Author's Notes:
This is my first time publishing a fic. Thoughts on what you like and don't like are highly appreciated.
While this story does generally follow the events of ME1, some things will be changed/added/removed, both to set up the sequels, and to make a little more sense as compared the game. In this story, for example, Saren isn't going to just somehow magically pull a prothean beacon out of his rear that he just keeps on Virmire for our protagonist to conveniently find. From how I've outlined the main story, ME2 and 3 will be very different than the games. Our beloved cast of characters from the trilogy will still all be present, but crewmates will join under different circumstances.
This ME1 adaptation will be Shenko, but romance isn't the primary focus of this fic. For those most interested in the romance aspect, it will take some time, but we will eventually get there. The waiting is the hardest part.
The title Minutes to Midnight comes from the doomsday clock – the fewer minutes to midnight, the closer to doomsday.
Note that I will periodically refer to people by their pay grade. For example, Shepard is an O-4 (lieutenant commander), Anderson is an O-6 (captain), and Williams is an E-5 (gunnery chief). This reflects their rank, not their specialization or MOS code (such as N7). Interestingly, the Codex states that the Alliance only has six enlisted grades (E-1 to E-6), but nine officer grades.
Acronyms:
PAO – Public Affairs Office
MARSOC – Marine Special Operations Command
AIA – Alliance Intelligence Agency
NAVSOC – Naval Special Operations Command
DSC – Distinguished Service Cross
CHAPTER I: CONSPIRACY
Captain David Anderson stared at the coffeepot that sat in the center of the conference room table with mild disgust. He needed caffeine, but the contents of this particular appliance had cooled to room temperature long ago. He then glanced at the containers of takeout that lay strewn about the center of the table, all emptied except for a last bit of lamb vindaloo. A stomach growled, and several seconds later a large arm reached out for the last small container of cold food. The arm in question belonged to an admiral, who inspected the cold contents of the bowl with a slight scowl. The vindaloo had been delicious when warm, but it had cooled to room temperature long ago. Anderson watched Fleet Admiral Moshodi start to consume the last bit of leftovers after a moment of hesitation and a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
Anderson only knew it was after midnight Lima from the timestamp at the very bottom of the main view screen – the timestamp meaning the eight of them had been sequestered in this room for sixteen hours now. He didn't even bother to look outside, as the dark window tint plus the blinds prevented anyone from seeing in or out. Only several dim lights along the walls provided illumination, and when combined with the light from the main screen, resulted in a faintly lit room. The overall atmosphere made the whole meeting seem very conspiratorial to the captain. What made it even more amusing to the captain was that these discussions had been rather conspiratorial. The fact that the embassy insisted on this level of secrecy transitioned the situation from amusing to funny, despite the serious topic and the very sudden deadline.
A new picture appeared on each of their small screens at their seats, along with the much larger wall display. Other than the displays at each of their seats, the only objects occupying the table were numerous empty containers of takeout. The screens showed a man's face with a square jaw and piercing green eyes, his mouth drawn into a tight, forced smile. A moment later the face snapped to the upper left corner of the screen, with a summary of his career taking its place. Anderson scanned through the summarized dossier. "Lieutenant Commander Matthew O'Leary," a captain stated formally before she recited his list of accomplishments. While his resume was indeed impressive, the assembled individuals had concerns after several minutes of discussion.
"Remember, everything about the candidate will be scrutinized. Everything," Admiral Hiroshi Koga said.
"He was a minor when those crimes were committed. He enlisted on his eighteenth birthday. And save for one incident, his record has been spotless," Rear Admiral Emily Turner protested slightly. The occupants in the room had been discussing candidates since the early morning to meet the stringent deadline, and while nerves were slightly frayed from the many hours sequestered in this room, the discussions remained cordial.
"That 'one incident' was him punching a reporter in the face," Fleet Admiral Arjun Singh replied.
"As satisfying as coldcocking an obnoxious reporter is to our inner renegade and vigilante, punching a civilian is not acceptable conduct for an officer, and especially for someone who will essentially become humanity's military representative to the galaxy," General Claude Fourier stated. "We're lucky that it happened during an active news cycle and there were bigger items to report. If we announce him as the candidate…"
"The ambassador would blow a fuse," Admiral Koga finished.
