Three :::

The Return: part I


[[[ Classified: SR-2 Lazarus Cell operative interviews ]]]

[:] FPA: Post Omega Four Relay survivor analysis [:]


"I don't even know how I made it out alive," survivor Kelly Chambers speaks teary eyed to the Alliance examiner sitting across the table from her. "There was so much... chaos…"

"Take as much time as you need Ms. Chambers," the interrogator says in a comforting tone. "What you've been through… it's alright to be traumatized by what happened."

[::]

"…Yew can spin it any way ya like," Kenneth Donnelly, survivor and engineer of the Lazarus Cell explains. "Survivor's guilt… why sum people died and othas didn't—I didn't…" he shakes his head. "I dunno how da hell it happened. I wus recoverin' from being nabbed by the aliens when da whole ship started bangin' up."

"Can you described what was the first thing you saw was?" The woman examiner questions, calming taking notes on her datapad.

Donnelly suddenly finds himself going quiet. His mind flowing back to the first vivid images of the doomed Normandy. "It wus… somethin' I'll never forget…"

[::]

"…The ship was limping on one leg when we busted through the relay, no pun intended," survivor and pilot of the SR-2, Jeff Moreau says while leaning back in his seat across from the examiner. "We were already in a hard spot… and then it turned into a total shit storm…"

"Can you elaborate on that, Mr. Moreau?" Asks the examiner.

"On what? Don't you guys have enough eyewitness accounts as it is?" Jeff questions.

"We need every person who were present on the Normandy at the time of the incident's input so that we can get a clear picture as to what happened."

"Good people died, that's what happened," Jeff scoffs crossing his arms. "There is no clearer picture than that."

"Mr. Moreau…" the examiner begins to say before Jeff cuts him off.

"No, don't 'Mr. Moreau' me!" Exclaims the pilot. "Look, this interview's a waste of time… can we speed this up—I gotta take a piss?"

"You'll exit this room once you've given us what we want," the examiner says with a grudging tone.

"And that is?" Jeff urges on.

"The last known orders your Commanding Officer gave you…"

Jeff sighs, slapping a palm to his face, "com-on— how many times I gotta tell ya? What you want me to do huh? Scream it at you like a Vorcha on his period?"

"We know your Commanding Officer ordered you to set a destination through the Hourglass Nebula. What we don't know is why…"

Jeff shrugs nonchalantly, "look man, I'm just the helmsman. I plot coordinates. I follow orders."

"We also know that once the SR-2 meshed into the Nebula was the approximate time that the incident occurred onboard," the examiner goes on unaverred by the pilot's last statement. "What was it that you and your crew encountered while traversing through the nebula?"

Jeff exhales through his nostrils and falls silent, slumping back into his chair, "is it too late for me to take a piss?"

[::]


[…..CLASSIFIED FILE: AUTHORIZE PERSONNEL ONLY…..]

File name: Post Omega Four Relay incident

Timestamp: nineteen days ago

Location: Normandy SR-2 frigate; 02:51 hours Earth time

[[…Please advise that this transcription is a near-accurate recreation of the Normandy SR-2 incident. Comprised from preliminary first person accounts of the survivors of the event…]]


His body sore beyond apparent reason, Shepard grunted in pain as he plucked at the plating of his armor. He stood in the middle of his private quarters, alone, a rather spacious quarters that rivaled that of a five star class suite on Illium. Shepard hardly had the time to plunder through what all his room had to offer, there wasn't much time to do anything.

Getting the last portion of his armor off, Shepard massaged a tender abrasion in his left shoulder blade. An area of his body that hadn't healed totally following the number of procedures Cerberus did on him.

His armor lying in pieces on the floor around him, Shepard doesn't bother picking them up. Instead, he wandered over to his bed and sits on the edge of it. He stared out into space, balancing his chin in his hands and looking out at nothing in particular.

You'll think he'd be in a good mood, seeing that he and his team pulled off the impossible. They did something every current galactic being to date thought was sheer suicide. Surprised himself, Shepard didn't feel the euphoria, and he guessed that neither of his crewmates did either. He could almost sense it in the air, a mundane plague overhanging everyone's head. Yeah, they stuck it to the Collectors on their own turf, but this war has just began. They just threw the first knockout blow—but the Reapers will recover… they're relentless. And now, for the first time, Shepard has reached a pivotal point of this journey.

