"So, we're all in agreement then? Shepard is the pick?"
"I suppose so."
"You disagree?"
"No, of course not, I've known that girl for years, since she was fresh out of ICT and itching to get back to the 101st. I'm just surprised he isn't arguing about it, that's all."
"She's reckless, aggressive, far too casual with the chain of command, entirely too familiar with far too many high-ranking aliens, and is just as happy to talk someone to death as she is to put a bullet in their heads."
"You say all of that like it's a bad thing, Ambassador."
"It is a bad thing, Admiral. However, given the circumstances and her popularity with the general populace, I'm not prepared to argue against her nomination."
"Especially since all of those 'bad things' are exactly what will make her a fantastic SPECTRE, right Ambassador?"
"We'll see about that, Captain. Vasir might have pulled strings to get her on the shortlist, but unless she impresses Kryik it's meaningless. You just make sure that she does."
"I don't think I'll have to try very hard to make that happen, but fine. I'll do my part."
"Hmph. Good. Then there isn't anything more to be said. Good day, gentlemen."
"…"
"Stiff-assed prick. It's a wonder the Citadel likes humans as much as they do, with him as our face to the other races."
"Now, Captain, there's no call for that. It would be a shame to insult stiff-assed pricks by comparing them to Udina."
"Heh. I suppose you're right about that. Still, I stand by my point."
"It could be better, but it could be worse. Besides, everyone knows the real ambassadors are The Fox and the two Matriarchs. Udina's just the one sitting in the office. Probably why he's such an ass, come to think of it."
"Most likely sir. Hmm? Understood. Sir, I've got to go. She just arrived at the ship. Time I introduced myself to my new XO."
"Carry on, Captain, carry on."
"Aye, sir. Have a good day, Admiral."
"Take care of yourself and our girl, Captain."
"Aye, aye."
#####################################################################################################
"Arturus Prime Relay within range. Initiating transmission sequence."
The voice of Jeff 'Joker' Moreau spilled from the overhead speakers of the intercom, sending the bridge crew of the SSV Normandy into a flurry as they prepared for the FTL jump that would take them nearly a hundred light-years from their current location in a matter of minutes. They were a good crew, well-trained and, for the most part, well-practiced. Veterans of anti-pirate patrols and Citadel wargames, nearly one and all, with the only greenhorns present being the very best and brightest of the academy…who were carefully watched to ensure that they didn't break anything valuable. After all, not only were they aboard the most expensive, technologically-advanced and mechanically impressive warship that the whole of the Alliance had to offer -thanks in no small part to the combined efforts of not just the Turian Hierarchy, but the rest of the Citadel Council races, even if the Hierarchy had been the most involved-, but their Captain and XO were two of the very best.
David Anderson had been one hell of a Marine, fighting in the First Contact War, and he hadn't proven to be particularly unimpressive when he had transferred over to ship-based command. Thanks to some of the injuries he had sustained in the War finally catching up with him too badly for ground combat to be the best use of his talents, or so they said. Frankly, most of the crew was convinced it was because Hannah Shepard was too high-ranked these days to be given command of a frigate, even a highly-advanced and prestigious one like the Normandy. Plus, you know, the whole conflict of interest -for want of a better term- that would have come up if that particular woman had been the CO of this ship.
The reason for that conflict being the Executive Officer, one Cassandra Morrigan Shepard. Lieutenant-Commander Shepard, thank you very much, of the 101st Airborne Assault of the 2nd Marine Division. With a whole litany of epithets to her name, including gems like 'The Salamander' or 'The Dragon of Elysium', and a very long list of awards both civilian and military from dozens of nations and multiple races. Arguably the most dangerous, famous, well-loved and passionately-hated human in existence. The fire-haired war-goddess that destroyed entire armies by herself while romancing every beautiful woman to cross her path, human and alien alike, at least according to the scuttlebutt. The same woman that was, even now, making her way from the deeper interior of the ship towards the helm, nodding and murmuring greetings in response to every salute and acknowledgement.
"Calculating mass and transit vector. Relay is hot. All stations, prepare transit."
