Just a Soldier

I'm Jacob Taylor, ex-Alliance and ex-Cerberus operative. (member of meroleplay.tumblr.com)

[urdnotwrexthings-deactivated201]

Wrex turned his head to eye Miranda silently at her announcement, unconsciously straightening and squaring his shoulders to appear larger as he sized her up. After a moment, his red eyes narrowed but he gave her a curt nod. Arguing with her would obviously cause a delay in finding Shepard and it wasn’t particularly a fight he cared to have. There were bigger and better fights out there far more worth his time.

He stepped aside for her to depart and then snorted at Joker’s announcement. “I’d like to see someone throw me off this ship,” he laughed. “I’m gonna rescue Shepard wether she likes it or not.”

Turning toward the door himself, he asked over his shoulder, “Where the hell’s the commissions officer so I can get some proper gear already?”

[operative-taylor]

At the mention of the Illusive Man, Jacob clenched his fists. He did have the resources to do something like this. It would be the perfect revenge, but the Illusive Man is as secretive as he is ruthless. Pulling this off would put Cerberus right in the spotlight, something he is not keen on. Jacob unclenched his fists and willed himself to relax again. “I don’t think it’s likely the Illusive Man would try to piss us off just yet, but we should check to see if Castro has any ties to Cerberus, just in case,” he stated.

When Wrex spoke up about his predicament Jacob gestured for him to follow as he walked out of the conference room. “We have a spare set of krogan gear in the armory.” Jacob kept the place meticulously organized, so he knew immediately where to find it. Far too heavy for him to lift, Jacob left the storage cabinet with the armor open for Wrex to help himself.

Miranda’s request for a search team appeared on his omni tool and he quickly sent a reply to the crew: “Anyone who wants to join the search team report to the armory to gear up. We have no idea what we’ll run into, best to be prepared.”

[puellaeperfectum-deactivated201]

"Stand down," she said warningly, settling two hands flat onto the table before her, as non confrontational as she could be while staring down a krogan warlord. "The geth is a part of the crew. Shepard brought it aboard herself. It’s no threat to any of us." She turned her attention towards Jacob for a second, irritation warring with outright anger and a hint of fear. She would have appreciated a warning from someone. With her attention diverted she caught sight of the asari flanking the krogan and wondered if there was anyone else onboard that she hadn’t been notified about.

"If you’re onboard I’d thank you to not start a fight among the crew, Urdnot Wrex. We have bigger things to worry about." Her fingers drummed against the table, staring down each person in the room solemnly before continuing. "Shepard is missing. She didn’t arrive back on the Normandy last night nor this morning and now we have evidence that security footage was tampered on the Citadel last night, around the time she left the party with a stranger." 

Miranda bit at her lip unconsciously. She tasted copper and wished she’d quit the habit. “EDI has put together some details and found a ship leaving the Citadel around the time Shepard went missing. It’s since been abandoned though. She could be anywhere. We need to put all our resources together to find her.”

[operative-taylor]

The moment he saw Wrex’s biotics flare up, Jacob began frantically considering every possibility to take down the imposing krogan. He saw three options, all of which would hurt both of them, so he opted to simply stand between Wrex and Legion instead. Jacob stood guard, fists balled, biotics glowing, ready to try and beat this krogan into submission when Miranda spoke up, calling for order. He snapped his gaze to her, catching the annoyed glance she gave him. She looked anxious, worried about losing control.

Jacob calmed his biotics down as Zaeed chimed in. “Shepard wouldn’t question who you allow among your clan, so don’t attack who she chooses to trust,” Jacob said, fixing Wrex with a fierce look. He turned to the conference table, now addressing everyone. “Let’s not assume the kidnappers to be idiots. They managed to walk Commander Shepard right past us, so we’re not dealing with cheap mercs.”

Jacob crossed his arms and listened as Thane asked his questions. “What about the man Shepard left with?” he added, “Is there any footage of him?”

[operative-taylor]

urdnotwrexthings:

He laughed and slapped the asari affectionately on the shoulder, trying to be gentle, but gentle for a krogan was perhaps not very gentle to other species. “That’s because we don’t generally allow outsiders on Tuchanka, but for you, I’d make an exception. There are a lot of things people don’t know about us or our planet.” The huge krogan sounded almost wistful for a moment.

