Captain of the Systems Alliance Navy John Shepard
“John, thank you.” The girl opened her eyes.
Her slightly sleepy gaze touched the face of the young man lying beside her on the spacious bed.
“You’re a wizard.
It’s a good thing I managed to come to you.
Are you tense?”
“Yes, Dana,” said Shepard.
“I have a feeling I won’t be back on Earth anytime soon.”
“But you’ve been…” the girl said, rising on her elbows and surveying the semi-dark room.
It was early morning, and the dawn sun struggled to break through the heavy drapes.
“Exactly,” John confirmed.
“They kept me in reserve.
And now I have a feeling that the order will arrive today or tomorrow.”
“Then it’s even better that I managed to get to you before they sent you… far, far away,” the girl said quietly.
“Do you think so?”
“Yes,” the young man replied just as quietly.
“They don’t usually assign us special forces to simple ships… So it’s going to be something difficult and problematic.” John put his arm around the girl’s shoulders.
“Day, relax.
I’m — for now — right here with you.
And the courier from headquarters hasn’t arrived yet.
And — he’s not knocking on the door.”
“John, enough time has passed… since…” the girl began hesitantly, without raising her voice.
“Go on, Dana, go on,” Shepard said softly.
“I’ve already… made my peace with it.”
“If you say so, Johnny.
It’s been six years, even a little more, since you came back from Akuze…” the girl said, just as hesitantly, caressing the young man’s face with her gaze.
“You certainly haven’t been idle all these years, barely out of the hospital.
But…”
“Dana… I want to fly.
Not just sit on a planet and move from one training ground to another,” Shepard said, throwing off the blanket and sitting up in bed.
“A training ground is fine for me, but it’s not enough,” Shepard continued.
“And… if I’m not mistaken, the Higher Powers have prepared… a serious trial for me.”
“Aren’t you being a little too…” Dana tensed, certain her companion would pick up on the tension.
“No, Day.
No,” Shepard shook his head, pulling on his training trousers and getting out of bed.
“Thank you.
We had a wonderful night.”
“Wonderful, Johnny.
I agree.” Dana turned onto her other side and sat up in bed.
She fumbled for her robe without looking, stood up, and threw it over her warm body at the same time.
“Thank you.” She headed for the bathroom door, her bare feet slapping on the plastic tiles.
“Johnny, don’t mess around in the galley, I’ll take care of everything.”
“Dana…” Shepard said with a hint of reproach, turning and watching the girl disappear through the bathroom door.
“I know, I know.
But try anyway,” came from behind the door.
Shepard smirked with satisfaction.
Dana was in her element.
She knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t let her mess around in the galley — the small kitchen unit of the bachelor apartment of the Systems Alliance captain — and would prepare breakfast himself.
An early breakfast.
Today was his day off.
No training grounds were scheduled, and all service tasks had been completed.
He could do as he pleased on his day off.
Dana shed her robe and, slamming the door behind her while simultaneously turning on the water, stepped onto the enameled tray of the shower stall.
She was satisfied: John had once again given her a magical night.
They had spent several very pleasant hours together, side by side.
They talked, were silent, hugged, and kissed.
For her, John was her first love.
For him, she had also become his first love.
Ever since Dana and John left the walls of the orphanage, they had maintained a close relationship.
Standing under the streams that steadily changed in pressure and temperature, Dana hummed a simple tune, turning first her back and then her chest to the spray, and she knew John could hear her singing.
He heard — and was glad — she knew him… inside and out.
That was the specific nature of the orphanage — surviving any other way there was very problematic.
John went into the kitchen, turned on the stove, and took containers of semi-finished products from the cupboards.
A few minutes later, a hearty breakfast was heating up.
A light sizzling sound could be heard: neither he nor Dana liked anything overly fried.
Just lightly, so it would brown.
Taking the frying pan off the heat, Shepard moved it to a trivet, put away the potholder, and looked at the kettle, which had begun to sing its little song.
