Chapter Seventeen
The Proverbial Wet Dream

Fiordland, New Zealand

Hannah Shepard exhaled slowly. It was so cold that her breath condensed the moment it left her chilled lips, drifting lazily in front of her face until it dissipated a second later. The temperature ought to have driven her indoors, but she found the cold invigorating and the view breath-taking.

Aside from visits to the Athabasca Facility, much of her post-war time had been spent in war ravaged London and Vancouver. While Alliance High Command crowed about the success of the rebuilding effort via their puppet news outlets, one only had to look below the gleaming new structures to see the rubble that still lay at their feet. Although most people had enough to eat and a place to sleep, receiving the necessities were conditional on obeying the stringent rules set in place. Hannah asked herself how long the population would continue to submit to the post-war military regime. Eventually people would realise that the Alliance had absolutely no plans to relinquish the power that it had gained.

By then it would be too late. The stranglehold would be complete.

Before she could allow her thoughts to be bogged down by such concerns, Hannah refocused on the beauty in front of her. It seemed almost criminal that such places still existed on Earth. While she was certain that it could not possibly last, at least not for a wanted woman, she was determined to enjoy it while she could. Having been in the Systems Alliance Navy since she was eighteen, Hannah could not remember experiencing such a period of inactivity. There had been brief holidays of course – although none longer than the two week honeymoon she and John had spent on Elysium. Following his death, she'd largely ignored her vacation time except for occasional educational trip to Earth with Evangeline. Despite being taken to some of Earth's finest museums containing humanities treasures, her daughter had spent most of the time sullen and unresponsive. It was only in hindsight that Hannah realised she had never bothered to ask Evan what she actually wanted to do.

Their brief parting words before Evan left Earth had given her hope. In truth, Hannah had expected either a silence containing only barely concealed contempt or yet another bout of curt, angry, one-sided accusation. Instead their exchange had bordered on being polite.

As Hannah's gaze lingered over the lake and surrounding rainforest, she finally found a measure of peace that had been eluding her for a long time. She was so caught up in the view, that she did not hear the approaching footsteps until they sounded just behind her. Although startled, she soon remembered that there was no one for miles save her and Pericles Macklin.

Mack stopped just ahead of her, slightly short of the water's edge. Hannah shook her head in disbelief. Despite the cold the blasted man was wearing shorts again – exposing his sinewy legs to the elements. Having spent the past few days sharing each other's company, the New Zealander's brusque manner and shameless flirting continued to irritate the hell out of her. Her reaction was tempered by the fact that he'd risked his life for her daughter but there was only so much blatant disregard for propriety that she could take.

Especially at my age! Hannah thought as she watched Mack retrieve a smooth stone from near his feet.

Although fifty-eight was hardly over the hill, it was old enough to assume that no one in their right mind would be interested in flirting with her. Although there had been a few relationships over the years since John's death, they had each served a purpose at a different time in her life. Certainly, none had lingered long enough to warrant introducing them to her daughter.

The man is handsome…in a rugged sort of way, she admitted grudgingly, trying not to watch too closely as Mack threw the stone with an almost graceful movement. They both watched it skip across the otherwise smooth surface of the lake before disappearing. The ripples lingered, disturbing the mirrored images of the surrounding landscape. Hannah let out another exhale and realised belatedly that she had been holding her breath.

"Enjoying the nice view?" he commented, glancing over his shoulder toward her. The ever-present grin was fixed on his face.

"It seems a gross understatement to simply call it 'nice.' Breath-taking…or stunning would be more appropriate," Hannah replied brusquely.

"Yeah, not bad is it," Mack said with a shrug.

Hannah pursed her lips together in disapproval. However, the longer she stared at him, the more she suspected that his outward nonchalance did not paint a complete picture. There was a wistful tint to his gaze and a small smile on his face. Mack glanced at her again and she was caught staring. She couldn't remember the last time her cheeks had burned in such a manner and tried to cover up her embarrassment with words.

"I don't think I've thanked you for putting up with me – I'm taking up your space…as well as the only bed. As soon as I can link up with Anderson I'll be out of your hair." The sooner the better I think.

