UPDATE
I updated Torfan Aftermath after an SB comment here got me thinking. It was a little cutting, but over the day I tried to plot out where I could go from here with how I ended. I concluded I may have written myself into a corner by ending like that. The next piece in the works has a time skip, and I refuse to just handwave this away as an off-screen improvement. I needed to show something, and give myself room to work with.
I encourage re-reading from the final scene with Barb and Shepard. I went past my v1.0 ending into something I'm much more satisfied with.
19/6/2178
Arcturus Station
The center of the Systems Alliance advertised itself as a glittering jewel proudly proclaiming its fortitude to the Abyss. It was protected by no less than two fleets. The 3rd Fleet, based at Arcturus Station, and the 1st Fleet, guarding the Charon Relay. The station itself also housed formidable defensive batteries, and several shipgirls that lived or regularly visited. Including the few returned spaceships from the 3rd Abyssal War that ended nearly 80 years ago. Tourists easily describe the station as rowdy and proudly giving the middle finger to unseen Abyssals resentful of their failure to destroy Arcturus in AW3.
The station is so saturated with military bravado, it's easy to forget it's also the political center. Here parliamentarians from the oldest, fully sovereign colonies like Terra Nova and Eden Prime rubbed shoulders with representatives from Old Earth's great powers. Where entire worlds bickered and bartered between each other over everything thanks to the Alliance's necessarily light touch, and without attracting the public's attention.
The Alliance government prefers it that way, it doesn't wish for politics to become a spectacle for the sake of public health, and so that their work can get done with minimal interference. Parliament's fondest aspiration is to be boring, dry, and with little to do. It, by necessity and design, acted on the member worlds and nations with a light touch, if it chose to at all. This was also preferred, so that when the Alliance did act, everyone sat up and took notice.
Amul Shastri, Naval Secretary of the Systems Alliance, reflected that this meeting would be one of those times. He adjusted his datapad and papers at the head of the table inside blandly named Committee Meeting Room #5. The place chosen, at random, for this impromptu and, under the circumstances, semi-formal assembly of the Naval Committee. One of, if not the, most powerful committees in Parliament.
"You've adjusted those 6 times now, Amul. Stop," his Secretary Ship, Minas Geraes, said, laying one olive hand on his arm to gently move it away. He looked into her piercing brown eyes and sighed.
He wouldn't trade Minas Geraes for any other ship, she was a close friend and confidant by this point, but he also cursed appointing her to the position. The NavSec Secretary Ship was symbolic of their intended policies and would be scrutinized through that lens. Shastri chose Minas Geras because her steel-hull life was the starting gun for South America's dreadnought race, and a time when the great naval powers took notice of an oft-ignored region. He'd had the Skyllian Verge in mind, and frequently made announcements of naval buildups in the Verge with her beside him.
Thankfully the public never pointed out the political strife Minas Geraes had been party to during her steel-hull life, but clearly some higher cosmic force took notice. Whatever drove the winds of fate, or karma, or whatever, sent him the Skyllian Blitz first, and just when he thought the worst was over, came Torfan. He idly wondered if there was some Greek in his ancestry to explain his hubris.
"Thank you, Minas," he said, putting on a weak smile. "Time to start I believe?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "Take a deep breath, and you'll be fine."
He took her advice, and then touched a haptic switch. A soft tone rang through the small room, calling to attention the MPs, military officers, and today's guests. Four holograms were automatically projected at the end as their callers were allowed into the conference.
"I officially call this meeting to order," he declared to the room and for the VI. "This special meeting of the Naval Committee now stands convened. Amul Shastri, Naval Secretary of the Systems Alliance, presiding."
He paused so the VI could begin automatic rollcall before continuing.
"I also officially welcome our distinguished guests to this meeting. Chairship of the Kantai Council, RN Trento," he nodded to the statuesque woman (still young thanks to her 2nd summoning) in a bespoke Italian suit colored to compliment her mediterranean tan. She spoke on behalf of the semi-official body that oversaw and disciplined shipgirls. Its effectiveness continued to be debated since its founding in the 2100's, but it had enough weight of metal to make most listen.
"President of the United States, Christopher Huerta, and Secretary Ship of the United States USS Connecticut, BB-18 joining us remotely." Shastri nodded to both the President and his Secretary Ship-slash-Wife, the natural-born BB-18. An arrangement he only got away with because of the Richardson Precedent. They made an imposing pair. Huerta was himself a 'former' (no such thing, as they say) US Marine Corps Sergeant Major with the muscles to back it up, and an anachronistic walrus moustache. His wife as a battleship (pre-dreadnought or not) matched him in size and strength, and yet still was the picture of elegance as she sat with him in her usual white dress.
