Interlude - Orienteering

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Brief story interlude to allow things to settle, characters to breathe, and motivations and understandings to advance naturally. Next chapter, Eden Prime's arc will begin.

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"You're going to be allowed to stay, and be granted a sort of asylum. One for 'individuals for whom their homeworld has been lost'. It's meant for Reaper refugees, but…" Shepard shrugged and smiled wryly, leaning against the long, curved console that divide the elevator access from the rest of the 'armory bay' - a crowded and cluttered space that had been the hangar, until needs pressed the Normandy into service and it had to be converted into a messy armory as well. "But there will be certain… Conditions."

"Conditions?"

"Hackett is the only one with authority, right now." Shepard explained, tapping her foot on the grated floor under her. "And he's abusing that power for me, because I'm out on a limb for you."

"Why?"

"Gut feeling." She smirked, flicking a look up and down him and explaining. "That combat suit is different to ours- Means new tech. New information. Maybe something we can use. Hackett agrees, and with me arguing for it, is doing the favor."

"Alright." He sighed, leaning against the wall beside the elevator. "What sort of conditions, then? Information?"

"To start." She nodded, waving him off when he scowled, "Nothing classified, don't worry."

"No?" He cocked his head, "Why not?"

"Mostly, because it'd mostly be irrelevant anyways, probably." She pointed out, "What good is government secrets for a government that doesn't exist? For planets that might not even exist?"

"Fair." He hummed, "The rest? You said 'mostly'."

"You're already in the churn." She shrugged, "I'm not going to put you in the squeeze, too. I want you to feel like you can trust us, Doe. You took a bullet for Garrus, and that means a lot to me. To my crew."

"I see…" He murmured, the old wound throbbing gently at the reminder. It was mostly healed by now, but even so, to remember it… It was a strange thing, to have aliens grateful to him. And stranger still for it to make a Human grateful, too. Brows furrownig, he asked, "What's 'the churn'?"

"Ah, it's, uh…" She blinked and scratched at the back of her neck idly. "Just something from an old show I like. Watched it back on Earth before… Well, anyway, some of the lingo's stuck in my brain. You know?"

"I guess." He shrugged, shaking his head. On the field, she'd been so different to how she was now. Tighter, more straight-laced. But now? She was a different person. Putting it aside, he said, "Alright, then. What do you want to know?"

"Your armor system layouts." She answered, pushing off the control kiosk and gesturing for him to follow her out onto the open floor of the bay. "That and, if you know it, how we can integrate an Omni-Tool and a kinetic barrier into it."

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He finished carefully piecing the interlocking pieces of the Predator's magnetic coil system and leaned back with a sigh, gently pushing the little plastic tray across the work-table. Vega dropped off the rod he'd strung up between a pair of large shipping containers and turned, plucking a towel from a low seat to dry off his for-some-reason bare abs as he came over. Leaning over the tray, he picked at the pieces gently, humming and prodding it for mistakes, gaps, or loose fittings.

"Took ya ten tries, but you got it, hombre." He finally smiled, tapping the tray gently and straightening. "Alright, so, good news is principles will carry to just about any Alliance shooter. Different guns have different fittings, por supuesto, but that's easy bits anyways. Alien stuff will kinda carry, too, 'least for Council stuff. If you learn the language, of course."

"Understood."

"Or you can pay to have 'em restamped to, hermano." He laughed, shaking his head at the displeasure John hadn't managed to keep out of his expression. Quietly, he murmured, "Pensarías que sugerí comer al niño Jesús."

He didn't respond and, after a moment, Vega slid the tray back over to him and waved for him to close up the casing. As he did, Vega watched, sharp eyes careful to point out any of the few missteps he made. But, after a few moments, it was done. And when Vega ran his 'Tool over it to check everything a bit more thoroughly, he grunted and nodded his satisfaction.

"Good work, loco." He nodded, "Damn impressive."

"Thank you."

"Everybody back where you come from as quick as you?"

"Have to be." He shrugged, "That or they're dead."

"Buen señor, hombre." Vega shook his head, turning and raising his voice, "Oi, cortez. Crazy kid's done drilling."

