"Shepard!"
The call came from behind her as she crouched down on the dusty ground. A wind picked up as she turned, catching grit in her teeth, her eyes. She regretted taking her helmet off, but it was stifling, and smelled like old sweat and her shampoo. She didn't care for either scent, and it wasn't like she needed it anyway. They were miles from the nearest hostile. She'd learned, years ago, the right time to put on a helmet.
Jones was approaching her, helmet securely on against the harsh desert climate, and she flipped the visor up as she approached.
"Find anything?" Lillith asked, dusting her hands off and hopping from the small dune she was hiding behind.
"It's clear for about fifteen miles, still. Compounds about 28 clicks southwest, but they've got a fairly heavy patrol, and they've been ramping things up since we got here. Kipling's got a line on a couple of the patrol guards. Command said to hold out for fly by."
"Of course they did," Shepard sighed, shaking her head. "What does Major Kyle think?"
"Kyle's an idiot. They only reason he's in charge is because he knows how to play the damn brass. You know he failed to make it through the Villa twice? I didn't even know they let you go back if you flunked out."
"He is your commanding officer, show respect."
"All due respect, ma'am," Jones said, crossing her arms, "you are my commanding officer. An N4 out ranks a D6 in the field, regardless of rank." It surprised Shepard just a little that all three of her fire team from that first day at the Villa seemed to take it for granted that in the years since she had quickly outstripped all of them. None held it against her, though plenty others did.
"And Major Kyle was put in charge of this mission. We follow his orders. And he's really not a bad guy, if you get to know him."
"I am well aware of how well you know him, LT," Jones laughed. "Almost as well as I know you," she added with a wink.
Lillith glared at the other woman and shook her head. Sleeping with Kyle had been a mistake, a huge mistake, and one she had no plans on ever repeating, ever. She told herself that, in her defense, he hadn't been her commanding officer at the time, that they had both been on shore leave, and neither had been aware they'd been assigned to work together on this godforsaken moon. Sleeping with Jones had been slightly less of a mistake. Even with the other woman being, for what seemed like the first time in Lillith's life, the initiator.
"You were going to tell me what Kyle thought of our orders."
"He follows the line, you know that."
"Lieutenant," Shepard warned.
Jones snapped to attention, shooting off a perfect salute. "Major Kyle believes that Captain Lehreh is correct, and that we should wait for flyover data."
Shepard returned the salute, almost mockingly, "At ease. And thank you."
"Did you find anything up here?"
"Nothing. They have to be getting their supplies from somewhere, but it's not from here."
"The whole op is a waste of time. We should have just nuked 'em from the air," Jones said, voicing Lillith's thoughts.
"Lot of good a nuke will do if the bunkers are as far below ground as intel suggests. Not to mention, if they could just drop a bomb on every problem, we'd both be out of a job." Lillith smiled at Jones, and shoved her shoulder gently, pushing the older woman back towards camp. "Seriously Aimee, don't let the brass hear you talk like that, though."
"Fuck off, Lilly. I've heard some of the shit you tell your superiors."
"And I'm one more insubordination away from ending up on my ass."
"Do as you say, not as you do? What are you, my mother?"
"No, but she told me to tell you she loves you last night."
Jones glared at her, but chuckled. Lillith smiled back, only a little forced, and headed for the back of the camp, where Major Kyle had the comm set up. Jones was one of the few people that could make her smile, really smile, and she knew that she needed to distance herself from the other woman as much as possible. At least when they were in the field. Friends were a weakness. Lovers, a weakness. Family. Lillith thought briefly of Clara – she hadn't called her in months, hadn't written in even longer – and frowned. Her baby sister would tell her she was being foolish. Would tell her to talk to the Alliance shrink again.
That wasn't going to happen.
She didn't need a doctor poking around in her head. She didn't need anyone poking around in there. It was bad enough she had to be there.
Kyle was leaning against the folding table that held the comm link to the ships in orbit.
She nodded at him – Jones was right, she did technically outrank him here, and it was rare that anyone stood on ceremony in the field – and joined him against the table.
"I hear you're bending over for the Captain."
"I understand that you have issues with the chain of command, Shepard. I am doing all I can. I am following orders."
"That's all you ever do. Look, we move in now, we take them by surprise, we're in and out. We need to push forward, and screw that damned intel. It's not like a drone flyover will tell us anything about what's going on underground."
