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Chapter Text

The reason Hackett had chosen her new command became obvious when the N7 leading the mission, a tall, dark-haired man with a scar cutting into his hairline and eyes older than they had any right to be, briefed them on the mission while prowling the front of the briefing room like a predator in a cage. She was there for fucking PR. As long as the mission was successful, it would be just one more thing to put on the recruiting posters. She internally rolled her eyes. They couldn’t have been more blatant if they’d put it in her orders. 

As they were gearing up, the N7 approached her, cold blue eyes piercing into her. She straightened and clipped her shoulder-piece on, looking up at him. The hairs on her arms rose, and the instinctive urge to bring up her barrier had her jaw clenching. She’d never been around an N7 before, and the man radiated danger. She wasn’t accustomed to being intimidated by people, but he set her teeth on edge. 

“Lieutenant Shepard,” he said. “I’m Commander Schaefer. I heard about your actions on Elysium. Were the reports accurate? Ten thousand batarians?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I was too busy fighting to count them. You’d have to ask the Alliance that question, sir.”

“Still. It’s impressive. I’d like you on my ground team.”

“You or the brass?” she asked, fastening her forearm guards. 

“Me,” he said firmly. “As one of my old COs used to say, we’re heading into some mean bush. If you can handle Elysium, you can handle this.”

“Yes, sir.”

As it turned out, ‘mean bush’ was an understatement. The batarians were dug in deep underground, using the old mining facility as a base of operations. Their orbital support was worthless. Communications between ground teams were spotty. Comms to the surface were spottier. 

Schaefer called her over to confer on the meager intel they had on the facility. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the rough map. This mission wasn’t going to be an in and out. The facility was massive, spanning the diameter of the moon. It would need to be thoroughly mapped and reconnoitered…once they could get in. The batarians had blown most of the tunnels and barricaded the rest. 

“We’re sending sorties,” Major Kyle said. “Your team will be held in reserve for the final push.”

“I think we would be useful on the initial breach, sir,” Schaefer said. 

“No,” Kyle answered shortly. “We’re saving you for the end.”

“Respectfully, sir,” Schaefer said tightly, “I didn’t bring my men all the way here to sit around camp and play cards for three days when we could be better utilized. If we go in early–”

“There is a plan, Commander. We stick to the plan.”

“Yes, sir,” Schaefer said between his teeth, gesturing Red to follow him as he stormed away. “Fucking paper pushers. Why the hell the Alliance insists on putting an N team under the command of any high-ranking officer regardless of their combat experience, I will never understand. No matter what military it is, this shit never changes. Kyle has never been in the trenches. I’d bet my left nut he hasn’t held a gun since OCS. He’s planning by the book, and this is not a ‘by the book’ scenario. The son of a bitch is going to get people killed.”

“It’ll take a week to get through the way he’s got it worked,” she agreed. “And in the meantime, hurry up and wait. There’s something bugging me about this whole scenario, though.”

Schaefer rocked back on his heel, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m listening.”

“Those tunnels can’t be the only way in. There must be ventilation at the very least, and they’d have left themselves an easy exit. They wouldn’t just bury themselves alive down there. We have them surrounded, and as long as they didn’t have advance notice, that means their supplies are limited while ours aren’t. We could just wait them out like an army laying siege to a castle. But what does every good castle have? Secret tunnels. An escape hatch.”

“Makes sense,” he said. 

“So we find it, flush them out, and we’ll be waiting. Make them come to us.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I like that idea a hell of a lot better than wasting time carving our way in. Let’s go.”

They returned to the major where Schaefer presented their alternative. Kyle balked at the idea, insisting that his plan was solid and would work. Red could almost hear Schaefer’s teeth grinding together. When they left the command tent again, she suspected he’d given in only because the alternative would have been strangling the CO with his bare hands. 

“I’ll give him a solar day,” Schaefer said. “If we haven’t made significant progress by then, I’m calling in Hackett. Meanwhile, find your tent.”

They made little visible progress in the time Schaefer had allotted. Red spent the time examining the scans, searching for weak points and marking likely points for ventilation and exit shafts. If they did have a way out, it could be anywhere on the moon. The entrances were spread out across its surface, requiring coordination of multiple teams. Finding the exit point would be easier said than done until the orbital scans were complete. 

