Liveship Rayya, Deep Space, Valhallan Threshold
2183.07.08
Tali'Zorah nar Rayya clambered into her bunk and collapsed with a moan. "Ancestors, I'm tired."
It had been a hard day scraping the nutrient vats. She had spent ten minutes in the sonic show getting the sludge out of her suit but her olfactory sensors still detected a faint whiff of grit and worse. Tali'Zorah shouldn't have even been in the vats, it was punishment imposed by her incompetent commander, Crew Chief Shul'Gar vas Rayya. In in Tali'Zorah's opinion, Shul'Gar wasn't fit to operate garbage compactor, let alone command a crew section. He had made her life miserable for the past six months.
Tali'Zorah had completed her rotation in engineering and transferred to environmental systems. Like all young quarians, Tali needed to know how to use every system aboard their vessels. She had been looking forward to a new section of her education, but Crew Chief Shul'Gar vas Rayya had wasted little time in disabusing her of that notion. He was a bully who enjoyed belittling the crew under his command. Shul'Gar had just enough cunning to avoid the scions of more prosperous and powerful clans and hide his more egregious cruelties from his superiors under the guise of harsh discipline and training. What's worse, Shul'Gar hated the Zorah Clan. Tali'Zorah had taken the brunt of his petty insults and the worst jobs in their section. Tali had almost gone to her father for help when she had cut her suit running a diagnostic crawler manually through a clogged disposal pipe—she was sure that Shul'Gar had broken the remote guidance system—but she knew that her father would never intervene in the ship's internal affairs. Even of he cared.
Thankfully, Tali'Zorah wouldn't have to put up with Shul'Gar for much longer. It was just three more days until her twentieth Naming Day. Despite her exhaustion and irritation, Tali felt a spark of excitement. In three days, she would be done scrubbing nutrient vats. She would be written into the Roll of Pilgrims and delivered to nearest inhabited system to discover the galaxy. Tali'Zorah had spent years training for this day and her clan was counting on her to return with enough credits to support herself and her shipmates. Tali'Zorah still held out hope that her father would attend the ceremony, but she knew that it was unlikely. In her mother's place, Shala'Raan would give her the parting gifts. In her father's place...perhaps Admiral Daro'Xen. Tali'Zorah closed her eyes.
She nestled deeper into the memory foam with a groan—she was just too tired to think about it any longer. Tali'Zorah deactivated her speakers and holographic display and the lights inside her helmet dimmed. Her pupils widened to catch the limited light, the reflective discs gleaming for an instant before she sighed and closed her eyes. The slender quarian let her head rest on the padding inside her helmet that cupped the base of her knotted neck and the back of her aching skull. Her bunk was suspended on springs and elevated above the deck, creaking as Tali'Zorah shifted from side to side.
The suspended bunk was necessary because the sensitive pads on her fingers and toes could sense vibrations, a trait that had served her species well in their ancestral caves. The ancient liveship was a symphony of rattles, clanks, and bangs from faulty equipment, the grunts and groans of an overworked beast of burden. Tali'Zorah could tell the difference between rattle of a leaky coolant pipe and the clatter of a water main from several decks away. At the same time, Tali couldn't imagine a world without the distant song of the engines. She imagined that the thrum of power was similar to the sound of the wind. The young woman had always wondered what it would be like to have the wind kiss her violet cheeks and lips, running gentle fingers through her hair. She would never know—the glittering strands of platinum cilia were contained within a padded white hood that contained an neural mesh and plastic tubes that delivered doses of sterols, emollients, humectants, and detergents. The hood was cinched tightly around her throat, neck, and head. The metallic strands of her hair were bundled into a tail that emerged at the base of her neck beneath the padded buffer at the back of her helmet.
It was no use dreaming about something that would never happen. Tali reluctantly cracked her eyes open, reflective lens widening into discs of pale light. Purple drapes were pinned to the ceiling above her head, inscribed with lines of silver calligraphy denoting her rank, family, and clan. Copper spirals, discs, and stars hung from wires. Tali raised her hand ran her gloved fingers along the edges of the ornaments, smiling as they chimed. Several emitted flickering white and green lights, while others beeped and hooted, their aged batteries straining to continue her childhood entertainment. Suddenly the ornaments started to shake and bounce. Several banged together with a metallic ringing sound.
