Kelly smiled in anticipation as the shuttle landed with a soft jolt. Shepard had called and asked her to greet the new crew members, and Joker had been nice enough to fly her over to Arcturus station: he had no immediate duties with the Normandy docked on Illium.

She had never been to Arcturus before. The political centre of Alliance never held any appeal for her; she'd grown up a civilian, had been educated as a civilian, and had joined Cerberus as a civilian. She knew the Alliance did some good work, but it was not her work. Now that Shepard had ensured her crew would not be arrested on sight as Cerberus agents she could explore the station... but she was more interested in meeting the new crew members. She loved meeting new people - even though the circumstances were a little grim - and she found herself very much looking forward to the challenge of helping them integrate into the Normandy's crew.

The shuttle hatch opened, and after blinking away the bright light of the docking bay she looked across the four people standing before her. Slightly ahead of the others was a heavily scarred older man in a finely pressed uniform, decorated with a large assortment of medals. He held himself in the manner of one who was proud of having earned his place; confident, without any touch of arrogance.

Behind him, stood three very different looking people, all dressed in Alliance coloured operational uniforms. The message was clear: these men and women were Alliance, wherever they were serving. On the left was a calm looking man who Kelly placed in his early thirties, standing straight but not rigid: he looked like a man comfortable with his place in the world, piercing blue eyes an appealing contrast to his dark skin. In the centre was a young woman who Kelly imagined looked almost disappointed; perhaps she had been hoping to see the Hero of the Citadel disembarking the shuttle, not her yeoman. And on the right was a huge specimen of a young man: at least two heads taller than herself, with broad shoulders and thick arms, looking intently through her in military style.

She absorbed all of this in the five seconds it took her to disembark the shuttle, and approach the older man at the front. She was tempted to salute - the Normandy SR2 still operated a military environment - but knew she might risk offending the soldiers as she was not military herself, and was relieved when the man thrust out a hand which she took with a firm grip.

'Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet.'

'Kelly Chambers, yeoman to Spectre Shepard.' She decided to introduce herself as formally as possible, given the uptight nature of the Alliance, letting the admiral decide how to pitch the introductions.

'A pleasure, Ms. Chambers.' He turned, and gestured to each of the soldiers behind him. 'Lieutenant Steve Cortez, Communications Specialist Samantha Traynor and Lieutenant James Vega.' She nodded a greeting to each in turn, which they all returned, and as soon as the introductions had ended, she was pleased that the admiral relaxed his protocols somewhat, and addressed Kelly directly.

'You arrived at the right time, Ms. Chambers. We received a message from Shepard half an hour ago; she successfully completed her mission and is on her way to Arcturus right now. She should be landing any minute.'

Kelly felt a rush of relief at the fact: she always worried about Shepard when she was on the ground: the woman was a fierce fighter, but battle was fraught with risk.

'Is everything in order for the transfer, sir?' she asked.

'Yes. We will take care of all of the paperwork, as well as pay. I know I can't force it, but I'd request that they wear Alliance colours at all times.'

Kelly nodded thoughtfully. Another clear message: these were Alliance people, not Shepard's. It was going to take some time before the relationship on the Normandy became comfortable... doubly so if Shepard was away on Doctor T'Soni's ship. She made a mental note to have a quiet word with Shepard about the possibility of her staying on the Normandy for a few weeks, until the new recruits had acclimatised.

As if on cue, a siren sounded through the hangar bay, accompanied by a warning.

Alert: transport in enemy colours docking, contains friendly personnel. Repeat: contains friendly personnel.

Hackett gave a grim smile, and turned to Kelly. 'I'm going to greet Shepard. Are you ok to help these people with their belongings?'

'Yes, sir!'

As soon as the admiral left, the huge man's military face broke into a smile, as he turned to look at the others, speaking with a slight accent. 'Hey Esteban, didn't think I'd see you here!'

The other man sighed heavily, though Kelly guessed it was theatrical judging by the smile working across his face. 'Thought I'd seen the last of you, Vega. Guess I'll be carrying your ass out of the fire again?'

