Chapter I, You've Got Mail

In two short months, Commander Shepard noticed just how fast the universe moved around him. If speed was measured by how fast people and media's attention went from one of the biggest incidents in Citadel space back to their everyday lives and going-ons, well, then light speed would be out of business. It was as if once everyone finally understood the potential danger and that could be back again at their front door, they could just as easily ignore it again. Life was moving on, and so must he. When the last of his public interviews were given and the last mountain of reports filled, Shepard then did what he was best at, go right back to work.

While he would never call himself a workaholic, the commander was never one for lengthy leaves. The second he could, he was right back on the Normandy. He was, for lack of a better term, home again, and back to his dysfunctional "family" of sorts. Well, what was left of them, anyway. As he walked around the deck of the Normandy, the feeling of joyous return soon slipped into a painful loneliness. Reality snuck up behind him and sunk her finely manicured nails into his skin.

Everyone had left, one by one, the "family" he had accumulated over his first real mission as a Spectre had their reasons. None of them were an easy pill to swallow. First to leave was Garrus, though his was the easiest to understand. After he proved himself during the mission, he was approached to join the Spectres and Shepard didn't blame the turian's enthusiasm to leave and accept specialized training. Liara was eager to go back to her first and foremost career as an archeologist. Then there was Tali, all bright-eyed over the discoveries she made here, she returned to the Flotilla. Wrex, well, Wrex had business, simple as that. And then there was…Ashley.

In hind-sight, he was ashamed with his own selfishness and for not having the foresight to see the consequences. It first started with a mere day after the mission and he found Williams crying in a quiet corner of the ship. At first surprised to see her like that; he became less and less surprised when it was made clear why she was in such an uncharacteristic state. Survivor's guilt, or at least a form of it. She and Kaiden had never been "bosom buddies" but they worked together, closely, and often he find the two of locked in a friendly game of poker during down time. So to her, sleeping with her Commander on the job shortly after one of your friends died when it could've just has easily been you, was, if nothing, a betrayal. Shepard could offer very little comfort, as this view of thing made him feel the same way. It got worse from there.

It wasn't even a week after the end of his mission that he received a displeased call from Admiral Hackett. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was to be reassigned to the Dreadnought SSV Kilimanjaro, for fraternization during a critical mission. Though, to count a small victory, his status was the reason she wasn't subjected to a fate worse than a reassignment. Shepard hadn't stopped kicking himself since then, he was under the impression he knew better.

Trying not to punch a wall over spilled milk; Shepard continued his walk around the Normandy, although his mulling turned his walk into more of an aggravated stalk. His last stop was to drop in on Joker, who was already in the pilot's seat, eager as a little kid to "get back on the road," so to speak. Holed up on the Citadel when flying were his only real "legs," Shepard held no misgivings over his enthusiasm.

Joker spotted him first and, beaming, told him; "You've got a hail from fifth fleet."

Shepard was pleased, a distraction, even though he knew better than to use work as means to distract him from the little black rain cloud that hung over his head. "I'll take it in the comm. room." Turning on his heels, he moved with new found vigor.

The second he was in the communications room, he was greeted by Hackett's unhurried and professional voice. "Shepard."

"Admiral." He answered with unintentional coolness. They hadn't spoken since Ashley's reassignment.

Hackett didn't seem to notice his tone, or much care, "I'm glad I caught you, there's something that requires your attention."

"I'm always at the Alliances' disposal, Admiral."

There was a brief hush, most likely Hackett processing if that was sarcastic or not. Then, the conversation continued. "Patrols around Elysium's orbit have spotted a merchant ship floating aimlessly around. This wouldn't be a problem, but…"

"But?"

Following the sound of Hackett clearing his throat, "Someone's modified it to be armed, and it looks deserted, but we suspect it's an act to get by patrol unbothered. However, we didn't want our patrol ships getting too close and risk a firefight. And, seeing how the Normandy is the state-of-the art vessel for stealth, we figured you were the best option to investigate the matter."

Shepard saw sense in the Admiral's reasoning. "Send me the coordinates, I'll investigate the matter ASAP."

Another brief pause until Hackett replied. "Good to hear that, I've sent the coordinates, I'll contact you after your investigation, Fifth fleet out." The message cut, the room was silent again.

Shepard sighed heavily, Hackett hadn't even mentioned Ashley. He suspected he hadn't to avoid any confrontation on the matter, understandable, but he would've at least liked to know how she was doing. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he left the comm. room to notify Joker they were pulling out of dock. After which, he'd plan to suit up prior to arrival and prepare for a routine mission, save for the fact this time he'd be at it alone. The thought of it struck winter in his blood.

FLT wasn't a miracle, it didn't make flights across galaxies any more spectacular or any less boring, they just made the actual voyage possible. It was approximately thirteen hours of uneventful flight time before they were in the Skyllian Verge and another two hours before they were near Elysium. Shepard had been suited six hours ago and had most likely been sweating out any fat he had accumulated during his leave since then.