For some reason, he allowed himself to be just a bit softer around the asari, remembering her as young, naive, and excited about the world. He was sure time had changed her as it had all of them, but he still viewed her fondly. He couldn’t help straightening up with pride at her noting not many could have turned Tuchanka around but before he could respond to that, he was interrupted by speech so rapid he could barely follow it.

"Wrex, Urdnot clan chief.  Krogan unifying under vintage wisdom made relevant." The drunk salarian had wandered right up to Wrex and was craning his head back to peer way up at the krogan.  "Speaking aloud.  Internal thought-processes crossing into speech processing.  Symptoms confusing.  Must run tests."

Wrex didn’t even have time to translate that he’d possibly just been insulted before the salarian wobbled off down the bridge, leaving the krogan’s pupils narrowing into slits behind him.

Jacob watched with trepidation as Wrex narrowed his eyes at Mordin. He’d probably break more than one bone trying to split up that fight. When the doctor tried to get passed him again, Jacob grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “I do not expect this kind of behavior from our crew, much less from you, Dr. Solus. You should have called one of us,” he said with a scowl. It angered him that neither he nor any of the other crew noticed how far gone the doctor was. Then again, no one noticed Shepard either. They’d been too caught up in themselves and the majesty of shore leave to take notice.

Intent on making sure Solus understood the seriousness, Jacob tightened his grip on him and leaned in closer. “You will no longer be a respected member of this crew if you pull crap like this again. Get me?” he asked rhetorically. “Now, clean yourself up and report back to me as soon as-“ EDI’s voice cut him off, announcing all crew to assemble in the briefing room immediately. “Scratch that. You’re going to sober up right the hell now and report to the briefing room.” He let go of Mordin and nudged him in the right direction. Jacob let out a sigh and took a moment compose himself. It had been a very long time since he’d been forced to reprimand someone. Things were growing much too unstable and disorganized for his liking. Reading Mordin the riot act didn’t help with the uneasy feeling in his gut.

Wrex and Liara stood before him, most likely feeling like they stepped onto the wrong Normandy. He nodded at Liara in greeting, then introduced himself to Wrex: “I’m Jacob Taylor, part of Shepard’s new crew,” he said, instinctively standing just outside the krogan’s reach. “Sorry about Dr. Solus. He’s brilliant, but crazy. I suppose the two go hand in hand.” He gestured towards the rear of the ship. “You two should join us in the briefing room. You may know something we don’t about the Commander missing.” Jacob turned and led the way to their meeting.

[operative-taylor]

Jacob, a reminder that we need to be ready to disembark in a few hours. Make a round of the crew deck and make sure everyone's at their posts before returning to the armory. The crew might be dedicated, but I'm sure at least some of them have hangovers from that party. Also, I appreciate what you said about Shepard earlier. This isn't exactly a standard military vessel, but still, too many people take the lax rules for granted. You can take the man out of the Alliance, right? — Miranda

No need to thank me, that's what I'm here for. As for getting the crew ready... There's a small situation in the CIC. Solus managed to get himself in trouble with c-sec last night. Don't worry, I've got it all under control. -J

[mordin-a-feeling-blog]

Mordin’s voice fell as the airlock snapped open.  The two C-Sec officers on the other side seemed not only unimpressed with The Sultan of Salarian Salsa’s performance but also entirely done with his inebriated shenanigans.  Mordin, despite his state of intoxication, seemed no worse for wear.  His formal wear was rumpled despite his attempts to arrange it. The Officers halted halfway across the threshold at the sight of Wrex, whatever they had to say dead in the backs of their collective throats.  Mordin however was not so intimidated.  But the possibility of another verse spurred the officers into speaking before Mordin could continue.

"This ah Salarian, broke into a secured private lab," one said while Mordin muttered something about the illusion of security being no manner of security at all.  The officer ignored him.  "The owner of the lab caught him using expensive equipment to brew coffee."

