Shepard's shined boots rang on metal stairs, red light from the maintenance space lights washing across the lines of her jaw. "You wanted to see me?"
Jack threw down her datapad and bounded to her feet. Her skin felt like little bugs were crawling all over her, like there was electricity sparking in her veins. Her hands shook. "Took your fucking time."
Shepard's mouth twisted slightly at one corner, but the rest of her expression was as smooth and featureless as her black armour. "We have wounded and ship business to be tended to. I'm the captain."
"Are you?" Jack sneered, "What do you think happens if the Illusive Prick tells Miranda to 'relieve you'?"
Shepard crossed her arms. "Cut the bullshit - I'm not in the mood for it. What do you need?"
Shepard seemed legitimately upset by Taylor getting shot. What did Jack care if some Cerberus agent got wasted?
Jack turned away in sharp, angry motions, her hands cutting through the air like knives as she laid it all out for the Commander. All of it. Her uplifting escape story. By the end her implant was buzzing like a living thing at the base of her skull, violent flickers running down her arms to her fingers.
She'd killed them all, but it wasn't enough. She couldn't spill enough blood to drown out what they'd done.
Shepard listened with only the occasional prodding question. At one point Jack felt the momentary distortion of another biotic corona in the room, but Shepard snuffed it out as quickly as she'd flared.
"Jack," Shepard began.
Jack cut her off. "I don't want your pity, Shepard, I just want a big fucking bomb."
Shepard raised her hands, "Alright. That I can do. Luckily, Pragia is in the neighbourhood, so we can definitely take the detour."
"Good."
Shepard nodded and then turned to go.
"Shepard, wait."
The woman half-turned back. "What's up?"
Jack ran a finger along the shotgun on her bunk. "Some of the files mentioned you."
The files had had some pictures of dead people in them, encased in acid-eaten blue armour, skin boiled away to show the muscle and sinew beneath. There'd been emails too, talking about 'Lieutenant Shepard' and how she was locked away in an Alliance hospital - how she was both oblivious and not a threat to ongoing Cerberus operations. Better off alive as a symbol to humanity, not worth cleaning up.
Shepard went still. "Do they? My reconstruction?"
Jack shook her head. "Some experiment back in the '70s."
"Akuze," the word was flat and hard, a muscle in her jaw clenching.
"Yeah. You want the files or not?"
After a moment the Commander shook her head. "Maybe later. But not right now."
"Scared of the truth?" Jack sneered.
Shepard's expression was carved of stone. "Not of the truth."
"Whatever. Just let me know when you're ready to hit Teltin."
Shepard turned on her heel and ascended the stairs without another word.
Five Years Previously
They stumbled into the corvette, Keilor's broad face split with a grin as he reached down to pull Menara and then Jack in. They both stank of ozone and smoke - Jack found she was laughing, blood splattered across her knuckles.
"You got it?" Keilor asked, grey eyes darting between the two of them. Plenty of people looked at the stocky man and picked him as the threat out of their small crew. Their mistake.
Menara gave him a playful shove, "Of course we've fuckin' got it. Get us out of here, would you?"
Keilor tossed off an ironic, two finger salute. He'd been in the Alliance Navy flying shuttles, he said, before he got sick of the bullshit and struck out on his own. Paid better. "You got it, boss lady."
Menara lifted her hand to examine the OSD that they'd killed four men for, a cruel smile stretching across purple lips.
"It's small," Jack said as she put her pistol down on a steel bench. Around them, the Saber rumbled and groaned - Keilor was back at the controls. She wasn't big and she wasn't new, but the corvette was fast enough to both catch freighters and escape bigger warships.
They'd run a few smaller jobs, but this was the first big score, if Menara was right. And Menara was usually right. God, she was so looking forward to eating something that wasn't nutripaste.
You'll see, kid. The three of us - this is going to change things for us. That was what Keilor had told her before the mission, resting one big, warm hand on her skinny shoulder.
The three of them. That sounded good. That sounded real good. She'd been running for so long.
Menara shot her a smirk, "Information, Jack. Information is the true currency of the galaxy." Her expression gentled as she took in Jack's form, the blood splatters and the exhaustion drooping her shoulders. "Go have a shower, love, and get some rest. We'll be back on Omega for our money before you know it."
She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the lumpy pillow of her bunk, unconsciousness wrapping around her like a warm, dark blanket. For once, she didn't dream.