"No need to hurry." Mack ran a hand through the still thick hair on his head. He turned his body fully to face her. "I enjoy the company – and a view of a different sort." As Hannah bristled, he grinned and continued, "Besides you shouldn't be so willing to throw yourself back into yet another struggle – regardless of how badly the Alliance deserves to have you come and kick their arses."

The man is absolutely incorrigible! "I don't kick many arses these days," Hannah admitted honestly.

She was still nursing a plethora of bruises and aching muscles as a result of the rescue mission – even though Liara and Miranda had dealt out most of the damage, leaving her and Mack to mop up the stragglers.

Hannah had to admit that her first impressions of the mercenary had been incorrect – born out of a series of assumptions based on his profession and his brash manner. She had seen him in action, but it was what she was seeing now that was the most revealing. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Mack did not fit the mould of a violent, transient killer-for-pay. He was clearly well-educated and, from the contented expression on his face, he enjoyed simply being.

Without waiting for an invitation, Mack eased his body down onto the fallen tree trunk she was using as a seat. Hannah had to resist the urge to draw in a deep breath and take in the pleasant, woodsy scent he always carried with him. In an effort to concentrate on something, anything, else she cast her gaze skywards. The puffy clouds were tinged with grey.

"All going well, Evan and Liara ought to have reached Omega by now."

"Yeah, not sure if I would have thrown myself at Aria's mercy," Mack replied warily. "That bitch is as likely to turn on you as she is to offer any help. I know Liara's a smart kid, but Aria is something else. Maybe I should have insisted on going with them? I should get over myself and accept the fact that I can actually stand to look at her again."

Hannah regarded his expression out of the corner of her eye. The slight twist to his lips matched the bitter tone evident in his voice. "I take it things between you and Aria T'Loak did not end well?"

Although she did not know the self-styled Queen of Omega, she had heard enough. If even half the stories were true, then she was a piece of work indeed.

"Shit, they ended well enough, she's just a fucking bitch. I'm not entirely sure how I managed to spend nine years with her without either of us ripping the other to pieces. Actually, scratch that…without her ripping me into tiny pieces." Mack cocked his head to one side "Actually, I do know, the physical side of things was mind-blowingly fan-" He suddenly cut himself off and an actual apologetic expression settled on his chiselled features. "Sorry, you didn't need to know that."

"I most certainly did not," Hannah replied as a sudden, inexplicable frustration surged throughout her body. She lashed out, giving Mack a short, sharp shove that sent him toppling backward over the log and landing hard on the stones. "You are an arse, Mr Macklin!" she snapped as she rose to her feet, trying to maintain some measure of composure as she realised that the frustration had been born out of a sudden jealousy.

She stared at him lying on his back with his bare legs still hooked over the log. For some reason she suddenly found the whole situation so comical she almost laughed. Laughter – it was something she hadn't done for so long, she'd almost forgotten how to do it. Hannah had to keep her lips clamped together as she marched past the helpless man and back toward the house. She did not offer him a single glance over her shoulder.


Despite the fact that the air temperature was probably only a little above freezing, Mack remained where he was for some time in an effort to remind himself that not all women were open to his particular brand of charm. Mack sighed regretfully. Hannah Shepard was not like most women and in all likelihood his loose tongue had ruined their fledging friendship.

When he eventually peeled himself from the terrain, his entire body was chilled to the bone. Mack reasoned that this was a fitting punishment for his impatience as he walked stiffly toward the house. Hannah had probably retired to the bedroom as she usually did when she wanted to be alone. He would be able to sneak into the training room without causing further embarrassment for either of them. A vigorous bout of physical exercise would be the ideal tonic.

Mack made it only as far as the threshold before he discovered that Hannah was not in her room. She had been waiting for him. At first glance he saw her stormy expression and thought that she was going to push him again, or possibly deck him altogether. Howeve,r when she moved forward, she extended a slender hand and wrapped it around the back of his neck. His heart thumped like a teenager's as she drew his head downwards to bring their lips together. The kiss was hesitant at first. Mack could sense that Hannah was unsure of herself, and her body was still tense. He in turn did not want to appear over eager, despite the fact that he had wanted to kiss her from the moment she'd opened the door to him in his stolen Alliance uniform.

