::ll:: All these toys belong to Bioware; I just smush them together and make kissy noises. ::ll::
A.N - What's this? Another story? Why yes. Yes it is. Set in the same universe as my previous two, you should probably read those two first to acquaint yourself with the more AU aspects of this story. It's not necessary, but I'd love you forever if you did.
If you don't wanna, here's a brief run down of the wibbly bits:
James Vega grew up a street rat on Earth under a young Shep's tutelage. Said Shep is called Alex and Queen of the Street Rats. Liara popped down for a quick visit in '69 (From Little Acorns) and then Mass Effect happened.
This story concerns the Service Histories you can choose. I don't think they got quite enough love in the games, so hear I am, scribbling them out. I like all three SH's but really, they only show one side of a character. Plus regardless of Shep's choice, Elysium, Akuze and Torfan all happened and I don't know why the Alliance never go for the people who suffer them in Shep's place (IE, why would you choose Akuze!Shep or Torfan!Shep over Generic Elysium!Hero) So instead, to show Shep as the ultimate warrior, she goes through all three.
Also; I know there isn't a sergeant rank in the Alliance navy but there's like different five ranks (Pvt/Cpl/Chief/Lt/Cmmdr) for Shep to go through, so I added that one in.
Also also; Mikhailovich, the asshole who demands to inspect the Normandy in ME1 is not the same Mikhailovich in this chapter. This Mikhailovich is asshole Mikhailovich's asshole son. Just a little FYI.
Also^3 ; one thing I hated about ME3 was how every conversation with Vega ended with Barry Manilow singing in my head.
parting note: I still suck at titles and summaries and ratings. So if you've got a better idea and want to share it, I'd be ever so grateful.
ON WITH THE SHOW!
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"Well, what about Shepard? Earthborn - but no record of her family."
"Doesn't have one, officially. Grew up on the streets, learned to look out for herself."
2172 CE – Local Cluster/Sol/Earth/Europa/UK/London
Systems Alliance Recruitment Office
With her nose pressed flush against the glass and hands blocking out the glare of the sun, Ivy Swift's view began to fog with condensation as she squinted through the mirrored glass. She could just barely make out a slight red haired figure talking to a larger form sporting buzz cut and fatigues. Ivy swayed precariously on her companion's shoulders.
"Will you cut it out? It's hard enough to see as it is without you swaying like a drunkard."
The burly figure below her gave an indignant snort.
"Ay Díos mio, you know, you're not as light as you used to be."
"Are you telling me James 'El Gigante' Vega can't lift an eight year old girl on his shoulders for five minutes? Roo and Toby'll have a field day when I tell them that."
"Like you'd dare, rubia." James gave an impatient sigh, wanting to move the child's mind from embarrassing him in front of his friends. "Is she nearly done?"
"I dunno, Oh! They're shaking hands, she's coming!"
Ivy slid down James' back and quickly reclined against the wall, affecting a pose of bored nonchalance as a giddy Alex emerged from the recruitment office, ruffling her auburn hair excitedly.
"So? Did you do it, Alex?" Despite her best efforts, eagerness and anticipation wavered in Ivy's voice. Alex fixed her with a serious stare, before a wide grin spread across her face as she gave a mock salute to her two young companions.
"That's Private Alex to you, ma'am."
Dropping her facade, Ivy let out a squeal as she bounded up to Alex, her sister in all but name. A roguish smirk found its way onto James' face as he extended a fist in the new Private's direction. Meeting him with a smirk of her own, Alex removed one of her hands from Ivy's tight hug and bumped knuckles with the boy. James wasn't one for emotions but Alex had known him long enough to understand the delicate undertones of this small act.
Breaking her embrace with the little girl, Alex offered her free hand, one not clutching several neatly folded papers, which Ivy accepted, before the trio began to make their way back to the orphanage.
Tugging the papers out of her hand, James began rifling through them.
"So what'd you finally settle on?" His eyes widened as he scanned down the page. "Alexandra Dolores Shepard? Ha! Knew you were a Lola."
Alex scoffed.
"Please, I just wrote that so you'd shut up about it. You are going to shut up about it, right?"
"Hell no, this just makes it official." James shot her another grin, prompting Alex to roll her eyes wearily. They turned off the main road and began to navigate the warren of back streets and alleyways. James returned his attention to the certificates.
"I still think you should have put your place of birth as The Copa." His eyes narrowed slightly. "What's this 'Shepard'?"
