A few disunnonorganized notes.

I will freely admit I got a bit lazy toward the end of this chapter.

This is probably an inferior chapter to the last, actually.

Really, why are you bothering to read it? Just read the previous chapter again. It's probably better.

I think it should be obvious by now but you'll probably get more out of this if you've actually read a lot of self inserts.

I've always imagined Ash as, well, not an Amazon but bigger and more powerfully built than most women. With that being said, I expect everyone to keep growing and be larger by 2183 since we still haven't hit our biological ceiling and they're probably pushing it up with genetic engineering and I'm rambling now.

Oh, and since other people do the music thing I'm doing it too.

ffdshow audio decoder:

Input: MP3, stereo, 44100 Hz, 192 kbps (libmad)
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8: Shopping Expedition of Character Development and Necessary Backstory

Stardate 2183.77
The Citadel
Commander Jane Shepard

"Okay, I've managed to pinch some money off Ambassador Udina," I explained to my new crew, which included the people from the real world.

Let's get something straight right now: I think they're crazy and I don't want that on my ship. With that said, they might be useful, since they haven't actually guessed wrong yet. And it's not my choice anyway- nobody wants to deal with them so they got dumped on me.

"How did you do that?" the nerd asked me. Make that annoying nerd.

"I managed to convince him that other Spectres had sponsorship and I needed it too. And I performed some favours for him."

The big guy shared a look with the nerd. Oh, they think-

"No! Not those kinds of favours! I just smuggled a little bit of heroin for him, okay?"

"Right..."

I cleared my throat. "Look, this is serious business so listen up. You don't have any equipment, hell, you don't even have omni-tools. You didn't even have translators. Fortunately, this is the galactic capital so everything is here. We don't have to leave right away so I'm going to send you out to stock up."

"I'm going to partner each of you up with one of my crew so you don't screw up," I explained. "I know, I know, it's like grade school, but if you are who you say you are you're going to need all the help you can get."

"Fine," the big guy replied.

"Okay, nerdy guy, you're with Alenko-"

"We have names, you know," he objected.

I turned on my omni-tool so I could record it. That way I won't forget. "Alright, hit me."

"Jason. Jason Hernandez. Yeah, I know, I know." The big guy, who looks barely Hispanic at all. I don't think they were lying about him being ex-military. Maybe he's a veteran with mental problems.

"Kevin. Kevin Georgeas." The nerd with the glasses. And I am not even going to try to pronounce that last name. It's Italian or something.

"I'm Sandra McCarthy." The girl. That's... pretty much her only obvious identifying characteristic. Well, the only charitable one so far.

"The actress?" Garrus interrupted.

"What- no, not the actress!"

Finally, the male, maybe in his mid-twenties, okay, I'm terrible at describing people. "Aleksandr ******, but everyone just calls me Aleks."

"I'm sorry, what did you say your last name was?" I asked.

"Didn't I say it?"

"No, you just repeated the word asterisk six times," I replied.

"Oh, sorry, it's Martin. Aleksandr G.H. Martin."

"The author?"

"No, that's George R.R. Martin! Seriously, how do you even get there?"

"Great," I finish, shutting off my omni-tool. "Okay, let's split up. Jason, you're with Chief Williams. Sandra, you're with my sister. Kevin, Engineer Adams. Aleks, Alenko. I'll take Tali. Garrus, Wrex, do whatever. You've got four hours, then we meet back at the pier at 0800."

Jason

"So, is this where you're gonna ask me about my life?"

Chief Williams shrugs. "I'm assigned to babysit you. Not to be your conversation partner."

"You're not curious?"

"It's my job to shoot things, not ask questions."

"I thought you objected to us being here?"

"And the Commander noted my objections."

"Come on, Chief, don't lie to yourself. You're interested."

"Actually, I don't give a shit about your life."

She does. You can talk to her, you know.

Fuck off. I thought you wanted me to shut up.

No, those were your mental manifestations of comrades you have lost.

And you're not?

No.

Well, then I'm just really fucking crazy, aren't I?

"Hey!" Chief Williams snaps. "Just because I don't give a shit about your family doesn't mean I don't give a shit about the mission. You need to select some weapons and armor, get an omni-tool, and maybe some mods if we've got the time and cash."

"Shit, you're right," I apologize. "What's your EDC, Chief?"

"Bluewire tool, little first aid kit, and an old-fashioned butane lighter," she replies. "I carry a fifteen centimeter folder where they'll let me, and a shield vest in really shitty places. I own a Hahne-Kedar Sparrow, but I'm only licensed to carry that in Alliance space."

"No carry licenses here?"

"Well, you can get them, it just takes a while," she replies. "I never bothered, because I've never been here before. I think the Commander can get us licensed on SPECTRE authority, though."

"Hopefully."

"You still carrying that antique?" she asks. I guess she's talking about my Glock.