"I actually wouldn't mind seeing that," Moshodi muttered.
The people in the room chuckled slightly at the moment of levity in these otherwise serious discussions; all pictured Ambassador Udina's inevitable reaction as a source of amusement. "Vargas is PAO. She'll sort all of it out," Koga commented dismissively with a wave of his hand, resulting in a theatric glare from the captain in question. Despite the magnitude of the decision that would come from this room and these people, the eight military personnel had left formality at the door.
After the amusement subsided, the man furthest from the wall screen finalized the decision for the group. "He'd certainly be a great candidate, but not as the first. There will be too much ceremony, too much scrutiny. If he would have punched anyone but a reporter, he could make the short list. But the media would have a field day when that story became wider knowledge. We'll have to pass on O'Leary as the first. Who's next?" Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett asked.
Captain Vargas gave the name and began the candidate's overview. "She grew up on Alliance ships. Both her parents are officers." The discussion and debate resumed after the candidate's accomplishments were listed.
Hackett stood and walked to the refrigerator, removing a caffeinated soda and staring at it with a slight scowl for a moment. He opened it with a click and hiss as he took his seat with a sigh. As much as he didn't like soda, he knew the coffee in the room would be absolutely nasty if he reheated it after sitting at room temperature for so long, and the admiral needed caffeine.
"She just doesn't have enough experience on the ground. I have absolutely zero qualms at all about her being my XO, and becoming CO of the Normandy in a few months, but I would be very concerned about sending her groundside on anything but an exercise. We'll have to pass on her," Anderson stated. "If you want her to make the short list as a candidate in three or four years, get her a groundside posting now."
Admiral Hackett nodded his agreement of Captain Anderson's assessment. "Next."
The next face appeared on the screen. While seven others in the room began to review the candidate's accomplishments, Anderson instead stared in complete shock while his fellow officers began to discuss this next candidate.
"He's the one who decapitated that asari crime boss, right? Carries around a small sword, in addition to guns?" Singh asked.
"Who the hell in this day and age carries around a sword?" Moshodi muttered sotto voce.
"That's him. And yes, he's a bit…brutal," Vargas replied.
"A bit brutal?" Anderson growled, his tone laced with venom and malice. "I will never sign off on him."
Seven heads quickly jolted in surprise to stare at the CO of the Normandy as a result of his words and tone. "We know he's brutal, a bit odd, and a bit xenophobic. Which are all things we need to seriously consider when discussing him," Fourier replied, wondering just why one of the most decorated officers in the Alliance had reacted in such a way to such a top candidate, and starting to realize that there was more to the story that wasn't in this candidate's personnel file.
"If he becomes my XO, I will space him the first chance I get, if I don't shoot the bastard in the head at first sight," Anderson replied firmly. Then he spent a couple minutes explaining to the rest of his cabal why this was the case. By the end, looks of disgust filled the room, and Admiral Turner even looked a little pale. "Accomplishments or not, he's a predator," Anderson finished.
"So the two of them have been covering for him for that long…" Singh said in disgust.
Anderson nodded grimly. "He should have been court martialed and DD'ed years ago, but because he always 'got the job done,' they swept those incidents under the rug. And to get others to play along, he'd be used as a 'plumber' to clean up personal messes."
"I hadn't heard about any of that," Hackett responded angrily. "There's going to be some changes after we're done here. After we've made the selection, there will be a couple conversations with a couple individuals. I'd love to see him court martialed for what he's done, or just shoot him and be done with it, but if this goes public…" Hackett replied, then pounded his fists on the table. "That fucker…" he muttered, his emotions now more subdued. "Remove him from the list and all future consideration. Next," the senior admiral ordered bitterly.
The next candidate had been a platoon leader on Torfan. Despite the heavy losses sustained on that planet, his platoon had sustained relatively few casualties. He had led from the front in that campaign, refusing to retreat even when seriously wounded, earning the respect and admiration of the soldiers under his command. Superior officers noted that he got the job done no matter what the cost. Just what the Spectres were looking for. "The public isn't going to care too much, if at all. No one likes batarians, and no one likes slavers. Only a very small percentage of the public objects to slaughtering enemies who belong in both of those categories," Admiral Moshodi said after swallowing the last bite of cold food.
