Authors Note: All right, the final chapter! The next chapter will be one of the main goals I've had for this mini-epic: Elysium. Since I was asked, I'll do an Akuze version as well, although it may take me a while. School starts up for me next week, and I'll be a tad busier than usual.
I'd like to thank Drussius for allowing me to include a little cameo from the Sileya. He and Fainmaica are the two to be blamed…er…held responsible for getting me involved with this site. I would encourage any discerning reader to take a look at their stories, they are very well done!
Well then, I'm already writing the next chapter. Not sure when it will be done, but I think I can guarantee within three weeks.
Until next time!
Skies are a relative thing, Shepard mused. Earth had a guaranteed blue sky, when the pollution and cloud cover allowed you to see it during the daytime. Mars had a dim atmosphere, letting the stars be seen at all times, day or night. Mindoir skies had a slight blue with a greenish tinge, what with the lesser water volume. The planet he was on right now had an off gray-colored sky. What passed as a sun was smaller and brighter than he was used too. The thought made him chuckle. Used to. He hadn't been under one sun type for more than two months in the past year alone. Brass kept finding new jobs for him to accomplish, more "impossible" tasks. Shepard shrugged internally, it was an occupational hazard.
The spaceport on this forsaken planet was a small one, capable of shuttle launches only. The shuttle pads were surrounded by burnt patches, so its usual pilots needed more practice. A few craters well outside the boundaries indicated the results of when practice was not employed. Hence the positioning of the facility on a dirt-poor planet with no colony to suffer an explosion.
~o~O~o~
Captain Anderson stood back, watching his protégé. The shuttles were boarding and his young friend was intently observing the surroundings. Anderson had watched young Shepard ever since he'd received the tip from an old friend on the response team back on Mindoir. Even then, Shepard had stood out. Now, he stood out even more.
Shepard had once been a rail thin recruit and sandy hair, less than a hundred fifty pounds with rocks in his pockets. Now, with the Alliance training and mods, he'd filled out fairly well, not with sculpted muscle like the gym rats were so fond of, but with the practical version earned by hard work in the field. He was still the same height, a little over six feet, but his every move was precise. No motion was wasted, at least on the field. Off the field he had a penchant for being a little clumsy, almost like a teenager unused to the rapid growth, but that would pass in time. When he wasn't thinking about it, Shepard could have been the image for a recruitment poster.
The co-pilot waved them onto the shuttle. Grateful to leave the planet behind, Anderson gestured to Shepard and stepped onto the ramp. Most shuttles didn't need co-pilots these days, but this was a pilot training camp, and experience was needed.
~o~O~o~
Shepard hung back a minute. He'd been able to get a little training in vehicle operation here, but he'd enjoyed the solitude even more. As soon as anyone found out he was rated an N6, they wanted stories or favors. He'd never really minded; his personality was geared towards being a people person, but once in a while…it was nice to be alone.
However, training time was over. He'd had more time than he'd expected, almost three weeks on the new Mako class armored transport as well as the Kodiak shuttle. He was still a bit shaky on the fine-tuning drives, but could get around no problem.
"So, what's the next assignment, sir?" Shepard asked.
Anderson grimaced. "Am I that transparent? Why couldn't I be here to escort you to a new assignment on a cutting-edge attack craft?" His expression was only partially jocular.
Shepard counted on his fingers. "Well, you are one of the most experienced N7 officers, you have been my mentor for almost 27 months, and in that time there has been an 85% correlation to my getting a new combat assignment whenever you show up. The 15% nonrelated visits have either been when I'm recovering in a hospital, or that time you took me out to that pub on Eden Prime. When I had to carry you back to your cabin. Sir."
What Shepard didn't tell Captain Anderson was that he'd been bored out of his skull driving in circles. When the autopilot was keyed to take over, the onboard VI was more than capable of calculating probabilities. To date, he'd had around three weeks between assignments, just as he liked it. Too much time on his hands was…bad.
His superior officer grimaced. "I held them back as long as I could, Shepard. I pointed out you haven't had two weeks off the job in over three years."
Trying to deflect the conversation, Shepard mentioned: "I had about six months off for my first grade N7…"
Captain Anderson shook his head as if he hadn't heard Shepard. "But things have gotten rough. Very rough."
Both went silent as the shuttle passed through the barrier curtain of the Kilimanjaro, one of humanities best dreadnoughts. Human tech wasn't up to galactic standard in some areas, but combat vessels were currently only slightly behind. Humans had made up for their technical deficiency by utilizing obscure tactics and carriers.
Anderson remained silent as they disembarked to the hanger. It was understandable, missions for the Alliance as an operative were generally on a need-to-know basis, if only to keep the people in charge happy to be knowledgeable about something.
The hanger had an elevator in the back, leading to the second level. Frigates usually only had three levels, but the Kilimanjaro had twelve. The heavy mass drivers and GUARDIAN batteries had to be interspersed for maximum coverage after all, and that took room. Additionally there were shield emitters that required installation space, and room for repairs during battle.
Like most Alliance ships, the Kilimanjaro had sleep pods for their crew, but there was space enough for private cabins for the upper officers. There was even a mid-level devoted for recreation and meeting rooms; which apparently was where Anderson was bringing him.
Conference rooms were fairly standard across known space. Well, except for the Turians; Turians didn't have "conference rooms" per se. They had "war rooms." Those were smaller, fewer amenities and more tactical data displays. This particular room looked as if it could hold several dozen people, which made sense for a fleet flagship. There was even an extranet terminal, complete with holo display.
The only current occupants of the room however were the fleet commander, Admiral Hackett and an asari in black commando leathers. All were in conversation discussing something Shepard couldn't overhear. The room was designed to obfuscate eavesdropping, the walls angled in reflective patterns over the table.
Anderson kept walking up the tables' length, so Shepard followed, trying not to stumble over his own feet while assuming the dutiful Stupid-yet-Earnest body language. He wasn't acclimated to the rarified echelons by any means, but he'd been around his superiors long enough to pick up on a few strategems.
Hackett and the fleet commander looked up as Captain Anderson approached and saluted. Hackett returned the sign of respect.
"Anderson, it's been too long." Hackett reached out, half standing and shook the captains hand. "Glad you could make it."
"My pleasure, sir. This is Lieutenant-Commander Shepard." Anderson motioned at the taller man at his side.
Shepard saluted stiffly with absolute military precision. He'd seen Admiral Hackett before, often received orders from the aged leader, but he'd never been in a face-to-face meeting with him. He took a moment to examine his superior, circumspectly of course.
