I want to apologize for the tardiness of this chapter. My computer developped an unexpected hardware problem that I thought would be quick and simple to fix - and it would've, if the part had been readily available. In any case, here it is: the second to last chapter. I've been working a little on the sequel in the meantime, but let me just say a big thank you to everyone who's been reading thus far.
Chapter Eleven: Out of the Ash [Case Report: Admiral David Anderson]
Trial of Commander Kayleigh Shepard
Vid Log Evidence #0.00485P
[Admiral David Anderson, 49, is clearly impatient with the proceedings, hands on his knees. He's in his dress blues, and looks every bit the part of distinguished military hero except for the barely concealed contempt with which he regards this tribunal.]
TRIBUNAL: You're very close with Shepard, aren't you Admiral?
ANDERSON: We've worked together a long time, yes. We won't be braiding each other's hair any time soon, though.
TRIBUNAL: Prior to the Battle of the Citadel, you assaulted Ambassador Donnell Udina to allow her ship to escape.
ANDERSON: Was there supposed to be a question in there?
TRIBUNAL: That's quite a risk for you to take. What made you so sure that Shepard was right?
ANDERSON: Let me tell you a thing that most people don't realize about Shepard right off – she's rough around the edges, yeah. She can be rude, stubborn, and impatient. But she's also one of the best damned marines I've ever met and you know why? Because on top of all those things, she cares. I could see it the first time I met her.
o-o-o
Anton looked like shit, his leg going a nasty black colour. The stocks of medigel had already been used up, and Shepard had done as best she could, using her bandages to form a tourniquet, but the fucking planet they were on was so moist and full of bacteria that for every first aid step she took, the environment sent her back three. She dipped a piece of cloth into the stream and put it on his head, causing him to open his eyes. They were fuzzy with pain and infection.
So far, her omni-tool hadn't beeped at all, despite the distress beacon it was emitting. Anton wouldn't last much longer without medical help, but she couldn't risk a more powerful beacon this far into batarian space. If the merc band on this stupid rock caught up with them, well, infection would be the least of their worries.
"Leigh," murmured Anton, his hand groping for hers. She took it and held tight. "If I die, you get the hell out of here."
"Nobody is dying," snapped Shepard. She brushed some of his hair out of his face. Before all this, he'd been an attractive guy. Skin the colour of hot chocolate, but these grey eyes that just stood out in his face. He never failed to attract the ladies on shore leave, but he and Shepard had always had a semi-friendly rivalry.
He read her mind. "Looks like you win."
"Shut up," she said.
"We get out of here, I'm going to treat you to a good dinner," slurred Anton, eyelids fluttering.
Shepard squeezed his hand. "You asking me on a date, Clarke?"
"No," said Anton quietly. He loosed his hand from hers and brought it up to her cheek. "Maybe – maybe I'm asking you to marry me. Any woman that can shoot a gun like that and cook alien frogs into something edible, well, she's a keeper, right?"
"Christ, stop talking. You're going to give me a toothache." But she didn't move his hand away. Lost in the jungle, she could imagine a different life for herself – a family, maybe, to make up for the one she never got to have.
Anton chucked thickly. "I love you too, sweetheart." His head lolled to the side in a way that wasn't comforting.
Bending over him, she used her omni-tool to check his vitals. They were weak and falling quickly. She slapped his face lightly. "Hey, Anton, don't you fall asleep on me. You haven't yet told me all the dirty things you're going to do to me on our wedding night." There was no reply. She propped open his mouth and poured some water in, covering it so that he was forced to swallow. She was no field medic – this was all way beyond her. If she'd wanted to deal with treating people, she would've become a doctor.
She hadn't come all this way to lose another fucking crew member, damnit.
Her tool beeped, and she hit it quickly, patching into the provided Alliance comm channel. "Hello? This is Lieutenant Kayleigh Shepard. I've got a man down. Requesting an extraction."
"Lieutenant, this is the SSV Gettysburg. Can you give us your precise coordinates?"
Shepard took in their camp. They were surrounded by foliage – no way any ship was going to set down here. "We're in a wooded area," said Shepard, adding in the coordinates. "There's a glen about a klick away. I think we can make it there – do you have a short range shuttle to meet us?"
