The recording from the Beacon, its contents, acquired a special significance and special meaning for Williams.
Ahead lay war.
A real, big, complex war.
And—a long one…
A very long one.
If they had to fight such an enemy, who had…
such ships…
It would be difficult.
Very difficult and hard.
For everyone.
For all sentient organics.
Not just humans.
If such a thing lay ahead…
She understood very well now why Kaidan had been so harsh.
Ashley recalled his fist wreathed in biotic radiance and now understood that Kaidan had been remarkably calm in that moment.
There was no malice in him.
There was no irritation in him.
He was doing everything to solve the problem at hand.
Maybe…
No, not maybe, but definitely…
Definitely, he had been tense, agitated.
But he had not wanted to kill other sentient organics.
Not yet.
A biotic.
A biotic officer.
A lieutenant.
One of those serving on the Normandy, which had somehow managed to bring down onto the planet a Reaper, which until recently had been considered a vague legend.
As the locals who came to the camp told a little later, the Earth warship had been helped to bring down the Reaper by a strange, unprecedented activity of the local infrastructure—the same energy storage units, for instance.
Ashley had also heard that the climate control systems had played their part.
She hadn’t known before that perfectly ordinary units could be used in such a non-standard way to immobilize such a giant.
How many meters was it “from head to toe”?
A kilometer, two?
Quite possibly two.
That this ship, which had suddenly appeared over the planet and landed, was simply enormous, Ashley Williams realized clearly and fully.
Few Alliance cruisers could have attacked a Reaper in space.
And here, on the planet, it was opposed by a scout frigate.
A small, nimble ship.
Completely unsuited, and not adapted, to fight “in the line.” Especially—alone.
Against such monsters.
The archaeologists were gathering, preparing to move to a new location.
Packing personal belongings, equipment, instruments, tools.
A column of cargo and passenger wheeled vehicles lined up at the camp’s perimeter.
Ashley heard the scientists and technicians relaying Doctor Warren’s order to each other: prepare to move to a new site.
So, the Alliance marines’ camp would soon be left without these restless and hard-to-manage neighbors.
Representatives of the local district administration arrived at the camp again.
Doctor Warren secluded herself with them in her office.
Barracks…
Part of these prefab houses belonged to the local authorities, part—a small part, three to five units—were under the archaeologists’ control.
Now these houses were being dismantled, parts were being stored, completeness was being checked, and work was underway on packing and loading them onto transporters.
Ashley managed to inspect several emptied barracks.
Bare walls.
Everything as usual.
It was unlikely that she, a marine platoon commander, would be allowed to move some of her soldiers into these barracks.
Unlikely.
And there was no need to move them into these houses anyway.
Tents…
were much more familiar, more ordinary.
And somehow closer, both to her and her people.
If you thought about it…
soon tents would not be enough for survival.
They would have to move to dugouts, bunkers.
Dig trenches, communication passages, slit trenches.
If several such “shrimp” hung over the planet…
only structures like bunkers and dugouts could at least somewhat help reduce personnel losses.
Not eliminate, but precisely reduce.
Now the space marines would have to fight.
Against a real enemy.
Against a landing force that would come to Eden Prime—and not just to Eden Prime—from the sides of such giants.
And that landing force would be very numerous.
The geth…
Few could have, quite recently, just a few days ago, convincingly proven that they would definitely appear this far from the Perseus Veil.
And now, when the geth had landed from the side of that Reaper…
it was becoming clear: a war with machines lay ahead.
With robots armed not with a virtual, but with a full-fledged artificial intelligence.
With robots that shot without missing, knowing no fear, no uncertainty, no hesitation.
Acting quickly, often—with speed and precision inaccessible to any sentient organic.
The war ahead…
was going to be terrible.
Ashley thought about this while going about her usual daily commander’s routine.
She didn’t particularly notice what or how she was doing now, didn’t particularly think about what needed to be done in the near future.
Somehow it all…
had become automated, or something.
Yes, she had always wanted to serve in the army.
For her, the army had become home, had become family.
And now, realizing more and more deeply and fully the fact that a real big war was approaching, Ashley asked herself whether she was ready for such a war.
She, the commander of an Alliance space infantry platoon.
A VKS sergeant.
The answer “yes” looked…
pale.
