Deep Space: An Epic Sci-Fi Romance

by Joan Jett

  We were several minutes into the battle before I realized I was barely afraid.

  Just then the batarians released half a dozen varren to overwhelm us at close range. Fast and aggressive, the beasts seemed to fly across the open ground before us. Fortunately they had no kinetic barriers, so I had no trouble flinging each one away in turn with my biotics. Shepard switched to his assault rifle and methodically shot each animal through the head after I had stopped its charge. The only one that got past us went down before a shotgun blast from Tali.

  When Shepard chose his moment to press the attack, almost no resistance remained. Shepard didn't call for the batarians to surrender, and they made no such offer. The combat didn't end until the last enemy went down.

  "Are you both okay?" he asked once we had a moment to take stock.

  "Didn't even drop my shields," said Tali.

  I glanced at my hands. They shook, but not nearly as badly as after Sharjila. "Same here."

  On the second level of the bunker we found the control room for the fusion torch. Tali and Shepard began hacking through the authentication protocols to gain administrator-level access. While they worked, I examined the dead.

  I must be honest. I have never been comfortable around batarians: their pasty coloring, bulbous heads, four-eyed gaze, and needle teeth. They remind me of ogres from asari children's fables, and when I was young they always seemed to have the disposition of ogres as well. Today batarians have become friendly and productive members of galactic society, but I still remember how they seemed in my youth and have to force myself not to recoil from them in distaste. Searching the bodies of violently dead batarians was one of the most unpleasant things I had ever done.

  I found almost nothing. No civilian or military identity cards, no credit chits, no personal effects. Even their armor was dull and scuffed, with no visible insignia.

  Faceless, anonymous foot soldiers. Expendable. Easy to disavow.

  The distant roar of the fusion torch cut off. Tali must have found the shut-down sequence.

  "Shepard to Normandy. Asteroid X57 is occupied by irregular military forces, batarian, estimate company strength. Begin your assault on objective Bravo. Expect a hot landing zone." He took a moment to glance at something Tali had brought up on the display. "Alliance rocket turrets hijacked by the enemy, and demolition charges placed as a makeshift minefield."

  "Aye-aye," said Kaidan over the link.

  Shepard looked at Tali and me. "Let's move."

  Back in the Mako, we bounced and wavered across the asteroid's surface to the third torch – objective Charlie – several kilometers away. From our position objective Bravo stood beyond the asteroid's horizon, but in the external view I could see Normandy sweeping in and firing on a ground target. I glanced at Shepard, who had switched his radio to an encrypted private channel and was listening carefully as he drove.

  Something about him attracted my attention, and I looked more closely to determine what it was.

  His face gave nothing away. On Sharjila his expression had been professionally neutral the entire time, but at least it had been mobile, reacting to the events around him. Now it was grimly set, his skin color unusually pale, his eyes the only mobile feature in a visage that could have been carved from stone. He said nothing, not even to acknowledge reports from me or Tali. When he wasn't using his left hand, it rested on his thigh and balled into a fist.

  I had seen him angry before. He had been all tightly controlled ferocity while intimidating Nassana Dantius into abandoning the Citadel.

  Unless I was mistaken, I was now seeing something else: white-hot, overpowering rage.

  It didn't seem to affect his performance. If anything he became even more fully aware of the situation around us, as we approached the third fusion torch and engaged the rocket turrets defending it. As before, we had no difficulty defeating the turrets and approaching the control bunker for the torch.

  This time the batarians were ready for us.

  There could be no mistake. These batarians might have worn abraded, unmarked armor, but they had well-trained combat specialists among them, elite Hegemony troops. Shepard swore as one of them overloaded his sniper rifle, forcing him to switch weapons. Another batarian engineer sabotaged Tali's shields, and she had to cower behind a computer core while she frantically rebuilt them. I erected a barrier barely in time as one of the batarians tried to yank me out into the open with a biotic pull.

  Then a wave of varren charged, almost overwhelming us.

