Note: English is not my native language so mistakes will happen. Read, and in the case you enjoyed, review.

Segment II ~ Rough Seas

*ch9.

"Well, if the signal ever wore off, the crash site would still be an easy find," Shepard made a comment looking over the bright area the shuttle flew over. Now, Neith as a planet was already covered in wracked ships to begin with – battles of old and all. To locate the one of interest to them at the moment did not depend on the strength of the beacon but one old and very important element to any human being – and some non-human.

Fire.

And it burned so bright they've spotted quite a long distance before they landed.

"Depending on how much fuel they've had when they crashed it will be burning for a while now," the turian offered. Shepard nodded several times consenting.

"Yes, well, let us land and prove to be of use to other ships by preventing them from stumbling into this section of the galaxy for no apparent good reason."

As they landed, in a rather small, narrow area crowded with debris of every size and material whilst flames rose like walls on all sides, the shuttle VI warned them of approaching storm and decreasing visibility accompanying it. It was as good motivation as any to keep this short. A truly uneventful trip.

"So what are we doing here?" Jack asked once they've stepped out of the shuttle. She raised her arm to shield her eyes from the winds and sharp sand grains all tangled together and offering to blanket them. Amidst it all Shepard's red visor burned with menace almost even if her voice did not match the picture she was presenting.

"Deactivate the beacon," she started surveying the landing zone then turning back to her crew. "Procure unmentionables that might be used, useful or sold. Take a breath of fresh air as necessary. Shake, stir, mix and serve. But we need not do it all in that order."

The order caused Garrus to raise an eyeridge, "So we're scavengers now?"

"One man's trash is another man with a quarian friend's treasure," Shepard explained, "Not to mention, and in case the glaringly obvious fact hadn't fluttered by your brain by now, Cerberus – don't sneer – is not a charity organization. I know. I was earnestly shocked after checking our collective bank account. Therefore, the pay is not up to the standards as it should be."

"We have a bank account?"

"Pay? I haven't seen a single fucking credit since coming on board."

"Hadn't those exact words just left my mouth?" Sofia asked exasperated, then shrugged. "On that account, my apologies. I'm still working on rectifying that trite mistake. Provided I don't divert it all into ship's betterment," she added in a quiet mutter consoling with her inner thoughts. Then animated once more she gestured at the scattered ruin before them and yelled, "Until then, spread out in search for tasteful goodies!"

As per commander's orders – and wondering just a bit if it was all worth the nerves – they did, and they have even managed to salvage a thing or three or a quarter of two, raw materials which could still be used, even credits were left lying around. While her crewmembers did their jobs diligently, Shepard herself was more interested in data and reports she had found scattered. In fact, the scattering was done so neatly in her path she was all but tripping over them.

"A merchant freighter," she said after taking a moment to go quickly over them. "Mm-hmm, systems on board systematically started to fail, VI on rampage, mechs activating and self-detonating," she hummed before tone of her voice switched to excited. "Well, now we've been illuminated that it were no pirates who made the ship plow into a planet of such a wonderful and befitting name. That is always important and useful information to know but now we are left with the puzzling question of what did."

"It could've been any number of things, Commander. Sabotage, malfunction in the systems, a virus…"

"They've made a stop at this station," she pointed at the name among data to her turian companion. "Jarrahe."

"Could be worth checking out," Garus nudged.

"Worth, of course. Fun too." She tossed the datapad over her shoulder, "When we're not saving all of existence from being culled. Now, do you think leaving the decision to or not to go to Jack would make it more interesting?" She didn't even finish her thought when his head slowly started moving from side to side. It was a cringe worthy idea actually. The station was likely not to contain enough excitement to satisfy both of their carnage oriented cravings at the same time. "You don't think it is a good notion," Sofia observed with a smile. "I myself would be tempted to ask but I am to guess that she is still pouting, yes?"

Indeed, somewhere to their left a loud sound of metal grinding painfully as it was being shifted none to gently echoing. It was followed by the rolling cacophony of burning rubble thundering across the shredded ship's side. Without helmets they were wearing it would surly made for an ear-ripping experience as the noise grind its way into their skulls. The cycle of bad mood seemed unbreakable with that one.

"Commander," Garrus started questioningly stepping next to Normandy's captain and lowering his rifle.

"Yes, my sharply shaped friend."