Alex gave a small shrug.
"Something a friend of mine said a few years back. I was a shepherd and you were my flock. I like it. And anyway, it's better than taking my name from an old 20th century vid."
James looked at her, feigning astonishment.
"What! You're telling me it wouldn't be cool to go up to some yuppie Turian types and be all 'English, mother sucker, do you speak it?'" James was careful to censor himself, if only to avoid a clap around the ear from the street rats' matriarch. Swearing is a privilege for adults only, she had said. Kids don't appreciate the fine nuances of a well placed cuss.
Alex let out a small sigh and began using her fingers on her newly empty hand to count.
"One; there are no 'yuppie Turian types'. That war ended fifteen years ago and that kind of attitude isn't going to help anyone. Two; wrong character. Three; you barely spoke a word of English when we met you, hombre, so you'd be one to talk. Four; everything gets put through translation nodes anyway, so there's no need to be bilingual and five; you saw that ANN interview with the Asari Matriarch, everyone thinks of us as 'anthropocentric bags a' dicks', and saying stuff like that only proves them right."
James huffed and crossed his arms, giving an exaggerated pout.
"Five minutes and you're already all politically correct. You sicken me, Lola."
"It's etiquette, Vega. If there's one thing I can hang my hat on when I get home at night, it's that I raised all my kids with impeccable manners. And if I hear you talk like that again, you know what'll happen. I don't care how old or gargantuan you get; you're never too big for a boot up the ass."
"Don't make promises you can't keep Lola. A man might get ideas."
"Lucky you're a boy then and anyway, you're not my type-"
"I know; I'm not blue."
Shepard narrowed her eye indignantly. James gave a smirk.
"Yeah, I know all about that blue you were hooked on and didn't stop yakking about for months."
Shepard's eyes widened as she flushed a deep pink.
"I-I was not hooked on anyone, Vega!"
He raised his hands in mock defence as he gave a sly chuckle and regarded her out of the corner of his eye.
"Hey I'm not judging. They're a beautiful people. Just surprised one managed to make the infamously unflappable Lola horrendously flappable is all."
"Vega. Boot. Ass. Tasting leather for a week." Desperate to change the subject, Shepard quickly returned to James' naming conventions.
"Anyway, I'm still surprised David let you name the orphanage after that bible quote you're so crazy about."
"Hey it fits. And Ezekiel is cool name; it's got a Z and K in it, 'course it's no James Vega but few things are. So enough picking on me, I'm not the only one to take inspiration from the golden age of entertainment, Ivy."
The youngest child, who had been observing the conversation gleefully, head flicking between the two combatants as if watching a tennis match, suddenly turned to give a petulant pout, glaring at her older brother.
"I came across an old songstress. Her words spoke to my soul."
Having reached the Ezekiel Home for Independent Children, currently in the middle of refurbishment, the trio made their way to the tenement's adjoining courtyard. As James bent down to open the ventilation grate that served as the only entrance, Alex glanced down at her youngest ward, a gentle grin on her face.
"Sweetie, no offence, but you're eight. Dora the Explorer speaks to your soul."
Ivy looked up at Alex, indignation across her face, before turning away, nose held high.
"'Least I don't have bad case of the blues."
Shepard groaned, throwing her head back.
"Is this pick on the new recruit day? You guys are going to have to throw one hell of a going away party to make up for this."
Ivy stuck her tongue out at Shepard, before disappearing into the small tunnel. James looked up at his mentor, as stoic and unfazed as ever.
"C'mon Lola, We don't know when you'll be coming back, we gotta get all our jibes in now so you don't forget us."
"Yeah well, just remember, when I do come back, I'll be highly trained in the art of whoop ass, so for the next week, y'all better be nice."
With muttered affirmatives, James followed the younger girl into the vent. Taking one last glance to make sure they weren't being observed, Shepard gave James a light tap on the backside with the edge of her boot, before entering the vent herself and locking the grate in place behind her.
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2173 CE – Local Cluster/Sol/Earth/Russian Oligarchy/Primorsky Krai/Vladivostok
Systems Alliance NEH-R3 Barracks
Corporal Shepard liked the Alliance. It was demanding and nothing was easy, sure, but it was simple. Mission objectives were clear and it was refreshing to stand with men and women you could trust implicitly. Of course, she loved and missed the children that were her family back in London, but here she felt like an equal, an adult.
