"I will instruct my grief to be proud;
For grief is proud and makes his owner stout."
Shakespeare, King John
Udina had been keeping apprised of this Shepard clone's actions. While he had railed against the Council when they attempted to denounce her actions on Noveria, he was deeply troubled by what was coming across his desk. The real Shepard had been reckless and stubborn enough. Whoever or whatever this copy was – for despite Hackett's nonsensical trust in the woman, Udina was completely unconvinced that she was Shepard from the future – her more annoying traits had been exponentially magnified.
He did not trust her to keep an eye on humanity's interests. She seemed hell bent on taking his political agenda and shitting all over it.
Which is why, when he heard that the Council had recalled Shepard, he cleared his schedule in order to be there. He was there before Shepard – surprising no one, as punctuality hardly seemed to matter to her – but waited to approach the Council until he saw her loping up the steps, clad in full armor with a pistol at her side. Udina couldn't supress the frown that crawled over his features. With her position as shaky as it was, one would think that she wouldn't want to remind the Council of the threat she posed.
With the Council looming up ahead, Udina forced himself to say, "Good work, Shepard. The Council is finally starting to take serious action against Saren."
Shepard turned to him with cool eyes, and the ambassador forced himself to stay blank faced. All the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and though she'd done nothing, Udina got the sense that she saw him as an enemy. He filed away this information to be used at a later date.
"The Ambassador is correct," said Tevos. "If Saren is planning to attack the Citadel, we will be ready for him."
"Patrols are stationed at every mass relay linking Citadel space to the Terminus systems," said Sparatus, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Shit," muttered Shepard under her breath. Udina threw a warning glance her way but she ignored him, taking a few steps forward and leaning on the railing in front of her. "Patrols will not be enough," she said loudly. "The last time Saren and Sovereign attacked the Citadel, it took almost an entire fleet to destroy them, and the casualties were not inconsiderable."
"Yes," said Valern slowly, "Sovereign. The Reaper."
"You don't sound convinced," noticed Shepard.
"We have indeed poured over the photos that STG took of the Leviathan of Dis," said Valern, "and while the similarities are striking, if Saren is as well connected as he seems to be, it's not impossible that he's somehow managed to view the photos and thus acquired the blueprint for his ship's design."
"Oh come on!" snapped Shepard. "Are you serious right now? Where the hell would he have had that thing built? If the geth had access to that sort of technology, you can be sure we would've seen it by now." Her hands trembled at her sides. "Besides, have I told a single lie since coming before you? No. Why would I lie about this?"
"I can think of a variety of reasons," said Valern. "If we simply trust that what you're saying is true, and let it dictate our policies accordingly, we would be mere figureheads moving to answer your beck and call. And if Sovereign proves not to be the threat you imagine? Why, I expect there will be another threat on the horizon that will allow you to sway this Council in one way or another."
Udina had often wondered who the most cunning member of the Council was. Valern had quietly slipped into the lead, and the ambassador found himself approving of the sound deductions. Of course, if Udina had thought of it before hand, he may have made a more substantial effort to sway Shepard's own course in a way that would have allowed them to exploit that fear. Perhaps it wasn't too late, if this Shepard would cooperate.
He wasn't counting on it.
"If you weren't going to trust what I had to say," said Shepard, "why did you make me a Spectre?"
"If you'll recall, Commander," said Sparatus, "it was not you we appointed a Spectre."
"Listen to me," said Shepard with increasing urgency. "If Sovereign gains control of the Citadel, we're all screwed. The Reapers will flood through on top of us, and we'll be the first ones to go."
"The patrols will alert us of approaching hostiles," said Tevos, and Udina was intrigued to find that there was something of a waver in her confidence. The asari was staring down Shepard, a flicker of a frown on her face. Most people wouldn't notice, but Udina had spent considerable time trying to understand and anticipate the nuances of the Councillor's expressions.
"They won't have time or opportunity," said Shepard. "Councillors, the Citadel is a mass relay connected to another out in dark space. The Reapers won't have to go through traditional routes. They'll land on top of us and topple our intergalactic government, our communication, the core of our civilization. Then, while we're trying to figure out what happened, they'll pick us off one by one."
"If what you say is true," said Sparatus, "how come the Reapers haven't simply done so already?"
"Because a small band of Protheans managed to make it aboard after the Reapers appeared, and they disabled the Reapers' remote access. It has to be accessed manually now, and that's what Saren's big plan is."
This was all getting to be completely ludicrous. Udina wondered if this woman could even hear herself. "That's enough, Shepard," he said. "The Council has made its decision. We've decided to ground your ship in the meanwhile, as you're proving to be something of a liability at present."
"Fuck you, Udina," snarled Shepard, as she rounded on him. "You don't want to talk to me about being a liability." She drew herself up tall. "And as far as I recall, you have no purpose in being here anyways. Spectres are under Council authority. Only the Council has the right to send me away."
"Except," said Udina, a flush forming under his skin and anger sludging through his bloodstream, "that you're not a Spectre, as Councillor Sparatus just pointed out."
"I'm afraid the ambassador is correct," said Valern. "You're something of an anomaly, and with your increasingly paranoid demeanour, we can't afford to take everything you tell us as rational fact."
"Paranoid demeanour?" demanded Shepard.
"We've reports that not only have you been turning on your own crew, but you also shot down an unarmed asari civilian aboard your ship," said Sparatus.
Oh, now things were getting interesting.
"First of all, I'd never turn on my crew." Shepard was appalled at the suggestion. "Secondly, I know for a fact that the first Spectre cut a bloody swath through civilians in order to achieve his objective. Berating me is hypocritical."
"Spectres are allowed to use whatever force is necessary to achieve their mission," said Valern. "Can you explain how killing this woman helped your cause?"
Shepard's shoulders slumped, but she turned to the Council in appeal. "We have to make a plan," she said. "This is exactly how it happened last time, and hundreds – no, thousands – of people died. And you were almost among them."
Sparatus narrowed his eyes. "Is that a threat?"
