Alliances, Old and New
Earth, Alliance High Command. One Mile Underground.
Ten admirals sat at a long, mahogany table, leather chairs occupied the perimeter. The hard wood was polished to a fine shine, the silver Alliance insignia glowed in the bright lighting of the reinforced room.
"All I'm saying is that we don't owe Commander Shepard or his crew, former and current, any loyalty!" The commander of the Sixth Fleet, Admiral Khalid Mohamed, shouted as he waved his hand through the air. "He's abandoned his Navy, and worked for those Cerberus terrorists! How can we trust him?"
Admiral Steven Hackett listened to his colleague carefully. The same Steven Hackett who led the Fifth Fleet when the Citadel came under attack. He saw eight ships destroyed in the defense of the Destiny Ascension, saving the Council in the process. Many would question his judgment after the battle, and a few still do today. In the pit of his gut though, what Shepard recommended him to do was the right thing, and Hackett would carry that to his grave with pride.
Rising from his chair, Hackett slammed a fist on the polished mahogany desk. Every admiral from the nine other fleets turned their heads and stared at him.
"Shepard is a goddamned hero." Hackett stated as he glared at Admiral Mohamed with baneful look. "He saved countless lives on the Citadel, both human and alien, without a moment's hesitation. He became the first human Spectre and has done nothing but help the Alliance since. He stopped a potential Reaper invasion, for Christ sakes! And you're willing to sit there and question his loyalty?"
Admiral Michaela Donovan, leader of the Ninth Fleet, spoke up. "He sacrificed eight ships to save a single dreadnought. Hundreds of human lives wasted, I should add." Her head bobbed as she gave a false chuckle. "And that Reaper BS? Please. Even the Council has dismissed that ludicrous theory."
"I won't crawl into a hole and pretend nothing's happening. Why would Shepard defend this unless it was the truth?" Hackett countered, determined to win this battle.
"I'll tell you why," Mohamed hissed as he rose from his chair as well. "Shepard's a nutcase. PTSD probably. The man is probably a psychiatric wreck! He's never lived in a certain place for more than a few months at a time, he saw his unit get slaughtered, and I'm sure dying didn't help his state of mind either! And then…to top this all off, he blows the Bahak system up! We could be at war with the Hegemony tomorrow!"
Hackett sighed and shook his head. So this is how we treat our heroes? Parade them around at first, and then dismiss them when politicians and other admirals see no more use in them. It was wrong…dead wrong.
"I won't stand for this." Hackett growled as he fought hard to keep his cool. He prepared to carry on with his words until a stern voice echoed throughout the room.
"Then take a seat, Steven."
Fleet Admiral Henry Deville stood at the entrance to the fortified meeting room, hands behind his back, feet together. His skin was wrinkled and dashed with the occasional scar. His hair a brackish tone of white and black, showing his years in service. This man had control of every fleet in the Alliance Navy. Deville was a tactical mastermind and a god among helmsmen.
"Room! Ten-hut!" Mohamed hollered as he went to attention.
Every admiral still in their chairs shot from them and stood stiff as boards, hands at their sides. Deville was the only person in the whole Alliance they would ever have go to attention for. To some, it was awkward. Most admirals here were used to others kissing their asses and saluting them. Now it was their turn.
"At ease, people." Deville removed his cap and wrung it in his hands. "I won't be here long, so take your seats."
He paced slowly to the front of the table as the other officers sat down, relaxing only a little. You didn't get visited by a Fleet Admiral every day after all.
Halting, Deville slowly looked over every man and woman in the room. He sighed and finally spoke, his tone precise and commanding.
"We all have our own opinions of Commander Shepard. He's stepped on all our toes at least once ever since he became a Spectre, but he has done untold wonders for the galaxy. I respect Shepard, and just like Admiral Hackett, I refuse to have his name tarnished as a traitor. Despite some of his questionable decisions." Deville paused for a brief moment, keeping his gaze on Mohamed now. "He will be treated as an Alliance officer should be. With respect. Is that clear, Admiral Mohamed?"
