So the navy tries to be pretty accommodating to people in the service with family, so Mom and Dad were always assigned to the same station when they were still together. Mom usually had some posting aboard ship, while Dad tended to be on a station assignment. That meant me and John actually saw Dad more often than Mom. Probably why Dad understood me so much better than Mom did. Once the divorce went through, I went with Dad and John went with Mom. Officially both had visitation rights with the kid that was in the other's custody, but that didn't mean much once the new transfer orders came in. Mom was rotated out to Eden Prime, while Dad and I headed to Sol. That was the only place equipped to do first stage integration for someone as young as me at the time.
Anyway, once we got to Earth, Dad bought us a place in Vancouver, his old hometown. At the time I wasn't really sure why he bothered, since I was in Geneva quite a bit as part of my integration and his official posting was at Luna, not anywhere on Earth. But looking back, we had a lot of fun times with that place. Whenever he had leave, he'd take me around the city and the surrounding countryside, or we'd spend time in the small workshop he had set up at home, or play games in the living room. So yeah, that house really was where I felt most at home, even if we weren't always there. And it still is my home. Mine, not Mom or John's. I let them use it when they're on Earth, but they are guests in my house. Mine and Dad's.
-Evangeline Shepard, Mandatory Counseling Log 005
Chapter 5
Cum gladio et sale
The communications room aboard the Normandy SR2 had one thing going for it over the original, it had tables on which the attendees could put things on. Case in point, there was a scattering of tablets and partially drained cups atop them now as Shepard conferred with a select few members of her crew.
"Fifteen outposts and colonies hit so far, all far off the beaten path of regular patrols," Shepard remarked as she took a sip of coffee. "Total missing, a little over twelve thousand people. And so far the abductors haven't left even a single scrap of forensic evidence? That seems mildly impossible just from a probability standpoint."
"Impossible or not, these Collectors have done it," Miranda said. "None of the locations hit held any traces of the attackers. All databanks were scrubbed, some sort of ionizing pulse charge was used to sterilize the sites of any biological residue, and no one ever managed to get out a mayday."
"So at minimum the Collectors seem able to neutralize any colonists before they can raise an alarm or try to flee," Shepard said. "We have to assume they could do the same to anyone that tries to intervene during the abduction."
"Not something I'd want to walk into unprepared, ma'am," Jacob Taylor, the only other member of Shepard's squad that possessed formal military service experience, said.
"Me neither," Shepard agreed. "But until we actually can see what exactly the Collectors are doing, there's not much we can do in terms of countermeasure development." The colonel glanced over at Miranda. "Not much we can do in that department without a proper specialist, for that matter."
"We've made some progress in finding candidates for the role," Miranda responded without missing a beat. "There is a salarian specialist that we believe to be especially suited to the role, and which can probably be convinced to work under you. The issue right now is finding him, as he seems to have left salarian space for the Terminus Systems."
The colonel shrugged. "We'll make do in the meantime, but if the Collectors are using those cruisers of theirs for these abductions, it's not like we could stop them with just the Normandy anyway."
Despite their best efforts, Cord-Hislop had not managed to come up with anything to serve as an equalizer offensively for the frigate. That was not terribly surprising, considering the enemy cruiser by virtue of its much greater mass simply had more area to work with for mounting weapons. On the other hand, if the upgrades to the stealth system panned out, they might at least be able to sneak some scans while the Collectors went about their business. That would implicitly leave the colonists to their nonexistent mercies, but there were times when one had to make a choice between saving the few now or saving countless many later.
"Based on the number of colonies and outposts hit so far, we should have enough data points to come up with a basic heuristic to see what other potential targets are," Shepard noted. "Right, EDI?"
"That is correct, Colonel," the AI responded. "At present however there are over five hundred sixty-two candidate targets, spread across some twenty thousand lightyears."
Due to the way settlements clustered around mass relays, the actual amount of colonized space within those twenty thousand lightyears was of much smaller volume than the numbers implied. Even so, it still took time to traverse such distances, meaning it was down to chance and luck whether the Normandy would happen to be in the neighborhood if or when a Collector ship dropped by. There was also the issue of none of the previous settlements managing to get out a call for help, so the Normandy would need to rely on other means to figure out if someplace was under attack. Ironically, the complete communications blackout that the Collectors seemed able to achieve actually served as a pretty good indicator of what was happening, assuming one knew to look for it. There was always the chance they'd waste time investigating false positives, some colony losing communications because of an accident or stellar phenomenon instead of an attack, but that was the nature of their current search. No stone could be left unturned, lest they miss a genuine chance at the Collectors.
