[nsw-fic] Mass Effect 2: Second Chance

[Tysyacha]

MASS EFFECT 2: SECOND CHANCE

 

[Author's Note: I created an entirely new Shepard for this game/story.]

 

(SPOILER WARNING! SPOILER WARNING! SPOILER WARNING! )

 

Prologue: Awakening

 

Darkness. Silence. The explosion of Sovereign, and then the Normandy. My precious vessel! If only I could have done something to save you--save everyone...

 

"Miranda? I think she's waking up. Heart rate climbing. She's not ready yet."

 

"Give her the sedative! Another dose. Now! I told you that your estimates were off. Run the numbers again..."

 

I remember saving Joker, right before I was sucked into the cold vacuum of space. Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, the galaxy's finest pilot. Bless his loyal and foolhardy heart! He wouldn't abandon ship, brittle bone syndrome or not. Even with two good legs, I don't think he would have made a run for the escape pods. I told him that the Normandy was lost, and it wasn't worth dying along with her...

 

Dying. The Citadel Council is dead, and so are Urdnot Wrex and Ashley Williams upon Virmire. Thanks to me, humanity has a stronger place in the galaxy than ever, but at what cost? That's the price a commander has to pay--choosing who will live to fight another day. That's what they say, the people who are my mentors and leaders. I may be a Spectre and a highly-ranked member of the Systems Alliance military, but I have superiors. I killed three of them that day when we fought Sovereign, ordering my crew to keep firing incessantly on the Reaper and ignore the Citadel's flagship under fire.

 

It burst apart in a levitating cloud of flame. Why is it that in war, it is often those who matter the most who must make the ultimate sacrifice?

 

I should have saved the Ascension. I didn't. Three heroes taken in the blast.

 

Three of MY heroes. It's too late to ask forgiveness, but I know I must...

 

"Wilson? What are you doing? You've been staring at the patient for hours."

 

"Sorry, Miranda. I'm just keeping an eye on her vital signs. She can't fail."

 

"WE can't fail. The project must be a success..."

 

In chess, there is no forgiveness. There is no mercy, unless your opponent grants it or else does not see your mistakes. You MUST succeed, and win. It was the game for which I was born and named. Shakhmaty is my given name, but you'll never hear anyone say it. It's always Shepard, even with my crew that has now disappeared. Oh, my head--my memory's shot...! The only two people I can envision calling me that are my parents, Anna and...my father's name is...oh, no. I can't even recall that sweet detail. Am I...dead?

 

Urdnot Wrex's death was no mistake. He tried to betray us, and our mission to bring down rogue Spectre Saren Arterius, because Saren had found a cure for the genophage that rendered almost all krogan infertile. Wrex wanted to save the krogran breeding facility on Virmire, AND Saren, and I wouldn't have it. I tried to tell him that our mission was more important, and that Saren would only use the krogan as slaves, but it didn't work. He wouldn't stand down, and so for the sake of all, I put a bullet through his head. "Terminated", in our military parlance that I hate to use. Wrex is dead, and I'm the one who killed him. I can't say I'm sorry he's gone, either.

 

Ashley Williams, though. She was a good gunnery chief, and one of the best soldiers that I've ever met. While Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko survived--because I made the choice to save him--Ashley protected the bomb in the breeding-facility trenches that blew the complex sky-high. She stayed behind so that stinking place would go to hell, along with everything in it. Except her. She believed in God, and so do I. Maybe He'll see that no one who died at my hand died in vain. Some I meant to kill, some I didn't, but it's all my fault...

 

"You think she had any family? Friends? Lovers that she left behind?"

 

"I wouldn't know, Wilson. Why? We're not informing her next of kin."

 

"I was just curious."

 

"You're a little too curious for my taste. Just do your job, and be quiet."

 

I never really had time for love. In the military, fraternization is forbidden, and my mind was always on the mission. Case in point was when we went after Saren and Sovereign--the first of its kind to arrive, if push comes to shove. There were two people that I had an attraction for--Kaidan and a beautiful asari scientist, Liara T'Soni--but I never confessed my feelings for either of them. War is war. First the battle, then the celebration, but in my case, the battles are never over. There's always something new to fight, especially a Reaper.

 

THE Reapers. If we don't stop them, 50,000 years of life will be extinguished.

 

Gone. Forever. If I were writing a letter to God, it would say, 'Please don't let this be checkmate--and grant us all a pardon. Yours for all time, Shakhmaty...."

 

Is it already too late?

 

It sure seems like it...

 

"Shepard! Wake up! Get out of that bed now! This facility is under attack!"

[Tysyacha]

As soon as I heard that voice--cold, terse, and female--I knew something was wrong, and not just with my pounding skull and the searing scars on my face. Under attack? Where was I?! There wasn't a moment to lose, and so I followed the commands issued to me over my comlink to retrieve the armor and Predator pistol from the locker in front of me. Great. More fighting. This was going to be a long day...

 

"Someone hacked into the security system on this facility. All of the mechs built to guard and protect us are now trying to kill us. Go! Go!"

 

I sprinted forward and ducked behind the nearest wall. Whoever this woman was, she was right! Almost as soon as I'd taken cover, tall black-and-white armored robots aimed their guns at me and started firing. It was frenetic, trying to shield myself while blowing their swiveling heads to kingdom come. Cover, shoot, run, cover, shoot. It was a drill I'd done thousands of times during my career as an Alliance combat tech, but somehow, this time it felt different. Someone had probably wanted me dead while I...slept?...and hadn't succeeded in the assassination attempt. Oh, well. If I found him--or her, or them--I'd deal with it later. Right now, the mechs were trying to fry me! Searching for a place to hide, I took refuge in a room that appeared to be some sort of administrative office. Whew! No hostiles here. Wait a minute--what was that laptop computer still doing on in the middle of all this chaos? I pressed a button, and the face of a beautiful dark-haired woman--perhaps the same one who was talking to me over the comlink--spoke:

 

"The Lazarus Project is progressing far more smoothly than I ever would have hoped. At first we were only able to restore the subject's basic organ functions and tissues, but through progressing to bio-synthetic fusion, she looks more like herself every day! My instructions were very clear: she is to be intact, with the same intellect, morals and personality she had before. If any intrinsic or innate part of her is altered, the project will be a failure. I won't allow that to happen."

 

I was stunned. Was I "the subject" of this project, or merely someone who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Taken prisoner, perhaps? The last thing I truly remembered was dragging Joker out of the rapidly-disintegrating cockpit of the Normandy, and then drifting...falling...

 

"Shepard? Don't waste time. We need to get you to the escape shuttles."

 

I gave a start. This woman was an absolute professional at giving orders, and fortunately for her, I was an absolute professional at taking them. You don't get where I've gotten without learning how to obey on a split second's notice. Sprinting ahead, I meandered my way through more rooms in the building, and suddenly--oh, no. That mech was the size of a Geth Armature!

 

"Get down!" a man shouted. I flattened myself to the floor as a crushing wave of biotic power washed over me. Overtaken, the synthetic security guard sailed over the railing of the stairs across the way from me, falling to its "death" below and shattering. When I stood up, I came face-to-face with a tall and handsome black man, clad in heavily-plated body armor with a strange symbol on the lapel. It seemed oddly familiar, but I couldn't place it. No matter. Who was he?

 

"Commander Shepard?" he said, brushing a little bit of mech shrapnel off of his chestplate. "I'm Jacob Taylor. I work for Miranda here on this facility."

 

"What is this facility? Why am I here? You and Miranda are trying to help me, right?" I hoped that was the case. Otherwise, I was completely out of luck...

 

"Right. I'll give you the short version of events, just to catch you up. You've been dead two years. Your ship was attacked and destroyed. Our company's spent a fortune trying to bring you back to life. My supervisor Miranda and I are both with the Lazarus Project."

 

"The Lazarus Project? Is that why I've suddenly woken up right in the middle of a nest of hacked security mechs, with no memory and these scars on my cheeks that are burning like molten lava?" Jacob nodded. I stood there for a moment, trying to process all of this. "Do you mean I've been...resurrected? Literally?" Jacob nodded again. "This is unbelievable. How? Why? Why me?"

 

"The boss wanted you back. The Illusive Man isn't clear about his motives."

 

The Illusive Man? Who was he, and what did he want? I stepped closer to Jacob and leaned toward him, desperate for answers. "Hey. Whatever this 'Illusive Man' wants with me, that can wait. What happened to the rest of my crew on the Normandy--Kaidan Alenko, Liara, Garrus...? Did they all make it?" Oh, please, God, let them still be here... I closed my eyes.

 

"Everyone that was a member of your personal squad survived, but a lot of the administrative and other personnel didn't. Some of them are still with the Alliance, but they've moved on. It's been two years, Shepard. The whole galaxy thinks you're dead, and if we don't get off this station, they'll be right." Squaring my shoulders, I gave the order to move out--and shoot more mechs when we encountered them. We did. Who in the hell hacked the mechs? It was infuriating to think that someone didn't want us out alive.

 

When we finally had a little bit more breathing room, ducking behind some metal crates, I asked Jacob Taylor another question: "You never did tell me where we were."

 

"The Lazarus Research Station. It's a facility built by Cerberus." He sighed. "I figured I might as well tell you, and be up front about it, instead of having you wait for a shot in the back."