Where to go next?

Rubbing a hand across his face, Shepard released a deep set sigh then forced himself off his bed. He stripped off his underlying clothes then steps into the shower. As the warm water came dribbling down his body, a hard thought came coursing through his head. One he didn't like, but has to be done.


Refreshed from his brief shower and dressed in a neat, shipboard uniform, Shepard steps out his room and taps the holographic button of the elevator. It arrives and he sets his destination for the CIC.

The doors part ways, Shepard steps onto the abandoned CIC. Most of this deck's personal are down below in medical, them along with majority of the ship's crew. The galaxy map remains inactive, leaving the CIC in near darkness. Machines and consoles glow and hum in the background, creating some senses that the Normandy isn't just a ghost ship.

Following down the extended fuselage, pass the heat-loss stations and the airlocks, Shepard enters in on the Normandy's pilot, Joker.

The pilot gasped with a flinch upon Shepard's unannounced arrival, "Jesus! What are you, a ninja now?" Joker exclaimed, dramatically clenching a hand to his chest. "No wonder you stuck a foot up the Collectors' asses."

"How's she holding up?" Shepard asked in a monotone, referring to the Normandy.

"She took some damage… and by some I mean a shit load of damage," came Joker's usual satirical reply. "Surprise she didn't keel over when we ditched ourselves in that big ass cocoon the Collectors called a home."

"Yeah… thought we were done for then too," Shepard agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. Every inch of that place still crawled within him. The dingy stench, rotting corpses and of course that Human looking Reaper leaves in everlasting image in Shepard's brain. He knew, for a fact, it'll take time for him to decompress from that freak show. He could honestly suggest that most of his crew, especially the ones who were kidnapped, felt the same way, or worse.

Quick to change the subject, and to rid his mind of those terrible images, Shepard consulted EDI, the Normandy's integrated A.I.

"EDI, how extensive is the structural damage to the Normandy?" He questioned the A.I. leaning his arm upon the unoccupied co-pilot chair.

A lengthy pauses enters the conversation, where EDI's disembodied voice usual will reply to his command. Shepard raised a brow to the unusual matter. "EDI…?"

"She can't hear you, Commander." Joker said, leaning back in his chair. "Don't worry, she isn't ignoring you… I think. She told me something about… efficiently distributing essential energies of the Normandy's power grid to life support. It took a big hit when we had that shootout with that Collector ship." He turned his attention back to the vivid console in front of him, "just think of it this way; we'll be chocking on our own blood right about now if she wasn't sustaining life support. And don't sweat it, I got the ship's integrity report right here."

A few keystrokes later, Joker brought up a three dimensional under scaled model of the Normandy. There were many compartments flashing red, indicating hazards of hull integrity. Some areas of the ship, such as the hanger bay had been rendered uninhabitable. The vacuum of space has found its way inside, nipping away at their oxygen supply. No wonder Shepard felt a bit lightheaded ever since being back onboard.

"We're piss air out into space faster than you can say 'boo'." Joker said. "At this rate, with like what… a hundred people onboard—including a six foot eleven Krogan, we'll be at the threshold level of danger in less than seven hours, even with EDI workin' her robo magic."

"We're gonna have to make landfall soon then," Shepard mused aloud, "somewhere close."

"Not a problem Commander, just hit up the galaxy map and say the word."

Pondering his thoughts for a moment, Shepard comes to the conclusion of where he'll move his team next. "I already have a destination in mind," he said. "Hourglass nebula… Sowilo System."

Joker paused for a moment then gave the Commander a brief stare. Shepard knew the pilot wanted an explanation, and he owes him one as such. Joker's performance throughout this entire thing is worthy of medals and recognition, though Shepard could care less about that. He has the pilot's respect as much as Joker has his. So with that mutual loyalty between them, Joker doesn't question Shepard's judgment, not yet at least. "Aye—aye," the pilot drummed out, turning back to the console, "plotting course now."