"Alright." The man called back, hefting a crate at the shuttle's side and turning to bring it over. Making space for him, Doe watched him set it on the work-table and turned to him as he spoke. "Your gear, specced to order, Doe."

"Still can't buy that's your name…"

"It all went together well?" He asked, ignoring Vega as the man chuckled and turned, stooping to scoop up a barbell he lifted idly while he stood with them.

"All went fine." Cortez nodded, kicking a crate over as Doe reached up to pop open the armor-crate. He fished out his helmet first, and Cortez spoke while he looked it over and checked its seals. "Your VISR system works the way you said, and works fine, mostly, as is. EDI and I worked it over, though, and set a bypass for your amor's Omni-Tool to access it on priority."

"Why?"

"To tie the systems together." He explained simply, "The 'Tool will control and regulate your kinetic-barrier, and by tying it into your VISR, you can have a proper display. The 'Tool will interface with our guns, too, and handshake that information through the VISR to display ammunition, weapon data, the like. Ato-trans will work too on and off comms, so you'll be able to read most signs and the like."

"Useful." He offered by way of thanks, running a thumb over the portion of the helmet that contained most of the system's hardware. "Combat programs?"

"Standard Overload and bypass systems." He nodded, "You'll need a better 'Tool for more, and better, but if you like, I'll teach you how to handle it."

"I'd appreciate it."

"Figured." He smiled, leaning against the table and tapping a finger on it. "You'll need to follow the command input tutorial to set up activation signals, though."

"Understood." He set the helmet aside and turned, reaching in to run his hand over the front of the chest-piece in the crate. "You used the storage compartment?"

"Seemed the best fit." Cortez nodded, "Nice and central, so easy to spread the barrier out. Decent armor there, too."

"Sensible."

"Mhm." Cortez nodded, fishing out a small data-shard and handing it to him. "Your speccs, access codes and doccs on your equipment. Read it all, thoroughly."

"Or you'll end up dead."

"Understood." And obvious, too, but he left that part unsaid for a litany of obvious reasons. Returning his helmet to the crate and packing it up, he turned back to the two men and asked. "Am I dismissed, Sirs?"

"You know," Cortez chuckled, "you're technically a specialist. Not under either of us."

"Still a Lieutenant." He shrugged.

"Fair, I guess." He laughed, shaking his head and running his hand along the side of it. "James?"

"Dismissed." Vega chuckled, turning to head back to his workouts while John left.

As soon as he stepped onto the elevator, he heard the AI speak up, "Commander Shepard wished to inform you that your private bunk on the engineering sub-deck has been cleared out. Specialist Vakarian will be waiting to give you the last details, and handle another matter."

"Vakarian?"

"Yes." He grit his teeth and frowned, and the AI asked, quietly, "Are you displeased?"

"I'm fine."

"Lance Cop-"

"I'm. Fine." He reiterated strongly, chewing on his lip before adding. "I just… Personal baggage."

"I see." She murmured as he reached his stop, but the doors remained fixed shut. "Will this pose a problem?"

"No."

"I will not judge you if it-"

"It won't." He snapped, "ODSTs have to be adaptable. I'll adapt."

He'd learned the value of adaptability at Mount Haven. And, just as importantly, the dangers of failing to meet that need as well. Those weren't lessons he would soon forget - here or anywhere else. A Trooper who got stuck in the past, who didn't keep his eyes open, was a dead man.

And so was his team.

"Very well then." She finally said, allowing the doors to open. "Good day, Lance Corproral Doe."

He grunted his thanks, hefted his crate, and moved on before he could say - or, apparently, display - anything problematic.

The sub-deck was a relatively small and narrow, and relatively secluded, section just behind the engine core. Mainly, it was used for access points to electronics systems and pipes that ran through it, from what he'd been told, but aside from the physical pipes, all the systems were accessible from engineering. Which meant that the only time they should need to get into the sub-deck would typically be in the middle of a battle - in which case, he'd find a way to live with it.

The crates that had filled it before had been cleaned up, loose debris neatly tucked away or stacked in a pile by one of the stairs while the crates were used to build a sort of dividing wall that cut off the length of the sub-deck from the wider stair-access. Just inside it, pressed against the wall, was a sturdy looking table with a low stool and a chest of tools tucked under it. His M7S was on it, along with his Magnum and what little loose ammunition he'd had left after the battle on Menae. As he sat the dark blue and grey Alliance armor-crate on it, he turned to watch Garrus' mandibles flick as he worked.