Tali'Zorah growled and smashed her gloved hands against the sides of her helmet. "Unbelievable," she murmured, "I've told them a hundred times that the Habitat Twelve water junction needed servicing! No one listens to me…those…bosh'tets!"
Crew Chief Shul'Gar vas Rayya was a fool who treated like she was a first-year nar'yan who didn't know the different between a electro-effector and a mass capacitor! She had told him that their habitat needed maintenance, but he had ignored her.
She rolled onto her side and activated her visor display. She peeked around the shadowed cabin she shared with seven other clanswomen similar to her in age. The room was lined with tapestries except for a darkened nook in the far wall containing an ancestral reliquary filled with dried flowers. The hatch controls glowed on the opposite wall. Tali could see several sleeping forms in their bunks, their visors dark, their suits connected to the bulkheads by a flexible charging cable. The enviro-suit was powered by a combination of kinetic pumps in their boots and emergency batteries, but it was common practice to charge the power cells at night as a precaution.
She rolled onto her back and bit her lip. Tali'Zorah wasn't close with any of her cabin crew. Most were wary of her father's power and status in their clan. Some were jealous of her mating prospects. And, now, no one was willing to risk Shul'Gar's wrath. Tali'Zorah sighed. As if she cared about mating prospects. She was only nineteen and she had no intention of continuing the species any time soon. When she returned from her Pilgrimage, she would receive a new Naming Day and a new place in the Migrant Fleet. If everything went according to plan, she could choose any ship she wanted—and Tali'Zorah wanted the Laboratory Ship Alarei.
If everything went according to plan. "I can do this," she told herself quietly, her breathing echoing inside her helmet.
Nervously, Tali'Zorah activated the private network supported by her suit computer. She had a schematic of the docking bays and a list of launch codes and flight plans. She just needed to "borrow" one of the flightships that were used for intership transport and local exploration, that was all. Tali hoped that the verification codes she had lifted from the ship's computer would still be active, otherwise it was going to be one short trip. Tali'Zorah closed the files and yawned.
Until intelligence had reached the Migrant Fleet just under a year ago, no one had seen the geth outside the Perseus Veil in over four hundred years. Then, the Patrol Fleet monitoring the Phoenix Massing had sighted isolated geth ships transiting the Veil. The Admiralty Board was terrified and the information was classified, but Tali'Zorah had overhead her father and Admiral Daro'Xen arguing several days ago. Daro'Xen was furious that the Patrol Fleet refused to investigate the first geth seen in hundreds of years. The next day, Daro'Xen had taken her aside and asked her to intervene with her father. Of course, that was hopeless, but it had given Tali'Zorah the seed of a plan. Tali knew what she had to do on her Pilgrimage.
"It's going to be easy," she whispered. "Just three more days."
Deep Space, Arcturus System, Arcturus Stream
2183.07.08
"Ladies and gentleman, this is your pilot speaking, we are approaching our final destination. Thank you for flying Alliance Air and get ready for a bumpy landing."
Chuckling, the pilot cut the intercom and Kaiden Alenko snorted in mild amusement. Kaidan was the only passenger aboard the UT-44 'Rhino.' The interior of the space shuttle glowed with dim red light and the forty crash cages built into the bulkheads were empty, the matte black harnesses swaying limply with each lurch of the spaceship. The Rhino was silent but for the deep reverberation of the thrusters. The two pilots in the cockpit had been nattering away for the past few hours. Still, this was better than bumming around Arcturus Station spending his back-pay on overpriced liquor and refreshments, not to mention the nervous looks whenever he walked into a room. It came with being a biotic. As a result, it didn't matter to Kaidan where he was going; his orders had listed a berth and a launch hour, and Kaidan was ready for a change of station.
The intercom crackled, "Prepare for some attitude adjustments. We've been ordered to do a manual dock with the exterior airlock. Hold on tight while we enter their mass effect envelope, out."
Here we go, Kaidan thought dryly, At least we've arrived and I can get off this puke bucket.