Most of the fight went out of Shepard then, her body slackening. She looked exhausted. "You were all planning to be aboard the Destiny Ascension, weren't you? Just in case the Citadel was attacked?"
All three Councillors shared a glance, and they didn't have to say anything for Udina to know it was true. Shepard knew it too.
"Stay off the ship. In fact, stay off the Presidium. I decided to save your asses once, for all the good it did me in the end. I might end up having to decide again, and I'm not feeling very charitable at the moment. And Sparatus?" She was grim. "In case you missed it, that was a threat."
"Commander," said Tevos sharply, interrupting whatever Sparatus was about to hurl at the woman. "Until such a time as you are able to provide proof of Sovereign's origins, I'm afraid the Normandy will remained docked."
Shepard opened her mouth, no doubt to make matters worse. After thinking it through, however, she – thankfully – did the whole room a favour and kept her mouth shut, turning on her heel an marching away.
"I would like to apologize on behalf of the Systems Alliance," said Udina.
"You're dismissed, ambassador," said Tevos, before she too turned and, in an unprecedented move, vacated her position, disappearing from view.
Udina struggled not to grind his teeth together. "Thank you for your time, Councillors," he managed, turning to go.
He wished he'd lobbied harder to get this alternate Shepard executed before she had the chance to mess up the whole of humanity's political agenda.
0-0-0
Valern did not like to be in the dark.
One could argue that it was a product of his species. Culturally speaking, the salarians put much stock in the pursuit of knowledge. It was a direct result of their physical capabilities – or lack thereof. When they'd first discovered the asari with their millennium long lifespans, natural biotic abilities and propensity for technology, the salarians had been hard pressed to keep up. When the turians finally joined the Council, they filled the one niche that the asari could never quite fill – military superiority. The only thing left for the salarians was their intellect, and their ability to covertly collect data. Without that data, their influence would've dwindled long ago, regardless of their Council position.
That meant that the whole scenario with Shepard – or at least the woman who claimed to be Shepard – was an embarrassment, and one that seemed to plague him daily. It was true that the salarians were miles ahead of the other species in terms of cloning, but even so, they'd been unable to get a copy so wonderfully exact. If she did turn out to be a clone, well, that would be one more itch he couldn't properly scratch.
It was the reason he'd recruited the young quarian to spy. Her price had been huge, and one he wasn't entirely sure he could deliver. It hardly mattered; he'd only promised to make the attempt. He respected the quarians and they're mastery of technology, but the stain of their past mistakes was hard to forget.
In any case, all reports had been brief and mostly bland. It was clear that whoever or whatever this new Shepard was, she was labouring under her new responsibilities. Tali'Zorah noted that her Commander had changed drastically since returning to the ship, being altogether more hostile, pragmatic and ruthless. Had he not known better, Valern would simply have thought that it meant she was coming into her own as a Spectre while struggling under the considerable pressure being put on her.
But then there were the things that she knew. Nobody should've known about the yahg on Sur'Kesh. Nobody should've known about the presence of an STG troop on Virmire, never mind the name of its ranking officer. She talked about being from the future, but the physics behind such a thing were untenable, and such feats had long been relegated to the archives of pseudoscience. With all logical evidence pointing in the opposite direction, how could they trust her ridiculous notion? And if it weren't true, how was she privy to information so utterly beyond her status?
And if it were, well…
Valern shifted through the photos of the Leviathan of Dis. Things were in motions, things he barely understood, and if even half of what Shepard said was factual, it left him in an uncomfortable position.
"Councillor," said his aide over the comm link, "Captain Kirrahe is here."
"Show him in."
The Captain was obviously mildly apprehensive, but he made the attempt to hide it. Valern studied him. From all the reports, he was a competent if slightly unimaginative soldier. He stood at the ready now, prepared to answer whatever was asked for him.
"Tell me everything about indoctrination," said Valern, before steepling his fingers.
Over the next half hour, the Captain told him what had happened on Virmire. He told of the gaps Shepard had filled in, of how anyone exposed to significant Reaper technology would begin to hear voices, have visions, have memories that never existed. How an indoctrinated person – as in the case of Saren – might not even believe they're indoctrinated. How a person can seem completely fine, yet in the space between breaths, turn on all their former companions.
When he was done, the two men contemplated the implications of this all. After a terse moment, Valern dipped his head. "Thank you Captain. You're dismissed."
Kirrahe hesitated. "Sir, about Commander Shepard…"
Valern frowned, but gestured for the man to continue.
"It's clear that she's under tremendous pressure," said Kirrahe, "and while others might see a woman with paranoid tendencies, she is an impeccable soldier. During my time with her, I never detected any lies except those of omission."
"Those are often the most dangerous," observed Valern.
Kirrahe nodded in agreement. "But if her intent had been to deceive the Council, why would she keep me alive? Had I died on the mission, there would be no one to refute her claims."
"And yet you are not refuting her claims," said Valern, rising to his feet. "Rather, whether you realize it or not, you are actively supporting her rather unorthodox theories." What he didn't add, for fear that Shepard had completely entwined his loyalty, was that had Kirrahe died, the Commander's position would have been weaker for it. By convincing an STG Captain – whether through some elaborate ruse or through purposeful interpretation of the facts – she gained an ally. Had he died, her position would still have been in doubt.
What Kirrhe didn't know was that Shepard – or at least the thing with her face – may have unwittingly offered up her own destruction. In the long run, it hardly mattered whether or not Kirrahe believed her.
"You're dismissed," said the Councillor. The Captain hesitated only a moment before departing with a salute.
The Leviathan of Dis stared up at him from his desk. When first Sparatus had postulated that Shepard was some sort of clone sent forth by the Batarian Hegemony to infiltrate Citadel space, Valern had been the first to calmly reason it away. Now, after Virmire, after the report filed by Shepard and the testimony of Captain Kirrahe, his solid disbelief was starting to wane. Saren, by Shepard's own admission, had been genetically modified in various ways, including biotics, presumably through the use of this advanced technology.
