DISCLAIMER – I do not own Mass Effect franchise, the story, or any of its characters. All rights go to Bioware.
Chapter posted on 13.11.2016.
Additional proofing and grammar corrections made on 1.7.2017.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Tags: Action, Sci-fi, Adventure, Friendship building, Love.
Rated M – for adult themes and their graphic depictions.
Enjoy…
Chapter 2 – The Covert Mission
He sat at a workbench in the armory section of the ship's cargo bay.
His discerning eyes were closely examining the part of a disassembled automatic combat pistol in his hand, spotting the myriad of small structural imperfections that had appeared on it. Fractures. Blisters.
He rumbled in annoyance as he dropped the part back onto the tabletop and took a deep breath as he thought on what to do.
The entire damn mass effect array of the gun was badly worn. And it was the most critical part of a gun. The set of robust coils and capacitors in question that surrounded the bore rails on both sides needed to endure huge pulses of dark energy and electricity that it projected down the gun rails when it fired. It needed to be the most durable.
And yet, someone in Hahne-Kedar production management had decided that the poor-quality materials were okay for military-grade weapons.
He sighed, rubbing his forehead as he exhaled, releasing the unwanted irritation; he knew all too well wouldn't do him any good. This problem was the one all heavily-modified weapons had: the stock components tended to be overworked after a very short while. His own pair of automatic pistols suffered the same problem. He would have to fabricate a custom part under his own specs if he wanted to resolve the issue completely, but he hadn't had the time. Until then, a fresh stock part would have to do.
He reached out to the side and grabbed a new mass effect array he had prepared, flipping it around in his hand as he examined the quality that could be considered stock at best.
"Hahne-Kedar," he rumbled disapprovingly, shaking his head at the part. "Well… at least it's not as bad as the batarian tech."
"Having problems with the guns, Commander?" a voice came from the side.
An officer in BDUs had walked up to the workbench a bit to the side of Marcus, laying a datapad and activating the small fabricator unit that lied on the tabletop.
Marcus glanced at the man from the corner of his eye before he returned it to the part in his hand.
"Just marveling at the pathetic quality of our stock weapons and gear, Chief," he said, frowning disapprovingly at the part before he proceeded to slide it into place around the gun rails and beginning to reassemble his gun.
"Well, that's corporate lobby for ya," Chief Engineer Adams replied as he let the fabricator warm up while he reexamined some specs on the datapad. "You know how the story goes – some corporate jock pays a lot of money to a political backer, then that political head convinces the government and the brass that that firm is the best there is."
"Glory of the capitalist lobby," Marcus rumbled sarcastically.
"Well, that's why we tend to build our own gear," Adams said simply.
"Maybe… but I'd still love to see some quality gear begin to be handed around for a change," Marcus said.
"That so?" the man asked, raising his eyebrow. "You know, Commander, we have met only recently, but our XO has mentioned you a few times during our downtime. Quoting her, she claims you are a real uh… grease monkey – if you don't mind me saying."
"And proud of it," Marcus stated solidly as he went on to disassemble the other gun. "Having the gear of better quality doesn't mean that I'd stop modifying it for the better, Chief, it's just that the Systems Alliance military would be considered less of an embarrassment."
"We're not that bad," Adams countered as he began working the fabricator. "Our cruisers and frigates are top-notch, and our carriers carry the fight."
"I was talking about grunt gear," Marcus retorted. "Lancers and Avenger snipers? Aldrin and Sirta armors? Having those suppliers leads to things like this," he said pointedly, grabbing and shaking the worn-out mass effect array, before tossing it to the other man.
Adams caught the part deftly, examining it in his expert eye, and he frowned, narrowing his eyes.
"This array looks like it fired ten thousand rounds non-stop," he said, grimacing.
"Only about four hundred," Marcus replied, shaking his head as he returned to his work. "Modded weapons, remember?"
"Well, I sure would like to see what mods you've made for them to cause this," Adams replied, pointing to the array for emphasis. "You wouldn't mind letting me have a look at your handiwork sometime, would ya?"
"I'll show them to you in a bit," Marcus said absentmindedly, his eyes, hands, and fingers still firmly on the weapon in his hands. "Everything is in the locker," he said, motioning with his head sideways.
"Appreciate it," Adams replied as he grabbed the now-fabricated part from the unit and examined it.
"Well, I suppose you're right when you say that the Alliance ground troops are poorly equipped," Adams continued. "Our doctrine wants the battles won before the enemy even lands on the planet's surface. Our frigates and cruisers are twice as heavier than their Turian counterparts, and our numbers are increasing. We've overtaken batarians a decade ago, and are slowly overtaking salarians now as well. And we have far more carriers than any one of them."
He paused and swept his gaze all around.
"And then, there's this," he said, motioning up and around.
Marcus followed his gaze, nodding in understanding.
"You may be right when it comes to ground forces, Commander, – but, this ship?" He shook his head slowly. "This ship is something else entirely. I've served on every class of warship in the Alliance fleet, and not a single one of them could hold a candle to the Normandy."
"I've noticed," Marcus replied, then leaned forward with his elbows against the desktop and cupping his fist in front of his face. "Still doesn't cover the fact that this whole mission to Eden Prime reeks up to high heaven, though," he added with a shake of his head.
Adams chuckled.
"You know, Presley up in the CIC said something was wrong too," he said, shaking his head. "He gave me a call a bit earlier to talk about it, saying that he had a gut feeling about it. I tried to downplay it for his sake; I was afraid the poor guy was gonna give himself an ulcer."