Perhaps, if it were a matter of an ordinary interracial conflict, even with the same turians, Williams, the granddaughter of a combat general, would have been more confident and unequivocal in her positive answer.
Having witnessed the confrontation between the frigate and the Reaper, having survived the drone attack on the camp’s inhabitants, having seen the indoctrinated, or perhaps—drugged—people, resembling patients from Earth’s psychiatric clinics, she understood more fully, deeply, and acutely that she had not been prepared for the war that was approaching.
Not prepared at all, or perhaps, at best—prepared insufficiently.
The Normandy’s shuttle, which had taken the Beacon to the frigate, returned.
The driver landed the craft, got out of the cabin, sat down on the grass, and turned on his wrist omni-tool.
Kaidan did not appear.
The marine on camp duty had recently reported that the lieutenant was still working with documents.
And if those representatives of the local administration came to see him again…
Alenko would be delayed here for a long time.
The shuttle driver was calm, in no hurry.
He sat, reading something on his omni-tool.
“Sergeant, the local police have arrived.
The people detained by Lieutenant Alenko have been handed over to them,” reported a marine on duty, approaching Williams with quick steps.
“With the lieutenant’s knowledge, Sergeant,” the soldier clarified.
Ashley nodded, saluted, allowing the serviceman to be free.
So, that problem was solved too.
Along with the detainees, the police had certainly been given the pistol and the contents of that “cache.”
It was quite possible the marine soldier hadn’t seen everything.
And not everything had been told to him.
But even what he understood was quite enough to realize: very soon, much would change.
Sitting down on a boulder, Williams took a ration pack brick from her duffel bag, opened the wrapper, placed the brick on the stone, waiting for the “heater” to finish its work.
She didn’t want to eat a cold ration—there was time to heat the food.
Williams’s thoughts stubbornly returned to Kaidan.
He had interested her greatly.
And, as Ashley understood as she began to eat, he had interested her for a long time.
“Do you mind if I invite you into the shuttle, Sergeant?” Alenko’s voice sounded.
Ashley nearly flinched in surprise: the lieutenant had approached so quietly and unnoticed.
“We can have a bite to eat there in more comfortable conditions.”
“I don’t mind.” Ashley stood up, slinging her duffel bag onto her back.
Sitting down at the table in the shuttle’s cabin, she glanced at the lieutenant:
“It looks like my platoon will soon be left alone,” she said quietly.
“The archaeologists are being moved to another site,” Kaidan confirmed, unpacking his ration brick and waiting for the “heater” to finish.
“Here, in the vicinity, I’m sure, there are plenty of Prothean artifacts,” he fell silent, picked up a spoon, and began to eat.
For a few minutes, silence reigned in the cabin, but Ashley noted that this silence was not forced, but natural.
Yes, Kaidan…
could be different.
He could be very taciturn and…
surprisingly unobtrusive.
Yes, he had invited her, a marine platoon commander, aboard the frigate’s shuttle, although he didn’t have to.
Maybe it really did look…
standard.
Maybe.
But it was important to her: it wasn’t she—it was he who had shown her attention.
Which, of course, he could have chosen not to show.
He was a lieutenant, an officer, and she was a sergeant.
The distance, the difference, the subordination, and everything else gave him enormous advantages.
Which…
quite possibly, at that moment, were neither significant nor necessary for him.
Nothing special was happening: she, a sergeant of the Systems Alliance Navy space infantry, and he—a lieutenant of the Systems Alliance Navy—right now Ashley wasn’t interested in or concerned about his specialty—were simply having lunch, or perhaps even dinner, aboard the shuttle.
Still, Ashley was pleased to feel that this was not just a joint “meal” by two commanders, even if they were of different levels, even if of different ranks.
And when, exactly, were commanders supposed to communicate, if not during these very “meals”?
There was practically no free time, a mountain of duties.
And it was also clear that Kaidan wouldn’t stay here…
for long.
He would definitely return to the frigate.
After all, the representatives of the local authorities had visited the archaeologists’ camp and, as best they could, dealt with the local “troublemakers,” handing those “outsiders” over to the local law enforcement.
So Kaidan had very few reasons to linger here, among the marines who were temporarily out of work.
Unless…
Unless one of those reasons for Kaidan became she, Sergeant Ashley Williams.
