Audio Version: Available. See author profile.
In exchange for complete control of the training agenda, Alenko had permitted Lawson her choice of training venue and for reasons she had not and likely would not detail to him, this was her choice: a shipping container in a near-abandoned section of the docks in the Zakera Wards of the Citadel. It was an exceptionally large shipping container, more than ten meters tall, twenty meters wide, and another fifty or seventy-five in length - no doubt used for shipping large, single-piece units like bulkheads, heavy armaments, or even hull components for large spacecraft - but it was a shipping container nonetheless. It was rectangular, insulated, and large enough that their footfalls echoed through it when they walked in, side by cold, angry side at precisely 0555 hours.
Alenko gazed around the room, dark eyes cool. It was clear that Lawson had done her homework during the night - though it did concern him just a tiny bit that she'd obviously predicted his willingness during their morning briefing to let her choose the venue. There was some kind of ventilation system in place, cool air flowing comfortably over his skin where there should have been stale, stagnant air instead. The walls were stark, their sterile lines punctuated only with stacks of crates, and there were no real amenities available... except for a table full of high-energy food and drink, a small medical station, holo-presentation capabilities with omni-tool integration support, and a number of audio-visual transceiver assemblies scattered at even intervals around the wall.
He was pleasantly and unpleasantly surprised. He grimaced. "I'm impressed, Operative," he said, sounding a little choked, hating to say it.
Lawson seemed no happier about accepting his compliment than he'd been about having to give it. She grimaced. "Thank you, Commander," she replied, sounding a little choked, hating to say it.
His eyes scanned the room again and he noted that for all the things Lawson had correctly predicted - the importance of high-energy foodstuffs for the Commander since she'd drain herself faster than a trained biotic, the need for omni-tool integration and support - she'd ignored the one specific demand he'd made.
"I thought I told you to have every biotic on your squad here," he said, not looking at her.
"Please." Lawson raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "Like I'm going to put my entire cell in a single room with an Alliance spy," she said. She reached over and punched a series of commands into a control panel.
The audio-video transceiver assemblies immediately flickered to life, humming softly. Inlaid conduits in the circular bases of each assembly started glowing blue with increased power and orange-hued grids rose slowly from them. Holo-generators then. Small ones... but good ones. Forms, some familiar and some not, swam into view.
"They're patched in from various places in and around the Citadel and Normandy," Lawson said succinctly. She shook her head slightly at him. "Don't fight me on this, Commander. You won't win. You're lucky I'm even exposing cell members to you in the first place."
In the first assembly, the first grainy then increasingly detailed image of Jack, the psychotic biotic, appeared. Alenko couldn't tell from the projection where she was but wherever it was, she was seated on the floor with a storage crate of some kind to her back. One knee was pulled up nearly to her chest, the other on the floor; one of her elbows was propped up on the upraised knee, hand dangling idly down; the other hand was lazily testing the sharpness of a blade. "Fucked Shepard recently, Boy Scout?" she said by way of greeting.
"Hey, thanks for letting that slip, by the way," Alenko said to Lawson, ignoring Jack completely. "Looks like that's not going to bite us in the ass at all."
She quirked a humorless smile at him. "Jack requires creative handling. You'd be surprised to see what motivates her."
"Grow a set, Cheerleader," Jack said.
"A case in point," Lawson said.
The second assembly showed an asari. She was glowing a blue so pure it was nearly white, her chin raised and her eyes loosely closed, a perfect sphere of biotic energy floating in front of her. Alenko had the sudden feeling that even if he were standing right next to her, he would feel absolutely nothing from that sphere, so perfectly bounded, so neatly and rigorously controlled, as it was. Alenko had never seen such a thing before. Never.
The expression on his face must have been telling. "Yeah," said Lawson. "I know."
"Why am I training Shepard again?" Alenko asked her quietly, staring at the perfect orb.
"Justicar training takes decades," Lawson said. "We don't have that kind of time."