"Well, he's not wrong, that's for sure," Marcus said.
"You think so?"
Marcus spread his hands as if pointing to the obvious.
"This mission is riddled with so many discrepancies and deviations that it's absurd to think this is anything but a shadow operation," he said matter-of-factly.
Adams frowned. "To what?"
"Not sure yet," Marcus said. "The clues are all over the place, though. We have ourselves a brand new stealth ship, first of its class, on its supposed shakedown cruise and being sent to perform its initial space trials. So, being an engineer, you tell me what's wrong with this whole picture."
Adams kept his shrewd gaze on Marcus, thinking carefully on the matter before he finally nodded.
"I think I see what you may be getting at," he said. "A brand new ship's shakedown needs to be a set of trials to determine that all systems work in the first place. And being the first of its class means that it has to have a series of space trials after that – to push its systems to redline to see how hard and fast they can go. And none of these two mission types are supposed to have a timetable."
Marcus pointed toward him with an upturned palm. "There you have it," he said, looking at him sideways. "No timetable, yet we're burning hard toward Exodus Cluster, carrying an extra N7 operative other than your XO, a squad of N2 marines, and a Council Spectre. A simple systems test run? I don't think so."
"They say Nihlus Kryik is here to protect the Council investment," Adams said, making a doubtful grimace.
"You don't send a Spectre to babysit a shakedown run, Adams – period," Marcus stated calmly. "This is a shadow op that has his name written all over it."
"And, do you have an idea as to what is going on?" Adams asked.
"Only that something happened on Eden Prime," Marcus said matter-of-factly. "The key to all of this is finding out the reason behind going to our destination. Why Eden Prime?"
Adams looked dubious. "Why would anyone want to have anything with an agrarian world?" he wondered. "All you'd see is a virgin world with pretty beaches, mountains, and farmlands and pastures as far as the eye can see."
Marcus shrugged. "And a few Prothean ruins here or there," he said.
"Yeah, and there were some rumors that they've discovered some of those recently near the…" he suddenly trailed off, and then turned his eyes sharply at Marcus, just looking at him silently for a moment. "Well, I'll be…" he spoke slowly. "They've found something!"
Marcus spread his hands from where he leaned against the desk.
"Of course they did," he said naturally. "Whatever it is, it's big, and the Citadel wants it bad – bad enough to warrant a completely covert pickup with a vessel that's barely off of the scaffolds. They don't even want anyone to know that this package has left Eden Prime, and considering Exodus is linked to Kite's Nest via a primary relay pair, I think it's a smart choice."
"Well, Eden Prime has a flotilla of defense ships and a ring of mobile ODP-s," Adams said. "You really think the batarians would attack if they knew this Prothean artifact – or whatever it is – is on Eden Prime?"
"Somebody is pretty scared that they would," Marcus said, then pushed off from the desk, standing up and walking toward his lockers, taking his pistols with him. "Which means that there's a real potential for things to go bad in seconds, and if that's the case, then that's my cue to gear up." He turned to look at Adams over his shoulder, motioning him with his head to follow. "Come on. You wanted to see my battle gear – now's your chance."
Adams followed him slowly to the row of lockers, then leaned with one hand against one of them and the other against his hip as he contemplated Marcus's words.
"Well… damn, Commander," he said, twisting his head. "All that you said really does put everything into perspective."
"Just about," Marcus said as he opened his battle gear locker and began quickly undressing out of his BDUs to mount up in his suit of armor. "Now the only remaining question is what the package is."
Adams grunted. "Quite." He then diverted his attention at Marcus's gear as he began pulling it out of the locker. "Well, I'll be… is that the new line of N7 armor?"
"It is," Marcus said, letting Adams take a look as he worked. "Not that old Onyx-class crap from Aldrin Labs."
"Last I heard, it's a still experimental – an extremely high-end, high-quality stuff, but it's supposed to be issued to all N7-s by the end of the year. How'd you come by it so soon?"
"I convinced them that the suit needed a shakedown run," Marcus deadpanned. "Both male and the female version. Guess who's wearing the other type."
As Adams laughed out loud, Marcus began to suit up with swift efficiency.
Adams took note of the differences between the old and the new armor type right from the start. Unlike the older and more cumbersome hardsuit types made from several sections, the new powered suit seemed to be made as a far more advanced muscle-looking nano-weave one piece, thick but flexible, meant to provide a muscle-type servo enhancement, as well as high-grade bullet impact shock dissipation.
The inside of the suit held a separate nano-tech weave that tightened against the skin like a thin layer, forming a skintight environmental seal, as well as providing sensory input, body status readouts and injecting of medigel.
Last of all, the outermost layer of the battle suit was the heavy external plating divided into sections which Marcus mounted one at a time, the process swift and easy as each section clicked into place over the flex armor suit and sealing tight into a full armor.
The suit's design enabled him to be fully armored-up in under a minute.
"Damn," Adams said as he examined the suit of powered armor. "That armor is a far cry from the current generation of hardsuits, I tell you that."
"A fact for which I am grateful," Marcus said empathically as he adjusted it down. Painted in standard N7 black and gray, with a red-white stripe down the arm, it finally was something anyone could say both looked and worked the part of fighters that needed to go into the thickest of it and intimidate the enemy with their very presence.
"Have you had the time to put some modifications of your own into it?" Adams asked.
