"We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls."

Anaïs Nin

July 7th, 2187

Lt. Commander Susan Rizzi
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The Kodiak set down on the pad not far from where they stood. Susan lingered for a moment, then turned to plant one more kiss on her lover's rough lips. She nuzzled her head against his chest while he stood rigid, stoic as a statue. He wasn't going to flinch, shed a tear, or break into some sentimental speech. He wouldn't say a word, but she could feel the tightening of his muscles as a sign that he was distressed. His heart beat in irregular rhythms, his hands were clammy with sweat. He swallowed hard, as if he were trying to keep down his breakfast.

"So this is my shuttle," said Susan.

"Yea, I guess it is," said Zaeed.

"So, when I get back I'll look you up," said Susan.

Zaeed nodded. "Yea, you do that, sweetheart. I'll be around."

Two marines loaded her footlocker into the Kodiak and indicated they were ready to depart.

"Ok then," she said. "This is it."

Zaeed looked her up and down. "Try not to get goddamn killed, ok, Mouse?"

"That's the general plan," said Susan.

"Right," said Zaeed. "Listen, why don't you jump on your shuttle and get the hell out of here. I'm no fucking good when it comes to sentimentality."

Zaeed turned his back on her and headed to the taxi. Susan laughed, turned around, strode up to the shuttle, and climbed aboard. The doors banged shut and soon they were underway. Despite the dampeners, she could tell that Kodiak was accelerating under full power. She was relieved she wouldn't have to wait very long to immerse herself in the job.

Susan looked the two marines over. Neither was familiar to her and they didn't seem like the type of soldiers the Alliance would assign her. She wrote them off as transport detail. They also appeared to be under orders not to speak with her. She supposed they were in the dark as to her identity. Susan had been asked to show up for transit wearing operational blacks, unmarked. The secrecy of the mission was tantamount. She closed her eyes and waited. The minutes rolled by.

A slight shift in the dampeners meant the Kodiak had flipped over to initiate deceleration. Susan ran a calculation in her head. It was too soon for the outer planets, the fleet, or jump zero, so their destination had to be either Mars or a post in the asteroid belt. Mars was a hub of activity in recent days. It was unlikely a mission shrouded in such secrecy would launch at such a location, this left the belt.

A few minutes later the shuttle doors opened, revealing a small dock-ring station. Three shuttles were docked, aside from her own. One marine hoisted her footlocker easily in the near zero gravity environment, the other stood vigilant by the shuttle as she departed, making her way to the hub. Susan was left standing alone with her baggage as the door sealed. Minutes later, another door opened and two more marines entered, saluted and escorted her down another passage. Once she was in the shuttle, her footlocker secured, the doors closed.

They waited for several seconds for clearance to leave. Each of the four shuttles would depart at the same time just as they had probably all arrived at the same time, thus ensuring that no surveillance would be able to determine who was on what shuttle. Nor would the soldiers who transferred her know which of the three shuttles she had entered. Each Kodiak bore the same numbers, the same personnel, and the same orders. Only her shuttle would arrive at the correct destination.

Knowing that it would be some time before she arrived, Susan took the opportunity to catch up on some sleep. She never slept the night before assignments. Her usual routine was exercise or else some alone time in a sensory harness. However, she'd allowed herself real human contact for a change, complete with plenty of vigorous exercise. Zaeed was surprisingly spry for his age, virile, and most important of all—he was positively filthy without being a selfish prig. It'd been a hell of a goodbye; an exclamation point on the previous few weeks they'd spent together, which had been damn near perfect.

'Don't say it, don't set yourself up,' she warned herself. 'You damn well know it wouldn't have lasted.'

Massani had promised nothing and Susan hadn't asked for anything. The chances that any man would stay true to her during the course of such a long assignment were slim to none. No, when she returned to Earth, if it was even possible, Zaeed would have all his money, a mansion on some Australian beach, and three or four mistresses; probably Asari, at his beck and call. She'd be a distant memory. Susan sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to put him out of her mind. She indulged in a quick nap during the rest of the transit.