"Hey, it works!"

"Better than nothing, I suppose," the Chief replies. "But it's not gonna stop a shielded attacker. You need something better."

She pulls a pistol off the shelf and hands it to me. "This is a Starling, basically a newer model of the Sparrow."

I try to pull back the slide before I realize it's fixed. She explains, "It's inert. Indicator on the side is off."

I handle the Starling a bit. The Hahne-Kedar logo looks suspiciously familiar. Because you suck and we hate you. But that's not what gets me. This gun is big. Full-size pistol big, about the size of the M9, maybe even a little chunkier if a bit shorter. I'd have a hard time concealing this. And there is no way in hell Williams would be able to do it unless she dressed like a hobo.

Chief Williams is a fairly large woman. Not fat, hell no, she's fit enough to be, well, a Marine. Tall, though, maybe approaching six feet. The armor doesn't do a good job of showing her curves, but I know she has them. She's kind of hot, actually. Not by civilian standards, but compared to the few actual female infantry I've seen she's a supermodel. Even compared to all the women I've seen in the sandbox, she's pretty high up there.

I can see you have very low standards.

Hey, that's kind of mean, isn't it?

Where I am from, she would not even rate a two on your arbitrarily defined scale.

"Are you checking me out?"

"Maybe," I admit.

"Ugh. Men."

"Hey, give me a fucking break. I spent the better part of a decade in- uh, in the Marines." Shit, I almost said "in the sandbox". I quickly try to steer the conversation away. "Isn't this pistol a little big to carry?"

"It's pretty small collapsed," she says, and presses a button on the side. In seconds, the grip and slide (well, what should be the slide) shrink into the gun and the package is only a little larger than my Glock.

"I did not realize that," I admit. "You're gonna have to help me with this shit."

She smiles, actually genuinely smiles. "That I can do."

Sandra

"What do you think?" I ask, showing Melia what I found. It's one of those blocks made of clear plastic, with a 3-d sculpture laser-etched into it. This one has a little Citadel inside, and it looks like it's floating in space. The detail is way better than what it was on the ones we had at home and it's about four inches to a side.

"It's a cheap tourist souvenir," Melia replies. "Look, I know you're having fun, but my sister sent us to get equipment. I really think we should at least look for a pistil and armor."

"The Normandy has extras, right?" I ask, motioning to the armor I'm currently wearing. It's actually surprisingly comfy. I'm exactly the right temperature and it's only a little big harder to move.

"Actually, that's my set you're wearing," she points out.

"Well, I'm sure I can borrow some from someone if I need it," I insist. "I mean, I probably won't, 'cause, you know, I'm not like a fighter or anything like that."

"Yeah, neither am I."

"Really?" That actually surprises me. I guess I assumed that because she's a Shepard, Melia would kick butt. "What do you do?"

"Look pretty," she replies, laughing. "No, I'm a communications officer. I deal with messages and encryption and that kind of stuff. I also handle some of the Normandy's ECM suite since the crew is so small."

So she's like Kelly Chambers from ME2... only she's a Shepard. "You're not biotic or anything?"

"No, there's only one biotic in the family and it's not me," she replied. "I can defend myself with a pistol or rifle if I have to- everyone in the Navy is qualified- but I don't want to do it. It's not my job."

"I guess I can understand that. It's just that, well, you know..."

"I'm a Shepard, I know," Melia says. "Nobody said Shepards are good fighters. Just exceedingly good. I graduated at sixteen, went through OCS in half the time it should have taken. I'm the youngest Lieutenant in the Navy. Qualified for Comms, Sensors, and ECM."

"Just out of curiosity, how old are you?"

"Never ask a girl her age." She giggles. "Nineteen. What about you?"

"Twenty-one," I reply. "Wait, no, maybe twenty-three. I can't remember."

Melia giggles again. "Are you always this..."

"Forgetful? Clumsy?" I shrug. "Yeah, kinda. I mean, I always kind of just slide along, you know? But I try."

"I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

"I'm not sure what I am either," I reply, shrugging and sharing a laugh. "Do you know a good place to buy clothes? I've only got what's on me."

"I know lots," she replies, eyes lighting up. Practically dragging me out of the store, she continues, "Come on, let me show you around!"

Kevin

"Look, Kevin, I don't think we should be doing this. Commander Shepard wanted you to buy vital equipment. I'm supposed to be keeping you doing that."

"But you like this stuff, don't you?" I say, waving the third omni-tool of the day in his face.

"I'm the chief engineer on the Normandy. Of course I do."

I think now is a good time to explain something. We're not the same. Engineer in the context of ships doesn't mean the same as engineer in other contexts. I'm going to build big stuff and need at least four years of education and a certification to do it. He works on engines. You still need training for that, but far less. Maybe two years.