When she eventually pressed her slender body forward, moulding it to his own, he risked wrapping both his arms around her back. Hannah responded with a slight sigh. Her body seemed to relax along with the gentle exhalation. He continued to hold her, almost protectively, even when she broke the kiss to look him in the eye. Despite an attempt to keep his expression neutral, he could not stop a contented grin from creeping across his face.

"This doesn't change a thing," Hannah said as she delivered a stern glare. The rebuke within the expression was completely negated by the pink flush to her cheeks and youthful exhilaration dancing in her eyes. "You are still an arse."


Earth Alliance Space

Sam Traynor kept finding excuses to remain at her console on the CIC. On this particular occasion she had swiftly offered to cover for Yeoman Clayton when he mentioned that he had been unwell all morning. As his superior, she'd bundled him off to see Dr Chakwas whilst taking over the familiar duties with something approaching relief.

With the Normandy back on active duty, the days of standing, bored out of her brain were behind her. There were actual communications coming in – from nearby Alliance vessels, colonies, and communiqués from Alliance HQ. It was more than enough to keep her busy and her mind from wandering to places where she did not want to be – to a certain Medical Technician who was continuing to drive her crazy. Sam heard footsteps behind her and turned -

"Hey, Chief."

- to find Sarah Williams beaming at her. Sarah managed to say 'Chief' in such a way that caused Sam's knees to go weak.

"I thought you were off-duty an hour ago?" Sarah asked as she folded her arms across her chest. "You still owe me a re-match. I swear I've finally got you all figured out and you're going down this time."

"Um, no." Although she had quickly discovered that Sarah was crap at chess, Sam had very nearly lost by virtue of the fact that she spent the entire game in an uncomfortable, hot and bothered state. Sweating while playing chess was one thing, what Sarah managed to do to her was another state altogether. "Unfortunately Clayton is off sick so I'm pulling a double. Rain check?"

Sarah sighed with what sounded like genuine disappointment. "I could hang out here-"

"No!" Sam winced at the vehemence of her tone. She drew in a breath. Sarah didn't deserve her anger. In all likelihood she was probably bored. "I'd like that, it's just that I have all this work..."

"Of course," Sarah replied quickly. "I shouldn't have presumed...I'll see you later, Sam – I mean, Chief."

She said it again! Sam listened to Sarah's boots taping on the deck for a few moments before risking a glance over her shoulder. Her gaze lingered in an appreciative manner until she felt slightly sleazy and turned her attention back to her work.

Sam's day worsened when Yeoman Clayton returned ten minutes later saying that his stomach pains had simply been a bad case of indigestion. She reluctantly finished downloading the latest comms report for Commander Williams before relinquishing the station.

"Oh by the way, Chief, I ran into Sarah Williams on the crew deck," Clayton said. "She seemed quite anxious about a chess rematch she owed you. I let her know that you were off-duty so she said she'd set up the board in the observation lounge right away."

"Thanks, Yeoman...thanks awfully." Sam gathered up the datapad containing the comms report and made a hasty exit from the CIC. Although the part of her that enjoyed self-humiliation was looking forward to the prospect of a few hours in Sarah's company, her sensible side was anxious to retain some sort of dignity. She decided to take the report straight up to the Crow's Nest and give herself some time to calm down.

Just play it cool, Sam. You can do that can't you? Enjoy the fact that you get to hang out with a gorgeous woman and leave it at that.

{Commander Williams is expecting you, Sam,} EDI said when Sam was barely out of the elevator.

Sam frowned. "She is?"

With a shrug, Sam slapped her palm against the door and entered the Crow's Nest. She hadn't been in Ashley's quarters since she ended up having an impromptu sleepover after downing too much scotch. The resulting embarrassment the next morning wasn't something she wanted to remind herself of often. The space was shrouded in darkness save for a faint glow emanating from the Commander's private terminal and her armour locker at the end of the room. The Ops Chief saw a shape moving in front of her and tentatively made her way forward, mindful of the steps leading down to the lower level.

"Um, Commander?" Sam called out. "EDI said you were expecting me...I have today's comm. report for your review."