  I saw Shepard drop his rifle and seize a varren by the throat as it charged for him, using its own momentum to snap its neck, leaving it broken on the floor behind him. Tali blasted away with her shotgun, desperately working the slide between shots.

  One of the varren leaped entirely over the crates I was using as cover, knocking me to the floor under its weight. I cried out as my shield went down and its claws tore through my light armor, opening three parallel wounds across my back.

  "Liara!"

  My shout of pain turned into a scream of exertion, my entire body suddenly haloed with blue light. I thrust out both arms and catapulted the varren into the air, sending it flying across the entire space to land broken behind the batarian lines. I rose to my feet, teeth bared, blood trickling down my back, dark energy coursing down my arms to blaze around my clenched fists.

  "You were saying, Commander?"

  He said not a word, only picked up his assault rifle and returned to the battle.

  That was the turning point. I began our counterattack by discharging the biotic force I had called up, flinging heavy crates across the chamber to slam into a group of three batarians. Tali pressed a key on her shotgun's stock and fired a cloud of incandescent particles into the enemy line. Shepard followed up with two high-explosive grenades.

  The batarian line broke. One after another, they began to emerge from cover and retreat deeper into the bunker, to be pursued by our gunfire. One batarian fell, then another, and suddenly we were able to advance.

  Once again, quarter was neither asked nor given.

  I found Shepard standing over the last batarian, a large male in black-and-red armor. The batarian slumped against a wall, coughing weakly, pressing a futile hand to a gaping belly wound. "Damn it," he muttered, "damn it."

  Shepard only stood there, looking down at the batarian with no expression at all.

  "Knew I shouldn't have taken this job," grunted the batarian. He peered up at Shepard through four pain-glazed eyes. "Hijacking this rock wasn't my idea, human. I only signed on for a little profit, a quick slave grab, nothing more."

  "So what changed?" Shepard asked quietly.

  "Balak." The batarian broke into a fit of coughing. "Crazy bastard, but what he wants, he usually gets. I think he wants your colony world on fire."

  "Not going to happen now."

  "Guess not." One hand reached weakly into a pocket on the batarian's hip. "Here, take this. Balak is up at the main facility, and he's locked it down. The pass-card will get you in. He has hostages. You'd better hurry."

  Shepard slowly reached out and took the card, pocketing it without a glance. "Why help me now?"

  "Not because I love you, human. But Balak's a mad varren. Putting him down would be a favor to the universe. Now do the same for me."

  "Gladly." Shepard drew his heavy pistol and fired twice.

  Tali approached us, watching Shepard. As always, her mask made it impossible to tell what she was thinking. Then she glanced at me. "Keelah, you're hurt!" She stepped behind me and began to examine the bloody rents in my armor.

  Shepard activated his hardsuit radio. "Kaidan, report."

  "How is it?" I asked Tali.

  "These are very deep cuts. They must hurt like hell."

  I flinched and sucked air through clenched teeth as the quarian's fingers probed beneath my shoulder-blade. "You might say that."

  "They're probably going to be infected, too. Varren are filthy creatures. Some medi-gel will seal the wou
nds, but you had better see Dr. Chakwas."

  "That can wait," I insisted. "Let's get this torch shut down first."

  "Kaidan says the second torch is out," said Shepard. "This is the only one left. Come on."

  We hurried upstairs to the control room, where the same authentication codes served to shut down the last torch. In the sudden quiet, Shepard called the Normandy. "Joker, give me an update on the asteroid's trajectory."

  "Hang on." Lieutenant Moreau was silent for a few moments, doubtless double-checking his mathematics with the ship's VI. "You're looking good, Commander! Clean miss, won't even skim the lower atmosphere. The colonists will have to turn her around and find another parking space, though."

  "We'll let them worry about that." He looked at me, made a decision. "Kaidan, rendezvous with us at Objective Charlie. This isn't over yet. Normandy, come in for evac. We have wounded."