"I've noticed some tension between you and Jack." Shepard tried to give him a look of pure innocence as much as it was possible through the menacingly designed red visor – the two didn't correspond well. "I meant more than your usual driving people up the wall," he clarified.

"So long as it isn't against the wall," Shepard answered as a matter of fact tone causing Garrus to groan – or choke, the wind was pretty strong – and Sofia chuckled. "Now, tension. You must mean the kind of likes had nearly created a miniature black hole within the confines of our ship, yes? It exists, I'm sad to say." She looked up at the tall alien and patted his shoulder, "Now, now. You need not worry. I plan to limit my intrusiveness level to only so much so she does not dispatch this ship's captain."

"Oh, you'll live I'm sure. It's the rest of the crew I'm worried about," was Garrus' dry reply.

Yes, yes, she echoed his meaning perfectly. Which is why, as per captain's orders, infighting was strictly prohibited on her ship. With the diversity of crew Shepard tended to pull in and around herself it would only be a matter of time before someone, somewhere, on some deck decided there was some issue to settle – which would usually lead to another trying to settle theirs and so on and so forth – escalating the matter to unimaginable. This is why shore leaves existed and why Shepard was so keen on letting her crew use up every last minute of it. It was either that or selling them off and that was a whole different bag of dirt she didn't want to put her hand into.

As they proceed they've discovered that of all things the beacon was placed neatly on a pedestal in the furthest corner of the small area, surrounded by rock walls and undamaged crates. Considering the distinct lack of survivors who could so such a thing, this could look off to anyone with only a half a brain useable. Something was missing – a lot of things actually – but this one thing seemed to crawl under the surface of her skull as Shepard surveyed the small loft of ground. She stood there for a moment and kept observing.

"Hey, did a genius in you notice something out of a place here?" Jack tossed as she finally decided to join them.

"Oh, several. But that depends on which of 'out of place' sight do you mean."

"The bodies?" Garrus asked. "Those probably burned on impact."

"No, not those. Well, yes. But no. Although even so, we should have seen a greater deal of them scattered. But she doesn't mean that, no." Shepard acknowledged stepping up and with a touch of a few buttons she deactivated the signal.

"What then?"

"The mechs," Jack said, deadpan expression of someone explaining what the gun was for to an idiot. Not a tone Garrus appreciated. "See any of those around here? This was supposed to be a cargo ship, so where are all the damn robots?"

A poorly aimed shot sundered the piece of metal debris near to their left and their heads collectively spun around to peer into the rising sand. Like in a grand play, metrological conditions have instantly gone from bad to a bad curtain.

"There," was Shepard's pointed answer.

Garrus took his sniper rifle firmly in his hands, the scope on his head narrowing at the targets slowly emerging from the dust covered air and heading in their direction. Red lights on their heads could barely be seen through the rising sandstorm when they started raining the fire on them.

"I think we've got their attention."

Under her helmet Sheprad pressed her lips into a dour smile, "I'm still waiting for an adequate explanation as to why exactly they've come out of hiding once the beacon was shut." There was more to say and even more to think about except, this was not the best of times for holding a conversation – not that it ever stopped her before – but with the mechs coming from both paths, covering them with fire and aiming to trap them in the cove around the now dead beacon all they could do was jump for cover.

It was not the most organized showdown of them all. Not with Garrus picking them off one by one as they passed by his aim on her right; not with Jack threatening to bring a landslide of fire and metal on her left; and certainly not with Commander herself who was spending a good time contemplating why, once more in her life, she had not packed a crate full of grenades – Feros was happening all over again. During this display the machines simply kept marching onwards – and it begged the question as to where exactly they were being spawned from – prevented any sort of meaningfully applicable tactics. For every four they took down, six crept out from the wreck. As if the crates in which they were stored didn't receive so much a dent upon impact. Rain of bullets ricocheted around the edges of cargo boxes, now serving as mediocre protection, which have hardly survived the crash and were now under heavy fire.

"'Rush of adrenaline at best', she said," Garrus grumbled loudly. "'Leisurely stroll at worst,' she said. Why do I keep listening to you?"

"Because I tend to run into an obscene number of bad, bad people for you to shoot." Sofia tossed with a chuckle ducking back beside him after taking down three of the mechs. She herself didn't consider the situation they've found themselves in a particularly dangerous one – unless one counted tedium and lack of thermal clips dangerous – pressed against rock wall and a seemingly never-ending militia of mechs marching towards them. She leaned over aiming at one slowly dragging itself forward but the sight of a spark coming from behind it, which grew bigger the moment she poked her head out, made her duck behind all over again. Violent explosion rocked the debris around them, including that behind which they were hidden.

