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CHAPTER 6
12-10-2183
[ SERPENT NEBULA | CITADEL | PRESIDIUM ]
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Sparatus leaned into the table and shook his head. "I'm done, Mr. Anderson. Done."
"Done? I don't understand."
"Done." Sparatus repeated. Heedless of the icy glares he was receiving from his fellow councilors, he left the table and made his way to the door.
Before the turian could open the door and leave, Anderson stood up from his chair and pointed accusingly at Sparatus.
"After all they've done...? After all the sacrifices they've made? And after saving you at the cost of hundreds of lives? This is the very best you can offer?"
Sparatus took a breath, held it, and turned around to face Anderson.
"You need to listen to what I've repeated for the last dozen times." Sparatus answered, "You want an extra fleet to find him. I understand that. And my answer is no. Because the decision is above me. Every council fleet has been recalled to their respective systems for protection of strategically significant worlds and stations to prevent another attack like the one the Citadel had sustained."
"You need to convince someone otherwise!" Anderson said, "Please!"
"I tried, damnit," Sparatus growled, "But the Primarch is concerned far more greatly of turian assets over human ones. Be it the people who saved the very center of galactic civilization or not."
Sparatus hung his head and gave Anderson a sympathetic look. "Your best bet for help was the turians, I'm afraid. I'm sorry." Sparatus said in a low voice before giving both Tevos and Valern a glare, "These two will be less understanding than I am. Go ahead. Ask them."
Anderson's stare lingered for a moment longer to Sparatus before turning to Valern.
"The salarians still owe us for Virmire." Anderson said in a hollow voice, "The STG team there wouldn't have been alive if not for the Alliance."
"The risks were understood when STG arrived on Virmire, Captain. You may have saved them, yes. But the SU was anticipating the loss of Kirrahe's team and had prepared accordingly."
Anderson sat back down with disbelief in his eyes.
"And what's your reason, ma'am." He said to Tevos warily.
Tevos opened her mouth to say something, but let her words hang for a moment. "We—cannot fund an emergency search party for the Commander and his team. Budgeting a fleet costs billions every day. And investing the time and economy of an entire fleet to search for one frigate is not sensible for the same reason we did not send a fleet to find Saren."
"They saved you." Anderson said sadly.
"…I'm sorry, Captain... but if you cannot see reason, then this adjourns our meeting." Tevos ended quietly.
Somberly, Sparatus shook his head and finally exited the door, followed closely by Tevos and Valern.
Anderson was left alone again.
And with nothing to show for it.
"God. Damnit."
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Whiskey was a great way to lose yourself.
Made you forget about your problems.
Or at the very least, didn't make them as big as they really were.
And if you woke up late in the morning with some horrendous hangover?
More whiskey.
It was man's answer to all the problems you couldn't escape.
Political ones.
Interpersonal ones.
Emotional ones.
Anderson was drinking for all three of those reasons. He poured himself another glass and boozed away.
He was done thinking right now.
He'd done everything he could for the night.
But, as his head lulled and lay against the glass table in his home, he couldn't help but think of the Normandy and Shepard again before giving a groggy groan.
He poured himself another glass and stared at the amber looking liquid for a long while. When time allowed, he took a deep swig and finished it all in one swallow.
Here he was with a plague of worries to hover around him.
He didn't know how good people with a career in politics could keep up with the stuff he'd been dealing with the last two weeks. It was all absolutely mind-numbingly painful how slow progress would creep around these parts. All of it around bean counting and toe stepping.
But it wasn't all bad, he supposed.
Hackett had willingly assigned two of his task groups to search for Shepard and his team. But as he'd been reminded, the Alliance fleets had the same duties to take care of the turian ones did. Or the salarian. Or asari.
And even though Anderson knew it pained Hackett to say it, the safety net the Alliance government wanted over their skies was more important than finding one ship. Be it the people who'd saved galactic civilization or not (As Sparatus had repeated in his own words).
Anderson felt his eyes grow heavy.
It wasn't long until he dozed off and started dreaming.
A month ago, Anderson never really remembered his dreams. Never even really remembered dreaming of anything, really.
But now...?
Now he remembered them every night.
Relived them, truth be told.
His mind would play through his memories of the Citadel raid. Remembered the death. Remembered the slaughter.
And in spite of all of that, his dream would always be about that small little quarian girl that'd tagged along with him those fateful hours.
It was odd, he knew.
Odd indeed.
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A little over a month ago.
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11-03-2183
[ SERPENT NEBULA | CITADEL | TAYSERI WARD | ALLIANCE PRISON COMPLEX 1-B | LOW-LEVEL CELL BLOCK 2 ]
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House arrest.
Anderson sighed as he watched the guards stand at the frame of his door. They paid him no mind, nor heed of his existence. They stood at attention, both handling rifles to deter him from even considering the possibility of escape.
