Mass Effect Chronicles: The Attack upon Eden Prime

 THE SHEPARD:

A CHRONICLE OF ROSAMUND AND THE REAPER WAR

An interpretive poetic narrative of a Mass Effect play-through

An audio version of the poem is available here: Canto 1 (Youtube)

The following is fan-fiction. Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.  Image Credit: Bioware and Celyntheraven
PG-13 rating for scenes of battle and darkness.
Note, this contains a glaring inaccuracy to Mass Effect not attributable to poetic license. This is not an error, it is the main character's ignorance.
For those interested, an image of Rosamund Shepard is available here:Commander-Rosamund-Shepard

Canto 1 ~ The Attack upon Eden Prime

We rise above the warmth and mists of air

And we turn our prow from the sun so fair.

Luna, our cold white satellite

Is left behind in the sea of night.

We sail by Mars, and on through the Belt

We’re far out in space, where I’ve always dwelt.

The ship she hums and pulses as we go.

Her hull is as white the driven snow.

Her prow is as long as a sword of steel

Yet her bright beauty, she can conceal.

Not her light from the gaze of men's open eyes,

But her presence from scanners, in space and in skies.

We’re embarked upon her maiden voyage

Leaving Earth and her youthful anchorage

On a quiet run to a colony world

Young Eden Prime, of which I’ve long heard.

Pluto the frozen looms up and goes by.

Farther, round Charon, the moon of her sky,

Lies a great ancient structure, huge, black, and bright

Spinning like a whirligig in the dark of night.

Flashing pulsing blue light in arms of ebony

Like two vast mirrored sickles, from the bridge I see.

This is the closest Mass Relay to Earth.

Though billions of miles the journey's still worth.

Now all hands are bracing. All systems are right.

And the Normandy dives to the piercing light.

~

In a distant place in the depths of space

We and the Normandy appear apace,

Thousands of light-years leaped in but moments

Swept through deep space in the Mass Relay's torrent.

Off the bow is sweet riot of black and light.

From the bridge, gulfs of glory blaze clear to our sight.

The constellations are different here.

And brighter the Milky Way appears.

Far off I see a small sparkle of green,

That colony world, which I haven’t yet seen.

Joker, the pilot, leans back in his chair

With a smug little grin and a triumphant flair.

Beside me stands a tall grim Turian.

Nihlus he's called, a rust faced alien.

White battle stripes adorn his horny face

Full armour sheathes his limbs and wasp-like waist,

He nods at the pilot magnanimously.

‘That was quite good for a relay leap.

It will please your captain.’                                  

                                            He turns and goes.

His footfalls fade to mere echoes,

Joker grumbles and mutters:                                  

                                               ‘I hate that guy.’

And turns to the helm, his fuzzy face wry.

Lieutenant Alenko looks up from his station.

‘He gave you a compliment, so … you hate him?’

I hear the two of them debating our guest,

Only half listening, my mind's on our quest.

And my eyes are on the green sparkle ahead.

Though Joker has left what Nihlus has said,

(That leap was “incredible” not just “good”)

And has now declared the guy's up-to-no-good.

He doesn’t trust Turians or ‘Spectres’

And elaborates this in a portent projecture.

While Alenko counters we have no good reason

To accuse the stern Nihlus of ill-will or treason.

(The Turians helped us design this new ship.

And the Council would watch a prototype's trip.)

Over the com, a deep voice is heard:

‘Commander Rosamund Shepard?’

I hear my Captain call my name,

Anderson, my father's friend, of great N7 fame.

His voice is serious, almost grim

As he summons me down to speak with him.

I wonder aloud whence comes this gravity,

The source is more than I can see.

The pilot shrugs and resettles his hat.

‘Oh, the captain always sounds like that.’

Alenko half smiles, I hear him aver:

‘That's just when he's talking to you, Joker.’

~

Down in the com-room, Nihlus stands alone

A strange and fearsome figure, clothed in living bone.

He turns to greet me with words smooth and fair,

Hissing through his lipless mouth, in the quiet air.

Mere light pleasantries his speech seems to be,

Small inquiries and praise o’er our young colony.

His manner is probing, of what I can’t tell.

Not of Eden Prime. I don’t know it well.

He turns to another; Elysium,

And the day when Batarian pirates had come.

It's me that he's probing. That day is well known.

I was there. I rallied resistance alone

And led colony's folk in defence.

Til the Alliance sent reinforcements.

But what significance does this hold for Nihlus?

He is coolly but quite clearly curious.

As we converse he watches appraisingly.

I wonder what must a Turian see?

Though I am tall for a daughter of men

I stand barely past his mandibled chin.

To a race with sharp spikes on the back of their heads

How strange must appear my soft strands of dark red.

How shelless and pale my bare face must seem

Though humans have called it strong-boned and cream.

I wonder, do five fingers, rather than three,

Make Turians jealous? Or seem fussy?

Firm swift steps sound along the corridor,

And Captain Anderson strides in the door.

His strong frame is tall, his brown face is dark.

On his blue uniform, bright medals spark.

A red stripe runs down from his right shoulder,

The uniform mark of an N7 soldier,

The toughest within the Alliance Fleet.

I too wear the stripe, though I’ve not yet his feats.

He tells me our shakedown run's only a cover.

The Normandy has been sent to recover

Intact Prothean tech from Eden Prime.

No greater discovery's been made in our time.

‘Its big, Shepard, big. Most seen for many lives.

There's been none bigger since the Mars archives.

What this might do for our technology...’

Now Nihlus's presence is clear to me.

The Citadel Council has sent a Spectre

To watch o’er this beacon, it's quite past conjecture.

Over the com speakers, Joker's voice chimes.

‘Captain! Com-link's come in from Eden Prime!’

On the opposite wall a screen lights up.

In the quiet room gunfire erupts.

A man is shouting they’re under attack.

He stumbles and falls and does not come back.

