Personal Apartment

“Ahem. Okay. So... tombstone data. Admiral David Edward Anderson. Not sure why anyone would be interested, but thanks for asking. I was born in London on June 8th, 2137, the last of three children born to Ursula and Paul Anderson--a nurse and a flight mechanic, respectively. That's a little dry. Someone's going to spice this up, right? Never been much for the spotlight. Anyway... where was I?

It was a second marriage for my parents. They were almost fifty by the time they had me. My mother worked shifts, so my father would often take me to the base. While he worked, I watched transport ships and fighters take off. Worked his whole life around space travel, my father, but he never left Earth, not for a day. He was a good man. But that's just a side note. Don't put that in. Who is it, Kahlee? Yes, I need to take that. I hope this is what you're after. I'll get to the more interesting N7 stuff next time.”

“What was... What was I talking about? Early days, right. People ask why I joined the military. Everyone talks about honor, duty, sure. But that's never the whole truth. It's a hundred little things that add up to commitment. I joined because of a dog. Yeah, a dog. This patchy, mean, son of a bitch that used to bark at me every day on my way to school. It'd snarl, and I'd start running. Scared the hell out of me. I was just a kid. I remember being in a bad mood one morning. Angry. I can't recall why. When that dog started in on me, I snapped. Started barking right back. We both kept at it until we had nothing left. Dog never bothered me again. Why'd I join the military? Sometimes, you just gotta howl to make things right.”

“No, no. It's fine. I've got a few minutes. First Contact War? Yeah, I was there. My first real combat. First for a lot of us. I remember one night, early in the war, strapped to my seat as our transport approached the LZ. Everyone was dead silent. Just the sound of breathing. Good men. I'd trained with all of them. We were always joking and horsing around. But not this time. Just the rattle of the shuttle and that heavy breathing. Everyone was thinking the same thing: we're off to fight alien invaders. Aliens! Think about that. We all grew up wondering what was out there, if we were alone in the universe. Now we knew. We weren't alone. And we were in trouble.

So there we were, about to face an enemy as different and unknown as we could imagine. I knew I had to say something, keep the men relaxed. So I turned to the soldier beside me, Hendricks I think, and asked him how his mother was doing. "Fine," he said. "Why?" "Cause I heard your momma's so ugly the marines thought she was a turian... almost shot her." That got a few smiles. Then Hendricks turned to me and said... "Hell Anderson, I heard it was a picture of your momma that started this goddamn war in the first place. Scared the turians shitless." Everyone had a good laugh at that. And the boys fought great that night.

Sometimes that's all it takes. A joke. A pat on the back. Just a little reminder that everything's gonna be okay.”

“Embarrassing moments? I got more of those than anyone will ever know. Only way to learn something. But if I had to pick one to share... I had just gotten promoted to N7. Full of myself. King of the castle. Found myself buying drinks for undesirables in some run-down bar in the Wards. They toasted my recent promotion. Hell, they would've toasted batarian slavers if it got them more drinks. About the time my money ran out, my new friends turned on me.

I was outnumbered. Things didn't look good. My plan to get out of there involved lots of punching. That worked for a while. Then a table hit me... or I fell down. When I came to, I saw a salarian putting the rest of the troublemakers down. A salarian! Moved like a damn cat, I swear. When everybody was out cold or running, he walked over and helped me up. "N7?" he asked. "Yes, sir," I replied. He looked over my collection of unconscious friends, nodding. "Not bad, human," he said. Then he walked away. I had met my first Spectre.

Learned an important lesson that day. No matter how good you think you are, there's always somebody quicker, faster, and a helluva lot smarter than you just around the corner. That little lesson's kept me alive more than once since then.”

“The turians? Hmm. I might not always see eye to eye with the politics and the individuals, but I have great respect for the turian military. Any Alliance soldier lucky enough to take part in their training programs will certainly be better for it. Their precision, skill, and discipline come together in a way that's second to none. Not that I'm faulting our own people or training.. It's just that, after fighting turians in the First Contact War, years later I had the opportunity to observe and train on Palaven.

It's a unique experience to put yourself in the squad of a turian commander. My commander was an uncompromising bastard named Bartus Aurix. If you can find him, just ask how the platoon I commanded was trounced in his strategy games. Humbling, but I've used what I learned that day, many times. The xenophobes will have their say, but I think it's vital that we do more of this kind of cross-species training.

There you go. Heh. And if you do find General Aurix, let me know--I owe him money.”

“You never asked me about this, but... My wife just called. My ex-wife... Nobody likes to talk about the toll that long months apart can have on military relationships. She wasn't military. She couldn't handle it. But it's not even about military and non-military, damn it. It's space flight. Space flight--finding the mass relays--miracles of engineering. Human imagination rising to meet our desires. We pay a price for that curiosity, that drive. Our relationships suffer. People we love suffer. But that's reality and it's worth the cost. I must have thought it was... I guess I still do. In the end, you just hope you made the right choices.”

“You asked me to talk about the SSV Normandy--the Normandy SR1. As commander of the Tokyo, I was consulted on the Normandy's design and on board for her initial training exercises. The average person probably doesn't know that the Normandy was a joint project with the turians. Acting CO Elli Zander was no diplomat. She ran out of patience with turian posturing and politicking during construction. The chief architect of the drive core, Octavio Tatum, and his team of turian engineers were in the CIC for final training exercises. Tempers flared when Zander pushed the limits of the stealth system, waiting to vent the IES well past what Tatum was comfortable with. I tried to calm the situation, but it still ended with the turian scientists in shackles and a human/turian fistfight in Chora's Den later.