At this point, there was no concrete evidence to suggest any sort of malevolent sentient machine, save Shepard's word, so Valern was setting aside the question of where it came from and focusing on what potential it might have.
Now, according to the Alliance doctors and Tali'Zorah's reports from aboard the Normandy, Shepard's biotics had also increased substantially. That, coupled with the implants throughout her body – implants that, while they weren't aesthetically similar to Saren's, were at least following the same general principle – was making Valern increasingly uncomfortable.
Suppose for a second that what the Commander was saying about indoctrination were true. The Leviathan of Dis had been found years ago before being secreted away. If the batarians followed the same sort of protocols as those in Citadel space – and though they were savage, Valern wasn't so ignorant as to presume them complete barbarians – that would mean that only those with the highest clearance would've been privy to the information and or the object itself. This, coupled with Shepard's theories would mean…
Would mean…
Valern ran a hand down his face and considered the possibility that the entire core of the Batarian Hegemony could be indoctrinated. That was the worst case scenario. The best case scenario was that the Leviathan had nothing to do with Sovereign. Somewhere in the middle, Valern expected to find the truth.
And the truth could very well be that, with the help of this advanced technology, the batarians had bioengineered a Shepard lookalike. Such things should've been impossible, but it should've been impossible to turn corpses into ambulatory, quasi-sentient hostiles as well.
He hadn't shared this suspicion with the other Councillors. After Shepard had revealed what she knew about the Leviathan of Dis, he'd gotten matching flat looks from both Tevos and Sparatus. Nothing had been said, but there was a world of meaning in that nothing. He'd forwarded all pertinent information to the other Councillors, so that they could see just how insignificant STG's findings had been back then.
It was only now, with the benefit of hindsight, that the possibilities became clear. If the batarians had found a ship remarkably like Sovereign, if they got their hands on the technology, perhaps their master plan was to create chaos and paranoia. If they were behind Saren and the geth, their plan could be to instigate war – a war the Citadel would never have seen coming, if not for Shepard. She kept pushing Citadel forces towards the Terminus systems, which would give the batarians reason to claim self-defence.
It was a clumsy theory, and there were too many holes to make it utterly waterproof. It was for this reason and this reason alone that Valern did not alert the rest of the Council of his theory. If they came to these conclusions by themselves, that was one thing. If not, well, Valern was biding his time. The truth would out sooner or later.
0-0-0
Never in all her many, many years had Tevos despised politicking so thoroughly. It was exhausting, trying to maintain the façade of neutrality while Shepard spoke. It made her feel helpless, and that was an entirely unfamiliar emotion. She wanted nothing more than to pledge her support of Shepard, to rail against Sparatus and Valern as they dismissed her claims. Probably, she should've done exactly that.
It wasn't the threat of termination that stopped her, though she was certain that she could do more to help on the Council than off it. No, it was what would happen to the asari if the rest of the galaxy figured out that they'd been combing a Prothean beacon for inspiration for thousands of years, and that this knowledge, more than any superior intellect or creativity on the part of her people, that had secured their technological advantage. The cost of keeping Prothean relics from Council knowledge was steep even for small, nearly worthless pieces. There was truly no precedent for what the asari had done, and Tevos couldn't begin to imagine the punishment her people would endure should they be found out.
And, she thought defensively, the galaxy was going to need them more than ever when the Reapers came. What use would it be crippling the most stable economy in the galaxy? Everyone saw what happened to the quarians when they broke one of the Council's most fundamental laws. They lost their embassies, their status, and were deemed the trash of the galaxy. It was Tevos' job to make sure that didn't happen to the asari, as well.
She'd passed on what she'd seen in Shepard's mind to Asari High Command. They hadn't been pleased, to say the least, but there must have been residual fear on Tevos' face to sway them to caution. Even now, they were probing deeper into the Prothean relic than ever before, attempting to mine out any and all helpful data.
By comparison, Tevos felt as though she was sitting idle. There was nothing she could do publicly. So she'd go underground.
A contact had let her know that Admiral Hackett was planning on leaving the Citadel today. Usually, this would not seem so odd, but he'd commissioned a variety of upgrades for his fleet before he left. They'd never be ready in time for Sovereign's attack on the Citadel, if Shepard's timeline was to be trusted, but it was too large a coincidence to conclude that Hackett was ignorant of Shepard's prophecies.
There would be a variety of other Alliance personnel left on board, but Tevos had an idea of who he would trust in his absence.
It wasn't hard to find Captain Anderson's apartment. It was in the nicer part of the wards. Tevos dressed simply, hoping that nobody would recognize her face. When she buzzed his door, it took him a few minutes to respond.
The weeks had aged the Captain. There was a hollowness about his face. On an older man, it might've been called worldly wisdom, but it had come on too quickly, and it sat awkwardly on the Captain's face.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, eyes grazing the contours of her face in curiosity.
"May I come in?"
The Captain moved aside and Tevos brushed past him into the house. Besides one or two empty alcohol bottles and a proliferation of datapads on the one small table, the place was impeccably organized. It was emblematic of anyone who spent any time on ships, where space was at a premium – especially in the military.
He opened his mouth, but Tevos held up a finger in front of her mouth. He made only a slight noise of protestation as she searched the apartment, eventually discovering three discrete audio bugs secreted about. She carried them into the bathroom and flushed them, hoping no one had heard her voice.
"You've got something planned," said Tevos as she returned to the Captain, "for when Saren attacks the Citadel."
He clasped his hands behind his back. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do," countered Tevos. "And I would like to help."
There was a species of fish on Thessia – giant, longer than both her and the Captain combined – that was considered a delicacy. It was rare to catch one not because they were few in number, but rather because they were smarter than any fish had a right to be. They'd long since learned the asari's preferred fishing method. Tevos had only seen one in the wild once, and it had the same expression looking at the bait then as Captain Anderson had looking at her now: it was a tempting offer, but at the other end was a trap.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Councillor. The Alliance hasn't given me any orders."
"The Alliance hasn't," Tevos agreed, "but I believe that Admiral Hackett probably did." She sat down on his sofa, folding her hands in her lap. "You don't need to fear me, Captain. If I wish to ensnare you, I would've used methods that were far less transparent."