Now only sky can we see on the screen,

Red turbulent clouds like I’ve never seen.

And darkly through them, like a great fingered hand

There reaches a shape grasping out toward the land.

Nihlus, the captain, and I breathless watch

As it slides through the sky, till the signal is lost.

‘Well’ says Anderson, ‘this changes things.

Suit up, Commander! Let your feet grow wings.

I will summon Alenko and Jenkins.

Heaven and Earth – what was that thing?’

~

Armoured in black, gloved, booted, and armed

I report to the bay to the sound of alarms.

Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko – he from the bridge,

And eager Rich Jenkins – worked-up just a smidge,

Are ready; a pair of sturdy, bold Marines

We three make a standard Alliance fireteam.

Jenkins once lived here, some few years before

And scarce seems to believe that below there is war.

He's anxious to get there and join in the fight

Yet he seems too buoyant, too sure its alright.

We’re coming in close for the door opens in.

The captain raises his voice o’er the wind,

Tells us where to find the beacon dig-site

And tells to get there, go not left or right.

‘But what about survivors, Captain?’

Alenko's rough voice calls the question.

‘That beacon is your top priority!

It must not fall to the hands of an enemy!

I’ve sent for help. It will here soon

Your job is just to secure that beacon.

It's probably the target. Understood?’

‘Yes, Sir!’ I say.                                            

                                       I know full well that should,

Our foes be the ones to gain the new knowledge

All of our colonies would lose an edge.

‘Approaching the drop zone!’ Joker tells us.

‘Hey Nihlus!’ calls Jenkins ‘Are you coming with us?’

Out of the shadows the Turian comes,

Tall, dark, and deadly, bearing his gun.

‘I move faster alone.’ he says.                        

                                                   And is gone,

Empty and bare is the hatch he stood on.

The Normandy's swooped low, nearer the ground.

The fireteam leaps to a low grassy mound.

She's gone, and we stand in a vast and lovely land.

Below us stretch far away rich rolling ploughed lands.

Behind us rough crags, red with evening light

Rise up crowned with leaves, to steep, lofty height.

A sharp distant bark of crackling gunfire

Shatters the evening, makes the calm scene a liar.

Our prototype stealth ship slipped in low

And quietly dropped off my team below

Away from the gaze of enemy eyes

And whatever that was looming large in the skies.

But just over the ridge, just out of our sight

Lies the colony centre, and a terrible fight.

Quickly we climb through bramble and tree.

I look to the skies, but no dark shape I see.

As we run through a green and mossy dell

A large form moves, which I cannot see well.

It floats from the brush, a lumpish grey mass.

Two of us startle, but Jenkins laughs.

‘They call ‘em “gas-bags”. They aren’t any harm.’

I lower the gun I have raised in alarm.

He's right, the thing ambles – or drifts – right by.

Scarcely noticing we three passers-by.

Still laughing he sprints ahead, to the next bend.

‘It's clear.’                                                        

      And he goes.                      

                                                We hear the air rend.

We seize our weapons, break into a run,

Dash round the corner, but see no one.

In the air by a ledge a tiny globe hovers

Dipping and whirring, followed by others.

We let loose a volley of gunfire pale.

We biotically hurl them across the steep vale,

With forces unleashed from our empty hands

In streams of blue light, fierce swift-streaking strands,

Seizing the drones in strong scintillating fields

Biting right through the shell of their shields.

Their blasts fly about us, some find a mark.

Hot plasma against my barrier sparks.

Though I stagger beneath the force of the blow,

I am untouched, protected below.

When the last globe explodes and falls to the ground.

We call out for Jenkins and look all around.

At the foot of the slope lies a silent form, grey

We reach for our omni-tools, run down, and assay

To render him aid. But he's far and gone.

Red is the stony bank he lies on.

Alenko stares down at the man on the rock

His white face is filled with what seems to be shock.

I know that ere now he's seen battle and war

But his voice has grown smaller than it was before.

‘He didn’t have time to put up his shields.

He hadn’t a chance!’                                   

                                            Life's blood soaks the field.

‘Sometimes soldiers die. You have to go on.’

I seek to rouse him, we have to be gone.

He nods, mumbles ‘Yes, Ma'am’, and raises his head.

We stow our omni-tools and leave the dead.

~

Onward, quickly, the dig-site is near.

I know not what we’ll find, but greatly I fear.

Close, through a thicket, harsh shots ring out.

Gleaming steel figures leap all about.

A lone human woman, swift, pink, and white,

Is running and shooting in desperate fight.

Without a word we leave the path behind

We plunge into the thicket where we find,

Creeping brambles tangled under trees like yew.

Alenko rips free and plows on through.

I see him burning blue with barrier.

Light flies from his hands, he hurls the things higher

Than ever they leaped with their legs of tin.

The voice of his pistol joins in with the din.

Behind him I struggle out, into the open

But the metal fiends are gone, blasted, broken.

The lone woman turns to us, panting and worn,

Her tall form is straight, her armour is torn.

She thanks us in tones both martial and warm

Her face speaks of woes she's had no time to mourn.

Her enemies scattered round on the ground,

Are robotic bipedals, lean as bloodhounds.

Those long curving heads … I recognize “Geth”.

I’ve never met one, but I know they mean death.

They’ve never been seen out in human space,

And why they’re here now in this quiet place...

I turn to the woman, her story is brief.

‘My name's Ashley Williams, Gunnery-Chief.

My unit is dead, wiped out by the Geth.

They’re here coming after our beacon, I bet.

Well, I’m after it too! It's just to the south.’

She's calm and collected, I see she has nous.

~

We three go on, to the lip of a dell,

A deep rounded hollow, it's paths travelled well.

Down at the dig-site, the sun's ray are gone

And he darkness of evening is quite far along.

The gleam and clang of a swift metal body

Slick sterilized white, Shiny and gaudy,

And a Geth and more move in the shadow and stones.

The tread of their feet is like breaking of bones.

