Our trip back to the Spirit (by way of Beta Site to drop off the data cores and torpedoes) took a full week. It was a week we spent mulling over the events in George, and the actions we'd had to take. The excitement had certainly curbed Frans' lust for adventure. Out of all of us, only Juan had any prior experience in direct lethal combat. It helped that Hans had been studying to become a licensed therapist, though he had only finished two years of the program before Traveling with his brother.

Still, every little bit helped.

Our arrival at the Spirit was met with some fanfare from the service and duty crews. The windfall of fuel we had recovered did indeed almost make up for the effort of the trip. The other thing waiting for us on arrival were debrief teams from Shultz's Intelligence division. Every scrap of recorded information was scooped up and spirited away, while we were hustled off to separate rooms and interrogated for at least two hours on everything we had done and seen.

I understood the need, but felt no less violated.

Once released for twelve hours crew rest, I went straight to Capt. Dube's office. Unfortunately, he was in something of a backlog. His Chaplain's Assistant put me down for noon the next day, and I headed off to my go-to stress relief: the tool shop.

I had found that, with the assistance of VI's and the availability of Omni-fabrication tech, the sky was the limit when it comes to the things you could make. Obviously, Eezo needed to be strictly rationed, but the good Dr. Helix and company had made tremendous strides in studying Mass Effect principles and how they relate to broader theories like General and Special Relativity.

The upshot was that we now knew how to make low intensity gravity wave generators. Not enough for the full mass altering properties of Eezo, but enough for Skell Tech to look into propulsion options for unmanned systems, and alternate designs for Nuclear Laser drives.

I sat at a terminal in the "playpen": an area where the crew could "play" with design ideas, fabricate and test them in a controlled environment, then feed their creations back into the Omni-fabricator to be recycled. I wanted to try some redesigns of my cannon. I had spent the entire flight from Beta Site seeing the Asari's face as she died. I'd intended the weapon to be a proof of concept and a 'step up' from ME based kinetic weapons.

Instead, I'd created a war crime. I needed to redesign the gun, if only so I wouldn't hesitate to use it when my team needed me.

I saw a report on Helix's team's initial research into G-wave generation, and one of the proposed methods sparked an idea: particle beams and plasma windows. I thought it might work to create a distinct plasma bolt, and still keep the ability to create an X-Ray laser. I'll admit, the idea was somewhat inspired by "Babylon 5" and "The Dirty Pair"; so sue me.

After several hours of tinkering and (heavily VI assisted) math, I had two designs: one for my canon, and one to replace my crappy Batarian pocket pistol. I set the fabricator to make the second, as well as enough 'ammunition' to provide a meaningful test.

What I ended up making was the size of a Carnifex. I'd opted for somewhat sleeker lines, and had integrated an IR converter to help power the gun by using its waste heat. It wouldn't generate a Laser, but as a pure pulsed plasma weapon (I don't dare call it a Z-pinch plasma weapon; Citadel types freak out at the idea of a Fusion pistol) it would be quite effective.

I took my new idea to the range, and took my first shot.

I immediately went back to the terminal and fabricated a wrist brace, UV polarized safety glasses and full ear muffs instead of ear plugs. I popped some Ibuprofen for the swelling and went back for shot number two.

Once I was better prepared, I started having a little more fun.

Part of the benefit of the range was that it used Omni-Fabricators to manufacture physical targets up to 10cm thick in paper, cardboard, high-impact thermo-plastic, Lunarcrete or even low grade steel. As expected, the bolts made short work of everything except the Lunarcrete and steel. With the last two, I only needed two shots to shatter the crete or melt through the steel at full thickness.

By that point, I was feeling pretty smug; both for the effectiveness of the design and the crowd I was attracting. People started cheering and asking if they could try the gun out. I got a nod from the range Safety Officer, and handed the pistol off. It was after half an hour of passing the gun when it landed in the hands of one of the engine-room mechanics.

They were laughing up a storm as they handed the gun back to me. "Yeah, baby! You gonna pop some heads with this!" They had said.

The gun was in the recycler ten seconds later.