The door slid shut behind Miranda with a soft hiss. The medbay was silent except for the soft beeping of monitors, and the just-there rasp of Jacob's breathing. They'd cut his hardsuit off him when they'd brought him back from the Collector ship and now he was covered in the thin, green material of a hospital gown. It covered up the injuries she knew were there.
She'd listened to Chakwas' first, exhausted post-surgery report to Shepard. Jacob had taken two rounds to the abdomen. His armour had bled off much of the bullets' velocity but he'd nearly died.
He'd nearly died, and the Illusive Man hadn't told them what they were walking into.
Her stomach twisted painfully. She wasn't in love with Jacob - there was a reason their relationship had been fleeting. He'd needed something she wasn't able to provide. But he was...her friend. In the very least she trusted him as much as she trusted anyone, naive as he could be.
And he'd nearly died.
Chakwas shifted behind her. "He's going to be okay. It was a near thing, but I'm confident he'll recover."
"Thank you, Doctor," Miranda said stiffly, turning to look at her with a lifted chin.
Chakwas had that same calm, unflappable expression on her face as she stepped forward and brought up her omnitool, running a quick med-scan that washed over Jacob's still features in shades of orange. Miranda could almost think that nothing in the galaxy could unnerve the doctor, but she'd seen Chakwas look at Shepard on Lazarus Station.
"He's stable.I will inform you if his condition changes, XO."
Miranda nodded and turned to go. There was work to do.
The mess was quiet, except for the just-there humming of the Normandy's machinery and Gardner wiping down a table. He looked up at her entrance, bushy eyebrows drawn together.
"Miss Lawson, how's Mr Taylor? Heard he was in a bad way," he twisted the rag between his calloused hands.
"Doctor Chakwas assures me that he will recover," Miranda replied.
Gardner nodded with satisfaction, "That's real good to hear, ma'am. He's a good kid."
Gardner would call Jacob a kid.
"XO Lawson, Commander Shepard requests your presence in the cargo hold." EDI's voice interrupted them, emanating from a nearby speaker.
"Excuse me, Mr Gardner." She turned for the elevator.
Shepard leant over the smooth, round shape of a bomb, wrapped in a sling and secured to a hover dolly.
"Why do you have a bomb?" Miranda asked, a little tiredly. Sometimes being the Normandy's executive officer felt like an exercise in cat herding.
Shepard straightened, wiping her hands on her pants. "The lab Jack was held in is on Pragia. She wants to blow it up. Cator has done what he needs to do - just need to get it into place and then set it off."
"Shepard," Miranda gestured to the bomb, movements sharp, "this is a waste of munitions and time." The Illusive Man's patience had its limits.
"Maybe," Shepard said with a shrug, tugging on the sling to make sure it was secure, "but since we currently have no further leads and since the Illusive Man can afford to give us another bomb, I'm not inclined to care."
Miranda frowned at her. She'd thought they were making progress. "Commander-"
"Jacob is in the medbay because of him," Shepard snapped, "I don't need people second-guessing how I run this mission, let alone the Illusive Man."
Miranda opened her mouth and then closed it. Something like guilt, heavy like a rock, coiled in her gut. Her words came out stiff, "I'm your executive officer. Advice is part of my job."
Shepard sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. "I know. Look…Jack wants closure - and a bomb, a day of our time? That's the very least Cerberus owes her. To be honest, we should be thankful she's not trying to blow the ship up."
Miranda glanced over at the bomb. "…Jack is dangerous, Shepard. I should come with you."
She wouldn't put it past the convict to simply turn on and kill the Commander. She still didn't understand why the Illusive Man and Shepard both insisted on bringing her along - Jack was nothing but a dangerous liability.
Shepard straightened. "I don't think Jack would like that."
Miranda arched an eyebrow. "You're in command, aren't you?"
The commander didn't rise to the dig. "This is her mission."
Jack came sauntering out of the elevator, dressed in her profanely graffiti-ed hardsuit and her shotgun hanging loosely from her fingers. Miranda's lips tightened into a flat line. Terrible gun safety, but what could be expected from the convict?
Jack stared at her, fingers stroking along the shotgun's barrel. "What's she doing here?"
"Miranda would like to join us," Shepard replied.
Jack's mouth twisted into something more like a snarl than a smile. "Princess wants to see the creepy shit her boss up to with little kids? Be my fuckin' guest."
Miranda didn't dignify that with a response.
"Go get suited up," Shepard told her. "I'm going to load the bomb."
Five Years Previously
Jack's stomach churned until she felt sick. The sickly red light of Omega hurt her eyes as she picked her way through the dirty back corridors, stepping over refuse - sentient and otherwise. The vorcha here knew not to mess with her - or at least they knew that after she'd smeared a few of them across the walls and ceilings.