"Not nearly as much as I'd like," Marcus said, as he flicked his heavy-duty omni-tool fabrication unit on his wrist, going through the settings and optimizing certain things. "I've tweaked the generator output and capacitors quite a bit. It burns through the fusion plant reserves, but I don't feel sorry for it; when you can power-sprint for ten minutes, and your shields are hardened by eighty percent, you tend to disregard the fuel consumption for obvious reasons. And I've placed a redundant shield generator as well." He tapped the section at the front of his waist belt. "Not nearly as powerful, but it will keep me alive if my mains fail."
"You're not afraid that the overpowered mass effect will fry the shield emitters?"
"No. I did the math, and then tested it out," Marcus replied as he took his two automatic combat pistols and holstered them both into a smart carry – holsters tucked into the front of his waist belt. "The armor powergrid holds admirably. Trust me – I've already blown up myself once before when I tried this on Onyx model; I'm not eager to do it again. Makes a hell of a lot of paperwork."
Adams laughed. "Funny it's the paperwork you're most annoyed with in that entire matter."
"Trust me, having things blow up around me is the thing I can cope with," Marcus said dryly as he took out a heavy pistol and placed it into a holster in the middle of his chest, and then finished by taking out his battle rifle out of the locker, and showing it to Adams.
"See this thing for example?" he asked, motioning with his head to the weapon. "This thing has blown up in my face several times over the history of me modifying it."
He tossed the rifle to Adams, and the man caught it deftly in his hands before he took a long, measuring look to it.
"An M-96 Mattock?" Adams said, pleasantly surprised. "Don't see many soldiers using a battle rifle like this."
"It is far better designed than the M-7," Marcus said. "I don't know what idiot designed the Lancer, but the very fact that its bore is so elevated above its point of rest on the shoulder means the weapon kicks up like it wants to fly away."
"Well, it's no secret that the Mattock is far more stable, accurate, and with a far more powerful kick, but it takes time for an ordinary grunt to master it," Adams pointed out as he kept his eyes on the weapon. "So, tell me, what have you done with this one? Is it just me, or does it seems to be a bit on the heavy side?"
"You're right," Marcus said, taking the weapon from him and pointing out several things. "I've designed a five times larger core; took me a long time to procure eezo for it, but it's worth it. It not only punches harder, but it enabled me to place inertial dampening arrays, and I use the mass effect fields to drain the heat from the bore and divert it into the heat sink. I've essentially supercharged the cooling system beyond any gun out there."
"Huh, imagine that. It's similar in its functioning like our Normandy's IES, except that this pumps the heat out. Why'd you need such enormous amount of heat dissipation?"
"Because I've rigged it to fire full auto," Marcus said. "It uses high-explosive rounds, further incited by a mass effect oscillator in the chamber. And I've added a phased energy pump over the bore, here."
"Pushing the rounds into a phasic envelope and making them ignore enemy's shields to an extent," Adams concluded, nodding appreciatively. "A very destructive weapon, that's for sure. Expensive, too."
"I don't care for money; I care for effects," Marcus stated simply as he held the rifle in one hand, and then reached back into the locker with the other, retrieving a couple of objects that looked like Mattock's forward handgrips with integrated heat sinks, and attaching them to a magnetic plate at his side.
Adams frowned in confusion. "What are those additional Mattock's grips and heat sinks for, Commander?" he asked.
Instead of answering, Marcus reached up with his left hand and detached the Mattock's forward handgrip section in a swift and simple manner before tossing it to Adams. The engineer caught the object and looked it over.
"A detachable heat sink system?" he said in surprise.
"If you're in the heat of battle, and the system cannot compensate, just switch the entire heat sink," Marcus said as he grabbed one of the spare ones and clicked them into their place on the Mattock. "And then keep firing while the old one is clipped to your side or thigh magnet to cool off," he finished as he took the original heat sink section from Adams and let stick it onto the magnetic plate to his side where the first one was. "Combat suits are made of carbon-ceramite composites, so they're pretty damn resistant to heat; no worries of a hot heat sink damaging it."
"You really thought of everything, hadn't you?" Adams said, crossing his arms. "Ever thought about signing into Alliance-sponsored weapon inventor competitions? It'd be some pretty good money if you won."
"Never really gave it much thought," Marcus said as he holstered the weapon to his back. "Can't really imagine myself among all those corporate jocks."
"Well, you never know," Adams said. "Mikhail Kalashnikov was a tank commander in Russian Army in WW2 before he designed the AK-47."
Marcus chuckled. "We'll see," he said, then looked at the time on his omni-tool. "I should go. We'll be reaching the Arcturus-Exodus primary within a few minutes. My guess is that whatever's going on – we'll soon find out."
"Good point," Adams said, unfolding his arms, grabbing the part he had fabricated a minute ago, and walked back toward the engineering. "I'll see you around, Commander."
Marcus took out the final piece of his armor – a helmet with a full protective face plate that only had a pair of round 'eyeholes' of electronic multi-spectrum lenses – and hooked it onto his side where it didn't hinder his movements, and then walked to the elevator that led out of the cargo hold.
As he stepped in, he thought back on his suspicions pertaining to the mission at hand. It was obvious this was a covert pickup for something on Eden Prime that the Council was abnormally interested in, which was why they'd sent a Spectre.
So, that was not the big question. The big question was: what was his role in all of this?
