1224 Hours, October 29th, 2182 (Unified Military Calendar)

Systems Alliance; Lancer - Star System; Systems Alliance Space Forces Tribute Orbital Dock; SSV Normandy SR1 Stealth Frigate; Captain Anderson's Compartment

Shepard crossed her arms, her eyebrows shooting like rockets in incredulity. "Me? A Spectre. Sir when I asked for mission parameters, operational details, a cover story, something of substance to contextualize the current situation. You instead just fling me into some fracked up fantasy probably dreamt up by a MoGA diplo-rat, a modern major general and an escaped inSAIN asylum patient. Because me as Spectre is about as likely as the Batarians apologizing about the First Contact War in the early twenty first."

At the moment, Shepard was in Anderson's cabin within the SSV Normandy SR1. A supposed stealth frigate. Shepard had to shake her head at that. Whoever had designated it a frigate should have been thrown into a bioreactor. With a total length of 155 meters and only 35 person crew including a nine marine detail; she had seen heavy corvettes bigger, better armored and armed than this glass cannon.

Still infiltrating the SSV Normandy had given her a more intuitive grasp of the striking Human-Turian design that came in place. What with it's painfully slow elevators, huge common areas, and non-existent anti-infiltration protocols had made it a breeze to infiltrate the Normandy.

Sneak on when they were loading supplies in. Throw up a biotic cloak. Sneak past the bored-ass marines on guard. Board the elevator. Walk past off-duty space operators focused on their omnis. Stroll into Anderson's cabin. All told it took her one minute and 43 seconds, and most of that was in the elevator. An incident to rectify if this was to be her new permanent base.

Anderson took a swig of Macallan scotch at this, before looking back at Shepard. "Well, I guess we better get on the comms with the media that the Batarians are apologizing."

Shepard narrowed her eyes, trying and failing to cross her legs under the desk for the 6th time. "Then lay it out for me sir. Because this makes less sense than me assassinating the Hegemon on Khar'shan."

Anderson's eyes bulged. His drink slipping out of his hands, tumbling onto the rubberized floor and making a mess on the floor. "That's not in your service record."

Shepard rolled her eyes, annoyance creeping in her voice. "My service record is a pack of lies and black ink sir. Considering how much shit 'Colonel Nishikawa' put into those files to advance her career, it would serve better as a latrine than a serviceable record of my career."

Anderson rubbed his forehead, his other hand now balled up into a fist on his desk. Momentarily forgetting the mess that he had just made. "Four months ago the Citadel council and ambassador Udina arranged a high level trade. In exchange for an increased number of visitor visas to the SA, Citadel archeologists access to Prothean ruins in the Arcturus Stream and Exodus Clusters, and select Citadel individuals admission to SA higher education institutes, we were granted a Spectre candidacy."

Anderson rubbed the back of his neck, "Until about a week ago, 739 candidates had been proposed and vetoed. Until SA Intelligence Network put forward your name. Which was unanimously ratified by a committee consisting representatives of SAIN, CENTCOM, the Prime Minister's Cabinet, Hypostatic Union, and other interested parties."

Anderson leaned forward, locking eyes with Shepard. "I won't lie. The SA has been after a Spectre candidacy since we joined the Citadel Union in 2159. Officially, it's about continuing to integrate peacefully into the galactic economy and community. Accepting the privileges and responsibilities of being a Citadel Union member."

"Unofficially, it's nest of competing concerns. The SA Parliament and High Courts hate the idea of Spectres. They would prefer if the institution was dismantled, since it subverts SA rule of law and authority of the courts. Not to mention subservience to an alien polity they have no representation on. SAIN on the other hand is chomping at the bit for a human Spectre. Only they prefer it if it was under their exclusive jurisdiction. And CENTCOM just wants Spectre to handle their dirty business before it becomes front page news on every Citadel news media site. Lastly the Hypostatic Union prefers that if Spectre can't be avoided, that at the very least that Spectres operating within SA space be either of SA citizenship or human origin."

Shepard thought about this for a moment, before nodding. "Fair enough, I've dealt with enough politics to know a charlie foxtrot. But where does that leave us then, since it seems the higher ups might have a… misguided image of me, sir."

Anderson grabbed his cup from the ground, refilling it with a serving of whiskey. "You were sold to the rest of the committee as the Nightmare of Prorok. Single handedly slaying the resident garrison and the governor general in nine days of combat. Unless that's not true.

Shepard snorted. See this is what I get for submitting reports to Mayumi, she goes and rewrites them to her desires. "Completely accidental. Was there on a wetwork operation. Eliminate one Dragar Khakdor, some Batarian merchant prince and then exfil. Unfortunately when I accomplished said task, the Batarians blew me out of the sky with stolen salarian manpads with novium tipped warheads. With backup out of the system and not likely to arrive for a while, I retreated into the Prorok's surrounding radioactive rainforests. Kiting the garrison into a chase. Staying close enough to them they wouldn't just orbitally bombarded me, and far enough away so their beast talkers wouldn't overwhelm me."