The asari's eyes opened, wide and clear blue, and focused on Alenko. The brilliant sphere evaporated - it seemed to simply cease to exist, quietly and without fuss despite the sheer and incredible amount of energy it contained. "There is also a significant chance I would kill the supplicant during training," the asari said, her tone somehow simultaneously both coolly clinical and warmly dulcet.
"And that too," Lawson agreed.
"There are high mortality rates in justicar training," the asari continued. "This would be a direct violation of the Third Oath I swore to the commander as in her absence, I would likely be unable to destroy the Collectors. Good morning, Commander Alenko."
"Good morning, Justicar," Alenko found himself replying. He wasn't sure she'd heard him. She was back to her lotus position, glowing near-white, the sphere blossoming out in front of her once again.
Whew. He slowly moved on to the next assembly...
… which was a set of chiseled abs. Really chiseled abs.
Alenko blinked.
"Nice," Lawson said appreciatively.
"Reeeeeal glad you approve, Miranda," said Taylor in between sit-ups. He glanced at Alenko at the height of one of the crunches, greeting him with a polite, "Commander", then continued his set.
Okay.
The last assembly showed a drell. He was seated someplace dark enough that the only available light was from the mobile generator unit he was using; it was able to cast light on his face but everything behind him was shadow. His hands were clasped comfortably in front of him, his body in a stillness so perfect that Alenko could only imagine he'd been trained for years to maintain it without thinking. His only movement was the occasional blinking of inner and outer eyelids.
"Commander Alenko," the drell said. His voice was deep, thoughtful almost, and it seemed to Alenko that for all the man was seeing - and for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, he was sure the drell was seeing almost everything - a small part of him was focused on nothing but introspection. Alenko found it a bit soothing. He just couldn't decide if he found it soothing, as a man in spiritual crisis might find the perfect stillness, perfect voice and absolute faith, of a monk somehow reassuring... or soothing, as a man who suddenly knows without a doubt that he won't be taking another breath might find his slashed throat somehow simple and uncomplicated and the darkening of his vision comfortingly easy. Maybe it was both.
"Killing is the work of a body," the drell said. "To teach a body to kill, however, is the work of a soul. It is not without weight. I hope you have considered this."
Alenko paused. "You're... concerned about my soul?" he asked. He frowned slightly. Maybe he hadn't been too far off. Had Cerberus actually recruited a monk?
The drell perused him calmly for a moment, inner eyelids blinking quickly. "Yes," he said. "Though I ultimately did not accept the contract on you, Commander Alenko, I did prepare." His inner eyelids blinked again and when he spoke again, there was a remarkable shift in his speech pattern, the normal smooth viscosity of his words abruptly changing to choppiness, disjointedness. "Shattered observation window. Collapsed infrastructure. Turian male removed from wreckage. Injured. Bleeding. Surveillance camera sputters. Human male pulled from wreckage. Exhausted. Anguished. Charcoal eyes -"
"Okay," said Alenko.
" - gaze behind, bleak and despondent. He looks away, empty, staggers slightly. Wreckage shifts. Eyes spark -"
"Okay," said Alenko.
"- with renewed hope. Emptiness fades. He shakes off -"
"Okay!" Alenko repeated more loudly.
The drell's inner and then outer lids blinked.
"Thanks for not taking the contract on me," Alenko said in a more normal tone of voice. "Nice to meet you."
"Commander," replied the drell and then raised his folded hands back up and lowered his head.
Alenko stalked off toward the front of the room.
"Oh, come on, Commander," said Lawson, walking after him. "That was a sweet vid. The kids put it to romantic pop songs and put it all over the extranet. The one they made to Kandi'zahn vas Norya's 'Into My Suit' was especially good, you have to admit."
Alenko deliberately ignored her. "So we have a sociopath, a justicar, a Ceberus operative, and an assassin?"
Lawson considered that. "I think we're either looking at a multidimensional classification system or your taxonomy is flawed," she said after a moment. "We have several sociopaths. It's not a mutually-exclusive attribute. We'll have to adjust your data model."
Alenko stared at her. "No kidding."
The chronometer chimed oh-six-hundred.
The doors to the shipping container clanged open.
Alarms starting wailing, echoing deafeningly in the closed space.
