Chapter Text
Skull Commander Shepard walked briskly through the SES Spectre of Liberty, past the armory, and onto the bridge. She had just returned from terminating an illegal broadcast network on Erata Prime when Ensign Chambers notified her of the incoming call. She stood leaning on the edge of the War Table and accepted the call. A hologram fizzled into view of an older man donned in dress blues. His facial hair was a silvery gray and his face was adorned with deep worry-lines and a vicious scar running down the right side. All this combined with the copious amount of medals pinned to the front of his uniform gave him an air of authority and experience.
“Super Admiral Hackett,” she said, standing to attention and bringing her right fist up in a salute. The man waved his hand dismissively and Shepard lowered her arm.
“At ease, Shepard. We’ve received your reports from your campaign on Erata Prime and we are very pleased with your work. Soldiers like you give Democracy its good name.”
“Thank you, sir,” Shepard responded, the ghost of a smile flitting across her face.
“We have a new assignment for you,” Hackett interrupted. “Report to the SENC Normandy in the New Haven system where you will be assigned a squad of new recruits for training.”
“Recruits? Respectfully, sir, I feel that my skills are worth far more pushing the front lines. I’ve eradicated over a dozen Titan nests myself just this week. Why am I being sidelined for training detail? ”
Hackett’s stony face flickered with a subtle displeasure at Shepard’s outburst. “Watch your tone, soldier, this order comes straight from Super Earth High Command. It’s no secret you’re one of the Navy’s finest, Shepard, and that has allowed you to operate solo for a while. But now it’s time to serve Democracy in a different way.”
Shepard did her best to hide her disappointment at this. Her earlier tantrum embarrassed her enough, sulking like a kicked puppy would only crush what little dignity she had left. Her brooding was interrupted when Hackett spoke again.
“Besides, this isn’t any normal training detail. Did you really think we would take you out of the front lines just to train some greenies fresh off their mother’s teat? The squad you will be assigned consists of some of the best and brightest from the frontier. We’ve forwarded their dossiers to your Free-Mail account. With your skill and a devotion to Freedom, I know you can turn these kids into soldiers for Democracy in no time.” Hackett raised his fist in a salute, and Shepard followed suit. “Liberty. Democracy. Justice. Hackett out.”
The hologram fizzled out, the cold, blue glow it cast over the bridge disappearing with it. Shepard lowered her arm and slumped over the War Table. Her mind was racing.
Why me? My numbers are good, all of my operations have gone off without a hitch…
She pulled up the Galactic Map and reviewed her mission reports over the previous week.
Did I make a mistake? Do they think I’m doubting the cause? There has to be something, they wouldn’t sideline me for no reason.
Shepard closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, waited a few beats, and steeled herself. She stood up straight, her face returning to its default half-scowl.
Liberty. Democracy. Justice.
“Chambers,” she yelled, “set a course for the New Haven system.”
“At once, Commander.”
As the engines on the super destroyers flared up, Shepard sat at her desk to the side of the bridge and pulled up the recruits’ dossiers on her datapad.
Ashley Peace Williams
Age: 28
Race/Gender: Human, Female
Birthplace: Prosperity City, Super Earth
Democracy Level: Very High
Reason: Seasoned veteran of SEAF service, has shown readiness to sacrifice self for Democracy
Background:
Ashley Peace Williams is the child of fmr. Super Ambassador of Liberty to the Altus Sector Michael Freeman Williams. Williams Lived most of her early life on New Haven. After completing her Super Earth Mandatory Democratic Education, she immediately enrolled in SEAF training at the wishes of her father, where she graduated top of her class. Williams has seen four tours of duty in the Terminid barrier systems on the SENT Manifest Destiny.
Combat Experience:
In her time with SEAF, Williams has become an accomplished marksman. Williams is most effective with an automatic shotgun and has ample experience with high-explosive ordinances, but she has shown a high degree of skill with any weapon given to her. During three of her four tours on the SENT Manifest Destiny, Williams led her squad in Terminid eliminations.