As Shepard glanced through the list of potential targets, her eyebrow arched upwards.
"EDI, some of these colonies are pretty large," she said. "Large enough to even host their own self-defense forces. As far as I know though, the Collectors haven't hit any settlements that big."
"While those settlements are currently in a lower probability tier, they do share certain characteristics with those previously attacked," EDI explained. "Principally, all of them are beyond official imperial borders and are nominally if not outright completely independent worlds."
"That is true," Shepard murmured.
"In addition, there is a definite upward trajectory in the sizes of settlements being attacked," the AI continued. "According to the current projections, assuming the trend does not plateau outright, the Collectors will likely start hitting medium sized colonies within the next few months."
Shepard's eyes narrowed at that bit. If what EDI predicated came to pass, that would start putting the number of abductees from the tens of thousands easily into the hundreds of thousands.
"But why," the colonel murmured. "Why bother going after human colonies like this in the first place?"
"The Collectors are reputed to be masters at biotechnology," Miranda said. "If that is indeed the case, it is likely they are abducting humans for experimentation purposes."
Jacob scowled at that, while Shepard's own expression remained more contemplative.
"We're missing something here," the colonel stated. "The Collectors tended to be more specific in their previous depredations, at least if the rumors are to be believed. They've never attempted such wholesale abductions."
"Does it matter why they're doing it?" Jacob asked. "We've got to stop them either way."
"That's a given," Shepard said. "But stopping the abductions does not necessarily equal stopping whatever the Collectors are trying to do."
That drew curious looks from the other two.
"Do you suspect something, Colonel?" Miranda asked.
Shepard finished draining her cup and set it aside. "The Collectors are supposedly masters of biotechnology. At minimum then we should be able to assume whatever the Empire can do in terms of bioengineering, they can as well, and probably also do it better too. If all they needed was human tissue for some experiment, it would arguably be faster and easier for them to just clone or print whatever tissues they need."
"Huh, never thought of it that way," Jacob commented.
"They obviously want live humans, possibly a wide genetic sampling as well," Miranda however was quick to try and draw some conclusions nonetheless.
"Live humans," Shepard pursed her lips. "Or live human minds?"
To that the others looked at Shepard quizzically again.
"What do you mean, Colonel?" Miranda asked.
"The Reapers are a synthetic race," Shepard stated, "while the Collectors are supposed masters of biotechnology. If the Collectors are indeed in league with the Reapers, what then is the one thing that for all their biotechnology, they can't easily replicate that might be of interest to a synthetic intelligence? Surely not our flesh and blood, synthetics have no need for biological inputs. But what about our minds?"
To that Jacob and Miranda found they had nothing to say in response. Instead the two felt a slight chill run down their spines.
"Well, that's still just idle speculation though," Shepard said, flashing a wry smirk. "Could just be a figment of my overactive imagination."
Jacob let out a nervous chuckle, while Miranda tried to feign thoughtful consideration. Still, now that the idea had been planted, neither found it at all easy to set the haunting notion aside.
Shepard regarded the thermal clip in her hand with a flat, neutral expression. "I'm mildly surprised the entire galaxy was able to agree to a standardized form factor so quickly."
"Well, when all the bean counters realized what it meant that we now needed to ship basic ammo everywhere, there was a whole lotta incentive to try to make it as cheap as possible," Jacob said.
The two were standing in the Normandy's armory, Shepard having come down to do some maintenance on her own gear and finding Jacob doing much the same. Cerberus had gone above and beyond in trying to make the ground team was kitted out with the very best available, which meant pretty much everything stocked in the armory were either new or updated variants of weapons designed to use the new disposable thermal clips for heat dissipation instead of the older built-in venting heatsinks.
The thermal clip concept had actually been inspired by geth weapons recovered during the hunt for Saren, examination of which revealed they were what allowed for the much greater rate of fire those guns demonstrated. The various galactic powers were quick to adopt this practice themselves, but it had still taken a bit of time to redesign existing guns and put together the manufacturing base to actually produce thermal clips in volume. Of course, considering how new the mechanisms were, there were plenty of kinks that were still being worked out.
"Can't say I like having to hump ammo around," Jacob said, "but if it's between that or being a sitting duck waiting for my gun to cool off, I can deal with it."
