The cold water started to finally dispel his nausea as Mikhailovich scrubbed his face dry. His nerves had been honed by training and tested by war. Cold, calm, and brutish were words his crews used to describe him on every cruiser, carrier, and dreadnaught he had commanded.
But he found himself being torn apart by this public display. I'm not a diplomat. I am a war time Admiral thrusted in to the chaos of peace time.
His looked in to the mirror and glowered at the reflection. It then changed to a familiar face. The cap on the reflection's head perfectly positioned. The military uniform was pressed and crisp. The white goatee impeccable kept. The long angry scar that ran down the right side of the man's face, evident.
My good friend Nicoli, pray that you never have my job. The memory spoke to him. It had been a comment said in easy jest, but one that had held an uncomfortable truth known now too late.
"But I got it any way." The Admiral grumbled as he ran his tongue across his teeth. Steven Hackett had been a good friend, and the better officer. He had also never known what secrets Hackett had kept, and now wished that it had stayed that way.
Steven, your position is the last I would ever want! The vodka had been smooth and sweet that evening.
The man had been like liquid ice, always cool and fluid. Hackett lived the Alliance principals. Duty, Sacrifice, Honor. He inspired those around him to do the same. It was never a demand, but an expectation.
Now more then ever Mikhailovich wished that he had left this existence like Steven had. With valor and glory.
"Seems like I am doomed to go the way of old soldiers. They just...fade away." He said softly as he started to refasten his uniform coat one button at a time.
Yes...but all things come to an end you know. Hackett had given him a genuinely warm smile. Hard to believe that a military brat like myself, One educated by CBT and long distance class rooms, could become an Admiral and a recipient of the Star of Terra.
If there were two words used to openly describe the man that was Admiral Steven Hackett, they were quiet and modest.
I wouldn't say that it is so surprising Steven. The Alliance seems to have a knack for producing amazing people. Nicoli had said honestly. Take Shepard for example, rest her soul. Look at all she accomplished before she died.
Nicoli remembered the instant he had said 'Shepard' that Hackett changed and became more quiet and cagy as the man held the tumbler of Vodka. He remembered a rapping on the door. They had both ignored it at first. It was after hours when the annoyance came and both Steven and he were enjoying the warm air of a St. Petersburg night. Yet the insistent rapping came again and Nicoli started to rise when his friend stopped him.
Come in. Hackett said in his fatherly calm voice.
A courier immediately swept in to the room and ran over to Hackett. The young woman gave him a sharp salute and handed him a data pad. She had looked over to Mikhailovich and back to Hackett. Her face was telling.
I should not be here... was the thought that had graced the Rear Admiral's mind at the time. But Hackett simply gave the young Major a blink of his eyes and a nod of the head. The Major seemed to relax after that.
Nicoli finished the last button at his throat. The whiskers of stubble on his throat caught uncomfortably on the uniform's fabric.
He remembered complete shock that momentarily swept over his friend as Hackett's eyes scanned and rescanned the data pad message again and again. How long have we known about this? He asked in earnest.
Six hours sir. The Major had replied.
Why the delay? Hackett asked coolly.
SAI sir. They wanted a reply from Councilor Anderson's office. The Major stated.
Damn. Hackett winced. What is the status of the Everest?
Waiting for you sir. Advisor Udina is alr3eady on board with the blessing from Parliament.
Hackett had left with the Major not a moment later that night. There had been no goodbye, no statement to be ready. He had just left like a ghost.
The memory faded as Mikhailovich pursed his image in the mirror again. He still felt sick. Shepard, Specters, N7 and now the ghost of Cerberus? This is the perfect shit storm for the Alliance.
Nicoli's eyes roved over each ribbon and medal checking their position and their posture like a row of troops. He made sure his Admiral bars were straight and visible. His hand hefted up his cap and he straightened it squarely on his head.
He remembered that Hackett had left the datapad behind. It had not been done carelessly. he must have known that the Major would not immediately think of scooping it up in their haste exit.
