Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over the characters, settings, or intellectual property of the Mass Effect series.

Chapter 10: Stowaway

The gangway slid open and Garrus and Mordin accompanied Shepard back onto the Normandy to a flurry of movement further back from the cockpit. They approached the CIC, Mordin heading to the Science Lab to the left, Garrus, to the Armory on the right. Shepard headed for the command station where Yeoman Chambers was actively conversing with at another person within the ship.

"They've already set it up to sell on a lot at auction on the Citadel," she was explaining, "But Shepard wants those sales to go back into the ship via fresh produce next docking station that has fresh food."

She spotted Jennifer approach and tried to catch her eye with an expression that clearly told a story of need.

"She just boarded," she closed out her previous conversation, "I'll find out and get back to you directly, Ms. Lawson."

"Hey, Kelly," she greeted her warmly.

Kelly brightened, but still seemed agitated, "Commander, the larders are stocked so full we need to have a celebratory feast at launch to make sure the stock doesn't spoil too soon – this is amazing," she gestured before her with both hands. "Ms. Lawson wanted to request the source of funds to purchase so much high quality stock, but I suppose that's not really her…"

Shepard grinned, "There are plenty of resources for a reinstated Spectre."

Kelly grimaced, "Of course, I should have thought of that," she smiled, "That's brilliant."

Jennifer smiled back, "Thanks." It wasn't just brilliant, it was perfect timing. The half-gallon of fresh fruit juice was just the thing she desperately needed to mask and burn the returning taste of her previous fiasco of a meal. The citric acid didn't taste the same as from the trees grown from Earth, but they did the trick of destroying the fetid taste of "Chef's Surprise."

"But we have a problem," she frowned a bit, "We can't depart from the Citadel, our latest expected member hasn't arrived yet."

"Kasumi?" Shepard raised an eyebrow. "I met her at the entrance to Zakara Ward hours ago. She said she was coming directly to the ship."

Kelly nodded, "Yes, and we've been expecting her, but she hasn't boarded. Is it possible she was discovered somehow and-"

Shepard raised a hand, "Hang on," she glanced overhead, "EDI, Is Kasumi Goto on board this vessel?"

"Unknown," came the synthetic voice.

"You see?" Kelly started.

Shepard raised the hand again, "Unknown? Not 'no?'" Shepard had expected a professional stealth-field specialist to be always testing the systems. She did it herself in her third year at the academy, and she wasn't alone. She had only been caught once. Most of the cadets thought they could use the units to far greater efficiency than those who trained them, but nearly everyone was always caught every time they used them. In fact, the punishment was severe enough so that you really only needed to be caught once to discourage further attempts to foil the academy guards. The truth is, most cadets were caught on their first outing, but Shepard had already developed a few stealthy techniques before she ever joined the academy. She had succeeded at avoiding detection dozens of times.

But this young girl was no cadet with a history on the street. She was a professional thief. She was not only familiar with avoiding detection physically, she was all about avoiding all detection of any sort, completely. That was why she was recruited. And a professional of that degree would certainly put the systems of the Normandy to the test. "Kasumi Goto was registered by internal sensors at 04:27 hours earlier this date," EDI specified.

Shepard grinned broadly, "But you haven't registered her since?"

EDI paused briefly, "Yes, she's-"

"-Right behind you," a slight feminine figure appeared from under a stealth field. "You didn't tell me you had an AI on board, Shepard, still it took until now for anyone aboard to find me."

Kelly interjected, "You were-?"

"That will do yeoman," Shepard cut her off, she turned to Kasumi, "I don't believe this crew is familiar with handling a skilled cloaker, Kasumi," she was still grinning.

"Well," she returned pleasantly, "You might want to beef up protocols. There are so many items of value aboard this vessel that an experienced thief would easily turn freelance just to plunder her."

Shepard shrugged, "Maybe, but Cerberus is footing the bill. We can replace what we really need."