  "I will be fine, Commander."

  "Don't argue with me, Liara. One of Kaidan's men is hurt too. Better to have Dr. Chakwas take care of you."

  "All right. But Shepard . . ."

  His eyes caught mine, and I suddenly felt reluctant to continue.

  "Don't do anything rash," I pleaded quietly.

  I could see he understood. He knew what I had seen. "I'll be careful, Liara."

  Then Kaidan and his team arrived, and we had no more time.

  Chapter 9 : In a Winter Season

  10 March 2183, SSV Normandy, Asgard System Space

  Back on the Normandy I found Dr. Chakwas working to save the wounded human Marine, Private Dubyansky. A batarian had taken down his shields and shot him in the upper chest. I waited, ignoring the burning pain in my back, praying for the doctor’s success. I was fond of Alexei; he had been one of the first humans to welcome me openly in the crew mess.

  After about an hour, the door opened and Ash entered the medical bay. She glanced around, saw me sitting quietly in the reception area, and approached.

  "How’s it going?" she asked me in low tones.

  "I'm no surgeon, but judging by Dr. Chakwas's body language, she seems to believe there is no immediate danger."

  "Looks like you got ripped up a bit."

  "I will be fine. We asari are tougher than we look."

  Ash nodded and sat companionably with me.

  "The mission is over?" I asked after a while.

  "Yeah. We stormed the main control facility, but the head terrorist – Balak – had a bunch of human hostages with bombs planted around them. Commander had to let him go, to gain time to disarm the bombs and save the hostages."

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Goddess he chose not to sacrifice innocents. "I cannot imagine that would please Shepard."

  "I'll say. He was pissed. At least the planet is safe, and most of the engineers are okay. Commander took Kaidan and Garrus down to the planet to talk to the colonial government and turn over some prisoners." She paused, frowning at some thought. "Not that we took very many prisoners."

  So she saw it as well. "Ashley, I have a question."

  "Shoot."

  "The Commander seemed to take this mission very personally. Even more than most of the crew. Why?"

  She gave me a brown-eyed stare, then shook her head and looked away. "That's not for me to say."

  I sighed. "I understand."

  "No, I'm sorry. I wish I could help you. Look at his biography, his service record. That may tell you what you want to know."

  "All right. Thank you."

  "You a little sweet on the Commander?" she asked, a sly note creeping into her voice.

  "I'm not sure I understand your idiom."

  "You know, interested in him."

  I frowned in sudden suspicion. "Do you mean, am I romantically interested in him?"

  She gave me an ironic look, one eyebrow cocked.

  "No, of course not!" I stopped, forced myself to think about it. "No . . . but he is a very compelling individual. That is, he is very interesting from a scientific standpoint. I want to understand him more thoroughly, that's all."

  Ash nodded slowly. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

  Just then Dr. Chakwas rescued me, emerging from the surgical compartment and approaching us. "Chief Williams. Dr. T'Soni. Alexei will

  be fine. He's sleeping now, so you shouldn't disturb him. He'll need to stay here for a few days, and I'm putting him on the light-duty roster until further notice."

  Ash smiled and stood. "That's good news, Doctor. I'll let Kaidan and the Commander know as soon as they get back from Terra Nova."

  Dr. Chakwas turned her attention to me. "Now, Doctor, let's have a look at you."

  Once Ash was gone, I gladly stripped out of my armor and soft undervest. My movements felt stiff and clumsy, and the wounds burned. Dr. Chakwas applied a local anesthetic, removed hardened medi-gel with a sonic probe, and then had to spend considerable time cleaning and debriding the wounds. The varren's claws had driven fibers from the undervest into my flesh, and Goddess alone knew what else had been under them.

  "Nasty wounds," Dr. Chakwas observed as she worked. "I have antibiotics that are suitable for asari, and you should heal cleanly enough, but you'll probably have thin scars when you're done."

  "Hmm. Asari who take up the military life often look forward to scars."

  "Do you?"