He opened a pack of tea — the kind Dana liked.
He put the leaves into a cup and added two lumps of sugar.
His friend wasn’t a sweet tooth, but she didn’t mind a small, very slight sweetening of her favorite drink.
Their tastes coincided on this: John calmly drank the same kind of tea she liked, and Dana didn’t mind, on their rare meetings, having tea with the kind he preferred.
Dividing the casserole onto plates, Shepard rummaged in the small refrigerator.
He took out butter and bread and made sandwiches.
Thinly sliced bread — so it wouldn’t break, but also wouldn’t resemble inconvenient “hunks,” as Dana put it.
A thin layer of butter — cut straight from the piece wrapped in a plastic pack with a sharp knife.
On top — either cheese or a bit of sausage.
Not fatty, not smoked, ordinary.
From the cupboard, the captain took a basket with cookies and hard candies — Dana liked both.
He knew her tastes well, suspecting that she was also aware of his preferences.
When she prepared the food, he was calm, because Dana accurately and fully guessed his mood in detail and never made a mistake, understanding which items from the rather meager list of his gastronomic preferences should be put on the table to make John happy.
The gurgling and splashing of water gave way to the hum of a hair dryer: Dana dried her hair first — just a little, so it was barely damp.
She didn’t like overdrying it.
She always tried to comb it.
She liked simple hairstyles — with her athletic career, it couldn’t be any other way, although there were a few events where Dana appeared with a model haircut.
Shepard was pleased, and she knew he would accept her any way.
Life in the orphanage didn’t lend itself to excesses, and from the age of seven, Dana had been involved in sports schools, constantly traveling to training camps, practices, and competitions.
Routine, restrictions, precision, clarity — these were as familiar to her as breathing.
“You’ve already made breakfast.” The girl appeared in the bathroom doorway, dressed in a T-shirt and training pants.
Her flip-flops were open-toed.
Dana never bothered with a pedicure, but she respected a manicure as much as the requirements of the sports code allowed.
Stopping at the table, she hugged Shepard, who had come up to her, pressed against him, kissed him on the cheek, and froze:
“Thank you, Johnny.
You are my joy,” she said quietly.
The captain nodded, wrapped his arms around the girl, pulled her close, lifted her, moved her closer to a free chair, sat her down, and pushed her up to the table.
Dana nodded: she liked the action, and both the appearance of the dishes and the aroma fully satisfied her:
“John, sit down.
Let’s have breakfast.
Any plans for today?”
“I’m free, Dana,” the young man replied.
“I don’t have any urgent business either.
So?” the girl looked questioningly at Shepard.
“I would suggest, Day, that we spend the day together today… Well…” he glanced sideways at the bed, his companion replied.
“No objections, John,” Dana nodded, starting to eat.
“No objections,” she chewed a portion of the casserole.
“Delicious.
Thank you, Johnny.”
“Glad you like it.” Shepard also armed himself with a fork and knife and began consuming the casserole.
“I poured the tea into small cups.
Or…”
“No need for big ones, Johnny,” Dana smirked, shaking her head slightly, causing her hair, tied in a ponytail, to whip against her shoulders.
“Not today.”
“Okay,” the captain nodded.
After breakfast, Dana went out onto the balcony, where she usually spent a quarter of an hour every morning in complete stillness.
Shepard didn’t know if it was meditation or just a habit of his friend’s.
He wasn’t interested in digging into the details: Dana might have her own reasons for doing it this way and not another — let her do it.
Through the glass, he saw the girl sit down in a wicker chair and, assuming a free, relaxed posture, freeze.
She probably closed her eyes.
While she “meditated,” Shepard cleared the table, washed the plates and cups, and set them to dry.
He didn’t look at Dana — he respected her right to a calm “detachment from the world.” She would come back when she wanted.
“Your tension has eased a little, Johnny,” Dana purred when they lay down on the bed, embracing.
