Hello readers,
This is the first chapter of "Before Eden", a prequel story to the events of mass effect one following the life of Shepard.
I'm writing this mainly as a way to polish my writing skills and improve, so please be brutal in the comment section for your feedback.
If the story receives a decent following and there's a good demand for it, I hope to expand out into other stories covering the Events of the Trilogy from the perspective of this Shepard.
As a point of transparency, I will be juggling writing this with working my full time job and several other side projects, so my updates will not be the fastest (my hope is to publish a new chapter of similar length once a month, or every other month). If I need to take some time off to focus on my job or other projects, I will provide an update at the end of the most recent chapter with more information.
With that out of the way, I would like to warn that the first few chapters will be very graphic at times as they follow the events of Mindoir (a main reason for this story's M rating). So you have been warned.
With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy the following.
Best regards,
AC
Lieutenant Ernesto Zabaleta disembarked from the shuttle with heavy footsteps, the caked-on layers of ash and dust sloughing onto the already gathering pile outside the burnt out remains of a small library. As he trudged up the steps towards the entrance, he spared a glance at the SSV Einstein; his home that was so close yet so far while he was completing the unfortunate, but necessary, tasks planet side. The parts of his armor not coated in a fine layer of gray displayed grim signs of recent combat. A smattering of bullet marks running a ragged line from his stomach to his leg. A scorch mark paired with shrapnel located uncomfortably on his shoulder and the side of his breather helmet. Even a series of scratches and scrapes from a particularly zealous Batarian and their combat knife that was holding out inside of a wrecked warehouse.
As he and his squad passed the shattered frame that was once the doorway, much of his squad began to remove their own helmets, the soft hisses of depressurization lost in the rumble of somber activity in the library. The orders from command stated that helmets were to remain on at all times while planet-side, due to the risk from both possible chemical particulates in the air, biological weapon remains, or Batarian ambush. Zabaleta made the executive decision not to chastise the members who defied these orders, at least not within the confines of their "Forward Operating Post", as underwhelming as it might be; after hours of being cramped in the tin can with re-breathed air for close to 10 hours, Zabaleta believed they deserved a small reprieve, consequences be damned.
As they made it past what would have once been the reception, they met the replacement squad that was shuffling by with the stiff, practiced movements that showed a mixture of military discipline and anxious reluctance.
Zabaleta could hardly blame them, he and his team had just spent another 10 hours near the center of this city. Batarian raids were never easy to deal with, especially the aftermath. There were always two objectives: Clear out Batarian remnants and locate and secure survivors. As much as he wished otherwise, they always encountered far more of the former than the latter. They had been at this for close to five days at this point and progress made was hard fought and paid for heavily. The reliance on the comparably thin regiment of marines against the emplaced Batarians was bad enough, but the use of civilians as human shields meant they couldn't even leverage fighters or bombers to pick off the more dangerous nests without risking the deaths of several humans. Zabaleta ashamedly thought that that option would be a mercy for most of them.
He made his way to the kid's corner with the rest of his squad, struggling to remove his own breather helmet; the process made difficult due to a piece of shrapnel that must have nicked one of the release straps. He managed to finally get the release to catch as they all got to work setting their weapons down on the hastily erected workbenches. The depressurization of his own helmet synced with shuddering jolt of the shuttle that was lifting off just outside.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Priority one is seeing to your weapons and equipment. Proper maintenance and repair on what can be fixed. For things that can't be fixed, alert me immediately and I'll have the quartermaster send down a replacement on the next supply drop. We're working severity one, urgency one protocols, so we're not taking any shit about proper forms or requisition orders. Once you're done with your gear, get something to eat and get some rack." Zabaleta had to force himself from grimacing at his own order, he doubted he or any of his squad would find sleep easily after their cycle in the streets and burnt out husks of buildings. "We've got a little over nine hours before we need to be geared up and ready for relaunch. Dismissed."