  I shook my head in distaste. "I am a scientist. It's not a profession that encourages bravado."

  "Given some of the scientific conferences I've attended, I fear I must disagree with you."

  I chuckled despite the discomfort.

  Later, my back feeling much better, I relaxed alone in my compartment. The drive core's low rumble passed through the ship every few seconds, telling me that we were on our way once more. On our way to Noveria, and the answers I was afraid to discover.

  "VI, access official biography and full service record of Lieutenant Commander William Allen Shepard, Alliance Navy. Text copy to my omni-tool."

  Documents appeared at my wrist. I began to read them with careful attention, taking notes along the way.

  Three hours later I knew a great deal more, but I was not sure that I was any wiser.

  In Shepard I had clearly encountered an exceptional human being: strength, reflexes, physical endurance, sensory acuity, general intelligence, mathematical aptitude, spatial perception, social skills, determination and strength of will, all of them well above the human norm. None of this had come to him simply as a matter of natural talent. He applied a strict regimen of physical exercise and mental discipline to keep himself at the peak of human performance.

  In a sense, Shepard conformed very well to some asari ideals.

  My people believe strongly in the honing of individual excellence. Each of us searches for our own unique form of areté, our own distinctive virtue. Then we strive to fulfill that virtue to the greatest degree possible. We exercise our bodies, sharpen our senses, and deepen our intellects. We compete almost constantly to demonstrate our merits on the stage of asari society. Those of us who succeed draw the admiration and emulation of others. This is how we progress as a society. In many ways it defines what it means to be asari.

  That was Shepard: a panaretos, a model of many virtues. A paragon. I was struck with respect and admiration for him.

  Even so, the official documents did not tell me what I most wanted to know. They did not tell me what drove Shepard, what motivated him, what he most wanted life to give him. They told me almost nothing about his passions.

  Unfortunately there was one exception, and that exception disturbed me.

  Shepard apparently hated batarians.

  It came as a surprise to me. Observing how he behaved toward the "aliens" on his crew, I had concluded that he was free of species prejudice. Even his relationship with Garrus Vakarian – a turian, member of a species many humans still hated and feared – was friendly and productive.

  Yet I had also watched him on Asteroid X57, savage and ruthless, destroying the batarian terrorists
without a moment's reflection. While operating independently, Kaidan's team had taken a few prisoners. In contrast, Shepard had executed every batarian who survived falling into his hands. According to Ash he had agonized for a long moment over the decision to let Balak go, even with a dozen innocent human lives at stake.

  In his service record I counted seventeen different incidents involving batarians. The battle on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz naturally headed the list, but there were many others. Full-scale battles on Anhur, raids on slaver gangs, skirmishes and boarding actions against pirates, even an epic bar brawl that had spilled out into the streets of Omega. What few reprimands he had ever received from his military superiors all seemed to be related to his treatment of batarians. He had never violated the laws of war – not quite – but he clearly viewed batarians with no trust or compassion.

  Reading his biography, I could see why.

  Mindoir.

  Shepard began his life on Earth, but a few years later his family moved to an agricultural colony in the Attican Traverse, a peaceful world with a population of about nine hundred thousand humans. In 2170 CE an army of batarian slavers descended on the planet. They ran amok for three days, until the Alliance dispatched a carrier group to secure the colony's safety. When all was over the colony had been nearly obliterated. The invaders murdered half of the population outright. They carried away another sixth as slaves, a process that involved the horrific torture and mutilation of the victims. Only a small fraction of the colonists endured long enough to be rescued.

  Shepard survived the raid through quick thinking, knowledge of the wilderness areas near his home, strong will, and sheer good luck. Not one other member of his family was so fortunate. The batarians murdered both of Shepard’s parents and one of his sisters. His other sister vanished in the chaos, most likely abducted and enslaved before the Alliance arrived. His friends, the teachers he most admired, the other members of his religious sect, the young woman he had begun to love, almost all of them were gone.