The colony of Storie was not very big yet, the population numbering only three hundred forty-seven souls. When the monthly shuttle arrived one day to drop off several plasticeel crates of dried food and tools, several more boxes and bags of luggage, and a small family, the population rose to three hundred fifty.
They moved to a house that had been built near the edge of the colony, far enough away to have privacy, but close enough to hear their neighbors call.
When her nearest neighbor came the next day, bearing gelatin and pie, the mother answered the door carrying a shotgun.
"Hi!" She said, gun in one hand and oil cloth in the other. "Are you the neighbors?"
Mrs. Engan trembled, the gelatin mold she'd made jiggling. "H-hello. Yes, we're the n-n-neighbors. Is th-that a shotgun?"
The woman blinked. "Ma'am, this is not a shotgun. This is the M-300 Claymore, extremely rare and rated for use only be krogan."
"But if only krogan can use it, why do you have one?" Mrs. Engan asked. She felt that she wasn't going to like the answer, and knew that she should've taken her heart pills earlier.
"Funny story actually," the woman replied, "I ended up dying and getting resurrected with cutting-edge, mostly illegal technology, and what with all the cybernetics and bone weaves and muscle weaves and skin weaves and, well, a lot of weaves, I'm a bit more krogan than woman. But don't tell my husband that. Ma'am? Are you okay?"
When Mrs. Engan came to, the woman was bent over her, as well as a man that she assumed was the woman's husband. Said man was shining a pen light into her eyes.
"...all I'm saying is, you could have made some small talk before you introduced her to the Claymore."
"Kaidan, I don't do small talk. Do you really not know that by now?"
"Maybe I should be the one to talk to new neighbors. Hey, she's coming around. Ma'am?"
The penlight clicked off. The man's eyes were a deep brown, and he had dark, curling hair and olive skin. Mrs. Engan was not afraid to admit that if she were about forty years younger, she would have asked for CPR. As it was, she was much older and wiser and did not want to irritate the woman with the shotgun.
"Hi," the woman said. "Sorry about making you pass out. This is my husband, Kaidan Alenko. You can call me Shepard. We're your new neighbors!"
Mrs. Engan blinked. "Alenko and...Shepard? As in THE Alenko and Shepard? The Spectres?"
"Well, yes."
At which point Mrs. Engan promptly passed out again.
Kaidan shook his head. "Yeah...better let me talk first to the neighbors."