AN: Hey, I've been busy with things for a while, but here's a new chapter. Remember, the narration for this story happens out of chronological order. This time we're going back to ME1. Mostly exposition to clear up so of the questions raised by the previous chapters. It was a lot of fun creating all the new characters and inserting all the dialogue tidbits from the games. Part 2 is coming up next where the plan will be revealed in more detail.
Chapter 4. Jane: The Ripple Effect, Part 1
The large conference room was lit very strategically. Powerful omnidirectional projectors provided the precisely needed amount of lighting where needed while at the same time keeping most of the room in uneasy twilight. Enormous window that was replacing the back wall showcased the opposite side of the Arcturus station against the backdrop of space. Blinking faraway stars only intensified that intimidating feeling the architects of this hall were going for.
This place was usually used for backroom deals and sensitive deliberations involving the unofficial dealings of the Admiralty Board. The ominous looking room was witness to secret negotiations preceding the peace treaties, deliberations that resulted in wars being declared and panning of the most classified operations in the Alliance history. If the metal walls of this room could speak the stories they would tell could topple anyone's imagination. Proceedings were kept strictly off the books except for one tightly guarded archive. Archive exclusively available to the Admirals themselves.
Meeting called on this day was one of the most important and the most secretive that were ever held in this conference room. In attendance were only the highest raking Admirals plus two individuals that received orders to be there. Some of attendees could not be make it to Arcturus in person so the carefully orchestrated atmosphere of the room was slightly broken by the gentle glow of see-through holograms.
The older man sitting at the center of the main table cleared his throat. He was gifted with a large figure positively towering over the others at the table. Sometime in his youth he probably was a very handsome, muscular officer with a strong jaw and full head of curly hair. But time had taken it's due: the man sitting at the head of the table was completely bold, his face was covered with age lines, the posture while still straight was obviously weighted down by years and heavy responsibilities. His darkened olive skin starkly contrasted with a magnificent white perfectly kept beard. Admiral Ron Stamos, head of the Admiralty Bard and the Alliance Navy.
The old Admiral was well-respected and beloved by high ranking officers and regular soldiers alike. He had served on so many ships and postings through his career he himself could barely remember all the names and places anymore. Participated in most of the conflicts humanity had a hand in over the last five decades. He should have long retired, but no one had the courage or the gall to tell that to his face. Stamos once had a temper befitting of a man of Sicilian descent, but that hot young blood had left his body many years ago.
Murmurs of quiet conversations had stifled, everyone's attention shifted to focus on the the Admiral.
"As everyone presented undoubtedly knows," he glanced at two holo figures seated, in a manner of speaking, at the table across. "we are gathered to discuss the upcoming selection of a new Spectre. The Alliance has to present a candidate for consideration to the Council. Induction of a human into the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of the Council would be a tremendous achievement for the Alliance. The purpose of this meeting is to deliberate on the candidate that could best represent the Systems Alliance."
Appointment of a human Spectre will have long reaching consequences. Specters act with authority superseding that of the Council member races respective military's. A very dangerous proposition.
There was a heated debate if the Alliance should even attempt to put a human in such position when the chance presented itself the first time around. Many in the Alliance military did not see eye to eye with the Council's policy on the Spectres. Armed to the teeth self-sufficient agents outside of chain of command with ultimate authority and only answering to a bunch of aliens somewhere far away? Preposterous! The same conservatives that kept pushing the Senate to distance the Alliance from the alien governments and the whole structure of the Citadel Council were loudly against even attempting to allow a human Spectre to be inducted.
The progressives won out in the end. Politicians and many of the military leaders saw the benefits of the Alliance strongly pursuing its interests on the arena of galactic politics. If humanity were to take its rightful place among the stars they had to play by the Council's rules. The possibilities, all they had to benefit from commerce and growing influence the Systems Alliance managed to acquire, not to mention the ever growing territorial additions – all of the gains outweighed the possible downsides the conservatives were threatening with.
All that, however, did not mean that the Board would let such matters go unattended or leave them in the hands of the politicians and ambassadors. Admiral Stamos looked to his left and right noticing the concentration his fellow Admirals were showing on their faces. Seven Admirals. Almost the full roster of the Admiralty Board. They understood the gravity of this decision.
To the left of Admiral Stamos were seated three Admirals. He let his eyes linger on each one of them for a moment before continuing the meeting.
Steven Hackett. Commanding officer of the Fifth Fleet. That older man was a legend among the Alliance. Born in Buenos Aires, enlisted at the age of eighteen. The rarity that was his ascend from enlisted man to a Fleet Admiral had gathered him plenty of recognition and some adoration from the man under his command. Even though the years had made his face gritty, placed the age lines at his nose and eyes, made his short hair and neatly kept goatee gray, his steely blue eyes were still as sharp as the day he put on the officers uniform.
Stamos remembered him as young Lieutenant during the First Contact War, an experienced, calculating Captain later and knew him as an extremely capable Admiral now. Hackett was an expert tactician, but personally Ron regretted his unyielding loyalty to the Alliance standards, the very ones that inspired him to enlist in the first place. He always was an adventurer, the man looking for the final frontier. Certain form of romanticism witch could not be extinguished by wars or hardships.