Without warning, the room was suddenly bathed in light. Given that her eyes had barely even adjusted to the darkness, Sam saw nothing for several seconds. When the spots cleared, she realised that not only was Ashley already with someone, she was not wearing a stitch of clothing. As if that was not bad enough, the woman currently in Ashley's arms was an equally naked Miranda Lawson. The datapad hit the floor with a thud, followed by Sam's jaw.

"Holy mother of god, I'm so sorry!" Sam spluttered. "EDI said...um, she said something that led me to believe I could come in, when clearly I should have stayed outside because Miranda is here and you two are very…very busy. Um, hi, Miranda."

Neither woman appeared the slightest bit perturbed by the fact that Sam was standing in front of them, obviously too frozen with mortification to even think about fleeing the room. As Ashley turned to look at her, she continued to caress Miranda's naked back in a nonchalant manner.

"The report can wait, Chief," Ashley said. "That's not the reason you're here."

"Well I'd really, really like to know why I'm here," Sam said, her voice having risen by several octaves. "Because this is…more than awkward."

Miranda extricated herself from Ashley's arms and turned to face Sam. Presented with a full-frontal view that she had hitherto only imagined in the dead of her sleep cycle (and only when she was feeling particularly indecent), Sam involuntarily let out a strangled whimper. There were a dozen key questions running through her mind, not least why the hell this was happening, but also why Miranda was even on board the Normandy when she had already told Sam that she could not see Ashley. However, these were rational questions, and her brain was shutting down on a number of levels. Her mouth could not form anything other than incoherent sounds and her legs felt as though they would give way the moment she tried to use them to flee. Unfortunately, her body had reacted in other predictable ways to the sight of an incredibly gorgeous, naked woman.

"You need to stop thinking so much, Sam," Miranda said softly. She reached out and ran both her hands through Sam's hair. "You can turn around and walk out-" As Miranda spoke she ran her hands firmly downwards, over Sam's breasts and stomach to rest atop her belt "-or you can stay and see what happens."

"What's going t'happen?" Sam murmured, vaguely aware of the fact that Miranda was working at her belt with deft fingers.

Ashley moved to stand beside them. With a surprisingly gentle touch she cupped Sam's cheek and applied pressure to turn her head. "Oh, Sam," she whispered before bending at the waist to kiss her.

Sam did not make a habit of imagining how it would feel to kiss her commanding officer, but if she had it would have felt something like the firm, passionate meeting of lips that followed. Ashley's hand travelled slowly across her cheek before wrapping around the nape of her neck, fingers threading up into her hair. When she drew her mouth away by just scant inches, Sam felt suddenly bereft as she floated in a haze of desire. The sensation latest only moments as she felt her belt loosen enough for Miranda to press her palm against her lower abdomen and slide it downwards. Sam's eyes slid closed in anticipation. The officer's hand delved almost effortlessly beneath the band of her underwear and lower. Sam moaned low in her throat as insistent fingers grated against her already wet sex.

"We're going to fuck you," Ashley explained in a throaty whisper.

"Yes," Sam heard herself reply eagerly. "Yes…yes."

"Sam?" What the hell was Bethany Westmoreland doing in the Crow's Nest? "Are you alright?"

When Sam's eyes slowly opened and focused she found herself staring at the underside of the bunk above her own. There was no Crow's Nest, no naked commanding officer and no naked Miranda Lawson. The only lingering elements from her dream were a pair of soaking wet underwear and a racing heartbeat.

Bethany was peering beneath the bunk with an expression of concern. "You look a little flushed. Are you coming down with something?"

"Um, no," Sam replied quickly. She sat up whilst keeping her bed covers pulled up around her neck. "I'm fine." Bethany remained dubious, continuing to hover nearby without realising that Sam was desperate for her to leave. "Honestly."

"Okay, I guess I'll see you at breakfast," Bethany replied.

When the Corporal disappeared from view, Sam flopped back against her pillow with a suppressed groan. How could the most amazing dream she'd ever had also be her worst nightmare? She didn't know whether to kill Westmoreland for waking her up just before things got good, or thank her profusely for cutting it short before things could get out of hand. As it was, Sam did not even want to know how her unconscious imagination had conjured such convincing impressions of both Ashley Williams and Miranda Lawson in the nude. Clearly she had spent more time dwelling on such things than she was willing to admit to herself.