Slipping around another crewman who hadn't seen her coming, Cassandra came to a halt beside the slate-grey-armored form of Nihlus Kryik, the turian SPECTRE that had been -for reasons unknown to her, given she had both not been told and tended to be rather scrupulous about keeping herself out of her superior's minds whenever possible- assigned to the Normandy's shakedown cruise. He glanced over at her, mandibles fluttering slightly in the turian equivalent to a polite smile and, after she nodded back just as politely, both turned their attention to the viewport. The viewport that was not filled, without exaggeration, by the colossal form of the mass relay.
"We're green across the board. Approach run has begun. Hitting the relay in 3…2…1. Jumping!"
The world vanished into a violent, swirling, pulsing kaleidoscope of blue as the Relay gripped the ship tight and flung it across the stars at speeds that boggled the mind, in some cases to the point that a person couldn't bear to watch it happen, lest they become violently ill. Seasickness in space, what a marvel, Cassie thought wryly to herself, a twinge of pity for such people pulsing through her. She, personally, found it as beautiful as she did strange. Still, this was a Primary Relay, and that meant fast transits.
The kaleidoscope faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the inky blackness of space dotted with a patchwork of stars that she recognized only from star charts and intelligence briefings. The Utopia System of the Exodus Cluster. Frankly, she thought that naming any star system 'Utopia' was a little over the top, and naming it's capital planet 'Eden Prime' even more so, but she wasn't the sort of persion that got to make that kind of decision. And, to be honest, she didn't really want to be one either. Combat command was one thing, but to be a desk jockey and admin at the Colonial Administration Offices? No thank you.
"Transit complete, drift around 1500 from arrival point." Joker's voice held no small amount of pride. No, pride wasn't even a strong enough word. Smugness. And, however you considered his attitude, the smugness was at least somewhat earned. "All systems nominal. Stealth systems engaged, we're underway with thrusters. ETA to Eden Prime is just over an hour."
Nihlus nodded approvingly. "1500? Good. 1500 is very good. I'm sure Captain Anderson will be pleased. Commander?"
"Well done, Joker." Cassandra added dutifully but genuinely, before turning her focus to the man beside her. "High praise coming from a well-traveled SPECTRE, Nihlus. How many jumps have you done over your lifetime, I wonder?"
"More than I care to count, and let's leave it at that, between my mandatory service and my SPECTRE career." he replied, mandibles twitching in what Shepard had come to recognize as amusement. "Some quite a bit less pleasant than this one."
With that he turned and paced away, his armored feet far quieter than a man of his size, as heavily armored as he was, ought to be able to move. Then again, he was a SPECTRE for a reason, and unlike some of the SPECTREs that she had heard about over the course of her life, he wasn't one of those whose notion of tactics was 'frontal assault and complete eradication'. Which was to say, he understood the concept of stealth…even if his preferred weapon was a shotgun.
"God, that guy creeps me out." Joker groused the minute he was sure that the turian was out of earshot, and Cassie couldn't help but smirk at the slight shift in Nihlus' walk. Either Joker was being louder than he had wanted to, or the turian had damn fine hearing. Given that his was an explicitly predatory species, she was going to go with option two.
"Offended that he didn't heap praise on your piloting skills, Joker?" she drawled, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the back of his chair as she nodded in greeting to Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko, the nominal commander of the ship's small Marine complement, though given how often she took to the field herself the Canadian biotic more frequently acted as her second-in-command.
"Look, 'good', even 'very good', is managing to zip up your fly or parallel park in an old ground-car, okay? I flew us half-way across the damn galaxy," something of an exaggeration, but she wasn't going to call him out on it, as fun as it would be to tweak his nose a bit. "And managed to hit a target the size of a pinhead. That's not good, that amazing. That's record-setting, or it would be if I hadn't already set that record three years ago."
Cassandra chuckled, shaking her head at Joker's typical boasting. "Alright hotshot, I'll make sure to tell the brass how criminally underappreciated your skills are. Maybe we can get you a medal for 'Excellence in Not Crashing Into Things.' Or maybe 'Fastest Man To Annoy The Brass'."
"Ha ha, very funny Commander." Joker replied dryly, and she was positive that he was rolling his eyes outside of her view. "But seriously, what's the deal with having a SPECTRE on board? Call me paranoid, but I don't buy this whole 'shakedown run' story. I mean, sure, the Normandy needs one, but that's not all this is."
