April 02, 2185
"Wake up..."
When Sam Shepard came to, everything around him was dark. He could see nothing, and feel nothing but a cold, sterile surface underneath him. Far away, he thought he heard a woman's voice.
Her words were muffled, distant, as if he was trapped underwater and she was calling to him from above the surface. Then she spoke again, louder and clearer this time.
"Wake up, Commander."
Sam's eyes creaked open. He regretted it instantly as a blinding white light encompassed his vision. His eyes ached, and soon Sam realized much of the rest of his body was in pain as well. Like one of many hangovers he could remember from days past, before his new mission.
The mission…
The Normandy!
As memories came flooding back to him, Sam bolted upright and blinked furiously, trying to gain his bearings. The last thing he could remember was flying into space, watching his beloved ship the Normandy erupt into flaming wreckage.
Now, he was no longer in space. He was in fact sitting in a sterile laboratory, pristine and maintained to an almost perfectionist degree. Lying on top of a hospital bed, Sam was dressed not in an armored suit but a basic patient's outfit.
Over what he assumed was an intercom, the mysterious woman's voice rang out again.
"Shepard, do you hear me?"
"I…" Sam started, before clutching his throat. It even hurt to speak.
"I hear you."
"Then get off that bed now. This facility is under attack."
Sam felt a sting of fresh pain across his cheeks and rubbed a hand across them. He felt coarse stubble, and a layer of sweat, then something else. Rough markings on the right side of his face, like scratches that had not yet healed.
"Your reconstruction isn't totally complete," the woman stated severely, "but I need you to keep moving. We are under attack."
"Yeah. You said that already."
Sam made no attempt to hide his confusion and irritation.
"Now where exactly are we? Who are you? And what the hell do you mean reconstruction?"
A frustrated sigh echoed across the intercom.
"Just get a move on. There's a pistol and armor in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"
There was a low rumble, which shook the lab around Sam. He caught a glimpse of something outside a nearby window. It was hard to tell what it was, as the lights outside were flickering on and off. But it looked like it was on fire.
"Shit."
Sam dashed to the locker his overseer pointed out, opening it. Inside was a suit of N7 armor and a heavy pistol. He pulled the weapon out before setting off to the side, knowing whatever danger was outside was best faced when armored up.
Though as he took hold of the armor, he noticed something different about it. The textures of the N7 armor were more layered, more segmented than he remembered. Its build was more complex.
Shrugging this off he strapped on the suit. An omni-tool blinked to life on his left arm, and Sam felt his body react to a personal shield generator. His biotics activated, adding to the barrier that shimmered around him. A small cartridge of medi-gel was also strapped to his gauntlet, to be used at any time.
Now, he was ready for action.
Or at least he though so, until picking up the pistol and examining it closely.
"Uh, Miss? This doesn't have a thermal clip."
He gritted his teeth. Thermal clips. In the days following the battle of the Citadel, the Alliance and other races underwent a significant overhaul in the development of weapons and ships to combat the geth and other dangers.
He never quite got used to the change.
"It's a med bay, Shepard. We'll get you a clip from…
Oh, damn it!"
Another tremor shook the med bay, and the woman cursed as two gas canisters were ruptured.
"They're going to blow…"
"Yeah," Sam shouted, "I see them!"
He ducked for cover, and just in time as the canisters exploded and blew open the door ahead.
"Right. I guess that might be of some benefit to us. Get a move on and see if you can find a thermal clip for your pistol. Someone's hacked our security systems, trying to kill you. Expect a group of hostile mechs ahead."
Sam did as the woman said. Until he knew what was going on, what new disaster he had landed in this time, there was no time for argument. He marched on ahead through the smoldering wreck that used to be a door, shrugging off the heat of the flames as they licked at his shields.
Upon rounding a corner, he spotted a half-opened locker. Inside was a package of thermal clips.
"Okay," he called out, "Got ahold of some ammo. Any sign of those mechs?"
"Just a minute." Sam's helper paused. Most likely scanning a security camera.
"On the far side of the next room, three just walked in. Keep your guard up, Shepard."
Sam raised his gun, while also making sure to check his omni-tool. The device appeared just freshly rolled out, responding immediately as he pulled it up. A modification for the pistol's ammunition flashed by, and Sam gave an appreciative nod.
Incendiary.
"Yes, please."
With a wave of his hand and a light click on the pistol's safety, the thermal clip was tuned to fire high heat rounds at whatever came Sam's way. The gun was an M-3 Predator. Standard issue, not as effective as the more specialized models. But with the modification installed, it would be enough.
He moved on ahead, keeping the gun raised at eye level.
Sure enough, three security mechs were inbound. Upon spotting him they opened fire, and he ducked for cover behind a pillar. His shields flickered as one shot passed over his right arm, but he remained unhurt. When the machines' rate of fire slowed, he whirled about.
With two well-placed headshots, two of the mechs were down. The third continued towards him, not minding when another shot ripped through its shoulder and took off its entire left arm.
"Shepard, be careful. These things just got a recent upgrade, they'll keep fighting as long as they're able."
Sam's lips curled into a sneer.
"Noted."
He lowered the pistol, instead raising his left hand. Dark energy flowed out from his outstretched fingers, focusing into a concussive blast that shredded the mech's upper body. What was left of the robot collapsed lifelessly to the ground, and Sam emerged from cover.
Over the intercom the woman noted, "At least we know your biotics haven't lost their edge. Well done. Now keep moving, you should be running into one of my associates soon."
She was barely even finished with her sentence when Sam heard gunfire in the next hallway.
