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Geneburn - Recharged

SSV Normandy

Docking Bay, Citadel

2183

O'Connor never thought that he would be happy to see the Citadel again, even though they'd been away for a day. The sight of it was still a grand one in his opinion, and seeing it brought a ghost of a smile to his face. I'd never admit that I like the sight of it to anyone, he thought as they began to exit the Normandy.

That brought him to part of the reason they were back here. The first reason was that Shepard wanted to load up the cargo bay with food, water and other supplies. This was so that they could go longer in the Traverse before needing to resupply, which O'Connor thought was a sensible idea. The second was so grab better weapons and gear if possible.

Then there's me, he thought.I wonder when Vorenus'll be done with what I asked him to do for me. If so, then I'll be a very happy man. At least some of the cargo'll be ammo for the guns that I use in that case.

As he walked out with Shepard and Kaidan, he thought he spotted someone waiting for them at the elevator to C-SEC Academy. The man was tall, with a cap that hid most of his hair, and had piercing green eyes. He also wore an officer's uniform, which immediately identified that he was part of the Alliance's ranking personnel.

Kaidan, apparently, recognized him, as he promptly saluted and said, "Ten-hut!"

"At ease," the Alliance officer replied. "Rear Admiral Mikhailovich. Good to see you, Shepard."

Shepard, who also saluted, said, "We weren't told you were coming sir. I would've prepared a more formal greeting."

"Spare me the pleasantries," Mikhailovich remarked. "I am in charge of the 63th Scout Flotilla. You and the Normandy were slated for our unit after shakedown, then the Council got their claws, paws, tentacles… whatever on our ship, and on you."

Sensing some hostility in Mikhailovich's tone, Shepard said, "I still serve the Alliance, sir. As a Spectre, I can advance our interests to the Council."

"Hmmph. You still remember what color your blood is, Shepard?" Mikhailovich asked dubiously. "I don't begrudge the politician's decision to throw you to the Council, Shepard. It's an… opprotunity. Looking at the Normandy, he said, "What I do begrudge, however, is this over-designed piece of tin."

"The Normandy's a fine ship, sir. She's served us well so far."

"It's a gimmick, Commander. Useless in a stand-up fight. This experiment diverted billions of credits from our appropriation bills. For the same price, we could've had a heavy cruiser, but no, we had to make nice to the Turians. Throw money at a co-developed boondoggle. I'm here to make an inspection, Commander. Normandy is an Alliance ship. I expect her to be up to snuff."

"We'd be honored to show her to you, sir."

"I won't be long."

True enough, it wasn't only ten minutes before Mikhailovich came back, and he had a fairly cross look on his face. "Commander," he deadpanned, "I am not happy."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Shepard replied.

"Who designed that CIC? Putting the Commander aft of everyone else is inefficient. What if he needs to talk with the operators towards the bow?"

"Modified Turian style. They prefer their commanders to be standing over their subordinates, rather than among them. We wanted to see how effectively they could command with that setup."

"Hhmm, Reasonable goal. But they should've tested it out in a lab, though, rather than a front-line warship. I also had to shake my head at that drive core of yours; a hundred and twenty billion credits of Element Zero just to make this thing able to move without giving itself away. Do you realize we could've made drive cores for twelve thousand fighters with that money? What good is it to hide for a few hours anyway? Useless!"

"Not actually," O'Connor pipped in. "With the Tantalus Drive Core, the Normandy can loiter inside of an enemy star system for days. We can track and intercept incoming supplies, while determining the strength of an enemy force. Sometimes, intel is what you need, and the Normandy's good at getting that."

That was when Mikhailovich took notice of O'Connor. "O'Connor is it? I heard about what happened; you have my condolences. Still, you make an interesting point. However, I believe our job is hunt down and destroy the enemy, not count how many times their garrison goes to the bathroom."

That was when he let the topic of discussion out. "And then there's your crew, Commander. Asari? Krogan? Turians? What are you thinking, Shepard? You can't let alien nationals have free reign with the ship?!"

Shepard added in his answer for that moments later. "Between Saren and the Geth, we have enough enemies to deal with. Treating other species with suspicion and distrust won't win hearts and minds."

"That assumes the hearts and minds are worth winning over in the first place. That hasn't been proven yet. Is there anything else you wish to say Commander? Any justifications for the state of this vessel?"

That was where Shepard got very convincing. Clearing his throat, he said, "I think the Normandy is a good ship, sir. Even if you disagree, you have to see that her joint construction and multiracial crew make the Alliance look better."

"Your job is to look good, Commander," Mikhailovich replied. "The Alliance Navy's is to win wars. I'm not convinced that the Normandy isn't a waste of taxpayer money, but I am convinced that you believe otherwise, and that you'll use it to the best of your ability.

