March 1, 2185CE

"You've seen the extranet footage of course."

"Yes sir."

The Citadel. Councilor Anderson's office. With Humanity now ascendent, a prize bought with blood and sacrifice against the rogue Spectre Saren, the Council had recognized them as a galactic power and had granted Humanity a seat. A seat heavily influenced by Shepard; her meeting with the Council years ago to express their gratitude had ended in her nomination of Anderson for Councilor, a nomination that had been accepted by the rest of the Alliance and had become fact.

"What about the STG footage?"

"Reviewed it last night."

For two years now Anderson had muddled his way through galactic politics, doing an admirable job in Jorge's opinion. It was a thankless task, dealing with politicians day in and day out. Jorge was more than happy to leave it to him. Unfortunately though, sometimes he got dragged into the mess. Anderson was both familiar with his classified background and had commanded him, for however briefly. That meant that, because humanity had yet to find another SPECTRE candidate (or perhaps the Council was stalling on that front. It was far above his pay grade either way), when a dirty operation requiring humanity's best came up, Jorge was the man Anderson requested.

Like now.

"And your opinion?"

Shepard was back. Maybe. Hopefully. The news that Shepard had been sighted had sent a shockwave through Alliance Command, and through the Council as well. She had, after all, been thought to have gone down with the Normandy. She hadn't made it to the escape pod, her last transmission had had her venting air at a rapid pace, and her projected trajectory took her into re-entry onto the planet below in nothing more than her combat hardsuit. One that, unlike his Mjolnir, was not even remotely designed for such conditions. Her body hadn't been recovered, and she had been assumed KIA.

Now she was back, walking, talking, and kicking ass in the lawless Terminus Systems. There were, unfortunately, a few problems with this.

First, she was officially KIA. It was not common to come back from the dead. Jorge was less troubled by this than some other people; he had seen other friends come 'back from the dead' before. Spartans had a habit of overcoming the odds even when they were thought missing or dead. That Shepard had done it… well, it was still unusual even by his standards, but not unbelievable.

As for the second, well…

Jorge sighed.

"It seems like her, Counselor," he stated. "The way she walks. Her stance. The way she talks. But…"

"The biotics."

There it was. The elephant in the room. Shepard had been a career soldier, utilizing weapons to their greatest potential; she had neither been a biotic, nor had she been overly skilled with an omni tool. The footage from Omega, however, revealed that Shepard, or whoever it was, had picked up something new. Biotics, specifically. The footage from the STG had included combat footage obtained from hacked cameras, and it showed multiple instances of Shepard using biotic abilities to great effect. Including a type of biotic charge that was absolutely murderous when followed up with a shotgun blast, as she appeared to have taken to doing. The Alliance had classified her as a 'Soldier'; now, her classification would be 'Vanguard'.

"And Cerberus," Jorge added.

The third issue, and Jorge's biggest concern, bigger than her newfound biotics even. Her companions cemented the intel Jorge had acquired a year earlier, that Cerberus was behind the resurrection. The first was a woman, Miranda Lawson, a known operative, a clear Cerberus logo visible on her skin tight- well, Jorge was very hesitant to call such a lack of protection an armored suit, but apparently it was for her. The second was a man with dark skin; Jacob Taylor, formerly of the Alliance Corsairs, known to have joined Cerberus sometime after Shepard's death. He too wore a Cerberus logo on his skin tight armored suit, his biotics used as his primary means of defense.

"You've seen the reports," Jorge continued. "Cerberus front companies have made big progress over the last decade in implants, and what STG intel we have access to says Cerberus is keeping the best advances to themselves. Last report was they had successfully used brain implants to control the actions of mice, and that was a year ago. We can't risk Shepard being controlled by that organization. Or, they've also made great strides in clones…"

"Yes," Anderson nodded. "I've seen all the concerns. But I'm not asking for what others think, I'm asking what you think. Do you believe that is Commander Shepard?"

Jorge contemplated that question for several long seconds.

"I believe," he said slowly, contemplatively. "No. I want to believe that it is her. But I cannot be sure."

It was Anderson's turn to sigh. And nod. Contemplative silence lasted for nearly a minute.