"That is not how it works, Shepard. You know that as well as I do."
"All I know is that I'm fucking bored, Major."
Kyle shook his head slowly, running a hand over his close-chopped hair. She could tell that he was seriously considering what she was saying, and she also knew that he wasn't going to listen to her. She shook her head and stalked off.
They didn't need to know what was in those bunkers, beyond the fact that they were Batarian. They were slavers. She supposed it was possible that there were slaves in the tunnels as well. If they waited, it was more likely that someone would spot them. And if they were seen, those slaves would be dead before anyone even knew they had been. It was how the bastards worked.
She'd been fighting them since the first day she stepped aboard a ship. Her drone had a seek and destroy algorithm specifically tied to Batarian DNA. She'd spent every last credit she made over the last few years on a new omni-blade. She hadn't used it yet. She wanted to christen it in Batarian blood.
Lillith Shepard was a soldier though. She might talk back to her superiors a bit more than they really liked, but she always got the job done. And she usually got jobs done that the brass didn't even know they wanted done. Their overarching orders were to wipe out the slave trade on this moon. She didn't see how sitting around with them thumbs up their collective asses was accomplishing anything.
"Talk to Major Kyle?" Casey asked, his red hair slightly more coppery than Lillith's, and cropped almost as close to his skull as Kyle's
"How could you tell?" she said, slipping onto the crate beside him. He was shuffling a deck of cards. He never gambled, but always kept a deck close at hand in case anyone else wanted to.
"You're scowling, but not yelling at me," Casey answered.
"Funny. I only yell at you when you deserve it. Which admittedly is most of the time."
"Must be bad news," he muttered.
"We're stuck here until the drones do another flyover. Don't see what they expect to find. We need to go in, wipe 'em out, and watch the bastards bleed out on the sand."
"Oh, that doesn't sound personal or anything. Impatient much?"
"You know I am." The sound of screams filled her mind, though she knew they weren't real. She saw her father's body in the dirt. She watched her mother explode. Outwardly, her face was a mask, and Casey made a dirty joke about Kyle and her. She asked him if he took as good of care of the rifle between his legs as the one leaning against the crate.
She smelt the putrid breath of the Batarian on her back. She heard the sound of distant gunfire. Wet, sticky mud slid up her shirt.
Casey told her he cleaned them both nightly. Jones joined them. She gave a detailed, and mostly inaccurate, description of the last time she and Lillith had sex. Shepard embellished it further. Casey blushed.
She heard Clara crying. She felt tears falling down her own cheeks and tasted vomit.
With a jolt, she stood up. It was rare anymore that she had waking dreams like that. The nightmares still haunted her most nights, but she didn't often let the past get to her during the day. It was the fact that they had been here for three days, always having to push back to avoid detection. That they couldn't figure out how the Batarians were getting their supplies. Didn't know how far the tunnels ran. It was the stress.
"Everything okay, Shepard?" Jones asked, laying a hand on Lillith's arm. It calmed her in a way she couldn't understand, didn't want to understand, and she nodded.
"Yeah, just wish we were moving."
"You won't hear any complaints from me. I'd've taken the damned base when we landed."
"Here's to that," Casey added.
Shepard nodded distractedly, eyes drawn to the horizon. She couldn't see the drone, but she knew it was there. It's data would be relayed to the ship, and then pinged back to the base camp. She had a sinking feeling that things weren't going to go well when they finally got the word to move out.
She ran a finger over her pistol, watching for movement in the distance. The earth like atmosphere of the moon made seeing too far difficult. She almost wished they were on a moon more like Luna. Of course, if that were the case, the batarians would have seen them ages ago.
It was the next morning that found the three discussing tactics together in much to same location. The planet below had barely cleared the horizon when there was a commotion behind them. The three turned to spot Kyle leaving the tent where the comm was set up. His face was grim, set and determined as she strode purposefully across the sand. Casey and Jones jumped to their feet beside Shepard as he drew closer, the two exchanging a quick, worried glance.
"Major. What are our orders?"
"Three teams. You'll be in charge of the west approach. I'll be coming in from the east. Havensworth is taking the north. We're to secure the immediate area around the entrance. Stay on the comms, we'll be working our way in systematically. We move out in thirty."
Shepard nodded grimly.
Finally.
They were a go.