"I'll be submitting a report to the Joint Military Council. It will not be as… negative as I had planned." Moments later, he surprised Shepard by saluting and said, "Good hunting, Shepard. Make us proud."

"I fully intend to, sir," Shepard replied, returning the salute. With that, Mikhailovich left, entering the elevator before the doors closed.

"That went well," Kaidan remarked.

"I thought we were going to get our asses grilled," O'Connor remarked. "You certainly pulled through on that one, Shepard. You actually proved him wrong."

"Well, you had something to do with it too," Shepard replied. "I couldn't think of a justification for the drive core, but you did. Where'd you learn that, by the way?"

"I spent some time around Engineer Adams in the engine bay. The man's… quite relatable. He reminds me of my younger brother, come to think of it. He was a mechanic, but he could talk with someone as though he'd known them his entire life."

"Sounds like he was special."

"He is, since he's still alive, as far as I know, were I'm from. Anyways, I think we have a few errands to run."

"Yep," Shepard replied. "Some people might have a few favors for me to take care of too. If the Alliance Brass asks us to take care of something, then we'll go ahead and do so. Once we rescue the colonists on Feros, we can take care of a few side jobs."

"Sounds good to me."

. . .

Apparently, when Shepard said 'favors', he hadn't been specific enough. As such, when they stepped out, O'Connor spotted a reporter standing nearby. The fucking paparazzi, he thought to himself. Here come the sensationalists.

Apparently, he wasn't the focus of this paparazzo's attention. Rather, Shepard was, as the woman walked forwards and said, "Khalisah bint Sinan Al-Jilani, Westerlund News. Would you answer a few questions for our viewers?"

"What do you want to know?" Shepard asked.

"You've been given a unique position to represent our race. People want to get a sense of how you'll do that." Pulling up her omni-tool Al-Jilani activated a function on it, with a drone nearby shining a light onto Shepard. "Humans have been trying to get the respect of the galactic community for twenty six years. With that in mind, what are your feelings on being the first Human Spectre?"

"The Spectres represent the best of every species in the galaxy. To be asked to join them is an honor."

"Some have said your appointment is the Citadel 'throwing humans a bone.' Have you encountered any situations where the Citadel asked you to place it's needs before the needs of Earth?"

"The Council is concerned with the needs of a whole galactic community. We're a part of that community now. Our needs are on their agenda, but we're one of many."

"You really do believe that, don't you? You've been given command of an advanced human warship for your missions. Is there anything you'd like to say about that?"

"Actually, the Normandy was co-developed by both Turian and Human engineers. It's design incorporates many innovations, all of which are classified, I'm afraid."

"So, the Turians have knowledge of the Normandy that's being kept secret from the Alliance?"

When Jilani asked that, O'Connor's fingers began to twitch. Now she's going too far, he thought as he moved a hand towards his handgun, albeit slowly so that no one noticed. If she goes too far again, I'll blast that drone to pieces. I hope you can wrangle her in, Shepard.

Fortunately, Shepard could, as he demonstrated in the following questions. "Do you think it was appropriate to hand over Earth's most advanced warship to the Citadel?"

"I wasn't aware it had been 'handed over' to anyone," Shepard replied. "I'm in command, and last I checked, I'm human. The same goes for my crew."

"Human, yes. But you work for the Citadel now. One last question, Commander. Rumors back at home say you're tracking a 'rouge Spectre' named Saren. Do you have any comment on that?"

O'Connor was about to act when Shepard smoothly handed Jilani. "I'm afraid I cannot comment on what my current mission is at this time."

"Don't worry, Commander. The eyes of Humanity are upon you." Ending the session, Jilani said, "Thank you for your time, Commander. Good luck on your mission." With that, she left.

"Good thing you handled her," O'Connor said to Shepard once Jilani was out of earshot. "I was about to shoot the drone that was floating by her head. She went too far when she questioned you about the Normandy and it's ownership."

"I know," Shepard replied, "but I wanted to bring her back in line without resorting to violence. Besides, I think she might've come across like a raving idiot back at home."

"That'll be a fun sight to see," O'Connor remarked. "I can already see the YouTube video, or whatever counts as YouTube nowadays. 'Idiotic Journalist Gets Owned By Military Commander.' I'll be certain to look at the views and comments when I can."

"I didn't peg you as the ExtraNet searching type."

"I do a lot of things when I'm bored, Shepard. You've got to keep busy, or you go mad."

"Fair enough. Come on, we've got some things to do."

As they began to leave, O'Connor thought he heard his omni-tool chime. That's odd, he thought as he began looking through his messages. That's the first time that's happened. I wonder who's trying to talk to me.

