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As the holo images faded away, Councilor Anderson turned toward Morgan Shepard with a raised eyebrow and rueful tone. “Well. That went better than expected. You realize Spectre reinstatement is just symbolic. The Council won’t actually do anything.”
She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I figured that. But even if they don’t help, I might as well stay on good terms.”
“True enough,” Anderson agreed with a smile. “It is good to have you back.” A warm hand landed on her shoulder. Freed from the judgmental gaze of the other councilors, his expression was relieved and affectionate. “Don’t worry about the Council or Udina. I’ll find some way to keep them off your back. Shouldn’t be too hard as long as you keep to the Terminus Systems.”
Shepard’s tense posture began to loosen. “Appreciated,” she acknowledged. Turning toward a far corner of the large room, she called out, “Hey, Garrus, Mordin. Now the official meeting is over, you two can find seats and unwind.”
“About time,” complained Garrus while striding toward his friend. “And it’s a good thing you told us to ‘stand back and be inconspicuous.’ Otherwise Sparatus would have been incinerated by my glare for those damn ‘air quotes.’”
Anderson grinned at Shepard. “I’m glad you have Vakarian with you. When you first left the Citadel to track down Saren, Executor Pallin complained to everyone who would listen that ‘the new human Spectre stole one of my best detectives.’”
“Bet he never told Garrus that,” she predicted, sending her turian teammate an impressed look.
“You’re right, he didn’t,” came Garrus’s smug retort. “If he did, I might have stayed and asked for a promotion.” With a rusty chuckle, he moved to a couch near the middle of the room. “But now that I know, you’ll have to start paying me so I can demand a raise.”
“Sorry,” Shepard shot back with a mischievous grin, “but freaky raptor guys who enjoy provoking their boss do not get raises.”
Ignoring Garrus’s plaintive “But Morgan—,” she turned to Anderson. “Let’s take in the view from your balcony. We can chat there with a bit more privacy.”
“Sounds good,” Anderson agreed. “Lead on.”
Resting her elbows on the balcony ledge, taking in the manicured lawns and gardens of the Presidium, Shepard sobered. “Like you, I’m glad—very, very glad—I found Garrus on Omega. Waking up in that Cerberus lab, surrounded by cult members who think their leader can do no wrong, cut off from the Alliance…. Well, with Garrus on the team, the stress is a bit more manageable. Whether fighting bad guys or just talking tactics, having at least one person I can trust absolutely is huge.”
“You woke up in a lab? How long ago?”
Glancing at the human councilor, Shepard was glad to see that he appeared more concerned than suspicious.
“Twelve days,” she answered with candor, standing upright to face him. “Woke up to gun fire and explosions, with a voice over comms telling me to get moving, grab my gear, and find a weapon. Hacked security mechs were attacking the station and killing anything that moved. An internal Cerberus thing, apparently: the top med tech who helped fix me up didn’t feel adequately compensated.”
“Only twelve days?” Now Anderson was clearly surprised—and uncomfortable. “But we’ve been hearing…. Well, never mind that for now. Go on.”
Shepard paused, maintaining eye contact for another moment before turning back toward the view. “The only two survivors of the attack—aside from me—were the station’s security chief and the woman in charge of the ‘Lazarus Project.’ That’s what Cerberus named the process of bringing me back, as well as the operational cell carrying out the work. From what I could see, dozens of Cerberus personnel were assigned to the cell, supporting it in various ways, including maintaining an entire space station where they all lived and worked.”
Leaning again on the ledge, she shook her head. “Still trying to wrap my mind around that. People I’ll never know, people who lost their lives, choosing to spend two years in isolation to somehow re-make Commander Shepard? In God’s name, why?
“Plus, it didn’t seem like two years to me. Felt like Normandy had just gone down the day before. Like I blinked, and suddenly my ship and crew were gone. I had no idea how many survived…or how many didn’t. I tried to get some answers, but Jacob and Miranda hustled me onto a shuttle and took me to another hidden-away Cerberus space station.”
She shot a quick look at her companion. “I wanted to contact you and Hackett, but I had no access to a comm buoy or the extranet. Then I was introduced, via holographic interface, to the Illusive Man himself.”