"Just make sure you make your shots count," Shepard said as she slotted the clip back into the container. "Otherwise it won't matter how much ammo you're hauling, especially with that gun."
"What, this?" Jacob said, looking down at the shotgun he was working on. "You think I can't nail headshots with this, ma'am?"
Shepard gave a snort. "I've used the Crusader before, and it has good stopping power, but if you're fighting close quarters, I'd take a Scimitar or even a Katana instead."
"Fair enough," Jacob agreed. "But if I need to deal with someone up close, I can just pull out the pistol. This baby here's for stopping them at arm's length. It'll even blow through light cover to do it, too."
"You don't say," Shepard drawled, even as she kept her eyes fixed on the rifle laid out in front of her.
Jacob gave a wry chuckle. "Well, us mere mortals without unlimited budgets do need to know when to settle."
Shepard returned the chuckle, then lifted the very hefty, in more than one way, rifle. The former marine lieutenant could not help but whistle in admiration.
"Think this is the first I've seen a Saber, ma'am," Jacob said. "At least outside of a vid."
"Had to special requisition this one from the Cadre armory," Shepard said. "Somehow I doubt even Cerberus would have been able to come up with one before our departure date."
The M-99 Saber was arguably one of the finest rifles produced by the Terran Empire, able to blow through kinetic barriers and armor with contemptuous ease. They were also ludicrously expensive, since the barrel, receiver, and a few other crucial components needed to be milled to very tight tolerances out of an extremely hard alloy to provide the necessary strength to withstand the gun's own firepower. That took time and specialized equipment to do, and not even the Imperial Cadre had a big enough budget to make them standard issue for its troops.
"So we got just the one, huh?" Jacob said almost wistfully.
Shepard's grin widened. "And if you're a good boy, I'll even let you shoot off a few rounds at the range one day."
"Well, considering how much it weighs, probably not the best idea for me to try using it in the field."
The colonel glanced over at Jacob. Even discharged, the former marine hardly looked out of shape. Considering Jacob's serious demeanor, what she saw probably was what there was and Jacob had maintained his physical fitness at peak levels. His reluctance to carry the M-99 in the field therefore had nothing to do with whether he was strong enough to do so, it was probably due to that peculiar quirk where a biotic's mass directly correlated to the amount of energy needed for them to exercise their powers.
"If you really are worried about weight, shouldn't you go for a lighter shotgun as well?" Shepard asked. "The Crusader is definitely on the heavier end of the spectrum."
"That's why I don't bother with a rifle," Jacob said. "Besides, this gun's seen me through a lotta shit, pardon the language ma'am, and it wouldn't feel right going out with something else."
"Fair enough," Shepard said, then chuckled again. "You know, the armory sergeants gave me merry hell for the fact that I managed to lose something like two rifles and two pistols over the course of hunting Saren. They warned me that if I lost any more guns, they'd take it out of my pay."
"Ouch," Jacob said, glancing over at some of the other pieces hanging on the wall.
The M-99 was not the only weapon Shepard had personally brought aboard. Alongside her trusty Carnifex, or rather her third trusty Carnifex, was a M-77 Typhoon, an assault rifle that seriously stretched the spirit of the classification. The only reason the light machinegun was not classified as an out and out heavy weapon was that it was still capable of using standard thermal clips instead of requiring specialized power cells. Shepard was however probably the only person on the squad that could actually carry and use the M-77 in the field thanks to her augments. That was probably just as well, seeing as they only had the one just like with the Saber.
If there was any commonality between the weapons Shepard had chosen to bring with her, besides their relative expense, it was that all were geared towards packing as much stopping power as possible into each shot. During the hunt for Saren, the colonel had run into far too many situations where her supposed primary weapon lacked the firepower necessary to put down an opponent, forcing her to fall back on her pistol. While the Carnifex fulfilled the very definition of a hand cannon, it did not have the range or the magazine to be employed in such a manner. One would hope with either the Saber of the Typhoon, Shepard would not find herself so lacking in the future. Of course, the tradeoff for that kind of firepower was a curtailment of her rate of file, but that Shepard expected to be easier to make up than just flat out being unable to penetrate an enemy's defenses.
"We'll have to see how well any of this works after the first deployment," Shepard said. "It really doesn't matter what the paper specs are, what really counts is how well they do in the field against an actual enemy." The colonel flashed a grin. "And how well they stand up to being manhandled by infantry."
Jacob gave a hearty chuckle. "True that, ma'am. But we are supposed to be officers, so one'd think we can be trusted with keeping a gun working."