"Thank you, Mr. Secretary," Huerta said politely, while Connecticut simply nodded with a genial smile.
"The Elder Ship Mikasa." Shastri bowed his head low in deference to the venerable warship, who returned it with equal depth. The Elder Ships weren't anything formal, but when Mikasa, Victory, or Constitution spoke (to name the three most prominent), everyone listened. Although showing her age as one of the remaining AW1 returnees, with iron-gray hair and prominent wrinkles, Mikasa still wore her JMSDF uniform proudly and still had some youthful vitality left.
"The chair also recognizes the guests Admiral George Kahoku, Commanding Officer Task Force 15, and his Secretary Ship, USS Barb. Admiral, we will start with you. Please report on the events that took place on Torfan on the date 12/6/2178."
"Yessir," Kahoku said, taking a breath before beginning with their initial arrival over Torfan and actions to prepare a landing. At times the officers present would ask a clarifying question, and sometimes Shastri had to cut them off before they were drawn off topic. It fortunately didn't take long for Kahoku to arrive at the meat of things.
"When the pirates, and Blood Pack as I later learned, sprung their trap collapsing the primary entrance, that's where I lost consistent contact. Istanbul still received irregular transmissions, but they were low-quality and provided no useful intel. They weren't even directed at us, it was just… panic down there," Kahoku said, the experience weighing on him. "What I know of events during the blackout period are because of Gunnery Sergeant Matsuda Saito, whom I officially recommend receive the Bronze Star."
"The Chair acknowledges this recommendation for consideration," Shastri said, though there would be little 'consideration' for this Matsuda. Anyone that stepped up that well when their legal CO went Section 8 during a battle deserved it.
"He unfortunately wasn't a witness to Lieutenant Shepard's… awakening, but it apparently came at the cost of her entire compliment of marines."
"When you say that…"
"No!" Barb rushes to clarify. "They weren't collateral damage. Those soldiers were killed by Blood Pack flame throwers."
Shastri breathes a silent sigh of relief that, at least, Shepard hadn't killed Alliance soldiers in her rampage. Or perhaps… no, rampage was the best fit. He couldn't think of anything else after what he saw.
"That brings us to our core issue," Shastri sighed, mentally returning to the meeting. "The return of warship Pennsylvania. Especially in such a…"
"Brutal manner?" Bless Minas Geraes for saying what he cannot.
"In one manner of speaking," Shastri said while sighing heavily. "I must admit to ignorance of her previous incarnation, or any aspects of her personality aside from the… instability. Mr. President, Madam Secretary Ship, I requested you here because it is one of America's, and your government would have the best records archived."
Huerta nodded gravely. "I asked US NavSec to pull the archived records of Pennsylvania, both shipgirl and steel-hull, and summarize. Our briefing was disturbing as it was informative." Huerta paused so Connecticut could access the haptic console and push the file to Arcturus and Istanbul. "The long and short is that Pennsylvania would have been decommissioned if she arrived later in the war, when more warships were available. Unfortunately, her guns were badly needed so Admirals Richardson, Goto, and Williams overlooked it. Still, she proved too unstable to leave with Japanese boats unsupervised, so they kept her paired with the late Arizona."
"To their credit," Connecticut picked up, "it seems to have leveled her enough that a later, more honest eval of her psyche, placed her as borderline unfit. It allowed her to continue duty through the late years of the war."
"Of course," said Trento, "as I hear that was just before the Battle of Manilla Bay where she sank. Several mental and physical fitness regulations were waved then, correct?"
Connecticut huffed. "Yes, in the end the evaluations were a somewhat moot point, given allied desperation to liberate Luzon."
Huerta put them back on track. "Overall, personal notes describe Pennsylvania as being, quote, 'stuck at Pearl.' She was unable to fully let go of that event and accept the Japanese as allies. Only a relative few of their shipgirls tolerated her attitude enough to try wearing it down, and most gave up. Even American boats were unsettled by her hair-trigger temper."
"And now dealing with that temper is our problem," Shastri said, glancing at the unsettling footage running in a corner of his screen, thankfully muted. "What I'm also hearing is there isn't likely anyone left that remembers Pennsylvania or wants to interact with her. Many of the original returnees are dead, retired, or on their second life."
"Not entirely true," Mikasa said with an uncomfortably mischievous smile. "I have a lead on someone who would know, from her first assignment in Sasebo. We will be waiting on her answer, but it would have been longer if I indulged such things as protocol to speak with the Emperor's Ship."
Shastri groaned as an odd missive fell into place. "That explains why the Imperial Household pointedly reminded me how they could be contacted. I thought they were opening themselves to questions regarding Pennsylvania. …Regardless, we're back at square one with her personality issues."