"That was a grenade launcher, wasn't it?"

"I dare say it was."

"What were they packing here? A small army?"

"Small armies are popular with local crime lords I hear." Another explosion, accompanied with the heavy march of one or two or more of those large brutes. "I find it more interesting and partly disturbing that said mechs came fully equipped with weapons. I fail to see the profit in packaging it all in one single bundle. Batteries not included – is what was spoken in advertisements a long time ago." Rapid rain of gunfire drummed along the edges of the crate she was hiding behind. It would have messed with her hair for sure were it not for her helmet. "A sentiment I agree with."

"Does it matter now? If we don't do something they'll just splatter us against the walls."

"I am well aware of tha-" A gun closely pressed against her helmeted chin interrupted what could be a lengthy speech. Jack's gun at that. By their side Garrus had one mech too much tipping over his scope to show any kind of worry for the Commander but he did took his eyes off the target for just a moment. "You could have chosen a slightly better time to let your frustrations out, Suze," Sofia said.

The usage of the name designed to provoke didn't pass over Jack's head and her eyes narrowed. "Listen to me Shepard. Once we're off this fucking planet you're setting course for Pragia, you've got that?"

Shepard glanced at the weapon at her throat and then back up at woman who had rage burning out of her eyes, and it was not meant to be poetic at all. "Would you object if I at least asked why?"

"There's some shit to deal with-"

"From your past per chance?" Shepard prodded and something akin to a snarl followed the question. Shepard took that as yes.

"And you're the one who's going to fly me there."

"Not that I mind your sudden need to bare your soul – quite a positive thing indeed – I just wonder if it was necessary for such a revelation to happen when we are surrounded by," she picked up a datapad lying by her feet, its screen was slightly cracked, "180 Loki mechs and, hmm, well the number of the big toys remains obscured but-" the explosion rocked the ground under their buttocks and fire roared to the sky as three subsequent explosions banged around their location. "At least we know that they are sufficiently stockpiled with ammo. Brilliant."

Grinding sound stifled the jangle of gunfire. Under duress of blazing inferno already damaged and scattered hull of the ship started to collapse around them. The situation they have found themselves was not envious.

"Fuck that!" Jack jumped. "I'm not going to wait here for them to blow a fucking crater while you screw your way through a dictionary."

"That would be a vocabulary-" Shepard started but Jack was already off.

Biotics flaring around her they watched as Jack rushed forward tearing through the number of at the heavy mech, the machine too slow to keep up with the human or the excessive damage this one was producing. Shepard went as far as to lean forward against one of the crates and cross her arms, gazing curiously at the wanton destruction colored in blue before her. Garrus took a peek over the edge reminding her of a chick taking his first look out of his nest, though he had more sense than to take a relaxing pose along the way.

"Great job at pissing her off on purpose, Commander," he deadpanned backing down and leaning against the crate. Shepard joined him.

"It takes a wonderful set of communication skills to be this good."

They watched a scene not unlike the one they've witnessed on Purgatory. On a smaller scale and there were no leaving beings screaming as their skin was being flayed off their bones through sheer biotic potency but the sight of rampage was as vivid as every time Jack would take charge of the battlefield. Guns and rifles were scattered in the air, mechanical body parts dotted what little ground was not covered in debris. And in the background of it all fires of the crashed ship raged.

Finally, from all the smoke Jack walked over to them, kicking a discarded YMIR mech's head out of her way, red light of its sensors still blinking as it shut down completely.

"As perfect plan as it can be," Shepard pointed out. Of course she was pocking and prodding the woman on purpose. Despite the fact that Jack was more than willing to fling herself in the heat of battle, berserk rage necessary to cause this level of destruction was not something Subject Zero could deliver if asked politely. And especially not when it was Shepard who did the asking, and when Shepard did the asking politeness was no longer an issue. "A clear line leading straight to the shuttle."

And said shuttle was ridiculously close to their location the whole time, but they've still managed to make a long march out of what could've been essentially a short stroll. Possibly because they've made sure every single mech from the crash was permanently disabled. Garrus just took the time to eliminate the one that took a wrong turn into their shuttle.

"To think we could've just run past them. It wasn't even that much of a distance," he said finally putting his weapon away.