The very first N7 special forces officer gave a low whistle. “I’m sure Alliance intel would have loved to be a fly on the wall of that meeting. Tell me what you thought of him.”
“Everything about him set me on edge.” Spine and shoulders went rigid as she recalled events that still felt fresh…and painful. “First off, I’ll never forget or forgive Akuze. He approved an operation that killed 50 of my men—all so his scientists could study thresher maws! Then repeated a smaller version on Admiral Kahoku’s men, before murdering the Admiral himself when he dared investigate.
“Not to mention the other casualties of their so-called research projects. The senseless deaths of the ordinary Cerberus grunts conducting them. The colonists killed when those horrid experiments escaped control. Husks, rachni, thorian creepers, and who knows what else. Hiding behind a hologram instead of meeting me face to face was probably a smart call.
“What makes it all worse is that I doubt Mr. Illusive lost sleep over any of it. He’s that cold and closed off. But the newest red flag was my gut feeling that TIM never shares the entire picture of a project or mission—especially the dangers—with anyone, even his own people.”
Anderson interrupted. “I’m sorry—Tim?”
“Acronym of The Illusive Man.” Shepard relaxed a bit as her eyes briefly met her mentor’s. “That name’s just too long and pompous to use in conversation.”
“Got it,” Anderson said with a chuckle, bending to duplicate her casual lean on the half wall. “Please continue.”
“Even at that first meeting,” she resumed, “as I listened to him talk and talk, my instincts screamed that TIM gathers and sits on information like a dragon with a hoard. I knew I’d never be able to trust him, that he’d supply and withhold intel to maximum manipulative effect. And then lie about it, as easily as he breathes. But….”
Glancing up at Anderson, her expressive eyes and tight jaw radiated conflict. “But all of his talking had painted a picture of human colonies in Terminus space simply disappearing. No signs of violence, just every man, woman, and child vanished. While the unknown abductors somehow avoided leaving any evidence as to their identity.
“And then…then TIM promised I’d be free to make my way back to the Alliance, with no hard feelings, if I agreed to do just one thing: use his people and resources to investigate Freedom’s Progress, the latest colony to go dark.”
Shepard closed her eyes and sighed. “First, I insisted that we contact the Alliance—their citizens, their duty to help investigate, right? But he countered that the fleets weren’t in a position to do anything meaningful. If I agreed to go, it would have to be his way, his rules. Added to everything else, that really made me want to throw a definitive ‘hell no’ in his face.”
Elbows on the ledge, her fingers kept tangling like she wanted to tie them into knots. “But if he was right that thousands of people were missing, with tens of thousands more at risk…? I didn’t seem to have a choice. So I agreed, despite how trapped I felt.
“Miranda, Jacob and I arrived at Freedom’s Progress, and we found a survivor with vid evidence of the Collectors’ involvement. Suddenly I was captain of a new, bigger, faster Normandy, with Joker at the helm, Dr. Chakwas in the med bay, and a friendly, well-trained Cerberus crew everywhere else. And tasked with a long to-do list that included ‘recruit a team that can save humanity.’”
Turning her head, she made eye contact with the councilor. “Make no mistake: I might be in command of the SR-2, but TIM is the one in control behind the scenes. And he doesn’t trust me. At least two crew members and an integrated AI report their observations to him daily, and the ship has cameras and listening devices everywhere. Mordin found four bugs just checking out his science lab. I might ask him to sweep my quarters for me.”
The attempt at humor hung in the air for a moment before she continued. “In addition to the strict surveillance, I’m pretty sure TIM cherry picks what messages I can receive and send out. He allowed your email to reach me, but I think he’s the reason my attempts to contact Alliance command haven’t gone through. I have no guaranteed secure channel, except to him.”
She stood upright but seemed to hesitate before turning to face Anderson. Coming to attention, she spoke with unusual ceremony. “You haven’t yet mentioned it, sir. But I recognize I’ve technically been AWOL since I woke up, and nothing I’ve described constitutes a valid excuse for my failure to report. Regardless of the obstacles, I should have found a way within 72 hours to inform the Alliance that I was alive and well and ready to resume my service. Despite my lapse in discipline, I hope this meeting might be seen to fulfill my reporting obligation so that I can be officially reinstated.”