 

Cerberus. Cerberus. Where had I heard that before? It was all a blur...

 

"Should I recognize the name?"

 

"You don't remember? Hmm. That could be a side effect of your recovery. Cerberus is who I work for. Who we work for. Most of the galaxy calls us a 'pro-human splinter group', but we call ourselves 'human survivalists.' You destroyed a couple of our research bases years ago, but things change."

 

I shivered. Like a jolt, it all came back to me. "I don't work with terrorists."

 

"You can tell Miranda that. For now, let's get our butts out of here."

 

We quickly encountered an injured man named Wilson, the chief medical tech, who had sent out a distress call over Jacob Taylor's comlink. Using a pack of medi-gel, I restored the bleeding wounds to his legs from the mechs' weapons. He told us to forget about Miranda, who had been over in D Wing and had been swarmed by a storm of those blasted bolt-headed bodyguards. I wasn't so sure we should do that, though, as we scrambled and shot our way toward the escape shuttles. When we finally did meet the elusive Miranda, with her silky mane of hair and penetrating glare, Wilson seemed completely caught off-guard. "Miranda!" he cried. I thought you were--"

 

Miranda aimed her pistol at him and fired a single shot into his skull.

 

"Dead?" She smiled coldly. "Remarkable plan, Wilson. You betrayed us all."

 

I couldn't believe it. He was the one who hacked the security mechs and wanted our corpses cold? Why? I suspected it was because he wanted to take credit for this so-called "Lazarus Project" instead of his supervisor. Still, that was no reason to have the mechs kill everyone. Why not slip some poison in her coffee or something? Maybe I was wrong, but I didn't see any other reason to turn the building into a death trap. Miranda stood down.

 

"Why'd you do that? You should have taken him alive. See what he knew."

 

"It was too risky, Shepard. I've spent too much time and energy on you, not to mention credits, to let you get killed now. We've had enough fighting to last a lifetime--or two, in your case." She looked at Jacob. "To the shuttles."

 

"Wait a minute," I said, holding up my right hand. "Where are we going?"

 

"To another Cerberus facility. My boss wants to meet you."

 

"You mean the Illusive Man? I won't come along to become his pawn."

 

"You want to stay here and rot with the mechs? Be my guest. This is the only way off of this station, Shepard." Miranda smiled again.

 

Knowing she had a point, I followed her and Jacob into the waiting vehicle. On the way there, they questioned me to see how much I remembered.

 

"You were a colony kid, and when you were sixteen, slavers brutally attacked Mindoir. Your family and friends...I'm sorry," Jacob said. I nodded sadly. "You enlisted with the Alliance military after a passing patrol saved your life, and you held off a batarian assault in the Skyllian Blitz. Impressive! I had friends who were there." A small smile came to my face. My proudest moment.

 

"I wasn't going to let those slavers send me running."

 

"You also left one of your squad to die on Virmire," mentioned Miranda.

 

My scars singed. "Ashley Williams was my friend," I said, "and I didn't do it casually. She was one of the best crew members I ever had, and she didn't--she won't--die in vain. I'll see to that." I remembered Sovereign and seethed.

 

"I didn't think you would. We're here, Shepard. The Illusive Man awaits..."

[Tysyacha]

When I met the Illusive Man--or, should I say, when my holo-projection met the Illusive Man--I was rather surprised. I had been expecting an AI, a mad scientist with a bald head and white lab coat, or even a heavily-armored commando who wouldn't let me see his face. As it was, I could see it very well. He was ruggedly attractive, about in his mid-forties, with blue eyes that seemed to bore right through my image and disintegrate it. He smoked a glowing cigarette.

 

"Commander Shepard."

 

"Illusive Man. I thought that we'd be meeting face-to-face."

 

"It's a security precaution. Not unexpected, considering what you and I know."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "And what do 'we' know, exactly?"

 

"Humanity is facing the greatest threat it has ever known--possible extinction." He took a long, slow drag on his cig. I could almost smell it, or at least I imagined I did.

 

I nodded. "The Reapers."

 

A pause. "Shepard, we here at Cerberus believe that the Reapers are behind the disappearance of dozens of colonies. Human colonies. We don't know that for sure, but that's what I'd like you to try and discover. I've arranged a shuttle to take you to Freedom's Progress, the latest colony to vanish."

 

"Wait a minute, sir. First things first. Why did you bring me back?"

 

"To accomplish this very mission. I knew there was only one woman, one very specific woman, who stood between us and the annihilation of galactic life. I know that the Reapers harvest all organic beings every 50,000 years, but they're specifically targeting humanity in this case. Cerberus stands for the preservation and advancement of the human race. You're a human, Commander, and your species needs your help."

 

"Fair enough. Do you have any idea what I'll find at Freedom's Progress?"

 

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be sending you. Find any clues you can. Who, or what, is abducting the colonies? Do they have any connection to the Reapers? If so, what kind, and if not, what other purpose could they have for taking hundreds of thousands of people by force? In my view, that's the definition of 'harvesting'. This can't continue, Shepard. It must be stopped."

 

I took a deep breath. "I agree, but Cerberus is a terrorist organization. I'm not exactly comfortable working for someone who's done what you've done, and what your entire network has done."

 

"It isn't as evil as you believe. Don't be taken in by all of the Alliance propaganda that has been spread about us. As I said, Cerberus only wants what is good for humanity, and what is good for us will be good for all organic species. I'm counting on you. We all are. Take Miranda and Jacob. They'll be coming with you on this mission to Freedom's Progress."

 

"What? No offense meant, but I trust them about as much as I trust you. Miranda killed Wilson in cold blood, and Jacob's just a gun for hire."

 

"Wilson was a traitor. She did what had to be done. Jacob? He doesn't trust me, either, but he's a good man--and he won't shoot you in the back. Nor will I."

 

I nodded. "I'll take you at your word, which might be a mistake, but if the Reapers are involved in these disappearances, not doing anything about it would be a far bigger one. I'll go and see what I can find out."

 

The Illusive Man signed me off after a brief farewell, and I talked to Miranda and Jacob. It turned out that Miranda was a very powerful biotic, specially recruited by the Illusive Man at a young age to be one of his operatives. Her attitude wasn't exemplary, but she was focused, determined, and capable. She believed in what Cerberus stood for, which worried me more than a little. As for Jacob, he was a bit more reluctant about working for 'the betterment of humanity', no matter what the cost to other races. He wanted to make a difference, and he didn't feel he could really do that in the Systems Alliance. Even as a Corsair, which was a starship captain commissioned for covert operations, he felt his actions weren't making much of an impact. So, he joined Cerberus, keeping one eye on his allies and one finger on the trigger.

 

We set out for Freedom's Progress, not at all sure what we would find...

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Two: Freedom's Progress

 

What we found was snow. Freedom's Progress was completely deserted, except for flakes of ice descending upon the frozen ground. What had once been a bustling and prosperous human colony was now devoid of life, human or otherwise. "It's like everyone just got up and left in the middle of dinner," Jacob Taylor said as he, Miranda and I surveyed the empty camp. There were some med kits and thermal clips lying around, but no clues in sight.

 

Suddenly, we heard the all-too-familiar sound of shots being fired.

 

"Take cover!" Miranda pointed sharply, and I ducked just as a plasma bolt whizzed right over my head. It was coming from a hostile FENRIS mech. More hostile security droids? I was becoming as sick of them as I was of the geth!

 

"What the hell?" I snapped. "Who hacked these things, I wonder?"

 

Jacob shrugged his shoulders, and we kept on shooting. Apparently, there must be someone around that wasn't made of metal--or, at least, not completely made out of metal! We kept looking and were surprised to find a gang of quarians holed up in one of the barracks buildings. One of them looked familiar. It couldn't be...yes, it was...and she had others with her!

 

"Stand down, Cerberus!" one of them cried, who wasn't the familiar one. "What are you doing here? This isn't your property, and you know it."

 

Miranda put a hand on her right hip. "It's perfectly within our rights to investigate a human colony. I might ask you the same question, quarian."

 

A lithe female stepped forward. "Shepard...?" she asked after a moment. "You're alive?" Her eyes glowed from behind her violet face-visor, made of thick plastiglass to protect her from microorganisms in the air. Quarians had no natural immune system, and so they were required to wear such things.

 

I smiled. "It's me, Tali. Shakhmaty. Cerberus literally brought me back to life."

 

"How did you--why--?"

 

"We hear that everyone at this colony vanished," said Jacob quickly. "Despite what you may believe, we're not here to cause trouble. Really. I promise."

 

I turned to him. "What kind of trouble are you talking about, Jacob?"

 

The male, still brandishing his weapon at us, cocked it warningly. "They killed our people, infiltrated our flotilla, and tried to blow up one of our ships!"

 

"It's nothing personal," said Miranda. "That's also not how I'd explain it."

 

"Never mind," I said, shaking my head. "We can sort all of this out later. Tali? Do you know anything about why the humans on Freedom's Progress disappeared? Did you see or hear anything?" I wanted to give her a hug, but knew that professional protocol wouldn't allow me. Not in this situation.

 

"No, but Veetor might have. He's one of us, and he visited here on his Pilgrimage. I know you think it might be strange that a quarian would choose to go to a human colony, but he hates crowds. He liked the idea of helping out a small settlement. Veetor's been--uh--a little elusive lately..."

