AUTHOR'S NOTE: Fire up the engines, people, we've got a lot of sky to cover. Welcome back to Icarus Down.

…

…Where am I? I feel… strange.

My body… Argh. What happened?

Shit. My limbs. I can't feel them at all… Wait. No. There they are.

Come on.

Move.

Why won't my body do what I tell it to?

I feel sick. I feel… strange.

I've felt this before… when?

It feels like… like…

…Like when I first got my Dragoon implants.

My whole body feels like—

…No.

No no no…

Shit.

How much have they changed?

What have they done to me…?

Icarus Down: Prologue

Hero of the Foundation

"I still think he's the best choice for the operation."

An accented voice rang out in the clear space, from one of three men seated around a small round table. The room was simple, utilitarian- suitable for any Foundation needs.

One of the seated figures, a massive, bulky reptilian figure in red armor, three long scars marring the left side of his face into a constant sneer, gave a thoughtful sound.

"Hmm. His reputation does precede him. It would be a powerful message to get him involved," he said in a deep rumble.

"You must be referring to another Shepard," said another of the seated figures, an older-looking man, with dark skin and close-cropped hair, with an immaculate black-and-gold military uniform. "Because the Shepard I'm thinking of would probably kill their Spectre as soon as take orders from them."

"He's not stupid, Anderson. Personal bias aside, he's not going to incite an interstellar war- on top of the one we already have, mind you- over getting his feelings hurt," said the red-clad reptilian figure.

"His service record is exemplary," added the first speaker, clasping three-digit hands together. This person was clad head to toe in a black and red encounter suit, his face concealed behind a purplish visor, the faintest appearance of lavender eyes glowing from behind it. "Hero of the Blitz, handled the Torfan encounter almost single-handedly, Dragoon squadron commander, leader of the Zephyr unit—"

"We all know his service record," said Anderson, a bit more annoyed than he meant to sound. "I'm just… concerned. Nihlus Kryik, intentionally or not, represents everything that Shepard hates about the Citadel. After what happened to him, to us, I'm not sure he can just put all that behind him."

"I've worked with Shepard before- hell, I'm the one that trained him to be a Dragoon," said the reptilian man. "If he can put Torfan- hell, if he can put Mindoir behind him, he can muscle his way through this. If you'll recall, he didn't like any of us much at first."

The two others flinched slightly at the mention of Mindoir. They didn't much like bringing up one of the most resounding failures in Foundation history. Anderson sighed.

"Look, Wrex," he said, turning to the reptilian, "I appreciate the endorsement, but it's more than just personal bias. Shepard's been in charge of the Zephyr unit for years, now. You're asking me to uproot his entire command structure and put him under the command of a Citadel Spectre."

"I'm not advocating uprooting anything. Just… adding to it," said Wrex. "Why take Zephyr away from Shepard? Let them come too. Our best with their best. They still answer to Shepard, but Shepard answers to Kryik while he's in their airspace. That was the whole point of this 'Phalanx,' anyway- our troops, their Spectre."

There was a pause for a moment, as everyone mulled this idea over, before Anderson spoke.

"What do you think, Rael?" he said, turning toward the armor-cloaked figure.

"What do I think of what?"

"Well, your daughter is currently assigned to Zephyr unit- are you comfortable involving her in the Phalanx Project?" Anderson asked?

Rael scoffed quietly. "I foresee no immediate danger to her that she is not capable of handling. Besides, it's ultimately up to Tali what she does with her time. If I were that concerned, I would not have let her become a soldier in the first place, much less volunteer for Zephyr."

Anderson nodded. He turned back to Wrex.

"It is… likely that having access to his resources and subordinates would have a stabilizing influence on Shepard… and he is, for better or worse, the face of our forces."

Wrex gave a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Got that right. I've been checking the Apex ratings on Shepard over the last couple years- he's rated as a Class-0 threat."

Anderson raised an eyebrow. Apex wasn't an official channel by any means- basically just a database full of people that various organizations considered dangerous- but to be rated so highly was impressive. Class-0 wasn't even an official Apex rating, as a matter of fact. It was more of a title, like how humanity used to name hurricanes back on earth. It was a badge, a flashing neon sign that said, "Do Not Fuck With This Person." For a human to be rated so highly…

"I feel at this point, we are simply throwing words back and forth," said Rael, looking between Anderson and Wrex. "I think we have all pretty much decided, so, therefore, in my official capacity as Chancellor, I nominate Commander Isaac M. Shepard for executive officer of the Phalanx Unit."

Wrex nodded. "Seconded." He turned to Anderson. "Well?"

Anderson sighed. "Very well. Motion granted. We'll run it by the Senate later, though I don't think they'll have much of a problem with it. They voted for this project, anyway." Anderson activated his omnitool, the golden interface wrapping around his left arm like a glove. "Senator Udina?"

"Yes, Chancellor," said the gravelly voice on the other side.

