Shepard X part3

 The High-Risk Pickup

Onboard the Kodiak Shuttle

The silence in the cramped Kodiak cabin, moments after the breach, was suffocating. Commander Susan Shepard dropped into the seat directly across from her sister, Admiral Svetlana Shepard. The adrenaline that had fueled her relentless assault was rapidly receding, leaving behind a leaden exhaustion and a tremor that ran deep through her newly reinforced frame. She pressed her hands hard against the thigh plates of her N7 fatigues, concentrating on the cold, solid metal to prevent her hands from shaking uncontrollably.

Ashley, acutely aware of the dangerous tension radiating from Susan, moved instantly. She slid onto the bench seat beside her partner and gently took Susan’s stiff right hand in hers. Ashley’s thumb moved soothingly over the smooth knuckles, a silent counterpoint to the terrifying memory of the claws that had just erupted there. Leaning in, she pressed a warm, grounding kiss to the side of Susan's neck, the simple, intimate gesture designed to draw her focus away from the source of her trauma.

Kaidan, meanwhile, was focused on stabilizing Svetlana's fractured clavicle, carefully applying a medical splint and administering a localized painkiller.

Svetlana, despite the raw pain and fear, tried to assert her old authority. "Susan, you—you need to understand the strategic necessity of Project Ph—"

Susan’s head snapped up. Her eyes, still blazing with a cold, terrifying fury, locked onto her sister's pain-ravaged face. The word tore from her throat, sharp and absolute.

"Silence!" Susan snapped. "You gave up the right to lecture me on necessity when you handed me to Cerberus. You will talk. You will tell us everything you know, but you will do it on the Normandy. Until then, you will not speak."

Ashley winced slightly as Susan's hand tightened convulsively around hers. The pressure was immense, almost painful, but Susan realized her lapse instantly. The rigid tension in her grip eased, and she murmured a low, ragged apology to Ashley.

At that critical moment, the internal comms crackled. Chief Cortez’s voice, usually dry and unflappable, was strained.

“Commander, we have company! Arcturus Command just dispatched three pursuit shuttles and two Alliance heavy fighters. And… damn it, a Paris-class frigate just altered course to intercept. They’ll cut us off before we reach the jump point.”

The mission instantly shifted from apprehension to desperate extraction. Susan pushed away from Ashley, the exhaustion forgotten, and vaulted to her feet, moving with rapid efficiency to the small doorway leading to the cockpit.She leaned over Cortez’s console, her eyes scanning the sensor data overlaying the cockpit viewport. The Alliance pursuit vessels were closing too fast.

“Cortez, hold your course for two more minutes, then make a wide tactical turn. Just give me enough time.” 

Susan activated the primary comms channel to the ship 

"Normandy, this is Commander Shepard. We are hot. Arcturus has deployed pursuit and heavy assets. Initiate immediate high-speed pickup. Open the main bay door now, and prepare for an immediate FTL jump sequence the moment the Kodiak is secured."

Joker’s reply was sharp and professional, betraying no fear. "You heard the Commander, EDI. Let's make this fast. Commander, strap yourselves in. We're going to put some distance between us and the bad guys."

“Everyone, strap in!” Susan commanded, turning from the cockpit. “This is going to be high risk. Kaidan, secure the Admiral. Ashley, you’re in the co-pilot seat next to Cortez. Prepare for extreme kinetic stress."

Kaidan wrestled Svetlana into a seat and quickly secured the thick safety harness. Ashley moved quickly, her eyes focused on the accelerating fighters visible in the viewport.

“Brace! Brace!” Cortez warned.

The Kodiak banked violently, throwing the occupants against their restraints as Cortez executed a daring high-G turn, shaking off the initial fighter lock-ons. He aimed the Kodiak straight for the colossal shape of the Normandy, which was already powering out of the distant dust cloud. The Normandy’s main shuttle bay door yawned open, a gaping, dark maw against the star field.

Cortez pushed the shuttle to its absolute limit, the structure groaning under the strain. Just before entering the docking bay, he executed a breathtaking, impossibly precise manoeuvre spinning the shuttle 180 degrees and firing the aft thrusters in a brutal, last-second braking burn.

The impact into the hangar deck was still thunderous. The Kodiak slammed to a stop with a bone-jarring, metallic CRASH.

Susan, who had been standing, leaning against the doorway to the cockpit as she monitored the proximity, was catapulted backward by the violent deceleration. She was thrown against the reinforced rear wall of the passenger cabin.

The resulting sound was a muffled, horrific CRUNCH of bending synth-metal and tortured alloy. The frame of the doorway twisted, and a massive, concave dent was punched deep into the rear wall of the shuttle.

Commander Susan Shepard, the woman with the unbreakable skeleton, simply dropped to the deck, utterly unconscious. The shock of the massive kinetic energy transfer, shielded from her nervous system by the dormant pain receptors but physically absorbed by the adamantium, had completely overwhelmed her system.

The main landing bay door of the Normandy immediately hissed shut. The Kodiak was secured.

A moment later, the Normandy swung on its axis, aiming directly for the distant Mass Relay portal. The blue, streaking light of the faster-than-light jump engulfed the ship, leaving the pursuing Alliance frigate trailing helplessly behind.

Med bay Miracle

The heavy, reinforced gurney bearing the unconscious form of Commander Susan Shepard groaned as Lieutenant James Vega and Lieutenant Ashley Williams carefully wheeled it into the Med bay. Vega’s face was etched with worry, and Ashley’s usually unwavering composure was fractured, her lips pressed into a thin, white line of fretful anxiety.

Behind them, supported by Kaidan, Admiral Svetlana Shepard was ushered in. She was pale, clutching her shattered shoulder, and quickly deposited onto a nearby diagnostic bed. Two grim-faced Alliance marines, armed with standard issue rifles, took up silent positions flanking the Admiral’s bed—a potent, armed reminder of her current status as a prisoner aboard the Normandy.

Dr. Karin Chakwas, her sleeves already rolled up, moved with swift professionalism, immediately directing her high-powered diagnostic scanner over the Commander. She tracked the beam across Shepard’s chest, arms, and skull, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“EDI, give me a full spectral analysis and neuro-activity overlay. I need to know precisely where that kinetic energy went,” Chakwas muttered to the AI console, convinced that such a monumental impact must have caused massive internal damage, irrespective of the adamantium.

