James's head spun to look at Shepard. Her face was completely blank.
"Interesting name," he said when it was obvious Shepard wasn't going to say or do anything.
When they reached a small clearing by the river, Shepard and James stayed in the shadows while the boy walked out to the two people leaning against the shuttle. James opened his mouth to ask about the name, but Shepard held her hand up. He turned his attention back to the boy just as the two people at the shuttle hurled their weapons into the forest and dropped to the ground. The boy followed suit, and James brought his HUD up, thermal sensors on.
"Nothing but the shuttle and the slaves," he said.
Shepard nodded and stood. He followed her out. In the light that spilled out of the shuttle, he saw the faces of kids no older than Lucas.
"How many of you back there where kids?" asked Shepard, her voice tight as she motioned her head back the way they'd come.
"We're the youngest. I'm a scout," said Lucas, looking up from the ground. "These two are younger than me, so they just guard the shuttle."
The other two were silent as Lucas spoke, but one of them, a girl, was shaking. She sniffled, and James gritted his teeth. He couldn't handle crying girls, especially not when he wanted to find some slavers and beat them to death with his bare hands. The other kid, a boy with the same dark hair as the girl, reached out and squeezed her hand.
"Get up. We're taking you to an Alliance base in Vancouver," said Shepard before turning to James. She had her commander voice and commander face on, but in the light from the shuttle, he could see the fury and sorrow underneath. "Can you fly a shuttle?"
"Might not be the smoothest ride, but yeah," said James with a shrug.
Shepard nodded for him to get in the shuttle before herding the kids in after him.
James sat in the cockpit, strapping himself into his harness and turning everything on. The Kodiak was as old as the one he'd practiced on when he first joined the Alliance. For one thing, it still had some physical switches. He found the switch for the door and, looking over his shoulder, did a headcount before closing it. The shuttle jerked to life, and Shepard came to sit in the co-pilot's chair.
"Head for Vancouver. We'll retrieve what we've left in the cabin later," she said, her voice pitched low so the kids in the main cabin couldn't hear. "The kids will have control chips in their skulls."
James brought up the navigation panel and plotted a course to Vancouver.
"We'll be there in about an hour," he said, pressing a few more buttons to stabilise the shuttle as they ascended. "What exactly do the chips do? Do they actually control the kids? Will they attack us or something?"
James didn't really know what slavers did to their slaves. He had never rescued any before. He'd gotten into skirmishes with slavers out in the Traverse, but they'd been small bands who'd quickly retreated when they were confronted with real marines.
"The control chips send out electric pulses at higher voltages than the brain is capable of handling. Leave it on for long enough, and the brain cooks." James looked at Shepard, his face screwed up in disgust and shock. "The signal range is immense. Their master could be orbiting Earth and still activate the chips."
James turned back to the console and pressed a few more buttons. The shuttle jerked again and the speedometer crept upwards as he pushed the shuttle into overdrive. It was going to ruin the old Kodiak, but James didn't care. He didn't want to see anyone die from a cooked brain.
Shepard hated how much time she'd spent with doctors over the past two weeks. Perhaps the only consolation this time was that she'd been given more clues as to who was after her. Batarians and slaves—if it wasn't the Hegemony looking for retribution, it was one of the syndicates. One of the few powerful syndicates too, judging by the fake Alliance shuttles and an assassin planted on the Normandy. Who the assassin was niggled at her the most. Her gut told her who it was, but her head couldn't pinpoint why she felt that way.
With her bandaged hand, she shooed away the doctor trying to stick yet another needle into her. She needed to get out of the Vancouver base's hospital and find Anderson. She needed information.
"Please, doctor, I'm fine." She sat up and reached for her dirty dress pants from the end of her bed.
"She's afraid of needles," said James from the next bed.
Shepard glared at him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, underarmour stripped to his waist to expose a wound on his side and a bruise that ran from his shoulder down his bicep. None of his injuries looked too bad, but James made a show of wincing as a pretty nurse fussed over him.
Since he'd called her out on her fear of needles, she'd have to endure this one out of pride.
She sighed and waved for the doctor to continue as she reclined back against the bed. She tried to count the textured panels on the ceiling to divert her attention from the needle going into her knee, but James was too distracting.
Listening to him flirt and the nurse coo was putting her nerves on edge more than the needle. She rubbed her hand absently against her thigh. She wanted to jump into a scalding hot shower with some steel wool and scrub herself clean—not just of the grime from the past two days, but also of the memory of James's touch. She shouldn't be surprised that his attention was so easily caught by a pretty face.
The doctor finished and she hopped off the bed, grabbing her pants and pulling them back on. Her knee still had that twinge to it, but whatever the doctor had injected had taken the edge off.
"You can't leave without me," said James as she started for the door.
She didn't bother looking back, let alone replying.
He said something in Spanish and, by his tone, it wasn't flattering. The door slid closed behind her and cut him off. She walked quickly down the hall and out the hospital, stopping to look for a building that looked like Command.