A smirk passed across Mordins features as he added, “-Thermal inductive centrifuge.  Highly efficient-” behind the Officers statements.

"The ongoing testing was apparently interrupted and the results contaminated-"

"-Poor methodology.  Asking for contamination-"

"Patented software’s were given unauthorized patches-"

"-sloppy code.  Did them favor-"

"-Confidential reports edited for… ah style-"

"-Lacking flair.  Possibility for puns ignored-"

"-And upon being discovered he was found to have damaged the cooling unit he was found hiding in."

"-Chill, uncomfortable.  Coffee best when hot."

"The lab owner will be pressing charges.  Who’s gonna claim him?"

From the officer’s omni tool a blank slate unfolded into the air and filled with the list of charges including what seemed to be several pages of transcribed confessions, observations and testimony from the offending individual.  

[operative-taylor]

Jacob sipped the surprisingly good brew, and thanked Legion for the coffee. The scent of breakfast wafting through the ship roused the other crew members into wakefulness. Jacob decided to take a quick shower while their resident geth cooked up their meal. One wash, shave, and change into standard uniform later he reemerged in the mess hall. “Nice one, Legion, looks good,” Jacob said as he fixed himself a plate. He gave the others in the mess a nod, then took his food and coffee with him to the CIC.

 When the doors finally hissed open, the CIC presented him with a surreal scene. It took Jacob a moment to understand what he was looking at, and when he saw Mordin in handcuffs flanked by c-sec officers, his confusion turned to anger. Jacob put his plate and cup on the Commander’s terminal and quickly walked towards the ensemble.

One officer asked: “Who’s gonna claim him?” as he reached them.

“I’ll claim him,” Jacob said authoritatively. “Take the handcuffs off, now.” He looked around at everyone, half hoping one of them to calmly explain that this was some stupid joke. He stared at the imposing krogan next to him, whom he recognized him as Wrex, one of Shepard’s old crew. “Solus,” he said, snapping his gaze back to the scientist, “you best have an explanation for this.” His omni tool beeped with an obnoxious noise. Jacob glared at it as if it had done him some personal wrong. A message from Miranda. “A really, really good explanation,” he added as he read it.

[memorystealer]

Kasumi almost blatantly stared at Miranda for her outburst. But the thief recalled her exposed face in time and settled for raising one eyebrow instead. By Kasumi’s observations, composure was an essential part of Miranda’s work character. She was a steady woman, reliable, capable. The thief filed away the XO’s immediate reaction and nonchalant comment for later analyzing. Miranda wasn’t an easy woman to get close to but Kasumi would take anything she could get in terms of understanding her. In many ways, Kasumi appreciated and admired the qualities Miranda possessed. It was obvious she had earned the things she’d acquired since leaving her father.

The thief’s attention moved from Miranda to Legion easily. A cooking geth demanded to be watched.

"Kasumi Goto presumes the Commander has partaken in coitus."

She almost choked on her own saliva at Legion’s words before bursting into silent laughter. Eventually she managed to sputter out an affirmative.

"We deem this presumption logical if not for the Commander’s history on the Citadel. It is more likely the Commander has taken on a subsidiary mission."

"Right. Mission," Kasumi muttered, using air quotes to accompany the latter word and rolling her eyes. As Legion began to cook in earnest while continuing to estimate Shepard’s whereabouts and return, Kasumi dabbled on her omni-tool to record a personal file of the event itself. All the cameras and microphones in the vicinity would be feeding the thief a copy. She was sure to set the geth in her direct line of sight so she could get it on her graybox as well. She would never forget this. Perhaps the quarians would like a copy one day…for a price if their reactions weren’t payment enough.

[operative-taylor]

“If anyone deserves a good time it’s Shepard, but we can’t talk about our CO like that. This is still, technically, a military vessel. Let’s show a little restraint.” He looked at Miranda to back him up. This morning seemed to be an odd one. Usually Miranda would have reprimanded the crew before he could about this, but everyone was so easygoing. Even Jacob, usually the poster boy for a regimented soldier, had been swept up in the post-party atmosphere. He knew he was right in calling this a military vessel, but the others who did not grow up around such a lifestyle had begun to see the Normandy as more of a second home.

