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It had been eight months since her shipwreck and Ashley Williams had explored every inch of the tropical island she now called home - every lush green bough, every cool cave, every bit of drinkable water. But she always returned to the soft white sand that ringed the island. It was the best place to catch fish, crabs, and clams. Jogging and swimming laps of the island was the best way to stay in fighting trim.
It was also her source of contact with the outside world - mostly with Samantha, her beautiful merperson girlfriend (a thought that would have been inconceivable to her last year). Merpeople were apex predators, Sam had explained, which meant they maintained fairly large territories, meeting chiefly to breed. But occasionally little bits and bobs from the outside world would wash up, either blown overboard or from other wrecked ships. No other survivors or vessels yet, unfortunately. But it did mean that Ashley rarely felt compelled to wear clothes, especially as her skin bronzed, staying under tree cover for the worst of the sun’s rays. This decision, combined with her impressive muscle tone, never failed to earn her an eager wolf-whistle from Sam. And if the wolf-whistle led to some harmless flirting, and the harmless flirting led to the slick press of flesh to flesh in the shallows, well, Ashley had learned to appreciate the merits of a lover who didn’t need to come up for air.
It was, all things considered, as close to paradise as Ashley might have wanted. One detail alone held her back from the enjoyment of this new Eden: the iron hook of duty that had been sunk into her by generations of her family serving in the military. She didn’t expect to serve forever, but when she had been swept overboard her unit had been locked in combat for control of the seas with a vicious fleet of pirates calling themselves the Reapers, and she had meant to see that conflict through to the end.
“You’ve been stockpiling supplies,” Sam noted on one of their late-evening laps. Ashley was nearly fast enough running on sand to keep up with Sam swimming. Always good to have a goal to be working towards, Ashley reminded herself. “Worried about rainy season storms?”
Ashley’s pace slowed as she considered this information. A storm would make her plan immeasurably harder and riskier. “Do merpeople have war?” she asked at last.
“We used to, or at least I think we must have. Unless we got our games from watching humans fight…” Sam trailed off. “Sorry, lost in thought. Anyway, not as much anymore. Living apart has that effect on a society. I understand the concept, based on what you’ve said about your past. Why?”
“My…people were fighting one when I washed up here. So I want to go back. Help them fight.”
Sam blinked, double-eyelids flashing closed. “Why? Why fight and maim and kill your fellow humans? You have all the food and shelter you need here.”
“I swore an oath to queen and country,” Ashley tried to explain. “And I want to honor that oath.”
“You promised to kill people? Humans are stranger than I thought,” Sam muttered to herself.
“I love you; that’s a promise,” Ashley vowed. “But this promise is one I was practically born into. I can’t turn my back on it.”
“Damned beautiful, honorable girlfriend! Let me–” Sam coughed. Being out of the water for too long tended to dry out her lungs. “Let me think about that for a minute.” Ashley watched as the sleek, sinuous silhouette rocketed through the clear, shallow waters, back and forth, the sunlight catching warm brown skin and iridescent scales alike. How could she leave Sam behind, she wondered? If she left, there would be no guarantee that she could ever find this island again; she was no master navigator, able to tell her location by a glance at the stars! She was just a dumb grunt, presumed KIA: an honorable death in combat, the kind her family practically expected to face.
What did she care if the Reapers controlled the oceans anyway? Win or lose, nobody had any reason to travel to this desolate spit of rock. Her idyllic existence here was utterly unthreatened by those butchers of the sea.
She thought then, of her fellow marines - Vakarian and Vega. Of the ship’s crew - Joker and Edi, Daniels and Donnelly. Of the captain, the noble Jane Shepard, in the van of every fight against the Reapers, scything through them with saber and shot like a glorious Fury. (In hindsight, she should have seen her attraction to the fairer sex coming.) No, she decided, she could not disappoint her valiant shipmates.
“I’ll help you,” Samantha interrupted. “Whether it’s food for your trip, or things that float for your raft, or…whatever this is?” She held up a slightly battered brown mass with hopeful hands.
“A briefcase,” Ashley marveled. Carefully, carefully, she took it and carried it up the beach, drying her hands in clean sand. For a wonder, both latches had held, and the case seemed to be pretty tightly sealed, keeping it floating on the top of the water, rather than getting submerged and completely drenched. It was a simple matter to force the locks open and sift through the contents. Some of it was soaked; much of it was irrelevant. But the prize jewel of the lot was a nearly-intact newspaper. “‘Reaper Conflict Over, Capt. Shepard Hailed as Hero,’” she read. The headline was accompanied by an artist’s sketch of a fiery naval battle. Overjoyed, she set the paper aside so that her tears wouldn’t risk smudging any of the precious words.
A weight seemed to fall from her as she sobbed with joy. Perhaps she would want to return home someday, she mused. But if she ever left, it would be her own decision, not any duty calling to her.
“Bad news?” Samantha called anxiously.
“No, my love - the best,” she cried back, and Ashley ran to embrace her.