[Entry 7: Our Story Begins]
"Turian-Alliance Project?" I asked, sipping at a piping mug of ditch-water coffee, one eye still trained on the mission brief projected on my omni-tool. Hackett's hologram nodded from the table, fizzling in and out of focus as the FTL connection adjusted to Apex Station's movement around Saturn.
"A 'deep-scout' frigate; joint-planning and construction," I followed along the brief as he explained, "Revolutionary space-faring technology wrapped up in a diplomatic gesture of goodwill between the Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy."
"With the amount of Element Zero they put into the drive core," I said, reading off the numbers, "the Alliance could have paid for an entire fleet of Dreadnaughts. This is ambitious, Admiral." I paused looking at the hologram, then said, "What are they hoping to achieve?"
"The Stealth Drive is the main thing," Hackett nodded again, "The SSV Normandy can supposedly mask its heat presence for hours on end in the vacuum of space."
"That's no small feat," I acknowledged, "but all that energy has to vent somewhere."
"They project that the Normandy can sit in orbit anywhere from six to ten hours without enemy detection before venting becomes necessary. It's one of the many things they'll be testing on the shakedown."
"About that..." I trailed off, setting my empty mug down. My fingers unconsciously began massaging the bridge of my nose as I tried to piece together my thoughts, "You pulled me out of a high-risk N7 op for a shakedown? That doesn't make sense Admiral. I'm a foot soldier, not a sailor. My longest stint on a ship lasted a week." My omni-tool went dark as I continued speaking directly to the hologram.
"The Council wants the best of the best on that ship to ensure that their investment does not fall through, Shepard," Hackett said carefully, "They're sending a turian SPECTRE to oversee for the other side. As the XO, you'll be able to monitor things Captain Anderson can't." He stopped, seeming to look for more to say. His hesitation told me what I needed to know: I wasn't being told the 100% God's Honest Truth.
"Look," he quickly added, "This is a big chance for the Alliance to prove their worth to the Council, Shepard, so we're putting our best foot forward, and that means sending you. You're the Alliance's number one operative."
"Does Anderson know I'm a biotic?" I immediately ask.
"Yes," came the immediate reply.
"Does he know that I'm unstable?"
"Shepard, you have to trust yourself. Over the past three years, you've calmed your biotics to the point that even I sometimes forget you had the gift in the first place. Anderson knows the truth behind Torfan, he doesn't blame you, just like I don't. He of all people knows what it's like when an op goes south."
The silence that followed was punctuated by my own deep-breathing. I was thinking. It's just a shakedown, easy. So simple a Private could do it, but then... why send me? Something isn't adding up. Hackett came to me directly for this mission, which he hasn't done since I joined the is something too important to excuse myself from. Besides, Hackett is right, I have to start moving on at some point, it might as well be now. My eyes fluttered shut as I exhaled with finality.
"So you'll do it?" Even over FTL I felt the piercing calculation of his raptor-like blue eyes. I'd known him for so long, but that gaze still brought me straight back to my childhood, standing in front of his desk as he appraised me from his seat. It was a challenge, one that I could not refuse. I looked straight into the hologram's profiler, hopefully dead into his eyes. I was bred from challenge.
"Yessir."
The Normandy Project chartered an FTL shuttle to pick me up from Apex the next day. I packed up everything I owned, which wasn't much. A few Civs, the two onboard Navy uniforms I was provided, my N7 armor and gear, my formal clothes and my personals. My fingers traced the engraved edges of the small, wooden, keepsake box I kept under my bunk before nestling it amongst my clothing. Everything within it was a piece of my past, things I was never allowed to forget. It wasn't out of sentimentality that I did this, but a necessity. These things kept me Human.
"At ease, Commander Shepard. It's nice to finally meet you," Captain Anderson greeted from the Normandy's entrance. He answered my salute, then extended his hand. It was large, warm, calloused, and dry when I took it. I blinked, and for a split second found myself in the body of my old self -on Mindoir- my father's sun-kissed hand grasping mine as we strolled through the fields during the dry season. I blinked again and it vanished.
"I hope the flight went smoothly," He continued. I assured him it did.
Anderson was shorter than I originally thought, but thick and well-muscled, his years in active service showing in the salt-and-peppered dusting on his buzzed head, the creases at his eyes, mouth, and forehead, and the steely assurance in his almost-black brown eyes. The dark skin of his hand was etched with scars similar to mine, an occupational hazard when you handled weapons of any kind. He smiled briefly- genuinely- and in that moment I knew Anderson was going to be a strong asset to have.
"I look forward to working with you, Shepard," he offered warmly, "I've heard many things about you."
"All good I hope, Sir," I replied earnestly, "Thank you for having me." We moved to the side, letting some of the ship's crew load three footlockers through the portside Airlock of the SSV Normandy. One of them was probably mine.