"Just a second." The Turian murmured as he closed the panel he'd been working on and leaned back, checking something on his Omni-Tool. Satisfied, he stood and turned and, when John flicked the panel a look and then the Turian another, he explained, "Set up a light control program, routed through that little access point. You can flick it on your 'Tool."

"Thanks." The ability to control the lights was more than mere comfort - if they were boarded, he could dim them, and then flash them to max to blind intruders using low-light gear. When he sat on the stool but the Turian didn't leave, he frowned and asked, "What?"

"The Commander is organizing a rendezvous for the Krogan representative and the Salarian ambassadorial echelon, now we've got the Primarch on board." He explained, leaning against the wall. "So she asked me to… Get a feel for what you can do, I guess."

"You already saw it."

"No, I mean, what you're actually trained for." He raised a taloned hand, "Me, I'm a marksman. But you mostly saw assault and defense actions."

"Ah." He sighed, easing back against the edge of the table. "I see."

"Yeah." Garrus nodded, seeming to sense the dislike coming from him. Still, he pushed on, "So, uh… Shall we?"

"I suppose."

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Asari were an interesting race, from what he'd read on them. Incredibly - ludicrously, in fact - long lived with millennia old people serving as their diplomats and government factors. Which meant they were almost always the calm voice in a room. A millennia of conflicts coming and going, of negotiating and haggling constantly, leant them that by necessity. Their governments and businesses were also lauded on the Net as being the most stable, long-lasting, and shock-resistant enterprises in Council Space - or, in fact, in most other sectors of the galaxy.

They were also, funnily enough, known as the most sexual species in the galaxy - which was a strange dichotomy.

But he supposed it made sense - twenty somethings were known to be stupid and impulsive, and for Asari, that went on for decades. But, invariably, they'd settle down. Usually, at least. Some never did - opting to apply their aged experience to warfare as mercenaries, or business as privateers and smugglers.

But some of them preferred to focus on the past…

Which brought the ship's residen tAsari down to his sub-deck quarters the day after he'd settled in. Data-pad in hand, she'd leaned around his crate wall and asked, politely, if she could ask him a few questions about where he'd come from. What it had been like there, what he'd done, the like - all for a paper she was writing to publish whenever the Thessian archeological enclave decided it would be best, and to add to a 'special Archive' for if the war went poorly. So that knowledge, cultures and histories might be preserved even if the Reapers succeeded.

He couldn't say no to that, now could he? For all he knew, Earth was being glassed even now…

"One moment…" She murmured, pressing a button that lit her Data-pad up. Holding it up, she asked, "All right, now… Start with your name, rank and career, please."

"Full military read-out?"

"That would be splendid."

"Lance Corporal John Doe, United Nations Space Command." He answered quietly, crossing his arms and leaned back across his cot to rest his back against the hull behind him. "Orbital Drop Shock Trooper, designation One-One-Two-Eight-Two dash Three-One-Two-Two-Zero dash JD. Alpha Nine Special Operations unit."

"Glyph, note serial number for later special listing." She grunted, moving on, "What, precisely, is an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper?"

"It's… Complicated." He answered, "Partially classified."

"Just answer to your comfort."

"Hmph." 'His comfort' would be no answer. But he owed it to the UNSC to at least make sure they were remembered, regardless of what happened on Earth. So, he took a breath and explained, "Special assault, and often reconnaissance in force, via low-to-high orbital insertion pod. We also dropped to assist in defence tactics, as needed."

"You took some form of shuttle down?" She asked, "Like our Kodiaks?"

"Ours were called Pelicans." He pointed out, "But no, we usually used SOEIVs, if the situation didn't call for Pelican drops."

"Could you describe both?"

"Pelicans are large-bayed, armored combat transports, with two positional wings on the fore for thrust and manoeuvring and two rear thrusters for additional speed." He explained, avoiding the more complicated nuances of the various models for brevity if nothing else. "SOIEVs are Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles. Imagine a one-person life-pod, but up-armored with ammunition and weapon storage, which you drop manually for operations rather than emergencies."