Zabaleta approached one of the few open workbenches, resisting the urge to grumble about not having access to "The Workshop", the title loving bestowed upon their armory aboard the Einstein. At least the extensive damage and the difficulty of repair on the makeshift station provided him plenty of excuses to avoid returning to his bunk. First, he had to deal with all the shrapnel pieces. Then a structural integrity check for all the damaged sections. Lastly, he'd have to do a diagnostic check on all the underlying technology. That was good. Mechanical muscle memory. He could just unplug and not think about all the twisted bodies or ruined lives he had glimpsed.
"Lieutenant?"
Zabaleta turned slowly, examining the shorter, thin man in crisp dress blues that indicated he had just arrived planet-side or had somehow managed to remain immaculate during his time on planet. Zabaleta already hated him. He was more than likely an assistant for a staff commander or service chief himself. Despite the atmosphere of oppressive gloom, the man showed little to no discomfort. So he was either blissfully unaware of what was happening just outside their ramshackle barracks, or he was wearing the same facade most of his squad was adorning now.
"Can I help you? If you're expecting a debrief from the last assault, it's going to have to wait. Equipment inspection takes priority, considering the circumstances" Zabaleta said, spoken with a calmness that was more tiredness than composure.
"Actually, sir, this is about a different matter. You should receive a report shortly that requires your… assistance."
As if summoned, his omni-tool pinged. Reluctant to take his eyes off the administrative staff, Zabaleta began to glance across the document, feeling his throat and chest tighten at the implication.
"Any particular reason why I'm getting roped into this?" He said finally, as his arm fell to his side.
"You're one of the first ranking officers that has returned to this safe zone with the… capability to handle this specific issue. Just dumb luck, I suppose" The man responded with false grin.
"Yeah, dumb luck. Lot of that going around lately. Corporal, see to my things. I need to step away for a little while." Zabaleta called out to his subordinate as he made his way back towards reception, putting his helmet back on as the administrative adjunct followed closely behind. At the very least, he wasn't being read the riot act for not following command's instruction to the T; maybe the short time he spent with this adjunct wouldn't quite be like pulling teeth.
The two jogged shortly down the street to a local veterinarian office that was being used as a medical station for any minor injuries that didn't require the advanced technology still on the ship. Zabaleta realized he was still wearing his combat armor and hastily refastened the few straps he had managed to undo before being pulled away on 'other business'. He keyed up the report on his omni-tool once more, hoping he'd have a chance to review the report one more time before he was tossed ass first into what he could only presume would be a very sensitive and tense situation.
The Scorched remains of what used to be a barn crumbled and fell apart with a subdued crash, softened by a pile of ashes, as two Alliance soldiers picked their way through the wreckage of the farmland. Private second-class Jeremy Thompson made his way around the sturdier sections of what little remained of the building, his head on a swivel for possible falling hazards as he picked his movements carefully.
The Sector they were currently sweeping was marked as clear. But they were ordered to remain alert, just in case. Of course, the breather masks were still on, despite the grumblings of troops on the ground.
"I'll give the bastards this. They're thorough." He called to his partner, private first-class Raul Lopez. Lopez stood from a kneeling position slowly, absently brushing the ash from his soiled greaves.
"I'm sure all of the dead colonists are very appreciative." Lopez responded dryly, turning at a small corner of the barn that still stood.
"Well, not all of them. We wouldn't be picking through all of this for survivors otherwise."
"All of this is for show, Batarian's don't leave survivors. Not normally. They take who they can and kill the rest. Sometimes we find a handful hanging on, just on the verge of death; The ones they kill quick are the lucky ones." Lopez explained quietly, making a wide scan of the farmlands and the other pairs of soldiers picking their way across countless other outlying farmsteads.
"Can't believe it's that bad." Thompson muttered.
"You don't have to take my word for it. Just ask to be put on Lieutenant Zab's crew, they're the ones who go through the heavily populated areas. They get to deal with the living Batarians and what's left of the actual people. That kind of stuff will give you nightmares."
Thompson stood slowly, letting some of the now defunct farm equipment he was examining fall from his hands back to the dusty ground.
"You, uh… You been on many of these cleanup patrols after a raid?" He probed. A silence hung between the pair for a moment, only broken when Lopez turned and made his way over to the last corner of the barn.