"I appreciate you giving her a chance to prove herself," Anderson finally broke the silence. He paced back around his desk, hands behind his back. "Half the Alliance brass thinks she's a Cerberus trick or ruse to lend legitimacy to their organization. Most of the intelligence branches of the other races have said as much as well. But I mentored Shepard; I know her. And I see my former student in every one of these videos. Despite the biotics, despite the Cerberus backers, I believe she's the real deal. Our Shepard, back from the dead."

He stopped his pacing, looking up at Jorge.

"It's going to be up to you to prove it, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

The briefing from Admiral Hackett had happened before Jorge had even stepped onto the Citadel. Mindful of the earlier recruitment attempt by Cerberus, Jorge was being offered up as an Alliance inside man to join her squad. It would be his job to once again be a part of Shepard's squad, under her command; and would be his job to report back to the Alliance on the legitimacy of Shepard's resurrection.

Well, that and assisting in the suicide mission against the Collectors, of course. Missions described as 'suicide' demanded the best, and for the Alliance, that meant him. He was perhaps one of the only ones who both knew Shepard and had a good chance of returning alive from a 'suicide' mission. Even if Shepard wasn't really Shepard, so long as colonies stopped disappearing, the Alliance would count it as a net win.

And so it was that Cerberus would be getting their hands on him after all.

"I set up a meeting with Shepard at 1500 hours. The Council wants to see her too, though they refuse to meet in person," Anderson told him.

It was a smart move for them. They got political deniability if it went sideways, and Anderson himself was taking a large risk meeting Shepard in person, given that she was working with a known human supremacist terrorist group. If she wasn't what Anderson believed, what he wanted to believe, she could do a lot of damage even just with Anderson in the room.

"I'll ping your omni tool once we're done talking with the Council," Anderson continued. "After that, we'll introduce you and your mission, and hope that she takes our offer."

Jorge nodded. Anderson dismissed him with a nod of his own before turning to his desk.

-[]-

With half an hour to burn, Jorge stepped towards the nearest observation window, ignored the annoying advertisements that had become an unfortunate part of scenery on the Citadel ("Greetings, Kadar! Are you satisfied with your hair? Do you look in the mirror and stress over those grey and white hairs you see? Well, worry no more! Speak to this advertisement to get a fifty percent discount on Just for Men (™) hair products that will make those grey hairs a thing of the past!"), put some smooth jazz on through an omni flash-set of earbuds, and settled down to both observe the view of the station interior and contemplate.

He was going into the lion's den. They'd shut down several Cerberus operations during his first stint with Shepard, and that had only been the tip of the iceberg. For every operation shut down, every Cerberus facility the Alliance Special Forces, or Turian Blackwatch, or even the Spectres, shut down, two more took its place. Cloning, AI research, hormone control, cybernetics, gene enhancements…the list went on. Jorge had been on a few himself. He had no doubt he hadn't endeared himself to Cerberus during that time.

But, there was a trump card they had with this effort. Cerberus had tried to recruit Jorge before. Even if he was a known spy for the Alliance, his combat effectiveness had only increased in this universe, as he adapted to the weaponry and practices and tactics. If Shepard was going on a suicide mission, as was rumored, they would need the best, and there was no doubt that he was the best Alliance soldier in this universe.

Jorge let his mind drift over the mission brief and the view out the observation windows, ignoring the humans and aliens milling about around him, until his music was interrupted by a buzz.

Time to meet the revenant.

He was only a minute or so of walk away, so it was no time at all before the door to Anderson's office opened, revealing humanity's councillor and the alleged dead Alliance N7 SPECTRE, Shepard.

Both turned to look at him, and Jorge saw a momentary surprise on Shepard's face, one that quickly turned to a smile that reached her eyes. Jorge let himself give a faint grin back. He wasn't lying when he had told Anderson he believed that this was Shepard, and for now, he intended to give her the benefit of the doubt. And truly, it was good to see her again, as one of the finest commanders he had ever served under, a woman who had earned his respect.