"There's more," Barb interjected. She shuffled uncomfortably, an unusual thing for the normally confident submarine. "It isn't just Pennsylvania we're dealing with. Lieutenant Shepard developed a complete personality long before now, and she isn't just present. I… think she's actively resisting the personality merger."
"Successfully?" Connecticut asked, mild awe in her voice, for good reason. "The personality of a shipgirl with an entire previous life of memories and traits is incredibly strong. It takes an equally strong will to hold it back."
That entire extra life is why 2nd Generation Natural-Borns had a tricky awakening, even under the best circumstances. By comparison the 1st Generation had it easy, they just got a rush of memories, experiences, and slight personality tweaks. The warships they came from had never physically lived until that moment, and it was often described as being more abstract.
The 2nd Generation had to contend with an entire person suddenly awakening in their minds, with an entire past life. At best the dual personalities were compatible enough that the merger was painless, as with Connecticut. At worst they were opposites that required special counseling to begin a long, and arduous merging process.
"Somehow, yes, she is, but something else is at play," Barb continued. "I can't explain it, but it almost seems like Pennsylvania has… pulled back. It may be related to what the rescued slaves have said."
"They said something?" Minas Geraes asked. "I wasn't aware of anything."
"Because we're still treating them," Kahoku answered. "Until the doctors give their approval, we can't officially question them. But… they've said that when Pennsylvania was reaching for some slaves, they cowered back, and suddenly she started screaming. Then collapsed to her knees, the rigging vanished, and after that point the Marines found her in the state we reported."
Shastri scrolled to the end to remind himself, and read how Shepard (or Pennsylvania, or whatever) was found muttering things to herself while collapsed on her knees. Barely responsive-slash-catatonic, but thankfully non-violent when they physically moved her.
"…We're missing something that isn't in her file," Minas Geraes said thoughtfully. "Something in her background that didn't make it there or got lost in the paper trail."
Minas' comment spurred several side conversations, and a look from the officers that Shastri didn't like. He allowed the murmuring for a moment before restoring order.
"We are in no position to speculate on the Lieutenant's past, and there is a greater matter to address. How do we handle her, and her actions at Torfan? Thanks to the leak we can't stay silents, and the PM needs options."
Shastri listened to the suggests and the debates between supporters of different ones. In general, everyone agreed with focusing on Torfan as a victory to drown at all other narratives (hopefully), and some figures, like ONI's intel failure costing so many lives, could be omitted. However, some details needed to be worked out. Especially how Pennsylvania and her actions were presented to the galaxy. He made notes and occasionally interjected, but largely left the committee to itself while he watched two people that caught his eye.
The first was Connecticut, face set in a thoughtful expression as she had a muted conversation. It wasn't one between husband and wife either, but President and Secretary Ship, he could tell from the posture. It started when the topic of PR was inevitably brought up, and debate broke out on how to handle it, and what statement the Navy should make. Shastri had to table it so they could move on, but he wondered what Connecticut was thinking.
The second was Captain David Anderson, sitting in as the N7 representative given they lost an entire operator team on Torfan. He was holding a whispered conversation with Admiral Seydlitz, nee Kastanie, Drescher as they both looked over a file. Shepard's personnel file, as he could see with the Chair's access privileges. Anderson hadn't spoken up yet, and that worried Shastri.
A glance at Minas Geraes confirmed she shared suspicions.
After some further minutes of discussion and questioning, Shastri decided the meeting had run out of useful ideas and would simply go in circles. By his own power he called it to a close, and mentally assembled a proposal he would forward to the Prime Minister. He and Minas Geraes could work out some details no one agreed on or kick the decision upstairs. Unfortunately, Pennsylvania's handling would be one of them.
Before that, he had one bit of unpleasant business.
"Thank you all for your time," Shastri said graciously, keeping an eye on Anderson. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office the rest of the workday."
He rang the closing chime, signaling the meetings end for everyone and the VI. He and Minas Geraes got up to leave immediately, walking at a brisk pace.
"…He's following," Minas Geraes said without looking behind her. Or rather, she did but didn't need to turn her head. The advantages of shipgirls were legion.
Shastri subtly nodded. "As expected, he has a wild idea."
Shastri had never liked Anderson. He respected him and his accomplishments, but that's all, ever since Camala. That clusterfuck of an operation caused a huge shitshow in political backrooms and strained their tense relationship with the Citadel. On top of that, the new chip on Anderson's shoulder made the man a personal thorn in his side.
Shastri turned into his office and took a seat with Minas Geraes at the desk beside him. Shastri mentally girded himself in the minute of peace before Anderson entered. Minas Geraes also put on a friendly mask to act as the reasonably cop his surly cop, even though she didn't like Anderson any more than him.