[m4gicandw1res]

Without a doubt, Legion had to be the most sober one awake - although sober implied that the geth could become inebriated to begin with, and awake implied that it actually laid down to sleep. While it could power down to keep its systems optimal, it hadn’t expended any energy tailing Joker around at the party.

Closed inside the AI core as it was, Legion emerged periodically to check for activity. After the Omega 4 Relay mission, it had become more comfortable roaming the ship; Mordin’s lab in particular saw a lot of Legion, as did the mess area. It really depended on how comfortable others were about Legion loitering, because it’d happily sit in Kasumi’s room to admire the paintings if she allowed it or watch the crewmates cook out in the open.

Legion spotted the others only on its fourth visit outside the medical bay. It ambled over to join them, standing at a tentative distance rather than plunking down right in the middle of things.

"Kasumi Gotto," it said as way of greeting, though it acknowledged the other two with a glance as well. "We have deduced that the level of alcohol consumption prior to this time negatively impacts an organic’s capacity to rise from stasis." Its light flickered. "You are up before expected."

The other two, being biotics, were exempt, though Legion didn’t know exactly how much Kasumi had drank, anyway. Quirking its head at the coffee pot, Legion made a slight gesture with its hand. “Jacob Taylor, may we be of assistance?”

[operative-taylor]

Jacob peered over the refrigerator’s door, eyeing Legion wearily. “Have you ever cooked breakfast?” Stupid question, he thought. Obviously it hadn’t, but the robot probably researched every cooking technique and recipe in the known galaxy the instant after he asked.

He pushed the fridge closed, gesturing at the kitchen. “Give it a try, Legion, cook for us. And make a new pot of coffee, I take mine with two sugars.” Jacob walked towards the mess hall table, patting Legion’s cool metallic shoulder in thanks as he passed. He sat next to Kasmui, kicked up his feet and relaxed in his chair. After observing the room for a moment, he frowned slightly with concern. “Where’s Shepard? She’s usually up before any of us.” 

[puellaeperfectum-deactivated201]

Miranda greeted the morning with a dry mouth and something roiling in her stomach; most likely the remains of the wine she’d drank last night, combined with a sense of foreboding she couldn’t shake. It prickled along her spine as she stretched, crackled along her skin like a surge of biotic energy.

She brushed the feeling off as she dressed and fixed her appearance, making sure she was presentable to the crew as she finally exited her office and rounded the corner to the mess, not forgoing her usual catsuit for something slightly more comfortable. She didn’t much feel like giving herself the luxury of it.

She nodded in Kasumi’s direction perfunctorily, managing something close to a smile, which was impressive considering she hadn’t had her morning coffee yet. She fixed a pot of coffee, far too strong even for her liking, measuring out a small amount of sweetener and adding it discreetly. While it was brewing she fixed her gaze on the other woman in the room, her eyes scanning briefly over what looked like the ship’s video feeds on Kasumi’s omini-tool. It was probably better not to ask.

"How did you find the party?"

[operative-taylor]

When consciousness returned to Jacob his eyes snapped open, then immediately closed again against the harsh light. Slowly, his senses began to return to him, reminding him of the night’s events. He felt the softness of his suit still around him, and the coldness of the hard ground beneath. His back and head ached angrily from sleeping on the ship’s floor. With a lazy motion, and eyes still closed, he rolled over and began his morning routine.

Hundreds of pushups and sit ups later, Jacob rose from the floor, tore off his tie, loosened his top shirt buttons and entered the elevator. After a hasty trip to the bathroom, he joined his two crew mates in the mess hall.

He greeted them with a groggy, “Hello ladies.” The coffee pot beckoned to him with its seductive aroma. He poured himself a cup, took a sip, then immediately spit it back into the mug. “Miranda,” he said as he poured the rest of the vile liquid down the sink, “you need to stop making coffee.” He began rummaging through the fridge, trying to find something to wash the aftertaste out of his mouth.

[operative-taylor]

Jacob guided himself drunkenly up the steps of the Normandy, trying vainly to silence his footsteps. He navigated through the bridge with all the grace of a hippo on a tight rope. Perhaps the open bar was the not the best of ideas, he thought. Though, it did give him a chance to cut loose. Something he hadn’t done for a very long time.