'Hell yeah! Hey, can you give me a hand with these crates?' Kelly noticed several huge crates near the man, with several markings on the sides indicating that they contained weapons.

As the two continued to banter, the woman in the centre approached Kelly. 'You're... Shepard's yeoman? As in, personal assistant?'

Kelly nodded with a pleasant smile, and the woman continued, speaking with a very attractive British accent. 'How did you get a job like that?'

'Cerberus assigned me.' Kelly said carefully, gauging the woman's reaction. She was not going to hide what she did, who she associated with. Predictably, the woman's dark eyes widened.

'You're Cerberus?'

'Former. Now, I work for Shepard.'

'Work for Shepard... in her capacity as a Spectre?' ventured Traynor, hesitation about Cerberus instantly forgotten.

'I suppose,' Kelly replied. She still got paid; the same as Cerberus paid her, though she knew the money now came from Doctor T'Soni's accounts. Not that she ever spent anything on herself, other than occasional new clothes and books... most of her money went home, to her parents, to help her brother who was about to start a family with his wife and child. 'We don't work for any specific company or anything on the Normandy. Do you have any bags I can help with, Specialist Traynor?'

'O-oh, no! Just this!' She wiggled the bag on her shoulder. 'And you can call me Sam. If we're going to be working outside the Alliance, I guess we can leave behind titles?'

Kelly nodded, smile broadening. She liked Sam. 'I guess you can. Shepard's not particularly stringent about that kind of thing, as long as you do your job well. And you can call me Kelly.'

Sam smiled in return, then tilted her head to look past Kelly. 'Look, there she is! Can you - my god, what's happened to her!?'

Kelly turned, and saw Shepard striding alongside Hackett across the hangar bay towards them, accompanied by an older woman, all three looking distressed... Shepard especially so, the scars of her resurrection cutting deep into her face. Kelly's heart went out to Shepard, and she wished there was something she could do, but try as she might nobody other than her asari lover gave Shepard peace past a momentary distraction.

'She's had extensive reconstructive surgery,' Kelly muttered to Sam, not wanting to go into the full details just yet. 'The scars aren't usually that bad, unless she's angry about something.'

Before she could say anything more, the trio reached the shuttle. Shepard nodded at Kelly with a fleeting smile across her lips, and as always she had to resist the natural impulse to greet Shepard with a more personal greeting: Shepard was not one for casual hugs or touches. 'Kelly. I need to debrief with Admiral Hackett and Doctor Kenson, and we might be a while, but I'll be coming back with you.'

'You and your pilot can explore the non-restricted areas of the station if you wish,' added Hackett, face tense. Whatever happened, had affected all of them, and Kelly felt a burning desire to know. But she held her tongue as the admiral continued. 'Specialist Traynor, you can have one of the others show them around if they want to go anywhere, and I want you to accompany them.'

Sam saluted firmly. 'Yes sir!'

The three turned away, heading towards a small door at the nearest wall of the bay.

Kelly turned back to Sam, then followed the woman's determined gaze... all the way back to Shepard, whose body was clearly displayed in the clingy, asari-style armour she was wearing.

Suddenly Sam's fascination clicked into place, and Kelly could not hold in a giggle.

Sam's head snapped around, before she instantly relaxed, trying to play it cool. 'Is... something funny?'

Better to spare her now...

'Sorry Sam, it's not going to happen.'

Sam's eyes widened comically. 'W-what?'

'She does look good in that though, doesn't she?'

The woman's dark skin instantly turned a shade darker. 'I... I don't know what you're talking about!'

Kelly raised an eyebrow, judging that Sam could handle a light teasing. 'Uh-huh? I suppose you were just appreciating the quality of her armour, then?'

'I... oh, you're terrible!' Sam pouted, before lowering her voice conspiratorially. 'Ok... let's suppose I was doing what you - hypothetically, of course - think I was doing...why not?'

It would be obvious to Sam just why not the first time she saw Shepard and Doctor T'Soni together, but for now, Kelly could not resist but to have a little fun. She nodded to Sam's chest. 'If those were blue, you might have had a shot.'