The admiral nodded in response to his salute, but didn't give one of his own. So, that meant he was a traditional man, but was willing to be casual in private settings. His graying hair and lined face made indications of his age being more than the forty years he'd been allotted so far. Still, the man was a young legend for his quick progress from an enlisted man to an admiral. He'd been only a second-lieutenant during the First Contact War and was already a full admiral less than twenty years later.
Hackett also walked with a limp. There was a decided hitch in his right leg, which might have had something to do with the prominent scar along the right cheekbone. Shepard thought about it briefly, then gave it up as a lost cause. The man was more decorated than the recipient of a Better Homes and Gardensmakeover. Heaven only knew which conflict gave him what mark.
Out of the corner of his eye, Shepard noticed the asari watching him. As with most of her species, Shepard could only tell she was young, but whether that translated to three centuries or a few decades was beyond him.
"So what is your opinion?" Hackett asked him unexpectedly.
"Sir?" Shepard played for time.
"Come on, all grunts have some opinion or other. Remember I was one of them only a few years ago." Hackett had the look of someone who knew exactly what was going on behind the mask.
Shepard racked his short-term memory, looking for the relevant bit of conversation he'd missed. Nothing. He'd have to wing it.
"Opinions are as plentiful as hydrogen." he countered, "I'd prefer not to have one until it's an informed one, sir."
Hackett didn't exactly grin…his face wasn't built for it. But something in his eyes glinted. "Well said." He turned to Captain Anderson. "He'll do, if he's any good in unarmed combat."
Anderson chuckled warmly. "He put a half-dozen N5's in the hospital during Basic. When he reached N7, he took on a Battlemaster and nearly won."
Bushy eyebrows raised. "Almost?"
"The krogan ambassador called him off before it got too serious."
Shepard held his tongue. Those situations had been slightly different the way he remembered, but Anderson was one of the best advocates a grunt could have. He could be trusted.
The admiral stood and went to the extranet terminal. "Shepard, do you know what this is?"
Music poured from the terminal. Shepard had to exert himself to not show surprise. "That, uh, that's me. Sir."
The asari had one eyebrow raised, her gaze had changed from mere curiosity to something more…predatory. Why was she present?
"Son, I've heard some music before, they had a whole blasted orchestra for when I made Admiral." Hackett let the music play and hit more commands. "What I want to know is how well you can play."
Shepard dropped the Earnest-but-Stupid façade. He sensed Anderson nod slightly. "Sir, this is not a normal situation, is it?"
The atmosphere in the room became more serious.
Two marine guards entered the room, fully armed. One of them had his omni-tool out and scanning. "Sir, the next two N7 are here."
Hackett nodded, "Show them in."
The guards saluted crisply and exited. Moments later a giant of a man entered, followed by another man with a furious mustachio.
Shepard started, then grinned, staying silent. Both men ignored him completely and went through the whole greeting process.
"Lieutenant-Commander, I believe you know Lieutenants Tchiesveld and Valdez?"
Both men glanced over, and did a double take. "Shepard?" the taller one asked.
Shepard nodded gravely, turning so only the two men could see his face. When Anderson and Hackett were distracted, he made a ridiculous face for a second, and reassumed his normal bland expression.
The shorter man snorted, as Shepard knew he would. Arvid managed to keep himself under control, but the asari was still darting looks back and forth between the trio.
"We asked you three here because of your expertise and of your known association." Hackett seemed to have a knack for punctuating odd silences. That's why he was an admiral, probably.
The Kilimanjaro shuddered as it entered FTL, then settled to a smoother vibration.
"This is the situation." The fleet commander took over, he was one of the shortest men Shepard had ever seen, barring the Volus images he'd picked up. "Data for an Alliance project has been stolen by a group of tech thieves. These thieves have been operating within Council space for the last few years, and moved into Alliance space within the last few months."
"Why hasn't the Council done anything about them?" Arvid asked. His voice had changed, from a deep baritone to a true basso. It matched his physique very well.
The fleet commander looked irritated. "Because heaven forbid that the Council get off their collective fat-"
Hackett cleared his throat meaningfully.
"That is to say, the Council has enough on its plate than to worry about a few unimportant thieves. Even such minor thieves that managed to steal stealth technology from the Turians."
Shepard raised his eyebrows. Turians were downright OCD about privacy rights; whatever the Council had intended, these thieves were definitely one of the better groups out there.
"We have been asked to aid the Asari Commandos in apprehending these thieves, as Intelligence has indicated that the suspects have stopped inside Alliance space. The rest of the briefing will be under Lt. Micha."
The asari stood. "Thank you. The job is simple, we infiltrate the suspect base, we grab what we came for, and we leave." She sat back down, smirking.
There was a confused silence. Arvid raised a hand. She nodded, "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Ma'am, what do we carry on this one?"
She was still smirking. "Since this is your territory, I think you know what's legal here better than I do."
Arvid blinked. "Where is the location then?"
"Much better question." The purple tinted asari got up and stalked to the extranet terminal. "It turns out this team of thieves has quite the eye for local watering holes. Their preferred method of operation is to set up, or take over, a medium to high-class business and use it for organizing their operation." She stood back, calling up a hologram of a two story dance club. "All we need are a few trained musicians who also happen to be killers, a dancer or two, and some backup. Chunk of kayan."
The asari turned around and put one hand on her hip. "That's of course assuming at least some of you know about something more than combat?"
Shepard stayed still. Thirty seconds of silence later, Captain Anderson flicked his eye over disapprovingly. Shepard exhaled angrily, music was his personal hobby, not something to bandy around like a cheap merc-for-hire.
"Fine." He growled. "I can play some stringed instruments."
Micha raised an eyebrow. "Really? Can you actually play, or are you trying to get in my…good side?"
In answer, Shepard activated his omni-tool, calling up one of his audition pieces from when he'd considered applying for an orchestra position. An image of Shepard playing flamboyant Latin music appeared, complete with guitar, a pulsating percussion section and a harmonizing pair of singers.
Micha narrowed her eyes. "Well…so the boy has…talent."
Arvid snorted. Karl shifted an infinitesimally small distance, and Arvid found an astonishingly heavy weight on his foot.
~o~O~o~
Oddly enough, the Kilimanjaro was able to refit one of its meeting rooms into a concert hall. Apparently the infiltration team had to make an audition video for working at the restaurant. Whatever the reason behind it, Shepard was irritated by everyone's ability to simply take his personal hobby and flaunt it to the galaxy. What was almost as irritating was the tacky décor someone had dreamed up. The theme was latin music, so someone had grabbed a pair of Grecian masks (in and of itself acceptable signs of the theatre), and started layering Italian decorations all over the camera frame. Roman shields, olive leaves…maybe a statue of what someone interpreted Julius Caesar to look like…after his assassination.