When he reached his armory the entire room began spinning, so he decided to lay down before he fell down. In need of a pillow, Jacob peeled off his suit jacket and propped it under his head. Laying there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the soft hum of the engines, he felt comfortable, and strangely content. Jacob closed his eyes and let the Normandy’s lullaby rock him to sleep.

[piratequeen-ofomega-blog]

Aria was attempting to down another vilely made cocktail. She was sure these drinks were made for human tongues, they were lacking enough punch to make her even feel slightly more comfortable at the party and yet still left a bad taste in her mouth. She gazed over to the Asari Councillor once more, catching her eye before she heard her named called. Aria turned to Jacob with her usual unamused expression and folded her arms.

"And what would an ex-Cerberus want to know of my business?" Aria retorted but half smirked in amusement. She knew that Jacob never really fitted the Cerberus ‘type’ but right now she was paranoid of anything that had an association with the human terrorists, even if Shepard herself believed in the loyalty of her team, Aria wasn’t so easy to fool. “It might not seem to people from the outside that I spend time making associates with the Alliance but you’d be surprised how far my connections go and how important it is to me to keep up appearances."

Aria lowered her voice, “Also, play your cards right and it’s not hard to make the officials bail you out of tricky politics."

She sighed and looked across the hall, placing her hands on her hips. “Even if the parties are a little drab for my liking… But I’m sure as you are Shepard’s loyal dog you’ll go where you need to be won’t you? Can’t imagine you being too fond of Alliance parties either."

[operative-taylor]

“Yes, I do go where I'm needed,” Jacob responded, crossing his arms and frowning at her, “as people with a sense of duty tend to do.” He uncrossed his arms and shrugged off the dog comment. It was a party, after all, no need to get pissed at Her Majesty.

“Not thinking of this as an Alliance party makes it much more fun,” he said, eying the unappetizing cocktail in her hand. “It's Anderson's retirement event, something worth celebrating,” Jacob flagged down a waiter.

“You don't want that,” he told her, taking the drink away and placing it on a table.

“What can I get for you, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Asari white wine and a shot of scotch, neat,” he glanced over at Aria, wondering just what in the hell he could talk about with the self proclaimed war lord of Omega. “Make that a double shot.”

With speed that startled Jacob, the waiter returned with his order. He took the shot glass in his hand and gave the wine to Aria. Jacob swirled the liquid about for a moment, wondering what to say. A grin spread across his face as he clinked the glasses together and raised his scotch. “Long live the Queen,” he said in a regal tone, with a broad smile upon his face.

[operative-taylor]

Jacob leaned against the bar, drink in hand, listening to a couple grizzly old veterans swap war stories. They spoke of friends lost, friends gained, and times they wished weren't so unpleasant. He couldn't help but be reminded of his father. His old man used to invite his friends over for dinner, and young Jacob would sit with childlike wonder as they discussed their lives in the Alliance Navy.

He downed the rest of his drink, trying to wash away the unwanted memory of his father. Needing to get away from their chattering Jacob began wandering about the party, watching his fellow crew members mingle amongst each other. He thought about talking one of them into dancing with him, but the sight of someone made him stop and stare.

The asari's back was turned, but the clothes she wore, the way she stood with such confidence brought a sense of familiarity to his mind. When the purple tinted asari turned, he was quite taken aback that the Queen of Omega decided to show up to Anderson's party. Curiosity got the better of him and he began weaving through the crowd towards her. He'd be very surprised if she actually received an invitation.

“Aria,” Jacob said as he stepped in front of her. “What brings you to the Admiral's party?” he kept his tone civil, but he eyed her suspiciously.

[janeshepard-]

Shepard held her gaze steadily on Jacob’s features, her eyes on his, but her years as a soldier had taught her to scope out her surroundings even when they were background and the asari who walked out of her field of vision was doubtlessly Liara. She wasn’t familliar primarily due to her shape or the light blue of her skin, but by the way she moved - Shepard knew that walk as well as she knew Miranda’s, Garrus’, Zaeed’s. Her team had been an extension of her since Eden Prime in a way no other squad had… and Liara had, of course, been even more special. Still was, in many ways, but things were different between them now. Had been since they met again on Illium when Shepard was searching for Thane and Samara.

