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Their Finest Hour	By : draygon Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 8682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or EA, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
"What can I do for you, Councilor?" Shepard stood at parade rest, her hands clasped behind her back. Councilor Anderson looked as though he had aged years since she had last seen him when her Spectre status was reinstated. His temples were sprinkled with silver and his face held a perpetual pinched scowl that made his smile seem forced.
The Councilor's hologram held up it's hand. "At ease, Shepard. This isn't an official call." He waited until Shepard had shifted her stance until she was relaxed. She felt an easy smile come to her face as she crossed her arms over her chest and settled her weight on her left hip.
"I didn't know you were sentimental, Anderson." Shepard relaxed further when an almost genuine smile lit Anderson's face. "My offer still stands. You still have time to flip off Velarn, punch Udina and fulfill your childhood fantasy of running away with the first human Spectre and her crew of misfits."
Councilor Anderson chuckled as he tugged at the collar of his jacket. "My answer is the same as it was before, Shepard. Someone has to keep Udina in line." The annoyed look that flickered across Anderson's face left Shepard's smile lopsided.
"You don't trust him?"
"He has his uses," Anderson admitted, "but after the situation involving Captain Bailey and Executor Pallin, I don't know."
Shepard furrowed her brow. "I heard about that. Garrus never liked Pallin, but I doubt Udina would go that far to get him out of the way only to have another turian take his place."
Anderson chuckled, shaking his head. "Speaking of which, how is Garrus?"
Shepard sighed, rubbing her neck where his mark just barely showed under the collar of her uniform. "Honestly? He's good. Lost about a thousand credits to Tali at Skillian Five Poker," she shook her head, smirking. "I told him not to fall for her innocent act."
"How are you holding up, Jane," Anderson asked, frowning as Shepard just shrugged. "I know I can't offer you much more than my personal support."
Shepard shook her head. "Don't worry about money, David. I built up quite a store of credits outside of what Cerberus paid us. Miranda even worked a bit of magic and got the commissions coming in from all the mineral finds I staked out a few years ago. We're fine."
"I'm talking about you personally?" Anderson scrutinized the Commander closely. "Those bags under your eyes can't only be from Poker nights with the crew."
Shepard smiled, a rueful edge to the curve of her mouth. It seemed to creep in more and more these days.
"Nightmares, again?"
Shepard nodded, her shoulders sagging. "I miss the days when I could sleep all night long." She looked around as though to make sure no one was there to overhear her. "Can you keep a secret, David? Just between you and me?"
"You know you don't have to ask, Shepard. What ever it is, is safe with me."
She blew a breath out through her nose, gathering her courage. "I didn't have much time to take stock after I woke up. I can't even tell you the last time I really looked at myself in a mirror," Shepard wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "Sometimes, when I can't sleep and my mind runs away with me, I wonder if Cerberus couldn't rebuild my brain so they made an A.I. and shoved it into my head."
"I doubt that, Shepard." Anderson smiled, his tone softening. "I've known you for quite some time and I think your original crew would have noticed if something was amiss."
Shepard sighed, Anderson's words were more comforting than all the Illusive Man's platitudes combined.
"Before I forget, Shepard, your mother has been chewing my ear off to get some time to speak with you."
She shook her head, running her hands through her hair. "I know. I just- I just don't know how she would react to seeing me like this." She shook her head. "There were some things that Cerberus couldn't replace. And what they could replicate, they 'enhanced' with weaves and cybernetics. Hell, I'd probably survive a fall from the top of the Presidium Tower at full Earth gravity with all the 'upgrades' they did."
"Shepard. How much of you is still," Anderson pursed his lips, searching for the right word, "organic?"
"You mean human?" Shepard voiced what he didn't want to say, and deep down, didn't want to know. "The only thing organic from the neck up is my skin and my brain."
"Not even your eyes?" Anderson had a distinctly disturbed look on his face.
Shepard shook her head. "I was still conscious when they," she swallowed hard, "when they exploded." She shifted her shoulders as she pushed that particular memory from her mind. "I wish the beacons had a good recipe for a sleep aid stored on them. I still can't make heads or tails of most of the crap in here," Shepard smirked as she tapped a finger on her forehead.
"You still dream about the beacons?"
"A little here and there." She pinched the bridge of her nose as though to stop a headache from starting. "Mostly my own mind just starts piecing the parts together into the worst snuff film in history. Sometimes, when I wake up, I wonder how the hell we can survive against the Reapers."