 

"You mean unstable," corrected the male. "He's programmed the mechs around here to shoot anything, deeming it hostile, in fear that--oh, I don't know what he's afraid of. Combine that with serious damage to his CO2 scrubbers and an infection, and he's probably delirious. We're going to have to fight our way through a lot of these machines if we want to get to him."

 

"Let's team up," I said. "We might well need your help to get past them."

 

"Good idea. We'll circle around and try to distract the mechs so that you can try and get to the loading bay. We think that's where Veetor is." She sighed. "Honestly, Shepard. I really hope he's okay. We know that our Pilgrimages are always going to be dangerous, but we're more than meant to make it back to the flotilla alive. Good luck. I'll see you on the far side." She saluted and left.

 

Tali was correct. It was a firefight dodging all the sniper shots, incendiary ammo, and other hazards the mechanical sentries tried to throw at us. Still, Miranda, Jacob and I kept to our objective, until we heard Tali's distressed announcement over the comlink: "Shepard! Prazza, the male you met earlier, and his team are trying to get to Veetor before us. Veetor's programmed a heavy mech to guard him, and it's tearing Prazza's squad apart! Hurry!"

 

Hurry we did, and Miranda and Jacob took cover by the door to the loading bay. I took point. Once we were ready, the lovely Cerberus operative saw the mech. "It's going to take a lot of firepower to bring this thing down."

 

She didn't exactly say thing, but I agreed with her. Overloading its shields and pumping disruptor ammo into it for all I was worth, I felt myself fading into unconsciousness as the beryllium behemoth slumped into the snow. Luckily, I recovered and it did not. We opened the loading bay door.

 

A quarian male sat in front of nine surveillance screens, all glowing amber and showing various forms of data. "Monsters don't see me. No, no, no, no, no."

 

I stepped closer. "No one's going to hurt you anymore," I said softly.

 

"Veetor saw them all. Veetor had to hide. Monsters didn't detect me. The seeker swarms. They sting you. Freeze you. Then they take you away..."

 

"I don't think he can hear you, Commander," said Jacob with a sad look.

 

What monsters? What seeker swarms? They...take you away?

 

Lifting my hand and pressing a button on my omni-tool, I scrambled the reception on the surveillance screens so they all went blank. Veetor, startled by the sudden disappearance of his data, turned around. "What? You're human! How did you get here? The monsters didn't find me. I had to hide."

 

"So I heard," I replied, stepping closer. "Please, Veetor. Tell me about them."

 

"The monsters didn't see me, but I saw everything." He brought the surveillance screens up again. We all saw the footage of the colonists at Freedom's Progress, scrambling for cover as a massive insectoid alien rounded them up. I'd never seen such a creature, and I didn't want to--!

 

Miranda gasped. "My God! I think it's a Collector."

 

"Are they some kind of alien?" I asked. "I've never heard of a Collector."

 

"They usually work through intermediaries, such as slavers or mercenaries. Veetor? You said they 'sting you' and 'freeze you'? That could possibly be through a stasis field, tranquilizer dart, or nerve toxin. The thing is, the Collectors usually want to 'collect' unique species, such as ones with genetic mutations or never-before-studied physiologies. What they'd want with hundreds of thousands of ordinary humans, I haven't a single idea."

 

"We need to report this to the Illusive Man," I announced. "Veetor? I know this may be hard, due to what you've gone through and what you've seen, but could you please come with us? He'll want to hear your story."

 

Tali stepped forward. "Just a moment, Shepard. He needs medical treatment, not an interrogation. Let me take him back to the flotilla. You can take the data stored in his omni-tool, but let him stay with me. Please?"

 

I thought for a moment, closing my eyes, and made a decision.

 

"All right, Tali. You two can go, and Veetor? I hope you're feeling better soon." He nodded and downloaded the information we needed from his omni-tool to mine. With nods of acknowledgment and farewell amongst us, we went our separate ways. I had a report to make, and the rest was history.

 

*****************

 

The Illusive Man reported that the Collectors, the insectoid 'monsters' of which Veetor spoke (and that had almost frightened him out of his mind) were indeed involved with the Reapers. I sensed that there was something he wasn't telling me about this connection, but all he said was that 'the patterns are there, buried in the data'--whatever that meant. He said that the next step was for me to assemble a team of highly-trained operatives to find the Collectors and hunt them down. The Collectors, after all, were the forerunners of the Reapers, and the former would lead to the latter.

 

"A team? I have my own team," I told him. "The one that helped stop Saren."

 

"They're gone," the Illusive Man said. He gave me a run-down of their fates:

 

Kaidan Alenko was still with the Alliance, but his file was highly classified.

 

Garrus Vakarian disappeared after reports of my death were circulated.

 

Liara T'Soni was on Illium, and rumor has it she worked for the Shadow Broker.

 

Tali? The Illusive Man wouldn't let me take Tali, saying he needed 'more intel'.

 

So, that left the dossiers he gave me, none of which looked very promising except for one: Mordin Solus, a salarian scientist whom I intended to find first. He did research, especially on a countermeasure against the Collectors' immobilization technique. I thought that he was certainly going to be helpful. The others? Not so much...

 

There was a krogan warlord, rumored to know Collector technology, but I didn't recruit krogan because of rumors. Even hunches required some sort of proof to be had.

 

There was a convict, name of Jack, a violent biotic prisoner. What an asset--!

 

There was an operative, Archangel, who was reported to be ruthlessly efficient and an excellent sniper. I was an Infiltrator myself, so I might not need to find him or her.

 

Sigh. I wanted my old friends back. My mates. My comrades. My team.

 

Still, it wasn't so bad to meet new friends, especially with Jacob and Miranda around to mix things up and keep things interesting--that is, when we weren't getting shot at by Collectors, geth, annoying rogue security mechs, and what have you!

 

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I received a new ship, and an old pilot--Joker! Thank goodness for someone joining Cerberus who's NOT a complete anus-hole, eh?

 

We had to give our ship a name. Guess what we called her?

 

The NORMANDY SR-2 was ready for lift-off! Our first stop was the Citadel, because Captain Anderson wanted to hear from my own lips why I left the old Council to die. I owed him some answers, and a welcome from a formerly-dead ally...

[Alkonium]

I'm impressed so far. I didn't think it was possible to do much with a set story, but your use of first-person perspective and thoughtful insight get around that pretty well.

[Tysyacha]

Thank you so much!!! You get a cameo appearance on the NORMANDY SR-2 as a crew member! Maybe Dr. Chakwas' assistant/intern, if you like...

[Alkonium]

Well, you could introduce an "alternate" Peter McGann, if you remember him.

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Three: Old Friends, New Friends

 

I received a warm welcome from my crew aboard the NORMANDY SR-2. At the helm sat my dear old friend Joker, elated that his new seat in the cockpit was crafted out of leather instead of synthetic material that "couldn't breathe"! However, his spirits were dampened by our ship's ever-watchful VI: "EDI", as she was called. "It's like some creepy kid in comp sci who's always staring at the back of your neck. You just want to punch him, but he's 'special' and starts fires or something," he said. I told Joker half-jokingly (ha!) that EDI was his problem, not mine. He shrugged it off and laughed, but I could tell that he would find a permanent way to disable EDI the first chance he got. I didn't mind. I wasn't partial to VI's. Too impersonal.

 

Also onboard, there was an enthusiastic and attractive young redhead, Yeoman Kelly Chambers, who introduced herself as my administrative assistant. "I'm grateful for your help, Ms. Chambers," I said, and she told me to call her Kelly. I obliged, and she informed me she was also a counselor...

 

"You mean to say you'll check on the crew to make sure their mental health is sound?" When Kelly nodded, I was reassured, having suffered more than a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder after the Battle of the Citadel. There was no telling what kind of horrors we'd encounter in our mission to defeat the Collectors. I was 99% sure, if not 100%, that this could be a suicide run.

 

Part of me kept asking why I had ever accepted the Illusive Man's deadly assignment, but the other part said that if the Collectors weren't stopped, far more sentient beings than just me would lose their lives. When I played chess, I sometimes had to sacrifice my best pieces, like the Queen, in order to checkmate my opponent's King. What was I willing to lose, to surrender, for the provision of the entire galaxy, Cerberus and its 'pro-human' goals be damned? I knew that was a question that would haunt my nights.

 

In the medical bay, I met another new acquaintance: Dr. Peter McGann, a tall and sardonic engineer who kept the vital life support systems and other machinery running for Dr. Chakwas. Surprised, I blinked and said, "You don't seem like the Cerberus type, Doctor. Neither do you, Peter," I continued after a moment. "The Hippocratic Oath--do no harm--isn't their creed."

 

"Don't I know it," Peter grumbled. "I was getting on the System Alliance's nerves a little too much with my--extracurricular activities, meaning hacking. They were going to put me on trial for cybercrime, but an executive from Cerberus--I forget his name--said I'd be far more useful tracking extranet thieves and identity alterers for them than I would be behind bars. The top dogs at the Alliance agreed, and so that's why I'm here." He scoffed. "I may be human, Commander Shepard, but I'm with the Doctor on this one."

 

"I don't work for Cerberus. I work for you, and for the safety of the galaxy." Doctor Chakwas squared her shoulders, and I shook her hand in solidarity.

