Part 2, Chapter 5, Citizen:
Victoria Shepard looked out upon the Columbia Crest, Mount Rainer's glaciers stood out starkly from the deep blue sky. The weather was crystal clear, the view from Little Tahoma amazing. Shepard could see clear to Vancouver, the anti-collision lights on the Fleet Base's towers twinkled. She looked around her. In the distance the other peaks of the Cascades were also prominent. We're so small. She couldn't put it any other way. We're just blips in the grand scheme of things, the universe wouldn't even notice if we were gone.
Victoria had seen a lot; the beauty of dozens of worlds, and horrors she wished she could forget. She had seen similar vistas of course. A childhood in space had broadened her horizons, Earth wasn't that unique. But views like this, Earth will always be my favorite, even if I didn't grow up here.
Suddenly the view of western Washington was replaced by the wind-swept snow peaks of Noveria. Mount Rainer wasn't too different from Peak 15 when you got down to it. "Shepard." Victoria turned to the voice and looked directly into the eyes of Lady Benezia T'soni. Her heart skipped a beat. "Shepard, why did you kill me?"
The Rachni queen lumbered in her containment vessel. Shepard's head snapped away from the Matriarch to the new movement. The creature pointed its eyes at her and spoke directly to her mind, no intermediary this time, "You've poisoned the songs of your mothers. You will do the same for your daughters."
Benezia spoke up, "You still don't know the privilege of being a mother. You'll only turn those you love to despair.
"Mom? Mom?" Shepard's heart lurched back into rhythm. "Mom? Are you alright?" Benezia's face melted away into that of the granddaughter she would never know. "Mom?" Shepard's face went slack momentarily. She blinked. Her eyes fixed those of her daughter Samara, my beautiful perfect baby girl. "Mom, where were you just now?"
She looks so much like her, Shepard thought. It's funny how genes can line up, Samara bore a striking resemblance to her mother's mother. "Nowhere, Sam. I was just enjoying the view." She smiled.
Samara raised the Asari equivalent of an eyebrow and looked at her father. She obviously didn't believe her. Shepard's increasingly erratic behavior was beginning to concern her. She'd even noticed the impact it was having on her mother. Part of her wondered if there was something she could do for her "mom". Another part of her desperately hoped there was something she could do. Yet a third part of her, deep down where she tried to keep all such feelings, feared that she was somehow the cause of Shepard's pain.
Shepard gave her a peck on the cheek. Samara completed her introspection. "I'm glad you could come with me," she said to her daughter.
Samara looked out towards the north. There wasn't anything like this on Thessia. Shepard spoke often of the natural beauty of Earth. Samara was only twenty years old, barely a toddler by Asari standards, but she could appreciate her father's aesthetic sensibilities. When Victoria had asked her to come along to Earth while she addressed classes at the Alliance Naval Academy Annex Samara jumped at the opportunity. Of course that was only one of the activities Shepard had on her agenda, but Samara wasn't supposed to know about that.
They both heard the crunching of boots on rock. Another pair of hikers arrived at the top of Little Tahoma and waved to Shepard and her daughter. On the mountain we're all friends, Shepard thought to herself, another quaint charm of Earth. She supposed it was a good thing. Being kind to your fellow hikers made it more likely that you'd help each other out if there were some sort of accident. With the ability to call for an evac-shuttle in any weather, however, mountain climbing wasn't nearly as perilous as in centuries past. Still, might as well not burn bridges if you can avoid it, she thought.
"Morning!" Shepard heard herself say, "You mind snapping a photo of me and my daughter?"
One of the other hikers, an older gentleman, snapped his eyes back and forth between them and arched an eyebrow, "Daughter?" He smirked, "Sure."
Samara chuckled slightly. On the few times she'd left Thessia she had heard it all. At least this hiker's seeming racism was benign, almost charming. She reached into her jacket and produced a compact holo-imager. "Thanks mister, I know my mother would really love a photo of her wife and me." She smiled watching the other climber grimace slightly.
Samara tossed the compact camera to the other climber and placed her arm around her father. Victoria Shepard placed an arm around her daughter's shoulder and smiled at her. "I love you very much Sam."
"I love you too mom."
They both looked into the camera and smiled.
Mom certainly looks dashing in her uniform, no wonder Mother fell for her, Samara T'soni thought to herself. Despite being retired for nearly 20 years, as a flag officer, not to mention the recipient of numerous species' highest commendations for bravery, including the Alliance, Shepard was entitled to wear her uniform for official functions. Shepard fussed with the ribbon 'salad bar' on her breast. Samara smirked, "Look'n good mom."
Shepard shot her daughter a look and smiled. "Thanks Sam. Why don't you go grab a seat in the back and watch your mom work." She winked. She watched her daughter walk away. Game time. She took a deep breath and straightened her tie, the 'service dress' uniform isn't quite as awesome as the 'dress blues' but I still look good.
She sighed. I'm getting too old for this bullshit. In reality, 51 year old Victoria Shepard had at least another ninety years of vibrant active life ahead of her. And I still look as good as the day I died, she laughed out loud to herself. "Alright, time to inspire the youth."
Samara took her seat at the back of the lecture hall. She looked at the midshipmen, or the backs of their heads at any rate. The men, and some of the women, sported shortly shorn hair. Others had their hair in tight buns, just like mom when she's in her uniform. They're so young, Samara thought to herself, just like me. It wasn't lost on Samara, however, that she had only lived two percent of her total lifespan. The men and women in this room had used up nearly seven times that.