"Yes, sir." Mohamed nodded, his eyes drifting to the table in front of him.
Deville lifted his cold blue eyes away from the dark-skinned man and stared at the gray wall on the far side of the room. His body went still, only his mouth moving, "Commander Shepard has gone off the grid again. Not unusual for a Spectre, but my sources tell me he's been tagged and bagged by hostile forces. Taken alive to an unknown location by a turian special forces group known as the Black Talons."
"You mean someone's kidnapped Commander Shepard?" Hackett asked, not believing his superior.
Scratching his chin, Deville nodded. "Yes."
"So…what's the course of action?" Donovan asked, her voice slightly hesitant after hearing the news.
"Right now, we wait. Our spies are watching the Normandy and its crewclosely. From what we've gathered they're attempting to find their Commander as we speak. We'll let them handle the situation, and if necessary, I have a team forming that will move in to assist if necessary. Once Shepard gets out, and he will I assure all of you, we will let him answer for what he's done. Working with Cerberus is one thing, but what went down in the Bahak system…I'd like some answers."
The admirals remained silent, unable to respond at first to the flood of information suddenly thrown at them.
"What about the Council?" An admiral questioned after about a minute.
"Anderson received the news, and he's tried his best. Council won't lift a finger, or tentacle, or whatever at this. Shepard's crew is capable, they can get him out of wherever he is. We'll be there when they do, trust me. He may not be Alliance, but he's still one of us. We don't leave out people hanging. " Deville finished off with a grin.
"What about this team you mentioned?"
"It'll be formed of some of the best soldiers we have. Led by some of the best as well."
Garrus struggled with the drunken Commander Falan, the pumping of Omega's music electrified the air around him. The dancers whored around on stages or tables, their skin-tight clothing, or lack thereof, left nothing to the imagination.
"Damn," Falan uttered as his eyes found an asari. "She's pretty. You see the ass on tha-"
"That's nice, Commander. But I need you to work with me here." Garrus grunted as he walked past Tali's table. She nodded and slowly began to stand as Garrus headed for the back, towards the ramp that led to the upper half of Afterlife. The other two Talons failed to notice as the two turians hastily made their way through the door, the quarian close behind.
Garrus led the Talon officer past Jacob's table up top, and he fell in behind Tali. The former cop didn't like this. It was too easy. He expected a confrontation, a gunfight, and a lot of bodies. But this was surprisingly smooth. As they proceeded towards the front door, Garrus couldn't believe they were in the clear.
Maybe for once things will go my way. He thought to himself.
The metal doors parted to reveal a squad of turians, all clad in black armor and armed with automatic rifles.
Maybe not.
Garrus shoved the wasted officer from his shoulders and into the corner, giving him a little cover. With that, the turian rolled to his left, his hand reaching for the shotgun strapped to his back. Tali quickly threw a table up and slid behind it. Jacob's dark skin flared purple and blue as his biotic barriers lit up. He wouldn't need cover for awhile.
"Release the Commander, right now!" A turian called out from the squad of commandos. "And maybe we'll kill you quickly." He shrugged and then added softly, "Probably not."
The two other drunks from before came from behind Jacob, their sidearms drawn. The Cerberus soldier threw his arms back and a wave of pure energy slammed into the turians, sending them flying backward, screaming. Their yelling stopped as they impacted the wall, falling limp to the ground. The human grinned.
Bullets ripped hot streaks through the air as the commandos unleashed hell, breaking their formation in favor of cover.
Garrus shouted into his communicator as a hot round pinged off the side of his cover, "Team two, move in now! I need fire support!"
With that, Garrus spotted an unprotected Talon and fired. His shells slammed into the shielding, causing a white-hot flare across the barrier before it failed. Tali rose from her cover and fired a single shot from her pistol. Black blood spurted high as the Talon slumped to the ground, a high caliber round dug deep into his brain. A volley of assault rifle bullets reciprocated the loss, slamming into Tali's shielding. The quarian barely got back to cover, her shields in the red zone.