The scanner traced the Commander’s entire system. Chakwas watched the monitors in disbelief. Vitals were perfect. Organ function, excellent. The skeletal structure, confirmed to be entirely coated in Adamantium-Ceramic Composite, showed zero fractures, stress cracks, or displacement.

“Incredible,” Chakwas whispered, shaking her head. “The kinetic force was absorbed entirely by the alloy, and the regenerative nanites stabilized the micro-cellular shock. She shouldn’t be conscious, but she is, physiologically, unharmed.”

As Chakwas reached for a hypo loaded with a mild stimulant to hasten her return to lucidity, Shepard’s eyes suddenly snapped open. She sat bolt upright, pulling the discarded sheet away from her chest. She rubbed her neck, letting out a deep, tired sigh.

“Goddess, I hate hard landings,” Shepard muttered, her voice slightly thick. She shook her head, running a hand through her short, damp hair. “Next time, I really need to remember to follow my own advice and sit down.”

A wave of relieved, nervous laughter rippled through the medbay, a necessary release for the crew after the high-stress, high-G maneuver, Vega actually slapped his knee, grinning. “Good to have you back, Commander! Thought you took out the whole aft section of the Kodiak on that one.”

Chakwas, though relieved, was having none of it. She grabbed Shepard’s arm and tried to pull her back onto the bed. “Commander! That’s an over three-hundred-G impact! You just demolished a shuttle bulkhead with your back! I need to run a deep tissue scan! There’s no sign of trauma, but there must be some—"

Shepard gently, but firmly, waved her off. “No, Doctor. My bones are a nightmare, remember? They’re fine. But the Admiral’s shoulder won’t heal itself. Svetlana is our only lead on Project Phoenix. The sooner you set that clavicle, the sooner we get the intelligence we need on Cerberus.”

Shepard hopped off the bed, her movements instantly determined and purposeful. She looked at her sister, whose eyes were wide with a mix of fear and shocked admiration at Susan's recovery. Then, without another word to the medical staff, Shepard turned and strode out of the med bay, heading with a singular focus for the War Room and the Quantum Entanglement Communicator.

The War Room Impasse

Shepard walked with unwavering resolve into the War Room and moved immediately to the Quantum Entanglement Communicator console. Her hand reached for the activation panel, intent on initiating a secure channel with Admiral Hackett.

She was moments from doing so when Ashley and Kaidan burst in behind her, both slightly winded from their sprint across Deck 3 and the elevator ride.

“Susan, stop!” Ashley demanded, her voice tight with urgency and concern.

Shepard didn't look away from the console. “Don’t, Ash. Every second we delay is a risk to every clean asset in the Alliance. This is a matter of command protocol.”

Kaidan planted himself directly in front of the console, blocking her access. His eyes were wide with genuine alarm. “Commander, you can’t! You need to hold off. We’ve been gone for six months, and we just physically abducted an Admiral from Arcturus Station. You have no idea how deep this Cerberus infection runs.”

Shepard finally turned fully, her posture rigid, a terrifying mix of professional command and suppressed trauma visible in her eyes. "I know exactly how deep it runs, Lieutenant! Deep enough to put my own sister in charge of the program that turned me into this." She gestured sharply to her body, to the dense presence of the adamantium beneath her skin. "This isn't a theory, Kaidan! I have the Architect of Project Phoenix locked up in my med bay. My first priority is to report a massive, active breach of command integrity to the highest-ranking officer I trust: Admiral Hackett."

“And what if Hackett is compromised, Susan?” Ashley countered, stepping beside Kaidan. Her voice was firm, laced with desperate concern. “You saw the data. Svetlana was working in Special Forces R&D. That’s a highly protected command chain. If Hackett answers to her, or if he’s simply too well-monitored, calling him now is a broadcast that we have the key. Cerberus will sweep their labs clean before we finish the first sentence.”

“That’s an assumption based on fear, Lieutenant!” Shepard retorted, her command voice snapping. “My duty is to the Alliance! If I have irrefutable proof of high-level treason, I report it immediately. We do not sideline Alliance Command for a field operative’s hunch!”

Kaidan pressed his advantage. "Commander, your own escape video confirmed a programmed response. Cerberus engineered a trigger for your rage. We don't know if that trigger is tied to a frequency, a command word, or even a neural input from a high-ranking officer. If Hackett is involved, calling him could be the signal that either activates the rage or detonates a fail-safe Cerberus installed in you. We need to be certain."

Shepard stared at them, the pressure mounting. She wanted desperately to believe in the structure, to believe in Hackett, but the image of her sister in the Alliance uniform was a festering wound on her faith.

Ashley stepped closer, softening her tone and reaching out, but not touching, her hand. "Please, Susan. Give us two hours. We can start the interrogation in the med bay Chakwas has her sedated and stable. Let us get intelligence on who else is involved and where their research bases are. We arm Hackett with facts, not just a traumatized Admiral's confession. If he's clean, he'll move faster with solid targets. If he's compromised, we haven't tipped our hand."

Shepard stood motionless, weighing the logic against the burning need for command integrity. Her fists clenched and relaxed, a tiny battle for control happening in her hands. She knew Kaidan’s argument about the neural trigger was the most dangerous—it wasn't just her life, but the entire ship's.

She finally backed down, stepping away from the QEC console, the resentment clear on her face.

“Fine,” she conceded, the word tight and clipped. “But we follow my agenda. We interrogate her now, and we do it hard. Kaidan, you monitor the comms for any unusual Alliance traffic—no incoming or outgoing signals without my direct authorization. Ashley, you’re with me.”

Shepard’s gaze hardened as she looked back at the console, leaving the silent threat hanging in the air. "I'm giving you two hours to prove my duty is misplaced. Then, I talk to Hackett."

“Understood, Commander,” Kaidan confirmed, a wave of relief washing over his tense features.

“Let’s go see the Admiral,” Ashley said, her expression grimly determined.

The three officers exited the War Room, heading for the elevator to Deck 3. EDI, who had been silently monitoring the volatile exchange, spoke softly over the internal comms as they left.