"Mr. Secretary, may I have a word in private?" Anderson said, entering and locking the door behind him without invitation. Bad sign for Shastri's blood pressure.
"As I said my door is open, Captain," he said flatly. "Speak your piece and I will consider it."
The subtle grimace gave away that Anderson remembered the last time Shastri 'considered' an idea of his. In truth Shastri gave it a whole minute of thought before discarding it.
"Fine then. I have a way to turn around Lieutenant Shepard's actions and put her new capabilities to use."
"A way never considered in today's meeting I assume?" Shastri replied, a touch of doubt coloring his tone.
"The committee was focused on the negatives. How bad Shepard's actions and the past image of Pennsylvania will be to the Alliance. They focused only on that, without considering the opportunity before us."
The man spoke with passion, he would give that, and at least seemed to be offering a different perspective from today, so maybe this was worth a few minutes of actual consideration.
Minas Geraes smoothly took over, saying genially, "We welcome a more positive outlook, Captain. Please, go ahead and tell us."
"As it stands, Shepard's image to the galactic public is one of an uncontrolled berserker that slaughtered countless people. Pirates yes, but the non-human public will easily forget that detail."
Shastri nodded to admit that point while Minas Geraes answered, "An unfortunate reality of public perception that we will struggle to correct."
"Exactly!" Anderson exclaimed, enthused. "At this moment the Alliance cannot say that the Lieutenant is under control, or that we are handling her, because we aren't. That needs to change."
"And I assume," Shastri said, "you have a way to fix that?"
"Yes. By taking her obvious combat talents and sharpening them to a razor edge," Anderson said, giving Shastri a terrible feeling. "You saw the footage. The way she fought that battlemaster demonstrated a talent for quick thinking, situation analysis, and problem solving. Everything needed for an N7."
"That is… a bold claim, Captain," Minas Geraes said diplomatically. They shared a look and their mutual doubt. Anderson detected it.
"It can be done!" he insisted. "I have been pushing for years to put shipgirls through N7 training and denied at every turn!"
"Because it's unnecessary!" Shastri countered. "We already have the SNLF to train them in ground unit tactics. N7 commando training is redundant and, worse, counterintuitive to K7 training!"
"That's old thinking!" Anderson shot back. "You're all still seeing them as ship first and human second without considering how useful flipping the equation could be!"
"Because it doesn't make sense, Captain," Minas Geraes said sternly. "I'll grant the military forgets that sometimes, but we shipgirls also act like it. It's in our keel to act as fleets and flotillas, not single hunters. The only class of warship that regularly does so are cruisers, and they aren't exactly… subtle in most cases. Would you put Atago as a commando?"
"Well, no, but that's—" Anderson flustered, caught in a trap.
"Exactly," Minas Geraes pushed onward to Shastri's concealed delight. "Neither Atago, or San Fran, or Exeter, to name a few, are remotely stealthy. Even so, they would be infinitely better choices over a battleship."
"Cruisers have worked very effectively alone!" Anderson shot back, trying to regain some momentum.
"In specific circumstances," Shastri added. "Just like your battleship N7 idea."
To his concealed satisfaction, Anderson almost looked ready to punch him, but visibly reigned it in.
"You may object, Mr. Secretary, but you can't stop me from extending the invitation to Lieutenant Shepard. And I am confident she will accept."
Shastri and Minas Geraes shared another look, knowing Anderson was right, much as he wanted to stop his crazy idea. Anderson had been trying for years, ever since his disastrous run-in with Saren, to put shipgirls in the N7s. He'd failed with Shastri's predecessor, and he nor Minas Geraes were inclined to give ground now, when he could help it.
"Regardless of her acceptance, she still has to go through K training," he reminded Anderson. "Especially after her performance on Torfan, I cannot allow her to continue serving without some proper training."
"Fine, after her round of N1 schooling," Anderson said.
They locked eyes in a struggle of wills, neither willing to back down from their position. It was an old contest from before Shastri's current post, when he fought Anderson's odd procurement requests. Still was fighting those in a way, but he knew why they were odd.
Minas Geraes loudly cleared her smokestack to break the stalemate.
"Regardless, the Lieutenant won't be making an immediate decision, while under medical observation. So why don't both of you put away the egos and wait."
Both men exchanged a final glare before physically and mentally backing away from the confrontation. Shastri sat back down in his comfortable chair, while Anderson stood at attention again.
"I will… take my leave now, Secretary," Anderson said.
Shastri nodded. "By your leave. And Captain…" Shastri stopped Anderson before he was out the door. "…If I hear of you trying to bias the Lieutenant ahead of time, I will reopen investigations into your supply lines. Am I understood?"
"…Entirely," Anderson said tightly, shutting the door behind him.