Kaidan's stomach churned as the shuttle's attitude control thrusters fired again, pushing him into the drop-down restraint that pinned him to the side of the spacecraft. The padding was worn and flaking after years of abuse by the armoured shoulders of Alliance Marines; Kaidan winced uncomfortably and wished he wore more than his dress uniform. Kaidan held on to the plastic handles on the exterior of his restraint harness and hoped he didn't throw up all over the front of his good uniform.
The UT-44 began to vibrate and the hull pinged and twanged like an electric guitar, and for a horrible moment Kaidan thought they had fractured the hull, but then the shuttle shivered and was still.
"Inside her shields now," the pilot announced, "Assume docking positions."
Kaidan glanced around at the empty hold and sighed as he braced himself for dock.
The two ships connected with a thud. The snap and crack of the airlock seal was like the sound of breaking bones. Finally the airlock control flashed green. The crash harnesses popped open and retracted swiftly into the ceiling with a hydraulic whir. Kaidan rolled his shoulder and levered himself out of the metal bucket-seat he had been trapped in for three hours, grabbed his spacer's bag from the cage, and trooped to the front of the Kodiak. There, the airlock door winked green and the copilot saluted.
"Had some ice on the hull, but we're good now, Lieutenant. Seal is green. Opening airlock," the copilot said.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Kaidan saluted, and the muttered under his breath, "Thanks for an entertaining trip."
Kaidan Alenko entered the airlock and waited in parade rest for the quarantine scan to complete. He knew he cut an elegant figure in his Service Dress Uniform: tall, well-built, with dark features and swept-back black hair. His coffee skin was well-suited to life in space and Kaidan lacked the sickly pallor of some of his fellow servicemen.
While he waited Kaidan eyed the airlock critically. You couldn't tell much from the standard airlocks, built to the same specs across Citadel Space, but Kaidan could tell that it was new. Completely new, without a single mark, scuff, or blot of discolored plastic. Kaidan ran through a mental list of Alliance vessels under construction and came up empty. Kaidan wondered if he had been posted to a starship or a station; it changed how cramped and claustrophobic his living quarters would be.
The inner airlock hissed open and Kaidan saluted immediately, "Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko reporting for duty, sir. Request permission to—"
"Can it, Ell-Tee, I'm not your CO."
Kaidan stopped. A short man with a trim brown beard leaned heavily on the airlock controls wearing the blue-gray fatigues of Alliance Operational Dress Uniform (ODU). He pushed back his blue cap. "I'm Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, but everyone calls me Joker. Welcome aboard the SSV Normandy. Come on, I'll show you to the NO."
"Thanks," Kadan said as he entered ship, looking around in confusion as he had never head of the SSV Normandy.
"Look, don't ask me any questions," Joker grumbled. "I'm only here because Anderson's punishing me."
Kaidan's lips compressed in a thin line as he observed the pilot's steady limp, supported by braces under his uniform. It seemed as if he had damaged his legs or was suffering from gravity sickness. Ignoring the pilot's condition, Kaidan said, "Did you say Anderson? Captain David Anderson?"
"The one and only," Joker snorted, "I just may have made some adjustments to the variable geometry thrusters…The turian threw a fit. So Captain Anderson was like," Joker adopted a deep, reverberating voice, "You aren't going back into that cockpit until I say so!"
Kaidan raised his eyebrows fractionally. "You always talk about your CO like that, Joker?"
"Yeah, why?"
"And you seem surprised you're on a punishment detail," Kaidan rolled his eyes. At the same time, he wondered who the turian was and what he was doing on an Alliance vessel.
Joker hobbled down the elevated walkway, muttering under his breath as he picked his way around exposed deck plates where technicians were busy pulling out thick bundles of optic cables.
"What's with the high ceilings?" Kaidan whistled, "I've never been on a ship with this much breathing room!"
"You can thank the turians for that one," Joker said, "The big chickens don't like low ceilings. Evolutionary thing, apparently."
Kaidan made a small sound of understanding. Consoles gleamed on either side of them and Kaidan quickly identified the Communications and Environmental Systems consoles for a small ship. "I thought I was heading for a carrier or a station, but this has to be a frigate," Kaidan mused, "And a small one at that!"
