Shepard took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she sat in the lobby of Alliance Headquarters inside Arcturus Station. She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous tic she'd had since childhood. It wasn't often one was called before one of the upper echelon of the Systems Alliance Armed Forces.

She was in the middle of checking her dress uniform for the umpteenth time, a more recent tic, when she saw the viper receptionist put a finger to her ear. "Yes, Admiral? Yes, she is." A nod, and the hand lowered. "The Admiral will see you now."

Shepard nodded her head in return, stood, and walked over to the office of the admiral who had summoned her. She rapped her knuckles on the door and waited. "Enter."

She opened the door, marched in, and saluted. "Admiral MacArthur, sir. Captain Shepard reporting."

He returned the salute. "At ease, Shepard. Shut the door and have a seat."

"Yes, sir."

Once she was seated, he began his briefing. "What I am about to say is restricted to a select few individuals." When Shepard nodded her understanding, he continued, "About seventy hours ago, a farmer on the colony of Eden Prime uncovered an alien artifact. It was determined to be prothean, like the ruins on Mars. Per our agreement with the Citadel Council, the artifact will be loaded onto a ship and delivered to the Citadel for study. You will be commanding the escort squad that will oversee the delivery. The 212th Colonial Garrison Division will meet you at the colony's primary spaceport for the handoff."

"Understood, sir. Who will be in my squad?"

The admiral activated his desk's holo-display and brought up various soldier profiles. First up was a human. "Corporal Richard L. Jenkins. Assault-class trooper. He's aggressive and eager to prove himself, but he won't disobey orders to do it." The image changed to show a sectoid. "Tech Sergeant Kaiden Alenko. Medic. Also an Adept-ranked defensive psionic."

"So he'll be keeping us alive if things go south?"

The admiral nodded. "Additionally, you'll be supported by two alloy S.H.I.V.s"

"Five unit team?"

"Well, six, actually."

Shepard blinked when she saw the new profile. "A turian? I thought that this was an Alliance op."

"Council Spectre Nihlus Kryiik will be overseeing the transfer of the artifact at all stages of the process."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Denied." He pointed at her chest. "Shepard, I know you have strong feelings about the turians, but Nihlus wasn't at Shanxi. You'll only be working with him for one mission. I trust that you can keep yourself in check for that long." His tone made it clear that that was an order, not a question.

"Yes, sir."

He scrutinized her to check that she was telling the truth, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Then I wish you good luck, and Godspeed, soldier. Vigilo confido."

"Vigilo confido."

Shepard stood in Normandy's cockpit, pointedly trying to avoid thinking about the asari ship about to dock with the Alliance destroyer. Pleasant as they were, none of the "blue-skinned alien space babes," as some of the more "open-minded" Alliance soldiers called them, were coming aboard. A somewhat quiet clacking announced that the docking adaptor had engaged, and their…temporary passenger was about to arrive.

Shepard sighed and turned around, meeting the ship's Captain, a Shanxi Conflict veteran named David Anderson, for the walk to the airlock. When the door opened, she got her first in-person look at a turian.

Nihlus was tall, with dark facial plates that had white markings painted on them. Embedded amidst the plates was a pair of piercing bright green eyes. The rest of him was covered by a red and gray suit of armor Shepard recognized as an asari-made Phantom combat hardsuit. Contrary to what its name suggested, the Phantom did not have any integral stealth or cloaking systems like the Alliance's Shadow armor. Although, there were after-market mods that could…and she'd drifted off, again. Damn it, I really need to get that tech obsession under control.

She just barely avoided missing the introductions. "I'm Captain Anderson. This is Captain Shepard. I'm in charge of the ship; she commands the Strike team."

To Shepard's surprise, the turian was the first to offer his hand; for some reason, Shepard felt the need to note that he had three talons instead of five fingers. "Spectre Nihlus Kryiik. I look forward to working with both of you." He shook Captain Anderson's hand, and then his eyes widened as she extended hers.

"What? Never seen a MEC Trooper, before?" She rotated her mechanical hand three hundred sixty degrees for emphasis.

He shook his head. "No, I have. It's just, I thought that MEC Trooper cybernetics were almost indistinguishable from normal limbs."

As they began walking to the crew quarters, Shepard laughed. "Those are the Gen. 6 Augments." She raised her arm. "I've always been an in-your-face kind of gal, so I prefer the Gen. 4 Heavy Combat Augments. A micro-Elerium power cell in each limb allows the use of a powerful dielectric musculature that lets me hit like a truck." She stopped and planted her palm against her forehead as she realized what she was doing. "Gad, I'm rambling about tech, again, and to a turian, no less." She turned toward Anderson. "Sorry, sir."

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Shepard. You didn't say anything classified."

Nihlus put in his own two cents. "And I don't mind learning about–"

Shepard wheeled on him. "Did you hear me ask for your opinion, turian?"

Anderson glared at the ground captain. "Shepard…"

Nihlus held up a three-fingered hand. "It's alright. I expected this after reading the brief." He switched his posture to a human-like parade rest. "I wasn't at Shanxi, and I know I can't speak for every turian in the galaxy, but, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened to your father."

Shepard fell silent as she contemplated the turian's words. Without responding, she turned on her heel and walked back to the cockpit. When she arrived, she stood next to the pilot, a psionically-talented (if physically-crippled) man named Jeff Moreau, and stared at the holographic projections in front of them.

"Credit for your thoughts, Captain?"

Shepard shook her head. "Not right now, Joker. I still need them. Maybe later."

The man chuckled. "Not bad, Shepard. You might make a good joke, some day."

"Oh, that's a low blow, Joker." A grin appeared, unbidden.

"Eh, I got you to smile."

Shepard stared at him for a long moment before realizing that he was right. Her grin broadened, and she pointedly poked him in the shoulder. "Jerk."