"Commander, Dr. Chakwas has stabilized Admiral Svetlana Shepard and is ready to proceed. She also requested an additional security detail due to the Admiral's high-profile status."

The Reckoning in the Med bay

A Tense Truce

The atmosphere in the Medbay (Deck 3) was colder than the vacuum outside the hull. Commander Susan Shepard, Ashley Williams, and Kaidan Alenko re-entered the space, the shared resolve from the War Room barely containing the volcano that was Susan's internal state.

Susan was boiling with a low-key, palpable rage. Her fists were constantly clenching and unclenching at her sides, a silent, rhythmic warning. Ashley walked slightly behind her, keeping a wary, vigilant eye on every minute twitch of her partner's shoulders, terrified that the fragile control might snap.

Dr. Chakwas, working quietly on the diagnostic console, glanced up as they entered. She immediately registered the heavy, suppressive aura around the Commander.

"Doctor, is Admiral Svetlana Shepard healthy enough to answer questions?" Susan asked, her voice deliberately flat, stripped of all warmth.

Chakwas gave a hesitant nod. "Physically, yes. The fracture is set and stabilized, and I’ve administered a broad-spectrum sedative to keep her cooperative. But Commander, with all due respect, the hot rage bleeding from your form is spiking every sensor in the room. I advise caution."

Before Susan could reply—or snap—Ashley moved. She gently placed her hand on Susan's taut arm, her touch a light, anchoring presence. She leaned in close, whispering into Susan's ear, using the familiar, loving name she hadn't dared utter since the horrors began.

"Take a breath, Sue. Please. She is no good to us dead. We need the intelligence first."

Susan blinked once, the cold fury in her eyes momentarily fractured by the intimacy of the name and the sound of Ashley's plea. She whispered back, her voice a raw, strained sound that only Ashley could possibly hear above the low hum of the ship.

"You and Kaidan need to take the lead, please, Ash. I will kill her."

Ashley nodded solemnly, her protective resolve solidifying. She nudged Kaidan forward with her elbow and moved up, taking the lead on the interrogation.

The Architect's Testimony

Svetlana lay pale and restrained on the diagnostic bed, the Alliance marines standing silent guard.

Ashley started, her voice professional and sharp. "Admiral Shepard. We know Project Phoenix is real. We know you were the lead scientist. Start talking. Who brought you in?"

Svetlana swallowed, meeting her sister's blazing eyes before quickly looking away. "The Illusive Man," she grudgingly revealed, her voice thin. "He approached me two years ago. Cerberus had recovered the initial data for Project Phoenix—the Alliance had been sitting on the basic nanite research—but they required assistance with the adamantium processing and biological integration. They needed a specialist who could bridge the gap between military tech and human physiology."

As Svetlana spoke, Susan began to prowl. She started walking back and forth along the aisle between the diagnostic beds, a caged beast. Her blazing eyes never left Svetlana's form, tracking every breath and flinch.

Kaidan leaned in, his tone all business. "That means he has contacts deep inside the Alliance. Who else is on his payroll?"

The Admiral sighed, the sound laced with bitterness. "Admiral Darrion, General Hender, Vice Admiral Garsus… and several high-ranking personnel within the logistics and quatermater divisions. They ensured Cerberus had access to Alliance data stores, ships, and resources."

Susan, who had moved to the far end of the bed, abruptly stopped her pacing. She dropped into a deep, unnerving crouch, resting her forearms on her knees. Her hands hung down, fingers rhythmically clenching and unclenching as she struggled to contain the boiling rage. Her voice was a low, gravelly sound, like stone sliding down a cliff face.

"Is Hackett involved?"

The simple, direct question drew every gaze in the room. Ashley and Kaidan froze, watching Susan’s terrifying posture. Even the Alliance marines seemed to tense up.

Svetlana, for the first time, met Susan’s eyes directly. She recognized the fragility of her sister's control. She knew this answer could be the trigger.

"No," Svetlana said quietly, her voice unwavering. "Admiral Hackett is not involved. But he is a problem for the Illusive Man. He is being watched—an agent of Cerberus is deployed near him, monitoring his communications and movements."

The tension in Susan's posture eased fractionally, the danger receding from a 10 to an 8. Ashley let out a silent breath of relief.

Kaidan quickly took over, demanding details on Cerberus's internal structure. Svetlana, sensing the leverage she had gained, provided names. "The human assets involved in the project were primarily Miranda Lawson and Jacob Taylor. They provided security and field data analysis. They handled the low-level processing." She then listed the known research facilities and mobile lab ships she was aware of.

Finally, Svetlana looked directly into Susan’s eyes, the cold, scientific appreciation replacing the fear. "That is all I know, Susan. I handled the science; I did not handle the tactical deployment."

The Final Cut

Ashley and Kaidan stepped back from the bed, having gotten every piece of actionable intelligence possible.

Susan rose slowly from her crouch. The air in the med bay felt charged, metallic. She walked across the small room, her movement predatory and deliberate, and leaned down, face-to-face with her sister.

Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl that seemed to vibrate the synth-steel frame of the bed.

"Who chose the subjects?"

The question hung heavy in the silence. It wasn't about the science or the politics; it was about the personal cruelty.

Everyone clearly saw Svetlana swallow hard, the effort visible in her throat. She looked past the Commander, then back, and finally conceded the last, terrible piece of the puzzle.

"I assembled the initial list of candidates based on neural and physiological profiles," Svetlana whispered, her professional mask finally cracking under the weight of her sister's gaze. "The Illusive Man made the final call."

The answer was enough. It was the confirmation of Svetlana's direct, personal involvement in selecting her own sister for torture.

Susan’s face went utterly blank. Her right fist raised, trembling slightly. The distinctive, chilling Shuck sound of her claws snapping out into the room cut through the silence, loud and absolute.

Before anyone could move, before Ashley could lunge or Kaidan could deploy a barrier, Susan drove the lethal adamantium spikes downward. They didn't strike Svetlana; they slammed through the pillow, the mattress, and embedded themselves deep into the solid synth-steel frame of the hospital bed. The sound was a loud, tearing GRIND of metal meeting metal.

