Author's Note: This is the first story I've posted in a long time. I really love Mass Effect, and I hope this story does it justice. The plotline will run along the end of Mass Effect, and then move into the time after the game. It will follow an original character, who will be introduced in the next chapter.
Disclaimer: Mass Effect is owned by Bioware and Microsoft.
A long oaken table sat in the center of a long room. The walls were crafted of steel dulled by time, cold and uninviting, and the atmosphere of the room was not helped by the sterile lighting. And being several stories underground did not help ease the claustrophobia. A lone figure, an Alliance Fleet steward, entered through a pair of doors on the right side of the room and went to each of the half-dozen seats around the table placing a small datapad with a dossier on it. The young solider left the room, but returned a few moments later with two pitchers of water. He placed them carefully on the table, and then followed suit the glasses he retrieved. His work finished the solider left the room. Silence hung across the room.
The still scene was shattered as the doors opened a dozen men with the golden bars of an admiral. Seated at the head of the table was Fleet Admiral Michael Swenson. A lean man with hawkish features and salt-and-pepper hair, Fleet Admiral Swenson, who was pushing 87, was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Many first meeting Swenson were fooled by his age, believing him to be nearing retirement. Most fleet personnel retired around 90 to enjoy their last 40 or so years of life. Swenson was not going to sit idly by and let others run the military. It was still his operation, with power delegated to him directly from President Jeruta. Swenson smiled and sat, motioning for the other admirals to do the same.
"Admiral Hackett," Fleet Admiral Swenson said, words reverberating off the steel walls for the first time that day, "welcome to Washington. I hope your trip from Arcturus Prime wasn't too taxing."
Hackett nodded. "It was a normal trip, no surprises, sir." As commander of the Fifth Fleet, the largest and most powerful in the Alliance Fleet, Hackett spent much of his time on Arcturus Station. The Alliance had very publically claimed that Arcturus Station was the headquarters for all fleet operations. In one sense, it was true; in another, completely false.
Arcturus Station oversaw most of the day-to-day workings of the fleet: provisions, movement, training, patrol patterns, and such. The bulk of the bureaucracy was at Arcturus Station. The nerve center, the top brass, met in one of the sub-basements of the Pentagon in Washington D.C., North America. One of the lessons of the First Contact War was just how vulnerable a space-based commander center was. Taking this lesson, the Joint Chiefs relocated themselves back to Earth, safely behind the Planetary Defense System that ringed humanity's home-world.
Admiral Swenson nodded. "We've all had a chance to look over Rear Admiral Mikhailovich's report on SR-1, SSV Normandy. Opinions?" he asked of his assembled advisors.
Admiral Gillett, Chief of Ordinance, spoke up first. "Sir, I agree with Mikhailovich," he stated calmly in his French accent, "Normandy is a fine machine, but she costs simply too much money. We can use ze taxpayer's dollars more effectively on proven weapons."
Admiral Zhan, Chief of Intelligence, countered. "Any new weapon is expensive. Commander Shepard is right," Zhan said emphatically, gesturing to the datapad, "that stealth system will be invaluable in intelligence gathering and planning. Sir, the insight and tactical data gathered could save thousands of lives and dozens of ships by giving them solid, up to date intelligence."
As Zhan finished, the room descended into chaos as each admiral sought to make his opinion heard. Admiral Swenson let the noise continue for a few moments, and the raised his hand, silencing the room. All heads turned to face the head of the table.
Admiral Swenson looked right at Admiral Hackett. "Admiral, you know Normandy's record better than any of us. What is your opinion?"
Admiral Hackett, seated at the foot of the table, leaned forward, resting his forehead against his hands. After a few moments, he spoke up. "Sir, I think Normandy has performed wonderfully. I have been able to entrust several highly sensitive assignments to Commander Shepard, such as the old espionage probe in the Amazon System or the recovery of the data module that was shot down by geth in the Hercules System, and know that they would be accomplished. Sir, a vessel like Normandy needs a superb skipper to get her full abilities out. Sir, Normandy-class vessels are not a waste of money. They are powerful, fast, and quiet."
Admiral Swenson nodded. "Would you recommend the production of another Normandy-class ship?"
Hackett paused, clearly weighing his words, and then nodded firmly. "Yes sir. Another ship like that would dramatically increase our scouting and long range capabilities, and would give us the opportunity to further out relationship with the Citadel Fleet."
Swenson nodded. "I agree." He picked up his datapad, scribbled a few orders on it, and handed it to a steward he had just summoned to the room. The steward saluted and left the room.
"Gentlemen," Swenson announced, "I have just order the construction of SR-2, SSV Guadalcanal."