 

In the mess hall, I found Rupert Gardner, the ship's cook and chief custodian. I expressed some concern about the man cleaning our toilets being the one who prepared our meals, but he said he washed his hands "most of the time." In Engineering, I had the pleasure of meeting top mechanics Kenneth Donnelly and Gabby Daniels, who told me they were going to help "kick the Collectors in the 'daddy bags'!" I almost wet myself when I heard that! Good soldiers always keep their cool, even under fire, but I wasn't sure the Collectors had any 'daddy bags'...Stifling guffaws, I went to the upper decks.

 

Jacob Taylor was in the armory, cleaning weapons and reassembling them.

 

"Do you have a moment to talk, Jacob?" I asked.

 

"Sure, Commander. What's up?"

 

I paused for a moment, not exactly sure how to phrase this. "Level with me. What do you really think of Cerberus, and this mission?"

 

Jacob took a step backward, as if digging in his heels. "Seriously? Cerberus has done a lot that concerns me. You couldn't find a more checkered past. People--and that means aliens as well as humans--don't call it a terrorist organization for nothing. I chiefly signed up with them because they get the job done, especially when people are in trouble. They don't believe in red tape. When colonists go missing, no one forms a committee to write a report about what they should do. They go and investigate, and that's my style. I take action. I don't wait around for some bureaucrat's bull recommendations."

 

I winked at him. "Neither do I. I'm glad that we're two of a kind here. I don't trust Cerberus either"--another long pause--"or Miranda. She seems a little too cagey, a little too--cold? What's she hiding?" I was taking a big risk.

 

"Miranda's competent. She's the best supervisor I've ever had. Nevertheless, I'm with you. You don't get to a high position like hers without having done something. Something bad, probably illegal and not just unethical. She won't tell me anything, though. I'm just her biotic bodyguard. Better than a mech."

 

I almost had the impulse to touch him on the shoulder, but I didn't. "You're far and above any model of mech, including the giant one we fought at Freedom's Progress. I'm glad to have you aboard, Jacob. Care to say more?"

 

He shook his head. "Already? I'm not big on forcing these talks, Shepard. Maybe later." Feeling a little disappointed, but wanting to respect his privacy, I left him to furbishing our standard pistols and sub-machine guns.

 

My next stop was Miranda's office. I had definite questions for her...

 

"Fair is fair, Commander," she said when I informed her I wanted to know more about her. "I've spent the last two years of my life learning everything there is to know about you. I'm genetically modified, more than most other humans, even down to the important minutiae of my good looks. I'll have at least fifty years longer than the average lifespan, and physically, I'm top-notch. Biotic implants, specifically those at the base of my skull, help me excel at whatever I set out to do. It's why the Illusive Man chose me."

 

Hmm. "You certainly don't lack for confidence," I said wryly.

 

"And I shouldn't. I'm one of the best of our species, genetically modified or not. Through people like me, the advancement of our race will be assured."

 

"Speaking of the 'advancement of our race,' what is Cerberus? Is it a military organization, a political one, or both? What is its ultimate goal, beyond what we're doing here? I'd like some answers, Miranda, and straight ones. Please."

 

She smiled with half-closed eyes, taking a sip of her coffee. "Very well. We're both military and political, having a network of agents all throughout the galaxy performing overt and covert missions. Sometimes we hide our work, but we often hide in plain sight. As I said before, Cerberus' only real aim is to make sure that humanity prospers."

 

"At what cost? Skip the slogans. Surely you realize that genocide and the 'dehumanization' of other races, so to speak, is not on my list of objectives for this mission." I leaned over her desk as I said this for special emphasis.

 

"Did I say it was mine, Shepard?" Another small smile. "If I were so pro-human as to hate all other races, I wouldn't tolerate a salarian on our ship. Nor a turian, a quarian, an asari, or any other species besides our own."

 

I nodded humbly. "Point taken. That reminds me--we're headed for Omega first, to contact and recruit Mordin Solus, the salarian scientist that the Illusive Man mentioned in one of his dossiers. We need research done."

 

Miranda leaned back in her chair. "Fine with me. You're the Commander..."

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Four: Q-WAR-ANTINE!

 

The colonized asteroid of Omega hung in space in the shape of a glowing red jellyfish, but you needed far more than the spine of one in order to survive its mean streets. It was a haven for criminals, warlords, slavers, "chemical enhancement" dealers, and all sorts of galactic ruffians. Even though I was a former Spectre renowned for her dealings with such sorts, that wasn't my mission here. My mission, or should I say our mission, was to locate a salarian physician amid the throngs of those who cared to do us a great deal of harm! When we landed upon its steaming surface, illuminated by a pervasive orangeish-red light, Miranda made a face and commented, "What a pisshole. I had to come here on business once. Couldn't wait to get off-world. I needed a very soapy shower after my regular decontamination."

 

Jacob did a slight double-take, trying to pretend he wasn't imagining his comely Cerberus colleague doing that very thing, but then he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. "I agree. Stinks worse than the krogan. I can't fathom why a salarian of Dr. Solus' reported intelligence would come here." I agreed. Why couldn't he set up a clinic on a more reputable colony?

 

I thought our first hurdle would be the distinct possibility of none of Omega's thugs even knowing who Dr. Solus was, but unfortunately, it was not. Instead, one of them, posing as a so-called "security guard", informed us in no uncertain terms that we were to present ourselves to an asari crime lord by the name of Aria T'Loak. Shivering with apprehension, I signaled Jacob and Miranda to move out. Perhaps this Aria was a commando, and if so, we were headed straight to perdition and downward from there! Have you ever faced an asari commando squad? I pray you never have and never will...

 

"Shepard." Two indigo eyes stared straight into mine, once we slipped into the smoke-filled confines of the Afterlife nightclub. Perdition, indeed! I had the bartender pour me a good, stiff drink of some iridescent blue liquid before we ventured up the stairs to Aria T'Loak's plush VIP seating area. The shot of "liquid courage" warmed me, and I was surprised at its potency! "Let me introduce myself, and this colony. I am Omega, and there's only one rule here: Don't f*** with Aria." She leaned forward intensely.

 

A quarian male, bringing a metal tray of more intoxicating beverages for us, bowed his head and offered a glass to the asari. "Thank you, Ninja," she said with a smile that was both sweet and nasty. "You always know my favorite."

 

"It's my job," replied the quarian, his face-mask glowing a purplish-blue.

 

"And don't you forget it. Commander Shepard? Meet Ninja, my quarian assistant. Not only is he skilled in the martial arts, but he is also more than half-machine. Cybernetics have done wonders for his reflexes and agility. He can take down any member of the Blue Suns, or a vorcha, in seconds."

 

I sat back a little, admiring his physique. Quarians were renowned for their mental prowess and engineering aptitude rather than physical feats, but apparently this one was far more than the average (former?) member of the Migrant Fleet. Was he on his Pilgrimage? I suspected not. He was a man of few words, if you could call him that, and he saluted Aria T'Loak crisply.

 

"Now," said the asari. "What brings you here to our burgeoning metropolis?"

 

"Metro-cesspool?" I said, smirking a little. "I'm looking for Dr. Mordin Solus."

 

"Him? He's running a clinic over in the Quarantine Zone. There's a plague that's been spreading around, and lucky for you, all humans are immune."

 

"It mainly hits turians, batarians, and the like," chimed in Ninja helpfully.

 

"You only speak when spoken to," Aria purred, "except in this case, you've earned a reprieve from standard discipline due to actually being helpful. It turns out that my friend Ninja is correct. Solus set up shop two weeks ago. I can't say if he's being of any real assistance or not, since I don't go among such scum as those infected with any kind of a virus. I'd advise caution, though you are immune, because the Quarantine Zone is crawling with members of the Blue Suns mercenary gang and the vorcha, who also cannot contract the disease. I doubt if you'll even be able to get in. It's guarded."

 

"Don't worry," I said. "I can handle myself."

 

"As can we," Miranda interjected, feeling slightly insulted at being left out of the conversation. "Mr. Taylor and I are with Shepard, and unlike your 'friend', we are not her 'assistants'. We're highly-trained Cerberus operatives."

 

This made Aria blink a little. "I see. So you're no pushovers." A pause. "Still, that doesn't mean any of you three will automatically survive the war zone that the Quarantine Zone has become. I just thought I'd give you fair warning. Also, there's a rogue agent, Archangel, that's wreaking a lot of havoc around here. I don't hate him, though, because I distrust everyone equally." Aria pulled Ninja close and gave him a teasing kiss on his facemask.

 

Archangel... That was another name on the Illusive Man's dossiers.

 

"You'll have to join up with the mercs if you want to have any chance of taking him down, though," smiled the asari. "They are the ones who have it out for him. Archangel thinks he's on the good side, but there is no good on Omega. There's only me, and us, and those who keep things running."

 

I nodded. "I should go," I said, bidding farewell to the asari and Ninja.

 

"That wasn't exactly a pleasant welcome," said Jacob, "but all the same, it was more friendly than I expected. Aria looks like the kind of woman who would put a bullet through your skull before she'd shake your hand."

 

"And I'm not?" Miranda winked at Jacob, and he gave a derisive smile.

 

Hmph. Miranda warranted the same amount of trust as Aria did, and a bit more, because she was on my side. Still, she was a die-hard Cerberus shill. People like her were the kind around whom you had to watch yourself.

