Chapter 4: The Colony

February 20, 2185 CE

Terminus Systems / Deep Space

Freedom's Progress, it turned out, was pretty close to the other end of the galaxy, which meant she had to suffer through nearly two long, uncomfortable weeks of travel. They hitched a ride on a small freighter that hadn't asked any questions, which at least let them stretch their legs a bit. At least some good came out of it – she had a lot of time to rest her battered, barely functional body. She spent nearly half of the trip asleep. But even then, it left far too many hours with nothing to do but try to catch up on the events of the past two years.

It had been busy time for the galaxy, and catching up was like trying to drink from a firehose. Some of it was encouraging, like wrapping up the remaining geth holdouts in the Armstrong Nebula out in the Attican Traverse. Some of it was interesting, like a joint human/asari venture releasing both the L4 and L5 biotic implants, or the raloi species joining the intergalactic community.

Unfortunately, most of the news was bad, and pressure was mounting throughout the galaxy. Everyone could feel it, though not everyone knew why. There were quiet reports of serious arms development which possibly backed up the Illusive Man's claims. The galactic economy was erratic, with sharp upturns from massive government spending followed by steep declines from the underlying uncertainty and conjecture about why there was so much military spending if the threat was over. The Council was trying to keep a lid on it, but cracks were starting to show.

The Vol Protectorate were leading a public inquiry into manipulated economic data from the Citadel's Ministry of Finance economic reports. When the Council refused to show their data, a group called TruthHax broke into the Ministry of Finance and stole the data, leaking it onto the extranet before the Council set Spectre Tela Vasir on them to retrieve the data. In the end, the Spectre shot to death four members and arrested six more. Over an economics report. The bits and pieces Vasir hadn't managed to scrub from the extranet did not paint a pretty picture. Hell, the turian duarch of the Meade Cluster had been so desperate to win krogan favor he'd been arrested for smuggling funding to a krogan effort to build a dreadnaught!

And the pressure kept climbing. The Councils' Institute for the Study of Astronomical Bodies botched analysis of comet CR1331 Kingu, leading to massive destruction ten days ago on the hanar colony world Belan, its close miss disrupting tides and sending massive tidal waves across the planet. Information was still coming in about casualties and the extent of the damage, but it was clear that the Council's credibility had taken a hit.

Paradoxically, despite their huge gains in public opinion after the Battle of the Citadel, it was the Systems Alliance that was under the most pressure, thanks in large part to the disappearances. The entire colony of Fehl Prime, gone, less than two months ago. That wasn't some backwater colony – it was one of the top producers of pharmaceuticals for the entire Alliance, with hardened military defenses. Then Cyrene and 5,000 people, gone last month, bringing the total up to seven colonies… so far. Sensing weakness in the Alliance, fringe groups were popping up all over the place. Totenkopf was just the latest, mounting a biological weapons attack against Gagarin Station in Sol of all places last year. Matters weren't helped by the discovery of a Cerberus lab three weeks ago experimenting on biotics. They may have been all the way out in the Hades Nexus at the edge of known space, but most of the galaxy associated Cerberus with the humanity and, by extension, the Alliance.

It was a mess out there, and there was no end in sight. She closed her eyes to turn it all over in her mind.

February 21, 2185 CE

Sigurd's Cradle / Jamea System / Allure, Freedom's Progress Colony

The jolt of reentry woke her up. A quick glance reassured her that she was still on the shuttle with Miranda and Jacob. She didn't remember falling asleep.

Their long trip was finally coming to a close. She watched internal display as the shuttle eased down through breathable air, shuddering as it maneuvered through heavy clouds and creaking with temperature change. After twenty minutes of descent the shuttle finally set down on a small landing pad and extended its gull-wing doors to reveal a stunning view of a mountain range behind a small but bustling human city of Freedom's Progress, and Shepard took her first breath of air in the Terminus Systems.

