Many thanks to Reyavie, for betaing and support.
Chapter 1
One of your first missions was an expedition to investigate Akuze, a lush world on the outskirts of Alliance space that had suddenly dropped out of contact
The eastern horizon turns golden pink and soon drowns in the blaze of the rising sun: the dawn of another day on Akuze. With the planet's twenty-six standard hours' rotation, the time seems to linger, luring to a slower, lazier rhythm.
David Romero hates the laziness of the slowly passing time; he's not the type for long, idle siestas. His is the mind that rarely remains at rest, always solving some problem or figuring how things might work more efficiently.
If these things can be combined with some adrenaline, even better.
Normally, a research base wouldn't be a place of preference for Romero but this one is different: it provides many challenges for a tech expert, and adrenaline aplenty.
The fact that he is on two payrolls is merely a sweet bonus to it all.
True, the work does have its drawbacks. For all its high-tech equipment provided by the other funding, the base is a typical Alliance structure: small and practically devoid of privacy, limiting the already limited fun of non-alcoholic beer and holographic girls to minimum. Nonetheless, Romero can bid his time to get the beverage of his choice later, when his account bulges out of proportion, and girls… well, there are some girls on Akuze, virtually dancing to his tune.
Sipping his coffee, the best Brazillian blend of his private stash, he checks the console of the monitoring system, and his face cracks in an excited smile. The dance is about to start! He switches on the com. "Buenas dias, everyone, it's a beautiful morning, and our long-expected visitors have arrived for the rendezvous!"
He chuckles at the frustrated groan he hears in the comm: some people really hate getting up early. Funny that a softie like Wayne has taken up the study of such fascinating beasts like the threshers.
Threshers. Metres and metres of death incarnate, with teeth and claws and potent acid, crushing anything that might yet resist with their mere size.
Watching them in action is something Romero never tires of, and he is looking forward to the final test of their prowess.
"SSV Warsaw." Julianna Stravinski, the chief researcher, pushes an unruly auburn lock from her forehead. "The Alliance is really taking this seriously, sending a cruiser right away."
"Told you so." Fronsard, with his long face and shaved head, looks like an officer, and he is the only who has actually served in the army; as such, he considers himself an expert in all things military. "So soon after the Blitz, they want to keep their image of don't-fuck-with-us guys and crush every raiding merc who would put up his head too high."
"Yes, Carl. I am fully aware that your assessment was correct."
Of course, neither of them mentions Romero's irreplaceable role in cutting off the Selenya colony's communication channels, as well as a couple of other things, but he is used to that – after all that time, the doctors on the team still think that their academic education makes them somewhat superior to a mere technician. With Fronsard and Stravinski, he is willing to put up with the nonsense most of the time, since despite being cold bastards, both possess brains. On the whole, he would have preferred a bit of warmth from Stravinski, since she is actually quite attractive, with her reddish curls and brown eyes. Romero generally prefers brunettes, but given the circumstances, he'd be willing to step down and try out the famed red-head heat, if only Stravinski showed a grain of appreciation of his Latino charm. His tech skill is appreciated more, but Romero doesn't recall that it would ever help him bang someone, and it seems that Stravinski won't be an exception.
The rest of the research team, assembled in the control room, are at various stages of waking up, which Romero finds rather amusing, since Stravinski is apparently irritated by it. Things or people not working seems to be the only thing that gets her excited. Under her glare, Zanna Leitmeyer, the chief field worker, straightens up in her chair and stifles a yawn. "So? Do our plans change somehow?"
"No. Unless there is some problem with the lure network. Mr Romero?"
He feels offended: hasn't it been tested ad nauseam with those colonist fools? "But of course not," he replies smoothly. "The girls will dance around as we want them."
This elicits the usual sour look. As a chief researcher, it was Stravinski's privilege to name the objects of the research, which, for reasons known solely to her, resulted in referring to the threshers as males and naming them Susannoo, Baratheon and Nabucadnesar. Within a fortnight, Romero nicked them Suzie, Babs and Nancy and started referring to them as "girls"… and within another fortnight, the new naming system was picked up by the whole base.
Stravinski quickly switches the topic. "Let us take a look at our Alliance… friends."
Romero is fairly sure she meant test subjects, but this is really inconsequential. He taps into the Alliance databases. "SSV cruiser Warsaw. Captain: Valeriy Tarasov. XO: Lieutenant-Commander Mohinder Sarajhava – Sarajahva – something."
"That's not the guys that'll be leading the shore party," Fronsard remarks. "Take a look at the lower commanding staff."
Romero sighs. 'Was just getting there. Skipping the various Staff Commanders and other ranks which are of absolutely no meaning to him, he reads: "Anita DuBois, Gze Samekh, Connor Shepard…"
As he drones the list of names, he wonders which of the guys will have the honour to serve the science, with more than just a little help of ingenious Mr Romero.