He was still hardly convinced, clearly wishing to get rid of her but unwilling to risk any political incident. He was reticent, and she couldn't for the life of her imagine why until her mind latched onto a single realization.
"She didn't tell you," said Tevos quietly, and the second she saw the confusion on his face, she knew it was true. Tevos had never told Shepard to keep their meeting confidential, only to exercise extreme discretion. It was an open secret how close Captain Anderson was with his protégé, and common knowledge that he'd chosen her to be his XO over other, more experienced officers. No one had doubted the Commander, not after Elysium, but from what Tevos had gathered, their relationship was not strictly professional.
During the Council's meeting with Ambassador Udina and Captain Anderson, Tevos had simply assumed that the Captain was playing the game in the same way she was. When he'd proclaimed her dangerous and laid out the possible ramifications for and against cremating the original Shepard's body, Tevos had thought he was setting her up to the compromise. She'd known almost immediately that the corpse was a liability, but she had a vested interest in understanding what may have gone wrong with the Prothean beacon on Eden Prime; her own people were, after all, tampering more heavily with one of their own.
"Who didn't tell me?" said the Captain.
That sealed it. She hadn't told him. Perhaps it had been a mistake to assume that, with everything else, these two would simply trust each other. Tevos sometimes forgot that, unlike asari, humans had no way of telling definitively if someone was who they said. How sad it seemed, just then, that Shepard could not reach out to those she cared for most and share her inner thoughts. And how sad for the Captain, thinking that he'd lost his friend and that she'd been replaced with some unknown enemy.
"I met with Commander Shepard in secret following… Following her plan to take her counterpart's place," said Tevos.
Captain Anderson sealed himself away. "I see."
"No, you don't," said Tevos. "Are you aware that asari are able to link consciousness with other people?"
"Isn't that what Shepard did with the asari on Feros?"
The Councillor inclined her head in agreement. "We are able to share memories, experiences, emotions with the partner of this bond. It's quite an emotional experience." She paused. "I bonded with Shepard that evening. I glimpsed her memories. What she's saying… Somehow it's true, Captain."
"Couldn't she just fabricate a daydream and have you see that?" he asked.
"If it were another asari, the possibility, however unlikely, might exist. With another species, it's nigh impossible."
"As impossible as falling through time?"
Tevos smiled despite herself. "Touché, Captain, but you would not be asking that if you saw… If you saw what I saw." Those foreign memories came flooding back, and she needed a moment to compose herself. "I saw the Reaper war, Captain. I saw my planet destroyed. I felt Shepard's anguish, her horror, and her regret. If she fabricated them… Well, I'm not willing to take that chance."
Some emotion rippled under his skin. "You really think she's telling the truth."
"Would I be here if I weren't?" said Tevos. She licked her lips. "Now, tell me what Hackett has planned."
So he told her about how the geth and Saren were going to infiltrate the Citadel, and how Hackett had assigned him a reserve unit of marines to take out as many of them as possible when they did so. There were clearly gaps in his knowledge, and rather than being annoyed, Tevos found herself oddly grateful for the Admiral's foresight. One misspoken word and whoever was on the other side of those bugs would've known far more than they should.
When he was finished, Tevos nodded once decisively. "I have a squad of asari commandos who will be in touch. They'll be able to provide support to your troops as you see fit." She stood. "I don't need to tell you that, should anyone ask, they'll simply find themselves in the right place at the right time. I will have their captain contact you."
"Of course," said Captain Anderson faintly.
Deciding that was a dismissal, Tevos turned to leave.
"Councillor." The Captain was opening and closing his hands at his sides, as though trying to regain feeling in them. "She's really Shepard?"
And while this was totally against protocol and decorum and tradition and a myriad of other things, Tevos walked up to him. "Relax, Captain. Close your eyes." He did so, and she placed her hands on either side of his face, making him jump slightly. "Embrace eternity."
It was much easier to be on the giving end rather than the receiving, but the experience was hardly enjoyable. All the memories Shepard had shared with her, she passed in turn to Captain Anderson, reliving once again the screams, the fear, the absolute destruction and that one, deep boom that seemed to shake the very sky itself.
When it was over, she extricated her hands from his face as he slumped back against the wall, eyes glassy. Tevos considered saying something, anything, but in the end, there was really nothing to say.
The apartment was deadly silent as the door closed behind her.
0-0-0
Hackett was sipping on a brandy when Shepard came striding into his cabin on the SVR Perugia. He raised his eyebrows when she plopped down in the chair opposite him, her elbows coming to rest on her knees as she hung her head. He waited for her to start, and when she didn't, he prompted, "Rough day?"
Without looking up, she asked, "How much have you heard?"
He poured another glass for her, and set it down in front of her. "Udina sent a very detailed narrative," he said. "Judging on the length, I'd say he wrote down everything verbatim."
"Shit," said Shepard, reaching for the drink. She swallowed it in one gulp, made a face, then wiped the back of her mouth with her hand. "I lost my temper."
"You don't say."
"You have no idea how frustrating it is," she said. "I've had this argument for years. They didn't believe me until it was too late, and by then, they were all too scattered and focused on their own problems to help us. By the time I managed to gather allies and get them all to converge on Earth…" She ran her hands over her head. "It was all gone, Admiral. Walking down the street was like walking through the ruins of a civilization already dead. And we were, we just didn't know it yet."
This was the most she'd ever shared with him. It was still hard for his mind to wrap around. He could remember the First Contact War like it was yesterday, and he could remember the aftermath of Elysium, but both those conflicts were utterly dwarfed by the threat that the Reaper posed. Hackett had known Shepard for years, and he'd never seen the haunted look that ghosted over her face. She'd always been able to compartmentalize, able to push past the pain.
That woman was not this woman. This woman, by her own testimony, had seen horrors that would cripple lesser people. Hell, even hearing about them was enough to prickle the hairs on his arms.
"You're not going to win them over by threatening them," he said, taking his seat.