Shepard vividly remembered those days. Sweating inside of her Tlahuiztli armor, as she dodged flying insect-like creatures that could punch through armor plating. Avoiding radioactive stagnant pools from long ago nuclear warfare. Crawling through swampy undergrowth that if one was not careful could spike through titanium composite armor with monomolecular thorn tips dripping with naturally produced nerve agents. Bypassing man-eating fungus-plants that derived nitrogen fixation through consumption of local fauna. And murdering packs of varren neurally linked to their Batarian beast talker masters and Batarian State Guard troops, barely trained and incompetent, but vicious all the same.

Shepard stretched, her body rigid and restrained in a chair never designed for someone of her body, before continuing. "For the first four days, through a mixture of sniping, biotic tactics, traps, taking advantage of local environmental conditions and a good bit of luck I had bled the garrison down to forty four percent of their original strength. More of that garrison died from natural poisonous fauna and flora or radiation, than anything I did. On the fifth day I was reinforced with a three strong Svetovid team composed of Bishop, Leech and Tailor, that's when we went on the offensive."

Offensive. More like 'opportunistic' being the operative word. Most of those Batarians were just conscripted kids given a rifle, maybe a couple weeks of training before being sent out to die in an environment no sane commander should send troops into. So, ambushing Batarian columns with L shaped ambushes before driving them into the local fauna was more opportunistic than offensive in Shepard's mind.

Shepard recalled, "Command had been monitoring the situation, sensing an opportunity they ordered us to eliminate the governor-general through any means necessary. The governor-general wasn't an idiot, he was thinning out his garrison of the incompetent, the lazy and the problematic. Also saving money in the process so he could pocket it for himself. Always making sure that he kept his personal elite forces in reserve. So instead of killing the cannon fodder, we decided to hijack a landed nomad that was parked as a makeshift hospital and bring the fight to him."

Shepard remembered that action, sneaking on board the landed nomad. Eliminating the crew, the medical personnel and the patients to make sure no one discovered their deception. Before pulling up the stakes, leaving the outside guards frantically trying to hail them as pushed off toward the capital.

Shepard finished up the action report dispassionately, "In the end we rammed the nomad into the provisional capital, destroying much of the political and military district in the process. Afterwards we personally secured the governor-general's palace, where we destroyed his vaunted elite forces still reeling from the chaos of the kamikaze strike and executed the governor-general."

The palace had been a rough fight. The governor's elite forces were equipped with terminus sourced weapons and armor, unlike the batarian arms crap that the garrison was equipped with. When the Batarians pulled out a company size contingent of mobile frames was when the diarrhea hit the fan. Only through measured shots by Leech using the few Cobra rpgs they had left and luring them through a natural choke point did they succeed in eliminating their threat.

Anderson sat back sipping on his whiskey; "You mention biotic tactics, you're a biotic?"

Shepard flared her hand. Swirling green mass effect fields illuminating her hand. "Proof enough for you sir?"

Anderson stared at Shepard's hand, transfixed at it's unusual colour and glow. Before looking back at her with a thoughtful look, "Shepard you weren't a biotic when you were living with me and Kahlee. Another augmentation of being Svetovid?"

Shepard thought about it for a second, "Yes and no. Yes, in that I've been implanted with an experimental biotic amplifier sourced from a Prothean schematic. And technically no, it came about naturally after I graduated into a full spartiate of the program. Though considering how much eezo, both in refined and raw form that I was exposed to early in the program how much of it being 'naturally' up for debate."

Anderson, scratched his neck, his eye ticking a bit. "Spartiate… as in Spartan adult warriors?"

Shepard shook her head, "Their phraseology sir. At least for the program a Spartiate is when a Svetovid survives all five rounds of augmentations so…" Shepard thought for a second, "When I was about thirteen years of age, give or take a few months."

Anderson looked stricken, like he just heard that an operation had been canceled or that they were going on half rations. "Shepard I…" Anderson sighed, his hand now resting on his head before he began again. "What were the casualties?"

Shepard was a bit confused, there was obviously something on his mind though what specifically she didn't have the slightest clue. She lowered her eyes, "Hard to say sir. We had decimated Prorok's garrison, disabled their comm networks and logistics center, and wiped their leadership off the map. After that point we were in the process of heavy exfiltration as Batarian reinforcements flooded into the system. On our own side at least, all of us were wounded in some capacity."

At that moment, Shepard heard a storm of feet as the elevator door opened. Instead of the normal clank of mag boots, these were the armored footfalls synonymous with Systems Alliance Marine Expeditionary Force Onyx A Series hardsuits. She could barely hear the gripping of weapons with armored gloves, flicker of fingers likely in combat signs, and even soft footfalls of what she decided were dress shoes. Shepard, sighed. "Anderson, we've got company."

