Disclaimer: I do not own or make any claim to the Mass Effect universe or the characters contained in this story, all of which are owned by BioWare and Electronic Arts.
Redemption: Come What May
Chapter 3: Cruel Realities
Systems Alliance Carrier SSV Einstein, in Orbit around Mindoir (May 16, 2171, 1320 Hours, Ship Time):
Twelve hours ago, everything in John Shepard's routine life had been turned on its head.
Twelve hours ago, the Einstein and her Battlegroup had been diverted to the human colony of Mindoir after a series of frantic distress signals had been broadcast from the small colony.
The Einstein and her numerous escorts had arrived four hours later to find the colony being swarmed by a sizable force of Terminus System pirates; specifically, Batarian Slavers.
Diplomatic Relations with the Batarians had been tense at best since Humanity came onto the Galactic Scene and began to rapidly expand into the Skyllian Verge, a largely unexploited region of the Galactic Arm that happened to include both Earth and Khar'shan, the Batarian's homeworld. In protest the Batarians closed their embassy on the Citadel and effectively shut themselves off from the rest of the Galaxy.
Ever since, the Batarian Hegemony had been waging a shadow war against the Alliance by sponsoring the illegal acquisition of sentient labour.
In other words, slavery.
Slavery was heavily frowned upon in Citadel Space, the Batarians being the only species to maintain the practice due to their rigid caste system that was entrenched into their social and cultural heritage and largely relied upon the servitude of the lower castes, thus giving them a loophole to continue the practice. But ever since they had cut ties with the Citadel races they had become a prominent and powerful player in the thriving slaving community within the Terminus Systems. It didn't take long for them to discover that humans made great slaves and that human colony's were easy targets.
Ironically enough, it was the same rapid expansion that had so enraged the Batarian Hegemony that made Alliance Colonies such soft targets. Because the rapid expansion also meant that the Alliance's forces were spread very thin and only the largest and most important human colonies had any sort of permanent garrison. The rest relied instead on semi-regular naval patrols to discourage pirate incursions, and this technique was becoming less and less effective as more colonies were founded closer and closer to the edge of Council Space where Terminus-based pirate groups often stalked, looking for easy prey.
Mindoir was not the first and it certainly wouldn't be the last human colony to be hit by Batarian slavers, but history would later record it as being one of the worst.
When the Battlegroup arrived in-system, they immediately demanded the surrender of the Terminus forces and the release of their captives. This order was completely ignored by the pirates, in favour rabbiting to FTL or vainly attempting to buy their forces on the ground time by engaging the outnumbered but substantially better equipped Alliance force.
The Naval battle was quick and decisive; four out-dated Cruisers and a dozen equally antiquated Frigates plus an assortment of fighters and corvettes was simply no match for an organised, state-of-the-art Carrier Battlegroup, with two Heavy Cruisers, one Scout Cruiser and a four Frigate Wolfpack, not to mention the Einstein herself and her myriad fighters and interceptors.
Unfortunately, despite their naval superiority, there was little that could be done on the ground.
The Einstein's full complement of marines, two platoons worth, were immediately dispatched to the colony once her fighters had taken control of the skies, but it was on the ground that the pirates' numbers really played to their advantage. The marines encountered intense resistance from the largely Batarian force that was slowly withdrawing from the Colony and because the Slaver's had set up their base in the centre of the colony, it was too risky to use orbital strikes or even fighter-launched precision guided munitions, so it was left to the ground troops to secure the colony.
To save time and as revenge for their destroyed fleet, the pirates began to slaughter their captives in the dozens, sparing only those who showed real promise as slaves and were subsequently forcefully and traumatically implanted with neural control chips… without any type of anaesthetic… and using a pressure gun to ram it into their skulls.
Despite their best efforts, the Marines simply couldn't reach the colonists being massacred before their eyes and they incurred heavy casualties in their attempts before the slavers had loaded their 'cargo' onto their remaining shuttles and jumped to FTL as soon as they were able.
Of course, twelve year old John Shepard had no idea about any of this, all he knew was that there had been an attack on a human colony that they were going to go help and that class was cancelled for the foreseeable future.
Another day later and the reality of the situation had fully sunk in.
