This takes place in the few days leading up to the beginning of the game. FemShep.
The Normandy
Chapter 1: Maiden Voyage
Commander Jane Shepard hated pomp and beaurocracy. It made her uncomfortable though no one would ever know it. She was as polished and proper as any of the Alliance Brass, but as she glanced down at her evening gown and heels she sighed. She felt like she was playing dress up. She'd known about this event for some time now, a political gala full of hoopla to mark the maiden launch of The Normandy, the newest, most technologically advanced ship in the fleet. A ship she was about to be the Executive Officer aboard. She held her small black clutch purse at her side. It had just enough room for a bit of lipstick and her small, seldom used .38 snub nose pistol, a gift from a friend years ago. She also had a small knife strapped to the inside of one of her upper thighs. As she stepped into the elevator and hit the button she shook her head at herself. Never let it be said Jane Shepard was ever unprepared. Truth was she hated not having a weapon close by, even when she was dressed to the nines. She'd put off getting a dress for this until yesterday. She hated shopping. She'd gone through five or six dresses before finally deciding on a sleek, black, silk halter dress. It was form fitting, but not too form fitting, and accentuated her chest tastefully. She thought that perhaps she had too many scars on her bare back and arms for it, but then she was a marine, not a socialite. Her almost black, near shoulder length hair was swept up into a small elegant twist off of her face.
She took a deep breath as the elevator opened, revealing a swanky celebration. She stepped out and scanned the room. All the politicians and important investors and pencil pushers would be here tonight. As would The Normandy's new crew. She would have preferred to be able to meet all of them on the job and get to know them in a more real circumstance, but Ambassador Udina seemed so tickled about showing off the ship, the brass had planned this. Her eyes met Captain Anderson and he motioned for her to come to him. She smiled, and walked toward him. David Anderson would be captaining the Normandy. He was a great man, highly decorated, brilliant, with an exemplary record. More than that she liked the man. She had been honored to discover she'd be serving with him.
"Good evening, Captain" she said as she strolled up.
"Shepard," his deep voice said. He motioned to the man standing next to him. "You remember Ambassador Udina." Shepard smiled and extended her hand.
"Yes," she said. The Ambassador shook it. "Ambassador." Something about Udina rubbed Shepard the wrong way. He seemed smug, ambitious, too politically motivated.
"Commander," he said. "You look lovely."
"Thank you, sir." Come to think of it, Shepard admitted, Udina was in a precarious position. He was representing the whole of the human race among the council of alien races. Humans were new to the galactic community and had much to prove. She didn't envy his job.
"So," Udina continued. "The Captain tells me you've had a chance to check out The Normandy."
"Yes sir."
"She is beautiful, isn't' she?"
Somehow, Udina calling a ship a "she" bothered her.
"Yes sir," she responded. "The Normandy really is a piece of work. I have to admit I'm amazed with the technology used to build it."
"Prothean technology," Anderson replied. "The first ship ever to use it."
"The fact that The Normandy is crewed by humans is a major step for us as a race." Udina chimed in. Shepard immediately got his not so subtle meaning. She knew how important it was for Humans to establish themselves as a presence in the universe.
"That's why it's being crewed by the best humanity has to offer," Anderson said, almost reading her mind. "Every member of the crew has been handpicked. We have the best, the brightest, the most decorated and capable hands on the ship."
"Yes, indeed" Udina said. Shepard was getting tired of the hob-knobbing already and she'd been there less than ten minutes. Udina gestured across the room. "That's your pilot over there. Jeff Moreau."
"Goes by Joker," Anderson said. "He's the best."
"Yes," Shepard agreed. "I read his file. I've read everyone's file."
"Then you know the man standing next to him is Lt. Kaiden Alenko. One of the few biotics that still has an L2 implant," Anderson said.
"I've heard the L2's can be unstable." Udina said.
"Not Alenko," Anderson defended. "He's precise, controlled. Very efficient."
It seemed as good a reason as any to escape small talk with Udina.
"I suppose I should go say hello," Shepard said. "Good to see you, Ambassador. Captain." She walked away in the general direction of Joker and Alenko. They almost looked out of place. Then again she couldn't imagine any Alliance military looking comfortable here. They were wearing their dress blues and Shepard wondered momentarily why it had never occurred to her to wear hers. She strode casually toward them and could already see that they were speaking about her. Their body language suggested they knew who she was and they'd noticed her approach. She was about to introduce herself when Alenko spoke.
"Commander Shepard" he said. She smiled. He seemed nervous.
"Lieutenants," she said. "It's nice to finally meet both of you." She looked at Joker. "So you're our pilot. Joker right?"
"Yes Ma'am," Joker responded. "Best pilot in the fleet."
Shepard was amused at his confidence, but he was right. He had been first on the very short list of candidates to pilot the Normandy.
"You seem pretty sure of yourself."
"Yes Ma'am. I won't let you down."
"Good to know." She turned her attention to Alenko.
"Commander it's an honor to get to serve under you." He started. "What you did at the Blitz was very impressive." Shepard didn't really know what to say.