Topping it all off, the Lieutenant was wearing a "dance" dress. Shepard couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a joke, or honest ignorance. There were some ruffles scattered here and there, and there was an acceptable amount of heel, but the cut was definitely wrong, overall far too formfitting, and incredibly poorly designed for anything like Flamenco.
He sat and watched for a few minutes while a salarian with a guitar wandered past (how did that work with three fingers?) and Lieutenant Mischa tried a few tentative steps. She had good balance, but the effect was ruined by her falling over a techie who was trying to connect the amps.
Arvid looked lost over on the sidelines. He was examining his suit, trying to find the activation sequence. Shepard didn't have the heart to tell him a standard tuxedo didn't come with tech armor.
Only Karl looked relatively happy. He was seated behind the percussion section, working with the interface. He wouldn't be the actual drummer, but he had some working knowledge, and could adjust the acoustics to match whatever the lead asked.
Chaos continued building. Once the rest of the musicians arrived, they began tuning their various instruments. The unfortunate truth was that while all of them agreed on using the 440 hertz tuning frequency, they couldn't arrive on a consensus on the tempo, or even the appropriate music. Granted, the two humans (one a singer/guitarist, the other a singer/percussionist) knew what they were doing, but it wasn't enough to make the group coalesce.
With the dispiriting lack of progress, the group broke up for the night. Each promised to consider the matter deeply by the next session.
~o~O~o~
Shepard approached Micha while she packed her bag. "Why didn't you study this before coming here" he asked bluntly.
Micha bristled. "I've been dancing longer than your species has known about spaceflight, human."
"What? In front of a group of drooling half-drunk morons? You could put a trained varren in front of them and they'd toss credits if it ate someone." Shepard shot back.
"And you are some kind of expert?"
Shepard went ice cold, it showed in his eyes. His timbre shifted to what was usually stamped from hull alloy. "I've been learning music for 75% of my life, and competed in Old-Earth challenges for half of that. I know flamenco, two forms of tango and the waltz. It's how I grew up."
The last of the musicians left, leaving them with the lights and an awkward pause.
"So how come you can't dance in public? I saw you on leave once." The asari shuddered. 'It was like watching a shuttle crash into a fuel station, only not as graceful."
Shepard went red. "I never learned the new styles, never had time to learn after…I got older. But I do know the classics."
Micha struggled visibly with herself. Finally, she asked meekly: "Can you teach me?"
In response, Shepard cued up a new piece, percussion throbbing. He closed his eyes, internalizing the rhythm. "To truly perform a Latin-American dance, you need to let it fuel what burns within. Let it send fire to your feet, emanating from your soul."
A violin was left on a nearby stand, sleek and glistening. Shepard grasped its neck and flipped the wide end onto his shoulder. His head began to nod with the drums just as a guitar soared into the melody. Fingers flexed, silently running across the fingerboard. Shepards' eyes opened, still calculating, but now internally lit.
Uncharacteristically, he grinned saucily and slammed his bow across the strings. Rocking his shoulders to the beat, he timed half-steps backwards onto the dance floor. A side flick of his head invited the asari to join him.
Grinning she twirled after him, almost tripping over the hem of her dress. Shepard whipped out his right hand to stop her, catching his bow with his left, wedging the violin between his chin and shoulder. A deft twist shoved the asari back onto her feet, leaving them both breathing heavily for a second.
Shepard stared at her for a second, then sighed. "This isn't going to work with me playing the music. Hang on…."
He set the violin down and adjusted the music to include a violin in its output. He hesitated for a moment, regaining the rhythm, and started clapping his hands in time. "Grab my left hand, use your right to control the height of your skirt. Good." Shepard started stepping smoothly, guiding the commando in a circle. "Now alternating feet. Stamp left...right….left…right…triple-step, spin. Excellent."
~o~O~o~
At 0700 hours, the musicians returned to practice. This time the music flowed and Micha was able to perform the dance moves nigh flawlessly. Shepard had to admit, she was highly coordinated, and a quick study. It had taken her only half an hour before she'd mastered the basic steps and moved onto the more difficult castanets. It had also amused her when Shepard offered to work on her dress; apparently, most males in the galaxy were incompetent when it came to repairing fabric. For Shepard, sewing had been a required skill for a colonist; do it yourself, or trade labor with another colonist. Most colonists preferred to learn self-sufficiency.
Since that evening, Shepard had taken his place as the violinist in the band, playing with the rest of the musicians. It was fascinating to watch the salarian guitarist play. His hands moved far faster than a humans' would, and were actually more flexible, allowing chords to be played with only two fingers. The posture wasn't great, but that enabled him to angle the thumb around, helping with the chords.
Karl Valdez, however, had been roped into a singing role. When the band discovered that he knew Castilian Spanish, and was also able to carry a tune, they'd informed Admiral Hackett that unless the N7 operative sang, they would quit the whole operation. Authentic singers were a rare commodity these days.
The band and dancers had only a few days to practice together, but they made it count, practicing together for hours every day, then on their own. A true band would know hundreds of pieces, but the best this group could hope for was a few dozen. That was more than they'd expected, however, thanks to salarian's incredible memory, Shepard's experience and a retinal projector on Karls' eye.
Anderson came to watch their final rehearsal before they were dropped off. He startled them by clapping loudly at the climax of their final set.
"Good! I can't believe how well you've pulled this together gentlemen!"
Shepard, acting as spokesman, bowed professionally. "Thank you sir. We appreciate the sincere enthusiasm of a discerning audience."
Anderson laughed. "Keep him in charge and you might get tips out of the bargain."
Lieutenant Micha gave him a dazzling smile, "He talks, I dance, and the boys in the back can play to their hearts content."
Arvid adjusted the cuffs on his jacket. "Um, sir? What kind of backup do we get in this, sir?"
The sound of an opening violin case came from the back. "The old-fashioned kind, of course!" Karl held up an assault rifle hidden in the instrument case. "How can you go wrong with a baby like this backing you up?"
Arvid gave the weapon a single horrified look, then transferred the same expression to his superior officer.
He was too late, however, Anderson had already slipped out the door. His final words slipped back in, however. "I'll be listening from orbit. As soon as you need backup we'll be dropping a shuttle from a…third party."
~o~O~o~
Since dropping out of an Alliance dreadnought and claiming to be a simple traveling band might have proven slightly unbelievable to the locals, Anderson had used his contacts to hire a mercenary shuttling business Drew Zius Spacelanes. Well, it was officially a privately owned shipping company, but the captain of the ship they were hiring looked more than capable of taking on a few commandos.