 

****************

 

We did not receive a pleasant welcome in the Quarantine Zone. As Ninja had explained, most of the batarians and turians lying in the streets were either burning, dead or dying. The stench almost overwhelmed us, and only by turning on my ventilator in my suit did I keep from vomiting all over the concrete. Miranda and Jacob held their own, though. Maybe, through their work for Cerberus, they'd encountered worse. I sure hoped not. This was true perdition, with Afterlife being only the decadent gate.

 

A batarian, coughing up blood, cursed us as soon as we approached. He believed that humans were responsible for the plague, and not the also-immune vorcha, since they were too stupid to concoct a virus so lethal. That was his opinion, at least, and I tried to ease his pain by giving him some medi-gel. He was surprised at my actions, and asked for someone else to help. I told him I'd see what I could do once I found Dr. Mordin Solus.

 

To get to him and his clinic, however, we had to fight our way through frenzied Blue Suns and Blood Pack mercenaries, not to mention the vorcha. I didn't normally consider myself a xenophobe, but the vorcha were absolutely disgusting, plague or no plague. Their white, clammy skin peeled off in ribbons, exposing their muscles, and their long, razor-sharp teeth didn't help matters either. In the midst of a haze of gunfire and explosive blasts, I heard them roar and hiss. Were we ever going to get out of this place alive?

 

Finally, we ducked inside the heavily-fortified makeshift medical facility. Miracle of all miracles, Dr. Solus had already formulated a powerful cure...

 

"Need to get this into ventilation control. Must hurry. Cure plague."

 

"Are you Dr. Solus? I will, but first I need you to tell me more about it."

 

"Collectors behind it. Use humans as control group. That's why they're immune. All others die. Hurry. If you take this cure, you'll save hundreds."

 

I took the vial from him and said, "My crew and I are after the Collectors."

 

"Really? Interesting development. I'll go with you after you help me." I gave him my word, and also that I would try to find his missing assistant Daniel.

 

Daniel was being held captive by hostile batarians who wanted revenge, him being human instead of any other species. I convinced them to let the doctor's assistant go, surrender and flee. No sense in wasting more lives...

 

As for Jacob, Miranda and I? We shot up a whole ventilation control room full of those revolting vorcha, their skin dripping sweat, and poured the cure into the fans that brought fresh air to the entire Quarantine Zone. I'm not proud to admit that I almost died several times, but being an Infiltrator, my power to set armor and living beings on fire won out in the end--along with my teammates' biotics. I was certainly more than glad to have them around!

 

Dr. Solus was true to his promise. "Don't know why the Collectors created plague," he said as we three returned to the NORMANDY SR-2. "Want to find out. In the meantime, I'll consider and research some upgrades for your armor, weapons, and ship. So much to do. So little time. So much data."

 

That entire paragraph was said in the span of only seven seconds. Salarians ate fast, talked fast, moved fast, and drank fast. Their metabolism was sky-high. I certainly hoped that Dr. Solus would find what he was looking for in regards to the Collectors. It didn't bode well for us if they were trying to exterminate organics already, before the Reapers had a chance...!

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Five: Refresh and Regroup

 

Miranda and I hit the showers first thing after we re-boarded the NORMANDY SR-2 and I finished talking to Dr. Solus. As we lathered ourselves with far more than the usual dime-sized portion of colloidal body wash, she turned to me and said something I never expected: "Shepard? I really respect what you did out there. I've never seen anyone else besides me fight so hard, or light anyone else on fire so many times." She smirked. "Very impressive."

 

I blushed and smiled. "Thanks, although I'm nothing next to you."

 

Her gaze turned hard and cold--the almost-permanent look of the Miranda I knew. "Nothing? You wouldn't think of yourself that way if you knew where I came from. My father created me. Designed me right from the very start. One egg, one sperm, thousands of genetic tests and 're-engineering', and I was inserted into my mother's womb by a set of medical instruments. There is nothing mystical or spiritual about my conception or birth. Not even love. My father wanted more than a daughter. He wanted a dynasty. I would either be perfect for him, or I'd be discarded like any other one of his employees or so-called 'friends'. Although, without my father, I wouldn't even be here. If it weren't for him, I'd be an ordinary human. No offense, Shepard."

 

"None taken." I was disturbed and saddened by what I'd just heard. Of course, I had several of my own 'enhancements'--hell, I'd been literally raised from the dead--but at least my parents created me "the old-fashioned way". They had wanted a child to love, not a resume or a biotic war machine on legs. Still, they'd had high expectations of me, perhaps too high. It was why I was often anxious, fearing that somehow, I'd fail them and the rest of the Mindoir colony. I would not honor their memory if I made any mistakes, especially fatal ones. If I failed now in the fight against the Collectors, I'd fail the entire galaxy.

 

No pressure, of course. Self-esteem must be kept intact. Must stay cool...

 

"Miranda?" I said softly. "You're not a pawn. You're not a tool to be used by your father, or Cerberus, or anyone else. You're you, and even though I'm not exactly thrilled to be a conscripted member of your organization, you're all right." I froze cold even though the shower was steaming hot. Had I just said that? Why?! I wasn't supposed to be this trusting, especially with people I barely knew. It was one of my greatest weaknesses, and left me vulnerable.

 

"Thanks." We turned off the showers, got dressed, and shook hands for the very first time. We weren't exactly friends yet, but at least we knew we could count on one another to save our butts from a vorcha attack!

 

In the armory, I found Jacob, who said he was on his way to the medical bay. "Got wounded in that firefight," he grunted. "Next time, take cover and stay there. Not that I'm meaning to give you orders, but you're the Queen. I'm like a Knight or Bishop, or maybe a Rook. Remember, I've got your back."

 

I gave a start of happy surprise. "You play chess?!" I'd never imagined--

 

"Yep. Gets boring on these Cerberus assignments sometimes. Want a game after I see the good doctor? Chakwas, I mean, not the salarian."

 

I snickered. "Sure." We both ventured toward the infirmary, chatting away.

 

"Hey, Mr. Taylor? Come here," said engineer Peter McGann after Doctor Chakwas had finished applying medi-gel to the semi-deep burn wounds on his arms. "I want to show you something. You might be interested in this."

 

"What is it?" He stepped over toward the computer and stared at the screen.

 

"Your personnel file. It says here that you were once part of the Systems Alliance? Got sent on a mission to take out a batarian bio-weapon? Brought you out to the Nemean Abyss and back?" A pause. "I never heard about--"

 

"Give me that." Jacob snatched the mouse from Peter, clicked a button, and wiped the console clean of all data. "Yes, everything you say is true. Yes, I was once part of the Systems Alliance. I was even a Corsair, a starship captain sent out on covert missions. I was a hero, until they swept me under the rug. Just like you, Commander. They never said a word about the Reapers, or about what Miranda and I did to try and do our part to save the galaxy. 'It's better for the public not to know,' they say, 'in the interests of galactic security'. What they mean is that they're only interested in saving their own rear ends in case anything goes south. They don't want to be the fall guy. I appreciate you checking my background, Peter, but no more."

 

The engineer blanched. "Just wanted to make sure you were clean."

 

A snort. "Hey. I took a shower." I steered Jacob away from the scene fast.

 

"Hey--we're all working together here. On the same side. Got it?"

 

"You bet, Commander." Under his breath, he said, "Although, there's enough spying going on within the confines of Cerberus to make the STG blush..."

[machievelli]

read

[mimartin]

I’ve only had the time to read the first two sections. Interesting perspective into your female Shepard’s thought process and insight into her motivations. While it is my opinion that you are doing a good job in telling the story, it is difficult for me to get into your character since Shepard is also my playable character.

 

Still as I wrote above, it is interesting to read a different interpretation of Shepard’s motivation and thought process.

 

The one suggestion I would make is to make a large spoiler warning at the beginning of the thread for those that are planning to play Mass Effect 2 and have not as of yet.

[Tysyacha]

Thank you for your kind words, and also for reading this fic! You motivate me to write more, and I'll add a spoiler warning tag as well as per your suggestion.

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Six: A Fallen Archangel

 

[Author's Note: For simplicity's sake, and also because doing so would be too darn exhausting, I'm not going to delve deep into EVERY character I recruit. For starters, there are 11 in total, and my Shakhmaty won't do every single loyalty mission in the game, either. All the more reason for a 2nd/3rd playthrough! ]

 

I left Dr. Solus on the ship when I ventured onto Omega's hot and pulsing surface for the second time. He said he preferred to be left to his work, anyway, researching upgrades for the NORMANDY SR-2 and for us. Jacob and Miranda were more than willing to accompany me as we signed up as freelance mercenaries in the Afterlife nightclub. Archangel was our target, and our allies, at least temporarily, were the members of Eclipse, Blood Pack, and Blue Suns. About these enterprising and violent bands of rogues I knew little, but about Archangel I knew next to nothing. Tarak, of the Blue Suns, said Archangel was a turian who "killed mercs to pass the time".

 

I'd never heard of any angels, fallen or not, who'd taken up that hobby--!

 

I tried to ask some questions of my fellow mercenaries, but they blew me off because I wasn't really one of them. They called me "freelancer", and whatever information I was given was done so through clenched teeth and clenched fists. The only intel that Jacob, Miranda and I could really gather was that he was holed up in a spacious fort right across an expansion of concrete that Jentha, one of the Blue Suns, had deemed "Suicide Bridge".