Torfan’s day/night cycle was significantly faster than Luna’s. Day and night lasted roughly six hours, the temperatures rising hot in the daytime and well below freezing during the night. Their armor worked to regulate, but they didn’t have time to adjust to one atmosphere before the other returned. By the time a solar day had passed, it felt like a week had gone by. 

She was itching for action, and she could see the same tension in Schaefer’s shoulders when she accompanied him back to the command tent. Kyle stood in the corner, speaking with a gunnery chief, so Schaefer went to the map, the muscle in his jaw clenching as he looked at the insignificant progress they’d made. 

“Come to question my authority again, Schaefer?” Kyle said when the gunnery chief left.

“No, sir. I’ve come to request permission to take a team for recon. We have reason to believe the batarians have exit routes that haven’t been picked up by scans. If that’s the case, we need to find them.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “What reasons?”

Common fucking sense, Red thought.

“Rational deduction,” Schaefer said. “They wouldn’t leave themselves without a bolthole in case things got ugly down there, but we haven’t located one yet. Given the limitations of our current intel, it’s reasonable to assume that we could have missed something. And if we did, then that means the enemy could appear and flank us without warning.”

“Fine,” Kyle said. “Approved. But I don’t think you’re going to find anything. Alliance intel is the best in the galaxy.”

Schaefer shouldered his way out of the tent, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘damned idiot’ under his breath. They walked over to the sector where their team had set up. The others came out and stood at attention, waiting for orders. 

“Divide into teams of two. Each team will take a Mako from the motor pool and scan an assigned sector. Your objective, search for any sign of a hidden entrance or exit, ventilation shafts, any opening that may lead into the system below ground, locate, and mark it. Shepard, assign sectors, then you’re with me.”

She called up a map of the moon and divided it as he’d asked, sending each team to a grid. She sent out the assignments to their omni-tool and followed Shepard to the motor pool. He climbed into the driver’s seat, so she took the navigator’s side and sent the map to the Mako’s display so that he could see their sector. 

“This is where I think they’re most likely to have placed it,” she said. “It’s jagged, hard to access, but a lot of crevasses and craters to hide a hole that the scans won’t pick up.”

“Good,” he said tightly. “I’m a sniper. Patience is part of the job, but my patience with stupidity is thin.”

“As is mine,” she said. 

His eyes cut to her. “You’re a biotic, right?” At her nod, he said, “What class?”

“Vanguard.”

“What’s it like?”

She cocked a brow at him. “You want to make small talk?” she asked flatly.

“Not really, no.”

“Okay, then.”

“I am curious, though,” he said, driving the Mako up the side of a jagged impact crater. When it crested the sharp edge and dropped out from under them, he grinned, his fingers flying over the controls to activate the jump boosters in time to keep them from a bone-rattling landing. 

“About?” she asked, enjoying the way her stomach flipped at the sudden loss of altitude. The man drove the Mako like he stole it, of which she thoroughly approved. 

“How you managed to hold off that many fucking batarians all alone.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “Not for long, anyway. Maybe an hour. The Alliance wanted a hero to hold up, so they downplayed the support I did have.”

“Still, an hour is a long time facing down a horde alone.”

“Good positioning and a lucky break with supplies.”

She didn’t want to talk about Elysium. She was sick of talking about Elysium. Luck and drugs, that’s all it was. If any one aspect had changed, the outcome would have been very different. 

“You don’t seem like the humble type,” he remarked. 

“It’s not humility. It’s just the truth,” she said. “Two klicks ahead, there’s an anomaly on sensor.”

He sped the Mako over the rough terrain, bouncing and soaring, shaking them in their seats. She gripped the handle over her head, counting down the distance and adjusting his trajectory until the anomaly was just ahead. It pinpointed between two ragged spears of rock thrusting up against the dark sky like twin javelins. 

“Going to have to go in on foot,” she said. 

“Understood.”

Chapter Text

Schaefer parked the Mako, and they fastened their spare weapons to their backs. She kept her shotgun in hand and he did the same with his AR. They approached the site together, automatically shifting to keep each other’s backs covered. 

“I think we’ve got something here,” he said quietly. “Boot prints.”

“Bingo,” she said. “See that shadow that’s darker than the rest?”