"So we're agreed? Put him on the short list?" Admiral Koga asked.
Nods appeared around the table, and another profile appeared on the screens. As with all candidates, there was a brief overview on the individual's background and career.
"Akuze is a can of worms I'd rather not deal with," Fourier said quietly. Other heads around the room nodded agreement.
"Agreed. And how much coaching will he need from the Press Corps? He makes an elcor on sedatives look like a salarian scientist in the midst a sugar rush," Moshodi commented.
"Except when he's tearing new orifices into subordinates," Singh muttered.
"The inevitable interviews will be a problem for him," Vargas added.
"He does get the job done," Captain Anderson said. "But his subordinates hate working for him."
A different set of information appeared on the screens. "Look at the transfer requests," Turner stated, highlighting several points on her seat screen that flashed on the large wall display. "Three senior NCOs requested transfer out of these highly coveted posts to get out of his command. They sidelined their careers just to get away from him."
Hackett finalized the negative decision after another minute of discussion. "Next."
The next profile showed a tall, fit man with warm brown eyes, his face steeled in a stoic, serious expression. His tan skin complemented his thick, dark brown hair. "Hmm," Vargas said as her eyes widened upon viewing the picture. She had been leaning back in her chair, but on seeing the image, she sat up straight and leaned forward in interest. In the process her arm that had been resting on the table knocked over an empty coffee cup.
The individuals in the room chuckled for a moment. "Like what you see, Vargas?" Admiral Turner asked with amusement.
Captain Maria Vargas held up her hands in defense. "Just sayin'!" she said with a grin.
"Glad we have Vargas' approval," Admiral Moshodi said wryly. "Started his career a bit later than normal, but still went to N-school and working his way up the proficiency ladder rather nicely. Long list of commendations. Mostly special operations, but can also function as an engineering lead and weapons officer."
"MARSOC, then loaned out to AIA for some operations. He's done it all," Singh stated. "And he's already on the Normandy."
Hackett let out a quick snort. "Are we getting so tired that we're picking someone solely on the fact that we don't have to transfer them?"
"Yes," Moshodi replied with a chuckle. "We've been discussing criteria and reviewing profiles for sixteen hours now to meet the deadline put forth by our esteemed embassy." The admiral's contemptuous tone told everyone present his thoughts on the secrecy requirements and very short timetable – thoughts which all of them shared.
"He's a biotic and L2. Plus, he was in BAAT," Koga said as he stood from his seat, stretching his muscles.
"Biotics aren't near as much of an issue after the Blitz. And I don't think it will be all that big of deal if BAAT leaks out," Moshodi said.
"I think BAAT is a bigger problem than you think," Koga responded quietly. "We swept that under the rug for a reason."
"It will likely be more of an issue if the press gets wind that he was loaned out to AIA," Moshodi replied. "Even though the paramilitary work that AIA does isn't all that different from what a few of us here did in our younger days."
Fourier snorted. "Thanks to the vids, the public is now convinced that anyone at AIA is either a martini-guzzling skirt chaser or an unhinged assassin."
Moshodi's stomach then growled loudly. "Put him on the short list."
"We only have one more profile to review, right?" Turner asked, looking to Captain Vargas.
"Correct," Vargas confirmed.
"But then we have to start reviewing the downselects," Moshodi replied. "The Spectre will be here in six days, and the candidate needs to get the transfer request in two days…actually tomorrow now, since I just saw the time, to get the sims under their belt."
"Anything else to add?" Hackett asked. All personnel in the room remained silent. "Then Staff Lieutenant Alenko makes the short list. Next."
"Last one," Vargas said. "Staff Lieutenant – no, now Lieutenant Commander Layla Shepard."
The next profile appeared on the screen, though no one bothered glancing at the picture for more than a brief flicker of the eyes. The face in question had appeared rather frequently over the past few years.
"We don't need to have too much discussion about her," Singh said. "The Blitz is reason enough to include her."
"She's the reason Elysium is still standing," Moshodi agreed.
"While what she did was certainly incredible, many others fought – and died – to protect Elysium. It wasn't just her," Turner countered.