Sam wrenched herself out of bed before she could give into the temptation to linger on the images seared into her brain. That path led only to the exquisite torment of the little death. In communal crew quarters with the shifts changing over, finishing what her unconscious mind had started was next to impossible.

A very quick, cold shower is the best you can hope for, Sam informed herself bluntly.


Commander Ashley Williams was acutely aware of the fact that the captain of an Alliance frigate had better things to do with her time than stare out of a window whilst on active duty. However, she could not resist a few moments to appreciate the vast emptiness that surrounded the Normandy. Shore leave had only ever been about spending time with Miranda and her sisters. With that prematurely curtailed by the Alliance PR machine, she craved getting back into the action – even if her first 'action' was ferrying her sister and a load of supplies to a small Alliance colony in the Maroon Sea. She was light years from the SA bureaucracy, Fleet Admiral Kessler, and any bloody reporters. Now if she could only find some heads to bang together…

{Commander Williams?}

It was odd hearing an unfamiliar masculine voice over the comm. Ashley had grown accustomed to hearing Traynor's pleasant accent. She turned away from the window. "I'm listening, Clayton."

{Incoming call for you via QEC, ma'am. It has an asari signature.}

Ashley had already started walking toward the War Room before Clayton finished his sentence. Asari? She stopped in her tracks as her first thoughts went to Liara. Their one-way communication had stopped abruptly several weeks earlier but that was typical behaviour from the Shadow Broker and it had hardly crossed Ash's mind. Real-time contact stirred up a flurry of concern and she resumed moving at a pace so brisk it was almost a jog. She didn't see Sam Traynor emerge from the opposite direction until they collided heavily. Coming into contact with someone who was taller and heavier, Sam came off second best. It was only Ashley's time-honed reactions that saved her from falling on her arse. She wrapped an arm around her waist and steadied her without thinking.

"Commander!" Sam's response was overly high-pitched. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Take it easy, Chief," Ashley said, wondering why Sam was refusing to look her in the eye. "No harm done."

"Um, no I suppose not," Sam mumbled. "Do you mind letting me go?"

Ashley's touch lingered for a few moments longer than Sam obviously thought was necessary and she extricated herself with some urgency. The Ops Chief then began backing away quickly, still not looking at her.

"Is everything alright, Traynor?" Ashley was cognisant of the need to take her call, but Sam looked oddly pale.

"Yes, ma'am!" was the too-quick reply.

Traynor then turned and fled from the scene, but not before Ashley noticed an expression of relief cross the young woman's features. Tucking the incident away as something to be discussed off-duty, Ashley made her way into the comms room and made a point of sealing the door behind her. As the grainy figure morphed into view, she was disappointed to find that it was not the familiar presence of Liara T'Soni, but rather the asari Councillor. Tevos had always managed to intimidate Ashley, much as Liara had following their initial meeting. However, unlike Liara, the air of mystery and sagacity that surrounded the asari Councillor had never dissipated.

"It has been too long, Spectre Williams," Tevos said, inclining her head slightly in greeting.

Was that a polite way of saying that she's pissed off I haven't been in touch with the Council for months? Ashley asked herself. While she herself was an open book, she had never been good at reading other humans let alone aliens.

"Likewise. You look…" The same as ever? "well." When Ashley fumbled for something else suitable to say, she realised that she had hardly spared a thought for how the other races were faring in some weeks – and certainly not recently. "How is the rebuilding effort on Thessia progressing?"

"Slowly at first," Tevos admitted. "However, since we acknowledged that it was our own societal restraints keeping our efforts mired in bureaucracy and endless discussions, real progress has been made. For a race accustomed to not making decisions lightly, it took our people being reduced to starvation to realise that we had to act more rapidly."

"Yes, we had reports of a severe famine on Thessia." Ashley's response was awkward. She knew that the Alliance had explained away their lack of aid with the need to feed and shelter humanity.

"No doubts the reports are exaggerated but…we struggled for some time," Tevos responded in a guarded voice. "There were…casualties."