Shastri counted to 10 and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"I haven't seen him push that hard in years," Minas Geraes said. "He's serious this time."
"I know. I will warn Kahoku and Barb about Anderson's idea."
"Barb has a good head," she nodded. "She won't let the Lieutenant be pushed into a path."
Shastri nodded and reached for his empty coffee cup, intending to fill it, when a call came through his office terminal. One glance at the ID made him put the cup aside to answer.
"Miss Connecticut, to what do I owe this unexpected call? Are there further questions?"
"No SecNav," she said, sitting alone behind her own desk in the White House. "In fact, I may be able to help the Alliance with the Torfan fallout. I presume you've seen the news?"
Shastri and Minas Geraes exchanged concerned glances. "No Ma'am, I've been in a… meeting up until now."
Connecticut frowned gravely. "I suggest you check the recent broadcast right now, then I'll outline my proposal."
###
"3… 2… 1…"
The opening sequence of the nightly news segments begins, going through the standard slideshow of newsworthy scenes from the network's past. The staff and anchors waited patiently for it to end, watching the prompter for their cue.
"Welcome to Westerlund Evening News. I'm Bai Huang, here with a special segment for tonight." Huang made a show of adjusting his purple tie for the camera while beaming his anchorman smile. "We've reported in the past about ongoing Alliance efforts in the Skyllian Verge to counter alien piracy, and tonight we bring you an urgent update. Footage of the Alliance raid on the moon Torfan has leaked on the extranet. Our sources have confirmed its authenticity, and what it shows is shocking. We cannot show everything, but for our viewers we will shoulder the risk of what little we can."
Westerlund cuts to a clip from the raid on Torfan. It's clearly surveillance footage by the overhead angle and mediocre quality, but it's clear enough to see the key details. A shipgirl stomping through the caves, firing her guns frequently to barely omitted screams. The clip ends after 10 seconds, returning to Huang's desk.
"Riveting," Huang says, a plastic smile still on his face, "but not everyone feels the same. Battleship Pennsylvania's 2nd return has generated considerable backlash from aliens. Many already opposed our kanmusu, particularly turians for the Special Naval Landing Force's part in repelling their unjust invasion of Shanxi. We now go live at the Citadel, where our on-site correspondent, Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, is reporting. Khalisah?"
The feed shifts to a shot of the Citadel, one of the Wards, where al-Jilani is standing with two large protests in the background, and C-Sec in the middle.
"Thank you, Huang! It is one hair away from pandemonium here on upper Zakara Ward. The Torfan footage already caused an upswell of Alliance opposition in the Citadel, but an anti-shipgirl protest, led by turians, has chosen a predominantly human sector of Zakara as their assembly site. As you can see a human counter-protest in support of shipgirls rose up in opposition, and C-Sec has arrived to be the physical barrier between both protests. So far, the situation has not devolved into physical action, but C-Sec is ordering the human counter-protest to disperse."
"What are they saying, Khalisah?" Huang asks.
"Well, we have the usual set of anti-shipgirl and anti-human slogans," Khalisah says, walking to the side so the anti-shipgirl protest is mostly in-frame, appearing larger. "There are a few I can see and hear specific to Torfan. 'Humans anchor your pets,' appears to be a popular one. Alongside—wait, wait! I see Joram Talid near the front of the picket line. Mr. Talid! Mr. Talid, a word please!"
Khalisah rushes up to a barefaced turian standing at the front, apparently leading the alien crowd in chanting slogans. He stops when Khalisah begs a word.
"Yes? Can I help you?" he says cautiously.
"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. Mr. Talid can you explain your purpose here today?"
Talid appears to hesitate but seeing the camera drone recording puts on a different more stoic face.
"Well, it's quite simple. I've always been opposed to the Alliance allowing your spirit-possessed people to run amok here on the Citadel, and this video from Torfan proves not even your own military can rein them in. We demand that all kanmusu, as you humans call them, residing on the Citadel be registered with C-Sec, especially of the 'natural-borns' that could become awakened at any time! How can the people sleep at night knowing that any human nearby could suddenly become an unstoppable butcher with artillery at their fingertips? I don't know how your own people can live with that, and I fear for your own just as much."
"Mr. Talid, a registry is usually a requirement for weapons, not people. Are you saying you don't consider them people?"
"I am not here to deprive anyone of their basic rights. I am here because Kanmusu cannot be separated from the 'rigging' that holds their weapons. Even your own Alliance acknowledges this by regulations governing where rigging can and cannot be summoned. I simply insist that all potential dangers be known to C-Sec. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Talid turns back to the crowd, refusing a last-minute question from al-Jilani. She turns back to the camera.