He moved through the crew deck with purpose, swiftly climbing up to the CIC and walking in to see a place abuzz with activity. He cast a sweeping gaze across the room, noting people on their working posts, heads down, professional concentration on their faces, their postures radiating subdued excitement.
He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the new CIC layout. This modified turian design looked oddly advanced and ahead of its time. The dark blue color of the walls and the quietness of the ship's systems made it all seem more appropriate for this frigate's purpose: a stealth ship. There was power to the very idea of it.
And then his eyes fell upon a woman in officer's BDUs who was at that moment issuing some instructions to some crewmember, and suddenly everything in the ship – everyone, every item, every stray sound, the ship itself even – ceased to exist for a fleeting moment.
He took that small moment to drink in her form. The female-cut BDU-s hugged the curves of her body, a body that was carved into a shape of an athletic goddess, yet a body that exuded elegance and femininity even through the concealing uniform. A body he was privy to. She stood tall and gave an air of confidence where she stood, in what she worked with, the way she spoke.
Her head turned just as she finished giving instructions, and her gaze met his. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and a twinkle sparked in her eyes. They teased and challenged him from behind those auburn bangs of her chin-length hair that framed her beautiful face.
He rumbled deep in his throat, calming his raging blood that threatened to sink deep below his waistline. And she smirked. That little minx smirked! She knew him all too well – all his tells by the sight – and she used it mercilessly.
He approached her where she stood at ease in one corner, watching over the workings of the CIC with her hands behind her back, and mimicked her posture as he stood next to her.
"Commander Shepard," he said with a small smile.
"Commander Shepard," she greeted him back with their personal mock-greeting, their eyes locked and reading each other's thoughts effortlessly.
You know the first chance I get, I'm going to ravage you senseless, and there'll be nothing you can do about it – his blue eyes told her as they pierced deep down into her.
Oh, and I expect you to back up those words thrice-over – she replied back with that teasing glint that glowed in her violet-pink cybernetics-enhanced eyes.
They broke eye contact and both took a second to compose themselves back into professionalism that was expected of them while they were in uniform. Marcus cleared his throat, returning to his somber, serious state of mind before he looked down at his wife.
"Did Captain say anything about this mission?" he asked, knowing full well that she too must have noticed the numerous deviations from standard procedures about this flight.
She looked up at him with a somber expression and shook her head in the no, her gaze transferring volumes to him. She knew exactly what he was asking, and she was being kept in the dark, too.
He nodded once, then spoke so only she could hear:
"I think we're doing a covert pickup. A Prothean artifact of some sort, most likely."
"I thought so, too," she said for his ears only. "I have the info that they stumbled onto some new ruins when they began expanding the settlement area around the spaceport. On another note, I have an odd feeling about that Spectre."
"More than what you'd expect from a Spectre?" he asked.
She nodded slightly. "He's taken to monitoring our way of operating the ship – no surprise there – but he's also taken special attention to a few crew members; me, among others. He does a good job of not being conspicuous about it, but you notice such things if you're one of us."
"Do you think you're his direct person of interest, or if it's Anderson he's interested in?" he asked. "He could be just monitoring you for an additional read on the captain. It would only be consistent with how we operate in the N7: evaluate the associates, not just the target itself."
"What you say stands," she said. "But I don't think it's the captain or me that Nihlus is interested in. Anderson and he had spent a significant amount of time in consultations behind closed doors; if Spectres are comparable with N7 in their methods, then Nihlus's person of interest is someone he had thus far avoided having contact with at all." She paused, then looked up at him. "The only one who fits the description is you, Marcus."
He let out a pensive rumble from his throat.
"If that's true, then what do you think is the reason for that?" he asked.
"No idea," she said, then smirked. "Maybe they're considering someone for a Spectre candidacy."
Marcus's lips started to spread into a joking smile, then abruptly halted and turned serious. He looked down at his wife and saw that she too had stopped smiling as she realized it on her own too, and was looking back at him with all seriousness.
It made sense. The humanity was pushing for this for a long while, they both knew that.
"Still, better to not get my hopes up," he said at last.
"Yeah," she responded with a nod, then added. "Would be nice, though."
"Oh? Why do you think so?"
Instead of answering she just looked up at him with that teasing glint in her eyes, and he read all that she was thinking.
If you were to become a Spectre, then it means that fraternization regulations wouldn't apply to us anymore – she wanted to say.
He had to smirk and shake his head. That's how it was with this woman. Whenever they had their leaves and vacations, they matched them with the approval of their superiors and spent eighty percent of those times rumpling the sheets, with other twenty percent being imbued with sexual tension. Becoming a Spectre and remaining near each other might not be such a good thing at all… neither of them would get any work done.
"I better go," he said with a chuckle.
"Yeah," she nodded, and he started walking toward the front of the ship.
As he approached the cockpit, he heard pilot over the comm, calling out final pre-jump sequences. When he stepped in, he saw the Spectre, Nihlus Kryik, standing a pace behind the pilot's chair, observing the work of the two men at the flight controls.
Marcus gave only superficial attention to what the pilot was doing as he glanced sideways and weighed the Specter in all seriousness. The turian radiated the stoic, disciplined, almost haughty demeanor his race was known for, yet his glowing green eyes radiated brilliance in a way that few people had.
That, and the Spectre was doing his best to appear as if Marcus wasn't there.
With a corner of his eye, Marcus scanned the Spectre's Phantom armor. Rare and very expensive stuff. Very high quality. Not something any regular branch of the military would wear. It matched his knowledge of the Spectres: each Spectre an independent team on itself, using whatever gear or means they deemed best, and nobody to tell them how to do their job. A dangerous edge to walk on.