"I think I just did," he replied.
Dashing into the hall Sam trained his gun on another swarm of mechs. Six in number, with one missing an arm and another crawling on the ground minus one leg. Firing on them was a man shrouded in a biotic barrier.
He was lightly armored, with a hair of closely trimmed hair. It appeared the man had been forced through the thick of the chaos unfolding on this station, as there was a cut across his cheek dripping blood down his swarthy complexion.
Sam found cover next to the man, landing a shot on the head mech. The man turned to him, his eyes widening.
"Commander Shepard!"
A bullet whizzed by, leaving a hole in the wall mere inches from the man's head. He bared his teeth, unloading on the mech responsible. Together, he and Sam quickly fell in sync as they dispatched their attackers. Before long the hall was quiet, save the muffled sounds of explosions far beyond.
"Thought you were still a work in progress, Shepard," the man said, rising to his feet. "Didn't expect to see you up so soon."
He shot a warm smile and continued. "Glad I was wrong."
"Glad I could be of help," Sam answered. "But I'm not here for pleasantries. I've got no idea where I am, or how I got here. That lady on the comms wasn't exactly in the mood to fill me in. And my head still feels like an overripe melon ready to burst.
Mind filling me in a little, before something else goes wrong?"
The stranger nodded understandingly. "Yeah. Forgot all this was new to you. Sorry about that. My name's Jacob. Jacob Taylor. I've been stationed here for two years as part of Miranda's project; reviving you."
Sam looked above them, wondering if his unseen helper was listening in.
"Miranda. I'm assuming that's the woman who helped me out of bed."
Then his eyes narrowed. "While we're at it… reviving?"
Jacob Taylor rubbed the back of his head, his posture turning uncomfortable.
"Guess there isn't any way to break this to you gently, so I'll get right to it. Two years ago, you probably remember your ship being attacked. Much of the crew was killed, and the Normandy was destroyed…"
He paused.
"You were killed, Commander. Dead as dead can be when they found you, and brought you here."
Sam's heart dropped.
Every inch of his body turned numb, and almost lost his footing before bracing himself against a pillar. He blinked at Jacob dumbly, wondering if he really heard him right.
Dead. No, that had to be wrong. There had to be some mistake. Sam could remember the attack on the Normandy, evacuating the crew and going back for Joker. He was there in the cockpit, with his brother by his side.
Then…
A horrific realization crept up on the commander. He wracked his brain, trying to think of what happened next. But there was nothing. Nothing after the Normandy's CIC exploded, and he activated a last-minute escape for both his pilot and superior officer.
There was no escape for him.
"God…" He felt his legs turning to jelly again and leaned against the wall a second time.
"Two years?"
"Two years," Jacob repeated. "The Alliance declared you killed in action. As far as the whole galaxy is concerned, you're still dead."
Another blast echoed throughout the station. Louder this time.
"If we don't join Miranda at the escape shuttles, they'll be right."
With great care, he nudged Sam in the direction from which the mechs had come. "Come on. I was just in touch with Wilson. He's a medical officer. Not exactly built for combat, but he's smart enough to make it out of this. We'll meet up with him and get to the shuttles."
Sam followed, though his pace was a tad slower now. He could still scarcely process what Jacob was telling him.
He had so many questions. And he did not even know when to start.
Finally he asked, "What about the rest of the crew, and my squad? Did they make it?"
"Most of them," Jacob replied over his shoulder. "A few servicemen from the lower decks weren't so lucky. Navigator Charles Pressly was killed early on when the CIC lost power."
Noting Sam's pained expression he added, "I'm sorry."
Pressly. Neither Shepard had much patience for the man's xenophobic, shortsighted behavior at the start of their mission. But with every squadmate that joined, every assignment completed, he grew wiser. More understanding. By the time of the attack, Pressly was ready to lay down his life for any of the Normandy's crew, human or otherwise.
"Although… The crew survived but didn't stay together for long." Jacob's tone grew rueful. Defeated.
"I'll spare you the details until we're off this station. But suffice to say, the band's broken up."
The pair reached what looked like a warehouse. Crates of ammunition, medical supplies and weapons were laid out or stacked on top of one another, making the room a virtual maze. Forcing himself to ignore the deluge of shocking news from Jacob, Sam took up a defensive position behind one tall crate.
He heard something on the other side and signaled Jacob to halt.
The other biotic did so, putting up another barrier.
"Whoever's there," he barked, "identify yourself."
"Relax, Taylor." From the other side of the crate came a pained, disgruntled moan.
"It's me."
Jacob's eyes rolled, and he reached around for the source. He pulled out a bald, lean man with a makeshift bandage on his right leg.
"Wilson. Glad you made it. I've brought Shepard with me, and we're ready to get the hell out of here."
Wilson the medical officer's eyes darted towards Sam, and he gasped.
"Shepard? You're… you're up already."
Something in Wilson's manner brought back some faded image, what he thought was a memory. Or perhaps some dream.
"I remember you." Sam peered at Wilson, piecing together his voice and his thin face.
"You were there, above my hospital bed. Were you part of this project?"
Wilson chuckled. "Everyone was a part of this project, Shepard. Project Lazarus, Miranda called it. The station, the security which is currently trying to kill us. All of this was built to bring you back."
Jacob checked the warehouse exit for any hostiles, then returned to his companions.
"Wilson, do you know what the hell's going on?"
The other man shrugged. "Of course not. One minute I'm trying to catch some damn shut eye, the next a mech is banging on my door ready to blow my face off."
