Chapter 05

Jane Shepard

Shepard released the shuttle to auto-pilot, and slid the chair back to allow her to climb out and go back to the passenger compartment. She paced back and forth in the combined space, watching the blue shifting energy flow over the craft, taking deep measured breaths to try to calm her thumping heart. The lonely prefab apartment on Intai'sei hadn't been a place she'd spent much time in, but that hadn't stopped her importing the possessions she had in storage to make the place feel more like home. Something about the seclusion and sprawling views calmed her. There was a sense of peace there after spending so many months racing after the rouge Spectre Saren, and being burdened by the weight of a galactic holocaust only herself and her closest companions believed was real.

Had she succeeded? All the report seemed to believe she had, but the visions were unflinching in their warning. Millions of eldritch horrors waited in the dark space between galaxies to invade and wipe out all life, as they had done to the Prothean's, and as they had done countless times before, all at 50,000 year intervals. No-one, not even she, knew who'd created them or truly how old they are. If she were a religious woman, she just might be tempted to see them as a great flood sweeping through the galaxy as penance for their many sins.

Was it any longer her responsibility? A drive deep within urged her to continue the fight, to protect all those unable to protect themselves, and find some way—any way—to hold back the tsunami rushing towards them. Another part of her… That part wanted to give up. She trusted herself, her real self, to keep everyone safe. No longer did she hold the livelihoods of trillions of people across hundreds of species in her hands.

"Approaching Intai'sei," the synthetic tones of the computer informed her. "Dropping out of FTL."

The starfield returned. Shepard returned to the pilots chair and guided the shuttle down to the surface of the vibrant, mountainous green/grey world. She'd come in farther out than strictly necessary to get a location for the Systems Alliance training facility Pinnacle Station so she could steer clear of it. Wind buffeted the white/orange/black/grey paint of the craft as it swooped low between ice-capped peaks and craggy valleys. She was thousands of miles from the nearest settlement when she broke through to a vast expanse of grassy plains, and expertly manipulated the sensitive controls to bring herself around and touchdown beside the apartment.

It seemed so small and puny compared to the surrounding planet, like it was being swallowed by the landscape. She jogged across to the door and entered the locking codes, relieved to hear a little chime that welcomed her inside, where it managed to be colder than the windy exterior. Lights blinked on around her, and the generator kicked in. A smell like burnt plastic filled the air as the long dormant heating system chugged to life. She hugged herself tightly as she stepped through the lounge. Plastic wrapping covered the furniture and boxes piled up in the corner, probably packed with all the missing décor. Each and every one had a shipping label taped to the side that had them destined for an Alliance storage facility until her mother could do something with them, or they could be auctioned off.

Shepard went to the boxes, neatly stacked, and tore a hole in the plastic wrapping on top and cracked it open. She hadn't kept much in her apartment, planning to move in properly once the situation with Saren had wrapped up. Inside that box were various weapons broken down to their component parts for easy transport. She slid out that box and opened the one beneath. A photo frame lay face down atop the one pair of pyjamas she'd left behind and an N7 hoodie. The picture was of Shepard with her parents posing in front of a, then newly commissioned, frigate perched on a landing platform in Vancouver. Nostalgia inflated her chest, and the images came to life as she remembered the visit. But she'd never been to Vancouver, nor Earth. She'd never felt the warmth of loving parents or the safety in their embrace. All of those things existed now only as a copy of someone else.

Shepard replaced the photo, and rolled the plastic sheeting off one half of the couch, kicked her shoes off and sat down, curling up and hugging herself tightly to watch life live. Fluffy, fragmented clouds slid smoothly overheard. A flock of birds barely more than black dots in the distance danced around each other in whirlwinds and waving patterns. A herd of grazing space cows meandered lazily between clumps of succulent grass and ponds of water. The rest of the universe seemed a million-light-years away in that moment.

Warmth licked at her arms as the out-of-practice temperature control started getting back into its rhythm and the temperature rose to level where she wasn't constantly shivering. If only they hadn't packed away her stuff; she could use a cup of tea and a blanket. And a hug.

After a while, she tossed the wrapping off the end table beside her and swiped her hand over the top of it. A small orange holographic clock blinked on. She swiped a few times until the menu for the sound system appeared. Whatever was last in the queue was what she played. Jazz diffused into the air with the heat—a piano accompanied by drums and the occasional bass line.