“Affirmative.”

They moved toward it, their heads on a swivel. Schaefer pivoted, bringing his rifle up, his stance ready. She ensured there were no other caves or hiding places nearby, checking above as well as around, and turned to face the hole in the rock. It went deep if the stygian blackness that faced them was any indication, and it was large enough for a grown man to walk through, though he’d have to keep his head down. 

They listened for a moment, but when their ears and combat scanners revealed no life signs, they turned their flashlights on. The light penetrated into the mouth of the tunnel but not far enough to see where it led.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a drone somewhere in your pocket, would you?” he asked. “Wait, no. You’re not a sentinel.”

“No, but I have a degree in tech,” she said, flash fabricating a drone and quickly adding a basic search program before sending it out. “It doesn’t have combat software,” at least not that she’d admit to, “but it can map the tunnel.”

He lowered his rifle, looking over her shoulder at her omni-tool. “This goes all the way down. Can you cloak it? Have it map the facility from inside?”

“Yes and no,” she said. “I can cloak it, but the power drain will be too much for it to do a full map. It’s also still audible, so cloaking isn’t perfect. We need engineers and sentinels. That way, we can send enough down there to divide it up.”

He sent out a message on his omni-tool for the team to converge on their location. Leaning a shoulder against the rock, he looked down at her, watching her control the drone like he was memorizing her keystrokes. 

“Where’d you go to college?” he asked. 

“MIT,” she answered.

It was true as far as it went. She’d taken the courses. She’d just stolen the degree. College cost money, and that had always been in short supply. 

“What about you?” she asked, turning it around on him. So far, he hadn’t asked anything that wasn’t in her files, but she was the one who did the digging into people, not the other way around. 

He chuckled wryly. “I’ve been to a few. Most recent was Armali on Thessia. Remotely, of course.”

“What did you major in?”

“Mass effect physics.”

“A soldier and a scholar, hm?” she said, watching the drone’s progression. 

“I spend most of my time on ships now. I like to know how they work,” he said.

Not a spacer, then. Spacer kids grew up learning the ins and outs of starships. “Where are you from?”

“Earth,” he said. “All over. Mom was military, so we traveled a lot. No real home base. You sound like…Chicagoland, though I can’t place where.”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing up at him in surprise. “You’ve got an ear for accents.”

“Not many places on Earth I haven’t been. You pick up a lot,” he said as the first team rolled in. 

He straightened, going to meet them while she continued to work the drone. The power was fading, so she sent it to an out of the way spot where it wouldn’t be noticed and created a new one, sending it down to start where the last one died. If Kyle had just listened to them yesterday, they’d have a whole team here by now and the facility would likely be mapped. 

More teams joined them, and the engineers and sentinels added their drones to hers. They coordinated search patterns, sharing data as it came in. She didn’t know their names and didn’t care to, but they worked efficiently together, seeming to accept her even though the sentinels could feel that she wasn’t one of them. 

By the time the sun set again, they’d mapped out an estimated half of the facility. Schaefer called a halt for the night cycle to let them recharge their omni-tools and recall the drones that still had enough power to make it back so they weren’t littering the corridors and risking detection. 

“We’ll remain here,” he decided. “Set up a perimeter with the Makos. Johnson and Bailey, you’re on first watch. Morris and Thompson, second. Shepard and me third. Get some shut-eye while you can. We’ll finish the rest when the sun comes up.”

She followed him into the Mako. The back bench could be folded out to make two cots. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it was better than trying to sleep sitting up in the stiff seats up front. They squeezed into the back and she settled with her back to the wall, connecting her omni-tool to the Mako’s external cameras and setting the VI to alarm for any movement that didn’t belong to their team. 

After reducing her spent drones to omni-gel, she laid down and pillowed her head on her arm. Beside her, Schaefer lay on his back with a knee drawn up, the other foot resting on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, not taking his own advice. 

“You should sleep, too,” she said.

“I’ll be fine. ICT prepares you for functioning on minimal sleep during a mission. I can rest without sleeping. You should, though. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Lying next to him felt like trying to sleep next to a tiger. But the tiger was on her side, so she allowed herself to doze, light enough that she’d be woken if he moved, but he was as still as any human could possibly be, and she eventually settled deeper into sleep, lulled by the even sounds of his breathing. 

