Chapter One: In Which Shepard Spends Money

Sometimes Shepard really wished that the Normandy came equipped with portholes. Of course there was no need for sightseeing on a warship, and silly things like windows were a frivolity that couldn't be afforded by the Alliance's taxpayers. So instead, she lay back on her bed—the only bed on the ship, she reminded herself somewhat smugly—and stared up at the ceiling, envisioning the whiteness of Noveria's atmosphere as the Normandy descended into Port Hanshan. Sharp snowflakes would be swirling around the curved nose of the ship, and then be left behind in spinning eddies before continuing their long journey to the ground. Shepard smiled and hummed a Christmas tune. It was May back on Earth, but no matter the month, snow never failed to put her in a cheery holiday mood. Besides, she was about to give herself the best present ever. Ever since she'd enlisted, her life had lacked a proper Christmas; high time to make up for those eleven years without an expensive present.

And this would be a whopper.

Shepard frowned a little at that thought. It wasn't much of a present if you had to pay for it yourself. Of course, if not for Saren's controlling interest in Binary Helix, her plan wouldn't even be possible…although it had been quite a task to wade through the red tape and legal obstacles to get this far. Thank goodness for lawyers who could find loopholes in anything. Shepard thought Saren's family might still be sending her hatemail about it, although her public relations people took care of that nasty business for her. No matter; in the end, she was still the savior of the galaxy, and she still owned Binary Helix.

"You know, Commander, when I said I was thinking about taking my next leave here, I was joking. It wasn't supposed to be a serious suggestion."

Shepard sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Joker was a good pilot, but everything about him grated on her nerves. If he wasn't, in fact, the best, then she never would have tolerated him aboard. The fact that he was only made him more irritating. His ability to comm her room directly only exacerbated things. His sense of timing was atrocious.

"Anyway, we're cleared to land. Should be docked in a minute."

Her spirits mostly undaunted by Joker's sarcasm, she bounced off the bed and headed toward the bridge, still humming It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.

***

This time around, Shepard was greeted by a more cordial affair. (After all, she was spending money—and lots of it.) Just outside the Normandy waited a respectable compliment of security and businesspeople, led by Maeko Matsuo and a grim turian who seemed to be the replacement for Kaira Stirling. Shepard smiled cheerily at them both, her heart warmed by the memory of a well-placed shotgun blast obliterating Stirling's obnoxiously dour face.

"Good afternoon, Commander. It's good to see you again, although I hope your stay will be less confrontational this time." The petite human's expression was carefully reserved as always, but a hint of a frown betrayed her doubts that such would be the case.

Shepard nodded, although she absently fingered her pistol out of habit. Always better to be prepared—but she had far more pleasant things on her mind. "Captain Matsuo, good to see you again as well. How go the operations at Peak 15?" She didn't expect that ERCS had had any real trouble clearing out the rest of the geth (not that she'd left many behind—although Binary Helix was probably having a field day with the synthetic remains she'd left strewn throughout the facility).

Matsuo assured her that everything was well, and the two made polite small talk on their way to the administrator's office. It was all a formality, of course; Shepard had made the arrangements well in advance, and Parasini would be disinclined to hinder her. The former internal affairs agent owed her one, after all. Shepard intended to milk that debt for all it was worth.

***

"…So if you require assistance in any way, we'll be happy to cooperate. And don't forget, commander, I still owe you that beer."

"After a couple hours of red tape and legal-ese, I'll probably be wanting one," Shepard sighed, picturing the posh hotel bar in her mind. She'd always regretted turning down Lorik Qui'in's offer of a drink. It seemed patently unfair that although her job frequently took her to bars, she never had time to kick back and relax in one. Saving the galaxy waited for no man, woman, or child, after all…

"Well then, just give me a call when you're ready for a break. Running a planet might not be quite as stressful as being a Spectre, but it's no cakewalk, either. We can't all bludgeon through it, after all."

The two women shared amused looks, although Shepard was glad the affair was almost over. She had much more important business to get to, and the sudden butterflies in her stomach weren't helping any. It had been so long since she'd seen him…

"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll have my assistant direct you to Binary Helix. I'm sure you're anxious to start formally overseeing the operations here."

"Thanks, Gianna. And congratulations again on the promotion."