Alenko's bright omnitool flashes,

Overloading their circuitry

His gleaming biotic force lashes

The Geth at velocity.

Williams is not a biotic

But boy can she handle a gun!

Deadly and sharp, far beyond quick

Quick and knows which way to run

My biotic warp fields crumble the Geth

If they had been alive, they would now know death.

Unliving, unbreathing, insensate steel!

They do not live so they can’t die … or feel.

They fall in the twilight down on rugged stone

And we three marines are left here alone.

We look for the beacon, but see it not.

We spread out grimly and search through the spot.

‘It was here. Been moved. By us I hope.’

Williams calls out from low on the slope.

Nihlus calls me over the com.

He thinks it's been moved and may not be gone,

But rather conveyed to the near-by space-port,

Prepared for the Normandy's expected report.

He says he’ll be waiting at a tram nearby,

Tells us to be ready, but doesn’t say why.

~

Back out of the hollow, into the low sun,

We take the main path from the site at a run.

Around the bend and down an avenue

The valley and sky open up to our view.

‘What is that?!’

Hanging above the broad verdant vale

As big as the ridge where we stand on the trail

Gleaming and flashing long arms of black

Sending out lightning across its huge back

Is the distant dark shape I saw in the sky.

It looms o’er the world, all's darkened thereby.

It's fingers or tentacles reach toward the ground.

The air is filled with a terrible sound.

‘That is the biggest ship I’ve ever seen!’

Williams exclaims as we leave the ravine.

But is it a ship?                                  

                              Alenko asked well.

It's more like a creature.                                     

                                        Come up out of Hell.

Down the hillside out on the plain,

Buildings and roads cross o’er the terrain.

I see the tram station, like Nihlus said,

But I see no one living – yet many dead.

One gunshot rings out. One. Close at hand.

No answer follows. A car leaves the tram.

We start down the slope, I see movement below

Dim figures running, no loping – No …

I cannot believe what I’m seeing here.

My companions’ eyes have grown large with fear.

These are humans, were humans, are not anymore.

What devilry's been here? What act of war...?

The things swarm up towards us, blind objects thrown

Unnaturally, without will of their own.

I don’t instantly shoot, not till I’m sure,

That they’re coming to kill us, that's what they’re for.

I call ‘Open fire!’ with pity and dread.

The three of us mow down this horde of the dead.

We’ve no words to say. What can there be said?

But I stop, ere we go, to make sure that the dead

Are cold and mere corpses and not something worse.

It's not. They were dead. It's a tactic perverse.

The blackness hangs still in the sky like a curse.

We go on. Down the slope. To the station below.

Farther down into this valley of woe.

The station seems emptied of even the dead

Silent and lifeless, I hope some have fled!

‘Nihlus!’ I call.                                                 

                                    My voices echoes unanswered.

The Spectre comes not, and says not a word.

But near the tram, a lone figure lies,

A Turian, armoured in familiar guise.

Alenko goes to him, but we’ve come too late.

He was shot from behind, close quarters. Checkmate.

What out-spectred a Spectre? So close yet no doubt?

‘Look there! Something's moving!’ Williams calls out.

A man, living, breathing, has appeared near the rail.

There's something yet living in this dreadful vale!

‘The other one killed him.’                                    

                                             Says he who's alive.

‘Did you see what happened! How did you survive?’

‘Well I was sleeping, or, catching a nap

Where the boss couldn’t see me, back there in the gap.

When the real fighting started, well, I just stayed back.’

‘So you lived just because you’re a coward and slack!’

Williams’ voice pierces the heavy red air.

The man shrinks away from the blaze of her stare.

I look at her, bearing the marks of her fight

Faced down alone, with her sole, single might.

And I think of the fellows that she's left behind,

And I do not wonder her tone is unkind.

But I am just glad to see some have survived

If he has lived here, there's many alive.

‘And what of the Turian, who has killed him?’

‘The other one; kinda tall, pale grey, and grim.

I think he knew him, he called him by name.

This one was all tense and ready to aim

Then he saw the other, and seemed to relax

Then they were talking and he turned his back.

He shot him, I don’t know, don’t ask me why.

Then he took off on the tram really spry.’

‘What name did he call him? What did you hear?’

‘Nihlus.’                                                     

‘The other.’                     

                                       ‘Oh, let me think here.

Sarin, I think, no wait, I’m quite sure.

Sarin Arc-something-or-other he were.

A really big fella, the colour of tin

With mean beady eyes, look out for him!’

~

We leave him and poor Nihlus and take the tram,

Out into the valley and over a dam,

Across broad green meadows and past walls of cream.

They said it was beautiful, it's like a dream.

A dream and yet a nightmare beneath.

I see none of its folk but the Gunnery-Chief.

She stands beside me, stoic and grim,

No tears in her dark eyes or on her tanned skin.

Others live, surely, in hiding or flight

But I see no signs of still active fight.

And still in the clouds, broods the evil black thing

And through the air still, I hear that dull ring.

Far on the platform, I see white figures moving,

Not men, they’re Geth. I can’t tell what they’re doing.

Yet among them I see a lone living creature

It's too far to make out specifics of feature

But he is Turian. That much is clear.

He stands among them without fear

And directs like a master or an overseer.

He's gone before the tram comes near.

We give the Geth battle, those few who remain.

As we retake the platform I see in a drain,

A cylinder, blatantly out of place.

It's little lights blink at a very fast pace.

I duck out of the firing, next to the drain.

An explosive, fit to light up the plain.

‘Lieutenant!’ I call.                                

                                       Alenko ducks down.

I see that he sees what it is I have found.

‘Can you disarm it?’                                 

                                         He nods and takes over.

Williams and I stand by and give cover.

Whole precious moments slip by as he works.

Most Geth have pulled off, but still a few lurk

Near corners and ledges sniping at will.

I’m surprised that they’re hanging around here still.

‘Got it, Commander! This one's disarmed.’

