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I Am James Vega

Mass Effect | James Vega | Shega | TW: Language

Chapter 2: Fallen Hero

(Previous Chapter)

The ship was still carrying the Cerberus logo, but Alliance crew members manned the stations. The guard presence was heavy. The air was tense. Vega looked around in disbelief as he followed Admiral Anderson through the command deck, wondering if this really was the infamous Normandy. Every man and woman in the Alliance knew about the Normandy. She was probably the most famous human ship ever to fly. She was the vessel that had responded to the distress signals on Eden Prime, back when the prothean beacon had been discovered. She had flown her crew to safety amid the volcanic eruptions of Therum, outran the nuclear destruction of Virmire, passed the never-before-survived Omega-4 relay, and left behind the smoking remains of the Collector home world. She had carried some of the most noteworthy aliens in galactic history, not to mention the single greatest hero of humanity's interstellar existence.

The men walked in silence. They stepped in to the elevator and waited, with nothing but the low hum of the mechanism making a sound. Vega watched the display panel with rising anticipation. Deck one. The door opened. Captain's Quarters. He followed Admiral Anderson past a pair of armed guards into the room beyond the sign. The cabin was dimly lit, with the main source of illumination coming from the tranquil aquarium. The room was large, sterile, and blandly furnished. A set of steps led down into the main bunk area, where a double bed stood coldly against the far wall. A bedside lamp was on. Vega's eyes fell upon the figure slouched over the edge of the bed, hands joined by shackles, hanging down between military boots. Dark hair obscured the individual's face in an unkempt, boyish style.

Vega stared. He could barely believe what he was seeing. Was this really...?

'Commander... Shepard?' he breathed.

She looked up. Soft light fell across her features as she appraised the stranger before her. But she was no stranger to him. This round, porcelain, child-like face with large hazel eyes and a pert little mouth, the slender shoulders and the tightly toned arms, the deceptive fragility of this petite form... it was unmistakable. This was the woman whose strength and courage had saved the galaxy from certain annihilation when no one else could. Her image had filled the inter-galactic media for the past two years unceasingly. She was a stranger to no one.

Her bright eyes flickered to Anderson, uncertainty behind them.

'Shepard,' said the Admiral, standing before the foot of the bed. 'I'd like you to meet Lieutenant James Vega.'

Vega remembered to blink. He saw the woman's gaze settle on him, and he gave her a sharp salute.

'Commander,' he greeted her formally.

Shepard's expression did not lighten. She looked utterly defeated, lost, alone, and so angry. She was the victim of incredible injustice, and it was painfully evident in her eyes. Without acknowledging Vega, she returned her attention to the Admiral, and said in a bitter voice:

'I told you I wouldn't try to escape.'

Anderson shifted uncomfortably. 'I know, Shepard. But the brass aren't going to just take your word for it – not after you commandeered the Normandy in lock-down two years ago. They want you under tight watch twenty-four-seven, and Vega is the man I've chosen for the job.'

'You're not staying?' she asked.

'I can't. I've got to arrange the defence case for your hearing. It was difficult enough getting the morons in charge to allow me access to you, and I almost had my request denied to put my own man on you during your incarceration.'

Commander Shepard stood up, still facing Anderson. Vega, seemingly forgotten, was struck by how small Shepard was in person. On the vids she had seemed so mighty, indestructible, larger than life. Never seen outside of her N7 armour, always armed to the teeth, ever ready, her daily life like an action movie, she had always appeared like some kind of superhero. Standing before him now was a mere girl. He could do nothing but stare.

'Anderson,' the Commander said softly, reaching out to take her old friend's hand. She gripped it tightly. 'Listen, I appreciate everything you've done for me. I really do. I know this isn't your fault.'

Admiral Anderson gave her a tired smile, forcing a glimmer of hope to shine through. It fell short of convincing. 'I will keep fighting this, Shepard,' he promised her. 'Just stay strong.'

'You may be fighting a losing battle, sir,' she replied sadly.