"We may. And we may not, Shepard." Anderson raised his hands to the controls. "But we wouldn't be humans if we didn't routinely throw ourselves at impossible odds, would we?"
Shepard smiled as Anderson's image faded, leaving her with the holographic image of the Normandy. "Aye, Aye Captain."

Kolyat shifted nervously from one foot to the other, smoothing out the sleeves of his uniform again as he rode the elevator up to the Presidium. He had visited the Citadel several times and had never had the clearance to enter the Presidium. It was certainly as beautiful as he had heard and he took a moment to absorb it all before he headed toward the Ambassadorial Suites where the Executor's office was located.
"Ah... Kolyat," Executor Chellick stood up and reached over his desk to clasp his hand in a friendly greeting. "This is Kolyat," he introduced the younger Drell as another person stood. Kolyat felt himself shrink visibly from the woman scrutinizing him with eyes nearly the color of fire. "Kolyat, this is Captain Chelyabinsk." He didn't let on if he took any amusement at the young Drell's squirming under his training officer's sharp gaze.
After what seemed like an eternity, Chelyabinsk held out her hand. "Kolyat," she said, keeping her greeting to a simple statement of his name.
Kolyat took the offered hand, and noted with some relief that she didn't try to crush his. He had heard that humans view this as a test of strength and resolve and would often enter into contests to see who would let go first before they cracked a bone. "Captain Chal-," he tried to say her name, however, the abundance of syllables tied his tongue before he could get half way through. "Um, sorry. Cheel- Chelyabinsk."
Much to his relief, her only response to his difficulty was a small smirk. "Yes, well," Chellick snapped his mandibles to his face to hide his amusement, "as you probably are aware," Chellick returned to business as Chelyabinsk continued to observe him, "most of our recruits come from the military or have other valuable skills we need. We don't usually take on untested recruits." The turian Executor leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his carapace. "But we can't exactly call you 'untested' can we?"
Kolyat squirmed in his chair and had to grip the arm rests tightly to keep himself from bolting out of the Executor's office. Chellick seemed to take his discomfort as a good sign, because his mandibles lowered and flicked out slightly in a reassuring smile. "Relax, kid," he smiled again, "if I didn't think you had potential, I wouldn't have agreed to this." He gestured to the other officer. "And neither would she."
Kolyat cleared his throat, sure that the noise he made was somewhat amusing to his training officer from the small lift of her eyebrows that broke the stern demeanor. "He seems a bit green, Chellick." Kolyat wondered what it was about strength that made every word from a woman's mouth into an order. He would have to ask his father sometime if that was what the women he traveled with were like.
"A little," Chellick conceded, making Kolyat wonder what the hell being 'green' meant in this case. It certainly had nothing to do with his coloration. "But that's what you're here for, Captain."
The Captain chewed the inside of her mouth a moment, seemingly deep in thought. "I suppose I could potty train one more before you send me out to pasture."
Chellick laughed, shaking his head. "Send you out to pasture?" He seemed thoroughly entertained by the notion. "I doubt even the Council could keep you behind that desk any longer than you want." He shook his head again and stood, the Captain and Kolyat doing the same. "I wouldn't be so cruel as to promote you into a desk job. I wouldn't wish this sore ass on anyone."
The Captain, snickered at the Executor's choice of words and shook his hand in parting, Kolyat doing the same. "Come on, kid. We might as well get started while there's still 'daylight'." Kolyat followed Chelyabinsk out of the Ambassadorial suites and into C-Sec Academy. "First things, first," she started, walking toward the firing range. "we're going to teach you how to fire a weapon."
"I think I already know how to use one." Kolyat groused, earning him a rather stern glare from the Captain.
"Yes. That was right beautiful work you did, using tungsten rounds in a pistol specifically designed for graphite." She scoffed at the way his mouth opened in an almost response before he clicked it shut again. "You're lucky the Commander punched you before it blew up in your hand." She handed him a Carnifex machine pistol, letting him test the weight. "Go ahead." She gestured at the practice targets before putting ear plugs into her ears.
Kolyat shivered as he watched the plugs go in. He would never get used to watching a human stick something that far into their skulls. His were nothing more than slightly tacky pieces of gauze designed to keep the membrane from vibrating too violently. He applied these before he aimed the Carnifex, fired and nearly hit himself in the head with the recoil.
He rubbed his forehead, glaring at the Captain as she chuckled and shook her head. "Still think you know how to fire a gun with the proper ammo?"
Kolyat made a sour face, rubbing his wrist. The Commander was right, he thought dejectedly. He had a lot to learn.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Their Finest Hour