The Sileya was a typical asari merchant vessel, built with a scaled down version of the same infrastructure in the more famous Destiny Ascension. Her frame was not as powerful, of course, nor was the engine as large, but on a whole the vessel was well-equipped to deter raiders with minimal cost. Like most freighter vessels traveling the Traverse, the Sileya possessed heavy shields, but had devoted most of the space that would ordinarily have gone to the minimal weapons allowed by Council law for more engine space.
The owner, however, was far above the usual merchant commander. Captain Nisaria was well beyond her Maiden stage, which either made her a Matriarch or a Matron. Since Matriarchs were usually revered as wise elders and kept close to home, that would make her a Matron.
Her crew was varied, however, as befitted a trading crew. There was a krogan, Tredak, who oversaw general maintenance of the Sileya. He seemed smaller than the norm of his species, but he had a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. The chief engineer was a salarian named Monir, pretty good at what he did, but not much better than the average.
The other crewmate was actually a pair of asari, twins in fact. The Tikan twins were apparently in charge of driving passengers crazy, navigation and piloting. The two of them had an eerie habit of knowing where the other was at all times, almost as if they were sharing thoughts.
Shepard hid from them in the cargo hold, ostensibly checking on the instruments. That took little time, however; all that was needed was to check the temperature and humidity. To spend more time away from the overly-friendly twins, he started fieldstripping the sidearm he'd carried along.
Soon enough, he heard the light footsteps of an asari behind his back. He pretended not to hear; simple musicians didn't have the skills he did after all. Still, he pieced together the pistol and slipped it into the shoulder holster. It wouldn't do to be seen caring for a weapon overly much.
The dim lighting hid his motions, allowing him to maintain cover for the most part. It also hid the movements of whoever was behind him, forcing Shepard to stagger against a box when Captain Nisaria appeared out of nowhere.
"You come down here often." She said. It wasn't the idle chitchat Shepard was used to, it was more a statement of fact, inviting an explanation for a potentially insulting action.
Shepard grinned vapidly. "It's quiet down here."
The captain didn't return the grin. "I don't know who you are, and I sure as Hell don't know what you're doing here. I'll give you some advice, don't start trouble on my ship."
Faking wide-eyed alarm, Shepard tripped backward a step. "Uh-yes ma'am! No trouble here ma'am!"
Captain Nisaria nodded once and turned her back, stalking to the exit. Behind her, Shepard maintained the façade of incompetent fear, until after she'd left the hold.
He shivered. Nisaria was one of the more threatening individuals to their cover, likely she'd been a merc in her time, and knew all the tells for the past half millennia. Maybe it would be better to return to the cabin they all shared, save when Micha was asleep. Then the band found excuses to be elsewhere, generally playing Skyllian Five in the galley. Monrir had taught Shepard a few interesting tricks. But…generally the Tikans were there, making eyes at what they considered suitable targets.
A soft movement was all the warning he had. A glowing blue blur descended upon him from nowhere. Shepard barely had enough time to react, ducking to absorb the blow and triggering the emergency shielding he'd installed in his civvies.
The blow shattered his shield, but allowed him to stay on his feet. With no time to reach for his sidearm, Shepard launched a blistering fast series of body shots he'd learned from a salarian instructor back for N4. The opponent, an asari by the coloration, had reacted just as fast as he had, using biotics to counter his every blow.
Shepard used the series of eye-movements he'd been taught to activate his omni-tool, firing a brief electric shock into asari's barrier disrupting it. He froze when he recognized Captain Nisaria's face, and saw a triumphant glint in her eyes. Slowly he pulled back, as she did likewise.
"What gave me away?" he asked curiously.
Nisaria shook her head dismissively. "Little things. You always smell of lubricant after you come down here, and you're far too confident when telling my crew to back off."
Shepard exhaled in exasperation. "I always change any clothes that could carry the scent, how did you get that?"
"Krogan have an amazing sense of smell. Tredak is also a weapons smith, if you get to know him well enough. He could tell you more about weapons development in the past century than an encyclopedia."
The shields powered down at Shepards command. "And the crew? I thought I was pretty good there."
Nisaria nodded, "You were good there, but then you got too good. Collectively. When the Tikan twins set their sights on a man, he's generally theirs inside a few days." Her expression didn't change, but her voice took on a trace of…something. Apology?" They are…young. Impulsive." The shred of humanity left. "And will be looking for new employment soon. You and your boys resisted them. Plus, the three of you look like you could take on a krogan, and believe me, I would know."
Shepard stretched his neck muscles, making the vertebrae crack. "So what do you want?"
"Same as before. Don't start any trouble on my ship. I don't know who you are, or why you're here." Nisaria raised a hand as Shepard started to speak, "And I don't want to know. Three soldier-boys and one asari Maiden on a freighter? The whole thing stinks of sneaking around. That means special ops, and you boys don't always play nice with the civilians."
Shepard allowed himself to break cover and attained an alert full military posture, grinning lopsidedly. "Ma'am, I can assure you that your vessel is not going to be anywhere near my field of operations."
The older asari gave a professional nod. "Good. Make sure it stays that way."
~o~O~o~
The Sileya landed, and the group departed with no incident, although there were some insulted facial expressions from the rebuffed. The planet they landed on was an obscure no-name colony in the Traverse, technically claimed by the Alliance. In all practicality, it operated as its own entity, paid its taxes and got its periodic funding grants. Since it was close to the spacer lanes, it received more business from groups outside the Alliance than in, and granted a certain amount of anonymity to its customers. Locals had named it Jodenheim, after Norse mythology, but the rest of the Traverse called it Frost.
Jodenheim was an inhabitable M-class planet a bit colder than humans liked it. Environment bubbles contained warmer conditions, and allowed more control over business opportunities. It had gotten to the point where Jodenheim was becoming known as a "poor mans' Noveria." That was possibly a good thing, and possibly not.
Shepard relaxed against a hanger wall as the salarian dickered with the port authorities. Storage fees were all very well, but instruments were not going to be left in the cold. Port authorities, of course, were as eager as ever to earn an extra credit and were reluctant to let potential cargo go strolling off with their owners. A sufficiently large crew, with a fairly small ship, could carry off all the "personal effects" they could carry, nearly nullifying the point of a storage manager.
Finally, after invoking the potential wrath of the musicians union (bad news for a colony with entertainment industries), they were allowed the privilege of carrying their own instruments. And everything else, in retaliation. The workers would claim they feared "offending" the musicians union, but both sides would see through that particular pathetic tale.
The band set up a temporary base in a rented room as the salarian and Lt. Micha looked for employment. That left time for recon and evaluation. Maps had been provided, of course, but the key to any successful operation was to discover what Intelligence had gotten wrong.
Micha and the salarian returned soon with good news.
"We have a gig at the Deja Blue tonight!"
Shepard looked mildly disappointed. "I thought we were looking to get hired by that club? What's its name, the Nova?"
