Captain David Anderson slouched in his office on Arcturus Station. Within a day or so his new crew would begin trickling in. Within a week or two he would know how well his picks would work. What he did not know left him in the dark, and nervous. Everyone involved knew Shepard was being screened for the Spectres. No, that was not right: she had already been screened.
This was her field test.
It was what the test would include worrying Anderson. He had no information, no destination, no standard operating procedure, no nothing. He had not been kept in the dark like this since…well, a long time ago. It worried him, for the sake of his crew. Sooner or later they would begin asking questions as to why their CO did not know anything.
Shepard would contain those; she had a gift for working with people. Captain Robbins certainly spoke highly of Shepard, and Shepard's progress over the years.
Captain Anderson began rifling the files on his desk again. Commander Shepard.
Lt. Moreau—hotshot pilot.
Chief Engineer Adams—excellent at whatever he was tasked to do.
Navigator Pressly—he and Shepard would have pounded some of the same dirt, metaphorically speaking.
Lt. Alenko—highly recommended by his last CO, unimpeachable service record, a biotic, already a proven asset on a ground team in a hot zone.
Dr. Chakwas—she would be able to keep anyone in line, even Shepard. He smiled grimly, remembering Shepard gimping about on a broken ankle, pretending she was not. Ah, the price you paid for being a living hero.
Doubtless Shepard would be the first to start asking questions. If CO recommendations were any indication, Moreau and Alenko would not be far behind. Which was a mixed blessing—people of intelligence were sometimes hard to find—but if it got out the officers were uneasy, or had no confidence in their Captain, it would affect the crew.
Anderson stopped this line of thought. It was hard, sometimes, to be married to one's career. He stacked the files and put them in his desk, locking them up safely. He should take good advice and take the night off.
Taking the night off meant getting out of the office—which took him back to the Normandy. She barely had the red tape off her. If a ship could give the impression of emotions, she would be raring to get out of the docking bay and into space. Or trouble, depending on how one looked at it.
Well, he could always tell the crew they were taking a 'walk around the block', testing engines, running diagnostics…that would eat up a little time until his superiors felt it necessary to take him out of the dark. As he looked around his half-lit office, contemplating calling it a day, another thought occurred to him.
Nihlus endorsed Shepard, but Anderson still worried. He didn't know Nihlus well, and could only pray Nihlus would not be a second edition of Saren.
-J-
"What do you think, Gunny?" Nirali Bhatia asked as she and Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams sat on a low hill overlooking the early stages of a Prothean dig site on Eden Prime.
Williams abandoned examining the perfectly clear atmosphere, which made the moon seem so bright. "I dunno. It's an egghead convention, Bhatia." She had not seen this many geek-nerds in one place since stumbling into a chess club's practice back in high school.
Nirali chuckled softly. Williams tended to be blunt, but it worked for her, inviting others to speak plainly.
"You haven't got too much longer have you?" Williams glanced over at Nirali's exquisite features, feeling a pang of mild envy. Narrow and angular, Nirali could have passed for a model if she was a little taller. Still, you couldn't find a nicer person.
"No," Nirali smiled, her dark lips pulling back from slightly crooked teeth. "Samesh is already looking for a place to set up shop—we're going to open a restaurant, he and I." She always smiled when she spoke, or thought, of her husband back on Earth.
Williams' gaze drifted down from the stars to the pools of golden light caused by the chem-torches illuminating the dig site. A confirmed lifer, Williams did not consider herself above the non-lifers. They paid their four years in the service of humanity. Not everyone was called to spend their life as a soldier, just like all people weren't called to preach, or practice medicine. It really did take all sorts.
Besides—it was good to know there were plenty of former soldiers keeping an eye on the various Alliance-held worlds. "You know, it always astounds me how many scientists and doctors smoke." Nirali noted, crinkling her nose at the scent of cheap cigarettes.
Williams snorted in agreement. Her own experience with cigarettes remained firmly in her mind—mostly because she had gagged, choked, turned green and decided it was not worth the effort to look cool. "I guess they need something to do—not everyone likes going to the gym to pump iron." She did not enjoy pumping iron either, but when it was all you had…
"So, Gunny, what do you think about all this?" Nirali waved at the dig site. They had not turned up anything yet.
"I dunno what to think, Bhatia," Williams shifted again, her weapon nearby as she, like a third of the 212, kept an eye on things. Watches were posted around the clock at this site, ever since the day before yesterday. Technically she was not on duty, but with the eggheads getting jumpy she did not like leaving the site unattended. Of course, she had to sleep, but it did not come easy. "But I don't like it." The situation conjured up memories of old sci-fi vids, where unsuspecting archaeologists—or spacers—got infected by weird spores or bacteria.
She did not believe any of that crap…but she could not help remembering it. It was just one of those things.