While Joker zeroed in on the supposedly deserted merchant vessel, Shepard was now in the helm room, walking around to kill time and get a feel for a suit he hadn't worn in almost over a month, his suit making a god-awful clanging noise with each step. Joker was not pleased.

"Look, I don't care how bad the chafe is, do you mind?" The pilot snapped, looking over his shoulder, his baseball cap giving his expression a menacing shadow. Shepard said nothing, just stopped pacing. Joker turned back to the controls, followed by, "I didn't get a response to my hails and it looks as dead as a doornail. Want to try boarding this haunted house? Humor the Alliance."

Not sure he was all that comfortable calling it "haunted," exactly, Shepard replied, "Sure, just make sure the guns on that thing don't point at use while we prepare to board." Making for the exit, he now found he was carrying a bad feeling he just couldn't shake.

The MSV Yutani was a wholly unimpressive Kowloon-class freighter. Of mass-produced design, Shepard could probably walk through it with his eyes closed. Making his way from the hatch into its main hallway, he wasn't terribly surprised to find it like he expected it, completely deserted. And yet, despite its absolute stillness, he still couldn't ignore this nagging feeling in the back of his mind something was wrong. "Wrong" not implying the ship was simply taken over by batarian pirates, as that was to be expected in a case like this part of the Verge. No, Shepard's gut feeling was something else had happened here. Curious, and wanting something to report back to Hackett, Shepard made his way through the ship.

Strangely enough, much of the ship was still running. While most ships of this class can run on minimal energy for three months without having to use the emergency fuel stores, this one should've been dead, as Shepard made the estimate that it's been floating around for well over twice that amount of time. He was starting to think this was not just a run-of-the mill MSV ship with some firepower slapped on it. Making his way to the ship's helm, Shepard figured he'd try his luck and see if he could unlock any of this mystery ship's secrets.

Not a decryption specialist by trade, Shepard found his first attempts at accessing any of the ships logs an embarrassing failure. After a few more tries, a little dumb luck and some well placed smacks to the keypad, he was in. Job well done, he told himself with a satisfied smile.

Clicking the call button that was situated on the neck of his suit, he hailed the Normandy. "Joker, our first guess was right, this place is dead as dead can get. I found some of the ships logs, I'm sending them now. Think you could get someone to format them to an OSD by the time I get out of this damn armor?"

Joker was quick to return with sarcasm. "Nothing beats a fifteen hour flight to learn something we already knew, eh Commander?"

Shepard allowed himself a chuckle, "Just get me those OSDs, okay, Joker?" He ordered in good humor.

"Can do, Normandy out."

With the connection cut, Shepard shook his head, all this for a goose chase. Shutting down the MSV Yutani for good measure, he made his way to head back aboard the Normandy. Time to get out of this damn suit, and then tell Hackett about what a fun little adventure he had just sent him on.

By the time he was on the Normandy and back in his on ship uniform, he was informed by Joker that the data was successfully formatted and he could review it in the comm. room. Apparently, whoever was on that ship had tried to send a recorded message to an office in C-Sec.

Back in the comm. room, Shepard played the recording. At first, it was nothing but white noise, than after the sound jumped a bit, a voice. It was a man's voice, and most likely human as it didn't have the metallic tone of a turian, the heavy breathing of a volus or the rapidity of a salarian. It was coming in choppy; Shepard had to listen in closely.

"Tyrrus…" The voice sounded pained and a little panicked. "I don't know if this message will reach you in time, or at all." Static broke the messages flow, starting again with, "-that you don't want to even speak to me, but what I need to-" It skipped back into static, "-working as an informant with her. Its gone south and they're starting to suspect something, took them long enough. They're taking us to a new location, please, I know you don't-" Whoever was speaking, was starting to talk faster, more anxious, and again the message skipped, "Kepler-" static, "-terrestrial base used by Cerb-" static, "no time-" The terrified man was cut off as his message was lost into white noise. Shepard turned it off, deeply unsettled by what he had heard.

He spoke with Joker about it shortly after. "Any chance of finding out what office in C-Sec that was sent to?"

Joker shrugged, "I'll see what any of the crew who know that extranet bullcrap can pull up. All we've managed to figure out is that whoever sent that sent it almost two years ago and was making damn sure it'd be a challenge for anyone to find out where it was going."

Shepard didn't think it would've been easy, "Anything else?"

Joker nodded in the affirmative, "Yeah, looked through the logs you brought up, something did catch my eye."

"And what would that be?"

"That ship? It had an autopilot command that someone had overridden. Looks like that ghost ship of yours was scheduled to take a cruise right into a nearby sun, not my idea of a sunny getaway, if you ask me."

"You're kidding." Shepard said with an unexpected amount of eagerness, of course this wasn't cut and dry. And he thanked his lucky stars for it.

"God's honest, Shepard." Joker came back with a smile, sensing his Commander's new found fervor.

His pilot's grin was contagious. "Let's try and find out who this message was sent to. Joker, we're going back to the Citadel."

"Aye-aye, mon capitaine."