Beware the hordes of the Underdark!
SSV Normandy, Mass Translation from Hades Gamma to Exodus Cluster, In Route To Arcturus Stream, June 16, 2183
Author's Note: Thanks to DeviantArt's otvert for the making of a Mass Effect Milky Way galaxy map that correlates all clusters and systems, as well as mission locations, to include the N7 missions, planets of interests, and even the kind of dull Firewalker missions. I've been using it for years for my stories for travels in ME, and never credited it once. That's my bad.
I've used this map not only as a reference tool, but for travel times, using MS Paint, Pythagoras's Theorem, and dividing by 40 pixels (1 kiloParsec) to get travel distances and times.
In my mind, it's a must if you write anything related to Mass Effect. It certainly saves time looking things up. It's quite comprehensive.
And now onto the story!
Commander Jane Catherine Shepard (SAN, N7, Council Agent) sat in her Ready Room, located at the rear of the Bridge Deck, to the port side of the staircase that led to the Gun Deck below. The Ready Room was a small thing, a personal office for a vessel's Commanding Officer to conduct their duties while being near the Bridge if anything should come up, to cut down on lost time having to traverse a couple of decks or departments. The Normandy's Ready Room had initially been furnished by Captain David Edward Anderson, her Poppa Bear having a taste in all things Naval, both archaic and modern.
Though the Ready Room only measured more than three by three meters squared, in its confines was the soul of a Naval man through and through, a collection of ship models, pictures, and even wood-crafted furniture that one would suspect to find upon a wooden sail vessel of old. There on the shelf of an honest-to-goodness wooden chestnut bookcase loaded with frame pictures of family and friends was a hand-crafted small scale model of the HMS Victory, made of wood, with real twine for rope and canvas for sails, almost as long as her arm from elbow to fingertip. Next to it was a brass chronometer, fully functional, set within its carrying box with its lid propped open. A wooden umbrella stand stood next to it filled with replica paper, each printed with ancient mariner maps of Earth's sea, reprints of British Naval nautical maps. Tucked in one corner was a real treat; a US Navy Diver's Suit, with brass helmet, weighted boots, canvas body, and snorkel hose attached to the ceiling as if actively underwater. In another corner in a flat display case was something even more impressive; a Napoleonic-Era Naval Captain's Undress Uniform. The piece de reverence, though, was the large ancient mahogany ships' wheel from the actual Fifth-Rate Super Frigate USS Constitution, practically the last surviving wind-propelled warship on Earth, the wheel having been replaced with another during one of its many refits. God only knew how Poppa Bear had acquired it, but he had mounted it behind the desk upon the wall for any and all to see if a visitor were to come to the Ready Room, to reflect upon a time when Sailors crafted their trade upon the seas and oceans, navigating waves and weather by the power of sail, rope, and oar.
She was currently in the middle of doing reports.
Now that she actually had a breath and wasn't running around like a dog chasing its own tail, Jannie was working on tactical and naval assessment reports upon the Geth with the intent to submit to the Admiralty Board for distribution to forces. While there had been reinforcements on Eden Prime, Marines hot-dropping onto Constant for Search-and-Destroy Ops courtesy of Fourth Fleet, Jannie understood from the After Action Review she had been CC'ed by her mother, Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Hannah Singer, that the Geth hardware platforms had self-destructed before boots had hit ground, denying any kind of technological or intelligence recovery. While the threat on Eden Prime was gone, the Alliance had been left scraps in terms of leftovers, and barely had anything to understand Geth technology, or the means to reverse-engineer to protect against or to exploit. What that meant was that Shepard's three-man team was really the only eyes-on force that had any realistic combat experience against the Geth. So she was doing assessment reports for the benefit of the Navy and Marines, as well as the various Colonial Armies and Air Forces that protected Humanity's homes amongst the stars in Earth Alliance Space, sending it to the Admiralty Board, SASOCOM, and the Systems Alliance Colonial Military.
When Jannie finished up writing her review, she came to a rather pronounced conclusion.
Humanity was FUCKED.
A chime alerted her to the request of entrance to her Ready Room, and she tapped upon the holographic icon marked 'eyehole', and a PiP window popped up in the middle of her holographic overlay work field, showing Jannie who was making the request. The sight of the individual had her snort for a moment, noting that it wasn't one of the crew members of the SSV Normandy, but one of their recent additions. She toggled the 'accept' button as the door to her Ready Room unlocked, sliding starboard to give admittance.
In walked in Professor Irissa T'vara, Dean of Prothean Research and Studies of the prestigious University of Serrice, Thessia.
Now that they were in a more private setting, Jannie found herself able to study the Asarikin without it being rude or awkward. She stood up and offered her hand to shake in greeting, looking upon the many yellow marks decorating the Asari's sapphire skin, the scales so fine that it almost resembled a snake's. The redhead offered a chair to sit on for her visitor after they shook hands, the Professor gracefully sitting upon the piece of furniture, absently smoothing her University of Serrice academic worksuit, the act tightening the fabric against the swells of her breasts and accentuating her figure. When a Human did the same thing, they generally pulled down along the hem of a top or a blouse to keep a garment from looking mussed or wrinkled, but Professor T'vara did it by placing the palms of her hands just under her jutting breasts and smoothing the fabric downward, the act ingrained. While Jannie had no desire whatsoever in 'going Blue', she could see that the Professor was indeed a lovely example of her species, save… she didn't flout it or emphasize it. Sara had mentioned just how smart and dedicated this Asarikin was to her profession. She had reached the position of Dean through intellect and skill, not her looks.
"I have received word from the University's Expeditionary Office that all the members of my team are safe and accounted for in the Systems Alliance Military Compound in Nova Yekaterinburg." Irissa began, the Dean in charge of sixty-eight personnel for the Serrice Team of Dig Site Alpha. "I am afraid that it will likely be days before the Dig Site is cleared of all threats before the Dig can be continued. If at all."
"With two Prothean sites attacked by the Geth in a two-week period, I imagine that everyone's a little iffy right now." Jannie admitted, understanding the concern. The group of Krogan had been sent to collect Doctor Liara T'soni for Saren Arterius, the Geth there for muscle while the Krogan were for more exotic threats; Biotics, most likely. Jannie had noted in her report that despite Geth tactical adaptability, they hadn't had an answer to the telekinetic force that Biotics could manipulate thanks to the extra nodule organs containing mass-manipulating Eezo within their bodies. For now, it seemed that Biotics would be the forefront weapon that gave organics an edge. Jannie was going to abuse the shit out of that tactical advantage while looking into upgrades, advanced weaponry and armor, and even into more exotic means. "I know that Dig Site Alpha was a big find, and no doubt you had a good deal of hope in unearthing valuable research."
"We all did." The Dean replied, looking forlorn. "I can only hope that our findings and equipment were not vandalized or destroyed by the Geth, though I imagine that they took liberty and hacked anything electronic out of our databases." Jannie understood that expeditions and digs cot money, mostly on the hopes of a return on investment. Even something like a new quantum-based equation for FTL burn fuel efficiency could be worth in the megaCredits, a discovery made since Jannie had entered into the Alliance. "Still, I have hope that there will be a future endeavor when the threat of the Geth has been reduced severely."
"It may not be as easy as you think, Professor." Shepard replied, grimacing. "The Geth… are a Human problem."
T'vara looked at her with a look of utter shock.
"And what squid decided that particular folly?" Irissa's voice was filled with scorn. Squid was a term Jannie knew from Sara, who had worked with a pair of Asari Emergency Care Technicians in Skybulance-37 back in the CitEMS. The ancient enemy for the aquatic-based species, a squid was generally a person denoted to being a bloody wanker.
