And she calls him by name
Rear-admiral Hannah Shepard enters the Normandy SR-2 alongside Admiral Stephen Hackett. As they wait in the airlock to be cleared for boarding, Hannah throws a quick look at the man at her side. It’s the briefest of gestures, a glance out of the corners of her eyes, and it escapes everyone’s but Hackett’s notice. Hannah knows that he has seen it. The lines around his jaw tense.
“We’re headed into a war that will decide the future of our entire galaxy. And you are asking me for a personal favour?” he had bristled earlier.
“You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was absolutely crucial,” Hannah placated.
Admiral Hackett put his arms akimbo. “He’s your son, yes. But this war is bigger than any of us.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t,” Hannah reasoned. Attenuating her voice, playing its sonorous richness off against Hackett’s resistance, she pleaded: “Steve, please. You know I’m not asking this lightly…”
The man sighed. “You know I can’t refuse you when you do this.”
Hannah placed her hand over her heart in a show of consternation. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Steve,” she feigned. She knew exactly what he was talking about.
Stephen of course saw right through her. They had too much of a history, the two of them. He chuckled. “Damn straight you don’t.”
“Is that a yes then?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.
“I better not regret this, Hannah.”
The control lamp switches from red to green. The doors to the airlock open. A visibly nervous ensign greets them. She scuttles from one foot to the other as she waits for the two admirals and the small group of high-level Alliance officers they have in tow to enter into the ship’s gangway.
“The commander will meet you in the CIC. It’s this way,” she signals. “Please follow me.”
Hackett nods and they all set in motion.
Eventually, the gangway opens up to reveal the ship’s combat information centre. The wide hall with a tall, arched ceiling is dominated by a large holographic representation of their galaxy at its centre. All around it, set into niches along the wall, are combat work stations. The people who would usually be working there are, however, all facing in their direction. The entirety of the ship’s crew has been awaiting their arrival.
They circle the galaxy map towards the left and march in the direction of the bridge, crewmen left and right saluting them.
“Admirals.” The Normandy’s commander intonates. Hand raised toward his brow, body stiff and every muscle tensed to the point where it strains against his uniform, Commander Iskandar Shepard looks the part of the picture perfect Alliance officer.
He can’t fool his mother though. Hannah can see the nervousness underneath the veneer. Iskandar always displayed a propensity to step up his rulebook behaviour whenever he felt insecure.
Hannah keeps a straight face, sticking to the protocols of a rendezvous between Alliance officers. The commander might be her son. She might feel the urge to open her arms and pull him into a hug, irrespective of how out of place such a gesture might be, given the formality of the situation. Or, at the very least, speak to the commander directly. However, it’s not her place to act now but to yield to Hackett’s seniority.
Still, she can’t help but take in as much of her son as she can. It’s been so long since she last met him. And even longer since the last time she had a private conservation with him. So much has happened since. How had the rapidly unfolding events impacted her son? Had they changed him? Was he still the man she knew?
And now, with the decisive battle just hours away, would she ever get the chance to reacquaint herself with her son?
“Commander.” Admiral Hackett salutes in return, then drops his hand to his side. “Are you ready to bring the might of the galaxy to bear on the Reapers?”
“Yes, sir,” is the commander’s response. Only now does he mirror Hackett’s gesture and ease his posture. He accepts the hand the admiral offers him and the two men shake hands, holding each other’s gaze.
“Then let’s make sure the fleets are ready,” Hackett declares.
A small, dark woman turns to the control panel behind her, checking the datapad in her hand. “All fleets reporting in, Sir,” she states. It’s the signal that she has opened up a channel with the fleet and that the admiral may now address them.
Hackett nods and walks up to the rostrum that extends over the map of the galaxy. Placing himself close to the railing, he lets his eyes wander through the CIC. He takes several moments to connect to the crew who is sharing the same physical space as he is before he addresses the crews of the entire fleet. “Never before have so many come together - from all quarters of the galaxy.”
Hannah folds her hands behind her back and lines up with the commander and the accompanying officers to listen to the admiral’s speech. While she keeps her eyes pinned on the admiral, she can’t help but peer around curiously, studying the crew’s faces out of her peripheral view, looking for the man who she’d so far only seen in the picture attached to his personnel record.
“But never before have we faced an enemy such as this.”