"Affirmative. ETA Ten minutes."
Ten minutes sounded impossibly optimistic to Shepard, but she flicked off her omni-tool. Anton had since given into unconsciousness, so she'd have to carry him. That meant she was going to have to leave most of her equipment behind. She left her rifle where it was, knowing there was no way to carry a mantis and Anton without breaking all her bones, and settled for clipping a pistol to the belt of her fatigues. The food rations could stay, as could their survival gear, and there was no way she was going to be able to carry him all that way in armour either, so goodbye custom set. She quickly rifled through Anton's sack, pulling out a few photos of his family and stuffing them into her pocket.
"Okay, buddy," she said, not sure if she was talking to herself or to Anton, "we can do this."
He had a good sixty pounds on her at least, but lucky for him she'd not only been trained in carrying huge loads, but doing so on gravity heavy planets. She slung him over her shoulders and proceeded out of camp, trying not to gag as what she could only think of as juice flowed down her arm from Anton's wound. All she had to do was take it one step at a time. It wasn't like the Gettysburg was going to leave without her, right?
Her fatigues were soaked through with her sweat and her muscles strained to the point of pain by the time she reached the shuttle. Really, she should stop getting herself into dumb ass situations where she needed an evac, but, well, nobody's perfect. The door to the shuttle opened, and two marines came to take Anton from her. Another came and slung her arm around his shoulder, dragging her to her seat.
The Captain was waiting when the shuttle docked in the cargo bay. His eyes raked over Anton as he was carried out of the shuttle on a stretcher, before coming to rest on Shepard herself, who couldn't muster the energy to even stand, never mind salute.
"I'm Captain David Anderson," he said, and to his credit, he didn't offer her a hand or ask her to move out of the shuttle, not even as the pilot filtered past her. "You did good, kid. We picked up the rest of your team a few days back, just the other side of the moon."
"They made it?" asked Shepard.
"Every single one. Good soldiers. Said they owed a lot of it to you – that you provided a distraction that allowed them to escape when things went south. That true?"
"If by distraction you mean sniper shot through the eyes, then yeah, I was the distraction," agreed Shepard.
"Hell of a thing," commented Anderson, and now he did offer her a hand. She accepted, and he hauled her to her feet, snaking his arm under her pits without complaining about the smell, despite the fact that she knew she smelled like a hot sewer. "This was your N6 mission?" When Shepard nodded, he chuckled. "Got a feeling you've more than earned your rank, Lieutenant. Maybe more."
That was too much raw data for her to deal with, so she asked, "Is Anton going to be okay?"
"We'll do everything we can for him," said Anderson.
"Oh," said Shepard, "good."
She couldn't remember anything after that.
o-o-o
Vid Log Evidence #0.00485P (Continued)
TRIBUNAL: You were the one that nominated Shepard for the Spectre position?
ANDERSON: Actually, Councillor Udina came up with her name first.
[Anderson chuckles softly to himself.]
ANDERSON: A decision he found himself regretting on more than one occasion.
TRIBUNAL: And following her nomination, you were her acting CO aboard the Normandy, correct?
[He inclines his head.]
o-o-o
Something was up. Shepard wasn't sure what it was, but she was pretty sure it had to do with that turian, Nihlus. Okay, the Normandy wasn't exactly a huge ship – it was a frigate, what did people expect? - but there had to be some reason every time she turned around, there he was, staring at her with those beady green eyes. He didn't even try to look away when she caught him looking, either, only inclined his head and flared those mandibles of him. Whether it was a smile or not, Shepard couldn't say, but it was damned annoying.
Anderson had introduced him as Nihlus Kryik, Council representative and Spectre, whatever the hell that meant. But she'd come a long way since that twerp on Earth, so she held out her hand in greeting. Nihlus shook it, his two fingered hand sitting awkwardly in hers and those green eyes boring down into her. He said, "I look forward to seeing what you – and the crew – can do, Commander."
Apparently, he took that statement a lot more seriously than Shepard could have anticipated. She couldn't duck inside the lavatory without Nihlus seeing it. After a few hours, she politely knocked on Anderson's door and was allowed admittance.