"Send a dispatch to the Solaris, tell them to come home. We have a new assignment for them."

"Of course, Chancellor."

Eden Prime

The criminal ran haphazardly, panic in his eyes, clutching the pistol in his right hand in a death grip, not daring to look back to see if his pursuer was still chasing him. He already knew the answer to that, anyway. This fucker wasn't going to give up.

Twin bars of red light impacted in the alleyway just ahead of the man, forcing him to turn down a passage to the left.

"Shit," he muttered. He knew he was being herded, but he didn't have a choice. It was a no-win situation- stop running and die, or keep being directed to whatever trap this guy was trying to set… and die. He only hoped he could buy enough time for the rest of his crew to show up. Maybe then they could at least drive him off…?

…Oh, who was he kidding?

Still, he ran. Anything to prolong the inevitable. He heard a buzzing behind him, not daring to look in case it was another laser. The buzzing got louder, and closer, high up and to the man's right. He finally let the urge to look win out, and nearly stumbled at the sight.

His pursuer, in a long black coat, hood up, running along the alleyway wall, parallel to the ground, as easily as though he was running on flat ground. Arcs of what looked like golden electricity sparked around his lower legs and feet, almost appearing to be anchoring him to the wall as he ran. The criminal looked at the sight incredulously, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Oh, that is bullshit! Seriously? Not even gravity can stop this bastard?

Unfortunately, the rather distracting sight of a man defying several laws of physics meant that the criminal was not watching where he was going, running smack into a recycling container someone had left back here, stumbling and falling to the ground. His pursuer pounced at the opportunity, no pun intended, leaping off of the wall and landing elegantly in front of him. He turned smoothly, in the same motion that two pistols shot from the man's sleeves into his waiting hands, pointing straight at the fallen criminal.

The man stumbled to his feet, possibly hoping to try and run back in the direction he'd just come, when suddenly—

BOOM.

The sound of the impact rang like an explosion, and the criminal turned slowly, assuming he wasn't going to like what he saw.

He assumed correctly.

A krogan stood in the alleyway, large, reptilian, imposing as all hell. They blocked off his escape route, golden glowing eyes glaring at him, and wielding a hammer whose head was roughly the size of his entire torso. He whimpered quietly in fear.

Said whimpering got louder when he heard a mechanical sounding snarl from above. He looked up, resigned but still terrified, to see an angular robotic shape in the shape of an animal, like someone tried to make a wolf or panther out of as many sharp objects as possible, looming on top of the building above. This too had the same golden eyes as the krogan.

"Pardon me," said a girl's accented voice behind him, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin as he turned to see who had snuck up on him. A girl- a quarian girl, it seemed. At first he thought he was mistaken, for she was wearing no environment suit, face exposed to the elements. But then he took in the three-fingered hands, the oddly-shaped legs, the lavender skin, silvery eyes with- yes- flickers of gold floating in them. If it weren't for how terrified he was, he'd have been amazed. A suitless quarian. How'd they manage that? And where did she come from, anyway?

The girl smiled- calm, serene, and supremely unnerving- and raised a finger toward the metal creature on the roof.

"Please don't stare at Renn. She's very self-conscious, you know."

"Adam Wright," said a male voice. Oh. Right. Forgot about him, somehow. The man- Adam- turned to face his pursuer.

Gunmetal black hands clutched twin pistols, a red glow emanating from deep in the barrels. The man's face was strong- square jaw, close-trimmed beard, and those same yellow-gold eyes as everyone else in the alleyway. Aside from him, anyway. His eyes were as hard as diamonds, glaring at Adam, unyielding. He swallowed hard.

"Fist. The name's Fist."

"So you've said, but as I told you before, that name is idiotic, so I'm calling you by your birth name. At least that has some dignity to it," said the black-and-gold man, voice smooth and dripping with sarcasm. "Besides, you're not really in a position to be making demands."

"Says you. You think I was running for nothing?" said "Fist," voice still wavering as he tried to salvage at least some of his pride. He tried to force a cocky grin, but he was sure it was just coming across as a grimace. Just roll with it.

"My men. They'll be here soon- you thought those guys back at the hideout were the only men under me? I got more, lots more. They'll get here, and we'll see whether you clowns can handle all of them at—"

"Your men are dead," rumbled a bored-sounding voice behind him. He turned to the hammer-wielding krogan, suddenly shocked to realize the voice that came from its mouth was female. The krogan scratched her chin, looking for all the world like she was going to fall asleep where she stood.

"Dead or broken. We took care of that long before we ever came after you, Wright."

Fist paled. How? How had they done that so fast? He should have at least heard something if another one of his locations had been attacked, shouldn't he? There's no way. It had to be a lie, right? Had to be a lie. The krogan female caught sight of his terrified gaze and grinned. It was unpleasant.

"You seem shaken. Doesn't feel good, does it? The fear. The terror. Your victims probably didn't enjoy it much, either."