Kaidan leaned over from his own seat, lowering his voice. "I have to agree with Joker, ma'am. Something doesn't add up. Nihlus isn't a nobody, everyone knows that. Even the declassified stuff he's done is insane. They don't send people like him to ride herd on a shakedown run. Even if the Turian Hierarchy was heavily involved in construction, they wouldn't send a SPECTRE for that, they'd send a Navy guy or one of the design team members."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed slightly as she considered their words. They weren't wrong - there was definitely more to this situation, she already knew that- but she wasn't inclined to play along with their speculation either. If there was more to it, it wasn't likely to be talked about all that much, given the turian's rank and responsibilities. Oh, she might hear about something, given her position as Executive Officer, but…
Just then, Captain Anderson's voice came over the comm. "Shepard, report to the comm room immediately."
"Understood sir, I'm enroute." she responded promptly, before eyeing the two seated men. "You two, make sure you don't speculate and conspiracy-theory yourselves into the brig. You're at least moderately useful, and I would hate to have to replace the two of you when we get back because you asked to many questions about SPECTRE business."
Turning on her heel, she strode away, ignoring the ensuing garbled sounds from behind her as Alenko tried to assure her of his good behavior and Joker tried to think of a snappy comeback. Not that leaving before he could find one would stop him, of course, he'd find a way to sneak it in eventually one way or the other. Honestly, his memory for this sort of thing was absurd. She would suspect him of keeping a logbook if she hadn't already discretely poked around one night looking for exactly that and come up empty.
Cassandra made her way through the sleek corridors of the Normandy, nodding to crewmembers as she passed and pausing briefly to help Karen Chakwas, the ship's doctor, lecture Jenkins on a few things. The kid was brave, patriotic, and had done well in training, but he was also the painfully stereotypical farmboy-turned-cowboy who joined the military for excitement and didn't think past the romance of it. She'd known quite a few people like him over her career, and more of them than she cared to remember had died quickly, painfully, stupidly, or all of the above. Usually all of the above.
Leaving them behind and absently saluting one of the marines guarding the doors, she opened the door with a wave of her omnitool, the panels sliding open with a quiet hiss. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold and started down the small ramp, and her stride stuttered briefly as she saw now Captain Anderson waiting for her, but Nihlus. And Nihlus alone, the turian SPECTRE standing with his back to her and studying a holographic display of Eden Prime.
"Commander Shepard," Nihlus said, turning to face her. "I was hoping you'd get here first. It will give us a chance to talk."
Cassandra raised an eyebrow, her posture relaxed but intent. Perhaps she was going to find out what was going on behind the scenes sooner than she had expected. "What about?"
"The real reason we're here. As you likely surmised, the Council isn't prone to sending it's SPECTREs on frivolous missions. And with all due respect to you and this ship, a shakedown cruise for a frigate -even an expensive, advanced, joint-project prototype like the Normandy- would certainly qualify under normal circumstances."
"Which is why I, and most of the crew figured out, that these aren't normal circumstances." Cassandra agreed, smiling a bit sardonically as she met his eyes with her own. "So, what's the real story?"
"Stories, I think you'll find. As far as most reports will go, this is just a shakedown run. The ship does need one, after all, and over the course of this mission we'll perform most of the requisite actions one way or another. As far as the rather more secretive reports will say, this mission is mostly a cover to retrieve a freshly-discovered, fully-intact Prothean Beacon. It was unburied during expansion efforts on the colony's surface, and orders are to get it off world and safely to a research base before word on it leaks and someone unpleasant tries to get their hands on it. Or, worse, damages or destroys it. Obviously, that's a high priority for both of our superiors."
Cassandra nodded slowly in agreement, processing the information. Prothean beacons were technological treasure troves, valuable quite nearly to the point that it couldn't even be overstated. Even damaged ones were incredibly useful, never mind an untouched one like Nihlus was saying had been found. The last time humanity had found one, it had increased their scientific abilities by an estimated century or two, and while beacons were by law shared equally by all the Citadel races, it was a long understood thing that the race that actually found them had something of a polite and unspoken priority, not to mention 'taking lead' in the research. "A Prothean beacon is certainly worth the secrecy and precautions, and I'll certainly agree that a shakedown cruise make a perfect cover, especially since it's not even a lie. That being said, I'm guessing there is another layer to all this, given your presence here. No offense, but I don't think a pick-up like this is worth pulling a SPECTRE off of the line."