As Mikhailovich turned to stride back in to the disorderly fray he remembered what the datapad read as he had picked it up over ten years ago in that quaint little office in St. Petersburg.
SAI information level: Grade Tau.
Supernova in Bahak system.
Alpha Relay destroyed.
Shepard spotted.
[][][][][][]
You all have done the duty of a Patriot. Take pride in that, even...if no one else can know it. The memory echoed in Garrus's mind.
Shepard had made the announcement to what was left of the fleet after Haestrome. The Destiny Ascension had left only moments before her speech. And that is all she had said before she had retired in to seclusion for five days.
The offering of words had been hallowing. It had turned the victory empty. Their heroic fight, fruitless. But no one said one word against her. Because every veteran of Haestrome knew that they had not been her words.
Garrus knew that Haestrome had not been the end of the Six year war, but it had been the Victory. It hadn't been the stopping point of the terrible war, but the turning point from extinction. Yet no one really knew it beyond the veterans who had kept their promise of silence. Not then, and not now as the Trial continued to play on.
The crowded cantina had roiled in furry as the video feed had been cut. The smell of thrown drink and spirits oiled the air with a thick fire of anger. But as an image came back a few minutes later the dry tinder box became damp as all eyes were fixed on the blurry almost amateurish image.
Now after Miranda had left the Tribunal floor the cantina was silent with the sound of contemplation.
Garrus knew that the mind of the Galaxy was trying to come to terms with itself.
"I was wondering when that cat would get out of the bag." A formless voice sang sweetly next to Garrus.
He simply hunched forward on the Cantina's bar. "Which one?"
"Well, it was only time before the fox got in to the hen house in any case." The sweet voice said at ease again ignoring his question.
Garrus felt the form turn on the stool next to him and rest its back against his shoulder.
"I'll never understand humans and their love for strange statements." He growled. "It must not have been easy for you to have gotten that information." Garrus said as he rolled the glass of water back and forth in his hands like a ball of yarn. He felt the form push away from his shoulder.
"The hard part wasn't getting the information. Infiltrating and pulling the data was a breeze." The voice purred. "Keeping it though, was another matter."
Garrus saw the seat next to him slowly spin.
"It wasn't until after the pull that Keji and I knew that The Illusive Man had his long fingers buried deep in the operation.
"So The Illusive man hired Donavan Hoc to get the data back. After what happened to your partner, I have to say I am still surprised that you took Cerberus's offer to work with Shepard." Garrus reasoned as he kept his attention on the water glass.
"It would look that way, and possibly was that way." The voice said airily. "But I have my doubts that it was really The Illusive Man who hired Hoc for his...services."
"What makes you think that?" Garrus asked.
The imageless shadow next to him let out a quaint laugh. "Well, let's just say that Cerberus and I had a very...lucrative...professional relationship. For The Illusive Man to have tapped me for Shepard's little war against the Collectors, he would have already had to have had my calling card. That is not something I give out freely you know. A Lady has to have standards."
Garrus's mandibles flared out slightly in a smile.
"Besides, as Miranda so pointedly stated, the Alliance had its fair share of figures ensconced in Cerberus's bed. Perhaps it was the other way around though. Any way, many of those people would not have wanted that information beyond SAI control." The shadow softly sang.
"Humm." Garrus murmured. "Well I appreciate you stopping by. I figured that this might interest you, and Mr. Taylor." Garrus moved his left eye signaling a data package to be sent to his shapeless companion. Calm minuets passed as he took a drink of the water and set the glass down again. No sign of life came from the space next to him, but at the same time he still knew that he wasn't alone.
"My, my; Executor Sohmon is an ambitious little Turian isn't he." The voice gleefully spoke.
Garrus knew that the figure's eyes were roving over the mounds of information he had just passed to her. It would have taken him an age to have cracked Sohmon's codes, but EDI had simply sliced through them like a hot blade.
