Another excerpt, except this is right at the start of the fic. Just finished it, unedited of course. Apologies for the spam, this is the last one before I piece everything up together into a proper chapter.
Excerpt from An Overview of the Reaper War by Ralia T’Orani:
All in all, the Reaper War lasted seven years. They materialised out of deep space three years after the human Admiral John Shepard led a strike force that ended in the destruction of the Collector’s Base, the Reapers’ servant race stronghold at the galactic core. It could be argued that that act prompted the enemy to make their decisive move. The Reapers’ inability to access the hidden mass relay in the Citadel after the Battle of the Citadel in 2183 meant that the relay network managed to remain unrestricted for the first few years. But even so, the speed of the initial attack and the complacency of the Council culminated in a ferocious battle in Citadel space one year after in 2186.
The megalithic space station was obliterated, destroyed by the Turian navy to prevent the relay switch from falling into Reaper control. It was at this point when the sapient races realised throwing entire flotillas at every Reaper was a war that could never be won. Pin-point strikes with the sole aim of landing a team onboard every reaper to overload their mass effect cores was the only viable tactic. The only problem was once the Reapers were made aware of the tactic, they sped up the rate of indoctrination, one of their most potent weapons, reducing organic troops to mindless drones in a matter of hours.
The work’s done.
Let’s just go away. Far away. To a place no one can find us…
New Canton was the closest approximation of such a place, located in a binary system on the edge of the Voyager Cluster. Specifically, it was a terrestrial moon four-fifth the size of Earth, one of twenty-three orbiting Zephyr, a gas giant, which in turn circumnavigated twin stars, a yellow giant and a brown dwarf, every two solar years or so.
The nights were never dark, especially when the luminescent gas giant emerges over the terminator, and nearby sodium moons, some twice the size of Canton, reflect brilliant starlight back. It was a nocturnal world with native biological activity taking place mostly after the sun set, an arrangement that suited diurnals like human beings just fine.
The sparse forests and grasslands covering much of the planet gave way easily to powered machinery during the sleepy days. New Canton was a budding biosphere on the verge of ecological breakthrough, flora development having reached a level capable of sustaining larger fauna. External intervention in the form of human colonisation meant that may never happen; for with its point-eight standard gravity, animal life would grow to gigantic proportions if left unchecked.
The main colony had a population of about one million. As destinations for real estate and life prospects go, New Canton didn’t exactly top any list. Insect life was non-existent, but the planet retained an arsenal of surprises in the form of robust microbial life. Prospective colonists had to undergo intensive screening to ascertain their ability to live on the planet, and then subject themselves to a month-long session of antibiotics treatment and gene therapy before release onto the colony.
Even less clear in terms of attraction were the satellite colonies, established on the hinterlands: small towns sustaining on bare necessities, salvaged wire and spit. Three years ago, New Canton, along with other settlements this part of the Terminus System were given up as lost to the reapers. Six months ago, the original inhabitants began reclaiming the place, including one fringe colony known as Fraser’s Rest.
John Shepard, one-time saviour-of-the-galaxy, ran a hand through his unruly black hair grown past its customary buzz cut, as he dropped the hovertruck neatly into the garage. A propensity for heavy beard growth with facial features knocked too many times askance gave him the look of a thug, until one happened to catch the unmitigated attention of his shrewd gaze.
His passenger exited the vehicle on the other side. Shan gave a brief nod of thanks for the ride, a smart jerk from a man who otherwise looked as disheveled as Shepard was.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, sir. Same time.”
“Same place. And stop calling me that, Shan. I left that life behind. We all did.”
“Yessir—I mean, yeah.”
Shan heaved his rugsack higher on his shoulders and walked down the intersection on the gravel footpath towards the darkened mass of a pre-fabricated living module on the far side of the enclave.
The setting of the sun brought a fast chill to the springtime air. On a planet with a two solar-year orbit, summer wouldn’t arrive for four months yet. Shepard walked briskly out of the garage, wiping his stubbled face with the bottom of a sweat-drenched shirt.
He’d spent most of the day staking out boundaries on what would hopefully become productively farmland. In any fringe colony, the fastest way to get work done was to go at it manually. Today’s work involved simply setting up fence posts around all the plots, which would then have to be strung and wired up. It was backbreaking work, even for an ex-commando.
He swore to himself he’d get the hang of this farming business, but one month into the apprenticeship, he continued to stumble over simple obstacles an ordinary farmer wouldn’t think twice about. The best soldier Earth had ever produced, adept in the use of high-tech weaponry and having commandeered starships from frigates to dreadnaughts, only to be stumped over how to operate a plow-sledge.
Tomorrow he’d figure it out, but today’s battle was over and he looked forward to rest and catching up with the companion who shared his life now. As he’d expected, she was sitting on the stairs wearing one of his sweaters, arms tucked close to her body to keep warm.
He cocked his head and grinned at the endearing sight of her in the oversized pullover.
“Am I entitled to the warm, fuzzy feeling that comes from knowing you’re waiting for me?”
An involuntary smile ghosted across Miranda’s lips.
“Are you sure that’s not the beer talking?”
“It’s possible, except I haven’t had any yet.”
She rose and stretched. “Fine, you are entitled, but only for a few seconds.”
Arms clasped around herself, she descended the steps to stand next to Shepard, taking in the stunning view of the gas giant emerging overhead. “I was just thinking I’d almost forgotten what it’s like being on a planet; the endless horizons, the sunsets…”
They stood in companionable silence, lulled by the night sounds of the planet.