"I know," groaned Shepard. "I wouldn't really do it. I've spent too much time and effort into convincing these people to have to start all over again with unknowns." She took a deep breath. "It's hard enough keeping trust among my own crew these days. Sometimes it feels like I'm fighting a losing battle. Even more so because I've already seen the ending."
Hackett frowned. "They're suspicious?"
She shook her head. "Not suspicious, exactly. Curious, a little concerned, anxious." She looked up at him from under her lashes. "I've been considering telling them the truth."
Careful to school his features, Hackett said, "And how do you think that would go?"
"Not well," admitted Shepard. "They'd take a lot of convincing. And even if they did believe me, if they're even half as loyal as my crew turned out to be, they're not going to take the fact that… That their Shepard died and that we covered it up… They're not going to take it well."
That was exactly what Hackett would've said had she asked. He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the desk. "I'm going to leave this decision up to your discretion," he said, "but I would advise you to wait until after Saren and Sovereign have been dealt with. As crass as this sounds, you need your crew right now. You need all the allies you can get, especially after your rather tempestuous meeting with the Council."
"I have you," said Shepard, smiling softly.
Despite himself, Hackett was touched. Of course, he was still her superior and so he kept his decorum around him like a shroud. "You do," he said, "but I'm afraid I've duties to attend off the Citadel. I'm headed back to Arcturus to take personal command of the Fifth Fleet."
"You need to have your ships waiting to pass through the mass relay," said Shepard. "The Council still refuses to see Sovereign as a threat, which means that they're only posting token patrols on the other side of the relays linking to Citadel space. I've tried to caution them to bring in their fleets, but… We can't count on them changing their minds. When Sovereign attacks the Citadel, we're going to need the Fifth Fleet ready and waiting."
One of the worst parts about being a military commander was that there was no room for comforting ignorance. "How many?"
"All of them," said Shepard. "We're going to need the full force of the fleet to take it out."
"No," said Hackett, "how many do we lose?"
Shepard ran her tongue over her teeth, eyes downcast. "Too many. I could name them if you want, but trust me, it won't make it easier knowing who lives and who dies beforehand." She stood up, her hands going to her hips as she marched around the room. "That's why we need the Council. With the Fifth Fleet crippled, we didn't have time to rebuild the ships before the Reapers came. And when they poured out of the Arcturus relay…" She glanced at him and stamped down with whatever she'd been about to say. "Earth was left vulnerable."
It wasn't that he ever made a tough call expecting a happy ending – to do so would be to set yourself up for failure – but somehow it was all the worse knowing exactly what the price would be. His life had begun to resemble a set of dominoes. One slip, and the whole line would come crashing down. He wasn't sure where Shepard figured in this metaphor, whether her appearance was the first domino that could potentially topple them all, whether she was that lone upright figure at the very end, or whether it was her finger that was tipping everything into chaos.
"You'll have your ships," he said, with a nod.
"The Systems Alliance won't like it," said Shepard, "but they'll be pleased when they see what our sacrifice earns us."
"And that is?"
"A spot on the Council," said Shepard, and Hackett found that he could still be surprised.
Many of the alien races though that humanity was making too many ambitious moves too quickly. There were, after all, races that had been a part of the galactic sphere far longer who had yet to earn their seats on the Council. Hackett himself had almost wholly dismissed the notion that humanity would get a seat in his lifetime. From where he was standing, they'd done little enough to warrant it, but he was in the minority.
"There's something else," hedged Shepard.
"Am I going to like it?"
"Probably not."
"Then I don't want to know," said Hackett, gesturing the conversation away. "That way, if anyone asks if I knew, I can honestly say that I didn't." He glanced at his clock, before standing. "I have to check to make sure engineering has installed their new component before we take off. You take care of yourself, Shepard. If even half of what you're saying is true, you're the most important person in the galaxy so far as I'm concerned."
She saluted. "Thank you, sir. For trusting me, I mean." Her salute wavered. "And, sir, can I ask about Captain Anderson?"
There it was. One of the questions he'd dreaded the most. With a sigh, he came and stood in front of Shepard, taking her shoulders in his hands. "He'll be ready when the time comes. I've left him in charge of the ground troops on the Citadel with express orders not to speak of it. He's a good soldier. He'll get the job done."
Her eyes narrowed, and Hackett knew that she'd picked up on what he'd purposefully left unsaid. Did Anderson trust her? The answer remained no, but Hackett was confident that when Shepard's information turned out to be true – and it would, because he was staking everything on it – that Anderson would come around. And maybe, once the smoke cleared and the Citadel was saved, the two of them – Shepard and Anderson – could sit down and have the conversation they so desperately needed to have.
"Of course, sir," said Shepard, though her heart wasn't in it.
His terminal pinged, and he said, "Off you go, Commander."
This time, he only got a nod as answer. He watched her leave, before walking over and bending over his desk. When he read what was written there, he nearly chased her down, but there would be time enough for that later. He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding, unsure whether it was relief or dread he was feeling.
The archaeologists on Eden Prime had found a buried Prothean bunker.
0-0-0
Anderson was with his hands between his knees when Shepard entered – because she really was Shepard, there was no denying now. Her hands were loose and ready at her sides, and her eyes flitted around the apartment as if expecting an ambush. Hours before, this might've filled him with a perverse sense of satisfaction, but now it only broke his heart.
"Shepard," he said, rising. "Thank you for coming."
He'd spent a few hours in contemplation after Councillor Tevos had left his apartment. As the anxiety grew and grew, he knew the only way to rid himself of it was to talk to the woman plaguing his thoughts.
She shrugged one shoulder, her eyes coming to rest on his face. "Force of habit," she said. "For years you've called and I've come running. Of course, it was a two way street." She took a step closer before she appeared to convince herself that there was no imminent threat of attack and crossed her arms. "Why am I here?"
Anderson's throat had become lined with sandpaper sometime in the last thirty seconds. Their last meeting had ended badly, with Anderson nursing his grief as she left. Even though he regretted it, he couldn't blame himself. He'd held Shepard's – the other Shepard's – cold, still hand in that hospital room only minutes after her passing. It wasn't a sensation he was likely to forget any time soon. He was still having difficulty wrapping his brain around the fact that she was simultaneously dead and standing in front of him.
