Chapter Two: The Angel of Death

She dreamed for what seemed like several lifetimes.

Most of the timeless slumber, she was warm and content. Running through familiar corridors with familiar friends. Defying gravity in special places where the up was down. Running to exhaustion amid green fields or on the surface of barren grey moons with swirling gas giants overlooking her in the sky. Eating like she would never eat again, drinking and turning her mind to mush.

Sometimes she felt elation and ecstasy. Laying down with lovers, whose faces she couldn't quite remember but whose touch made her shudder. The thrill of dropping onto a planet's surface in a metal pod. The triumph of standing victorious over her enemies. What enemies? The relief of getting through a harrowing experience alive with people she trusted with her life. Fighting? She wasn't sure, but it felt like that.

There were also darker moments. Pure, cold fury at the sight of four-eyed creatures dragging people away into cages. Gut-twisting fear of losing those who stood beside her... Who were they that they made her feel like that? And overwhelming responsibility to save everyone and everything, like she was Atlas holding up the sky. For what?

She became annoyed. These questions had never entered her head before. Why now?

Slowly, the dreams faded away, into blackness. Across her skin, she felt a constant pressure, and then a current. She was under water? Was that why it was so black?

Out of the fog that clouded her mind, came a voice.

"Get her out of there already," the voice said, "Need I remind you just how screwed we are if you aren't quick about this?"

It wasn't like any voice She had heard before in her life. It seemed strained, rough, as if something was wrong with the person's throat. The man's throat. She couldn't believe that it belonged to any female creature. Except maybe a krogan. What is a krogan? More unbidden, confusing thoughts.

"It isn't as simple as just opening it," said a second voice, "Unless you want to carry her out."

This voice was flanged, the tone whipping almost like it was synthetic. Perhaps it was. An alien? Why would She think that? Also male?

"Not sure I mind," the first voice said, "I mean, look at her. She's something else."

He was referring to her, She knew. But She still couldn't see. Why? Wait. She had been dreaming. Dreaming means you are asleep. Her eyes were closed. She just had to open them.

She cracked open her eyelids slowly, reluctantly. There were glowing blurs all around her. Interfaces? She blinked twice, trying to regain her focus.

A face appeared before her. Human male. Scars all over it. Gunshot wound to the eyesocket, with a milky eye still intact within the reconstructed structure. Knife wound to the forehead, cutting into the scalp and the short black hair on the head. Dark blue eye on the other side, looking at something below her. Black and yellow armour, tattooed bicep. M-8 Avenger assault rifle held at rest in his hands. How did she know that? But not the important thing?

His eyes moved over the thing he was looking at, and She looked too. She was naked, in a water tank. She registered the mask over her mouth and nose at last, and the pipes running from it to the side, grabbing at it with her hands in shock. The world outside was a laboratory of some kind. High grade medical equipment.

And She realised he was looking at her. Oogling. But the movement of her hands had alerted him to the fact she was awake.

"Oh, sorry love," the man said, his mismatched eyes looking straight at hers, "No one told me you were a thing of beauty. Couldn't help myself. Sit tight. I'm not used to playing the knight in shining armour, but we'll get you out of there and to safety in no time."

She wasn't sure she believed him, but it wasn't like she had a choice. The man turned his head, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

"Feron, she's awake!" he called, the volume increasing the gravel in his tone, "What is taking so long back there?"

"I'm trying to open the tank without tripping the alarm," said the disembodied flanged reply, "I'm not certain I can, but I'm giving it a try."

The man bared his teeth. "We don't have time for that!" he shouted, "Every second that passes is one closer to some lab tech stumbling in here."

She wondered what was going on. Why she was there. Who these people were and why they wanted to get her away from this place. She knew she wanted to get away. She had to take the chance.

She motioned with her hands. The man smiled, revealing big canines. He had gotten the message. "Now you're talking," he said, "Think you and I are going to have a lot in common."

He spun the assault rifle in his hands around, hefted it up over his shoulder and brought the butt crashing down into the glass of the tank with a tremendous thud. She felt the impact throughout her entire body, the forces transmitted by the water. The glass cracked, and began to leak. The man swung the rifle again, and the glass split open, gushing the water out. She supported herself on her feet as the full weight of her body began to press against her. The third hit collapsed the entire glass facade.

