"So you put the gold star on the kid's folder," Sheffler mused, shifting from foot to foot idly.
Shepard shrugged. "Anyone with half a brain would have. He was pulling civvies out of C-Sec Headquarters through ventilation, and releasing them into the Keeper tunnels. No training, and he didn't get caught."
Sheffler's eyebrows rose.
"You didn't read the note?" Shepard asked, smirking lopsidedly.
"I got a note from Admiral Hackett, 'hey John, got a kid for you, recon, pick him up along with a gallon of milk and a case of beer.'"
Shepard snorted, shaking her head. "Grocery runs."
"Yeah," Sheffler grinned back at the colloquial term for fetch-and-carry missions of otherwise questionable priority. "Just because some people have enough on their plates to not be bothered with them doesn't mean we're all so lucky."
"I wondered who was handling those, once they stopped."
"You're welcome."
Shepard chuckled again, glancing at the two lads as they meandered to the far end of the room and stopped walking. The conversation looked friendly enough. Both postures lost a little of the stiff just-met-someone-new tension as the two officers watched.
"Well, the reason for the gold star makes me feel better. Siu's not a sneaky guy, but sometimes we need him to get into places ahead of us. I've been hoping for a recon guy who could team up with him. Get him where he needs to be quietly, and in one piece."
"Krios will figure it out," Shepard answered.
"You willing to share what his carrots are?" Sheffler asked, crossing his arms.
Shepard considered. It was, after all, a rather personal question and not one Sheffler asked lightly. But knowing what motivated the kid might come in handy later. Nevertheless, she did answer. "He's making the galaxy a little brighter. If he believes that, he may even stick around after the war's over."
Lots of people would, if only because the military would become their new normal, their unit their new family, their sense of stability. And with a war like this, going back to civilian life would be even harder than it could be in a normal galaxy: there would be so much rebuilding, nothing would be what it was. Rebuilding was easier when you had close friends and structure to fall back on after a long day of digging through rubble and building shantytowns.
"How's your Cerberus hunt?"
Sheffler glared at her, even though he knew in the back of his mind it was just a question. "It sucks!" he answered bitterly. "They kicked in the door on the Citadel and where was I?"
"I don't know. Where were you?"
"Elsewhere," Sheffler grated out disgustedly.
"My team covered for you," Shepard answered calmly, ignoring his discontented grumpiness.
Sheffler nodded. Very few N7s would hold not being in the right place at the right time against a fellow N7—or even Ns of other ranks. That was the comforting thing said; not 'it'll be alright' or 'it wasn't your fault' but 'we covered for you.' They job got done, and that was what N7s were about: getting jobs done.
Sheffler heaved a heavy sigh as he mentally calculated the number of people needed to take and hold the Presidium, considering that C-Sec was at its highest concentration here. Then tried to add the cost of shuttles and mechs, arms and armor for all the personnel… "He's got to be getting close to the red by now," Sheffler breathed.
The real question was where he kept getting the recruits. They supply seemed endless. Impossibly so.
"I'll bet he owns the patent on something ubiquitous," Shepard answered grumpily. "Like something in mini-fabrication units or the sensor for sliding doors."
Sheffler snorted. "He probably does." Then, with more earnestness than humor, "Hey Shepard. You find that prick before I do…" he jabbed his forefinger against his temple.
"That is the plan," she answered with such composure that Sheffler's stomach squirmed. There was a vendetta in the calmness which told him that Cerberus had taken something very important from her, something as important to her as his men had been to him.
"Good. It's been nice chatting, but I've gotta go."
"Of course. Like you said, it's been nice chatting."
"Siu! Krios!" Sheffler beckoned them to return to him.
Shepard was almost to the elevators when a new thought struck Sheffler. Apart from himself, Shepard was the person with the most experience with Cerberus. Well, the one with the most experience who could also be trusted. He didn't trust a word that came out of that shit Petrovsky's mouth at face value. He was someone else who needed a slug and not a cell… "Yo! Shepard!"
Shepard turned. "What?"
Sheffler traced a couple of his molars with his tongue, a habit he'd acquired after a fight left him missing several teeth, and before the Alliance replaced them. "If you were a vat, where would you hide?"
Shepard's face scrunched up as she processed the question—well, maybe he shouldn't have used the term 'vats'; it was a little confusing if one didn't have the context—then her face smoothed out into a grin. He wondered if she'd read those books, too, to get the idea so quickly.
When she answered, she did so slowly, thoughtfully, turning the matter over in her mind the way a raccoon might while washing its food. "I guess if I was a vat I'd hide somewhere out in the open, where people would walk past me every day."
The lads arrived at this point. When Sheffler said nothing more, merely nodded thanks for the input, Shepard nodded to the three of them, raised a hand to Krios with a look that clearly said 'keep in touch,' then disappeared into the elevator, where her Spectre buddy seemed to be waiting for her.
Yes, the buddy system was a good idea in this chaotic day and age. And wasn't he lucky? It seemed like Siu and Krios were willing to buddy up.