Shepard held the pose for a single, terrible second, the claws vibrating with suppressed fury inches from her sister's uninjured side. Then, she violently withdrew them with a sharp SCREEEECH.

She did not look at her crew. She did not look back at the terrified face of Svetlana Shepard. Commander Susan Shepard stalked past the shocked crew and out of the med bay, the rage leaving a vacuum of cold, metallic silence behind her.

Boiling Point

Deck 1: The Commander's Quarters

Ashley didn't hesitate when Shepard stormed out of the med bay. She knew that look—that utter, cold emptiness—was a thin, dangerous shell over a core of white-hot, violent energy. Ignoring Kaidan and Chakwas, she followed the Commander's rapid footsteps to the main access elevator and rode it up to Deck 1, the Commander's private quarters.

Shepard had already entered and Ashley found the cabin door open.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick, humid, and charged with latent energy. Shepard had stripped down to just her black tactical briefs and a sports bra. Her skin was glistening with sweat, not from exertion, but from the massive adrenaline flood driven by her boiling rage. She was pacing back and forth along the length of the cabin, the heavy, rhythmic thud of her footsteps barely audible on the sound-dampened floor, yet Ashley felt the vibration through her own boots.

As soon as Ashley entered, Shepard's head snapped up. Her eyes—usually a soft, clear blue—were focused on Ashley with the intensity of a laser beam, terrifying in their vacant, predatory focus.

Ashley stopped dead in the airlock, keeping a safe distance, her heart hammering against her ribs. She kept her voice low, worried, and used the anchor word.

"Sue? What's wrong? What's happening?"

Shepard stopped pacing, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her voice was a low, strained rattle, raw with fear and the effort of control.

"It's boiling, Ash," Shepard whispered, gesturing vaguely at her chest and limbs. "My blood. It's calling for me to cut and destroy. The adrenaline, the fury... it's all overloading. I feel like I will explode unless I get release. I'm terrified, Ash. I'm on the brink."

Ashley knew what that meant. The suppression techniques Chakwas taught weren't working against the sheer psychological trauma of confronting Svetlana. Contained, that energy would turn inward, or burst out uncontrollably. It was time for a purge.

Ashley quickly grabbed a pair of dark athletic leggings and a ship-issue synthetic combat shirt from Shepard's locker.

"Put these on. Now," Ashley commanded, her voice firm and decisive, professional command masking her fear. "You need to vent, not explode. We are going to the Simulation Suite."

Shepard’s movements were shaky, uneven, and stiff, but she obeyed the command, pulling on the clothing. Ashley stepped to the comm panel near the door.

"EDI, this is Lieutenant Williams. Activate the Simulation Suite. Seal the area. Clear all adjacent personnel immediately. The Commander needs immediate, absolute privacy for a high-intensity vent."

EDI’s reply was instantaneous and clipped. "Understood, Lieutenant Williams. All personnel are being rerouted from Deck 5. The suite is sealed and soundproofed, Proceed with caution."

The Walk of Tension

They moved swiftly to the main access elevator. The trip from Deck 1 to Deck 5 was excruciatingly tense. Every time the elevator doors opened, the crew—clearly alerted to the situation by EDI's security clearance order—gave them a wide berth, flattening themselves against the bulkheads or quickly diverting their path. They saw not their Commander, but a volatile, super-heated weapon being escorted by her partner.

Shepard leaned against the back wall of the elevator, her skin still glistening beneath the synthetic fabric. She was concentrating solely on Ashley's presence, the quiet, steady strength of her partner the only thing keeping the laser-intensity of her focus from breaking.

When they reached Deck 5, they hurried through the shuttle bay toward the heavy, reinforced door of the simulation suite, its soundproofing designed to contain the noise of heavy weaponry and biotics.

Ashley paused at the airlock door. She looked at Shepard, whose face was a mask of effort, her eyes clouded with the effort of holding back the imminent eruption. Ashley knew this was the last moment of peace.

She gently lifted her hand and pressed a quick, firm kiss on Shepard’s sweat-sheened cheek.

"Let it loose, Sue," Ashley whispered, her voice rough with affection and steel. "My Lioness. Purge the rage. Don't fight it—direct it. I'll be right here."

Ashley then activated the omni-tool, quickly inputting the highest combat intensity program she could select. The door hissed open, revealing the dark, waiting expanse of the training grid.

Ashley stepped out, turning quickly to reseal the door. Just as the soundproof hatch slid shut, she heard it—the sudden, guttural, earth-shaking ROAR of her lover giving into the engineered fury.

It was immediately followed by the terrifying, familiar Shuck! sound of the adamantium claws snapping out. The rage had found its release.

The Purge and the Plan

Deck 5: The Aftermath

Twelve hours later, the heavy door of the simulation suite whooshed open.

Commander Susan Shepard stumbled out of the training grid. She was absolutely exhausted, her tremendous strength momentarily depleted not by lactic acid, but by the relentless, sustained energy drain of the nanites maintaining maximum output. Her body was thoroughly sheened with sweat, and she was gasping for breath, the hyper-efficient lungs working furiously to draw oxygen, not because they needed it, but because the central nervous system demanded the sensation of a true physical exertion after hours of synthetic warfare.

The walls of the simulation chamber were scarred and gouged with long, unmistakable claw marks, a silent testament to the violence of her release.

Ashley stepped up immediately, her expression a mix of profound relief and concern. She threw a thick, soft towel around Shepard's shoulders, absorbing the sweat, and gently helped guide her toward the nearby elevator.

Deck 1: Quiet Recovery

The ride up to Deck 1 was silent, save for Susan's labored breathing. Ashley kept a supportive arm around her waist, providing a steady anchor. She looked closely at Susan's face. Her eyes, though visibly tired and rimmed with fatigue, were clear and lucid. The terrifying, predatory intensity was gone. The rage had been successfully purged from her system.

They reached the private quarters. Ashley gently placed a soft, reassuring kiss on her cheek. "You did good, Sue. You brought the beast to heel."

Shepard only managed a weak nod in response. Ashley guided her toward the utilitarian shower unit in the ensuite.

"Shower. Sleep. Don't worry about anything," Ashley murmured, her voice warm but firm.