Shepard sighed lightly through his nostrils, awaiting confirmation from Joker.

"Coordinates locked… heading for the nearest mass relay, Commander," Joker reported, cutting through the stillness between them. "We'll mesh into the Sowilo System in less than five hours. Plenty of time before we end up suffocating to death."

"Good job Joker," Shepard complemented, disregarding Joker's last, sarcastic statement. "Hail me if anything comes up." With that, Shepard stepped out the cockpit making his way back to the elevator to address the major population of his ship.

Waiting for the lift to arrive, Shepard's wrist hailer beeped off. He answers the hail, only for the receiving end to be flooded with background noise of people talking all at once. At last, he is able to make out Miranda's voice amongst the mess of voices.

"Shepard…we…. Come down…"

"Say again?" Shepard replied.

The noise in the background decreased enough for him to make out what Miranda was saying. "We have a problem down here, Shepard."

"I'm on my way now, Miranda," he tells her, at the time the lift doors open.


Arriving on the crew deck, the ghostly stillness of the ship is replaced with a gauntlet of voices all talking at once. Deck three was a charge of activity. The breathable air itself was much, much thinner down here. Shepard found it nearly impossible to fill his lungs with air. Each whiff is hardly half a breath. He stretches the collar of his shirt then pivots around the corner of the hallway where his path is intercepted by a trio of the Normandy's medical staff.

Shepard's eyes trace the rushing medical staff to the mass of injured and dazed crewmates waiting to be tended too. Shepard knew when the Collectors took his people that there wasn't a good chance any of them were coming back alive. When they blew through the Collector's base, that statement rang true to Shepard and his handpick insertion squad. He and his team discovered that half of the Normandy's initial crew were already dead. Engineers, systems specialist… pretty much everyone that kept this ship going for the pass months they've been traversing the cosmos, dead. It was hard for Shepard and his team to go on, for that was one of the main reasons in them attacking the Collectors.

However, at the end of the day, they did manage to rescue others. Human colonist that had been kidnapped by the aliens. Now all seventy-six of them are crammed into the crew and engineering deck of the vessel.

He started down the narrow corridor, stepping over dazed colonist laying on the floor, back against the walls or just milling about with an aimless purpose. Half of them still suffered from the shock of being trapped in those vats for God knows how long.

Shepard brushed his way pass the wandering colonist and found himself in the ship's galley, now retrofitted into a makeshift triage center since medical is overflowed with wounded.

"Shepard!" A profound, yet clearly tired voice from behind called. Approaching him through the mass of people, Shepard saw Jacob Taylor. The man's face looked like he was melting, he looked so exhausted, yet he came attentive to the Commander's presences. "Commander, things are just going from bad to worse. Food storage got spaced and we're running low on water."

"That isn't the only thing we're running out of…" Shepard murmured. "Where's Miranda? She hailed me?"

"Commander…" Shepard steered his attention to his left where he sees Miranda coming over from the far end of the galley. She steps over a line of colonist lying upon stretchers on the floor. Shepard noted that Miranda looked equally wasted as Jacob, her hair stuck to the sweat poured along her face. When she was close enough, she tugged on the Commander's sleeve drawing him near. "I need to speak to you, immediately." She said to him in a low, intense tone.

"Then speak," Shepard said.

She shook her head, "not here…" she said, side glancing the colonist around them. "The briefing room…" She passed him by, heading that way. "You too, Jacob."

The two men began following Miranda to the lift when Shepard heard his name being called from somewhere behind him.

"Down here…" Shepard's gaze fell upon a wounded Zaeed Massani, sprawled out on a stretcher. "Help me up, Shepard… don't leave me here like this."

"Sorry Zaeed," Shepard apologizes, knelling down near the man's side. "You took a nasty hit… you're lucky to still be alive."

"I wouldn't… say that," Zaeed grunts out. "Can hardly… breathe in this son-of-a bitch! Too many bodies... suckin up all da air."

Shepard took his attention to the wounded colonist lying alongside Zaeed. These people needed more than just the limited space on this deck. He curses himself for not thinking about it before.