When she woke, he wasn’t beside her. His boots rested on the footrest of the turret, and she sat up, wiping the sleep from her face. “Schaefer?”

“Good, you’re up. Dawn’s breaking.”

“I set an alarm…” she said, scowling at the VI that hadn’t woken her when she’d told it to. She didn’t sleep that deeply. 

“I turned it off,” he said from his perch. “I was awake, and it only takes one for watch. Seemed foolish to wake you then, but I was going to soon anyway so we can get moving. I want that system mapped today.”

“Yes, sir. I really would have been fine with sharing the watch.”

“Say ‘Thank you, Schaefer,’ and shut up about it,” he said. 

She smirked. “Thank you, Schaefer.”

“That’s better. I want to see the rest of that map,” he said, dropping down from the turret. “Sunrise. Let’s move.”

When they’d mapped the remainder of the system, they returned to Major Kyle with the intel. He reviewed it and listened to their idea to send troops through the backdoor, but he was insistent on getting the entrances cleared. 

“If I send you down there with only one exfil route, it’ll be a death sentence,” he said. 

Red spoke up, “I understand the concern with that, sir. But all we would need is one other tunnel cleared. If we shift our resources and focus all of it on the one that’s been cleared the furthest, we’ll save time and be able to manage their exit points should they decide to come topside and attack the surface base.”

“We continue as planned,” he stated. “Schaefer, I want one team guarding this exit point. The rest of you, stand down until I give the order.”

Schaefer’s fury was a frigid thing as he stalked back to the team. It radiated from him like the cold off Lake Michigan when the waters froze and the wind blew over the ice. She remained silent to his right, simmering in her own frustration. 

It took two more solar days before Kyle’s team cleared enough tunnels to satisfy him. Rather than the single massive push the N7 team suggested, he sent sorties of smaller teams, trying to flush the batarians from their stronghold onto the surface where they lacked the advantage. Schaefer said he was going to get more people killed trying to save them than he would if he’d fully committed to the mission. 

The truth had become clear days before. Kyle was afraid. She supposed it was admirable in a way that his fear was for his troops rather than his own safety, but his fear and inexperience combined to make him foolish.

Chapter Text

On the fourth day, Schaefer made good on his threat and called Hackett. As they were speaking, the comms fired to life, crackling with static and shouts. Red transferred it to her ear so she could listen in without interrupting. 

“Bravo team, all sectors–batarians–over–”

“Delta t–send–orcements–fucking four-eyed bast–”

“–eam, overrun–taki–heav–asualties–lieut–down–”

Kyle’s voice cut through the chaos, high with panic as he barked nonsensical orders and called for a retreat. Red scowled, holding up a finger to get Schaefer’s attention. He asked the admiral to hold, and she transferred the comms to the Mako’s speakers. 

“All units, fall back! Retreat! Do you hear me? Retreat to Surface Base Everest!”

“That fucking fool,” Schaefer snapped. “Admiral, permission to relieve Major Kyle from duty?”

“Granted,” Hackett said without hesitation. “Schaefer, it is vital that not one batarian leaves that moon. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.” Schaefer ended the call and got on the comms. “This is Commander Schaefer. On authority from Admiral Hackett, Major Kyle is hereby relieved from duty. Belay retreat orders. Engineers, blow tunnels Omaha One and Omaha Three. November Team, converge on my location. Foxtrot Team, surface defense. All other units, rally for entry at Omaha Two and Omaha Four.

“We do not retreat. Our mission is to take this base at all costs.”

When the rest of their squad arrived at the backdoor, Schaefer arranged them in three columns with himself at the head with Red and another biotic at his side. They shouldered their weapons, and Red sent a cloaked drone ahead to scout. 

Over the comm, Schaefer said, “I want biotics front, rear, and flank with barriers legionnaire-style, Roman tortoise formation. Go on my mark.” The teams confirmed the order, and he barked, “Now! Make some noise!”

They marched silently down the tunnel, NVG giving them a view of what lay ahead. She didn’t need to be told his plan. The other teams would go in loud and proud to claim the enemy’s attention while their team flanked them, trapping them in a pincer. He was sending the rest of the company into a meat grinder, and he knew it even if the rest of those poor bastards didn’t.