Nitesh Singh, CO of the Third Fleet, was seated on Hackett's left. He was of Indian descent: his dark skin, black eyes and hair made him hard to make out against the backdrop of space. He was born to a pair of wealthy Senators. As third son in a family guided by tradition more than anything he could not rely on his inheritance. Instead he was send to the Academy. It would have been a mistake to underestimate him. Singh knew the ins and outs of Arcturus station like the back of his hand. Not to mention his signature talent – tactical control of a force of any size or makeup. Some even called it premonition: Nitesh made it look like he knew what the enemy was going to do in advance.
Richard Talbott, head of the Marine Corps including Spec Ops, Black Ops and Special Research Projects. The black man was seating at the very edge of the slightly curved official desk half-hidden in the shadows. He was swirling an unlit thin cigar between his fingers with skill that betrayed countless hours of practice. The only non Fleet Admiral at the table, this man arguably had more reach and influence than all of them combined. The head of counterintelligence division always made the impression that he knew more than you and oftentimes that assessment was true. Unlike Nitesh he positively savored the theatrics of military proceedings. Still, he somehow managed to be unobtrusive most of the time unless he actually wanted to be noticed.
To the right of Ron – another trio of Admirals. All of them came from long lines of military families. Alliance Navy royalty. Most if not all members of their families were either still serving in lucrative positions or rested on their laurels enjoying well earned retirement. They have climbed the ladder just like any other career officer, but those three also had the reputation of their family name to keep.
Ines Lindholm, tall Scandinavian brunette, she carried herself with the dignity of a duchess and strict discipline of boarding school teacher. Her white skin starkly contrasted with long inc black hair put together in a braid. It was flipped over her shoulder to the front and went down to the middle of her chest. The woman had a birthmark just above her blood red lips on the left side. Naming the Admiral a femme fatale would not be wrong, but one doing so would risk being called out on the floor and getting his ass handed to him. During her career Ines collected belts from a multitude of martial arts like others collected toy models or personalities cards. She was the commanding officer of the First Fleet, the largest and most powerful in the Alliance Navy.
Eleanor Troy, CO of the Fourth Fleet, next to Lindholm presented a very different picture. Daughter of London, she did not waste any chance to get some tan, her light green eyes were way warmer than the cold blue ones of her friend to the left. The bronze smooth wavy tresses were scattered about her shoulders. Only two years ago that would have been against the regulations even in the lax atmosphere of this secret meeting, even while being off duty. But times have been changing. With three woman on the Board the regulations had been dusted off and rewritten several times already. And not just the ones concerning the length of allowed hair for women or men, but also uniform material concerns, contacts with aliens, the state of rations, maintenance and schedules of full medical examinations for all military personal. Troy while being a consummate diplomat knew exactly how to get what she wanted.
Hoshiro Takei, commanding officer of the Sixth Fleet. The small Japanese man seated at the most right did not present a very imposing sight, but that first impression was very deceptive. Clean shaven, sporting a short haircut and immaculately clean uniform he was the perfect picture of a military man – reliable, pedantic, punctual. However, behind those black eyes was a sharp, calculating mind of a natural leader. Coming form a large and influential clan he was taught military strategy almost from birth. The Takei Clan had its reputation to uphold, after all they could trace their lineage to the late Emperors. Hoshiro had a long career rather perceived as controversial in certain military and political circles. Most of witch was classified to this day. No wonder he was on such good terms with Admiral Talbott.
Stamos moved his eyes over to the two guests at the desk opposite the podium. The soft glow of their holograms created complex light patterns on the black surface of the desk in front of them. There was a polite frown on Captain Anderson's face, his uneasy companion, Ambassador Udina, presented a very stiff, uncomfortable picture. The politician was obviously more at ease in the company of other politicians like himself.
He knew both of them well, the former through reports and several times their paths intersected, the latter only by reputation and very detailed dossier Talbott provided of the man. Stamos did not particularly like Donnel Udina, although more accurate would be to say that he did not hold any strong feelings towards the man one way or the other. There was nothing special about the politician. Born to wealthy industrialists on Earth, attended a prestigious University, made a small fortune playing the market in his late twenties and used that money to found his first campaign. Slowly, but steadily he climbed the ladder making friends in right circles. Udina's highest achievement was to be appointed to the human Embassy on the Citadel where he quickly positioned himself to take over the ambassadorial duties when the time came. He had always been a centrist, ultimately only concerned with stabilizing and cementing humanity's standing in galactic politics and, by extension, his own. Taking that into account the Admiralty wrote him off as a known quantity, reliable, but also easily swayed to hold the right course.
