LAFAYETTE STATION

N7 TRAINING HQ

SOL SYSTEM

LATE SEPTEMBER 2188

"FRANKLY, I DON'T APPRECIATE THIS, SIR."

"It came out of left field, Commander, I understand that." Hackett gazed down at her calmly from the large screen before her. She was standing in the office of the station's CO. Around her were standards, medals, images of past teams, most dead now. She was in there, somewhere, tall and proud, standing close to Vaughn and the rest. Shepard and the rest. Her eyes made to search it out, but she forced them back to the screen. Most dead; her too, really. The past dead. Too many dead.

The carpet was Alliance blue, the walls a muted rust colour. The desk was some ancient wooden thing, no doubt hauled here at great expense, the chair some leather she couldn't identify. The NorAm, EU, Indian Union, The Reformed Soviet, United African States, Chinese Confederation, and Asian Prosperity Cooperative flags hung limply in a staggered row behind the chair. The flag of the Alliance stood highest in the center.

"You were, however, on the reserves list."

Shizuka grimaced. That had been a courtesy, with the understanding it would never be invoked. She'd put her demons to rest on the battlefields on Earth. Yes, the fighting went on, but she was done. Getting damn-near ripped to shreds by a brute had effectively put an end to her active military career. That she'd killed it by literally climbing inside it and pulling out its guts bare-handed was nothing she'd done deliberately.

She'd been pissed off. That was all there was too it.

She was tired of death in all its forms. She'd done all the service of which she was required and then some. They cited 'psychological concerns' on her evaluation – one she'd sneered at, for how in the remotest hells could she possibly be alone in that regard basically fighting a war against cybernetic zombies? Hell yet raged across the galaxy, but "The Hammer" had already been through several and that's all she owed anyone.

"Simply put, I need you."

"Sir…"

"I don't have any more pep-talks, Akilah. I'm fresh out this side of Armageddon. I'm not here to convince you of anything. You're N7. Period. I need you. Do your duty." The force of his voice snapped her into a salute, habits drilled into her as natural as breathing.

"Sir! Yes, sir." N7. To The Death and Beyond. Inescapable.

"Good. I expected no less. You will be briefed momentarily." He looked away as an aide bent near his ear. "I want you to know I had no real choice in this. In any other circumstances I would have left you alone and wished you nothing but a successful and productive life."

"Yes, sir." She was a soldier. Duty. Honour. Fidelity. She was not "normal" and never would be, no matter how hard she tried, no matter the horrors she endured. They were nothing. She stood between those and normal. That was what she was, and of what she had once been proud.

Right?

When had she forgotten?

Why was it so hard to care now?

Something to believe in?

No. There was nothing worth believing in. Not anymore. Insanity spills hell across the Galaxy and billions die for some abstract bullshit – it was too damn random. Some billion-year old science project by a bunch of snotty oversized squid? To find an answer when no one had asked the question in the first place – and then call it "for our own good"?

Too random. Too empty. Where was the truth in any of that? Where was the simple basic sense it was supposed to make?

The universe was filled with only one thing: something being eaten by something being eaten, and on and on. That was it. That's all anyone got. The only decision you actually made for yourself was in how well or bad you tasted.

She almost smiled at that, when a haughty woman in black strutted in like she owned the place. Shizuka knew who she was and instantly did not like her.

"Akilah – Miranda Lawson. She'll fill you in." Hackett told her from the screen. "I'm depending on you."

"Sir." Shizuka saluted him because he deserved it, and the screen went blank. Miranda held out a hand as she drew near.

"As the Councilor said, I'm Miranda Lawson, I'm…"

"I know who you are." Shizuka's voice could have flash-frozen a lake. "Who do you think you are?"

Miranda blinked, put her unshaken hand away. Were all N7's this damn stolid?

"In charge of an operation put together by Councilor Hackett." She took a bold stance, hands on hips, doing her best to not be intimidated.

"You were famous for ten minutes and this was your reward?"

Shizuka clasped her hands behind her back, turned a contemptuous look on the Phoenix commander.

"I graduated fifth in a class of twenty-five. All N7's." Shizuka began. "I served on Torfan. I personally killed seventy-five batarian Hjak'rakar there. I fought on seven different fronts during the War. I commanded the 195th on the Chinese Confederate Front, and the 009's on the Thessian Extreme Front for six weeks without reinforcements." Her look became even more withering. "What did you do, again?"