"Let's just get this over with, I want to be off-world as quick as possible. These types of wrecks always make me feel – " Lopez stopped suddenly, his head tilting as he examined the wall.
"Everything okay over there?" Thompson asked.
"Yeah, just some kind of… I'm not sure, valve… maybe a handle."
"Hey, maybe there was a survivor or two!"
Lopez turned to respond, the metallic latch creaking as he turned it over in his hands.
"Doubtful, but maybe we can use it to identify whose property that we're – SHIT!"
A handful of reports from a pistol filled the silence of the countryside as Lopez dove to the ground, taking shelter behind the opened door as his shield whirred in protest, obviously depleted by the point-blank shots. Jeremy cursed as well as he made his way to a low-lying section of rubble, staying low himself as he took cover in a flanking position. There was a chorus of shouts across the other farmsteads as other teams drew their weapons and approached the area in combat stances.
Jeremy pulled out his Assault rifle, leveling it over the rubble as he reached up for his comm unit and opened it to all channels with shaky hands.
"Hostiles! I repeat we have hostiles!" He called into the mic before moving the hand to steady his weapon. "Raul, are you okay? Is it Batarian?"
Raul dragged himself up to a standing position, leaning heavily against the wall and catching his breath, his chest piece heaving. He motioned for Jeremy to lower his weapon, which Jeremy did reluctantly. Raul reached up to his breather helmet and unlatched it. There was a harsh hiss as the pressure equalized before being lifted off and set gently on the ground next to the ajar door. Raul coughed into his armored hand a few times, adjusting to the particulate heavy air.
Raul took a few more calming breaths before stepping away from the wall. He held his open palms around the open door that was now casting a pale-yellow glow on the darkened ground around it.
"It's okay, I'm human. Don't shoot." He called out evenly before taking a tentative step around the door. His hands were held above his head, low enough to not clip the door. He gazed down at the boy, covered in dust and blood, that was holding a pistol in a level hand. Raul wondered for a moment if he made a mistake before the boy lowered the weapon and sucked in a breath, his whole body now shaking.
"I thought they were back." He mumbled, drawing his arms and legs close to his body.
Zabaleta was quickly browsing the report, trying to take in the key details of the report. Due to the apparent urgency of the situation, he still hadn't learned the adjunct's name. Regardless, the man was talking in the back room with some other non-combatant personnel.
Zabaleta quickly closed the report and turned off his omni-tool as he heard footsteps approaching the door. He quickly resumed parade rest before the door swung open and the adjunct leaned out, beckoning him over.
"Look, I get the importance of this, but could you explain what 'capabilities' am I offering to the situation? Mister…" Zabaleta asked as he strode into the room.
"You may call me Burke. As for your capabilities, we believed it would be best to bring in an individual with combat expertise to examine the subject for obvious signs of duress; to see if the subject is a threat to others or himself. Unfortunately, he came in recently enough that none of the other officers would have been able to handle both this, and their required sweeps." Burke said carefully, Zabaleta noted that he smoothly sidestepped the matter of his rank.
"and you couldn't do that yourself? How difficult would it be to setup a two-way comms and sit outside the room?" Zabaleta asked pointedly; he glanced at the other personnel in the room, but they had busied themselves with other data pads. All of them suspiciously avoiding the internal office window with its blinds drawn.
"Oh, some of the military psychologists and myself will be examining in the adjoining room. However, it would be best if we could observe his interactions with somebody else to get a better understanding of his mindset and stability."
Zabaleta narrowed his eyes. He knew he was getting played somehow, but he couldn't pin down how exactly. Burkes face betrayed nothing but his unnatural, close-lipped smile. With a moment of silence between them, Zabaleta turned and began to open the door.
He was greeted with close to what he expected. The remains of a disheveled office that was hastily cleaned for this very purpose. A small table arranged in the center of the room with a comms unit setup and running.
Sitting at the table was a boy, or rather a young man. If he had gone through even a basic medical examination, it was hard to tell. He had at least had the opportunity to clean himself up, meaning most of the blood, dirt, and ash had been wiped off his face and hands and he wasn't actively bleeding out; Though he could already see injuries peeking out that would probably be lasting scars, not the least of which being a crude cut just below his right eye along with some heavy bruising, a heavy bandage on his left hand, and what looked like burn marks on his right arm. As Zabaleta examined the room, a metallic sheen on the table caught his eye and he quickly closed the door he had been preparing to step through a second ago.