"Admiral on deck!" The assembled midshipmen and a few officers towards the front of the lecture hall rocketed to attention. Samara shot to her feet despite herself. Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Victoria Shepard [Retired], the hero of the Alliance, strode towards the podium. Even from 100 meters away at the back of the lecture hall she was an imposing presence. Flame red hair, pale white skin, emerald green eyes, tri-athlete build, nearly 190 centimeters tall, Shepard had gravitas. And judging from the body language of the midshipmen, they knew it.
"Please be seated." Shepard attained the podium as the assembly settled in their seats. She looked out over the crowd. Shit, they're so young, she thought to herself. She looked down at her prepared speech, some nonsense about duty, honor, and loyalty. Fuck this, she thought.
"I had prepared a speech on how you epitomized the ideals of the Systems Alliance, thanking you for your commitment, and inspiring you all to future feats of daring do in the name of humanity." A murmur, interspersed with chuckling, passed through the crowd. "But, I'm fairly certain you've already heard that routine so I'll spare you. The floor's open, who has questions?"
Nearly every midshipman in the hall, and quite a few of the officers, looked back and forth at each other wondering what to make of it. Eventually an enterprising young woman spoke up, "Admiral. What was the most interesting world you visited?"
"Ilos. Next question."
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. But the young midshipman wasn't having it, "Beg your pardon ma'am, why Ilos?" Shepard displayed the lopsided grin that had been popularized by a series of documentaries on the Reaper War, the actress cast as Shepard had borne a striking resemblance, and launched into a riveting retelling of the Ilos mission and its importance to the First Battle of the Citadel.
The 'sea stories' went on for nearly an hour. Victoria had the crowd captivated. Midshipmen asked Victoria about her time at the academy, her N7 training, what it was like to be the first human Spectre, and any number of other things.
Samara had heard most of these stories already, usually when out and about alone with her father. Liara didn't like Shepard telling her daughter graphic stories from the war. In her eyes she was still barely more than an infant, Shepard was the one who treated her more like the young adult she was becoming. It probably helps that I look like a human 20 year old, even if I do have blue skin. In fact, most non-Asari wouldn't have been able to guess her age within 200 years her people were so youthful in appearance.
Tuning her father's speech out, Samara observed the midshipmen, their officers, and the lecture hall. Every last youth sat at rapt attention listening to Shepard's every word. The officers were slightly more subdued. Undoubtedly they shared some of the experiences the Admiral was relaying. The lecture hall was as spotless as all of the midshipmen's uniforms, it could have been 6 months old, or 60 years, it was hard to tell. Samara noticed the presence of another civilian in the dark back row. She was human, china-doll white skin, jet black hair, and she wore a dark pin-striped business suit. She was beautiful, stunning really, Samara felt an instant physical attraction. Samara narrowed her gaze, she looked familiar somehow. Before she could switch seats to sit next to her, however, a commotion down front grabbed both of their attention.
"I'm sorry midshipman. Could you clarify that a bit?"
"Yes Admiral. What I meant was, is there any one thing about the Reaper War that stands out in your mind?"
Samara looked at the back of the standing midshipman's head. So far, he was the first to ask Shepard a direct question about her war experience. All of the questions up till now had been general questions about Shepard's background which she had filled in with details from missions. Samara looked at her father. Her facial expression changed slightly, her left eyelid fluttered nearly imperceptibly. She'd seen this look more frequently lately; this isn't going to end well.
"The Reaper War was loud, midshipman," Shepard said flatly. "That is probably the one word I can use to sum it up." The midshipman sat down and cocked his head to the side, he obviously didn't understand. "I can tell from the look on your face that you're not quite sure what I mean about that, so let me lay some truth on you.
"War is loud. The sheer volume of combat is amazing. A single assault rifle may not make much noise on the range, but a thousand of them firing in close proximity at max cyclic rate is difficult to describe in words. Add to that the sounds of high explosives. Far away it sounds like you're in Afterlife on Omega listening to house music, a bass beat shaking the lungs in your chest. Close in it's so loud it makes you dizzy, you can't tell which way is up. You can't hear individual explosions because the ringing in your ears is just too loud."
Shepard was no longer looking at the midshipman. She wasn't looking at anything anymore. The eyelid no longer twitched, but her normally vibrant green eyes seemed lifeless. She continued, "Sonic booms of low flying aircraft. Twenty kilotons going off over your head, the hissing and popping of rocks, soil, and flesh burning in the thermal pulse and the loudest thunderclap you've ever heard as the shockwave passes. Then nothing, your eardrums have been ruptured, except the ringing.
"A thousand voices on the radio, some calling in situation reports, others pleading for help. The roaring sound of air rushing out of a hull breach. The wet slapping sound of bullets entering flesh. The gurgling sound of a lung-shot soldier drowning to death on dry land. The howling of a man covered in burning propellant trying to stop-drop-and-roll, but the flames just won't go out.
"The sounds of your own thoughts racing through you head. You're shouting at yourself to call fire missions, to tell your squad to take cover or attack, to tell your own legs to move despite the lactic acid making them feel like concrete. No matter how loud your thoughts are, they're still difficult to hear over the combat raging around you."
Shepard trailed off. Staring off into nothing she grimaced. A moment later she blinked and was back. Shepard cleared her throat. She looked at the midshipman who asked the question, "I hope that was a useful answer for you. If there aren't any other questions, I think we've covered enough for one lecture."
"Well that was dramatic," Samara was surprised by the business suit woman now sitting next to her. Where did she come from? Mother would be cross with me for not noticing her approach. "It's nice to meet you Samara. Well, meet you again. Though, last time you were just a clump of cells inside of your mother." She paused, "I gave you a set of footie-pajamas. I hope you liked them."
Samara smiled, "You must be Miranda."