Micha shrugged. "This place is right next door, and frankly it looks like it would fit our venue better. Besides, I'd already turned down three offers, we can't do too much of that. It would look bad"
The salarian hissed a chuckle and plucked an off-key chord. "Even if the "requests" weren't for our brand of theatrics?"
"Bands take gigs wherever they can get, especially if they're new." Micha defended herself.
The salarian shook his head. "You don't know much about freelancing, do you?" He held up both hands as she started to stiffen, "freelance musician. I have no doubt you know all there is to know about mercs."
~o~O~o~
They carried on, and made their debut. It was successful, if not an overwhelming hit. It still paid enough money to make their rent so they didn't have to dip into their reserve funds. Best of all, they had been seen by a large number of people, so their presence wouldn't be questioned.
With that success it was not difficult to secure employment at various locations, and even hire out individuals for backup in other music groups.
The time came, however, when they received an invitation to perform at the Deja Blue.
In keeping with Frost economy, the lounge was more of a sprawl. All of the furniture was cyan colored, but the lighting was the standard found throughout the galaxy. A few spotlights highlight the stage to one side, an electronic management board ensconced in a tastefully hidden nook.
Shepard tuned up with the rest of the band. He wasn't using his beloved wooden violin, that would have stood out. Instead he was using a polymer construction that probably hadn't originated anywhere close to where its elder kinsmen had been born. Its strings hummed as they tightened. Shepard kept his ear to the fiddle, but his eyes on the audience. All musicians watched their instruments, people watched them. That was the point of dancing. People who dance had to keep moving, twisting their heads around, watching in every direction.
Micha had full regalia this time, a flamenco outfit that would have functioned n a Venezuelan competition. More importantly, she knew how to wear it, twisting at the right moment so the fabric would swish in one direction while she would be turning the opposite way.
Since the lights were run by the musicians, Karl was able to adjust the focus of the spotlights, rendering Shepards head in shadow. That made him able to watch the audience, even when playing.
During their third set, a small red light winked on Shepards booster. Casually, he glanced around the room. Over on the far wall, a quarian and two asari were watching the performance. The asari looked semi-bored, while the quarian looked interested. His body language also looked…scared. Yes, definitely nervous. But why? Quarians had a…reputation…that was true, but this was Alliance space. None of the Council races were predominantly present, and those that were present usually respected Alliance authority.
Shepard shifted a little, moving the key up. The dance they were playing was fortunately a signal piece, one that had certain tones, keys and arpeggios built in for discreet communication.
Over on the sound stage, Karl heard the confirmation shift. Moving a few keys, he bathed the stage in a slowly increasing luminary palette. Arvid, in his "guard" position near the back faded into the crowd while Micha increased her tempo. The band adjusted, sending confirmation back to Shepard that all who needed it, had received the message.
Now all they had to do was wait for results.
~o~O~o~
Tension built as they waited. Their set ended, and they put away their instruments for the break. Karl kept one of the cases close by, as they waited for Arvid to return.
He didn't. People milled through the lounge, drinking and talking while canned music circulated overhead, the next band started coming in to gauge the audience before they started up, but Arvid was conspicuously inconspicuous.
They started their last set for the night. The regular musicians knew something was up, but they were professionals and kept playing as they always had. The other kind of professionals followed the lead of the musicians and maintained cover. Shepard, Karl and Micha were, perhaps not quite as musically proficient as their counterparts, but had enough skill for the circumstances.
The two asari and the quarian at the back of the room had left. One of the asari had returned, but with a salarian this time. Both were looking highly entertained by the band, so far as Shepard could read their alien physiology. That meant that they knew something was up… probably Arvid had been observed. Most humans of that size didn't move quietly…still…Arvid was an N7 graduate. He knew better than 99% of the Alliance population how to blend.
The band wailed into its final crescendo, allowing Micha to take the final steps/castanet claps, and curtsy. The audience was mildly appreciative, with both applause and tips. The band broke up as the next group of performers started their setup.
Micha hooked her arm through Shepards elbow. Startled he jerked slightly, then fell into character. He muttered through his teeth, "And what exactly are you doing?"
Micha looked smug. "Me? Strolling around with a cute human. You don't think that they'd believe someone as gorgeous as myself would be with a klutz, would you?"
The sound of gritting teeth emanated from somewhere above her to the left. Shepard looked, however as if he were grinning.
"What's with you and having a good time?" Micha asked irritably. "You'd think I'd invited you to date a batarian or something."
That got a reaction. His arm tensed like a steel cable in her grasp.
"You have something against batarians?" she asked curiously. "I mean, aside from their whole slave trader mentality?"
Shepard grunted. "Batarians have always been gunning for me. Whenever I meet one of their gangs, they always try to take me down. Hard."
Micha shrugged. "Well, you are usually not in a position to initiate a tea party." Shepard shook his head.
"I mean whenever a batarian sees me, he generally goes for his gun."
"Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?" Micha asked.
Shepard waved at a friendly woman on the far side of the lounge. "Not in this case."
"What happened?"
"I lived."
"Hey you two!"
Shepard held his hand up to his ear. "Yes? What is it Karl?"
"I've got a buzzing emergency signal from Arvid. He's in trouble."
Micha and Shepard shared a look. "Let's get to it."
~o~O~o~
Frost had a limited area to search. It was a decent sized colony, but a fairly small area in which to get lost, particularly when one factored in the duration possible for distance covered. Unless Arvid had been kidnapped, he had to be relatively close to the Frost service sector.
The trio split up. Karl took the west end, Micha the middle and Shepard the east. Micha had traded in her civvies for her commando leathers while Shepard and Karl kept to their non-combat gear, hoping to maintain a low profile.
Civilians walked everywhere, a soldiers nightmare. Civilians tended to do stupid things when under fire, like running at the gun, or worse, trying to help.
Shepard kept an eye on his omni-tool. The signal seemed to grow weaker as he headed east. He varied his eastward trek heading a bit north, then south. The signal stayed weak, and got more so.
"He's not over here." Shepard reported. "Heading west now."
A double click responded in his ear. Silence came from the other responder. "Micha? Karl?" Shepard started jogging.
The comm clicked. "Karl here, I don't see anything. Signal is weak, growing stronger as I go east."
"Micha's last position shows as being by that converted warehouse, a quarter-mile east of the Deja Blue."
"Acknowledged. Loaded for bear. Shepard! I got them! Three targets, biotic and—" static broke the channel.
"Karl? Karl!" Shepard fired a location ping through their shared network. Karl showed as being near the same spot Micha disappeared.
Shepard instantly broke into a swift jog, but pulled up as he thought of something. Karl and Arvid had been taken without their full gear. Going stealth wasn't working. It was time for a full assault, N7 style.
