Joe Fischer: Laying Down Suppressive Fire
Jul 26, 2015 8:30:14 GMT -6
Maelstrom and Eric Lysander like this
Post by Joe Fischer on Jul 26, 2015 8:30:14 GMT -6
TIME: During Chapter 13, shortly after Joe returns Murchadh's personal effects
PLACE: Citadel
*****
“Any idea how long it will take?” Joe asked the petite quarian that Lysander had referred him to.
“Just a couple of minutes, I do this all the time,” she said sarcastically.
Sassy little thing, he thought, and smiled. A lot like Jackie.
“Okay, I’ve got plenty of time,” he said. “Just give me a call when you’ve got something.”
“Anticipate a day at least,” she said.
He nodded.
*****
Not wanting to go too far from the quarian’s apartment, he went looking for—and quickly found—a bar.
Of course, the only thing airing on the vid was a special report about what Shepard had done. There were numerous talking heads ranging from politicians to former Alliance officers to psychologists offering their views on what humanity’s greatest pariah had done, but it all boiled down to the same thing: the man completely lost his grip on sanity. There was even a blurb from Udina, saying if he had known about Shepard’s “mental instability” he would never have sponsored the man’s induction into the Spectres.
It took all his self-control to not hurl his drink at the screen.
Glass houses, Udina, he thought, the man’s hypocrisy making him sick. Glass houses. But don’t worry, your time is coming…
“Excuse me,” came a woman’s voice, interrupting his thoughts.
He looked over to see a dark-complexioned woman with a camera floating behind her.
“Hi,” she said, extending her hand. “Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Western Vidnews.”
He almost punched her in the face. The woman had interviewed Shepard twice, the first time shortly after he became a Spectre and then again after he started working with Cerberus. Both times she had attempted to paint humanity as a victim of the political machinations of the other races, but the cagy N7 had managed to sidestep her agenda and show her for the borderline racist she was.
“I’m here interviewing the average human, trying to get a reaction to the allegations of Commander Shepard’s so-called ‘war crimes’,” she said. “Would you care to share your thoughts?”
He smiled inwardly as he thought how he could use the woman’s pro-human leanings. It wouldn’t be the same as taking a bullet for Shepard, but it could still help the man.
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say,” he said.
“A statement like that only makes me want to hear it more,” she said, taking the seat opposite him.
Hook, line, sinker…
“I think I can express my viewpoint by playing a game,” he said.
“Okay…” she said, a little confused but hiding it well.
“It’s called, ‘Let’s Pretend Commander Shepard Isn’t A Crazy Racist and The Reapers Are Real’,” he said. “So, how many people died in the Battle of the Citadel at the hands of a single Reaper? Several thousand, right?”
She nodded.
“And ever since then Shepard has been a one-track record, warning of an imminent Reaper invasion,” he continued. “That’s the reason he gave for destroying the Bahak system and killing all those batarians, right?
“Now here’s the fun part, the part that most people aren’t really considering,” he said, leaning forward. “Imagine for a moment you’re Shepard. Would you do what he did if just a single Reaper was coming? Of course not, killing all those people to save a few thousand is ludicrous.”
He could see the reporter pale a little bit as the implications of his question start to sink in, and he decided to push it farther.
“So how many Reapers would have to be coming to make the sacrifice of three…hundred…thousand people seem even remotely acceptable?” he asked. “Ten? A hundred? A thousand? A million?”
The reporter shuddered; he had driven his point home.
“Do you have friends or family on Earth you haven’t seen in a while, Miss al-Jilani?” he asked. “If I were you, I’d give them a call or maybe even visit them, because you may soon lose that opportunity.”
“Thank…thank you for sharing your viewpoint,” she said, struggling to reassert her cool professional demeanor. “May I have your name for my report?”
He shook his head.
“Just a concerned citizen used to thinking of worst-case scenarios,” he said, standing up. “Good day, Miss al-Jilani.”
I don’t know if this helped, Shepard, but it’s the best I can do…
PLACE: Citadel
*****
“Any idea how long it will take?” Joe asked the petite quarian that Lysander had referred him to.
“Just a couple of minutes, I do this all the time,” she said sarcastically.
Sassy little thing, he thought, and smiled. A lot like Jackie.
“Okay, I’ve got plenty of time,” he said. “Just give me a call when you’ve got something.”
“Anticipate a day at least,” she said.
He nodded.
*****
Not wanting to go too far from the quarian’s apartment, he went looking for—and quickly found—a bar.
Of course, the only thing airing on the vid was a special report about what Shepard had done. There were numerous talking heads ranging from politicians to former Alliance officers to psychologists offering their views on what humanity’s greatest pariah had done, but it all boiled down to the same thing: the man completely lost his grip on sanity. There was even a blurb from Udina, saying if he had known about Shepard’s “mental instability” he would never have sponsored the man’s induction into the Spectres.
It took all his self-control to not hurl his drink at the screen.
Glass houses, Udina, he thought, the man’s hypocrisy making him sick. Glass houses. But don’t worry, your time is coming…
“Excuse me,” came a woman’s voice, interrupting his thoughts.
He looked over to see a dark-complexioned woman with a camera floating behind her.
“Hi,” she said, extending her hand. “Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Western Vidnews.”
He almost punched her in the face. The woman had interviewed Shepard twice, the first time shortly after he became a Spectre and then again after he started working with Cerberus. Both times she had attempted to paint humanity as a victim of the political machinations of the other races, but the cagy N7 had managed to sidestep her agenda and show her for the borderline racist she was.
“I’m here interviewing the average human, trying to get a reaction to the allegations of Commander Shepard’s so-called ‘war crimes’,” she said. “Would you care to share your thoughts?”
He smiled inwardly as he thought how he could use the woman’s pro-human leanings. It wouldn’t be the same as taking a bullet for Shepard, but it could still help the man.
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say,” he said.
“A statement like that only makes me want to hear it more,” she said, taking the seat opposite him.
Hook, line, sinker…
“I think I can express my viewpoint by playing a game,” he said.
“Okay…” she said, a little confused but hiding it well.
“It’s called, ‘Let’s Pretend Commander Shepard Isn’t A Crazy Racist and The Reapers Are Real’,” he said. “So, how many people died in the Battle of the Citadel at the hands of a single Reaper? Several thousand, right?”
She nodded.
“And ever since then Shepard has been a one-track record, warning of an imminent Reaper invasion,” he continued. “That’s the reason he gave for destroying the Bahak system and killing all those batarians, right?
“Now here’s the fun part, the part that most people aren’t really considering,” he said, leaning forward. “Imagine for a moment you’re Shepard. Would you do what he did if just a single Reaper was coming? Of course not, killing all those people to save a few thousand is ludicrous.”
He could see the reporter pale a little bit as the implications of his question start to sink in, and he decided to push it farther.
“So how many Reapers would have to be coming to make the sacrifice of three…hundred…thousand people seem even remotely acceptable?” he asked. “Ten? A hundred? A thousand? A million?”
The reporter shuddered; he had driven his point home.
“Do you have friends or family on Earth you haven’t seen in a while, Miss al-Jilani?” he asked. “If I were you, I’d give them a call or maybe even visit them, because you may soon lose that opportunity.”
“Thank…thank you for sharing your viewpoint,” she said, struggling to reassert her cool professional demeanor. “May I have your name for my report?”
He shook his head.
“Just a concerned citizen used to thinking of worst-case scenarios,” he said, standing up. “Good day, Miss al-Jilani.”
I don’t know if this helped, Shepard, but it’s the best I can do…