And since there would be no work for her platoon’s marines here, in this very spot, in the very near future, she could quite afford to take a little break from the daily army cocktail.
And remember that she was not only a marine sergeant, a platoon commander, but also a girl.
And Kaidan was not only a lieutenant, but also a young man.
Interesting, attractive, pleasant…
Not just a conversationalist…
God, why was she so quick?!
They had barely met, and he was trying not to even look at her, focusing on his food.
She, of course, was glancing at him.
With interest.
He understood this and didn’t hinder her.
The driver…
was sitting with his back to the cabin, so…
Of course, one shouldn’t underestimate him; he could sense a lot.
“Lieutenant, allow me…” Ashley set aside the packaging, wiped her fingers and palms with a napkin.
“Williams, you and I aren’t on the parade ground.
So let’s, for now…
drop the ranks.” Alenko leaned back in his chair, glanced at Williams.
“I suspect you might soon be transferred to a new location as well.
To carry out a new task.”
“That’s how it will be.” At that moment, Ashley didn’t know how she should address Kaidan.
Yes, the phrase “drop the ranks” was clear to her, but to address him, a lieutenant, by his first name, just like that, right off the bat…
Maybe she was worrying for nothing?
“Kaidan…
Forgive me…
That fight…” Williams said timidly, overcoming her reluctance to switch to “rankless” communication too quickly.
“We were preparing for it,” said Alenko.
“Long before our ship appeared in this star system.
We were preparing,” he repeated.
“And that’s why…
We were able to resolve the situation in our favor.
Or…
at least begin to resolve it.
For now, it’s clear to me: the situation is not yet fully resolved.
The Reaper…
is only immobilized.
It is not destroyed, not subjugated by us.
So…
Everything can still change very quickly,” Alenko paused, “in one direction or another.
And the fight…
We did use some of the planetary infrastructure’s capabilities.
I understand that major restoration work lies ahead.”
“That means…” Williams continued timidly.
“That means that, most likely, the frigate won’t be leaving the planet anywhere in the next day or two, Ashley,” said Kaidan, vaguely realizing that he had been the first to give his companion the opportunity to very seriously and significantly reduce the distance in their communication.
Hearing her name from the guest’s lips, Ashley experienced complex sensations, and as for her feelings, at that moment she was generally afraid to think about them logically.
It was too pleasant to hear her name from Kaidan’s lips.
He had been the first to take a big step toward her.
He had called her by her name, not by her rank, not by her position.
Although…
he could have, of course.
He could have.
But he had called her…
by her name.
Chakwas saw on her indicators how Kaidan’s health readings were changing.
And she understood that the lieutenant…
had fallen in love.
He was, of course, happy to realize that such sharp and deep emotions wouldn’t have to be “paid for” with hours of terrible headache, although at those moments he was hardly thinking about such things with any certainty.
He was happy.
And he was enjoying it to the fullest.
“I’m glad, Kaidan, that…
the frigate will stay on the planet for a few more days,” Williams said quietly, looking directly into the face of the young man sitting opposite.
“You wouldn’t mind if we took a walk.
We have…
half an hour.”
“I wouldn’t.” Kaidan stood up, was the first to descend the ramp to the ground, and offered Ashley his hand.
The shuttle driver, turning to them, saw the marine sergeant, after a moment’s hesitation, lean on the hand extended by the lieutenant and, having descended, lead the guest, as the hostess of the camp, toward its border.
Soon Ashley and Kaidan were walking slowly along a path.
They talked for several dozen minutes.
They talked, taking turns, without slipping into long, drawn-out monologues.
Ashley liked how Kaidan listened to her, how unhurried and calm he was.
It seemed to her that he was even somewhat relaxed.
Maybe because they had already walked far enough from the camp with its artificial orderliness and were now among a forest almost untouched by civilization.
Or maybe for some other reason.
Williams very much wanted to believe that Kaidan would be with her for a long time.
A very long time.
The premonition of war did not leave Ashley.
It was becoming habitual for her, earning the right to a permanent place somewhere in a corner of her consciousness.
If such a war lay ahead, then these peaceful, calm minutes…
would be very precious when they could only be remembered, reviving them in memory again and again.
Then, when there would be war all around.
A terrible war.
With enormous losses, destruction, bereavements.
Almost continuous and heavy fighting.