"Whoever did this had the security clearance to hack into all our mechs. This is an inside job. Somebody must have really wanted you dead, Shepard."
Sam gave Jacob a dead stare.
"Story of my life, now, I guess."
Wilson moved to leave the warehouse, then winced, cut off by what looked like a laceration just above the knee.
"Either of you guys got some medi-gel? Don't think I'll be going anywhere without it."
Sam nodded. "Sure thing. Just give me a moment."
His omni-tool blinked to life, and he carefully administered it until Wilson was upright again.
"Thanks," the officer said with a smile. "Never expected you'd be the one saving my life. Guess that makes us even now."
Sam regarded him and Jacob with a puzzled look.
"And why's that?"
Jacob shared a glance with Wilson. They both appeared unsettled. Worried of what Sam might do if they said anything more.
"Okay…" Jacob took a deep sigh. "Things are probably going to get tense again before we make it out. If I tell you who we work for, Shepard, will you trust us?"
Sam pondered the question. Jacob had given him no reason to doubt him thus far. What was the problem now?
Then, as if on cue, Jacob turned slightly. His change in posture gave Sam a look at a peculiar insignia on his shoulder. Sharp, angular, colored black and orange.
Sam's eyes narrowed as he beheld the logo. Something told him he had seen this mark before.
"Jacob," Wilson muttered, "This really isn't the time."
"We're not making it out alive if he's expecting a shot in the back."
Wilson crossed his arms defiantly. "If you want to piss off our bosses, Jacob, fine. It's your ass."
Losing his patience Sam demanded, "What boss? Who are you people?"
Jacob drew himself up to his full height, taking a step backward. His posture grew wary, almost defensive.
"The Lazarus Project. The program that rebuilt you…
It's funded and controlled by Cerberus."
For the second time that day Sam's heart felt like it stopped in his chest, and shock started to set in.
But this time, it quickly gave way to something else.
Rage.
His hands tightening around the grip of his pistol, Sam advanced on Jacob. His eyes flared almost white hot from the intensity of his biotics, and he raised the weapon until it was pointed between Jacob's eyes.
"Cerberus?"
Wilson looked like he was ready to make a run for it.
"Shit. I warned you, Jacob."
Jacob pointed at Wilson, glowering at the man. "Don't even think about it."
"He wouldn't make it very far," Sam growled. "I know exactly what kind of people you work for, Jacob. If that's even your name."
"It is," Jacob insisted, "and you don't have the whole story yet."
"I know enough!"
Sam's finger danced over the trigger. "Cerberus are a splinter group of fanatics who've been running illegal tests and raids for years."
"That's all the Alliance wants people to think." Jacob maintained eye contact with Sam.
"But I promise there's more to it than that."
"Yeah, I know," Sam growled before adding, "A lot more. One of those tests involved a pack of thresher maws attacking a team of Alliance marines."
His biotics continued to cascade around him like flames.
"Guess who one of those marines was? But then, if you and your friend Miranda know so much about me, I'm sure I don't even have to ask."
"You're angry. I get it." Jacob was clearly trying his best to keep his cool. A difficult thing to do with a gun pointed at one's face.
"But one Cerberus cell's actions don't reflect on our entire organization, Commander. And besides, the Alliance declared you dead. Gave up on keeping your crew together or going to find you. Cerberus just spent the past two years, and a whole fortune, to bring you back.
Look, I'd be suspicious if I was in your shoes. But right now, we're your best shot of getting off this station. I was willing to tell you the truth, that counts for something doesn't it?"
"I don't care what you did for me, or what you say. I'm not working with terrorists. Once we make it out, I'm leaving."
Sam pushed his way past Jacob into the next area of the station.
Behind him, he could tell Jacob and Willson were in no mood to provoke him. The soldier asked his colleague, "Is Miranda at the shuttles?"
"Don't know," Wilson said halfheartedly. "I was in contact with her just before I called you. She was cut off. Probably dead by now."
Jacob snorted. "I don't believe it for a second. Miranda's handled tougher scraps than this."
"Then where the hell is she?"
Wilson's words grew hurried, nervous. "You said this was an inside job, right? If Miranda's not dead, and she hasn't gotten back to us yet, she could be a traitor."
"I don't believe that either."
Sam felt like shooting back some snide remark at the two men. Cerberus were, by their very nature, traitors to the Alliance. Backstabbing and subterfuge were their nature, from everything he and Ben saw on their travels.
Suddenly, this whole disaster made perfect sense.
"Alright," Wilson said as they reached an elevator. On the wall next to it was a sign that read DOCKING STATION 2.
"We're almost out of here. It'll take just a second for me to unlock this, then we're home free."
Wilson's fingers danced over the elevator locked. His demeanor was frantic. Perhaps a little more frantic than necessary, Sam thought. It was true was it not? They were almost to safety.
"Got it. Through here, we'll be at…"
The elevator doors opened, and Wilson shot both Jacob and Sam an elated grin. But as he looked into the elevator, and the person inside it, the officer's face turned blank. His excitement at the group's imminent escape was replaced, in an instant, with terror.
Standing in the elevator was a pale dark-haired woman clad in a black and white suit. She was carrying a heavy pistol in one hand and readying a biotic warp field with the other.
"You?" Wilson's voiced cracked as the woman gave him a withering glare.
"But you were…"
Bang
A single shot rang out, and Wilson crumpled to the ground, a hole blown in his heart.
"Dead?"
The single word rang with icy contempt. The woman holstered her gun, then placed a hand on her hip before addressing the two surviving men with a self-assured smirk.