At the early hour, the mess hall is almost empty, which provides Shepard an opportunity for undisturbed reading with his breakfast. He takes his time, the quality of the meal can hardly decrease by getting cold. Page by page, he shuffles through the reports on his PDA one last time, making sure he didn't miss a thing.
"A bit too late for your homework, LT," Lyuba Chen remarks as she puts down her tray with food next to his. "So, what are we up to? Man-eating locusts, spaghetti flying monsters, intelligent acidic cloud from darkspace?"
"I see nothing to contradict the assumption that it was a raid by some stragglers from the Blitz who got too bold for their own good," Shepard assesses. "A well prepared raid with a little sabotage, since the colony never had the time to call for help. There are no reports of natural catastrophes or epidemics, and there aren't supposed to be any dangerous critters around here, either," he brings up a map of Akuze on his omnitool and points at a rather large butterfly-shaped continent. "There are reports of some poisonous insects in the tropical forest in the northern part, but the colony is only here," he indicates the central part of the butterfly, next to the ocean, "and that's mostly grasslands, with a rather bland biotope."
"Vast, empty plains, exposed to the sun and wind, with nothing to please the eye except the tits of the colonists' young daughters whom we are going to save from the fate worse than death," a voice recites exaggeratedly from the doorway.
Chen rolls her eyes and Shepard feels much like doing the same, especially as Toshio slams his tray on the table and places his boots next to it, rocking on the chair so that it balances on two legs.
Oh, my. Toshio at his best. Goodbye, peaceful breakfast.
It is absolutely past Shepard why Toshio's otherwise brilliant mind indulges in playing jackass so much but since he never manages to resist getting involved in them himself, as well, he is in no position to complain. Sighing, he puts aside the PDA, as he isn't going to do much reading now. "Hate to break it on you, Iaeda, but this was a pioneering team. No young daughters."
"And you tell me only now?" Toshio crosses his ankles, ignoring Lyuba's intent stare burning through his soles. "Where's the fun?"
"If you don't put those feet down, you'll have your fun in no time," Lyuba mutters darkly. "It's not been so long since I was wiping your ass for you and I'll damn well teach you some manners."
"Ouch. You've broken my heart, Lyubochka." Toshio puts his hand over the said organ and bats his lashes. In response, Lyuba's hands start glowing faintly blue and the tea cup on Toshio's tray trembles dangerously.
Sighing inwardly, Shepard stretches his leg under the table and kicks the chair from under Toshio, sending him to the floor.
As expected, Toshio lands in a smooth somersault, grinning as he manages to save the chair from falling. "If this was an attempt on me, you'll have to give it a better try."
"It was an attempt on your jackassism," Shepard mutters into his coffee, grimacing at the taste. "I'll kill it as many times as I have to."
Toshio's grin broadens. "Someone's in need of a surgery here, I see. An urgent case of a stick up the arse…"
"Mind your own arse, Iaeda."
In response, Toshio bats his lashes again and sends him a kiss.
Don't you dare to remind me of that.
Mostly, Shepard has no qualms about jackassing a little here and there, but… mostly. The rest of the cases are those he would much like to forget.
Luckily, Sheckley and Wei choose that moment to enter the mess hall, followed by a couple of other marines, which spares Shepard the need to answer, as Toshio switches from jackass to Sergeant in no time. Unfortunately, the serious mode lasts only until Denisova comes for breakfast, unusually early by her standards, and starts questioning Toshio in the matter of her shower gel which got mysteriously replaced by "Passion of the Turian Night" perfume and which she found out only when she poured the thing over her.
Watching with amusement in her slanted eyes, Lyuba sniffs ostensibly towards Denisova. "That stuff is definitely… potent, Corporal. Not sure if it's not against the regs, though…"
"Why, there was a reg against chemical warfare?" Toshio wonders innocently. "We'll just place Yelochka in the first line…"
Denisova's eyes sparkle lightnings and she grits through her teeth something that suspiciously reminds of 'matyeryebets', even though she takes care she is not heard at the other tables.
Ah, Iaeda. Always daring to pull the tigress by her tail, huh?
Shepard only hopes that Deni will not exact her revenge during the mission, and, since if these two screw up, Tarasov will have his balls for that, he decides to make sure she doesn't. "Listen, you two," he says softly. "Keep this for after we're done down there, or you'll both be painfully sorry."
Yelena and Toshio simultaneously roll their eyes. "Aye aye, sir. Understood," she assures him with an expression that is not reassuring in the least. For the pretty girl that she is, she has a nasty smile on occasions. And the way she exchanges looks with Toshio is even more disturbing.
Shepard suppresses another sigh. Mess with someone's fun, and you get declared public enemy number one. When they get back from Akuze, he will have to be careful around his things, or he is in for a nasty surprise.
Maybe he should make use of the time and plan a pre-emptive strike.
