the catalog of Indoctrinated victims, to see if there are any matches. So far, she hasn't found anything that deviates from a baseline krogan's neural physiology beyond the usual margin of error. So however the Collector tech allowed Okeer to train and nurture his clones, it doesn't have the same effect as Indoctrination, as far as we can tell."
That seemed to satisfy Jacob, even though Miranda still looked uneasy.
"Bottom line is however, the risks in this instance appear manageable, and the tradeoff substantial," Shepard continued. "At present the ground combat element of this team is all here in this very room. Together, we three don't even constitute a proper fireteam, and our relative quality can only go so far in compensating for our lack of quantity. We need more warm bodies to handle all of the situations that can crop up once we're groundside. And if this krogan really will be as good as Okeer claims, then he'll add not just another body, but also be able to keep up when the going gets tough."
"Makes sense," Jacob was quick to see the tactical logic. "Assuming we can actually trust the thing though."
"That's what I'm here for," Shepard said. "I know the krogan can be more than just the savage monsters popular media like to portray them as. And my little chat with Okeer suggests he felt the same, whatever his callous methods. If this, grunt, is his magnum opus, then he would have done his damndest to make sure it could fulfill all the potential his people are capable of. So I'll give him a chance, and one chance, to prove both Okeer and me right."
"Would you look at that," Shepard remarked.
This was not the first time she had watched the approach to the Citadel through the gaseous clouds of the Serpent Nebula, and it was always hard to recapture the sense of wonderment of that first time in experiencing anything. What elicited the colonel's remark was thus not the floating station, which she now knew to be a Reaper construct instead of a prothean one, but the numerous additional contacts that had not been here the last time she stood on a ship's deck watching the approach. Numerous Terran contacts.
"Tenth Fleet," Joker said. "You know, I took part in some of the exercises that gamed the Empire having to assault the Citadel. Looking at our ships actually helping defend the station, that feels like a lifetime ago."
The dozen or so contacts visible was far from the whole of Tenth Fleet, but the large shapes visible in the distance did represent a significant percentage of the fleet's hitting power. Four dreadnaughts was nothing to scoff at, and attack craft aboard the two carriers could serve as very significant force multipliers in their own right.
"Same here," Shepard agreed. "Though I have to wonder what contorted logic the navy came up with to number the fleet Tenth instead of Ninth."
"Maybe the admiralty thinks they can get some more money out of parliament if they pretend we have ten fleets instead of just nine," Joker suggested.
Shepard snorted. "I know politicians are easy targets, Lieutenant, but surely we owe our elected officials a bit more respect for their basic intelligence than that?"
"I could have been talking about the brass, you know," Joker said.
That earned him a bark of laughter. "Good point. But remember, not all brass is dull. We've got one of our own wearing them now, after all."
"Yeah, that's true," Joker conceded. "Say hi to the old man for me, will ya?"
"Sure thing."
The radio crackled. "Normandy, this is Citadel flight control. You are cleared for docking in secured berth 7 in Zakera Ward."
That saw Shepard tilt her head a bit. "I don't recall requesting a secured berth. Joker?"
"Wasn't me ma'am," Joker said, then got onto the comms. "Flight control, this is Normandy. Why the VIP treatment?"
"This is the Normandy being commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Shepard, right?" the response came promptly. "The same Shepard that took down Saren?"
Joker glanced back at Shepard, whose eyebrow was now arched upwards.
"Uhh, yeah?" Joker finally said.
"Then you definitely want a secure berth, just to keep the crowds at bay," the controller informed them. "They're already massing."
"Oh for the love of god," Shepard said with a sigh.
"Roger that flight control," Joker said. "Appreciate the heads up and the help."
"You're welcome, Normandy. And pass on our own thanks to the good colonel. A lot of us wouldn't be here today if she hadn't showed. Citadel Control, out."
Joker glanced back again, this time with a big grin. "Pays to be famous, huh?"