"Commander Shepard. Nice to see you up and running. I'm Miranda Lawson."
(A photograph of the Cerberus insignia)
"Two years after being declared killed in action, reports began to circulate that Commander Samuel Shepard was in fact alive.
What is now known is that the extremist group Cerberus conducted a secret operation on the outskirts of human space. Codenamed Project Lazarus, its sole purpose was the resurrection and recruitment of the young commander into their ranks in a fight against the hostile Collectors."
(Still shots of the Collectors on Freedom's Progress, and their abduction of human colonists)
Emily Wong
"Mutated survivors of the long-gone Prothean Empire, the Collectors conducted raids in which thousands of humans were captured and processed to create a new Reapers, as part of the invading force's so-called harvest."
Jacob Taylor
Gunnery chief
Former crewmember of the Normandy SR-2
"Cerberus was good at luring in people like us. People like Shepard, Miranda Lawson, me.
With things as bad as they were, and the Council refusing to take the Reaper threat seriously, it was all too easy for the Illusive Man to convince us his way was the only way. And getting the Shepards' help, well that was just the icing on the cake."
Emily Wong
"We did reach out to Miranda Lawson for a comment on the story, but she declined."
Jacob Taylor
"Doesn't surprise me. She's the more private type, always was.
And some Alliance brass are still giving her wary looks. Not just for her work at Cerberus, but other, personal stuff.
It's not fair. Not many of us really understood what we were enabling. And besides, if it weren't for Miranda, Sam Shepard wouldn't be here now."
(Surveillance footage of the station Omega, briefly quarantined following the Reaper war)
"For months, further rumors of the Shepards' activity circulated.
Various agents, both human and alien, were recruited as part of a strike against the Collectors and the rescue of the vulnerable human colonies.
But unlike the fight against Saren and Sovereign, the elder Shepard would not be placed in command."
Sam Shepard
"Once introductions were out of the way, Miranda and Jacob led me to another facility. One that wasn't on fire. Along the way they filled me in on the state of things.
When we reached our destination, they gave me a minute to assess things before meeting the boss. The Illusive Man."
Emily Wong
"And it was there you reconnected with the elder Shepard?"
Sam Shepard
"Yeah. Yeah, he was there. When Miranda told me Ben was working with her people, that he let them proceed with the Lazarus Project, a part of me didn't want to believe her.
Still didn't believe her, until I saw him with my own eyes.
It didn't take long to understand things weren't the same. And they probably never would be."
April 03, 2185
With a snap and hiss of oxygen and metal, the airlock to the Cerberus facility was secure. Miranda Lawson beckoned Sam to follow as the doors opened, leading into a bright lobby. Lining the wall was a row of clear windows, and in the corner was a work desk mounted with state-of-the-art computers.
Miranda sat at the desk without missing a beat, cracking her knuckles as she went to work.
Sam entered the lobby, taking in the scene around him. Every surface was impeccably polished, every piece of technology well-kept to extreme levels. It was almost sickening, really. Like whoever imagined this place went out of their way to force a strict, perfectionist feel on this place and everyone who worked here.
He had a good feeling who that was.
"Your run this place, too?"
Without looking up from the screen in front of her, Miranda answered, "Yes. How could you tell?"
Sam gave a mocking shrug. "Just a feeling."
Jacob, who was now standing by the nearest window and watching the stars, had to stifle a laugh. Even if Miranda was too wrapped up in her work to notice, Sam's obvious jab at her less than relaxed ethic was more than appreciated by her colleague.
"The Illusive Man is ready," Miranda stated curtly. "Best not to keep him waiting."
I'm sure.
Sam looked down the lobby, spotting an open stairway which led down to a dimly lit conference room. If there was any place a shadowy, unnamed outlaw conducted his business, that room was a safe bet. Sam made for the open door, wanting to get this meeting over with as soon as possible. His former crew, Captain Anderson, they all deserved to know he was still alive.
He walked into the conference room, expecting a table at the far end with some shadowy figure ready to speak to him. Instead, he saw nothing. No table or chairs to be found. No windows, or vidscreens on which to transmit a message. Instead, the room was completely empty save for a circle of lights on the floor.
Stepping into the circle, Sam waited for some secret door to open. Or for the platform on which he stood to lower into a hidden level of the Cerberus complex.
For a moment, nothing happened. Sam wondered if there was, as Garrus liked to put it, some random button that needed pushing.
Then, a flicker of orange light cascaded around the room. Underneath him, the circle pulsed brightly, and he saw the length of his whole body being scanned. Sam was quickly surrounded in an orange field that rose from the circle, and as he watched in wonder the room appeared to dematerialize.
Some kind of holographic interface, Sam thought. More advanced than any he could remember.
The display reformed into a solid image once more. Sam found himself standing on an observation deck overlooking a massive star. Judging by its faded, warped appearance and the fact that he was not immediately blinded, Sam guessed it was a supergiant late into its life cycle.
On the far side of the observation deck was a shadowy figure, lounging back in a chair flanked by two secure terminals. Sam's host was facing him, his features shrouded as the star's light shone in from behind him. He appeared to be dressed in a fine black and white suit and was drawing a long puff from a cigarette.
Though the man's face was obscured, Sam could make out his eyes. Two bright blue spots, appearing to almost glow as they regarding the commander.
"Commander Shepard. Welcome."
The man's voice was serene, almost gentle. Yet it carried an assurance Sam had only heard in the likes of soldiers like Captain Anderson, or Admiral Hackett. His words echoed across the deck, drawing Sam in. It was clear almost immediately who he was talking to.