‘This one?!’                                                               

                              ‘There's four, synced together and armed.

We’ve got minutes to find them, we have to move now!

I’ve got leads on them, we’ll get them somehow.’

~

We run through deserted, sun-lit ramparts,

After the signal his omni-tool charts.

The beacon's forgotten, or nearly so,

I guess it is now in the hands of the foe.

Yet the colony still can be partly saved,

There's people alive here, where roads are paved.

And many more farther, out in the rural lands.

But these huge bombs will turn meadows to sands.

The plains, and the ridges, the sweet mossy dells

Infernos will crumble them into a hell.

We disarm two more, but we’re searching too long!

Then, on a causeway we’re running along

We see farther down, where the last bomb lies,

It's little lights blinking like small evil eyes.

The Geth rise up from behind the bulwarks,

The heat of their bolts turns concrete to sparks.

We gain ground, too slowly, dodging cover to cover.

Enough! Lose this chance and we get no other!

I strengthen my barrier and charge down the road,

I dash in among them. They crash and explode.

The barrier shudders, but stems the tide.

Alenko and Williams are still by my side.

We drive our foes back and duck into cover

Right near the explosive, our strength near over.

Beside me stands Williams. We hold the Geth back,

Alenko's crouched down and turned his back

On the battle beside him, the fury and fire

Working as though he did not hear their ire.

His brown fingers spin and his omni-tool whirs.

Over his set brow his dark hair is stirred

By the wind that throws up the dust from the fray.

Hurls it in our eyes and throws it away.

Williams’ assault-rifle and my shotgun

Cry out like mad hounds in the fast sinking sun.

‘It's done!’                                                                     

                 He jumps up, and hurls blue at the foe.

The moments tick by, but the bombs do not blow.

It's the Geth that collapse, they fall, move no more.

Just then I notice, I don’t hear the roar.

The sky has grown clear. The blackness is gone.

It's only the soft red of sunset – halcyon.

~

We head back through the space-port, searching the platforms

Though the beacon must surely have long since been borne

Away in the hands of the marauding Geth

Must surely now be in that black hulk of death.

And yet, on a deck, a tall pillar stands,

As if, untouched by enemy hands,

It sits unhurt, waiting for us,

Humming and greenly luminous.

It is the beacon. Williams confirms it

But she is puzzled, it didn’t emit

A light or a sound when it was first found.

Before it sat quiet and still on the ground.

Like polar aurora, pulsing, singing

The light dances up its cone, emblazoning

Dark steel with flickering green, mesmerizing.

The sound seems to grow, a low murmuring.

I shrug, turn away, and open my com,

To call to the Captain that all is calm.

Alenko still watches, as I pass by,

Strong curiosity in his brown eyes.

The thing is lovely, strange, and old.

For this, he has fought and Jenkins lies cold.

I contact the ship, get Joker on-line,

Tell him the beacon still seems to be fine.

Movement catches my notice-                       

                                                          ‘Alenko!’

He struggles as though in a strong under-tow.

It's dragging him towards the glimmering beacon

Seizing him fiercely, he seems to be weakened.

Over the deck, towards the beacon, toward him

I dash and I shout, the light has grown dim.

His planted heels slip and his hands find no grip.

The force picks up speed and he starts to trip.

I leap and I grasp him. The beacon grasps me.

A moment I wrangle, then hurl him free.

He falls safe to the deck, crumples down to the ground.

But the beacon still drags me, it twists me around.

Glimmering, shimmering – it won’t let go.

My feet leave the ground, I seem to be falling

Darkening, thundering – cruel shrieks of woe

Though them I hear my two comrades calling:

‘Shepard!’                                                             

He cries. She shouts:         

                                                            ‘Lieutenant! No!’

The sounds of their struggle fade from my ears.

Sights fill my eyes like the shooting of spears.

Fire and darkness. Silence and screams.

Foreign eyes sparkless. Death swarms in reams.

Shattering, blackening, gathering dark.

Light flickers feeble, crush of the spark.

Faltering, smouldering, perishing, gone.

Raging untrammelled. Dark steals the dawn.

Dimly I know that I’m still in the air

Above a space dock on an evening fair.

But this blast seems quite real, not like before.

I’m thrown to the deck and I know no more.

~

For those not familiar with the story - Commander Shepard is not dead.  She blacked out.  Williams and Alenko will look after her. I will be posting the next piece of the story whenever I have it.

Thanks for reading!

As Regards The Re-appearance of Commander Shepard

As Regards the Reappearance of Commander Shepard

(Warning, major spoilers ahead. Do not proceed unless you have completed all three major instalments of the Mass Effect video game series.)

Mass Effect 2, Horizon. Most M.E. players will remember the mission immediately; the yellow grass in the glaring sunlight and the black clouds of seekers in the smoky sky, the trapped colonists frozen in the dark stasis fields, the ghastly scions and terrible praetorians. But in spite of the unprecedented victory against the Collectors which the mission was, and despite the still horrible death-toll to the colony, what many players will remember most specifically is what happens after the battle, when Commander Shepard’s old ship-mate unfreezes and finds him (or her) there.

The internet rings with complaints of the marine’s harshness, intractability, and unreasonableness. If all the posts are to be believed, then deep resentments were engendered that day. The marine does the unthinkable, and refuses to accept, support, or join Shepard’s mission, they even go so far as to criticize Shepard over it and become distraught. And they walk away from their old commander.

Ouch. Yeah. Nobody likes that scene. (Or at least, I’ve never met anyone who did.) Depending on the playthrough – what kind of person Shepard is, which marine is there, what Shepard and the marine have been to each other, how Shepard chooses to handle the marine’s shock – both the content of the scene and its effect upon the player and the characters can vary. But the fact always remains … the marine vehemently reproaches Shepard, tries to argue Shepard out of the mission with Cerberus, and turns their back on Shepard.

Why? The marine is supposed to be Shepard’s friend! In some play-throughs, they are Shepard’s beloved. What happened?