Jacob, now with pistol in hand, slowly began to approach the commandos. He drew their fire as Garrus took another Talon's shields down, and Jacob fired in Tali's place, taking another turian's life.
Now more gunfire entered the fray, not from either party. The second team arrived, with Grunt and Jack leading the charge.
The convict's tattooed skin flared bright blue as she lifted two Talons off the ground and crashed them against a steel bulkhead, the loud crack of bones breaking replaced terrified screams.
Grunt simply charged in, giving a mighty battle cry as he crushed the closest Black Talon into the cover he hid behind, killing him with his weight alone.
The krogan lifted his shotgun and fired upon the next Talon, his shields failed instantly and the remaining rounds pierced his armor. He doubled up and slumped over, blood pouring from the large holes in his chest plate.
But the Talons didn't fall into confusion, like lesser-trained soldiers or mercenaries might. They began to group together, keeping their guns pointed at their foes as a strategic fallback was made. No sense in keeping a compromised position. Soon their concentrated volleys of fire kept the Normandy crew at bay, but the Talons did not take a talented assassin into account.
They failed to notice that their rearmost guard had disappeared, but a green flash of a drell assassin soon made its presence known, however briefly. Bodies fell, with broken necks or bullets to the hearts, it didn't matter. A few managed to escape from the hell as one turian gave Thane more trouble than usual.
The lead turian fired in controlled bursts, as did his men. No matter how bad their situation seemed, they refused to break unit cohesion. If it came to hell or high water, they were staying a team.
They began to chant something out loud, something surprising. Not orders, but a creed of some sort.
"We are Talons! We are a unit! One spirit that will never be broken!"
"ONE SPIRIT!"
Thunder from a sniper rifle roared throughout Omega, and a Talon fell to the ground, the top of his head gone. Another crack of thunder, and yet another one fell, a hole the size of a melon in his chest. Black blood smeared everywhere, coating the final four aliens that fought against a now overwhelming wave of enemies.
An asari Justicar and a Cerberus officer worked in tandem and flung missiles of energy into the group, sending four alien commandos to the gore covered floor. A salarian scientist killed one of them quickly, while a mercenary mowed down the rest with a smile, his rifle slowly overheating as bullets sheared into helpless victims.
Zaeed turned back to the carnage in front of Afterlife and shouted as he ejected the burning thermal clip from his weapon, "Garrus! You got your man?"
The C-Sec officer grinned as he yanked a panicking Gorrun Falan out of the entrance of Omega, devoid of guards or civilians. "Right here! Let's go!"
Citadel, Flux.
Operations Chief Ashley Williams downed another round of whatever the hell was in her glass and leaned back in her chair, letting the unusually soft music fill her ears. Finally, a club that didn't need to blast music all the time. Her bulky combat armor made sitting in the tiny chair difficult, but she didn't care. Although she was off-duty at the moment, a long day made her decide against changing out of her white armor.
Plus she's had a rough past two years, so Ashley earned a stop at a local dive.
Stopping a Reaper invasion, watching the first Normandy go up in flames with her Commander onboard, and spending the next two years trying to forget everything only to have Shepard appear before her on Horizon again and turn everything upside down again… Needless to say it all left a bad taste in her mouth.
She was about to call the waitress over for another drink when the Chief noticed two bouncers dragging a rowdy turian out. Ashley grinned at first, but is quickly faded when she noticed a large man start harassing another human waitress. He grabbed her by the arm and mumbled something, but the marine couldn't make it out.
This ass was obviously wasted.
Ashley rose from her seat and made a beeline for the encounter. Everyone else either didn't care about this, or just didn't want to interfere with a 'human squabble.' As Ash approached, she was surprised by the sheer size of this guy. His biceps were massive, his skin covered in sloppy tattoos. A fresh scar traced down his left cheek, most likely from a pocket blade. A thug, probably a seedy bastard from Chora's Den, off duty.
This guy reeked of cheap liquor and cigarettes.