Routine good behaviour and hard work was rewarded with praise and strong results. In many ways life in the military was far more fair and honest than that on the street. She nodded to herself. Yes. She definitely liked it.
While the military was wholly inclusive, accepting of all race and creed as long as one conformed to Alliance doctrine, only a rough quarter of the forces were women. While Shepard sometimes missed a more feminine energy around the barracks, the situation at least allowed for full availability of facilities, meaning there was rarely a queue for the bathroom, which she was eternally thankful for. Come hygiene time however, Shepard and her few female marines often found themselves quickly showered and dressed, waiting for an age in the common room for their male counterparts to join them.
She didn't particularly mind, however. Time alone gave her time to think. She liked quiet. Sitting in a corner, Shepard whiled away the time polishing her boots, only vaguely aware of the four marines quietly going about their business at the opposite end of the room and one composing a message on the couch in the middle.
Private Vecchio was quiet and often kept to himself but had always been polite to Shepard in the few times they had crossed paths.
The same however, could not be said for the other inhabitants of the room, who were now whispering conspiratorially and shooting furtive glances to the young Private.
Shepard continued to polish her boots but stiffened slightly as she became more aware of her environment and those inhabiting it. Her full attention was drawn as a pair of balled up socks careened across the room, hitting the quiet Private on the back of the head with an audible thunk.
He turned round to confront his assailant but upon seeing the three men flanking him, he held his tongue and grudgingly turned back around.
Shepard's gaze moved to the quartet, waiting to see what they would do next. The leader of the pack sneered and motioned for an accomplice to pass a billiard ball from the nearby pool table. Weighing it in his hand, he took aim at the scribing Private before launching the projectile. Shepard's eyes widened in surprise.
"Vecchio!"
The private ducked in fright, glancing over at her. Seconds later a thundering crack reverberated around the room as the ball made contact with the opposing wall. Shepard stood, glaring at the pitcher.
"What the hell, Mikhailovich? You trying to kill the guy?"
Mikhailovich leered at her.
"Trying to get him off the base. We don't need no pussy biotic faggots in the Alliance. Leave that shit to the squid heads. Only the best of the best come to Vladivostok. Mikhailovich's of my standing shouldn't have to mix with the likes of a pansy ass Vecchio. What about you?"
He turned slightly to give Shepard his full attention, his eyes roving up and down her body, cocking his head slightly, seemingly ignoring the death glare from her eyes.
"Ain't heard my dad mention any Shepards in his days. Your folks supported Williams at Shanxi?"
Shepard ignored the question, instead clenching her jaw, the intensity of her glare increasing tenfold.
"Apologise. Then leave. If you ever get within so much as ten feet of either of us again, God so help me, I will pummel your ass until you're nothing but pulp."
Mikhailovich merely smirked.
"Frigid bitch, eh? Well we ca-"
Shepard's charitable window smashed closed. On instinct she thrust forward, enveloped in swathes of blue energy. In a split second she had traversed the room and Mikhailovich's face came into contact with a fist swathed in sapphire flames. The connection sent out a shockwave around the room, ruffling hair and fabric as it swept past.
Mikhailovich crumpled to the floor as Shepard stood, towering over him, fury in her eyes and a deep pant in her breath. Inside she was reeling slightly, amazed and slightly confused at the feat she had just pulled.
She put the curiosity aside for later; instead ensuring her vehemence was made clear. She met the eyes each of his three compatriots without blinking. They turned away, hurrying yet attempting to appear as casual as possible as they slipped out the door. She gave satisfied smirk.
"Shepard?"
The sound of a baritone voice behind her banished all joviality from her face. Colour draining from her cheeks, Shepard turned around to face the imposing figure that was Lieutenant Commander Anderson. Shoulders sagging slightly as she stood to attention, Shepard's voice was uncharacteristically quiet.
"How much did you see, sir?"
"Enough, Shepard."
She bowed her head, embarrassed.
"Sorry sir. Won't happen again sir."
He quirked an eye brow as Sergeant Petrov walked through the door, eyes locked furiously on the still foetal figure of Mikhailovich, dripping blood over the polished floor.
"What happened here? Shepard?"
She opened her mouth but her voice caught in her throat. Shit. Anderson stepped in.
"Private Mikhailovich seemed to take a rather nasty fall slipping on a pool ball. Went spinning off toward the couches if I'm not mistaken."