That was when he saw a single message. All it said was, "Come to the shop when you can. I've got some toys for you." When he saw that, he figured what it meant. With that, he quietly broke away from Shepard and the others, moving towards the elevator to the wards.

. . .

Once again, he found himself in Zakera Ward, where the bustling population of the Citadel worked and lived at. Now that he'd been here before, he could clearly see places where he might go to get some food, any clothes he wanted, as well as a few other things. Spotting Vorenus' shop, he walked inside to see the older Turian leaning on the counter. "Got your message," he replied. "What's going on?"

"Got some good news for you," Vorenus replied, a gleam in his eyes. "I managed to find a seller for your antique weapons, someone named Adrian Victus if I recall correctly."

"Who's he?"

"He's a General in the Turian Hierarchy, one of the best from what I hear. He's also a firearms collector, mostly because he's interested in the history behind Human weapons. When I offered him your firearms, he was interested to see them. Apparently, he was happy with their condition, as he paid enough for me to get you your new guns, as well as a lot of ammo for them."

"That's good to hear," O'Connor beamed. "So, where do I collect the new gear?"

"Follow me," Vorenus replied. Flipping up part of the counter, he had O'Connor follow him into the backrooms of the store. Moving along the hallway, and up the stairs, O'Connor found that there were storage rooms for equipment, spare parts, as well as raw materials to be reshaped into whatever was needed.

Reaching the upper floor, O'Connor found himself standing in a machinist's shop. Reamers, welders, plasma torches and other metal working equipment were neatly arranged inside of the shop in a manner reminiscent of an assembly line. Each piece of equipment looked as though someone had put a lot of time and effort into making sure they were fully functional, as they looked brand new, even though the recently swept up metal shavings said otherwise.

Apparently, the employees were currently on lunch break, as they were in a room to the right of the machining room, eating food and having some fun. The only person inside of the room was a tall Krogan that was wearing a worker's uniform. The uniform was well used, with metal shavings present on parts of the uniform, as well as a few stains here and there. The Krogan himself was imposing, with a green head plate and the physique normal of the species.

What had O'Connor's attention, though, were the eyes. This Krogan's eyes had a spark of intelligence and skill that most didn't have, aside from what they usually did. This guy's more of a machinist than a soldier, he thought. He slightly revised that thought when he saw a few scars on the right side of the Krogan's face.

Having spotted them earlier, the Krogan turned towards the two and said, in a deep, rumbling voice, "Vorenus! How are you doing today, old Pyjack."

Vorenus, knowing that the words were well meant, smiled as he shook the Krogan's hand. "Doing fine, Voreg, you old Thresher Maw. You doing OK with your liver?"

"Just fine," Voreg replied, feeling where the organ was with a hand. "The doctor's say that it's making a full recovery. I don't usually trust them, but I'm glad you made me go. It was about to fail on me. Just gotta watch the Ryncol much more carefully."

"And you do that." Clearing his throat, Vorenus said, "Voreg, this is William O'Connor, the customer that handed us the older weapons. O'Connor, this is Voreg, one of the most talented, and obstinate, Krogan I've met."

O'Connor smiled as he looked at Voreg. Almost immediately, the Krogan reminded him of Prapor, as he had the same bearing and attitude. "Good to meet you, Voreg," he beamed. "I assume everything went well?"

"Definitely," Voreg replied. "I don't know where you got those guns from, but they were in perfect condition. Even the finish was well taken care of, and that says a lot. You take care of old guns that well?"

"Yes. Take good care of your gun, and it'll save your life when you need it most. You can never take 'too' good care of them."

"Ain't that the truth," Voreg smiled. "I was surprised you just wanted upgraded versions of those old guns, instead of something new. Still, you're the customer, and the customer is always right. I decided to pay careful attention to the design and detail. Here, have a look." With that, he produced the rifle in question.

Almost immediately, it was clear that Vorenus and Voreg had put a lot of time and effort into making the rifle as good as it could be. The rifle looked exactly like his older M4, but with some notable changes. For one, it was more angular in appearance, and it's barrel was longer than the Space Trooper variant that he'd used by nearly six inches.

The main difference was inside of the weapon, as well as in the optics that O'Connor had on the original weapon. Voreg, guessing O'Connor's thoughts, disengaged one of the pins holding the lower receiver to the upper receiver, allowing the rifle to hinge open. Inside, O'Connor noticed that the original, hammer fired system had been replaced with something else. "What's that?" he asked.

"That is an electronic firing system," Voreg explained. "Vorenus and I did some research on older guns, and we found a bolt action rifle that used an electronic firing system. I think it was the M700 Etronx if I recall correctly. Is that right, Vorenus?"