While the sound of running water filled the cabin, Ashley moved to the secure comms panel near the bed. She slipped instantly back into her role as First Officer.

"EDI," Ashley spoke quietly into the panel. "Report. The Commander has successfully vented. The Simulation Suite is free and requires immediate environmental and structural maintenance. The Commander will be sleeping for at least six hours. I need you to inform Lieutenant Commander Kaidan Alenko that I require him to meet me in the War Room in exactly 20 minutes. It's time to build the target package."

"Affirmative, Lieutenant Williams. Commencing simulator maintenance report and relaying meeting request to Lieutenant Commander Alenko. Do you require any non-essential monitoring for the Commander?" EDI asked.

"Negative," Ashley replied. "She's safe now. Just privacy."

Ashley cut the connection. The adrenaline from the last 24 hours finally catching up, she quickly stripped off her armour weave outer uniform and ran a hand through her hair. The time for emotion was over; now it was time for strategy. They had the map and the target list, courtesy of Svetlana. It was time to choose where to hit Cerberus first.

Twenty minutes later, Ashley left the sleeping Commander, pulled her uniform back on, and headed for the elevator, ready to put the captured intelligence to use.

The Blockade and the Brig

Deck 2: The Strategic Impasse

Twenty minutes later, Ashley Williams walked into the War Room. Kaidan Alenko was already there, leaning over the console, reviewing the raw data Svetlana had provided: names of compromised admirals, Cerberus operatives (Lawson and Taylor), and a list of known facilities. Lieutenant James Vega stood near the Galaxy Map, looking grimly serious.

Ashley took command of the meeting, her focus clear and professional.

"Alright, let's get organized," Ashley said, nodding a quick thanks to Kaidan for being prepared. "The Commander is resting. She needs it. But the clock is ticking on Svetlana's intel."

Kaidan immediately brought up the most pressing issue. "We need to address the Hackett situation before Susan wakes up. We've confirmed several high-ranking flag officers are compromised—including a Vice Admiral. We know Cerberus is watching Hackett. If we wait too long, they might silence him."

Vega, surprisingly, weighed in with a tactical perspective. "Commander's point about reporting, sir, that makes sense. She's the highest-ranking officer. But the minute she contacts Hackett, our stealth is gone. We become Alliance targets, not just Cerberus targets. We need to decide if we warn him or if we hit Cerberus hard enough that Hackett realizes he needs us."

Ashley ran a hand over her temple, considering the conflicting duties. "Susan is right that reporting high treason is mandatory. But her life is too valuable to risk on a coin toss. Our current duty is to eliminate the threat that created her. If we warn Hackett, Svetlana's list of compromised facilities is instantly useless."

"So, what's the mutual agreement?" Kaidan asked, looking between Ashley and Vega.

Ashley met his gaze. "We proceed with intelligence-gathering and hitting the targets. But we don't contact Hackett. Not yet. When Susan wakes up, she'll have the final call, but we give her a target package first. We don't ask her to risk the ship on a hunch; we ask her to risk the ship on a tactical necessity."

Vega nodded. "Agreed. We need more than just names."

Sector Denial

"Good," Ashley confirmed. "Then let's find our first target. Kaidan, run a cross-reference on Svetlana's list of mobile lab ships against current Alliance sector surveillance. We need to locate one of those ships now."

Kaidan activated the console, sending a localized request to EDI. "EDI, cross-reference known Cerberus facility designations—'Project Phoenix Alpha,' 'Valkyrie R&D'—against regional star maps. Focus on the local sector tracking satellites—anything within two jumps of Arcturus."

EDI’s holographic sphere shimmered into existence near the map. "Request acknowledged, Lieutenant Commander. Attempting to access regional sector satellite array 4.2..."

A few seconds later, EDI's voice returned, carrying a rare note of synthetic surprise. "Access request refused, Lieutenant Commander. My attempts to query the local sector tracking arrays are being rejected with an internal command code usually reserved for Alliance Special Forces Command assets."

Ashley and Kaidan exchanged a sharp glance.

"Svetlana's compromised Admirals are still active," Ashley concluded, her voice low. "They didn't just sell out to Cerberus; they locked down Alliance intel systems to protect their research ships."

"So much for using local surveillance," Kaidan muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "They're effectively blindfolding the entire Alliance region to protect the Cerberus assets."

Ashley returned to the War Map. "Fine. Then we rely on Svetlana's ground intel. James, pull up the coordinates for the Ares Cluster—the planet Marrat. Svetlana mentioned a heavily defended prototype staging facility there. If we can't find their ships, we'll hit their headquarters."

Vega pulled the data. "Plotting Marrat now, Commander. It’s deep in the Traverse. Heavily defended by Cerberus ground troops, not Alliance."

Ashley nodded, her resolve hardening. "That's good. We want Cerberus, not Alliance blood on our hands. EDI, plot the fastest, most covert course to Marrat in the Ares Cluster. Maximum stealth and acceleration. Kaidan, use the next six hours to reinforce our digital security. They know Svetlana is gone; we need to assume they are coming for us."

"Course plotted, Lieutenant Williams. Estimated arrival in 40 hours," EDI confirmed.

Deck 3: The Prisoner

With the course set and the ship secured, Ashley handed off watch to Kaidan. She knew she had one more critical task before resting: understanding the depth of the betrayal.

She took the elevator down to Deck 3 and entered the Med bay. The two Alliance marines nodded to her as she approached Svetlana's bed. The Admiral was awake, her face pale, the IV drip in her arm stabilizing the localized painkiller.

Ashley pulled up a chair and sat directly facing her, her posture relaxed but radiating absolute, controlled intensity.

"The Normandy is on course to eliminate the Cerberus assets you listed, Admiral," Ashley stated, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the few crew members sleeping in the nearby bunk room. "But before we get there, I need an answer to a question only you can give."

Svetlana merely raised a single, arrogant eyebrow, despite her vulnerability. "Ask, Lieutenant. You've already done your worst."

"No, Admiral. I haven't," Ashley corrected, leaning slightly forward. "And the reason I haven't is because I still believe in the Alliance. And I still believe in my Commander. I need to know why. Why would you—a flag officer who swore an oath—betray the Alliance to Cerberus? And how could you, her own flesh and blood, choose Susan? To have her mutilated, tortured, and turned into a weapon?"

