Combat Information Center, MFV Apollo, January 13, 2185 11:43 RSC
The light of thousands and thousands of stars illuminated his vision, displayed as minuscule pixels on the holographic interface. Each came to be, existed, under different circumstances but the one constant was that their death was inevitable. Their demises were to be as unique as their life cycles; a spectacular explosion that's light radiates throughout the cosmic stage, a collapse into an expanse of darkness, or simply fading into oblivion.
For the sapient species that inhabited systems that housed stable forms of these celestial bodies, death while unavoidable was feared, even questioned. The concept baffled races for millennia, searching for how to avoid the seeming siren call of one's own end. Technological advancement plateaued, extending life, but not granting immortality. Remedies, medications, treatments none granted what all sought to avoid, traversing through the unknown.
Religion was the unintended consequence, a makeshift solution to the unanswered questions. It offered solace to the dying granting a respite from the suffering of their conditions, a potential fear of moving on. For the living it was a consolation, a chance to impart comfort, to make peace with the unavoidable consequence of life itself. Millions cried and prayed each day and night hoping that loved ones wouldn't succumb to their illnesses, or their injuries. Others prayed to their deities for a return, a resurrection but the harsh finality of death forced these cries, these prayers to remain unheeded.
But here he was, the answer no doubt to the cries and prayers of his own close friends and loved ones. Their prayers unknowingly causing his rebirth to be the byproduct of the hubris of a human supremacist organization with near limitless capital and resources. His calloused hands clenched around cold metal in a vain attempt to regain composure, but controlled breathing became rapid, seething. His vision blurred, a searing pain spreading across his face. A sharp inhale and an incessant need to bellow out in pure agony. He held his composure, however the throbbing in his face continued unabated.
"Capt-" the quarian man's eyes swelled into full orbs once he saw the human's face, "Keelah, captain, you look horrifying. You look like-"
"What, what do I look like Prazza?" He snarled at the quarian who had by now stepped back, his arms raised in surrender. "I was going to say you look like you've seen better days. You've been staring at the galactic display for twenty minutes, unmoved, with your eyes and face becoming a darker shade of red."
"Oh, and no one thought to break me from my stupor?" He shook his head, "no. The regular crew are petrified of you. You're the first human they've likely seen, and you look like a kelek'miin," he shrugged his shoulders, "I understand it. The marines, well, after seeing you taking down that heavy mech in your own, they're afraid of you, too. You've made quite the reputation for yourself."
He grit his teeth, "I didn't take down that mech on my own, and I couldn't even prevent it from injuring Tali." To his amazement Prazza scoffed, "she was reckless and overestimated her abilities. She allowed her emotions to dictate her actions rather than sound decision-making." When the quarian was finished his chest had puffed out and he stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, while maintaining a rigid posture. The sheer arrogance, the insolence, that radiated from the man baffled him, what environment had allowed for this behavior to evolve and fester into such a bombastic individual. Blood red eyes searched behind a visor for glowing white and once found cast a sharp unnerving glare. The confidence in the man's stature diminished, his shoulders sagged, and his eyes sought to avoid contact but were unsuccessful.
"Look at me, Prazza," an uncomfortable shift in posture was followed by a slight head tilt, his gaze now meeting the angered captain's. "If you're confident in your assessment of Tali'Zorah and her incompetence perhaps you're willing to judge how I, myself, would have handled the situation, no? I don't seem to recall questioning how I reacted to Tali'Zorah once she was hurt. Or perhaps you're regaling your friends about my own lack of emotional control, am I correct in assuming that?" He had maintained composure, his voice exuding an emotionless lilt that itself was just as frightening as pure anger. The lack of an answer from the marine was telling.
"Now tell me, Prazza, what have you accomplished that warrants these criticisms? What has caused such arrogance to be allowed to fester? Are there feats of battle I am unaware of? Is your family so esteemed that others refuse to question such boorish behavior? If so, I want it to be known that I don't care who your family is, understood?" The marine now shook his head, unwilling or unable to answer the assortment of questions, perhaps he himself now afraid of the commander's own presence.
"Now since you ruined my silent contemplation, Prazza, why are you here? It better be for a good reason." The quarian cleared his throat, "we received communication from Admiral Raan, she wishes to speak to the captain. There has been a recent development that requires urgent attention." He pinched the bridge of his nose letting out a drawn-out sigh, "with you being here, I can imagine you hadn't the forethought to tell her that Tali was indisposed and that you were the captain. So, does she know who I am?"
"I was told to inform the admiral, per Tali'Zorah, that we had a human refugee on board, under the condition that your identity be unknown, nor your former affiliation, at least until Tali'Zorah was able to inform the admiral in person once we were docked on the Rayya." He gave Prazza and irritated look, "you understand how this complicated things, right? How detailed were you with the after action report to her?" White eyes looked toward the ceiling, perhaps in silent prayer, "I provided a detailed summary the entirety of the mission, captain."
"Prazza, so the admiral knows the entire colony was abandoned, except for the three Cerberus operatives you encountered, and that you now house a human refugee? Am I correct in assuming that's how the summary went?"
Prazza nodded, "y-yes, c-captain…" He stepped down from the elevated platform, heading toward the command center. The sheer incompetence from the conceited marine had now caused a potential firestorm, how was he to explain his affiliation with Cerberus without sounding like a crazed lunatic. Even he had questioned the feasibility of the idea that he had been resurrected. But it was clear that he was, brought back using questionable methods to serve the will of an egomaniac and his bigoted organization. He refused to act on their whims, regardless of the disappearances of human colonies. He would seek assistance from the Alliance, the Council, even the quarians, before he accepted aid from the filth that was Cerberus.