'Yes. Yes. Understood. Yes, they're here. No, they assured me there's no evidence to implicate us. No, she's a Spectre, we can't detain her unless she lets us. No. I... Ok.'

Faith glanced over to Admiral Hackett, who was muttering angrily into a private call.

The three were currently occupying a small hospital room: Kenson's wounds needed real treatment, and she was still suffering from the lingering effects of exhaustion, dehydration and starvation. The Alliance operative was lying in bed, eyes closed, though Faith suspected she was not sleeping; there was still too much to do before she could rest. She was hooked into more than one IV bag, replenishing her body while her wounds healed.

Shepard had showered whilst the doctors had treated Kenson's wounds, and was now dressed in standard issue Alliance clothes. The sensation was unusual. She had spent so much of her life in the cheap, hardy, uncomfortable material that when she had first slipped it on, her body - which had for months been treated to well made clothes provided by Cerberus - sent a subconscious signal to her brain.

Safe.

It was a ridiculous thought... but she had relied on the Alliance so completely for so many years, that she still could not fully banish the sensation. They guided her. Treated her mental wounds after Mindoir burned. Gave her a purpose, rules, regulations to conform to.

But they were not safe. They gave the false illusion of safety to those who needed it.

And she did not need it any more.

They had told Hackett of the destruction of the relay, and while he scrambled to confirm the information, Faith had rigged up a communicator to connect a secure, encrypted call to Liara.

They had only spoken for a brief minute before she cut the call to ensure the Alliance could not trace Liara's location, but it had been long enough to feel the deepest urge to finally just return to Hagalaz, to signal an end to the brutal nightmare of memory and hatred and death that had been, in reality, just a few hours of action.

Faith felt empty. Spent. Depleted.

The inferno of rage had burned out.

The resigned knowledge of slaughtering Kenson's team had been mentally packed away as just another mission necessity.

Those slaves she had executed... they would have died anyway. It wasn't any consolation.

Slouching in a low chair beside the bed of Doctor Kenson, Faith fixed her gaze on a bare patch of the far wall, her eyes unfocused and unseeing. She'd played a part in killing enough batarians to count for a small war... and she felt nothing at all.

What's wrong with me?

Some abstract part of her brain was telling her it was because the decision was so huge, so enormous, that she simply had not fully comprehended it yet. Another part was saying that it was probably a defence mechanism, to stop her breaking down at the weight of so many lives - so many deaths - on her soul. A quiet whisper, was saying it was because she felt no guilt, and never would.

Whatever the truth, she felt empty.

And underneath that almost dazed emptiness, she felt a sour lump of guilt and fear settle into her stomach. She had never hidden her feelings about batarians from Liara, but the feelings had never been provoked while they were together, either. What she had done... destroying the relay was a necessity. That she knew. She did not kill any batarians she did not need to during the mission.

But to enjoy it the way she had... she had never let her hatred get the better of her, the way it had when she had ripped apart the five manning Kenson's torture chamber with just her knife.

What she had done was terrible. Sickening. She was scared of what Liara's reaction would be. Fear? Hatred? Disgust? She deserved them all.

The thought of hiding what she had done briefly crossed her mind, but she dismissed the notion. Of everything she had done... she would not allow lying to the one person who knew the full extent of her be one of them. If Liara fled...

She did not think of it. Could not. And yet...

She had never thought of herself as a "Good Guy". She knew she had done some awful things. Made decisions most would call evil. But she had always justified it, to others and more importantly to herself, by knowing she had done so to save, to help, to ensure the majority of the galaxy could live in peace. She also knew there was a tipping point, somewhere, a point she toed dangerously close to more than once. And now, when she could not justify her motivations to herself, what chance did she have justifying it to others?

Just where do I stand now?

'Right. Hackett, out.' The admiral stated firmly, and Faith shook herself and straightened in her chair, doing her best to push away the darkness and focus.

Admiral Hackett, standing away from the bed and Faith's seat at the side of it, cut the call and instantly clutched a hand to his forehead.