About sixty refugees, the only survivors from the Mindoir, were taken aboard the Einstein, seeing as it was the largest ship present and the only one equipped to take a large number of extra passengers.
That was sixty people from a colony of one and a half thousand; it didn't take an individual with John's IQ to work the horrific human cost of the raid.
John had never seen so much suffering before. Of course he had seen News coverage of natural disasters and the occasional report on a pirate raid; but to see it personally… it made him feel sick.
The kids had all been diverted to helping care for the refugees, mainly assisting in the med-bay or mess hall and some of the older ones were drafted in to help take care of the surviving kids, particularly the ones who had lost their parents. John was one of the ones helping in the med-bay, mainly fetching supplies and preparing beds. He and the others were always quickly ushered out if something serious started happening, but John wasn't an idiot, he knew that not everyone who made it to the ship had or would survive and the curtains between beds couldn't stop him from hearing the sobbing of colonists.
He also saw the cost of the raid in his dad. He had been on the ground and whatever he had seen down there wasn't something he was willing to talk about. He put on a smile whenever John was around, but he knew it was fake; it never reached his eyes. His dad had always been so lively and spontaneous that seeing him like this was almost too much for the younger Shepard to handle.
One day, about a week after the raid, he got up the courage to ask what was wrong.
"You always were perceptive John," Drake chuckled ruefully and tousled his hair, but it all seemed a little forced.
Seeing that his son was still waiting for an answer to his question, he sighed and continued.
"It's not something that I can explain, even your Mother wouldn't quite understand; and frankly I hope neither of you ever do. I guess you could say it's a Marine thing."
"Then why are you a Marine?" John asked curiously. Surely if something caused you so much pain, you'd stop doing it.
"Because someone has to. Someone has to be there to protect the ones that can't protect themselves. And I have the skills to be a Marine, a good Marine, so it's my duty to take up that position. You're still too young to be thinking about these sought of things though, just know that the Galaxy can be a really ugly and dangerous place at times but there are always people ready to stand against that."
John didn't know what to say, so he nodded his head vigorously in understanding before scurrying back to his room to mull over what his dad had told him.
Arcturus Station, Systems Alliance Marine Corps Memorial Ground (May 3, 2174, 0820 Hours, Station Time):
John could barely contain his emotional turmoil as he approached the sealed coffin with the Systems Alliance Flag draped precisely over it. It was next to three identical coffins, each bearing the names and remains of a fallen marine.
The one he stood in front of had 'Operations Chief Drake Shepard' carefully etched into a golden plaque.
His father.
It had been two days since they had received the visit that no military family ever wants to receive. Apparently, his Dad's squad had been investigating reports of a pirate base set up on a small moon in the Hercules System, and sure enough, they had found the base. It appeared to be deserted, and closer inspection revealed it was.
Except for the demolition charges. The incendiary demolition charges.
The blast killed four marines instantly and seriously wounded two more.
Drake Shepard was among the dead.
John reached out to comfort his mum as she quietly approached the metallic cocoon that contained her husband's physical remains. She was wearing her full dress uniform, as befit her rank as Captain, but it was not as crisp as it would normally have been, her numerous pins and medals slightly askew in their mounts; but the lack of decorum was easily overlooked, given the circumstances.
She had kept a careful, stoic facade in public over the last two days, doing her utmost not to let her subordinates see her grief and anger and pain. She even tried to hide it from John, though she wasn't very successful.
But now, as she stood before the coffin of her husband of twenty years, she couldn't keep her emotions bottled up any longer. She began to weep quietly next to the coffin, Drake's beloved Marine Corps beret clutched tightly in her hands.
John stood and held her, comforting his normally iron-willed mother as she poured out her grief. This continued for five, ten, fifteen minutes and still John stood silently, giving her the support she so desperately needed.
He remembered the words his Dad always spoke to him before he deployed on a new assignment, ever since the Mindoir raid:
"If anything happens to me John, I need to know you'll take care of your Mum for me. Can you promise me that?"
Every time, he asked the same question and every time, John gave the same response; "I promise."
Only now did he fully appreciate what his father had meant. So he stood, and he waited.