'I won't accept that. We need you, Shepard – not just the Alliance, but the entire galaxy. When the Reapers come, we won't stand a chance without you.'

The Reapers. A mysterious race of sentient machines supposedly responsible for purging the galaxy of organic life fifty-thousand years ago. Lieutenant Vega knew the stories. Every fifty-thousand years, when the races of the galaxy advanced to their evolutionary and technological peak, the Reapers had appeared from beyond Dark Space, obliterating billions, leaving only a few primitive forms of life to continue and repeat the cycle. No one knew what the Reapers actually were, their origin, their motive, or their purpose. Commander Shepard was the only living person to have actually spoken to a Reaper, and there were very few who actually believed her.

'Forget about me,' said Shepard firmly. 'You have to prepare for the Reapers. You have to convince the Alliance, convince the Council, get the races on your side. You need to build some kind of defence.'

'You know as well as I do, that's not going to happen, Shepard.'

'Damn it, Anderson, you've got to get those stupid SOBs to move their asses! The Reapers won't care that no one believes in them – they're coming anyway!'

'What do you expect me to do?' Anderson snapped. 'You were there. You've seen the way the Council dismissed your testimony. They doubted you back then, when you were a hero who had just saved the Citadel – you think they're gonna trust you now you're a damned war criminal?'

'I destroyed the relay because I had no other choice!' flared Shepard. 'I am not a criminal!'

'Try to see it through their eyes, Shepard. You join a known terrorist group, stir up trouble in the Terminus Systems, then blow up a major relay, killing tens of thousands of civilians in the process. Yeah, you did it to stop the Reapers getting through the relay, but when nobody in the galaxy even believes in the existence of the Reapers, that's a defence without a hope in hell of succeeding...'

Commander Shepard clenched her fists at her sides, her jaw tensing with the surge of frustration and anger. Lieutenant Vega observed in awkward silence. He felt like he was imposing, but there was nowhere for him to go, and he had not been dismissed. He watched Anderson and Shepard stare down at the ground in silence. He wondered what was going to happen. He wondered why he was here.

The Admiral straightened his suit jacket and took a deep breath. 'I have to get up to the bridge,' he announced wearily. 'We'll be leaving orbit soon.'

Shepard nodded. She glanced at Vega, as if she was only now noticing he was there. Her eyes skimmed his entire form, focused on the gash above his eye, and traced the line of blood that was dripping onto the floor.

'What did you do to him?' she asked Anderson half-amused.

Anderson smiled. 'He needed some convincing to take the job.'

Vega caught the flow of blood with his hand, looking down at the stain on the carpet. 'Hey,' he protested, 'don't take credit for someone else's work, Admiral. No way did I get messed up by you.'

The Commander gestured for Vega to leave, shooing him towards the door. 'Go get patched up in the med-bay,' she said. 'I don't want you bleeding all over my cabin.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

The two men walked away, leaving Shepard alone in the room that had become her cell. Vega felt a pang of guilt as he stepped outside. The Commander didn't deserve this. If this was galactic justice, then he wasn't even sure he wanted to be on the side of justice any more. Handcuffs? Armed guards at the door? Were they really necessary? The indignity of her situation was maddening.

They entered the elevator and Anderson paused, holding off on pressing the button. He faced Vega seriously.

'Lieutenant, I can see that you hold Shepard in high esteem,' he said. 'But you should remember that she's not your CO any more. I can't have you obeying your prisoner.'

Vega stared at him, surprised. 'But, sir-'

'By all means, take her advice to go get your injuries seen to,' Anderson continued. 'Just so long as you understand that she can't give orders.'

The young man frowned, concern crossing his scarred face. 'Permission to speak freely, Admiral,' he requested.

'Go ahead.'

He hit the door release key on the elevator controls and the doors slid shut, blocking them from the eyes and ears of the armed guards.