"I'll give you three guesses." Jannie's smile was completely without humor, mere muscle memory. That had the Professor pause, mulling that over for a moment.
"You wish to tell me that the Citadel Council of Law has deemed a planetary invasion by an Artificial Intelligence race the responsibility of but a singular species?" The Asari's tone was in complete disbelief, her eyes wide. "What have they done to ensure a third attack is not likely?"
"You're looking at it." Jannie grimaced, holding out her arms outstretched to encompass both herself, her vessel, and all that were contained within. Irissa just… looked at her, slightly perplexed with a mixture of… horror?
"A singular vessel?" The Asari spelled out slowly, as if she were trying to get the wording right. "The might of no less than three Council species and several Member species, and the shark they send is a singular Alliance Navy Frigate captained by the Council's newest Agent?" None of the personnel on Therum had known about Jannie's induction into the Office of Special Tactics, which was understandable. Sara had practically done backflips at the news. After getting her arm treated by Doctor Chakwas, which included minor invasive surgery to stitch up torn ligaments and a rotator cuff in her left shoulder, the Corpsman had been off on a tear with the news, somehow cutting and modding Jannie's replacement Aldrin Labs' Bluewire OmniTool to play the James Bond Theme by Monty Norman anytime someone texted her, Chirped her, messaged her, or sent an alert. It was annoying as hell, but the crew was eating it up, so Jannie suffered it with a smile. At least it wasn't the Wonder Woman Theme.
"I might not be too in-depth into galactic politics, but I think the answer's pretty obvious; they want us to nut up or shut up." Jannie wasn't about to admit to the Asari in front of her that she personally believed that Asari have been letting the Turians doing the bleeding for centuries to keep the peace, and now it was Humanity's turn.
A few previous conversations over the years with Sara while she was in the prestigious Presidium Academy of Education, centered around her Citadel History classes, had her looking up one time to see that the Asari and Salarians had never gotten involved with any species' internal squabbles. Ever. In fact, the Republican Fleets had never left traditional Republican Space save to go to the Citadel, escorting the Mother Matriarch or whatnot. Oh, sure, Commando teams were sent to clean up messes out in the black, but those were just teams. The last real conflict the Asari Military had been in… was the Krogan Rebellion some fifteen hundred years ago. Asari veterans were limited to a few dozen teams and Private Military Companies such as the Eclipse or the Sisterhood. It was even easier to figure out what the Turians were looking to do; a little salt rubbed into the wound over the Relay Incident; the last major conflict the Turians had had in the past century. Plenty of pirate and boarding actions, but Shanxi was their last hoorah. Since then, Humanity had fought off pirates, smugglers, and slavers, stopped the Assault of Elysium, wiped out a major slaver camp on the moon of Torfan over Campos, fought the entirety of the Skyllian Blitz single-handedly (and won), and successfully destabilized at least a dozen major warlords in the Attican and the Terminus with deep-penetration strikes and rapid-mobilization tactics.
It might be considered a Human-centric opinion, but the way Jannie saw it? The alien overlords were a little on the nervous side. In three decades, the Systems Alliance had bolstered its numbers in terms of manpower and vessels, increased its technology, whipped out tactics no one else had ever thought of (ancient and new), and never stood still. The galaxy had gotten prosaic doing the same-old, same-old, and when Humanity showed up the new kid on the block, started playing by their own rules. Humanity was called barbaric, backwards, barely civilized, and in dire need of further evolution. Humanity had also smashed two Turian War Fleets and fought Hierarchy ground forces to a standstill on Shanxi when their technology was so laughably backwards that the Turians had thought the race from Shanxi and just having discovered spaceflight within the past ten years. But if one got right down to it? Earth Alliance Space was practically bigger than the rest of the individual species' sovereign territory put together, had caused the darling child of the Council (the Batarians) to up and quit, and had made a rather strong impression upon the galaxy what attacking any Human holdings would earn.
Jannie had personally executed Elanos Haliat, the mastermind of the Assault on Elysium itself. Streaming live on the ExtraNet. Surprisingly, that was what had garnered Nihlus Kryik's attention for a SPECTRE candidacy recommendation; her ruthless approach towards the enemies of Humanity.
"While I find that opinion a little hard to believe," Irissa T'vara continued, "it does seem that the Council is holding back. The Geth have been an issue three centuries of apathy has not cured or come to a resolution. What I find perplexing is that if their intent is Prothean ruins or information, they could strike at anyone, the Hanar most especially."
"I've been wondering how they were able to reach Eden Prime, and now Therum, without alerting half a dozen Citadel or Alliance patrols myself, and I've really only go one conclusion." Jannie had worked it out in her head, how a Fleet could have come to the Utopia System without raising every alarm from Sol to the Voyager Cluster.
"They've discovered a Relay we don't know about. Something that connects the 'Verse to somewhere deep in Alliance Space."
"That… would make sense." The Professor's eyes grew inward as she thought about that. "I can surmise that Eden Prime was likely not the first instance for their search for Prothean technology. It is likely they unveiled an undiscovered site that might have coordinates for undiscovered, deactivated Relays; a shadow Mass Relay network, if you will. It could be possible that they have found ways to increase their FTL range as well, to perform deep-space strikes unobserved due to these conditions. There was a group that had done something similar over a millennium ago that I recall one of my older Commando trainers speaking of. It is one of the reasons why unlocking Relays is such a drastic crime, if you will forgive me for saying so." Ah, she was implying of the unlocking of Relay 314 and the subsequent First Contact War. "No one wishes to discover that there is a back entrance into their systems for exploitation for whomever wishes it."
"Certainly true." Irissa wasn't wrong on that, which was why the Arc sat upon the only known entrance into Sol Cluster with a practical armada ready to defend it. The Stream was a host of a dozen Relays coming in, but only one of them was a Single-Route Relay; it only translated to and from Sol Cluster. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Professor?"
"Yes, Commander. Two things." The Asari's tone said it all; all business now, the pleasantries over. "First concerns what I understand to be an unintentional interaction with an uninvestigated Prothean Beacon. The second concerns my relationship with Sara."
"Let's do the second one first. That one will be shorter and less awkward." The redhead replied, a small smile on her lips. "Probably don't have to tell you what she means to me, do I?"
"No, it was obvious even before I met you." Irissa replied, shifting in the chair into what Jannie assumed was a more comfortable, more conversational position for an Asari; a foot went over her opposite leg, her hands folded on her elevated knee. "She thinks the very tides of you, Commander, a very special place in her heart. I had inquired upon the ExtraNet of your story, the one about the Assault of Elysium, and what she had done. While completely reckless, knowing both her and yourself? I understand why she did it, the mindset of a Youngling who was sick with worry over a Maiden they had come to identify as their ai'a me." Jannie cocked her head at that. It hadn't translated. "Ah! I believe in Human parlance… besties, perhaps?" There was an amused smile upon the Asari's cerulean lips. "There have been ai'a me in my life I would have plunged into a depths of a war to see to their needs and aid them. As you and she have both done for each other. It is… touching to see."
"Then I'm going to ask the hard questions." Jannie's eyes bored right into the Asari's, never wavering. "Sara's always worn her heart on her sleeve, and I can tell that this means something to her, that you mean something to her." There was no denying that the redhead's tone brooked no other indication than the truth. "Does she mean something to you? And I do want honesty, either way."