As she spoke, her companion also adopted a more formal posture. “I know you did your best, Shepard. Going by the timeline you just recounted, you must have replied to my email as soon as you received it, within a day of your return from Freedom’s Progress. No one is going to bring charges against you if I have anything to say about it. But reinstatement is a trickier issue.”
A subtle shift in bearing and Anderson was suddenly a different person: her superior officer rather than a friend and mentor. His manner became almost stern as he announced, “I have a message from Admiral Hackett for you. He is now Fleet Admiral, in charge of the entire Alliance military, so this literally comes from the top.”
The younger N7 stayed at attention. “Orders, sir?”
“Yes, but you need some context first. At ease.”
After Shepard assumed the more relaxed stance, Anderson began his explanation. “The Illusive Man is right about one thing. The Alliance can’t enter the Terminus Systems in significant numbers without the pirates, merc bands, and crime lords uniting in a war against us. That would make every human colony in the Terminus a target—exactly what we’re already trying to prevent. And to be honest, recovery from our ship losses at the Battle of the Citadel isn’t far enough along for us to become embroiled in such a conflict.
“We’d need to divert half of the fleet from protecting colonies in the Traverse, which would leave us vulnerable to renewed assaults there by the batarians. We’d end up spread too thin, fighting on multiple fronts.” Anderson paused for a disgusted sigh. “Then the Council would probably censure Earth—maybe even suspend our council seat—so all of Citadel space didn’t get dragged into the mess.”
His face took on a troubled expression. “And with the Reapers still looking for a way to return from dark space, you know we just can’t risk that level of discord and wasted resources. I hate to say it with so many of our colonists at risk, but the Alliance’s hands are tied. So…we need you to stay where you are and keep working on that to-do list. Without reinstatement.”
“But Captain—”
He cut her off with a decisive slash of his arm. “I know what you’re going to say, Shepard. Hell, I’d say it myself if I were in your shoes. But Admiral Hackett was adamant. If you reported in, as he expected you would, I was to relay these orders: you are to remain in your current partnership with Cerberus.”
She tried again. “Sir—”
Anderson put up his hand to hold her off. “Hear me out. Unhindered by Alliance affiliation, you are better positioned than anyone else to find out what is happening and stop it. Because one, you have the combat and leadership abilities to get this done with a small team. And two, you are able to travel freely throughout the Terminus without instigating a war. And in the galaxy’s most-advanced frigate, to boot. The Alliance needs you to do what it cannot: stop the abduction of human colonists and discover the Collectors’ motives behind the attacks.”
Shepard’s chin dropped and shoulders hunched. “Am I, um, is it…?” she stammered, freckles dark against fair skin gone white. “I mean, is this…because the Admiral doesn’t trust that I’m…me? Does he think I can’t safely be welcomed back to the Alliance?”
“No, not at all,” Anderson denied with some heat. “Hackett doesn’t believe that, and neither do I. There were concerns, I admit, when the earliest rumors started. But when you sent that encrypted Cerberus data, you proved whose side you’re on. Not to mention what you did on Omega, stopping a plague and taking out three merc outfits. The reasons are exactly as I’ve laid them out.”
After a brief pause, he continued in a gentler, persuasive tone, “You can’t officially be reinstated in the short term. Nothing can go on the books. Not one person can know the details of this conversation. And it has nothing to do with trusting you. Rather, it’s all about the Illusive Man’s intelligence network and how high it might reach within the Alliance. But when this situation has been resolved, you will be expected back in an Alliance uniform, with your reinstatement backdated to the day you woke up. If you accept Hackett’s order.”
“I still don’t have a choice, do I?” Shepard murmured, looking down. Then after a deep breath, she returned to attention and looked Anderson in the eye. “Sir, I accept the mission parameters. I will do my best to find out the truth about these disappearances and stop the Collectors. And hopefully, by doing that, slow the return of the Reapers.”