Svetlana’s composure finally fractured, a flicker of genuine guilt crossing her features, quickly replaced by a cold, intellectual defence

"You don't understand, Lieutenant Williams. I didn't betray the Alliance. I was saving it," Svetlana hissed. "The Systems Alliance is stagnant. We are weak. Project Phoenix was designed to create the perfect counter-threat. My sister is Extraordinary. She was always meant for greatness, and I provided the opportunity. I simply codified her destiny."

"Her destiny was to be a leader, Svetlana, not a set of claws!" Ashley countered, struggling to keep her anger contained. "She saw her friends die because of your program! She is suffering from rage and trauma because you put adamantium in her bones! You did this out of cold arrogance, not allegiance."

Svetlana gave a bitter, sharp laugh. "Arrogance? Or necessity? You believe your oath, Lieutenant. I believe in results. And now look at her: she’s an unstoppable force. You saw what she did on Arcturus. She can't be contained. She can't be defeated. She is the future of humanity, and I had to break a few rules—and a few bones—to ensure that future arrived."

Ashley stood up, her jaw clenched. She looked at Svetlana with profound disgust, realizing the woman was not only unrepentant but proud of her actions.

"You are not a savior, Admiral," Ashley said, her voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "You are just a scientist who broke her oath and broke her sister. Enjoy your stay in the med bay. You'll be coming with us to Marrat."

Ashley didn't wait for a response. She turned and strode out of the medbay, leaving the Admiral alone with her pride and her guards. The decision was sealed. They were hitting Cerberus, and they were taking Svetlana with them to watch the demolition of the future she had created.

The Watcher in the Dark

The door to the Commander’s cabin hissed shut, sealing out the hum of the ship and the heavy political gravity of the situation below decks. The lights were dimmed to a low, amber standby, casting long, soft shadows across the room.

Ashley Williams didn't go straight to the bed. Instead, she moved quietly to the leather sofa in the sunken seating area, dropping down onto it with a heavy sigh. She scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to wipe away the image of Svetlana’s arrogant, unrepentant face.

From her vantage point, she could see the sleeping loft. Shepard lay tangled in the sheets, her breathing deep but occasionally hitching. The sheer physical exhaustion of the simulation purge had knocked her out, but Ashley knew the mind didn't shut down as easily as the body.

Ashley sat there, watching the woman she loved, while the echo of Svetlana’s voice played on a loop in her head, poisoning the quiet.

“She is the future of humanity… I simply codified her destiny.”

The words twisted in Ashley’s gut. Svetlana spoke of Susan as if she were a dreadnought or a kinetic barrier—an asset to be upgraded, not a human being with a soul. Ashley looked at Shepard’s sleeping form. She didn't see a "future" or a "weapon." She saw Susan. She saw the woman who liked bad vid-films, who hated diplomatic dinners, and who had just screamed in agony for twelve hours to stop herself from hurting the people she loved.

Ashley’s gaze drifted to Shepard’s hand, resting atop the duvet. Even in the dim light, Ashley imagined she could see the heavy density of the bones beneath the skin, the dormant silver claws waiting in the knuckles.

“You believe in your oath… I believe in results.”

Fear, cold and sharp, spiked in Ashley’s chest. It wasn't fear of Susan—she had faced the Lioness in the gym and held her ground—it was fear for her. What kind of future could they have if the Alliance saw her as a piece of hardware? If Hackett, or the Council, or Cerberus decided she was too dangerous to be free? Svetlana had opened a door that couldn't be closed. Susan was "permanent."

A soft, distressed sound from the bed broke Ashley’s brooding.

Shepard shifted violently, her head tossing to the side. Her brow furrowed, a deep crease of pain appearing between her eyes. Her lips moved, forming silent, frantic words.

“No… don’t… stop…”

The nightmare. The Architect was back.

Ashley moved instantly. She stood up, shedding the heavy weight of her concerns along with her uniform. She unbuckled her belt, letting her fatigue pants and jacket drop to the floor, leaving them where they lay. This wasn't a time for military precision; it was a time for comfort.

Clad only in her undershirt and briefs, Ashley climbed the short stairs to the sleeping loft. She moved carefully, sliding under the duvet without waking the thrashing Commander.

The heat radiating off Shepard was intense—the metabolic furnace of the adamantium skeleton still running hot. Ashley pressed her body against Susan’s back, wrapping an arm securely around her waist, pulling her close. The difference in density was unnerving; holding Susan now felt like holding a statue wrapped in warm silk, solid and immovable.

Shepard whimpered, her muscles tensing as if bracing for an impact or an injection.

Ashley leaned in, pressing her lips right against Susan’s ear. She kept her voice pitched low, a steady, grounding rumble meant to cut through the terror of the dream.

“Shh, Sue. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Shepard flinched, a low growl starting in her throat—a defensive reflex.

Ashley didn't pull away. She tightened her hold, her hand splayed flat over Shepard’s heart, feeling the powerful, steady thrum of it. She stroked the damp skin of Susan’s stomach, her touch feather-light but constant.

“It’s just a dream, Lioness. You’re on the Normandy. You’re in our bed. Svetlana can’t touch you here. I’ve got the watch. You can rest.”

The familiar scent of Ashley, the warmth of her skin, and the cadence of her voice began to penetrate the nightmare. The tension in Shepard’s rigid frame slowly began to unspool. The frown smoothed out, and the defensive growl faded into a soft, ragged sigh.

Shepard turned in her sleep, instinctively seeking the heat, and buried her face in the curve of Ashley’s neck. Her heavy arm draped over Ashley, pinning her down with unintentional force, but Ashley didn't mind. It felt like an anchor.

“Safe,” Shepard mumbled, the word barely intelligible, before her breathing deepened, returning to the slow rhythm of true sleep.

Ashley lay there in the dark, one hand absentmindedly stroking Susan’s hair. The worries about the future—about the Alliance, the rage, and the war—were still there, hovering at the edge of her mind. But for now, in the circle of their shared warmth, the fear receded.