"That's correct," Vorenus replied. Turning to O'Connor, he said, "What we did was we took the design, radically redesigned it with the technology we have today, and then installed it into your rifle. It should be more accurate and reliable now, and we can send you the equipment you need to manufacture the ammo. Is that too excessive or -?"

"No, not at all," O'Connor replied. "It's a logical choice in my opinion. Can any hackers interfere with the rifle, or anything in the environment?"

"No," Voreg replied. "Our resident Quarian gunsmith, Oel'Kaeus vas Rayya, designed the system so that it's insulated from any outside sources. The downside is that you need to have a wired connection to access the computer inside, though that makes it practically impossible to hack into. It also has an identification system that only lets you use the weapon, and no one else."

"Good," O'Connor beamed. "That'll make it much safer. Besides, I can handle systems like that just fine. What about the optic?"

"It's a thermal optic, like the one you've got, only we made it much better. You can now go from 1x zoom all the way up to 4x. We took some design inspiration from one of your kind's optical sights, the ELCAN SpecterDR if I recall correctly. It can also detect synthetics as well as targets shrouded by smoke, and it also has night vision."

"Good," O'Connor beamed. "What about the handgun I presented to you?"

In response, Voreg pulled out the handgun in question. In his hands, the upgraded version of the MP443 Grach looked comically tiny, though it was clear that love and attention had been paid to the weapon as well. "She kicks fairly hard now. We modified the action so that it can handle high powered ammunition without jamming. The bullets fired out of this guy are heavier than what you gave us, but they travel at high speed for the caliber. Here you go."

Taking the new handgun, along with the new rifle, O'Connor found that the weapons were lighter than his older weapons. It was also clear that they were compatible for the magnetic clamps on the armor he was wearing, as he quickly put them on. Moments later, they handed O'Connor the ammo for his weapons.

Unlike the older casings, which made use of brass, O'Connor noticed they now used a matte black material that appeared to be some kind of metal alloy. The cartridges were also in two pieces now, with the bottoms being marked a certain color. "New alloy we had some friends design," Vorenus explained. "Much better than cartridge brass at what it has to do. We designed propellants that'll give your bullets a real kicker. What to know the good part?"

"Sure."

"We designed the bullets to have different effects, given that we had quite a bit of room to work with. We designed the rounds with the black bottom to be APHP, or armor piercing-hollow point, rounds. They'll punch through normal armor fairly easily, and explode inside of a target. We've also designed frangible bullets for target practice, as well as HE rounds."

"Good. That'll certainly work better than what I've been using." Looking at them, he said, "Thank you, both of you. You didn't have to go this far, but thank you anyways."

"Just doing what we could for the customer," Vorenus replied. "Besides, with the amount of money we got, we decided to go big and far on this one. It's not everyday you get to flex your creative muscles, and this was certainly what we needed. Take care of yourself."

"You do the same too." With that, O'Connor left, thoroughly happy with the job they'd done.

. . .

A few hours later, he was at the Docking Bay for the Normandy, watching as supplies were loaded inside. He'd made sure his supplies had already gotten inside, as well as what looked like a mini-fabricator for any ammunition that he needed. Scary how they can make high quality ammo, he thought. At least I won't be running out of ammo anytime soon. I'll just have to be frugal with the bullets I spend. In a way, it'll be like at Tarkov again.

As he thought this over, he was aware of someone walking up to him. Looking to his left, he watched as Garrus came over. "Watching the cargo too" he asked.

"Not really, no," Garrus replied. "I was just curious as to what you were up to."

"Getting new guns and ammo for said guns," O'Connor remarked. "Want to see?"

"Sure," Garrus replied. Taking the new M4A1 off his back, O'Connor handed the weapon to Garrus. The marksman took some time to look at the weapon, noting each detail while entering a few stances and poses with the weapon, mostly to see how it would feel if he used it. Handing it back to O'Connor, he said, "It's a good gun. Don't know how good it'll be when we go up against the Geth, but we'll see when we're out there again."

"It'll be good," O'Connor reassured him. "If the Geth didn't do too well against the older weapons, they sure won't do well against the newer guns. Plus, I also got some new grenades out of the deal, so there'll be lots of explosions and dead Geth soon."

"True," Garrus beamed. "I guess we should wait for Shepard to come back."

"Good idea," O'Connor nodded. With that, the two spent some more time watching the cargo being loaded.

It wasn't long before Shepard arrived, wearing what looked like better body armor. Spotting O'Connor, he said, "Got what you need?"

"Yep," O'Connor replied. "Sorry about leaving you in the dark."

"No worries," Shepard replied. "You were on shore leave, after all, so no harm done. Once we're fully loaded up, we're going to Feros. It's time to save some colonists."

"I couldn't agree more."