"Wait, you…" She blinked, "That pod on Menae, you jumped out of your perfectly fine ship, in that little pod… On purpose?"

"Yes." He nodded, "Along with my squad, and several dozen other squads, in operation on Earth."

"By the Goddess, we'd assumed it was…" She shook her stupor off quickly and pressed on with the sort of professionalism his research had told him to expect from her species. "Glyph, note this section until no longer relevant. Forward to Turian and Alliance command assets, with directives to recover and study the 'SOIEV' pod."

"Study?"

"The Reapers can drop assault units on positions with frightening accuracy and ease." Liara explained simply, typing away on her Data-pad, "If we could respond, could… Direct response teams, the way you describe, then we could counter this tactical advantage. I can also use this to secure items of note, secure assets, and more, if we can find a way to replicate the pod."

"It takes special training."

"I had presumed." She paid him a look, "Would you oppose drafting a basic training regimen suggestion document?"

"I… Don't know how to."

"I will assist you." She promised, "If you're not opposed."

"If it helps." He shrugged, "Why not?"

"Very well." She hummed, "Glyph, direct my own engineering teams to assist the Alliance and Turians as well. Enact protocol forty-six."

This time, a quiet voice chirped from the Data-pad, "Yes, Doctor. I will notify the relevant parties."

"My VI." She explained as she looked away from the Data-pad. "He's attached to my Data-pad, and other items, through a secure connection. But strictly non-sentient, unlike EDI. Nothing he hears will spread."

"A VI?"

"A Virtual Intelligence?"

"Ah." That didn't help much, but he sensed a distinction must have been there and would just look it up later. Instead he asked, "Why not use an AI? Or is a VI smarter?"

"The opposite, actually." Liara answered, "Artificial intelligence is… Actually rather illegal."

"Illegal?" His brows furrowed, "But, EDI-"

"Is an exception." She answered quietly, "Left in place by Shepard's good graces, and the circumstances we're in. No more."

"Oh…"

"Am i right to presume they aren't where you are from?"

"No." He scowled, "I mean, yes, you're right. They aren't. In fact, they're pivotal to the war effort."

"How so?"

"Slipspace calculations, MAC trajectory calculations, systems management, systems defence…" He shrugged, "They even assist in running our larger municipalities."

"I see." She hummed, "That's… Genuinely fascinating. A society with integrated artificial intelligences? I could write an entire paper on just that, you know. And it would be published in every single journal in Council and Alliance Space both."

"It would?" She nodded and he chuckled in spite of himself. "Well… Maybe when the war's over, I can take some time off and make papers with you. Live off the publishing."

"Not a terrible plan." She chuckled, "I shall see if we can't stencil you into my schedule, when the time comes. Now, you mentioned a war?"

"Mhm." He nodded, "With the Covenant."

"The Covenant?"

He sighed, leaned forward, and explained quietly, "The Covenant are a collection of aliens, every sentient species I know of actually, with technology way past anything we can do. And an empire at least twice as big as ours was when the war started, decades ago."

"To what end?" She asked, "Conquest?"

"No." He frowned, "Extermination. And… When I left, they were attacking Earth. One of the last few planets we had left…"

"Goddess, I'm…" She shook her head, "We don't have to speak about them, if you do not want to, Lance Corporal."

"No." He frowned, "I do. Because this war is a lot like mine, and… And I think your people could learn a few things."

"I see…" She murmured, "Verl well, then. Please, begin wherever you like."

"Okay." He took a breath, "There was a planet, decades ago, named Harvest…"

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"Admiral." She nodded as his holo-form materialised, staticy and blue, in the QEC. "You needed me?"

"For a few things, yes." He nodded, face as grave as never. "First, Eden Prime."

"We're en-route now, after transferring the Primarch off-ship and onto a Turian vessel to rendezvous with the delegations from the Union and Krogan clans." She reported smoothly, having already briefed herself for this exact conversation an hour prior. "We've also received petitions from the Volus, who Primarch Victus has authorized to represent Volus interests, such as they are, at the meeting."

"Frankly, I don't know why they need to be there. A client state will follow the Turian lead regardless." He shrugged, "But it's an internal matter. It's best to let them handle it as they can."