It was beautiful, that much was obvious. Not in the green, harsh way that Eden Prime was beautiful. The sky was clear behind them, but a slew of dark clouds in the distance were closing in, making the approaching nightfall seem even closer than it was. Snow was falling, though just a few flakes for the moment. Not far from her position was a series of prefabricated structures, blocky gray things mass-produced and dropped onto worlds to house the first colonizers.

They stepped down onto the tarmac of the landing pad where they were greeted by a bored-looking teenaged human who checked the shuttle's paperwork.

Shepard took the lead out of blind habit. The boy saw the Alliance insignia on her armor and his gaze tightened before he gave her a stiff nod to proceed. Miranda came next. His eyes caught the Cerberus logo first and he did a little double take, then nodded respectfully to her. "Welcome to Freedom's Progress," he said earnestly, though the effect was undermined by the obvious battle to keep his gaze on Miranda's eyes and off the rest of her. "Cerberus is always welcome here. What can we do for you?"

"Just visiting today, Chester," she replied, reading off his nametag. The boy flushed, and Shepard was torn between contempt and jealousy before quashing the unwanted emotion. "We're making the rounds and checking in on the colonies. We won't need a guide today."

The sandy-haired boy hid his disappointment and nodded dutifully before waving them on their way and, with a last glance at Miranda's lithe form, turned to Jacob. A moment later Jacob joined them, and this time Miranda left no doubt who was leading as Chester waived mechanics to check over and refuel the shuttle. She took the lead confidently, quickly navigating them off the platform, through the doors lined with industrial-grade heating, and out onto the crowded streets. Crowds moved past them in all directions on the main thoroughfare through town, dressed in thick jackets and wool scarves against a winter chill while small snowflakes swirled through the air. Shepard's armor hummed and as it heated her hands and feet.

Miranda pressed onwards through the crowd, and Shepard was perturbed to see more than a few people nod respectfully to the Cerberus goons, and a couple decidedly colder stares at her. After a few minutes Miranda stepped to the side of a large square and jutted her chin upwards. Shepard followed her gaze, squinting against light reflecting off the snow and both moons to look at several thin, two-story towers. "Are those GARDIAN laser batteries?"

"Yes, Commander. Cerberus funded."

"I can see why you get the warm welcome."

At her side, Jacob shrugged. "Not everyone appreciates our efforts. Some think this will only make them a target, like they're hiding something."

"Either way, we have a job to do," cut in Miranda. "Shepard, we know the people and where we're setting up the equipment. You can either come with us to the office down the street," she said, gesturing to what was unmistakably a Cerberus flag over a building, "or you can wait here for us to finish. It should take twenty minutes."

Shepard ignored the feeling of being dropped off like a bag of groceries. "I'll stay here. I need time to think. Feel free to leave without me."

Miranda sighed delicately. "Have it your way. We'll be back shortly." The two Cerberus agents pushed onwards leaving boot prints in the gathering snow. For her part, Shepard crossed the street to a restaurant advertising asari cuisine and sat down at an outdoor table beneath an awning. It was cold enough nobody should bother her outside and the awning would keep the snow off – the perfect place to be alone to think.

She just took in the scene, the people passing living their lives, while the exterior speaker overhead droned on. "That wraps up our coverage of last night's charity telethon where A-list entertainers such as Alis Price Vladimir Bukin, Amita Valla, and Ronny Lam put in appearances to raise money for the devastated hanar colony Belan. In more entertainment news, the space epic Nekyia Corridor continues its troubled development as leading man Nathan Gold was struck by lightning while filming. Incredibly, he was strapped to the surface of a spaceship in the upper atmosphere of a gas giant when the incident occurred. He appears to be doing well, and Director Morgan Bierster hopes the take will make the final cut of the film. Next, we turn to…"

This, all this… it was not what she was expecting. For all the legends and rumors of the Terminus Systems, it was almost disappointingly normal. And yet, Cerberus was welcome here. All it took was a look at their flag slowly fading as the snowfall picked up to see that. And the people seemed to appreciate them, while her reception was colder.