“Do you think Earth will ever recover?” she finally asked softly.
A muscle on Shepard’s jaw jumped. Miranda looked at him when he failed to respond after a while. The cords on his neck stood in relief, and his eyes had that far away look that said he was taking a trip down memory lane. She reached a hand out to shake him lightly.
“John?”
He came back to himself with a jerk.
Rubbing his face with a shaky hand, he muttered, “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that. Had a combat flashback.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He gave a bark of a laugh.
“Not now. And definitely not here.” To drive home the point, he stamped his feet on the ground a few times, trying to drive the creeping cold away.
She studied him in the bright twilight, and then relented.
“Let’s go in. Dinner’s ready. On second thought,” she laid hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle shove, nose crinkling. “Shower. First. You stink.”
Shepard grinned and allowed himself to be chivvied in.
There were drawbacks to living in a frontier world, but an honest-to-goodness traditional shower wasn’t one of them. He set the force of the water to maximum, and turned the heat up high. In a very short time, the cubicle was filled with steam, and the pounding rush worked wonders at massaging the knots in his muscles.
Leaned against the wall of the small enclosure, breathing in the damp, all it took was a mental step and he was back in the past.
* * *
It’d been six months since the Reaper War was declared over. He arrived at Arcturus station on the dreadnaught Kilimanjaro trailed by a bevy of admirals, generals and their staff. Brass and bureaucracy contrived to keep them apart as much as her work did. He’d learned from an aide that Miranda had reached the station only a week before, and was in the process of decamping material from the station labs, tying up loose ends and classifying research files.
There was something strongly amiss in his lack of urgency to meet her, but as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t stifle the irrational fear of meeting her and finding her changed beyond his comprehension. Was it only three years since they’d last seen each other? It seemed like a lifetime ago. In that time, he’d had to walk paths that would drive him insane to walk again. The cross was solely his to carry, a burden he couldn’t release, and a journey he couldn’t relate to anyone else. Who was to say she hadn’t undergone the same?
But there was no other way to put it off. He’d dressed himself in a set of freshly-pressed fatigues and sporting a brand-new buzz-cut and a shave. No matter that it felt like preparing for a battle. Dismissing the various attachés that seem to buzz around him like so many flies, he stepped into the lab, alone for the first time since his arrival.
His heart froze when he saw Miranda at one of the consoles. She was forty-two standard years old, but her superior genetics gave her the look of a woman in her mid-twenties, in effect, no change from the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Still, he didn’t think he was imagining things when he noticed the new lines of stress around her mouth, or the tired, even haunted look in her eyes.
They’d stood frozen, just staring at each other, before meeting in a bone-crushing hug at some subliminal sign. Shepard would never forget that moment no matter what came to pass later, but just as he’d feared, after the initial greeting, a strange sense of reservation settled in, like returning to a home changed.
It’s over. It’s finally over.
Let’s just go away. Far away. To a place no one can find us…
He’d replayed what he would say to her when they finally met. But now that they did, the words died before they could leave his mouth. He couldn’t tell her he’d tender his resignation from the Alliance, that he was no longer an officer or even a soldier. That Shepard was gone, and he had no idea who he was from now on, let alone who she was.
To his relief, she didn’t attempt bring up the topic. In a surrealistic space, they separated and she drifted back to her interrupted work, while he clambered on a metal table, booted feet swinging in free space.
“I’m thinking of trying my hand at farming.” He began abruptly, words tumbling out of some desperate corner of his mind. “It’ll be good to grow things—build, instead of destroy”.
She smiled at him then, that trademark enigmatic smile of hers that almost stopped his heart.
“That sounds like a plan.” She said as her fingers flying across the console, sorting and deleting files. “So starting off with potted plants?”
He grinned before he could stop himself. Just like old times, they were slipping back into who they were before the onset of the war.
“C’mon, Miranda, show some faith.”
“Mmm…. How about a box on a window ledge?”
“I was thinking a ten-acre farm on some frontier world actually…”
She glanced up from her task, eyebrow raised.
“Shepard—John, do you remember the fish in your cabin?”
He frowned.
“What about them?”
“Do you remember the number of times you’ve had to replace them because they died?”
He returned her gaze, unapologetic. “Like when I was out cold in the med-bay?”
She folded her arms, quirk around her lips.
“What about when you asked me to feed them, forgot about it, and overfed them?”
“Well, they need to engineer intelligent fishes. What’s that got to do with what I’m talking about anyway?”
She shrugged.
“Nothing. Just saying your track record for keeping things alive isn’t exactly outstanding.”
Silence swell between them like a bloated corpse in the afternoon sun. Miranda finally rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed softly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“No.” He interrupted her. “It’s all right. You’re right.”
They stood, separated by the span of a room, yet the distance never felt wider.
“I think you’d like to know I resigned my commission.” He said into the silence. “I’m done.”
“Is that so?” Her voice carried faintly across.
Shepard cleared his throat for another try.
“I wasn’t kidding about the farm. My ride leaves for New Canton in a week.”
She froze, her fingers caught in mid-motion over the keyboard.
“The Council, the Alliance—they’re letting you go?”
“What can they do? Court-martial me again?” The bitterness surprised even himself. He tried again, injecting levity into his voice even as he held her with his eyes, “It doesn’t matter. The time now is my own.”
Ours if you wish laid unspoken.
She had looked away. He took his leave soon after.
That week had passed in a daze, as if something else animated his body while he watched spectator-like. When he made his way to the docking bay and saw her waiting for him, a single valise in hand, it was all the answer he needed to hear.
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