"You heard it here first everyone. Anti-shipgirl sentiment is on a rapid rise, and I personally fear for any shipgirls currently in the counter-protest. Back to you, Huang."
al-Jilani's live feed ends, returning to the Westerlund studio.
"Now that was quite the scene. The Citadel Council has not made a statement regarding Torfan or the awakened Pennsylvania, and have declined to comment to the media. All recent Council meetings have also been postponed, suggesting—"
"Off," Sparatus tiredly said before Huang could keep ruining his mood. Not that it could go much lower, but he wasn't one to tempt the galaxy in that way.
He leaned back in the comfortable chair, one perfectly proportioned for turian physiology, in the Council's private lounge. Here many deals had been made between themselves and associate members away from the galaxy's prying eyes, but today they were simply using it to discuss recent events off the record.
Across from him, Valern and Tevos sit with grim expressions and soft drinks in hand. They were just as dismayed their play to pit the humans and batarians against each other hadn't stayed confined to just the Verge. Not that anyone could have seen an awakening coming, but no one cared for hindsight in politics.
"Spirits take the human media," he cursed. "I miss the days when all we worried about were scathing asari forum boards and batarian propaganda."
"Somehow they have turned news into a performance art," Tevos agreed. "Even at the cost of accuracy."
"Speaking of; Valern how is this Westerlund News rated?
Valern frowns, sipping his drink. "Poorly by both the human public and the STG. They have a well-documented pro-human slant in nearly all coverage and have repeatedly tested the bounds of libel laws. Ours and the Alliance's. The humans seem to have a worse view. I learned of the idiom 'yellow journalism' investigating Westerlund. It's a very informative phrase."
"Regardless of the obvious bias," Tevos said, "how accurate was their reporting in this event?"
"Accurate enough," Valern simply says. "Data shows a 12% increase of kanmusu-negative extranet posts and discussion topics. There are people of various species and demographics openly expressing similar views in public as well, regardless of human presence. What's more, the hanar have lodged a formal request for information regarding kanmusu capabilities."
"The volus have also begun pulling investment capital back," Sparatus added. "Not a lot, but 5% is enough to gain notice by the human corporations. Din Korlack claims they're only shedding risky investments, but I think it's a test before they divest."
"Overall, it is a small response," Valern continues. "STG analysis predicts a net increase of baseline kanmusu and human opposition when the news cycle runs its course."
"Perfect," Tevos sighed heavily. "This will hinder Alliance integration if they see this as an attack on them. A point we will have difficulty arguing thanks to public opinion and C-Sec."
"I know, I know," Sparatus says when Tevos stares pointedly at him. "I tried to persuade Pallin, but Talid's damn rabble-rousers filled out all the right paperwork well ahead of time. He wasn't going to cancel the permit without cause, and concerns about public opinion are not just cause to him. I thank the spirits he at least didn't physically remove the inevitable human counter-protest."
"Talid chose that sector of Zakara deliberately, didn't he?" Tevos rhetorically asked. "I do not like him, his inflammatory rhetoric, or his gradual climb up the Ward's administration. He will be nothing but trouble in the future."
"I curse his name every time I hear something new," Sparatus commiserated. "Unfortunately, he has strong backers in the Hierarchy from the Shanxi veterans. Big surprise there. Dislodging him will not be easy."
"Let's leave Talid aside for now," Valern interjected before the argument could circle itself. "How do we respond to this?"
For emphasis, Valern brought up a static image from the leaked footage that was shared widely. It showed the newly awakened kanmusu at the center of it all, legs planted in a wide stance while her main guns were caught mid-fire, and her face contorted into a maddening visage. It drew equal parts fear and condemnation from the general public, usually accompanied by loud calls for the Alliance to arrest her.
Naturally, human commentators pushed back, and the resulting arguments were deeply polarizing extranet forums. Tevos grimaced, having witnessed one recent, heated debate on the Thessian e-democracy forums, and unhappily concluding that the polarization was not just human-alien.
"What do we know about her?" she asked.
"Very little," Valern admitted. "Basic biographical data on this Harriet Shepard has been pulled, but STG will need more than 7 days to acquire deeper information. The warship she became we also know little about."
"With good reason," Sparatus said. He was the unofficial authority on kanmusu in the Council. He served in the Hierarchy military during the 314 Incident, though wasn't on the front lines, and took a personal interest in the beings that crushed their ground forces so quickly. That interest carried over into politics easily, when the humans became a Citadel Associate. "I had to do some digging through old contacts on both sides, but in short, USS Pennsylvania is a mental case going back to their 1st Abyssal War."
Tevos looked at him in shock. "That long? And it was just… buried?"
