Massive Disaster III-3: David Anderson

(I actually had Anderson ready. I was hoping you guys would vote for him as I’m still working on my Wrex chapter)


October 30, 2179 | 2436 DP-C5-3E GST

Anderson found his eyes fixed on the footage for the third time, as he stood there with arms crossed. A quiet sigh left his throat as he settled his weight on his back foot and tapped the other one rapidly.

It went without saying that Victors moved with a showman’s confidence, the boy’s hands gesturing toward workers in sleek suits leaping high without mass effect fields, lifting heavy objects without biotics, and creating shields through means nobody in this room fully understood. One thing Anderson recognized in thirty years of service—that entrance wasn’t just showing off. It was a statement. The kid’s entrance this time—dropping from a shuttle, some kind of prototype suit materializing around him mid-fall before he landed in that dramatic three-point stance better suited to some sort of children’s holovid. The gathered Alliance personnel watched in silence, their expressions ranging from skeptical to concerned to genuinely impressed.

“Run it again,” he said, his voice carrying that natural baritone authority that made the request sound like an order without him having to try. Lieutenant Hammond nodded, rewinding the feed to the beginning of the demonstration. The same damn questions circled Anderson’s mind as the showman on screen went through his routine. Flashy. Calculated. Effective. He ignored the others’ reactions, eyes fixed on the young man commanding a stage. Something about him felt wrong. Not wrong exactly—just off. Like translation software that got all the words right but missed idioms completely due to not caring about them.

“He’s selling more than tech,” Anderson muttered, barely aware he’d spoken aloud until Hammond glanced over.

“Sir?”

“Nothing.” Anderson nodded toward the display where Victors demonstrated something about “kinesis field generators” to a packed audience. “How many attempts have our engineers made on the V-Jump units?”

Hammond’s fingers tapped rapidly at his console before answering. “At last count, twelve different teams, sir. R&D hasn’t been this frustrated since the Mars Archives.”

Anderson watched the troops on screen leap impossible distances, somersaulting through the air without eezo assistance. “And no idea how it works yet?”

“That’s the billion-credit question, isn’t it, Captain?” Dr. Yinsen joined them from the analysis station, the scientist’s normally calm demeanor barely holding on from the clear lack of sleep showing around the eyes. “We’ve taken apart thirty-three V-Jump units and fifteen V-Glides. The components are recognizable enough, but the way they’re configured…” The research officer shook his head, hands spreading in a gesture of academic surrender. “It’d be like showing a combustion engine to someone who’s only ever seen magnetic levitation. The principles are so fundamentally different that we can’t even identify why they work the way they do quite yet.”

The door to the observation room hissed open and Anderson’s gaze flicked upwards for a half-second as Admiral Kahoku stepped in from the corridor, datapad tucked under his arm, wearing the particular expression he reserved for political complications. “Still at it, Captain?”

“Trying to see what I’m missing.” Anderson’s gaze dropped back to where the kid moved with practiced confidence through his demonstration. Too practiced, the military man thought with a frown, it’s like he was born to be a corporate snake. “Kid builds tech that breaks half our understanding of physics, and he’s doing product demonstrations like he’s selling kitchen appliances.” 

“Selling them quite effectively,” Kahoku grunted, moving to stand beside him. The footage shifted to workers in V.E.S.T. systems lifting loads that should have required heavy machinery with eezo cores. “Parliamentary Committee’s having fits. The economic projections if this spreads through the colonies…”

Anderson caught the unspoken concern without needing elaboration. Colonial independence had been a growing headache for the Alliance for years. Self-sufficient colonies meant less control from Earth. Less oversight. Fewer guarantees that humanity would present a unified front to the galaxy. The footage continued playing, Victors explaining something about “kinesis field generators” and “quantum vacuum manipulation” that sounded more like theoretical physics than practical engineering.

“What about industrial espionage?” Kahoku suggested, eyes narrowed at the display. “Could he have gotten his hands on experimental technology? Prothean artifacts? Something the turians or salarians are developing?”

Hammond shook his head without looking up from his console. “We’ve checked with our contacts at every major research institution across Council space. Nobody’s working on anything remotely similar. The Council Science Division claims the technology is ‘theoretically interesting but practically unsound’—their polite way of saying they think it’s a hoax.”

The captain gestured at the screen where workers in V.E.S.T. systems were lifting loads singlehandely that would require at least two or three men to manage properly. “Does that look like a hoax to you?” All of the men around the boy on-stage moved with the casual confidence of people using familiar tools, not experimental prototypes. Whatever this tech was, it worked reliably enough for commercial deployment. 

That was not something that happened overnight.

And certainly not by accident.

“The asari are particularly vexed, and for good reason, not that I don’t quite enjoy their floundering myself,” Yinsen added with a thin veneer of professional detachment barely covering his amusement. “The blues have built their technological dominance on eezo manipulation since we put the man himself on the cross. The idea that a human teenager might have found an alternative approach is…” His eyes gleamed with something Anderson could only describe as a particularly vindictive brand of schadenfreude, “Let’s call it politically inconvenient.”