She was staring into the distance, lost in thought, when a burly man in a battered hard suit sporting the symbol of Freedom's Progress on the chest sat down at the seat next to hers, gauntlets crunching the ice on the table. "I bet you're wondering if you got on the right shuttle."

Shepard turned to size up the visitor. He was a greying but still powerfully built man with crow's feet around blue eyes. "Something like that," she said noncommittally.

He smiled. "I can always tell. The name's Kit Stalrosh, ex-Alliance and now lieutenant in the Allure militia. Good to meet you." He extended a hand and Shepard shook it reluctantly. "Shepard."

"Welcome, Shepard. One of the best things about the Terminus Systems is that nobody has time for nonsense, so let me cut straight to the point. You've got some miles on you, but you're too young to be one of us unofficially loaned retirees, and you came in on a Cerberus shuttle, which means they're feeling you out. They like to bring new people out here to show 'em the soft, gentle side of Cerberus."

Shepard quirked an eyebrow questioningly. "And?"

"And all I can tell you is what I see. Cerberus has a nasty reputation, and they probably deserve it, too. But out here, things work a little differently. Everybody's nasty. So having friends with a bad reputation isn't a bad thing. And whatever they've done elsewhere – and I get it's a lot – on this rock they've been damned useful. Shipped in grain two years back when an early freeze killed half the crops, and six months ago they chased off a pack of slavers that wanted to test our defenses."

Shepard frowned and looked out over the masses of people moving about their daily lives. "And what does Cerberus get out of it?"

The grizzled infantryman shrugged. "Recruits, of course. A nice place to put on their best face. And maybe a small cut from the ice crackers. But I can tell you, what they give," he said with a nod towards the looming GARDIAN lasers, "is a lot more than they take, at least around these parts." He gestured and a waiter appeared and set a steaming Styrofoam cup filled with hot chocolate in front of each of them before hurrying inside to the warmth. Shepard tried it cautiously and could hold back a sigh of satisfaction. She took another sip, then sit the cup back down as she had a sudden suspicion.

"You didn't just happen to sit down here, did you?"

He grinned, showing a missing tooth. "Of course not. Cerberus gives me a little something to watch out for their new kids." The smile faded. "But here's one lesson you gotta learn if you're going to survive out here – you've got to know where your loyalties lie. So yeah, I take Cerberus' credits, but my loyalty is to the people of Freedom's Progress. It's my home now, too. So when Cerberus wants a charming local to tell it like it is, I do, but I don't sugarcoat it, and I don't lie. And if Cerberus turns against us, I'll be first in line to take 'em on."

Shepard considered the deadly promise in his voice, then nodded. "I guess I can understand that. That explains their popularity. But I'm still not sure why the Alliance gets the cold shoulder."

Stalrosh leaned back in his chair and sipped his chocolate appreciatively before answering. "That one's easy – you don't have an ex in front of Alliance, at least not yet."

"Why don't people like the Alliance?"

He waived a hand dismissively. "We're not part of them. Sure, they sell us their crappy old equipment on the cheap instead of melting it down, but that's paper, Shepard. Out here, you've got to have skin in the game. The Alliance gives us their scraps so we don't make them look bad. We appreciate it, but that hardly buys loyalty, and a lot of these folks came out here to get away form the Alliance to begin with, so the Alliance telling everyone how much they care rubs the wrong away. Cerberus are far from perfect, but they've put their money where their mouth is, so far anyway, and they're here a hell of a lot more than the Alliance, and that counts for a lot."

"I've always wondered," she admitted, "why people want to get away from the Alliance. It's been pretty good to me." Though to be fair, being a step up from the street wasn't saying much.

"Lots of reasons," grated Stalrosh. "Some came from official colonies that didn't appreciate being the tripwire for their more established and richer neighbors, getting hammered by batarian raids before the Alliance came riding in to the rescue after a quarter of them were captured or dead. I don't know about you, but I got briefings that had survivors as secondary objectives more than once."