'This isn't right,' he blurted, the words rushing out. 'This is loco! The whole thing is. Commander Shepard saved the galaxy more than once, but she's been stripped of her rank and title, and clapped in chains like a damn criminal. While the brass and the aliens are all up in arms about some pointless trial, the Reapers are heading straight for us. It's totally messed up! You got me in here policing the hero of the century, while big evil machines are scheming to squish us like bugs – and she's the one who can deal with it! I'm expected to keep her from escaping? Hell, sir, I'd remove the cuffs and escort her off the ship myself the second you turn your back on me.' The Lieutenant rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, heat flushing his features. He was drowning in the silence as his superior officer pinned him with his gaze. 'All due respect, Admiral...' he added. 'I'm the wrong guy for this.'

Anderson pursed his lips thoughtfully. He considered the young soldier before him for a long moment before responding simply: 'You're the only man I can trust.'

Vega's brow furrowed even deeper. 'Uh... didn't you hear what I just said?' The ridiculousness of the situation was beginning to make his head spin. 'Admiral, if you put me here, I'm going to help Commander Shepard escape. That's the bottom line.'

'James,' the officer addressed him frankly. 'You wanna know why you're the right man for this?' He pointed a finger at him. 'Because no soldier in the Alliance would have dared say to me what you just said. When I met you after Fehl Prime I felt like you reminded me of someone. That was the day you dropped out of the military, and the statement you gave sounded familiar. I read your files. I noticed something interesting: three words kept appearing again and again, in mission briefs, psych analyses, assessments by your commanding officers...' His dark eyes glinted in the light. 'Stubborn. Outspoken. Loyal. Those were the very same three words that had been used again and again in the files of Marie Shepard. The way you felt when you got promoted for Fehl? The same way she felt after Torfan. Soldiers like you and Shepard don't just obey orders – you believe in the cause. You do what you know is right, and damn the consequences. What Shepard did might have landed her in trouble, and it might have been a little extreme – might even have been wrong – but that's exactly what you would have done in her situation, and it bought us time to prepare for the Reaper onslaught. Without Shepard's extreme actions, without her conviction and courage to act outside of her orders, we wouldn't be here right now. No living person in this galaxy would.'

Vega was stunned. He had always been a supporter of Commander Shepard's choices, and he respected her more than any other Alliance officer alive. She was practically his hero. To be told by her mentor and closest friend that he was just like her was incredible. He couldn't believe Anderson was saying this.

The Admiral placed a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice to a very focused level as he held the young soldier's gaze. 'James, I agree with you completely. I'd bust that woman out of here in a heartbeat if I thought it was necessary. But you have to understand something: the threat that faces us is not something that can be stopped by a single rogue soldier. I believe in Shepard, but there's no way she can fight these things alone. In order to stand a chance, she needs the support and aid of every species in the galaxy, all the governments, all the leaders, all the armies – working together to mount the biggest defence in history. You and I helping her escape isn't going to cut it. What we need to do is to help her and support her, fight for her, and argue her case. I intend to make the Council and the Alliance listen. I will make them see the bigger picture.'

'And me, sir?' asked Vega, conviction rising in his eyes.

'I need you to keep her safe,' Anderson told him firmly. 'She is a target right now, from many different directions. The batarians want her head. She's got a lot of enemies, even within the Alliance. And she just screwed over Cerberus big time. I need you to make sure that nothing happens to her while she's being tried.'

'So I'm not just here to keep her from escaping,' he realised. 'I'm stopping anyone getting in, just as much as I'm stopping her getting out.'

'Exactly. I've arranged for you to have sole direct access to her at all times. No one else gets in to her cell except you. I have to be able to rely on you while I'm out pursuing her case through official channels. Do you understand, Lieutenant?'

Vega nodded, a renewed sense of hope and determination filling him. 'Yes, sir,' he said sharply. 'Sorry I doubted you, sir.'

'No problem, James. And... just so we're clear: no break-outs?'

'Sure. Definitely.'

'I knew I could count on you.' Anderson activated the elevator controls and set the car in motion. 'Now let's get off this godforsaken space station...'

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Garden of Loss: Pear Princesses

A haiku for my past pet rats AKA the princesses ♡

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Garden of Loss: Daisies in May

A haiku for my grandmothers, Daisy and May ♡

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Garden of Loss: Willow

My haiku for my beloved golden retriever, Willow. May he rest in peace.