Anderson’s jaw tightened slightly. Politics. 

Always politics. He’d joined the military to defend humanity, not navigate alien sensibilities of a species with lifespans older than his country of birth. “What do we know about Victors himself?”

“That’s where it gets interesting. However, discussing it here wouldn’t be expedient,” Hammond said, the man shutting down his console and gesturing for them to follow. “We should continue this in the secure briefing room. Admiral Hackett is waiting.”

Anderson shifted his weight as he nodded, falling into step beside Kahoku as they exited the command center. The captain shifted his weight, feeling the subtle but ever-present vibration of the station’s life support systems through the soles of his boots.The hallway stretched before them, Alliance personnel nodding respectfully as they passed. The lighting was standard military—efficient, slightly harsh, emphasizing function over comfort. Footsteps echoed with that distinctive hollow sound unique to space stations—not quite like any surface on Earth. Anderson found it oddly comforting after the polished corporate aesthetic of Victors’ presentation.

Lieutenant Commander Park called from across the room, where she’d been running security assessments. “How did we lose a mind like this to a colony?” Her voice carried both professional curiosity and personal frustration.

“I know,” Anderson replied, his tone deliberately neutral even as Park continued.

“His combat skills during the New Abraham incident were remarkable too. The combination of technical genius and tactical ability—”

“I know,” Anderson cut in more firmly this time. He’d reviewed the footage from the colony attack six times, looking for holes or inconsistencies. The way Victors had moved, even accounting for combat stims, showed training or instinct that went beyond what a civilian repair shop owner should possess. Another piece that doesn’t fit.

The temperature dropped a noticeable two degrees as they turned a corner approaching the secure section, an intentional design feature to keep sensitive equipment at optimal operating temperature. The corridor narrowed slightly, the walls taking on that reinforced quality that spoke of additional radiation shielding and security measures without advertising them outright. Two marines stood at attention outside, verifying credentials before allowing them entry. Major Grimes fell into step behind them, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “There’s been some discussion about retrieving him and ensuring his services are properly utilized for humanity’s benefit.”

Anderson stopped walking abruptly, turning to fix Grimes with a level stare that had made more than one recruit reconsider their career choices. He said nothing, just held the gaze until Grimes looked away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Strictly hypothetical discussions, of course,” the major amended.

“Of course,” Anderson replied, his tone making it clear the subject was closed. The very idea left a bad taste in his mouth. We start kidnapping civilian innovators, we’re no better than the batarians.

The briefing room door slid open to reveal Admiral Hackett standing at the far end of the table, reviewing holographic displays of what appeared to be Victory Innovations financial reports and market projections. The older officer looked up as they entered, his scarred face as unreadable as ever.

“Captain Anderson,” Hackett acknowledged with a nod. “I assume you’ve been briefed on our Victors situation?”

Anderson took the offered seat, noticing that Hackett had positioned himself at the end of the table rather than the head—a subtle indication this was a consultation, not a formal briefing. “I’ve seen the demonstration footage, sir. And heard about our engineering teams’ failures to understand his technology.”

“Failure is an understatement.” Hackett’s voice carried the weight of his frustration as he gestured to a holographic display of technical schematics. “We’ve had our best people on this for months. The principles are so fundamentally different from mass effect technology that we’re essentially starting from scratch.”

Hammond activated the room’s main display, bringing up a personnel file. Zedd Victors’ image appeared—younger than in the demonstration footage, probably taken when he first arrived on Arkadia IV. Anderson studied the face, looking for something he couldn’t quite define. What are you hiding behind that confidence?

“What we do know,” Hammond continued, scrolling through data points, “is his background. Lost his family in a car accident at 13 to an eezo transport crashing into a street and exploding. Dropped out of public education and ran with a crew of street kids in the Chesapeake Metroplex. Suspected of several crimes but never officially charged with any… except…”

Hammond trailed off, frowning at his datapad with the particular expression of someone who’s just discovered a surprise complication. Anderson raised an eyebrow at the pause, his instincts immediately sharpening. “Except what?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Hammond transferred a file to Anderson’s omni-tool. “This came through classified channels a week ago. Not in his official record.”

Anderson opened the file, scanning the contents while maintaining a neutral expression even as his mind rapidly reassessed everything he’d assumed about the young inventor.

“What is it?” Kahoku asked, leaning forward with poorly disguised impatience.

Anderson closed the file, the pieces rearranging themselves in his head. “Juvenile record, sealed by court order. At fourteen, he was briefly held in connection with a militia warehouse break-in. Military-grade combat stims were stolen. The charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence, but the investigating officer noted his suspicion that Victors engineered the security breach.”

“That would explain his familiarity with combat stims during the New Abraham incident,” Park observed, always quick to connect tactical dots.