There was an awkward silence for several seconds, before the man raised his head again. Faith glanced at Kenson, and saw she was awake, hazel gaze looking intently at Hackett.

'We've just received word,' the man began, 'that a relay deep in batarian space has gone offline. There is no communication with the area, and a drone sent to the system hasn't reported back.'

He sighed. 'I've seen your mission report, and I still can't believe it. What the hell happened out there? Shepard? Kenson?'

'Shepard added everything to her mission report, Steven,' Kenson spoke softly, and Faith was slightly surprised by the woman's familiar tone. Hackett had mentioned the two were old friends, and by the way his features had creased into concern when he heard the extent of her treatment at the hands of the batarians, she wondered if it was a respect shared through decades of working together, or something perhaps a little bit more.

'There should be nothing there to implicate us, the Alliance or humanity at all,' Shepard added, quietly.

'That's not what the batarians are saying.' Hackett retorted, him mouth set in a firm line. 'They've got no idea what's even happening but they're already pointing the finger at us. Saying they had an Alliance operative in custody on terrorism charges, then suddenly this happens?'

'The most evidence they'll have is a copy of the call they intercepted when they caught me,' said Kenson, already looking slightly stronger for the fluids being pumped into her. 'I can't remember the exact words I used, but I was talking in theory about "the destruction of the relay". Not our plans to do it, not how we did it. All they've got, in truth, is one woman talking about the relay being destroyed. That's not nearly enough to prove us aggressors, so it won't break our treaties with the Council which will provide us aid if we suffer an unprovoked attack. The batarians won't risk war unless they can attack us without getting the other species involved.' The operative turned her head, and caught Shepard's gaze, nodding.

'We can use this.' Faith said at Kenson's prompt. 'We have to. The longer we spend defending ourselves against charges the batarians have no proof for, the more time we waste when we could be preparing for the Reapers.'

'I'm not sure I like your implication, Shepard. What do you mean by "use" it?' Hackett asked, finally sitting on the opposite side of Kenson's bed to Faith.

Shepard leaned forward, her eyes glittering with sudden intensity. 'We blame the Reapers. It's a dangerous plan, since this isn't their mode of attack and could lead to us developing false tactics, but it's something.'

She ducked her head, clenching her teeth. 'Three hundred thousand lives were just extinguished with a single action. That's the kind of mortality rate we'll be looking at when they finally arrive, every hour of every day. We need to use this, somehow, to light a damned fire under people's asses.'

The room fell silent as the grim knowledge set in, before Hackett spoke up again. 'What are you planning, Shepard?'

'They were less than a day away from the system, Hackett. I need to do some calculations to work out how it'll be, but they'll be travelling at full FTL burn to the next nearest system.'

Another flash of information from the beacon hit her, prompted by her immediate need. It was almost a memory... but not. Like an image Liara might show her through a meld... but not. Schematics. Diagrams. Raw data she knew was important, without knowing why or what it was. Knowledge embedded in her brain with no natural source, in a language she both understood and found incomprehensible at once.

Faith blinked, her eyes downcast to the floor as the unusual revelation receded. 'They could be here within a year,' she murmured, not needing to raise her voice in the deathly-still room. Her eyes rose to meet with the admiral's. 'Perhaps sooner.'

Hackett's face settled into deep creases, his mind obviously racing - the old warrior clearly assessing Alliance war-readiness on a galactic scale. 'My God,' he muttered.

Faith continued, voice strengthening. They needed to act. 'For some time now I've been working on a project. To let people know about the Reapers. Everything we know about them, what they've done, what they are capable of. What people need to do to help fight them. I've been holding it back since it seemed the Council were slowly getting their act together, but it's taking too long. I'm going to release it when I get back to my ship. I'll say that the Reapers are here. That they are responsible for the destruction of Bahak.'

She looked up and gave a grim smile. 'I've no idea what's going to happen when I release it, but I'm going to tell people to sign up to the Alliance, so you should tell the other admirals to get ready.'

'Shepard, you can't...' Hackett's features creased into anger, before he turned to Kenson. 'Amanda, do you really think this is happening?'