Shepard winced as memories of Eden Prime flashed through her mind and Stalrosh grinned nastily. "Though so. Others left because they the Alliance has increased taxes heavily talking about some military buildup we'll never see, others because the colonies don't get enough representation in Alliance parliament, others resent that gene modifications are only available to the rich and those who join the military, and a thousand other reasons." He drained his cup and set it back on the table. "So there you have it, Shepard. The Alliance doesn't do much for us, and Cerberus might be nasty bastards, but they're out nasty bastards, and when you're swimming in pirates, slavers, mercenaries, cartels, and wannabe warlords, you can't be too choosy with your friends." He pushed back his chair, stood, and offered his hand once more.

Shepard stood and shook.

"Where you go from here is up to you, friend. Good luck." He turned and walked away, boots churning the muddy snow in his wake. Shepard stood a while longer, watching the snow fall and trying to sort through her thoughts.

Cerberus. Even grunts like Kit Stalrosh had heard their reputation, but she'd seen far more than most. Detonating drive cores to expose more humans to eezo and make more human biotics… of those that survived. Cloning mindless rachni in the hopes of gaining unstoppable shock troopers. Experimenting with mind control spores from the thorian creature, experimenting on Alliance marines, even assassinating Rear Admiral Kahoku, one of the heroes of the Skyllian Blitz, just for investigating them. And that was just their confirmed actions. Rumors abounded that they made heavy use of blackmail and assassination to suborn or remove troublesome politicians both in the Alliance Parliament and in the nation-states that formed its members.

And now this. Cerberus, champion of the little guy. Defending the human colonies outside the Alliance's reach, providing food and security. And Stalrosh was at least right about one thing – nothing on this planet was worth the resources they were spending to protect it. So they do care about humanity, in their own, twisted, self-serving way.

Her musings were interrupted when Miranda and Jacob returned. "Time to go, Shepard." They headed back to the shuttle in thoughtful silence. Now to see if the Illusive Man really would really let her get out of his reach.

March 4, 2185 CE

Horsehead Nebula / Pax System / Minuteman Station

The three of them immediately parted ways once the shuttle docked back with Minuteman Station. They'd spent less than a day on Freedom's Progress and, between the flight there and back, two full weeks on the shuttle and hitching rides on freighters. They were more than ready for some time apart.

Shepard went to stew. The cracks were becoming more visible with each passing day now. Even the turians were feeling it, despite their deeply engrained culture of social responsibility. During her trip back separatists on Taetrus out in the Ismar Frontier, located in the no-mands-land of the Attican Traverse between Council space and the Terminus Systems, smashed a commercial cruiser into a remote farming village trying to hijack it. Turian separatists! Even Thessia's annual conservation One future Summit had been marred by rumors of an underground counter-event, a one Chance Summit, that promoted ecoterrorism. And the Cerberus drama continued to play out on Trident in the Hades Nexus, when Skye Turnick's team broke him out of prison and started an enormous manhunt that shut down every spaceport on the planet. Wonder.

Miranda, in her perfect way, immediately went to update the Illusive Man. Shepard hid for as long as she could, but it wasn't a very big station. It didn't take long before she had to confront him and see how far off the leash he was prepared to let her roam.

"Shepard, good work on Freedom's Progress."

She sighed at the hologram imagery. "I didn't do a thing and you know it."

"You gave Cerberus a chance. You didn't start shooting my people or blowing up the outpost on Allure. That's a big step for you."

Shepard shrugged, hiding her discomfort at once again talking with a known terrorist, and instead went on the attack. "You haven't started experimenting on the people there yet, like on Akuze, Chasca, Binthu… need I go on? Oh, we can't forget to add Trident to the list. So I'm sure it won't be long."

The Illusive Man frowned and leaned forward in his chair. "Shepard, you don't have to agree with my methods, but you must understand who and what we are. We are the rain dancers, the conspiracy theory chasers. To borrow an ancient sports analogy, we are throwing Hail Mary's for humanity over and over again. I don't expect us to succeed every time – I would be shocked if we had as many successes as we do failures. It's the Alliance's role to make slow, steady progress, not ours. But when we do succeed against very long odds, the outcomes are extraordinary."