"Mindoir," Fourier added. "She was sixteen when that happened. Watched her parents die, herself being kidnapped by slavers, barely escaping…"
Six of the people in the room began a spirited discussion, with only Hackett and Anderson keeping silent. The two men exchanged a quick look, almost conveying words from their expressions, as they listened to the individuals in the room debate the merits of Lieutenant Commander Layla Shepard being downselected as a potential candidate.
"She's always passed her psych evals."
"She's an N7."
"She's far too young and inexperienced for her new rank. She was promoted way too fast, just because 'Commander Shepard' sounds better to the Press Corps than 'Lieutenant Shepard'."
"But she can handle the press scrutiny; she did it after Elysium, and she can do it again if we select her. None of the other candidates can say that."
"She was with NAVSOC for over a year.
"She even commanded a frigate, too."
"A Leyte-class barely qualifies as a frigate. Outdated, underarmed, and underpowered."
"But she has commanded a ship, old as the Concord was, something that only one other candidate on our long list has done."
"Subordinates love working under her."
"But she very well may operating on her own once she's a Spectre."
"Part of being a Spectre is being a one man or woman army. She dealt with overwhelming odds on Elysium. She can work fine solo or as part of a team. She's shown that already."
"Remember what some of the press still say after Elysium. 'Her?'" Fourier narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to one side theatrically. "Just from looking at Shepard, she doesn't look like she could fight a volus that's high on red sand, much less brutal mercenaries and slavers.'"
"In her case, appearances are very deceiving. If you think she's not capable, a company of pirates from Elysium would like to have a word with you, then. She racked up kills in that battle like she's some sort of video game character." Admiral Moshodi paused for close to three seconds. He then realized that in their discussion, one person had not said a word. He shifted in his seat and looked to the end of the table where Hackett and Anderson sat. "The one person that can best speak about Layla Shepard has been oddly silent. What are your thoughts, David?"
Captain Anderson didn't look over at Admiral Hackett has he began to speak. "You needed to have your own discussion without my inputs and influence. What you have all said is correct," the captain stated.
"I want to hear the full story from you, not what's in her file," Koga replied.
Anderson took a deep breath as he began to briefly recite her life story. "Born on a small colony called Mindoir. Her parents moved their after in-utero testing showed that the baby had massive exposure to element zero."
"How was she exposed?" Fourier asked.
"Transport crash," Anderson lied. "Both parents helped out with rescue efforts, and received as a reward a rather large dose of eezo exposure. Guess who was born almost exactly nine months later. Slight corona flares from biotics had just started popping up in toddler humans at that time, and her parents wanted to get their soon-to-be-born daughter as far away from possible from the murders of children that could somehow summon a faint blue glow around their hands."
Koga shook his head in disgust, remembering the news reports describing the spate of infanticide of these "mutant" toddlers, both by parents and by bigots, during his early career as a second lieutenant.
"Slightly abnormal childhood," Anderson continued, now telling the truth. "She fell ill frequently when she was young. A side effect of her very high biotic metabolism. Being bedridden for days at a time pretty much ended by the time she was seven, though. But she ended up pretty smart, thanks to all of the reading while she was stuck in bed. Mostly normal childhood after that until she turned sixteen, and… you've read and seen what happened on Mindoir," he finished quietly.
"Those reports…plus the security and armor cam recordings…" Vargas said quietly as she looked down at the table.
"Parents murdered before her eyes. Everyone she knew killed or taken away to slavery. When a batarian tried to…" he paused for several seconds before continuing, "she was able to escape and hide until marines arrived." Anderson closed his eyes, recalling the memories from years ago when he had first heard the orphan's ordeal…
It was several more minutes before the girl spoke again. "W-what's your n-name?" she whispered, a river of tears running down her cheeks and onto the commander's armor.
"Anderson. David Anderson."
His mind returned from the past, and it took him several seconds to continue his story. "I had someone keep a close eye on her for a while, as she was an undocumented biotic. Not sure how the system lost track of her. Ended up in an orphanage on Terra Nova, where the other orphans nearly beat her to death when they found out about her 'mutation'."
"She would have ended up on the streets if you wouldn't have intervened," Hackett added.
"A sixteen year old girl on the streets…" Koga said quietly with a shake of his head, appending a curse in his native tongue.