Schrodinger's Shepard.
"You died," he said.
"So did you," she replied, her lower lip trembling.
That sent an ice pick of fear into the back of his brain. "I know. I'm sorry." He couldn't tell if he was apologizing for the way he'd behaved, or if he was apologizing for dying sometime in the future.
Whatever he meant, Shepard accepted it with a nod. "What changed?"
The memory of the audio bugs in his apartment made him hesitant to speak of it, but he figured that if there were any more, whoever was listening probably already had damning information. "Councillor Tevos came to see me. About the attack on the Citadel."
The whites of Shepard's eyes were visible even across the room. "She showed you, didn't she?" At Anderson's nod, she fell into a chair and buried her head in her hands. "I don't know if this makes things easier or harder. Things aren't going to be like they were before."
Anderson thought of his Shepard, so vibrant and full of optimism. "No, they won't."
"I was hoping to spare you the horrific particulars."
"I'm glad I saw what I saw," said Anderson, and though his sleep cycle might end up disagreeing, it was true. "Now I know what I'm fighting to prevent, and more importantly, now I'll be working with you instead of opposing you." He reclaimed his seat. "What I saw, you lived. Those early conversations in the hospital make so much more sense now. I never imagined…"
"I did," said Shepard. "I knew it was going to be terrible, and I spent years shouting it from the rooftops. I was disgraced. I was labelled a terrorist. Nobody would listen – nobody wanted to believe it could possibly be true. And when the Reapers came to invade, we weren't ready. Not by a long shot." She leaned back in her chair, the dark circles under her eyes visible even in the evening glow of the apartment. "Now I get a do over, and I'm not making much better progress. If anything, I'm making things worse."
"Well, I believe you," said Anderson. "And I'll do whatever I can to help."
She ran her tongue over her teeth. "I'm sure you've heard by now that the Council has grounded my ship. I knew it was a possibility – they did so last time – but I need to get to Ilos. There's some evidence there that might be able to help."
Anderson almost wished he didn't believe her. Though no question had been asked, it was right there in the open. "You need me to lift the lock," he said.
Shepard nodded. "Last time, you stormed the console on the dock itself. We didn't want to cause a scene with Udina. This time, take the asshole out and unlock my ship from his office."
"Take him out?" repeated Anderson dubiously.
"Not kill him," Shepard assured him. "Just, I don't know, beat him up a little. Knock him unconscious. I'm sure he'll live, and if not, well…"
All the time travel stories he'd ever read cautioned him to be careful about knowing too much about the future. Still, there was such flippant antagonism in Shepard's voice that he had to ask, "Why don't you like Udina?"
Her smile was a feral twist of the lips. "Let's just say that I killed Udina in front the most important people in the galaxy and you know what they did? Thanked me." She shook her head. "If I have my way, he's going to be out of politics long before the Reapers show their ugly faces."
He had never liked Udina. He was, in all the most terrible ways, the consummate politician, but for all that, Anderson had never doubted that the ambassador had anything but humanity's interests in mind. If those interests happened to coincide with Udina's own ambition, well, that was to be expected from a politician, wasn't it? With this new information, Anderson wondered if he could ever be in the same room with the other man.
Only hours ago, he would've dismissed anything this woman said. How strange the world was. But watching her, really watching her, he could see the outline of the old Shepard, hidden there during all the painful sediments she'd picked up during her war.
And he knew that the Shepard that was now in the Council morgue, that she would've become this woman – no, she had become this woman. He didn't know if he could trust this new incarnation to make the same sorts of choices that his Shepard would make, and judging by her cracked and battered optimism, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. What he did know, however, was that he'd do whatever it took to make sure he didn't have to watch Shepard die again.
"What time do you need to leave?"
Shepard's mouth fell open. Regaining her composure, she nodded her head a few times, eyes bright. Then she smiled, and it was a delicate, fragile thing
0-0-0
Kirrahe's question followed her around like a lost dog begging for attention. There'd been one fleeting moment when she'd considered putting it to Hackett, but he was clearly languishing under the weight of her precognition. He had enough to deal with without having to deal with her own internal problems too. Besides, she was a big girl. She'd stared down Reapers. She'd survived missions everyone else deemed suicidal. This should not be beyond her ability.
Shepard had nearly put the question out of her mind before she went to see the Council. It wasn't until they brought up her short fuse aboard the Normandy that the question had tickled the back of her mind. She'd never included of the debriefings in her reports. She didn't think they were relevant to Council interests, honestly.
Are you entirely certain your crew can be trusted? Absolutely, she'd said. These were the people who'd been with her through some of the worst moments of her life, and who had, in large part, been the cause of the best ones. They'd stood by her no matter what, and even when, say, Ash had faltered after Horizon, Shepard had known that her former Chief hadn't really been questioning Shepard's own loyalties, but rather the extent of Cerberus' deception. So yes, she trusted them.
But now, she was forced to recall that these weren't her friends, not really, not yet. She had given them reasons to be suspicious, and her behaviour certainly implied that she was keeping secrets because, well, she was.
She tried to figure out who it could be. Scuttlebutt was certainly travelling around the ship, and it was an open secret that she'd changed since emerging from the hospital. In theory, it could be any member of the crew… But the Council was unlikely to believe hearsay. They'd want personal, eyewitness accounts.
Which meant that it was someone in her inner circle.
The realization hurt, and it was as though a yahg had pried open her ribcage and pulled out her heart.
Her mind drew a blank. To be sure, her crew were loyal to a fault. There was Ash, who – although she'd stood against Shepard more than once – had always done so because, at the end of the day, her loyalty to the Alliance was greater than any personal loyalty she carried. Liara had near sacrificed her academic career after Sovereign and Saren, touting the belief of the Reapers and earning derision from those who formerly held her in high esteem. Tali had been prepared to defend her father into exile rather than let his memory be tarnished. Wrex had stood for her against his own people, and had trusted her with the genophage despite the fact that it was the krogans' last hope. And Garrus, Garrus had hunted down a former friend turned betrayer for breaking the bonds of loyalty.