 

This wasn't good. Although I guess if you needed practice for another mission that would take you past the point of no return, now was as good a time as any to acquire it. Which was a shame--not only might the three of us lose our lives, but I felt sorry for Jentha. She got treated like dirt by her boss, Tarak, and didn't seem particularly fond of the seedier aspects of her profession. "Archangel screws up our work and our missions," she said hotly, which betrayed frustration but no real malice. I wanted to talk her out of it, pull her aside and give her the low-down on the sly, but I dared not risk it. "Freelancer" or no freelancer, I wasn't going to have a word with anyone that wasn't surrounded by at least four more people. Mercs. They were the 'grey area' I was always uncomfortable dealing with--unless they worked for Saren or the Collectors and Reapers. Then I could take them out flawlessly...

 

"Suicide Bridge" was aptly-nicknamed, although in our case, only two of the shots that almost pierced our armor came from Archangel. The rest came from our fellow mercenaries, once they figured out we were trying to protect their intended target instead of kill him! Racing into the fort as if our very existence depended on it--and it did--we surrounded the turian and told him to stand down. "We're here to protect you," I said quickly, "not kill you."

 

Archangel lowered his sniper rifle and removed his helmet. "I know."

 

I staggered backward, almost knocking Miranda flat on her--"Garrus?!"

 

He smiled as much as a turian could. "The very same, Commander Shepard."

 

After Miranda steadied herself, she smirked. "An old friend of yours?"

 

I winked in a hasty apology. "Right. He served with me on the old NORMANDY, when we were assigned to take down another turian. Saren Arterius, who was working with the geth and the Reapers. Long story."

 

"Hey--less talking, more shooting! The Blood Pack's up!" Jacob shouted. We sprinted back to the balcony of the fort and re-took our positions. Sniping and throwing grenades at the vorcha and any other disgusting assassins that tried to come our way, we soon overtook the heavy mech they attempted to deploy. Jaroth, a salarian whose brother had been assassinated by Garrus, was our toughest kill. He was the boss of the gang, and he went down hard.

 

"Say hello to your brother," murmured Garrus once the amphibian's body fell, although not in a mean-spirited or cruel way. "We both do what we must."

 

After a moment, I felt my whole body tense. A deep, penetrating rumbling was making the whole fort shake. What was happening? We found out...

 

A hail of incendiary and disruptor ammunition shattered all the windows--and the turian's armor! "Garrus!" I cried, rushing over to him and kneeling down. I watched as a gunship, which I knew was piloted by Tarak and the Blue Suns from earlier conversations inside the merc base, hovered and fired on us.

 

So this was it. Three puny organics against a monster of metal, with a well-protected organic pilot. It was like us against the NORMANDY, only smaller!

 

"Take cover!" Jacob and Miranda hid behind one of the black-and-white leather sofas. I stayed with the fallen Archangel, spreading medi-gel onto his wounds as fast as I could. When I had the opportunity, I hurled a blast of flame in the gunship's direction, singeing its armor and weakening its defenses. My Cerberus comrades attacked it with their biotic powers for all they were worth. Sweat was pouring down all of our bodies in rivulets!

 

In the end, Tarak's gunship was riven--torn in two--and exploded in a blazing cloud of shrapnel. We all ducked, with me shielding Garrus' limp body. He was still alive--still breathing--and I radioed for Joker to come pick us up.

 

"Hurry," Jacob urged. "He looks bad." Only one of Garrus' eyes was open...

 

***************

 

Later, back on the NORMANDY SR-2, I helped tend to him in medbay. His condition was severe, and the copious medi-gel I had applied while he lay half-conscious on the carpeted floor of the fort had been the only thing to save his life. Otherwise, he would have been gone for sure, and I--

 

I would have been responsible for another life lost, another unwitting kill.

 

As Dr. Chakwas prepared intravenous medicines and fluids for sustenance, she had me soap the blood, sweat and grime off of the sleeping turian. I performed this task carefully, following her instructions with compassion and diligence, A part of me wanted to kiss his jaw, which had deep red facial scars...No. He was my friend and colleague, nothing more. Besides, I was primarily interested in Jacob, if he would have me. Still, Garrus was--Garrus...

 

He let out a labored, heavy sigh as I finished washing him. "Shhhh," I whispered. "I'm here." I thought I saw him smile, but maybe I was wrong.

 

"Let him rest," said Dr. Chakwas. "You did a fine job with the bath, Shepard."

 

"Thank you," I said. "It's the least I could do for someone who's had my back for as long as he has." I smiled and left the medbay, saying a brief prayer.

 

Was it my imagination then, or did I hear someone female murmur, "Hideous"?

 

I did. I saw the back of Miranda's head float past me, and I gritted my teeth.

[Alkonium]

You know, you could just make passing reference to those missions, but not actually go into detail.

[Tysyacha]

You mean the ones with the characters I don't want to go into depth on?

[Alkonium]

Yeah, I mean doing every loyalty mission isn't that hard. Unless you're not doing some loyalty missions at all.

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Seven: A Final Favor for Aria--and for Me!

 

As eager as we were to get off of the steaming, stinking surface of Omega, Garrus most of all, I sensed we had one more mission to complete. In the course of shooting up the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse mercs, I found an important datapad which had been carelessly laid aside on a shelf in the base. There it was, right under my nose, and the waiting mercenaries were paying absolutely no attention! They were smoking cigarettes, talking and drinking. I guess they thought since I was a "freelancer", I wouldn't go poking my nose where it didn't belong. Boy, were they wrong! I snatched up the datapad and shoved it into one of the pockets in my armor. Maybe it would give me some dirt on the merc groups. Once I snuck away to a safe location, I read the following message:

 

Tarak,

 

If we want to take out Aria, now's the time. That asari thinks she's the queen of Omega, when really she's nothing but a pawn in our hands. She thinks she controls us, but together, we're too big to be controlled. If we work together, we can form a sort of triumvirate--you, me, and Garm. What do you say? We split all of our profits three ways. Either that, or we have brawls to determine who gets what share. Are you in or out, coward?

 

Jaroth

 

I knew Aria would want to see this, so after leaving the others on the ship, I said that I had one more errand to run before we ventured to the Hourglass Nebula to pick up the most powerful human biotic ever known--"Jack". Jack was the convict mentioned in the Illusive Man's dossiers, and in all honesty, I wasn't looking forward to meeting him. Still, we all had a mission to complete.

 

As soon as I ventured into the club, however, an armored figure bludgeoned into me, causing me to stagger backward. He shoved me up against the wall. A batarian, the same burly merc recruiter who had told me where to sign up!

 

"You think you know who you're dealing with, human?" he growled. He wrapped both of his meaty hands around my neck and started squeezing--hard. "I know what you did to all my so-called 'friends'. I may not have liked them, but you're going to pay." His grip tightened, and I began to choke.

 

All of a sudden, I heard a violent crack, the sound of a boot hitting the bones of a skull. Ninja, Aria's quarian assistant, had just landed a roundhouse kick to the batarian's cranium! As he fell, the quarian landed a few more punches and strikes to the sensitive spots on his armor. Rendered helpless, the merc groaned in pain, covering up his groin so Ninja wouldn't attack it.

 

Too late...

 

"Those mercs disgust me," Ninja said. "I may work for Aria, but she's not indifferent to you. You found Archangel, and with what you did to her peons in the Omega gangs, you've earned her respect. And mine. Congratulations."

 

I coughed and smiled. "I'm not so sure I should be proud of that."

 

"I am." Ninja put his hands on his hips. "I would sign up with you and whatever you and Archangel are doing, but I'm needed here. Someone has to keep Aria in check. She says there's no 'good side' on this forsaken rock, but I've learned differently from that turian--and from you. Good luck, Shepard."

 

I shook Ninja's hand. "Good luck to you--and thank you." He went to Aria.

 

In return for the datapad, Aria gave the location of a secret base that the Eclipse gang had on the planet Daratar, with smuggled cargo for the taking.

 

No time for that--who knew what the Collectors were up to at this point?

[Tysyacha]

I might not do some loyalty missions at all. Just have to see what char's I like/don't like.

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Eight: We Don't Know "Jack"!

 

PURGATORY, in certain strands of human theology, was said to be situated between Heaven and Hell, but not on Earth. It was the place where souls who were neither saved nor lost worked out their penance in order to try and reach God, or else fail in their endeavors and enter the blazing maw of Inferno proper. Purgatory was a kind of celestial "waiting room", suspended in time and space, insulated from the continuum of human history. The prison ship of the same name, in the Hourglass Nebula, was as isolated from the rest of the galaxy as anything could be outside of a black hole. It was here that we docked, hoping to retrieve the prisoner "Jack". Also called "Subject Zero", he was reported to be the most powerful human biotic ever known.

 

We'd see about that. As for me, I certainly hoped I could keep him in line. "Jack" was rumored to have an extensive history of violence and mental instability. It was because of this that Jacob Taylor, Garrus "Archangel" Vakarian and I boarded the ship with trepidation. Not only that, but PURGATORY was run by the Blue Suns mercenary band--our old friends!