"It is understandable that you are protective of her. I expect no less." There was a faint smile upon the Asari's blue lips, though it wasn't of joy or humor. "You were not there during the truly hard parts of the Therum, Commander. The alert, the invasion, the evacuation." Jannie watched as Irissa closed her eyes, obviously reliving those memories. "We had but mere moments, the facility going off-line, the network compromised as we were plunged into darkness for moments before the emergency systems kicked in. Sara was on-scene a few moments later, and I remember well her face; the fear, the barely-controlled panic. I remember her words well, 'they are coming'." T'vara was silent for a moment, Jannie never interrupting. She knew that feeling well from Elysium, when the colonial emergency alarms rang throughout Illyeria, the sight of so many ships burning in to deposit their despicable cargo.
"According to her," the Professor continued, "the Geth had hacked the Marine's defenses, rendering the GARDIAN Towers useless, unloading dropships and drop pods all over the Dig Site to corral and conquer. Those brave Human Marines… they never stood a chance, thirty against a thousand." Irissa's tone was saddened by the loss, knowing that those Marines had bought them time. "Sara knew as she moved us to the evacuation point, covering our exit, awaiting for the sight of Geth platforms. When we had reached a good defensive position, she determined to make a stand, to funnel the Geth into a kill zone where numbers mattered little to buy the Teams time to evacuate. When she made that call… it was as if something had reached into my chest and ripped out my heart. At that point in time, I knew with certainty that this was not a temporary liaise with an agreeable companion, something that felt right at the time. The thought of Sara standing before the Geth, putting her life on the line for us? I felt dread. I chose to stay, Commander, to risk my life. A part of it was due to my position as Dean, being responsible for those under me. But a substantial part of it was because I did not want Sara to die, to see that wonderful dedication and intelligence within her extinguished, for someone who is so truly alive to be ushered to Houxin's embrace."
"Then you have my gratitude, Professor." Jannie replied, nodding her head. "Who is to say how much your efforts contributed to that defense? There likely would have been casualties and fatalities without your assistance, as well as that of the Reservists. I know that when I got Sara's message, I went full-speed ahead. It's not just the fact that I owe her my very life, though there is that. We've always been there for each other in one form or another. She was there when I graduated from the Systems Alliance Military Academy, hammering her Mom and Dad into going for a couple of months, or when I held her in my arms for the very first time on the day she was born."
There were dozens and dozens of precious memories when it came to her and Sara, the little girl who knew all her ticklish spots, the almost-teenager shyly asking about boys, showing off her First Year Diploma from the Presidium Academy of Education, the silly photo-ops and interviews after Elysium done together, the beaming young teenager standing side-by-side with a woman she had always looked up to as her hero, and watching her fully becoming one. Sara had even made a mess of tacky jokes about the 'Lion', starting up a round of AlliNet memes about Jane Shepard that burned a swath through the Service like wildfire. Even today, it wouldn't shock Jannie at all to hear one or two in the Galley or the crew quarter's about some silly achievement involving the Lion of Elysium, completely fabricated and inducing rolling eyes. Sara was her best friend, her little sister, her companion and confident, someone Jannie was glad to have in her life just as much as Sara did with her. If anyone tried hurting her Sara? Jannie would skin them alive, Predator-style.
"So is the 'meeting of the Matron' over?" Irissa asked, a little amused, though taking it with good grace at least. Jannie had never heard of the term, but figured it out well enough; the Asari version of having to meet the father-figure of a Maiden. The redhead just smiled wolfishly.
"It's me or Alec. And trust me, I don't think Alec needs to know that his little girl is sleeping with aliens."
"Attention on deck!"
"At ease." Commander Jane Shepard called out as she entered into the Ward Room all those inside sitting down as she gave the order. The small office was meant for meeting between the department heads of the SSV Normandy, though it was a general purpose room that was used at the CO's discretion. As the Commanding Officer, it was her duty to oversee the overall effectiveness of the vessel, to supply its needs and correct its deficiencies. While she had never been in command of a vessel herself, she had observed her mother, Rear Admiral Hannah Singer, doing just that for years, even having conversations about it. Then there was when she, of course, was the Executive Officer under Captain David Edward Anderson, Poppa Bear grooming her for his position as a ship's Captain was suppose to do in case of a break in the chain-of-command (such as injury, illness, or death). Now Jannie suspected that Poppa Bear knew this would likely have happened with her SPECTRE Candidacy under the tutelage of Agent Nihlus Kryik. Jannie took to her seat at the head of the Ward Room table as she looked at her department heads, doing a post-ops review. This was their second encounter with the Geth, and there had been little time to identify and adjust what they had learned during Eden Prime. She was going to rectify that now since they were in transit and they had hours to go before reaching the Stream and the Arc.
"First off, I would like to start this meeting on a positive note." The Commander began, looking at her subordinates. To her left was her Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressly, while to her right was her third-in-command and Supply Officer, 1st Lieutenant Dan Simmons. To Pressly's left was her Chief Engineer, 1st Lieutenant Gregory Adams, while across from him was her Ops Chief, Lieutenant (junior grade) Nikolai Yevseyenkov. Next down were her Chief Weapons Officer, Lieutenant (junior grade) Vanessa Steele, and then across from her the Navigator, Ensign Sun Moon. At the end of the table was her Tactical Officer, 1st Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. It was mid-day aboard the ship, and Jannie felt it would be appropriate to have a meal with her officers at least once a day to rehash the going-ons of the Frigate-Class vessel without having to call up a meeting every day. It was something that she had learned from her mother, that more of an 'unbuttoned collar' approach worked better than stuffy meetings everyone loathed. She certainly wasn't interested in PowerPoint slides. Instead, they were being served lunch, one of the Normandy's rated culinary specialists serving as the Officers' Steward. Lunch consisted of Navy Rations; Ready-Heats prepared and served on PlastiWear that would be recycled into PlastiGel after the meal for future use based on the ships' needs. It was better than the recyclable box that the meals came in.
"Gentlemen, we're now two-and-oh." Jannie gave off a smile, meaning every word and muscle used to display her grin. There were smiles and nods around the table as Seaman (CS1) Brad Switzer stood in the corner of the Ward Room, attending as Steward, likely having been brow-beaten by the Master Chef that it was his job to serve the Officers and to keep his mouth shut, pretending to be an invisible as possible while in Class Whites (informal). "A toast!" Jannie picked up her CeramiGel-crafted glass half-filled with port wine, her way of letting her officers know that this was both informal and that she was in a good mood, everyone raising their glasses with her. "To the crew of the Normandy! From bow to stern, port to starboard, from bilge to crow's nest, from Seaman to CO!"
"To the Normandy!" Everyone raised their glasses and voice to the toast, taking a polite sip of the port. That officially started the meal as Jannie found herself being the first to pick up her PlastiWear; the Commanding Officer was always first in such things, and now that was her. It hadn't really sunk in with her spontaneous and unexpected promotion, further obscured with their full-out drive towards Therum. But now… it hit her. This was her ship, her crew. Normally such things had celebrations and speeches. So far, all they had was a battle.
"Supply, we got fresh supplies in a locker somewhere for surf-and-turf?" Shepard looked to her Supply Officer. "Been on a few ships where that was a Friday tradition."
"Currently? No, ma'am." Lieutenant Simmons replied around his own meal, what looked to be Beef Strogenoff. "We're heading to the Arc, so that won't be hard to pull up and get into stock. Surf-and-Turf's good for morale."