"He wants to liquidate the entire Specter branch, and in its place establish a type of secret police, controlled by C-Sec. Not good, but aligns with his desire to see C-Sec as the head of every Council race Military. If I didn't know better I'd say he is secretly pushing for a war with the Confederated Terminus Systems."
"Looks that way." Garrus said simply as he looked in to the glass of water.
"Well that's another reason for me to dislike him, if his taste in art wasn't reason enough. I'll never see why Jacob likes in that silly little piece. It is also another motive for why Sohmon wants Shepard out of the picture. But it still doesn't entirely add up though. Something...feels off."
"You get the feeling too." Garrus exhaled.
"Lets just say, from touring his private office; the Executor doesn't strike me as ambitious. More like opportunistic." The effigy purred. "Now as far as who is exactly pulling the Executor's strings is very hard to say..."
Garrus felt the silky velvet of a hand run down the back of his neck, and he couldn't help but let out a purr of contentment. The touch also sent a shiver of cold down his spine, and his eyes darted over to where the Salarian bar keep had given him a quirked look. He immediately went military ridged and stone faced, much to the delight of his invisible companion.
"But my dear Archangel, I do think that I have taken enough of your time. 'Agent Dale' will be wondering where I flittered away to if I don't return to him. He will be most interested to see what you...procured."
Garrus heard the cloaked figure begin to move away from him.
"Wait, before you go. Why did you tell me about the job you pulled? Why admit to that? Why did you do it?"
The shadowed being stopped.
"Humm...do I really have to have a reason? Isn't the fact that the information was just there for the taking enough? I mean a girl does have to have a hobby every now and then."
"I thought yours was collecting rare and shinny things. Data isn't exactly shinny." Garrus grinned.
He felt the stroke of a gloriously soft hand again down the back of his neck and the seductive linger of hot breath near his ear.
"Call it penitence for a terribly guilty soul, or perhaps the admission of duty done by a Patriot." The salacious voice whispered.
Just as quietly as the form had settled by his side, she was gone. Yet his eye caught a single long stemmed purple rose near his left hand.
"Damn little thief." He smiled as his hand gently settled over the calling card.
His eyes caught the Salarian bartender eyeing him again.
"You know it is impolite to stare. In some places in this galaxy it can get you shot."
The Salarian gave him a dirty look. "I've just been wondering what you're putting in your water. I thought I over heard you talking to someone and...purring."
Archangel gave the bartender a fanged grin. "You may want to get your hearing checked, or better yet stop drinking that Asari liquor, it's known to cause hallucinations."
The Salarian just glowered at him and turned to tend to the other waiting patrons.
A short time later Garrus smirked as he watched the Salarian duck to reach a shelf underneath the bar. The amphibian groped for a flask and tossed it in to the refuse bin.
[][][][][][][][]
Light came only from a single dim source in her cell as the audio had now lapsed in to laconism.
El'Jaid held her right hand in her left as she closely examined it. She traced the thin scares of wounds long healed with the fingers of her soft hands. Her thumb rubbed at the stretch of flesh between her right index finger and thumb soothing the scar that rested there. She had always prided herself on the care she gave her hands, and yet she didn't know why. Perhaps it was a form of personal comfort like rubbing a shoulder, or perhaps it was a private reassurance they she wasn't a machine.
Shepard, we are Prophet... A faint memory called to her from the dark. The tone was mechanical and mocking. Boastfully arrogant and abstract. The voice brought a snarl to her face.
You have lost...you eventually would. We knew this.
"No...you lost. I won." She gritted to the dim around her.
Won? You have won nothing. Even now your world crumbles around you. You thought that our words were empty? We bore gifts you did not heed. You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it.
El'Jaid's sneer turned in to small teeth bearing smile. "You will have to kill me again first."
Not when those you defended and triaged will. Your kind held so much promise Shepard, and yet proved to be nothing more than a rabid animal. One that cannot be taught to obey and to yield; so it will be put down.
"I'd burn everything before I will bow to you." El'Jaid growled to the dark.
You allowed it to burn Shepard. The cradle of your people. Your kind has been judged through you. You have been judged and found damned.