Shepard crossed her arms. "Like what? After all the experiments, all the assassinations, all the dead, the human dead, what has Cerberus ever achieved to justify that?" she demanded incredulously.

The Illusive Man smiled. "For starters, we brought you back. They said it couldn't be done, that we were throwing away resources, and yet, here you are."

She waived a hand dismissively. "Too soon to call on that one. What else?"

"More than I am willing to share. But if you want to know more, ask Jacob about the time we saved the Citadel Council from a batarian assassination attempt."

"What? Why would you want to save the Council?"

"Because," he replied with a hint of irritation, "a war with the batarians would have been counterproductive for humanity even then – now it would be disastrous. Ever since the batarians abandoned the Citadel in protest at human expansion, their territory has been considered Systems Alliance space. The Council would have pressured the Alliance into taking the lead on dealing with the threat, dangling the carrot of a possible seat on the Council while pruning back humanity's military strength through the conflict. The batarians chastened and humanity set back – a win-win for the Council, while humanity is left weakened and focused on the batarian threat and away from Council space."

Shepard hesitated. "That… I'll do my own checking into that."

"Please do. Now, I believe you were going to confirm the last information I provided by speaking with the Alliance, the Council, or whoever else you think could help. To that end, I've provided a ship for your use, and I've found a pilot you might like. I hear he's one of the best. Someone you can trust."

Fat chance. He cut the signal.

"Hey Commander! Just like old times, huh?" The distinctive masculine voice came from behind her in the now-open doorway. There was only one person that could be. She felt her heart in her throat as she spun around.

"I can't believe it's you, Joker!" Her long-time pilot, the one who'd saved her life countless times chasing Saren, and sarcastic snot extraordinaire, Jeff "Joker" Moreau. The one and only.

He started walking, a miracle considering his Vrolik's Syndrome, leading her through the corridors.

"Look who's talking! I saw you get spaced." Trust Joker to be able to joke about that.

"I got… lucky. With a lot of strings attached." That was an understatement. "How'd you get here?"

"It all fell apart without you, Commander. It was close to panic, but at least people were doing something. Once you were gone, the Council just wanted it gone. The team was broken up, records sealed, and I was grounded. Too 'high-profile' they said, I would just cause panic in the public. The Alliance took away the one thing that mattered to me. Hell yeah I joined Cerberus."

His enthusiasm seemed a bit forced. Did they con him into this, too? "You really trust the Illusive Man?"

He shrugged. "I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do. But they aren't all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly. And there's this." They'd stopped, though she hardly noticed with her attention so focused on Joker. He gestured out a massive window. "They only told me last night." Eagerness, barely contained, filled his voice.

The massive space before them was dark, but at one end a set of lights activated. They turned on in sequence across the hangar, slowly revealing the sleek white form of... the Normandy. Her starship, the one that had taken her through her travels, the one she had watched explode as she died. The Illusive Man had given her back the closest thing to a home she'd ever had. Who'd have thought he could seal the trap by giving her a spaceship?

There were differences, she thought, a little annoyed that she'd thought of the Illusive Man before noticing. If her perspective wasn't totally skewed, it was far too big – it wasn't a frigate anymore, it was a full-blown light cruiser. The four oversized engines, two on each swooping wing, were bigger. The two sensor pylons, looking almost like the tail fins on ancient earth airplanes, were larger as well. The main body, arching forward, was both thicker and much longer, keeping the same sleek feeling despite its increased size. And it was painted in Cerberus white, black, and gold. Grossly impractical for maintaining anonymity, it could only have been a symbol. And as everyone else already belonged to Cerberus, that meant it was for her.

"It's good to be home, huh commander?"

She prayed he never realized the irony of that statement.

"I guess we'll have to give her a name." As if she could name it anything else.