Anderson, looked at her weird. "What do you mean, 'we've got company'?"

Shepard yawned, "Yeah 30 seconds ago the elevator unloaded 4 marines and someone in a dress uniform, all carrying weapons. They are currently stacking on your door."

Anderson looked alarmed, like this wasn't a usual incidence or maybe about her overpowered hearing. It was always hard to tell with baseliners and regulars Shepard thought. Considering baseliner's own limits, there had been many of the time they had looked upon her with a mixture of fear, amazement and concern. Something Shepard never really liked. She was different, sure. Maybe even a superhuman like Leech suggested, but she was still human. Or at least, she hoped so.

The door opened revealing Systems Alliance marines covered in dark blue and grey Onyx A series hardsuits; all leveling their weapons at Shepard. They quickly entered the room, spread out in an arc covering their sectors and keeping Shepard in their crosshairs. Shepard sat still, better than to give them a reason to shoot. Bullet wounds were a hassle to heal. Nevertheless Shepard had a plan in mind just in case, this wouldn't be the first or last time she had to kill Alliance marines.

An older man with severe balding, a thin moustache and beard walked in the compartment. In his hand he was holding a Predator pistol, aimed directly at Shepard's head. "Hands, I want to see hands. I said hands."

Shepard remained seated. Instead she merely turned her head a fraction of an inch and raised her brow. She guessed they had discovered her infiltration after all. Maybe they weren't as incompetent as she suspected.

Anderson, instead stood straight up his right hand going to holster and his left going straight out, as if warding off potential attacks. "Lieutenant Commander Pressly stand down, I say again stand down. Inform me why you have the Normandy's marine detail in my cabin?" Anderson spoke this in urgent, angry tones.

This Pressly kept his gun pointed at Shepard's head. Not bad instincts. "Captain, three minutes ago I was alerted by senior specialist Ema Aloia who after reviewing surveillance footage sighted a suspicious person entering the fore storage bay. I initiated a quiet lockdown of the Normandy and started a room by room search of the ship to root out the perpetrator. This woman was the suspicious person."

Anderson looked at Shepard, "Anything you want to add Commander?"

Shepard carefully crafted her response, "Well when you left me at the hotel, it's not like you gave me a pass or anything. So I had to infiltrate the orbital space dock and the Normandy's launch, because the MPs wouldn't let me through." Shepard said, twirling her hair.

Pressly did not look impressed in the slightest, and Anderson looked dumbstruck. And the marines shifted their feet uneasily, as if her admission made them nervous or something.

Anderson sighed, sinking back into his chair. "Lieutenant Commander Pressly please remain here with us, the rest of you return to your duty stations."

As the marines filed out of the compartment, Pressly eyed Shepard with barely concealed venom, "Captain, this woman flagrantly disregarded a number of our security and safety protocols, I want to question her how she thought would down considering this is a SASF space vehicle."

Anderson waved that away, "For the moment Pressly forget about it. Considering her … background this lapse is understandable. However, let me introduce you two. Shepard this Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressly, he is my executive officer in charge of operations and astronavigation on board the Normandy. Pressly this is Commander Shepard, N7 Shock Trooper, who is going to be for the short term the Normandy's ground force commander."

Pressly looked at Shepard, his jaw muscles tense. "Can't have said to have heard about you Commander, can I ask you about what deployments you've been on to make you think sneaking on board a SASF space vehicle is alright?."

Shepard was about to speak, when Anderson spoke for her. "Most of her deployments are classified Pressly, however you might have heard of her as the Nightmare of Prorok's Fist."

Pressly underwent a visible change, from narrowed eyes and pursed lips to bulging eyes and an opened mouth with a slackened jaw. Anderson continued, "So, I want you to inform the crew that this incident was just a misunderstanding, understood?"

Pressly was silent for a moment, before nodding his head and leaving the compartment. Leaving Shepard and Anderson alone. Anderson drained the rest of his whiskey before looking at Shepard, "Shepard you're not a Svetovid anymore, for as long as you are under my command you're Commander Shepard, N7 Shock Trooper. Your cover story isn't in yet so keep details tight and minimize fraternizing with the crew for the time being."

Shepard decided this wasn't the best time to disagree, instead she nodded. "Of course sir."

Anderson tapped on his omni before speaking into it, "Lieutenant Alenko can you wait outside my cabin. Our latest addition needs a tour of the Normandy." Before clicking off the omni.

Anderson stood up, "Lieutenant Alenko is the marine detail leader, so he'll give you a proper tour of the Normandy. And Shepard no more infiltrating SASF vessels, next time call me. Better to sort this out through the proper channels than you getting shot."

Shepard, maybe should have told him that she didn't have an omni-tool, but instead she said, "I'll try sir."