Her eyelids grew heavy. The rhythmic thrum of the ship’s drive core and the steady beat of Susan’s heart merged into a lullaby. Ashley whispered one last promise into the darkness.

“I won’t let them take you, Sue. Not ever.”

Moments later, her breathing evened out, matching Shepard’s, as sleep finally claimed them both.

The Breakfast Briefing

Deck 1: A Moment of Peace

Commander Susan Shepard woke slowly, the deep, restorative sleep a rare luxury afforded by the complete purge of rage. The soft, slightly floral scent of Ashley's skin and hair filled her nose, a powerful, gentle anchor to reality. A faint, contented smile touched her lips, and she gently nuzzled into Ashley's form beside her, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh.

But the reprieve was fleeting. The harsh mistress of duty, dressed in the memory of Svetlana’s cold scientific gaze, dug its claws into her consciousness, prodding until she could no longer ignore it.

Shepard carefully slipped out of bed, leaving Ashley sleeping deeply, undisturbed. She quickly moved to the ensuite, washed the lingering tension from her skin, and changed into a fresh set of Alliance fatigues. Before leaving, she poured a glass of water and placed it on the bedside table. She found a datapad stylus and quickly scribbled a note on a small paper slip, pressing a soft kiss near the message before placing it by the glass:

Thank you, my guardian angel. Sleep, for you have earned it. Love you, your Sue.

She exited the cabin, the secure door hissing shut behind her.

Deck 3: Strategy Over Porridge

Shepard hit the elevator down to Deck 3, the crew deck, bypassing the Med bay entirely. She immediately used the internal comms panel.

"EDI, request Lieutenant Commander Kaidan Alenko join me in the crew mess."

The Crew Dining Area was quiet at this early hour. Shepard grabbed a strong, black coffee and a bowl of nutrient-rich porridge from the dispenser. She sat at a corner table with her back to the wall, eating with the focused efficiency of someone running on a severe calorie deficit. She was already on her second bowl when Kaidan dropped into the seat opposite, carrying his own breakfast of toast and coffee.

Concern was etched around his eyes, despite the fresh, clean shave. He slid a secure datapad across the table toward her before speaking.

"Morning, Commander. How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Shepard replied, her voice firm and clear. "Ready to get to work."

She picked up the datapad, her eyes scanning the Target Package they had put together for Marrat, integrating Svetlana's facility coordinates, estimated Cerberus troop numbers, and environmental specifics. She nodded slowly, approving the tactical analysis.

"Marrat is going to be messy," she stated simply, putting the pad down.

Kaidan took a bite of his toast. "Yes, but unavoidable if we want to get our point across. We need to hit them where they keep their secrets."

Shepard took a long pull of her coffee, her gaze focusing on the unresolved political problem.

"Hackett," she said, the name a blunt statement of fact.

Kaidan shifted uncomfortably. "Commander, in my opinion, it's too risky. For him."

Shepard opened her mouth to argue, but Kaidan quickly held up a hand, his gaze intensely serious. "Just let me finish, please."

Shepard clamped her mouth shut and nodded sharply, giving him the floor.

"Susan," Kaidan began, using her first name—a deliberate, rare signal of the immense importance of his point. "You know Hackett. Once he finds out what's going on, he will not stop pushing, digging, and going after the infiltration. And unlike when he was commanding the Normandy and you were in his direct sight, we won't be able to stop it if Cerberus decides to get rid of him. We need him alive, and we need him clean, working from the inside."

Kaidan tapped a button on the datapad, bringing up a profile: Colonel Alec Ryder.

"We use the encrypted Special Forces network," Kaidan continued, explaining the compromise. "Ryder is a former N7 operative, running the strategic planning office, reporting directly to Hackett. He’s trusted, he's quiet, and he’s known for compartmentalization. He's in a perfect position to get a secure, coded word to Hackett without putting the Admiral in the crosshairs, and he can act as a shield and a channel for us."

Shepard took another slow pull of her coffee, her eyes fixed on the icy blue gaze in Alec Ryder's profile picture. She remembered the man well: the N7 instructor who had relentlessly pushed her beyond what she thought she could endure in training, always demanding more, always expecting the impossible. She remembered the warm, solid handshake as he presented her with her qualification pins.

The silence felt like an age, the only sound the gentle whirring of the cycler.

Finally, Shepard put down her mug and met Kaidan's relieved eyes.

"You're right," she conceded, the acceptance heavy but decisive. "The goal is to dismantle Cerberus, not risk Alliance leadership. Ryder gets the warning."

Both officers rose, deposited their breakfast crockery in the cycler, and headed for the elevator, the weight of their rogue mission now firmly fixed on their shoulders.

The Marrat Gauntlet

Deck 2: War Room Finalization

Shepard and Kaidan entered the War Room, where Ashley, having clearly been woken by EDI's system alert, was already reviewing sensor logs. She looked refreshed, her focus renewed, though a faint, lingering worry remained in her eyes.

"Welcome back, Commander," Ashley greeted, her expression professional. "I see Kaidan won the strategic argument."

"He did," Susan confirmed. "We send a coded warning to Ryder, but the strike comes first. What's the final plan for Marrat?"

Kaidan brought up the holographic display of the Ares Cluster, focusing on the desolate planet. "Marrat is a staging area. The facility is buried deep in a canyon system, protected by four shield generators and heavy automated defenses. Svetlana confirmed that the primary prototype testing—the source code for the nanite triggers—is stored there."

Ashley pointed to the projection. "Our approach uses the Normandy's stealth systems to get us into high orbit. We take the Kodiak in, covertly, with four operatives: you, me, Kaidan, and Vega. Our primary objective is to get the source code and destroy the research data. Secondary objective: eliminate all Cerberus field leadership, including Jacob Taylor, who Svetlana confirmed is running ground security."

Shepard studied the map, her posture shifting from command to predatory analysis. "The defences are automated. Standard N7 tactics won't cut it. We need a fast, decisive surgical strike."

"That's where the adamantium asset comes in," Ashley stated, looking directly at Susan, using the detached term to emphasize the tactical necessity. "We can't rely on sustained suppressing fire. We need to bypass the outer defences You are the only one who can survive a direct, high-kinetic assault on that shield complex."