…

The tour revealed that the Normandy SR-2 had been upgraded significantly, and not only in size. Jacob and Miranda led Shepard through the ship's Combat Information Center. The deck held the armory, the lab, and the three-dimensionally projected galaxy which served as a navigational map for the ship. It was nearly twice the size of the CIC of the original Normandy, and the rest of the ship was built on the same scale.

They made their way down the lift and through the engineering deck which housed the Tantalus drive core. The engine, which made an impressive display, took up most of the deck. It was a massive sphere covered in coolant tubes and containment fields. Visual distortions, almost like mist, played along the sphere's surface due to the extremely high concentration of Eezo.

The middle deck held the crew quarters, with sleeping pods so necessary to save space, the mess, Miranda's personal office, and the medical bay. Everything one would need to keep a crew going through hostile territory.

They even gave her private quarters. On her own deck. She was still a little taken aback by the idea. Even as XO on the last Normandy she hadn't had her own room. She had been with the crew, sharing their sleeping pods, aware of everything that was happening on the ship. Now it felt like she was being isolated even before they started.

They finished the tour back in the CIC.

Jacob smiled, excited to finally be getting underway. "Welcome aboard the new Normandy, Commander." Miranda, probably feeling above the obvious excitement on Jacob's face, was all business. "I recommend you finish your business on the Citadel quickly, Commander. We have a lot of work to do. If you have any questions, feel free to ask EDI."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Commander." Shepard looked around, surprised by the feminine voice coming from nowhere. The voice was synthesized... artificial. "Who are you?"

A holographic display jumped to life, creating a blue sphere placed on top of a blue pillar. A vertical volume indicator spread across the sphere and spiked horizontally as the voice spoke, forming a sort of mouth.

"I am the Normandy's artificial intelligence. The crew refer to me as EDI."

Her first thought was of Joker, even before her mind flitted back over all the stories of AI's going insane and trying to kill everyone they could reach. And all the AI's that had tried to kill her, in particular. "An AI… is running… the ship?" She asked in exasperation. "Then why did you have to drag joker into this?"

The computer's voice replied drily. "I do not helm the ship. Mr. Moreau's talents will not go to waste. During combat I operate the electronic warfare and cyberwarfare suites. Beyond that I cannot interface with the ship's systems. I observe and offer analysis and advice. Nothing more."

The computer disabled the interface panel, effectively running off to sulk. Great. With Cerberus' track record, it would no doubt try to kill them all in their sleep at some point in this mad quest. She sighed and turned her attention back to Miranda and Jacob, both of whom were trying to gauge her reaction beyond her surface-level exasperation. She had long, long practice in showing exactly what she wanted to, however. They'd rebuilt her bit by bit, but they still didn't know her. It was reassuring in an odd way.

Still, they were obviously waiting for something. They'd shown her around enough that there was a good chance she'd only get lost a couple of times, but she still didn't really know the ship or the crew, just as they didn't know her. A ship, just like a person, may be more than the sum of its parts, but you got to know it by looking at one part at a time, figuring it out, and then grasping the whole. It was how she'd gotten by on the streets, how she'd gotten by in the military, and she sure wasn't going to abandon it now. So not introducing her to any of the crew was a little irritating. Best to start with the obvious.

"I'm guessing it takes more than just the three of us plus Joker to fly this ship." Miranda didn't pick up on the jibe. Or maybe ignored it to spite her.

"The Normandy has a full crew. They're at their stations awaiting your orders."

They were all rescued from an awkward pause by Joker, coming in over the intercom.

"Final preparations for takeoff are complete Commander. When you're ready to go just pick a destination from the galaxy map in the CIC and I'll plot a course."

At last they finally gave up trying to get a reaction from her.

"Jacob and I should return to our posts. Come find us if you have any questions." With that they turned away and headed off to wherever they were going.

Finally, Shepard allowed herself to really relax. Or try to relax, at least. She leaned into one of the support columns along the bulkhead and took in the scene.