“Thank you, Shepard. At ease. And let’s stop with the formal stuff.” Anderson again put a fatherly hand on her shoulder for a moment. “I know it’s not what you want. None of us like the idea of you depending to any degree on the Illusive Man. Especially given your concerns about intel manipulation and communication interference. But I know you’ll find a way to get the job done and stay true to the values that have always guided you.”
“Promise I’ll give it my best shot,” Shepard replied. “But I do have some questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Knowing you,” Anderson chuckled, “I’d be worried if you didn’t have questions.”
Shepard’s trademark grin was a little shaky. “Okay. The biggest question is…well…while I do appreciate that you and Hackett don’t doubt I’m really the person you knew, why are you so sure? Why haven’t you questioned my identity or how I returned? According to Joker, he reported me KIA during his Alliance debrief, and I’m sure other survivors verified I didn’t make it to a life pod. I was spaced as the last of Normandy broke apart and blew up. Who comes back from that?”
Eyes closed as his lips became pinched and pale, Anderson was silent for a long moment. “To be honest, I never read the debriefs. Didn’t want to hear the specifics.” He offered a wan smile as he met Shepard’s gaze. “Ridiculous, I know, but part of me wanted to hold on to the slim hope that somehow…. Well, it doesn’t matter now. You’re here.”
“I’m sorry; shouldn’t have tossed that grenade so casually,” Shepard admitted, starting to pace the length of the balcony. “Until I’m able to process all that’s happened, flippancy seems to be my go-to for handling it. But I’m glad you held on to hope; that means a lot to me. Although…it must have crossed the councilors’ minds—even yours—that I might be a clone or something. It sure has crossed mine.”
“They never discussed it in my presence,” Anderson revealed. “But I’m certain of one thing: not for one minute do they believe you died and were resurrected. It would make Cerberus too powerful. That level of technical prowess and funding in the hands of terrorists? Yet another thing they don’t want to face.”
“Then what’s their theory? A two-year vacation?” The pacing grew more agitated.
“From what I’ve learned while working with them, they don’t want to think about it. Not then, not now.” The human councilor’s eyes tracked Shepard’s movement like she was the tennis ball in a match. “With you gone, they jumped at the chance to bury your warnings about a race of sentient machines. Called you delusional. Blamed all the deaths and destruction on their rogue agent. No coming apocalypse to worry about. Aside from the rebuilding, they could pretend everything was normal again.”
Shepard came to an abrupt stop. “Nothing to worry about? C’est quoi ces conneries?! They can’t imagine this away like goddamn ostriches!”
Holding a finger to his lips, Anderson reminded his former XO of their need for privacy. “Even months after Normandy’s loss, they wanted you kept out of the news and out of people’s minds. So, they squashed a multi-species campaign to place a statue of you next to the Relay Monument. Even ‘suggested’ that the Alliance military drop your image from recruiting campaigns.”
“And I was replaced with a composite image that ‘focused tested better’ or something. Yeah, I heard.” Shepard’s laugh was more like a harsh bark.
“But despite efforts to blot you from collective memory, the public wasn’t having it,” Anderson reported. “For weeks after your memorial, we received daily reports of sightings, placing you in various locations all over the galaxy. And extranet chatrooms began generating endless theories to explain your disappearance. But as weeks became months and then a year, most of the interest dwindled away. Until about three months ago, when the rumor mill suddenly started up again.”
“Three months, huh? No wonder you were surprised when I said twelve days.” Shepard resumed pacing but at a slower, meditative pace. “At a guess, I’d say the Illusive Man was priming the pump, wanting to control the narrative of how I returned: where I was, who I was with, and who heard about it first.”
Anderson nodded in agreement. “That matches what you’ve described, as well as fitting the intel we have on him. And just so you know: those rumors all hinted in various ways that you’ve been voluntarily working with Cerberus since the SR-1 went down. That your death or disappearance—whatever you want to call it—was faked. I don’t want you to be surprised if people try to attack you with that info.”