Captain Anderson, on the other hand, had a much more colorful resume. Ironically one of the most decorated special forces soldiers had no prior military background in his family. He was born a third child to a nurse and a flight mechanic. Yet despite that, or perhaps because of his upbringing, he was one of the top cadets at the Academy. Breaking records in class, setting impressive example during field training he eventually was chosen to be one of the first to be enrolled in the N7 program. After he graduated Lieutenant David Anderson received a personal commendation from Rear Admiral Jon Grissom himself. Anderson served with distinction in the First Contact War, then on SSV Hastings. He had proven to be one of Alliance best and brightest.
That is when his star, seemingly on the rise, had suddenly became bleaker. The incidents on Sidon and Dah'tan were black marks on his previously spotless record. The progressives in the Alliance were pushing for a human Spectre to improve the perception of humanity on the galactic stage. Naturally, the candidacy of David Anderson was forwarded to the Council. But then Dah'tan happened. The contradictory accounts of the incident painted both Anderson and Saren – the Spectre tasked with assessing the human – in very bad light. Given already tense relations with the turians the Admiralty decided not to press the issue, more so since there was no concrete evidence supporting either account. Regardless, Anderson's prospect of becoming a Spectre was promptly nullified.
Now Anderson was holding the rank of Captain and was recently given command of the SSV Normandy – a joined effort by the Systems Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy. Despite the mishaps with the Council Anderson was still in high regard in the Alliance. He was entrusted with the prototype ship, the first of its class: a deep scout frigate purposefully designed to undertake solo reconnaissance missions in large part because of its stealth heat venting technology and newest iteration of the drive core. The ship currently was orbiting Earth after the first test-jump through the Relay. It preformed exceptionally well during the multitudes of examinations and simulation scenarios. The Admiralty was preparing a number of possible real military missions for the frigate's official shakedown run.
The Captain was here in particular because of his familiarity with the Council, he had been personally involved in the matters of the Citadel, knew several Spectres. His experience, however unfortunate, could be very valuable in regards to today's agenda.
"The floor is opened for nominations." Stamos could not detach himself from official manner, although this meeting was anything but. Admiral Lindholm opened up the deliberations:
"I would like to nominate Commander Lyoness Hedley of the 103rd Marine Division."
The spaces in front of the Admirals shimmered and were illuminated with holographic screens. Information on the nominee was presented to all the Admirals including biometrics, background overview, service record, personal files and two holos of the subject – full body and portrait size. The guests have received the same data packages and were studying them judging by the angle of their heads.
The woman on the holo was familiar to all present. She had been plastered all over the recruitment materials for almost seven years now. The very same posters and demovids that would be on the walls of the conference room were this meeting taking place in the officially designated quarters. On the reels Commander Hedley always stood atop of a rocky formation in full armor sporting her very own patented look. Her custom made armor was black and dark blue modified with extra plating, there were boosters attached to her legs, a grenade launcher mounted on her right arm. Her chest plate looked angular because of the unconventional design, it was covered with a bright red pattern like someone splashed her from a bucket of fresh paint. She was standing with one foot residing on a rock and holding her signature broad powerblade.
The weapon was her own invention. Unlike the monomolecular blades that were being introduced to the Spec Ops teams at this very time her weapon could be used like a bludgeon propelled by powerful kinetic charge and releasing electroshock's against enemy shields or it could release hidden monomolecular edge and be just as lethal as its smaller counterparts. Commander had the powerblade perched on her shoulder laying behind her head, her left hand was gripping the handle. Hedley was ambidextrous, but preferred to use her left arm for slicing and her right for shooting. At least, that's what she told the ANN reporters.
Hedley did not wear a helmet, neither on the posters and nor on the battlefield. It was a widely known fact that she deemed helmets a distraction and relied on her shields, that mantra even created a movement of sorts among the other marines. Too many wanted to follow her example, however, so Alliance Command quickly and decisively cleared up their heads. What was permissible for a highly trained, decorated and proven soldier, all around icon that Hedley was, could not be willy-nilly allowed throughout the lower ranks.
Her long blonde hair was neatly tied up in a bun at the back of her head. Smooth oval of her face, curved wings of eyebrows, straight nose – anyone could have called her beautiful if not for one immediately evident difference. Her blue eyes had that determined, strong willed, but also almost haunted look and her mouth rarely spread out in a smile as if locked perpetually in an annoyed frown or resolute smirk.
But those were recruitment posters and vidreels, the personal file holos in front of them had the Commander standing at ease in her off-duty uniform. Even so not much had changed about her look. The same determined frown, the same straight gaze. Hedley kept her hair up while off-duty, but preferred simpler black marine fatigues instead of the officers uniform. It did underline the absolute top physical form she was in, though.
"Good choice." commented Stamos, he started to narrate some of her record: "Staff Commander Lyoness Hedley. Born on February 23rd, 2154 in London, Earth. Her mother Genevieve Hedley is the Headmistress of N5 Branch of the Academy. Her father, Edmund Hedley, died in the First Contact War. She had graduated from the Academy with full N7 honors in..."