"Shepard!?" Miranda's voice calls out to him, she and Jacob were boarding onto the lift and were waiting on him.

Turning his attention back to Zaeed, Shepard said, "hang in there, Massani. I'll be back."

From his side, another person came over, casting a shadow over Shepard. It was Karin Chakwas, "how are you feeling, Mr. Massani?" The doctor asked him, knelling alongside Shepard and wiping a bead a sweat from her tired face. It surprised Shepard as to how the doctor along with the three other ship docs were running back and fro checking up on the injured. They themselves were taken by the Collectors, and Shepard could see the toll it had on them. And if that weren't enough, this low air quality was another punch in the gut.

"Like a ray of sunshine," came Zaeed's pain stricken response.

"He's stabilizing, Commander," Chakwas told Shepard waving her Omi-tool over Massani. "Be on your way, I'll watch over him."


They stood in the near dark briefing room on deck two; Shepard, Jacob and Miranda. Along with Jack and Samara. The air in the room was constricting, stuffy and sweltering with their added body heat. The life support was failing along with the overall condition of the Normandy. Shepard was just surprised the ship didn't just shake apart.

"There's something wrong with the abductees," Miranda began to say, her voice trying to retain some substance, but Shepard knew she was going off fumes. Everyone was, at this point. They just got through fighting the Collectors and have been up for the better part of a day… or two. Shepard fought the fatigue trying to close in around him.

"Little over an hour ago… three of them… just died," she went on. "Along with them, there have been fifteen fatalities in the pass ten hours and counting."

"So? What are we supposed to do about it?" Asked Jack in an aggravated tone. The sweat on body glisters off her pale complexion.

"Try to figure out why people who were in stable condition when we extracted them from the Collectors are now dropping dead like flies." Miranda replies.

"It could be that… the Collectors infected them with… some form of pathogen," Jacob suggested, speaking in a shallow hush voice. "That could mean… all them are infected."

"Where are the bodies now?" Shepard asked.

"In the hanger bay," Miranda replied wiping the back of her hand against her forehead. "I had Legion, Garrus and Mordin move the corpses away from the general population till we know what the hell is going on."

"Did any of the colonist see them move the bodies?" Shepard asked. "I don't want a mass panic."

Miranda shook her head, "I don't think so. Half of the dead looked like they were sleep in their hammocks. So it wasn't too hard to remove them from medical without causing a fuzz."

"I thought the hanger was occupied by the vacuum of space?" Samara brought up.

"It is," Jacob said. "That along with food storage and some parts of subdeck are spaced out."

"And we're spewing air like crazy," Shepard said, adding more fuel to the fire. "We have about… ten hours' worth, thanks to EDI. That's more than enough time to make landfall…"

"We aren't setting this ship down anywhere," Miranda declared. "Not until we figure out what this thing is killing the colonist."

"Hold up—what?" Jack quacked. "You're gonna keep us onboard this fuckin' ship? Till we run outta air to fuckin' breath!?"

Miranda sighed, "I know it's drastic, Jack. But we can't risk docking the Normandy at any spaceport. We don't know if what the colonist have is airborne, circulating around the ship as we speak."

Before Jack could protest, Shepard spoke up first, "she's right, Jack. We have no idea what the Collectors did to the colonist. For all we know, we all may be infected."

Jack was a loss of words. Shepard couldn't blame her. They came all this way, battled and defeat the galaxy's most destructive species to date… to suffocate and die on a ship. If it meant sparing the galaxy from a possible destructive pathogen, then what choice did they have? After all, this mission was deemed suicide from the get-go.

Suddenly, the Normandy pitched sharply causing everyone to stumble. Shepard caught his balance and recovered. The constant low reverberation of mass effect core has all but ceased, leaving a hollow silence in its wake.

"We've stopped moving," Samara commented.

"Yeah, we've noticed," Jack said soon after.

Shepard immediately got on his hailer, "Joker, what's going on? Why have we stopped?"

It took a moment for Joker responses to come through, and when it finally did, it left Shepard's blood falling cold. "Commander, you gotta see this…"


A/N: Next chapter… all hell breaks loose.