I'd poured over the ship's specs, learning her from the inside out, but she was entirely different in person. The Normandy's forward was sleek and thin, widening out considerably at the aft. She was smaller than the transports I was accustomed to, but her sleek dual-wings and considerable main gun convinced me I would rather be on her than any other ship in the entire galaxy. Engineers scuttled underneath and inside her, calibrating her systems for the last time, checking and rechecking both the hardware and the software.
"The rest of the crew is already settling in Commander," Anderson stated, walking us both inside. The airlock closed behind us. A grid of diagnostics scanners swept through the airlock slowly, three times. Equalizing interior pressure with exterior atmosphere... LOGGED: Captain Anderson is Aboard, XO Shepard stands relieved. The interior doors opened.
"I'd like you to meet Lt. Jeff Moreau first Commander," Anderson said, leading us left into the cockpit. "He'll be manning the Normandy for the duration of the mission."
"Yeah but like, what are they for," I heard someone ask. His voice was brash and cocky, and I immediately knew this was someone I was either going to love or hate- no in-between.
The voice was coming from a young man, probably around my age, sitting in the pilot's seat. His Alliance reg ball-cap couldn't hide the riot of red curls poking out from under the sides and a rough, patchy beard was sprouting unevenly across his square jaw-line. My opinion was leaning more towards hatred.
"I mean, strictly speaking," he continued, not registering my or the Captain's presences, "mandibles are used for like shredding or tearing or ripping or, you know, eating, but a Turian's mandibles don't look like they could do anything remotely close to that. So like, do they have an actual purpose or do they just- you know... do that thing where they-" he put his hands on either side of his face, mimicking some sort of flapping creature.
"Joker, I don't suppose this is in response to meeting our SPECTRE guest?" Anderson chided from behind him. To my amusement, the lieutenant almost jumped through the cockpit's ceiling at the surprise.
"JESUS Captain, you scared me shitless!" He yelped, grabbing the arms of his chair. "I-I-I-I- I mean Captain, woah, hello there sir, I didn't see you there sir, I-I-I- I'm sorry sir I-"
"At ease, Lieutenant," the Captain interrupted, effectively shutting him down. He bent over the shoulder of the chair, patting Moreau on the shoulder with a sudden affection I wasn't quite expecting. "Remember that you are always being watched. If it's not me, it's Nihlus or the Commander here, so make sure you're on your best behavior, Joker."
"Yessir," he affirmed, the red in his face slowly draining. He turned to me in his chair, saluting, "Commander. Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, but everybody calls me 'Joker'. I'll be piloting for the shakedown."
"I look forward to flying with you," I nodded, answering his salute. He seemed honest to a fault, and if Anderson regarded him so warmly... I decided to re-evaluate my opinion of Joker.
"This is Staff Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko," the Captain continued, gesturing to the man on Joker's right. "Joker's second until the Ensign finishes calibrations." The man had been quiet the whole time, but met my eyes evenly when I looked over at him.
Straightforward, unwavering, calm. He was definitely experienced, maybe mid twenties or early thirties. His hair was a traditional high-and-tight, and dark, almost raven colored; his eyes dark hazel, leaning towards brown. He saluted sharply, and greeted me with straight formality, all business, none of Joker's nonsense. I knew in a heartbeat I was going to like this one.
His voice was as calm as his demeanor, a gravelly tenor, as he spoke up, "I look forward to working with you Commander, your record is impressive, if I may say so."
"Thank you," I nodded slightly, answering his salute. "I'm interested in seeing the Normandy's full capabilities. I'm sure since Anderson picked you both this shakedown will go as smoothly as planned."
"Well don't jinx it," Joker interjected.
"Joker," Anderson warned before turning to me, "feel free to walk the ship for now, maybe settle into your bunk and review your medical profile with our onboard physician Dr. Chakwas on mid-deck."
"Chakwas?" I asked, my eyes widening. It couldn't be. "Karin Chakwas?"
"Yes," he nodded head tilting in question. I swallowed. My time in the mobile space hospital seemed like a lifetime ago. The universe was a lot smaller than I thought.
"I know her," I finally said. "It'll be good to see her again."
"Then I suggest seeing her first. You'll also have to meet the SPECTRE on board, a Turian named Nihlus Kryik. He'll be evaluating the efficiency of the shakedown and reporting back to the Council." The way Anderson said "Council" made me think that politics was something the man detested.
"I'll be in my cabin, tieing up loose ends before we pull out of the Station. Loading should be done by now. All that's left is final check."
"I'll wait for your mark."
"Welcome Aboard the SSV Normandy, Commander Shepard. I look forward to seeing what you can do."