Anderson nodded grimly. "No orphanage would take a biotic, so I pulled a few strings to get her back in school, then got her transferred to the Academy." He let out a quick chuckle, the first time since he started telling the story. "Some of the cadets nearly shit themselves when I stopped by to check up on her. After graduation, she basically ended up being essentially a secretary to a senior civilian in the Ministry of Defense. No one wanted anything to do with a biotic. If you want to know where she became such a crack shot, and how her biotics became so potent, it was those evenings. She spent endless hours in the shooting range and honing her biotic powers."
"Then she got transferred to the Chicago. I presume that was your doing, David?" Singh asked.
"It was." He kept silent on the heart of the issue that had necessitated her quick reassignment to the cruiser, however. "A potent biotic that's a crack shot, plus good knowledge of signal processing, should damned well not be sitting around as a secretary."
"Most of the crew must have been pretty pissed about having a biotic on board," Fourier replied quietly.
The captain nodded. "That's an understatement. She received threats that would result in stern discipline if she wasn't biotic," Anderson said gravely. "But nothing happened to reduce the discrimination, not even a captain's mast for the offending personnel. However, that discrimination only lasted a few days. Just a week into the patrol, the Chicago sends a squad of eight to go recover some encoders that pirates managed to steal. Shepard volunteers to go, to provide biotic and tech support. A service chief led the squad; a biotic could never be trusted to lead, after all," the captain said with a shake of his head.
Moshodi snorted in disgust and rolled his eyes.
"Turns out there were more than just three or four pirates in that base like the intel said; there were three or four squads."
"And our little biotic did what she does best: rack up kills like a video game character," Moshodi summarized.
The N7 captain nodded. "The Alliance took no casualties, and only a few of the pirates survived to surrender," Anderson continued. "Needless to say, pretty much everyone warmed up to her after that."
"Soon after that was the Burns incident, right?" Singh asked.
"Yes."
"I only have heard about the end result. What exactly happened?" Vargas asked.
"Some L2 biotics took Chairman Burns and his family hostage since he personally had been stonewalling their requests for reparations. The Chicago was the closest ship and was sent to deal with it, but Shepard jumps in and asks to negotiate. She goes in there by herself, talks with the biotics for a while, and ends the entire incident without bloodshed. Not a single shot fired by anyone. Burns and his family return unharmed, and the biotics got their reparations rather quickly from a rather glad-to-be-alive Burns. The biotics reintegrate into civilian life, and everyone goes away happy…well, if not happy, then at least not dead. Burns then used his considerable influence to get Shepard promoted to first lieutenant, only ten months after receiving her commission, instead of the normal two years."
"She also got a nice shiny medal for preventing a very bloody, very public, incident," Moshodi stated.
"That rapid promotion and the DSC ruffled a few feathers, though," Turner added.
Anderson nodded yet again, just realizing he had been doing an awful lot of that the past few minutes. "Two months after the Burns incident, she's taking shore leave on Elysium after the Chicago went in for repairs after blowing a PPU. And the whole galaxy knows the rest." He then continued to describe the rest of her very distinguished career, and the discussion about Shepard truly began in earnest. Every posting she had, every mission she had undertaken, her psych profile, her personal life. Nothing about Shepard was off limits. Or so they all thought...
After the discussion finished, Hackett asked, "Any last comments?"
"I don't think she should be on the short list," Moshodi said with a stern look and a shake of his head. Given the looks on the seven other faces in the room, an observer would be forgiven if they thought that the admiral had just said "I just sold all the Alliance secrets to the batarians." Moshodi could not keep a nearly ear to ear grin off his face. "You should have seen your faces when I said that!" he exclaimed as he laughed heartily. "Figured that would wake everybody up, given we've been doing this for over sixteen hours. Shepard's on the short list. The short, short list. She was the last one, right?"
"Yes," Vargas replied.
The eight senior military personnel then began to discuss the downselected candidates, highlighting strengths and weaknesses for each.
Another two more hours of conversation followed before Hackett ended it. "Let's table the rest of the discussion for now. Head back to the hotel before it gets light outside. We're all tired, and we need a break before we continue further. Sleep on your thoughts for a few hours, and we'll meet back here at 1200 Lima." Heads nodded around the table, and this time it was from agreement rather than fatigue.