"The Alliance has one more gift for you, if you accept it," Anderson said, his own eyes sparkling as Jorge approached. "We heard you think this is a suicide mission. That you intend to take on the Collectors. We also heard you were recruiting. Jorge practically couldn't volunteer fast enough to be the man the Alliance sends with you."

Shepard appeared overwhelmed and grateful for a second, before a suspicious look came over her.

"I thought you said the Alliance and the Council couldn't officially condone my association with Cerberus," Shepard replied, brows knit.

"And we still officially can't. One reason why Jorge had to volunteer. And why he's officially being placed on leave for the duration. But there's more to it. I won't lie to you Shepard; Jorge, if you choose to take him onto your crew, would function as an assessor. It would be his job to report back to the Alliance on your physical and mental condition, and assess whether or not you are the 'real' Commander Shepard."

There was bitter understanding in Shepard's face at that.

"Heaven forbid they take anything I say at face value," she muttered. "Reapers, Vigil, that I really am Commander Shepard… I could tell them and the Council what they're having for dinner, as they're having it, and they still wouldn't believe me."

Jorge grunted, but also frowned. He could not recall Shepard being quite so jaded in her views. Or at least not expressing it.

Hmm.

"We believe you, Shepard," Anderson was quick to say. "But with your new biotics, and the injuries that you were supposed to have suffered re-entering Alchera in nothing more than an airless combat hard suit, not everyone is so willing to believe. This is an opportunity for you to prove to the Alliance, and the Council, that you are indeed alive again, and that you can be trusted."

Shepard hesitated a moment, mulling things over no doubt. Then she held out a hand to Jorge. A hand he quickly took.

"Welcome back to the Normandy, Jorge," she said.

"Good to be back on the team, Commander," he said. "I'll get my armor and everything else I need and meet you on the ship."

-[]-

It took an hour and a half to get everything ready. Unlike last time, there was no Alliance-issue combat suit; there was, and would only be, Mjolnir. It had taken some interesting bureaucratic legalese and a sign off from Hackett in order for him to wear his own armor while 'officially' on holiday. He had also 'borrowed' his M26 modified HMG that he had taken on missions the last few months, again allowed officially only due to bureaucratic obfuscation, trickery, and some very high level names.

He was also wearing it. Mjolnir, despite two years of wear and tear and study, was still a scientific prize beyond imagination. The technologies it offered gave the Alliance hope for high power portable fusion reactors, true energy shielding, advanced ablatives and heat distributing materials, and synthetic nanoweave suits capable of enhancing strength far beyond what was possible today, to name a few. Every time his armor was taken apart for study, something new was learned from it. Oh, progress was slow, to be sure; his fusion reactor, for example, had sparked a new miniaturization craze among power source technologies, but after two years they were still only accomplishing prototype projects twice the size of a room with the amount of power his armor could provide. But every time his armor went in, he saw their progress, the progress made possible by his armor, getting closer.

And now he was taking that great scientific fruit and literally walking into the company of a terrorist group. He had no illusions that there were people that would kill to study his armor, and that this particular group may well be the top of the list. He had no intention of letting them take it from him. And the best way to ensure they didn't get the chance was to wear it.

It was going to be a long mission.

So it was that he arrived at the berth of the new Normandy, a crate of necessary armor repair tools dangling from one arm, machine gun mag locked to his back, and his helmet under the other.

It was beautiful, he decided. It had all the graceful lines of the first, despite being double or maybe even triple the size of the original Normandy. A dart in space, as opposed to the blocky gun-like ships of the UNSC. Grace versus strength, elegance versus practicality.

Shame they had to marr the side with the Cerberus symbol.

The airlock opened as he approached, revealing a chocolate skinned man in a Cerberus skin-tight combat suit. Jacob Taylor.

"Lieutenant Kadar, welcome to the Normandy. Shepard arrived a few minutes ago, once you're on board we'll get under way."

Jorge grunted and entered the airlock with the man. Immediately he noticed differences between this ship and its predecessor; he didn't have to duck getting through the outer doorway. The decontamination cycle also didn't run, so as soon as the outer door closed, the inner door opened.

"Shepard wanted to see you in the comms room when you got aboard, this way," Jacob said, stepping into the ship and turning right.