"I don't know," Shepard said. "You were a lieutenant, Jacob, and I've heard tell that lieutenants can be trusted with either a gun or ammo, not both."
The laughter this time was much louder.
Due to being a synchronizer, Shepard could function on much less sleep than regular humans. On the flip side, thanks to her augments, she had a much higher calorie intake requirement than regular humans. As such it was not at all out of the ordinary to find the colonel munching on something at seemingly random hours. While Shepard was content, which was distinct from outright happy or satisfied, to subsist on ration packs should the mess staff not be awake to warm up something more palatable, one Rupert Gardner seemed determined that should the colonel want something to eat, he would be there to cook up something approximating real food. Some concessions had to be made due to space considerations on a mere frigate, after all.
"Here you go, ma'am," the balding man said as he set a tray of steaming food before Shepard.
"Thank you, Sergeant," Shepard said with a warm smile. "Mmm, looks like you've been putting the new provisions to good use."
While most of the preparations for the Normandy's departure were completed without much fuss or muss, it was only after the frigate had left port that they discovered someone upstream in Cord-Hislop's logistics division had bobbled the food requisition and sent the ship a food shipment predominantly filled with K-grade nutrient packs instead of a more appropriately proportioned selection. Seeing as K-grades were supposed to be emergency last resort rations, they were edible as far as the legal definition went, but that was it. And while Rupert could hardly claim to be some master chef, even were he one there was not much the mess sergeant could have done to salvage meals for the first week of the Normandy's cruise.
By the time the frigate pulled into a station, Shepard was pretty certain Miranda had seen to whomever was responsible for this screwup getting pink slipped for having subjected them, and the special projects directory herself in particular, to this travesty. The colonel herself was too busy supervising the delivery of actual, real food and making damn sure what they got was exactly what was on the requisition this time around to see to that little bit of bureaucratic reprisal. As starts to a journey went, it was hardly auspicious, but after the entire crew was treated to the most expensive restaurant at the station, the threat of out and out mutiny was at least past.
"Could hardly do any worse," Rupert said with a smirk. "Though maybe if I had another week, I coulda come up with something the crew wasn't choking down."
"Another week and Kenneth might have overloaded the driver core out of desperation," Shepard joked.
"That Scottish brat?" Rupert said. "Surprised he could tell the difference, considering his taste for haggis."
"Now, now, Sergeant," Shepard chided playfully. "It might taste like ass, but apparently there's such a thing as fine ass."
Rupert snorted. "Only fine ass I've ever seen is one still attached to a classy dame. Umm, no offense intended, Colonel."
This time it was Shepard's turn to snort. "None taken, Sergeant. If you can't appreciate the finer things in life, you probably aren't living to begin with."
That elicited a wider grin from the sergeant, and then a yawn overpowered his restraint.
"Now I know your shift actually ended a couple of hours ago, Sergeant," Shepard remarked. "You really don't need to be staying up late just for the sake of my midnight snack runs."
"Nah, ain't no problem, Colonel," Rupert waved it off. "Sides, this ain't some sorta pleasure cruise. We all gotta pull our weight."
Shepard took a sip of the accompanying coffee. "This is arguably the first time you've served aboard a ship instead of just being a passenger, I believe?"
Rupert nodded. "Used to work eezo rigs back, well, back in the day. Spent plenty of time aboard shuttles and work tugs, but those were small things. Hell, the Normandy might as well be a cruise liner for all the space it has. And something that that could even pass for a kitchen!"
"Well, if we were a cruiser or a dreadnaught, there would be an actual kitchen onboard," Shepard remarked. "Though can't say what they put out is actually any better than what I'm having now."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment, Colonel?" Rupert said playfully.
"I'll leave that to your imagination."
The two shared a chuckle before Rupert yawned again.
"Suppose you're right though," the mess sergeant said. "I really should turn in, now that you're all set up."
"And you have my thanks, Sergeant," Shepard said, raising her mug in a toast. "Just try to make sure you're not too tired to feed the rest of the crew. They might get a bit grouchy with me if they think I'm the one keeping them from getting a good meal."
Rupert rubbed the back of his neck. "I ain't that old yet, Colonel. Sides, it's the least I can do, especially for someone that got stuck in all the time against those damn pirates and slavers."