"Illusive Man." Sam crossed his arms, bemused by the Cerberus leader's dramatic presentation and lavish office.
"Nice name. Come up with it yourself?"
"No," the Illusive Man said with a chuckle as he doused his cigarette. "Alliance intelligence caught on to a manifesto published by me not long after the battle of Shanxi. They condemned it, naturally, and referred to its source as an illusive man. The name stuck."
His eyes bored into Sam's.
"Since then, I've come a long way. As have you, Commander. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Sam scanned the room, cocking his head.
"Thought this would be face to face."
"A necessary precaution. Not unusual for people who know what you and I know."
The young soldier shook his head. The Illusive Man was already attempting to establish some sort of familiarity. Typical of charismatic, smooth-talking bastards who always had an ulterior motive.
"And what," Sam asked skeptically, "is it that you and I know? Cut to the chase, what do you want from me?"
The Illusive Man rose from his chair. He approached Sam with a confident gait, to speak with him directly. As he drew closer, Sam could make out more of his features, shrouded as they were. The leader of Cerberus was, of course, human. He appeared to be middle-aged, on the cusp of seniorhood. The man's hair was grey, silvery at the temples. His face was broad, powerful, a contrast to his softer voice.
When the Illusive Man was close enough to have Sam's undivided attention, he continued. "We're at war. No one wants to admit it, but humanity is under attack. While you've been sleeping, entire colonies have been disappearing. Human colonies. We believe it's someone working for your old friends the Reapers. Just as Saren and his geth aided Sovereign."
Sam thought about the attack on Eden Prime, and later the Citadel. The terror faced by the colonists, the sheer brutality with which Saren and his master attacked the Shepards' friends and allies. If the Illusive Man was telling the truth, it was about to happen again.
"Sovereign was trying to open a gateway for his kind, so they could harvest all organic life in the galaxy. If it's a few human colonies that are facing danger, how can we be sure it's the Reapers?"
The Illusive Man appeared to anticipate this question. "Humans have disappeared in the hundreds of thousands. I'd say that fits the definition of a "harvest." Of course, the Council and the Alliance haven't paid attention because the pattern of attack has been random. And targeted at the more remote locations."
His logic seemed sound.
"So why do you think the Reapers are targeting humanity now?"
"Perhaps you and your brother got their attention when you boys killed one of them."
"If this is a threat against humanity," Sam stated bluntly, "then we need to mobilize the Alliance."
"Even if they were interested in taking action, they suffered substantial losses fighting Sovereign. The Alliance is focused on rebuilding. Expanding. They're stretched too thin to waste resources verifying the Reaper threat.
I'm afraid it's easier and more convenient for them to blame the abductions on pirates and mercenaries. And the Council… well, you worked with them for an extended period of time. You know how they handle crises like this."
It annoyed Sam how right the Illusive Man was. Sam, like his brother, was a loyal Alliance soldier. But if Jacob and his boss were to be believed, the Shepards' superiors and the organization they fought and bled for had taken no action to stop the coming harvest.
"Then let me guess. That's where you come in?
Fighting a war isn't quite your style."
The Illusive Man's blue eyes narrowed.
"What would you say is our style, Shepard?"
"Illegal experiments," Sam retorted. "Assassinations. Letting loose wild animals on Alliance troops and watching the bloodbath ensue."
Sighing, the Illusive Man took a step back. "I had a feeling this topic would arise sooner or later. What happened on Akuze was regrettable, Shepard. And completely unnecessary."
Sam glared at him.
"Is that it?"
"No. I didn't call you here if I was unwilling to be completely transparent with you.
The operation on Akuze was conducted by one of dozens of Cerberus cells. The goal of the study was to analyze the behavior of such vicious creatures. See how they reacted to hostile lifeforms and gauge the possibility of use in a bioweapons program.
I think it goes without saying the test grew out of control. The scientists present, led by one Doctor Wayne, allowed the thresher maws to attack you and your fellow marines. I understand they also took a prisoner, another survivor of the attack.
One Corporal Toombs."
Sam shrugged off the man's explanations.
"I know Toombs. I know he'd be more than just a little pissed off at me for just standing here, now. Talking to you. He'd wonder why I haven't done to all of you what Ben did to Wayne."
The Illusive Man's expression turned concerned.
"Yes. I understand your brother put a rather… decisive end to things."
"Then why shouldn't I?"
"Because the survival of our race is more important. To you, to me, to all of us. I consider myself a good judge of character. And yours, while rough around the edges judging by your history, is one of a man who is every bit as dedicated, every bit as capable as the former commander, Ben Shepard."
Sam's ears perked. "Former?"
The Illusive Man's eyes fell for a second, and his head shook subtly. "I'm guessing Miranda left out one detail, when she informed you that Ben was with us."
"I guess she did."
"I'm afraid your brother's relationship with both the Alliance and the Council has soured tremendously. That's all I feel comfortable telling you, you'll have to ask him to elaborate."
His warning gave Sam pause. Deciding to evade the issue for now, he returned to the present.
"If you had him, then why bring me back? You could have trained an entire army for what the Lazarus Project spent."
"You're unique, Shepard. Not just in ability or what you've experienced, but what you represent."
The flattery made Sam sick, and he almost gagged as the Illusive Man went on.
"Your brother was the hero of Elysium. He stood fast and led the charge against the Skyllian Blitz and was named the first human Spectre in the fight against Sovereign. But all the while, he had men like you backing him up. Your accomplishments on the battlefield are no less impressive than his.