He took a steadying breath, a shaking hand hovering above the call notification. He pressed the holographic button and within seconds a hooded figure appeared, her arms crossed in he took as irritation. At what, he hadn't wanted to know.
"Hello, Admiral Raan. I am Captain Nate-" She sharply interjected, which to be honest he had expected. He had heard from the other marines about the Idenna, how it had offered refuge to three humans and was subsequently infiltrated and attacked by Cerberus agents disguised as quarians. He knew there was more to it than what he was told, but he understood her trepidation. The entire situation was ludicrous, and he had hoped she'd find enough reason to settle it in an amicable fashion.
"What is the meaning of this?" The coldness of her voice caused a shiver to course through his body. "It is my understanding that you are seeking refuge and affiliated with an organization that infiltrated and then attacked the Idenna. And now here you stand, assuming the mantle of captain and speaking Khelish, who are you human? Who granted you asylum on the Apollo?" He cleared his throat, "it was Tali'Zorah, admiral. She granted me passage on this vessel. As for who I am," he took a deep breath, preparing for a visceral reaction. "I am Nate'Shepard, Tali's former captain on her pilgrimage."
It took a moment, but the realization dawned on her. Rather than expressing outright anger her reaction was tempered, even withdrawn, an attribute he assumed was due to years spent in a position of leadership. Her reaction offered him a slight hope that perhaps he would be able to negotiate asylum, a proposition he had planned to extend once the admiral had come to terms with who he was or claimed to be.
"You are the fabled Commander Shepard? Lion of Elysium, Butcher of Torfan, the Savior of the Citadel?" He cringed at the fleeting mention of his moniker of the "butcher," a past it seemed that was inescapable, but he held back his own retort letting the admiral continue. "The man who offered refuge to an endangered quarian on her pilgrimage, the same man who treated her with a kindness and respect that other races refuse to grant our people? The one who died in an attack from an unknown entity above Alchera almost two years ago?"
"That is correct, Admiral, I am one and the same. How I am here, standing in front of you, is beyond my understanding. All I know is that I did die and that I awoke yesterday in a Cerberus facility and then was escorted to Freedom's Progress, where I encountered Tali, Lena and the other marines."
The pause that followed was unsettling though a small part of him understood. From what he had remembered from Tali, the Fleet operated under what he recognized was a form of martial law where a ship's captain held absolute authority on matters of discipline, and the admiralty board held the right to overrule the civilian-led Conclave. She had told him that the resignation of the entire board was the result of such a maneuver, and it was a rare one, perhaps due to the relinquishing of power and influence. Despite that, he knew she was one of the most influential quarians and that even if her opinion hadn't been considered law, it was granted high esteem. If she had accepted him, even with conditions, the misgivings of others would appear illegitimate. If she hadn't…
He looked back at the projection, a pair of three-fingered hands palmed a visor. "You must understand the predicament I am in, no?" He nodded, "I won't pretend to understand the full breadth of it, but I imagine it is not easy."
"It is not, Nate'Shepard. I will make it plain, though. I do not trust you. However, it seems that Tali'Zorah does, so I will cede to her judgment for now. You will captain the Apollo for the duration of the mission that is planned." He cocked his head to the side, "Admiral, what mission? I was informed we were headed to the Flotilla, the Rayya specifically?"
"There has been a…development. We paid passage for our mining ships through Osun to the Blue Suns but I do not trust them. So you are to be an escort for our vessels, providing protection when required." He thought for a moment, he hadn't heard of these Blue Suns before, but from her tone he understood they were a formidable mercenary group. As for providing defense, the Apollo itself had decent firepower and shields to outlast a mercenary vessel in combat if required, but to serve as an escort for mining vessels?
"Admiral, we're bait aren't we? You hope to lure these Blue Suns to our ship in hopes they'll attempt capturing a state-of-the-art Alliance frigate, rather than your mining vessels."
"Yes, Shepard, that is the plan," she stated coolly. But he still hadn't understood the reasoning behind it. A mining expedition, regardless of species, always travelled with at least several cruisers to avoid boarding and looting from pirates or even slavers. No this was a blatant act against these mercenaries, it reeked of retaliation for some offense that he hadn't known about or been made aware of. Or it was as simple as a message being sent, that the quarians were not to be messed with, and it was one that he found himself endorsing entirely.
"I'll chart course to Osun, Admiral. I do have a question though, regarding our eventual boarding by these mercenaries. Are we to grant mercy, capture leaders for questioning?"
"No." Her answer was simple and to the point, but he understood it and it was an order he had planned to follow to the letter. "Understood, Admiral. Will that be all?"
"Yes. May the Ancestors guide you, Shepard. Keelah se'lai." The communication cut and he was left standing alone, slowly coming to terms with what he had been ordered to execute. He has been resurrected merely a day before and now he here he stood thrust into conflict once more. It was all he was good at, what he was trained to be, but he wanted more. He wanted peace, or as close to the peace he had experienced over Alchera while the cold vacuum of space drained what little life he had left. He knew that peace was gone, and with retirement out of the question he had to settle for what little was afforded to him.
For now though he was a "butcher," a "lion," a "savior," and perhaps it was what he was meant to be, born to be. If he was fortunate enough he had hoped for that peace once more, to die on a garden world surrounded by loved ones, a man known for more than just his past, but for the happiness he instilled in others