As with all the other Normandy crew, Shepard had received a detailed dossier on the mess sergeant. From it, she knew that Rupert's general xenophobia had always been with the man, even if it had been greatly magnified after he lost his entire family to a pirate raid on the colony they lived at. Conversely, Rupert was capable of an almost extreme level of dedication and out and out loyalty to those that he considered family and friends. Case in point, his almost vigil-like attendance to Shepard's nightly meals. And despite the snarky back and forth with other crewmembers about his cooking, there was a reason no one ever left a bite unfinished, even during the K-ration fiasco.
"Night, Rupert," Shepard said.
"Night, Colonel," the mess sergeant said, leaving Shepard to enjoy her meal in peace.
Even as the colonel munched away, her mind continued working as she interacted with EDI and dealt with some of the built-up minutiae associated with commanding a ship. Basic logistics seemed to have settled down after their last top-off, and now she only had to worry about the more lethal requisitions in the pipeline. While the Normandy had a good stock of small arms and even a few heavy weapons, they still had no word on when their ground support vehicle would be ready for pickup. That was becoming more than a bit annoying, seeing as without a better understanding of how the Collectors were overwhelming colonies without so much as any evident resistance, the environmentally sealed interior of an AFV might well be crucial to investigating the abductions.
"Oh, hello Colonel."
Whatever surprise Kelly might have felt upon catching sight of Shepard was not reciprocated, seeing as the colonel had noticed her approach the moment the woman exited the elevator.
"Ms. Chambers," Shepard greeted in between mouthfuls.
"Ah, on another one of your midnight snack raids," Kelly said with a smile. "I was just going to get a bite myself before turning in."
"I see," Shepard said simply.
While Shepard was not intentionally trying to be on guard against Kelly, there was also no real point pretending much commonality with the other woman. Kelly was civilian through and through, having never even fired a weapon before stepping aboard the Normandy. That only changed after Shepard insisted all members of the crew be proper qualified, regardless of how bad a shot anyone thought they were or actually was. While the colonel hardly expected the crew to be performing boarding actions or riding to the rescue of the ground team, it would be rather stupid if in the absolute worst case they couldn't even put up a token resistance of the need arose.
And because she had been the one to order them, Shepard personally oversaw a few of the training sessions to get the crew up to speed on small arms. While the colonel was nowhere as much of a hard ass as the corps' drill sergeants were, she was still less than tolerant of anyone giving anything less than their all. No one coasted through her sessions, and everyone kept at it until they met minimum standards for qualification. Namely, actually hitting the target they were aiming at and not just by accident.
Achieving qualification had come more easily for some than others. Rupert actually qualified on his first try, the long years working on the frontier having instilled within him the necessary discipline to buckle down and persevere. Kelly on the other hand still had trouble with a firearm. Holding one and actively trying to hit something actually seemed to be one of the few things that could perturb the otherwise cheerful woman. It was an anxiety that Shepard could not comprehend, even if intellectually the colonel knew it to be possible. Indeed, the short time they had so far spent together aboard the Normandy seemed only to accentuate their differences.
"There's still no sign of any abnormalities in the status pings."
Case in point, Kelly had a tendency to chitchat regardless of the situation.
"I suppose that is good, since it means no other colonies have been hit by the Collectors," she continued even as she worked to heat up some food. "I know we need the Collectors to do something in order to track them, but I can't help but think about all the people that'll be sacrificed in the process."
The yeoman was being earnest there, she was not trying to display some bleeding heart to warm up to Shepard. That much the colonel could appreciate.
"I suppose then that talking about it like this is a coping mechanism for you?" Shepard not so much asked as stated.
"In the broadest sense, yes," Kelly responded without missing a beat. "The distress I feel is certainly strong enough that I need some way to deal with it, lest I get stuck in an emotional negative feedback loop. But talking about it with you specifically isn't to hear any platitudes from you. You're not the type to bother with them, after all."
Shepard raised an eyebrow. "So why bring it up then?"
"A few reasons," Kelly began. "The first is, unlikely as it may be, in the case you yourself wanted to talk about it. Your reputation places you as a highly competent soldier, but one that cares deeply about both combatants and noncombatants in your theater of command."
To that Shepard snorted. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment, so long as you don't forget I'm a marine, not a soldier."
"Ah, yes," Kelly said with a playful smile. "This isn't the first time I've heard of the distinction, but it's not something I've internalized like those in the service. I'll be sure to keep it in mind for the future."
"You do that," Shepard said with a shrug.