You're symbols, the both of you. Not just soldiers. If there was any possibility of bringing you back to humanity, it was worth the cost."
"Back to humanity?" Sam peered at the Illusive Man in suspicion.
"Or just to Cerberus?"
"I won't pretend Cerberus have been paragons of virtue, Shepard." The Illusive Man re-lit his cigarette and took a long draw.
"But everything action we take is for the advancement of our race. And every mistake made by our members is swiftly corrected. Following the incident on Akuze, and the reports of Wayne's following experiments on men like Toombs, I was quick to shut it down.
My resources are now focused on the threat to our colonies. And helping you combat it."
Sam pondered his options.
"If the Reapers are involved with what's happening. I'd consider helping you. But I make no promises."
The Illusive Man welcomed his admission with an understanding smile. "I'd be disappointed if you accepted all this without seeing it for yourself."
He looked away, gazing at the star overlooking his base.
"I have a shuttle ready to take you to Freedom's Progress. The latest colony to be abducted. Miranda and Jacob will brief you on the way."
Sam feared as much. "Jacob's a gun for hire, and at the first sign of any treachery Miranda gunned down their colleague Wilson in cold blood. Am I really supposed to rely on them?"
"As valuable an agent as Wilson was, he was a traitor. Miranda did what was necessary, given the circumstances. And you'll find Jacob is a lot like you. An Alliance soldier drawn into something bigger."
The Illusive Man's unearthly eyes flickered back at him.
"Also, like you, he's been honest regarding his doubts. In Cerberus, in me. He's a good man, Shepard. If no one else, you can count on that."
He took a deep breath from his cigarette.
"Thousands of human lives are counting on you, Shepard. We have to find out what's happened to them. Who's abducted the colonists, and if they have any connection to the Reapers.
If you don't find the evidence we're looking for, you and I can part ways. And both you and your brother can try to start over."
Sam thought long and hard on this. Whatever he thought of Cerberus, they were offering to help him continue the work he and Ben were carrying out before the attack that killed him and splintered their crew. And as unethical as their actions were, Sam had no reason to believe they would abandon countless humans to the Reaper threat.
Cerberus were extremists. But the genocide of humanity was something they all hoped to avoid.
For now, the mission came first. Putting his pride and resentment aside, Sam gave a curt nod.
The Illusive Man returned the gesture and triggered a switch on his terminal. The comm channel between them was switched off, and the stunning scenery vanished. Sam was alone in the conference room again, standing in the circle as it shut down.
Freedom's Progress. Progress, the word was oddly appropriate.
Sam turned around and exited the room. He would speak to Jacob first, try to build some rapport. Jacob was decidedly more social than his colleague, starting with him made sense.
But as he passed through the door, he was stopped dead in his tracks. Two men were conversing outside the conference room. They appeared to be in a heated debate, not even noticing Sam's presence at first.
One was a tall, sharp dressed man with greying blonde hair. His eyes were piercing blue, and he was clutching a notepad under his right arm. Catching a glimpse of Sam, he closed his mouth and glared at him warily.
The other man was facing away from Sam. He was clad in heavy grey and black armor, carrying a full arsenal of weapons on his back. Noticing his colleague was distracted, he turned around.
Sam's breath caught in his throat.
It was Ben.
The elder Shepard's hair was untrimmed, the stubble on his face had grown into a rough beard, and there were dark circles under his eyes. But it was him.
He stared at Sam, wavering in place like he had just been struck. The Cerberus operative by his side looked back and forth between them before closing his datapad and hurrying out. Just like that, they were alone. Watching each other in dead silence, with the only sound being the light hum of the space station's systems at work.
"Sam."
Stammering to find something, anything to say, Sam watched Ben take a step closer to him. He was looking at Sam as if he was a mirage, blinking once or twice like he expected his little brother to just disappear when his eyes opened again.
"It's me," Sam managed to say at last.
Ben took a second step. Then a third, and soon they were standing almost face to face.
"Yeah…"
Ben's voice was hoarse as he reached out and gave Sam's shoulder a light shove. Again, as if to check if what he saw was even real.
Up close like this, Sam could get a better look at the state Ben was in. Miranda told him Ben was different. A little rough around the edges, she put it. That was an understatement. Ben's appearance was haunted, worn. Like he had lived a whole decade while Sam was gone, not just two years. For a moment, Sam thought he might have been looking at someone else entirely.
"You…"
Ben's head shook feverishly. His eyes narrowed, and a stab of guilt ran through Sam as he saw they were growing wet.
"You stupid kid," the older soldier rasped as he shoved Sam back. Harder this time.
"You stupid fucking kid. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Sam braced a hand behind him, to stop from slamming into the wall. When he was balanced again, he met Ben's gaze head on, trying to keep his own composure from cracking.
"I'm sorry. There wasn't any other way."
"You have any idea what happened to us without you?"
"Miranda and Jacob, they told me. I know what…"
"No," Ben snapped, "Stop talking. You don't know a god damned thing, lying on that table for years, leaving us alone…" He raised an accusatory finger at Sam, which faltered in moments and fell uselessly by his side.
"Not a god damned thing…" he repeated before his voice gave out.
At that moment, Sam at last knew what Captain Anderson and Ben first saw in him eight years ago. Something in Ben was broken, ripped away. What happened on the Normandy, what Ben was forced to watch, Sam knew full well what something like that did to a man.
The thresher maw attack, and now the mysterious attackers who destroyed their ship. Both Shepards now bore scars that ran much deeper than the surface.