"Killjoy," the Commander whistled. "And ruin all hard earned fun?"

He took a moment to glare at her and her abysmal wails, "I seem to remember that your 'fun' had me nearly killed on total of twelve occasions."

"And I seem to remember that you enjoyed it, thirteen out of those twelve times," Sofia returned with a grin to match his glare.

"You two get a room already," Jack tossed at them with a near tired sigh and sat on the base of the shuttle doors.

"Oh? I'm glad to see the freezing cold has not shriveled your observational skills, yes Jack," Sofia arched an eyebrow. "But a point, this location we are heading to…?"

"There's not much to talk about," she ran her hand over smooth surface of her head. "There's a place I want to blow up. Nothing big."

"We blow up a lot of places, Jack." No lie there. Roughly forty percent of ship's logs consisted of names and locations of places reduced to dust now.

"Not like this. I want to watch it burn until there's nothing left." Tone of her voice changed, dropped and grew thick. There was a sentiment woven in there Shepard was familiar with very much.

"Ah," she intoned, "this wouldn't happen to that dreadful Cerberus facility you were forced to endure."

"How do you-" head snapping up Jack was on her feet instantly, faint wobbling to her legs not even noticeable unless one looked for it. "Have you been spying on me Shepard? Watching me? You get a kick out of that?"

Shepard blinked, bemused, "Oh, heavens no – well, watching maybe – but no. Miranda's been feeding me reports on any datafile you've touched. I believe she fears you might spread contamination."

Jack let out a snort, "The cheerleader? You should really keep that bitch on a tighter leash, Shepard."

"If I had her on a tighter leash, she'd be sleeping at the foot of my bed," Sofia laughed. And for the first time since she met her Jack cracked a smile – a small, nearly unnoticeable one. "But, all in all, I don't see why not? You demolish Cerberus' operations brick by brick, or one plastic panel at the time as it is in this day and century-" Jack's expression took a clearly visible expression of 'get to the point or I shove biotic fist down to your kidneys' ergo, encouraging Sheprad to proceed in a more plane manner, "and I have been known to hunt thresher maws for fun."

Both human and turian turned to look at their respective captain with, and in Jack's case it was also clearly visible, bewildered expressions. Shepard returned that with one of her own personal brand of puzzlement.

"What? I do." She exclaimed as if it were the most normal and common stress relief practice in the world for any sane human. This was accompanied by a sorrowful sigh. "And I haven't seen that many of them since my resurrection. I can only hope they have not going extinct in the meanwhile."

"You're fucking nuts," Jack said and climbed onboard the shuttle. Shepard merely shrugged. Next to her Garrus went into that all familiar stance of uncomforted with a dash of confusion. He only needed to scratch his fringe to complete the look.

"Erhm… Watching?"

"Depends what I'm watching." She laughed, lightly hitting his chest plate as she moved passed by him, "There's a clearly liberal interpretation to my words, Garrus."

"Yes. Liberal," was a sole dry response he managed.

General census on the ship was that yes, Shepard was a red shade of insane.

*/*/*/*/*

"What a day, what a day…"

::Petitioners, petitioners and even more petitioners in need of rescuing::

Tossing her helmet clear across the room, and making it land perfectly in the center of her bed – biotics had more practical use than just wracking havoc in the battlefield – Shepard looked at the small holo of herself, posing in a rather bored manner. Although it made for a particular giggle and reasonable amount of ego feeding, it was still fun to hear her own little VI inform her of presence of new mail – buggy as seven hells, as Bailey had informed her but so worth it. EDI might disagree with its installment aboard her ship's systems, and Kelly could be mightily insulted by a presence of artificial yeoman but if there were fish in the wall and a hamster on the shelf, a personalized VI on her terminal was not stretching things too far.

And if it was, no one would dare to say it in the Commander Shepard's face.

She browsed through this batch of letters until she tripped upon a name of a very interesting sender. And the content itself proved to be mightily interesting. Potentially distracting. Certainly sidetracking. It would require some evasive maneuvering around her current set of duties.

She leaned back in her chair rubbing her chin and let out a little hum sounds. Without looking up from the print on her terminal Shepard signaled to Joker.

/"Commander?"/

"Helmsman! Set the course of our fair ship for Illium."

/"Eh, didn't we just set course for Pragia?"/

"A dead research base with dead people and dead memories can wait. I have living to accommodate to."

/"Aye, aye Commander."/

*/*/*/*/*