"Anyway," Kelly continued. "The second reason is, by talking to you about it from a purely civilian perspective, instead of a military or tactical one that Miranda or Jacob would provide, you might be able to see the problem from a different angle. And while this might just be some wishful thinking on my part, perhaps that different angle might spark some inspiration on your part to find some way to save all those people, even while achieving the main mission."
To that Shepard regarded Kelly with a blank expression. "What if bringing it up like this just ends up reminding me of how helpless I am to help them, and gets me stuck in my own negative feedback loop?"
"Based on your profile, and my own personal impression, I'm not sure that would even be possible, Colonel," Kelly stated.
The eyebrow rose again. "Oh?"
"As part of my duties as ship yeoman, I provide psychiatric counseling and support for the crew," Kelly stated. "That also includes yourself, Colonel, and I've done my homework so that I have at least a basic understanding of your psychiatric background. While there certainly exists topics and situations that will cause you, disquiet, nothing has yet appeared that actually gives you pause, mentally speaking that is. The current situation with the colonies? Severe as it may seem, you've faced challenges far greater without faltering. Whatever concern or anxiety you may feel, you already know how to channel those emotions into necessary action instead of letting them feed back upon themselves."
Shepard chewed a bit on the spoon in her mouth as she considered Kelly's words. The other woman was clearly well-versed in her profession, and probably better at it than a good percentage of her fellow practitioners. But the earnestness of Kelly's words, there was something else behind them as well that Shepard's enhanced senses were picking up.
"You sound like you admire that part about me quite a bit," Shepard said after popping the spoon out.
"Oh, I suppose I did gush a bit there," Kelly said, the faintest hints of a blush coloring her cheeks. "It's just that, we all heard what you did during the Battle of the Citadel, Colonel. And everything before that too. If anyone has claim to being the savior of the galaxy, it'd probably be you."
Shepard shrugged. "I won't deny I'm good at my job, but the galaxy is only saved when the Reapers are all dead, and killing kilometer-long dreadnaughts is a bit beyond any one person."
"Maybe so," Kelly said with a smile, "but it's still good to have you on our side, Colonel."
Shepard tilted her head. "And which side would that be, Yeoman?"
Before Kelly could respond, a beep sounded alerting them that EDI had a message.
"Colonel, we've picked up a distress signal on a quarian channel, originating from the Freedom's Progress colony."
Pieces of information clicked into place as Shepard reflexively queried for background. Freedom's Progress was a mining colony on the fringes of imperial space, with a population just barely over a thousand. It was also a formal imperial colony, meaning it recognized the authority of His Majesty's Government and paid taxes in exchange for all the duties and privileges of being imperial subjects. That represented a major escalation, as all previous raids had been on colonies outside the Empire's formal control, assuming this was a Collector attack in the first place.
"A quarian distress signal?" Shepard said quizzically, shifting focus to the other pertinent detail. "From a human colony?"
"Many quarians have been entering terran space on pilgrimages since the Battle of the Citadel," EDI stated. "Freedom's Progress could be hosting such pilgrims."
"What've we got then?" Shepard moved on even as she continued eating.
"Queries to the colony's data net have gone unanswered, and indeed there has been a distinct lack of communication pings for the last two hours."
Kelly inhaled sharply while Shepard's eyes narrowed. That certainly increased the probability of it being a Collector attack. The colonel considered other bits of information filtering into her head. Freedom's Progress might have been a relatively small colony, but it was prosperous enough to be able to afford a sizeable contingent of combat mechs. Assuming someone managed to activate them, that might explain how the colony held out long enough to get that call out. Of course, if those mechs were still active when Shepard and her team arrived, they might become a hindrance instead of an asset. For that problem to occur however they would first need to get to Freedom's Progress."
"Best time to the colony?"
"Four hours."
Shepard nodded. "Set course and pulse an update to our minders. Rouse Miranda and Jacob, I want the ground team suited up and ready an hour out. Go to general quarters immediately upon entering the system."
"Relaying orders," EDI said.
The colonel remained seated at the table though and continued working through her meal. There was still plenty of time after all. With every mouthful she took however, there was an intensity behind Shepard's gaze, even as she stared otherwise blankly before her. Perhaps that was why she did not notice the way Kelly continued regarding her as she ate, with a look that belayed more than just professional interest.
"Well what do we have here," Shepard remarked from her command station.
The colonel was already changed into her armor and had even taken the time to stow her weapons in the shuttle so they were ready and waiting instead of needing to make a hop over to the armory. With the softsuits the rest of the crew was in as part of general quarters, Shepard did not look quite as out of place in her own suit as she regarded the main projector.