“Probably…”
“Probably only thanks to you, Day,” Shepard said quietly.
“Thank you, John.” Dana rubbed the tip of her nose against Shepard’s nose and kissed him on the lips.
“I’m glad and satisfied.”
“Me too,” the captain returned the kiss, hugging the girl tighter.
“Let’s just lie around…”
“Yes.
Until we get bored.
And we won’t get bored of that today — not anytime soon,” Dana declared.
And that was the absolute truth.
They lay around on the big double bed and very thoroughly forgot about everything in the world.
Except for themselves.
The doorbell caught them… off guard.
From the change in Dana’s expression, Shepard understood that she had already braced herself for the worst that could happen now: a visit from a courier from headquarters.
The captain silently got up from the bed, pulled on his T-shirt and training pants, and slipped his feet into his flip-flops.
He walked to the door and opened it.
A sergeant-courier stood on the threshold.
“Captain Shepard.
A packet for you,” the arrival, recognizing the officer, handed over an envelope.
He waited while the apartment’s owner signed the log.
He saluted, turned, and “tumbled” down the stairs, ignoring the elevator.
John closed the door and opened the packet.
He took out a sheet of plastic folded in half.
A combat order.
Not an ordinary one, but a combat order.
Clear — and incomprehensible.
“Report at such-and-such time to such-and-such place.” More precisely — report to the division headquarters at Arcturus Station.
At exactly twenty-three hundred hours of this day.
Standard time.
“A summons?” came the quiet voice of Dana, who had approached from behind.
“May I?” she grabbed the open plastic sheet.
“A summons.
I knew it,” bitterness crept into the girl’s voice.
“I’ll see you off.”
Instead of answering, Shepard turned to her, hugged her, and kissed her on the forehead.
She trustingly pressed against him, hugging him back:
“So our… free days are over…” she said quietly.
“Over… for a long time.”
Shepard didn’t nod; he only pressed the girl a little tighter to himself, kissing the top of her head.
He knew — she needed and valued this kiss now more than any words.
And he wasn’t mistaken — Dana, who had started to sniffle, raised her head, fixing a tender and questioning gaze on his eyes:
“John… Come back… to me.
I’ll… wait.
And — write to me… I beg you!”
Shepard nodded silently, understanding that Dana wouldn’t correctly perceive any words he said aloud right now.
Only this nod.
She, like no one else, knew how to read her companion on very deep levels.
Satisfied with John’s reaction, Dana broke the embrace and stepped back.
She turned and headed for the kitchen.
“Incorrigible,” Shepard thought.
“She’s going to pack a whole bag of food now.
And it’s useless to stop her.”
John had already been convinced of this more than once.
No, if he didn’t take the bag, she wouldn’t be offended.
She would just withdraw.
And for him, a withdrawn Dana… was unacceptable.
And he would do everything to make her open up again.
She knew that.
Packing his go-bag, Shepard methodically checked it against the list.
He checked expiration dates and verified the integrity of the packages.
The combat order required such a procedure.
Who knew where he might have to go from Arcturus Station.
From that station, where the government structures and headquarters sectors of the Systems Alliance Navy were located, ships could be sent to such godforsaken corners of the Galaxy that… you had to forget about a quick return for a long time.
So a pre-packed go-bag — which he also had in his bachelor apartment — would have come in handy, if the question weren’t about departing for Arcturus.
Having finished packing the bag, Shepard placed it by the door.
He opened the wardrobe doors and dressed in the standard uniform of a Systems Alliance Navy special forces officer.
He didn’t attach the N7 insignia to its designated place — no need.
Those who needed to know already knew his qualification level.
The others had no need to know that now.
Dana had also gotten ready.
A modest, solid-colored dress, a small handbag.
An athletic career teaches organization: the girl got ready quickly and didn’t waste time on a full makeup.
Just a little “touch-up.”
In his friend’s eyes, Shepard could easily read tension and anxiety.