Admiral Lindholm reclined back in her chair and leaned closer to Admiral Troy. Not very many in the chain of command knew, but those two were really good friends for many years, a long time ago there was even a rumor that it was much more than just friendship, but it was quickly squashed by both women and, surprisingly, the internal affairs division. This room had more than just superficial visual design the architects put their effort into, by just reclining back and keeping their voices a level lower the Admirals could converse without fear of being overheard by people at the table opposite.
"I have heard she prefers to go by her middle name – Rose, is that true? Your families are close, aren't they, Leonor?"
Troy mirrored the movement of her friend and answered with a satisfied smile.
"Well, yes, we are acquainted. And you are correct in assuming that Hedley does not like her old fashioned first name, but that's about all I can tell you. Her mother is not the easiest person to love. You know how complicated military families can be. To say they are estranged would be an understatement. Lyoness goes by her first name in all official papers, but with her friends she prefers her middle name. I'm not included on that list. I had been friends with Genevieve since I was little, that did not earn me any points with her daughter. I think, she wants to prove to her mother that she can do just fine without her. Remind you of anyone?"
Ines thew her a look that did not promise anything good. That did not bother Eleanor in the slightest; knowing perfectly well that they were hidden in the cleverly orchestrated shadows – indiscernible for their guests and the other properly sitting Admirals, but perfectly visible to each other – she smiled wryly with a twinkle in her eyes. The dark brunette pursed her red lips in annoyance.
"That was not why I chose her. It had nothing to do with my father. He's dead. Leave it be, Leonor."
"As you wish."
They both returned their attention to the proceedings just in time to hear Stamos stopping abruptly after Hedley's first assignment. He turned around at the other Admirals showing he was waiting for their thoughts. Admiral Hackett cleared his throat.
"Commander Hedley represents our best and brightest. An N7 graduate, spotless record. We all know her defining moment, but I will bring it up again. She proved herself during the Blitz. Held off enemy forces on the ground on her own until the reinforcements arrived. She's the only reason Elysium is still standing. I would say we have our first solid candidate for the Spectre nomination."
"I'm not so sure, Admiral." took his turn Singh. "Hedley is without a doubt the best soldier we have. She would not be the official 'face' of the Alliance if not for her heroic, exceptional service record. Most of the Alliance considers her a war hero and rightfully so. However, we need to think about this nomination politically. Commander is known for her views on the Citadel, the Council and humanity's standing in galactic policy-making. I am convinced that will not fare well with the Councilors. We would be wise to be a bit more cautious, attempt to avoid what happened the last time." he glanced at the holograms at the other desk. "No offense, Captain Anderson, I hope you understand."
"None taken. If I may interject, Admirals?" Anderson politely waited for a nod from Stamos before continuing. "Admiral Singh is right. Even with as impressive record as hers, Commander Hedley views on the Council and distribution of power in the galaxy are too widely known to slip past the Councilors radar. They will not agree to work with someone who they might presume is only working with them because that someone was ordered to. The same goes for Hedley herself. I'm sure she will not object to a direct order from the Board, but she will not wholeheartedly believe in what she will have to be doing. Could you think of something more dangerous for a soldier? I can not."
"Perhaps, someone so close to the center of humanity – Earth, someone coming from a long line of Alliance military would not be such a good fit for being a Spectre." Admiral Takei narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "It's no wonder that Commander Hedley puts the Alliance interests first and well above the interests of aliens. I can attest to it myself, I do not think giving unrestrained power and authority to the Council representatives is such a grand idea. Especially so if we don't have a say in their decisions."
"The debate on this matter had already been decided. We are here to find a candidate to put before the Council. Not to return to the question whether we should."
"All I am saying is that maybe we should look at someone further away from the heart of the Alliance."
"What about the Shepards? They grew up in the colonies." Nitesh Singh pressed some keys on his holo interface recalling the proper files.
The dossier and holo-models of Lyoness Hedley disappeared. Emptied frame shimmered and separated in two. They were filled with new data. Biometrics, service records and reviews on two soldiers. A man and a woman. Lieutenant Commander John Shepard and Major Jane Shepard. The case files were remarkably similar, except the latter had an extra paragraph on the manifestation of her biotics in 2168, detection and surgery in 2171, serial number and maintenance history of her L3 implants. Next to the case files were two pairs of holos – full sized and portraits.
Unlike Commander Hedley both John and Jane were wearing their official Alliance uniforms – navy blue for John and black for Jane. Commander Shepard was tall, he preferred the standard buzz-cut, but elected to keep a slight bristle instead of being cleanly shaven. His blue eyes looked openly from the holos. He presented a very positive picture, somehow he did inspire people to immediately trust him, a trait not strictly necessary for an officer, but one that many aspired to have. Still, there was something behind his eyes, something familiar. Perhaps, the same determined, slightly haunted expression as in the similarly blue eyes of Lyoness Hedley? It was hidden deeper, at the very bottom, away from the people, though it was there non the less. That hidden drop of sadness betrayed some hard experiences, but ones that made him wiser, stronger, not broken his spirit.