 

"Some things should never be outsourced," grumbled Jacob, and I agreed. Prison ships, in my opinion, were best run by the Systems Alliance or the people of a convict's homeworld. It turned out that PURGATORY, the galaxy's last resort, was a ship funded by the frightened citizens of such homeworlds. We found this out from Warden Kuril, a turian, who also informed us that if "the populace" wouldn't pay, they would find the prisoner dumped among them at an unspecified time and place, without any warning whatsoever.

 

"Extortion racket." Jacob wasn't impressed. I thought he had a good point.

 

"We do what we have to do to protect the galaxy," retorted Kuril with a slight growl. "You don't know how dangerous these prisoners are. Some of them are shipped off-world because we don't know what to do with them anymore, but rest assured, they all wind up in good hands." Squaring his broad shoulders, he pointed. "Jack is coming out of cryostasis in the Outprocessing room. It's just down that hallway and to the left." He shook his head. "The most toxic, irascible repository of violence and hate that I've ever encountered. You'd better be careful." We assured him we would.

 

As we surveyed the ship on our journey toward the room where we'd meet "Jack", one of the other prisoners, 708, beckoned toward us. "Hey! Come here!" he cried. "I want to ask you guys something." Intrigued, the three of us stepped forward toward his cell--a singular, box-like module unit. "Would you buy me?" he asked. "I don't care what you do to me. Just get me off this ship. It's more than purgatory here--it's pure hell. I haven't had a shower in three months!" He pressed his hands up against the transpariglass window.

 

"Warden Kuril mentioned that some prisoners go off-world," said Garrus.

 

"Yeah, as slaves. Like I said, I don't care what happens to me. You can send me to work for the batarians, the salarians, other turians--even Cerberus!" At this, Jacob blinked. "Just fork over the credits and get me out of here..."

 

"We'll see what we can do," I replied, "but we're really here for Jack."

 

"Jack?!" Prisoner 708 stumbled backward. "Forget it. I ain't going nowhere with you if you're going anywhere with that freak. Crazy. Certifiably insane!"

 

I shuddered. Why did the Illusive Man think that "Jack" would be such an asset to our team? Biotics or no biotics, the guy was probably psychotic.

 

"Here's the Outprocessing Room," Jacob announced. He was right, but we were in for a surprise. There was no sign of a cryostasis chamber anywhere within, and the technicians in the room seemed somewhat on edge. What was wrong? Had their prisoner escaped? Warden Kuril said that absolutely no one escaped from PURGATORY. "They're stranded in space, and they know it," I remembered him telling us as soon as we boarded the ship and I expressed concern about our safety. Right now, he was nowhere in sight.

 

"Please proceed to the open door at the back of the room," announced a VI. Assuming that this was where we'd pick up our newest squad member of the NORMANDY SR-2, I stepped forward and heard Warden Kuril's terse voice:

 

"I apologize, Shepard. You'd be far more valuable as a prisoner than as a customer, even paying Cerberus funds to recover Jack. Surrender, drop your weapons, and proceed into the open cell," he directed. I couldn't believe it!

 

"You want to sell me as a slave, after serving a 'sentence' of who knows how many years? Maybe I can change your mind. Cerberus brought me back to life. They'd pay far more credits to see me recovered and back on my mission than they would to see me shipped off to some mine or seedy galactic brothel! What do you say?" A pause. "I don't want to have to kill you, Warden Kuril. I think you're the one who should surrender. I can negotiate for a lighter penalty once the Systems Alliance finds out what you're up to. Deal?"

 

A sigh. "I'd take it, Shepard, but I only have one chance to live like a king! Besides, I'm running this ship for the good of the galaxy! Guards! Activate systems!" Sirens began to blare, and then all hell broke loose, pun intended.

 

Garrus gave a start. "We have to get Jack out of cryo!" he interjected. I saw that the only way to do that would be to hack into PURGATORY's security systems. Jacob, not being a big fan of that idea, said that if I sabotaged the controls, every cell in the entire ship would open and all would be set free.

 

"It's the only way," I said. "Get ready." We did, and were instantly under attack.

 

Everyone on the entire ship suddenly had us locked in the crosshairs of their weapons--not only prisoners, but also YMIR Mechs and numerous guards employed with the Blue Suns. This was no mere prison vessel. This was a cargo hold for slaves, and our turian friend was no more noble than the convicts he held in check. In the midst of a tremendous firefight where my companions and I had to use every skill and talent we had in order to survive, we heard a tremendous rumbling sound. A cryostasis chamber rose out of the floor and opened, and "Jack"--a tattooed human--roared fiercely.

 

Jacob Taylor's eyes popped out of his head. "That's Jack?!" he cried.

 

I did a double-take. "Jack" was a bald-headed, lipsticked, belligerent FEMALE wearing nothing on top but a thin leather strap and "body art". Sprinting forward, I tried to follow her, summoning Garrus and Jacob to follow me. However, we had to shoot and incinerate our way through even more hostile beings before we found her. Warden Kuril and his 'protective shield generator' tried to stand guard and send the whole ship into full lockdown before it exploded, but his gambit failed. Nothing withstood the hail of our bullets.

 

We gazed down at Kuril's body. "I can't say I agreed with everything you did here," Garrus said sadly, "but you kept maniacs away from innocent people." I let him close the slave-trader's eyes, perhaps against my better judgment. The thing was, in the Alliance military, I'd done my share of killing and participating in "incidents" of which I wasn't proud. I truly couldn't say I had the right to take the "moral high ground" in light of the loss of the Citadel Council and its subsequent human takeover. Cerberus was proud of that, but what did I care what Cerberus thought, Miranda Lawson aside? I despised them.

 

Someone else did, too. "I'm only coming with you if you let me see what kind of dirt Cerberus has on me," hissed "Jack". Reluctantly, I agreed and let her--I still couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that this inmate was a woman--access the databases aboard. Ms. Lawson was definitely pissed about that.

 

"It's a part of our deal," I said, "and besides, we need her, Miranda."

 

"Sure we do," she replied coolly. "About as much as a hole in the head."

 

I shook mine. "When it comes to this mission, we really don't know 'jack'!"

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Nine: Two Legacies

 

A krogan tried to kill me. No, not Urdnot Wrex. That was then, and this was now, although the echoes of his hostile snarling still rang through my mind as the Grunt spoke. That was the only name this present krogan knew, or would respond to, having newly awakened from the breeding tank in which he was raised. His "father", Dr. Okeer, was also dead. The Illusive Man had reported that Okeer had knowledge of Collector technology, but he expired before I had the chance to elucidate that information from him. Speaking of "expiring", the Grunt pressed his weapon to my soft belly, informing me that he knew my every weakness and would soon exploit them. His eyes bore into mine, gleaming with malice. Wrex had worn that exact same expression when...

 

"I'm giving you a chance to join my crew," I commanded. "I'm Commander Shepard, of the Systems Alliance. We're going up against the Collectors. Fight for us, and I promise you as many battles as you can handle."

 

"Fight? That's what I do, but first you must prove yourself as my enemy."

 

"Stand down," I commanded through clenched teeth. "I won't ask again."

 

"Asking proves you unworthy," he answered. "That's why you'll die first."

 

I remember my flight up those endless metal stairs, the stench of dampness and rusty metal mixed with blood, as Mordin, Jack and I infiltrated one more compound of those azure-plated cockroaches, the Blue Suns. I was more sick of them already than I ever could be of those insects, or even the vorcha. At least the vorcha were mostly confined to Omega, which we had fortunately departed. The Blue Suns were everywhere, just as annoying and just as hard to kill. I remember Jedore, with her mechs and the missiles she launched at us, berating her underlings for failing to deal with us and the krogan berserkers Dr. Okeer had released. I remember Virmire...and...

 

Dr. Okeer had remembered Virmire as well, although the Grunt did not.

 

He lifted a clawed hand to my neck and began to squeeze. "You're weak!"

 

Maybe I am. Maybe I should have left you in your tank in the compound, should have let Jedore release contaminants into the fluid which kept you alive. I knew you were dangerous the moment I saw you, just as I knew Wrex was dangerous the moment I saw him. Too dangerous to have on my side. Perhaps too dangerous to keep alive, although it's too late now...

 

Or is it?

 

"I know," I said with a sudden twinge of humility, regretting what I had to do. "That's why I have to checkmate you before this game even starts!" Heat rose to my cheeks, making them flush red. My scars burned as if they'd been lit on fire by incendiary ammunition. Krogan were not my favorite type of alien species. They were the only ones that truly scared me. Vorcha were mostly witless. Krogan, for the most part, were not--except the ones Jedore had Dr. Okeer breed as part of her plan to build an entirely subservient army. I wouldn't have the same thing happen now that had happened on Virmire. Still, before I fired, I had to wait for just a split second, had to ask just a few more questions before either the krogan or I breathed our last--

 

"Do you remember Okeer? Do you feel nothing for him or his clan?" Another question forced its way into my mind. "Why do you want to kill me, Grunt?"

 

"Want? No one has ever asked me what I want. I don't care about Okeer. He was just a voice in the tank, not a 'father' to me. Enough. Time to die, human." He squeezed my neck a bit harder, and seconds counted.

 

One. Two, three, four. I pumped four bullets into his chest and abdomen. Blood splattered his jaw, and the krogan staggered backward. What had I done? In those few nanoseconds between when I thought of shooting and when I shot, all I could remember was Wrex. The salty sea air, the cold-blooded smile of Ashley Williams in silent approval, and brutal treason. Betrayal. That was Wrex's legacy, and I would not carry it by dying now! I would not let his ghost return in the body of the "perfect soldier"!