"I'm going to be asking a lot out of this crew, so it's only fair I deal it back in where I can." Jannie reasoned, getting nods all around the table. "I know Ready-Heats are more space-saving and don't require refrigeration, but it's a fucking shame to have a skeleton crew pull miracles out of their ass and expect them to eat grub handed off to regular Sailors. This is a Stealth Frigate, and if my history serves me right, blue water submariners were the best in the business… and they ate the best. Throw some numbers together dealing with budget and space with the intent of having one cooked meal per day."
"I'll have those numbers by COB today, ma'am." Simmons replied, nodding his head.
"Speaking of crews," Jannie looked to Pressly, "I've forwarded my recommendation for a full compliment of crew to Navy BuPers," that was the deciding authority of allocation of personnel for the Systems Alliance Navy and Marines, the Bureau of Personnel, "and hopefully we can pick up a twenty percent increase before we leave the Arc. We're still running on a shakedown crew, and everyone's working at least one rank above their own, if not two in Steele's and Moon's case."
When Poppa Bear got the political axe, everyone had to be shifted to cover down. Unfortunately, there hadn't actually been enough personnel to do that, Pressly covering down for both Executive Officer while working Navigation as well. Ensign Sun Moon was a junior officer who was actually the Combat Information Control Systems Officer, in charge of making sure that the programs and instrumentation were running seamlessly with all the necessary patches and updates. She was only suppose to be on the Normandy as a temporary billet for her five shakedown runs to make sure all the software was running up-to-spec. Thankfully, that meant she knew how to operate the systems, and had Pressly filling her in on the basics while he ran the vessel while Shepard was on the ground. Pressly had given her a report of her abilities with glowing praise and a full-endorsement for 'whatever she happens to want'. Pressly wasn't easily impressed, and Jannie was going to offer the position to the Ensign as a permanent duty if she were interested.
Lieutenant Patricia Steele was actually the Ordinance Officer who had been serving as the Chief Weapons Officer for the shakedown runs, another temporary billet. Every Geth kill in space had been due to a rather unusual technique that had been her idea; instead of using the main gun or the Normandy's deck guns and exposing its position, the Weapons Officer had missiles pre-programmed with plot destinations and had fired them from the ships' tubes by air instead of propulsion, putting a fifteen-second delay for ignition so the Frigate could move out of position and remain in stealth. That had been an act of genius, and twenty-five kills were now accredited to her and her technique; fifteen above Eden Prime, and ten above Therum. Jannie immortalized the technique, calling it the 'Steele Maneuver' in her reports to the Admiralty Board. It had proved quite effective against the Geth, and it was something hat other ships could use, possibly making the synthetic race believe that there might be more Stealth ships out there. They were bingo on missiles now, but Steele came up with 'temporary' ordinance by crafting ad hoc guided explosive devices that could be fired like rockets. Jannie really wanted Steele to accept her invitation to stay on-board.
"More crew would be good, but we need to work on the integration of the Normandy's systems, ma'am." Pressly spoke. "As I said with Captain Anderson, the Normandy is a prototype with seven major innovations cobbled together into a singular vessel. Most innovations only come one at a time upon a platform that is well understood. We're literally flying an experimental craft with a hull design not our own, with an engine meant for a Cruiser, guns and shields for a Destroyer, enough maneuvering thrusters to make us a nimble as a Corvette, a stealth system that wasn't tested until Eden Prime, an experimental Combat Ops System that wasn't fully tested, and armor that doubles as LADAR-scattering. Don't even let me begin on the superstructure modifications, the just-out-of-the-box heat management system, and the fact that we don't even know if the prototype shields are as good as advertised." Jannie knew of this argument, having heard it when she was the XO. Those issues were suppose to be solved with the shakedown runs. "We are literally on a ship of several innovations that barely integrate with one another, with several systems that still need bugs and script errors ironed out, several patches that aren't working, and a third of our crew meant to ship out in two weeks. Someone wanted to make a fast-attack ship that could ghost in and kill a vessel. Looks good on paper."
"Yeah, but now we're staring a Geth War straight in the teeth." The redhead sighed, knowing what Charles was driving at. They had a ship that was too much of a technological marvel. No one understood it fully because it was the first of its kind, a hybrid prototype, and it hadn't gone through a gauntlet of exercises to discover its limits or issues to work upon before being fully deployed. Prototype vessels could take months to iron out the issues, and a couple of years before a production line was established. It was obvious that they weren't going to have the time. "I'll be honest, folks. First thought was at this ship was deep-insertion vessel into Batarian space, blasting pirates and slavers right out of the black with the four-eyes none-the-wiser." That had everyone nodding. "Captain Anderson populated this ship with crew that was good on previous vessels, but this is a whole 'nother ballgame. Chances are that the Admiralty Board developed the Normandy on the hopes that there would be a SPECTER, and that said SPECTRE would be putting the screws into the Hegemony without risking a war. But ever since Eden Prime? That idea's been cast off.
"Make no mistake, gentlemen. I'm declaring war."
Seven sets of eyes look right at her, and not one of them wavered or had doubt in them. Good.
"Whatever the plan was before, I'm scraping it and making my own." Jannie continued, lunch all but forgotten. "Back in the blue water navy, a ship's captain, be it a wood-and-sail Frigate or a nuclear submarine, had orders to harass the enemies of their countries in anyway they saw fit." They were all Sailors, and every one of them knew that their Earth-bound predecessors were men of strength and pride, be it pulling an oar or line, or manning a deck. "We're going back to those days thanks to the Council. Councilor Sparatus Quinlinus declared the Geth's invasion of Eden Prime a Human problem, and I'm going to take him at his word." It was the Lion talking, and Humans knew what happened when you messed with a Lion. "The Alliance Fleets have too much territory and too many colonies to protect. There are good men and women on those vessel who swore an oath to serve the Alliance and Mankind, but none of them are prepared to deal with the Geth. There are good men and women who make our race worth fighting for, and I'm not about to let some fucking toaster spike them and turn them into some Goddamn monstrosity and change them into a terror tactic. That fucking Turian has made it his mission to hurt us as a species however he can while looking for his precious Conduit.
"We are now the tip of the spear." Shepard said in a tone that brooked no question.
"We are going to operate like a Frigate back in the days of ole, where mission take precedence." Jannie continued. "We stock up, and then we ship out to accomplish that mission no matter what." Everyone had their attention on her, no one dare interrupting her. "This isn't overseeing the border, flying with a patrol fleet, on the wing of a wolfpack, or stationed over a planetary body. Gentlemen, we are hunter/killers, and wherever the enemy is? I want to be there to send them to their righteous deaths."
"Hear, hear." Lieutenant Yevseyenkov commented, nodding in approval. He wasn't the only one nodding.
"We will likely be alone." Shepard reiterated, looking at her officers. "Defensive Fleets and Patrol Fleets are going to be in full effect at their duties, especially after Eden Prime and Therum. That means about eighty percent of our forces will only be in Earth Alliance Space, buttoned close to our big colonies and trade lanes. Our scout flotillas and battle groups will likely also be deployed to the borders to fill in the gaps, and will also be unavailable. Gentlemen, we may be flying in the black, looking at a Geth fleet with no one at our backs. We need to be at our best, and we need ideas on how to cull their forces and interrupt their operations with full intent to do so the next day. What Lieutenant Steele came up with is innovating, but sooner or later the Geth will learn. But we need this type of thinking, something spontaneous and adaptable. I need you all to work out the kinks and details while on deployment, fix the issues as best we can without yard or port for support. We may have to refit on the fly, resupply for any number of exotic locations, and prepare ourselves to use any and all dirty underhanded tactic that has ever been used in warfare ever since we started picking up clubs to brain each other. Any and all suggestions towards that endeavor will be fully entertained. We just lost a colonial capital and the potential discoveries of a Prothean dig site, not to mention the huge loss of civilian lives and the losses of the Colonial Army and Alliance Marines. We can't afford these Pyhrric victories, but this vessel will be the one to teach the Geth that fucking with the Human race was the worst decision they'll have ever made."