She knew she ought to follow the asari, ascertain that she was all right, but did not honestly know if her company would be appreciated right away.

“Marching I can do”, Shepard replied, moving towards the dancefloor with a smile still at the edges of her words. She appreciated the military reference as it made her think of the floor as a battlefield - not a perfect analogy, but it’d do - where she’d have move according to her environment and adapt to her allies. Couldn’t be too hard.

[operative-taylor]

Jacob grinned to himself as he went with Shepard to the floor. He took her right hand, and wrapped the other around her waist. As they swayed to the rhythm Jacob could feel how tense she was. Though her movements were stiff and calculated, she kept the beat well enough. Whenever she stepped wrong or swayed a little too far, he gave her a gentle nudge in the right direction. “What did I tell you? Not that difficult,” Jacob said as he guided them around an asari couple.

Taylor's motive behind getting his Commander out here was to simply see her smile. He wanted her to relax, to take a few minutes to remove all that weight of responsibility from her shoulders. Of course, she could fully give herself over to such luxuries, none of them could. But maybe, for a moment on this dance floor, they didn't have to be Commander Shepard or Operative Taylor. Just Jane and Jacob, sharing a dance and laughing together like the galaxy wasn't on the brink of total war.

Jacob glanced at the couple they approached, and almost missed a step himself from the surprise at what he saw. Joker and Kasumi, dancing together. A broad smile crossed his features. “Joker, Kasumi,” he greeted them with a nod as they drew closer, “looking good.” They continued dancing side by side for a moment, enjoying the mood together. Then Jacob looked at the Commander, his easy grin turned mischievous.

He took Shepard's hand and guided it around his shoulders so she could hold on. Without missing a beat, Jacob dipped her low to the ground and pulled her back up. He couldn't help but laugh, yet also be incredibly grateful he didn't drop her. “I'm sorry Commander,” he chuckled, “but I just couldn't miss that opportunity.”

[janeshepard-]

Shepard had just released the hand of an admiral - nameless, nearly faceless too as her mind was tangled up in thoughts - when she spotted Jacob and felt grateful for his presence. He’d been a solid constant ever since she first woke up, then-unfamilliar synthetics firing at her and a stranger’s voice pushing her forward. They’d been allies from the start, even if merely out of necessity at first, and even if trust had come slow on her part it did come and grew and stabilised. She had, after a few weeks, been genuinely glad to have him on her team and he’d been her go-to person for a long time… well, second to Garrus and later Tali, of course. 

His work station - the armoury - also happened to be Shepard’s preferred spot on the SR-2. Guns and armours were cleaned, collapsed, taken apart and put together. It was habit, routine, and the fact that Jacob had been Alliance once upon a time meant that their routines were the same kind of bone-deep precise ones, the kind you could perform without thinking about what your hands were doing. Jacob also didn’t talk about things that did not matter at the time, and after Shepard woke up and found herself surrounded by strangers on a ship with an artificial intelligence installed she’d appreciated that someone hadn’t talked about her past, her death, her resurrection or anything outside mission parameters unless she prompted it. It had made it easier to fit him into her new reality of precarious alliances and heavy thoughts, and because of all that she now felt the corners of her mouth curl into a faint grin.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, mister Taylor. You sure you want to be seen with me on a dancefloor, though?”

[operative-taylor]

“Shepard, it's slow dancing,” he laughed, “even you can't mess it up.” Jacob expected her to feel a little uneasy about getting on the dance floor with him. She usually only found herself there when drunk. Or trying to impress an Ardat Yakshi...

He began to shuffle side to side, his arms held out as if dancing with an invisible partner. “See? You just move back and forth. Think of it like marching.” He counted the steps as he danced. “One two three four, one two three four.”

Jacob stopped his display and smiled at his Commander. “I'll lead,” Jacob reassured her, holding out his hand again. “We better get out there soon before the real dancing starts. Then you'll be trouble,” he jested with a wink.