~o~O~o~
There was an Alliance military outpost on Frost. It was equipped with the standard minimalism mentality. It simply wasn't efficient to equip all colonies with an armed military; the efficiency lay in giving a colony enough hardware to hold off an attack until the main Alliance body could ride in to the rescue. That's where the fleets spent most of their time, by the Mass Relays, waiting for orders.
Shepard made sure to stride into the office, which seemed to be staffed by a single startled looking ensign.
"I need a full loadout for an extraction, ASAP!" he barked.
The ensign pulled out a clipboard. "Well, sir, if you would just fill out an approval request form, I can send it up to the Commander. It will only take a few minutes."
Shepard took one step forward, towering over the ensign. "I am Lieutenant-Commander Shepard, Alliance N6 operative. I am here on a classified mission."
The ensign made an uncharacteristically suicidal move. "There may be some difficulty sir. I have you listed as a Lieutenant-Commander, but I have no registered operations-"
His voice cut out when Shepard reached across the table, grabbing the ensigns' collar. "I will be clear." Shepard growled. "I am here on an undercover operation. I am here on an emergency to arm up. You are in my way." He lifted the ensign off his seat. "Either help me, or get out of my way."
The ensign swallowed hard. "Sir, yes sit. Armory is over there, unlocking it now, sir!"
Shepard eased the ensign back into his chair. "Thank you."
The ensign watched Shepard cross the room in two steps and vanish through the security door. This was going to cause a lot of reports.
The armory was small, but complete. It had an armor adjustment table, so Shepard was able to refit a standard set to his size fairly quickly. Weapons lined the walls, maintained by the attentions of dutiful sergeants and distracted soldiers on detention.
Shepard quickly took the best he could find, and carried them to the weapons table. The sniper rifle, a Naginta model X, received a disruptor rounds mod, with a pair of super-conductive attachments. Each shot had to hit, but at this point, missing was a lower probability than the chance of shields being present.
The pistol, a Raikou VIII received an Incendiary ammo mod, with a cooldown mod and a rangefinder.
An Armageddon IX shotgun was given explosive rounds, and more cooldown modifications to the heat sink; Karl used shotguns excessively; if he were disarmed (more than likely) he would need the hardware.
Finally, for Arvid, Shepard selected a Hurricane model X assault rifle. Given Arvids tastes, Shepard modified the rifle with armor-piercing rounds, a scram rail and a heat sink.
After thinking a moment, Shepard took a second pistol for Micha, modified it, and strapped it to one leg. Alliance armor had mag-clips for only four weapons, after all.
A final check, addition of grenades, and Shepard was ready.
The ensign was ready with another form for Shepard to sign. "If you would please sign here…" he began.
Shepard turned. The form was a checkout registry, already filled out with most of the information. He sighed. "All right, but you have to fill out the weapons data. I have to get rolling."
The ensign nodded meekly. "Yes sir, good luck sir."
In a flash the paperwork landed on the desk and Shepard was out the door.
~o~O~o~
Shepard crouched behind a pair of boxes. The converted warehouse was just ahead, semi-distant from the nearest structures, which made his job both easier and harder. In any case, he liked it better this way. The more isolated the location, the less he had to worry about friendly fire. If there were no possibility of allies being in the warehouse, he'd just call in an airstrike.
Three guards lounged around the buildings entrance. They had civilian garb, but a squint through the scope showed bulges in familiar locations. Plus, they seemed reluctant to leave particularly obscuring locations….
Shepard took another look around, using the rangefinder on his pistol to get an accurate idea. No one else seemed to be around, but surveillance systems seemed to be everywhere.
Two minutes to plan, one minute to prepare, and Shepard was ready.
He started with a hack, scrambling the surveillance systems to a static image. Someone would catch on, but he'd be through by then. Next, Shepard sabotaged the communicators the three undoubtedly had.
Shepard used the shadows to sneak down to the warehouse wall, then crept under the cameras he hadn't hacked to reach the rearmost guard. With a single fluid move, he got his arm around the man's lower face and pinned his arms, pulling him back. Just before the man thought of it, he pinned his legs as well with one of his own. Thirty seconds later, the man was unconscious. Shepard repeated the process on the second man, then the third. The third man was suspicious, however, turning as Shepard approached.
"What's going—!" Shepard pulled out a knife and sliced through an artery, then followed up with an elbow-strike on the doubled-over form. The man was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Shepard administered a quick shot of medigel (more witnesses, more evidence) and propped up the men in their old positions. Zip ties secured their immobility, should they awaken.
Quickly, Shepard sliced the access code from their omni-tools and entered the warehouse. The doors slid open, near noiselessly.
Inside was a ledge he could hide underneath, and another door. Lockers lined the walls, one or two open to a prying meddler. Heh, free money. Shepard thought. Perks of the job.
Beyond the grey flooring stood the second door. Shepard opened it with little trouble and peered inside, pistol first.
It had the standard layout of a pre-fab warehouse, stairs on the left with doors on the back for office space or special unit storage. Various large objects were scattered around the floor, providing cover for an enterprising assailant.
Shepards omni-tool buzzed on his wrist. The locator signal was coming from the back, just beyond the doorframe. Of course.
The HUD showed about a half-dozen armed individuals within the warehouse, but the range only extended about fifty feet. Shepard allowed himself thirty seconds to scan the room, searching for good hiding spots, choke points, potential hazards.
One of the dots was moving closer to him. Shepard unshipped his sniper rifle; in here it was like shooting fish in a barrel, but it was a sure kill.
A guard stepped out from behind a cargo container and spotted Shepard. His mouth opened to shout the alarm, but the thunder of a rifle drowned out what he had to say.
The HUD showed enemies everywhere converging on Shepards location. Quickly, he deployed a tech mine and the omni-tool's minifacturing engine began creating more.
The first guard on site hit the tech mine, overloading his weapons. He tried firing his shotgun, but all he got was a repeated beeping warning. And a bullet to the face.
Shepard deployed a free-standing sabotage mine, the omnitool dedicated another minifacturing unit to create another for him.
Two guards came around the corner at the same time. One triggered the mine, letting the little data repository make a quick-fix alteration to their guns firmware. Before the onboard repair-protocols could fix the problem, the two guards fired. The heat, which ordinarily was flushed through the heat-sink off to one side, was shunted back along the barrel into their faces.
Shepard quick-drew his pistol and finished them off. Before the next ssailant could round the corner, he ran in a crouch farther into the warehouse. His HUD was showing more guards coming from the storage offices in back, moving forward would push their momentum back on themselves.