"Amen." Lieutenant Steele replied, smiling.
"Now," Jannie looked at her food, wondering how this turned into a rant, "if anyone's got any ideas, let's start making suggestions. When we hit the Arc, I'm going to scream, beg, cry, and threaten for anything and everything we can think of. When we're done there? We're going to the Cit, and I'm going to load us up with anything and everything exotic I can get my hands on. Council might have written us off, but I don't doubt theres a few Sailors and warriors from other races that are looking at a galaxy map and frowning. I'm going to call in some favors and toss in some sweets and see what we can net to give us that edge we're most certainly going to need. And make no mistake, we are going to need it."
"We'll compile a list together and get it to you soonest in terms of supplies and equipment." Pressly offered. "But there's one thing we're going to need right off the top of my head.
"Liquid Helium."
"Okay. I'll bite." That wasn't at all what Jannie was thinking, but Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressly obviously had something in mind.
"It's the IES, ma'am." He began, talking with his hands. "We've got a ship the size of a Frigate, armor and hull of a Destroyer, and an engine that's meant for a Cruiser. Our heat management system is none of those things, and some genius decided that emergency venting would happen in the Core Room."
"Oh for fuck's sakes." That was a hell of a design flaw. Emergency venting was when a ships' heat management system reached capacity and vented to keep systems and equipment from melting. Unfortunately, the Core Room was right where the engine was… and her Engineering Department. An emergency vent could overheat the already too-hot engine and incinerate the crew meant to keep the vessel going! "Who's Goddamn brilliant idea was it to do that? Motherfucker."
"I don't know, but thankfully one of the Pilgrims noticed it." That had Jannie pause. What? "Specialist Zorah offered to stand watch for Engineering to Lieutenant Adams, and rattled off a rather impressive amount of skills and techniques that no doubt are pretty useful in the Migrant Fleet. If we're fighting Geth…" Pressly's hand tottered back and forth, like a see-saw.
"Make it happen." Shit, she had several alien crew members that could be useful. One was a Detective, and another a Salarian spy. "Thinking about it, the Blitz really didn't do us too many favors in terms of losses and the fact that we were mostly fighting trash." That had Lieutenant Alenko grunt. "Pirates and most of the mercs we encountered weren't very organized or well-equipped, most of them only doing it on the promise of Credits. The supposed not Hegemonist forces we fought weren't much better. We got use to facing those who had a lack of tactics, organizational structure, resupply, and effectiveness. Which is why we won. We're not going to have it that easy with the Geth, so we need to get creative." Jannie leaned back in her seat, and mulled it over for a moment. "Way I see it, my ground team has an interesting line up. We've got various training, tactics, weapons, and avenues that we can exploit. I'm going to use that to our advantage, considering there isn't really any big multi-species groups out there that aren't mercenary companies, and most of them are really just thugs with guns. Those same individuals have skills that we can put forth to give us a different set of ways we can use to bring out a win. While I'm not exactly keen on having several sovereign nationals running on board, I'm less willing to hear about another Human colony being attacked by the Geth. We need every advantage we can get."
"Agreed." Pressly responded first, surprising the hell out of the redhead. This was the same guy who was actual verbal about Kryik's presence on-board the Normandy! "I know my stance on non-Humans, but as you said yourself, ma'am; Human colonies are under attack. Turning down help will mean more people will be killed." Charles' words had their effect in the Ward Room, several heads slowly nodding. Shit, if Pressly was on-board for trying out working with aliens, shit really had gone sideways. But it was as he said; two Human colonies attacked in less than ten days. And no one doubted that there'd likely be another. "As I understand it, former Agent Saren Arterius may be the one in charge of the Geth, or at least giving them direction. His opinion of Humanity is rather well-known thanks to a few interviews and articles about him. He thinks we are abrasive, barbaric, and unwilling to cooperate. The first rule in the Art of War…"
"…is to know thy enemy. Second is to do exactly what he wouldn't expect." Shepard smiled, Charles nodding his head. "Alright, I'm going to look into integrating the extra crew members. They're on this ship, they're pulling their weight. Anything else big like the Liquid Helium?"
"A muzzle. It's for our pilot." Lieutenant Yevseyenkov inputted.
Jannie just sighed.
Petty Officer (Third Class) Sara Elaine Ryder was familiarizing herself with the SSV Normandy's Medical Bay, having to work single-handedly since her left arm was in a sling. She had met the ship's Surgeon, Commander Karin Chakwas, and found the older, refined woman to be a pleasant superior and quite knowledgeable. She, of course, knew who Sara was, and a good deal of her past; Ryder saw Auntie's hand in this as the Surgeon asked her questions about working for he Citadel Emergency Medical Service, being a Paramedic on a Skybulance for the Presidium Rings and Kithoi Arm. It was a pleasant conversation in which Sara familiarized herself with the medical lockers filled with various supplies, instrumentation, and equipment, as well as the drug locker. Her own supplies from the Dig Site had been brought as well, adding to the stock for non-Humans, in which the bare minimum had been received during their rapid departure from the Cit. Sara had winced at the sight of such poor quantity and quality for Turians and Salarians, and was glad she had in stock the kind of drugs and medications they would actually be needing. Commander Chakwas was a Surgeon for Human Beings, and had passing familiarity for Asari, but hadn't had a chance to work with or upon any of the others. When the older woman discovered that Sara was extra-rated as a Surgeon's Mate as well as a Fleet Marine Force Corpsman, the British woman practically hugged her in joy.
Sara wasn't alone in the MedBay; there was another Hospital Corpsman. Able Seaman Linda Basheer was everything Sara wasn't, and not in a good way. While another HM 8404 like Sara, it was about right there that the similarities ended. As an E-3, Basheer should have qualified for a rating, be it Pharmacist's Mate, Nurse's Assistant, Dental Assistant, Physician's Mate, Surgeon's Mate, or Medical Technician, or at the very least heading towards that rating if she wanted to become a Petty Officer. Yet Basheer hadn't attended a "C" School, nor did she seem interested in doing so. Sara tried not to judge the woman based upon her looks, but seeing a frumpy, overweight woman with an acne-riddled face? And then there was the fact that the Seaman was actually in her fourth year in the Navy? It was either laziness, procrastination, or just plain apathy that drove the woman… or perhaps rolled her along would be a more applicable term. Sara had sadly known more than a few Sailors like her, who plodded along with no real forward momentum or motivation. Marines had a nickname for Dispensary Aide's like Basheer; PEZ Dispensers, good enough to hand out pills.
"Doc Ryder."
Sara turned to see Special Reconnaissance Agent Zevin Raeka standing by the opened door of the Med Bay, and motioned the female Salarian in, knowing what the Agent needed. Commander Karin Chakwas was working on her terminal, looking up some medical supplies that Sara had informed her would be more appropriate for their eclectic crew, while Basheer worked on another terminal, doing… was she on TWITR? For fucking serious!