Sam felt lost. He had no idea what to do. It was only a matter of time before he met Ben again and confronted the man who spent two years grieving for him. The man whose life he saved, by giving his own away.
"I know you probably want to punch me in the face real hard." Sam tried his best at a joke. It was all he could think of.
Taking in a sharp breath, Ben looked at Sam in disbelief.
"Jokes. Now, really?"
Sam's eyes fell to the ground. "Sorry. Couldn't come up with anything else."
He kept his head down, ashamed, and tried to ward off any tears of his own. What did he expect? That Ben would just laugh it off with him and everything would go back to normal? At this point, Ben could hit him, and Sam would probably apologize.
Sure enough, Ben's footsteps started forward again, and his little brother braced for the impact.
It never came. Instead, Sam felt his big brother throw his arms around him, in the tightest bearhug he had ever received.
The dam broke. Sam's vision turned blurry, and soon he was weeping into Ben's shoulder, allowing the shock and horror of the past few hours to hit him at last.
Holding him close, Ben's grip was almost desperate. If he let go now, Sam thought, Ben was probably afraid he would lose him all over again.
Sam heard Ben choke back another sob.
"I missed you."
Despite everything Jacob and Miranda told him, regardless of any other heartbreak surely waiting for him out in the world when he was done here, Sam allowed himself a smile.
"Well, I'm here now.
And I'm not leaving this time."
...
One hour later, the Shepards stood by one of the station's east viewport. Far below, the planet over which the Cerberus base's headquarters operated was basked in the light of a pale nebula.
The nebula, which functioned as the "sun" of the system, was beginning to set. It would be night soon, and they would be off to Freedom's Progress.
Ben slouched against a railing, a bottle of beer in hand. It was the second he had downed since Sam arrived, and though he said nothing Sam was concerned just how many came before.
"None of us could hold things together," Ben muttered as he stared off at the horizon.
"The Council, they refused to investigate who it was that hit us. Passed it off as another geth attack. But we all knew that was bullshit."
His tone was uncharacteristically bitter. Sam had seen Ben frustrated with the Council before. Hell, he shared those sentiments more than once. But this was different. Every word of Ben's dripped with utter contempt for the de facto rulers of the galaxy. There was none of the decorum, none of the cool professionalism Ben tried to carry himself with as a Spectre.
"We saved their lives," Sam answered in disbelief. "That had to mean something."
"If it did, they sure didn't feel like showing it. Sorry about your little brother. Here's a plaque. Take care and stick to your errands.
Before long I couldn't take it anymore. I told them I was going to find the truth, whether they approved or not."
Sam frowned. "I'm guessing they didn't."
"No," Ben growled, shaking his head. "Sparatus was the worst. As usual. Told me I was going to disgrace the Council, my fellow Spectres. Spoil all the good will our people built up the past few years.
I told him I didn't care. Turned in my Spectre status and walked out without another word. Our crew was already grounded, and I guess that was just the last straw. It was all over."
The gravity of the situation bore down on Sam like a tidal wave. It was little wonder Jacob and Miranda hesitated to fill him in. Their crew, the crew which defeated a Reaper and saved the galaxy, was no more.
"The others…" Sam stammered. He thought of every squadmate, every friend they made along the way.
"Have you heard from any of them?"
Ben's eyes drifted off. "Not really. None of us had a clue what to do next."
When his thoughts reached one companion in particular, Sam shifted uncomfortably.
"And… Liara?"
Ben's face brightened. "Was wondering when you'd ask about her. She's alive, last I heard she was on Illium. Tracking somebody called the Shadow Broker."
Sam looked off to the stars, his chest aching. Out there, light years away was the woman he loved, and it killed him every second he could not reach her.
"I have to see her, Ben. Just to tell her I'm alive. I'm here."
"I know," Ben answered. "But right now, we've got a job to do. When we find what we need on Freedom's Progress, we'll has some idea what to do next."
The job. Sam turned to face Ben, who was regarding him with pity.
"So… Cerberus?"
"They were the only one who'd do anything. For a while I hated myself, woke up every day with this awful feeling I'd betrayed you. Betrayed everyone."
Ben shook his head.
"Maybe I did. But if there was a chance, just one chance they could set it right and bring you back to us, to Liara…. To me?" He paused.
"I'd take it. Without a second thought."
The former Spectre's face was illuminated as the blue nebula reached the horizon. It was not just Ben's physical appearance that was different. He looked rougher, more dangerous than two years past. It was a striking contrast to the hero of Elysium, the savior of the Citadel.
"You've changed."
Ben nodded.
"We all have. Same as you."
Sam cocked his head questioningly. "Me?"
"Yeah, you. Three years back you couldn't shoot a rifle the way you did when we tracked down Saren, fought off his attack on the Citadel. You couldn't go toe to toe with Krogan Battlemasters, or face off against an Asari Matriarch.
And Liara? You couldn't hold a conversation with a girl that lasted more than five minutes before"
Ben shot Sam a look that felt both proud and resentful.
"And that stunt in the CIC. Till the day I die, I'll keep telling you how stupid that was. But it was also the bravest thing I've ever seen.
You had to know it wasn't going to end well."
With some difficultly, Sam thought back to that moment. The split-second it took for him to shove Ben into the last escape pod before the hostile aliens' beam tore through their ship and separated them.
"Well, it's not like I had time to think. It was either hesitate and watch you turn to ash or save you.
I decided to save you."
Again, it was hard to tell how Ben felt.