"Presuming the Reapers don't throw a wedge into it."

"Keep an eye on it, Commander." Hackett hummed thoughtfully, "The Volus maintain most of the Council, and thus our own, funding systems. If they turn coat, we won't be able to so much as feed our men and fuel our ships. Much less wage a galactic level war."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now, Eden Prime…"

"Our estimated time of arrival is a few days from now." They'd had to coordinate carefully to avoid Cerberus privateer fleets in the further reaches away from Eden Prime's system, as well as Reaper scouts, so that the Turian ship could meet them without blowing their cover. A hard trick, but one her crew had managed - they hoped. "Once on-location, we will spend twenty four hours gathering data, allowing EDI to engage electronic warfare systems to gauge activities, fleet and ground force readiness, count, and routes as best we can."

"Time is of the essence, Commander."

"So I understand." She nodded, "Which is why, eighteen hours into that, the first intelligence strike team will deploy. Namely, Doctor T'Soni, Special Advisor Vakarian and, for muscle if it's needed, Lieutenant Vega. They will work with EDI to attain on-the-ground information, assist any remaining resistance elements against Cerbers and, when we make final land fall, cause a distraction for my operation to retrieve whatever artefact has been located once Cerberus excavates it."

"Waiting for them to do the work is risky…"

"But short of retaking the world, the only way forward." She sighed, "The Normandy is on a skeleton crew as it is. I can't spare staff for mining and keep us in space, especially running stealth systems for that long."

"I understand, Commander." Hackett sighed, "And, when i can, I'll try and arrange more support staff. Just…"

"With the war, you can't spare crew."

"A lot of ships are running light-handed." He nodded, "And yours is no exception. With more ships rolling off the docks, we need to up recruiting just to keep ourselves running. Staff fill-outs is a painfully low priority."

"Could drum up the draft, Sir."

"Considering it." He sighed, "Already mobilising penal support regiments as it is. I loathe to institute a proper draft. That would shatter what's left of our morale and economic base. Not running the emergency elections to replace the assembly is already bad enough…"

"Just an idea, Admiral." She said, "Don't think too much about it. I trust you to do whatever's right."

"Yes, well, I'll deny it in front of the press, but I'm in over my head." He smiled warmly, if triedly, in spite of his words. "So your faith means something, Commander. Given your history, I understand your faith is…. Rather hard won."

In spite of her discipline, she felt a bit of heat creep up her neck and coughed to clear her throat. "Y-Yes, well, ah…"

"Moving on." The admiral chuckled, offering her the small mercy of an easy out. An easy out she was grateful to take. "I received Doctor T'Soni's draft of her paper."

"So did I." She nodded, presuming he'd read it and adding, "This… Is a complicated history, Admiral. And, to hear him say it, he's only giving us a brief. Not the whole ordeal."

"Decades of war… And against a technologically advanced race, too." Hackett murmured, shaking his head and frowning deeply. "I suppose it's nice to know that Humanity is capable of this kind of fight, at least."

"We can, Sir." She nodded, "I've never doubted that."

"Winning is what's in doubt, hm?"

"Not to me, Admiral."

"Fair enough." He chuckled, "For now, we don't have any way of validating this information. But with what we know, I doubt he'd agree to an Asari Meld to verify iit…"

"I do too, Admiral." She agreed, "And if he is insane, or some sort of deep-cover Reaper or Cerberus mole with zero cybernetics, as unlikely as that is, a Meld would likely just fry the Asari doing it."

"True." Hackett hummed, "Will you deploy him on Eden Prime?"

"Yes, Admiral." She nodded, "He'll be with me, duo-op."

"Alone?"

"If he's for Cerberus or the Reapers, he won't let us get whatever is down there. It'd be a non-starter." She said, "And, if he tries…"

"I see." The man frowned, "For as warm as you are, Shepard… Sometimes, you can be terrifyingly ruthless."

"Whatever the Alliance needs, Admiral." She smiled, thin and sad, "Will that be all?"

"Yes, Commander." He nodded, "Dismissed, and good luck."

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Random Reader :

It's all still rather theoretical when applying it to ME armor, biologies, and weapon systems, imo. BUt regardless-

Holy FUCK that's terrifying, lol.