The water swept past her, and and She staggered against the metal frame of the tank, struggling to keep her balance. What was wrong? Why couldn't she stand up straight? And suddenly, she could, almost as soon as the thought occurred to her. Long strands of wet red hair had fallen onto her face. Her hair. She swept it back onto her back, it was very long, and looked at the man.

He kicked the broken glass away from her and put a large black towel around her shoulders, which she drew around her, more to dry off than to cover herself. The air was cold, her skin going gooseflesh.

"Feron! Any alarms?" the man called.

An alien emerged from around a corner. An orange-silver face with blue-green skin. A drell. A rare species, less than a million alive in the galaxy. Another useless fact. Why couldn't She remember?

"None," the drell replied, "And you were an idiot for doing that without knowing for sure."

"It was her suggestion," the man said, "Get the package."

The drell made an irritated noise, and the man returned his attention to her. "Dry yourself off," he said, "You have a minute, maybe."

"Who..." She began.

"Zaeed Massani," he replied before She could finish her sentence, "The frogman back there is Feron. We're here to get you the hell out of here. Impossible mission, but not the first I've ever pulled off." He took another black towel and rubbed her hair with it, impatient that She wasn't drying herself off yet.

"No," She said, "Who am I?"

Massani immediately stopped rubbing her head. "Feron!" he shouted, "She doesn't remember who she is! God damn it, what did you do!"

The drell reappeared, pulling a large secure case behind him and let it drop to the floor in front of her. "I didn't do anything except administer the antidote to the sedative and hallucinogens they were pumping into her," he said, "Temporary memory loss could be a side effect."

"It better be temporary or the Boss will want our heads," the man said, "And we can kiss our bonuses goodbye even if he doesn't."

The drell opened the case, ignoring him. The man turned back to her.

"You're Commander Jane Shepard," he said, "The Angel of Death. A god-damn genuine hero. You were captured. We are here to rescue you. That's all you need to know for now."

The name meant... something to her. The nickname did too. He was telling the truth. But She couldn't remember anything. Her head hurt from trying.

Massani stood up, and pulled things out of the case. A grey bodysuit, and black pieces of armour with red lines showing where the modular kinetic barriers slotted into place.

"Put these on," he said, "There's a helmet too. Stuff your head and that hair into it, shut up, and follow my lead."


She walked behind Feron and in front of Massani as they made their way out of the laboratory. Through dark corridors of metal. The occasional window opened up, and outside was the black of space over a raging yellow and red storm. They were in a station above a gas giant, like the one she saw in her dreams.

Just where in the hell She was began to worry her. She hadn't even thought it was possible to come this close to a gas giant.

Another fact bothered her. The armour had fit her perfectly, not hugging in too close in any one place, not sagging either. They knew her proportions exactly. The one issue was the length of her hair. Even when dry, it got in her face. She had cut the front of it off with a combat knife offered by Massani, the fringe stopping just before her eyebrows. She kept the rest, instead twisting it up into an unclipped tail to put her helmet on. It had a full faceplate, the slits to see augmented with an artificial vision system. Her armour was built for heavy assaults, She knew. How? She just did.

Massani had handed her another Avenger and ordered her to keep it slung, and to follow Feron wherever he went. So she had.

Occasionally, they passed by other people. Turians on a patrol. Feron greeted them with a wave, and they nodded, watching her go by with passing curiosity as to who she was. If She was walking around, She had to be allowed to. That was the impression She got from their glances.

Asari lounging in leisure rooms overlooking the storm outside, also in armour. Salarians in more laboratories, working on mechanical devices. Server banks, whole corridors of them. Nothing to worry about.

Then She saw one. The four-eyed alien came around the corner, armoured and armed with a heavy pistol. A Carnifex. He was pacing quickly, looking at a datapad and not where he was going. He crashed right into her, dropping the pad. It was playing pornography. An asari and one of his own kind. The former in cuffs, hanging from a ceiling.