Kenson nodded sadly. 'The artefact we found... Steven, I can't even be sure I escaped the indoctrination. It had a few days longer with my team than me... but I could feel it. The countdown was almost anticipatory. It felt like when it reached zero, something wonderful would happen.'

'Do you still feel that way?' Faith asked, cautiously. She too had felt the artefact's effects on the very air of the base.

'No!' Kenson's face twisted angrily. 'I'm just relieved we found the damned thing in time to do something about it, otherwise we'd be scrambling to man the fleet this very second. But you felt something there too, didn't you?'

Shepard nodded silently.

Kenson turned back to Hackett. 'Whatever doubts we had, we need to throw them aside. The Reapers are coming. They're on their way to us, right now.'


Faith finally made her way towards the hangar, and the room containing her new crew, absolutely exhausted. She should have slept by now, she knew - she had been awake for nearly fifty hours and even Cerberus' upgrades were struggling to keep up with everything. She had taken a high grade stim just before they landed on Arcturus; she never took them unless she had to, but was not vehemently opposed as many other soldiers were. They were a tool like any other, with a place and time they were appropriate. And while Kenson had slept off the worst of her fatigue, she had debated and planned and argued with Hackett until he had finally agreed to let her go her own way. She had even turned down full reinstatement into the Alliance, with an immediate promotion to Captain. She was tempted - to strengthen her ties to the organisation that represented humanity's part in the fight - but could not be restrained by their boundaries. Could not allow herself to be forced to take orders from those who did not comprehend the full scale of the Reapers.

That deep, unconquerable terror had returned. The Reapers were coming. Now. And while some progress had been made in preparation, it was not nearly enough. She had no idea how to fight this war.

But she would fight it. With every ounce of strength and conviction she had, she would fight.

But first, she had more immediate duties. First: to decide what to do with her new crew members. Second: to see Liara.

To admit what she had done. The guilt had been building over the past few hours - but not for her actions themselves. She was feeling guilty, for feeling no guilt.

She knew what she did was horrible. She knew that tarring all batarians with the "slaver" tag was unfair. She knew, deep down, that killing 300,000 of them should cause some reaction.

But it did not. Faith wanted to feel something, to be able to tell herself that she was a decent person, worthy of Liara's love.

She wasn't. Not now. Perhaps she never was.

Even as the cold fingers of despair clawed at her, she arrived at the small room her new crew members were occupying - surprised to see Kelly waiting outside of the door. She had signalled ahead to her yeoman to get them ready to depart, and it seemed Kelly wanted to talk to her alone, first.

'Hey, Shepard,' the redhead said quietly, without her usual upbeat cheeriness. Faith had long gotten used to Kelly's almost annoyingly perceptive personality, and did not bother to question why she was not acting her usual positive self: she somehow knew Faith just was not in the mood.

Shepard nodded in response. 'How are our new crew members doing?'

'Quite well. Admiral Hackett chose them wisely. James and Steve already know each other, which should help them feel more comfortable, and I think this is Samantha's first real assignment so she'll be looking to impress. They all know about you, of course, and are looking forward to working with you.'

Shepard nodded, trusting Kelly's instincts about the new recruits. 'Anything else I should know?'

Kelly cocked her head thoughtfully, loose red hair swaying. 'Steve is still mourning a personal loss, but it won't affect his work. Something's bothering James, but he wouldn't give anything away so I think it's something you'll have to find out yourself. Also, Sam might be a bit... erm... eager... so we'll need to make sure she doesn't overwork herself early on.'

'Thanks Kelly. We'll be having one more join us as well: Doctor Kenson is an expert on mass effect technology, specifically that used by the Protheans and earlier races, and will be waiting for us on the shuttle.'

That had been much of what the discussion with Hackett was about. In the end, Kenson herself had declared her wish to work with Shepard: with the Reapers coming, her skillset was of more use to Faith on the front line than in the Alliance, which had dozens of people with overlapping knowledge and skills. Concerns about what happened in Bahak, could wait.