The pilot's announcement caught his attention.
"The board is green, approach run has begun," the man said. "Hitting the relay in three… two… one…"
The tendrils of lightning jumped out from the bluish relay core, connecting to the ship's mass effect bubble, and catapulted it through the relay transition corridor from Arcturus system toward the two thousand light years distant Exodus Cluster.
Marcus cast a glance through the cockpit window. The mass-free corridor seemed almost like a tunnel made of water, the blue and infrared light spectrums mixing like wisps of smoke as the ship cut through the light waves. The stars, constellations, and nebulae shifted around them, not just the ship passing them by, but as if shifting through time from where they were thousands of years ago because of the time it took light to travel in real-space.
He returned his attention back to the status checks that the pilot was going through:
"Transit corridor – stable. Navigation… check. Estimated time of primary relay transition: fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes is quick," Nihlus noticed. "This ship's eezo core to mass ratio is having a beneficial effect to relay transit speed; interesting to see that you're managing to rein all that power in, though. Your captain will be pleased."
Then, he turned and left the cockpit. Marcus watched the man go from the corner of his eye. It was a high praise for a human coming from a turian. Not something that happens very often.
"I hate that guy," the pilot, Joker, said when Nihlus was far enough away.
"Nihlus gave you a compliment," spoke Lieutenant Alenko from the copilot's seat. "So – you hate him."
"You remember to zip up your jumpsuit on the way out of the bathroom – that's good. I'm handling the ship that's equivalent of an F1 racer that has an oversized rocket engine attached. So, that's impressive!" he ranted. "Besides, Spectres are trouble. I don't like having him onboard. Call me paranoid."
"You're paranoid," Alenko retorted. "The Council helped fund this project. They have a right to send someone to keep an eye on their investment."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the lieutenant carefully from the corner of his eye. The man was either purposefully downplaying what was going on, or he truly believed what he was saying.
"Yeah, well, what you're saying is the official story," Joker pointed out. "But only an idiot believes in official stories."
"Joker is right, lieutenant," Marcus said quietly. "You need to think outside of the box. Spectres are not sent on shakedown runs; they operations they're employed on are of a much higher profile."
"So, there's more going on here than the captain's letting on," Joker said.
"Of course there is," Shepard spoke. "Fully staffed ship, a Spectre, an additional N7, a fully loaded M37 Mako…"
"You make it sound like we're going to war, Commander," Alenko said with a smirk, trying to make light of the situation. "I'm sure it's simpler than that."
"Lieutenant, you're an officer," Marcus started, then looked at Joker. "Both of you are. Your job is to lead men into battles and win them. How can you achieve that it you take the things you see in front of you at face value? The opponent will always try to trick you with false intel; we need to be able to see through that."
He then smirked and let amusement float in his voice. "So, by all means, Alenko, do not be afraid to pick at this 'truth' the officials gave us. Something tells me we'll only be seeing a lot more of it, and us soldiers are poorly trained to deal with politics."
Joker turned to look at Marcus, then said:
"Can I openly gloat now for being right?"
Marcus couldn't help but let out a chuckle and noticed that Alenko was smirking too, even though he was shaking his head.
Suddenly, comm system buzzed, and Captain Anderson's gruff voice came through:
"Joker, status report!"
"We're clear and solid in the relay transit corridor, Captain," he said. "Thirteen minutes till exit. Everything looks solid."
"Good," the captain responded. Shepard could detect a hint of relief in his voice. The captain was tense about this. "As soon as we reach the Exodus, I want us linked into the network. I want mission reports relayed back to the Alliance before we reach Eden Prime. And tell Marcus Shepard to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing."
"Aye-aye, sir," Joker said, then looked slightly sideways. "You heard that, Commander?"
Marcus nodded with a hum and turned on his heel, walking back toward the CIC. "Looks like it's time for me to be briefed on whatever this mission is all about."
He walked back through the CIC and into the comm room, descending down the short hallway into the circular chamber. The Spectre, Nihlus Kryik, was on the far side, analyzing what he knew to be the images of Eden Prime: lush green meadows, arcology towers, forests – the works.
"Commander Shepard," Nihlus spoke, turning away from the viewing screen and looking at him directly for the first time ever. "I was hoping you'd get here first; it will give us a chance to talk."
Marcus walked around him, observing just the same. "I'm listening," he said.
"I'm interested in this planet we're going to," the turian said. "Eden Prime. I've heard it's quite beautiful."
"I've heard the same," Marcus responded. "Though I don't understand what that's got to do with the artifact we're supposed to pick up."
Nihilus' mandibles twitched slightly, and the turian's posture immediately changed to that of guarded caution, his eyes narrowing at Marcus.
"I wasn't aware that the captain already told you about the beacon," he said accusingly. "This information was supposed to be classified."
"The captain didn't tell me anything," Marcus retorted and inclined his head toward Nihlus. "You did."
Nihlus's eyes widened and his mandibles dropped a fraction in slight bewilderment, before a smile of pleasant surprise broke out on his features.
"Cunning, Commander," he said, nodding approvingly. "So, you deduced something was going on. How did you piece it together?"
"This mission was assembled with urgency," Marcus started. "When that happens, the pieces stick out like a sore thumb; they cannot be hidden. A shakedown run made with full staff and the fully stocked- up ship? The stealth systems operational from the moment we left Terra Station? An additional N7 agent assigned to the ship, a Council Spectre overseeing an operation, and we were going to an uneventful planet with the only thing of note to it were the Prothean ruins?"