After stopping to get directions from Parasini's assistant—a young salarian, she noted with amusement—Shepard made her way toward what she supposed she could now call her offices. After this, of course, she wouldn't have much to do with the actual affairs of the company. She'd have to appoint an executor to take care of the details. Perhaps Liara would—no, she decided just as quickly, the asari didn't really have a head for business, even if her mother apparently had. Besides, she was quite busy with family life. The last Shepard had heard, she and Kaidan had settled down in Vancouver and Liara was adjusting to life on Earth—not to mention life with kids. Shepard still wasn't quite sure what had ever possessed Liara to have children so young, nor how, exactly, she and Kaidan had ended up together. What a bizarre couple, Shepard thought, and not for the first time, as she boarded the elevator to Binary Helix. Especially since Kaidan told me Liara wasn't his type…

The train of thought faded as the elevator began to move and a canned newsfeed began to play. Nothing terribly interesting was happening in the galaxy that day, although the campaigns for new council representatives were ramping up as the election approached. She would be glad when it was over; she'd heard enough already about how Ambassador Udina voted for Issue 67 before voting against it and then for it again, or how Anderson was once pulled over for driving while under the influence of red sand.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the same drab grey that comprised every other office in Port Hanshan, and Shepard stepped out, frowning in disappointment. It was probably to be expected—Saren hadn't really seemed like the type to pay much attention to interior decoration. Still, a Christmas tree or two, covered in sparkling tinsel and colorful ornaments, would do much to improve the bland atmosphere. Even a fresh coat of paint, perhaps a soothing blue or peach, could only help matters. Shepard resolved to bring it up at the meeting.

She stepped up to the receptionist, a cheerfully glowing hanar. (How sad, she thought, when the employees supplied most of the color in the place.)

"Welcome to the Noveria branch of Binary Helix. How may this one help you today?"

"My name's Shepard, I'm a Spectre. I have an appointment with the executive board?"

It was impossible to tell the hanar's mood, but Shepard thought it was pleased to see her. Most likely if she hadn't shown up, it would have fallen to it to find her. Given the reputation of Spectres on Noveria, it probably would have approached the task with some trepidation.

"Of course, Commander. You are expected." The hanar typed at its desk with one tentacle, and behind it a door slid open to reveal a snappily dressed asari. "Adelia will show you to the conference room."

"This way, Commander."

Shepard followed the asari through the door and down a hallway just as grey as ever, although the carpet underfoot was a soft dark blue. It was a start, anyway. The conference room was situated toward what had to be the back of the offices, up a short elevator ride, and guarded by a pair of turians from ERCS. One of them nodded respectfully to her as they passed; she thought perhaps she recognized her facial marks as being from the same colony as Garrus.

Inside, the conference room was a plush contrast to the rest of the office. The walls were paneled with some exotic, dark wood and the floor was carpeted in thick, dark red. The central table was a more modern affair of steel and glass, as were the few artworks scattered about the room. A window might have improved matters further, but in all it was a cozy affair.

Already seated at the table was a tall, dark turian who rose to greet her. "Commander Shepard. I'm Fovea Arenus, the manager of this branch of Binary Helix. Welcome back to Noveria."

"Good to meet you, Fovea," Shepard replied as she shook the turian's hand. "And it's good to be back. I'm looking forward to working with BH here."

"Yes, I'm quite enthusiastic about what we can accomplish with this collaboration. I must say that I was surprised to hear the direction you were interested in taking—quite a departure from Saren's pursuits."

Shepard nodded, arranging a suitable rueful smile on her face. "I hope that we can bring something good from his death, terrible as it was."

Fovea steepled her fingers and nodded pensively. "It was quite a whirlwind of uncertainty for a while there, wasn't it? The death of a shareholder is always a trying time, but with such an unclear chain of succession…" She shrugged. In the back of her mind, Shepard was amused to note the decidedly human gesture. "It's for the best that it stays in the Spectre family, so to speak. I believe you'll find that the board agrees."

* * *

The board meeting was as tedious an affair as expected. Shepard emerged feeling drained in a way that she never had after a long day of blowing geth away, but she was confident that she'd represented well. Her laywers had armed her to the teeth, even if she had forgotten at least half of their advice between then and now.

It wasn't over, of course, although the hardest part was behind her. Now it was time to get to her main purpose for coming, and for that she descended into the labs of Binary Helix, another dull grey expanse barricaded behind thick walls and swarms of ERCS guards. It was much busier than the offices above; scientists bustled to and fro through the hallways and between the labs, carrying beakers or sheafs of scribbled notes or rolling large pieces of highly complicated equipment. Shepard found herself dodging experiments more than once.

"Oh! Commander Shepard! Thank you, Adelia, I can show the Commander around from here—"

"Rana," Shepard greeted the asari, who looked as high-strung as ever. A pair of safety glasses were perched on her forehead, and her lab coat was covered in…well, Shepard had no idea what it was. "I see you've been quite busy. How's the position working out for you?"

"Wonderful, wonderful, thank you," Rana Thanoptis replied, vigorously shaking Shepard's hand. "Much less dangerous than—err—well, I'm very grateful for your assistance in getting the job. I'm quite enjoying myself and this project—well! It's fascinating, ground-breaking, very difficult stuff. But we're very close, ahead of schedule actually. If you'll just follow me this way to my office.."