"We'll see if it's actually any better than being infamous," Shepard said in an exasperated tone. "There better not be an honor guard waiting for me when we disembark."
There was. Standing arrayed in the debarkation area was mercifully only a single row of troopers, but there they were, a mixture of turian, salarian, asari, and even human officers in the parade dress of Citadel Security. Waiting to receive Shepard herself were two officers wearing the insignia of captains. One was a turian that Shepard easily recognized. The other, a human which she did not. Shepard herself stepped out alone, having issued explicit orders for the crew to remain aboard the Normandy until the initial furor had died down. The two C-SEC officers clicked their heels together and issued crisp salutes upon the colonel's approach. Shepard returned the courtesy with one of her own.
"Welcome back to the Citadel, Colonel Shepard," Decian Chellick greeted.
"Thank you, Captain," Shepard said. "This is arguably a much warmer greeting than I got the last, two times, I was here, in fact."
Chellick chuckled. "I can imagine." He then nodded to the human beside him.
"Captain Armando Bailey," the man introduced himself. "Formerly of the Imperial Terran Gendarmerie, transferred over to C-SEC to help bolster their manpower after, well, you know."
"I do indeed," Shepard said. "Well, Captain Bailey, I'm sure it has been an interesting learning experience, for both yourself and your new coworkers."
"It has at that," Bailey said, sharing a knowing glance with Chellick.
Whatever the two's experiences, they seemed to have at least developed some sort of rapport seeing as they had been mutually tapped to greet Shepard.
"Well then, shall we get going?" Chellick said.
"By all means, lead the way," Shepard said.
The trio walked past the assembled honor guard and Shepard took the time to meet the gazes of every single one of them. Even if she felt the pomp and circumstance unwarranted, these officers had still gone to the trouble of turning out like this, so it was only right that she properly acknowledge them for it.
"We have a vehicle ready to take you to the imperial embassy," Bailey said as they finished the review. "It's waiting outside, just far enough from the crowd that they can get a peek of you boarding."
At the look Shepard gave him, the C-SEC captain shrugged.
"Might as well throw them a bone, ma'am. Let them have a little bit of satisfaction so they can go home happy."
"Fair enough," Shepard said. "Just don't expect me to be holding any meet and greets, or interviews."
"Don't worry, Colonel," Chellick assured her. "We have strict orders to ensure that your privacy is preserved while on station."
"Hmm, maybe there are some benefits to being famous."
That assessment was sorely tested as Shepard emerged and a massive roar crashed into her. The colonel blinked a few times to make sure she was not seeing things. The crowd, there must have been thousands of people being held back by security barriers and clearly straining C-SEC officers. As Shepard gazed out at the crowd, she found herself experiencing an entirely unfamiliar sensation. For so many years she had lived with the stigma of being the Butcher of Torfan. For the most part Shepard had ignored it, since few people were stupid enough to want to draw the attention of someone called a butcher by being overtly hostile. Other times it was even useful if she needed to subtly threaten someone that was being particularly intransigent. And on the rare occasions where someone did try to pick a fight over it, Shepard could easily point out that the officer that originally accused her of butchery had been dismissed from the service, while she had risen to serve as a personal armswoman of the emperor himself, so what worth was any validation she was not getting from them? Now though, instead of unspoken wariness or even barely subdued animosity, what she was facing was pure adulation. It was such a marked shift that Shepard was at a slight loss as to how to handle it, and she momentarily froze at seeing the crowd.
"They like it if you wave," Bailey leaned in and suggested.
Blinking, Shepard snapped out of her daze and did as suggested. The cheering somehow grew even louder.
Chellick cleared his throat after a moment. "We should probably get to the vehicle before they actually try to breach the perimeter."
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Shepard agreed.
When they reached the car, Bailey climbed in with Shepard while Chellick remained outside. At the quizzical look he got, the turian gave a slight shrug.