Retreats…
Yes, yes, retreats, for an enemy on whose side there are ships like that Reaper is unlikely to immediately begin retreating under the pressure of the Systems Alliance troops, for example.
There would be no endless retreats.
But retreat…
especially in the first hours and days, would be necessary.
The enemy would have to show its strength and power to convince the galaxy’s inhabitants at least of the seriousness of its intentions.
And only then—of its ability and readiness to impose its will on them, the sentient organics.
Ashley didn’t feel ready to discuss the topic of occupation or captivity.
Even internally.
And this alarmed her greatly.
The crazed people—both civilians and military—had made a complex, heavy impression on her, a space infantry sergeant.
If the enemy could so simply influence the psyche of sentient organics…
There would be no captivity.
There would be either life, or…
death.
Complete and final.
The death not of the body—but of the consciousness, for a madman is already a different, completely different person.
Despite the fact that outwardly he is often indistinguishable from a mentally normal person.
“Kaidan…
tell me…
about yourself,” Ashley asked, trying to detach herself from thoughts about the grim fate of sentient indoctrinated organics.
“Alright.” Alenko walked even more slowly.
His story was unhurried.
Williams understood that Kaidan wasn’t saying a lot, and yet he wasn’t hiding very much either.
“Now I am the deputy commander of the landing group.
For assault operations,” the biotic officer finished his story.
“Ashley, tell me about yourself.”
“Well.” Williams didn’t stop, although at that moment she very much wanted not only to stop, but also to look around.
In her story, she also remained silent about many things, not particularly hoping that Kaidan wouldn’t notice, but she tried to reveal many points with sufficient completeness:
“We were sent to Eden Prime to ensure the archaeologists’ safety.
Their task was to extract some valuable Prothean artifact from the planet’s depths.
Official excavations, but—requiring military protection.
For the marines, this is routine.
Although such tasks are quite rare in our practice.
It’s a good thing we were stationed—both the archaeologists and us—close enough to each other, we didn’t distance ourselves.
Territorially we were close, but in everything else—we tried to maintain sufficient distance.
They work, we guard.
And we don’t interfere in anything else.
Unless, of course, we’re asked for something specific and the request doesn’t contain anything…
unacceptable.
And relations with the locals…
Well, the archaeologists are, for the most part, from Eden Prime.
It’s us who are here on a business trip,” Ashley smiled barely perceptibly.
“We had to allow the locals a lot.
And avoid excessive bureaucratization of relations—both with the local authorities and with the local inhabitants.
And so…
mistakes accumulated.
It’s a good thing the weapons found on the locals and in the improvised cache…
didn’t start shooting at sentients.”
“Indeed…
Good,” Kaiden nodded, stopping.
“Forgive me…” Activating the speaker, he pressed his palm to his ear.
“Lieutenant Alenko,” he listened to what his interlocutor was saying to him.
“Yes, sir.
Understood.
I’ll be at the site on time.” Lowering his hand, he glanced at his companion, his gaze showing sincere regret.
“I’ve been ordered to return to the frigate.
For now—to the site.
There’s work,” he looked at the approaching shuttle.
“Our people are all on board, this one’s for me.
Forgive me,” he gently took Ashley’s hand.
“I hope we’ll see each other again.
I really hope so,” he said quietly but clearly, turning and taking his first steps toward the landing craft, reluctantly releasing his companion’s hand.
“I really hope so.”
Williams watched Kaidan with her gaze until the cabin door closed behind him and the craft, lifting off, turned its stern toward the marine sergeant, raising its nose and picking up speed from a standstill.
Following the shuttle’s flight with her eyes, Williams stepped onto the path and, trying not to run, returned to the marines’ camp.
Her duties awaited her, duties that could no longer be postponed.
Some part of her consciousness was now firmly occupied with thoughts of Kaidan.
She…
definitely liked him very, very much.
Much more than many other young men that her service or her time on inhabited worlds had brought her into contact with.
Now she was almost certain that she had fallen in love with Kaidan Alenko, the biotic lieutenant.
And she felt, sensed, understood that he loved her…
Mutual love, mutual affection…
are rare.
And that meant she, the younger Williams, was very lucky.
Ahead lay new meetings with Kaidan.
Ahead lay new conversations.
She would definitely learn more about Alenko, his comrades, the frigate.
She would.
And—she would try to understand a lot.