Mass Effect - Fragments

Chapter 4 - Home Truths

The conference was a small affair - no vaulted ceiling here, just the cavernous shuttle bay of the dreadnaught. The press corps was pretty diverse - mainly humans, but at least two Asari, a salarian, Turian and even a Drell. And Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. Shepard met her eyes and nodded cordially at her. She managed a wan smile back at him. Last time they'd met they had reached an accord of sorts. Never quite eye to eye, but never as brutal as some more seedy tabloids would have you believe. His appearance had caused a brief chatter amongst the journalists, as well as a few flashes from camera drones and omni-tool scans. So, that was cover thoroughly blown then.

He managed a quick glance around the room as a whole: an effort had been made - banners representing all the Council races were draped from the lifting cranes; the crew were lined up at the edges of the room in full dress uniform; the chairs were neatly laid out and over to one side there was a modest buffet for post-conference relief. And to provide ample opportunity for ambush by zealous reporters.

He listened as Hackett delivered the standard welcome, a quick update on the state of affairs - the trials ahead; the importance of coming together, what had already been achieved. Old platitudes, but important ones. The galactic family. He squeezed his eyes shut at that, stomach lurching, memories roiling for a moment. A cliff, a dusky sky and red sands, Hope - as if it was yesterday but now so very long ago.

And then his name. He started suddenly, the rank an unfamiliar addition. A gentle pressure on his hand brought him back to the present. He glanced and saw his mother nod. Standing carefully, he leaned against the cane he had been issued - his left leg still in a bad way - and took several deliberate and slow steps to the podium.

What to say? He'd been briefed: simple, to the point. The truth, as much as that was possible, Try not to rock the boat, he supposed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is a pleasure, a privilege and a relief to be standing in front of you now." His eyes surveyed the room, only really recognising Al Jilani - no Emily Wong it would seem. A casualty? Likely. Another friend lost to a hideous and senseless war. He steeled himself and persevered, "I'll try not to repeat what Admiral Hackett has said. It's been nearly a year and I'm sure you've heard it all before. It bears repeating, though: we faced an enemy far far beyond anything our societies have ever faced. We came through it. You came through it. We have lost much. So much. But we are still here. And although I've only been up on my feet a few days, I can say I am proud to be part of the galaxy again. My regret is that I wasn't able to help. Yes?"

He pointed at a Turian in the front row. The man rose, his mandibles twitching in what Shepard recognised as the preamble to a question. The man's two-toned voice was higher pitched than Garrus' indicating a Turian just out of his juvenile phase.

"Admiral, it's clear that you are among the living again, but why the year long absence?"

"Injury. From what I was told, I was lost in the medical triage chain, listed as MIA and eventually KIA: that's missing in action and killed in action for those of you not yet quite up with the military speak."

The Turian nodded and sat down - a straightforward answer, like his audience would most likely demand. Another hand was raised; Shepard nodded to the questioner, an Asari. She gave him a cool look and raised her Omni tool to record.

"Commander, I hope you don't mind me calling you that, it's what we all remember, what exactly happened during that final push?"

He managed to bite back the retort - it would have been out of character. And the rank was almost like his first name these days. Shepard managed a smile, but he morphed it into a vaguely confused expression.