Disgust filled every inch of her. Not because of the porn, though that didn't help. She hated this being for deeper reasons. Yet she couldn't explain it. She couldn't remember anything. Except one word. Batarian.

"Watch where you're walking!" came the deep complaint for the collision, "I will cut you, bitch!"

Disgust turned to the cold fury she had experienced in her dream, but she felt an excitement she never felt then. The killer instinct.

She took her Avenger by the grip, letting it collapse open to allow it to fire, flicked the safety off with her thumb, and jammed the weapon under the batarian's chin. She was about to pull the trigger, when an armoured glove grabbed hold of the weapon, twisting it away. An unarmoured one shoved the batarian back against the wall. Massani looked down at her, eyes ablaze. She looked right back, defiant. Who was he to stop her, if she was the Angel of Death?

"Control her," the batarian said, "Or I'll control her for you. The Broker doesn't like fighting on his ship. I'm sure he'd agree to let me break her in, if you can't."

Massani's attention shifted to the alien. He let go of her rifle, and tapped his right thumb against the side of his right hand. An omniblade flashforged from the side of his arm, which he left hanging by his side.

"Your mouth is signing your death sentence for you," Massani said, "And after I just saved your life. She had you cold and could have blown what little brains you have clean out the top of your ugly skull. Be grateful by moving along, or I'll carve your heart out of your chest, squint."

The racial insult had the man reaching for his pistol. She shouldered her rifle like she had been born with it in her hands, laying the sights on him with such quickness that his hand didn't even reach the weapon before she had him. Feron leveled a pistol at the batarian too, over the shoulder of Massani, who looked ready to leap forwards and stab the batarian to death if required.

Three on one is not good odds, and She knew batarians were especially cowardly when outnumbered. A flash of memory struck her. Batarians fleeing before her. Dying. It made her feel... even better.

"You win," the batarian grunted. He picked up the datapad, waved it dismissively at her, and practically ran down the corridor to escape. Feron lowered his pistol immediately. She kept hers at the ready until the batarian was out of sight, fighting with herself, wanting to let loose but not sure she could without her rescuers turning on her. It was a good thing she hadn't.

Massani's omniblade fell to the floor, released from the mass effect field that had held it, and he grabbed her with both hands, shoving her against the bulkhead that the batarian himself had been against seconds earlier. "What the hell was that?" he said, "Did I stutter when I told you to follow our lead? Are you trying to get us killed?"

"He needs to die," She replied, having nothing more to say on the subject.

"No shit," Massani growled in reply, "But you aren't the one to do it, and this isn't the time. There are hundreds of mercenaries on this ship, we can't fight them all, so you keep frosty. Get me?"

She felt anger bubble up, and shook off his arms. To her great surprise, she did it with absolute ease. To Massani's surprise too. He took a step back to keep upright, the force of her movement having been more than he had expected. He stared at her, and She at him, for a little while.

"We don't have time for this either," said Feron, stepping between them, "The docks are close. Let's move."

That snapped Massani out of it at once. She slung her rifle again as a peace offering, agreeing with the drell's assessment.

They got moving again.


The docks were the size of a large warehouse. Shuttles lined up against one wall, painted in a startling variety of colours, fighters against another wall, all painted black. UT-47 Kodiaks and Trident Strike Fighters. Why could She remember that and not her mother and father? At both ends of the docks, there were openings into space, the atmosphere kept inside by the faint blue glow of a gravity field.

No one was around, as far as She could tell. No techs, no pilots, no security staff. The lights were dimmed. The night cycle, she guessed. It explained the leisurely asari from before, and the batarian going around watching porn in the hallways without work to do.

Feron led them to the shuttle at the very end of the row to the left, mere metres from the hard vacuum of space. The storm outside seemed far more real, like She could reach out and scoop the gases with her hand. Like she was back in her dream.

Massani took out a small device and pressed a button. The shuttle's red doors opened forwards and slid back, revealing a passenger compartment with leather seats and a gun rack. A full gun rack.

"Did you bring the failsafe?" Feron asked, voice flanging more than usual with nerves.