"Captain Bailey was the only one seconded to assist you on your visit," he said.
Shepard now looked over at Bailey.
"Believe me, wasn't my idea, ma'am," Bailey said. "Must be another one of those benefits to being famous."
To that Shepard gave a snort, then turned back towards Chellick.
"I never did say thanks for covering our approach while we climbed the tower. So, thanks, Captain."
Chellick bowed his head. "Just part of the job, ma'am. But you are welcome."
And stepped back to let the door close. The sound from outside was thankfully also muffled and Shepard let out a sigh as she slumped into the seat.
"Give it a few days and the excitement should die down," Bailey offered.
"A few days?" Shepard said incredulously. "At the rate this is going, I'll be done with all my business on the station before then."
"Hmm, that's certainly one way to avoid it all," Bailey said with a chuckle.
Shepard echoed the captain after a few moments. "And let you get back to doing real work instead of playing gofer for some unpolished brass?"
"Well, I wouldn't put it that way myself," Bailey said.
"Right," Shepard drawled. "Anyway, I presume this vehicle's been swept for any bugs that aren't C-SECs?"
"We even had a few decoys," Bailey said, without bothering to deny the latter bit.
"Probably the best that can be done. So, will Executor Pallin be available for some catching up while I'm on station?"
"The executor sends his regards, and has some time at 1400 local time tomorrow during his lunch break that he would be pleased to have your company for," Bailey said, making sure the wording was appropriately dignified. "He suspects that, with the other calls upon your time, that would be most convenient for you as well."
Shepard's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"It appears that the Council itself would like to have a word with you," Bailey explained, "at least according to scuttlebutt. To properly thank you for saving the station, amongst other things. And considering how important the Council's time is, they're arguably going a bit out of their way to clear the necessary time on such short notice."
"Oh bloody hell," Shepard sighed. "Shouldn't the ambassador have warned me or something?"
"Kinda surprised he didn't," Bailey said. "You ever do anything to offend him?"
"Nothing recent as far as I can recall."
The captain snorted. "Well, then you can be sure he's already working on ways to best capitalize your presence to the Empire's diplomatic advantage."
"He bloody well better not," Shepard growled.
That earned her another chuckle from Bailey. "Well, that'll be between you and him. And I know it may get a bit annoying, Colonel, but you really are a hero to all of the people out there. I don't know how much you've read up on the after-action reports, but the platoon you managed to bring through with you managed to draw the geth away from continuing their sweep of the station. They saved a lot of lives due to that."
Shepard's lips thinned. "Then the heroes are the marines that stood their ground. I was a bit busy with other things."
"You're all heroes," Bailey said with some forthrightness. "There is no you versus them. All of you played a part in saving this station, and all of you are celebrated for it. Don't think otherwise, Colonel."
Shepard regarded Bailey with a blank expression, and then allowed a smile to touch the edge of her lips.
"Why is it that you remind me of my platoon sergeant when I was a mere JG on my first assignment?"
"In the gendarmerie you work your way up through the ranks," Bailey said. "In a way that means all gendarmerie officers are what you call mustangs in the navy or the corps."
"I suppose so," Shepard said. "Well, your words of wisdom are heeded, Captain."
"Damn right they should be."
The two officers exchanged looks, and then another bout of laughter.
"I know neither of us can properly appreciate it," Anderson said as he poured a drink from the whiskey bottle. "But I thought we'd share a toast nonetheless, for old time's sake."
"Well, I certainly won't say no," Shepard said as she accepted the glass. "Especially if you're breaking out the good stuff."
Anderson chuckled. "One of the advantages of being a flag officer, you get both a bigger paycheck and a larger discretionary budget." He raised his glass. "A toast. To friends."
"And to family," Shepard responded as she clinked her glass to his.
The two spent a moment or so downing their glasses and savoring the smooth drink.
"So how does it feel to be an admiral?" Shepard asked as the two settled into their seats.