She patched into the vid feeds from the other units, monitoring their progress. One caught her eye as they neared the end of the tunnel, and she held up a fist to signal them to hold. Schaefer stopped, looking over her shoulder again. Her jaw clenched, teeth straining against each other nearly hard enough to break. 

“What is that?” the engineer behind her whispered. 

“Bodies,” Schaefer said. “Human. Civilian.”

“Kids,” Red said darkly as the shapes registered. They were arranged at each entry point, meant to be a silent warning to the soldiers. The batarians clearly didn’t understand humans. 

“Teenagers, yeah,” Schaefer agreed. “Probably had them working here.”

“They’re still innocent fucking kids.”

“Keep it together, Shepard,” he said. “This changes nothing. Let’s move.” 

“Four-eyed fucks,” the engineer muttered behind her. She agreed with the sentiment whole-heartedly. 

Her drone sent a warning, and she flashed three fingers to alert Schaefer. He nodded and checked her feed again before signaling them to hold. They remained where they were while he broke formation, vanishing in front of their eyes. The shimmer of his cloak registered faintly on the NVGs, just enough to allow her to track him as he crept out of the tunnel. They waited, listening, but no shots rang out. A few moments later, he returned, dropping his cloak and signaling them forward. 

They exited the tunnel to find a trio of batarians on the ground. One’s head was twisted at an unnatural angle. The two others could have been sleeping if not for the small bloodstains at their throats. Knife. Single point of entry. Quick and silent. Likely painless. Too good a death for the likes of them, but at least it was a death. 

She called up the map, the VI monitoring the other teams’ progress and collecting heat signatures from the drones overlaying the information onto it, and they followed it through the labyrinthine corridors and tunnels, unobtrusively clearing the base as they went. Soldiers set charges at his direction, ensuring that the press of a button would leave them with only one path out. If the batarians used it, they’d be met by the fire team he’d left guarding the entrance and gunned down. 

The vid feed and VI feedback showed a panoply of slaughter. Blue dots flowed down the tunnels and blipped out as they were mowed down. Soldiers clambered over bodies and were shot before they could get over. Blood flowed like rainwater down the tunnels, ponding at the cavern entries. Corpses blocked the way and were pushed aside by biotics who fell the moment they stepped out of the protective barriers. Panicked voices came through the comms, but Schaefer ordered them forward, refusing retreat.

The sound of gunfire and explosions met their ears as they approached the sector where red and blue dots on the screen made a blur of color. He stopped them by the wide bay doors separating them from the action, and Red threw up a biotic shield, allowing it to mesh with the others to form a dome over the team. He slammed his fist against the lock, and the doors slid open to chaos. 

The two factions had converged in a mined-out cavern. The batarians were trying to push back the Alliance troops, and they were succeeding. They were outnumbered five to one. Turrets rattled, cutting soldiers down where they advanced. Clusters of fighters battled so tightly it would have been difficult to tell friend from foe had they all been human. A rocket exploded, sending flames into the air and debris falling from the ceiling to bounce harmlessly against the barrier above them. The air was hazy with dust and smoke, acrid even through her helmet filters. The ground around the tunnel entrances was a spreading pool of red mud. Human soldiers lay where they fell, their bodies forming the only cover to be found.

Their team spread out, biotics holding the barrier while the engineers dropped turrets and fabricated drones and the soldiers went to a knee, opening fire. Red sent out her own drone and picked off targets with her pistol, hating the leash restraining her now as much as she had resented being trapped behind the barricade on Elysium. Beside her, Schaefer’s rifle clattered in his hands, each burst of fire mowing down the enemy. They turned to engage, belatedly recognizing the threat at their backs. 

“Sentinels, hold the barrier. Vanguards and adepts, engage,” Schaefer ordered. 

Red grinned ferally, swapping her pistol for her shotgun, and charged across the field, slamming into a batarian and shooting him in the face. She was going to make them pay. This was what she was good at. No longer the untrained street rat forced to oversee and take down enemies from a distance, she was up close and personal, charging, firing, brawling. Her blood sang. Her amp hummed at the base of her head. Her shotgun bucked in her hands. 