Shepard swallowed at the save, her heart in her mouth. Not trusting her body language, she kept her rigid stance, eyes focusing intently on a patch of plaster on the wall behind her superior officers. Petrov, taking The Lt Commander's word, nodded before turning back to question Shepard, eyes like flint. Anderson interjected once more.
"Actually, I'd like a private word with Shepard, if I may, Sergeant?"
Petrov looked back at his superior, eager to please.
"Yes, of course, Commander." He shot Shepard one last look before bending down to question Mikhailovich. Anderson tilted his head before turning on the spot and heading for the door.
Shepard quickly caught up with him, following him out the room. Passing the couches, Vecchio caught her eye and gave a small smile and a nod. She replied in kind before exiting the room.
As the pair marched down the corridor, Shepard worked up the courage to finally speak.
"Thank you, sir."
"What for? Private was out of line, you put him back in his place. Slightly more unorthodox than I'd perhaps like but the sentiment was there. Like I said, I saw enough."
Shepard gave a bashful smile before knitting her brows.
"Uh, sir? H-how do you know my name?"
Anderson smirked as he looked at the young corporal from the corner of his eye.
"I would hardly be a good Executive Officer if I didn't at least know my new crew's names. I was looking over your file; you show promise, given time."
"All due respect, sir, the files are all full of pie crust promises; easily made, easily broken. I'd rather let my actions speak for themselves than hang on the opinion of one instructor. I don't make promises or decisions lightly. But when I do I intend to fulfil and commit to them to my full extent, sir."
Anderson gave a light snort. Knew I'd like this kid. However his eyes narrowed slightly as he remembered why he had called the corporal for a confidential talk.
"I didn't realise you were a biotic Shepard, there was nothing in your files. You're too young to be an L1, right?"
Shepard gave a small shrug, relaxing slightly. It felt easier to talk to Anderson than it did any of her other superiors.
"I'm not a biotic sir. No implants."
He stopped, confused.
"Then what happened in there, then?"
Shepard gave another weak shrug, slightly flustered.
"Honestly, sir, I'm not too sure. I haven't ever done anything like that before. I had a friend, an Asari who visited Earth four years ago. She explained her species affinity for biotics and taught me how she meditated. I kept it up over the years and got to the point where I could move pencils across desks and stuff but like I said, I've never moved like that before. He just made me angry and I acted before I even knew what happened."
The pair arrived at the barrack's medical wing. Sliding open the door, Anderson turned to look Shepard in the eye, contemplative.
"Hmm. It still doesn't explain how you can do it without any implants. At any rate, that was the beginning of a damn fine charge. I'd recommend you for late training at the Brain Camp in Gagarin but I want you on my crew."
He stared off into middle distance for a moment, deep in thought. An older woman, in her late forties approached the pair, breaking the Lieutenant Commander from his reverie. He smiled warmly at her before turning to Shepard.
"I'll leave you in the capable hands of Dr Chakwas here. Dr Chakwas, this is Corporal Shepard."
He leaned over to the older woman, murmuring a few words into her ear. She gave a serious frown, nodding affirmatively to his hushed requests. He thanked her before stepping back.
"I'll leave you ladies to it. Please excuse me."
Shepard was about to call after him, but he was already gone, the door swishing shut behind him. She turned to the Doctor sheepishly, as the older woman regarded her with a bemused grin.
"So, latent biotic? I think I've got something for that."
Shepard's cheeks flushed, embarrassed.
"I, uh, don't want to get in your way, ma'am-"
"Nonsense. I need to give you a physical anyway, make sure your fit for space flight. Hopefully we won't be seeing too much of each other in the coming months, Corporal. But first things first; your biotics."
Shepard found herself guided towards a bed and gave a delayed yelp at a prick in her finger. Looking down, she saw Chakwas squeezing blood onto a small tray before adorning the Corporal with small patches and monitors. Eyes focused on the read outs, the Doctor addressed Shepard.
"You seem to possess a considerable amount of background radiation for someone who has never been off world, Corporal. Are you sure you haven't visited any space stations? Even as a child?"
Shepard shook her head and shrugged.
"Don't think so. Never had parents to take me anywhere. I couldn't even tell you what they looked like. My earliest memories were rooting through trash cans and skimming pockets for loose change. Do you think my parents were involved in some freak eezo accident and just ditched me on Earth or something?"
Chakwas made a noncommittal murmur, inwardly cursing herself for stumbling over what would normally be a sensitive subject. She thanked her lucky stars that Shepard hadn't seemed too fazed by it. The Doctor felt a familiar pang in her chest. She always did when confronted with orphans.