His sister could not be more unlike her brother if she tried. Much shorter the Major had fiery bright red hair cut off two fingers above the shoulders according to the old regulations. Her face was covered with freckles making her emerald eyes pop even more. There was a confident smirk on her face and she was standing at attention with barely perceptible angle to the camera. It made Jane look more imposing witch considering her short height and slim composure was impressive. The apparent ease it took her to achieve the desired effect spoke volumes as well. Out of the three candidates so far she was the only one who practically beamed, exulted from her holo. Instead of experienced, wise and detached leader, she gave the impression of not only being confident of what she was doing, but also enjoying her job.
"Hmm, I would say it's exactly what Admiral Takei was talking about. They know how tough life can be out there. Mindoir, right?" Nitesh turned to Hackett.
The older Admiral was skimming the dossiers with a thoughtful look. He knew the situation first hand.
"Yes, the Shepards were born on Mindoir. You all know what happened. In 2170 the colony was attacked by batarian slavers. During that time – at 16 no less! – they survived, however the attackers had killed almost everyone on the colony including their whole family. According to the field investigators they were on the run hiding in the forest for two months, even killed some batarian scouts. Both of them enlisted with the Alliance a few years later."
"What do you mean 'according to the investigators'?" asked Admiral Lindholm.
Hackett grimaced, there was clear disgust written on his face.
"As you know I was investigating all slaver and pirate attacks in the wake of Skyllian Blitz. It occurred six years after the slaughter on Mindoir, but many of the pirates responsible for that atrocity had been spotted in that rag-tag fleet above Elysium as well as on the ground. The story of two kids that survived along with just a few more colonists had crossed my desk. If you look at the dossiers more closely it states that they have a case of retrograde amnesia. Neither does remember how the attack occurred or what happened before. They had regained some memories of their family, but nothing more than blurry bits."
"Have they been cleared by the medical examiners?" immediately reacted Admiral Troy while scanning the files rapidly with her own eyes.
"Yes, they have been. Otherwise they would not be allowed to enter the Academy, let alone graduate with full N7 honors." retorted Admiral Lindholm, there was a tiny shadow of a smile at the corner of her lips.
"Admiral, I know you well enough to assume you have been following their careers since that file landed on your desk." Stamos was observing Hackett with some measure of approval. "Witch one do you want to start with? Anything from either Shepard's military record you'd like to call out?"
Hackett slowly turned his head towards the black man at the edge of the table. There was sensible tension between them even though it was well hidden below the surface.
"The careers of the twins had separated after they have graduated. John had continued his service in the Navy while Jane was drafted by another division. The counterintelligence considers Jane Shepard their go-to Black Ops soldier that gets the job done no matter the cost. Ruthless, calculating and brutal."
Admiral Talbott parted his teeth in a blinding smile.
"The Major is one of my most trusted operatives. She gets results. Covert operations units are not the place for ethnics and high moral stances. Efficiency and pragmatism, that is what I expect from my agents."
Hackett narrowed his eyes.
"What about Torfan?"
"What about it?" Talbott shrugged unimpressed by the argument.
"She got most of her unit killed. Slaughtered hundreds of slavers and pirates, even those who were attempting to surrender."
"Major also had broken through the most fortified and heavily defended base on that planet. The main fortress. If she did not we would have had to stay there for another month, possibly longer. Shepard had eliminated the bulk of their leadership. If she didn't and they had escaped, there would have been another Torfan somewhere else. Major Shepard should be regarded as a hero."
"They call her the Butcher of Torfan. A name befitting of a hero."
"She doesn't mind." Talbott chuckled at the nickname. "Neither do I."
"Excuse me, Admirals, but is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?" interrupted Ambassador Udina. Talbott turned his face to him, his blinding smile widened.
"That's the only kind of person who can protect the galaxy. However, I presume the Councilors do not hold the same views as I am. Or at the very least they pretend not to. Politics calls for that deliciously hypocritical take on PR. They will not publicly acknowledge or approve of a soldier with such record. Furthermore, I'm sure they will not look lightly at her particular relationship with the batarians."
"The Butcher of Torfan..." drawled Lindholm. "I remember her. The First Fleet took point during that operation. There were some hushed accounts of Major Shepard going through batarian mercenaries like a hurricane. They say she ordered the executions of over a hundred surrendering slavers – all batarian. Of course, no official records of that incident exist."
"Even if that was true..." Talbott was wearing an overly skeptical expression that did not fool any of the Admirals. "Would you blame her after what you just heard about her per-service history?"
"That does not excuse...!" began Hackett, but he was cut short by a raised hand. Talbott always could calm down the situation when he wanted to.
"In any case, Jane Shepard is off the table. Her talents would be wasted in service of the Council. As her commanding officer I can not allow that to happen."
There were some agitated looks thrown at the dark skinned Admiral, Troy rolled her eyes hidden from sight of the guests. Stamos coughed and his voice caught everyone's attention.
"What about Commander John Shepard?"
"Looking through his files, Lieutenant Commander had been an exemplary soldier. Loyal, disciplined, quick to make the right decisions under pressure. He had showed quite a talent for leadership during the final N7 examination. And throughout his career he did not show any unsavory inclinations. But we can ask his commanding officer." the smile Hackett gave Stamos was barely noticeable hidden in his goatee. "Captain Anderson, can you provide some insight into your XO?"
