Shepard sat at his desk, going over the reports that the skeleton crew had left for him during his trip. They kept the place running tight – and smooth, which surprised Shepard. He nodded, impressed, as he read Johnson's report on maintenance, Morgan's suggestions for new medicine to be added to the medbay, and Billicks assessment of the weapons – and upgrades that could be purchased to help with cooling and function.
It was Joker's voice over the personal intercom that pulled Shepard away from the reports;
"They're not bad, Commander."
"These reports support that claim, Joker. Anything personal you want to add?"
He could hear Joker shift uneasily in his chair, "Nothing really – something still doesn't feel right. I've had EDI keep watch on them and none of them seem to be sketchy."
Shepard raised a brow, "And how is that bad?"
"Everyone has something to hide, Shepard – you of all people know that. They wake up, do their work, eat quietly, and sleep. They don't talk to one another or cause any problems. They're like machines. You'd think they'd be a bit more sociable."
"Well," he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning over their reports, "they're under a lot of pressure here. This IS the Normandy, Joker – we're not exactly some no-name ship."
"I know, I know. Still, something feels wrong. Especially that one guy… what's his name… EDI, who's in medical?"
"Serviceman Second Class Christopher Morgan, Jeff," EDI's voice rang out.
"Yeah, that guy. He's weird," Joker continued.
"Noted, Joker. I'll keep an eye out for anything out of ordinary…"
"Yeah, you're good at that," Joker cracked, "normally ends up with us picking up another squad member."
Shepard laughed, "Get back to work, Joker.'
"Aye aye, Commander."
Shepard closed the comm, listening to the channel click closed as Joker's assessment ran through his mind.
'He's good at judging people,' he thought, 'and if he thinks something sketchy is going on – quite possible that he's right. Wonder if this has anything to do with Miranda?'
He walked over to his couch, letting his body fall into it in exhaustion as he began pondering if there was a connection. She was acting awfully strange ever since they returned to the Normandy, he noticed. She was more distant – similar to the way she acted before their evening together, though the air around her wasn't filled with frustration at one another – but at something else. He couldn't pinpoint it yet, but he knew that something was troubling her deeply – and he would get to the bottom of it.
He turned over on the couch, his gaze staring up at the ceiling, 'Something is not fitting together,' he continued, 'What would Miranda have to do with the crew? She was just as hesitant as I was when we brought them aboard – so I know she's equally as suspicious as I am of them. Her behavior can't have anything to do with this.'
He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, and bringing his hands up to rub his face, contemplating his next move. Approach Miranda – and cause even more tension between the two or…
"EDI," he called, standing up from the couch and returning to his desk.
"Yes, Commander?"
"Access Alliance military intelligence – get the files on each member of the skeleton crew."
"Commander, I do not have the required access to do that," she responded.
"Get it."
"Very well."
It took a few minutes, but eventually – Shepard's holographic terminal screen came alive with the files.
"Thank you, EDI."
"You're welcome, Commander," the comm channel clicked close.
'I must've missed something,' he thought to himself as he browsed through the reports. Everything seemed in perfect condition – each of them had distinguished themselves in their respective fields – and they all had extensive tours of duty.
Nothing seemed out of place.
'I am overreacting,' he thought, running a hand over his scalp.
He stood up, trying to calm himself down, gazing into the fish aquarium as he did. Putting his hands in his pockets, he walked towards the elevator – deciding to go to Miranda about this. Maybe she could calm him down, he thought, as he elevator doors hissed open. He stepped inside, punched the button for the crew deck, and leaned against the back wall as the elevator slowly descended, his mind racing.
As the doors finally hummed open, he caught sight of Crewman Morgan, walking past the elevator doors – giving him a slight glance as he did. Curiosity overtook Shepard – and as he followed Morgan into the medbay, he knew something was wrong.
Shepard waited for the doors to close before speaking, "Something wrong, Morgan?"
The doctor slowly turned him, hesitancy written all over his face, "I'm… s-sorry, Commander – I wasn't sure if I should bring this to your attention or not. I'm not a snitch."
Shepard raised a hand, "Relax, Morgan. This is my ship, and I'd like to know what's going on. What's bothering you?"
Morgan flopped down in the chair behind Chakwas' desk, fiddling with tables as he searched for words to begin, "I was uh… talking to Corporal Smith, sir – and she brought up something that made me uneasy."
"What is it?"
"Well, there was this recent breakthrough in weapons technology – and while that is Billicks field of work – the breakthrough had to do with bending electrical bolts into a direct stream, to be used as a weapon. Smith was interested in the science behind it."
"And?"
"That research is still classified… yet Smith mentioned having a prototype of the weapon on board."
"We have all kinds of weapons on board," Shepard crossed his arms, "that are probably more dangerous than this one."
"While true – the research behind this isn't exactly finished. The weapon itself is very small – and the emissions it gives off are invisible to the naked eye. One wouldn't see the bolt coming towards them if they weren't prepared. It's a covert weapon – one that would cause your target a painful death, but they wouldn't even know it was coming. Most, if not all, of the recent prototypes however, developed by the company have malfunctioned – causing an explosion similar to…" he waved his hands around, trying to find a similarity, "Chernobyl."
Concern clouded Shepard's face, "How could something that small produce such a blast?"
Morgan shrugged, "I don't know, Commander – I'm a doctor, not a physicist."
Shepard sighed, "Are you sure of this?"
He nodded in return.
Shepard stepped forward, placing a hand on Morgan's shoulder, "Thank you, Morgan. I'll look into it and make sure it's taken care of."
"Anytime, Commander."