A shotgun boomed from one side, peppering the side of a container next to Shepard. He ducked off to the right, moving farther back. The omni-tool finished with the next tech mine and he sidearmed it into the side of another crate. A short run, and he was able to dive into the lower office, tossing a grenade across the room.
Under cover of the explosion of the grenade the speed of his movement and the tech mine fouling up everyone's HUD, he was able to shut the door with none the wiser.
Inside the room was Arvid, unconscious on the floor in the back under a desk.
Shepard heaved the desk off of Arvid and started checking his vitals. All were strong, but a nasty bruise indicated future medication needs. For now, Shepard smeared a medi-gel pellet over the spot and sprinkled a little water over Arvids face.
Arvid woke up with all the cold fury of a professional assassin. Silently he caught Shepard by the throat, strangling him half to death before realizing whom was there.
"Sorry Shepard, didn't see you there."
Shepard made a depreciating choking noise waving off the apology.
Arvid shook his head a little, the focus coming back. Then he spotted the assault rifle on Shepards back. "That for me? You shouldn't have!"
'Don't worry, I'll be putting you in front." Shepard mumbled. "Where's your omni-tool?"
Arvids face clouded with anger. "They jammed it. Hit it with an EMP round, haven't been able to get it started. Got caught fiddling with it, got clouted with some biotic bi-"
A fusillade hit the door, cutting him off.
Shepard tossed him the assault rifle. "Take cover, and don't get hit. I took down a few, salvage the gear when you can. Give me a little cover fire when you can."
The husky Russian nodded, priming the rifle hungrily.
The door hissed open, letting in a hail of fire.
Shepard tossed his next sabotage mine, and followed it with another tech mine. A grenade followed that, creating a rolling explosion. He rolled out the door, ducked behind a crate and fired rapidly with his pistol.
Arvid stood next to the door and switched to full automatic. When the fire seemed to die down around him, he stuck the muzzle of his weapon and held down the trigger, bellowing incoherently.
"Yaaaaaaaagggggggg!Die little men!"
Shepard barely ducked in time to avoid a veritable shower of rounds. Several of the other combatants, however, were taken completely by surprise, draining their shields.
Quickly, Shepard swapped back to his rifle and rapidly overclocked the heat sink, bringing down two before it started resetting. Shots started back his way, forcing him back into cover, but this was good. He'd almost reached the passage upwards.
Arvid covered Shepard as he ran for the ramp. When Shepard paused to toss more toys, Arvid was able to rush out and slide by a dead merc. Quickly, he rifled through the mercs possessions and confiscated an ammo belt, an omni-tool and the capacitor for a shield generator. He'd learned a trick back in N7 school for setting up a temporary field shield.
Shepard found a biotic at the top of the ramp, and a canny one as well. She flung a warping effect at him, forcing him back behind the corner. He returned fire with a tech mine, not that it specifically targeted her abilities. However, it did distract her, letting him get off a few rounds to drain her barriers a bit. She launched another assault on him, but he gauged his shields could take it. They could, although the suit flexed with the pressure, keeping him from actually shooting back. As soon as he could, he launched a sabotage unit, and dropped the pistol in favor of the sniper rifle.
Dimly from outside the hall, he could hear Arvid yelling at "metal men" and generally making a Grade A nuisance of himself. That fellow has the constitution of a bull. He thought. Then the asari popped back into view, triggering his mine. One shot, and she was missing the majority of her frontal lobe. And the majority of her cerebellum equivalent actually. And...pretty much everything in-between.
Charging the last few feet, Shepard hit the ground rolling, sweeping the hall at the top of the stairs. No one was in sight, so he took a moment to snipe from his new perch, evening the playing field for his friend downstairs.
Resuming his advance, he opened the last door. Micha and Karl were present, but so where a pair of asari, a quarian and a salarian. The salarian had a pistol held to Karls head, and the quarian had a similar position on Micha.
The asari both had a pistol and a fist raised. Dark energy swirled around their fists with purple tinted reflections.
Shepard still held his rifle up, staring at the asari. One of them was the ringleader, he was certain of it. Salarians were far too vigilant in monitoring their own ranks to allow something like this reach Alliance space. However, the STG was supposedly unable to apprehend this group of criminals…maybe the salarian was the leader….
"Drop it."
The sound came from one of the asari.
Shepard cocked an eyebrow. "Or else what?"
One of the asari gestured her pistol at the two prisoners. "One guess."
Shepard kept his rifle moving steadily between the targets. "That assumes I care about them more than I care about killing you."
The other asari shrugged. "In the end, it doesn't matter. We outgun you, and have the high ground."
Shepard gave her a grin that would have looked at home on a Transylvanian resident. "So that means I get one shot. Which of you wants it?"
The quarian looked around. "Maybe we should…." The salarian silenced him with a glare.
"You should listen to your suited friend." Shepard said. "I already sent the signal. You can't leave the colony, and if you try leaving the building…well, I rigged the door with enough explosives to shred half the city. And set it to my vitals signature."
The salarian looked impressed. "Quick thinking, human. Didn't think you had it in you. Saw your performance. Shifting. Flourishes. Inefficient. Typical of a lesser mind. Underestimated you."
"Shut up!" the darker blue asari spat. "We got problems!"
"Not really." Shepard murmured. "What you have here is an opportunity."
"Opportunity?" asked the lighter asari. "What are you talking about?"
"All I'm after is what you stole. If I recover that data but miss the slicers…I'm sure that the docking authority can't handle all the traffic it would receive after a shootout this big."
The quarian looked around again. "Tiva, I think maybe we should-"
"Shut it, suit rat!" the same asari fired a round into the floor by the quarian. "Talk again and I'll crack your suit and cough!"
Ice frosted over Shepard. "You stand down now, or I'll lay down the law, here and now." For a second, he wondered what thunder god had bellowed, then realized the group was staring at him.
For a second, nothing happened. Suddenly, the quarian spun and shot the salarian. Both asari whirled and fired. Shepard's rifle spat one high-speed round, shattering the darker asari's barriers. Then, he was upon the two, kicking and punching like a demon. One good blow with his knee made the dark purple asari fold like a cheap inflatable beach ball. The second asari spun back at him, launching a warping effect as her barriers deflected his assault.
Shepard slapped her arm upwards, sending the blast into the ceiling. He focused on disrupting her concentration. Tech mine to the face, full palm slap, elbow strike to the barrier, sabotage mine.
Another tech mine detonated on her shields, exploding far more brilliantly than any of Shepards own rounds. Without pausing, Shepard dropped his rifle and slapped open palms on both of the asari's ears. She screamed and fell, clutching her head. As she fell, she met Shepards rising foot, snapping her head back and into a desk.
The quarian had his hands in the air, his gun on the ground. The salarian lay groaning on the floor, a round through his shoulder.