"I'll be honest, I wasn't quite expecting to earn my admiral's star this way," Anderson said. "The way I figured, if I ever did make admiral, it'd be as one of Home Fleet's squadron commanders."
While there was only a single flag officer slot within the Imperial Cadre, quite a few of its members went on to achieve flag rank due to the peculiar nature of Home Fleet's organization. As it was the fleet responsible for the defense of Sol, and also served as the strategic reserve for Arcturus, the two most important systems within the Terran Empire, the imperial family kept a tight grip on control over the fleet. While the fleet admiral in command tended to be a career naval officer, all of the squadron commanders, from the battle squadron down to the escort and reconnaissance squadrons, were commanded by Cadre alumni. A big reason for Cadre to hold shipboard commands like Shepard did was to ensure there was a ready pool of candidates that had the experience to credibly be placed into those command slots. So while it was certainly true that there was only one Cadre flag officer, there were plenty of Cadre that were flag officers.
"What, you didn't want to be a proper flag officer like a general, sir?" Shepard said teasingly.
Anderson chuckled. "No, I always did have a more naval inclination than others in the corps. I seriously considered taking the naval track when I entered the academy as well, but well, they needed more synchronizers in the corps, so that's where I went. Still ended up on the naval component of the Cadre in the end though."
"Well, I for one at least am glad you did join the corps," Shepard said. "Our paths may still have crossed, but it wouldn't have been as early."
"True that." Anderson drained his cup. "I'm sorry about your brother. I know it can't be easy."
Shepard grimaced but gave a shrug. "I'm used to not easy. And things arguably haven't gotten any easier since."
"So I've heard," Anderson said. "I know you have already set your mind to it, but Shepard. The path you are walking, it's damn risky."
Shepard took a more measured sip of her own glass. "I take it I've disappointed you, sir?"
"You have," Anderson said frankly. "I know why you're doing this, and I know a part of you is also probably disappointed at yourself, but you're doing it anyway, so me saying anymore more isn't gonna change anything."
"Probably not," Shepard agreed. "Though it might make me feel a bit guiltier."
Anderson snorted. "If guilt was all that was needed to make someone not stray, the galaxy would be a much better place."
"Probably," Shepard agreed. She now finished her glass. "I really am sorry, sir. But, some things I need to do. Whatever the cost."
"I know," Anderson said. "And if it'd been me, I can't even say I'd do differently. Makes me sound like a sanctimonious ass for wanting to chew you out for it."
"Some random troll on the net telling me I'm doing something wrong is a sanctimonious ass," Shepard said. "Someone I trust and respect telling me I'm doing something wrong, that's a warning I need to pay attention to, and also a warning that I could yet do more wrong. I'll watch myself, sir. You have my word."
Anderson nodded, clearly far from happy, but recognizing that this was the best that Shepard could offer right now. He just needed to trust that his protégé would indeed not allow herself to succumb to temptation and cross a point of no return.
"I hear you've at least been making some progress on your mission," the admiral said.
"Some," Shepard said, "but we've hit a wall of sorts in terms of recruitment."
"The technical expert that you spoke of in your message," Anderson said with a nod. "You think you'll be able to find someone here on the Citadel?"
"I'm hoping for at least a recommendation," Shepard answered. "Hopefully that doesn't take too long to happen, not sure I want to stay here long enough for Udina to get any more ideas."
Anderson chuckled. "The ambassador's not so bad a colleague, he just approaches problems from a different angle. And honestly, it's an angle we need too."
"I'm sure," Shepard said with a smirk. "But that is why we have diplomats, so those of us not of that inclination don't need to dirty our hands with such business, no?"
Another chuckle sounded. "That's one way of looking at it. And I've made sure Udina knows about your lack of enthusiasm for such niceties, so he's restraining himself from making too many presumptions upon your time."
"Good," Shepard said. "And what of your own work, sir? I don't suppose you've managed to interest the Council in helping deal with the Collectors?"