There. That must be him. Hannah is sure of it.
“The Reapers will show us no mercy. We must give them no quarter.”
Lieutenant Antoni Valenza. Hannah recognises the shock of dirty blond hair, mussed up strands falling into the man’s forehead. She recognises the peridot eyes, as well as the flame of intelligence and curiosity burning inside them. The lieutenant looks up and their eyes meet.
“They will terrorise our populations. We must stand fast in the face of that terror.”
Antoni Valenza meets her gaze with a piercing look. Hannah feels as if the other man is drilling down into her, trying to gauge what kind of person she is. Hannah resists the urge to look away, but instead delves deeply into the discomfort of being examined so openly. It is only appropriate that he subject her to this treatment. After all, she assesses him just as openly.
“They will advance until our last city falls, but we will not fall. We will prevail.”
It’s the little things that add to her assessment of Lieutenant Antoni Valenza. The fact that he doesn’t flinch or shirk her gaze. How he has positioned himself in relation to her son: at his side, his stance alert and protective. He’s very discreet about it, so as not to cast a shadow of doubt on her son’s authority as commander, but Hannah can sense the energy that is exchanged between the two men. It is as if Lieutenant Valenza cast a protective shield around the commander. Physically, emotionally.
And then there’s the blatant screening, of course. Mother or no, is she a threat to the commander’s safety? Does Antoni need to keep an eye on her?
The lieutenant is a good man, she decides then. The rumours she heard must be true. Lieutenant Antoni Valenza is what her son needs. He might just be the firm rock for Iskandar that people say he is. The one that keeps her son grounded. And with the hopes of a whole galaxy resting on her son’s shoulders, and a war that threatens to devour him, Iskandar sure as hell needs that grounding, that firm rock.
“Each of us will be defined by our actions in the coming battle.”
Hannah flashes a smile at Antoni Valenza. The lieutenant doesn’t quite let himself be carried away to return it, but he sends an appreciative nod her way. For the briefest moment, a vision flashes up in front of her mind’s eye. A life after the war. A life in which her son introduces his partner to her. A life in which Hannah gets to know this mysterious man who managed to pierce though her son’s armour, this lieutenant Valenza. If only. If only…
“Stand fast. Stand strong. Stand together,” is the encouragement the admiral uses to send the fleet off into the coming uncertainty. “Hackett out,” he ends the call.
He turns around and walks back down from the rostrum, his gait speaking of grim determination.
The commander falls in line with the admiral. Hannah follows a few steps behind.
“The sword fleets are ready to strike at the Reapers surrounding Earth,” Admiral Hackett tells Shepard. “While they keep the enemy engaged, you and Hammer ground forces can take London.”
Hannah can see her son startle. He halts, turning towards Hackett. “London?” he asks, frowning. “Why aren’t we hitting the Citadel directly?”
A moment’s silence falls during which the admiral intently studies the commander’s face. Hannah thinks she can make out a small sigh before the admiral speaks again: “Anderson can brief you on that,” he explains.
He throws a look in Hannah’s direction and continues: “While we establish communications with him, why don’t you use the chance to have a quick word with your mother?”
“My mother?” Shepard asks. He looks up and past Admiral Hackett, and it is as if he only becomes aware of her presence now. He quickly focuses back on the admiral. “Surely, I should speak to Anderson as soon as possible?” he objects.
Hannah feels a sting in her chest. To have her own son resist talking to her - when this might well be the last time they’ll ever see each other… Where others might falter to keep their composure, however, Hannah doesn’t. Theirs has been a military family since the times when the Moguls started recruiting Indian locals into their armies, a tradition that continued throughout the times of British rule and the Indian Republic up to the emergence of the Alliance and their forays into space. A stiff upper lip is her birthright, as it is Iskandar’s.
Admiral Hackett glances at his rear-admiral as if to say: See what kind of situation you are dragging me into! Hannah calmly meets his gaze. You promised, now keep your word, is the message she sends him.
“We will need a moment to establish a secure line,” Hackett explains. “I’ll see you in the war room in five.” There’s a definitive ring to Hackett’s voice. He’s making it clear to the commander that this is not up for discussion. Shepard yields, bowing his head to indicate his obedience.
The he marches off with brisk steps, leading Hannah into an empty storage room of sorts.