He winced at the gesture. "Hey! Be careful!"

Jeff "Joker" Moreau was a freeborn, meaning that his parents had opted out of having routine gene therapy performed for him. Unfortunately, both of his parents had turned out to be carriers for a rare genetic disorder called Vrolik's Syndrome, a type of brittle-bone disease, and Joker happened to hit the bad-luck-jackpot and caught the disease. When he was born, so many of his bones were broken that the best doctors in the Alliance determined that he wouldn't even survive a round of Meld-based gene therapy; they even said that he'd be lucky to even survive to adulthood with constant modern treatment. However, man and nature tend to find a way to compensate for weaknesses that aren't weeded out. In Joker's case, his indomitable will to keep persevering made him into an exceptionally-powerful psionic, one of the precious few able to pilot a starship without needing a suit of Vortex Armor.

"You big baby. I know your bones' limits and two Newtons spread across a square centimeter isn't even close."

"Ass." The immediate area was bathed in a purple glow as Joker's psionics flared. "Asari frigate Alassa has decoupled; moving to minimum safe distance." He glanced at the radio control on his console. "Captain Anderson, we're ready to jump on your order."

"Understood, Joker. Begin jump preparations."

"Roger that, Captain. All hands, prepare for Elerium Phase Transition. Five minutes and counting."

Shepard sat down in one of the jump-seats installed in the bridge, buckled up, and waited for the EPT (or "jump," as it was nicknamed for ease of reference), hoping against hope that her insides would not end the trip feeling like they'd just come out of a blender.

Elerium Phase Transition functioned by warping space-time between the departure and destination points to a level that a sub-light drive could propel a ship from one to the other in a couple of hours. However, EPT did not play well with those whose physiologies had not been tailored to its use, as the first unfortunate human passengers found out. Because gene-modding all six and a half billion surviving humans was impractical, the best scientists of the nascent Systems Alliance devised a shielding system to dampen the effects of EPT down to safe levels. "Safe" did not necessarily equate to "comfortable," however. If one wasn't lucky enough to possess the right gene mods or psionics, then severe nausea was the most common side effect, although some poor sods still fell into (thankfully temporary) comas after a jump. Shepard was somewhere in the middle, suffering nigh-crippling pain every time.

"T-minus two minutes."

Shepard became aware of a presence in the jump-seat next to hers. She looked and saw the turian buckling himself in, Anderson doing the same further down. "Why is he here?"

"He insisted."

"I've never been on a human ship during a jump, before. I've been told it's a fascinating experience."

Shepard rolled her eyes and scoffed. "'Fascinating' is one way of putting it."

"T-minus one minute."

"Some humans have even implied that their first time was akin to a religious event, as it ended with them worshipping a god. Although, I'd never heard of the porcelain g–"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" She reached behind Nihlus and pulled out a plastic zipper bag. "Here. Take this and hold it open. You'll need it."

"Um…"

David chuckled. "Forgive Shepard. She gets irritable at times like this. She gets jump-sick easily."

"With all due respect, sir, screw you."

Another chuckle. "See?"

For both good and ill, Joker came on the intercom again at that moment. "Attention all hands. Beginning Elerium Phase Transition. T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

And the blender went to work, making Shepard clutch her stomach as her face contorted into a rictus of pain. For the next two hours, she wished she would black out or even die, anything to stop the raw, torturous agony. But, alas, Fate was not so kind.

When the Elerium Phase Transition ended, Anderson unbuckled his harness and began barking orders. To Shepard, it blurred into the background noise she'd heard dozens of times. Instead, what caught her attention was the turian putting the clearly unused barf bag back where it came from. "Wha–? How the f–? You lucky son of a bitch!" she hissed through gritted teeth.

Before the turian could respond, Joker's voice cut through the buzz. "Uh, Captains? We've got an incoming transmission from Eden Prime on an emergency channel."

"Patch it to the comm. room. Shepard, Nihlus, with me."

Forcing herself to ignore the pain, Shepard unbuckled her harness and followed.

When they arrived, Anderson gave Joker the go-ahead to play the message. What was clearly footage from a helmet camera began with a view of a human marine equipped with Carapace Armor and a Lancer assault rifle. "Any receiving unit, this is Sergeant Vanderloo of the 212th Colonial Garrison Division. We need immediate reinforcements! We're being overwhelmed by an unknown enemy. They seem to be–"

A viper wearing white Aegis Armor and wielding a heavy laser rifle, a Glock G56 if Shepard's eye was right, slithered into view and pushed the sergeant to the ground. "Get down!" An alien rocket flew through the space where Vanderloo's head had been, and the viper returned fire.

An agonized scream told that the rocket had found a target. Vanderloo's eyes widened, his breath audibly quickened, and his lips quivered. Shepard closed her eyes at what she knew was about to happen. "Help! We need help, now! Now, d–!" His cries ended with the sickening squelch of a head bursting.

Then a sound like a demonic foghorn echoed over the recording, prompting Shepard to return her view to the screen. The camera jerkily panned around to find the source of the noise and came to rest on what looked like a giant black mechanical hand reaching down from the heavens. Understandably, the cameraman and several other soldiers turned and fled, explosions and bullet ricochets kicking up clods of dirt around them. Seconds later, the video feed ended in static.

"Everything cuts out after that, Captains. No comm. traffic or anything."

Anderson spoke up. "Reverse and hold at thirty eight point five."

Shepard glanced at him, unsure of whether it was a gene-mod, natural talent, or trained skill that allowed the black Londoner to tell time that precisely.

The image stopped on the giant hand. "Joker, status report?"

"Seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other Alliance ships in the area."

"Take us in. Shepard, gather your squad and gear up. Nihlus, go with her. This mission just got a lot more complicated."