"Why does he have a fucking gun?" Zabaleta growled in a low voice through his teeth. Burke eyed Zabaleta carefully.
"There's no reason to be alarmed, Lieutenant." He finally responded, placing emphasis on his rank, "The weapon was examined while the boy was under medical review."
"and you gave it back?" Zabaleta interrupted, causing Burke's brow to furrow in agitation. After a moment, Burke licked his lips and continued.
"As I was saying, the pistol was examined while he was under medical review. That does not mean we were able to remove it from his person. The best that could apparently be agreed upon was a brief visual assessment and basic diagnostics run. So far what we've been able to assume is that due to several issues, most likely caused by damage during this… incident, the heat sink is quite damaged, and the heat dissipation function is broken entirely. Meaning that even if the weapon will fire, we wouldn't expect it to discharge more than once before it becomes a very dangerous looking paper weight. It's effective range also appears to be significantly reduced, however it should be functional enough for the room that you'll be in." Burke said with smug satisfaction, as if he hadn't stated that he was expected to conduct an interview with a mentally unstable individual that was armed. A large part of him wanted to punch the arrogant ass in the face, but Zabaleta fumed silently for a moment, refusing to give Burke the satisfaction.
"So, my 'particular capabilities' is being shot and killed so he can no longer pose a possible threat to you or your psychologists who want to inspect him?"
"No, it's to be shot and not die. There's a reason why I brought you along while you were still in your armor and functional shield." Burke paused for a moment, "It is still functional, I presume? As you mentioned previously, you have not had the time to write a debrief since your return that would indicate otherwise."
"Yes." Zabaleta responded through a clenched jaw, "My shields are still fully functional. However, it is as a safety precaution against Batarian ambushes, not… this."
"Fully functional, good. That means we won't have to wait for the next officer to return before conducting the initial interview." Burke replied, completely overlooking the other points brought up. Zabaleta began to speak but Burke quickly interjected. "I can assure you that we cannot remove the weapon from the boy, at least not without causing severe psychological and emotional distress; Which would be... unwise given his delicate mental state. He seems to find it quite necessary for his own safety. Our current belief is that it is some sort of coping mechanism, but it's hard to say considering we haven't been able to get more than three words out of him at any given time"
"With all due respect, he's in an Alliance safe zone surround by trained soldiers."
"With all due respect, those soldiers have orders to keep their helmets on in case of ambush. Additionally, until roughly a week ago he was on what was presumed to be a secure planet. Situations change. He does not want to be caught unawares again. We just need you to talk to him long enough for us to establish a baseline and confirm he is not at risk of shooting one of our unarmored specialists. Once we can talk him down from his current position of requiring the weapon, we can bring him back to the Einstein where he will be much safer. Whether you are effective in calming him down or establishing rapport is completely unnecessary, though you may try if you feel so inclined. Do you have any further questions, or are you prepared to enter the room? I cannot imagine that being left alone for so long will improve his psychological state." Burke said, his tone implying finality that dissuaded Zabaleta from further disagreement.
"No, sir." Zabaleta very nearly spat, the venom in his voice clear. To his credit, Burke simply responded with a smile and nod before turning and stepping over to the table with the other specialists and the paired comms unit. Zabaleta placed his hands on his hips and took a few calming breathes before finally opening the door once again and stepping through.
The boy sitting at the table sat a little straighter, his eyes not leaving Zabaleta as he slowly entered and took his seat across the table from the boy. Zabaleta wondered for a moment what exactly he was supposed to say. Hell, he thought, they said they just needed me to talk to him.
"What's your name?" Zabaleta started, grimacing inwardly as his voice came out more confrontational than intended.
"Not in the file?" The boy asked in return. Zabaleta took a moment to look down at the weapon on the table and found that, at the very least, the boy was practicing basic trigger discipline. He would've been more comfortable if it was holstered; Although he doubted that the boy had a holster. Even if he did, he wouldn't be so easily talked into employing it.