"Not as such," Anderson said. "At least not openly. The Council has their own priorities, and since the attacks have been strictly limited to human colonies thus far, they need to be careful about giving the impression of bending backwards for the Empire's sake. That said, the nature of these wholesale disappearances is troubling enough that we have been getting bits and pieces of cooperation. The Citadel Fleet and the navies of the Council races have stepped up their alert level, and their ships have been told to keep an eye out for any strange activity. They're also passing on patrol reports, scrubbed of course, of anything odd that they come across."
"That's certainly not nothing," Shepard said.
"It certainly isn't," Anderson said. "More could be done, but we'll need a concrete target to point everyone at first."
"It's almost like the Saren hunt all over again," the colonel remarked.
"In some ways, it is. In others, even though our formal relations with the Council is much better this time around, the amount of on-the-ground cooperation isn't quite as extensive, if only because the Council can't adopt a mandate of stopping the Collectors with so little evidence at hand."
"Hopefully the additional data I've brought will help nudge them closer to taking action," Shepard said.
"At the least it should open up some avenues for your own mission," Anderson concurred. "In the meantime though, a room has already been prepared for you within the embassy section. That should help keep out any riffraff that's trying to get a peek of you."
"If I really am that famous, that's going to actually make my mission harder," Shepard said with a flicker of irritation.
"Agreed. And that extra attention is also going to mean extra scrutiny of your actions as well. That scrutiny will also apply to His Majesty, which I'm sure hasn't escaped your notice."
"No," Shepard pursed her lips. "No, it hasn't." And sighed. "Well, it isn't like I was lacking in a sense of discretion beforehand, but this is a pretty good reminder of how important it is."
"True that. So, how long do you think you'll stick around?"
"I wasn't kidding when I said I'd only be here for two or three days at most," Shepard said. "That's enough time to see all of the people I actually want to see, and just barely enough for all the people I have to see. And that should be enough time for the crew to get at least a little shore leave in while we re-provision."
"Fair enough. If you want to chance it, you probably could head down to the wards incognito. Just, try not to get into any barfights you can't win."
Shepard flashed a wide grin. "I'm a marine, sir. No such thing."
The last time Shepard had been in these chambers, the real, actual Council chambers instead of a simicry, she had been a bit too busy trying to save the galaxy to really appreciate the scenery. Now, the leisurely approach of this occasion allowed the colonel to better take in her surroundings without having to regard them through a tactical lens. A tree was now a piece of decoration instead of an obstruction to her line of fire. The stairs rising up towards the actual audience platform were no longer an annoying gauntlet that needed to be surmounted, now they were just merely annoying. Or maybe she was just annoyed having to break out her dress uniform. Even when officially on leave, she apparently could not escape being stuffed into the damned thing. And that was also in spite of having left it behind at her Vancouver residence. But for some reason, when preparing for her audience with the Council, Anderson managed to pull out a set tailored to her exact measurements. That had earned the admiral a beady glare from Shepard, even as Anderson was clearly trying to keep from bursting out in laughter.
The admiral himself was in his formal dress, which would be more consolation to Shepard had Anderson not looked so accustomed to it. He probably was, considering the number of diplomatic functions he needed to attend. Udina too, come to think of it. The two men were actually flanking Shepard herself as they climbed the stairs. And to top it all off, music was blaring the requisite fanfare on their approach. The Council really was pulling all the stops out. Maybe coming to the Citadel wasn't such a bright idea after all. Shepard kept her expression flatly neutral, if only to not cause the cracks in her skin to strain and become more visible. The dermal regeneration was for whatever reason still not taking, and the orangish glow leaking from between her scars gave Shepard an ominous, sinister appearance. Being in a brightly lit area helped hide some of that as the glow basically faded in the ambient light, which fortunately the Council chambers were. Otherwise Shepard might have had to resort to makeup to hide the scarring, at which point she really might have just made a run for it in the Normandy.