The memory faded and El'Jaid wrapped her arms around her shivering with cold. A cold she had not felt in years, yet a familiar cold that had always been her constant companion.
It had been there as she watched her home vanished from view as she was taken by an Alliance aid ship.
It had been the same chill after she wilted down to the floor of her small cramped quarters after the massacre that had been Torfan.
It had been the same chill after leaving Ashley in a nuclear fireball on Vermire.
It was her companion the cruel hours before flying in to the heart of the Galaxy to fight the Collectors and their puppet Masters.
That same fear had been there as she had thrown everything towards Earth, only to watch it all be fruitless.
We need an opening! There are just too many Reapers in Earth's orbit! El'Jaid's inner ear caught.
Beautiful, the opening of the counter assault of Earth had opened up like a mesmerizing light show. El'Jaid remembered seeing thousands upon thousands of ships streaked in like comets to Earth. Fighters, freighters, starliners, frigates, and ancient Dreadnaughts of all different shapes, sizes and origins.
Yet the romanticism had quickly faded as the Reapers coursed in to greet them and the mad brawl ensued. It had been forty three hours of heavy fighting over vast portions of what remained of the Planet, and time had run out.
Keep them off the landing ships! Keep them off!
El'Jaid continued to gingerly massage her right hand as the images from old came floating back.
Shepard. The familiar fatherly voiced call out to her. Life support on the Everest is failing. All weapons are offline. Escape systems are shot to hell. We are moving from outside of the dark side of the moon reroute to your position.
She remembered seeing Hackett bleeding from his head. One of his eyes had suffered a subconjunctival hemorrhage.
"Get the hell outa here Admiral, you can't do anything more." El'Jaid spoke aloud to the empty chamber.
Hackett let out a pained chuckle. You will never get it will you Shepard. You may be a Specter, but I still out rank you. I may not have a gun, but I have a damn battering ram.
El'Jaid's hands clinched together. "No. No, pull back, we'll break through."
Mikhailovich's task force is steaming hard from the night side of Mars. He will cover your retreat. But he will only be able to give you enough time for all ships to make an FTL jump from Earth's orbit to the Charon relay.
"No, we will stop them!"
The grizzled Admiral settled back in to his seat as he took up a fresh cigar. The light around him a crimson bloody red. He lit the already cut end. Not here Shepard. Not today. Get your ships safe and save as many as you can. This fight is over for us.
El'Jaid remembered the Sun as it had change to a growing Red Supergiant. Mercury had already been enveloped and when the fleets had reached earth, the sun was encroaching in on Venus.
Forty three hours later alarms and warnings were going off all over the planet as the Sun was rapidly approaching. The oceans were boiling, the deserts had turned in to smelters, and the ruins of the great cities of humanity were a flame.
Commander it has been a supreme pleasure serving with you and knowing you. Kick these bastards in the teeth, save as many people as you can, and get out of here. Then find a way to throw the Reapers back in to what ever Hell they dared crawled out of. That's an order.
El'Jaid shook at the memory. "Yes sir."
Captain Xian, I want as much power as the engines can give us. Find me the biggest, the fugliest monster you can. I want it dead. I want it's head on a plate. I want a hole in the sky!
Yes sir! An officer called back, and the vid display had gone black.
El'Jaid remembered watching as the Everest lanced out. The breeches in its hull had been large enough to fly a bus into as the dregs of its atmosphere continued to vent in to space. The Reapers lashed out at the crippled Dreadnaught, but nothing halted it. The Everest rammed headlong in to a two kilometer Pale Death. Their hulls buckled and groaned as the Everest's engines continued to roar. For a moment, that sect of the sky was black as a moonless and starless night, yet in an instant a ball of brilliant white expanded as the Everest's drive core went critical.
That was the day that the hero of the Blitz became a Legend.
It was the same blinding white light as what El'Jaid Shepard saw when the Council Security guards opened her cell door and came for her.
"Durga...deliver me." El'Jaid whispered as she was gruffly hauled to her feet.