"Hey! What are you calling small?" Joker turned and frowned, "The word you're looking for is fast. Fast and deadly, got it?"
"Alright," Kaidan replied pleasantly, "This must be something top secret. Prototype?"
"Above your pay grade," Joker laughed, "Look, all I'll say is that you're aboard the best ship in the fleet."
"Got it," Kaidan smiled.
The elevated walkway exited onto Combat Information Control, dominated by a recessed holographic display showing a floating master readout of the ship. Kaidan whistled as he received his first glimpse of the Normandy. The golden wireframe depicted a sleek aerodynamic starship with twin wings bearing a bank of oversized thrusters. Ailerons—Kaiden suspected they contained communications equipment—gave the Normandy a rakish profile.
"Look at that curve!" Kaidan said, "This is a stealth vessel, but those engines are enormous! Where did this thing come from?"
"That's more like it!" Joker clapped him on the arm and grinned, "Maybe you're not so bad, tight-ass. But I'm done here, so I'll let Presley fill you in. Hey, Presley! You handle the new guy!"
Joker winked at Kaidan and turned around, swearing as he seized the rail of the holotank to stabilize himself, and limped away.
Kaidan traded salutes with a balding, older officer. "Lieutenant Alenko I presume? You're our new biotic! I'm Lieutenant Commander Charles Presley, Navigation Officer of the SSV Normandy SR-1. Welcome aboard. I assume Lieutenant Moreau told you absolutely nothing? He's quite a character, but he's the best pilot in the Alliance, trust me, you'll be glad he's aboard."
Kaidan shook hands with the Normandy NO, who had a raspy but friendly voice. "Thank you, sir. My orders were rather curt, could you fill me in?"
Presley nodded. "Necessary security precaution, I'm afraid. This whole operation is currently Top Secret, Lieutenant. The SSV Normandy is the prototype for a new class of stealth frigate, and the first Alliance vessel to truly take advantage of our allies technologies." Presley coughed and glanced around the CIC, "That means there's a turian Spectre on board overseeing the project, Lieutenant, so watch what you say."
Kaidan pursed his lips. "So this is a joint project with the turians?"
"With the whole Council," Presley said, "They found that the Alliance is a lot more willing to innovate then the Hierarchy or the asari—and we're willing to share our research and development, not like like the salarians!"
"Fascinating," Kaidan murmured, "I can't to see what this ship can do, sir."
"Neither can we! Thus far we've just spent a week in vacuum testing our kinetic barriers and engine performance, but we're due to begin our shakedown cruise shortly," Presley smiled companionably and ushered Kaidan towards the rear where two curving access corridors led down to the habitation deck. "The CO is Captain David Anderson, you've heard of him of course. He'll see you as soon as he's able. You'll want to introduce yourself to the XO in the interim, she's in command of the marine detachment."
Kaidan Alenko nodded. "You said I'd the new biotic?"
"That's why we're bringing you in so late in the game, Lieutenant. We've been shaking out the crew for the past week," Presley nodded briskly, "But our biotic had to be rotated out, problems with his implant. He was an L2, you see."
Kaidan's jaw clenched and a electric shock spiked through his nervous system. He clenched his fists and took a single second to suppress a biotic flare. Muscles tingling, Kaidan unclenched his jaw. "I see," he said flatly, "Was he alright?"
"Shipped out for treatment," Presley said sadly. "The Marines took it pretty hard, so be gentle on them, Lieutenant."
Kaidan guessed that the Navigator had never served closely with Marines. "So, who is my commanding officer, sir?"
Presley smacked his forehead. "Of course. I suppose it's old news around here. Commander Jane Shepard."
Kaidan's jaw dropped.