The trio arrived at the top of the stairs and found themselves face to face with the Council itself. Directly across from Shepard was the asari councilor, Tevos. To the right directly across from Udina, the salarian councilor, Valern. And to Shepard's left, across from Anderson, the replacement turian councilor, Quentius. It might be a few more years before he stopped being the new guy, though from everything Shepard had heard Quentius did not have a stick up his ass about humanity like Sparatus did, which made him a marked improvement from his disgraced predecessor.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Shepard," Tevos greeted with a wide smile. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
"Thank you, Councilor," Shepard responded courteously. "It's an honor to be here, and not be getting shot at."
Udina rolled his eyes in exasperation, having probably expected the quip and long resigned to it. Anderson's lips quirked ever so slightly before the admiral smoothed out his expression.
"Hmm yes, your last visit here would certainly have been more, dynamic," Valern said, allowing a smile of his own to crop up. "One hopes you will find greater time for leisure this time around."
The banter between someone of such august personage as Valern with arguably a respected but still somewhat middling ranked officer of a foreign polity might have seemed out of place, except Valern and Shepard were far from strangers to each other. They were not quite at the level of acquaintances, Shepard really only having spoken to the salarian councilor once before, but the colonel's subsequent actions had been more than enough to solidify Valern's good opinion of her. Besides, it was a poor politician that couldn't take a joke.
"While you are clearly already acquainted with Valern," Tevos interjected, some additional introductions are likely in order. "I am Tevos, and to my left here is Quentius."
The turian dipped his head. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Colonel. I am aware that you have your reasons for disgruntlement with certain elements of the turian political establishment, but I hope we can put that all behind us."
"Whatever my problems with that element, I have also had the genuine honor of working with many turians I would be proud to consider fellow brothers in arms," Shepard responded graciously. "And I likely owe my life many a times over to Captain Vakarian for all the times he's covered my back." The colonel tilted her head aside. "I don't suppose Garrus is around to say hi?"
"Regrettably Agent Vakarian is currently off station," Valern answered, "though I am sure if you wished to contact him, one of his C-SEC colleagues would be able to put you two in touch."
And implicitly let Shepard know that the Council knew of her upcoming meeting with Pallin, and consented to it. Shepard nodded in turn.
"Thank you kindly for the suggestion, Councilor."
And looked back at Tevos, to signal she was ready to get the actual show on the road.
"While you have likely heard this many times already, it is fact that you played a pivotal role in saving this station, those whom call it home, and ultimately the galaxy as a whole," Tevos said, laying it on a bit thick, but arguably not by much. "While the Council has conveyed its formal gratitude officially to the Terran Empire, it was always our intention to convey our own gratitude to you in person. That circumstances would delay our opportunity to do so are of sincere regret, we nonetheless remain earnest in our thanks for your deeds, Colonel. For ourselves, and for our peoples."
Shepard dipped her head, not quite a bow, but still an acknowledgement. "You are welcome, Councilors. Though my oaths are to His Majesty, to uphold them obliges that I conduct myself with the greatest of honor to our friends, and with the greatest of directness to our enemies."
"Such steadfast loyalty and dedication to duty is to be admired," Quentius. "And demonstrates to all the worth of friendship with not just the Terran Empire, but with humanity as a whole. It is my hope that humanity will find equal worth in all the other races that wish to befriend them."
The colonel smiled slightly. "I think fair progress has been made on that, Councilor. At least for myself. And should anyone unfairly disparage the nobility of any other races, I will not hold my silence."
"It is good to hear that even when on leave for your, extracurriculars, you hold yourself to such a standard, Colonel," Tevos said. "We sincerely hope you are never given cause to reconsider, and we pray that you will find success without ever having need to compromise."