They spent several minutes securing the computers and the room before leaving. Captain Anderson was the last out, and he turned to speak to the servicewoman who had been taking care of them during their endless discussions. "Servicewoman, we'll be back at 1200 Lima."
"Okay sir," she replied quickly. "I'll have lunch ready by then, sir."
Anderson nodded tiredly as he walked towards the elevator, grateful that their small hotel resided on this Alliance base. He met up with three of the other members of the cabal, and the four took an automated cab to their hotel. The short trip passed in silence.
Anderson went immediately to his room, and he barely waited for the door to close to change out of his uniform. He flipped on a news broadcast, listening as the reporter worked through the headlines of the day. He found his interest piqued as he caught the end of a report that two STG teams operating near the Perseus Veil had disappeared. He wondered how the media got a hold of that information this time. The salarian STG, as any intelligence organization would, refused to comment, going with the standard "we do not comment on intelligence activities." Alliance intel would often hear about such events, either from their own sources or directly from the salarian government itself.
The captain's tired mind nevertheless focused for a minute on the STG teams. Having one drop out of contact was rare enough, but to have two was incredibly unusual. Probably how the media found out about it – it was so unusual that someone probably mentioned it in a setting that they shouldn't have. Governments use secure rooms for a reason, something that the politicians often forget, he thought. Normally he would have been briefed on the details, but their sequestration today had prevented discussion of any other topics. Both a good and bad thing, the captain thought.
The topic on the news broadcast soon switched to one that was rather relevant to his cabal's discussions. Now the anchorwoman briefly discussed the very recent promotion of one Staff Lieutenant Layla Shepard. The anchorwoman stated some of her previous roles, and the fact she was younger than usual for the promotion. After today's discussions, and what would result this coming evening, Anderson felt a pang of guilt at the mention of her name. The newsie speculated on just what she had been doing for a period of time when she hadn't made any public appearances or participated in recruitment efforts.
Anderson went to bed a couple minutes later, setting the alarm for later today. Despite the fatigue from a day replete with weighty discussions, it took him a while to fall asleep, as his mind kept drifting back to a single topic. And, as usual when dwelling on this topic, his guilt and conscience tore at him.
But Hackett and he had that issue covered. And everything would be finalized tomorrow. The lieutenant commander would be selected as the first human Spectre candidate.
Captain David Anderson returned early the next afternoon, feeling surprisingly refreshed after just over six hours of sleep. The fatigue would certainly hit tomorrow, he knew. He availed himself of the chicken and vegetables that had been already been laid out on the table, quickly eating as the rest of the "cabal" entered.
"Let's get back to work," Hackett said. "We've had a few hours to rest and think about these candidates on the short list. Now, we need to make a final decision."
The cabal discussed the candidates, their rating criteria, and the scores of each candidate. Seven more hours of discussion and debate followed, punctuated only by more takeout delivered to the room by the servicewoman. When they had finished their rankings, two candidates had nearly identical scores at the top of the list, with a third not too far behind, and a fourth just a couple points behind the third.
Hackett and Anderson had expected this, and the senior admiral subtly leaned the cabal towards their own preferred candidate.
Nearly eight hours after they had convened for the day, the decision had been made.
Servicewoman Nelson saw Admiral Moshodi leave the secure room. He told Nelson to prepare transfer paperwork for a lieutenant commander, on the orders of Admiral Hackett. The lieutenant commander was to report as the XO of the SSV Normandy. The E-3 immediately complied, while the admiral quickly walked to a comm room. Upon entering, he immediately placed a call.
The seven members of the cabal remaining in the room mostly felt relief at the fact the decision had finally been made, but the fatigue from just a few hours of sleep in the morning began to hit each member, though a few jokes and barbs began to get exchanged amongst the senior military personnel.
"This selection process and candidacy has to be the most ridiculous thing that has ever been kept secret," Vargas said.
"Ha ha! You'd be surprised," Singh said with a laugh and shake of his head.
"Clearly you've been in PAO for most of your career," Fourier replied with a chuckle of his own, which earned him a theatric glare from the dark haired captain.
"The ambassador's been talking about this publicly for years," Turner added.
