It felt like coming home to pull on an Alliance uniform again. The clean, thick fabric was a warm and comforting embrace against her skin. Tran—or perhaps it had been Drescher—had even thought to send a bag of toiletries for her. The moment she massaged the Alliance-issue shampoo into her scalp was the moment she felt human again.
She combed and twisted her hair into a tight bun that sat on the nape of her neck and applied a light layer of makeup before pulling on her cap and making her way to the asari councilor's formal dining room, which would serve as the venue for the armistice negotiations. Hannah still couldn't leave, and Drescher had insisted she be allowed to partake in the proceedings.
Admiral Drescher, Captain Tran, and another captain she'd never met stood at rest near the door, waiting for the turian delegates to arrive. When she caught their eye, Hannah stopped and saluted.
The three officers returned the salute, and the admiral allowed her to approach. "At ease, Lieutenant Commander." She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and extended her hand. "I'll be damned if we don't live in strange days."
Hannah found herself laughing before she could hold it in. "Yes, ma'am," she said when she collected herself. "It looks like space isn't quite the final frontier we thought it was."
At that moment, a cadre of turian officers rounded the corner. Hannah moved to take her place behind the admiral, but Drescher stopped her by putting her hand lightly on her shoulder. The admiral was not much bigger than Hannah, but she carried the demeanor of command like she was born with it. Her eyes and complexion were dark and clear, and they radiated authority. Hannah thought again of Bautista, the human mountain to her squall line. Both of them paled next to the controlled strength and power the admiral wore like a mantle. She was gravity: commanding stars and planets and tides with her mere presence.
The woman was unflinching and nodded to the lead turian, a female with rich brown plates and white markings made brighter by the contrast. She was flanked by two officers, one with a long fringe and crimson markings, the other with a shorter fringe and crisp, geometric, tan lines that were nearly the same color as his plates.
The lead turian stopped and clasped her hands behind her back. "I assume you are the human admiral?"
Drescher nodded. "I am Fleet Admiral Kastanie Drescher, Alliance Navy," she said, pronouncing her name in proper German. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I was not told your rank in advance."
The turian flicked out her mandibles in amusement, and Hannah pushed down her resentment.
After a moment, she responded. "I am General Delphari Vittoro. The primarch of Palaven has granted me authority to negotiate and execute the terms of a cessation of hostilities between the Turian Hierarchy and the Human Alliance."
Drescher smirked. "Systems Alliance."
The general dipped her mandibles in confusion. Hannah felt no small amount of satisfaction at the gesture. "I beg your pardon?"
"I represent the Systems Alliance, not the Human Alliance. You should know the name of the other party before you sit down to arbitration, and I would hate for you to continue to make the same mistake uncorrected." Drescher smiled and swept out her arm in invitation. "Shall we?"
The general brought her mandibles in tight and entered the conference room without another word.
As the other officers filed in, Hannah put a hand on the admiral's shoulder to stop her. "Ma'am, may I have a word with you in private please."
She nodded and waited until the others were all gone. "What can I do for you, Shepard?"
Hannah retrieved a datapad from her blazer and handed it to the other woman. "I was hoping you could represent a few personal interests during the negotiations."
The admiral took the datapad and skimmed its contents. She furrowed her brow and met Hannah's gaze again. "Are you sure about this, Shepard? It can't be undone."
Hannah nodded and cleared her throat. "Yes, ma'am. It's the only thing I can think of to help a friend."
Drescher looked at her questioningly. "A friend? Do you mean the asari or the turian?"
She shrugged and smiled nervously. "Both, I suppose. Dr. T'Oriza's life would be made easier if the record of my imprisonment were destroyed, but it's more pressing for Major Ravaka."
Drescher crossed her arms and looked at Hannah with even more scrutiny. "What makes you think they'll be inclined to grant these requests? Releasing you is standard, but I don't think I've ever been part of military negotiations that included asking for a job for someone else."