Nihlus' mandibles twitched in what she recognized as approval, folding his hands behind his back. "Perceptive, and none taken. You're correct, of course, there is another layer to this mission. One that concerns you directly, Commander. In fact, one could argue that you're the entire point."
Well, that was more than a little nerve-wracking, but it didn't seem to be meant as any sort of threat, or even negative in anyway. In fact, all Nihlus seemed to be feeling at the moment was anticipation and satisfaction, and for an absurd moment Cassandra wondered if she was about to find herself hit on by a Turian SPECTRE that was nearly twice her age. Then good sense prodded her rather sharply and she settled for mimicking him and folding her own hands behind herself. Before she could ask him what he meant, though, the doors hissed open again to admit a familiar presence that spoke with a familiar voice.
"Have you told her yet?" her Captain asked, making his way down to join them, and Cassandra felt a flicker of interest. Whatever it was, Anderson was aware of it? That was reassuring, in a way, but it only made her more curious.
"No, I was about to, so I'm glad you're here now, Captain." Nihlus responded, shaking his head briefly, before both men turned their attention onto her. As Nihlus straightened to something very like attention, his expression sterning, Cassandra couldn't help but instinctively do the same as the air suddenly became heavy with a solemn weight. "Lieutenant-Commander Cassandra Shepard. By the recommendation of Senior SPECTRE Agent Tela Vasir, with the assent of the Citadel Council and the Parliament of Systems Alliance, you are as of this moment forward under the evaluation of myself, SPECTRE Agent Nihlus Kryik, for the purposes of judging your suitability for induction into the ranks of the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch. Should you prove worthy, you will join our ranks as a Junior Agent, leaving your old life behind and stepping forward into the wider galaxy, responsible for all that call it home. Do you accept this nomination?"
Cassandra blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Of all the possibilities she had considered, this hadn't even made the list. Her, a SPECTRE candidate? It was...unexpected, to say the least. Humanity had only been a part of the galaxy community for a quarter-century or so, and they were already being offered the chance to put someone in the SPECTREs?
"I...I'm honored, of course I am. Not just by Tela's…that is, SPECTRE Vasir's recommendation, and by both the Council and Parliament supporting it, of course." she managed after a moment, her mind racing. "But I have to ask - why me? There are plenty of capable soldiers and operatives in the Alliance, ones older and more experienced."
Nihlus nodded approvingly. "A fair question, at least in part, since there aren't too many soldiers with as much experience -or the same sorts of experience- that you have, and those that do are…older than would be ideal for a SPECTRE. Beyond that, you were chosen for several reasons, Commander. Your combat prowess is well-documented, as is your tactical acumen. You've shown your ability to collect allies and contacts, have a clear sense of justice and a desire to pursue it strongly but wisely, and are biotic of significant power and talent. But more importantly, you've shown an ability to make difficult decisions under extreme pressure, and to consider the broader implications of your actions."
"Leaving aside your actions as a child on Anhur, if only because of the presence of SPECTRE Vasir," Anderson took up the thread, and Cassandra kept her expression carefully unchanged. No one but her family knew what had really happened, in full, on Mindoir and Anhur, with the rest of the galaxy being under the impression that SPECTRE Vasir had happened across her by chance during some anti-slavery investigations she had been undertaking. A impression she was more than happy to let everyone happily carry on with, for at least a half a dozen good reasons. "Your actions on Akuze and Elysium are telling. You were willing to risk yourself in a fight that anyone else would have quite reasonable run away from, stayed calm, gave good tactical and strategic advice, and did everything you could to bring your fellows home. Then, even when on medical leave, you stood your ground and fought to protect the injured and the noncombatants, once again facing off with an extraordinarily dangerous opponent alone for the greater good."
"In short, you've shown yourself willing to risk everything for the sake of others, but have done so with wisdom and restraint, rather than a suicidal disregard for your own safety." Nihlus finished seamlessly, nodding in agreement with Anderson's words. "As long as you keep that attitude and express the same skills and talents you have thus far, you're a shoe-in. Just make sure you do keep that attitude. SPECTREs might be required to risk everything in the line of duty, but martyring yourself is never an acceptable first resort. Nor even second and third, to be frank. Dying heroically might make for a good book or vid, but in our line of work it more often means someone steps over your corpse to carry on with their crimes."