That, that was not some idle remark, Shepard immediately picked up. Of course the Council of all parties would know about what she was up to, and with whom she was working with. Tevos' statement was thus a warning to Shepard that the Council, for all its platitudes, was very carefully watching the colonel, and while they were prepared to look the other way for now, that could change depending on her actions. Two could play at that game however.
"Some people may think that going it alone is the most expedient manner of resolving a problem," Shepard said. "Others may choose to do so because either in audacity or arrogance, they do not need the help. I see things a bit differently. I am where I am because of everyone that has deigned to lend me a hand. And the more hands that become willing to do so, the further I can yet go in the future, no matter how far away the destination is."
And there it was. For all the principled and nice sounding platitudes in her statement, Shepard was also making a few subtle points to the Council. The colonel believed in cooperating with others, and would even prefer it. But that was still contingent on getting results from those collaborations. If at any point she were to be disappointed by the inadequacy of whatever assistance was lent however, then much as the Council would no longer be able to ignore her association with Cerberus, Shepard herself might find such association to be her only option. It was a dangerous line being drawn here, and arguably the Council had much less reason to allow that kind of risk to be running around. But then again, at least some of the councilors had demonstrated a daring willingness to take risks if they thought the payoff worth it. So where did Shepard weigh in on this balance of risk versus reward?
"With the right friends, one can indeed go great distances," Tevos responded. "Know that when you find yourself faced with an especially arduous and difficult trek, there will be at least one door through which you can pass to begin it."
Curious, that. This had to have been a pre-agreed statement, one that indicated the Council as a whole felt Shepard herself of sufficient value that they would go to at least some length to not lose her to a potentially unfriendly bloc. The colonel herself however could not discern why that might be her case. Yes, she was an extremely competent warrior, and yes, she was someone with more than a passing familiarity to the emperor himself, but that did not feel sufficient to warrant this direct attention. So what was it? The answer however was not forthcoming from the careful, guarded expressions upon the councilors' faces. If she wanted to find it, she would need to look elsewhere. For now, Shepard simply dipped her head once more.
"I will keep that in mind, Councilor."
End of Chapter 9
Laying the groundwork, as it were. This chapter was in general much easier to write. Probably helped that I had more room to do some proper world building. One more chapter I think before we head off for Omega.
As indicated by this chapter, my Shepard is a bit more proactive in pursuit of her mission than the canon Shepard. In the original game, a lot of things were handed to you as the character, which arguably makes for a less engaging main character when translated into prose. I did something similar in the first part, where the progression from each of the main story missions was structured so that Shepard discovered them one by one instead of being told, investigate these three places at your leisure. For the second arc, Shepard is doing a similar discovery for the recruitments. She gets handed one dossier, and after that several of the rest will naturally emerge as a consequence of visible developments in the story. That I think will make for a more engaging read.
The proactive nature of my Shepard also helps reinforce just why she's regarded so highly, even by those wary of her. She's good at her job, which is not just about shooting at enemies, but about actually leading. So the initiative she's displaying, along with her ability to respond to ostensible failures, all demonstrate her supreme competency.
Back in one of my author notes for Duty, I mentioned how the Empire didn't have a formal one-star rank for their admirals, that those were usually always brevet commodores. I'm modifying that, so that the Empire does indeed have a one-star rear admiral, but it's an administrative slot instead of a fleet command. So one-star rear admirals are in some shore based post, while two-stars hold actual fleet commands.
So this happens every once in a while, but it happens enough times that I feel like I need to make a note of it in the author notes of the first chapters of whatever story I write. I generally don't proofread or do editing passes, what's there is what's there. So while I can understand the sentiment, trying to go chapter by chapter to point out grammar or spelling mistakes isn't going to prompt me to go and fix anything, so keep that in mind before feeling the urge to spend all that time doing so. This is after all something I'm doing in my free time, and when I'm already more coherent and readable than probably 90% of the other works on this site, I see little to no value in spending any additional time trying to smooth it out even further, since achieving textual perfection is not one of my reasons for writing.