'She's a highly experienced scientist and operative so shouldn't have any trouble fitting in with a new crew, but she's been Alliance for decades so might have some old habits she needs to kick.'

'She sounds like a useful addition,' said Kelly.

'She will be.' Shepard caught Kelly's bright green gaze. 'I'd like you to talk to her at some point, if you get the chance. She was held by the batarians for several days.'

Kelly's face dropped, and she set a grim face as she nodded.

'She's tough,' Shepard continued, 'And I'll speak to her as well, but she probably won't want to talk...'

'I understand,' the psychologist said quietly. Shepard was pleased. She knew enough about Kelly to know the girl wouldn't go blundering in with personal questions nobody wanted to answer: the redhead had done a lot for her crew without most of them knowing it.

'Good. Thanks Kelly,' Shepard repeated, before finally offering a hint of an encouraging smile. 'Let's meet them, then.'

Kelly pushed the door open, and the three Alliance personnel, sitting around a table, at once jumped to attention, saluting. Shepard looked at each in turn. The older of the two men caught her gaze, unflinching. Faith was impressed - barely half an hour earlier, she had caught a glimpse of herself as she showered again after her extensive debates with Hackett. She looked like a living nightmare. But he held his gaze, and eventually she nodded at him, the man almost imperceptibly nodding in return.

The larger man beside him was glaring intently past her. He was almost oppressively big: she was not a particularly short woman herself but the man towered over her, her head just reaching his massive shoulders. After several seconds, his gaze flickered down before realising she was watching, and he instantly looked back up and over her. She thought she caught a trace of annoyance in his eye.

Finally, the young woman was practically trembling as she held a stiff salute. Kelly was right: she was definitely eager - she had probably read one too many news reports. Faith was not unused to such unusual reactions. Whether it was Torfan, her reputation as a brutal fighter or her general demeanor, people in the Alliance generally treated her with caution. It was frustrating at times, but at least led to no confusion about what was expected in a chain of command.

She didn't want these people terrified of her however, and would hopefully be able to build bonds like she had with the existing crew, but first she needed to be clear where they stood.

'At ease,' she finally said, and the soldiers shifted their position naturally. 'I imagine Admiral Hackett has told you that you'll be operating outside of official command structures. I'm not an Alliance officer, so you shouldn't salute me, and on my ship most Alliance protocol can be taken as recommendation rather than rule. As long as you do your job to the highest standard, you won't be chewed out for sloppy dress, speaking your mind without my permission, or any crap like that. However, I operate a military environment on my ship, so you will act with due respect to myself and your fellow crew, which will include non-humans, and when I give an order, you follow it.

'Is that clear?'

Two "Aye aye ma'am"s and one "Aye aye Commander" sounded.

'Good. I'd prefer you call me Shepard in lieu of any titles.' She briefly considered what else they needed to know. 'I'll explain the command structure when I can introduce you to the rest of my crew. Reports you send to Admiral Hackett will be queued and potentially edited to remove content - not without your being informed - to ensure operations will not be compromised.'

She glanced around the small group, pleased to see that at least the men had relaxed somewhat, already taking her orders into stride. Traynor was not holding a military stance anymore, but was still clearly nervous. Faith changed her tone, from command to something slightly more personal. 'There's one more thing. As a Spectre, I am not bound by Earth, Alliance or Council laws. You will see activities and operations on my ship that would be called illegal anywhere else. Everything you see and hear from this moment on is to be classified to the highest degree possible in Council space. Disclosure of them without Spectre-level consent or Council decree is considered a treasonous act against all of the Council races. If anybody has a problem with this, say so now and I will find a replacement.'

Vega and Cortez shook their heads, but Traynor awkwardly raised a hand, the action diminished by the fact that her hand was held down by her waist by a rigid arm. 'Yes, Traynor?'

'Erm... what kind of illegal activities are you talking about, ma-Shepard?'

Fair enough...