"Sir," she said, with a salute that Anderson waved away, "what's the deal with this Spectre?"
Her CO's face went perfectly blank, and that was when she knew for sure that he was keeping things from her. "Don't worry about Nihlus," he assured her. "I doubt he's spent much time around humans. Ignore him. Just do your job like always."
"Considering he's always about two feet away, my job is getting a little crowded," groused Shepard. She wouldn't be surprised if he was waiting outside with an ear – or whatever turians had instead – to the door.
Anderson chuckled. "Just bear with it for the next while. We'll hit the relay soon on our path to Eden Prime. Once we hit groundside, there should be plenty enough space for the both of you."
She wanted to say that there would be enough space on the Normandy if only a certain someone would back off a bit, but she bit her tongue and took her leave. She retrieved her rifle from her locker and hopped on the elevator down to the workbench. In smooth, practised motions, she disassembled it, cleaning it even though it really didn't need it. It was a habit she'd picked up during the N-school. Could never be too careful, and a jammed gun meant you were probably dead. Since Shepard was happy being not dead, she cleaned the gun with alarming frequency.
The elevator went up and came back down, the door lowering with a mechanical whir. She didn't have to look over to know who it was; no human on board had footsteps quite like that. They were quieter than she expected, for something so heavy-looking as a turian. She glanced at him over her shoulder, and like always, he didn't try to hide that he was watching her. Job as normal, Shepard, she told herself.
That was before he leaned up against the crew lockers like he was cool shit. Shepard dropped her components on the workbench and set a hand on her hip. "Do I have something on my face?" she asked.
Nihlus was clearly expecting some sort of statement. "No," he said.
"Is it some sort of turian faux-pas not to have something on my face?"
He paused, then said, "Among turians, yes. But not among other species."
"Okay, look," said Shepard honestly, "you've been following me around like a little puppy for hours. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're some hormonal teenager with a crush."
His mandibles were all twitchy now and she didn't know if that was a good sign or not. He did his best impersonation of a frown. "Either my translator is broken, or you just used far too many human-centric words for it to work properly," he said.
"Do you have a thing for humans? Are you trying to ask me out on a date or something?" Shepard sighed, running her hands over her arms. "I'm trying my best not to cause an inter-species incident here, but the way you've been following me? It's really fucking weird."
Nihlus blinked at her. He let out a low rumble that was either a chuckle or a growl, and Shepard sure as hell couldn't tell which. "I'm sorry if I caused you uneasiness," he said, and he sounded sincere. "But you can rest assured that I'm not," here he cleared his throat, "trying to ask you on a date."
"Okay, good," said Shepard, and then realizing how that could be interpreted added, "I'm sure you're really attractive for a turian, but I don't even get into relationships with my own species, so." And because the whole damned situation was just too surreal, she turned back to her gun.
"Why not?" he asked, and there was more than personal curiosity in his voice.
"I'm a marine," she said, simply, "and I'm now the Executive Officer on this ship. Being a soldier's all I really know how to do. I'm not going to fuck that up by letting emotions get in the way."
Nihlus hmmed, tapping one finger to his chin. With a nod, he stalked off, leaving Shepard to her gun, thank god. She was just finishing when Joker came over the comm, "Commander, we'll be hitting the relay in five minutes."
She snapped the last piece of it together and marched towards the elevator, ready for whatever the galaxy could throw her way.
o-o-o
Vid Log Evidence #0.00485P (Continued)
TRIBUNAL: So you were there when Shepard first began to have these delusions about a sentient synthetic race called "The Reapers"?
[Whatever jovial expression Anderson had been wearing disappears. He scoots forward in his chair, then stands. He addresses not only this tribunal, but everyone present.]
ANDERSON: Shepard's gotten a lot of flack from bureaucrats like you lot, and for the most part, she's handled herself well despite that adversity. But there's something you should know – the Reapers are real, and they're coming.