Weapons Platform Specializations:
- AR-23 Liberator
- SG-225 Breaker
- SMG-37 Defender
- All SEAF-issue small arms
- MG-43 Machine Gun
- M-105 Stalwart
- GL-21 Grenade Launcher
- GR-8 Recoilless Rifle
- EAT-17
Tali’Zorah nar Rayya
Age: 19
Race/Gender: Quarian, Female
Birthplace: MFCS Rayya
Democracy Level: Moderate
Reason: Service in Migrant Fleet Militia in place of SEAF, potential dissenting opinions as a result of upbringing outside of direct Super Earth jurisdiction (subject to review pending investigation)
Background:
Tali'Zorah nar Rayya was born to an Admiral of the Migrant Fleet. As a child, she grew up on the MFCS Rayya and was raised in the vagrant ways of the Fleet. Her parents, Rael’Zorah vas Rayya and Naahi’Zorah vas Rayya, were present in the FIrst Galactic War when the Cyborgs instigated a suicide run, destroying multiple civilian ships, including the one Naahi’Zorah was on. Once she became of age, Tali’Zorah joined the Migrant Fleet militia and served the Fleet as a combat engineer. Eventually, she grew dissatisfied with her work, left the fleet, and enrolled in Helldiver training, citing her desire to liberate quarian colonies from Automaton control.
Combat Experience:
While Tali’Zorah has not seen the front lines of combat, her life in the Migrant Fleet has awarded her many combat opportunities. Tali’Zorah served for 3 years in the Migrant Fleet’s militia where she honed her technical abilities. Her experience in the field as a combat engineer taught her a high proficiency with light arms fire and shotguns, as well as a particular skill in managing personal drones and sentry emplacements.
Weapons Platform Specializations:
- SG-2 Break-Action Shotgun
- SG-8 Punisher
- SG-225 Breaker
- MP-98 Knight
- P-2 Peacemaker
- ARC-3 Arc Thrower
- AX/ “Guard Dog” Autonomous Weapons Platform
- A/ Defensive Sentry Platform
Garrus Vakarian
Age: 27
Race/Gender: Turian, Male
Birthplace: Prosperity City, Super Earth
Democracy Level: Unknown
Reason: Unusual childhood and unofficial training regimen make him an unknown variable. Extensive training in dispensing Democracy, but turian heritage could result in dissident behavior. Advise caution before entrusting him with authority, heavy supervision recommended.
Background:
Garrus Vakarian had a very abnormal upbringing. His mother, Galena Vakarian, experienced a difficult pregnancy with Garrus. Later medical examinations would reveal the cause of this to be the use of an experimental gas reportedly deployed by the Cyborgs on select colonies during the First Galactic War. Unfortunately, Galena Vakarian died during childbirth, and Garrus came out sickly. He was kept comatose for numerous years as experimental gene therapies were employed. As soon as he was declared stable and healthy, his father--one Castis Vakarian, veteran turian politician--secreted the child away to the outer colony world of Zzaniah-Prime. There, Castis groomed his son to be his ideal of a soldier: strong-willed, disciplined, and devoted to Liberty, Democracy, and Justice, all driven by Castis’s hatred of the Cyborg menace.
Combat Experience:
Though he has never seen direct combat, Vakarian was trained practically from birth in the ways of Managed Democracy. His father instilled a need to be versatile and, as such, Vakarian is a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to weapons. He is an expert marksman; a skilled tactician, engineer, and pilot; and operates well under heavy pressure.
Weapons Platform Specializations:
- AR-23 Liberator
- SG-8 Punisher
- SMG-37 Defender
- R-63 Diligence
- All SEAF-issue small arms
- M-105 Stalwart
- APW-1 Anti-Material Rifle
- AC-8 Autocannon
Shepard put down her coffee and took a drag from her cigarette as she skimmed the dossiers for a third time. She still didn’t quite understand why she was being tasked with these recruits. Williams seemed like a run-of-the-mill SEAF soldier; quarian Helldivers were rare, to be sure, but Tali’Zorah was hardly the first spacer-brat from the Migrant Fleet to join up; and while she’d never met a turian before (the First Contact War was fought and swiftly ended before she was even born, and turians hadn’t gained Super Citizenship rights until she was under cryo-sleep), Shepard supposed she didn’t have a problem with them. Vakarian, however, was a wild card that Shepard would rather not touch with a 10-foot pole. She turned off her datapad and sighed, taking another big sip of her coffee, before stubbing out her cigarette. The War Table showed them to be 15 minutes away from the New Haven system.
“Chambers,” Shepard called out, “begin prepping docking protocols.” Chambers saluted her commander before scurrying off. Shepard slowly walked to the head of the bridge.
“Everyone else, get to work. I want this place in tip-top shape when we dock with the Normandy.”
She stood staring out the windows at the tip of the bridge and watched as the SES Spectre of Liberty slipped out of expanded-spacetime. She clasped her hands behind her back and took in the bustling sprawl of New Haven from upper orbit.
“Time to welcome our new recruits.”