"It is, but I'd rather hear it from you." Zabaleta said, "My name is Ernesto Zabaleta, I'm a lieutenant in the Alliance Navy."
A somewhat awkward pause filled the room as Ernesto patiently waited for a response. Just as he was beginning to doubt that he would get one, the boy spoke up.
"I'm Jackson Shepard, but most people call me… called me Jack." The young man responded, his jaw clenching as he painfully corrected himself.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Jack. I wish it had been under better circumstances."
Zabaleta wondered for a moment where to go from there. Most topics for conversation were touchy to say the least. Friends and Family were flat out, even if Jack didn't see them killed in front of him there was a high probability that they were already dead, and the kid knew it. Where he lived and where he went to school or worked would also be potential social landmines, as aside from their obvious connection to the first issue, they were probably flaming wrecks at this point. Zabaleta was about to hollowly broach the subject of 'hobbies' when Jack surprisingly offered an unconventional line of conversation.
"You kill any Batarians?" He asked, his eyes clearly lingering on the battle damage on Zabaleta's armor. Ernesto stopped cold, stopping himself from dropping his jaw in surprise; even if the boy couldn't see it inside of his helmet. He wanted to avoid the topic, but he reevaluated. Jack had probably killed Batarians himself, him being alive pointed to that likelihood. Either that or he was just incredibly lucky by being right next to a reinforced bunker when the attack came. It wouldn't exactly be taboo to talk about the bodies he'd dropped ground-side, plus it would probably be very illuminating as to his mental state for whatever specialists were on the other side of the one-way.
"A couple." Zabaleta began, nodding along as he spoke. He slowly and carefully brought up his hand to point out places on his armor. "They didn't go down easily though. I got this from a proximity mine clearing out a small shop off the main road. No amount of training prepares you not to shit your combat breeches when concussive force and shrapnel hit you when you breach a building, only experience does that. I got strafed with bullets from a small squad of fighters when I was repositioning to a flanking position. Hell, one of them came at me with a Combat knife. The tenacity of that particular attack caught me off guard. He managed to peel a little paint before I dropped him."
Zabaleta paused for a moment. Jack was nodding along and examining the damage from across the table, but he was hard to read. His stoic expression and calculating eyes didn't betray a hint of sadness, remorse, guilt. There may have been a hint of happiness, as unsettling as that was, according to the very small smile he noticed on the boy's lips. But if he wanted to be sure, he figured he'd have to hear directly from the source.
"What about you. Did you take any down?" He said quietly, the small smile he had gotten while speaking casually with the boy forming back into a thin line. As per the current status quo, he first had to wait out the oppressive silence before receiving his response. A short nod.
"You know." Zabaleta began, rubbing the back of his armored neck. "Whenever I wrap-up a combat mission I need to write up a report and debrief. It helps keep the facts straight while they're fresh. Gives those that weren't there an opportunity to hear what happened from the perspective of the boots on the ground. It helps me a little too."
Jack quirked his head at the last part, a somewhat curious expression on his face. Without waiting for the verbal question, Zabaleta continued.
"Yeah, after actions can help clear your head. You try to look at it objectively, take yourself out of the mixture. Probably not the healthiest, but it can help you detach from the bad stuff. Things you've seen, things you've had to do. That wasn't you, it was the guy in the report. It's good to… unburden, put down everything on paper, even the regrets or mistakes that you made. But it doesn't work if you're not telling everything. Holding out that last bit of information just means that it's festering in you. You might think you're protecting yourself, but really you're just digging a deeper hole." Zabaleta paused, realizing he might have been a little heavy. He glanced at the office window that looked out into the backroom without moving his head, unsure if Burke and the others were trying to monitor them from the other side of it. "Do you want to talk about what happened? I won't even make you fill it out in triplicate."
For the first time, Zabaleta saw the armor break. The stoic expression slipped, and he saw Jack's jaw clench and his eyes watered slightly as he slowly started to nod; he swallowed hard, withdrawing his hands - and the gun - from the table.