Got it? Good. I've always preferred words like artificer myself.

I start putting the an omni-tool in my basket when he interrupts, "You don't want that one."

"Why not?" Because it's in a blister pack and blister packs really suck?

"It's a piece of junk. Elkoss makes some good stuff if you're a combat marine, but the OS modifications are so clunky they're nearly unusable for everything else."

I sheepishly put the device back on the shelf. This actually reminds me of Android fragmentation and some of the retarded things companies like Motorola and Samsung did to the beautiful stock Android.

Come to think of it, the omni-tool is the logical evolution of a smartphone. A smartphone combines all the functions of your personal electronics into one convenient device. An omni-tool adds in the functionality of all your non-electronic personal devices, like if Leatherman built a smartphone. Except it's extensible, too. You can download a flashlight app that actually extends the hardware capabilities of the device by flash-forging a flashlight on the end.

Not sure if I like the arm mount, though.

Adams interrupts me by thrusting a different omni-tool in my face. "The Kassa Polaris. Nice combat tool, nice engineering tool, not too bad for making calls and watching vids either."

I take it, then as a spur of the moment ask, "Hey, is there something a little bigger than the fabricator in an omni-tool?"

"You mean micro-fabs? I don't know, those are pretty expensive."

"How expensive?"

"They start at ten grand and go up."

I run through the numbers in my head. "Do I really need armour?"

"I don't see the Commander ordering you into the field. So probably not, no."

"Then let's go shopping."

Aleks

"So, Lieutenant-"

"Kaidan is fine. Lieutenant is my military name." I was actually kind of hoping he would say that. I know it doesn't really line up to stereotypes but I'm not really big on formality.

"So, Kaidan..." I began, but stopped. I just didn't know how to start the conversation. "Uh, I heard you like Shepard."

Oh, I'm going to regret that. Look, it seems I already do.

"You mean my commanding officer?" he asked.

"Well, yes." Very much regret that.

"No, our relationship is strictly professional."

I felt like a fool. I know it's in the games, but it was more than a little presumptuous of me. "Sorry about that, it's just, well..."

Kaidan laughed. "It's okay. I'm not good at observing people either. I guess it comes from being a biotic."

In all honesty, I never really paid much attention to Kaidan in the games, and now I feel kind of bad for letting him die on Virmire in every playthrough. He's actually an alright guy.

But I was curious, so I continued to inquire. "Being a biotic?"

"Yeah, it was hard growing up a biotic," he replied. "It's better now, but back then everyone was afraid of biotics. I was ostracized. Isolated. It wasn't easy when everyone thought you were a monster, but I had a few good people who stood by me the whole way. And then there was BAaT. No offence, but that's not something I talk about to everyone."

"No, no offence taken," I replied. I guess I never actually thought about how it might feel to be a biotic. Not that great, I imagine. I mean, yeah, you've got your awesome Jedi mind powers, but when there aren't many people around with them you'd be a freak.

"So what's your story?" he asked abruptly.

I shrugged. "Not sure there's much story."

"Everyone has a story."

"Alright, I was born in a small town just outside London, but my family moved into the city when I was young. Did pretty well in school, not really excellent but well enough. My passion is music, though, and I spend a lot of time on it. School Band, Marching Band, Concert Band, Jazz Band, Rock Band. I do a bit of painting and writing too, but music is my big passion."

"Interesting. What's with the dearth of music related jokes and references so far?"

I shrugged again. "Lack of knowledge I suppose."

After a moment, Kaidan added, "I know you're a musician and you've got to have instruments, but we're going on a mission. I think we should really go looking for that now."

"We can get all that later, I still need to find a halfway decent guitar," I huffed, holding up a pair of very strange stringed instruments. "All I've seen so far is plastic rubbish and these peculiar asari sitars."

"Okay, fine, but I'm holding you to it," Kaidan replied.

Commander Jane Shepard

Jason was the first to come back. Both him and Chief Williams were carrying several hard weapon and armour cases. I recognized some of the logos on them- Armax, Hahne-Kedar, Haliat Armory. Not the best brands, but not bad. "Well, Jason, I see you managed to stock up... quite well, actually."

Ten minutes later, Sandra arrived. She was carrying several shopping bags, and so was Melia. I saw an infrared hair dryer, a miniature soda machine, and a lot of clothes. No armour. No weapons. The clothes didn't even look particularly practical? "Sandra, what the hell is this? Did you buy any actual equipment?"

She didn't have time to reply, because Kevin and Engineer Adams were right behind her. They were overloaded with tech. Omni-tools, datapads, terminals, micro-fabricators and all sorts of tools. Useful, but not where we're going. "Kevin. Well, you got the omni-tool, at least."

Aleks was last. He had hard cases, and I was pleased for a moment before I realized they weren't weapons cases. They looked like musical instruments. There was also a folding easel and what looked like art supplies. Seriously, who paints anymore? "Last but not least, Aleks. Honestly, I don't even know how you can play so many different instruments."