That left Kaidan, but Shepard wasn't blind. She could see the infatuation written on the Lieutenant's face for all he tried to hide it, and it broke her heart.
So who?
Shepard inhaled a deep breath of filtered Presidium air, and tried to shake the unnerving sensation that she was walking through a memory. When last she'd walked these causeways, the evidence of Cerberus' attempted coup had been everywhere. Now, the walls were immaculate and the shrubbery just starting to bloom in the artificial summer.
Asking them, as a group or individually, was out of the question. Once they learned that there was a spy among them, it was going to shatter the fragile bond they were creating, and that was something Shepard would not allow. Throughout the years, she'd watched these people grow into family, and it was that bond that had allowed them to do the impossible over and over again. She wouldn't let it be lost. The galaxy couldn't afford it. She couldn't afford it.
Which was why she found herself standing in front of Barla Von's office, hands in her pockets. There were a million things she should be doing to prepare for takeoff – figuring out how to get the Normandy in the air without Anderson's help, for one – but she kept telling herself that unless she figured out who the leak was, this whole endeavour could be off the ground before it started.
Barla Von glanced up as she entered, and under that envirosuit, Shepard could almost feel his needling smile – or the volus version thereof. She forced herself to walk forward confidently.
"Greetings Earth Clan," he said. "I didn't expect to be seeing you again so soon. How can I be of service?"
"I need information," she said.
"Ah," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Well, as previously mentioned, such things are not inexpensive."
Shepard wasn't in the mood to play games. "How much?"
"That depends on what you're wanting to know," said Barla Von.
She licked her lips. "I think someone on my crew is spying on me for the Council. I'd like to know who."
"Loyalty is certainly hard to come by these days, isn't it?" said Barla Von with a sympathetic shake of his head. He paused. "I may be able to find that information. Wait here."
The volus waddled away into the back room, and Shepard debated following him for half a second before deciding it wasn't worth it. Though she knew the Shadow Broker better than any of his agents, this wasn't a fight she wanted to provoke before its time. The only reason she'd managed to take down the Broker before was because Liara was with her, and the timid archaeologist aboard the Normandy was hardly the confident and deadly information broker she'd become.
So she dithered in the waiting room, studying the strange sculptures and paintings that were obviously considered fashionable in certain circles.
It took a half hour for Barla Von to return, and when he did, he was hardly the haughty financier she was expecting. His shoulders were slouched, and if she didn't know any better, she'd say he was troubled. "I have the information," he said. "Now is the part where we discuss cost."
"I have money," said Shepard, even though she couldn't remember exactly how much should be on her credit chit at this point. There'd been enough after the attack on the Citadel to splurge on some much needed rest, but beyond that, she couldn't recall. Enough, she hoped.
"My employer doesn't want money," said Barla Von.
A hollow pit opened in the bottom of her stomach. "Then what?"
"It has come to the Shadow Broker's attention that you may have… somewhat intimate knowledge of Saren's ship, Sovereign, and others like it."
"He can't build his own, if that's what he's asking for," snapped Shepard.
Barla Von's hands fluttered out in front of him. "Not at all, Commander Shepard! He has simply detected a change in the wind, and would like to have all the available information possible."
"This information is classified," said Shepard, crossing her arms. "Why would I leak potentially damaging information to a broker whose trade is selling secrets?"
"Exposing the political manoeuvers of the Council is not without its risks," argued Barla Von. "And the Shadow Broker will acquire the information one way or another. You would simply be facilitating what is already inevitable."
The worst part of the argument was that Shepard knew it to be true. When Liara had sifted through the Broker's files on his base, he'd already amassed a sizeable amount of intel on the Reapers – and it was this intel that eventually led to the Martian archives. What if, this time, the Shadow Broker chose to go looking for the Crucible himself? What if he passed it on to the Collectors? There were a million possibilities branching out in front of her, and she couldn't tell where any of them led.
But if she didn't find out who was spreading secrets, her whole enterprise would be dead in the water. If the mole discovered that she was planning on mutinying, on stealing the ship, what if they passed it on before the Normandy was airborne? Especially since she hadn't quite figured out exactly how this plan was going to work without Anderson yet…
"All right," she said, her limbs heavy. She called up her omni-tool and transferred all the relevant - and, by comparison, harmless – data to Barla Von's terminal. She left out how Reapers were made, she left out how they'd come into the galaxy, she left out all the specs from the differing husks, and she left out any mention of Harbinger. Hell, if the Shadow Broker had any idea how much information she actually had, he'd realize he was only getting scraps. Hopefully she could keep that to herself for as long as possible.
"We appreciate your business," said Barla Von, back to being the consummate businessman. He held up a datapad.
Taking it, Shepard flipped through reports, some obviously decrypted. They described the debriefings, described her general demeanour, described her enhanced biotics and the way her combat style had changed. Her muscles wound tight under her skin as she came to the pictures.
And just before her world fell out from underneath her, she thought, there are two and not them, please God, not those two.
0-0-0
"That's not what I'm saying," argued Kaidan, running a hand the length of his face. "Of course software is going to change in the next few years. Doesn't it always? But even now there are huge advancements being made in the hardware as well. Batteries are getting smaller and they're lasting longer. Tomorrows 'tools will be able to do exponentially more with a battery that occupies roughly the same space."
Tali nodded, fingering her own tool. She'd cornered him on the Normandy and asked if he wouldn't like to go with her to the only café with filtered food on the Presidium. There, over her… whatever that was and his coffee, she'd revealed that she was considering building a new omni-tool – potentially using geth technology – as her pilgrimage gift, and would he please run through some ideas with her? It beat waiting for Shepard with anxiety riddling his chest, so he agreed. He got the feeling that Tali was holding something back, but he'd chosen not to pry. It was just enough of a cultural thing that he didn't want to step on anyone's toes by probing too deeply into matters that didn't concern him.