A single contact was marked in orbit of the colony world, with a secondary magnified image showing a closeup. It was a small ship, a frigate not much larger than the old Normandy, which of course meant the new Normandy handily outmassed it. The design was not human, being a ring with tail extrusions sticking out its back. Shepard had never seen these types before, at least not in person. She did however recognize them from archival footage and intelligence briefs.
"EDI, identify."
"IFF matches that of a Migrant Fleet frigate," the AI responded. "It is possible they are also here in response to the distress call."
If that were the case, then they were less liable to be hostile to the Normandy's presence, once they realized they were not alone.
"Drop stealth and open a channel," Shepard ordered.
"Dropping steath," EDI confirmed, "channel open."
After giving the quarian ship a few moments to register the sudden appearance of her ship, Shepard began.
"This is Lieutenant-Colonel Evangeline Shepard of the Imperial Cadre. Quarian frigate, identify and state your purpose for entering imperial space."
Several seconds passed without a response, not a terrible surprise since the quarians probably were still trying to process everything that was happening. When one finally came, the monitor on Shepard's console lit up to show a typically helmeted quarian. A familiar helmeted quarian at that.
"Shepard, is that really you!?"
The woman in question raised an eyebrow. "Tali? Well, well, quite the small galaxy we seem to be in."
"I'll say," Tali said. "It's good to see you, M-no, Lieutenant-Colonel now, right? I only wish it were under better circumstances."
"I take it you're here in response to the distress call as well?" Shepard got right down to business.
The quarian nodded. "Yes."
"So there really are quarians down there?" Shepard inquired further.
"Just the one," Tali answered. "Veetor, he's on his pilgrimage right now, and found work at Freedom's Progress. A lot of my people have done the same across human colonies as of late."
"Following in your footsteps?" Shepard said with a slight smile.
"Something like that," Tali said. "Apparently my helping you hunt Saren helped bolster humanity's opinion of my people, so we're seeing a bit more acceptance on human worlds. That's made it easier for pilgrims to find jobs, places to live, and also made human colonies more willing to trade with the Migrant Fleet. In fact we were on our way back from a trade mission when we picked up the distress call."
The colonel nodded. "I see. And have you managed to figure anything out yet?"
Tali shook her head. "Nothing much. No one is answering hails down there, though our sensors are picking up a few energy signatures. We were about to send down a search team when your ship suddenly, well, appeared. I take it your current ship is also equipped with a stealth system."
"You presume correctly," Shepard responded. "My team and I will join you groundside. Freedom's Progress is still an imperial colony, so formal jurisdiction falls to any present imperial authorities."
While Tali's face was not visible so there was no expression for others to read, the way she hesitated made clear the quarian was feeling a certain reluctance, even wariness regarding Shepard's declaration.
"Umm, Shepard," she began rather gingerly. "Your ship, its IFF isn't naval."
"The Normandy SR2 is a prototype currently undergoing builder's trials," Shepard explained. "As captain of the previous Normandy, I was requested to oversee the trials, of which I'm doing while on leave from the service. Even while on leave however, I am obliged by my oath to act in the defense of my fellow citizens."
There was another pause, as if Tali was trying to find the right words to say.
"And that builder would be, Cord-Hislop?"
Shepard raised an eyebrow and cast a sideways glance over at Miranda, whom was standing below the station and outside the camera's pickup. If even the quarians were able to see through Cord-Hislop as some sort of front organization, Cerberus had become way sloppier than was acceptable. All well and good that the organization was prepared to go to extreme lengths to achieve its goals, but if they could not contain the fallout, then Cerberus was not fit for purpose and was not worth the effort of even the token protection the Empire offered. That call was however well above her paygrade, and could be made another day.
"Cord-Hislop is one of the navy's primary builders," Shepard said instead, "and put together the original Normandy as well. The terms of my contract with them for the trials are however quite clear, I hold operational command over the ship and her crew."
"I see," Tali said, sounding not exactly relieved but at least a little bit less wary. "Then we'll see you groundside, Colonel. Espectus clear."
The channel closed and Shepard stepped down from the station, with Miranda falling in right beside.
"Was it wise to allow the quarians to deploy a team before we've had a chance to sweep the colony?" she asked.
"Seeing as the quarians aren't going to agree to sit this out without a direct threat to fire on them, the relative wisdom seems rather moot," Shepard stated bluntly.
Miranda's brow furrowed, but she did not argue the point the colonel raised.
