Chapter Text
“Absolutely not.” Commander Jane Shepard stood and began immediately pacing, feeling as though the walls of the Admiral’s stately office were suddenly closing in on her.
“Commander, sit back down,” Admiral Hackett ordered in a tired voice.
“No.” She spun on her heel to face her two superiors again, indignation overwhelming any fear of insubordination. “I have rights. This cannot be forced on me.”
“No one is forcing you.” Captain Anderson interceded in his usual calming way. It just made her angrier. She stared at him for a moment in outrage. How could he of all people ask this of her?
“So you want me to want this?” She scoffed and returned to pacing. “Why would you ever think I would want this? Or that anyone would want this?”
“We don’t have a choice right now. We lost, Commander,” Hackett said gruffly, sitting forward in his chair and jabbing a finger at the top of his desk.
“I know that.”
“So the turians have a long list of concessions that they want from us. We’re not in a position to negotiate. They expect us to balk at this, to refuse. And then they’ll ask for something more in exchange. But if we can agree to this, we can stop them in their tracks for the time being. Give us a chance to shore up other support, figure a better path forward.”
“And,” Anderson added, “we’ll have a man on the inside.” He gave her a small, encouraging smile. It almost worked too.
Shepard looked between the two of them. “You want me to be a mole.”
Anderson nodded. “Exactly.”
“I’m not trained in espionage.”
“We know, that’s why we picked you,” Hackett said, sitting back in his seat and folding his hands. “Spiky bastards won’t see it coming.”
Shepard frowned and tried to methodically think their plan through. Or think it through at all rather than be overwhelmed by knee-jerk panic. Immediately, an error arose. “They’re not going to put me in the heart of one of their intelligence centers. I wouldn’t have clearance for anything,” she pointed out.
“Once they have you settled, we can help guide you on how to find useful intel.” Hackett shook his head. “At this point, even bare-bones information will be better than what we have.”
“We may have lost this war, but there’s still a fight. Humanity’s not done yet,” Anderson said with far more conviction than Shepard currently felt.
“And you can have a big part helping to win that battle, Commander.”
Shepard drifted to her chair and sat back down. She pressed her hands against her knees and took a long breath. It felt like her choice was already made for her, as much as she hated it.
Anderson put a hand on her arm. “We know this is a big ask.”
Shepard scoffed and shook her head. That was putting it mildly.
“But when we’ve asked the impossible of you before, you’ve delivered. That’s why we asked you first.”
She frowned and didn’t answer. What Anderson said was true, but this was an entirely different request. They weren’t even in the same ballpark as last time, not even on the same continent, the same galaxy.
“If you really don’t want to do this, we can find someone else,” Anderson added quietly. Shepard glanced at Hackett; his face was unreadable. She wasn’t sure how much he agreed with Anderson. “But we both think you’re the best woman for the job.”
Shepard sighed. “But marriage?”
“Absolutely not.” Major Garrus Vakarian clenched his fists, feeling his talons press against the skin. The Generals at the large ovular war table frowned, subvocals buzzing with disapproval, but Garrus stood strong. He needed to punch something, to run, to do anything other than stand at attention. He was practically shaking from the effort to control himself.
“Perhaps you misunderstood, Major. This is not a request, this is a command,” General Victus replied. A few of the other generals muttered agreements.
Garrus locked eyes with the Primarch. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”
Fedorian regarded him for a moment with an inscrutable expression. “Permission granted.”
“With all due respect, sir, what the fuck?”
Fifteen minutes ago Garrus would have practically killed for a chance to be in this room of High Command, to have this kind of attention of the Primarch and the generals. Now here he was. And he was swearing at them.
Their disapproval grew louder still, but Fedorian chuckled. “There’s no need to keep him blind, Victus.” Fedorian looked over at the General. “Major Vakarian may know the full plan.”
Victus looked back at Garrus. “Fine. It’s a feint,” he explained in a clipped tone. “We need a name to put on the documentation. But we fully expect the humans to refuse.”
Garrus felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
“And when they do, we’ll get what we really want,” Fedorian finished, gesturing a hand. “They’ll have no recourse but to hand it to us.”
“What is it we’re after?” Garrus dared to ask.
The generals looked between themselves again. They reminded him more of a flock of nervous birds than a war council. Still, he probably wasn’t of high enough clearance to know.
“Their moon.” Fedorian pressed a button on the panel by his seat, and a projection of Earth’s moon appeared above the center of the table. “We’re going to establish a base there. Remind them who won this war, and keep any further infractions from cropping up.”
“Why not just do that straight away?” Garrus asked.
“Because that would go against the Varn Conventions,” Victus stepped back in, humming with frustration.
Garrus glanced down. He should have remembered that himself. In his defense, he was a little distracted by the possible marital axe hanging over his head.
“I assume you have no objections now.” Fedorian stared coolly at Garrus.
He most certainly still did. “And what happens if they do agree?”
“They won’t.” Fedorian shook his head and sounded very sure of himself. “The humans are too individualistic, too scattered to control their people enough to agree. It’s why they lost.”
Subvocals across the table chortled with amusement, puffed with pride. It did little to comfort Garrus, but he had no choice but to trust their judgment.
“Sir.” An aide stepped into the room. “Admiral Hackett is on the vidcom.”
The Generals around the table fixed their posture, adjusted jackets and fringe--preening.
“Excellent timing.” Fedorian sat up in his chair. “Major, you may stay for this.” He pressed another button, and the projection of Earth’s moon was replaced with the human Admiral. Garrus had seen many humans in the past year, but they still looked so strange, their skin all shades of the wrong colors and so vulnerably un-plated.
“Primarch,” Hackett greeted, his voice sounding thin without the undercurrent of subvocals.
“Admiral.” The Primarch sounded not ungracious, but not very welcoming either. Frankly, he sounded victorious. Rightly so. He had just won a war and handily at that.
“Thank you for giving us time to consider your ...request.”
“Of course.”
The Generals hummed with amusement. There were no requests, not in defeat.
“We will happily accept your offer,” Hackett continued. The humming stopped immediately. Garrus felt his world shake a bit at the foundations. “We think it’s a fine idea, an excellent way to model peace between our worlds and strengthen our connection for the future.” Fedorian’s gaze flickered over to Victus, who nodded and stood. He grabbed Garrus by the arm and hauled him to the other side of the table, just out of view of the Admiral.
“Splendid. We have already chosen a son of Palaven.” Fedorian looked over, and Garrus was pushed into view, standing behind his Primarch. “Major Garrus Vakarian. If our intelligence is correct, we believe your soldiers called him Archangel.”
To his credit, Admiral Hackett did not give a single indication of any sort of emotion. He simply nodded. “Very well.” Someone stepped into view next to the Admiral. “Commander Jane Shepard has volunteered to be our dau--representative. And if our intel is correct, I believe she is known as Flaming Death.”
Their intelligence was absolutely correct. Garrus would recognize the face of Flaming Death anywhere. Her bright red fringe was unforgettable, as well as her ability to incinerate entire platoons. She locked eyes with Garrus.
“I am honored to be a model for the human race,” she said with innate authority. Unconsciously, Garrus stood up a little straighter. “I look forward to meeting you.”
His mouth suddenly felt very dry. “You as well,” he managed. Her chin rose slightly. They both knew who had just won that battle.