TRIBUNAL: Admiral, with all respect -
[Anderson isn't listening. His omni-tool flashes to life, and he takes control of the screens behind him. Static echoes through the room for a moment before the images come to life.]
o-o-o
FWD:
Vid File – Cltrbase0012185. avi
[The camera is mounted at chest level. It shows a strange sort of ship, all brown with pods lining the walls. The camera jangles at its owner sprints forward. From above descend horrific, bug like creatures – Collectors. A gun is loaded with a thermal clip in front of the camera, but everything becomes confused as spatters of gunfire erupt from both sides. The soldier peeks out from behind cover, allowing a clear shot of the territory.
One Collector floats up, suffused in bright light. It turns to the camera-laden soldier.]
COLLECTOR:Resistance is futile, Shepard.
SHEPARD: Yeah, well, fuck you too, buddy.
[The camera is attached to Commander Shepard. She battles her way through the Collector horde, coming to a large door. It opens, and she and her team – a drell and a quarian – dash inside. They spray covering fire until the door is closed by a geth. Inside, a ragtag team of mercenaries and soldiers is assembled. Everyone looks to the pods, which are filled with human bodies.
One of these bodies, a woman, awakens inside her pod, screaming. Her fists beat against the transparent material that holds her inside.]
SHEPARD: Oh god, they're still alive. Get them the hell out of there!
[Shepard beats her rifle against the pod, and when that fails, her hands go to the edges to look for a seam. She finds one, and the pod makes a suction sound as it opens, the occupant falling into the Commander's arms, obscuring the camera. She's lowered to the ground, the Commander squatting in front of her as evidenced by the knees in the frame.]
WOMAN: Commander – you came for us.
SHEPARD: No one gets left behind. Doctor, do you know what they're doing here?
WOMAN: Melting us down. Moving it through those tubes.
SHEPARD: Do you know why?
[The woman shakes her head, and Shepard looks up at the tubes. They're attached to the ceiling and snake through the complex.]
Vid File – Cltrbase0072185. avi
[The strange platform moves forward through the rooms until it comes face to face with a giant, metal skeleton hanging from the ceiling. The tubes from before are feeding into it. Shepard had a brief conversation with colleague determining the nature of the thing; it's decided it's a proto-Reaper, using humans as fodder for growth. Shepard shoots the supports holding the thing up, and it plummets down.
She radios her crew, telling them that she's going to arm an explosive and to be ready to escape. As she does so, a holographic call from the Illusive Man is put through. He details a way to destroy the base but leave the technology intact. Though her face cannot be seen, there's no denying the anger in her voice.]
SHEPARD: They stole colonists – liquefied them! Turned them into something horrible! We have to destroy the base!
THE ILLUSIVE MAN: Don't be so sure. Our best chance against the Reapers is to turn their own resources against them.
SHEPARD: Really? Because that's what this other person tried to convince me, wait, who was that? Oh yeah – Saren.
THE ILLUSIVE MAN: Saren was dealing with a live Reaper, Shepard. We're talking about one that hasn't been functional yet!
SHEPARD: Even a dead Reaper can indoctrinate people and turn them into husks. It's too big a liability. It's too high a price.
THE ILLUSIVE MAN: Shepard -
[The holoimage disappears. One of Shepard's companions, the dark haired woman from earlier footage, looks nauseous. She opens her mouth to speak, but a loud, booming sound comes from beneath them. One giant metal hand grips the platform on which they stand. Shepard dives into cover, but not quickly enough that the camera misses the moving metal face...]
o-o-o
Vid Log Evidence #0.00485P (Continued)
[As the vid draws to a close, the entire room is silent. Anderson takes no joy in proving Shepard right. Grim lines mar his face.]
ANDERSON: You were saying?
TRIBUNAL: Jesus... That can't be real.
ANDERSON: I've already had it checked over by the best techs and information specialists in the Alliance. It's legit. I can forward you the reports, if you want.
TRIBUNAL: Where did you get this footage?
ANDERSON: Where do you think? Shepard gave it to me.
TRIBUNAL: To prove her innocence?
[Anderson slams his hands down on the rail that separates him from the rest of the room.]
ANDERSON: Shepard doesn't give a damn whether you find her guilty or not. Why do you think she turned herself in? She wants to make sure we're all ready for when these things come for us.
TRIBUNAL: We – we'll have to discuss this further.
ANDERSON: Talk fast.
Next Chapter: Shepard's a bundle of nerves over her reunion.