Karl blinked at Shepard. "What took you so long?"
Shepard looked at the twin lights in the quarians helmet. "Who are you?"
The quarian swallowed nervously, although Shepard could only tell by the movement of the helmet. "My name is Jal'Kimon vas Qwib Qwib. I'm a tech specialist."
"And why are you here?" Shepard asked, keeping his pistol out.
"I answered an ad on the extaranet, asking for a quarian tech expert. I didn't know-"
Micha shook her arms over her head. "Um, nice to chat, but can you get us out of here?"
Shepard nodded at the quarian. "Go. I'll be clearing this area within ten minutes. You don't want to be here when I'm done."
The quarian seemed…astonished. "You're…letting me go?"
Shepard smirked. "No. I'm getting distracted freeing my comrades. Now if I had data to occupy my attention, that would make me even more distracted. Say, far too distracted to chase a suspect."
The quarian hastily made a few motions on his omni-tool. An optical drive formed on the minifacturing plant and dropped to the floor. "I will not forget this, you will not regret it."
Shepard nodded. "Whatever you try to accomplish, do not find an asari freighter vessel in bay 237, and do not tell the captain I gave my recommendation that she take a closer look for a new navigator."
Even through the tint of the helmet, the quarian gave the impression of slack-jawed astonishment. As Shepard moved past him to release his friends, he jerked. Saluting, he uttered, "Kellah'Selai" and ran for the door.
Shepard undid the restraints from Karls ankles, pausing to touch his helmet. "Arvid, runner coming your way. Let him go, may be profitable."
A double click returned.
Micha struggled free of her bonds. "Why did you let him go? He could have helped us!"
Shepard held up the dropped OSD. "He did. No need to take out all of the bad guys when some of them may be just facing challenging situations. Besides, he might come in helpful later."
Arvid came pounding up the stairs. "Hey, Shepard! We got a horde incoming, looks like mercs!"
Shepard tossed out the weapons he'd brought. "Saddle up, move 'em out."
Karl grinned with the feel of a fully modified shotgun in his hands. "Lock n' load."
Micha looked at the two of them in bewilderment. "Saddle…what? Lock where?"
Rolling his eyes, Arvid added, "Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!"
"WAIT!" Micha screamed, "What about those explosives you put on the door?"
Shepard shrugged. "What explosives?"
~o~O~o~
On their own, any one of the three N7 operatives could have handled the attacking mercenaries. Micha could have handled them on her own as an asari commando. The four of them together were a storm of annihilation, something the galaxy wouldn't see again for almost another seven years.
All of the captured individuals had recovered ample supplies to regain their full combat capacity. Arvid fired concussive rounds and a constant stream of death at any threat, while Karl destroyed anything wearing armor with fiery bursts of carnage.
Enemies died, even behind cover, thanks to Shepards long-range capability. His shots destroyed shields, devastating armored targets, allowing the others to shred what was left.
Micha, however, showed what centuries of filed application could achieve. Her biotic attacks warped reality wherever she aimed, altering gravity beneath her enemies feet or causing their very armor to crush inwards on itself. Whatever she struck became a magnet of destruction, either for one of her allies or for further vengeance by herself.
The group held their position, not deigning to advance for nearly fifteen minutes before sounds of support came. Farther down the field, the new Alliance Mako tanks came roaring over the terrain spitting death from their turrets. Their drivers used the onboard rockets to add another dimension to their maneuverability, completely bypassing obstacles at times.
Shepard lowered his rifle, a bit blown by all the activity. Still, it was good to have succeeded. Another mission under his belt, another few notches on the rifle barrel.
~o~O~o~
After the dust settled, Shepard was able to retire to the guest quarters on the Kilimanjaro.It was a simple affair, nothing like the Ambassador suite, but it was clean, it had a fresh change of clothes and a sonic shower. That last made the whole thing perfect, if you remembered your earplugs. When Shepard came out of the shower, he spotted a message n the desk. It read simply: "Congratulations, N7." It included a blank N7 registration form, already signed by one Captain Anderson.
Shepard lost no time finding Anderson, finally tracking him down in the officers quarters.
"Did you do this?" he demanded, holding out the paper.
Anderson had been reading through paperwork. At the outburst, he quickly collapsed some screens.
"Son, all I did was sign the paperwork. You did all the work downstairs."
Shepard waved it off. "All I did was clear some mooks and get some data. This…this is something they reserve for the ultimate of the elite!"
"Which you proved by going up against an unknown enemy, on your own, with allies held hostage and nobody to help you." Anderson finished. "You got the goal, made contact with a possible ally, captured intelligence and above all, got home with all of your men alive. You did good son." The captain shifted a screen. "The Asari government was very grateful for our assistance. They have forwarded the results of our investigation to the Council, and the STG is taking a look at the data recovered."
Shepard awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Um, that makes it sound a lot better than it went…."
Anderson smiled understandingly. "That's how it goes Shepard. Sometimes you can do no right. Other times you can do no wrong. Either case requires you adjust to the circumstances and enjoy what you can. In this case," he gestured at the paper still in Shepards hand. "Being able to enjoy your new status as an N7 operative is something I can help with."
Shepard looked nervous. "Sir?"
"Relax, Shepard. That's an order." Anderson laughed. "I've arranged for you to have a month of downtime soon. Nothing too extravagant, just some time on Elysium."
"Elysium, sir?"
"Yeah." Anderson smiled at a memory. "Human colony, quiet place, a few million inhabitants. Supposed to be a paradise for humanity. Good folks, good land. A man could retire there and be happy."
Shepard cleared his throat. "Are we still talking about me, sir?"
The door chime went off. Anderson looked a little surprised…and relieved.
"Come in."
Lieutenant Micha stepped in the door and saluted. "Good morning captain."
Anderson stood up and returned the salute. "Good morning lieutenant. What can I do for you this fine afternoon?"
Micha smiled at Shepard. "I'm just here to pick up Shepard for his instructional session."
A puzzled look came over Anderson's face. "You do realize he has a three day furlough, as of today?"
Micha nodded, still grinning. "As do I sir. I promised to teach him modern dancing, in return for his help on the more esoteric human dances."
Anderson kept his face as granite. "Carry on then."
Shepard stood up to leave. "If you tell anyone, Anderson, so help me…."
The captain didn't change expression. "What, divulge that the great L-C Shepard knows more dance moves than an asari? Or maybe that he can actually relax when he is off mission?" He winked. "You wound me. See you in three days, then I'll see you on that boat to Elysium even if I have to order five N7 operatives to strap you down to an Elcor."
Shepard had to fight down a smirk. "Uh, yes sir. If you put it that way. Sir."