His grieving would come later, but at the moment his Mum needed him, so he would be there for her.
And he'd be damned before he broke the last promise he ever made to his Dad.
Arcturus Station, Systems Alliance Marine Corp Head Office (April 11, 2176, 1415 Hours, Station Time):
John took a deep, calming breath, before he strode purposefully towards the Marine Recruitment Office.
It was his 18th birthday and his mother had taken leave in order to allow them to celebrate it on Arcturus Station. So far, they'd spent much of the morning doing just that. First, they had gone to one of the many cafés on the station where John developed a true appreciation for what food should be; good food tastes even better when you've spent the last couple of years living off military cooking (he put it down to the use of fresh ingredients and a chef who actually knows how to cook).
After the breakfast they returned to the hotel room they were staying in to open the presents.
There were the usual presents from family members, mainly consisting of e-books, vids and Credits, and one of his older cousins had sent him a bottle of genuine Mexican tequila, much to his mother's chagrin.
There were also a number of presents from the crew of the San Jose, the cruiser that Hannah currently captained.
Most of the crew knew that he intended to join the Marines and their gifts reflected that; a pair of all-weather boots, some waterproof parkas, even an Advanced Combat and Small Unit Tactics handbook with the card simply saying that he 'may as well start reading it now'.
John smiled at the vote of confidence that the book represented.
That handbook was only distributed to Officers who were to chosen lead Special Forces teams, part of the elite N school of training, which also immediately narrowed down the list of people that it could have come from; he'd be sure to thank them in person soon enough.
His favourite gift from the crew, however, was one that all of the marines on board had chipped in for and it consisted of a set of armour pouches that provided room for extra stim-packs, rations, water, ammo-blocks and medi-gel without compromising armour integrity or adding extra bulk; an 11 inch ceramic and titanium combat knife with a mono-molecular tungsten carbide blade and his name engraved into its hilt along with a correspondingly effective sheath and, finally, a standard issue Combat Helmet, designed to work with almost all of the Alliance's armours, with targeting upgrades in the HUD as well as a program that kept track of combat statistics, allowing the user to review them later. Inside the helmet all of the marines had signed their names and the inside of the jaw section was engraved with 'Reconnaissance Marines, 23rd Division'.
The Alliance was always happy for new recruits to bring their own equipment, so long as it was up to specifications, however they did not allow people to bring their own firearms and they were very strict with what armour and weapon modifications were allowed, mainly due to safety concerns; raw recruits running around with heavy rifles upgraded with scram-rails was a recipe for disaster. The crew were well aware of this and managed to provide John with a suite of gear that would not break any regulations but functioned better than the basic gear he would have otherwise been issued. Just as importantly, it wasn't anything flashy or expensive, just standard gear that had been given the 'personal touch' by his friends, experienced in what was required to be a marine.
Now he stood at the gateway to joining their ranks. He walked through the door and up to the Lieutenant manning the recruitment desk.
Shepard kept running over what he would say in his head; he did, after all, want to make a good first impression. He reached the desk and stood up as straight as his spine would allow.
"Sir, I would like to enlist for Officer Candidacy in the Systems Alliance Marine Corp."
The Lieutenant on the other side of the desk cocked his head to the side slightly as he appraised the surprisingly eager rookie in front of him.
"Relax boy, you're not a marine yet. You want to be an Officer, huh? Then let's see your papers," he waited expectantly while John quickly handed over the folder containing his Birth Certificate, Academic Records and Letters of Recommendation.
"Okay, so you are John Shepard, son of Operations Chief Drake Shepard, now deceased, and Lieutenant Commander Hannah Shepard, formerly Hannah Schofield, born on the 11th of April 2158?"
Shepard nodded in affirmation and waited as the data was inputted into the system and verified.
After logging the last of the information into the system, he scanned over the remaining documents.
After a few minutes (which felt much longer to John) he placed the documents down and looked back at John.
"Your academic results are impressive, and your physical results and aptitude scores are certainly high enough. They alone would likely get you admittance, but the fact that you've got two divisions of Marines to vouch for you as well? That's impressive; they must really see something in you," the Lieutenant said as he looked John up and down once more, then extended his hand.
"Welcome to the Marines, kid."