"Yeah," Massani replied, "Fifteen kilotons." He dragged a smooth tube the same height he was out from the shuttle. It lacked any markings or indicators that it was anything other than a storage container, even the control screen at the top being a standard model. Except She knew exactly what kilotons meant.

A nuke. They were going to a lot of trouble to cover their tracks. She approved.

"Not enough to destroy the base," Feron said, as Massani pushed the nuke behind some crates where it wouldn't be found by anyone not looking closely.

"It's the largest one that I was sure wouldn't be detected," Massani replied, returning to the shuttle, "And it'll stop anyone from shooting us out of the sky."

"Hey!" came a deep shout. An alien shout.

Another batarian was approaching them from the door they had used to enter the docks. For a moment, she thought it was the same batarian as before, as he had similar skin tones and was holding a datapad. Her hand jerked towards her rifle, but She stopped herself when she saw that he was dressed in fatigues and was unarmed. Not the way the one from before would have chosen to confront her, not to mention Massani.

"What are you doing here?" the batarian demanded, "You're not authorised to leave."

"Get the shuttle going," said Massani quietly to Feron. The drell nodded and climbed inside, catching the thrown starter key from the human as he did so.

"Are your big human ears not functioning?" the batarian continued, "You can't just take off. Our pilots take you to and from this base. You mercenaries can't just come and go as you please. The fucking Spectres would be all over us if you did."

"I didn't come here by god damned taxi, I flew myself," Massani said, "That should tell you that the Broker trusts me a whole lot more than he trusts you. Can't you just let this go?"

That gave the batarian pause. "I'll have to verify that you're telling the truth," he said, "I believe you, but I don't make the shots around here."

She had enough. This was another of the four-eyed demons she had seen in her dreams. She remembered that now. And she knew how to deal with them.

Rather than get her rifle out, she took the combat knife that Massani had given her to cut her hair with into her palm. She rushed the batarian, grabbing him by the collar, and stabbing him in the gut. She twisted the blade, removed it, and shoved it into his chest. And repeated the movement, six or seven times. The air deflating from his lungs, he couldn't even shout or scream in pain. The life drained out of him, and onto her armour as much as the floor. Only when he struggled no more did she stop stabbing, and let his body slide to the floor.

"Saved me the trouble," Massani remarked. The 'mercenary' stepped forward and grabbed the batarian's arms, before dragging him off to the opening to space. With some exertion, he kicked the body over the edge, and it was grabbed by the winds of the gas giant, disappearing from sight immediately.

"Let's get out of here," She said.

Massani nodded, and the two of them joined the drell in the shuttle, falling into the leather seats and strapping in. "Nuke armed," he said, "Two minutes."

Feron sent the shuttle at full tilt out of the docks, and upwards to safety. A rear camera kept a watch for chasing fighters, beaming the images to the screen beside Massani, who seemed to be counting down with his lips. No pursuers appeared from the base, which was indeed a giant ship, larger than a fleet carrier or a dreadnought. A bright light flashed from the dock section, as the nuke finally detonated.

She felt a sense that she had just escaped a terrible fate. There was no possibility that whoever put her in that tank had any good intentions for her. Not if the talk between her rescuers about hallucinogenic drugs was real.

Massani seemed to relax, slouching back in his chair and resting a foot on the knee of his other leg. He reached down to a small compartment beside his seat, and retrieved a bottle of something, opening it and taking a swig. He noticed She was watching, and offered her a bottle too. She took it. It was beer. Bubbly, a little bitter, refreshing as anything could be. Why did it feel like she hadn't tasted beer in years?

"So, you'll want to know where we're going," Massani said, "And who's meeting you there when we arrive."

"The thought had occurred to me," She said.

"Well, I work for Cerberus. At least today, I do," Massani said, "You remember who they are?"

"Human supremacists and terrorists according to some," She replied, "Protectors of the independent human colonies in the Terminus, and advocates for greater human independence to others."

"You got it," said Massani, "I'm with Clandestine Operations for the Confederation of the Terminus. Cerberus' little kingdom, like you said, though they're not like the Alliance. Superb pay, being the difference I care about. I usually pose as a mercenary to make even more, never mind that I'm usually ordered to. Probably burned good with the Broker now, if he survived that little bomb of mine, but we had to get you out."