"Come on sweetie, just give me your number or something…" He chuckled slowly, "… You won't regret it, I promise."
The red-haired girl yanked back her captive arm and threatened, "I'll get the bouncers back in here. They'll make sure you won't be able to walk again."
Chuckling softly, the man responded with fire in his eyes, "I'll make sure you won't be able to walk for awhile, if you get my drift…"
Gasping, the girl swiped her hand across the drunk's scarred cheek, "You goddamned pig!" She turned and yelled for the volus on the far side of the club, "Doran! Get Fred and Mike back in here!"
Ashley picked up the pace, shoving past bystanders as her eyes focused in on the man. This wasn't going to end well.
Roaring, the thug grabbed the girl's shoulder and spun her around as he raised a fist and slammed it into her gut. She stumbled backwards and ran into a table, tripping over it. Waitress and table fell to the ground hard, drinks spilling everywhere.
He slurred something vulgar as he took a step towards her. He raised a meaty paw into the air, only to have it yanked back at the wrist by a strong hand. Turning his head, the man's gray eyes found a fierce looking woman with black hair glaring right back at him.
"Didn't your mom and dad ever tell to not hit women?" Ashley hissed as she readied herself. Before the man could open his mouth to reply, Ash lifted her left elbow above his chest and dropped it hard, releasing her grip on his wrist at the same time.
The hulk of muscle slammed against the hard floor, his head smacking against the metal. Ash forced her boot against his sternum, not letting him get up.
"You wanna try hitting me, too?"
Grunting, the man beneath her boot grinned as his eyes raced up and down her armored figure, "Hit? Nah. You'd get somethin' special."
The Chief lifted her boot and brought it down on his forehead, knocking this two-bit pervert out cold. She looked at his unconscious form for a moment, and felt dirty just standing near the guy. Her eyes turned away from him and found the fallen waitress, who was still on the ground, clutching her stomach.
The marine recognized this girl. It was Jenna, the same one who Shepard helped get out of Chora's Den. Ash approached and held out a hand, "You okay?"
Looking up, the redhead took her hand and was lifted from the ground.
"Yeah…" She stated as her stomach was racked with pain. A bruise would eventually form, no doubt. "I'll live. Glad you took care of this guy. He's been bugging me all night. Never thought he'd hit me…"
"I'll make sure he won't come within a mile of this place again." Ash threatened as she noticed the two bouncers finally making their way back into the club. Both men grabbed the thug and dragged him to his feet. Before they took him out, Ash grabbed the first bouncer by the shoulder, "Hey, give C-Sec a call. Tell them this piece of crap assaulted one of your waitresses."
The bouncer nodded, and they proceeded to throw the man out.
Ash rubbed her hands together, pleased at the job well done as a stony voiced called out from behind her. "Operations Chief Williams?"
Turning on her heels, Ashley found an Alliance officer standing before her, in full dress uniform, the single silver bars of a First Lieutenant on his shoulders. Straightening up, Ashley brought a hand to her forehead in a salute. "Yes, sir!"
He returned the salute and let her go at ease. Slowly, he removed his cap to reveal close-cut blonde hair. It looked natural, not dyed Blonde had become increasingly rare during the twenty-second century. The Lieutenant himself filled out the uniform well, with broad shoulders and thick arms earned from weeks of boot camp. His cheeks had a slight point to them, his chin square, and eyes of a deep green.
A thousand thoughts ran through her head at once. If he was in here the whole time, then he could somehow deem the action she took unnecessary. Or maybe this could be another assignment. Dear God don't let it be an assignment, Ash thought to herself, I just got back.
The Lieutenant held out his hand and introduced himself, "My name's Randy Crowe." He hesitated as he looked over at the mess next to her, "Pleased to meet you."
Ash nodded and shook his paw, "Likewise, sir. Sorry about this, it's just that-"
"I saw what happened." Crowe interrupted, and then continued with a mischievous grin. "Couldn't have done it better myself. From the looks of that guy, he deserved a kick to the head and then some."