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Garden of Loss: Cherry Tree

My haiku for my late mentor, Kazuko.

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Hope

Hoards of broken dreams

Oceans of fallen tears

Passing me by

Ebbing away

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"Thanks To Cerberus"

[Flashback: ME2]

Of all the people who could have found her body. Cerberus. The thought had crossed Shepard's mind that she might have preferred to stay dead.

Fact is: you're not dead, she told herself, as she scowled at a massive Cerberus logo emblazoned on the wall of the CIC. She didn't trust The Illusive Man for one second, and her ship was full of goddamn Cerberus, but she was alive. And the arrangement was only temporary. Think of it as using them for their funds and resources in order to get to the Collectors. She didn't care what that slippery bastard's true agenda was, because hers was the only one that mattered.

The data completed its transfer from the terminal to her data pad and there was a sound of confirmation. Having been slouched lazily over the terminal, Mercy pushed herself up from her elbows and moved away. She avoided the intense stare of the Yeoman (that woman creeps the hell out of me…) and headed for the cockpit.

Shepard smiled a little as she spotted Joker. So good to have a familiar face amid all this madness. She came up behind him and gave him a friendly swipe of his hat.

'Hey!' the young pilot protested as the beak of his hat fell in front of his eyes. 'Oh, yeah, real smart idea, Shepard: obscure the vision of the guy driving the ship…'

Mercy laughed and dropped down into the co-pilot seat beside him, data pad in hand. 'Aww, you can't stay mad at me, Joker,' she mocked. 'I know you missed me when I was dead.'

'You can only play the "I was dead" card so many times…'

She took a look at the data pad. There were three more dossiers after the salarian. Picking up a squaddie from a plague quarantine area wasn't exactly a picnic, but if he was as useful as The Illusive Man said he was, it would be worth the effort. Mercy gave a huff of displeasure at the thought of following Cerberus recommendations.

'If only you were fit to join the ground team,' she said to Joker. 'I'd much rather have you at my back than that… lab-constructed catsuit and the gun for hire.'

'Uh, for the record: I'm a big fan of the catsuit… Person inside it, not so much.' He shrugged. 'But Jacob's an okay guy.'

'Yeah, maybe… I just…'

'Might I suggest,' chimed an electronic voice, 'that you spend some time getting to know Miss Lawson, Shepard, in order to improve colleague relations and increase efficiency?'

Shepard shot Joker a look. Joker nodded and touched a control. A bleep sounded from EDI's display and flashed up the word: "MUTED". They both leaned back in their chairs smugly.

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Modded Dagmara Trevelyan

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Shadows Unknown

Deep in the black of the demon's abode Live whispers and voices of shadows unknown Its halls are a labyrinth of paths no men tread Its doors are the symbol of all man does dread Whoever is taken will never return And even their bones will perish and burn This evil is warned of in song and in tale They say it's a beast of a monstrous scale Its eyes chill the soul and its breath melts the skin Of any so foolish as to venture in Its tongue, red as blood, can taste flesh from afar Its nostrils can find you, wherever you are Scales hard as diamond all weapons deflect No sword will avail you, no armour protect Talons of iron will snatch you away To where ravenous jaws are ready to play Caught in its teeth are pieces of flesh Rent from its food when it used to be fresh The skull of a man adorns its great horn A pale diadem that is regally worn What does it want and whence did it come? This creature of doom that shows mercy to none Many will scoff and will ever insist That a beast of this kind could ever exist So go to the entrance of the demon's abode And enter the deep of the shadows unknown Wander the labyrinth of paths no men tread And laugh at the tales which inspire such dread Come tell us the truth of the beast that you learn We're waiting to listen, if you ever return.

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The characters of Rose of the Grey

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Inquisitor Trevelyan’s Public Statement

People often ask me what I - the Herald of Andraste - truly believe. Perhaps it is time I gave my official answer.