She didn't know how to feel about what the man had said.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Omega," Feron replied from the cockpit, "Neutral territory."

"Aria's territory," Massani corrected, "But it's the only place that we can keep you while Cerberus works out the details with the Alliance. If all goes well, they'll both send people to meet you there. You get to enjoy the pleasure of our company until then. If not, then it'll be someone from Cerberus only."

"Why does the Alliance care?" She asked.

"The memory thing is worse than I thought," Massani said with a scowl, "At least, you didn't seem to lose your fighting ability with your memories, so it slipped my mind."

"There's a file on my datapad containing her personal records," Feron said, "Give it to her to read. Maybe that will jog her memory."

Massani grabbed a bag that was on one of the other chairs, and rummaged through it for a moment. He took out the datapad, tapped on it with the little finger of the hand holding his beer a few times, and threw it onto the seat beside her.

She picked it up, and saw a picture of a red-haired woman with green eyes staring back at her. She had a medal around her neck, and was looking at a man in a suit. It was her. Her hair was shorter, but it was her. She knew it.

She scrolled downwards to read.

"Take your time," said Massani, "It's not a very short flight to Omega."

She ignored him. She read as quickly as she could, desperate to know just who Jane Shepard was.


Codex: Jennifer "Jack" Haider

Jennifer Haider, better known to the galaxy as Jacqueline "Jack" Nought, is a lieutenant of the Alliance Army First Legion attached to the Joint Army-Navy Unified Section (JANUS). Born in 2161 on Eden Prime, she exhibited biotic capabilities at an early age, and was thought to be one of the victims of the Bombing of the MV Manhattan in the skies over her birthworld in 2165 while being taken to a specialised facility for biotic children. However, the entire bombing was a ruse committed by Cerberus operatives to allow access to a large pool of test subjects for biotic enhancement experiments. For seven years, she was Subject Zero, the core of the project, during which time her biotic capabilities were increased by a variety of medical and surgical means, the techniques of which were first tested on other biotic children. She was also conditioned to enjoy combat through forced fistfights with her fellow kidnapped children, and was rewarded when she won with a cocktail of drugs.

At the age of eleven, Jack escaped during a riot of the other biotic children and killed everyone in the facility in which she was kept on Pragia, including the other children, whom she could not identify as wishing to get close to her in order to escape their captors. She escaped in a stolen shuttle, but was picked up in the Dakka System days later by pirates. The pirates abused her physically and sexually, before selling her into slavery on Omega. The next years of her life were equally as brutal and bloody, as she escaped her new masters with ease thanks to her biotics and survived in the Terminus Systems however she could. She took the moniker 'Jack' as she could no longer remember her real name, and eventually became a pirate of some notoriety due to her age and ruthlessness.

In 2177, she joined a cult, in an attempt to save herself from the constant drug use and killing. The cult turned her into both an object of worship as a 'biotic goddess' and the equivalent of a temple prostitute, entrapping her for nearly a year. In 2178, the cult became the object of Alliance attention in the follow up from the Battle of Torfan, due to their purchase of slaves for the purposes of expanding the number of temple prostitutes. The cult's compound was assaulted by the Alliance First Legion under the command of Major Karla Haider, a hero of the just-ended Second Verge War. Jack learned her real name and heritage from Haider. After her birth parents refused to care for their missing child out of fear for their other children, Haider adopted Jack herself, unable to abandon the girl to the galaxy once more.

For the next two years of her life, Jack was rehabilitated, receiving anti-addition medications to relieve her drug habits and working hard to regain her humanity. In 2179, she applied to join the Alliance military to follow in her adoptive mother's footsteps. She succeeded, as her criminal history was entirely confined to the Terminus and thus she had no records to speak of. She aced basic and advanced combat training, but found the line military life far too restrictive and quit the service. Afraid that she had disappointed Karla by 'failing' in her eyes, she returned to the Terminus and her old life as a criminal, although largely refrained from her previous drug habits. She had learned from her time in Alliance space, and formed a small close-knit crew for taking big scores, using professional means as much as brute force. The most infamous event she was involved in was the 'Illium Riot of 2181', during which she caused a planet-wide riot on Illium on her 20th birthday.