Omega was a hard, cruel place, but at least it was honest. Omega was a place where you survived, or you didn't. No in betweens, no grey about. It was a place where her biotics could buy her respect or at least fear, safety.
Or so she'd thought.
Anger came suddenly. It raced through her lightning, tasting like iron on her tongue. Trust us, trust me, Menara had said with that familiar smile on her dark purple lips. Trust me, she said but she'd taken Jack's money. In the piracy line of work there was only one reason someone would do that to you - they expected you wouldn't be an issue in the future.
Menara and Keilor were going to kill her - or worse they'd met Cerberus. The boogeyman on her tail, tireless and hungry.
She was such an idiot. She'd trusted them, trusted Menara's sweet words and promises that they'd help her, that they cared for her. A noise tore from Jack's lips, angry and pained, and her implant burned, dark energy wrapping around her like a familiar friend. A nearby batarian staggered back from her in the moment before she lashed out with her fist. It struck the dull, rusty bulkhead and punctured through, ripping the metal like paper.
Jack let her hand drop, a ribbon of blood dripping down her fingers, breath coming hard. Her corona faded, but the tingling remained. Broken cables hissed and sputtered in the hole she'd made, sparks bright in the dim light.
She wasn't a little girl anymore. She wasn't a victim. She didn't need their help - she didn't need them. She'd ripped her way through Cerberus' guards and scientists and their other prisoners. They'd all wanted to kill her, but she'd killed them first. All their restraints and their needles and their drugs and she'd killed them all.
Jack wasn't a victim.
She'd prove it.
Her feet carried her through Omega's dirty and dark streets back to where the Saber sat in her hangar. That's where most of their money went, Menara had told her - running the ship and paying for the hangar and protection from the Blue Suns who ran this part of the docks. Now, Jack wasn't sure. Maybe Menara had always been lying, skimming Jack's payouts for herself.
Anger pulsed in her like a heartbeat.
She shifted from foot to foot as she waited for the airlock to cycle. Her amp seemed to hum in the back of her skull like a living thing.
Menara looked up when she came into the galley, a glass of something brightly blue in her hand. The asari's mouth twisted into something condescending and ugly, "Finished sulking?"
Jack wasn't a victim anymore. She wasn't going to be killed or broken by Menara or anyone. There was a buzzing in Jack's mind. She lifted her hand and her biotics burned around her, strong enough she could feel them in her clenched teeth. The old violent pleasure was dropped her glass, fear flashing through her dark blue eyes - and there was pleasure in that too.
"Jack, what are you-" Old commando instincts had Menara's own corona forming and coalescing into a barrier. But Jack struck out, felt the barrier buckle beneath the pure force of her biotics like plaster board. Menara was thrown back violently, hitting the bulkhead with a terrible cracking sound. She slid to the deck plates, neck at a strange angle and eyes open and staring sightlessly at Jack.
She heard pounding footsteps in the moment before Keilor came rushing through the door, pistol in hand. He skidded to a stop, eyes darting between Menara's corpse and Jack, still glowing, his dumb mouth slack and gaping. "Wh-what have you done?"
Only what they would've done to her if she hadn't gotten there first.
His pistol rose and he squeezed the trigger as she moved, quick as a viper. The gunshot was like a clap of thunder in the enclosed space - the bullet richocheted off the wall and smashed through the plate cupboard with the sound of exploding ceramic and plastic. He towered over her - but she was the most dangerous person here, she was the all-powerful biotic bitch.
Her fist lashed out. Keilor's sternum splintered beneath her fist. He collapsed, choking, spluttering. He said something that might've been her name as she straddled his waist in a parody of intimacy - but the anger still burned like a newborn sun in her chest.
Her fist rose, fell. Again. Again.
When she stopped she was gasping for breath or maybe crying. She was covered in blood - splattered over her arms and chest, sticky as it dried on her cheek.
The Saber was silent except for the soft hum of machinery and the noisy gasp of her breathing. The anger had faded, leaving only numbness behind.
On Omega, you survived or you didn't.
Jack was nobody's fool. And now…now she had a ship - freedom in mechanical form. But first she had some bodies to airlock.
Rain pounded down on Teltin in an endless roar, dripping through the many holes in the facility's roof to drum against Shepard's helmet and shoulders. Every inch of her was drenched. Rotting foliage squished under every step, rank water pooling in places - deep enough they had to wade in places. Shepard held her rifle above the water out of habit, though she didn't think would really make much of a difference in the end. The weight of her heavy armour dragged at her shoulders, each step becoming painful.