A batarian fired, flickering her barrier, and she charged him, slamming the butt of her overheated shotgun in his face and flattening her palm against his chest to send a shockwave through his body. She couldn’t clear a path with it, but she could stop a heart. Schaefer’s sniper rifle cracked, and the batarian to her three dropped. She didn’t see the man, but she knew the sound of a Viper rifle by heart. 

Time stretched and snapped like a rubber band as she flitted around the cavern, picking her targets and taking them down. A rocket exploded nearby, throwing her to the side, and she fired up at the batarian whose feet she’d landed at. Another tackled her as she leapt to her feet, and she drove her omni-blade into his belly, shoving him off. A third ran for her, a ball of plasma streaking towards him and lighting him up. She let him burn, and turned her attention to a turian, overloading his shields and throwing him into the wall. One of her team went down to her right, and she shot the batarian who’d killed him. 

“Mech!” someone shouted. 

She turned, gathering dark energy in her palm, and warped it. The glass over the pilot shattered, and the Viper cracked again. The pilot tumbled out. Another biotic warped what remained, and the mech crumpled to the ground, exploding in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. 

Despite their best efforts, the blue dots were shrinking, blipping out at a faster rate than the enemy red. If something didn’t change, it would be Elysium all over again, a handful of humans against an overwhelming force. A familiar voice grunted in her ear through the comm, the sound one of pain, and she turned to find Schaefer overrun and fighting for his life, his busted assault rifle discarded at his feet, taken out by an overload. His omni-blade slashed and jabbed, his fist and elbows ramming into whatever they could reach. She charged, slamming into a batarian who’d flanked him and knocking it back. She tossed him her AR and put her back to his, firing her shotgun. 

“Thanks,” he grunted. 

“No problem. Hold on.”

She grabbed his arm, hoping she didn’t rip it off, and slammed her heel into the dirt floor. The cavern dilated around them, and they blinked into place on the other side. She looked up, relieved to find he was still in one piece. Dazed, he looked around, regaining his bearings. 

“The fuck?”

“Charge,” she said, bringing her shotgun up. “That’s what biotics feel like.”

“Hot damn,” he muttered, shooting a plasma ball from his hand and firing the borrowed rifle. 

“You know we’re fucked, right?” she said, falling in beside him with the wall to their backs.

“Totally FUBAR,” he agreed. “You got any more biotic magic tricks up your sleeve?”

“One,” she said, “but it’ll take out a bunch of ours, too.” 

He scanned the battlefield and looked over at her omni-tool, doing the math. Tightly, he nodded. 

“Do it.”

“Get behind me,” she said, swiftly visualizing the transfer of energy, her hands sketching out a dry run of the mnemonic Aria had taught her. 

When he moved, she angled herself for maximum coverage of the field and let the energy flow through her body, hearing Aria’s voice in her mind. You need to feel it. Hold nothing back. This is not a skill you use when you want to leave something in reserve. It takes everything you have.

Picturing the small bodies abandoned at the entrance, she gathered dark energy in her hands. Imagining that she could feel every eezo nodule in her body lighting in preparation, she poured herself into it, the rage, the helpless fury, the old memories of other bodies left behind to send a message. Her fingers performed the mnemonic, and she shoved the energy from her hands, giving it everything in herself.

It swept through the cavern like an atomic shockwave, taking down friend and foe alike. Her amp popped and she cried out, dropping to her knees and scrabbling at the base of her neck, prying it out before it could overload her system. Schaefer knelt over her, drawing his sniper rifle and picking off the stragglers. 

She collapsed forward on her hands, sucking in the fetid air, her body trembling. She was down for the count. She needed…she needed… no . Not that. Never again. Her fingers clutched blindly for her shotgun, but a hand settled on her shoulder, stilling her. 

“It’s done,” Schaefer said. “Shepard, it’s done. At ease, soldier.”

She fell onto her side, breathing heavily. The batarians were down. A handful of Alliance soldiers stumbled towards them, limping and leaning on each other, carrying some and dragging others. An engineer had disabled the scrambler, letting comms reach the surface clearly, and Schaefer ordered a medical team down into the tunnels. Those who could still move on their own, he sent to scour the rest of the base and ensure there were no pockets of survivors. 

Glancing down at her, he said, “Need medical?”