But, let’s back away from Horizon and the marine for a little while. Because this post really isn’t about the marine, it’s about Commander Shepard, the Illusive Man, and what could have been.

From our comfortable ‘meta’ position as players, we can see well enough what is going on with Shepard and Cerberus. We know perfectly well that Shepard is real and acting freely. We can see what the Collector mission is all about, and how it is likely to unfold. An astute player will be aware that the Illusive Man is probably not telling Shepard everything and will keep their eyes out to avoid being manipulated. But the player knows what’s up.

It is easy to forget that this pleasant point of view is one that the characters inside the story do not have … not even Shepard herself. (Just for convenience sake, I’m using a feminine pronoun – I played Femshep.) Since she has an ‘inside’ perspective, she knows a great deal more than most other characters can – she knows who she is, she has a great deal of evidence about what she is undertaking. But that unsettling comment Miranda Lawson makes about a control-chip … until the moment in the Collector Base when it stands within Shepard’s power to give the Illusive Man this power he desires or to withhold and destroy it, she really has no proof that there isn’t a chip.

Because there could have been. Shepard was totally in the power of the Illusive Man for almost two years. If he had wanted Shepard primarily as a tool, he could have done it. And he could have used her very dangerously. I can only think that he didn’t because her chief value in his eyes was symbolic. While she was of course very useful, she was first and foremost not a weapon, but propaganda; the symbol of humanity against the reapers. That she be the genuine real deal was more valuable than that she be a dependable asset. But what if he had primarily wanted a tool?

If we look at it from an outside perspective, away from the player, from Shepard, the simplicity of the situation vanishes. The matter becomes cruelly complicated, the possibilities of what might be going on are suddenly multifarious.

A renowned Alliance soldier is spaced in battle, her body is lost in the void. It is accepted that she is dead. Two whole years later, a person who appears to be this same soldier enters the galactic stage, working with a known terrorist organization of great power and technical ability.

What exactly is this soldier?

Well, it really could be the soldier. But it could be an imposter. And yet again, it might be technically the soldier … but with something wrong. Any of these three, and the many possible variations they contain, would be reasonable to postulate under the circumstances. I’d like to take a minute, and explore a few of the possibilities here.

If really the soldier …

• Shepard could have just been rehabilitated in secret, and is just coming back into the world now because she’s finally recovered. She’s still everything she was before, just has found herself in peculiar circumstances. (We have the benefit of knowing that this is the correct one.)
• Or Shepard could have been much less badly hurt in the space battle than believed, and since then been living undercover purposely; perhaps working by choice with this organization due to a change of allegiance.

If the same soldier, but messed with …

• Shepard could have had that control chip. Very very easily. This might not alter who she is, but it would very much alter what she has the freedom to do, perhaps even what she has the freedom to see.
• Considering that she had been in the hands of an organization like Cerberus, brainwashing would have been a very real possibility. It could even have been theorized that those two years of absence might have been used not for healing her, but for twisting her. It could have been a very confused and psychologically damaged Shepard who reappeared; one deeply under the manipulative influence of the Illusive Man.
• It could have been really Shepard, alive, aware, and there, but with some other will acting through her. Creepy, I know. But theoretically there are ways the Illusive Man could have done this. Shepard would have been little better than a prisoner in her own body.
• She could have been simply indoctrinated. Not long afterwards, most Cerberus operatives were.

If an imposter posing as the soldier …

• It could reasonably suspected that it is a Shepard clone. That thiscould have been done is so well established that such a clone actually appears in a M.E.3 DLC – and causes havoc.
• An android is at least a superficial possibility.
• Plastic surgery, facial transplants, voice synthesizers. This theory is easily disprovable, but could have been easily postulated by those who knew little. (Clearly, it wouldn’t have gotten past Commander Bailey of C-Sec.)
• It could have been Commander Shepard’s real body, Commander Shepard’s own brain, working and functional, but with Shepard herself gone, and someone or something else in her place. (Yes, creepy again, I know. Sorry, this is a creepy subject.)

This is not meant to be an exhaustive list of the possible villainies which Cerberus could have perpetrated with and upon Shepard. It is merely to explore some of the possibilities which a person within the story could reasonably theorize. And if you look at the reactions of different characters and groups to Shepard’s reappearance, there are indeed a range of responses.

For a lot of people who knew Shepard only by reputation, the reaction was simply: “Hey! I’d heard you were dead! Weird!”

But when she returns to Alliance Command, they are so confused as to what happened, that they put her under house-arrest and take months to not make up their minds what to do with her.

Aria T’Loak, self-declared ‘queen’ of Omega, states straight out “That could be anybody wearing your face.”

Gianna Parasini (the corporate detective from Noveria) seems to assume that she had been undercover or something, and avoided asking awkward questions.

Tali Zorah, Shepard’s spunky Quarian friend from the fight against Sovereign, temporarily fears an imposter. Depending on the play-through, this can be brought to light or remain unsaid. If Shepard tells her at Freedom’s Progress something that only the two of them knew, Tali will then and there accept completely that Shepard is real and can be trusted. She still can’t go with her, since she’s got her own mission to worry about. But she doesn’t have to think about it for months before deciding to trust her.

Garrus Vakarian … bless his innocent heart! The idea of a fake Shepard or twisted Shepard clearly never even occurs to him. Such deceptiveness is not a concept Garrus seems to find easy to grasp. He is naturally a little reckless (okay, we all know Garrus, he’s crazy reckless!) and takes situations as they come without too much critical examination. By the time the idea of something being wrong is brought squarely before his notice, Shepard’s genuine presence has already rendered the idea preposterous.

Liara T’Soni was not quite in the same position as the rest of the galaxy. After all, she had helped to arrange this. She had given Shepard to Cerberus with the understanding that they were going to try to revive her. They were a pro-human organization, and they wanted to help the human hero. Voilà! Here she is. (Yes, I know Liara took a risk in giving them Shepard. I guess I’ve just been analysing the enormity of the risk. But I can’t for the life of me comprehend how anyone – especially in retrospect – could possibly have the heart to blame the dear girl!)