An hour later Susan found herself in Delta Base on Ceres. Delta was a series of secret hangars that had somehow survived the Reaper War undiscovered and intact. She was unsure how the Alliance had managed to hide such a large facility from the invading forces, perhaps it was better not to know. They had taken her footlocker separately while she reported to the duty station. The officer, Lt. Shian, had her orders.

"You'll want to go over this carefully once you're aboard," said Shian. "How much do you know?"

"Only that I've been assigned to a Turian frigate to serve as its XO, and that said frigate is headed for deep space," answered Susan.

Shian smiled. "Not entirely true, your commanding officer is Turian, a Spectre in fact, but the ship is Alliance. You've been assigned to the Normandy Ma'am."

"You're joking," said Susan.

"No Ma'am, serious as a head-shot," said Shian. "General Vakarian is expecting you now. I'll arrange transit. The Normandy is in hangar three, her refit is almost completed. You should be underway within a few days."

It took a while for Susan to process the information. She hitched a ride on a grav-trolley, hoping that her footlocker would somehow find its way to the Normandy on its own. Zaeed would've shit a brick if he'd known she was headed to his old ship. No wonder the Alliance hadn't revealed any specifics of her assignment, if she'd have known it would've been almost near impossible to keep it from Massani.

When Susan stepped off the trolley the Normandy was in full view. The ship was beautiful aside from the assorted cables and hoses that were feeding in and out of her hull. She was also crawling with engineers, both Turian and Alliance. From the looks of it, several crew were also on-hand, again, both Turian and Alliance.

Susan's assignment made perfect sense now. She was one of the few human officers in the Alliance with experience commanding Turian soldiers. She'd earned their respect and in the process received several notations for her actions on Palaven. One Turian, a stocky male with a tattered crest, approached her and saluted.

"Chief Trakeus Kalderyn, reporting," he said. "It's an honor Commander. I'll be your shipboard duty officer. Your tactical squad is still in transit, but when they arrive you'll want to look for a Lieutenant Steven James, he'll be your second in command on all outboard missions. If you'll come with me, I'll give you a quick tour before I send you up the General."

"Lead away," she said.

The Chief led her up through the rear hangar, which was in the process of refit. A dozen human and Turian technicians were tearing up the deck and rerouting conduits, but that wasn't the strangest sight. A Krogan officer was giving direction to one set of techs. Susan couldn't believe her eyes. The Krogan turned and saluted her.

The Chief cut right to the chase. "Commander Rizzi, this is Urdnot Tahl. He's been designated an Alliance rank of Staff Sergeant for this operation and will serve as the Normandy's armory officer and resident Tomkah mechanic. Before you ask, yes we're adding a Krogan style vehicle for ground operations. It's been redesigned using elements of the alliance M35 Mako. It's twice as large as the M35 but still small enough to fit into one side of the hangar bay. It'll work for Krogan, Human, and Turian combat squads."

"So that will leave us with room for only one Kodiak," said Susan.

"One Kodiak shuttle and two Turian Seyzon class fighter bombers for tactical support," said Chief Kalderyn.

"How the hell are we going to cram all this in here?" asked Susan.

"The engineers have it worked out," said the Chief.

Sergeant Tahl showed his teeth. Susan wasn't sure if it was a smile or a threat.

"We'll see if they're successful in a day or so," said the Krogan.

The Turian moved ahead. "This way to the elevator," he said.

The rest of the tour was a whirlwind. Engineering was mainly inaccessible as technicians were in the process of adding extra quarters for ground squads, fighter, and shuttle crews. New sleeping pods were replacing old ones, and much of the open area on the crew deck was being re-organized.

Chief Kalderyn explained that the Normandy was once controlled by an illegal unshackled AI that had been destroyed along with the Reapers. Since no single VI was capable of handling a ship of this nature, the Normandy had been refitted with three separate advanced VI's. One each for navigation, tactics, and crew assistance. The latter program handled all communications and life support functions. The three quantum level VI's had pipeline firewalls to limit interaction during low priority operations, thus preventing them from linking and becoming a self-aware AI.