The pain of the loss was unmistakably written across the Councillor's face. Ashley swallowed. "My condolences, ma'am."

"Thank you, Commander Williams." Tevos nodded and her face returned to an impassive mask. "I realise that your official rank within your military structure means that you are not privy to top-level discussions, but I was hoping you could shed some light on the curiously insular behaviour of the Alliance. At first the Council understood the need to stabilise the situation on home soil, but the continued withdrawal and isolation from Galactic politics has raised a great number of questions. Councillor Udina's death during the destruction of the Citadel was tragic, but it is high time humanity elected his successor. There are pressing matters to be addressed – notably the rise of piracy and the threat of civil war on Tuchanka."

The talk of politics was already making Ashley's head hurt. She had never liked Udina – he was a pompous little prick – but she couldn't argue with the fact that he had been ideally suited to navigating the mire that was galactic politics. "With all due respect, the title of Spectre carries little weight within the Alliance itself these days. Even if I did understand half of what was happening, I personally couldn't influence Alliance leadership-"

"You can't…or you won't, Spectre Williams?" Tevos demanded. "Do you deny the reports that the Alliance will soon close its borders to non-humans – refugees, diplomats, all non-humans? How is such an isolationist policy conducive to galactic rebuilding?"

Ashley fought the urge to rub her temples. She inhaled and exhaled gently a few times before she could say something out of haste that she would probably see her Spectre status revoked. She wants one individual to influence change to that degree? There was one woman who could have done it, but she's dead…and I'm not in her league. "I can't, Councillor Tevos, but give me something I can do within the bounds of my obligations as Commander of the Normandy."

"Perhaps the Council is placing unrealistic expectations on its sole human Spectre," Tevos replied. Ashley wasn't entirely sure, but she thought the asari sounded disappointed. "I do have a smaller matter to bring to your attention. Several weeks ago, an asari cruiser picked up a series of what appear to be distress calls originating from the human colony on Horizon-"

"There's no colony on Horizon," Ashley interrupted. She didn't normally make a habit of it, but Horizon was all too familiar to her. "It was decimated during the Collector attacks and during the Reaper War by both the Reapers and Cerberus. I should know, I was there both times. The Alliance have already had ground teams in, the place is a damn mess. And several weeks ago? Why are you bringing this to Alliance attention now?"

"Because we have already taken the information to your government. As far as we can tell, our communications have been ignored," Tevos explained patiently. "I will forward you the data. What you choose to do with it, Commander Williams, is up to you. The Alliance may have turned its back on the Council, but we have not turned our back on humanity."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Councillor, but you're relying on the wrong individual as your contact. I'm a soldier, not a politician." Miranda would know what to do. Shepard would know what to do. She'd have a bloody good moan about it first, but she'd get the job done. I just shoot things. "I don't know what you hope to accomplish."

"Even the smallest ripples can instigate change," Tevos replied. "I will forward you additional relevant information from time to time on behalf of the Council. Farewell, Commander, good hunting."

"Hang on!" Ashley's protest died on her lips as Tevos terminated the call. She slapped the console in disgust. "Good bloody hunting my ass. It's more like a bloody political shitstorm."

The Councillor was true to her word. Almost as soon as she returned to the CIC, Clayton informed her that she had an unread message. While the rebellious side of her wanted to ignore it, both her curiosity and her concern won out as she opened the file containing the messages. There were only three in total that purported to originate from Horizon. All were terse and to the point. Ash read through each one several times in order to digest the information. She felt her face drain of colour and her lips tighten in anger.

"Joker?"

{Commander! I was beginning to think you didn't love me anymore!} was the animated response.

"Chasca's going to have to wait. Set a course for Horizon," she informed her pilot.

{I've already been there…twice, and it sucked both times,} Joker protested amiably.

"Set the course, pilot," Ashley growled in an inflexible voice. She didn't have time for jokes – appropriate or not. "Or I'll have you up on charge."

{Aye, aye, ma'am, setting a course for the Shadow Sea.}

Ash had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. If the messages were real, then she was about to throw herself and the Normandy into the middle of one of those political shitstorms that she had been so anxious to avoid.