 

Surprisingly, the Grunt was not dead. Far from it. He cracked his neck and straightened his armor-plated spine. "You offer one hand to me while arming the other," he said, "and you do not hesitate. Perhaps you are worthy. I will fight for you, Commander Shepard, and if I ever do find a clan--if I ever do find what I want, I shall be honored to pit them against you."

 

"The legacy of Dr. Okeer," I said, wiping a bit of blood spatter off my own cheek. "Wrath, and strength. That'll be something I want when we fight the Collectors. Welcome aboard." That was as close to a friendly welcome as this krogan was going to get. For now, we were near-enemies, and I wanted it that way. It would keep me on my toes, and give me combat practice if the Grunt tried his 'surprise tactics' again. Even Jack, the belligerent biotic, had not been so hostile as to try to kill me on sight. The Grunt had--what rage!

 

"Shepard," he snarled. "You're a warrior, but you're not strong enough yet..."

 

I went to the higher decks of the ship, wondering what my legacy would be.

[Tysyacha]

(Author's Note: Whoever reads and comments on this story ALL the way through gets a very special prize...to be immortalized in my ME2 video!)

 

Chapter Ten: Anti-Collector Squad: Assembly Complete

 

We were a motley crew aboard the NORMANDY SR-2. I, a penitent trained killer, was searching for redemption on a mission that was, more likely than not, a suicide run against the Reapers' right-hand men--or creatures, in this case. Did I trust myself to do the right thing? Most of the time, although there were moments, as with Grunt, when I let blind fury overclock me. Maybe that was what had happened at the moment I slaughtered Wrex, and even when I abandoned Ashley Williams to die. Of course, I had been angry at Saren Arterius, the traitor who started all this, but that was truly no excuse. Only time would tell if I'd be saved or lost.

 

Miranda Lawson? I didn't trust her as far as I could throw her, or as far as I would throw her if I had biotic powers like she did. I ought to have admired her due to her cold and calculating nature, being a chess player, but I didn't. She struck me as a liar, or at least a person who only told as much of the truth as you needed to know in order to suit her purposes. Her eyes held many secrets, and although they were lovely, they were also as hollow as green glass marbles. I never forgot that her first loyalty was to Cerberus, and not to me. The mission was only a testing ground for her next promotion, I suspected--that is, if she survived! I didn't quite understand how someone who worked for such a pro-human cabal had almost completely forsaken her humanity in order to become the perfect operative. I prayed every day that I would not lose sight of who I was and for whose sake I fought. Miranda Lawson never forgot. Ever.

 

Perhaps she and I were more alike than I thought, and that was why she scared me. We were both female, stubborn, and determined to win at any cost. However, I was Cerberus' servant, its pawn, and she was one of its queens. When I looked in the mirror, sometimes I saw her face staring back at me. I'd quickly rub my eyes and blink the illusion away, but it still haunted my mind afterward...

 

Jacob Taylor? I had a definite "thing" for him. His impressive service record after he left the Alliance left no small impression on me. Besides, he was handsome, athletic, minced no words, and had his own doubts and concerns about Cerberus. That was enough to get him into my good graces, if not my personal quarters. Not yet. The mission had to come first, or we were all dead. He kept saying he "didn't want to push it" because we had "a good thing" going, but I wanted to say, "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" The only thing that stood in my way was professional protocol--oh, wait...

 

Garrus Vakarian. Archangel. The turian who'd saved my life more than once, and I'd finally had a chance to return the favor. I kept him close by my side, as his sniping abilities far surpassed mine, and he had the guts to try ruthless tactics if such things became necessary. They often did. The gleam in his eye was not only that of a predator, but of a vigilante hero. I respected him, but what was more, I was drawn to him. Jacob was like an open book to me, almost, sharing all of his feelings most candidly, but Garrus? He was a mystery, revealing information about his past little by little, keeping me guessing. What was he trying to hide? Was he guilty and ashamed, like me? I hoped not. Such feelings could distract both of us during a critical moment.

 

Dr. Solus! He was a chuckle a minute, with his rapid-fire speech and odd way of constructing sentences! However, I always laughed with him, not at him. He knew that I wasn't really used to salarians, and sometimes he talked even faster than normal to cheer me up when I was having a bad day or felt exhausted from my latest portion of our mission. Besides, he worked tirelessly on the technology that not only improved our weapons, armor and ship, but kept us alive from day to day. He slaved away without complaint, and I was grateful for his expertise. Of course, I took him with me sometimes to keep him from getting stir-crazy, and his cryonic ammunition helped a lot in firefights, too...

 

Jack. Jack, Jack. Oddly enough, I trusted her more than I trusted Miranda, even though she was a criminally-insane research subject who'd been a pirate, a vandal, a thief, and a consummate destroyer of property. Not to mention a cult member! She'd even told me to--er--"checkmate" myself, and even though I wanted to slap her across the face for saying that, I realized that was what Miranda had been "saying" all along through her attitude toward me. Jack was crazy, yes, but she was "crazy like a fox", as the old saying went. She also hated Cerberus more than anything in the world, having been raised in one of their laboratory facilities. Ten points for her!

 

Grunt. I sadly suspected I'd have to kill him before our mission was over, just as I had Wrex. He was just too belligerent, and I was sorry I had awakened him from his breeding tank. Then again, was it ethical to waste a life by leaving it in permanent hibernation when I could awaken it to sentience? It was a tough decision to make, and I hoped that whatever Grunt wanted to kill next, it wouldn't be me or any of the other members of the crew of the NORMANDY SR-2. "Termination" was something I hoped I'd never have to do again. Then again, with unpredictable krogan, sometimes you had no choice.

 

Our Anti-Collector Squad was now complete. I had to contact the Illusive Man in the debriefing room, or so the lovely Kelly Chambers informed me.

 

Before I went there, though, I closed my eyes and thought of the squad mates on my ship. Our ship. I didn't want to have to sacrifice anyone in order to accomplish our goal--not even Grunt or Miranda, because "dead" meant "dead", and if there was indeed a Hell--I shook my head to clear it. I knew that this mission had to succeed, or humanity, and all of galactic life, were doomed.

 

The comm room was open. What intel did the King of this game have for me?

[Tysyacha]

Chapter Eleven: Collectors on the Horizon!

 

Most people in the galaxy thought that the Collectors were just a myth, a legend that scared little children at night when they were out on camping trips in the furthest reaches of the galaxy. However, my crew and I knew better. So did the Illusive Man, who said that an attack on the human colony of Horizon was in progress! Did Dr. Solus have a defense mechanism against the seeker swarms yet? Fortunately, he had just finished building a prototype for our armor, and we avoided detection once we landed on the lush world. However, that didn't keep me from cringing in paranoia and sudden fear when they landed on me and didn't seem to notice. I didn't get it. Were the seekers organic, cybernetic, or both? I couldn't tell. One thing was for sure, though--they were potentially lethal. I hoped the prototypes would hold for the duration of our mission! If not...well, if not, then we were "checkmated" once and for all! However, Dr. Solus, Jack and I soon discovered that the seeker swarms for the Collectors were the least of our worries...

 

There were actual Collectors on this world, which we were fated to fight.

 

Giant. Organic. Insectoid. Geth. The smell of them made me lurch into the nearest bush and vomit, almost yearning for the synthetics we'd fought before! Their reek was a mixture of sticky-sweet liquid, pheromones, and the aroma of decaying pupae which lay about the Horizon complex rotting in the sun. For what were they used, if the Collector guards were being dropped off by the Reapers? What kind of monstrosities were "hatching" from them? I tried to dispel the queasiness as I fought dozens of them, burning them to crispy husks with bolts of flame from my omni-tool, but that made it even worse.

 

Whatever I had done to deserve this punishment, I was definitely sorry!

 

I was even sorrier when I found out that a) Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, who had been trying to protect the colony, would almost have nothing more to do with me after he found out I was working with Cerberus personnel and b) the Illusive Man had used us as bait to lure the Collectors into a trap. Bait! Just like a piece in a chess game that your opponent sacrifices in order to set up a greater attack! Once the salarian, the biotic, and I were all back on the ship, I took some highly-potent anti-nausea medication and slept for 12 hours. Before I did, though, I took another long shower. Jack joined me.

 

Have you ever seen someone fully clothed while wearing nothing? I bet not! My comrade's tattoos, however, provided adequate covering, or at least camouflage, of the parts she didn't want anyone to see. I averted my eyes, for the most part, but it's hard not to stare with all that--body art--yikes--!

 

At least our team could now head to the heart of the Collectors' homeworld.

 

Or so I thought.

 

The Illusive Man had other plans for us, and other dossiers.

 

More dossiers?! More recruits?! I can't believe it! The Collectors are abducting human colonies by the day, possibly even the hour, and you're sending us after more rogue unknowns? I can't stand it. We have Solus. He's the tech expert who'll save us and our ship from certain annihilation. We have Garrus, the sniper who can kill Collectors with a single shot! We have Jack, the freak criminal biotic who can warp the Collectors to shreds. We have the krogan, who can--grunt, snarl and fight--and we have Miranda and Jacob as human shields. We've got enough! I say we go forward, and--

 

Argh. I guess I was too impatient to be strung along in this odd middlegame!