"Your information pool and deducing skills are impressive," Nihlus concluded, folding his arms across his chest. "I say this because I know from experience that few people in the military have the insight to look at the broader picture – to look beyond of what is just their job."
"A lot of people on this ship had already figured out that something unusual going on," Marcus countered.
"But how many of them had managed to piece it all up and lure someone like me into revealing it?" Nihlus countered back.
"On their own? Not including me?" Marcus clarified. "One other."
Nihlus fluttered his mandibles pensively. "Of course. Jaina Shepard, your wife. I imagined it might be so; I have studied her file – she fits the bill. As far as this is concerned, you are right, Commander. There was a discovery on one of the recent digs on Eden Prime – a unique artifact from the Prothean era. Before we go into any details, though, it'd be best to wait for Captain Anderson; he's familiarized with the situation and needs to be here."
"Fair enough," Marcus said, and just as he did, a hiss came from behind him, and the doors opened to welcome both Anderson and Jaina descending into the debriefing room together.
"I see we're all here," Anderson spoke up as he cast a glance across everyone, then nodded toward Nihlus. "Then we can begin. I assume you've acquainted Marcus with the true background of our mission?"
"Didn't need to," Nihlus said with a shake of his head as he crossed his arms. "Your ground specialist deduced it on his own."
"Is that so?" Anderson stated with no surprise whatsoever before he turned his gaze to Jaina. "Then that means you know it too."
"So, it is a Prothean artifact," Jaina said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Nihlus remained silent for a moment, just carefully scrutinizing the two commanders before him.
"It looks like we have more than few capable heads on this ship," he said at last. "Good. We'll need that if this mission is to go smoothly."
"You want both of us on point with this?" Marcus asked.
"I want the best whenever possible," Nihlus said. "And you two are here now. So that settles it."
"And I assume you don't have an issue with Jaina and me working together on the same mission?" Marcus asked, looking questioningly at Anderson.
"Not this time, Marc," the man said, raising his hand. "This is effectively a Spectre op. The Alliance regs are void for the duration of this mission and whatever further task it might entail. What matters the most is to get this job done."
"Fair enough," Marcus said, then shared a look with Jaina before he looked back at Nihlus. "Alright – so it's pretty obvious that this is a covert pickup. But what I don't understand is why was the Normandy rushed out into this mission even before its shakedown runs."
"I agree," Jaina said. "You wouldn't send a Spectre and an experimental warship for a piece of Prothean artwork. What are we dealing with here?"
Nihlus nodded in affirmation before he walked to the console, and pressed a button. The screen of Eden Prime scenery switched to an image of a large alien white-grey obelisk, more than thrice as tall as was the scientist that stood next to it, with green lights and symbols glowing on some of its surfaces.
Marcus and Jaina leaned forward in surprise. Frowns of concentration etched on their faces as the examined the image in great detail.
"It's active," Marcus stated.
"Now that is big," Jaina murmured somberly.
"That is the Prothean beacon in question," Nihlus said. "It was uncovered in a sealed chamber that might or might not have functioned as some sort of command hub. The thing was broadcasting a repeating energy signal – hence the scientists naming it as they did. We don't know what it truly is or what it was supposed to do, but it's obvious that we're dealing with an electronic device; the first active Prothean device found in centuries."
"I see," Jaina murmured as she examined the beacon on the image. "Something like this could be a computer or a communication terminal."
"And, whatever the case, it must have some kind of memory core," Marcus added.
"Precisely," Nihlus said. "The technology of the entire Galaxy was based on Prothean tech, and that was just by reverse-engineering defunct machinery. This thing might very well contain data we never laid eyes on. It might be that this beacon might actually be nothing more than a holographic projector with stored commercials, but it may just very well be a military memory bank that holds weapon blueprints."
"And it all sits smack in the middle of an agricultural planet with nothing but a couple of dozen orbital defense platforms and a few companies of mechanized infantry," Marcus said grimly.
"Exactly!" Nihlus intoned with gravity.
"Both of you understand now why this thing was so covert," Anderson spoke up. "Imagine if batarians were to find out about this. Forget about them organizing another Skyllian Blitz – they'd perform an all-out attack faster than you could think!"
Jaina nodded. "A primary relay pair links Exodus Cluster with Kite's Nest," she said, "and we know the batarians are monitoring everything that's happening over here." She then frowned, and looked pointedly at the captain. "Can we be absolutely sure that there weren't any security leaks?"
"The dig site is under constant military watch," Anderson said. "Comm traffic is monitored, and the science team consists of professional Alliance scientists. They know the importance of keeping this kind of find secret."
"Other than the four of us here, the only ones who know of this are the top brass of the Systems Alliance, and the Councilors themselves," Nihlus added.
"That's why the Normandy was sent," Anderson said. "We're the fastest ship in the damn Galaxy, and we have the advantage of the stealth systems. A larger ship would attract attention, and we don't want there to be so much as a hint of this operation. Officially, the Normandy is still docked at Terra Station."
"So you say, but Jaina and I did not deduce this information from the things that are hidden, but from the things that are not," Marcus pointed out. "Some random crewman on Terra Station might have seen the Normandy leave; he might have mentioned it to someone…"
Jaina picked up for him: "Someone like the Shadow Broker might already know that something is happening on Eden Prime. The information might already be disseminated among enemies of the Alliance. I'll be a lot happier once we have that beacon in our hands."