"Hop onto Bed One, Dhor'rele, and I'll take a look at your shoulder." Sara smiled as she moved over to Basheer, who tried to minimize the social network site to show something more prosaic; an inventory sheet. "Basheer, I need you to open up Deployment Container Number Three and pull out the green-marked box." Basheer turned to look at her with her lower lip pouting out, and Ryder fought the urge to tear the woman two years her senior a new asshole. "Now, Seaman." Sara emphasized, her tone growing steel as the Seaman realize that she didn't want to cross that particular line. Instead, she flounced her way from her chair and into the back storage room, where Sara's Therum equipment was stored. There, that ought to keep Basheer busy for a while considering Deployment Container Number Three had boxed medications, and about half of them were labeled green. The Corpsman returned her attention to the Salarian. "Alright, Dhor'rele. Button down the top and let's take a look at your left shoulder."
"I am surprised you know that term, Doc." The Salarian said as she undid the electrostatic adhesive connectors to her Union-oriented uniform, baring a thin left shoulder, her brownish flesh still smooth; Zevin was still young, in other words, before middle-age. There was a heavy medical package upon her left shoulder where a Geth round and gone in and out when her shields had be overtaxed due to her microrockets being turned against her by the synthetic race. She was honestly lucky to be alive and that there wasn't anything too horribly important in the area she had been shot at save muscle and bone. Dhor'rele was a Surreshi term for 'honored female', but it wasn't the native term for a Dalatrass. "I believe the Commander mentioned that you are Cit-born."
"Firstborn, in fact." Sara smiled a little as she took the monitoring chip off the top of the package of StimuGrow (Salarian-specific), indicating that the fluids and supplements had run their course and the package was now empty. She took the edge of one piece of medical tape and easily peeled it off to remove the bandage and cellulose bag that delivered bio-engineered amino acids, growth-encouraging fluids, and anti-inflammatory medications to stave off any infections. "Actually went to the Presidium Academy."
"You too? Ah! You are that… hmm. Let us just say that my younger sister doesn't like you much." Sara had never seen a Salarian look… sheepish… before.
"Zevin Yalis? I remember her perhaps a little too well." Sara did indeed remember Zevin Yalis, an up-and-coming Dalatrass-to-be for the Zevin Clan of Mannovai. There was a one-word term to describe Yalis; bitch. "She wasn't pleased at all when my standings were higher than hers in our Peerage." In Human parlance, Sara had a higher overall GPA, though the Academy graded on more than just academics.
"She mentioned that. Quite often. In a very loud voice." Raeka replied, looking a little amused. "No worries, Doc. I refused my birthright for a reason, and hold no bond with my Clan."
"That's… brave of you." She knew a bit about Salarians, but she had never heard of a female turning down her birthright before, to refuse to become a Dalatrass. What she knew about Salarians came from her friend and fellow Skybulance medic Trauma Care Specialist Meeska Kevla. "Is it impolite to ask?"
"No, but… more trust is required."
"That's fair." Sara nodded as she finally peeled off the package, looking at the wound. The flesh was a little more pale, thanks to the package and the supplements, but that was to be expected. She pulled out a penlight from her breast pocket and shined the gunshot wound, illuminating it to see how the healing process was progressing. "So you went to the Academy, too?" There was a growing grin on the Corpsman's face as she looked up from the gunshot wound to the not-Dalatrass's dark eyes. "Fifth." Sara said with a hint of pride.
"Ninth." Raeka nodded her head in acknowledgment, knowing exactly what Sara was talking about; Peerage. "You have most certainly earned my respect and admiration, Ryder. First of your species in any endeavor is always a source of pride."
"What are you two talking about?" Commander Chakwas asked, curious, looking up from her work on her terminal and over to the bed. Since Sara had a great deal more experience with Salarians than the Surgeon (who had practically zero), it was the Marine Corpsman who would take care of Agent Zevin Raeka. It was this kind of diversity and challenge that had fifteen-year old Sara Elaine Ryder deciding to volunteer to become a Citadel Paramedic for the CitEMS, going through dozens and dozens of medical first responders to even just give her the time of day for a chance to learn and grow. It was after a slue of failures (mostly due to her species, though a few were understandably because of her youth) that she met Senior Emergency Care Technician Shayla Talis of Skybulance-37. It was Shayla that decided to give the young Human Maiden a chance, taking Sara under her wing and helping her fulfill her goal of becoming a Paramedic so that she could achieve her dream of being… well, she knew exactly what her dream was.
She was about to live it.
"Schooling." Sara replied with a smile, going back to looking at the Salarian Agent's wound. Despite the paleness due to the bandaging and medical package, there was no sign of weeping, necrosis, or infection. "We went to the same school on the Cit. The Presidium Academy of Education."
"It is the premiere schooling in the galaxy. The elite of the galaxy strive to have their children pass its rigorous acceptance examination. Any that pass are lauded. Any that pass with Peerage is exemplified. Both myself and Sara Ryder here are considered Venerated due to our Peerage; amongst the top ten of our classmates." The STG Operative informed the Surgeon, who looked at both of them with widened eyes.
"So… the best and the brightest go? Only the best and the brightest?" Karin asked, intrigued.
"Yep." Sara replied as she moved around to look at the exit wound come from just to her starboard of Raeka's shoulder blade, only slightly larger than the entry wound. "Most Councilors, Chamberlains, CEO's, Primarchs, Dalatrasses, major politicians, corporate leaders, business moguls, Volus Magnates, and people of major influence have come from the Academy. Pretty much if you graduate with Peerage, you can write your own ticket anywhere in the galaxy."
"So… the galaxy is run by the alumni of a singular school? Do I have that right?"
"That is a more-than-fair assessment." The Special Tasks Group Agent replied with a quick nod of her head. "I was immediately accepted into the STG based upon my Peerage and given the training I desired because of it. Know how many females are active operatives in the Group? One." There was a smile on her lipless mouth that even Sara had a hard time missing despite being behind Raeka. The wound looked just as good on the exit-side as it did on the entrance-side, and Sara was pleased to see that it was approximately a quarter of its original dimension from before, the medical package meant for Salarians to heal woulds rapidly. Zevin would still have to take it easy for a week for the process to be truly complete, but in two more days, the wound would be closed and she could begin physical therapy to promote proper ligament flexibility and spot any issues early on. Ryder noted that Doctor Chakwas was looking at her now.
"How many Humans have been to this school?"
"Just the one." Sara smiled as she went to one of the medical locker caches, taking out another package of StimuGrow, marked green for Salarian. "Okay, Dhor'rele, you know the drill. Plenty of iron, calcium, and oxidant supplements for your meals, plenty of fluids that are not caffinated or alcoholic in nature, and keep it easy on shoulder." The Corpsman tore open the wrapping with her teeth and placed the fresh medical package upon Zevin Raeka's left shoulder, mindful to cover both entry and exit wound. The not-Dalatrass placed her right hand upon the package to hold it in place as Sara took medical tape and cut off strips single-handedly, having taught herself the trick to do so in case of combat-necessity. The young woman taped the package firmly in place before placing a monitoring chip upon the top, activating its timer and readout so she could monitor its progress on either her Aldrin Labs' Bluewire OmniTool or on any one of the Med Bay terminals. "Let me grab you your dietary supplements right quick, and you can go back to making the Humans nervous."
"Um, Chief?" Sara looked up to see Seaman Linda Basheer coming back with a minifactured plastic grocery-oriented bag filled with little boxes labeled green. "I found all the green boxes."