"Enough, Bakara," came a metallic female voice from the top of the alleyway. Fist looked up, confused, as he realized it was the razor-panther-thing talking.

"The bastard's scared enough as it is. He's got nowhere to go, no one to back him up. We win. Yay, us. Let's just stuff him in a sack and get him back the Solaris."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, you bunch of freaks—" Fist tried to yell, only to be interrupted by a pencil-thin laser through his left thigh. He screamed in pain, sinking to his knees, clutching his injured leg. The man with the pistols began walking forward, the pistol in his left hand folding up and sneaking back into his sleeve, the right-hand one still trained on him.

"Now, Mr. Wright. We don't like that sort of language here. If you keep acting up, I'll have to discipline you again. Maybe your kneecap, this time."

Fist breathed heavily through the pain, glaring up at the yellow-eyed man.

"Fuck… off—"

A laser grazed his left cheek, close enough to burn. His eyes went wide, whatever retort he had prepared freezing in his throat.

"Tsk. You're a bad listener, aren't you, Mr. Wright?" The yellow-eyed man sighed, flipping his other pistol into his sleeve. "Right then. Adam Wright, by the authority of the Icarus Colonial Foundation, and its military whom we represent, you are hereby under arrest for the crimes of kidnapping, trafficking, extortion, murder, conspiracy, and a whole bunch of other things I can't be bothered to remember right now. So please, shut up, allow yourself to be dragged back to our ship, and maybe we'll see about Bakara doing something for that leg wound. Yeah?"

Fist continued to glare, not trusting himself to do anything else. The yellow-eyed man sighed.

"Tali?"

There was the sensation of a small pinch on Fist's neck, and almost immediately, the world began to swim. He was shocked- whatever they'd just shot him up with was strong. He swayed, unable to keep himself upright, falling over to the ground. As his last bits of consciousness left him, he mused that it could be worse, his situation. He was looking at substantial jail time, and his leg hurt like a bitch, but it could be worse. He expected to end up like his men, if he was being truly honest.

After all, he'd just gone up against Isaac Shepard.

It could have been much, much worse.

With that small comfort, he closed his eyes, and let whatever they'd stuck him with drag him into the dark.

Shepard sighed in relief as Wright closed his eyes, slipping off into dreamland. Just talking to men like him made him feel like the charge was decreasing in his capacitors. He turned to Bakara, gesturing toward the unconscious crime boss.

"All right, wrap him up and let's get out of here. I'll message Joker and let him know we're coming."

"You should have let me hit him," said Bakara, hefting Wright over her shoulder. "It's more fun than letting Tali drug him."

"Yes, but we wanted him unconscious, Bakara. Not dead," said Tali, amused.

"I know my own strength. The only difference is that he'd wake up with a worse headache, my way."

"If at all," Shepard said, the smallest of smirks on his lips. Bakara huffed.

"You all seem to have far too little faith in my abilities. I can be careful! I'm the medical officer!"

"…Slash wrecking ball," chuckled Renn.

"Oh, can it, all of you. Especially you, bag of bolts," said Bakara in a mock-angry tone. "You're only alive because of me saving your stack back on Akuze."

"Oh for—Tali! She said the A-word!" Renn's tone was mockingly whining, a clear sign she wasn't as offended as she made out to be.

"That she did, Renn, that she did," said Tali, though not making any move to reprimand the krogan.

"…And? You know how I feel about the A-word."

"We all know how we feel about the A-word, Renn," said Shepard, still looking vaguely amused. "Now can it, all of you. I have to make a call." He tilted his head, his mind tuning into the Solaris' frequency on the edge of the city.

Joker, he messaged.

Oh, hey, Commander. You nab the bad guys yet? Even in text form, Joker could sound chipper.

Yeah, we bagged Wright. Local authorities can deal with the rest of them.

Hoo, boy. How much are they going to hate us today?

Not much, actually. Bakara may have exaggerated how many we had to kill to make Wright sweat a little more than necessary. Still, we have quite a few medical bills to foot.

Considering how much we get paid, I don't think we should be that worried, sent Joker. You want me to bring the Solaris around?

Please do.

All right. By the way…

Yes?

I just got a message a little before you called. Direct from the Chancellery Board.

Shepard's eyebrows raised in surprise. Another mission already? Not exactly unusual, though he'd been expecting at least a little downtime.

All right, I'll comm back when I get back to the ship. Did they mention what it was about?

Nothing you're going to like. It, uh… it's about Phalanx, Commander.

Shepard stopped dead in his tracks, drawing odd glances from his teammates. His brows knit in frustration.

"Shepard?" questioned Tali.

"Hey, Shep. What's the holdup?" asked Renn.

"Board message," he said, tone flat.

"Okay?" said Bakara, confusion and amusement on her features. "I mean, it's pretty sudden to get another mission, sure, but it's nothing we haven't dealt with before—"

"About Phalanx."

This here was greeted by silence, save for one word from Renn.

"…Fuck."