Sparatus shrugged. "More of an open secret. Public records and articles tell she died a hero two years before the war's end, medals and an honorable burial, but stories of Pennsylvania's instability are passed down, like a Legion records their own deeds and follies. I heard a few tales during the joint exercises after Shanxi about a 'Pennsy' that I never connected until now. There's even a morbid turn of phrase about going insane; they've 'Gone Penn.' "
The Councilors pause, considering the morbid phrase as they look at the static image of Shepard/Pennsylvania.
"It is… unfortunately apt," Valern said. "My own information also suggests the Alliance did not expect her to return again. …Or perhaps it was vain hope."
"Their intentions hardly matter now. The question is what we do with the information," Sparatus said. "Keeping it private is no longer an option. The public is demanding answers from us."
"Some form of censure for certain," Tevos said. "The Alliance kanmusu's… actions on Torfan violated several conventions on sapient rights and treatment of prisoners."
Sparatus scoffed. "They were pirates, and ensuring their rights would have led to the same result. Alliance law is very clear on piracy and slavery. One thing I respect about the humans is their intolerance for such things."
Tevos narrowed her eyes at Sparatus as that decades old divide was pried open again. They never once agreed on the Alliance's actions against the Hegemony. Sparatus was figuratively giddy that someone was finally punishing the batarians for their criminality. Conversely, Tevos was annoyed that centuries of asari planning were being spoiled by a newcomer race. It led to many an argument while the 'cold' war in the Skyllian Verge heated up, until today.
"Regardless of our personal views," Valern interjected, "we must take some action to assure the public."
Even Sparatus had to, reluctantly, agree. Not even the Council was immune to public pressure, and silence now would send the wrong message.
"We should make a statement of our displeasure, reiterating the conventions," Tevos said. "A promise to investigate the events at Torfan should be made."
"We may have to follow through with that," Valern cautioned. "There is enough attention on this to push the issue past the news cycle."
"So we send a Spectre," Sparatus suggested easily. "One of our best, to compile a report for us to present."
"Surely you don't mean Saren?" Valern asked.
"Of course not," Sparatus scoffed. "Regardless of his exemplary record, he's too openly anti-human, and anti-kanmusu, for this. His support of the Shanxi veterans causing trouble in the Hierarchy is proof enough for anyone. No, he needs to stay in the Traverse, far away from the Alliance."
"There is also the chance he could 'accidentally' run into Captain Anderson," Tevos grimaced, followed by the others as they recalled the near-disastrous, and still deeply confusing, debacles on Camala and Elysium.
"No, we definitely can't allow that to happen," Sparatus frowned. "Especially since there's a prominent shipgirl involved again."
"Yes…" Valern grimaced. "STG did not enjoy covering up that factor for the Alliance. Too many witnesses for a clean job, as evidenced by the enduring conspiracy theories." He quickly raised a hand to forestall the response. "Yes, it was necessary to smooth tensions, and Elysium would have been a bigger mess otherwise. Just allow me this minor complaint in light of current events."
Tevos and Sparatus nodded, not faulting him for a little venting. They had each complained at one or another point about the Camala-Elysium disaster, and the additional strain it brought.
"Enough of that," Tevos declared, to put the subject to rest. "We will plan the details later. For now, we should begin drafting a statement to the media and work on a—" a chime from her omnitool stopped her short. It wouldn't have sounded now unless it passed her filter, and drew everyone's interest.
Tevos opened the message and read.
"Hm… It's from the Alliance Naval Secretary," she said, deeply intrigued. "It's a proposal to improve our mutual public relations problem."
"That was quick of him," Sparatus grunted. "That broadcast just aired."
"Secretary Shastri seems to be a messenger in this case, though he added some personal notes." Tevos pushed the message to Sparatus and Valern's omnitools for them to read.
"…Interesting," Valern said while considering it. "Perhaps this Great White Fleet is worth considering."
###
Barb shifted foot-to-foot nervously as the isolation room opened for her. She paused before crossing the threshold to see if anything had changed since her last visit. Unfortunately, the room was still mostly pristine and apparently unused, save the bedsheets. Those had been torn off the bed and cast about haphazardly. The pillowcase had joined them and had been torn nearly in half.
Shepard sat on the bare mattress with her knees drawn up and her head bowed low. She clutched the mattress tightly, unknowingly poking holes in it with her new horsepower. Barb could hear rapid muttering again, a bad sign.
"Listen to me you-shut up shut up-no I will not-I don't care what you want get out of my-not just yours anymore-I'm not sharing-"
On and on it went in a series of half-statements inevitably interrupted by Shepard or Pennsylvania, Barb couldn't keep track. Sharing a voice made it so much more difficult to distinguish between the two.