His eyes returning to the glass in front of them, Ben observed their reflection. Then he cocked his head and raising a gloved hand to point at the window.
"It looks like your attitude's not the only thing that's changed."
Sam looked to where Ben was pointing. His reflection. At first, he thought there was nothing too unusual. He looked the same as he had for years now. Tall, pale, with bright green eyes and a head of thick brown hair. Though his hair was slightly shorter than he remembered, and his face was clean shaven as opposed to the usual stubble
But, as Sam scanned his features, he caught another small difference. Several glowing scars framed his face. Miranda told him they were a result of the heavy cybernetics used to reconstruct him.
Just some more to add to the list…
His attention moved to the right side of his face, expecting to see the thin scar that marked his disastrous mission on Akuze.
But there was nothing there.
Sam's breathing turned heavier, and he removed one of his gloves. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light. Yet, as he ran a finger across his face Sam realized it was all too real. The mark was gone. Even the right eye, discolored for years, matched the other again.
No doubt if he looked at his bare chest, the result would be the same.
His arm dropped. For a long time, those scars were a reminder of the physical and mental trauma he bore from Akuze. It was not until the Eden Prime war, and a fateful night with Liara T'Soni, that he started to come to terms with them.
Now, like so much of the life he knew, they were gone.
"Come on," Ben asked, noticing how clearly lost he was. "We have to get going, and we're not leaving without our commander."
Sam followed Ben to the shuttle bay, pondering on what Ben said.
Our commander.
"So it's true, then? If this deal goes through, and we're stuck with Cerberus…
I'm in command?"
"That's right," Ben answered. "The Illusive Man wanted the best. I don't feel like getting too into detail right now, but that's… not who I am anymore. This is going to be your crew, your orders, your mission."
Sam tried not to let his anxiety show. "If that's the case, I'm glad you're with me. Promise you'll watch my back out there?"
Ben nodded, taking Sam firmly by the hand.
"I promise."
The doors to the shuttle bay opening next to them, and Sam saw Ben's face part into the first real smile since reuniting.
"Thought you should know, not everything's changed."
Sam's brow quirked.
"What do you…"
From behind him, a familiar voiced chimed in. "Hey, Commander."
He whirled about, and his jaw dropped. Clad in a black and white pilot's uniform, and shooting him an enthusiastic salute, was Joker.
"The younger Commander Shepard first embarked to the colony Freedom's Progress. Upon assessing the threat against humanity stemmed from the Collectors, he was granted a new ship.
And an old friend was enlisted to fly it."
(A photograph of the Normandy SR-2, one day following its completion by Cerberus)
"Jeff Moreau, nicknamed Joker by his crew, was the first of the Shepards' former allies to enlist.
Others would join, in time. Tali'Zorah, member of the Migrant Fleet, and former C-Sec officer Garrus Vakarian. And Doctor Karin Chakwas."
(Passing shots of the Cerberus crew embarking on the voyage)
"The squadmates would be reinforced by a human crew handpicked by Cerberus, both to aid the mission and bring the Shepards into the fold."
Jeff Moreau
"It was mighty sneaky of them. I mean, don't get me wrong, Gabby, Ken, Rupert, all the rest, they did their jobs. And Kelly, she was a ray of sunshine.
But that's what the Illusive Man wanted. Those of us who'd dealt with his people before, he wanted us to think they'd changed. Or maybe they weren't quite so bad.
Even Jacob and Miranda didn't get what was happening. At first, anyway."
"Dossiers were compiled on a new squad. A disparate alliance to replace the crew the Shepards lost."
(Shots of every squadmate recruited by the Normandy SR-2)
Emily Wong
"Those close to you have called your voyage the Suicide Mission."
Ben Shepard
"It started as a joke, really. I think it was Jacob who said it first, during the last run at the Collector's Base.
The name kind of stuck."
(Footage of the new Normandy approaching the Omega space station)
"The Shepards' first destination was Omega, a hive for the outlaws and crime rings of the Terminus Systems.
Here, the younger Commander would face his first tests as a leader and catch a glimpse of the life his brother led for two years."
Ben peered at the shot of Omega.
"The look on Sam's face when we got there," he said with a laugh.
Stepping over a large rock, he reached the east peak of the mountain. He and Miranda had resumed their walk as the documentary continued.
"He couldn't believe his eyes."
"Well," Miranda answered, looking over her shoulder with a smirk, "could you? Personally, the first time I visited that old rock, I couldn't wait to leave."
Ben reached her, looking out at the green landscape before them. Miranda snaked her arm around him and added, "Not quite the place to build a summer home."
He shook his head. "No. Hell of a place to make friends, though."
Author's Note:
Hey, everyone.
Been away for a while. Readying for graduation, replaying the Legendary Edition of the trilogy and getting hyped for the coming Mass Effect 4. Gives one a lot of time to plan things out.
But also to procrastinate, I guess.
Well, I'm back. And we're heading deeper into the retelling of Mass Effect 2. The coming chapters will focus on specific, character-driven segments on the recruitment and loyalty of various squadmates.
Ben's relationship with Cerberus, specifically the councilor Kelly Chambers and Miranda Lawson, will reflect his changed outlook. But his past with the Alliance, his squad, and one Thane Krios will keep him questioning things.
On Sam's end, the challenge of leadership keeps him on his toes. It's his turn to play hero now. And he'll have a lot more to worry about than just reconnecting with his girlfriend, though that will get plenty of attention.
I'll see you next time, as the Shepards explore Omega and track our dear Archangel. And Sam gets to see just how differently Ben works.