"Of course, that aspect of our mission will be the most important," Nihlus agreed.
"Oh?" Jaina spoke up interestedly. "There are other things to this mission?"
"That is also true," Anderson said. "Nihlus is here to evaluate you, Marcus."
Marcus turned to look at his wife, who smirked back at him.
"Told ya so," she replied with a shrug.
"Christ, Shepard," Anderson chuckled, addressing them both with that name. "Is there anything you two don't already know?"
"What can I say, Captain," Jaina smiled back. "We like the challenge."
Nihlus, just stood there with his arms crossed, scrutinizing the two Commanders carefully, and all the while a small smile of approval was hovering on his mandibles.
"Well, this just might be the challenge of a lifetime," Anderson replied somberly to Jaina's statement. "The Alliance has been pushing this for years. We want a greater influence on galactic affairs – that's only natural, of course; but we won't be getting that seat on the Council any time soon if we're not ready to show that we're ready to look at the big picture. If our best military operative would join the Spectres, instead of just working for the Alliance, that would just show that we'd be able to make sacrifices for the sake of the Galaxy – just like turians do by providing military protection."
Marcus frowned as he looked at Anderson straight in the eyes.
"I understand what you're saying, Captain, but this has all the markings of a political move, rather than anything really purposeful. The politics aren't something I want to be a part of. Couldn't you find anyone else who would fit the parameters better?"
"That's exactly what we're not trying to do," Anderson stated with finality as he walked around the chamber. "Several of the politicians back home tried pushing for more… politically correct candidates. They were solidly turned down."
"And it was a right choice for the Alliance to do so," Nihlus said firmly. "Being a Spectre might be viewed as prestigious position, but galactic peace is not achieved by noble deeds and political correctness. I'm telling you outright that few Spectres are paragons of virtue that the propaganda is trying to label them with. Let there be no doubt in your mind that we are the people that do what needs to be done, no matter how ugly it might be.
"So, yes – the political segment of the Alliance had tried putting forth the candidates that would be good for nothing but the show for the cameras," he continued, "but that's not what we're looking for. You, however, have had a life filled with experiences where you did what you had to do. You've fought on the streets on Earth, you've fought against batarian slavers on Mindoir, you've defended Elysium, survived thresher maw attack on Akuze, and you did what needed to be done on Torfan. Such a remarkable willpower and insight into a big picture is a rare talent. That's why I put your name forward as a candidate for the Spectres."
"You put my name forward?" Marcus asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I can understand why it would come as a surprise to you, Commander," Nihlus said. "Relations between humans and turians might still be cold, but not all turians resent humanity. Some of us see the potential of your species… what you can do for the Galaxy. That's why we want you in the Spectres. I don't care that you're human, Shepard, I only care that you can get the job done."
Marcus was silent for a moment, thinking on and storing away what Nihlus had just said. He felt contentment in hearing that the things were really like that.
He shared a look with Jaina, then, sharing volumes with their eyes; the most significant thing was the support in her firm and unshakable gaze. He nodded lightly before he turned his gaze back to Nihlus.
"I understand everything you're saying," he said, "but my allegiance ultimately belongs to humanity. Even if I was a Spectre, I would never do something that would weaken humanity's position."
"Understandable," Nihlus spoke solemnly. "It's just as my allegiance belongs to turians before anyone else. The Council is not stupid, Shepard, despite how it may appear to you; they would never want to jeopardize my allegiance to my own people. So, ask yourself this: if you become a Spectre with nearly unlimited resources, authority, and liberty of action, do you really think they would risk having you turning on them if they were to act against humanity's wellbeing?"
Marcus hummed, thinking it through. "I see your point," he said, then looked at Anderson. "If there was a human Spectre, the Alliance would have a greater influence in the Council just by him being there."
"And humanity needs that, Marcus," Anderson confirmed.
"Alright, I'm bought," Marcus shrugged. "What is it that I need to do in order to be inducted?"
"The ultimate decision lies with the Councilors, of course," Nihlus said. "But it is my evaluation grade that holds all the weight. You strike me as a very intelligent and cunning individual, Commander, and that's not something a mere service record can depict, which already gives you points. However, no matter how stellar your achievements might seem on paper, I still need to see you in action – to see your methods, reactions, your… battle mind, so to speak. Eden Prime will be the first of several missions together."
"And on that note," Anderson took the opportunity to speak, as he approached the console and punched in a few commands. The screen showed the tactical layout of the spaceport, the settlement, and the excavation site.
"You will be in charge of the ground team, Marcus," Anderson spoke. "You will go to the dig site in the Mako, secure the beacon, and then use the hover-trailer provided on location to immediately transport it back to the ship. Nihlus will accompany you to observe the mission. Jaina, you will coordinate with the ground team from the CIC. Are we all clear?"
"Straightforward enough," Jaina said.
"Good," Anderson said, then looked at his watch. "We should be jumping out of the relay transit right about… now."
There was a very light sense of shifting through the ship.
"Some good inertial dampeners right there," Nihlus commented appreciatively.
"I'll say," Anderson agreed. "Now that we're here, we can begin the preparation. We should be arriving at Eden Prime within –".
He was interrupted by Joker's voice over the comms: "Captain, we have a problem."
"What is it, Joker?"
"Transmission from Eden Prime, sir. You better see this!"