Grinning, the Chief sighed slowly as the music began to rise in volume, the bass rattling her armor. Guess the music couldn't stay quiet forever. Crowe seemed annoyed by it as he stuck a finger in his and said aloud, "I need you to come with me, Chief! You're being folded into a new unit!"
That wasn't right. She had been given her first actual off-duty time in nearly a year, and now she was being reassigned? Ash was prepared to reply with a few choice words that Tennyson himself probably wouldn't approve of, but Lieutenant Crowe beat her to the punch.
"Look, Chief I know this is confusing, but I'll sort everything out once we get to the human embassy. You need to speak with Councilor Anderson, I'm just as confused as you. They told me I was being folded in as well." He explained as he made his way for the exit, and Ash followed.
They left the club and made their way for closest elevator. Ash hesitated before entering it. These things took forever, and the periodic news reports and annoying music that filled the speakers didn't make these rides go by any faster. She stood next to the Lieutenant, but kept a comfortable distance and her eyes straight ahead.
Something was just a bit off about the encounter. She would've noticed an Alliance LT in the club instantly, but the man just appeared behind her like a shadow.
His cool voice broke the din of elevator music. "So… You are the Ashley Williams, am I correct?"
Here it goes again. She hated explaining this to every commanding officer, but it became routine. Being a Williams around brass made people nervous.
"Yes." She huffed, making her annoyance quietly apparent, but not disrespectful. "The same Ashley Williams who is the granddaughter of General Williams, the same, and only, Alliance commander to surrender to alien forces."
Crowe raised a brow and said, "No, no. I don't care about that. I don't judge on what ancestors did. What I meant, are you the same Chief Williams who served with Commander Shepard two years ago?"
Dozens of memories flooded Ashley's brain. Every time she tried to dam up those old recollections, all someone had to do was mention Shepard's name, and they'd come right back. Geth killing hundreds on Eden Prime, Saren's assassins trying to pick off Shepard outside Chora's Den, Kaidan Alenko dieing on Virmire, Ilos, and finally the fall of the indoctrinated Spectre.
"Yeah… that's me." Ash confirmed, her eyes falling to her feet. "Why, sir?"
Crowe shrugged with a tiny smile. "No reason, just getting a few things straight. Heard some rumors. Doubt they're true, no need to ask."
Looking at her officer, Ash questioned, "What rumors, sir?"
Still grinning, the Lieutenant cleared his throat. "This is personal stuff that I heard, so you don't have to talk about if you don't want to. Could be too prodding."
"It's alright, sir. I dug a bullet out of me once, so I think I can handle a few questions, 'cuz nothing says 'prodding' like a high-caliber slug to the thigh." She assured with a nod.
"Alright. I only want to know one thing, Chief. There have been reports of Shepard having rather personal relationships with his crewmates." His grin disappeared, his tone became deadly serious. "Did you have a relationship with him, Chief?"
Ashley grinned on the inside. Her turn to screw with people. "My, my, Lieutenant. To have any romantic involvement with an executive officer would be against a number of regulations, including fraternization. The consequences of such actions would most likely include-"
"How come whenever people pull that up, it usually means a big fat 'screw you,' albeit a respectful one?" Crowe interrupted sarcastically.
"Because sometimes a big fat screw you is needed."
Crowe shot Ashley a harsh glare, and the Chief straightened up again.
"Because sometimes a big fat screw you is needed, sir."
"They're here, Councilor." Donnel Udina informed Anderson with barely contained aggression.
It should have been him. He should have become Councilor, not Anderson. Udina busted his ass for years working as mankind's ambassador, dealing with the prejudice from the Council and the other races, only to have a space jockey from the Alliance take control of the first ever human Council position.
It left the man a little bitter, to say the least.
"Thank you, Udina. Can you let them in?" Councilor Anderson politely requested as he stared out over the Presidium. The former captain looked over the area with little emotion. As pretty as the sight was, there was too much on his mind to let himself enjoy much of anything recently. Reapers, constant attacks on remote human colonies, and the constant nagging from the Council to look at the bigger picture.