Cassandra nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of their words and the sheer magnitude of the implications therein. "I understand. And I accept the nomination. I'll do my best to prove worthy of the faith that everyone seems to be putting in me. If you don't mind me guessing, I assume Tela Vasir couldn't be my evaluator because of our past?"
"Excellent, and correct. As both person who recommended you and someone with whom you have a personal past, it would be considered a conflict of interest for her to be your initial evaluator." Nihlus said, mandibles flaring in approval, sounding quite pleased -which explained the emotions that she had sensed from him earlier. "Now, this mission won't be a test, per se, but rather an introductory mission, given the lack of difficulty expected. We'll be working together to secure the Prothean beacon. I want to see how you operate in the field, your command style, things like that."
"Understood, I'm looking forward to working with you, Nihlus." Cassandra replied, smiling genuinely at the man, and his mandibles fluttered again. Unfortunately, before he could respond, the dark powers of Murphy kicked in, Joker's voice spilling sharply from the intercom.
"Captain, we've got a problem, a big one. Transmission coming in from Eden Prime. You're gonna want to see this."
"Put it on screen, Joker." Anderson ordered with a frown, turning towards the large display screen, his companions copying the action
The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing a chaotic scene. Alliance marines, marked from 212th Marines, were engaged in a firefight against an unseen enemy…and losing badly by all appearances. Visible rounds of gunfire -blue, pulsing bolts of some kind- flying past them as they fired back in all directions at what was clearly an enemy that had them surrounded and, from some of the angles that the enemy rounds were coming in from, had aerial units as well. A young woman, probably not much younger than Cassandra herself, with the markings of a Gunnery Chief on her white-pink armor sprinted in from the side and tackled the camera-wielder out of the way just in time, as a large explosion sent dirt flying, some of it speckling the camera itself. A moment later, a Second Lieutenant stuck his head into view.
"This is the 212th Brigade of the 2nd Frontier Division, garrisoning Eden Prime! The planet is under attack by an unknown enemy, and we're taking heavy casualties. Requesting immediate assistance! I repeat, this is…" he shouted into the camera, only to fall silent with a choked scream as four enemy rounds punched through his shields -and his chest- from the side. As his body slumped out of sight, the camera panned around wildly, a low, grating, metallic hum and whistle filling the audio pick-ups, and the last thing the imagery display before scattering into static was an enormous shape descending from the clouds, red lightning playing across it's body, finger-like tentacles swaying and flicking to and fro.
"Everything cuts out after that. No further signals, no comm traffic of any kind. It just goes dead. Either they're being jammed, or there isn't anyone to respond." Joker's voice was shaken, though Cassandra was absently pleased to hear a lack of fear or hesitation, simply a lack of surety and surprise at the carnage that they had just witnessed.
"Reverse and hold at 38.5." Anderson ordered briskly, and the static rewound to the image of the ship -and it had to be a ship, because as insane as that was, it was also the only thing that made sense- breaking through the crowds. All three stared for a moment, wondering what in the hell was going on, before Anderson growled. "Send a Case Zulu, and append that imagery. Take us in, all sensors online, full sweep, and I don't want so much as a squeak of emissions getting out. We need to figure out what's going on. And sound General Quarters."
"Aye, aye."
"Nihlus, Shepard, this mission has just gone FUBAR. Gear up. Shepard, get Alenko and Jenkins ready to go. We need all the information we can get to pass to the fleets."
"Yessir!" Cassandra snapped a sharp salute and darted away as the General Quarters alarm started to blare, transforming the Normandy from a sedate but professional shakedown run to a hive of organized chaos. As she made her way onto the elevator towards the ventral hanger, or more accurately the armory therein, all she could think to herself was a tired acknowledgement that the 'easy rest of her career' she had dreamed of on Elysium seemed to have gotten postponed once again. Indefinitely, it seemed, if they were scouting her for the SPECTREs, and yet she couldn't feel anything but excited and trepidatious at the prospect.
Of course, first they had to respond to yet another invasion of an Alliance world, and she sardonically wondered who was behind it this time. And how high the blood-price would be before the newly-sparked conflict ended. All she could do was hope, and pray, that it wouldn't cost too many lives…and that she wouldn't lose anyone that she loved.