“Okay, I’ll be prepared for that,” she acknowledged, “though I wonder about TIM’s purpose in spreading that specific disinformation. What does he hope to gain? Is it about the Lazarus Project, trying to protect their scientific breakthroughs by denying the need to rebuild me? Or is it more about me, wanting to damage any remaining reputation I might have with the Alliance or the Council? Or two birds with one stone? I’ll have to think more about it some other time.” Muttered more to herself than her old captain, the last sentence trailed off into a long pause as she walked the length of the balcony.
Then Shepard’s attention returned to the present. “But back to our previous topic: what do you believe about my reappearance? Do you accept that Cerberus somehow brought me back from the dead?” Though the tone was simply curious, her eyes revealed pained bewilderment.
“I consider myself a realist,” Anderson began with conviction. “Straightforward, with a preference for hard science and clear-cut evidence.” Whatever was coming next appeared more difficult, and he paused for a handful of heartbeats before resuming. “But out in space…let’s just say I’ve seen my share of the unexplained. Sometimes it’s new phenomena that we can study and learn from. Other times, it’s something that is just…unfathomable. Completely beyond our understanding. I have a feeling that your reappearance lies somewhere between the two.
“But that’s more philosophical than helpful,” he conceded. “In the interest of well-understood science, I can tell you that Captain Bailey in C-Sec sent me a quick report after your arrival. According to him and the ‘best scanning equipment in the galaxy,’ your DNA match is perfect, with no cloning degradation. Which I’m sure Karin Chakwas has already told you.”
Shepard nodded slowly, though her eyes were still troubled.
A sudden smile lit Anderson’s face as he continued. “But if it makes you feel better, why don’t you describe that first time you saluted me? After all, cloning or AI programming can’t duplicate memories.”
“Do you mean when we first met, and I didn’t salute you?” Shepard’s grin was almost normal. “Back in the Arcturus officers’ gym, when both of us stepped backward off our respective treadmills, bumped, tangled, and ended up on our asses?”
Together they laughed at that image, and Shepard tried to resume the story while still giggling. “If I remember correctly, I got up swearing a blue streak in your direction, before realizing everyone around us had stopped working out to watch.”
Anderson also continued chuckling. “That story is practically fleet legend now—how a tiny whirlwind of energy chewed me out! And quite thoroughly, too. At least until someone interrupted and whispered in your ear. I knew then I wanted you as an officer on any ship I commanded. But because that meeting is so well known, how about the time you first saluted me properly?”
Shepard took a long moment to focus and think. “Hmm. I made double sure to follow protocol during our first documented meeting, when you interviewed me for Normandy’s XO position. But I know I met you somewhere after the gym fiasco but before the interview. Oh, at the coffee shop on Arcturus, the one closest to BAQ! That’s it, right?”
She waited for Anderson’s smile and affirmative nod before describing more of the encounter. “I had just paid for my tea and was walking away from the counter. Then I saw you, which made me all embarrassed and flustered because I had cussed out someone whose career and achievements I greatly respected.”
“Enough with the flattery,” the councilor interjected with a laugh.
“So flustered, in fact,” Shepard continued, ignoring the interruption, “that I was about to salute with the hand holding the hot cup! But you saved the day by clearing your throat and glancing at my hand. I quickly switched the tea to my left hand so I could salute without scalding myself, and you asked if I had time to sit and get acquainted. I think it took at least five minutes for my bright red face to fade back to normal.”
“More like ten,” her former captain corrected with a grin. “And you left out the part where you called yourself an idiot in several different languages.” The reminder got Shepard snickering again, and they both turned to enjoy the view once more.
After several peaceful, nostalgic minutes, Anderson cleared his throat. “Did you know I’m acquainted with your foster parents, Sarah and Niall Walters? Well, was acquainted with Niall, before the attack on the Citadel. Still acquainted with Sarah, though I don’t see her much anymore.”
Shepard flinched at the reference to Niall in the past tense, but she otherwise made no answer. The silence stretched until Anderson asked, “Have you reached out to her yet, or to other members of your foster family?”