Anderson's thoughts did not keep returning to Shepard's military career, which they had discussed at length today. Rather, his mind kept flashing back to the terrified sixteen year old girl he found shuddering on Mindoir –
Hearing his name pulled him out of his thoughts. "David, I take it you won't be able to tell the L-C – and soon to be your XO – about the candidacy?" Turner asked.
Anderson snorted. "Not at thing. Our turian guest will get to break the news. I'm supposed to say something to the effect of 'don't speculate on such matters,'" he finished with a roll of his eyes.
"A hundred credits on the L-C figuring it out," Fourier said quickly.
Unsurprisingly, no takers emerged for the wager. "I wouldn't even take that wager for one credit. Sure, it's just one credit, but why pointlessly lose a credit?" Koga replied.
The door to the room opened, and Moshodi re-entered much quicker than expected. Captain Anderson immediately knew something had gone very wrong. The admiral possessed an ashen look on his face, and the captain felt a mass of dread materialize in his own stomach. Anderson's mind instantly shifted into overdrive, running through all possible reasons for Moshodi's pallor. None of those reasons were good.
"What's wrong?" Hackett asked immediately on seeing Moshodi's face.
Moshodi took a deep breath before speaking. "Fleet Admiral Hackett," Moshodi began formally, and the use of rank triggered even more alarm bells in Anderson's head. The cabal had left rank at the door the morning before, operating very informally for all of their discussions. "Is there any way we could delay the selection of the first human Spectre candidate?"
There was a chorus of surprised words and phrases from everyone in the cabal, intermixed with several profanities in several different languages. "What happened?" Hackett asked loudly as he held up a raised hand after a moment, quickly silencing all other voices in the room.
"The lieutenant commander was critically wounded in an operation in the Traverse," Moshodi responded gravely, then spent thirty seconds describing the injuries. "It will take close to three weeks for all of the damage to be repaired and get through traction , then several more weeks to get back to a pre-injury state and be cleared for combat."
"The embassy was clear; we cannot even have a twenty four hour delay. A two month delay is a non starter. The Council Spectre will be here in five days now, and he needs the dossier tomorrow. And the candidate needs to have three days of sims under their belt," Koga stated.
"Plus there's a chance the Normandy might be needed to assist with those prothean ruins they just dug up on Eden Prime, too," Fourier added.
The room broke out into a heated debate, while Hackett and Anderson said nothing. The two of them had accounted for everything: every possibility, every question – everything but shitty luck. Fate, it seemed, was a fickle mistress. Or a bitch, Anderson thought.
The admiral and captain met each other's eyes, their gazes again almost conveying their thoughts. After several seconds of staring at each other, Anderson nodded imperceptibly, closing his eyes with a barely noticeable wince.
Hackett closed his eyes for several seconds, took a deep breath, and stood. "The embassy will not allow a delay for the lieutenant commander to recover. We have to have a candidate now to get them transferred to the Normandy. Brad Walters was our first pick for a human Spectre, but he will be out of action for the next two months. Our candidate needs to have at least two days of sims under their belt as XO of the Normandy in just four days. We have to move on to our second pick. Layla Shepard." He tapped a couple buttons on the display screen at his seat, and the dossier for the newly promoted O-4 appeared on the screen.
"I'm still concerned about her rapid promotions. She's too inexperienced for an O-4," Turner stated.
"And I'm still worried about investigations into her biotics. She's an L2, and that can of worms along with what happened at BAAT is something that will reflect poorly on the Alliance if it ever becomes public. Especially with our ever-increasing influence with the Council," Koga said.
The man was entirely correct in being concerned about investigations into her, of course, but for entirely the wrong reasons. Anderson didn't bother glancing over at Hackett in response to the comment.
"Agreed. We must be very proactive at silencing any investigations about her," Singh stated.
Nods appeared around the table. That was easy, Anderson thought.
"With regards to our scoring, Walters didn't beat Shepard out by that much. This isn't a downgrade in terms of ability," Moshodi said as he brought up their scoring list again. "Since she'll be operating as XO for the time being, we didn't place high weight on prior command of a vessel. Change that one weight," he quickly typed in a few inputs into the screen, "and look who comes out on top. In fact, due to her biotics, her asskicking multiplier is higher than anyone else on the list, by a fair amount."