“No,” she grunted, pushing off the ground. “I’m alright. She just wasn’t kidding when she said that one took everything.”

“The hell was that?” he asked. 

“She called it a flare. The asari I learned it from. Said it’s a last resort move. It overloaded my amp.” 

“Badass,” he said, helping her to her feet and clapping her on the back. 

“You’re hurt,” she said, looking him over for the first time. He was holding himself carefully, trying to hide it, but he was injured. Through his visor, his face was pale and drawn, deep lines radiating out from his eyes, dark circles shadowed beneath them. 

“I’ll heal,” he said. “Let’s get back up top.” 

They made their way out of the tunnels, their boots slipping in the blood and gore. Her head pounded like a drum, white pain sparking through her nervous system and making her fingers twitch, but she was walking out on her own power this time. The mission was a success. Casualties were high, but they were victorious. 

When they reached the surface base, a corporal ran over to them, asking what they should do with the prisoners. Schaefer scowled behind his helmet. 

“What prisoners?”

“They surrendered,” the corporal said. “Came up out of the mines with their hands up. We couldn’t just shoot them, so we arrested them.”

“What part of ‘take no prisoners’ was I unclear about?” he demanded. 

The corporal gaped at him, running beside him to keep up with his long strides as he approached the soldiers holding a ragtag group of kneeling batarians at gunpoint. Their hands were secured behind their heads. The soldiers shifted uneasily at the sight of Schaefer. 

“But, sir,” the corporal protested. “They surrendered.”

He walked up to the group and drew his pistol. Red followed suit. Hackett had been clear. Vital, he’d said. It was vital that not one batarian left this moon. They were here to send a message. Alliance mercy wasn’t it. 

Schaefer looked at her, a moment of perfect understanding passing between them. Calmly, he raised his pistol and shot the one nearest him execution-style. Red moved to the other end of the line and did the same. They met in the middle, looking at each other over the protests of the other soldiers. He nodded approval. 

“Do we have a casualty count?” he asked, leaving the batarians where they lay and striding toward the command tent. 

The corporal broke through her shock and followed them. “Um. Yes, sir. It’s, ah, it’s coming in now. Eighty-two dead. Seven mortally wounded, one critical. Nineteen injured. The survivors are…well, most of them are from Foxtrot Team. We didn’t see much action up here. The fire team you left at Zulu One survived. They’re covering the exit, making sure no one comes out that way.”

“And the batarians.”

“No–no survivors, sir. There are…no remaining life signs in the base.”

“You a batarian sympathizer, Corporal?” he asked, stopping in front of her and looming over her. 

“What? No! No, sir. I just…”

“Spit it out.”

“This was a massacre, sir. No matter how you look at it or whose side you’re on. It’s not something to be happy about.”

“Do I look happy to you?”

“No, sir.”

“We ran a successful mission against overwhelming odds, Corporal. Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“I…” the corporal’s head dropped. “I had friends down there, sir.”

“People die,” he said. “It’s what they do. They knew the job was dangerous when they took it. Shepard, with me.”

She was sure he heard the corporal’s muttered ‘ruthless bastard’ but if he did, he ignored it. He’d no doubt been called worse. 

Chapter Text

The ride back to the ship later was subdued, quieter than it had been when they’d come in. Shepard dropped her gear in her bunk and hit the showers, eager to wash the moon from her skin. She had it to herself, so she stripped down and threw a towel over the flimsy divider, letting the hot water sluice away the grime and sweat, leaving the curtain open. 

The door opened and Schaefer walked in. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a muscled torso covered with a bandage. His color was better, but he still bore the bruises. 

The commander was sexy as hell, she admitted as he prowled into the room with that predatory grace of his. Square-jawed with a sharp nose and sharper eyes, high cheekbones, a full mouth surrounded by a few days’ stubble. He was fit in the way that came from action rather than hours in a gym, his shoulders broad and waist trim, and when he dropped trou, she wet her lips and realized she was staring.

“Like what you see?” he asked, unashamed. He stopped by her stall, leaning a shoulder against the divider.

“Yes,” she said, reaching up to rinse the soap from her hair. 