It was easy, what with the everyday occurrence of space travel, to get caught up in the hustle and bustle and miss the grandeur of the thing. It was something of a defense mechanism for her, she knew. If you could glamorize it, even just a little, it took the edge of the daily grind.

The CIC was jam-packed with expensive, powerful systems. Its main section was roughly composed of a half-circle, the flat bulkhead concealing the armory and lab, with a long and thin walkway at the tip of the rounded edge leading up to the open cockpit. All along each side of the CIC sat deep chairs, though only half were currently occupied. Within hands reach of the chairs orange holographic displays flared and gyrated wildly. This was the ships nerve center, its brain, which let it soar among the stars. All of it was beyond Shepard's understanding.

It was funny, in a way. She was an undisputed master of ground combat. She'd killed too many people, robots, or what have you, for any to disagree. Perhaps not the best, but a force to be reckoned with. Yet for all her years of fighting, for all her years in the Alliance and even aboard the first Normandy, she would be as helpless in the pilot's chair as Joker was in a fist fight.

Things hadn't gotten much better in the tech lab. She'd recognized a microscope, and a handful of other devices from the tidbits of science class she'd picked up on in high school, but she really had no idea what it did. Apparently nobody else, with the possible exception of Miranda, got it either, which was why it was vacant. A small comfort. She wasn't the only one out of her league on the ship.

While it may have been painfully beyond her ability to figure out, that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the beauty of it. The center of the CIC was filled with a massive, roughly triangular display console. Above it hovered a diagram of the ship itself, a lovingly rendered copy of the ship's smooth lines and impressive numbers. Well, Joker said they were impressive at any rate.

She tried not to let the stares of passing Cerberus crew throw her off her train of thought, but eventually one of the more persistent crew members broke through. The first thing she noticed was that the woman was bubbly. She was shorter than average, with short red hair carefully arranged. She looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Hi! I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers, and I've been assigned as your administrative assistant!" She seemed to catch herself and threw out a sharp salute. Shepard amended her opinion. She was beyond bubbly.

"I'll manage your messages and help you monitor the crew. And I must say, it's such an honor to work under you, Commander Shepard."

Shepard fought the urge to roll her eyes. The Illusive Man was really pulling out all the stops. For someone as used to the bargaining table as she was, it all seemed a bit heavy handed. She was already caught. There was no need to roll out the whole production—she already knew all the lines. First you abhor them, but can't quite get away. Then you tolerate them, as cheerful little people like Miss Chambers here made you feel welcome and important. Then, the very moment you embrace them, you get nailed with the heavy end of the hammer and used up for all you were worth. It might be transparent, she reminded herself, but that doesn't mean you have to take it out on the poor girl who got conned into this job.

"I'm glad to have you on the team Miss Chambers."

"Please, call me Kelly."

Alarm bells. Hero worship, a sad fact of life after all that attention from her part in the Skyllian Blitz, was all too familiar to her, and this didn't fit. There was always the desire to have some sort of personal relationship, of course, but there was always distraction at first. It could be small, especially from the more self-possessed ones, but it was always there, a stutter, or even just a small pause to grasp you've actually met whoever-you-happened-to-be-worshiping-at-the-moment. It was only at the end, when the encounter was about to end that it kicked in that this was your last chance. Then came out the request for autographs, or more annoyingly, com channels. This "Kelly" was going right in, no hesitation.

"Let's keep this professional, Yeoman." She had a sneaking suspicion about this one. "What are your responsibilities?"

If the girl was disappointed, she did a good job hiding it.

"I'll keep you notified of any messages or appointments you might have. If any of the crew has important business to discuss, I'll make sure you know."

And...

"Isn't that the type of task better suited for a VI? Or, you know, the Artificial Intelligence already installed on the ship?"

Miss Chambers smiled ruefully, and her tone calmed down to a more normal pitch. "Alright, you caught me. Yes, Edi could do that job, but that's just my official role. Unofficially, I observe the crew. Everyone knows how risky our mission is. Many of us may not be coming back. That's a lot of pressure. I have a degree in psychology. I'm good at sensing when people are overly taxed."