The moment of levity brought a couple quick chuckles and snorts of amusement from the assembled cabal. "Maybe we should have made that the category name instead. 'Asskicking multiplier,'" Singh said dryly.
"She'd certainly be at the top of that category of our candidates," Koga chuckled.
"Shepard already has a very public presence. Mindoir and her L2 implant had never come up after Elysium, and even if they did, I don't think they'll be much of an issue. Hell, she's the reason opinion of human biotics isn't so negative anymore," Singh said.
"She's familiar to the public, so making her first doesn't hurt at all. She's used to the ceremony, right David?" Vargas asked.
Anderson nodded in confirmation. "She's used to it, though she doesn't like it in the least. She doesn't like being in the limelight. But…she'll do it."
"The discrimination pretty much stopped after Elysium," Singh said.
"Probably because everyone is too scared to bully biotics now," Moshodi interjected, resulting in amused snorts from around the room.
"Indeed," Koga said. "No one wants to end up as a red smear on the pavement."
The cabal continued to discuss the suddenly new frontrunner to be the first human Spectre, and the decision was finalized twenty minutes later. While it hadn't worked out quite as expected, everyone left satisfied with the final decision.
After nearly ten hours of discussion for the day, the cabal began to depart. However, Captain Anderson elected to stay. "I'm going to clean up the room a bit. You all can head back."
"I'll help," Hackett added after a couple moments. The two of them began to clean up the datapads that lay strewn around and toss out the food containers. The other six members of their cabal left the room, presumably to go catch up on sleep. All were tired enough to not give much of a second thought why the two men would remain behind.
Anderson waited until the door to the vestibule had closed and sealed to speak, leaving only him and Hackett remaining in the room. "Goddamnit Steven, now that she is a Spectre candidate we have to tell her!" he practically shouted as he pounded his fists on the table.
"You don't think I want to, David!?" Hackett shot back.
"She deserves to know the truth!" the captain reiterated forcefully.
"She wasn't even supposed to be the candidate. And this wouldn't even be an issue except for some inordinately shitty luck on an operation in the Traverse. We couldn't just throw her name out of the hat. Everyone would start to wonder why she didn't make the short list. Then they would start asking questions."
"The media will start asking more questions about her anyway," the captain replied.
"The media will ask more questions, not senior Alliance personnel with influence and access. A key difference," the admiral clarified.
"We have to do something to get her out of the position," Anderson stated.
"We can't get her out into the Traverse and out of contact fast enough to escape the timeframe – they're setting up the transfer now. There's only one thing that would prevent her candidacy: an injury sustained in an 'accident', and I will never agree to that."
"No. Never," came the cold response from the captain.
"Nothing is technically fully settled yet. Parliament still wants to sell off on our pick, anyway. And we still can pick a different candidate if she struggles with the sims. We can always pick Alenko if that happens – he won't need to run many sims with the crew to play catch up," Hackett responded.
"Layla just has to pass three days of drills as acting CO. Anyone with minimal knowledge of ship tactics can pass with that crew, and she has far more than minimal knowledge. She'll pass the drills with flying colors," the captain replied, pausing for several moments before continuing quietly. "And she'll pass the Spectre's evaluation too. She'll be the first human Spectre."
"I know." The admiral continued in a quiet tone as he shook his head slowly. "I know. She does deserve to know, but we can't tell her." He paused for a few moments, searching for the right words but failing to find them. "We're protecting her," he said finally.
"Is it for her protection? Or our own?" the captain replied.
Anderson's words cut through the room. The fleet admiral didn't respond for nearly half a minute, keeping the room in utter silence. Hackett finally closed his eyes, slowly walking towards the door, stopping next to Anderson. "Make sure the Normandy is ready," Hackett said, then he left the room, leaving Anderson alone with his thoughts.
The captain didn't move for nearly a minute after the admiral left, the only sound in the room being the captain's slow breathing. Then Anderson slowly stood and departed, muttering a barely audible curse.
A/N: As lampshaded by one of the admirals, Shepard is a video game character. More accurately, the player character. As a result, they have to be able to rack up an impressive number of kills, so this particular Shepard is a very powerful biotic.
And this chapter sets up a few things that will most certainly not at all become important later.