“This is a setup, isn’t it? Admiral?” he bristles once the door whirs shut behind them.
“A setup?” Hannah asks, a frown settling down between her brows.
“You arranged this, didn’t you? Hackett’s in on it, isn’t he?” Iskandar glares at her.
“And what exactly do you think I would have arranged?”
“This waste of precious time. It’s a travesty!” Iskandar exclaims. “You played him, didn’t you? Of course you played him!”
Another sting. This one cut deeper. Much deeper. It pushes the air out of Hannah’s lungs for a moment, as if someone had delivered a blow to her chest. “Is it such an unfathomable wish that I should speak to my son? One last time?” Hannah demands to know, her voice shaking. Her steely composure is suddenly gone. She can feel her lip quivering uncontrollably.
“Why?” Iskandar raps out. “What is there to say?”
Hannah closes her eyes. Everything within her freezes. She can feel her insides go hard and lifeless. This is it. It’s over. Her last chance to speak to her son, and its over.
Hannah shakes her head. “Nothing, really,” she replies. “You’re right, of course. You should be in the war room. I won’t keep you any longer.” She steps to the side to clear the door which had been in her back until now. She feels defeated in a way she never has in her entire life.
Iskandar harrumphs and starts heading for the door.
“If… if he could see you…” Hannah murmurs under her breath.
Her son immediately stops in his tracks. “What…?” He blurts out.
“I… I was just thinking… if… if your father… if he could see you now.”
“Yeah, he’d not like what he’d get to see. It’s a real pity.” Iskandar shrugs. Hannah can see that he’s attempting to project nonchalance, but his movements are a little too stiff to convince. “Nothing to be done though.”
“That’s… that’s not what I meant. Not at all,” Hannah objects.
“W-what?” Iskandar asks. Hannah can see that her statement has nonplussed him. Her heart goes out to her son. It goes out to her deceased husband, too. So much misunderstanding. Still. After all these years.
All his life, Iskandar had lived with this idea in his mind that he needed to prove himself to his parents. That he needed to excel in order to win their pride. To deserve their love. He had tried, he had tried so hard to prove his worthiness.
When her husband died, Iskandar had come away from the tragedy believing that he was somehow to blame and that his father had made a mistake in sacrificing himself for his son. He had come away believing that he never managed to win his father’s approval and that he had forever lost the chance to do so. Iskandar had pulled away from her, from his entire family, in the years that followed. Much as she had tried, Hannah had never again been able to get through to him. Tell him the truth.
Because what Iskandar had been unable to see was that his father’s sacrifice had been Dariush’s most powerful way of expressing both his love for his son and his trust in his capabilities. Very clearly, Iskandar had still not come to see it.
Oh Dariush, if only you were here. Iskandar would have needed you.
“He’d be so proud of you,” Hannah explains.
Iskandar frowns. His incomprehension is now clearly written all over his face.
“He’d be so proud of you,” Hannah repeats. “He always has been, Iskandar.”
The fact that her son is still here and makes no attempt to exit the situation emboldens Hannah. “I know your abba wasn’t particularly good at expressing these things. But he’s always been so proud of you. We both have.”
Iskandar’s eyes widen as he takes her words in. He seems to be caught somewhere between disbelief and shock.
Hannah presses on, relentlessly. There’s words she’s kept locked up inside her heart and now they flow out of her as if someone broke the damn that’s been holding them back. “And what you’ve done now. What you’re about to do. The man you’ve become. The hope you’ve given an entire galaxy… in the face of a destiny that would have made others lie down and resign themselves to the inevitable… Beta… you…” Hannah’s voice breaks when the weight of her emotions gets too much for it to carry.
Tears well up in her eyes. She has to speak more, though. She can’t stop now. “It’s so much more than any of us could have ever dreamed. You…”
It’s her son who eventually stops the barrage of her words. “Ma!” he cries.
Hearing him utter this word, hearing herself addressed in this way, nothing in the universe could have stopped Hannah from wrapping her son up in her arms. Suddenly, he’s her five year old boy again. Her little prankster, her maakhan chor who stole the pot of butter. Her piece of the moon. And she, she’s just his mother.
“Soniye,” she whispers as she holds him tight.