"What assurances then do we have that their presence will not unduly interfere with our own investigation?"
That was not the same as having no point of her own to argue.
"None whatsoever," Shepard responded flippantly as the elevator doors closed.
"Colonel," Miranda said reprovingly.
"I find it odd that someone as experienced with fieldwork as yourself would go looking for assurances like that," Shepard said simply.
Miranda's jaw tightened ever so slightly. "While it may be impossible to account for all possibilities in a mission, a good operator knows it pays significant dividends to limit as much as possible the variability before going on."
"I agree," Shepard said, surprising Miranda for a moment. "Which is why Cerberus shouldn't have done whatever it was it did to put the quarians on guard even against its Cord-Hislop cover." The colonel regarded Miranda flatly. "To be frank, I doubt I'm the only one that'll feel aggrieved if all the effort that was put into fostering diplomatic ties with the quarians was suddenly wasted because your organization botched an op and got exposed."
A flicker of irritation flashed through Miranda's eyes. "If you are so lacking in confidence, Colonel, then why bother even accepting Cerberus' offer?"
"Well it certainly gives me a front row seat to assessing the competency of the organization as a whole," Shepard said. "And any fires that I end up needing to put out as we go alone will serve as additional datapoints for the final conclusion I'll be drawing."
The elevator came to a halt and the door opened, but Shepard was not quite done yet. Indeed she now directly faced Miranda and looked the other woman straight in the eye.
"I am well aware that Cerberus is trying to figure out the best way in which to entice me to sign on more permanently with your organization," the colonel stated. "I am also aware there is an ongoing assessment as to whether the risks outweigh the projected benefits. But that goes both ways, Ms. Lawson, and there is a very open question as to whether Cerberus is a worthwhile enough asset that warrants the Empire continue to turn a blind eye towards. So consider your organization to be on notice. If in the course of our hunt for the Collectors, it turns out that Cerberus' reputation so precedes it that association becomes an outright hindrance to achieving our mission, the balance of value versus risk will tilt accordingly, that I promise."
End of Chapter 5
A word of advice to certain readers. The stories I write do not seek to provide validation for your own beliefs or preconceptions, nor are they intended to help fulfill whatever personal fantasies you might hold. If these are the sort of things you want to the point of emotionally craving them, know that I will inevitably do something that will set you off, and I am utterly unapologetic about doing so. And since I am entirely apathetic to the fulfillment of your emotional needs, ask yourself whether it would be more productive and healthier for you to expend your time and energy elsewhere than to get worked up about a piece of fiction.
Anyway, as the opening snippet indicates, the house mentioned all the way back in chapter one of the previous part actually belongs to Shepard herself, it is her name and hers alone that is on the deed. Hannah once made the mistake of suggesting Shepard sell the place after Victor died. That may not be the gravest sin Shepard considers her mother to have committed against her, but it ranks pretty high up there, and is one reason why Hannah is very, very respectful when she does drop by and make use of the house. After all, as Shepard makes quite clear, her mother is a guest in her house, and is expected to conduct herself accordingly.
Shepard is being rather overly blunt with Miranda, but that is partially right now the two still haven't established a smooth working relationship. While Miranda is a perfectly competent executive officer, she is still not quite used to not being the one in charge and keeps challenging Shepard's decisions, even if implicitly. And Miranda is so used to being right that whenever Shepard does make a decision that she disagrees with, she instinctively doesn't like it. So we have two headstrong women butting heads basically, and it'll take a few missions before the two see enough of each other's competency to reach any sort of understanding.
While work has been very busy of late, arguably my bigger problem has been a pretty severe case of writer's block. I have several major points in the story mapped out, but the padding in between I'm having a lot of trouble coming up with. Part of it is I'm still trying to work out what secondary plotlines do I want to interleave with the main story. The narrative worked as well as it did in my previous stories because every scene had a purpose, even if the payoff might be a dozen chapters later. I'm slowly getting there, but it's been a real slog as I basically map out the entire chain of events in my head.
That the Andromeda Initiative left without so much as a single proper warship has always strained belief. Even if it was a purely civilian venture, experience with their own galaxy should have indicated to the planners that some military muscle would be necessary, since even in the most secure regions there remains threats of piracy and the like. So, yes, my version of the AI will indeed be carrying a few proper warships with them, probably just up gunned frigates, but it won't be because it's being relied on more openly as a backup against the Reaper invasion. They'll be taking warships with them because of just plain common sense.