"Of course, Admiral, it would be my pleasure. It is all stated in his service record. Shepard had served with distinction since graduating. But that's only the reports, I know the man. Worked with him, fought with him. Trust him with my life. Shepard's had some rough patches. Who of us hasn't. At heart he is a good soldier, loyal to the Alliance, but also looking to straighten our position through diplomacy first rather than resolving every conflict with the use of force."
"What do you mean by rough patches?" acutely picked up on the detail Anderson was keeping back Admiral Lindholm. She was answered by Hackett instead.
"Early in his career John Shepard alone survived a Thresher Maw attack. He saw his whole unit die on Akuze, he could have some serious emotional scars."
"Every soldier has scars. Shepard is a survivor. That's the kind of strength, the kind of grit he has. That mission would have broken many of good soldiers I know, but it did not break him. He brought back every single dog tag of his men from Akuze. God only knows how he managed that."
"We can't question his courage." admitted Takei.
"Humanity needs a hero. A hero that could be seen as such by the Council. And John Shepard's the best we've got."
"You are showing your bias, Captain. That's very high praise coming from his own commanding officer." interjected Admiral Troy with a smile.
"I speak the truth, Admiral. Commander Shepard is the perfect candidate for Spectre nomination. He is not known for for controversial views that would alienate the Council. He had proven himself capable leader and a reliable soldier. Based on everything I know about the Councilors he is the most likely candidate they might approve of. And that's the best we can hope for."
"Any follow up questions? Otherwise John Shepard's candidacy will be presented to the Council for consideration." Ron addressed the Board looking form face to face. The decision seemed a bit abrupt, yet he could not see any objections. It was as if the minute they found the fitting piece of the puzzle it slid into place on its own. Stamos knew his colleagues well, he could see doubt on the faces of some Admirals, but they could not voice them. Ron got tiny nods from five of the Admirals and only two slightly shook their heads.
"It seems the nomination is accepted." concluded Admiral Stamos. "Ambassador Udina, you have your Spectre candidate. We will leave the rest to you."
"Thank you, Admirals. I will start on the paperwork immediately." He stood up, bowed his head ever so slightly and flickered out disconnecting.
"Captain Anderson, you are dismissed. We thank you for your testimony."
Anderson saluted respectfully and closed the connection as well. The Admirals remained in the room by themselves. After several minutes of contemplating silence Admiral Takei turned around to face his colleagues.
"For all the admirable virtues Commander John Shepard undeniably had displayed he is also an unpredictable figure. He and David Anderson are ones of our best and brightest officers without a doubt. Straight off the recruitment posters representing all the Alliance stands for. But we all know that is not what counts when the push comes to shove."
"I agree," nodded Admiral Troy. "Honor, loyalty, duty. All those are great things to impress the Council with and put on motivational vids. However, like Hoshiro said, at some point honor flies out of the window in the face of more important decisions. We need someone who can weight the wellbeing of many against the white knight ethics."
"The nomination has already been decided, Leonor." interjected Hackett. "There's nothing else we can do about it. I can see your point, but we have to trust that Commander is the best choice we could make."
Admiral Troy made to retort, but she was cut short by the calm deep baritone from the other end of the desk.
"What if there is a way to go around this problem?" The baritone belonged to the black man smiling his sparkling white teethed grin. Talbott, again. Naturally, the person in charge of counterintelligence had a slippery way out. The eyes of everyone focused on him.
"If the Council accepts the nomination, or rather when the Council makes John Shepard a Spectre, he will need a team, a base of operations. Witch means," he paused in almost theatrical way. "judging by his profile he would not want to leave the Alliance. Spectre Shepard will need Alliance personnel, resources. There in lies our insurance, a sure way to protect Alliance interests."
"What exactly are you suggesting, Richard?" said Hackett with a raised brow.
"Oh, it's all very simple, Steven. First, we reassign David Anderson. He has too much influence on his protege. Secondly, we present the Normandy as his base of operations. He is already familiar with the ship and it would be a perfect tool for a newly minted Spectre. However, we add one small, but important caveat to this arrangement." He paused again obviously for effect. "John Shepard will not be in charge of the ship. We will appoint our own commanding officer. Someone who can manage both the Normandy and the brand new human Spectre. Steer him away from dangerous waters and keeping an eye out for the Alliance. I know just the right person for that job."
The Admirals exchanged understanding looks. Stamos spoke in a slow, contemplating voice running a hand over his beard.
"I am positive we all agree with this proposal. It will ensure at least some security if things go south. However, we must thread very carefully. The Council doesn't like interference with Spectres. The orders will have to be absolutely clear."
"We have enough time to formulate the perfect orders. The important issue right now is that we are all in agreement. Ayes have it?"
All Admirals nodded to each other confirming their resolve. The quiet murmur of "aye" rustled through the secret room.