"Yeah. Okay." He said softly. Zabaleta waited, listening patiently as the boy spoke, careful not to interrupt. It started slow, but as Jack continued the words came faster and faster, until it seemed like he was tripping over himself trying to get them out. Like expelling them from his body would erase them from his memory, though Zabaleta feared that the boy would never be able to forget.
"All I'm saying, Shep, is that you won't be able to find this anywhere else in the galaxy." Arthur Miller said, gesturing grandly at the sprawling fields and far off city below their tree shaded hill. He turned back to the other three boys gathered and drinking. The one he was addressing directly, Jack Shepard, was looking out contemplatively.
While still somewhat short for his age at 5'4", his well-muscled frame and tanned skin indicated his main occupation of farming on his family's homestead. His shaggy black hair hanging just low enough to slightly obscure his deep green eyes. Comparatively, Miller's 6' frame with the barest trace of muscle tone dwarfed him. Behind the two men in the shade sat Ji Lu, who at first glance appeared to only be half paying attention to the ongoing conversation. His shorter and downright wiry frame plus pale complexion revealed that he probably wasn't outdoors for anywhere near half the time as the other boys. In fact, his short well-groomed hair and thick glasses, highlighted the likelihood of his work in one of the cities few larger offices. The last figure, and the only one sitting openly in the noon day sun, was Gordon Jones, whose muscled but bulky frame showed the signs of extensive menial labor. While the other men talked, he frequently wiped away the persistent sweat forming on his dark, shaved head.
"You guys are acting like I'll leave forever." Shepard replied sheepishly, raising the chilled bottle to his lips.
"You say that now. But the second you sign on, you know what'll happen? After flying out on a sardine-can shuttle, asses to elbows with a bunch of other bright-eyed recruits, you'll get put on some rink-dink frigate and transported to the nearest 'undisclosed' facility." Art replied, shaking the empty bottle in his face. Jack smirked for a moment and opened his mouth to respond but was quickly interrupted by Arthur's tirade.
"You'll get taught on how to shoot a gun, as if we don't have those out here, and how to wipe your ass with alliance efficiency. Then you'll get cycled around the rim where you'll be fixing up shuttles and engineering spaces, with shore leave on seedy shitholes."
This time he turned to Ji Lu, who was absently typing away at his pristine omni-tool. After an adequate moment of silence, Ji paused to spare Arthur a glance before returning his attention to his display. Unperturbed, Arthur continued.
"Then ten years down the line you'll remember us back here and wonder 'huh, I wonder what my old pals are up to?' Well, we'll be right here. I'll be running my pop's shop, Jonesy over there will be handling the farm, and Ji will pretend he doesn't know us in polite company while he manages the family business in his brother's shadow. Of course, we won't be as glamorous as some faceless cog in the underbelly of an alliance ship, but at least we'll get to peg those six-legged beasties and drink my skunk beer and Jonesy's uncle's moonshine on the weekends."
"Preach, Miller." Jones shouted with a laugh, tossing his empty bottle with the others.
"Come on, Gordon. Your dad is in the Navy, I figured you'd be on my side for this." Jack pleaded.
"Damn right he is, why do you think me and my mom are out here with my uncle?" Gordon Jones replied with a shake of his head.
"My mom and I." Ji corrected in monotone. The other three turned to him in unison, with various states of amusement or annoyance.
"Man, you're just pissed that everybody likes my moonshine better than they like your dad's 'sucky'." Jones retorted, pouring himself a small glass of strong alcohol.
"It's 'sake', and the only reason you all prefer that swill is because you have no taste." Ji said with a sneer, "Honestly, I don't know why I spend my time with you three, sometimes."
"Probably because we're the only three that can put up with you and aren't scared of your dad." Arthur quipped, clinking his glass with Jones'.
"I hate to admit it Shepard; but I might, and I can't believe I'm saying this, agree with those two." Ji said, pointedly ignoring Arthur's stinging comment. "You have plenty of opportunities here, even if you don't want to work your dad's farm. If you wanted, I could put in a good word with my brother and get you a position at our shipping company. Your sisters could run the farm, if you're worried about what would happen to your family's homestead."