[janeshepard-]

Fortunately, locating Anderson did not prove to be difficult - he stood close to the locale’s entrance, speaking to two salarians but excused himself as he spotted Shepard.

“Councillor”, she said while shaking his hand, a wry smile at the corner of her mouth as he looked at her reproachfully. 

“Only for a few more hours. I’m glad you came - there is something you need to know.”

Shepard immediately tensed, moving one hand fractionally closer to where her Lotus usually hung before following her old captain. It took a few minutes before they entered a side room; a small, plain space clearly intended for brief but highly private conversations. The commander’s jaw tightened slightly, there was a sinking feeling in her stomach and the look on Anderson’s face did not make things better. He looked grave, suddenly considerably older than he had moments previously as the lines in his face deepened. 

“I just heard about it yesterday and wanted to tell you in person”, he told her. “They’ve begun preparing for your hearing back at Alliance HQ in Vancouver. You don’t have a lot of time - a couple of weeks, maybe a month, before they’ll want you in custody to make sure you don’t go off on another suicide mission.”

Of course. She’d known this day was coming ever since she’d returned from her mission in the Bahak system, since Hackett had held his debrief with her. 

She’d be held responsible. For lives they thought she’d taken. For lives she had not saved. 

“I’ll be ready”, she replied and since there were no more words to say at that moment, since nothing could bridge the silence that stretched between them, Anderson nodded and returned to his party. She watched the door close behind him and breathed slowly, steadily, shile contemplating the situation.

A formal hearing could take weeks, maybe months, and she didn’t know how long it would be before the Reapers reached the edges of the galaxy, didn’t know how to beat them or how to convince anyone that the treat was real and imminent and so much worse than geth or Collectors. But in her mind - her strong, adaptable, resilient and brilliant mind - her greatest concern had nothing to do with artificial intelligences or repurposed protheans but with how, once she no longer had the needs of her squad to see to or the decks of the Normandy beneath her feet, she would have to spend too much time thinking about her life. Her death. What she had been and what she had become on that operating table under the hands of scientists whose names she’d never known.

But not now. Not yet. She still had time before that, and with renewed determination she walked out from the anonymous room and into the crowd.

[operative-taylor]

Jacob Taylor stood in the crew quarter’s bathroom, examining his three piece suit. Since he’d been taught there is elegance in simplicity, he decided upon an old fashioned light gray suit. The coat was two button, with a matching six button waistcoat. He opted for a very light blue shirt, and a darker blue tie with white polka dots (to add a little flair) complete with a tie bar. Jacob used a french cuff on his shirt, due to the more formal occasion, and added black cuff links  Around his waist lay a brown belt holding up his pleated gray pants. To finalize his look, he placed a black pocket square in his jacket’s breast pocket and wore a pair of brown leather shoes with a buckle instead of laces, and polished to a gleam. Satisfied with the results, Jacob turned on his heel and made haste to Anderson’s party.

Jacob flashed a grin at the asari receptionist and gave her his name. After a quick scan, she waved him into the event. Once inside he quickly surveyed the room, searching for the party’s DJ. He spotted a bored looking young man sitting behind a booth, idly glancing through his omni-tool. Whatever crap the kid decided to play sounded like elevator music. Certainly not conducive to a war hero’s going away shindig.

“Hey kid,” Jacob said as he approached the DJ booth. The young man looked up at him, momentarily startled. “Play something nice to get these old folks on the dance floor.” Jacob sighed at the kid’s confused expression and lack of action. He leaned over and typed out the name of a song on the booth’s console. A soft, relaxing ballad began playing. One could almost feel the energy in the room pick up as couples began to rise and make their way to the floor to slow dance.

Jacob looked about the room again, craning his neck to find his target. Finally he spotted her, standing just outside a room away from the main events. He casually strode towards her, an easy smile spread across his face.

“Damn Shepard,” he let out a low whistle, “you clean up good.” Jacob held out a hand for her to take and gestured towards the dance floor. “Shall we?”

[operative-taylor]

Jacob's Suit

[operative-taylor]

-

[operative-taylor]