She started to lift a hand to her neck to rub it nervously, then decided to pull back her collar instead, revealing the bright scars there. "No military likes to be caught misusing advanced interrogation techniques." At the major's stunned expression, Hannah explained her experience with Vyrrnus and what he'd done to her. When she'd finished, she continued, "If there's no record of me, I have no grounds for a civil suit against them, and any claims I'd make in public would be unsubstantiated. They'd also have the means of denying any claim that a simple human was able to evade their capture and make it all the way to the asari councilor's home unimpeded. They save face, and the major gets the clemency she needs to move on with her life no worse for me having been in it. The job is a convenient excuse for them to be able to discharge an officer they won't trust anymore."
The admiral nodded but still looked incredulous. "Shepard, if they expunge the record of your incarceration, we won't be able to acknowledge it either. You could be a hero to every person in Alliance space. Your name would be on everyone's lips. They'd write books about you. They'd make vids of you. Hell, you could probably retire on the royalties alone. But not if your record is erased and we agree to a gag order."
"I'm aware, ma'am," Hannah said, nodding. "But I think this request will at least show some goodwill during the negotiations, and the people who saved my life would be able to go about theirs."
A smile ghosted over her expression, and Drescher nodded. "Very well."
The two of them turned back toward the door and entered the room.
In the room, an asari was setting out datapads in front of each chair while another was pouring out measures of water into glasses for each attendant. Tevos was already seated at the head of the table and was scrolling through her own datapad. She looked up and smiled as Hannah and Drescher joined the rest of the assembly. She stood and motioned for them to take their seats.
"Admiral, General, thank you for coming today. As a representative of the Council, I will arbitrate these negotiations today. Please sit down so that we may begin."
Drescher turned to Hannah and said, "In light of this new information, Lieutenant Commander, your testimony is not likely to be needed, but I would like for you to be accessible if it is. Would you please wait for us outside?"
The turian officer with the tan marking looked up and glared at her. "Lieutenant Commander? As in Lieutenant Commander Hannah Shepard?"
Hannah nodded. "Yes, sir."
The officer stood and turned to Vittoro. "General, this human is the fugitive—"
Tevos held up a hand to stop the flow of accusations. "Whom I've granted asylum as a guest in my residence, Colonel Octavus. I'm well aware of who the lieutenant commander is, and she has made no attempt to deny the nature of her relationship to the turian military. She is a prisoner of war, and by the end of today there will be no war. No war means no prisoners. Any attempts by the Hierarchy's representatives to detain her will be met with swift—and not inexpensive—litigation. Do I make myself clear?"
The colonel did not move to take his seat again, and he continued to glare at Hannah. She refused to look away.
It was comical almost. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—a weathered, battle-hardened, old turian who towered over her with an eye patch maybe or a cybernetic arm—but the illusive colonel who stood before her now? Who had first attempted to let her die through neglect, then unleashed a brutal interrogator to torment her, then tried to manipulate her into what amounted to death by cop, and then chased her across the galaxy? Who wanted to see Dess executed for helping her? He stood before her now—the great wizard unveiled—looking so normal he was almost nondescript. No markers of villainy. No outward appearance of a moral deficit. She'd have thought whatever powers moved the universe would have at least made a bad guy look like a bad guy.
A low growl thrummed from the general, which drew the colonel's attention away from Hannah. "I find it strange, Colonel, that you did not recognize the human until her name was spoken. I'd have thought that if she was a prisoner on your ship, you would at least be able to recognize her on sight. I'm inclined to think that her escape was enabled more by a breach in security protocol on every level than by her own ingenuity. Perhaps an inspection and a review of your ship and crew are in order after these talks have concluded."
He stiffened, but the aggression in his demeanor faded. His mandibles twitched in barely contained panic.
Vittoro let out an annoyed growl, low but no longer menacing. "Sit down, Belari. The human is beyond your reach now."
After another moment, the colonel returned to his seat, and Drescher nodded Hannah toward the door.
