Other Fan Fiction ❯ N7 Charlie ❯ Welcome to Cerberus ( Chapter 1 )

Commander Alexander Shepard stood gripping the handrail overlooking the mass effect generator.  The gentle thrum of the engine soothed his nerves.  Most captains preferred standing on the bridge or CIC at times like these – staring off into the vastness of space and wondering at their place in the universe.  Lex, however, was a nuclear engineer.  Down in the engineering spaces was where he felt most calm.  His ponderings on complexity often led him into the atomic realm. All the titanic mass of Earth’s sun was only just enough to crush hydrogen into helium, the smallest two elements in existence… and yet that was enough heat and radiation to light up the entire solar system.

He quickly dismissed thoughts of atoms and stars. He liked his problems precise and mathematical.  He could make calculated decisions quickly, though he never rushed, if he could avoid it.  Decisions didn't require time, but information - and one had the information or not. He had made it his responsibility to have the information ahead of time.  This in turn led to his reputation for being ruthlessly efficient.

            Perhaps that was why he was selected.  He had grown up on a spacer colony in an asteroid field at the edges of human territory.  He had an aptitude for engineering right off, which made the alliance take notice of him quickly.  He took his first chance to get off that rock and into a place where he could excel – the alliance navy.  He did not view himself as ruthless, only logical.  His military career in N7 Charlie Team and special projects had left him with a track record of success, albeit a colorful array of opinions of his methods.  He cared little about any of that.  His habit of being right most of the time had the effect of silencing his protestors.  Unfortunately, it also had the same effect on his own crew. They often lacked confidence to speak up in his presence. Fear of speaking incorrectly or ignorantly held them back, and so he had to constantly reassure them that being wrong was the quickest way to reroute one’s thinking and the experience should always be one of learning and improvement. Mistakes didn’t bother him.  Repeating the same mistakes drove him insane.

            Repeating mistakes.  Now here he was, two years later, alive when he should be dead.  The Alliance had conscripted him in a special assignment that led to his exposing a rogue spectre.  When asked to track him down, he had.  When he uncovered this spectre was plotting a geth invasion, he had stopped that as well.  He had so ruthlessly tore into Saren, so indisputably and unapologetically stated the truth, that the rogue turian had attacked him in a rage.  Lex put him down.  When the reaper-tech inside the slain spectre activated, Lex put him down for good.  He ended the geth invasion and severed their synthetic link to the unknown force beyond the reach of traversed space – the force they were now calling the reapers.

He had done what they had selected him for.  He had explained to the Council very clearly that the alien intelligence that had indoctrinated Saren was not some sole survivor of a lost race.  It was a scout.  There were more.  It was foolish to think this Sovereign was acting alone.  It was sent ahead to prepare the way for the reapers.  He had thought this blatantly obvious to even a child, but the council could not see past the geth attack, and so ignored the answer to the very question they had sent him asking. To them, it was another synthetic uprising that was aided by a madman.  They cut off all resources to the Normandy outside of typical Alliance funding. 

Lex clenched his jaw resolutely.  He didn’t like leaving things unfinished or unresolved.  His career, his identity, existed to problem solve.  Whether the problem was mathematical or situation resolution, this is what Shepard did.  So he went after the pockets of geth that remained harassing the outer colonies.  If he could find out where the geth were reached, he might better figure out how they were reached.

            He had pleaded with top brass to send armed Alliance escorts to investigate these areas – but to Alliance leadership, these were colonies of people who chose to live outside the Alliance’s protection and therefore, the Alliance was not obligated to send resources to those sectors.  The old Council had never helped or believed him, and it seemed neither did the new one.  He had saved the Alliance hoping that with Udina’s political clout, the Alliance could tap into greater resources from the Citadel.  But Udina only seemed to become one of them, worse even.

            So, he went alone.  What did he discover?  An unidentifiable spacecraft.  What followed?  An attack on his ship.  To be perfectly accurate, the destruction of his ship.  Throw in the death of nearly the entire crew, himself included.  The last thing he remembered was tromping in mag-boots over broken floors, where the grating had been twisted and sheered.  He remembered the sound fading, the horrible sound of tearing metal diminishing, as vacuum-induced silence took over the nightmarish scene.  The ravaged Normandy floated through space like a torn apart swordfish, leaving a trail of drifting innards and organs, clusters of wires extruding like frozen arteries.  He remembered the final hit that dislodged him and left him floating away into the cold dead dark of space.

            But somehow, someway, the human-interest group, Cerberus had found his frozen remains and brought him back to life.  The technology they had implemented was more advanced than anything Shepard had ever seen.  Even as a naval nuclear engineering officer, he was restricted by clearance levels and the Alliance itself was restricted by the Council.  Renegade outfits like Cerberus, operating outside the confines of Alliance control, and often galactic law, had only the limitations of their resources, and of those, he had seen little limits. They had reconstructed the Normandy with the same tech the human and turian prototype stealth vessel had been engineered with, along with all-expenses paid and top of the line research backed upgrades.  He grinned despite himself.  Alliance would never have spared the funds.

            But again, two years later, most likely forgotten by now, he was no longer technically an active agent of the Alliance, as his death certificate would indicate.  He was free to investigate what he had wanted to from the start.  The only catch was that now he had a boss, from whom his own ship and resources depended.  The one they called the Illusive Man.  To Shepard, he was a CEO who fancied himself a modern day Elon Musk.  He was willing to do what was necessary, however, and had the resources to see it done – and that was enough for Shepard.

            The Illusive Man did not seem to have much interest in Shepard’s old crew, particularly those with strong alliance ties, like Ashley, as they showed little desire to return, but didn’t mind Joker and Dr. Chakwas tagging along.  He instead offered a list of well researched persons, each excelling in some area of expertise.  From snipers and scientists to criminals and doctors, as many as he had time for.  Since agent Miranda Lawson had been in charge of the Lazarus Project – she was this Illusive Man’s lieutenant on Shepard’s ship.  He would have to make sure that she knew who the commander was when on board the Normandy. And then there was her second, Jacob Taylor. This over-eager career soldier was a perfect arms master, and willing and able to follow orders without being a blind idiot.  Shepard didn’t have time for men who couldn’t think for themselves.  Though Shepard didn’t find him particularly interesting or intellectual, Jacob was a good man to have on the team.

            This Miranda, however, was something else. She was calculated and capable but could wield charm and charisma with equal precision.  She was a formidable woman.  This meant, however, that she would keep information close to heart, and that could be an issue of trust later.  He needed his crew on the same page, and so he would have to set things straight right from the start with her. But if she was as intelligent as he thought she might be, he didn’t see her finding it an issue.  Her primary objective was to ensure his own success.  No, he didn’t think it’d be an issue, and he was rarely wrong about such things. At any rate, he was about to find out.

            He turned, noting the flicker of green light as someone behind him passed in front of the core temperature light.