Well, to her credit she didn't dance around the issue. She knew what she was and what her job was. Maybe Shepard could make something positive come out of this. Certainly, knowing who the spy was made things easier. Or was she meant to be found, to cover another...? No, there was no point in getting that paranoid. The AI had cameras everywhere, there wasn't any need for that level of subterfuge. Time to put a positive spin on it, to smooth things over. And remember to be very, very careful around the lively little yeoman.

"You make sure the crew's mental health is sound?"

She gave Shepard a relieved grin at her gentle tone, and plowed on eagerly, bubbly overflowing once again.

"Yes, I look for warning signs. I listen. It's not a full-time job, and it's most effective when done informally."

'Informally' indeed.

"We're lucky to have someone of your skills aboard. Carry on."

…

Shepard fled, though she managed to keep it to a brisk walk. Maybe Miss Chambers could be tactfully avoided in the future... It was all too much, too fast. Which, of course, was the idea. She needed to center herself, to find something familiar, something to hold on to. That meant going to find the one person she actually knew. Well, that the old Shepard knew. They were bleeding together, and it was probably inevitable. Sometimes she was a new, totally unconnected Shepard, then in a flash she'd snap back and it would be almost like she'd never died. Almost.

Joker, too, was excited, if not exactly for the same reasons. She hoped.

"Can you believe it Commander! It's my baby, better than new! It fits me like a glove. And leather seats! Military may set the hardware standard, but on a first-gen frigate they could care less if the seats breathe. Civilian sector comfort by design."

The blue pillar of light, another EDI terminal, wouldn't be left out.

"Reproduction was not intended to be perfect, Mr. Moreau. Seamless improvements were made."

"Aaaand there's the downside. I liked the Normandy when she was beautiful and quiet. Now she's got this thing that I don't want to talk about. Like ship cancer."

She didn't smile. Really. Things were much too chaotic, too dangerous to be amused by his rant. Mostly.

"I don't trust them. We still need to move ahead, but it's all too convenient." And just like that, the light-hearted mood was gone. Way to go, Shepard.

"Maybe you're right." Joker looked put out, if only for a moment. "I guess it's hard to argue when they install an AI to spy on us. We're staying though, right? I mean, this seat is real leather!" You just couldn't keep Joker down.

"Good to see you're keeping it all in perspective, Joker." Her voice was lighter than it had been all day. Or since she was brought back to life.

"Uh, Leather!"

Ok, she may have smiled just a tiny bit that time. They set course for the citadel and Shepard walked back towards the lift.

There was a massive bed up there somewhere calling for her. If she was even close to as all-important as the Illusive Man wanted her to feel, then everything could wait until she had a nice, wonderfully long night's sleep. Or maybe two. She was owed what, two years backlogged sleep?

Her thoughts tumbled off incoherently as she made her way up to the captain's cabin.

…

In the cockpit Joker looked out at the stars. Shepard had started to smile when she turned away. He was sure of it! Or was he? It was just... seeing that blank look on her face as she turned away from talking to the Illusive Man... it had been devastating. It was like she was empty, gone, despite all of Cerberus' promises. And then she'd come to life again before his eyes. But why? It was the question which had haunted him all day long. Was it because she'd seen him? Or was it just because there was another person in the room, anyone else? Was it happiness at seeing him, or the mask she hid behind? It was a question he couldn't answer.

"Your efficiency has dropped significantly since your conversation with Commander Shepard, Mr. Moreau. What is wrong?"

Interrupting his thoughts again. Stupid AI.

"Nothing a computer would understand."

His joke had made her smile though, corny as it had been. It had made things better. It was a start at working off that debt he owed her. How many jokes, how many brighter moments equaled a life taken? The life she'd sacrificed to save his worthless ass? That thought threw him back into his analysis of evasion patterns with an enthusiasm even EDI couldn't complain about.

A/N: Freedom's Progress! An actual colony so we can see who we're fighting for! Hurrah!