Alenko whirled around, pistol extended. Lawson did the same.
"If you're going to shoot me in this tin can, at least let me put some fucking ear plugs in first," Shepard shouted over the klaxons.
She was wearing the lightweight, navy-colored training fatigues marine recruits usually wore. The legs were tucked into her boots neatly with a comfortable, practiced precision that indicated she was anything but an actual recruit, and a simple utility belt was slung around her waist. She wore the navy, fitted top comfortably, unaffectedly, the sleeves rolled up around her biceps. She looked unamused by the noise and unimpressed by the guns trained on her.
She'd obviously made the conscious decision to dress like a recruit for this. Alenko just didn't know if she'd done it for his benefit or her own.
Alenko sighed, lowered his pistol, and reached over to the nearest console. Despite never having seen the system before, he immediately shut the alarms off.
Shepard nodded her thanks then ordered, "Shut off audio transmission to the holo assemblies."
That didn't bode well. He immediately did so though.
He expected Lawson to complain about the fact that he'd pretty much effortlessly hacked her system but she was apparently too busy staring at Shepard in open disbelief. "Are you bugged?" she demanded.
"Oh, you mean these?" Shepard walked forward and held a closed fist out to both Lawson and Alenko.
They exchanged looks, brows furrowed partly in confusion and partly in suspicion... then both slowly extended their own hands, palms up.
Shepard dropped a tiny item into each waiting palm then took a step back, folding her arms over her chest. She waited.
"This isn't mine," they said in unison.
… then frowned.
... then stared at each other.
… then simultaneously closed their fists around their parcels while reaching out to snatch the other's.
… then glared at each other, closed fists held out behind them, safely other of the other's reach.
… then turned to stare at Shepard.
"Alliance tech to a terrorist organization, Shepard?" Alenko snapped.
"That's a strict violation of your NDA, Shepard," Lawson hissed.
"It was brought to my attention late last night," Shepard said evenly without acknowledging their complaints, "that of my many problems, not the least of which is the fact that I used to be dead or the fact that my mission is probably going to require me to quickly re-develop the condition, one of the worst is related to the inability of the people around me to concentrate on the team rather than on me."
She paced around them. "I will tolerate the constant invasion of my privacy," she continued. "I will tolerate the fact that for some unfathomable reason, you clearly underestimate both my leadership abilities and my general candor with the unit as a whole. I will tolerate the fact that you clearly overestimate my ability to indefinitely refrain from punching you in the face. I will even tolerate the very disturbing idea that on a ship full of thieves, psychopaths, assassins, mercenaries, and Joker... it is the two of you who, for whatever reason, really want to listen to me sleep. I'll tolerate all of that." She came around to face them. "But what I will not tolerate is a lack of unity."
She stared at both of them for a moment, then started pacing once again, this time just back and forth in front of them, hands behind her back. "Here's how this is going to work, lady and gentleman," she said. "Every time I find a Cerberus bug, I'm giving it to the Alliance. Every time I find an Alliance bug, I'm giving it to Cerberus. Your respective security groups are going to pee all over themselves in spasmodic glee once they start getting regular shipments of rival surveillance tech."
She stopped directly in front of them and thrust a warning finger at them. "I don't care what you call this" - she waved around the room - "but whatever it is, while you're doing it, you're going to work together. On everything. Including bugging me. Got it? You want to listen to me sleep? Fine. Great. Just do it together. Are we absolutely clear on this?"
Alenko and Lawson stared at her… then turned to stare at each other.
"Give me that," Lawson ordered.
"Only if you give me mine," Alenko shot back.
They glared at each other.
Slowly, Alenko brought his closed fist forward from behind his back. Lawson mirrored him, eyes narrowed.
"One," she said carefully. "Two." A pause. "Three."
They both snatched the bugs from the other's hand and immediately backed away.
They glared at each other.
"Cute," Shepard said. She punched the control panel to reinstate audio then strode to the middle of the room. "Good morning, everyone." She didn't sound surprised that they were attending though she couldn't possibly have known they would be. She came to a crisp halt and stood at parade rest, waiting.