If Commander Shepard: Galactic Hero was already taken, then Jane Shepard: Crofter was a nice consolation. There was something romantic about the idea of living out in the middle of nowhere, farming only to support herself, and leading a life of quiet solitude. People had been doing it for thousands of years before interconnectedness rendered anything less than the distances between stars trivial—and even a combination of Mass Relay's and the experimental Quantum Entanglement Communicators were on the verge of shrinking those distances yet again.

The sound of the door opening caught her attention. She'd have to wait a little longer, perhaps, for that level of freedom. Shepard looked up to see Rasa enter the room; her face that had been twisted into equal parts annoyance and anger when she came in softened upon seeing Shepard on the couch. She sighed, and rolled the rest of the plastic wrapping away, sitting down and kicking off her shoes. The pair lounged in silence for a while.

"So, you stealing ships when you can't have your way is a consistent trait?" she finally asked, with a hint of sarcasm. "Have you any idea how much of a panic attack you gave me?"

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity," Shepard replied, staring out into the wilderness. "Waiting wasn't an option either; there were too many questions I couldn't leave hanging for however long it would take you to get up and running."

"I'm not mad at you. The position you find yourself in right now is one of the truly unique—I can hardly blame you for acting out."

"Please, don't talk to me like I'm a child."

"Biologically…" Rasa trailed off.

"You tease, but I'm not Shepard come back to life; I'm an entirely separate entity that's only a few months old. My body says it's an adult, my memories confirm it, my reflection makes it real. And yet…" Shepard looked over to Rasa with what she assumed was a pathetic expression. "Why did you take me? Why did you curse me with consciousness?"

"You deserve to live, Shepard! Would you execute one twin of an identical duo? The methods are somewhat different, but the principle is the same, and I couldn't let them use and discard you like that."

"What if that was the kinder option?"

"No! Don't you dare start thinking that! You are as much a person as the other Shepard—that was never in question."

"And you expect me to believe your motives are purely altruistic? You, who are leading a Cerberus off-shoot to…what? Be a bigger, badder Cerberus? A more ideologically pure Cerberus? Do you really expect me to go along with that?"

"I expect you to see the value in what we're doing—not just an ideologically purer Cerberus, but an organisation that's devoted to doing real good for Humanity."

"Don't you think that's what the person who started Cerberus wanted, too?"

"The Illusive Man is a sham!" Rasa snapped. "He's been indoctrinated by the Reapers, and you can see that in his bizarre decisions of late: constructing a fleet, the excessive branding, the overt operations. It may be in early stages, or perhaps they're letting him keep his free will until they need him, but it's there none-the-less."

"Does the Alliance know this?" Shepard asked.

"The Alliance knows nothing."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because they'd be a hell of a lot more active if they knew a Human-supremacist terrorist group were building an offensive fleet."

"What about the Council? Surely they're doing something."

"I think you already know the answer to that one."

Shepard sat back. "You say I can't go back to my old life?"

"Not if you want to avoid the witch trial." Rasa scooted over and took her cold hands. "Come with me; let's do good! You're worried about us turning into another Cerberus? You can avoid that by being part of the leadership from the start. We'll be like Robin Hood, helping the downtrodden and forgotten Humans of the galaxy. An equal partnership."

Rasa's eyes beamed such genuine, fiery passion it was impossible to look away, and Shepard found herself sinking into the other woman's warm presence, radiating noticeably more than the lukewarm offerings of the radiator. She subconsciously shimmied closer. It had been so long since she'd felt the soft, safe comfort of a body next to hers, of arms wrapped tightly around her. She swallowed, inhaled; Rasa smelled of orange and mango. Then it occurred to her that she'd never felt anyone close to her. Those memories of that night aboard the Normandy before landing on Ilos belonged to someone else.

Shepard slumped back against the armrest. Her first kiss, the disastrous result of her Combat Vehicles Proficiency exam, being laughed out of the building for the Shepard Shuffle at her high school senior dance, that time as a child she managed to sneak into the CIC of the cruiser her mother served on and got within seconds of firing the main gun, her first time touching minds with Liara, Virmire, the Battle of the Citadel… All of those memories belonged to Jane Shepard.

Rasa shuffled closer. "Are you okay?"

"I…think I need to change my name."