His gaze went to her breasts before scanning her from head to toe, taking in the colorful tattoos and noting each scar. She let him look, flashing an inviting smile. As a rule, she didn’t fraternize with other soldiers. Not because of regs, but because she wasn’t willing to risk accusations of getting ahead on her back if she fucked a superior or worse if she fucked someone below her. But he was here and willing, and her blood was still singing from the battle. 

When he stepped into the shower and hooked his hands under her thighs to lift her up and slam her against the cold back wall, she met his lips with equal desperation, digging blindly in her shower kit for one of the foil wrappers she kept inside. He slid a hand under her ass to support her weight, reaching between them to stroke between her legs, a finger slipping over her slick flesh. His mouth covered her nipple, his tongue cool against her overheated skin. 

She choked down a moan, tearing the packet open with her teeth and taking him in hand, stroking him as he dipped a finger into her. It curled inside her, and her thighs trembled around his waist. Heat built in her core, rivaling the scorching water pounding over them. Her thumb circled his tip, and he buried his face against her neck, groaning against it. 

“Fuck, Shepard, do it,” he said, nipping at her throat and sending sparks racing over her skin. The finger inside her became two, stretching her for him as she rolled the condom onto him with a practiced motion. 

Snarling, he lined himself up and sheathed inside her in a single stroke of his hips, pulling her down onto him and grinding their bodies together. Their moans echoed against the tile, her toes curling at the sensation of being filled and stretched. His hips snapped, driving into her as his hand fisted in her hair, his lips crushing hers in a bruising kiss. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rode him. 

“Fuck me, Schaefer,” she said against his mouth, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.

“John,” he groaned, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. 

“Red,” she answered when they parted for breath. 

“Always did have a thing for redheads,” he said, a hand sweeping down her body to circle his thumb over her center. “Wanna see if you flash when I make you come. That night in the Mako, I was thinking about this. Having you alone, making you moan my name. Moan for me, Red.”

She did, her head falling back against the tile as his mouth found her throat. His callused thumb stroked around her nub, just enough to not be too much, and he drove into her, shifting his angle to keep her hanging on the edge. She rode him, her hand cupping the back of his neck, the other on his jaw, her thumb dragging his lip down and catching on his teeth. He nipped the pad of it, groaning as he watched her. 

The door opened, and he reached behind to yank the curtain shut, but his pace didn’t change. If anyone was listening closely, they’d hear the slap of flesh against flesh over the drone of the water, but they were talking to each other and not paying attention. 

“You don’t get to come till they leave, Red,” he murmured against her ear, and she stifled a desperate moan. 

He fucked her as the other shower heads turned on, dragging her nipple between his teeth and thumbing at the place where they were joined, mercilessly holding her at the edge of the peak, driving her up until she was sure her needy breaths could be heard over the sound of the water. His finger found her amp port, circling it experimentally, and dark energy washed over her. 

“Everybody out,” he barked. “Your CO wants to shower in peace.”

The other showers turned off with an echo of ‘sorry, sir’ and the muffled sounds of people rapidly drying off and dressing. The door opened and closed again, and John lightly tapped her amp port with a finger, his thumb sweeping over her clit as he thrust against her spot, holding her there and grinding into it. She shattered, her biotics flashing as she called his name and felt him pulsing inside her. 

His head dropped to her shoulder, and she felt him grin as he pulled out and slid her to her feet. He was still grinning when he looked down at her and kissed her soundly, stripping off the condom and tying it off.

“A flare for a flare,” he said, and left the stall. 

She sank down to the floor, her head back, her nerves humming pleasantly. 

Holy shit.

EARTH SYSTEMS ALLIANCE

Lieutenant Katherine Shepherd
Alliance Navy
SSV London

To: Lt. Katherine Shepherd

In light of your admirable service on Torfan, you have been selected for Interplanetary Combatives Training. Please report to the Interplanetary Combatives Academy in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Earth on June 1, 2179. You will need to bring the following items:

• Copy of your current orders
• Identification
• Four utility uniforms
• One dress uniform
• Toiletries
• Standard-issue gear

Upon arrival, report to Major Kirkland. 

/s/ Major John S. Thomas

Maj. John S. Thomas 

Commandant, Rio de Janeiro Training Facility

/s/ Admiral Steven R. Hackett

Adm. Steven R. Hackett 

Department of the Navy, Fifth Fleet