Funny now... When I first laid eyes on the Normandy, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Day after that training run, Admiral Wright found me on the bridge. "She's yours," he said, "Can't trust her to Zander. Send me a list of crew from the Tokyo you'd like and prep for your first mission." Short command, thanks to Saren. Still. One of the highlights of a long career.”

“The Normandy? A brand new ship. My ship. You don't forget that moment. The first time you're standing there, the whole crew looking to you for direction? Unforgettable. I'd led men and women before that. Seen a lot of combat already. Always managed to find my way home in one piece. Do that a few times, you begin to think you know better than the next guy. Maybe you do. I don't know. But if you're lucky, really lucky, you find yourself on a good ship, in front of a good crew. A crew you can trust with your life. Gifted, disciplined, brave. All of them eager to set sail into the endless black ocean. I still remember my XO asking what my orders were. "Shepard," I said, "Let's see what we can find."”

“Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There's been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn't true. People are quick to judge. They don't know the whole story. I don't even know the whole story. But I know the man/woman. Worked with him/her, fought with him/her. Trust him/her with my life. Shepard's had some rough patches. Who of us hasn't. He's/She's been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how he/she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.

Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got "No, sir. I can't do that." He/She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard's been through. I'd like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes he/she forgets: there's a whole bunch of people who lose sleep over him/her getting back home. Maybe it doesn't need to be said. Maybe we're too dumb to say it.

Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Men/Women like Shepard... even more rare.”

“Okay. I have your new questions here... "As a leader, do I ever feel that the ends justify the means? Spirit of law over word of law?" I'm not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole, but I think I know what you're after.

You're referring to the way I, uh, arranged to have the Normandy released to Commander Shepard before the Battle of the Citadel. I'm not sure how valuable hindsight is to the military. Obviously, it worked out for the best. Without the Normandy and Commander Shepard free to do what they needed to do--what we needed them to do--Saren might have taken the Citadel.

I think it's clear what a different galaxy this would be if that had happened. I did what I had to. If I had been wrong, I would've gladly accepted the repercussions. The real trick is never being wrong. Ha. If you're looking for more action and less philosophy in these notes, let me know.”

“A few months ago, I had a chance to sit down with one of Earth's most decorated soldiers, Admiral David Anderson. He was kind enough to answer my questions and talk about his career. Today the Admiral is on Earth, leading the defense of our home against the Reapers. We have no communication with him, or any soldiers on Earth. But we can't forget what they're doing for us. Tonight's show is dedicated to all of the soldiers out there, fighting and dying to keep us safe.

Admiral Anderson, today marks the thirtieth anniversary of the N7 program. Can you describe your first day of training in this now-famous program?”

“The Interplanetary Combatives Training program is all business from day one.”

“How so?”

“We're given basic gear, then separated and stranded on an asteroid with no nav data. The test ends when the last person runs out of oxygen.”

“Sounds daunting. What happens to the ones who run out of air first?”

“Out of the program. The best N7s can survive alone, but work together to survive even longer.”

“That's very impressive, Admiral. Deep space survival training. That has to be... so difficult. All of it would take such strength of character, just plain strength. But then, you seem like a strong person.”

“I'm sorry, is there a question in there?”

“Well, does the program make the man, or do you think you were born for this?”

“It's a bit of both, I suppose.

Every soldier reaches a point in their career, sometimes more than once, when they are asked to give more than they ever thought they could. That moment is the test. I've seen men and women, almost sure to fail, persevere long past the point of breaking. That experience changes them. Others, with all the gifts and abilities, fail in that moment. Sometimes, they pick themselves up and carry on. Sometimes, they're just done.”

“What about you? What was your moment?”

“I've had a few. None of which I'd like to share. But I think the toughest tests are still ahead of me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Call it a hunch.”

“Soldier's intuition?”

“Something like that.”

“Do you trust your intuition? I mean, do you follow your heart over your mind?”

“Well, huh, it depends on the day. No... I suppose if I were to be honest I do trust my instincts.

The problem is war isn't orderly. And the enemy is never predictable. Even the most experienced veteran is going to find themselves in situations they haven't trained for. In those instances, and there's more than I'd like to admit, your instincts are the only thing keeping you alive. That, and the men and women you're fighting beside.”

“But soldiers are only as good as their leader, isn't that true?”

“Yeah. A good leader can make an okay squad great. A bad leader... well, war tends to make examples of them.”

“What makes a good leader, then?”

“Hmm... A good leader is someone who values the life of his men over the success of the mission. But understands that sometimes, the cost of failing a mission is higher than the cost of losing those men.”

“That's a terrible line to have to walk.”

“Yes, it is. But war is a terrible thing.”

“Thank you for your time, Admiral.

The remainder of this interview was to take a more personal look at Admiral Anderson's life. It wasn't finished when the Reapers invaded. We can only hope that the Admiral, and the soldiers under his command, survive to tell us the rest of their stories.

I'm Khalisah al-Jalani [sic]. Thank you for watching.”