|| Sunrise Gray ||


10.


"They called it The Red's Dawn." Sitting up in her chair, she nods.

"That was me."

"It was a complete restructuring of all the gangs' leaderships over the course of two, no, nearly three years…" Anderson narrows his eyes, "…You were sixteen when you bowed out..." With a sighing nod, Braith confirms his suspicion.

"I joined the Alliance—"

"To hide," he says, his tone not approving.

"My objective was reached," she goes on, "…I found the one responsible for ordering Matthias's death, left my gang's calling card after a visit to clean house, and I—"

"Never looked back." Braith looks at Karin, "…The Red Suns actually let you leave after all said and done?"

"My second-in-command took it from my retirement," Braith says with a casual flip of her wrist, "…She took over and everything was settled."

"Everyone was fine with your leaving…just like that," Anderson cuts the air with his hand.

"They didn't stop me from leaving…" She holds his gaze, "…They all knew I didn't belong there…Matthias, too."

"But since the age of five—"

"Six," she corrects him, "…I was about to turn six when it went down, BAaT and all."

Anderson gnaws on his inner cheek, frees the flesh and leans forward, "…It's said the high toll on Eclipse Suns sisters deprived Omega of an army-size force worth of muscle, biotics…You upset the balance from as far away as Illium…"

"Made a lot of people die," she nods.

"Not that they probably didn't deserve it, but…" He breathes out, whistles…With a scratch of his jaw and bristle, "…Damn, Shepard…You're probably responsible for the imbalance in the Terminus."

"Maybe it's my second-in-command who should have that compliment," she smiles well and wide, "…It's been a number of years."

"'All's quiet on the front,' they say." Anderson sits forward more on his elbows. A sharky smile curves his jaw, "…I haven't heard of the same extent of 'reorganization' since your alleged retirement…You earned a nasty reputation from how you went after the slavers in the battle of Torfan…All of your squads purged every hole, left no crater unscoured, not a lone survivor to gain even a spit of a swear from for information on his or her wonder…I consider why now…"

Braith applies a stretch to her muscles, covering her mouth to be polite with a yawn—but dismissive none the less. "They were all low-lives," she says, remembering the bloodbath, "…No one there before we arrived didn't have some sins to be cleansed, Captain." She settles her hands on her knees, sitting prim and tidy in her uniform compared to what Anderson remembers her by, "…Our soldiers didn't need convincing otherwise…I can't take credit for all their enthusiasm—obliterating slavers and xeno-rapists." Anderson sits up and glances at Karin.

"Well," Doctor Chakwas takes that as her cue, "…I can't advise there wouldn't be some legal troubles here, Captain…Commander," she looks to Braith, "…you are a decorated soldier, an impeccable N-7 even, and you have been held in high regard of your crewmen and women until three weeks ago, going on four…" Tapping her glasses against her knee, "…The flashbacks should receive some remedy with discussion of a therapeutic nature, but I leave it to you to decide," she turns in her seat to face Anderson. "Judging by your account of Sunset Red, the legend," she lets the word linger, "…We have some heavy ramifications to consider…I'm glad she's on our side." Braith looks to Anderson, then sharply upward with him and Karin as they hear a crackle of someone's breathing into a mic—as connected to the internal speaker system.

"Damn it…" Anderson growls, lifting his form from his chair, "…Joker…Have you connected to the audible system in the conference center again?" First, only silence…except for the now noticeable buzz of something running through the live speakers above, then the increasingly apologetic tone of one Jeffrey "Joker" Moreau, helmsman of the Normandy.

"…Ahhh, sorry, Captain…Jenkins's fat-fingered the speaker system." Karin covers her mouth with her hand.

"Great, just great…" Anderson breathes out, hands moving to his belt as he looks down, "…And how long did it take to notice Jenkins fat-fingered the speaker system," Braith smiles a tight-lipped grin and raises her eyebrows at Anderson's glower, "…I'm assuming everything has been heard by all crew aboard the Normandynot sleeping." The captain shakes his head.

The flat reply comes down from the speakers, "…Everything, Captain."

"Maybe they'll feel closer to her, David," Karin stands and walks over to Anderson, Braith rising from her seat too. "Particularly now they understand what background caused the incident at dinner..."

"Great…This is a PR accident just waiting to happen," with a glance to both women's calm expressions, Anderson speaks directly to those listening, "…Joker, crew who're listening, you are all to swear yourselves to the commander's confidentiality…Strictest requirements, mind you," he growls. "In no way is the information you might or might not have heard to ever leave this ship."

"Code of honor, all of us," Joker's reply.