David Anderson, Shepard’s commander. It is difficult to say exactly what he thought. He never tells us directly. From the content of his message to Shepard, he thought the reports of her being alive were unlikely to be true. When she shows up on the Presidium, he treats her as though he assumes that she is Shepard, quite friendly and helpful. In the play-throughs where he is councilor, he reinstates her Spectre status. … But then he won’t give her classified information – security risk, he says. My guess is that Anderson did not know, and knew he did not know, and decided to stand back and watch her prove herself … or not. He treated her kindly, and was to a certain point willing to help her, but not trust her. Not yet. Of course, by the beginning of the M.E.3, when the reapers attack, he has clearly made up his mind.

This brings us back to the marine.

(It is difficult to talk about generalities. While I know there are a number of different ways this story arc can play out, the version I myself am most familiar with is one with Staff Commander Kaiden Alenko and a primarily paragon Femshep, in a serious relationship, where Shepard is actively seeking reconciliation. So, I write with that version in mind, but I believe that most of what I have to say applies quite broadly.)

I am aware I may be playing with fire. So be it.

Well then, the marine is shocked by the Cerberus connection, tries to argue Shepard out of working with them, and then retreats. Why would he do that? … In light of what we have just been examining, I don’t think his reasons are really so terribly obscure.

Firstly, there is just the fact that she is working with Cerberus. Please remember what Cerberus is, not only in the broad view, but specifically to Kaiden Alenko. From the player’s point of view, it may mean chiefly the irritating shady guy funding the mission. From some of Shepard’s alien friends’ point of view, it may mean merely that Human supremacist organization which doesn’t like them. But from Kaiden’s point of view, they are not only the evil terrorist organization he is currently assigned to fight, they are ideologically everything he stands against. Think for a moment of the racist agenda, the secret, cruel experiments, the terrorism, the treachery, the willingness to do whatever evil is convenient in the name of future benefits for a favoured group. And then think of Kaiden, and his decency and compassion, his unbigoted respect of persons regardless of race, his principled rejection of using unethical means in pursuit of whatever ends. He will of course have just learned the real culprit in the kidnappings. But that Cerberus was not to blame here specifically doesn’t change what it is. Cerberus is the enemy. And Shepard is with them. This alone would cause shock and horror. That his friend, his comrade-in-arms (let alone his sweetheart) would willingly do something as wrong and foolish as allying with this monster appals him. Of course he challenged her on it. Any friend in his understanding of the situation would have to. He tries to dissuade her so vehemently because he truly believes that she is making a terrible mistake which will seriously endanger both her and others.

But of course, it wasn’t just that. There was also the whole ‘what is the soldier?’ question. And as we have seen, that really is very complicated. Kaiden seems to assume at first, as thoroughly as Garrus, that of course it’s Shepard. And for those first few moments he is just glad to see her. Once the Cerberus connection is brought to light, this happy assumption is challenged. Right there, while they argue over the merits of the Cerberus mission, he openly suggests that she may be being manipulated by the Illusive Man. His fears moved into the second category (see above). And, as we find out later, they move even farther, into the third category – he realizes that this might not be Shepard at all. This fear is not brought directly to light until M.E.3, on Mars. Kaiden doesn’t speak it openly on Horizon. But in retrospect it is clear enough. When exactly this last terrible possibility arose in his mind is never stated directly. I am inclined to think it occurred toward the end of that conversation. But that he realized it at least by the time he sent that message to Shepard is evident – that quiet little ‘if’ … if you are the Shepard I remember. Taking into account both what he said in that letter and the fears he revealed later on Mars, we can come to a fairly clear picture of his response to that question, ‘what is the soldier?’.

He didn’t ‘answer it’ at all.

Instead, he considered the situation, came to an understanding of what the the possibilities were, and then chose none of them, but remained in conscious doubt for months … until he had proof which one was correct.

Meanwhile, he tried to act in a fashion appropriate to any of the theories. He tried to be kind and supportive to her. He reached an understanding of how she – if it was her – could be doing all this in good faith and perhaps even wisdom, and so encouraged her as well as cautioned her. And at the same time he tried to be firm and cautious lest he allow her to betray him and others into a Cerberus plot. And all the while he was in that terrible doubt, no longer clean grief – but balancing precariously between hope and fear. Was she really all right and back again? Was she enslaved? Was she gone? Was Shepard herself still in that form? He did not know. And so he waited to find out for real.

I don’t think he gets enough credit for this response. Not only did he think the matter through more thoroughly and come to a better understanding of the situation than most characters did, not only did he manage the really quite formidable feat of succumbing neither to the hope nor to the fear and maintaining his rational scepticism, but he took her seriously enough to realize that it was necessary to do so. The fact that he retreated, that he withheld from her his confidence, and doubted her, has seemed to some to be an act of disloyalty. It wasn’t. It was an act of faithfulness. To the Alliance, yes: he could not abandon his command and his remaining men, break his orders and disregard his oath – to run off on a Cerberus mission. To Principle, yes: he could not do this thing he thought was wrong because it called him in a voice he loved. But it was also an act of faithfulness to Shepard herself. What if it was not Shepard? If he did these things he believed (however mistakenly) were wrong for her, and gave everything (be it loyalty, friendship, or romantic love) which had belonged to Shepard to … an imposter, a monster, a perversion perpetrated upon her bones. … It would be to break faith with the dead as well as the living. What did he care who it seemed to be? He wanted to know who it was. It was Shepard herself that mattered. And if this wasn’t Shepard …

And when he actually has a chance to observe her first-hand, when he actually gets that evidence he has waited for, how long does it take him to come to the correct conclusion? Not long at all. And then he owns up as soon as he can.