"Yeah, Jack, you won't be able to spend time with your sisters if you're out touring the galaxy. No slipping crawlers into their bags when they ain't looking. No tossing them in the creek on a hot day. No watching - the hell it's called? - 'buggsy' bear?" Jones said, snapping his fingers while looking to Arthur for an answer.
"Bubsy bear, Jonesy. Bubsy bear." Art supplied, turning back to Shepard. "How's the gift going for Sara, anyway?"
Shepard sheepishly brought up his second hand omni-tool, playing the video file he'd been working on the past few days. In a flash of light, a crudely rendered 3D bear appeared, hovering in the space above Shepard's arm. It stumbled around for a moment, searching around in an exaggerated fashion before fixating on the place just opposite from Shepard. At which point, the bear's face broke into a big, toothy grin and waved its arms wildly. To either side of the bear, colorful fireworks flashed, and big block letters appeared above its head that spelled out "Happy Birthday, Sara! I can bearly believe how big you're getting!"
Arthur gave an appreciative nod. "Shit's cute, man. You sure you should be spending the afternoon with us and not in town with them?"
Shepard shrugged, exiting the video. "It's fine, dad said to enjoy my birthday with my friends, and we'd have the joint party later tonight at home. I think Sara is going to make us watch the first season together. Again."
"See, can't watch that show with her anymore if you're in some shady bar on the ass end of alliance space." Jones said with a nod.
"Actually, now I totally get why Shepard is leaving. I'd happily rocket myself from here to the citadel if it meant I didn't have to listen to that damn theme song with Eva anymore." Arthur said with a chuckle.
"Art, Sara is six. Eva is Fourteen." Ji said with a worried eyebrow quirk.
"She says she likes the animation style. She's still allowed to act a little like a kid, okay?" Arthur defended with a reddening face.
"She certainly don't look like a 'kid'." Jones muttered as he took another sip of moonshine, which he promptly choked on courtesy of an elbow from Arthur.
"That's a lost cause, Gordon. We both know she's only interested in one person around here." Ji said with a rare smile.
"Wait, Eva likes someone?" Jack jumped in with lop-sided grin. The other three paused for a moment, Ji rolled his eyes while Arthur managed a small worried grimace.
"Shit, man." Jones muttered. "You're lucky you're pretty."
"Look, Jack. All we're saying is that there's a lot going on around here. What exactly are you looking for out there that you can't find here?" Arthur sputtered out quickly, trying to redirect from a dangerous path of the conversation.
"Asari Titties." Jones answered without a second of hesitation, causing both Jack and Arthur to choke on their drinks as they started to laugh. Ji stared off into the distance thoughtfully for a moment.
"I've always been more partial to Turians, myself." He said, eliciting a new round of laughter.
"Now we know you're a freak, Lu." Arthur managed between gasping breaths.
"Nah, makes sense. Calamari heads probably remind him too much of family dinners" Jones said with a nod. Arthur chuckled quietly while Lu narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth. Arthur was about to continue when Ji exploded, the words coming out in a harsh staccato.
"Here we go again." Arthur muttered as Jones rolled his eyes. Jack managed a sympathetic groan as they waited a moment for it to pass; but as Ji continued the rant, he took a tentative step forward.
"Lu. Lu! English buddy, English. Not all of our parents can afford those fancy universal translators." Jack finally shouted over his friend. There was a flicker of realization before an abrupt switch in the language that was being spat rapid-fire at Jones.
"- swill-drinking, Neanderthal dickhead." Lu finished as he switched back to English, a certain red pallor having crept onto his face. The group waited patiently as Ji sucked down deep, calming breaths and fixed his glasses. There was an awkward silence before Jones spoke.
"Goddamn you're an angry drunk." He said with a smirk as he started lifting his half-full glass to his lips, only stopped short by a light kick to his back from Miller. Jones glared back for a moment before rolling his eyes and standing.
"Look, man. My bad if I took it too far." He managed to mutter out, barely able to meet eyes with Ji.
"I may have gone a little… overboard as well." Ji offered cautiously before stiffly extending his hand. Jones began to roll his eyes and speak when a searing glance from Arthur caused him to reconsider.
