Chapter 12: Day Off Part 1

Jon finished the quick jaunt down to the cargo bay as the Normandy was docking in the Alliance berth on the Citadel. He savored the speed of it, his passive chronometer taking time down to the tenth, another reason he tried so hard to forget it. Every second was agonizing built up over many decades, pushing centuries. His brain damage might have been a boon over the long term, misaligning his very perception of it over the years.

He stepped off and causally called out, “Ashley, Jenkins, you’re up!”

The bay stopped for a moment, then continued on his path to the Mako. They hadn't even gotten to the ablative scapl yet. Garrus was obviously banging around underneath, and Tali was on top with her omni-tool hot, feeding readings. They were both doing heavy maintenance, judging by the grease on her suit.

He got to the side and said, “Tali.”

“Sheppard.”

“Hey Garrus! Hows it going!?”

A another bang, and then a low Turian curse later, he said, “Going! Have to replace the whole damn targeting module, and the mounting brackets! Luckily we’re on the Citadel, unluckily whoever designed this piece of varrenshit didn’t even think about how it all had to go together and come out!”

“Garrus, do you want me to try?” Tali almost too innocently offered.

“No! I can fix this dammit!”

“And my repeater!?”

“Yes! I’m getting there!”

“Alright, you have a day to get it working! Enjoy your shore leave!”

“Miracles! Spirits damned miracles they all want!”

“Garrus, I have smaller hands.” Tali none to innocently offered.

“NO!”

Jon snickered as he walked away. Ashley and Jenkins were just pulling and checking their weapons, getting into their hard suits quickly. Jon was in an even more casual fit than his usual casual. Jeans, a faded shiver shroud shirt made and given to him shortly after Kent managed to get the merchandise side of things up, and a flannel over top of it.

It was of course was augmented with ballistic weave, probably not great against mass effect fire, but better than nothing. He still had Alliance spec barriers. On his head was a simple beat up ball cap, taken from the waste when it still was, and ever his eyes were old aviators from an old friend. The dark lenses stood in place of his eye patch over his bad eye.

Before he took on his bodyguards, he would talk to Wrex. Wrex growled as he walked up, “You always got to talk to that Turian first?”

“When you blow up my Mako I do.”

“Hey, this one was not blown up.

Jon’s scoff called his bullshit, and Wrex met it with a chuckle. Jon aksed, “Anything interesting up for you?”

Wrex said, “I heard there was a good seafood place, that used fish from the canals in the Presidium. Gonna check it out and see if it’s true. Probably not, but I bet I could find good seafood anyway.”

Jon said, “Think you’ll have problems?”

He gave a grin, “I’ll play nice this time, Sheppard. Just to prove to those snobs a Krogan can. Besides, you offered, and I took a paycheck from the Alliance.”

“Ah, so you’re a civilian contractor. Apart of an Alliance ship, specter crew. On shore leave to the Citadel that some House contract probably mandates they allow” Jon finished the only conclusion

Wrex nodded, “I’m the first Krogan since the surrender to see the inside of the Council chambers. First one to have free access to the Presidium in a long time as well. I even have papers. Actual papers I had printed. Heh heh, I’d like to see them try to arrest me.”

Jon gave a toothy smile as his small squad rallied up on him, ready to go. He nodded and motioned to move out. Liara would no doubt be using the leave to handle her mother’s final affairs, so she was left her space and time.

Just as he hit the elevator he heard, “Garrus, I’m coming down to look.”

The last thing he saw was the top hatch close shut the small isolated environment, that could be quickly sanitized. The elevator hit the command deck, and Jon marched off towards the airlock, with only one or two still at their posts. EDI could mult-task and cover much of the load of sitting in a dock.

“Logged, the commanding officer had departed. Your AI overlord has the deck.” Her automated procedure chimed.

Jon smirked as he walked out. It would never get old to him. He walked across the gangway and made for the reception desk. The Turian said, “You’re clear, General Specter, Sir, I think.”

Jon scoffed, “No thanks for my service?”

He mocked a show of deference, “Right, that too. Oh, actually I was asked to send you down to C-Sec. You never picked up your badge or looked at all the good stuff you guys have access too.”

“Thanks Mr. officer sir.” He said with a smile and a nod. The Turian replied with a scoff in return and an upward flex of his mandibles.

Jon passed though the small checkpoint and hit the elevator down to the C-sec level. Ashley said, “Anyone got a deck of cards?”

Jon and even Jenkins chuckled as the Citadel spec elevator music did it’s best while the elevator crawled down the shaft. They finally it the level, and got just down the stairs when a call came from his rear.

“General!” And Jon actually flinched a moment, ready to turn around a shoot.

It was the snoop he saw looking at her pad with a camera drone beside her. Ashley and Jenkins quickly snapped to, but made no overtly aggressive movements. Jon turned and backtracked some.

He said, “Can I help you?”

“Khalisha bint Sinan Al-Jiani, Westerlund News. Would you answer a few questions for our viewers?” The snoop asked.

It had been awhile since anyone had the gall. Near ancient history. He said, “Sure.” Ignoring the red flashing over his bad eye. What a fucking mouthful of a punchable name, it said to him.

“Thank you. You’ve been given a unique position to represent the System’s Alliance. People want a sense of how you’re doing that.” She said as she worked her omi-tool.

The drown scurried down from it’s higher ground, and almost got right in his face. The flash from the light would have forced a reaction from him, probably breaking it, if he wasn't wearing his glasses. He gave no outward reaction to it however.

The feed obviously when live, and she asked, “Human’s have been trying to get the respect of the galactic community for over half a decade now.”

“It’s been that long?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Hmm.”

“With that in mind, what are you’re feelings on being the first human specter?”

“I would say that by definition I am a super mutant. With that in mind, I would say I’ve had some good fights, and made some strong friends out here.”

Khalisha was taken aback slightly by the response, but almost smirked as she thought she had a home run. Jon met it with a smile of his own. She continued, “Some would say-”

“Who?”

“Some. They would say that naming you a specter was throwing the Alliance a bone, to placate us. Have you encountered any situation where the Citadel has asked you to place it’s need’s before Earth?”

“The short answer is, I do what I want. The long answer is Earth is apart of a galactic community now, and needs to think beyond it’s borders, just as the nations of Earth that clawed their way out of a nuclear apocalypse put the needs of everyone, of humanity in all it’s forms, above their own. My appointment serves the needs of the galaxy, not just the Citadel or the Alliance, no matter our current differences or disputes.”

“You really do believe that, don’t you.”

“Yes I do.” He said, answering the rhetorical question.

She wasn't as sold on the idea now, but she wouldn't be bum rushed on her own show. She asked, “You’ve been given command again of the most advanced warship in the Alliance fleet. Is there anything you would like to say about it?”

“First that it’s my ship, and always had been. Check the lease the Alliance paid for it. Secondly that its a fine ship with a finer crew, a credit to Admiral Anderson’s command ability. Thirdly, much about it is classified.”

“So secrets are being kept from the Alliance public.”

“Literally every government, every where, at any time, in any place, has kept secrets from the public. In particular military technology.”

“Then is it appropriate to hand these secrets over to the Citadel?”

“I wasn’t aware they had been handed over to anyone except their original owner. Me.”

“Who works for the Citadel now. Speaking of, why are these secrets being handed to aliens on board your ship, in particular a Quarian.”

“Racism? Really? Go fuck yourself lady.”

“They're known thei-” Jon ended the interview with a fist, but not at the clueless reporter. That would probably kill her. At her drone to make the point.

She flinched backwards, and then got the point after less than a moment. She shakily said, “Thanks for the interview, General.”

She turned and walked off as fast as she would for the slow elevators, and away from the ire she had earned. She didn’t know why the facts bothered him so much, but it would be best not to push further. All in all, Jon thought she carried herself better than the last photographer. She didn’t piss her self in public at least.

“I fucking hate journalists.” Ashley said.

“You hate many kinds of people.” Jenkins said.

“Because they all suck, obviously.” She replied.

“Do you suck as well?” Jenkins genuinely asked, gauging for a philosophical response. Perhaps a full conversation, clueless of the mine just walked into.

Ashley was genuinely taken aback, but still responded, “Buy me a drink first, and we’ll see.”

Jon huffed, “Really guys, in front of your CO.”

Ashley when red, not thinking before speaking, and said, “A-appologies sir.”

Jenkins said nothing, still not getting it, doing not much more but serving and killing the enemies of the Alliance since becoming a courser.

Jon grinned, “The look on your faces. It is technically shore leave, so I heard and saw nothing, nor will I probably ever. Blind in one eye, so.”

Jenkins now smiled getting the joke at least, and Ashley chuckled. A Turian cut in to the conversation, “Ah, General, specter, ah, sir...dammit.”

Jon turned and said, “Just Sheppard, is fine.”

“Sheppard, we were told to direct you to where you needed to go, if you ever came back.” He more confidently offered. It was the C-sec officer that tagged and almost bagged Wrex. That meant he was still a C-sec officer, and one with some gall to arrest Urdnot Wrex in broad daylight.

Jon grinned. Out of sight, down to the lower levels where the officer was pointing, out of mind. Get him in and out, ASAP, was their play. Before, “How many got busted down last time?”

“None, thank the spirits.”

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Jon’s grin became a toothy smile, as he huffed a couple times as a small chuckle. He dutifully when the directed way, and made for the steps. He waved his detail off at the top, and proceeded to the C-sec dungeon.

And a dungeon it was, Jon becoming slightly unnerved even as he took each darker and darker step. He got down and it was nearly pitch black, save for the light shining softy over the desk. The Turian seated at it gave him a cold stare. Are they going to try what his gut was telling him they were going to try? The red clawed at Jon, screamed and cried that he was in danger. Even he had a hard time seeing at the edges of of the room.

Was he hallucinating? Only one way to know, “Interesting aesthetics you have here.”

Jon took tentative steps to the obvious seat in front. The Turian never broke his cold state. So that’s what it was like. He was reminded that he was not the only predator in the galaxy. The Turians were a species of them.

He said, “Yes. The Systems Alliance didn’t invent the tabletop game, or fantasy and myth. This is my office, and this is what I like. I am the dark weapons master of the Citadel Security Forces, the personal guard of the Council. The Requisitions Officer to you, General.”

Jon took a slow seat, meeting the eye behind his glasses, one frame depolarizing over his good eye, and getting no response. Even with that action, he still could not see much past the light. What the hell was happening, he wondered.

He said, “I was told to collect my badge, and possibly look at weapons, Requisitions Officer.”

He nodded, “Yes, of course. Just let me get the form.”

Oh, no. Jon thought. The Turian grabbed a data pad, and slowly pushed it across the desk.

The red screamed, run! Run for your life! You know what he is about to do! Jon blocked it out and just as slowly took the form. Just as he picked it up to read it, the Requisitions officer said, “Oh, but I need you to fill out an 11-B first.”

He handed Jon another pad. He unwillingly accepted. The Turian said again, “But you need a 15-C as well, to release the 11-B”

Jon breathed deep as he took the next pad, three in his hands now, and a very specific order they need filed in. He waited a moment, then went to read again, “But first you need Citadel identification in the first place. I have the forms for that as well. I also need immigration paperwork to give you that. To do that you’ll have to fill out a preliminary application.”

Jon cut him off, “You don’t like this, you’ve entrapped me.”

“Yes I do, General. And yes, I have General. All to get your badge, which you will need at some point.”

That was a lie, he didn’t know, but dammit if it wasn’t true. He said, “For the love of Atom just give me the forms and I’ll sign them.”

The Turian finally closed their eyes, and flexed their mandibles in a wide and happy smile after breaking the man across from him. The lights clicked on, revealing a standard armory and office, and Jon let out the deep breath he took.

The Requisition’s officer said, “I don’t think that will be necessary. Specters probably shouldn’t leave that much of a paper trail anyway.”

There was a ping on his omi-tool, and he pulled it up to a holographic representation of a badge. Underneath was no doubt authorization codes and algorithms. He put it down and said, “No one will ever believe you.”

“That’s why it’s called fantasy and myth, isn’t in General.”

“Bastard.”

“Indeed. Would you like to look at some of the special gear, specter?”

Jon huffed, “Yea, oh dark weapons master, lead me to your dark weapons.”

The Requisitions officer gave a low and dark chuckle as he got up, “This way.”

Jon dutifully got up, and followed him through the dungeon. First was the evidence lockup, filled with all manor of goods and weapons. Then was the C-sec stock proper, though the next locked gate. A third took them passed the choice gear for C-sec, and a final door lead them to the specter lockup. It held the most dangerous and high power weapons and mods, some, a lot, illegal normally. There were also hard suits with powerful barriers and augments themselves. Off to the side was a personal firing range even.

Jon spoke up, “I’m interested in weapons. Assault rifles mostly. The way they fold up, they can act as a secondary for me.”

The Turian weapons master gave an evil look and flex of his mandible, “I already have something for you, and I guarantee you’ll make it you’re primary when you shoot it.”

“A bold claim, Requisitions Officer.”

“It’s a bold weapon. Follow me.” He said.

They walked over to a locker, and with an actual skeleton key he turned the action and opened it up. Inside were all manner of weapons, but he grabbed one in particular and held it up, unfolding it into its ready state. Lights along the side lit up as it did, a soft blue green.

The Requisitions Officer shouldered it for a moment said said, “The HMWA advanced assault rifle. Based on a the tried and true vindicator platform, it’s been modified for select fire. Go head, give it a feel.”

Jon grabbed the weapon, and gave it a once over before shouldering it himself. The rifle was shorter than what he was used too, but for what he wanted it for it felt perfect. A secondary blaster that wouldn't have him relying on an ancient relic and luck.

“It’s heat sinks have also been upgraded to the hilt, along with recoil stabilization, and a couple other highly experimental mods. The first of which is an ejecting heat sink. Hit that button right there.”

Jon thumbed where he pointed, and a heat sink ejected out of the bottom, about where he expected it would be, and about the end of the internal sink. He knelt down and picked the tube up, it’s red sinks unglowing from a lack of battle heat.

Jon said, “In response to our own mass effect derived rifles.”

“Yes. Citadel weapons are superior to your mass effect weapons in nearly every way, naturally, however there was one it wasn't. Average fire rate.”

“Why wait for the weapon to cool when you can just dump the heat.”

“Indeed. As I said though, it’s experimental, and some are still holding onto the idea of quote unquote, unlimited ammo.”

“As if the blocks would never need replaced, especially if you try to match Alliance mass effect calibers. That’s why the magazine was used in the first place. It holds either the block and sink, or a block shaving combo depending on the weapon.”

“Indeed as well. When you shoot it, you’ll see why so much was focused on heat management.” He said as he motioned to the range.

Jon hoisted the rifle up to the roof and walked over to a lane with a target set up. He gave one last look over, saw the weapon was in automatic, and lined up for his shot. He squeezed the trigger, and an explosive storm followed. Rapid fire shots went out, and passed straight though the paper and slammed into the back wall. When they did, small bombs were detonated as the explosive charge did it’s work. The recoil was fierce, and even Jon had trouble controlling it, but control it he did.

He counted 22 shots before the weapon overheated and began it’s vent. Rather than let it finish, he held the weapon out some and thumbed the ejector. The sink shot out, and bounced off the range table before falling passed it, forcing the dark dumb fuck to climb over or under to get it. In short, the Requisitions officer was dangerously close to backing up his bold claim. Sure his phased plasma rifle, tried and true at this point, did damage, but it simply didn’t have the weight and force of a barrage this banger could pump out. It would be effective in particular against heavy targets, like Krogan or geth destroyers.

He said, “The ejector port needs to be on the side. A magazine is one thing, this small tube and hole wont be great for the average person in a combat situation. Look at old Earth lever guns for an idea of what I’m talking about. Hell you could probably buy one new and have it imported.”

“I’ll included that in the notes, General. What else do you think?”

“I’ll take it.”

“That will be one million, three hundred thousand, and five hundred credits. Even specters do not get a free ride, unfortunately for you.”

The guy was dicking with him and just would not stop. Jon huffed a couple times, then turned it into a full chuckle what handing the weapon back. He said, “I’ll be back for that.”

“All in a day’s work, General?” He asked as he took and collapsed it.

Jon scoffed, “Yeah, something like that.”

The turned and made way for the dungeon entrance, not wanting to spend any longer than he had to in it. When he got back up to the top, Ashley was on the same side of the door as Jenkins, unlike a normal watch posting. Suspiciously close too. He smirked as he motioned them forward, and they took the elevator back up to the commons.

He walked though the small park over the canal, then cut across to the other end of the district to his target. In his normal bay was Barla Von, the Citadel’s main banker and information broker.

He wheezed in his suit, “...Ah, General…Please come in.”

Jon met it with a warm smile, and leaned down on the desk for an eye to eye talk. He said, “I am in need of you’re normal services. I would like a discrete bank account, specter class. Not too discreet though.”

“Yes...Others specters utilize my services...They want their accounts almost left open...as a trip wire…pocket change anyway one said of it...substantial assets are kept away even from me...for obvious reasons...It will also tap you...into my networks...should those services be needed again.”

Jon grinned, “Payments are easy when its all going though the same place.”

His suit lit up some, “Indeed, General...give me just a moment…”

There was no mountain of threatened paperwork, Barla simply worked on his terminal for a moment. In that moment he had an account set up and linked to Jon’s omi-tool, almost as if it was done so much he had a standard procedure for it.

“Thank you Mr. Von.”

“You are welcome...General. Is there anything else...you need from me?”

“If I was looking to make a bunch of money that isn't a high profile assassination, where would I go?” He asked.

Barla lit up again, and chuckled some, “If that was your...work...i had a job lined up...but you could try the quasar boards...above flux in the upper wards...if you feel lucky, or tricky, General.”

Jon smiled, “I think I do. Thank you again.”

He turned and walked back out and picked up his detail again, Ashley once again staying close to Jenkins. The Normandy appeared to be shaping up into a real loveboat, and he really didn’t care. The world was about to end again, so screw it, and each other.

He interrupted, “Someone got cab fair? That account didn’t come with any credits.”

“Yes-I do.” Then they both looked at each other, Ashley more emotive than the normally stern Jenkins.

Jon scoffed, “I’m getting in this cab, I order one of you to pay for it.”

He reached his target, and climbed in, Ashley then Jenkins in the front passenger. Ashley already had her tool up, but Jenkins was faster on the draw and easily paid for the cab.

“Flux.” Was all he said. Jon kept his reaction at bay when he smelled the pheromones pouring off Ashley.

The cab driver dutifully lifted up and sped away towards the upper wards. It wasn't that far from the Presidium ring, and the cab touched back down a few minutes later. It was near the club entrance, and he could already hear the thumping music from outside it’s alloy walls and closed doors.

He was just about to make way with his detail when he heard, “Psst, General.”

Jon squinted and turned towards the quiet Salarian voice. He eyed it’s origin, and the Salarian met it with a smile and beckoning wave. His eyebrow rose, and decided he would hear it out at least. It might be good.

He walked over though the somewhat busy level, and got close for a quiet conversation with the shorter Salarian, leaning up against the wall next to him. He said, “General Sheppard.”

The Salarian smiled again, “Honor to meet you General. I heard you were something else. Figured you would hear me. Maybe you can help me with something.”

Jon said, “What, and how much.”

The Salarian chuckled, “Very good. I have a program that can rig the quasar machines, not really rig more tip the scales with accurate predicative analyses. A hobby experiment really. With some recorded wins I can complete the predictive algorithm. I figure an Alliance agent wont mind a few lost credits from a Citadel casino.”

Jon gave a shark smile. It was good. The gall to ask the General to help knock over a casino, so fucking casually to boot. He wished more people would, to stop assuming he was some total paragon that didn’t know how to have a good time on a day off.

But there was as problem, “I would, but Earth lost technology overtime that some would describe as eldritch. Some of that tech was able to quantify more esoteric attributes like luck.”

“Ahhh, I read about that. Let me guess, you were already on your way to the machines.”

Jon nodded, “Yeah, you wouldn't be able to control you’re experiment with me.”

He shook his head, “No I will not. Apologies for wasting your time General.”

Jon said, “Not all is lost. Ashley.”

She heard his somewhat louder tone, and walked over. Jon said, “How’s you’re luck, and how would you like to double screw over a casino today.”

She said, “Got patched up as a kid in Good springs after a run in with some gekos. The doc there had one of those old Vim-O-Matics. I got a 6 in luck. Just above average. And yes, yes I would like to double screw a casino on my shore leave.”

Jon looked over, “Make you deal.”

The Salarian smiled and nodded as Ashley took over in the negotiations. They talked for a minute more, and Ashley walked back over. She said, “Alright, we’re set. What’s the plan, boss?”

“I’m going to be the lighting rod. I’ll just keep wining and eventually they’ll try to kick me out. Jenkins, look mean and angry at them if they do.”

Jenkins nodded sternly and Ashley said, “And I’ll be off to the back somewhere, just playing and totally not doing not much with my omi-tool. Your go, Sheppard.”

Jon nodded, and took off with Ashley hanging back some. Jon entered and the loudness of the room finally caught up to his sensitive hearing. He would not be spending much time in there for certain. The bar was filled with Asari, Turian, Salarian, and Humans. There was one ghoul even, sitting at a table and a familiar face to boot. The man was still in road leathers and old combat armor, though not looking as if looted from a wasteland even if his news cap was the same one he wore for centuries.

He made a quick detour to sit and speak for a moment, “Ed Deegan. How the hell are you?”

“I’m good, small galaxy huh? Heard you were into some shit.”

Jon nodded, “Understatement of the millennium pal. Have stockpiles ready.”

Ed nodded in understanding, “Already do, always do, but thanks for the warning. Don’t mean to be rude, but the only reason I’m hear is to meet a contact.”

“Not a problem. I’m only here to rob the casino up stairs. Good seeing you Ed.”

He scoffed, “You too, Jon.”

Jon continued along with Jenkins in tow, but Ashley still at a respectful distance. They passed up the stairs, and thankfully the beating drums lessened somewhat as they proceeded. They entered the door, and found the Casino level just as busy as the bar, and almost as loud. At least it wasn’t a deep bass vibrating his very hardened bones.

He worked his way though the crowds in between the tradition human slot machines House probably sold them, card games of Alliance and Citadel spec, and finally found the quasar stands. He eyed one that looked good, and loaded himself up onto the seat.

Then he remembered, “Ah, Jenkins. I order you to give me your lunch money.”

He scoffed and gave a rare smile as he transferred the initial buying for the game. Jon confirmed it, then loaded it up as well. It was a high stakes terminal, and the point was to reach twenty, blackjack rules basically. One had two options to add the numbers up, or hit, and they broth had ranges. Either button looked good for his gambit, so he pressed one.

7, the first hit said.

7, the second as well.

6, the third rounded out the count to twenty.

So he played. Two sevens and a six at a time, the machine hit twenty, and Jon began raking in the winnings. He took a moment’s break to reimburse Jenkins, and then continued is tear though the casino balance sheets. Because of what the Courier did in New Vegas, the casinos there had a no wasteland warrior policy, denying entry to anyone a little too famous with a gun. They had no concept of that here, and Jon pressed the button again and again.

Ashley was at her own machine, just playing the game. Winning some, losing some, and getting the readings on her tool set to passive. The pit bosses knew something was up, a Volus talking to his people, and were eyeing his direction. There must have been a debate, Jenkins thought as he looked. They likely found out who the man was in their investigation of the unnatural winning streak. They knew who they would be trying to stop, a specter above all things, and Jenkin’s cold courser stare at them wasn’t helping matters.

Jon checked his account, and found he burned them to the tune of a few million credits with all the streak modifies and double bets. He smiled and decided that it was time to run after breaking the cardinal rule of counting the money at the table. He had to confirm it for that much, and got up to take off. A quick glance showed the relief of the pit bosses that he was finally leaving. They obviously decided to eat their losses and let him run. For all they knew the specter needed deniable funds to save the galaxy or something, and it wasn't far off from the truth.

Ashley slipped out behind them and they marched down the steps and out of the banging club. Ed was still there, and talking to what looked like one of the bartenders. Probably some sob story. When you were as old as him in the business, you did it for the love of the game, and had plenty of money to take jobs for people that wouldn't be able to afford it normally.

He met the door, and when he exited the psychological torture chamber he felt some relief when it closed. Ashley had to drop off her data, and two more people were in the crowd obviously waiting for him. One human, with one Asari, the Asari pointing him out. He wondered if they would form an orderly line at this point. In any event, their quests for him awaited.