Kasumi smiled gently and cocked her head to the side, "There is a module in the drive core worth more on the open market than members of the council make in five galactic years – you wouldn't be able to replace that soon enough to stop the Collectors."

Shepard stopped short and half-turned to her yeoman, "Kelly, have the duty roster for patrols tripled when we're in port and pay special attention to stealth field technology." She turned back to Kasumi, "Thanks for the tip."

"Happy to help," she smiled back. She found she liked Kasumi. She thought she wouldn't since the oriental girl was a professional thief and that was not the side of the law that Shepard was used to dealing on. But she was sophisticated and appeared to operate under a code of sorts as a professional, not just a two-bit crook. This woman was more like herself than she initially thought. It had to be her reliance on the cloaking technology that brought their similarities so close. Shepard used it as a tool, but this woman lived by it – almost like Shepard lived by the use of her sniper rifle. She felt like she had a sister on board now and she wanted to do whatever she could for her.

"Could you schedule some time with my Yeoman so that she can assign you appropriate quarters and devise a regimen for the trip?"

"Oh, I've settled in one of the Observation decks already," she offered, "And I know that I spotted the ingredients for a few exceptional dishes that I could cook up myself when Sergeant Gardner isn't tending to the mess hall-"

"You don't need to do that," Shepard stopped her, "It's Gardner's job to fix you up whatever you need, and it's Kelly's job here," she gestured to her yeoman, "To help get you settled."

The tiny oriental shrugged nervously, "Sorry, I'm not used to having access to being aboard a ship, I usually have to travel hidden in the cargo hold."

"Kasumi," Shepard softly put her hand on the girl's shoulder, "You are a member of my crew, you don't just 'have access,' you're welcome here."

The girl was silent for a moment. "I'm not used to that at all." She shifted nervously as Shepard gently took her hand away, "I'm not usually welcomed anywhere."

"We need your skills and courage, we're not just going to drop you out here," she gestured to Kelly again, "And if you need anything, you don't need to take it, just requisition it from Ms. Chambers."

She giggled a bit, "Shepard, I'm a professional, I don't just take what I don't have," her shoulders pulled in more again, "But I really appreciate what you said."

"And I meant it," Shepard said sternly, "If you have a need, ask. You have support here."

"Speaking of which," Kelly launched at the small pause, "I already had the team get their hands on some excellent sushi and ramen. But we need to know if you have any food allergies. Can we go over the list?"

Kasumi smiled brightly, "Sure."

Shepard patted her on the arm and headed for the lift.

It opened and Joker burst out, "Outta the way, I gotta get to the bridge-" he stopped short, finally noticing he was facing his Commander. "Oh," he shifted uncomfortably on two fronts, "Commander, that's nice armor, is that purple?"

Jennifer smirked and put a hand on her hip, "Lavender," she corrected.

"How do you hide in that? You can't snipe with pastel rainbow written all over you, can you?" he changed his expression slightly, "Yeah, don't mind me, I'm just aiming for your face over here. Just pretend you don't see me."

She sighed with a grin, "I only have trouble if they're close enough to see me."

"Right, uh," he lowered his voice, "Sorry about the-"

"Are you okay?" she returned just as quiet.

He twitched nervously, "Slept bad on my left side, happens sometimes, especially in port," he kept his head down, still apologetic, "But I'm up for anything, I just gotta get to the cockpit."

She paused gently, "Alright, then I won't keep you," she patted him softly on the right shoulder as she entered the lift, "And set a course for Korlus in the Eagle Nebula. Best speed once we've prepped and cleared the docks."

"Aye, aye," he responded as he made his way forward.

She started undoing the straps as the doors to the Captain's cabin opened. She set her armor in its place in the armory stand and started on her under wrap. She messaged her feet as she looked over her incoming messages, onboard checklists, internal communiqués, and system notes. Down to her skivvies, she opened the last two dossiers and punched up Korlus.