So, did the marine handle Horizon perfectly? Not at all. A man of perfect intellect could have come to a complete understanding of the possibilities at once, rather than tripping over them as he tried to make sense of what was going on. A man of perfect patience might not have become overwrought at his old commander (or friend/or lover), might have been able to totally conceal his own distress and exhort her with utter serenity. A perfect man would have swallowed his own fear more than Kaiden was able to.

But Kaiden did good. He was a mere mortal man, and his own confusion, anger, and fear came through. He welcomed her back, tried to prevent her from making a dreadful mistake, and when he failed and realized how devilishly complicated the situation was, he retreated to try to make sense of it (oh, and he really did have to handle his responsibilities as commander of the resident defence force) leaving her with good wishes and the best advice he had.

And, back to the Illusive Man and Shepard. Let’s jump forward a bit. The marine didn’t trust Cerberus huh? Thought they were bad news all over, sure to betray, certain to do great evil? Do we just want to think of how closely Cerberus actually cooperated with the Collectors at times? Do we want to think of the trap in the Collector ship? Do we want to talk of Mars and its slaughter and theft? Of Eden Prime and its invasion? Of Omega and its Naziesque regime? Do we want to go back to the planet of Horizon again a year later and visit the damned death factory? Do we want to remember who it was who gave our plans to the reapers and stole the catalyst?!

Does more need said on that score?

And Shepard. Because we all know that Shepard is Shepard, we all assume that everyone should trust her (or him). But really, should they? Throughout M.E.2 Shepard can cooperate with Cerberus to an extent not justified by her mission. Does she upload the info to the Alliance? Or to Cerberus?  At the end of M.E.2, that abominable Collector Base, all that devilry and power … if Shepard gives it to Cerberus she has committed the very evil and treachery that the marine feared. She will, in fact, have proved his angry, horrified warnings correct. And at the end of M.E.3? She can, if she so chooses, bring about the Illusive Man’s vision.

Shepard may always be the real Shepard. But that was not the only question. Let us not only say that more than one theory can be postulated upon Shepard reappearing with Cerberus. Let us remember that more than one theory can be true.

Severus Snape and James Potter: A Hero and A Jerk?

Warning! Humongous Spoilers! Don’t proceed if you don’t know the story!

It is, I have noticed, not terribly uncommon among the readers of Harry Potter to characterize Severus Snape solely as a hero – on account of his arduous, painful, and extremely important work in defeating Voldemort, and James Potter as merely a lousy, no-good, jerk – on account of his teenage tendency to bully people (especially Snape). I consider this an overly simplistic take on two complex and fascinating characters.

Firstly, if by ‘hero’, you mean someone who was fighting valiantly on the good guys side – who was seeking to bring Voldemort down, taking orders from Dumbledore, working with the Order of the Phoenix, trying to protect Harry Potter, and such things, then James Potter qualifies just as well as Severus Snape. In fact, he qualifies better, since he always was on that side, and Snape switched to the ‘good side’.

Now there is no denying that James Potter truly was a terrible jerk. His teenage behaviour to Severus Snape was inexcusable, there is no question about that. Lily, the woman who was later to become his wife, hated him at the time because of it. His son became sick at the thought of it. His dearest friend, who shared his guilt, could not, as a responsible adult, deny he did wrong. James was cruel, and he was – as Snape so often liked to point out to James’ far more innocent and sensible son – extremely arrogant.

But what was Severus Snape? He was wronged yes, abused yes. But he was no innocent victim. He too behaved badly as a school child. And I am not merely referring to the fact that he was clearly every bit as willing to hex James as James was to hex him. (Severus Snape invented the infamous levicorpus. I can’t help but wonder who its first victim was.) I am referring to the fact that he behaved so badly, or at least sought out the company of people who behaved so badly, that Lily, his best friend, seemed to fear that he was getting mixed up in things worse than even the hated James. “Evil, Sev.” she called it. Neither boy, not James, nor Severus, was innocent.

And then let’s fast forward a few years. Where are James and Severus, the men? Severus Snape, once Lily Evan’s close friend, is now a death eater, fighting and spying for Voldemort. It looks like Lily’s concern was justified. And James? The hated James? That stinker, that incomprehensible jerk? James is married to the Lily who once hated him.

 

How did this shocking development come about? I think we can rule out right off the bat the terrible solution which occurred to his son in the first pangs of disillusionment. There is no evidence that Lily married him unwillingly. Indeed, from the manner in which the couple was of spoken of by those who knew them, from the little snippets we see of their short time together, I’m going to venture a guess that they were a very happy couple. But the gentle Lily of their school-hood could never have been happy married to the mean James of that time. Therefore, either Lily ceased to care about being nice … or James became a lot nicer. I turn in disdain from the first suggestion. The answer is obvious. There is no evidence for so repulsive a hypothesis, and very much against. So I believe that we are left with the conclusion that James matured into someone Lily could love. Sirius Black did indeed state right out that James’ furious feud with Snape did continue in some manner or another right up into the beginning of his relationship with Lily … but Lily wasn’t stupid. I think that the conclusion that James the man was a much better person than James the boy is a sound one.

The available evidence seems to back up this hypothesis. James’ co-partner in boy-hood crime, the wild and reckless Sirius Black, was not a bad man. He was a good man in a flawed and human way. James’ death was clearly deeply grieved by genuinely decent and good hearted people, (Hagrid and McGonagal for instance). And Harry never suspected the dark blot on his father’s boy-hood until he saw it with his own eyes, for it does not seem that his name generally carried that mark. Severus Snape apparently never saw James as anything except the bully of chapter twenty-eight/book 5 and perhaps it would be asking a lot to expect him to. But that did not seem to be the general impression that the adult James left upon everyone else.

