The Vila – 03 March, 2176, 1902 hours
In a rare bit of downtime, Shepard sat on her cot and pulled out portable comm device. For the first time in nearly a month, it was quiet, only the hushed sounds of a few conversations, the folding of laundry and the polishing of boots to serve as any distraction. All of her duties were finished for the night and she knew it was time to call home. Claire bit her lip as she flipped up the monitor and her finger went hesitantly to the speed dial menu. She took a couple of deep breaths to steel her courage and she finally scrolled down to the number for her father's office. She wasn't really sure what the problem was or why she was nervous. After all, she was doing well at ICT and would soon swing by the score board to check on the latest contests. For nearly a month now though, she had stood on her own…really on her own and she was beginning to find a taste for it. For the first time in her life, no one was calling principals to get her out of trouble, no one was paying for the best tutors or the best coaches, no one was guiding her success for the family honor. If she passed or if she failed, it was on her.
Realizing that her trepidation was pure nonsense, Shepard stabbed the touchscreen and the symbol of the Systems Alliance appeared. There was a moment of indecision and she reached for the disconnect button, but the image of her father replaced the symbol. His gold admiral's epaulettes on his blue uniform reflected the overhead lights. Gold trim and cord adorned his double breasted coat. He was the picture of martial perfection. As he would to a subordinate, his gray eyes showed no emotion as he nodded a curt greeting.
"It's about time, Claire." The voice was strong and stern as always. Nothing had changed in twenty years.
Her cheeks flushed hot and she broke eye contact. "I'm sorry, sir. This is the first down time I've had since arriving. It's quite…it's quite busy." She was embarrassed at having to make excuses for doing her job, but she could do nothing else with him.
"Hmmm, I can imagine. I trust you are excelling at your training?" This was not truly a question.
"I am, sir. I was going to take a look at The Board later this evening before lights out." She kept her answers short and to the point. No sense inviting further scrutiny.
"I've run some of the numbers. It looks like your competition is quite fierce, but you're a Shepard."
As the Director of Alliance Intelligence, she knew he had examined the character, wit and spleen of every trainee here, as the Duke of Wellington would say. "Yes, there are many…excellent people here."
"You do understand that you will be the first ICT graduate in the family, yes?"
"I do."
"And you also understand that bringing home the honor graduate will open many doors for you, yes?"
She allowed herself a stray thought. Open doors for which of us? "I do, sir."
"Very good. Carry on." The screen went dark.
She mouthed goodbye to the blank monitor and then closed the device. It was the same ending to a hundred conversations. She thought about calling her mother, but it would only be seen as whining by the Director. She willed herself to envision a time when their relationship could even be construed as normal and she could see him, years ago, carrying her in his arms as they walked across fields named in the history of mankind: Waterloo, Kursk, Gettysburg, Towton and dozens of others. The history of the Shepards was reflected in the history of the great nations, he told her. One day, she would carry this sacred mantle, he would say with a fatherly smile. What had happened since then?
Claire put the vision away in her foot locker along with her comm device. She turned to see Amanda watching her from the next cot. The marine had likely heard everything and her expression was not one of scorn or derision, but one of pity. No one looked down at a Shepard and she did not need anyone's pity. Without a word, Claire got up and left the barracks. It was time see who was leading the pack.
After a short walk, Shepard looked at The Board, studying the latest scores for N Class 76-06. There were only Forty Two left and even the women's barracks were getting pretty scarce with Fourteen trainees. They could now spread out, having a bit more space and privacy, which was a welcome thing. She ran her finger down several of the monitors, seeing that she was still the top marksman, tops in academics and second in all of the physical training scores. "It pays to be a winner," she said to herself, repeating the mantra that her father had drilled into her since before she went to school. Her father's shadow had always been cast over the family, blotting out her kinder, gentler mother. Somehow, his words seemed a little hollow now. John Michael Shepard had never been to ICT. He was a man of power, privilege and intelligence…but he had never been to ICT.
"Don't worry, you're still up at the top," a man said. It was Adam. "You sure came prepared for this course. Me, I'm just trying to survive." He rubbed his right shoulder, wincing at the very touch.
Initially irritated at the interruption, Shepard took a breath and then relaxed. "No, you're doing fine, Adam. You've come a long way." Her voice sounded mechanical and the encouragement forced and she knew it. The edge of disdain was clear – he was only here because she had taken some of her valuable time to save him form being Boarded.
Still, the young man seemed to take it graciously. "Thanks. I…uhhh, I appreciate you helping me out on the range this past month. I was never a great marksman."