Anderson punched a command on the console, and the screen switched to the video feed.
Sounds of massive firefight and explosions filled the air. The image of the video was swinging back-and-forth, consistent with the cameraman running. The recognizable sound of Alliance weaponry burst fire was interspersed with a high-pitched sound of unknown weapons. A single female soldier came to view.
"Get down!" she shouted to the cameraman as she pushed him to the ground, and continued firing.
More bluish explosions followed. Plasma blasts, Marcus and Jaina realized, as the blue bullet streaks flashed about; whoever it was, they had some very unusual weaponry, and all four people present were realizing it was not an ordinary attack. One soldier crouched to speak into the camera amidst all the chaos:
"We're under attack, taking heavy casualties! I repeat: heavy casualties! We can't -…. –eed evac! They came out of nowhere. I repeat: we need -"
He was cut off by a round hitting him in the head. The feed continued, and the battle continued, until there a sudden reverberating sound echoing from seemingly everywhere. The soldiers in the feed ceased fire, grabbing their heads in seeming pain before they looked up into the sky with shock and fear etched on their faces.
The camera view turned, and the four people in Normandy's comm room saw a massive construction that resembled a metallic hand descending from the sky, with red lightning dancing across its surface.
A few more seconds of battle followed before the image was replaced by static.
"It all cuts out after that, Captain," Joker announced. "No comm traffic from Eden Prime at all. Just goes dead."
Anderson rewound the recording and paused at the image of the giant alien construction. Marcus nodded toward the screen, and asked:
"Have you ever seen that kind of ship, Nihlus?"
Nihlus twitched his mandibles, a concentrated frown on his face. "No," he said. "We can't be even sure if that's a spaceship."
"Well, it's certainly not a blimp," Jaina countered dryly.
Nihlus was silent for a moment. "I'd have to agree," he said gravely. "It appears massive, though; larger than a cruiser. I don't know how it can keep itself afloat on a planet of this size."
Anderson listened wordlessly before he called out to Joker:
"Joker, status report!"
"Seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other Alliance ships in the area."
Anderson punched the key on the console and a dull claxon sounded throughout the ship, with a recorded voice calling out several times: "General quarters, general quarters! All hands to battle stations; this is not a drill!"
"Our mission remains the same," Anderson spoke. "Except that it just became a lot more complicated."
"Looks like someone really did find out about the beacon," Jaina spoke up, then frowned at the images of combat in concentration. "I find the scale of the attack to be disconcerting, though. Eden Prime has a flotilla of ships protecting the system. It also has a ring of ODP-s, and the city and its area are defended by a battalion of troops. The attack seems strong enough to have wiped all of that out. An overwhelming assault is the only explanation, and we only have this ship and a six-man squad under Sergeant Miller."
"I agree," Nihlus spoke. "Whatever we're facing, it's obvious we cannot fight them man-for-man However, a small, specialized strike team can move fast without drawing attention. It is our best chance to secure the beacon. I advise no more than four people on foot."
"You, Marcus, Miller and Alenko, then," Anderson said.
"Actually, a much better option would be using Commander Jaina here, instead of Miller," Nihlus spoke. "He's an N2, and Jaina here is an N7 and a trained biotic, and thus brings a lot more firepower. Three biotics can do a lot of damage."
Anderson didn't waste a moment.
"You heard him, Jaina," he stated decisively. "Suit up, and meet us in the cargo hold!"
"Aye-aye, sir!" she replied, and ran out of the comm room without wasting precious time.
Marcus activated person-to-person comm.
"Jaina, we're dealing with plasma weapons here," he said as he reviewed the battle footage. "Make sure both you and Alenko have set your shields to alternating frequencies. I have a spare mod in my locker if you need it."
"Roger!" she replied through the comm.
"I have never seen weaponized plasma before," Anderson spoke gravely.
"I have, but those were experimental prototypes," Nihlus said. "Nothing of this scale we see here."
"We've never seen a ship like that, either," Marcus said, as he pointed at the image of the giant hand-like vessel. "Stealth drive or no, we will be seen once we're in the atmosphere, and I don't want to test our defenses against any weapons that that thing might have."
They were silent for a fleeting moment, before Anderson spoke grimly, "Follow me," and then he walked out of the comm room, and into the CIC.
He swiftly climbed onto the command platform and activated his tactical display, tapping the general comms.
"Alright people," he called out. "We are operating under the assumption that we have a hostile anti-warship presence on the ground of Eden Prime, localized around the spaceport. Presley! Give me an approach vector that wouldn't expose us to their visual scans – a ravine, if possible. Joker, you are to take us in nice and quiet, nothing splashy!"
"I've got just the thing, Captain," Presley replied as he brought up a 3D projection of a ravine. "This ravine is shielded by mountains – it will hide us from any visual detection – and it approaches the spaceport at five clicks at this location."
"That one will do," Anderson said as he looked over the map on the display before he turned to the two men. "Anything you think needs to be added?"
"No, sir," Marcus said.
"Nothing," Nihlus agreed.
"Then head down to the cargo hold," Anderson said. "Kaidan and Jaina should be ready by now."
The turian and human turned on their heels and walked out as one.
As the doors closed behind them, Anderson turned back to his tactical display and brought up the image of the alien ship that had landed on Eden Prime, and frowned grimly as his gaze bored holes in the image. It was more alien than anything he had ever seen, and a sense of foreboding spread through the man's core.
"What the hell are you?" he wondered under his breath.