"Your…?"

"Everyone refers to me as Jane Shepard—I'm not her."

"You are"—she softly cupped Shepard's cheek—"every bit the Jane Shepard as the original."

She nuzzled Rasa's hand—it was a little dry and rough. "I don't feel much like that right now," she breathed. "I feel lost and alone, and empty, like a soulless husk."

Rasa leaned forward and kissed Shepard, who melted into it and wrapped her arms around Rasa's midriff, pulling her closer. Shepard's movements were needy and desperate and shaky. She tugged down Rasa's jacket zipped, and slid her hands up under the shirt of the other woman, feeling the hard, lean ripples of her abs. Rasa hefted Shepard's t-shirt up, over her head and ran a line of kisses down from where she nibbled on her neck to her chest. Shepard breathed in sharply as Rasa teased her fingers over bra-clad nipples. She looked up at Shepard, who nodded her approval to continue.

"Oh, fuck!" Shepard groaned as Rasa took her nipple in her mouth and started sucking, licking nibbling. "Oh, fuck," she whimpered, eyes welling. "P-Please… Please…" Her body tensed when Rasa placed a hand on her stomach and slid it slowly—agonisingly so—down, down, down. "H-Hold me!"

Just as Rasa's fingers grazed the waistband of Shepard's trousers, she slid it round her back and pulled her close, kissing across to her other nipple, and giving it the same attention as the first. Rasa's mouth was so warm and wet, and each nibble and flick sent jolts of electricity through Shepard's body. The simple feeling of having an arm wrapped so tightly around her brought an intoxicating sense of safety that she let swallow her up like a memory foam mattress.

Shepard savoured the feeling for a long while, then tugged lightly a couple of times on Rasa's t-shirt to signal that she wanted to take it off. The other woman sat back and lifted her hands into the air. Shepard slid it off and tossed it over her shoulder, and made short work of removing her bra. Rasa had dark brown skin and a lean, athletic build.

Shepard smiled at her companion. "I'm afraid I can't offer you a shower," she said, "and the air isn't too warm."

"As long as your body's warm," Rasa said, "I think we can manage."

"I'd be worried if it wasn't."

"Take off your clothes—now."

The building lust in Rasa's eyes as Shepard took off her trousers, and socks, and underwear, and sat back across from her filled the ex-Spectre with confidence. Larger matters of identity and place bore no weight here. In this little prefab, out in the middle of nowhere, on an insignificant planet, there was only the two of them, and the simple goal of providing comfort and good feelings to each other. After the mental toll of the last few weeks, Shepard was glad to have such a base, instinctual objective to work on. Sex was straight forward. The emotions or situations surrounding it may be complex, but the act was a simple matter of people finding intimacy and pleasure with each other. Shepard briefly considered the possibility that Rasa was manipulating her, but it fled her mind when she felt Rasa's tongue trailing down between her breasts, over her midriff, down between her legs.

"Fuck! R-Rasa! Oh, fuck, you're so good at tha…" Shepard trailed off when Rasa started lazily sucking on her clit. She threaded her fingers into Rasa's hair and pulled her in closer, grinding into her face. "I need to… I… I need to sit down."

Rasa withdrew and lay down in front of the window, smiling devilishly. "Well? C'mon, sit down."

Shepard got down onto her knees above Rasa's head, and lowered herself onto the other woman's willing mouth. She rode Rasa's face and took in the incredible scenery before her. The last memory she'd had, real or not, before waking up in that lab was dying alone in the cold emptiness of space. To be surrounded by so much heat and sensation and life brought her to tears. She didn't care if Rasa was manipulating her; she needed this.

Shepard awoke the next day after several more increasingly intense rounds of sex, more orgasms than her hormone saturated mind had the ability to keep track of, and a delightfully long, unbroken slumber. Herself and Rasa had, at some point, broken into the storage boxes and ransacked all the pillows and cushions in the apartment to form an improv bed. The heating now hummed away at full efficiency, allowing them to lay snuggled up together without a blanket. Shepard took a deep, overindulgent sniff of Rasa's natural scent and marvelled at how intoxicating it was, and how her body responded to it. Her hips softly ground against Rasa's thigh, her arms tightened around her, and she sighed.

"Needy, aren't we?" Rasa mumbled, with her usual cocky cadence.