Not that he would.
What good what that do other than further ruin his career in the Alliance?
He sighed and mentally went over the basic itinerary of his soon to be delayed speedy trial.
Just off the top of his head, Anderson could pick some of the crimes he'd probably be pinned with.
Assault.
Mutiny.
Insubordination.
Direct negligence of given orders.
Noncompliance of Alliance officer duties.
Aiding and abetting escape of detained individuals.
Treason even.
The list was long. And not for the slightest of seconds did he regret letting Shepard and his team escape to save the galaxy.
But when the minutes and heroic bravado died down, Anderson was still sitting on an uncomfortable cot with nothing better to do than stare at the two guards at his doorstep.
"Is it really necessary for you two to stand like that? Relax."
They said nothing.
He stared at the floor with a frown and decided to make some small talk with them, whether they would listen or not.
It's not like they had a choice in the matter. If anything, it'd distract them from having to stand at the position they'd been keeping up with for the past hour or so.
"I only say it because I know it isn't fun... I remember way back during boot, every time the company would ever make a mistake or fail inspection, our Drill Sergeant, (Drill Sergeant Jakoh, we'd call him Jackoff sometimes behind his back) would 'accidentally' leave us at attention since he was needed 'elsewhere'. Counted one time. Four hours was the longest. Then, when he would come back, he'd tell all of us we're all idiots for standing around before falling us out of formation. What a jack off."
He smirked pathetically at his own poorly made pun.
"He still does it sir." Admitted his guard with the name of Powell.
"No kidding?" He shook his head at how seemingly small the galaxy was and smiled, "You had Drill Sergeant Jakoh too?"
"Yes sir."
"Hmph. Good times those were."
Anderson sighed and his expression turned bitter again. "...I wish you knew the gravity of what's at stake here, gentlemen. You'll see soon enough. Be absolutely ready when it does."
By some sick set of chance, Anderson's words had been on cue. A tremor rumbled across the floor. And judging by the sound alone, it felt like it had run along the entire length of the Citadel's arms.
"...What the hell was that?" Terrance, his second guard, fumbled for his radio.
"Hey, this is Terrance, Cell block two for detainee 1B. We felt and heard some pretty violent sounding tremors. Requesting status on field perimeter, over."
Terrance didn't get a reply. But his radio started making a loud whine before voicing orders that didn't sound all that good.
"THIS IS A PRIORITY ALERT BROADCASTING TO ALL CHANNELS. EMERGENCY FORMATION OF ALL STATION MILITARIES AND SECURITIES TO REPORT TO SUPERIORS FOR IMMEDIATE REPELLING OF STATION BORDERS. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. DEFENSE CONDITION ONE. I REPEAT. DEFENSE CONDITION ONE."
Anderson felt his face grow extraordinarily pale. Calling the Citadel under defense condition one was bad.
Really Bad.
Calling that condition meant Citadel forces would only be prolonging what would be the total seizure of the station. It meant the enemy outnumbered them five to one.
Whoever called it meant a lot of people weren't going to come out of this alive. Or at all for that matter.
Shepard and his team needed to hurry.
Or there wouldn't be a galaxy left to save anymore.
The message on the radio was immediately replaced by an Alliance one.
"Break Break, This is main station-1 to all Alliance personnel within Alliance control: You are hereby ordered to aide immediate support efforts to your local vicinity. Prepare evacuation of any and all civilians to underground bunkers. Citadel Security forces will supersede Alliance orders outside Alliance embassy and jurisdiction. Over."
"This is Charlie-1 go for all fire teams to group station-1; requesting SITREP on situation and ROE, over."
"Group station one to alpha-1, opposition confirmed to be geth. Repeat. The enemy is confirmed to be geth. They're engaging in a deliberate attack against station. ROE is to fire on sight. Limit collateral damage if at all possible. Battalion sized engagements across entire station. Do-copy, over."
"Acknowledged. That's a problem, over."
"We'll all do our best, alpha-1. Make it count. Out."
The three in Anderson's cell listened silently with deadpanned expression on all their faces.
"Oh fuck." Terrance murmured, "What the hell do we do?"
"Do what we we're ordered to," Powell murmured, "Help."
"What about the Captain?"
"As far as I'm concerned, the captain was right about the geth. We're not going to get docked for letting one of our own go in the midst of a cluster fuck right now."
Powell faced Anderson and gave him a nod. "Let's go, sir. We've got to head to the embassy."
Anderson stood up. "I'll follow you."
They all exit out the cell and start running down the hallway that would lead them outside.
When they finally ran through the door, the first thing they came across was total chaos.
Hundreds of civilians running and screaming while soldiers and police attempt to hurry them to safety.
Within seconds, Anderson lost sight of both his guards from all the violent shoving and pushing.
In the midst of it all, a small quarian girl crashed into him and sent them both to the floor.