Morning sun reflected off a tall building that seemed to be made of glass windows. It stood out amongst the squatter buildings around it. She snorted and walked toward the buolding. Of course the Alliance would make such an impractical building their Command. Earth could never be attacked; why make a megatropolis's military HQ easily defensible?
When she entered the atrium of the building, the guards wouldn't let her past the doors to the elevators, but her namedropping did allow her to send a message to Anderson. She took a seat, stretching her legs out and leaning her head back against the wall. People streamed past her, some staring and whispering that she was The Commander Shepard.
"What the hell, Shepard?" said James. His breathing was heavier than normal. He must have jogged over.
"I'm waiting for Anderson."
"I meant what the hell are you doing walking off without me?"
"I thought it best I leave you in the nurse's capable hands."
"Are you jealous?" he asked, incredulity in his voice.
Shepard rolled her eyes, flopping her head forward enough to look at him. He'd abandoned his underarmour and was wearing a borrowed standard issue shirt and pants tucked into his muddy boots. Maybe she should have asked for some new clothes too while in the medbay.
"Wow. I don't even know how you got in the door with an ego that large," she said, her expression as bored as her tone.
"Commander Shepard?" She turned her attention from James to the guard and smiled. "Admiral Anderson wants to see you. Through the doors and left to the elevator. Level fifty-eight. "
Shepard stood and brushed past James. The guards saluted her even though they knew she no longer had rank. James followed her, but the guards stopped him, asking for his pass. Shepard stopped too, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot, as James let one of the guards scan his omnitool.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, you don't have access to that level." James looked at Shepard pointedly, and the guard looked from Shepard to him and back to her again. "Unless, Commander, he has business with you and Admiral Anderson?"
Shepard, cocked her head to side in thought, then shrugged and turned away. "Nope."
James yelled her to stop kidding around as the glass doors separating the atrium from the rest of the building slid open. She kept walking. She had to stop herself from looking back and savouring his expression, though.
She punched the button for level fifty-eight. At first, the elevator beeped a warning and refused to move, but after the scanner ran over her a second time, it jerked to life. She leaned against the elevator's glass wall and stared out over Vancouver. The city spread out before her; high rise buildings and greenery under a clear, blue sky as far as she could see. So perfect, so sterile—like the Citadel.
When the doors opened again, Anderson was already there, waiting.
"Where's Lieutenant Vega?"
"Downstairs swearing about not having clearance," she said, stepping off the elevator.
Anderson's eyebrow rose but underneath his chagrined expression, she could see amusement. He motioned for her to follow him before tapping a few commands into his omnitool. No doubt he was allowing James access.
"I thought you two had started to get along," he said as he led her down the hall.
"He's an insubordinate pain in the ass."
"Sounds familiar." There was laughter in his voice.
Anderson unlocked the door to his office and ushered her in. She brushed by him, making a beeline for one of the armchairs at Anderson's desk.
"This place is as cushy as your old Councillor office," she said, wiggling into the plush chair and running her hand over the leather armrest. "Maybe I should become an Admiral one day."
"You'd hate it—too much paperwork."
Shepard wrinkled her nose. "Maybe I'll just retire."
"You living day-to-day without a gun attached to your back? I'd like to see that."
"Oh, I'll have a shooting range, and maybe once in a while I'd go clean up the Terminus Systems."
"Another Archangel?"
The mention of Garrus made Shepard smile, even though Anderson likely didn't know the turian's secret identity.
It felt like months, not weeks, since she last pretended to press buttons at Garrus's console when he was tinkering with the electronics. No matter how many times she played the trick, he'd rush over panicking about what she might have changed.
"Yes, like Archangel. But with a less dramatic name," she said. Her smile faded and her expression turned sombre. "I came to ask you a favour. I know what I'm up against now. It's not the killers I have to worry about, it's the brains behind them. Put me in a safe house and leak the info-"
The door to the office whooshed open. From the cadence of the heavy footsteps, she knew it was James.
"Thanks for the support downstairs, Shepard," said James, glaring at her after he sat in the chair next to her.
"Alliance security can't be compromised, Lieutenant." She dismissed James with a tilt of her head and looked back at Anderson. "So?"
"It'd take weeks to authorise and assemble a squad to watch the safe house while we wait for an attack."
"I don't need a squad, Anderson," she said, sitting up straight and leaning forward in her seat. "Just give me my armour and my weapons."
"Uh… what's going on?" asked James.
Shepard opened her mouth to say something disparaging, but shut it when Anderson shot her a warning look. He must have read the intent on her face. Her old CO knew her too well.
"Shepard wants to set up a sting operation—put her in a safe house, leak the information, then see who comes after her."
"That's not a plan." James looked from her to Anderson like they were both insane. "Admiral, you can't seriously give her clearance for something so loco. The next assassin or group of mercs might be damn good ones."
Shepard raised her voice to drown out James's argument before Anderson could respond. "I think the assassin was Corporal Lucas Hornby."