I only stopped long enough to erase the design before heading to my billet.

I only got four hours sleep before the nightmare woke me.

I'm thankful the individual cots had been designed as independent lifeboats. The isolation could do wonders to help lull you to sleep, and it meant you didn't disturb anyone when you woke up screaming. I knew I wasn't getting back to sleep, and I didn't want to go back to the Playpen any time soon, so I headed for the galley.

I hadn't thought about it before, but the Spirit felt vast and empty.

I understood why, logically: the ship was supposed to support a crew of close to 500, with an attached Aerospace Wing and Combined Arms Brigade Combat team. She was meant to hold close to 6000 souls. Meanwhile there were less than a third as many known Travelers, with less than half of them on the ship at any time.

Still, when walking through empty corridors after a nightmare, the facts were less than comforting.

The mid-ship galley was serving the midnight shift, so the cavernous hall was sparsely populated, but not empty. I opted for military comfort food: SOS. Wandering back to the dining area, I saw my case officer hunched over her own tray.

I smiled and walked over. "Assalamu, Bene Said."

She jerked and looked at me with wide eyes. "Oh! Assalamu Hiram." She seemed to sag in relief, then gestured to the seat across from her. "There's no Snake-Pit here. Care to join me?" She looked as haggard as I felt.

She took note of my choice of meal and asked, "You know that stuff will kill you?"

I snorted. "If I live long enough for this," I gestured to my meal, "to be a threat to my health, I'll consider myself to have lived a charmed life." She seemed to relax at the familiarity. "I hope you don't mind, but you look like hell. Are you okay?"

She tensed up slightly, but seemed to come to a personal decision. "No, not really. You and the rest of Jawa were away at THX-"

"We're calling it George."

She gaped at that. "What? Why George?"

"In honor of George Lucas, and because it's a big orange monster." She snorted a laugh at that. "Hans and Frans were going to see if they could officially have it renamed." That earned a full laugh.

Her mirth subsided, but she seemed less stressed. "George then. It's not the only monster from our past." She spun a tablet for me to read a news headline: Terra Nova Space Elevator ground breaking ceremony bombed, Eayan Allah claims responsibility! "One hundred and fifty years on, and this is all my culture is remembered for: small minded, bigoted hate mongering!

"Don't they know what's at stake? Why can't they see past this, this horrific dogma?! They are destroying themselves and will take everyone down with them!" She slumped over her tray and wept.

I reached across and took one of her hands and tried to think of what to say, what gesture would make it better, but nothing seemed right. How do you comfort someone who was this troubled? When the very soul of their culture...

"We have souls." She looked at me quizzically. "Our being here is almost proof positive that we have souls, and that there is a higher power; one that can pass judgement."

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Yes, but they think they are doing that higher powers work."

"And we know they aren't, or we wouldn't have been sent here!" I squeezed her hand. "We're here, in this place and at this time to fight monsters! The Reapers are definitely Priority One, but this," I glanced at the news report, "EA, is absolutely a threat, and one I have no doubt we'll be going after." I let her hand go and scooped up a fork-full of SOS and raised it in a salute. "And I'm equally sure you'll be lecturing me about the health risks of hash browns and sawmill gravy long after they're gone to their final judgement."

She gave a wane smile and returned the salute. We spent the rest of the meal in companionable silence.

The normal Post Mission Brief was delayed for unspecified reasons, so I took the time to get my head together. I and the rest of Jawa caught a movie in the ship's theater (I think it was "Fast and Furious #118", but I could be wrong) which the entire audience razzed mercilessly. It devolved into a "Rocky Horror Picture Show" by the end.

I also made my appointment with Capt. Dube, after which I returned to the Playpen to work out the bugs in my "Atomic Hand-Canon". I registered that and my revamped armature gun design with the armory for review and production when available.

Two days later, every field team on the Spirit, whether Ghost Fire Team or Logistical Retrieval Team was in the ships auditorium. The Spirit's Captain, a Svenska Marine Lt. Cmdr. who went by Maureen Fernan, was standing on the stage next to the head of GST Intelligence, Ghost Schultz. Seeing one of the elusive founding cadre (outside of Dr. Helix's periodic visits) was a rarity and raised no small amount of concern.