The bigger picture was a looming Reaper invasion, but they refused to see it. Better to sweep things under the rug and forget about it, right?
Swishing apart, the eggshell white doors parted to reveal Crowe and Ashley standing there. Anderson immediately ushered them in and told them to take seats. With that, Anderson looked over at Udina, who was sulking in a corner.
"Ambassador, I wish to discuss this matter with these two in private, if that's alright."
Udina shot Anderson a look that could melt titanium, but he left the room silently, shoulders low. Sighing, the former captain took a seat behind his desk, facing the Chief and Lieutenant. He looked them over for a moment before finally speaking with them directly. "I won't bore you two with any of the preliminary reports. I'm going to brass tacks here."
He leaned forward and placed his hands on his desk as he bluntly explained, "Commander Shepard, as you know by now, is alive. You especially, Williams. You saw him yourself on Horizon."
"Aye, sir. I did." Ash confirmed, still wondering why she was called up here with Lieutenant Crowe in the first place.
"Sources tell us that whatever mission Cerberus made Shepard go on was completed, and Shepard hastily left Cerberus with little remorse."
"You mean…you mean Shepard isn't working with Cerberus?" Ash questioned as soon as Anderson stopped talking. When she first heard that Shepard was working with Cerberus, it enraged her. How could the hero of the Citadel who always preached bridging the racial gaps between species work for such a pro-human group like Cerberus? The Operations Chief was wary of aliens herself, but she didn't hate them and certainly would never align with groups like Terra Firma or Cerberus, who took their view to extremes.
Crowe butted in, "Only reason he worked with Cerberus, is because colonies were getting swept up left and right."
"This is all well and good, Councilor." Ashley hissed, tired of the repeated explanations that she got. "I was in the middle of enjoying what little off-duty time I had when the LT here said you needed me. Apparently I'm getting folded into a unit of some sort?"
Anderson nodded slowly, listening to each word. Ashley had always been headstrong and impatient, so dancing around with words didn't sit well with her. "Our spies were following Shepard shortly after he broke ties with Cerberus. He's been attacked by unknown forces and is being held captive. We don't know where. So the Alliance is forming a team of some of the best to help go after him."
Anderson's dark eyes found Lieutenant Crowe, "We've chosen Crowe to lead, his technical scores are exemplary, his combat skills within the simulators are outstanding, and his leadership is unquestionably superb."
Simulators? Ashley didn't like the sound of that.
He then turned to Ash, "You're second in command, not only due to your survival and leadership abilities, but because you know Shepard. And you're one of the few that know him that the Navy can trust."
The former captain stood and looked over the two soldiers. "This comes from Fleet Admiral Deville himself. The very top. He wants Shepard back just as much as we all have for the past two years." Anderson hesitated for a moment, his eyes falling to the floor for a brief moment. "Your objective will be to remain at a constant state of readiness. You will be shadowing Shepard's current crew until they manage to find his location, and if need be, intervene accordingly if things go south."
Ash was about to outright unload on Anderson, but Crowe beat her to the punch.
"So you want us playing like backups? This isn't little league, Councilor! We're soldiers, sir. Not benchwarmers. The Alliance is already low on recruitment numbers, we can't be wasting-"
"I know the numbers, damn it!" Anderson shouted, his eyes filled with fire that wasn't there before. "If I was in charge, I would have you go after the Commander already, but I can't! Alliance Command wants it done their way, and I'm just here to pass on their message." Anderson spoke his next few words dismissingly. "You will report to the cruiser SSV Chicago. You're team's already aboard. Dismissed."
The shuttle ride to the Chicago uneventful and quiet. Ashley stared out the window and looked out into the divine purple nebula that surrounded the Citadel. Dozens of warships floated through the void of space, armed to the teeth. Most of them were Alliance vessels, as the asari and turian fleets were still recovering from the geth attack.