Anderson nodded mechanically, but something about the file nagged at his instincts. The timing was convenient—too convenient. Almost as if someone wanted the Alliance to see Victors as a potential security risk rather than just an innovative civilian. Someone’s playing games here.

“There’s more,” Hackett said, bringing up a new set of files with an almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes. “Strategic Analysis has been modeling the economic impact of Victory Innovations’ technology if it continues to spread throughout the colonies.”

The projections appeared, graphs showing diminishing reliance on eezo shipments from Council space, decreased dependency on established supply chains, significant shifts in colonial development trajectories. Anderson processed the implications rapidly—this wasn’t just about new technology, it was about power dynamics across human space.

“If his non-eezo technology becomes the colonial standard,” Hackett continued, his voice carefully controlled, “we’re looking at a fundamental shift in humanity’s relationship with Council space. The colonies would be increasingly self-sufficient, less dependent on Earth and established trade routes.”

“Some would consider that a positive development,” Anderson noted carefully, watching Hackett’s expression for reaction.

“Some would,” Hackett agreed, his tone neutral. “Others see it as a potential threat to unified human governance. If the colonies no longer need Earth’s resources or protection…”

The implication hung in the air, unspoken but clear: independence movements would gain strength. The fragile political balance between Earth and the colonies would shift. Anderson had spent enough time in colonial space to understand the tensions brewing there—resentment toward Earth’s control, frustration with taxation without adequate representation, the growing feeling that colonial interests were secondary to Earth politics.

“There are already voices in Parliament suggesting that technologies with such strategic implications should be under Alliance control,” Kahoku added, sliding a datapad across the table.

Anderson studied the projections, considering the broader implications while deliberately avoiding any outward reaction to what Kahoku was suggesting. “And how do they propose to achieve that? The young man doesn’t seem interested in relocating to Earth or working directly with the Alliance.”

“There have been proposals,” Grimes began, before catching Anderson’s warning look and amending, “But nothing serious has been advanced.”

“Good,” Anderson said firmly, unable to completely hide his distaste for the direction this conversation was taking. “Because forcibly ‘retrieving’ a civilian entrepreneur from a colonial world would violate at least six laws I can name without checking a database, not to mention the political fallout.” He looked directly at Hackett, gauging the admiral’s position on this matter.

Hackett’s expression remained controlled, but Anderson thought he detected a hint of agreement in the admiral’s eyes.

“Captain Anderson is right,” Hackett said after a moment. “Whatever our concerns about Victors’ technology, we need to approach this carefully. Legally. The last thing the Alliance needs is to confirm colonial fears about Earth overreach.”

“So what do we do?” Park asked, frustration evident in her voice. “Just let this technology spread unchecked? The security implications alone—”

“We observe,” Anderson interrupted, his voice firm. “We analyze. We try to understand. And most importantly, we establish contact through proper channels.” He looked directly at Hackett. “With respect, sir, if we’re concerned about this technology, the solution isn’t to seize it or its creator. It’s to build a relationship where cooperation benefits both parties.”

Hackett studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Which is why I’ve asked for you specifically, Captain. I’d like you to reach out to Governor Shen-Abraham on Arkadia IV. Officially, you’ll be there to discuss colonial security arrangements. Unofficially…”

“You want me to take the measure of Zedd Victors,” Anderson finished, recognizing the assignment for what it was.

“Precisely.” Hackett leaned forward slightly. “Not as an intelligence operative or a military officer, but as a man talking to another man about the future. No pressure, no threats, no attempts to manipulate. Just… a conversation.”

Anderson considered this approach. Better than the alternatives being whispered about in some Alliance circles. And he was genuinely curious about the young inventor. Something about the footage he’d seen, the way Victors moved and spoke, suggested there was more to him than a colonial success story.

“I’ll need a legitimate reason to meet with him,” Anderson said, already thinking through potential approaches. “Something that won’t trigger immediate suspicion.”

“We’ll manufacture one before the month is out, making it appear as natural and incidental as possible.” Hackett’s expression softened fractionally. “This isn’t an intelligence operation, David. No subterfuge, no hidden agenda. Just find out who this young man is and what drives him. The Alliance needs to understand what we’re dealing with before others make decisions we might all regret.”

The clear reference to more aggressive factions within the Alliance hung in the air. Anderson understood completely. Better him having this conversation than someone with fewer scruples and more ambition.

“I’ll report directly to you,” Anderson said, standing as the meeting clearly concluded.

Hackett nodded, then hesitated, hand hovering over his console. “There’s something else. Something we just received.” His voice dropped slightly. “An cold case that’s been reopened in the Chesapeake Metroplex. Received new attention due to the focus on the boy.”

Anderson remained standing, watching as Hackett triggered a display on the central screen. A file appeared—security footage, personnel records, and what looked like medical reports. 

“Oh.”