"Ah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! What's going on?!"
"The Geth!" Anderson tried to scream as he pointed to the sky, "They're here and they're attacking!"
When they both got back up, she looked, and to the quarian's horror, saw geth soldiers dispersing from a dropships to the buildings above.
Then they fired into the crowds without discretion; turning the street into a deadly crossfire.
Many fell as they ran. The yelling and shouting turned to screams of pure panic.
Anderson was knocked down again by a large burly woman who hadn't had the time to say sorry (For completely understandable reasons) and ran off without so much as a shout.
The quarian helped him back up as quickly as she could. "Keelah..."
"Come on! We have to go! NOW!" He screamed to her before grabbing her hand and pulling her with him toward the closest building he could find.
Anderson charged through a door, ushered the quarian following him in, and slammed it shut.
"Okay..." Anderson said breathlessly as he turned around to face her, "We need to find a duct. Get underground, and get to the Alliance embassy. We'll be safer there."
"Ornah. Mi tohl stah." She said with a nod.
Anderson frowned and felt for his ear.
No translator.
Must've fallen out of his ear when he was tackled by that lady when they were still outside. Which, under normal circumstances, wouldn't have been an issue if he still had his omni-tool.
"Damnit... My translator's gone and my omni-tool's back at my... uh— room."
"Stah sefam chidah'mi?" She asked to make sure.
"Uh..."
"Nas'amra," She said with the shake of her head, "Stah sefam chidah. Ji'eem."
He turned on his heel and started walking.
"Right. This way. Let's go."
They both start walking.
"What's your name?" Anderson decided to ask as they found stairs to walk down.
"Nabi'Adda nar Somma."
"My name's Anderson. David Anderson. So you can still understand me?"
"Nay."
"No?"
"Lihda," Nabi said to correct him, "mi nikah sad'ah."
"...Okay. I'll take that as a yes."
They come to end of the staircase and take a hallway. When they come to a bend, Anderson peeked the corner to make sure it was clear before waving for her to keep close.
"Look. We're close to—"
The sound of hydraulic footsteps sound from somewhere close by.
The geth were in the building.
"Shit... they're inside. We can avoid them if we hurry, Nabi." Anderson murmured before they both quietly start running down the hallway.
"Nas'armra pri'el'saa stah." She said quietly to remind him she was close.
"There's a service duct right around the corner." Anderson pointed to a sign that said just that, "We have to be quick."
"Keelah Anderson, durha stah yana weh'ins?" She asked.
"Nabi... I—I can't understand you."
"Jiy'eem..." She apologized as put her hand up to her face, "mi tu'ish forhdah'ieel."
They continue in silence until they get to the service grate.
"Fantastic. Come on. We need to hurry." He bent down to lift the gate to let her jump down, "Jump in... it's heavy."
"Oh... Keelah." Bitterly, she sat at the edge and jumped in.
After he dropped in himself, he set down the metal plate back just the way it was before moving on.
They walk down the duct and turn another corner before abruptly stopping.
Nabi had to keep herself from gasping at the body on the floor and the blood she'd just stepped in.
"Shhh." Anderson whispered calmly, "It's okay..."
She felt tears coming and looked away from the dead soldier.
They were going to die here she thought solemnly.
"Anderson knelt by the body, closed the dead woman's eyes, and retrieved her rifle before pocketing some of her heat sinks. When he did so, her radio squawked.
"This is delta-six to all remaining Alliance forces ne̶͖͝ar the vicinity! Do not come to the embassy! We have been overrun! I rp̶̮͝è̴̟ãt̶̙̅,, Do NOT come to the emᴍ̶̷̸̲̲T⃫I⃫bassy!"
Shit. Embassy was a no go.
Anderson wiped the sweat off his brow.
Now what?
He took a deep breath and started thinking.
He took the dead soldier's sidearm and turned to Nabi.
"You know how to use one of these?"
She nodded. "Gali se."
He handed it to her before turning off the radio and clipping it to his belt.
"Alright," He said as he stood back up, "I think I've got an idea. It's a long shot, but there's a dock close by. Which means there should be ships we can use to FTL out of here."
"...Ornah." She nodded numbly as she graced the pistol in her hands with a distant stare, "Ornah." She repeated with a little more resolve.
Anderson pointed to the dead soldier. "If she died here, that means the geth are in the ducts too. We have to be careful."
All Nabi did was nod.
"Follow me."
Fortunately, the service ducts still had signs to guide them to where they needed to go.
They crossed what had to be nearly a dozen blocks before finally reaching the panel that would lead them to the docks.
As carefully as he could, Anderson slowly pushed the grate open, peeked around to make sure it was clear of anyone, and climbed out before helping Nabi through.
He didn't bother closing the duct.
"Where the hell is everyone?" Anderson murmured under his breath. He was expecting at least someone to be here.