"The Phleboxin, Seaman." Sara jerked her head back to the storage room to indicate to the frumpy Sailor where she could go find it. "And return the others back into their rightful place; organized and labels up, Seaman." The pout returned, but the woman was at least cognitive enough to turn quickly and return to the supply room to comply with her orders. "Wonder how long she'll look for the Phleboxin with the green label when that medication is marked red?"
Zevin Raeka just blinked at her twice with her nictitating membranes… and then chuckled.
"Well, hey there, kiddo."
Petty Officer Sara Ryder smiled as she was admitted into the Ready Room of Commander Jane Shepard, her grin wide as she looked upon her Auntie, seeing her rise from her antique desk. The Ready Room got a quick glance, and she recognized Captain David Anderson's love of ancient mariners, and the setting was perfect for Auntie as well; a Sailor through-and-through. Sara gave Jannie a quick one-armed embrace, looking up to the redhead with a one-sided smile. It had been quite some time since they had seen each other, since her and Scott's graduation from their separate schools, and even longer since they had spent real time together. The last time… what, five years ago? About the time she started earning her chops on Skybulance-37. There had been visits and little get-togethers since then, but Jannie probably hadn't spent more than an hour or so at any given time with Sara since she was fifteen years old. Occupying the same vessel as Auntie? It was like a dream come true for her.
"Well, I see you kept up with Poppa Bear's decorations. I know he would like you to have it." Captain Anderson had been the Commanding Officer for the SSV Normandy, but Sara knew without being told that something had happened to where Poppa Bear wasn't on the Frigate-Class vessel. Sara guessed politics; the same backstabbers that likely shitcanned her own father. Sara looked over to the large model of the HMS Victory, a hand-crafted model that Uncle David had made with real wood, cutting the pieces and hand-building the ship with cloth for the sails, twine for the ropes and nets, meticulously piecing it together as a small-scale replica of Lord Horatio Nelson's flagship from the Battle of Trafalgar. "Seeing you here, the captain of your own vessel?" Sara took to the guest seat as Jannie returned to her own, swiping away her OLED screen, causing it to roll back down on top of the wooden desk. "I know you would want Poppa Bear to be here, Auntie. But you know he's proud of you."
"I do." Jannie smiled a sad smile, Sara having hit upon the crux of her situation. Jannie's dream had been the same as Sara's dream; Auntie had wanted to work with Poppa Bear, the man who had been her father for as long as she remembered. Jannie had… three weeks, perhaps a day or two more? It wasn't fucking fair for Auntie just like it wasn't fair for Sara, getting her chance due to the Geth and what they had done to Red Platoon. Ryder was still feeling that pain, though Auntie had been right; everything had been done right, but the Geth just had the advantage. But now they had each other, and they would carry each other through whatever they faced. Just like always. "Gotta say though…" Auntie's green eyes dipped to the rolled up blouse sleeves of Sara's Alliance Blue top, the cuffs rolled up past her biceps in Marine fashion, "… what have you been feeding those dogs of yours?" The smile on Jannie's face was pure amusement as Sara looked down to her exposed right bicep.
"Oh, this?" The Corpsman decided to show off a little and raised her right arm and flexed, her thirty-three centimeter bicep bulging impressively, letting her eyebrows juke up. "Pure iron, Auntie. Jealous?" Sara couldn't help but smirk a little.
"Jealous? Meh… a little." Auntie gave her a wink, a smile growing on her features. Seeing Jannie smile, her face alight with amusement, talking about everything and nothing? It was like back when they were kids, Jannie and Sara hanging out, playing video games, jabbering about whatever came to mind. Sara missed this. "You're really showing your colors here, kiddo. All those years of education, training, working out, and improving upon yourself are paying off, Sara. Proud of you, kid, really and truly."
"Well, I guess if it comes from a SPECTRE, then it's really official." Ryder replied with a little sass, but her comment had the redhead frowning.
"Sara…" Jannie began, her tone… odd. "Sara, this is a SPECTRE mission. Everyone here has been given the chance to volunteer or walk away from this mission, right here in this very Ready Room, more or less one at a time. This isn't a patrol, a defensive position, or a training exercise, Sara. We're hunting a former Council Agent named Saren Arterius."
"Shit. The Bloody Talon?" Saren Arterius was a name known to her, thanks in part to her father, but also Turians she had known on the Cit, like Barber-Surgeon Alixa Trevalis and Emergency Rescue Technician Javis Latarus. Agent Saren Arterius was a bloody hero for the Hierarchy. Young Turians looked up to the Cabalist who had been a Hero of Shanxi for the Turians, as well as their races' youngest-inducted Council Agent. "Was he responsible for Eden Prime?"
"Yes." Shepard replied evenly, steepling her hands in front of her as she leaned a little on her ancient wooden desk. "I don't know how he got the Geth involved or why. If he had been a Council Agent, he could have accessed the information he needed with little in the way of question. Ash mentioned something that made me think that this had been some time in the making. The discovery of the Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime and the attack were too short a time for Saren to visit Rannoch, convince the Geth to aid him, and prepare their fleets and slip through Citadel and Alliance Fleets for the attack. He had them beforehand, I think. God only knows what he enticed them or promised them to secure their allegiance, but it wasn't a Prothean Beacon. Something else."
"So… what? You're giving me a chance to walk away after what happened on Therum?" Sara asked, her tone dark. Shit, she didn't mean to do that. "Auntie, I'm sorry, I just…"
"I understand completely. Ash said the same thing." Jannie replied, forgiving her. "This is strictly volunteer, kiddo, and you need to know what you're volunteering for. This isn't normal shit against normal forces, dropping in on some unsuspecting pirates, or talking tough to some Batarian border patrol skirting danger. The Geth come in numbers, and they continuously adapt. Saren was one of the best Agents of the Council, and removing his SPECTRE status will likely make him more dangerous. We are going to hunt him down and attach his skull to the Eden Prime Memorial when they build it and put the names down for all the lives lost so people know they were avenged. This isn't a job for normal forces, Sara. I know you have the goods," Sara was about to protest, Auntie holding up her hands to stop her, "but realize that what happened on Eden Prime and Therum will likely be what we face next time and the time after that. Remember your Marines?"
"Yes." The word was but a whisper, but Sara felt that rage and grief in her heart, like a vice.
"That will happen again." The redhead told her, her tone so calm, so normal, but Ryder knew that Auntie was anything but. "You accept this mission? There will be dozens of Holodansk's, dozens of Red Platoons, dozens of Twelfth Infantry Battalions, dozens of Therums, dozens of Eden Primes." Sara… had never heard Auntie talk like this before. "It could be Human colonies, it could be Turian ships, it could be something else." The N7's voice was calm, but she was relentless. "It started with ProTech, and it will likely end with some superweapon or Prothean device that will have drastic consequences." Sara knew what Shepard was doing; being the Commander, even to her lifelong friend. "Each and every member of this crew knows that I may ask them to lay down their lives. It will be a very likely possibility that we will lose members of this crew, possibly at every turn." Sara now knew why Auntie was doing this.
There would be rage, grief, heartache, and loss. No matter if they succeed or not, the price would be paid by all aboard the Normandy.
"I won't lie, Sara; we need you." Jannie continued, her voice still even. "We don't have a Doc, and we need a xenomedic. You are likely the only one in the entirety of the Systems Alliance Military with anything close to your qualifications, and the next runner-up will be someone from CitEMS or someone else who might have served in some similar capacity. I understand you busted your ass to get where you were on Therum, and that me asking is not exactly aligned with that. Instead, you will be serving on a state-of-the-art Stealth Reconnaissance Frigate under the command of a Council Agent, being essentially a Task Force combat medical care provider for all personnel involved, regardless of species. That means the missions will be the kind of missions that they send N's to with the knowledge of a substantial casualty and fatality rate, populated with an eclectic ground team of varying needs and care. Holodansk… was merely the first for you.