However, she never stayed out of contact with her adoptive mother for long. Karla Haider had climbed the ranks quickly, and became Army Director of the Defence Intelligence Directorate with the rank of Major-General in late 2182. Her unparalleled intelligence work, and political connections with the right wing People's Party under the leadership of Alice Dennison, made her one of the most powerful women in the galaxy. In 2183, the geth attacked Eden Prime, and General Haider used the opportunity to bring Jack back to the Alliance with an offer to join the First Legion, the Alliance Special Forces. The Alliance needed every soldier available to fight the geth, which were then dropping on colonies all over Alliance space and putting civilians to death. Jack joined the Fallschirmjager units of the European Union's orbital assault special forces.

Jack's combat service during the Eden Prime War was exemplary, and the only disciplinary inquiries she was the subject of had to do with her platoon's conduct off the front lines. Her personal ties with her fellow soldiers grew deep in a short time, and were made deeper by the combat losses her unit suffered. She was promoted to lieutenant, again at the behest of her adoptive mother, so as to be able to lead her platoon after her original lieutenant was killed in action. She was present at Virmire, and fought alongside Commander Shepard when that world fell to the Alliance. Injured in that battle, she was returned to the Citadel to recover, only to end up fighting the geth during Sovereign's assault on the station. Again, she fought with Shepard, this time against Saren personally, and played a key role in aiding the Commander to defeat him.

After the victory in the Eden Prime War, Jack stayed in the Alliance military, the special forces suiting her far more than she had expected. In 2184, her platoon was selected by General Haider for a mission on Illium, during which it was learned that the Batarian Hegemony was planning to attack the Alliance, all under the influence of Reaper indoctrination in its political and military leadership. While this set the stage for the Third Verge War, it also placed Jack in the spotlight of politicians, whom found her relationship with her mother to be inappropriate to being under the command of the same. She was transferred to the newly created JANUS unit under the command of the Naval Director of the DID, Admiral David Anderson.

As General Haider has been the head of the House of Habsburg-Lorraine as of 2184 and has no biological children, Jack is her heir since her pro forma baptism into the Catholic faith in 2179. Her full name and title is Her Imperial & Royal Highness, Jennifer Haider von Habsburg, Archduchess of Austria, Princess of Jerusalem, Royal Princess of Hungary and Bohemia. Karla Haider insisted on passing these titles on to her adopted daughter, as proof of her affection. Jack is not known to have ever used or called upon her royal titles.

Codex: Joint Army-Navy Unified Section (JANUS)

The Joint-Army Navy Unified Section, or JANUS, is a expanded-company sized unit made up of both First Legion soldiers and N7 Marines. Created after the Third Verge War, its primary function is to seek out and combat possible Reaper agents, willing or otherwise. This has left it primarily tasked with actions against Cerberus and Terminus pirate lords along the new frontiers created by the joint Alliance-Quarian victory over the geth, as they are considered the most likely candidates for enemy indoctrination and disruption attempts. However, rumours of Alliance black-book actions within Citadel space have also been laid directly at its feet, although the name and composition of the force remains a closely guarded secret. The unit is under the overall command of Admiral David Anderson, and it is led in the field by Commander Jacob Taylor, formerly of the SSV Churubusco, and Commandant Pearse, seconded from the First Legion SAS.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: And so Shepard steps into the story.

The plan is to have shorter chapters published more often from single perspectives. I think that's better writing and it means more regular updates for you. Win-win. Updates will alternate with my Dragon Age story Outlander.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

: I hadn't noticed, to be honest haha

KnightOfHolyLight: Man, I'd pay to see certain things from the two of them. They're two of my favourite characters.

Miranda wasn't really responsible for her failure in this case. Cerberus' security chief for Lazarus wasn't up to the job, and Jacob Taylor is still with the Alliance in this canon (as the Alliance isn't incompetent).

As for Shepard, you'll just have to wait and see.

Just a Crazy-Man: Cheers mate.

OMAC001: Hows this for a change?