"I've been on ice for the last two years," Shepard replied. "Let me get some heat back."

"Are you feeling better?"

"In a larger, cosmic sense? No. In a here and now sense? Yeah."

"It's something."

"Ah, so your plan was to manipulate me; how's that working out for you?"

"Depends; are you onboard?"

"Only if we're equal partners."

"Not asking for much."

"It's that, or I stick around here and live like a hermit. Maybe I'll become a local legend, like the Sasquatch of Intai'sei." Shepard chuckled. "Many come from all across the galaxy to try and find the illusive Shepsquatch! I mean, someone did get a blurry, possibly faked photo of my lumbering through the forest."

"Would you really be content with that?"

"Y'know…I think I would."

"And what about the Reapers?"

"You said yourself that Cerberus has already brought me back to life successfully."

"The more, the merrier; I say."

"Greedy, greedy."

Rasa looked down at her. "Okay, then—equal partners. Are you in?"

"If I accept, and with your masterful manipulation complete, will you stop snuggling?"

"Of course; what else were you expecting?"

"You'll get your answer in an hour, then." Shepard rested her head on Rasa's chest and listened to her heart while continuing to grind softly against her thigh. "I took the liberty of looking up your personnel file; interesting stuff."

"How did you—?"

"Have you any idea how many doors, and lockers, and terminals I've hacked in my time? That little circle thing with the moving firewalls isn't nearly as secure as everyone thinks."

"Right, yeah, go on."

"Apparently, you don't exist before your mid-twenties, and your specialisation was the infiltration of, well, anywhere—a sort of master-of-disguise, if you will. Pretty slick of you to interview my crew without anyone noticing, Ms Lilium."

"When you grow up the way I have, the last thing you want to be is yourself."

"So Rasa's an alias, too?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Rasa shifted. "My arm's falling asleep."

"Oh, shit, sorry." Shepard sat up. "Better?"

"Much." She stood and stretched off. Shepard could practically feel the icy air swirling in her wake as she collected her clothes. "We need to get back."

"I still haven't given you my answer."

"You give it now, because I'm leaving either way."

"If you're serious about being equal partners—I'm in."

"It's done, then. Let's—" Rasa's omni-tool chirped and she pulled it up, playing the video message.

Shepard came alongside to see Captain Montez looking back with distilled terror. "Rasa," she said, "we've just received word that Cyrene's been attacked. A merchant arrived to deliver a shipment of farming equipment to find the colony abandoned," the message continued. "All five thousand inhabitants just…gone. The news is causing widespread outrage, but the government has only offered half-hearted platitudes so far. It seems they're not in a hurry to go out and investigate, giving some excuse about the colonists being aware of the risks associated with settling the Terminus systems and blaming the whole thing on pirates or slavers. Too few people, too far away, too risky." She paused. "It…matches all the markers from the previous six colonies. I'll keep you updated." The message ended on a freezeframe of the captain reaching forward to end the recording.

"Six? Six other colonies?" Shepard struggled to contemplate the magnitude. "Why aren't they doing anything about it?"

Rasa shrugged, in a tongue-in-cheek imitation of the Alliances reaction. "Because the Terminus Systems aren't Alliance space," she answered. "They put their disclaimer on it, and just sit back with a shallow excuse to avoid blame, like a company denying responsibility for an obviously faulty product because they warned the customer it would cause harm."

"If you're true to your word," she said, gathering up her own clothes, "we'll be grabbing a shuttle and heading out there. Have you any idea who's doing the abductions?"

Rasa shook her head. "None; it's like everyone popped out of existence at once."

"We've gotta get there fast, before any pirates or slavers actually do move in."

"Agreed."

Rasa ran out to warm up the shuttle while Shepard finished putting on her clothes. She gave the small apartment one final, longing glance—maybe she would settle down one day—then jogged out to the shuttle, locking the door behind her. It shrunk away below them as they lifted into the sky and towards their first assignment as…what? An organisation like Cerberus? A mercenary group? Shepard wasn't sure how to classify them, but she knew for sure they'd do good in the galaxy, however they could.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! We're approaching the end of what I loosely see as the first act. It's exciting to know I've gotten this far, and that people are actually reading. Thank you all for supporting my first fanfic, and I look forward to seeing you as we journey towards Clone Shepard and Rasa's inevitable fate.

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