Capt. Fernan stepped forward. "Ladies, gentlemen and others, at ease. Take your seats." There was a general shuffle. "First order of business, you are all, officially, out of uniform." There were some chuckles and confused looks. "The GST is moving to a more formal status. As such, a uniform has been developed for on-duty and deployed personnel. Obviously this does not apply to Ghost and Retrieval Teams on special assignment, but for all other purposes, the new uniform is the standard for all personnel on board when on duty."

Images of the new uniforms were projected as a hologram behind her. "Supply will be issuing these new uniforms over the next month. Don't complain about fit until all uniforms are issued, or you will receive this." A hideous outfit in pink, covered in kittens, bunnies and sunflowers appeared, earning a round of genuine laughter.

She smiled at the crowd, and then turned more serious. "Next, we will receive a security report from the head of GST Intelligence. Herr Schultz?" She motioned to the founding Ghost and stepped aside.

Schultz stood motionless for a moment. "Some of you have probably heard the rumors, though some have not." He clicked a button on the podium, bringing up the article I had read with Said. "Those rumors are true, though I sorely wish otherwise. Eayan Allah is a very real threat, both to the Systems Alliance, and the galaxy as a whole. If you have family, friends or contacts, make sure they are aware of the severity of this threat.

"Some of you have lived your whole lives under the shadow of religious extremism. Many of you were traveled here because of it. I am here to inform you that while this organization's prime mandate remains the opposition and eventual defeat of the Reaper threat, we will not leave this foe unchecked.

"At present we are only in the intelligence stage of operations. All deployed teams will report any intelligence regarding EA activity to your Case Officers at the earliest possible time. This is at present, a solely human threat, but we all know how quickly organizations like this can shift, so be aware of your surroundings and watch each other out there.

"Finally," I sat upright as he brought up a hologram of the frigate and junk ring from George, "one of our retrieval teams encountered a trap in the, 'George' system?" All of Jawa chuckled. "Anyway, they were not only successful in thwarting the ambush through novel thinking and swift action; they also managed to secure substantial intelligence and resource assets. I'd like to take a moment to recognize their accomplishments. Retrieval Team Jawa, stand and be recognized."

We did as asked and endured the clapping. Juan tipped his head back. "What can Brown do for you, Ese?" The hall erupted in laughter as we sat back down.

Schultz waited for the din to die down. "As I said, there was a substantial windfall of intelligence in what they gathered. Fact one: the Eezo retrieved was of a purity reserved exclusively for Asari Republic Commando units. Fact two: the torpedoes carried by the ship were state of the art Turian weapons that, to the best of my knowledge, have not been reported lost or stolen."

The assembly shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Fact three: the data cores they retrieved, while scrubbed clean of information, were of a Salarian design we have never encountered and are suspected to be STG exclusive assets. We believe this represents a concerted, state level effort to trap either ourselves, or EA Assets. At this time we don't know which." This caused the crowd to begin yelling in alarm.

"Room: Aten-Hut!" We all snapped to attention and fell silent at Maureen's order.

Schultz waited a moment before continuing. "Under my recommendation, all solo logistics operations are suspended until further notice. No Retrieval Team will deploy without a Ghost Fire Team for escort. I know this will strain our ops tempo, but we can take no further chances that this might be an operation by the Citadel Council, the Shadow Broker, or worse Specter Saren Arturius or the Collectors."

The hall was deathly still as we all processed what had been said. "That said, we will not be held hostage to fear. We are Ghosts; we are what is feared in the darkness!"

Everyone in the auditorium gave a thunderous "Oorah!"

Schultz stepped back and Maureen took his place. "All Team Case Officers will report to Intell for tasking schedules. Operation Teams will stand down for twelve hours, then report to your Case Officers for assignments. Dismissed!"