As they toured the bridge, the Turian chief explained further. "When we are on alert the navigational and tactical suites will link up, and in a battle situation all three firewalls will open up allowing the VI's to have full access to each other."

"Won't they eventually achieve sentience then, if we see enough battles?" asked Susan.

"Yes, they've calculated it all out," said the Chief. "After three years of operation the VI's will be torn out and scrapped, new ones will be installed and we'll start over again."

Susan wondered why they were so paranoid. "I've heard that the former AI on this ship performed beyond expectations. Why the fear of installing another?"

"You'll have to ask General Vakarian," said the Chief.

Moments later Susan found herself in the elevator again, alone this time. She arrived at the top deck, stepping through the doors without hesitation as soon as they opened. The entrance to the captain's quarters unsealed before she had reached it.

She heard a voice call to her. "Come in Commander."

Susan strode into the quarters and saluted. "Lt. Commander Susan Rizzi, reporting for duty, Sir!"

The General, who was going over a data pad intently, barely acknowledged her salute. "At ease, Rizzi."

She relaxed and waited for him to speak. Several long minutes passed while General Vakarian poked around on the pad.

"Excuse me," he said. "Catching up on the news of the day, yesterday's news to be exact. There are no communication feeds in or out of this facility, so all data must be downloaded, inspected carefully, and then brought in on shuttles. Not very efficient and sometimes I have to wait three or four days for the latest word. Have you been following recent events?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, Sir, I haven't been near any sort of public terminal the past few days."

Vakarian moved on with his train of thought. "I would call it the extranet, except that it's not extra right now, really it's more of a system net. You should see the delusional ramblings floating around out there. All the races have collectively lost their minds."

"Rations are strict, Sir, hungry bellies tend to ache and groan." said Susan.

Vakarian lowered his pad and peered at her inquisitively. "That's old mercenary jargon. Sounds like something I'd hear out in the Terminus Systems. I thought you were career Alliance, Commander?"

Susan blushed. "I, um, I am sir. But I've worked with all types in various operations."

"I see," said the General, before moving on to his next train of thought. "Thirty-seven techs died at the relay yesterday. That's well over five hundred lives lost since they started the repairs. Spirits know what's going on at the Arcturus Relay, or the ones we don't know about. They can't figure out how to re-engage the quantum shielding. Nothing matters until that little situation is solved. Without the shielding, the core cannot be engaged. Every relay becomes a giant doomsday weapon floating out in space. That's why our mission is so critical, Rizzi."

"What is our mission?" asked Susan.

"We're taking the Krogan leader, Urdnot Wrex, home to Tuchanka," said General Vakarian.

"That's thousands of light years away," said Susan.

"Around fifteen thousand light years. The Normandy is the only ship in the galaxy that can get us there in a year or so, and that's assuming our on-the-go fuel collection and refining system works out," said the General. "We could end up stranded out there, or run into unknown hostiles. The only maps we have are by deep space explorers. It's all pretty sketchy."

"This is risky mission," said Susan.

The Turian nodded. "We have no choice. It's becoming apparent that we won't have enough Mass Relays online to get Wrex home inside the next four years, and we have to get him home. As much as I respect Eve, I don't think she'll be able to hold the males in check for very long. When we get there, I expect resistance."

Susan was concerned. "What kind of resistance?"

"There are Krogan who resent aliens, Rizzi," said Garrus. "Especially Salarians and Turians. One of them may seize control of the clans while Wrex is trapped out here in the Sol system. If that happens, we could be looking at another bloody war that we aren't equipped to fight.

That's why I've asked you along. I need someone like you, someone who can go in and do what is necessary. That may mean protecting Wrex while he restores order, it may also mean assassinating a clan leader if the wrong sort has seized power and won't listen to reason."

"I understand, Sir," said Susan. "I see the importance now. I'm honored you chose me."

"Do you know how I became aware of you?" asked the General.

"The L2 operation?" wondered Susan.

"Well, that certainly put you on the map, but no, it was before that," said General Vakarian. "Commander Shepard flagged your file. She took an interest in you, not sure why but it came as no surprise to me when I heard about L2. Shepard had an eye for talent. Did you know her?"