Jorge followed and immediately appreciated the size of the new ship. Now he could actually walk down the central aisle without crowding people… well, not too much. And the cockpit was much more spacious than before, though there was only one seat for the pilot, no-

Jorge did a double take as he recognized the man in the pilot seat, who had turned around in interest.

"Joker?!"

"Jorge?!" the pilot replied with equal surprise.

"The hell are you doing here?!" Jorge asked, taking a few steps forward, his mind racing. Joker was Alliance, why would he… when did he…

Surprise was quickly turning to anger, and he had no doubt that Joker recognized his thunderous expression because the pilot gulped and shrank back a bit.

"Uhh... "

Jorge couldn't claim to have stayed in contact with everyone from the original Normandy, but he had tried to maintain relationships with Williams, Joker, and Chakwas. Joker had been rather bitter in his last few messages before suddenly becoming much more cheerful, then dropping out of contact. He had never said why. Suddenly things were making more sense as to why that had happened.

"Lieutenant Kadar?" Jacob asked. "Is there a problem?"

Jorge frowned. Apparently the intel dossier on this mission was less complete than he had thought. Joker made himself small in his seat.

"We'll. Talk. Later," Jorge said firmly to Joker, making it clear there was little room for discussion. Then he turned and headed down the neck of the ship, nearly running Jacob over before the man started moving again.

Not a good start to the mission. He could feel the frown upon his face, and decided not to school it out.

The door to the comm room opened to reveal a large conference table, a small holographic orange model of the Normandy floating above it. Jorge had a clear view of Shepard in casual uniform and Miranda Lawson, in her skin-tight catsuit armor, arms crossed, standing next to her.

"Seen quite a few vids of you in action, Lieutenant," Jacob said, moving to lean against the side of the table. "We're looking forward to having you on the team. The firepower you can bring is really going to even the odds."

"There will need to be rules regarding communications with the Alliance," Miranda started. "First, all communications will need to be routed through Cerberus-"

"No," Jorge said, frown still on his face. Miranda looked a bit startled, but quickly recovered.

"We can't have unsecured sources of communication-"

"No." Jorge denied again.

"All right, all right, settle down everyone," Shepard placated. "Miranda, get me a list of the rules and I'll approve them. Jorge, as much as I want the Alliance on my side we need Cerberus resources for now, and that means playing nice."

"There's only so much playing nice I can do, Commander," Jorge replied. He dropped the bag of tools, the weighty thud belying just how heavy it was, and leaned onto the table. He looked directly at Miranda for the next statement. "Anyone tries to take my armor, or bug it, or install programs on my omni, or anything else that could be considered subterfuge, I will kill them. This is your only warning."

Miranda sneered and maintained eye contact, neither willing to back down.

"I'd take that threat seriously, Miranda," Shepard said, breaking the visual duel. Jorge straightened out of the slouch he had been in while Miranda stepped back, her face contorted into a frown herself now.

"I would appreciate interviews with Miranda and Jacob, at their convenience. And yourself, of course," Jorge said more formally, his face finally out of its frown.

"If it means the possibility of Alliance resources, I am more than willing to cooperate. Miranda, Jacob, you will cooperate as well," Shepard said.

Jacob saluted, a clear acknowledgement of the order. Miranda turned a calculating set of eyes to Shepard, no doubt wondering how much slack was in this order, but Shepard had no sympathy or mercy.

"Yes, Shepard," she sighed after a moment.

"Thank you, Commander. Is there somewhere I can set my things down?"

A ball of blue light replaced the Normandy hologram.

"Design specifications indicate that you will be unable to use standard quarters due to the weight and space limits on standard bedding. The starboard cargo bay would be best to provide area for extra large bedding with sufficient space to store the necessary tools you have brought with you," a synthesized voice intoned over the room speakers.

Jorge raised an eyebrow, no longer annoyed. It had been a long time since a computer had addressed him such a way….

"AI?" was all he asked.

"Jorge, meet the Enhanced Defense Intelligence, EDI for short," Shepard introduced.

Interesting.

Jorge nodded his head. "Thank you EDI. Give me an hour to get settled in, Commander, and I'll be at your disposal."