Shepard had been reminded uncomfortably of the jungle and swamps of Yamm's 'inhabitable' zones. But she pushed the memories away. She wasn't twenty-one anymore, and this mission wouldn't be longer than a few hours.
Vines twisted through Teltin's wreckage, like the rainforest was trying to consume the bones of the old compound. Shepard had brought machete in anticipation of having to cut their way through, but in the end they hadn't. The cut foilage on the landing pad had been the first clue that they weren't alone, before the first vorcha had boiled out of nearby a nearby corridor.
Shepard took point with Jack, as they smashed through the Blood Pack mercenaries, Miranda taking up their six and doing mop up. It was…almost easy. The most dangerous thing about vorcha was their regeneration abilities, but they weren't the smartest combatants - and these ones had been living in this moldy ruin for weeks if not longer. They were miserable and dispirited, driven forward only by fear of their krogan battlemaster.
Jack, on the other hand, was driven by a bone-deep rage. This was her own personal hell, and she wasn't happy to see someone else infringing on it. She smashed vorcha against the ground, against the walls, against the decomposing roof until Shepard was mildly concerned that she might cause the structure to cave in on itself.
Shepard could only smell rot as a vorcha dove out of a nearby hallway, a shotgun in its hands. Shepard slammed it off its feet with a wave of biotics and then fired a burst point blank into its skull. Couldn't be too careful with vorcha.
A flicker of light caught her attention on the far wall.
"What're you doing?" Jack demanded. She was breathing hard, her biotic field clashing with Shepard's - angry fluctuations that felt like prickling.
Shepard hadn't really been surprised that mercs were using old facilties on Pragia for bases, no matter how poor the condition or how unsound the structure. But she was surprised that a computer terminal was still working.
"Might have something we can use on it," Shepard replied.
The recording played.
Something complicated passed over Jack's face and she turned away, movements jerky. Miranda opened her mouth - but Shepard shook her head silently.
"This is bullshit, they didn't experiment on the others for my safety."
Shepard looked at her - the tense lines of her shoulders. "You can't help what they did to others."
"You don't get it, Shepard," Jack said, low and hard, "I survived this place because I was tougher than the rest. That's who I am."
Everyone told themselves what they needed to to stay sane. This was Jack's.
"We're not responsible for what is done to us," Shepard said carefully, "You survived. All we can do from there is decide how we move on."
"Save the speeches-" Jack began, but the recording was continuing. Jack's eyes widened and when she spoke again, there was a surprising kernel of vulnerability in her voice, "Shepard, they've started up somewhere else!"
"The Ascension Project is at Grissom Academy, a school for gifted and biotic children," Shepard soothed, "They don't torture kids there."
But if Cerberus had infiltrated Grissom Academy, Admiral Hackett and Major Riley would want to know. Something to mention in her next report through Coyle.
Miranda had, until now, had the good sense to keep quiet. "Shepard, it's clear from these logs that they were concealing the extent of their experiments from the Illusive Man-"
That was what the logs suggested. Awfully convenient that Cerberus had so many 'rogue cells'. A pattern of either falsehood or utter incompetence. Even if was true, it didn't diminish that the Illusive Man remained culpable for what his people had done, for creating an environment where torturing children was preferable to disappointing him. She had no illusions about why
Shepard wondered if Miranda was trying to convince her - or herself.
"And you call me crazy," Jack shook her head, lip curling. "You're a piece of work, cheerleader."
Not for the first time, Shepard regretted that Miranda was on this mission. Jack and Miranda drove each other crazy - one out of justifiable anger, one because the other represented the real, living human cost of the Illusive Man's work. She'd wanted to give Jack some control over this whole mess, but she hadn't really expected Jack to say yes.
"Enough," Shepard cut them off, "Let's just…plant the bomb and get out of here."
"It's just through there," Jack said, voice oddly soft, "but she - she doesn't come in. Just you."
Shepard thought that maybe she should be pleased that Jack had to trust her, just a little, to be okay with her coming with her. But really, she just felt tired and worn down. Just being in a place like this made you feel like a little piece of your humanity had been murdered.
Jack had survived this place. She'd been betrayed and used and discarded by countless people, and yet some part of her hadn't quite given up on other people. Not if she trusted Shepard to come with her.
"Lead the way," she said simply.
If the Illusive Man thought he could recapture Jack after the Collectors were dealt with, he'd have to kill Shepard to do it, she decided then and there. Jack was abrasive and angry - but she was in pain, another person betrayed and cut to pieces by Cerberus' agenda. She was Shepard's crew.