'Many of my ship's functions are managed by an AI.' Cortez raised an eyebrow at that, and Traynor's eyes widened in what looked like excitement as Faith continued. She needed to know now that they were not concerned by this, so she did not have to replace them later.'I have a large assortment of weapons that are forbidden in Council space, and I'm sure you know I've been associated with the terrorist organisation Cerberus.'

Liara's face filled her mind, and Faith finally felt a whisper of good humour as she considered the Shadow Broker's status amongst most governments.

'Also, I harbour wanted criminals.'


'Hey Liara, check this out.'

Garrus is standing by the security terminal, frantically tapping, and his stressed tone provides a welcome distraction from the memories of the brief call Faith made, now nearly twenty hours ago. I barely slept, worrying about her... she looked so upset, so tired, on the all-too-brief vid call, saying she would be back soon - but when?

The news from Bahak is nothing short of terrifying. The relay, gone, and absolute silence from within? One of my experts theorised that the destruction of a relay would vaporise the system it inhabited... did Faith do that? Why could she not have stayed on the call for longer?

I dislike feeling helpless, not knowing everything, but for now there is nothing more I can do than trust her. I know she would not leave me waiting unless she had no other choice... so for now, whatever Garrus is doing will have to serve as a distraction.

I cross to where he is standing, and peer around him. 'What is it, Garrus?'

'Something weird. About an hour ago the computer picked up an energy glitch outside, but it wasn't strong enough that it registered as anything other than an anomaly from the storm.'

'But you think otherwise?' Could it be Faith? Why did she not signal?

'Maybe. There's nothing on the vid feeds from any of the hangar bays, and the ship's scanners are dark, but I don't like it. Look, this was shortly after the energy surge.'

He pulls up a video, playing it through, when suddenly the screen glitches for a single frame, before continuing, the timer in the corner indicating nothing happened. 'I don't know if it's just the old detective in me coming out, but I don't like it.'

I can understand his hesitation: the ship is huge and empty, and though it is absolutely irrational, childish fears continue to plague me whenever I wander the corridors alone.

I nod. 'We should investigate. I would rather be sure there is nothing wrong.'

'My thoughts exactly,' he replies, pulling out a pair of pistols from his desk, and offers one to me. I practice every other day, but the feel of a weapon in my hand that I know might be used for action in the next few minutes, has my heart pounding heavily into my chest. It is so easy to forget this feeling, having been away from action for so long... it is intoxicating, in its own way, and terrifying.

Without any further words, Garrus takes the lead, jogging slowly down to the hangar bay. We take up positions either side of the door, and with shortened breaths, I nod in his direction. He returns the gesture, and I open the door, both of us swinging in, pistols ready.

Garrus was right.

There is a shuttle squatting in the centre of the bay , not one of mine, and two huge crates are visible in the open hatch at the side. We separate, the old tactics Faith taught me coming back as if we did this every day, scouting the corners of the room as we slowly make our way towards the shuttle. The brightly lit room holds no secrets: I see nobody hiding, but instinctively feel my body begin to hum with biotics anyway, in anticipation of whatever we might find.

What could they want here? Who knows the location of this ship? The single shuttle is unmarked, with room only for two or three passengers... surely a hostile boarding party would bring more?

On edge, we finally reach the shuttle, and after confirming it is empty Garrus approaches me, whispering. 'We need to activate the security drones, I'll-'

He stops suddenly, after poking his clothed wrist with his other hand. 'What the... where's my omni... Spirits!'

'What? I just wanted to see if I could do it!' Kasumi's mischievous voice rings throughout the bay, even as she suddenly materialises right next to Garrus, causing him to hop away in fright, letting loose a string of profanity in a Palaven dialect my translator fails to catch.

The thief, chuckling with delight, slinks past the hulking turian, casually tossing his omni-tool over her shoulder at him. He deftly catches it, glaring at Kasumi with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

As I struggle to calm my biotics, the girl approaches me, voice ringing with humour. 'Sorry Doctor, I need to keep my skills sharp, you know? I figured if I can break into the Shadow Broker's base unnoticed, I can break into anywhere.'

'We did notice you,' Garrus grumbles unhappily, reattaching his omni-tool. 'That's why we're down here. And why do you always do that to me?'