Over the stretch of her career, Chakwas was no stranger to dealing with young soldiers and rather enjoyed watching them mature into the marines they set out to be. It was nigh impossible to avert forming attachments with what she considered her wards and that feeling only strengthened when faced with someone who had lacked a familial upbringing that in many ways, military life replicated.
While she had never had children of her own, it would be false to say that Chakwas had never been a mother. She banished her idle thoughts.
"In any case, you've managed to survive 19 years and make it here relatively unscathed as well as actually nurtured some kind of biotic talent, which is more than I can say for some poor souls, so I shouldn't worry too much. However, you could benefit greatly from this,"
She waved what looked like some kind of gun with an LED at the end. Shepard recoiled slightly, glaring at the contraption suspiciously. Seeing the Corporal's confusion, Chakwas elaborated.
"It's an L3 implant. Perfectly safe, it will enhance your biotic prowess while regulating it so as to stop one burning oneself out. It's also got automatic buffers against headaches and migraines."
Shepard lowered her guard slightly and allowed the Doctor to start shaving away hair at the nape of her neck. It sent a slight shiver down her spine as she failed to think of a time she had felt more vulnerable.
"Now, Corporal, this is going to sting slightly."
Shepard braced herself. All was quiet in the med wing for several seconds before the soft crunch of bone being cracked and peirced jolted her stinging eyes open and a muffled groan to come unstuck from her throat.
Slightly? Before her mouth could form a reprimand, Shepard felt the cool glaze of medigel cover the base of her skull, any pain quickly becoming a distant memory.
"There. That wasn't so bad was it? You'll wake up to a slight tingling in the morning but that should soon subside. I must say Corporal, you handled that like a trooper. I might even be compelled to give a lollipop." She proffered a tin at Shepard, as if to prove she wasn't joking, which the Corporal graciously accepted.
"You're spoiling me, ma'am."
"That's enough of that. It's Chakwas or Doctor if you must."
The Corporal extended her hand
"Pleasure meeting you Doc. Folks call me Shepard, but you can holler Alex."
"Pleasure's all mine, Corporal." Chakwas accepted the hand as the two women grinned at one another. They were interrupted by the swishing of the door. Peeking over the Doctor's shoulder, Shepard spotted Vecchio, glancing nervously into the room. Turning around, Chakwas beckoned him in closer.
"Uh, hi. Umm, Anderson told me to report here for a physical?"
Chakwas nodded, a gentle smile disarming the Private of any latent fear.
"Yes, of course. I'm halfway done with the Corporal here, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll set up a second station."
Giving the two marines some semblance of privacy, Shepard couldn't help but note a childishly gleeful enthusiasm in the Private's eyes. Wringing his hands, he quickly bucked the courage to speak.
"Th-thanks, for back in the Common Room. You saved me a whole lotta hurt."
Shepard politely dismissed him with a gentle wave of her hand.
"No problem. Anyway, Mikhailovich was being an ass and I have a temper. Just glad he gave me an excuse. That pure human Terra Firma bullshit is like poison, seeping in and causing rifts where there are none, making impressionable people do stupid things."
Vecchio gave a small laugh.
"That was awesome the way you flew across the room, though; like a superhero from the holo vids! Anderson said that was all natural too, like you're half Asari or somethin'!"
Shepard tilted her head, comically feigning humility as she basked in the Private's praise.
"The Lieutenant Commander also said you might benefit from some coaching with your biotics and asked if I would help you, seeing as we'll be stationed together on the Hasting 'cause I'm an Adept, y'see, an L2 and from the looks of it you'll make a pretty mean Vanguard with enough practice and I'm more than willing to lend a hand and help you hone your skills and oh god I'm rambling aren't I?"
He finished flushed, either from lack of breath or embarrassment, Shepard wasn't quite sure. She gave a gentle laugh.
"I'd be thrilled to have you put me through my paces. Actually, before we go any further, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Alex." She offered the lollipop tin that the Doctor had left on the bed, which the Private readily accepted.
"Emil."
Any further conversation was cut short as Chakwas called for Emil to join her behind the curtain. Left alone Shepard glanced around the room, aware of the gentle throb at the base of her skull and couldn't help but feel optimistic for her future. She let out a small contented sigh.
Yeah. Corporal Shepard definitely liked the Alliance.