#
Judging by the volume of the voices on the other side of the door, Hannah quickly surmised that she would likely be waiting for a long while. She didn't dare stir from her position, but knowing that the Feynman was docked so near made her restless. She hadn't wanted to ask the one question that had been pressing on her since first seeing Drescher on the QEC, but it would not leave her.
Was Michael alive?
Shanxi had been retaken. War with the turians was currently being averted. Her release was imminent. The admiral would take care of Dess, she was sure. Michael's status was the only stone she wore around her neck now.
She hadn't let herself think it until now, but for the first time she wondered what she would do if he . . . How was she supposed to raise Alli on her own? Who would braid her hair or hum to her when she was scared? How was she supposed to not be married anymore? How could she sleep in a bed big enough for two all on her own?
Had he been afraid? Had he been angry? How many did he take down first? Was it quick or did he linger?
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. Focus, Hannah. You can't go to pieces yet.
She began to worry the inside of her lip. From the back of her mind, she heard Michael teasing her. You're going to chew right through one day, Han. She stopped.
She brought up the interface for her omni-tool and rooted around until she found the chat app. Her finger wavered over the two names there as she debated. Dess was probably still sleeping off the ryncol, but she would come if Hannah called her. But if the colonel's reaction to seeing just Hannah was any indication, the two of them even accidentally running into each other would turn out badly. She sighed and selected Sana's name.
HS: How is she?
It took only a moment before she got a response.
ST: Still sleeping. I've got water and pain killers ready to go for when she wakes up. At least the two of you only do this one at a time.
Hannah smiled bashfully and felt her cheeks warm remembering the morning after they first arrived. She'd been in a similar state and woken to find herself still in Dess's nest of a bed, where she'd fallen asleep watching that vid about the turian and the quarian. Sana was standing beside her and holding out a glass of water and a white pill. There was a distinct look of disapproval on her face, but she didn't say anything. Dess would no doubt wake to find that same look directed at her.
HS: Octavus is here. Make sure she stays in her room when she wakes up.
ST: Of course, Lieutenant Commander. Thank you for the warning. I will bring you something to eat later if the talks have not yet finished.
Hannah hadn't considered that, and her stomach turned at the thought of food. No, eating would be impossible until she found out one way or another about Michael.
It was going to be a very long day.
#
The negotiations took precisely twelve hours, thirteen minutes, and forty-two seconds, but it felt much longer.
When the door to the conference room finally swished open, the turian general, flanked by her two officers, walked quickly through it without even a side glance at Hannah. Behind them, the two Alliance captains also walked out. While the other captain continued walking—also without looking at Hannah—Tran stopped briefly.
He smiled and took her hand for the first time. "It's damn good to see you, Shepard. I thought we lost you back on that rock."
She grinned. "It'll take a lot more than that to take me down, sir. But I think I'm going to need a new bird."
He nodded. "True enough." Before she could ask any of her questions, he released her hand and turned her toward the conference room. "Admiral Drescher would like to speak with you privately. Report to Docking Bay E14 immediately when you're done."
With that, he turned and followed the commander toward the exit.
Hannah entered the room to see Drescher standing near the windows in low conference with the councilor. Tevos smiled and looked over at Shepard. She nodded, but said nothing else before taking her leave. Drescher turned to Hannah and smiled, the light from the window shining on her dark skin and glinting off her eyes.
"Come in, Lieutenant Commander," she said and motioned for Hannah to take a seat. "I apologize that we did not get a chance to speak more before the meeting. I hope you didn't find waiting too boring?"
"I came up through enlistment, ma'am, I've had my share of standing around at doors," she said.
The admiral chuckled, then grew more serious. "You saved a lot of lives, you know. Hell, you just pulled humanity back from the brink of a catastrophe I can hardly fathom."
Hannah stopped the shrug before it started. "I just got you to the table, ma'am. You brokered the armistice."