'Because it's fun! And I guess you're right, I'll try better next time. Oh, and I borrowed five hundred credits from your account on that thing.' She adds, before giggling as Garrus' mandibles flare and a deep growl sounds from his throat. 'I'm kidding! Relax, big guy.'

'What are you doing here, Kasumi?' I ask, frowning. 'I thought you would be robbing Kassa-'

'Already done.'

'W... already?' She is fast! Kassa's research lab has top of the line security, in a remote location... I had thought the project would take anything up to a week!

'Yup!' she replies happily, hopping into the shuttle, crawling behind the crates and tapping the interface on the top of the larger one. 'I even got you a present!'

The lid slides off the case, and my breath catches. A beautiful suit of armour is contained within, slightly concave across the chest, suggesting is is designed for the female form. It is heavy across the torso, shoulders and arms, with thick plates across the thighs and shins but enough gaps to allow free movement... it is as if the suit was designed for Faith. Heavy plating in the areas that take fire, but much lighter where the body needs to bend for swift movement... perfect for her aggressive, fluid combat style.

The colour scheme simply reinforces my opinion: it is tinted dark grey, nearly black, with a thick red stripe down the right arm.

'Goddess...' I run a hand over the hard chest plate, feeling something of a static spark jumping from my skin to the armour. 'Is this...'

'All made from that material you asked me to lift? Yes it is! The rest is in the other crate. Did you know that most human armour manufacturers make their prototypes to fit humanity's first Spectre, to show off to investors? I didn't, until now. When I saw it...' Her hooded face tilts up, and I see her lips twist into a grin. 'I couldn't resist. You can say it's from you if you want, Liara. I'm sure it'll score you a bucket of good girlfriend points, if you do that kind of thing, or whatever.'

'How...' This is amazing! Such a beautiful piece! 'How did you get it out? This crate must be incredibly heavy! And large! You could not sneak it out through the door, surely...' I can hear myself babbling, but just thinking of Faith seeing it... it will be a wonderful gift her her when she returns.

'Hey, hey, whoa! Professional thief trade secrets!' I quickly look up, seeing her holding up both hands as if to ward me off, though a bright smile betrays her pleasure at my reaction.

'O-of course... my apologies Kasumi, this is beautiful, I simply...' Faith will love this!

The others talking barely registers as I absorb the gift. 'Hey Gare, do you think she likes it?'

'You know Kasumi, I think she does.'

It is beautiful...

Come home to me, Faith.


Faith knew she should sleep. She was exhausted.

The new crew had been shown around the Normandy on Illium, introduced to the people there, and given assignments to help with the upgrades... then she had left. Kelly advised she return to the Normandy asap to help the new crew acclimatise, and she planned to do so, but first she needed to see Liara.

To...

To what?

She had never been one to shy away from difficult situations. She would rather meet them head on: be it a fortified enemy position or problem with a crew member.

Shepard knew she needed to talk to Liara. The thoughts of what she had done were roaring through her mind, accompanied by worries of how Liara would react. All of those memories, the pain and anger they contained, had been dragged to the forefront by the all too familiar setting batarian facility, and she had reacted... poorly. Her brutal method of neutralising the batarians. The still noticeably absent guilt, or reaction of any kind, about destroying the relay. Liara deserved to know.

Faith needed to sleep. But she couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she was on Mindoir, seeing the ruined corpses of her parents. On Torfan, seeing the hundreds of dead slaves, seeing her soldiers gaze at her with a mixture of awe and fear. On Aratoht, dragging her knife across a batarian's throat, so deep she could hear it grind against the bone.

Faith leaned back as the shuttle autopiloted through the Sowilo system towards Hagalaz, emitting her location to Liara's ship, and a request to dock. She would be there in half an hour.

She could not help it. She hadn't slept for over two days... she allowed her eyes to slip closed again, mercifully embracing the darkness.

She would have to manually guide the shuttle into the planet's atmosphere... but for now...

For fifteen minutes, Faith Shepard dreamt of death.


A/N: Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading