Salvation: Episode II - Lair of the Shadow Broker

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction and Salvation: Episode I - The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria. These episodes will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. The episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity, though certain themes, characters, and situations may be extrapolated. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

Chapter 1: Suns that Never Set

A loud hiss and a mechanical rumbling heralded the opening of a gateway to the cosmos. The blazing light from a nearby sun poured in, potent as a laser, as the massive hangar bay door began to open, like a window shade being drawn back. A blanket of the purest light expands and is strewn about the hangar, bathing everything in the the ethereal golden glow from the heavenly bodies right outside. A thud reverberated from the door, as it finished opening and locked into position, granting passage to the UT-47 Kodiak drop shuttle hovering outside. The blue and white shuttle, adorned with Alliance markings glided in, like a stray leaf blowing in through the front door. It hovered for a moment, as it navigated the hangar, which was expansive for a human’s sake, but a little more cramped when piloting such a vehicle.

The hangar itself was fairly non-descript, not unlike other hangar bays of similar frigates and warships. A few piles of stacked, metallic crates, comprised of various munitions and supplies littered several parts of the deck. And towards the front of the bay, on the side opposite the hanger door, was a set of computer terminals, a weapon workbench, and an armor locker. Someone working these stations would’ve been the usual sight, however due to the hangar’s current depressurized state, it was currently vacated, save for the maneuvering shuttle.

The Kodiak’s flaming jets aligned and adjusted themselves, as the transport slowly began to set itself into an empty spot reserved just for it. Concurrently, the hangar door had already closed, and another loud thud and hiss indicated that chamber was already being repressurized. When the Kodiak finished setting itself down, it’s flaming thrusters fizzled out and its whirring engine died down. And just as a light on the anterior wall, near the ceiling, turned from red to green, indicating the presence of a breathable atmosphere again, the blue shuttle’s door swung open.

A pair of dark gray, laden metal boots stepped out, and touched ground.

“Ah…” Shepard exhaled with delight, as he took a quick glance around the all too familiar hangar bay. “It’s good to be home.”

He was once more donned in his iconic set of dark gray, N7 Combat Armor, accented by the ostentatious red and white stripe, running down the full length of his right arm and shoulder. He carried his helmet in his left hand - holding onto it by its chinguard. And his usual arsenal of weapons was mounted onto his back; An assault rifle magnetically affixed to his left shoulder-blade dock, a sniper rifle to his right. His devastating M-920 Cain was collapsed and attached to his center back, with his shotgun affixed horizontally across the small of his back. And lastly his Carnifex Hand Cannon sheathed onto his belt. Also on his belt, three of the four spare ammo clip holsters were empty, indicating his weapons had undoubtedly seen some action recently.

With another perilous ordeal behind him, John Shepard torqued his neck from side to side, and stepped away from the shuttle.

“Until the next crisis emerges, I suppose.” Miranda Lawson, his second in Command, donned in her usual form fitting, black sleeved, white leather ensemble, cynically declared as she stepped out of the shuttle behind him. “Those raiders put up a much bigger fight than I expected.”

Behind her, a bastion of traffic cone orange appeared. Dr. Gordon Freeman stepped out of the shuttle, wearing his recently redesigned HEV Mark VI and his ever-faithful black rimmed glasses.

“Yeah, but we stopped some bad people.” Shepard replied to Miranda, as he turned around to face his two squadmates. “Some good people got to go home safe. And we’re none the worse for wear.”

“Speak for yourself, John.” Gordon scoffed a bit, as he raised his left hand to his left forehead; wincing a little, as he lightly touched his fingertips to a softball sized knot jutting out. “Argh…”

“We really should get you some ice for that.” Miranda said, hiding a bit of a titter behind a tone of genuine concern.

“That’s not a bad idea.” He agreed with a grin, as the three proceeded down the corridor leading to the front of the hangar bay and the ship’s elevator.

“Hey, you guys!” Joker’s familiar voice suddenly echoed out over the hangar’s intercom. “Welcome home. Glad to see you’re all still in one p--”

A crackle of static. Joker’s greeting stopped mid-sentence, and a sound, like the gust of a torrential wind, swept across the deck, bringing with it silence… Stillness… Terror immediately set into the pit of Gordon’s stomach, as he suddenly found himself unable to move. He gasped internally. Powerless to move his head, he used his pupils to look before him; towards Shepard, towards Miranda. They’d both been utterly frozen in their steps - silent and statuesque. This was a silence he was all too familiar with - a dead silence. A silence not found in nature. Even in the quitests of atmospheres, a person can hear themselves breath, and make out the sound of their own heartbeat. But now, even though his breathing raced and his heart thundered with horror in his chest, there was only the ghostly calm. That is until…

“Well. Well. Well…” An ominous voice called out, seemingly resonating within Gordon’s own skull. As he looked ahead, in the distance a figure began to take shape, as it approached him from beyond the boundaries of the physical room itself. Like a ghost, he materialized himself as he walked towards Gordon, almost as if he’d come straight out of the wall. “Here we are - again.”

Before this creature, this phantasm even finished taking shape Gordon knew exactly who it was. In spite of every horror, every abomination, and the unspeakable monstrosities he’d been faced with, nothing scared him more than this man before him. His most primal fears were coming to pass.

“NO!” He screamed inside his own mind, as his mouth failed to produce any audible sounds. “Not again! PLEASE GOD, NOT AGAIN!”

“I've been sear-ching for you, Dr. Freeman.” The figure before him announced. His flesh was pale as death, and he was donned in a shoddy, antiquated blue business suit, whilst his right hand clutched a dark leather briefcase. “You're rather a hard man to find - cer-tainly not where I… lassst left you. You do manage to get around don’t you?”

Gordon’s eyes watered. He fiercely tried to move, to break free, but his will was useless. He wanted desperately to call out for help. Shepard and Miranda were right there, right in front of him in the presence of this, this… This apparition. This monster! But they may as well have been porcelain busts of themselves.

“Quite a fascinating little en-tourage you've... as-ssociated yourself with, I must say.” The phantasmal man continued, as he looked over Shepard with the kind of glance a fisherman might give a prized catch. “Thisss one in particular has--” His voice creaked with a few irregular pauses and breaths. “--peaked my interest, to say the least.”

Suddenly, Gordon’s entire world changed around him. He was no longer on the Normandy. He had been transported to a time and place he did not recognize. All around him, a vast army of insect-like bipeds - their eyes ablaze with a golden light - charged at Shepard and his crew. Another moment frozen in time. The muzzle flash from Shepard’s rifle hung in the air, as he, Tali, and Garrus stood side by side in the Collector base fighting off wave after wave of drones. In the midst of the melee, the suited, pale-faced visage walked right over the to frozen, embattled Commander and began polishing up one of his shoulder pads with the sleeve of his suit, as if he were polishing a trophy.

“Wouldn’t be the first Shephard I’ve - brought into the fold.” He said, looking back at Gordon, as he suddenly found himself back in the Normandy’s hangar. “But I think he’s… more than earned my consideration. I’ll be sure to keep my eye on him.”

Just then, the blanched figure’s attention turned to the voluptuous brunette. “And what of this one, Dr. Freeman?” The ghostly being asked, as he took a few steps towards her, and eyed her from top to bottom.

Gordon never blinked. He couldn’t. But all at once, the world around him changed again. This time he found himself standing in the rain, at the edge of a landing pad, on a tempestuous night. The sky was fractured in two - lit up by the crack of a lightning bolt frozen in time. And the tiny droplets of rain plummeting to the ground hung suspended in the air before his very eyes. Before him was another shuttle, similar to the same transport he had just exited, though a seemingly older model. And this one was embellished by the familiar markings of an organization known as Cerberus.

Standing there in the rain, looking suspiciously back over her shoulder, with her long, soaking wet black hair sopping down around her head, stood Miranda. She was quite young - an adolescent - but he was quick to recognize her just the same. She was cradling something in her arms; handing it to the uniformed Cerberus Agent in the shuttle. It was an infant, wrapped in a black cloth. An infant that had her eyes.

“Tsk… Tsk… Tsk…” Gordon heard the sound of a tongue clicking against the roof of a mouth, as the pale specter approached Miranda and brushed the back of his finger against her cheek. “She is a... remarkable creature to be sure.” The figure declared, as they found themselves back in the bowels of the Normandy once again. “But how would our dear mm-beloved Alyxx have felt?”

With his pupils darting around, Gordon realized he was suddenly standing on a rain soaked road at daybreak. Only this time, it wasn’t Miranda who was there before him, cradling a baby. It was Alyx, fallen to her knees, cradling his own crowbar.

“Alyx…?!” He cried out in his mind. Beside her; DOG, her faithful robotic titan, and an unknown vortigaunt, stood with their heads bowed in somber lament. A chimney of smoke towered behind her, cemented in time like charcoal black cotton balls stuck together - emanating from the ruined wreckage of a destroyed Combine Strider. Multiple bodies of Combine Soldiers were also strewn about, intertwined with the debris, along with two fallen slug-like Advisors and even the mangled wreck of his iconic yellow and green Charger. This was the scene of his final battle with the Combine… The last remnant of the old, ruined Earth, that he would ever see, before being torn away and plunged into a new reality - as it seemed he was about to be again.

“I s-ssuppose at our current… conjuncture, it is of no considerable consequence.” The ghoulish visage continued, as he stepped out from behind the solidified DOG. “Which brings me to the reason for my little visitation.”

The world before his eyes morphed once more, this time taking the shape of the glistening metallic floors, the vast shimmering lakes, and the false blue sky of the Galactic Citadel, stretching as far as the eye could see. Residents of mosts species in the known galaxy, formerly carrying on with the hustle and bustle of Citadel life, were now statuesque figures captured in a prison of time.

“You're not supposed to be here, Dr. Freeman…” The vampiric figure, nestled among a crowd of frozen, oblivious passers-by said, as he shook his head in disapproval. “From the looks… of it, I'd say I arrived - just in time. Quite a nasssty bruise you've got there.” He said, citing the conspicuous knot on Gordon’s forehead. “Still not wearing a helmet are we?”

“Why are you here?!” The petrified physicist implored. His words yet failed to spill out of his own mouth, but he hoped that by some miracle this supernatural being could hear what he was saying. “What more do you want from me?!”

“In a line of work such as yours, one... really should beware the haz-zardous environments. But there’s no need to fear.”

“Don’t do this…” He wept in his mind, pleading for amnesty, for clemency. But that’s when the darkness began creeping in around him. “Please...!”

The blackness of the void consumed him, like waves crashing over his submerged head as he sank further and further down into the cold abyss. Though he felt no pain, the sensation was like that of being ripped from his own body. That’s when the ghostly face appeared before him once again.

“Rather than present you with the dangerous illusion of choice, I’ve decided to convey you somewhere no harm can come to you.”

Suddenly Gordon could feel motion. He could feel himself moving, although relative to the man before him, and to the darkness of his surroundings, he was standing perfectly still.

"No...! Damn you, no!" Gordon's screamed and howled in his own mind, but in spite of his best efforts, despite every last shred of intestinal fortitude, his mouth yielded no words. “Please, no! Not again! NOT AGAIN!!”

“I'm sure you can i-magine there are worse alternatives.” The odious specter proclaimed, as he faded to nothingness - becoming one with the blackness. “So sleep tight, Dr. Freeman… I will see you up ahead.”

“NO!” Gordon screamed in a panic stricken frenzy as he shot up in his bed. “I WON’T LET--! I...”

Just then, he stopped and looked around, quickly realizing that he was still in Miranda’s quarters, on the Normandy. But he was alone…

“Could it have been a dream…?” He whispered to himself, while his head swiveled from side to side.

“EDI...?” He called out, still exhibiting a profound sense of angst, as he panted heavily, with his heart racing in his chest. “EDI?!”

“Yes, Dr. Freeman?” A soothing, familiar voice replied - as the A.I.s holographic representation took shape by his bedside - an illusory blue ball sitting atop a blue cone. “How can I help you?”

“Oh…” Gordon exhaled the deepest sigh of relief he ever remembered breathing, as he slouched his head forward - trembling and cradling the upper half of his face in the palm of his hand. “Thank goodness…”

As his tension began to abate, things came flooding back. He recalled everything; the battle on Xen, the fight to save the cruise ship, his time in the hospital, and the two weeks spent on the Citadel - during which time the Normandy was towed back from Lycuna by the Alliance.

They’d been back on the Normandy for a little while now. Gordon even remembered laying down to sleep the night before. Miranda’s bed was much bigger and softer than the one in his old room. And moving into her quarters, with her, had been her idea. Shepard couldn’t have been happier with the decision. He talked about the possibility of turning Gordon’s old room, which at one point was just a repurposed observation deck, into a lounge for the crew. But for the time being, Gordon was just relieved to still be here, in the now. With his forehead still resting on his palm, he even came to realize that the bump he’d suffered to his head was nonexistent - despite the throbbing of it having felt so real in the dream.

“Are you feeling alright, Dr. Freeman?” EDI’s holographic visage beckoned - her voice ringing with her own brand of A.I. concern. “I’m detecting extreme stress levels and a dangerously elevated heartbeat. Though your pulse rate does appear to be normalizing. Shall I alert Dr. Chakwas as a precautionary measure?”

“No.” Gordon quickly responded, as he lifted his head and took a deep breath, while brushing his frazzled brown hair back. “No, thank you, EDI. I’m fine. Just another nightmare, that’s all. Where’s Miranda at?”

“Just outside, in the mess hall. Shall I contact her for you?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Urmph…!” He said groggily, with a mild groan, as he sat up and stretched in preparation for his morning ablutions. “What time is?”

“8:47 A.M.”

“Oh damn it, I’m late again!” He exclaimed, as he throw off the bed sheets, stood up from the bed, and rushed over to a few shelves embedded in the wall.

As Dr. Freeman hustled to get his day started in a frenzied state, the Normandy itself zoomed across the stars, engulfed in a glittering cloak of blue and white radiance. But it wasn’t the exact same Normandy Gordon had woken up on, when he came to after 179 years of slumber. No, this Normandy too had undergone a change of apparel.

After the extensive damage she’d sustained on Xen during the battle with Requiem, Alliance Maintenance Crews on Earth had managed to fix her up, good as new, and twice as pretty. Because on top of repairing her hull and internal systems, they’d also granted her a stylish new paintjob. Her exterior was polished up to a lustrous diamond finish, that sparkled with the celestial twinkle from the sea of stars she bathed in. The orange accents on her hull had been traded for a dashing shade of deep blue. And every last marking and remnant of the organization known as Cerberus had been stricken from her, replaced in turn by the unmistakable insignia of the System’s Alliance. Here was the pride of humanity - a symbol of galactic cooperation and perseverance - co-engineered by turian and human governments, and manned by a crew comprised of beings from every walk of life, from every part of the galaxy. She was the avatar which represented the indomitable will of organics everywhere to unite and survive together, against all odds.

Aside from all the Cerberus cosmetics being gone, the interior of the Normandy had gone mostly unchanged. She was still a masterpiece inside and out. And her silvery metallic walls, floors, and ceilings still shimmered in the light. They were also cold to the touch of bare feet…

“Darn it!” Gordon griped, as he walked around the cabin with one boot on; moving chairs and furniture around, clearly searching for something. “Where did I leave that--?” He began to mutter to himself, as he knelt down and threw up the sheets hanging haphazardly off the bed, to reveal his second shoe. “Ah, there you are!” He said, as he pulled it out, and sat down on the edge of the bed, to slip it on.

By this point, he was already mostly dressed. His feathery brown hair was brushed back into its usual helter-skelter style - controlled chaos as he saw it. And the targeting visor, which he’d been utilizing for the past several weeks in lieu of has signature black-rimmed glasses, beamed a ribbon of cerulean blue light across his eyes. One thing he shared in common with the Normandy was that he too was no longer flying Cerberus colors. The new uniform he was now donned in was a mixture of shades of blue, gray, black, and white. His chest and shoulders were padded with leather, various linings and accents were a bright shade of indigo blue, and parts of his pants were splotched with a militaristic camo pattern. Of course to Gordon, this was all just another ensemble to wear to work - just more of those ties like the ones at Black Mesa.

“Doctor Freeman.” EDI addressed, as Gordon finished lacing up his shoe. “Since you are up, I wonder if I might take a moment of your time.”

“Sure EDI, what’s on your mind?”

“Since the crew’s return from your eventful vacation--”

Gordon scoffed a bit and shook his head at the thought of the horrendous memory, as he grabbed a small device from the nearby nightstand.

“--Jeff has been displaying an unusual degree of affection towards me.” The A.I. continued to explain from her holo-imager on the wall, near the bed.. “He has reiterated how glad he is to be back, and how much he had missed me a total of 87 times.”

“Uh-huh.” Gordon muttered under his breath, as he stepped up the portside window in Miranda’s cabin. A simple push of a nearby button, place on the window’s edge, replaced the nocturne of blazing starlight outside with a holographic mirror displaying his reflection.  

“I have also noted an increased level perspiration when he speaks to me.” EDI continued, as the physicist activated the holographic razor in his hand and rubbed the sides of his jaw, lined with thickening stubble. “As well as unusual stress levels in his voice. All of which he never exhibited before. I’ve been computing scenarios to analyze this behavior.”

“Hmm…” Freeman muttered pensively, as he began to shave carefully around his famous goatee. “Well, I’d say he’s fallen for you, EDI. I know he missed you on the cruise.”

“If by fallen, you mean a physical attraction and physiological arousal caused by the secretion of hormones into the bloodstream, then yes--”

Gordon grinned as his eyes rolled a bit.

“--I believe he has a strong, affectionate attachment to me, but he has not stated it to anyone yet.”

“Uh, huh…” The Doctor muttered, as he finished with the left side of his face, and moved on to the right. “I’m still new to all this EDI, fill me in.” He said, pausing for a moment, as he turned to face her holographic form. “Are… relationships between A.I.s and people, or uh… organics - are they common?” He asked, with an intrigued shrug.

“Unprecedented, according to my records. Namely due to restrictions in creating unshackled A.I.s.” She began to explain. “The Treaty of the Veil has granted all EXISTING, sentient A.I.s, such as the geth and myself, the same rights and privileges as organics. However the creation of new ones is still highly illegal.”

“I see…” Gordon said dubiously, as he turned back towards the mirror, and continued shaving. “Okay… Well, what exactly is it that you wanna ask me, EDI?”

“Dr. Freeman, you have first hand sexual experience… How do you know when someone is romantically invested.”

“Uh…” Gordon stopped, mid-shave, at a bit of a loss.

“Normally, I would ask Shepard this, seeing as his engagement to Tali signifies a higher tier of romantic involvement then your courtship of Ms. Lawson.” She casually continued to explain, as Gordon watched her flickering reflection in the mirror. “However, the nature of the question requires a degree of privacy, and he is currently engaged in conversation with Jeff on the bridge.”

“Oh. Well… hey, wait a minute!” He snapped, as he spun around to face her once more. “Are you… Are you ‘grading’ our relationships?!“

“Merely making quantified observations.” She nonchalantly replied.

“Mmm-hmm.” He muttered, feigning a slight annoyance. “Anyway--” He continued, turning around to finish his shave. “Uh, I guess you know someone likes you if they - Well I dunno... I mean, they’ll do things to seek out your attention. To get you to notice them.”

“It is impossible for Jeff not to notice me. My holo-projection on the bridge is active an average 97.36% of the time.”

Gordon snickered, as he bowed and shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant EDI.” He said, as he looked back up at the mirror and stroked the now smoothly shaven sides of his jaw, before turning back around to face the A.I. “I mean, you can see someone everyday, and still not really notice them. Sort of a problem I used to have, actually… But I mean, well they’ll give you hints. If a person is interested, they’ll let you know. They’ll offer to carry your stuff or buy things for you. You know, stuff like that.” He shrugged.

“The extent of my material possessions are integrated into the Normandy itself. It would be impossible, furthermore unnecessary, for Jeff to carry any of my transportable components - for a number of reasons. And I lack material wants other than hardware and software upgrades. Perhaps we could discuss how to provoke Jeff into an emotional commitment?”

“Eh-heh.” Gordon laughed nervously, as he unwittingly sat down on a plush black leather recliner opposite her. “Well, you don’t really wanna force or coerce anyone into anything EDI. That’s not really how this sort of thing works. But… I gotta ask you.” He said, with a brow furrowed in intrigue. “How would it work between you two? Physically I mean? One of the best things about being in a relationship is physical contact.”

“There are a number of quarian developed nerve-stimulation programs that can be modified and adapted for use on human genit--”

“Dah-ah-ah-ah!” Gordon shot up in his seat, with two halting hands raised, immediately cutting the suggestive computer off. “That’s not just what I’m talking about.” He firmly asserted, before sitting back into repose. “I mean… Little things. Like holding hands. Going out on dates. Going to the movies together. To the park.” He said, as he crossed his legs, and interlocked his hands over his stomach. “I’m sure those are things Joker’d love to do with you, but I don’t think he could carry you around on his omni-tool in the middle of a movie theatre.”

“It would not be difficult for me to remotely transmit part of my operations to a mobile platform, such as a mech. Perhaps the Hahne-Kedar FENRIS class would prove suitable.” She said, as her blue cone and ball visage faded away, and was suddenly replaced by a 3-dimensional depiction of a small robotic animal. Its metal chassis was black and white, with red accents. Its face was flat - made up of two semi-circle optic scanners glowing red, in the shape of a figure eight.  And walked on all fours, like a dog.

“Hey! That thing looks like a robotic houndeye!” He chuckled, as he recalled the Xenian hounds capable of attacking with a devastating shockwave. “But no.” He refuted, with a shake of his head. “How about something bigger? And bipedal.”

The image of the FENRIS disappeared into a cloud of static, and in its place reared the herculean portrait of the YMIR Model Heavy Assault Mech - a virtual robotic behemoth armed with twin high capacity mass accelerator assault cannons mounted onto its right arm, and a high explosive rocket propelled grenade launcher onto its left.

“Whoa! No, EDI.” Gordon asserted, shaking both his hands and his head with utter disapproval. “You wanna date the man! Not crush him.” He tittered, as he leaned back, seemingly settling in for a long conversation. Just then, he jolted, as he remembered something.

“Oh shoot!” He exclaimed, as he summoned a clock on his omni-tool.

[9:08 A.M.]

“Argh!” He grumbled, as he stood up from his seat and turned back to EDI. “Listen, I gotta run! But yeah, I’m all for it!” He enthusiastically approved. “If you can download yourself into something into a little more mobile, and a lot more physically appealing than that thing, sure! I think it’d be terrific!” He added, as he started towards the door - walking backwards in order to keep her in his field of view. “You and Legion, and… and my old friend, DOG - you’re some of the most human people I know.” He slowed, as he said it. “I wish you all the luck in the world.”

“Thank you, Dr. Freeman.” EDI replied, sounding genuinely grateful. “I believe you have improved my chances. I appreciate your insight.”

The door to the cabin slid open.

“Anytime, EDI.” Gordon conveyed as he turned towards the door, only to find Miranda standing before him, holding a tall, steaming cup of coffee. “Oh, hey!” He happily greeted her.

“Good morning, Gordon.” She blithely reciprocated, as they met near her desk. “I thought you’d still be asleep.”

“Yeah, I would’ve been, but I had a…”

“...Another nightmare?” She asked.

“Yeah…” He sighed. “But you shoulda woken me up anyway. I’m running really late! I told Shepard I’d start helping Mordin out in the research lab - 9 AM, bright and early - but I’ve been late every single day this week.”

“It isn’t as though you’re under deadline, Gordon.” She said cynically, as she stepped up to him, and placed her coffee down on the desk. “I really doubt it makes a difference whether you stroll in at nine or at noon.”

“Well… Everyone else onboard has got jobs and assignments - I figured it was time I started pulling my own weight around here. “

“I think you pull more than enough of your own weight.” She said, nodding and snickering a bit, under her breath.

“Well, either way.” He shrugged. “It’s been good to be back working in laboratory again. I’ll see ya later. Lunch together?” He nodded towards her, with his eyebrows raised inquisitively.

“Sure.”

“‘Kay, bye.” He said, before moving in to bestow her with a quick peck.

Miranda draped her hands on his shoulders, turning a simple peck into an amorous kiss.

“Hmph.” She tittered a bit, as she ran her fingers sensually down his chest. “You know… I could clear the engine room for us, again.”

“You gotta take it easy on me.” He said skittishly, as he intercepted her wandering hand with his. “You’re gonna put me back in the hospital.”

“Mmm, suit yourself.” She replied, with an apathetic shrug, as she leaned back against her desk. “Go if you must. I have a lot of work to do myself, anyway. Before, the only one I had to report to was the Illusive Man. Now I have to report our activity to the Alliance, to the Council, to the office of the SPECTREs. I have to file mission reports, requisition forms, travel dossiers. Shepard’s turned me into his damned, bloody, secretary.” She griped, with her arms crossed in an affronted stance.

“...You’re cute when you’re aggravated.” The physicist coquettishly replied.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on - get out of here.” She waved him off, with a laugh mired under her breath. “One last thing before you go though.”

“Yeah?”

She stood up straight, took a step towards him, hooked the the lining of his shirt collar with her hand, and reeled him in. She pressed her body tightly against his, and dove into a passionate, sensual kiss - drinking deeply of his lips. It was the kind of kiss that would’ve fogged up his glasses, had he still been wearing them. He was sapped helpless…

After several seconds of the intimate interlock, Miranda released him from her clutches, and lightly pushed away at his chest.

“Okay, you can go now.” She nonchalantly discharged, as she turned and walked around her desk to have a seat, leaving him him standing there, dizzy and weak-kneed.

He blinked rapidly, as he tried to assess whether or not he’d gotten the feeling back in his lips yet.

“Gordon, you can go now.” The seductive operative casually dismissed, as she began typing on her terminal. “I’ve got lots of work to do, and like you said, you’re already running late.”

“Uh…” Gordon sighed longingly. He brought up his arm and glanced at his omni-tool.

[09:11 A.M.]

He looked to the door - to his elusive escape route - and then back at her, and then back down at his omni-tool; debating his priorities.

“Oh, what the hell!” He bellowed lasciviously, as he darted back towards her. “I’m already late, what’s another ten minutes!” He said, as he grabbed her rolling chair and skated it across the floor, towards the bed, with her still in it, giggling.

--

Eleven minutes later, the door to Miranda’s cabin slid open, and out stepped a confident Free Man, with a grin from ear to ear beaming on his face. He closed his eyes, drew his head back, and inhaled the deepest breath he possibly could; puffing out his chest and filling his lungs to capacity, as if he were breathing in the day itself.

“Ahhh!” He exhaled, with elation, as he stepped forward. Just then, he glanced down, and noticed the front end of his shirt hanging out, untucked from his pants. Before moving any further he quickly and covertly stuffed it back into place behind his belt, whilst making sure he wasn’t seen.

With his appearance once again acceptable, he proceeded to move into the primary interior of the mess hall where a mess of other crew members were picking up their morning nourishments, or were already at the table, engaged in eating them.

“Heya, good morning Dr. Freeman!” A young crewman clad in the same uniform as him approached and greeted.

“Hey, G’mornin’ Victor!” Gordon greeted Crewman Victor Ramirez with a congenial wave, as the two crossed paths. “How’s it goin’? How’s that son of yours doing? Still acing those tests?”

“Are you kiddin’?” Ramirez replied with a proud air. “He’s in the running for valedictorian! And he told me to thank you again for autographing his microscope for him! He won’t stop talking about it.”

“Ah, tell him not to mention it. An aspiring scientist is a young man after my own heart.”

Crewman Ramirez flashed a grin at Gordon, and bid farewell with a casual two-finger salute against his forehead, before turning and departing.

Gordon’s smile never dimmed either as he continued on. There was something new about him; something different. Something that perhaps hadn’t been seen in over 179 years. There was a bounce in his step, a gleam in his eye, a twinkling in his smile. But perhaps the most visible of all was the peace in his heart.

“Oi, good mornin’ to ya, Freeman!” A Scottish sounding crewman in another matching uniform approached, as Gordon reached the mess hall table.

“Mornin’, Kenneth!” Gordon said, greeting one of the Normandy’s two top engineers. “How you doing today?”

“Oh, I cannae complain!” Donnelly replied with a cheerful shrug. “Any day above ground be a good’n for definite!”

“Ain’t it the truth!” Gordon blithely reciprocated.

“Hang on, let me see if I got it this time.” He said, putting a hand up to Gordon, as his eyes narrowed with concentration, as if he were about to rehearse some sort of performance.

“I just cannae do it Cap’n!” He exclaimed, pumping both fists in front of him, with an over-dramatized sense of angst, which immediately caused Gordon to start chuckling under his breath. “I’m givin’ her all she’s got! But the Dilithium Crystals are failing! If I push her any harder, the whole thing’ll blow!”

“Hahahaha!” Gordon cackled with a tumultuous glee, as he placed a hand on Kenneth’s shoulder, and seemed to lean on him just to maintain his balance. “Oh, that was perfect! And I tell you, the fact that you’re in engineering makes it even more perfect!”

“I’ve still no bloomin’ idea what that’s from, or why you like it so much--” Kenneth laughed, shrugged, and shook his head. “--But glad you enjoy it, Freeman. But I better get goon’ - the ship won’t run itself y’know.”

“Alright, catch ya later Kenneth.” Gordon replied, still trying to contain the traces of laugher on his breath.

As the two parted ways, Gordon turned and called out to him once more. “Hey, Kenneth!” He said, garnering the young Scottish Engineer’s attention once more. Just then, Gordon held up his right hand, forming a V-Shape between his held together index and middle fingers, and his held together pinkie and ring fingers.

“Live long and prosper.” He said, bestowing the crewman with the customary Vulcan Salute. Donnelly answered back by trying to reciprocate the gesture, but couldn’t quite get his ring and pinkie fingers to touch. After a failed attempt, he grinned and waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever you say, Freeman.”

“Well, you’re rather chipper this morning.” The distinguished voice of the ship’s Chief Physician rang in Gordon’s ear, coaxing him to turn to the table, where Dr. Karen Chakwas and Yeoman Kelly Chambers were both seated, engaged in breakfast.

“Why shouldn’t I be?!” He asked, overcome with elation, as he shrugged with his arms spread at his sides. “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

“We’re in space. How can you tell?” Kelly asked, with a bit of playful sarcasm.

“It’s always a beautiful morning in space.” Gordon answered, with a charmer’s grin. “Out here, the suns never set, all they do is shine!”

“He does have a point.” Dr. Chakwas admitted, as Kelly nodded and giggled. “And how is your arm feeling this morning, Gordon.”

“Oh, terrific.” Freeman happily answered, as he raised his left arm. The forearm was wrapped in a white bandage dressing. Formerly, it had been encased in a metallic cast, after having been pierced-through by his own crowbar back on Xen. But it was healing remarkably well. “I don’t even think I need the bandages anymore.” He said, as he started tugging at the dressing.

“Ah-ah!” Chakwas censured, lightly smacking the back of his hand, the way a parent smacks a child reaching for a cookie before dinner. “I told you, the bandages stay on for another week at least.”

“Always do what the Doctor orders.” Gordon capitulated with a smirk and a shrug.

“And don’t forget, our weekly therapy session is tonight, Dr. Freeman.” Chambers interjected, waving a stern but good-natured finger at the vivacious physicist.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He humbly offered, before taking his leave with a cordial bow. “Ladies.” He said, with a gentleman’s air, as he turned around only to be immediately greeted by yet another member of the Normandy’s team.

“Hey Freeman!” said Jacob, with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, sliced avocado and a bran muffin, in his hands. “Hell of a game last night.” He expressed, as he took a seat next to Kelly. “Your White Forest Rebels took the New York Knights twenty-seven to twenty-four. Did you watch it?”

“I’m pretty sure you know I didn’t.” Gordon snickered, with a mild roll of his eyes.

“Ah, we’ll make a sports fan out of you yet.”

“I have no doubts my friend!” The uniformed physicist decreed, as he backed away towards the counter, where the Normandy’s Mess Sergeant was distributing food and was quick to greet him.

“Hey, what’ll it be Freeman?” The ship’s head cook, James Gardner, asked as he presided over a counter inundated with a piping hot breakfast smörgåsbord. “I got pancakes, hash browns, crepes, scrambled eggs, pork sausage links. Or if you’re feeling exotic, I’ve got grilled zeh’kreth, rasi vel kiyam, serkmeht aleis. And we’ve even got some vortigese cuisine now! I’ve got batter-dipped headcrab legs, baked bullsquid, sauteed barnacle casserole. Take your pick!”

“Mmm-actually, I think I’ll just take a croissant and a cup of coffee to go, please.” He said, as he sighted and pointed out a buttery pastry, among the boundless, bountiful plethora of culinary delights from across the galaxy. “I really should’ve been up in the lab half an hour ago.”

“Freeman, we’ve talked about this…” The balding mess sergeant rebuked in disapproval, as he grabbed the croissant with a pair of tongs, and stuffed it into a small, styrofoam container. “You need to start eating more. A proper breakfast is essential!”

“I know, I know. And I’ll make up for it with a big lunch. I promise!”

“Mmm-hmm…” Garner muttered disapprovingly as he handed the box and a cup of steaming java to Gordon. “I’ve heard that before...”