Standing half-hidden in the entrance of the cargo bay, Tarasov watches Sergeant Iaeda issuing orders: the very embodiment of professionalism. One would almost be taken in, Tarasov assesses. For the umpteenth time, he ponders whether he actually likes Iaeda or not; as before, the matter remains unresolved. The reports from action are flattering, the service performance brilliant… and the constant pranks are… well… pranks. Idiotic.
Though some of them even Tarasov himself finds hilarious.
A prankster on board keeps good mood among the crew, provided he knows where to stop, which, miraculously, Iaeda does – most of the time.
Even so, Tarasov would probably have postponed his promotion to Sergeant, if not for Shepard's recommendation.
Shepard.
Keeping his usual cold poker-face, Tarasov smiles inwardly. Those two, practically inseparable, are a strange pair at first sight: slender, elegant Iaeda, displaying delicate aristocratic features, and more robust Shepard, whose deep-set eyes in a somewhat crude face seemingly make him a candidate for grumpiness. To a perfunctory observer, their similarities end at the dark colour of eyes and hair.
Tarasov, however, knows better. Fast and precise reflexes; keen strategic minds; quick and correct on-spot decision making, calm and rational no matter what shit hits the fan. Both bound for a stellar career, provided that Iaeda learns to keep his love for pranks under control.
And provided that Shepard stops participating in them.
Really, one would never imagine what the serious-looking Shepard might be capable of. Tarasov's expression under his heroic moustache does not change but that little moment was also stellar, especially because Shepard will never forget it. It's good for young officers to have their fifteen minutes of shame, especially the bright ones, or they might get too big for themselves.
Though, to be honest, Shepard's main problem doesn't seem to be an inflated ego; rather, a certain… easygoingness… that often accompanies natural brilliance: why bother striving to do his best when he is already among the best even without that much effort. A most irritating trait. Where the heck did it come from? Tarasov never knew Fareed Shepard before his tragic demise, but Hannah served briefly with him as a young Lieutenant, and he has kept an eye on her commendable career progress ever since: no, this trait of Shepard's is definitely not from her. He can easily follow in her footsteps, even surpass her, if he learns to utilise all his potential. Soldiering runs deep in the family, he has a lot to build on.
Where Iaeda, a Yokohama street brat, got his talents, is past Tarasov, but he is willing to give him a chance to test his mettles, as well. Shepard insisted that the responsibility coming with the rank would tune down his wildness, and Tarasov is slowly coming to acknowledge the correctness of the assessment.
Both for Iaeda and for Shepard himself.
His conviction slightly wavers, noticing Corporal Denisova eyeing Iaeda over the cargo bay with a predatory concentration. Feeling her stare, the young man slowly turns and flashes her a broad smile. The next moment, he almost stumbles over a box that, just a second ago, was a few metres away, and this time it is Denisova who flashes an innocent smile while the blue sheen over her body is quickly fading.
Gritting his teeth, Tarasov steps back into the corridor, so that he can pretend he never saw the incident and doesn't have to act on it.
Corporal Yelena Denisova, awarded a medal of honour for her feats in the aftermath of the Blitz. The very biotic you want to cover your ass, but other than that… Tarasov has seen his share of innocent brown eyes to be able to tell that the girl is trouble.
Iaeda, apparently, has to learn his lesson yet.
The girl is very subtle but Tarasov is quite sure that some of the wildest pranks were incited by her… including the one on New Year's Eve, when two certain very drunk young officers indulged in something that suspiciously looked like fraternizing just before Staff Commander Huxley's cabin.
Tarasov sighs. Contrary to the common opinion, he doesn't eat regs for breakfast, nor has ink in his veins instead of blood, and seeing the always stoical SC's jaw drop and eyes bulge belongs to the moments he will fondly remember on his pension – even though he is pretty sure that the scene was staged, for exactly this purpose.
Both Tarasov and Huxley stepped back, then, to pretend they never saw – and Iaeda and Shepard never asked why they received extra duties the next three months.
Responsibility. Keep them occupied and under pressure.
When under pressure, they perform best and never fail the task. Never, during all of the Skyllian Blitz or afterwards, and Akuze will be no different, of that Tarasov is sure. Though it will only be a third mission with Shepard in charge, he has no doubt that it will be handled with the usual efficiency. Except Iaeda, all the Sergeants are experienced veterans, with reliable Lyubov Chen as the platoon sergeant…
No, the mission will definitely run smoothly; his – his – pranksters will wreak havoc only afterwards. The news of Corporal Denisova's improved showergel has already made it all around the ship; reciprocation is bound to follow.
In a way, Tarasov is looking forward to it.
A/N: It is not stated when Shepard started his N training and the common opinons are that Akuze was either the feat that brought him the invitation to the N-Academy, or a part of his N6 training. I'm going by the former, since he still has plenty of time ahead to become the no-nonsense badass Commander, and I don't believe that he was already born that way.