The Navigator had escorted Kaidan around the remainder of the main deck, showing him the mess and the sleeper pods, before releasing him to stow his kit in personnel storage. Kaiden had followed him in a daze. Jane Shepard, the sole survivor of the Akuze Massacre. One of the rising stars in the Systems Alliance Marine Corps, until she had dropped off the radar six years ago after the Battle of Elysium. Rumors swirled that she had joined the special operations forces, and Kaiden believed them. The elevator to the lower deck hummed into place and the mechanical doors slid open, waking Kaiden from his reverie. Kaidan looked out of the lift warily. He had been told engineering and storage were on the same level and engineers were notoriously unwilling to allow jarheads access to their arcane realm. Kaidan followed gleaming white lines until he reached the hold.
Kaidan whistled soundlessly. It was huge. Personnel lockers and storage crates were located on the starboard bulkhead, while two M35 Mako Infantry Fighting Vehicles were secured on the port side of the hold in magnetized clamps. At the rear of the hold was a blast door and airlock leading to the access ramp and launch bay.
The Normandy Marines had set up camp between the Makos; an overturned crate served as a table and piles of combat webbing and empty fuel canisters were being used as seats. Kaidan scanned the group of six Marines. Kaidan identified a Gunnery Chief chewing on an unlit cigar, a smirking Corporal, and a handful of Privates. Including the two privates standing watch in the CIC, the Normandy had a squad of eight soldiers led by two officers—Commander Shepard and himself.
"We're shit out of a luck, grunts," the Gunny said around her cigar, slapping a hand of cards onto the upturned crate with a bang, she gestured with a finger to a Marine across form her, "I see that's a blitz."
The Marines laughed as they threw credits onto the crate, except for one soldier with his back to Kaidan, wearing a black Thermal Layer with a hood. He was collecting the winnings as the other Marines groaned and joked. Kaidan took a deep breath and glanced back towards the elevator before squeezing the strap of his duffel. He ran his other hand across his glossy black hair. Let's get this over with. Fixing a smile on his face Kaidan strode quickly towards the Normandy Marines. "Hey guys," Kaiden said with a forced smile, "Can anyone tell me where to find Commander Shepard?"
"You've found her, soldier."
Commander Shepard rose to her feet and turned towards him. Kaidan stared into a pair of green eyes, transfixed. The hooded man was a woman. Her almond-shaped eyes gleamed beneath a wide forehead marked with a thin white scar. The hood of her Thermal Layer was drawn closed around flat cheekbones and a fierce nose. The glossy material was emblazoned with a crimson slash and the N7 logo.
Kaidan's eyes widened. "C-c-commander!"
The lieutenant saluted and winced at a sharp jolt of pain in the back of his neck. Damn it.
"Lieutenant Alenko, I presume?" Commander Shepard said.
His muscles trembled, "Ma'am! Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko reporting for duty, ma'am!"
The Marines at the poker table were staring at him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Commander Jane Shepard leaned back, her expression blank. Sweat beading on his brow Kaidan stared at a point above her head.
Commander Shepard was not what he had expected. He had a dim recollection of newscasts featuring her image on the extranet a few years back, and Kaidan remembered a fierce, proud face staring out at a hostile galaxy from within black and red armor. In the flesh, Shepard was compact, raw, physical. He couldn't believe that he had managed to piss off his new commanding officer already. Finally, Shepard nodded, "At ease, Alenko."
Kaidan dropped into parade rest. Commander Shepard had a husky voice that hummed like a finely tuned muscle car.
"I said at ease, Lieutenant. Relax." Shepard rolled her eyes and Kaidan flushed.
"Uh, sorry, ma'am. Yes, ma'am," Kaidan said, rolling his shoulders.
She looked him up and down and her movement were steady and controlled, almost hydraulic, radiating an aura of leashed strength. "So you're our new biotic."
"Yes, ma'am," Kaidan suppressed a spurt of irritation.
"I heard you were a Sentinel."
"Yes, ma'am."
The Marines were watching the exchange, heads swiveling back and forth. Shepard slid her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. "You saw combat in the Viper Nebula."
"I did, ma'am." Kaidan said flatly.
A rogue electrical charge flashed through his body and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Kaidan didn't now what to say; Shepard's eyes were still blank. She had a great poker face. "Well. Welcome to Alpha Squad," Shepard held out her hand.
Kaidan took her long-fingered calloused hand in one of his own and shook.
With that, Shepard nodded sharply, "Jenkins, show the Ell-Tee his locker and get him into an ODU."
Kaidan's eyes flickered at the forceful tone. One of the Marines bounded to his feet with a grin, "Aye-aye, Commander," he tossed a salute.
Shepard sat down, seemingly done with Kaidan. Kaidan hesitated and then turned on his heel and followed Jenkins. "Nice to meet you, sir, I'm Corporal Richard Jenkins."
The tanned Marine had the sleeves of his ODU rolled up and his black beret set at a jaunty angle. He had a squashed, flattened face and an rolling stride. An weighty pistol was clipped to his belt, configured in the holstered position.
"That's a Kassa Razer, Corporal," Kaidan said in surprise as they approached the lockers in the far wall.
"This, sir?" Jenkins grinned, "You packing standard issue? You'll want to look into getting some better gear, sir, than that Hahne-Kedar shit. Of course, that's sort of your job, so…"
Kaidan frowned, "What do you mean, Corporal?"
"Well you're slotting in as our staff officer, right sir?" Jenkins said, "So if you talk to the ship's purser you can pretty much requisition anything you need."
Kaidan's eyebrows rose fractionally and Jenkins laughed. "Welcome to the Normandy, Ell-Tee." The Marine slapped an empty locker and it shot open with an electric whir, "Here you go, sir. And you saw the mess and the coffins?"
"Yes, Corporal, thank you," Kaidan said. "No bunks at all aboard ship?"
"Nope. Well, just for the officers," Jenkins said, "We do short and fast deployments. Kicking ass and taking tags before bugging out for Alliance space." Jenkins smashed his fists together with a mock growl.
Kaidan laughed, "Roger, Corporal."
He glanced across the garage. Commander Shepard had her back to them.
"The Commander sure cracks the whip, doesn't she?" he said softly, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.
Jenkins just smiled, "Don't worry about the Commander, sir, she's tough but she's the best."
Kaidan hesitated, "Thank you, Corporal, that will be all."
"You should join us when you're squared away, Ell-Tee," Jenkins said, "Trust me."
Jenkins tossed a salute and Kaidan returned it absentmindedly. It didn't add up. Jenkins and the other Marines seemed easy-going, even informal. If Shepard was a tight-ass Jenkins wouldn't have risked his neck answering his questions honestly, because Kaidan might have ratted him out. But the Commander had seemed cold and hard. Kaidan dropped his spacer's bag and started unpacking. Commander Shepard was a conundrum.
Jane Shepard dropped her cards on the upturned crate and stood. She wanted to leave before Lieutenant Alenko returned, allowing him a chance to meet the team without the interfering presence of his commanding officer. She traded a swift look with Gunnery Chief Lee, who nodded. Shepard swore that the woman was a psychic. Her hooded eyes didn't miss a thing, and after years of service with Captain Anderson aboard the SSV Agincourt, Lee had seen pretty much everything. Shepard cracked her neck. "That's it. I'm out."
"Checkin' out good lookin' over there, Commander?" Private First Class Monica Negulesco murmured. "Yum-my!"
The Commander glanced at Negulesco. The tanned woman had primped hair, a big heart, and an even bigger mouth. Smart as a whip, Negulesco was a veteran of a dozen deployments with Force Recon. But she had no filter, and the woman had been promoted and demoted with startling frequency before Shepard had selected her last year. Shepard shook her head without smiling. "Not my type, Negulesco."
Negulesco had a laugh like a horse, "Hah! That's more fucking information about your type than I've ever heard."
"We know too much about your type, Negulesco," Hsaio grinned.
The diminutive Private Second Class Jing Hsaio was perched on a crate like a bird. Their designated marksman had just graduated from N-School with the highest scores in marksmanship in decades. She had a trio of metal medallions dangling around her neck: Saint Michael, a squashed impactor with a hole in it, and the Buddha.
"You're fucking right," Negulesco had a laugh like a horse, "I like 'em rougher around the edges than slick-and-click over there."