Iskandar leans into her and buries his face against her. Stroking his hair, she murmurs “soniye” once more before she places a kiss against his temple. “You have no idea…”
She feels tremors run though the seemingly invulnerable frame of the man she’s holding in her arms. “It’s ok,” she reassures him. “It’s ok.”
Every second she gets to hold him is a blessing. Every heartbeat of this divine grace. This gift of God she and Dariush were given. Is this the moment where he will be called back to the Lord’s side?
As much as she doesn’t want to rush things, eventually it’s time for her son to pull back. She won’t let him go without caressing his cheek with her thumb, and leaning in one more time to kiss his forehead though. Cradling his head between her hands, she tells him: “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”
“Ma…” Iskandar protests. He looks excruciated, like a child who’s just been embarrassed by a parent.
Hannah can’t help but smile. She pats Iskandar’s cheek with her palm one more time before letting go.
“So…,” she begins. Then clears her throat. “You… and your lieutenant?”
The change that happens in her son instantly makes Hannah regret her words. He goes rigid. His soft, boyish expression becomes stern. “What about him?” he asks gruffly.
“Well, I’ve heard rumours…”
“I don’t care what people say. It’s true, but I don’t care,” Iskandar replies. The vitriol in his voice unsettles her. Clearly he feels cornered, but the strength of his reaction speaks volumes of the agony he must have felt over this illicit relationship. Of course her rulebook son would have had his qualms. She’s glad he ultimately decided to put his own happiness above Alliance regulations, but her heart aches at the thought of all the pain he would have caused himself before allowing himself to do so.
“Soniye…” Hannah starts, but is harshly interrupted by her son.
“It’s no one’s business. I’m doing my job, and that’s all anyone could ever ask of me. You might disapprove. Abba might have been disappointed in me, but…”
Now it’s Hannah who interrupts her son. “That’s not true, Iskandar!” she shouts.
“That’s not true. Nothing, nothing you could have ever done would have disappointed either me or him,” she rumbles.
“You don’t think… you don’t feel…” Iskandar ventures haltingly.
“No!” Hannah replies firmly. “Iska, all we’ve ever wanted for you, more than anything, is to be happy. You always seemed to believe that you had to work so hard to make us happy, when the easiest way to do so would have been to find happiness for yourself. There’s nothing you would have ever needed to do to win our approval. “
“Your abba broke the rules to be with me,” Hannah reminds her son. “Our relationship wasn’t any different in the beginning. Do you really think the man who laughed the brass in the face when he knew in his heart that he couldn’t let this chance slip by, do you really think that man would have disapproved of you being in a relationship with the lieutenant?”
“I… I don’t know,” Iskandar admits.
“Do you love him, Iskandar?” Hannah asks, looking her son straight in the eyes.
Iskandar’s eyes go wide and his mouth stands agape. Eventually, he gulps. “Yes,” he replies in a small voice.
“I thought as much,” Hannah muses. “He’s a good man. He loves you a lot. I can tell as much. The way he looks at you, it’s all the prove I ever needed.”
Iskandar drops his head but nods bashfully.
“Does he make you happy?” Hannah probes further.
A chocked sound escapes her son’s lung.
“See? And that’s all that counts. That’s all Dariush would have ever cared about.” Hannah steps in and cups her son’s face between her hands. “He’d be so happy for you.”
Iskandar replies with a sheepish smile. His cheeks light up with a rosy glow. “Thank you…”
That’s when Hannah knows that her words have touched her son’s heart. It’s all she needed. Now I’m ready to let him go, she tells herself.
“Thank you,” she replies.
“For what?” Iskandar asks.
“For listening to me,” she tells him. “For allowing yourself this small island of happiness,” she adds.
Hannah wishes she could stop the clocks. Preserve this moment and never let it pass. Sharing the same space as her son.
But there’s a war raging outside.
“I guess it’s time,” she whispers hoarsely.
“I’ve kept you long enough. Stephen must already be regretting he ever agreed to this…”
How can any parent ever be ready for this?
“I just hope… I hope you’ll introduce us… after… after…” Why are you fooling yourself like this, Hannah? “I would really like to get to know him,” she explains with a helpless shrug.
The complicated look on her son’s face tells her the truth. You wouldn’t be you if it was otherwise. You wouldn’t be my Iskandar.
“I know. It’s ok,” she simply says. “You go now. Hurry. You’re needed.”