Drescher nodded. "I suppose that's how it'll read in the history books, especially now. They agreed to your requests, but it took some convincing. I suspect the good colonel will be getting that inspection of his ship and crew sooner rather than later." She smiled, but there was no mirth behind it. "I suppose you've drawn the short straw twice, haven't you? First you draw up the battle plans that helped us take back Shanxi—yes, Tran told me it was your strategy when he approached me with them, and I made him put his name to them—then you made peace talks possible. We may not be friends with the Hierarcy any time soon, but at least we won't be killing each other. Everything—our victory, our peace—it's all because of you, and you don't get to put your name to any of it. It hardly seems fair, Commander."
Hannah cleared her throat, unsure if she should correct the admiral. "Excuse me, ma'am, but it's lieutenant commander."
Drescher's smile broadened, now with real warmth. "I know what I said, Shepard. Effective immediately, you will enjoy the rank of commander with all its rights, privileges, and responsibilities. You will also take three weeks of merit shore leave, as well as all the back-pay due to you. I'd give you a bonus for time spent incarcerated, but well. At the end of your leave, you will report to the SSV Einstein as her commander."
For a full fifteen seconds, Hannah was dumbfounded. When she found her voice, she knew she should have used it to express gratitude, but she said instead, "The Einstein is still being built, ma'am."
Drescher nodded. "You'll oversee the rest of her construction as well as her crew assignments. When she's ready, she'll be the most advanced carrier in the Alliance Navy and the first of her class assigned to the Fifth Fleet."
"Fifth Fleet, ma'am?"
The admiral's smile lost some of its warmth. "The galaxy is a lot bigger than any of us thought it was, Commander. If the Alliance has any hope of competing, let alone defending itself, we need to grow as quickly as possible. I'm designing the Fifth Fleet to engage on a galactic scale. She'll need to represent the strength and determination of humanity, and she'll need to give pause to anyone who might try to engage us."
Hannah nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."
"And speaking of firsts," she continued, "I would also like for you to be the inaugural recipient of the Star of Terra. For your courage and distinguished service above and beyond the call of duty. Any soldier can fight a war. Not everyone aims to end one. I'll come up with the official reason later."
Hannah felt the color rising in her cheeks, but kept her expression even. "Thank you, ma'am," she said. "It's been an honor to serve."
Perhaps it was the rush of blood in her ears or the onslaught of wave after wave of new information (a new rank? a new ship? a new fleet? a new award?), but she didn't hear the swish of the opening door and she nearly missed the admiral's smile grow one size more. Her eyes seemed to sparkle when she said, "If you'll excuse me, Commander, I must return to the Feynman to finish up some paperwork with Captain Tran. And I believe you have a visitor."
When the admiral walked past her, she turned to ask what she meant but stopped cold, the nebula of questions spinning in her head finally collapsing into a single, irrefutable, real answer. He stood not five meters away, his gunmetal gray eyes pinning her to where she stood. Michael.
She didn't know which of them moved first. One moment, he was standing across the room from her. The next—just as the door closed behind the admiral—they were a tangle of arms and legs and lips. Hannah was voiceless, all her words rushing up and dying before they could leave her throat, and Michael was no more capable of speaking it seemed. The taste of salt rushed across her tongue, and she had no idea whose tears they were—perhaps both of theirs—but she didn't care. It was Michael, and he was alive.
He was the first to speak, and when he did, it was just her name, reverent and shattered. He broke their kiss to bury himself into the crook of her shoulder, to smell her hair, to sob her name again. He lifted his head to look her in the eyes again and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across her brow.
"Hannah," he said, the note of disbelief still clear in his voice. "You don't get to die on me again. You only get to do that once."
She choked out a laugh and kissed him. Of course he'd be a smartass right now.
"I promise," she said, barely above a whisper.
For a long moment, they stood there, just holding and breathing in the scent of one another.
When she opened her eyes to look at him again, she grinned. "I have a room here, you know. Just up the stairs and to the left."
He chuckled. "I thought Tran said to report to the Feynman immediately."
She shrugged one shoulder, and her grin grew wider. "I think there's an understood time difference there."