But her mind kept going back to the vague mission they were being sent on. It was a blind run, the way she saw it. So far, all they knew is that Shepard had been captured and that was it. No intel, no readings on the forces they would be facing, nothing. Just: 'Here's your team, now go out there and get 'em when we say so.'
But at least knowing Shepard was alive this time meant the world and then some to Ash. Thinking he was dead for two years killed her inside, but at least now she knew there was something she could do about it. Funny thing was, is that she wasn't worried about him being held captive. If Shepard could cheat God himself and come back from the grave, then being a prisoner was nothing.
She knew her skipper would pull through. And hopefully she would be there when he did.
SSV Chicago.
Captain Heinrich Drescher personally went down to the docking bay to greet his new arrivals. Drescher was a well-respected officer, though he did have a penchant to pull non-regulation maneuvers with the vessels he helmed. To his crew, that just meant he didn't mind taking a few risks when it came down to it.
After meeting with the Captain, Ash and Crowe made their way for the crew quarters on deck eight, which had been assigned to the team they were meant to lead. Just five people, not counting the Chief or LT. These better be the best damn troops in the universe.
Both Chief and Lieutenant marched down the corridors of the Chicago towards the crew quarters at a brisk pace, dodging servicemen and techies alike. Soon, the door for the designated room approached and both found themselves entering quickly.
Five people, three men and two women, were sitting in small cots, men separated from women, of course. They wore standard-issue off-duty blues, which were basically a skin tight blue t-shirt and matching paints. Ashley shouted at the top of her lungs, "Room! Ten-hut!"
The five soldiers stood in unison, coming to attention and shooting off crisp salutes. Crowe let them back at ease as he introduced himself. "You all have been briefed I'm sure, but let's reiterate. The name's First Lieutenant Randy Crowe. It's either 'sir' or 'Lieutenant' on a mission, Randy when off. Keep yourselves well-fed, in good shape, and battle ready, and we won't have problems." He motioned over to Ash, standing next to him, "This is Operations Chief Ashley Williams. Second in command. Haven't known her for long, but I know she doesn't take crap."
Ash grinned, "Just call me Ash. Now," She pointed to the large, black man to the far left. "Name, rank, and role."
He stood back up again, and he easily towered over Ashley. He was at least six foot six, maybe taller. "Martin Davis, Private First Class, rifleman and heavy weaponry. People call me Tank, ma'am."
She could see why. This guy's fists were about as thick as lunchboxes, his well-toned form probably solid as steel. Ash turned to the next soldier, who was already standing. He nodded his head and held out a partially-closed hand as if he was tipping the brim of a cowboy hat.
"Howdy. Doug Martz, Corporal, machinegunner." He stated with a toothy grin, his light Texan accent laced his voice. He was shorter than Tank, but not by much.
"What unit did you come from, marine?" Ashley asked with a grin, already liking this guy.
"412th, Chief. Red Raiders. Me and Tank here are from the same chalk."
Good to know. If this team already had a bit of chemistry, it would be easier to work with them. The next soldier was female, lightly tanned skin, jet black hair. She was petite, but the scars around her neck showed she could handle herself. "Kendra O'Malley, Gunnery Chief, when I'm not keeping these turds in line, I can multi-task pretty well. Shoot, repair, blow up, you name it."
Next guy was Private First Class Gordon Alvarez. A techie, he claimed he could hack any system, human or otherwise. It's probably what landed him in the Alliance, that or the idea of crime didn't appeal to him.
The final team member was definitely… unique. Her name was Jane Hartford, Corporal. Where long, brunette hair once was had been shaved down to a short mohawk, she claimed it was easier to maintain than a long hairdo, and it was a tactical advantage as well. Without long hair, no one could grab it. She was the team's sniper, and as O'Malley personally said, Hartford was the best damn sniper in the Alliance Marines.
Ashley looked over the soldiers in front of her, and she was impressed. They all seemed capable, with combat records to back it up.
Crowe shook each of their hands and then began to explain their deceptively simple mission.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Our job is a simple one. Get Commander Shepard back."
Peace.