Kaidan nodded grimly. "We create a diversion on the east flank. Commander, you use your reinforced mass and speed to get inside the shield perimeter before they can react. You gut the primary shield generator while we hold the line. It's high risk, but it's the fastest way in."

Susan stared at the projected image of the complex, recognizing the terrifying, brilliant logic of the plan. It demanded she use the very weapon Svetlana created for the precise purpose of destroying Svetlana's work.

"Marrat is where we define who gets to control the future," Susan stated, her voice quiet but absolute. She met Ashley's eyes. "I approve the plan. Ashley, you’re coming with me. Your voice is the override. Kaidan, you and Vega handle tactical support and defence"

She looked at the projected target. "This is no longer about recovery. It's about demolition. Let's go give Cerberus a taste of their own engineering."

The SSV Normandy SR-2 began its long, silent journey toward the heavily fortified Ares Cluster, carrying a Commander who was finally ready to unleash the weapon within her.

New Armour 

In the dimly lit shuttle bay, the air was thick with the smell of recycled air and the faint, ozone scent of charged mass effect fields. The UT-47 Kodiak drop shuttle hummed with a low, steady vibration as it completed its pre-flight warm-up sequence, the red internal lights casting long, flickering shadows.

Lieutenant James Vega and Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko stood near the rear of the shuttle, focused and professional. Kaidan, his biotics amp already glowing with a faint blue light at his temple, was checking the environmental seals on the neck and wrist joints of Vega’s heavy Alliance armour, Vega, ever the stoic soldier, stood patiently, then turned to reciprocate, his large hands surprisingly nimble as he verified the integrity of Kaidan’s lighter, biotic-focused suit.

A few feet away, Commander Susan Shepard was going through her own ritual. She was dressed in a unique, custom-fitted N7 armour suit. It was lighter than standard-issue heavy armour. incorporating flexible, articulated ceramic plating over a ballistic mesh underlay, designed to allow for maximum mobility without sacrificing protection. The iconic red and white N7 stripe ran down her right arm. She stretched, twisting her torso and flexing her limbs, ensuring there were no snags or hitches in the armour's movement. Satisfied, she tapped a control on her forearm, and the personal shield emitter plates on her chest, shoulders, and back flared to life with a brief, shimmering blue energy field before settling into an invisible, protective hum.

She had just reached for a pair of worn leather hand wraps, intending to bind her hands as she always did before a mission, when Ashley Williams approached from the armoury station. Ashley’s face was bright with a mischievous, excited grin. She held a sleek, black reinforced case in her hands.

“Surprise, honey,” Ashley said, her voice warm with affection and anticipation.

Kaidan and Vega stopped what they were doing and looked over, their expressions a mix of curiosity and bemusement. Shepard paused, a puzzled look on her face, and took the box from Ashley. She undid the clasps and lifted the lid.

Inside, resting on custom molded, high-density foam padding, was a pair of modified N7 gauntlets. They were a thing of lethal beauty. Crafted from a dark, matte-finish alloy, they were more armoured than standard gloves, featuring reinforced plating over the knuckles and the back of the hand. The N7 logo was subtly engraved on the wrist guard.

Shepard reached in and lifted one out. It felt surprisingly light yet incredibly dense. A genuine, lopsided smile spread across her face, softening her features and making her look years younger, the weight of command momentarily lifted.

Ashley’s grin widened into a full, radiant smile at seeing her partner’s obvious delight. “The armoury team has been working on these for you for a while,” she explained, her eyes shining. “They finally sorted out the last snags with the deployment mechanism. Try them on.”

Susan nodded, her movements almost reverent as she worked her hand into the right gauntlet. The interior was lined with a comfortable, sweat-wicking material that molded perfectly to her hand. She clipped the wrist seal to her forearm armour, the connection locking with a satisfying click. She gently flexed her fingers, the articulated plating moving seamlessly with her. She looked up at Ashley with a raised, questioning eyebrow, silently asking if she should test the main feature.

Ashley nodded enthusiastically. “Deploy your blades, Sue.”

Shepard made a fist and focused her will. With the distinctive shuck-shuck-shuck sound of metal sliding on metal, three razor-sharp, adamantium blades extended from concealed ports in the gauntlet’s knuckle plating. They gleamed menacingly in the shuttle bay light, each one a foot long. As she retracted them with a mental command, the ports sealed seamlessly behind them, leaving the gauntlet looking like a standard piece of armour once more.

Susan looked up at Ashley, her eyes filled with an intense mixture of gratitude and love. With surprising passion, she dropped the gauntlet case, grabbed Ashley by the shoulders, and pulled her in for a deep, hungry kiss. Ashley responded instantly, wrapping her arms around Susan’s neck, the two of them momentarily lost in their own world amidst the pre-mission preparations.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Susan panted out, her forehead resting against Ashley’s, “Thank you, my darling.” She took a deep breath, her voice thick with emotion. “I need to thank the rest of the armoury team when we get back.”

Ashley nodded, her cheeks flushed. She picked up the empty gauntlet case and set it aside, then grabbed her own M-8 Avenger assault rifle from a nearby rack, checking the heat sink. “Nearly time to launch,” she said, her voice returning to its professional tone, though her eyes still held a soft glow.

Shepard nodded and pulled on the second matching gauntlet, securing it with the same practiced ease. Ashley watched with a sense of pride and apprehension as Shepard completed her loadout. She attached a pair of compact M-9 Tempest submachine guns to magnetic holsters on her thigh plates. Then, she reached for a heavily modified M-23 Katana shotgun, its barrel shortened and stock reinforced, and secured it to the magnetic lock on her backplate.

Kaidan and Vega exchanged a nervous glance as Shepard added a final, ominous touch: a pouch filled with high-explosive grenades, which she clipped to her belt. She was a walking arsenal, a force of nature encased in armour and determination.

Shepard looked at her team, her expression hardening into the familiar mask of command. “Let’s move,” she said, her voice calm and unwavering.

Without another word, she turned and strode toward the shuttle, her armoured boots ringing with a heavy, rhythmic cadence on the metal deck plates. Ashley, Kaidan, and Vega followed close behind, their faces grim and determined, ready to follow their Commander into whatever hell awaited them on Marrat.