"Why should you take my orders, is that it?" Miranda walked confidently to the CO's chair, almost sat down, but choose to simply spin it instead, congratulated herself for not making that mistake. "Well, you're right – you shouldn't, and that's not why I'm here. I am contracting you – via Councilor Hackett's recommendation – as a special consultant for my mission." She propped a hip against the desk, folded her arms. "Follow my orders? No. But I am in charge. My resources, you see."

"I was called back to active duty. I don't 'contract' out to anybody."

"Let's not dance this dance, Commander. Soldiers – especially exceptional ones – consult all the time." Miranda eyed her, assessed, then decided. "I'll make you a bargain. You allow me to brief you on just why you were recommended and then you can decide whether or not it's worth your time and abilities. If you say no, I'll simply tell Hackett I couldn't use you, and you go back to whatever it was you were doing." She spread her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "That's fair, no?"

Shizuka shrugged. It cost her nothing to humour them.

"I'll look."

"My ship would be better. It's already set up."

"Fine." She indicated that Miranda should lead the way, and followed. So far, she wasn't moved much. Yes, she knew who Miranda Lawson was, what she had done for Shepard, had done on the Citadel, had done since, and it was an impressive résumé. For a talented civilian. The ship was impressive, too, private frigates rare. If Lawson thought money would impress her, she would be sorely mistaken. Shizuka had made and thrown away a few fortunes in her time.

They were in the docking tube when Miranda asked,

"I apologize if it's a sensitive subject, but may I ask why you're called 'The Hammer'?"

Shizuka shrugged again.

"For my fists – I'm listed as one of the most dangerous hand-to-hand combatants ever produced by the N7's." She paused to let Miranda consider that. "I'd been contracted once by the hanar – after my inactive status - to train their assassins. My punches have been measured at almost 1500 pounds – almost four tons of impact, exerting over 55g's. That's harder than most men, and before I had my bone and muscle weave augmentation."

"That's very impressive," Miranda told her in all sincerity. "You easily hit as hard as a krogan headbutt."

"Hardly. Try a krogan charge." She left out the part where her armor had built-in augments that allowed her to hit even harder than that. Shizuka had once stopped a full krogan charge with one punch, crushing his skull with it. She could use a wide variety of weapons, yes, but up close, no one survived a fist fight with her.

Miranda led the way to her Ops room, bade Shizuka sit and replayed the same briefing she'd given her crew before.

Afterward, she offered Shizuka coffee and allowed her to digest. She didn't take the coffee, but simply sat quietly and thought.

"I can see why Hackett is worried," she said after a while. "This is the last thing this Galaxy needs."

"Absolutely."

"So why are you here, again?"

"I have the resources. I'm willing to spend them. This needs to be investigated. I have a good team, but you have the experience we lack."

Shizuka put her elbows on the table, steepled her fingers, set her chin on them.

"You said 'Consultants' – who else will be in on this?"

"I have a list – you're the first." She flashed their faces on the screen. "The other two are Winston Black and Ellison Flynn." Miranda couldn't miss the hardening of Shizuka's features when she mentioned Flynn's name. "I'm thinking of using you three to hunt for Shepard, and I and my team will investigate these …outbreaks, as it were."

Shizuka, for her part, pushed down the old anger when she heard Flynn mentioned. This mission was important, and worth her time. But to work with those two again – especially Flynn? It was already pushing what she'd tolerate.

"All right. I'll join. I'll tell you this though – if I don't like how you're running things, you'll know. I'll leave, Hackett be damned."

"Fair enough. You have objections to your old comrades?"

"No. Duke is trustworthy."

"Not Ellison Flynn?"

"Let me put it this way: I'll put my fist through his head if he gets within two metres of me. Not negotiable." She rose, seemed to think some more, then nodded to herself. "If I'm in on this, I'll need my gear." Miranda agreed, promised to wait. Shizuka gave her one last faintly contemptuous look and took her leave.

Well, Flynn, she told his photo. Did you have any friends left?

Less than a half-hour later, Shizuka returned, just in time to get an emergency call. She made her way to the Command, entered just as her Galaxy map lit up, a small pulsing dot on it.

"Report!"

"Commander – we've received an SOS from the Chandrasekhar System, Hawking Eta Cluster, relayed through Alliance Command."

"What? Why us?"

"Directly related they said – holy hell - it's from a Prothean ship!"

"What?" Shizuka said behind her. "Prothean?"

Miranda suddenly realized, and promptly ordered the ship to intercept.

"Javik."