I sighed. "Look, you need equipment. This is what's going to happen. You're going shopping again. I will be with you. I will make sure you buy what you need. Clear?"

I turned to the aliens. "Looks like we're delayed another hour or two. Just... do whatever it is you aliens do for fun."

"Don't you think that's a bit racist, Commander?"

"Shut up, Alenko."

Kevin

"First, omni-tools," Shepard announces as we walk into a bright, shiny, futuristic electronics store. One thing that hasn't changed over the last century is the temperature; this place is as cold as Future Shop.

"Kevin and Jason at least bought omni-tools," she points out. She glares at me. "In Kevin's case, nothing but omni-tools."

She grabs two white boxes with lots of silver lettering off a shelf and hands them to Aleks and Sandra. I don't get a good look, but I notice the Kassa Fabrication logo on the side. She explains, "Kassa Polaris. Midrange tool, not too expensive but does a decent job at everything. Combat, engineering, checking your status."

Sandra takes the box and immediately asks, "How's the camera?"

Melia shrugs. "No better or worse than any other."

"Checking your status?" Aleks asks.

"Yeah, on Spacebook," Melia replies. "It's basically a nearly-identical clone of 2014 Facebook that inexplicably exists nearly two centuries later, evolving at a far slower pace than Facebook actually was."

"Well, that's interesting to know," I mutter as we leave the store.

Sandra

"Next, armor. I don't expect you to need it, but like I said, be prepared."

"I'm wearing armor right now!" I point out.

"That's my armor," Melia reminds me. "I'm going to need it back."

Shepard ignores us and places a set of armor on the table. It's dark blue with white plating. She explains, "This is Devlon Industries Explorer Armor. It's fairly basic protection, but they throw in an environmental control module for free which is a nice plus."

"Are we really going to have to wear that?" Aleks complains.

Shepard replies, "Like I said, I don't expect you to need it, but it may be necessary to do so, yes."

"It's not as bad as you might think, Aleks," I say. "It's pretty light and not that restrictive. It just moves with you. Plus there's a pee thing so I haven't had to visit any bathrooms since we got here."

"I actually really didn't want to know that," Aleks replies.

"That's my suit, you know," Melia mutters.

"I heard that!" I shout back, laughing. "Sorry, I'm sure you can clean it or something."

Shepard clears her throat. "Now, if you'll step into the scanner, we can get your measurements. I promise the radiation isn't lethal... well, not that lethal anyway."

Jason

"Third and last, guns."

We barely notice. Everyone's already gone for the weapons, and I cringe because they're sweeping everyone with chambers shut and fingers on the trigger. I know that future weapons are probably safer but you just don't do that.

"Hey, look, I'm a SPEHSS MAHREEN!" Kevin shouts, struggling to wield a large blocky weapon and sweeping the muzzle across everyone.

"You know, that actually kind of does look like a bolter," Aleks comments. "Do you think we could get some of those?"

"Absolutely not," the Commander snaps, taking the weapon out of Kevin's hands and slamming it back into the rack.

"Come on, Shepard, it's a bolter! How can you go wrong with a bolter?"

"It's not a bolter. That's a Krogan shotgun. It will break your arms off."

"That's bloody perfect!" Aleks says excitedly. "It's like a real Imperial weapon. If you're not an Astartes you can't use it!"

"That logic doesn't even make any sense," I comment, sighting a pistol at the wall. It just has illuminated open sights. Nothing wrong with that, but not really very futuristic.

Shepard grabs a pistol off the shelf. "Elanus Striker. Standard pistol. Not the most powerful, but reasonably accurate and reliable."

Noticing the large size of the pistol, I interrupt, "Commander, don't you think something more concealable would be in order?"

"It's plenty concealable," she replies, pressing a button on the side. The pistol folded up into a rectangle about the size of a pocket book.

"Ooh, neat," Sandra whispers.

"Now, I don't expect you to need more than a pistol, but for no good reason everyone has to carry a shotgun, assault rifle, and sniper rifle in addition to their sidearm," Shepard announced, pulling three more weapons off the rack. "Benelli S9, Izhmash AK-88, and Remington Rx9."

Aleks asks, "Wait, what? Not fancy space brands?"

"Well, no," Shepard replies. "What, you thought all the manufacturers would just disappear?"

"Huh. I guess that makes sense."

"We don't get to choose our own weapons, either?" Kevin asks, disappointed.

Shepard glared at him. "If you wanted to choose your weapons, you should have done so when you had the chance."

Aleks

"Did we forget anything?" I asked.

"I don't think so."

"No, ma'am."

"Nope."

"Nuh-uh."

"Nah."

I objected, "Hey, how come I don't get a sec-"