I believe in the Maker. Alas, those who claim to represent Him do so with pious titles, political jockeying, and fear-mongering. Made to repeat the Chant over and over, they lose the very meaning of the words uttered, rendering them powerless. Templars persecute Mages, though the Chant demands equality for all of the Maker's children. Mortals are elevated above others with titles such as "Divine" and "Most Holy", though the Chant teaches us that there is but One God, One Holy. Magic becomes a god unto itself, though Andraste taught that it must not rule over man. War is waged between Andrastian nations, though the Maker wishes only peace.

I believe in the Maker. I do not chant His words in meaningless mantra - I keep them in my heart and seek to put them into practice. I do not honour any man above another - I hold all as equals, as we are in the Maker's sight. I do not fear the magic that He provided to serve us - but neither do I crave it so that it might become ruler over me. I do not build grand halls of gold in which to serve the Maker - I go out and serve where there is a true need. I do not emblazon the Fire of Andraste upon my shield - I honour her death in my heart and by my deeds. I do not blame the Maker for death and destruction - I blame the people who kill and destroy.

I believe in the Maker. I do not believe in Man.

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tasking

(Inspired by the instrumental piece by Ayumi Hamasaki)

Here within the boundaries of reality I wander In solitude, searching for the fantasy on which I’ve pondered Is there somewhere outside of the black that will not shudder at my touch? Is there somewhere where all I lack will be bestowed upon me? All I seek is somewhere to be free - there is no more I’m asking As the world around me closes in, my senses are darkening Is there someone who will come and kiss the fraying edges of my soul? Is there someone who will believe in me and make me whole?

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Fillipo Rosario is the captain of the SSV Gabriel and the leader of the N7 team designated ANGEL. He is an N7 Paladin Sentinel. He and his family are Italian American by ethnicity, including his pregnant wife back on Earth and an aging mother – both being taken care of by the Alliance in a secure bunker in New York. The rest of his brothers are scattered elsewhere, with some serving in the Alliance military. A practicing Catholic, but not permitted to wear a crucifix while in uniform, Rosario has the sign of the cross tattooed on his chest, beside the name of his wife: Maria. He is a dependable, task-oriented person who puts duty before all else. Though good looking and in fine shape, he is by no means a ladies’ man – in fact, he could be described as a geek. His hobbies include comic books and videogames. Being slightly shorter than the average human male has given him self-esteem issues, but he does not let these affect his work performance.

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Some of my Mass Effect OCs: (L-R) Rendon, Cade, Prince, Kitani, Fey, Eamon

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Red

Staring into the red west sky My heart, though winged, too heavy to fly All my dreams have passed me by And their memories linger

Though deep inside afraid to die About my wish I cannot lie Why don't you come and help me try To my beckoning finger

If the last thing I feel is your body And the last thing I see is your face I'll drink in your kiss like poison And not let a drop go to waste

Let me fade

Let me fade

Wrapped in your embrace

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Dead. All of them. Their tiny bodies crammed into shipping crates the way you wouldn't even transport animals. There was a stench of urine and feces, scratch marks on the walls - horrific signs that those children had been alive in there not long ago. Stood at the entrance of one of the crates, Shepard felt her stomach lurch as she saw two of the limp figures tangled together in fearful embrace. The smallest could have been no older than seven. Revulsion and rage battled within Shepard, bringing tears to her eyes. She could not look away.

The chase ended here on Torfan. The slavers had surrendered. Their cargo was worthless. Their lives were all they had left, and they begged for them like dogs. In the darkness of her mind Shepard heard the voice of the man back on Mindoir: "You have to find them. Please…" The light dying from his eyes as he clutched desperately at Shepard's hand.

Down the barrel of her rifle she looked from the grey corpses to the throng of disarmed batarian captives. Behind her the soldiers awaited orders to gather the prisoners. It took Shepard only a few moments to make a decision.

"Do you have the slavers?" she heard Major Kyle call over the comm. "Where are they?"

Dead, her mind whispered. All of them.

[Flashback: Torfan, 2178]