Keeping her face forward, Shepard sighed. “I sent her a message right after I responded to yours. It was returned as undeliverable. The same happened with Josh and Chloe, her…surviving son and daughter. I thought it was odd that all three changed their addresses. After the attack, when I got a 48-hour pass to go ho—…to their home on Arcturus, Sarah said they all understood and accepted my role in what had happened. Chloe hugged me, but everything still felt awkward up until I had to leave. I guess they…changed their minds about forgiving me.”
“You did nothing that needed forgiveness,” Anderson cut in, his manner forceful, even fierce. “All military families know the risk, especially when one or both parents have command rank. Sarah said as much in her eulogy for Niall and Michael.”
“It makes sense she’d put on a stoic face to bury two empty coffins,” Shepard chided before softening her tone. “But she had a lot of nights afterward to miss her husband and son.”
The quieter timbre became a hoarse whisper. “They were such a close-knit family, and they opened their arms and hearts to an angry, miserable orphan. And I destroyed it all. No, don’t say it. Of course I didn’t plan it or intend it. But I knew Niall was in command of Emden, and I knew his ship would be coming through the relay with Hackett and the Fifth Fleet.
“I didn’t know that Mike….” Her volume dipped further. “That he’d accepted a transfer to serve as senior navigator on Jakarta. If only I’d been up to speed on family news…. I don’t know. At the time, I couldn’t let myself think about individual people I…cared about. It would have paralyzed me, right when life and death decisions involving thousands, even millions, needed to be made.”
“That was the proper approach, focusing on the big picture,” Anderson reassured her. “You made a very tough choice, saving the Council and Destiny Ascension. The kind of choice the Alliance depends on excellent officers to make. And no matter what the Terra Firma types said afterward on ANN, it was the best decision for those circumstances. But being right isn’t always much solace, as my own experiences have taught me. From what I knew firsthand of Niall, though, he wouldn’t have wanted you to do anything differently that day.”
“Except find some magical way to spare Michael.” Shepard’s voice sounded a bit waterlogged. As she swiped the moisture from her eyes and cheeks, Anderson shifted his focus to a nearby pigeon.
“Well, perhaps that,” he agreed with a sad sigh. “However, according to all the data captured during the Battle of the Citadel, Niall never hesitated to give a single order while commanding Emden. He might have taken a moment to think of his son, but Michael being on Jakarta didn’t appear to influence any of his actions. I’m sure Niall was proud of you, and he would have been very proud of the victory you achieved over Sovereign…and grateful for all the lives that victory saved.”
“Thank you for that.” Shepard’s voice sounded more normal as she gave Anderson a quick glance with slightly reddened eyes. “It…it hurts to think about them, let alone talk about them. Sometimes I miss them all—both of my families—so much.”
“I’m certainly not going to push, but as CO I had access to your entire personnel file, plus quite a few things in your medical file. I’ve read all the information Sarah gathered about Mindoir, as well as all the data on Akuze. If you ever want to talk, no matter the subject, I’ll be here.”
Shepard’s lashes grew damp again. “I really appreciate that.” Then she stretched, ran both hands through her hair, and changed the topic with a close approximation of her usual grin. “So, bring me up to speed on the repairs around here. And how’s Kaidan doing these days?”
***
After nearly half an hour of chatting, Shepard offered, “Listen, forget about the Council and Udina. Join my crew and help me stop the Collectors.”
“I’m too old to go racing across the galaxy,” Anderson admitted. “Much as I complain, I’ve got an important job to do here. The front line—that’s got to be yours. Just do me a favor and be careful out there. We both know you can’t trust Cerberus.”
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Notes:
XO/CO: Military shorthand for Executive Officer (2nd in command) and Command Officer (the one in charge).
AWOL: pronounced “ā-wall.” Military acronym for “absent without leave.” A serious offense with serious penalties.
C’est quoi ces conneries: French for “what is this bullshit?” Basically, a way to say “WTF?”
BAQ: pronounced “back.” Military shorthand for bachelor officers’ quarters. “Bachelor” is an out-of-date term even today, and it actually refers to housing for any officers assigned to a location without family members (a spouse and/or children) accompanying them.
KIA/MIA: Military acronyms for “killed in action” and “missing in action.”
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