Rana's office was more orderly than any of the other rooms Shepard had passed; she suspected that the asari didn't spend much time in it.

"Dr. Chorbis can fill you in on some of the other details, but I thought you'd be interested to know how much my experience with Sovereign has helped us here. Of course it's unfortunate that all my research was destroyed—ahh—" For a moment, Rana looked flustered. "Completely necessary, of course, the base had to be eliminated. Anyway. I remembered quite a bit and was able to work out a lot of the details again. My research into the neurological aspects of indoctrination—well, it's been instrumental in convincing organs, especially the brain, to begin functioning properly again…"

Rana had much more to say on the subject, despite her previous assurance that the lead scientist could tell her the most. Shepard was pleased to find she could actually follow most of the scientist's explanations, even though biology had never been her strong suit in high school. Either she retained information well, or Rana was dumbing things down big-time.

Probably both, she told herself as the asari winded down her long speech about the possible side effects of the procedure and what could be expected. She surreptitiously checked her watch (how strange it was to wear a regular wristwatch instead of utilizing her hardsuit's built-in timepiece!): 1741. Almost dinnertime. She just had one more thing to do first.

"…So physical therapy may be required for the first few weeks, but in the worst case it could very well take up to a year. Cases like this are very tricky. But we're quite optimistic." Rana paused to take a drink of coffee. Shepard wondered how long it had been sitting on her desk. "And now, I'm sure you'd like to see him?"

She straightened, feeling the twinge of nerves in her stomach again. The memory of piercing green eyes suddenly sprang to the forefront of her mind. Sleek Phantom armor and the graceful way he'd moved through the ship... "Yes. Yes, I would."

"Right this way, then…"

Shepard followed Rana through another long hallway and into an elevator that took them ever further down. She wondered just how deep into the planet the facility extended—and just how much went on here that she would never hear about even as a majority shareholder.

"Ah, here we are. Cryogenic Storage." The elevator doors slid open, halting the cheery muzak that had been accompanying them for the past two minutes, and Shepard was pleased to see that gray concrete had been replaced by sleek metal plating, polished almost to a mirror finish. She was less pleased to find the temperature had dropped far enough for a faint ghost of her breath to be visible. Well, it was to be expected.

They passed several doors, all hardly distinguishable from the walls except for the faint, recessed outline. Each had a softly glowing screen with a name and medical notes beneath; Shepard caught a glimpse of some words that looked suspiciously like Matriarch Benezia and found herself unsurprised.

"Here we are, Commander. Take as long as you need; I'll be up in my office if you have any more questions."

Shepard murmured a thank-you, her attention already gripped by the door that Rana had led her to; the asari's retreating footsteps barely registered. She reached out, hesitantly, and laid her hand on the cool metal surface next to the screen.

NIHLUS KRYIK

DATE OF BIRTH: November 18 2148

DATE OF DEATH: August 26 2183

"Nihlus," Shepard said with a sigh. "I know I only knew you for a few days on the Normandy, but…all those little moments in the mess hall. Brushing past you on the stairs. Comparing shotguns. You were always evaluating me for the Spectres, but I know there was more to it…more than professional curiosity." She fell silent, recalling one morning when they'd discussed early human history over breakfast. The Spectre had been particularly interested in ancient human cultures, and the two had spent several hours comparing and contrasting the beginnings of human and turian civilization. They'd both learned a fair amount about each other—and she didn't think it had anything to do with his evaluation of her combat skills. There'd been other times when she would look across the room to find him watching her, seemingly fascinated, when she was doing nothing more interesting than refilling her coffee cup.

"You know, I still feel guilty about Eden Prime. I know there wasn't anything I should have done differently…but if we had moved on from the dig site just a minute sooner, or not talked with those two scientists at the camp…" She bit her lip absently. "But I took care of Saren. I guess that probably won't make you very happy…I know you two were friends. Trust me, though, you wouldn't have liked him any more. I felt sorry for him, before the whole thing was over with. He may have been a crazy human-hater before he was indoctrinated, but nobody deserves to have their mind possessed by an ancient machine. And he came through for us there at the end…"

Shepard fell silent again, her mood turned melancholy by the memory of the trials she'd gone through to finally defeat Saren and Sovereign. There was no response from the cryo unit except for the same soft, mechanical hum that tingled against her palm.

"In a few days, I'll be telling this to you face-to-face, so I suppose there's no reason to keep pouring my heart out to you right now." She brightened again at the prospect of having dinner in a quiet corner of one of the fancier restaurants in Port Hanshan, just the two of them and a bottle of wine…well, two bottles, if they both wanted to imbibe. Dratted amino acids.

On impulse, she kissed her finger and brushed it across his name on the screen. "I'll see you then, Nihlus."