Susan shook her head. "I ran into her once, I believe, on the Citadel. She seemed to be amused by an argument I was having with a requisition officer."

The General smiled. "That's Shepard all right. She loved roaming around, poking her nose into the business of random strangers. Sometimes I think she knew half the people in the galaxy. Everywhere we'd go she'd find a familiar face. It was downright, uncanny, I tell you."

Susan smiled. "I've read a bit about her," she said.

The General sighed. "I have too, most of it isn't true, and some of it's just damned offensive. At times I begin to see the perspective of the machines when it comes to organics. This morning Joker shared a repulsive series of vids that are popular in certain circles."

"Ah, you must be speaking of Emanuella's Erotic Alien Adventures?" asked Susan.

General Vakarian groaned in dismay. "Spirits, don't tell me you've watched any of that nonsense?"

"A little," admitted Susan. "At first I didn't understand what all the fuss was about. I didn't know that Commander Shepard's middle name was Emanuella."

"I didn't either," said the General. "In fact, I don't think I ever called Shepard by her first name, and she was, ah... She was my best friend. We were a team her and I. She'll always be just, Shepard to me. It's a bit of a sacred thing, personal, and I'm not a fan of whatever that is out there."

"Ah," said Susan. "I can see why the vids would make you angry then, especially the unflattering taglines, though you should feel consoled over the fact that Sylvia Glass,the actress in the vid, doesn't resemble Shepard at all, even with the post processing embellishments."

"Thank the spirits for small production budgets," said the General. "I was not amused by the whole Normandy's whore bit either. I can appreciate some satire, even comedy, or telling the story a different way, or exaggerating certain, ahem, details, but I don't understand why anyone, especially your own kind, would want to demean their heroes that way."

'Introverted, thoughtful, overly idealistic; not very Turian at all,' thought Susan. 'Here's a commanding officer I'll need to protect and manage.'

"I can hear you thinking from here, Rizzi," said General Vakarian. "Spit it out, if you have opinion, I want to know it."

"I only know a little of Turian society, so I can't speak about your race or any others, but with Humans I think it's about power, Sir," said Susan. "People who have stressful lives seek to escape into fantasies, and those with particularly difficult lives seek power. By forcing your own icons or heroes into roles that fulfill your personal fantasies, you can claim ownership of them, or so I would imagine."

"Or it could be that people are just degenerates, or have dirty minds," said the General.

Susan smiled. "Dirty minds are a given. I have one myself."

If Turians had eyebrows, Susan suspected that Vakarian's would've been raised. Instead he sat back in his chair and slowly shook his head, and perhaps tried to suppress laughter.

"You are a different kind of officer, Rizzi. You'll fit in perfect on this ship. That being said, let's get down to business," said the General.

He leaned forward. "We leave inside of a week at the latest. Your squad will be here in a few hours. Urdnot Wrex will arrive in two days. He'll be staying on the crew deck, right near the galley. I'm making sure to stock up on all his most hated foods. If he asks, tell him that's all we had left."

"Why?" asked Susan.

The General's eyes flickered and he cocked his head in a curious way. "I don't want to show up on Tuchanka with a fat Krogan clan leader. When you get a chance, read the Tuchanka projections intelligence has put together. If it's anywhere near as bad as the reports say when we get there, the Krogan will be more likely to eat Wrex than place him back on the throne."

'At least he has a sense of humor, and a realistic expectation of what we'll be facing. But is he willing to make the hard call, and what isn't he telling me?' wondered Susan.

Susan remembered something that Hackett had explained in his short briefing. The Admiral had emphasized her role in supporting her Turian CO, and making sure he lived up to unspoken orders. At the time, Susan thought Hackett was speaking in general metaphors, but it now occurred to her what those orders might be and why she was given this mission. Garrus Vakarian had initiated the conversation by talking about the fragile state of the relays, thus he had spelled it out to her without ever speaking it aloud—unspoken orders.

The mission wasn't necessarily about getting Wrex back to Tuchanka in time, it was about reaching Tuchanka before the Krogan had their Mass Relay repaired. If Wrex was unable to assume control and the Krogan proved themselves a