"Sahjuma…" Nabi answered dreadfully before pointing with a shaky finger to the lines of dead bodies against the wall.
He followed the trace of her finger and felt his breath leave him. "Oh my god..."
He went to her and led her away from the line of bodies that'd been lined up against a wall and shot. "Hey. Listen. There's nothing we can do for them now. Get that ship over there ready and I'll keep you covered. Okay?"
"Ornah..."
"Good."
When she walked over to the computer to prep the ship, he circled back to the bodies, respectfully slipped off one of the omni-bracelets from a dead human c-sec officer, and turned it on.
"Nabi, you good?" He tested.
"Yes," She called out from across the room, "I'm getting it ready now."
Good. He could understand her again.
A sudden boom sounded from the dock and Anderson whipped around to see the magnetic clamps detaching from their ship.
The sound was going to attract attention.
"Anderson! Let's g—!"
The sounds of bullets hitting nearby cut her off.
She dove into the aerobridge that would lead into the ship to save herself from getting picked off.
The geth found them.
Anderson ducked behind an alcove, fired his gun to keep the six geth soldiers that'd just entered from moving in any further, and turned to Nabi.
"Nabi! Just go!"
"No!" She screamed, "I can cover you!"
"No! Absolutely not! I'll be fine Nabi! Get on the ship and leave!"
By god, Anderson wanted to. He wanted to gun it to the ship and fly off to safety with her.
But he was too far.
Nabi realized Anderson could understand her and she frowned even harder. "You can still make it! Please!"
He fired around the corner again until his gun was empty before giving her a piercing stare from across the room.
"Nabi. Go." He said before giving her a weak smile, "I'll be fine."
She swallowed his words with a tremor as she felt the seconds passing by slow to a crawl.
If she left him?
She'd be leaving a man to die.
A man who'd done more for her these past twenty minutes than anyone had in her entire life.
What was she supposed to say to that? How would she even live with herself?
"You don't have any time to think about this, Nabi!" He screamed as flecks of concrete fly around him, "You need to go! NOW! NOW, DAMNIT!"
He was right. There wasn't any time to think about it.
She gave him another fleeting look, offered to him a face of total guilt within the second she was allowed, and clenched a fist around her heart.
"...I'm sorry..." Nabi said as tears started to run down her face, "I'm so sorry... Keelah Se'lai."
And with that, she turned on her heel and ran down the aerobridge before entering the ship.
From the helm, she could see him still fighting the six or so geth. When he finished firing, he turned around and they locked eyes.
"Go." He mouthed as the geth approached him from all corners, "Go..."
Nabi felt her vision grow blurry from tears. To save her from watching what would soon be his execution, she grabbed a hold of the yoke and pulled the ship hard to starboard before flying out of dock and into vacuum.
"I'm sorry..." She whispered one last time. The ship broke into FTL.
He graced the ship with a forlorn look to make sure she'd made it safety before realizing he was still next to the grate they'd come out of just minutes before.
Without it even being a thought, he dove back into the hole, stumbled onto his knees and started running.
Since there wasn't much point in hiding now, Anderson turned on his radio.
"—y and all Citadel forces, fifth fleet has arrived. Watch us make some magic, how copy?"
"This is Colonel Cazo of main station-1 to fifth-fleet, we'll roll out the carpet when you've cleared the airspace and start putting boots on the station, over."
"Solid copy main base-1, we'll get your airspace cleared and get some marines in the streets as soon as Commander Shepard and his team opens the citadel arms. He's on his way to the council chambers. If you see him, help him. Hackett out."
What?
Shepard was back on the station?
There wasn't time to think it over and Anderson wasn't going to complain.
Just as Hackett had said, John was going to need all the help he could get, three miles away or not.
With newfound determination, Anderson started making headway to the presidium.
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Present Time.
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12-10-2183
[ SERPENT NEBULA | CITADEL | PRESIDIUM ]
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Anderson woke up to the sounds of chirping birds outside his window and the peaceful passing of air cars.
He left his window open.
He stood up, stiffly he would add, and walked over to the window to close it. The birds flew off as he approached.
He watched them until they were far gone from his sight and sighed.
Nothing like dozing off at your table for eight hours and waking up to a sore back, pounding headache, and aching neck.
"Christ."
He didn't close the window. Instead, he leaned into the frame to feel the slight breeze that would come in every once in a while.
He still thought about her sometimes.
Still thought about Nabi.
His brows furrowed darkly at the middle.
Whatever happened to that poor girl? Did she make it out alright? He looked down toward the lakes far below him with a grim looking frown before sighing again.
Chances were, he'd probably never know what happened to her. It's not that he doubted that she was still alive. He just hoped that she was okay.
And as much as it troubled him, he needed to worry more about the Normandy and her crew right now.
He had some calls to make.
And maybe some breakfast to order.