“Military spaceport?” she clarified, bending down to adjust a slightly crooked strap on her shoe.
“Yes.” Shepard closed the omni-tool screen.
“The flyer is already waiting.”
Dana straightened up, nodded, picked up her handbag, and took John by the elbow.
They left the building.
Autumn.
Warm, a little rainy.
Rain was forecast for the evening, but for now the sky was just beginning to cloud over, confirming the meteorologists’ predictions.
Settling into the cabin of the hired flyer, Shepard put his arm around Dana and, pressing a sensor on the console, allowed the machine to follow the route.
Of course, he could have taken the controls himself — his status allowed him to pilot such machines in manual mode.
But Dana was too tense.
And he didn’t want to let her out of his embrace.
It was still unknown when he would be able to return to her, so let Dana stay by his side for as long as possible, as long as it was at all possible.
Hugging the girl, Shepard watched the cubes of houses floating far below, the people scurrying through the streets and alleys like tiny insects.
Chester — a small town on the River Dee — was left far behind in just a few minutes.
British scales were, of course, significant, but compared to other countries, they were fairly average.
Dana was silent.
She was always silent in moments like this, experiencing the sharpness and uncertainty internally.
For her, John was familiar and precious; she didn’t want to disturb him unnecessarily.
She was staying here; ahead of her was a series of training sessions, two training camps, and the upcoming regional competitions in… What difference did it make now how long!
And for him… What awaited John?
Could anyone say in advance?!… So she didn’t try.
She had waited for him from Akuze, visited him in the hospital, and then they met regularly when he was sent to the reserve of the Systems Alliance Navy command.
Specialists like John were always kept in reserve… Sometimes for a long time, sometimes not so long.
She was glad that John was here, that he was nearby, on Earth.
Yes, he had been moved around the planet — service, all that.
But Dana was glad that John didn’t often leave the limits of the atmospheric shield.
At least, not very often yet.
And now… Now ahead, as she felt quite clearly, was a long separation.
A shuttle was waiting for John, and then… Then there was Arcturus, the government station of the Systems Alliance, which you couldn’t just get into.
And John’s status allowed him to fly there calmly and freely.
If necessary, of course.
As a rule, John didn’t just fly anywhere.
Only if there was a need.
And an order.
Sighing, the girl settled her head on John’s shoulder.
The towers of the British military spaceport were already taking shape ahead.
A numbered, restricted facility.
Though, for those seeing someone off, everything there was just like at a civilian spaceport.
She would have to watch John for a very long time as he walked toward the tunnel leading to the shuttle bay.
That was the last thing she saw when he flew off on an urgent call to Akuze… And then — he returned from there.
On a medical transport.
And immediately became a long-term patient in a military hospital.
How she had feared for him then!
After all, he… was the only one left alive — out of several dozen special forces soldiers.
Those worms… threshers… Dana knew little about what had happened there, only within the limits of the information provided by Earth’s news agencies.
The events in which John had taken part were described differently in various news reports.
And Shepard himself… He never “burdened” her with stories about what happened on Akuze.
He kept it hidden.
He didn’t want to worry her, apparently.
She was grateful to him for that, although she understood: John had had a very hard time there.
And now — it was also hard for him.
This order was incomprehensible.
The form was incomprehensible.
A combat order?!
There was peace everywhere; humanity wasn’t waging any war with anyone outside the Solar System.
And then — this.
Of course, John was a special person, an N7, a special forces soldier.
Maybe for them, such orders were routine.
But for her, it was, of course, a cause for worry.
And — acute anxiety.
Now it constantly, literally every second, seemed to her that she would meet John again… not anytime soon.
Getting out of the flyer at the passenger terminal of the departure zone, Dana looked around: little had changed here.
Of course, the spaceport was military.
So no particular liberties were allowed here.
But, as she had assumed, there were no inexplicable restrictions for those seeing someone off.