Nor even altogether the boy James. I do not here refer to Sirius’ insistence that “lot’s of people are idiots at fifteen … he was a good person …” which seemed too much like an ashamed but affectionate party uncomfortably attempting to defend a beloved but guilty party. No, I refer to something more specific. Snape liked to scoff at it, sneer at it, pretend it was nothing. But Lily and Dumbledore did not scoff. I mean of course the unfortunate instance in which young Sirius so idiotically told Snape how to get into the Whomping Willow passage. Snape insisted to others that James was only saving his own neck. This was not true. If Snape had been killed by Sirius’ idiocy, Sirius and Remus would probably have been in trouble. But not James, because (for once) he was guiltless. And yet, he risked death at the hands of a friend, to save an enemy. He hated that boy, he was willing to abuse and humiliate him every chance he got … but he was also willing to risk his own life to protect him.

 

Wait a minute! … Sound familiar? It should, because it could just as easily have applied … to Snape himself. Whatever else he may have been, for good or ill, Severus Snape was a downright stinker. He did not physically abuse his students (it was Hogwarts under Dumbledore), but he never hesitated to insult, humiliate, and inconvenience those he disliked when he had the chance. Now, admittedly, he had excuses. He was a terribly, morbidly unhappy man; living all those years with a broken heart and a bleeding conscience. And he was naturally predisposed to hate Harry Potter, little James look-alike whose birth lead to Lily’s death! But these excuses do not excuse his behaviour. He hated far too much, he hated so much that he never even knew Harry at all, he was forever hating a phantom James which seemed to completely obscure the real boy. And his behaviour to the utterly innocent Neville was without good excuse. However unjust it may be to hate someone for their father and for having been born, it is even more unreasonable to hate them for their date of birth. Yet hate him he did, so much that the thing which thirteen year old Neville found most frightening was his Potions teacher. James, it appears, grew up. All those years later, Severus Snape was still bullying school-boys.

 

I should like to take a moment and address a related issue which I have come across from time to time. It has been alleged that Lily Evans did wrong to Snape by not accepting his apology after calling her mudblood. The allegation has some reason behind it. We all should forgive everyone who wrongs us, no matter how badly. But I can’t help but feel that those making the allegation are missing what was actually going on. Snape had been becoming something very bad. He had been consciously and knowingly associating with the death-eater sympathizers, allowing their ideas, words, and goals to become his. Lily tried to stop him, to persuade him to not go down that path. But he went anyway. She stayed by her friend anyway – probably hoping that he’d eventually grow out of it. Well he didn’t. He let himself slip farther away from her into the death-eater mindset. When he finally called her mudblood, it was not a particular specific injury which could be just put behind them – it was the audible, public expression of what he was allowing himself to become. Yes, he was sorry! Yes, he would have called the words back if he could have. But the problem was that that act was only a symptom. He went and apologized – deeply, sincerely – for the act. But (as I understand it) it wasn’t the individual act that Lily was really so upset about. He was apologizing for the symptom, when what was grieving her was the disease. So she broke ties. And who can blame her? She could not be the close associate of the person he was becoming. Now, we all know that he eventually did turn over that new leaf, make that about-turn that Lily had been so long campaigning for … but it took her death (as a direct result of his actions) to do it.

I think that part of the reason that we are left feeling Snape to be solely a hero, and James merely a jerk, is the backlash factor.

James is Harry Potter’s father … the man who everyone always compares to Harry, who died fighting Voldemort, the dead hero, the unknown but beloved father – who is abruptly revealed to have been a very flawed teen, capable of nastiness which utterly shocks his more kind-hearted son. The whole old image is dashed to pieces. We, and Harry, are horrified not just because of what he was, but because we had expected something so different. In the shock of disillusionment, it is easy to forget that the things we knew before were true too, and instead of recognizing him as a complex, flawed human being, capable of evil as well as of good, we find it easy to just reclassify him into the jerk box.

And Snape? For all of Harry’s schooling, Snape is the jerk. He hates Harry, and quickly teaches Harry to hate him. He is rude. He causes inconvenience whenever possible. He is to be avoided, because he always causes trouble. In fact, Harry’s never even sure whether he’s really trustworthy … whether he’s really a traitor and a spy or not. He hates Harry’s godfather. He hates Harry’s favourite professor. He hates Harry’s dead father. He hates Harry. He hates and hates and hates. Then he murders Dumbledore. That is it. Our mind is set. Snape, the traitor, Snape, the death-eater – how did everyone not see it all along! Then … our mental image is stood on its head. The villain we thought we knew is gone. The man we thought was only hate … is revealed to have been acting, for years, for the sake not of power but love. It is a narrow love, but love; a love for which he gave up his ambitions, worked with those he hated, and laboured long in great danger. We discover that nothing was quite as it seemed. That on that fateful night on top of the tower, it was Snape who was the wronged one; Dumbledore caused his own death, and Snape was the unhappy instrument. That so many of the things we blamed him for were done on Dumbledore’s orders. That his very brutality towards George was an accident perpetrated in an attempt to save a man that we hated him for hating. That he, Severus Snape, was the unknown helper in the forest. That protecting Harry for his mother’s sake, has been his highest priority for sixteen years.

And we are shocked. We see for the first time, his heroism, his staunch bravery, his unwavering dedication to many of the same goals as Harry. And we applaud him. We forget that his faults were real too; that he has honestly and truly been cruel to everyone for years, that his love, while deep and unshakable, is narrow, hemmed in by oceans of hatred, that even in his attempt to do good … he still did much wrong. And in our amazement, we move him out of the traitor category, into the hero category.

‘But Snape was a hero!’ you say. Well, so he was, poor man, and it would be a hard heart that could spare him no sympathy … but he was also a jerk. ‘James was a jerk!’ you continue. Regrettably and undeniably he was … but he was also a hero. My intention is not to vilify Severus Snape and praise James Potter, but to point out that the two of them are not so easily classified as is sometimes done, but are complex and multifaceted characters, with strange similarities an well as differences; both worthy of both praise and blame. Both of them were brave … and both of them were bullies. They both hated unreasonably … and they both loved deeply.