"So, why did you try out? I mean, you could've just stayed where you were."
"My dad was a veteran. He served under Grissom in the First Contact War. Helped liberate Shanxi. I got a lot of pressure riding on me. I want to…I really want to do something to make them proud."
Shepard snorted out a chuckle.
LaRosa cocked his head, seemingly insulted. "Pardon me, was that funny?"
"No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate that your family was funny. I just…I just can identify. My mother is the XO on a dreadnaught and my father…he's the Director of Alliance Intelligence."
"Whoa…wow, yeah, that is a ton of pressure."
A cynical laugh escaped her. "It pays to be a winner. It's what my dad always said. It pays to be a winner."
"I'm beginning to see why-" Adam began, but stopped short.
"Why? Why what?"
He looked away. He had stepped into a minefield. "Uh, nothing. Nevermind."
"No, you started it. You have to tell me." She was never one to fail at an objective and she wouldn't start now. See the hill, take the hill.
He sighed. It was obvious that he knew that she wasn't going to like it. "Why you are the way you are," he said and then walked away before she could form another question.
She watched him go, wanting him to clarify that statement, but afraid of what he might say. For years, the only opinion she cared about was that of her parents. According to her dad, everyone else could go to hell. Still, LaRosa's thoughts mattered to her and she wondered why she had helped him out this past month. It was of no benefit to her in her pursuit of glory. It must surely have been the sleep deprivation that they were all suffering. She grunted sourly and turned her eyes back to The Board and what really mattered. "I can catch Shan on the longer runs and that should put me ahead of him on the PT scores. I'll have to best him in the individual combatives too. I'm going to win this one."
The whole thing was within her grasp. There were two months to go, but she could feel herself gaining on Shan. That blockhead would never rival her in academics. It could be done. It would be done. She turned to head back to the barracks, but she stopped and glanced further down The Board. Up until now, anyone behind her didn't matter so why waste the time? Her finger stopped several places below hers and she saw that both Richardson and LaRosa weren't too far behind. For a moment, she felt like a fool for helping him out. Just as she began rethinking her charity the sound of automatic gunfire rang out and Claire's eye shot wide open.
"What the…." How were they under attack? Earth was supposedly quite safe. An explosion rocked the area and a gout of flame shot high into the night air. She inhaled deeply, feeling the heat and wind on her face. For a moment, she was frozen with confusion.
"You there!" someone shouted, "Yeah, you with your thumb up your ass!" It was one of the cadre, Grimaldi. "Get over here and get with your group!" A crate exploded behind him, casting a devilish glow around his dark form as yellows and oranges blossomed behind him. "Are you stupid? Get moving!"
Shepard blew out a sigh of relief. This was part of the training. She sprinted past him to the barracks where she saw complete chaos. Instructors were screaming as some trainees pumped out pushups, some lay on their backs in the mud, lifting their legs in the air, still others swung from obstacles, clinging to rings and rungs. Hartmann, in the middle of the chaos, wheeled around to face Shepard. "What are you doing? Maybe you'd like a little tiara, princess? Get the fuck down in the mud and join your team!"
Shepard ran to find a spot on the wet ground, passing Amanda, whose face was straining with every leg lift and was shouting, "More PT, sir, more PT!" Claire landed with a splash next to Amanda and began flutter kicking her legs in the air. Yelling, screaming and gunfire filled her ears to the point where she couldn't even hear herself think.
"You think this is bad?" Hartmann shouted. "Wait till you go to war! You will think this is a party once you meet the turians and batarians in battle!"
With only flashlight beams and the light from explosions to see by, Claire could barely tell who was around her. Hartmann's voice sounded above the din. "Get up by squad and sound off!"
Where the heck was everyone? Bodies ran too and fro, nearly witless. Someone grabbed her – it was Amanda. "Stick together. Find LaRosa and Schott, I'll grab Kim and Androv. Then, we'll worry about the rest."
Shepard jumped up to scan the stampede. She was a tall woman so she picked out her two teammates right away and waved them over. Amanda grabbed the other two and they quickly built up to their team of eight and did a head count. "All present and accounted for!" Shepard called.
The cadre swooped down on them and threw blindfolds over their eyes and tied their hands behind their backs. They were then hustled over to a platform where the sound of a shuttle's engine hummed. "Someone will help you on board. Then, sit down and shut up! No talking!"
Hands grabbed them roughly and hauled them into the shuttle. A moment later, the engines increased in pitch and the sensation of flying took over. The desire to question nearly overwhelmed Shepard and she took a deep breath to speak, but her thought was cut short as if someone had read her mind.