"Lieutenant?" she began, using only her rank to avoid either human or warship taking offense, hopefully. The muttering stopped, and Shepard's head slowly rose. Red, messy, greasy hair covered most of her face, showing only a single red eye that faintly glowed.
A shiver ran down her keel at the maelstrom of emotions she saw behind it, and the phantom morse lamp subtly blinking a message.
Caution. Do not approach.
Barb sketched a wide arc around the bed to a chair opposite the bed to enable conversation, while still being near the door for a quick exit. Just in case.
"Hello Lieutenant. Do you still remember me?" she asked hopefully. That had been a struggle for the first couple of days.
"…Barb," she answered flatly.
Barb nodded, putting on her best smile even though she felt otherwise. "Yes, thank you for remembering. I have a little news for you this time. We're going home."
"…Home?" she asked uncertainly. "Where is home?"
"Well… that has two answers," Barb said carefully. "The first is Elysium. The SSV Istanbul is homeported there. The second… is that I will be accompanying you back to Arcturus, and possibly Earth if—"
"Is… Ari there?" she asked haltingly, like one or the other were fighting to keep the words in. "Where. Is. She?"
"Pennsylvania?" Barb asked, sure she was speaking now, and unfortunately it was the one question she most dreaded. To put off answering she instead asked, "You don't know?"
"She… won't… tell me. Can't see. Keeps me out," Pennsylvania growled while Shepard's head rose up. Barb flinched back seeing the wild, teeth clenched look on Shepard's face. It was a terrifying combination of barely constrained rage and rabid fear.
Barb took a deep breath and braced herself. "I'm… sorry Pennsylvania. Arizona died a long time ago. She—"
"Dead? DEAD?!" Pennsylvania roared, tossing Shepard's head about sending her hair flying wildly. The look on her face shifted further towards rage and was inching beyond. "HOW. IS. MY. SISTER. DEAD?!"
"I-It was decades ago, in the nineties, but it wasn't—"
"Run…" whispered Shepard, she thought. Her face was still wild and furious, but Barb saw an undertone of fear. "Run. Now."
Barb was about to ask why when she saw the phantom shadow of Pennsylvania's guns. Turning towards her.
Barb bolted without another word and locked the door behind her, calling the guards at the same time.
Marines arrived alongside her Admiral. The soldiers took up ready positions while Kahoku went to Barb, fussing over her with heartwarming concern.
"Barb! What happened? Are you ok?" he asked.
Barb smiled and gently pushed his hands away. "I'm fine, George. The conversation took—" there was a sudden, mighty thump against the door. It held, but caused everyone to flinch. "...It took a bad turn. I was asked about... Arizona."
Kahoku winced and sucked in a breath. He'd shared Barb's fear of Pennsylvania asking that question and the inevitable answer. They both figured it would be a bad reaction, but this... not even Barb's most pessimistic ideas had approached this.
Three more thuds shook the door over several minutes, followed by an unnerving silence. A quarter hour passed with no one moving or saying anything, save for more marines answering the alert. They listened to the quiet for any noise or sign of activity, until Kahoku ordered the door open.
Every free piece of furniture in the room had been rent apart or smashed, frequently against the wall judging by the dents. Shepard's body was no longer on the overturned bed, now she lay sprawled on the floor panting heavily. Barb looked hard at the phantom silhouette of Pennsylvania and saw her guns secure in their default positions. It was a relief, and concern because she also didn't see any activity.
Barb, over Kahoku's protests, approached first, kneeling beside the woman, whichever it was right now. Eyes flickered towards her, and Barb noticed the smoldering glow was gone.
"B-Barb?" she panted, with a barely detectable tone of relief under the exhaustion.
"Yes, I'm right here... Harriet? Is that you?" Barb asked, laying a gentle hand on her arm.
Harriet Shepard nodded. "Y-Yes. I'm... I'm me."
"What happened?" Barb asked. "How did you take back control?"
"I... I didn't," Shepard admitted, staring at her with confusion and light fear. "She just... she was so angry and then... stopped. Just... stopped."
Barb wasn't sure what to make of that, and a glance at Kahoku confirmed he was equally lost. However, they were certain they needed to get Shepard to Arcturus. They were so far out of their depth.
Author's Note:
So, yeah, this ended up living in my mind rent free and is slowly building into a grander story without my consent. At minimum, I have a few more tales about this world mentally outlined that I shall be sharing! Still no guarantees of anything, I'm setting low expectations so I can surprise myself.
Regardless, I'm setting up some butterflies to cause cannon diversion down the line.
Trivia:
I discovered that ever-punchable Khalisah's name was kinda a pun. (See ME Wiki.) So I made one for the Westerlund anchor. It, in mandarin (if I researched right) means White Lie.
See you next time Space Cowboys!