On that scene the video faded to black and stopped. Jane shifted in her chair looking up above the terminal. She set the smaller screen across the compartment to display the travel time. Just under five hours until her frigate reached the Citadel. Almost everything happened exactly as he planned. Talbott had always been a slippery, conniving bastard! Jane chuckled. The man had earned her respect despite his theatrics and tendency to be an ass underneath all that charming facade. All he cared about was protecting the Alliance. They were the sleepless guardians hidden in the shadows. How many times did the counterintelligence division prevent another Mindoir, another Skyllian Blitz from happening? How many terrorism acts, sabotage, alien incursions into Alliance space, sails of WMD's and outbreaks of deadly viruses have been stopped? Only a few people at the top knew and that was exactly the pont.
Talbott understood how the world worked and so did she. There are people in the world who deal only in extremes. It would be naive to think anything less than extreme measures will stop them. John had tried tirelessly to change her mind, but Jane knew better, saw clearer. Every time she felt herself being just a little bit swayed, the universe wound find a cruel way of proving her right. Last time it was a black market smuggler selling biological weapons designed to only work on aliens to Terra Firma. This time its was Eden Prime. Places changed, circumstances changed, people never did.
They knew the geth were coming. They were prepared, Jane though Talbott had planned for every contingency. Turned out, not so much. Not everything had gone according to plan. Some things could not be foreseen, even by her boss who sometimes seemed like he could see the future. They did not prevent the tragedy this time.
Jane sighed pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She knew there had to be failures, some times the Black Ops units were not fast enough or prepared enough. Knowledge and understanding did not make it any easier. One failed mission out of ten successful ones is still a failure. Impossible standards were her worst enemy ever since the Academy, ain't that right?
The Academy... It is curious how no one in that meeting had noticed one little detail: all three of their candidates were graduates of the very same N7 class. Jane smiled remembering the good old days. She, John and Rose were the best of friends. Inseparable. It wasn't such a coincidence that all three of them ended up being discussed at that meeting. They were at the top of their class, always trying to one-up one another. Striving to be the best soldiers possible. True, their motivations differed, but the result was the same.
John was dreaming of becoming that perfect Alliance role-model he idolized. The honorable and virtuous. To be the leader that inspires people to be better than they are. He had always been such a blind optimist, though determined to reach that impossible goal. Jane worked just as hard for a different reason. She wanted to protect people. To make sure the same awful, terrible thing did not happened to anyone else. Mindoir did not have to become an empty colony, there had to be another way! And, god dammit, she was going to find it!
Rose was another story. Her father died when she was three years old. She had to be raised by her mother who was more preoccupied with her career after the death of her husband rather than their daughter. What Lyoness Hedley got was the Headmistress of the Academy, the feared and respected Genevieve Hedley, strict, uncompromising and absent most of the time. Rose grew up into an obedient, hard working and decisive cadet, but secretly she hated her role, the legacy of her family name, the absence of friends and loved ones for the most of her life. She despised her old fashioned first name – the stamp of her belonging to the Hedley family line. What she loved was her middle name, Rose, the only reminder of her father.
Their friendship started as rivalry. They were the top students, how could the Headmistress let two no-names from some backwater colony be better than her daughter? She pushed her to study harder, train more. Yet one day they all stumbled upon each other in the garden behind the Science Building only to discover that it was their favorite spot. The three of them got talking and a week later what Genevieve Hedley was thinking mattered a lot less. That time was filled with laughter, pranks, enjoyable competition and good company. Quite possibly the happiest times of her life, thought Jane sitting quietly in the dimly lit cabin.
The trio made it a point to meet from time to time, to keep in touch. They have met after Elysium and Torfan and Akuze. What would the masses have thought of them if they saw the intimate moments they shared?
The Lioness of Elysium – a nickname Rose hated with a passion – lying on a hospital bed in a private room letting Jane put balsam on her wounds. There were so many. It was a miracle she survived at all, let alone eliminated a whole battalion of enemy troops on her own. Jane watched over her as she regained her strength, John dragged Rose to sparring sessions until she gotten her confident stride back. And later they both made fun of her for appearing on every single recruitment poster for four straight years.
The Butcher of Torfan crying in Rose's arms after the worst fight Jane and John ever had. It was unbearable, Jane knew he would not approve of her methods, but the accusations he threw at her stung worse than any injury Jane could have sustained in battle. John had gotten his ass handed to him for that, Hedley was definitely not amused by the treatment he gave her best friend. "It doesn't matter if you disagree! When she comes back from going through hell you support her, you prat!" Jane was secretly spying on that scene. The twins patched things up, became closer, more open and accepting of each others views in large part thanks to their blonde friend.
When John got back from Akuze they drank for all of his men together. The Sole Survivor. Jane had never seen his so depressed. He blamed himself for the mission, for the death of his men. They were under his command, he was responsible. Nothing Jane done made a dent on that doom and gloom. Rose tried to cheer him up by remembering all the rumors that were going around about her. That worked, strangely enough.