"Any trainee who speaks," Hartmann said coldly, "I'll throw their ass out of my shuttle personally. What, no takers?"
In a few minutes, the engine noise quieted and they seemed to be hovering. Below, they could hear the sound of crashing waves. Shepard's breath quickened. What on earth were they doing?
"All right! Step up. Step up to the door! Follow my voice!"
There was sound and movement as the trainees stood. "LaRosa, good," Hartmann said. "Now get the fuck out of my shuttle." There was the sound of a boot kicking someone in the ass, a scream and then the sound of something hitting the cold dark ocean.
A horrible cold prickly grew in Shepard's gut. It could be argued that she was one of the strongest and fastest human beings alive today, but this…this was insane.
"Next!"
Someone moved forward. "Richardson, get the fuck out of my shuttle!" A boot, then a splash.
"Next!"
There was thrashing next to Shepard. "No! No! Leave me alone!" It sounded like Schott. "I can't do this!"
"There are only two ways off this shuttle. Out the door…or ring the bell!"
There were gasping breaths and a pained grunt. "I'll ring the bell. I'll ring the bell." All became quiet as someone snipped the restraints from Shott's hands.
"All right, son. Take off your blindfold and go to the back and sit down. We'll get you a hot meal and a warm bed. You'll be going home tonight."
Someone grabbed Shepard by the strap of her tank top and pulled her forward. "And what about you, golden girl? You want a hot meal too? I can arrange that."
It was as if someone were sitting on her chest. She fought to stop shivering and stop her teeth from chattering. She was so cold. And what the hell was down there? What the hell were they jumping into? For a moment, she envisioned a bowl of hot soup and then her mother's forgiving face. Mom would understand. Father though…she couldn't face father. "I'm going! Show me the way!"
"Good on you! Now get the fuck off my shuttle!" She took a boot to the ass and the feeling of falling took over. Terror ran through every fiber of her being for a moment until she hit the water. She pumped her legs, propelling herself back up, her head breaking the surface. She took a deep gulp of air as another splash sounded nearby. Which way should she go? Ocean spray pummeled her as surge lifted her over a crest.
"Over here! Over here!" she heard LaRosa shout over the pounding of the waves. She kicked her legs in that direction, meeting some of the others enroute.
"Which way do we go?" she asked, trying to keep her mouth above water.
A wave crashed over them and they kicked back to the surface. "This way!" LaRosa called. "The waves are going this way to the shore." They kicked for all they were worth. Timing the waves, they barreled into the sand, scrambling and crawling up the shore until the waves could pound them no more. Shepard lay there, sand in every orifice, spitting grains out of her mouth. She heard coughing all around her along with groaning. Someone yanked her up and snipped off the restraints.
"Take off your blindfold."
She removed the bindings over her eyes to see the other trainees doing the same. Several of the cadre stood nearby along with a crate and a machete stuck in the sand.
Hartmann turned his flashlight in her eyes and she winced, holding her hands over her face. "You made it. The ocean is without mercy and so am I, but you made it. Now welcome to the suck. See you back at the Vila," he said and turned to go, waving the other cadre along.
"Wait," Shepard said. "What's going to happen?"
He turned back with a smirk. "Who knows? You must adapt. You must thrive no matter the situation. Any true cadre will." In the blink of an eye, he and the other instructors faded into the forest like ghosts, the light from their flashlights dimming into darkness.
Shepard's teeth were chattering like jackhammers as she felt around for the others. There were seven. "Schott rang the bell," she told the team. She heard the sound of the crate opening and the crack of plastic. A dim green glow illuminated LaRosa's face.
"Glow sticks," he said as he dug into the crate. "Maybe a couple dozen more. Compass, map, a bag of trail mix…rope…some pocket knives and a first aid kit. We have no idea how far it is back to the Vila." He pulled out the map and put the compass on it. "I think we go this way," he said, pointing off in the distance.
Claire peered over his shoulder. "That looks about right. Let's get going."
"Whoa, wait up," Amanda said. "This may be about a week's trek. We'll burn through those glow sticks in one night. We should wait until morning."
LaRosa nodded. "Yeah, let's use this stick to dig some shelter and gather our resources. We'll hunker down until morning."
Claire felt a tinge of anger at having been overridden. Damn cowards. She would have argued but for the gnawing hunger in her stomach. That swim took everything out of her. If she could only have a bit of that trail mix. Soon, that genetic superiority would become a liability.
CODEX:
Boarded – Washed out of the training by the cadre