Okeer was a clanless krogan warlord of incredible talent and battle prowess. The addition of such a competent krogan would be helpful, but not a particularly powerful piece on the playing field. If they encountered husks, it would be good to have him along. But it seemed that there was more going on here than a simple battlemaster who survived a krogan coup. He had been recorded as having some kind of contact with the collectors. It was possible that they were holding him at this facility on Korlus. They may need their countermeasures sooner than expected. But they wouldn't know until they got there.

She stripped the rest of her garments and stepped into the sonic shower. She allowed it to ritualistically cleanse her of all of the turmoil she had been undergoing. This was truly the first time she had been able to relax since they departed. The combination of hot water and ultrasonic vibration did the trick at calming her muscles. And the solitude calmed her mind.

She sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at her oddly bulging feet, the towels still wrapped around her body and head. She sat quietly for a long while.

Tentatively, almost a whisper, she started, "Hello?"

Too Many Cooks

"Come in," Miranda Lawson's voice sounded clearly as the doors to her office on the Crew Deck slid opened. "Sergeant Gardner," she said somewhat surprised, "What can I do for you?"

"Er, Ms. Lawson," Rupert Gardner stepped nervously into the room, allowing the door to slide shut behind him, "I, er, was looking over the menu, and, er," he scratched his head, clearly uncomfortable, "Well, it says I'm supposed to make Chicken Milanese with asiago and parmesan prosciutto and a 'Sang-yo-vees' 2026."

"That's San-jo-VAY-ze," Miranda corrected with the proper pronunciation for, Sangiovese, a fine Italian wine, "You can substitute with a Chianti," she said dismissively.

"Oh, no, we've got the sangajo-whatsits," Gardner hastily added.

Miranda looked up from her work with a curious expression, "We do?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gardner confirmed, "and I'm supposed to make pot roast for about a half dozen, and a grilled salmon, fruit salad, and," he squinted, trying to think, "about a half-dozen other dishes in the next hour and a half."

"That's strange," Miranda steepled her fingers to her chin.

Gardner quickly agreed, "I know."

"2026 was a very good year for Sangiovese," she furrowed her brow further, "She must have spent a fortune on it."

Gardner took aback, "uh, well…" he started.

Miranda started punching up extranet searches, "There's no chance she could have just picked one up either – those things don't just go sailing around Citadel space for a credit a dozen." She stopped and scanned a page, "…fine aged…" she read on, "…Sangiovese 2051…current bid…" Her eyes widened, "Oh no. No way, that is not-" she left her sentence opened as she seemed to find no words to fill it.

"Uh, ma'am?" Gardner reminded her he was still in the room.

She looked up at him with alarm, "You were right to bring this to my attention Sergeant," she rose from her chair, "This is a very serious matter and I'll take it up with the Commander as soon as she returns. Thank you for your vigilance."

Gardner looked confused, "But, uh, that's not the reason I'm here ma'am," Miranda stopped on her way around the desk, "You see," he paused again, uncomfortable, "Well, I don't know how to cook Chicken Milanese. I'm not from the Philippines or anything."

Miranda did another double take, as if she was witnessing a crime before her very eyes. And she was clearly torn between which crime had been committed.

"That," Gardner continued, "Or a grilled salmon, or," he waved his hands in the air, "Miltast, whatever that is."

Miranda changed her expression to one of comprehension.

"Much less," Gardner continued, "all within an hour and a half. And that's supposing nothing needs to be repaired during that time. I'm used to doing the work of three men all by myself, but," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "that menu will take at least three men all on its own."

Miranda's mind was already in management of the crisis. This was unforeseen, but it could be rectified. "You're right, of course." She offered as her brain fumed with optimality projections.

"I'm not complaining or anything, it's just, well," he scratched his head again, "I know my limits."

Miranda was gazing toward the window and the orbital plane of Korlus. "We have to get the most important issues under control first," she considered as she turned to face the mess hall sergeant, "How many bottles did you say we had?"