He was just about to launch into a recount of a recent article he'd read when Shepard appeared in the café. Her eyes scanned the room before settling on the two of them in their corner. There was a rim of red around her eyes and a hard set to her mouth. Her gait was stiff as she walked towards them.
"Hey Shepard," said Tali. "How did your meeting with the Council go?"
Shepard stared at Tali several beats beyond the point of comfort. "They didn't believe me. We've been grounded." She rotated her attention to Kaidan. "LT, can I talk with you for a minute?"
Kaidan glanced between Tali and Shepard, uneasy even as he stood. He offered the quarian a smile. "Don't think this conversation is finished. It's nice having another tech-savvy person to talk to."
"I'm looking forward to it," said Tali, but her enthusiasm had dissipated.
Jerking her head in the direction of the exit, Shepard turned and started out, leaving Kaidan to shrug awkwardly at Tali before jogging to catch up. He wanted to ask her where they were going, but the set of her shoulders made him bite off the question. She eventually brought them to a park on the edge of the Presidium reservoir, and through it, to a small bench surrounded by trees. Kaidan hadn't even known such a thing existed on the Citadel, and he breathed deep to enjoy the oxygen the plans provided. The peacefulness of their surroundings was directly offset by Shepard's harried demeanor.
She sat down, and he sat next to her. She fidgeted for a half a second before standing up, digging the heels of her palms.
"Commander?" he said. "Are you all right? I'm sure there's a way to appeal. We're under Alliance authority, after all, not the Council."
"Official channels are closed. They were quite clear about that." This was said in an off-hand manner, as though it were old news.
Kaidan leaned back in the bench, staring up at the Council Tower. Irritation bubbled up inside his chest at the thought that he Council was subjecting not only themselves, but everyone on the Citadel to extreme risk by not trusting Shepard. "So where do you think the best view will be when the Reapers roll through? If we have to sit it out, we might as well get a good seat."
"Nobody's sitting anything out," snapped Shepard, rounding on him. He held up his hands in surrender and she looked chagrined, but tossed it away with a shake of her head. "I've got a plan."
"Of course you do," said Kaidan, and despite bearing the brunt of her irritation only seconds before, he couldn't help but smile. "That's what I – uh – admire about you."
Shepard sucked in a deep breath, her eyes growing misty as she peered over the reservoir. "I'm going to steal the Normandy."
That wasn't the plan he'd been expecting. He'd expected appeals and deals and political manoeuvering. This was, well, simpler than he'd been expecting. "How?"
"I don't know the particulars yet," said Shepard. "I'm still working that bit out. What I have to know is: are you with me?"
He got to his feet and took a step forward so they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. "Of course, Shepard. I'm with you to the end."
Her hand reached out to grab his, and she clung to it like it was her only connection to the world. "Then I'm going to need your help and your discretion."
Heart pounding in his throat, Kaidan swallowed and squeezed her hand. "What do you need?"
It took her a long time to answer. She was obviously wading through her thoughts, trying to think three steps ahead of everyone else. He wondered what she would've looked like on Elysium, her and her ragtag band of resistance fighters, as she led them to victory despite overwhelming odds. Would she have gotten this same face while trying to figure out how to stop what seemed like an impossible invasion? Would this expression cross her face again and again in the days to come?
"I need you to find a way to block communications from a certain omni-tool," she said at last, with a quick glance to him. "Nothing fancy, and it doesn't have to last forever, just long enough for us to make it to the Mu Relay."
The logistics involved in such an endeavour were boggling. "Shepard, I'm not really an expert here. You'd be better off asking Tali."
Shepard swallowed thickly. "I can't," she said, "because it's for Tali's omni-tool. Garrus' too."
The world paused for a moment in the space where Kaidan forgot to breath. Was she suggesting…? No, she couldn't be. That was absurd. He'd just been with Tali, and her biggest concern was figuring out an appropriate pilgrimage gift for her return to the fleet – well, and stopping the Reapers, but that was a given. And Garrus, he'd become less headstrong and more confident in the time since he'd joined the crew, which Kaidan could consider a good thing. Shepard had been a wonderful stabilizing influence.
"Shepard, why…?"
Her hand spasmed in his. "I think they're being watched," she said. "And while you and I and the rest of the crew may have something to lose if we're court martialed at the end of this, if things go wrong, Garrus and Tali could be turned into scapegoats." At his puzzled expression, she sighed. "Garrus works for C-Sec. His boss answers directly to the Council. If he's seen aiding us, it could be his ass on the line."
"And Tali?" asked Kaidan.
Shepard gave him a meaningful look. "Tali's a quarian."
Which should not have explained Shepard's position, but it unfortunately did. Kaidan couldn't imagine meeting the bubbly but shy young woman and holding her in anything but the highest regard, but the racial prejudice against her species was nearly all pervasive. And without an embassy on the Citadel, she'd have no one in her corner if the authorities decided to come down hard on them all.
"You want to make it seem like they had no choice in the matter," said Kaidan.
"I want them to have no choice in the matter," said Shepard, letting go of his hand to hug herself. "I don't want a word of this breathed to either of them. That way, they don't have to lie when they're asked if they knew what I was planning."
He didn't know how he could have thought that she'd suspect Garrus and Tali. Even now, on the edge of the biggest decision of her life, Shepard was thinking of her crew. Kaidan wanted to wrap his arms around her, feeling the loss of her hand in his keenly, but he held off. Instead, he said, "I'm not very adept at this sort of thing, but I think I can give us enough time."
That elusive smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I have some things to take care of, okay? Make your way back to the ship and make sure both of them are aboard without raising their suspicions." She stepped past him. "And Kaidan? Thank you."
He watched her go until he could no longer see her figure in the distance.
Gosh, what an exhausting week! To assuage fears that I'm dropping this fic, I wrote this chapter for you during the week - mostly on tiny post-its while I was supposed to be working. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! I meant to thank you all individually, but between writing this and being at work for the past 6 days, I ran out of time. Hope you enjoy!