Shepard snorted, and Private Second Class Cam Fredricks shrieked with laughter. For such a large man—not to mention blonde-haired, bull-necked, and blue-eyed—he had a surprisingly high-pitched laugh. He was partners in crime with Jenkins. Next to him, reclined on a hammock of combat webbing, was Private First Class Orden Laflamme. He suffered the brunt of their ill-advised antics, but the dark-skinned rifleman ignored their carping with complete indifference. The Frenchman was unbelievably lazy and had avoided promotion for years, intentionally failing several courses at the Marine Corps Institute to fall back from corporal to private. But Laflamme had served alongside her in the Verge, and Shepard trusted his steady hand on a rifle more than most.
"Come on, Commander," Negulesco grinned, "Don't want to take the boy wonder for a test drive, just be sure?"
"Can it, grunts." Gunnery Chief Lee removed her cigar, "Leave the lieutenant alone. No fraternization, Negulesco."
Smirking, Shepard shook her head. "Keep an eye on them, Gunny, and don't hurt the lieutenant too badly. Put my winnings in the pot."
"Roger that, Commander," Gunnery Chief Lee gave her a casual salute with her cigar, "Next round's on you."
Shepard nodded. The collected winnings were always put into a pot that was put towards the next round of drinks in port. Chief Lee collected Shepard's neat pile of credits and swept it into an empty helmet with a clatter while Shepard stood and rolled her shoulders, glancing towards the Lieutenant Alenko, who was stowing the contents of his duffel in an empty locker.
She had selected Alenko from a roster of available biotics and the Lieutenant seemed like he was experienced, cautious, and controlled. She had already read his file, and knew that the Lieutenant was a powerful biotic and a combat veteran. Like their previous biotic, Lieutenant Fei Haisheng, Alenko was an L2 from the first generation of human biotics. Unfortunately, Haisheng had been shipped back to Arcturus Station for medical treatment after his implant had shorted out.
"Carry on, Marines. I'm out."
"Aye, aye, Commander!"
The Commander spared her soldiers a brief glance. They were a good team. Losing Haisheng was annoying, but Shepard was confident that they would pull through. They deserved better than her halfhearted attempts at camaraderie. But it was her job to train them, use them, and, if necessary, lead them to their deaths. But if she did her job right...
Shepard turned towards the elevators to hide her frown. Hands in her pockets, she strode through the cargo bay. She needed to integrate Lieutenant Alenko into Alpha Team quickly. The Normandy Project was almost complete and the Systems Alliance was eager to test the effectiveness of the ship's stealth systems on an active mission. Shepard needed to whip Alenko into shape. It had taken her six months to train Lieutenant Haisheng to her satisfaction, and he had been an X6 Biotic. Alenko was an X5 Biotic with no experience in special operations forces, but he had been the best available candidate for the position. At least he had seen combat.
Shepard stared into space as she waited for the elevator. If Lieutenant Alenko wasn't careful, Alpha Squad was going to eat him alive. She almost cracked a smile. Shame she had to keep him. It would have been fun to watch.
Codex: Humanity and the Systems Alliance/Systems Alliance/Biotic Service
The Systems Alliance is the primary recruiter and employer of human biotics. While human biotics are still relatively rare and do not have the natural power of the asari or the krogan, biotic servicemen and women are considered a valuable tactical addition and are specially selected for detached service in elite units. Biotics receive special training to control their abilities and hone their skill with a biotic amplification implant, or 'amp,' before entering Basic Training. Biotics are encouraged to pursue advanced training take advantage of their natural abilities, these training programs are kept separate. Once trained, biotics receive the Military Vocational Code classification X1-X7.
Biotic are deployed exclusively with the Systems Alliance Marine Corps to maximize their tactical utility. Biotics are assigned to Marine units directly by Naval Headquarters. Marine detachments in combat zones receive priority. Biotics are also deployed with Special Operations Forces to provide a tactical advantage independent of equipment and supply.
In combat, biotic servicemen and women use their unique abilities to provide support to their unit. Mass effect fields can be manipulated to weaken and immobilize high value targets, disable enemy units, and draw targets out of cover. Biotics function like a mobile intelligent weapons system and are considered at high risk for combat fatigue, anxiety, and traumatic stress. Officers should respond accordingly.
[Updated 29-May-2016]