"There will be more."
Sara looked at her Auntie, knowing that this… speech, was likely heavy on the redhead's soul, having to ask her to partake in this mission, to put herself not only in the line of fire, but to wade through the worst the galaxy might have to offer. The Commander needed a Doc who had the qualifications and skills to keep her men alive in the worst of scenarios, to give them that chance. It probably broke her heart to ask Sara to walk in hell beside her, but both she and Auntie knew that there wasn't anyone else.
"If I turned this down," Sara began slowly, "if I walked away? The guilt… it would kill me." The young woman held her Auntie's gaze, her blue eyes never wavering. "If I heard of a loss aboard this ship, I would forever wonder if they could have been saved if I had been there. I know… I know that I am better than the common Marine Infantryman, that I have trained myself to be better, to bust my ass towards a lofty goal. That dedication will help me now when this crew, my crew, needs me most." The Corpsman took a deep breath, and smiled at her best friend, her Auntie, her sister, her hero. Jannie had always been the one Sara had looked up to, and she wasn't about to let her down when Auntie needed her most.
"I'm in."
"Then I'll draft up the paperwork for a PCS move and have you attached to my command." The Commander replied, and Sara could see that while Commander Shepard got what she wanted, Jannie knew that she would be sending Sara into mortal danger, possibly sending her to her death. "Uncle Alec is going to fucking kick my ass, you know? Hard."
"Aww! Does the SPECTRE need a hug?" Sara smiled, her grin growing large as Auntie growled at her. "I've got the guns to protect you." The Corpsman flexed her right bicep once more to demonstrate.
"Cheeky little shit." The redhead replied with a shaking head and a growing smirk. "Missed this."
"Me too, Auntie." The Angel agreed with the Lion as Shepard surprised the Corpsman by pulling open a drawer at her side and pulling out a small bottle of Elysium Gold Whiskey and two shatterproof drinking glasses. "What? We're drinking?"
"Kiddo, know how long I've waited to share a drink with you?" Jannie smirked as she poured what looked to be a double-fingers' worth of whiskey in each glass, handing one to Sara after corking the bottle. "You saved my life yesterday in a legitimate no-denying-it fashion. Tradition says that I'm suppose to buy you a drink, but private stock works, too. So… a toast?" Auntie had a bit of a cocky look upon her face as Sara tried to think of a toast. And she actually did come up with one; a Human one, from literature.
"To absent friends and lost loves…" Sara began, and Jannie smiled, obviously recognizing the reference from one of her favorite graphic novel series..
"To old gods and the season of mists…" The redhead added before they joined together.
"And may each and every one of us always give the devil his due!" The glasses tapped themselves together as the Lion and the Angel drank.
Author's Notes: I actually had a lot of fun with the Ready Room. I didn't want just a metal room with a desk and a computer terminal. I saw a Captain's Cabin; maps, the Log (super important back in the Sail Age), trinkets and a collection to signify conquests and prizes, and the old school sense that a Naval Captain upon his vessel was God; plain and simple. So I came up with ideas of what a 22nd Century Naval Captain would have in his Ready Room, and Naval antiquity items were the ones I thought of most. Oceanographic maps from His/Her Royal Majesty's Navy were huge, as was the astrolabe and the importance of time (how they measured latitude and longitude back then), the old school 50's Era Salvage Diver Suit (man did those guys have balls), and a few more items that will be mentioned later so a whole section wasn't devoted to the Ready Room. Three future items will be the mechanical chronometer (the 'first' mechanical clock) on the top of the bookcase, a FCW-Era Turian rifle upon a wall (a war trophy), and then a Napoleon-Era British Captains' Undress Uniform in a display case to the side of the desk, the full Blues complete with tasseled bicorn, sword, gloves, boots, and stovepipe. The HMS Victory, for you non-British readers, is the flagship of Lord Admiral Horatio Nelson, the Wolf of the Nile and victor of Trafalgar. BTW, the bookcase will likely never have been made out of chestnut; chestnut trees are almost extinct today due to a blight decades ago.
The James Bond Theme (the original from Dr. No), is actually written by two people, both who claim credit. The orchestral/guitar part was composed by Monty Norman, while the jazz/percussion was crafted and added to by John Berry, a Jazz composer. This has led to many court cases for ownership as Monty Norman does get the residuals for the use of the JBT ever since '62. This is a net worth of well over a million dollars when one thinks of the movies, the games, and the covers over the years.
The Wonder Woman Theme - I am not referring to "Is She With You?"/current WW Theme by Hans Zimmer and Tina Gao (how does one become a classically-trained electric cellist, btw?). No, I mean the original TV Series melody that Lynda Carter ran and fought to. Yes, the show is pretty dated and pretty campy (it came out in 1975), but the show was pretty iconic for its time, bringing out a female protagonist that smart, strong, and confident; a rarity of its time. I'm sure Lynda had a legion of little girl fans tuning in on the show (no recording shows back the, even the VCR hadn't really been invented yet), while guys watched it for… well, I'm sure you can figure that one out. She is a former beauty pageant victor (Miss America, 1972).
Renegade Interrupt - Jannie executing Elanos Haliat, the mastermind of the Assault of Elysium. In the game, it shows him being Human despite a) being the only Human to wear a Kuwashii Visor like only Turians did, b) having a flanged voice like a Turian, and c) referring Commander Shepard's 'your kind', indicating that he wasn't suppose to be Human. There will be more details about Haliat and the reason of his attack (not prestige) later on.
Ai'a Me - From the Asari Attena Language, translates to "a trusted friend and unquestioned ally". Pronounced "Eye-ya Meh". From the Cerberus Daily News Wikia.
Meeting of the Matron - Stolen from Dara's Asari Wiki, a 'meeting of the Matron' is the Asari version of 'meeting the parents', though generally specifically the father. That particular event can always go in any direction. I've had it from handshakes and a smile to one who showed off his gun collection, commenting on range and experience.
Ready-Heats - My version of the MRE of the future, which stands for 'Meals, Ready-to-Eat'. Ready-Heats are self-contained meals that one heats in an inductive microwave for ten seconds, and ta-da! Ready to eat. It comes in a recyclable cellophane container that can be broken down into PlastiGel (see, I know conservation!)
Like in the Hale/Meer Chronicles, I am likening the Normandy to today's submarines; an all-volunteer crew chosen due to their expertise and professionalism, the equivalent of, say, the Army Rangers; Elite Sailors. For the purposes of this story, the Normandy will be the equivalent of the Los-Angeles, the Seawolf, and the Virginia-Class Fast Attacks; ship-killers. Thanks to LogicalPremise (a former submariner and author of the brilliant yet brutal Of Sheep And Battle Chicken series and its many wonderful addendums) for information on rates, 'C' schools, and why Sinking Navy is the best.
I don't really know how a Sailor gets to be a Petty Officer (Third Class). In the Army, it's based upon promotion points, accomplishments, presentation of self and duties, and leadership potential. I don't even know if the Navy has a board, who handles the whole thing, or what. I know that one gets their 'rate' at E-4, and that's a big deal, as everyone else is Junior Enlisted and… tradeable?
Auntie has her own version of Chuck Norris jokes. You will see them later.
The Toast - Actually from Neil Gaiman's popular Sandman series, specifically The Seasons Of Mist where the Devil gives up.