Now one of them was going to become a Spectre. And another had to do something she was more used to. Might be a lot harder this time around, though. Jane lowered her gaze to the small OSD laying flatly on the desk to her right. It contained confirmation signatures of her orders. The redhead sighed. Jane was not looking forward to the conversation she was about to have.
. . .
It was unexpectedly easy to sneak past the C-Sec and the onlookers. Jane wanted to see that moment. Damn the orders and what she had to do next, right now all she wanted was to witness that ceremony! The parking lots around the Citadel Tower were packed. Apparently the news spread like wildfire. The decision had been made only half a day ago during the Council's closed session, but it seemed like the whole station knew by now.
The first human Spectre. Everyone wanted to see the ceremony. It could have been done sooner, but the Citadel was bugged down by bureaucracy worse than the Arcturus station by a light year. All things had to be done in proper order, the correct way and precisely measured intervals of time. Fortunately this time it had given her just enough time to get here and sneak up to the upper floors.
Jane was wearing her off-duty uniform, she wasn't really hiding – no one here knew who she was. The observation balconies were filled with all sorts of people. Turians, salarians, humans. There were some hanar and drell down below and one or two elcor were not let up the stairs. The enormous aliens had to watch the proceedings from the back rows of the first level. There was a batarian standing on the balcony she wanted to use. Jane grimaced in disgust and turned the corner. There was no way in hell she was going to watch this glorious moment next to this piece of scum!
The next balcony was packed with mostly salarians and a few humans. That's more like it. Down below the garden presented ever lovely picture. It was ironic how in the middle of an ancient space station they still tried to make it look like the surface of a planet. The dais of the Council was empty as was the walkway opposite. Jane glanced down at her Omni-tool. It was almost time, she made it barely with a few seconds to spare.
A gentle melody played in the hall making the murmurs dwindle down. It picked up and the Councilors stepped out of the small door on the right. They made their way to the middle of the dais where three elegant terminals waited for them. The asari in the middle, Councilor Tevos, the unofficial leader of the Council, spoke. Her perfectly leveled musical voice sounded over the crowd increased in strength by the speakers yet hardly in need of that. She prefaced every word in some subtle way, the Councilor was indeed a master of rhetoric.
"This special session of the Citadel Council is called today to commemorate an event that will undoubtedly be recorded in the history annals. We are gathered here to announce an addition to the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of the Citadel. Commander Shepard – step forward."
There was a raised murmur of voices in the crowd as two humans ascended the podium and walked side by side to where it was cut off before the Council. Both were wearing official navy blue uniforms decorated with all the medals and insignias in accordance of their status. Jane recognized the second man from the holos and the video she just re-watched. Captain David Anderson, John's mentor. But the identity of that man was immediately forgotten as she lay eyes on her brother.
John was wearing a polite, but very satisfied smile, his posture was straight and proud. He held his head high, and why shouldn't he? That was all he was striving for. Becoming a hero, a symbol for all the decent and good that was in the galaxy. Jane felt her heart clench with delight. She knew she was grinning from ear to ear and could not think of a better time or place to be doing just that.
Two man reached the end of the walk way with Anderson standing two steps behind his protege. John looked up at the Council awaiting their words, he was standing at attention like the three aliens in front of him were no different form the Captains and Admirals he used to answer to.
"It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of the Citadel." Tevos looked at the Commander and then rose her eyes towards the crowd connecting her words with everyone in the audience. The salarian Councilor continued after her:
"Spectres are not trained, but chosen. Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle; those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file."
"Spectres are an ideal, a symbol." Sparatus flange sounded strangely befitting of the moment making his voice deeper, more meaningful, underlining the importance of his words. "The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will."
"Spectres bear a great burden. They are protectors of galactic peace, both our firs and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold." Valern looked back to Tevos.
"You are the first human Spectre, Commander. That is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species."
Jane focused her eyes on John again. He was standing there with his head held high, the perfect image of a hero, the savior this galaxy sorely needed. In this moment Jane really believed he could do it – change the nature of the universe, make people better, nobler, just like he was. He bowed his head giving his respects to the Council:
"I'm honored, Councilor."
"You know your assignment, Spectre Shepard. We do not want to hold you any longer. Remember your duty to the galaxy and take your new responsibility as recognition of what you have achieved. This meeting of the Council is adjourned."
The crowd exploded into applause. While the Councilors retreated through their door, the newly appointed Spectre shook Anderson's hand and smiled to the audience. It was a sight to behold. Jane leaned on the railings and sighed, her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. This was a glorious day, the most perfect moment. The culmination of what Johnny was working towards. She could not be more proud of him. Her smile slowly withered, subsided into the small ironic frown. Yup, Jane dared to believe the universe could be changed and the universe was in a hurry to prove her wrong! What could ruin that perfect day, this tremendous honor John had reached? How about his sister and her cruel if understandable orders? Jane grimaced in pain. She had to be on the ship when they arrive. And the memory of this ceremony would not make what she had to do any easier.
The Major slid through the crowd and out of sight. Jane had to prepare for one of the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Have a talk with her brother.