Shepard followed Jack into the dark.
A flash of biotics and Aresh was on the ground, his hands bloody as they skated across the concrete. He didn't try to rise again, his biotics shorted out. He just kept staring at Jack as she leveled her pistol at his head. One squeeze of the trigger and he'd be dead, just another pile of meat left to rot here like all the others.
She wanted him dead so bad she could taste it. It was all coming back all of it. It felt like there were ghosts whispering in her ears. The scientists and guards and the other kids and the freighter crew and Menara and all of them-
"Jack," Shepard said from the doorway. She was a still statue of black ceramic and ballistic weave.
Jack's head snapped up. Her voice came out a rough rasp, "Is this the part where you stop me from killing him?"
Shepard shook her head. "I'm not going to stop you. What happens here - it's your choice, Jack, and you're right. There's nothing in the galaxy that could justify what happened here. But him? He was drawn back here, just like you. He's a puppet of his past. You're not controlled by your past. You said it yourself - you're not Subject Zero anymore. If you pull that trigger, pull it because it's what Jack needs to do."
The muzzle of her pistol shook slightly.
"I meant what I said before," Shepard continued, her voice gentle in the dim room, "What was done to you, done to all the children here - it's not your fault. What you do now, how you go forward? That's your choice."
Aresh looked up at her without any fight in him, like he'd always expected to die like this - to die at her hands. At Subject Zero's hands.
"Fuck!" She pulled the pistol's muzzle away from his face. "Get out of here, now!"
She didn't see if he was relieved or scared - or anything. She turned away as he scrambled out the door.
Breathed in. Breathed out.
"He's not worth chasing. None of it is."
Shepard just nodded.
"This place was my whole childhood," Jack said slowly, "I…need a moment."
"Do you want me to go?"
"…no."
She needed to see it all, not as a scared kid but as a powerful woman, before she blew it all up. Drain the poison and then start - healing? Moving on? Fuck, she didn't know.
She wanted to find out.
Codex Entry
Systems Alliance Marine Military Vocational Codes (A-B):
A Series - Administration
A1 - Administration Specialist: Administrative Specialist responsibilities include the management of administrative and clerical functions in the areas of general administration, personnel administration, operational administration, and manpower administration.
A2 - Postal Clerk: Postal Clerks perform all duties necessary to the efficient operation of a Marine Corps Post Office. Mail handling duties can include, but are not limited to accepting, sorting, manifesting and dispatching all types of mail, to include official mail.
B Series - Infantry
B1 - Rifleman: The Riflemen employ the M9 Valkyrie Assault Rifle, the M- Grenade Launcher and the Typhoon light machine gun. Riflemen are the nucleus of the Infantry.
B2 - Light Armoured Vehicle Crewman: The Light Armored Vehicle Marine is an infantry Marine skilled in Armored Reconnaissance. In addition to basic infantry skills, they are knowledgeable in armored reconnaissance and armored security missions to gain information on the enemy and terrain.
B3 - Machine Gunner: The Machine Gunner is responsible for the tactical employment of the Medium Machine-Gun, the Heavy Machine-Gun, and their support vehicle, in support of the riflemen.
B4 - Mortarman: Mortarmen are responsible for the tactical employment of the mortars to utilise indirect fire in support of the infantry.
B5 - Assault Marine: Deploys rocket launchers, demolition charges and breaching systems to destroy enemy hardpoints and increase maneuverability.
B6 - Anti-Armour Specialist: Provides medium and heavy Anti-Tank support.
B7 - Reconnaissance: The reconnaissance Marine is responsible for providing the amphibious, long range, small unit, ground reconnaissance and raid skills to support the MAGTF.
B71 - Pathfinder: An airmobile specialised Marine, responsible for providing recon in support of Air Assault and Airmobile units and other tasks including LZ designation.
B72 - Scout-Sniper: A Marine skilled in marksmanship and field-craft, capable of supplying long range precision fire from concealed positions.
B1-O - Infantry Officer: Infantry officers lead infantry Marines in combat operations. In order to become an infantry officer, a Second Lieutenant must pass the difficult Marine Corps Infantry Officer Course.
B2-O - Light Armoured Vehicle Officer: An infantry officer who has qualified to lead armored reconnaissance missions, usually commanding a Mako or Sturgeon platoon.
B7-O - Ground Intelligence Officer: intelligence officers qualified to lead scout-sniper, reconnaissance or other Marine intelligence units.