The next twelve hours felt surreal. With nearly every active member of the GST onboard, the ship felt livelier than it had since I was first brought on board. Everyone felt tense, but in a positive way. We were now focused; we had a current objective that, while still quite vague, was more comprehensible than "stopping the Reaper threat".

I hadn't realized how adrift we had all felt until that moment.

The various teams dealt with the waiting in their own ways, and we were no different. Juan joined in an impromptu Soccer competition being held in one of the unused vehicle storage bays. Hans and Frans alternated between the gym and the movie theater. I headed back to the Playpen for some pure creative indulgence.

I had just sat at one of the terminals when I heard a distinctive and very familiar BLAM.

I headed over to the range and saw a crowd had formed around one of the Ghosts. There was a short burst of rifle fire, followed by a plasma bolt. When she stepped back grinning like a madwoman, I saw she had a G-36 with what appeared to be a high tech underslung grenade launcher.

I grinned and went back to work; some of the techies had mentioned starting a fencing club. I wanted to practice with the longsword some before I got the damn-fool idea in my head to try and make a longsword themed Omni-blade.

A few hours and several sore muscles later I crashed into a dreamless sleep. I met up with the rest of Jawa for chow.

"It's fucking bullshit is what it is!" Juan argued around his eggs. "Gordon played pro for Arsenault before joining the SAS. He should have been Reffing, not playing."

Frans grinned around a bagel. "Bruh, just let it go. You need to loosen up and get some like I'm gonna!" Hans snorted. "Dude, she was totally into-"

"Fire team Ezio, report to Personnel for immediate tasking. Fire team Ezio, report to Personnel for immediate tasking. Retrieval Team Jawa, report to Personnel for immediate tasking. Retrieval Team Jawa, report to Personnel for immediate tasking." A voice called over the PA.

I shoveled my faux bacon and eggs into my mouth and washed it down with the rest of my coffee. "Sorry, no rematches or hot dates tonight." Hans just laughed at his brother's stricken look.

We arrived in the Personnel Center briefing room to find the Ghosts who had gotten me off of Illium, plus one waiting.

"Bonjour mon amis!" Ezio stood and thrust a hand out and shook everyone's hands. "I am Ezio, Groupe d'intervention de la Gendarmerie nationale. This is Min-ji, ROK Marines, and Rambro, South African Recces." He was as effervescent as always, while Min-ji and Rambro waved diffidently. Ezio pointed to the fourth. "And this is our newest member."

A stocky Inuit woman stood up and nodded. "Former SeaBees. Call me Battery."

I nodded in turn. "Hiram, former Air Force Crash Recovery. This is our team lead Lt. Juan, Mexico City Police EOD, Hans and Frans, Fire Jumpers from Pike's Peak Station."

Ezio beamed as he always seemed to, but the introductions got raised eyebrows from the rest of his team. While the general opinion among the GST was 'One Team, One Fight', there was still some rivalry between the Ghost and Retrieval teams. Listing our qualifications had become a way to establish our bonafides when not actually in the field.

Said cleared her throat. "Now that we're all friends, let's begin." She brought up a hologram of the frigate from George. "We have determined from your logs that it was a Turian Hierax class shuttle that launched during your search of the frigate." The image zoomed in to show a clearer picture of the distinctive shape of a Turian designed craft. "We have also managed to extrapolate it's course based on your Delphi probe data. We believe the ship would only have had range for two relay jumps at most, and that includes the George relay. The next system only has one relay, so we know which system they would have arrived in. A reconnaissance probe of the moon orbiting NR-22825's fifth planet shows signs that something soft landed in the equatorial habitable band due west of this glacial range."

She shut the hologram off and stared at our respective teams. "I know it's been more than a week, but there's been no observable activity in the system, so it's possible our runner is still there. However there has been a Quarian ship nosing about nearby. We're currently neutral with the Migrant fleet; an unknown quantity. We aren't in a position to ask for the ship. We need you to retrieve it, any intelligence it may carry, and it's pilot if possible. Marvin has your course programmed in, and all salvage gear is loaded on. Kit up and move out."

We all saluted sharply and headed out.

A/N: More excellent content by IantheMechanic

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