"Miller the Mediator, everyone." Jack chuckled from the shade, lifting his bottle in a toast.
"You're just so tightly wound, Lu. I figure you just need to loosen up." Jones said as he reached down for his own bottle and glass, pouring a healthy portion and handing it over to Ji. "Here's a peace offering, it should probably help."
"In which case, here's mine." Ji said with a sly smile, extending his bottle of sake and glass. Jones grabbed the bottle, replacing it with his own glass of moonshine. Ji's eyes widened as he saw Jones completely ignore the glass, lifting the bottle directly to his mouth. "Wait, that's 500 credits a-"
Before Ji had a chance to finish, Jones was already on his second gulp. Barely registering Ji's horror, he pulled the bottle away with a grimace.
"I would expect it to be better than that, then." He said with a light cough, "Stronger than I was expecting, though."
"Well, of course. It's much stronger than the beer you've been drinking." Ji said smugly as he raised his new glass, taking a gulp to rival Jones'. As he swallowed his other hand shot up to his mouth, already bracing for the coughing that followed. Jones quickly snatched the half full glass before it was dropped to the ground, awkwardly shifting it to the hand that already held the sake bottle. As Ji tried to compose himself, Jones simply patted him on the back.
"That's the thing, Lu. I wasn't drinking beer."
"Fuck you, Jonesy."
Arthur and Jack watched from the sidelines, contently sipping at their subpar beer and smirking at their friend's antics.
"You're really going to leave all of this?" Arthur prodded again.
"What do you mean? Alliance can drink on shore leave."
"That's not an answer." Art replied, his smile dropping a little.
"I don't know. Maybe?" Jack said quietly, absently running his thumb over the chilled glass bottle. "I just… The universe is so big, Art. I think if I don't at least try to get out there and see some of it, then I'll never really know."
"Maybe, but then you'll never know what you could've had here."
Jack and Art stood in silence for a few minutes, staring off at their little city in the distance, Jones and Ji's renewed fighting providing familiar ambiance. Jack worked through the options in his head, trying to work out a plan for jumping from Alliance Navy to private sector and making his way back home when a particularly loud outburst from Jones brought him out of his thoughts.
"Damn, Lu. Could you at least tell your dad not to schedule all his shit on the same day? It's fucking up our view."
Jack and Art focused on the patch of sky Jones was referring to, an odd cluster of ships dotting a considerable amount of the sky in the distance.
"Those aren't my father's ships." Lu said in a huff.
"Think it's the new competition that came in a few months ago?" Art offered, but Lu just shook his head as his eyes narrowed.
"No, they would've needed a substantial investment to expand their fleet that much. Plus, the coloring is wrong for them as well."
"What, you think another – " Jack started when a blinding flash stopped them all dead in their tracks, a shock-wave reverberating through each of them a few moments later. Jones swore loudly as Jack and Art stood aghast, their mouths hanging open. Lu went slack as the forgotten sake glass in his hand fell to the ground.
"Was… Did an accident happen at the refueling station? Ignited fuel flowing back into the pump?" Art tried to offer numbly, asking no one in particular. Jack felt himself tense as a troubling train of thought began to form.
"It shouldn't have." Lu answered quietly, "There are at least 12 different safety measures in place to prevent exactly that kind of accident from happening."
"Then what? Pissed off employee?" Jones asked, quickly turning to Ji for answers. Lu swiveled back at him, his eyes worriedly darting between Jones and the quickly falling debris from the explosion. Jack swore he could almost hear the cogs spinning in Lu's head as he tried to make logical sense of what they all just saw.
"Lu, can you see the characters on the side of one of those ships?" Jack asked, praying he was wrong. Arthur and Jones turned to Jack in confusion as Lu squint his eyes to try and make out the lettering on the side of one of the nearer ships. Jack felt his mouth go dry when he noticed Lu go stiff and a little wobbly at the knees.
The three waited for Lu's response. Arthur and Jones trying to work out what the other two were talking about, while Jack bracing for his fears to be confirmed.
"Batarian." Ji whispered.