"Thank you," was what she managed. "I'm looking forward to it as well." She thought they had an awkward moment of eye contact. Shepard didn't like awkward. She'd read Alenko's file as well. Fully decorated, several commendations. Didn't seem like the eager type on paper. But then she did have an imposing presence. This is why she hated events like this. She wanted to have met Joker and Alenko in their element, where they all felt more comfortable in their roles. Social events made the chain of command blur a little. She could tell both of them felt a little strange right now.
She continued.
"Have you both had a chance to meet Ambassador Udina?" she asked. Joker smiled.
"With respect, ma'am I don't do so well with the suit types. No offense."
"Do I strike you as the suit type?" She hadn't meant for that question to sound intimidating but she thought it probably did.
"No ma'am," Joker said quickly. "It's just that I'm not comfortable speaking with someone like Udina. You sure seem to be doing all right though is all."
"Well it helps that I'm armed." It was a joke, and she saw Alenko smile a little, but Joker still seemed to be a little nervous. She supposed she should be moving along anyway to say hello to the rest of the crew and god help her, investors. "Well I should go. See you both on board at 0800 tomorrow."
"Yes ma'am," they both said almost in unison and she walked away. She nodded to Pressley, the Navigator on The Normandy. She'd worked with him before once or twice, liked him. Quickly scanning the room she noticed the bar and walked over. She was dying for a beer, but champagne would do. On her way over she noticed several of the other female crew members, also in evening gowns chatting away. She wondered again why they never wore their dress uniforms to things like this. She supposed it was because they rarely got the chance to be feminine. On duty, a good female marine was like everyone else.
She thought briefly of her career, how she'd needed to be that much stronger, to prove that much more. She supposed some of that had come from her childhood. Her N7 training had been brutal and she was one of only a handful of women ever to complete it, let alone at the top of the ranks. She'd seen vids about the "unfair" treatment of women in the military, but she'd never seen anything to support them. She admitted that, at the risk of sounding like a traitor to her sex, you could either do the job or not, and there were plenty of people, male and female who had plenty of excuses why they couldn't. She wasn't one of them. She just got things done.
The truth was Jane Shepard was stunning. Her features were slightly stronger than what one might call "pretty." She wasn't soft, but she was beautiful nonetheless. Fair skin, full but not plump lips, dark green eyes that could be warm and affectionate or chilling and terrifying. Her nose was perfectly shaped and straight, not at all a cute button nose, but definitely not large. At 5'9" she could still be imposing without being an Amazon. Her body was toned, strong, and athletic, but thankfully retained its feminine shape. She wasn't vain, but she was happy that in her most efficient physical state she didn't look like some of the other female marines, who could barely pass for female anymore.
The rest of her evening was spent chatting briefly with the crew members. She met Corporal Jenkins, who seemed too eager for his own good, Engineer Adams who seemed to think of The Normandy's impressive drive core as his girlfriend, and several others who were all familiar to her already since she'd read their files. She liked to know who she was dealing with at all times. Everyone she met seemed pleasant and respectful. She could have sworn that once or twice she'd caught Lt. Alenko staring at her from across the room, though he withdrew his gaze so quickly she couldn't be sure. Maybe "caught" wasn't the right word.
By the time Shepard was speaking with the fifth investor, she couldn't even remember the others' names. She didn't care. They were the money people. They needed her to smile, tell them The Normandy was a miracle of modern technology, that they'd done a great service to the Alliance by investing in it. They needed her to prove to them it was in good hands. When they finally walked away, Shepard bee-lined to the empty balcony, or what she'd thought was empty. Captain Anderson was out there, staring off into the vastness of The Citadel.
"Captain"
"Shepard."
They both leaned on the railing, exhausted.
"How are you holding up?" asked Anderson.
"My face hurts from smiling. Let's go blow something up already." She joked.
Anderson laughed. They communicated easily and had a sort of friendship based in mutual respect. It had happened quickly, their professional chemistry, and Shepard was glad to have someone she could speak her mind around.
"Udina can be a blowhard," Anderson said. "But he has a rough job."
"I know. According to everyone I've spoken with tonight you're the one with the rough job."
Anderson laughed.
"Don't I know it. You ready for tomorrow?"
"Yes sir."
"Had a chance to meet with some of the crew. Anything jump out at you?"
She shook her head.
"Not especially. Tough to get a read on a soldier when he's holding a fruity cocktail."
Anderson laughed again, a deep jovial rumble that people didn't hear often.
"Well," he said. "We have four whole days of boring system checks for everyone to become best friends."
"Fun," she said. Systems checks were necessary, but boring. The same drills would be run over and over until the crew went crazy with boredom. She'd seen it before. It was a time the crew inevitably became relaxed around each other and got into some mischief or made their own fun. As a superior officer she was supposed to frown on non-professional behavior, but the truth was, after these few days the crew might never relax again. It was important. "Well," she continued. "I'm sufficiently spent. I've made the rounds as appropriate and I am going to bed. I'll shoot anyone who tries to stop me."
"You're armed?" Anderson replied. She shrugged. "Why am I not surprised? Good night Shepard."
"Night Captain."
Shepard had fibbed. She was going to bed, but not until she'd had another look around The Normandy. Carrying her heels in her hand she padded barefoot along the cold, metal interior of the ship. It hummed quietly, smelled new. She glanced at the control panels in the CIC, new fangled hardware that the entire crew had been trained on specifically since it was unlike anything else the Alliance flew. She touched the cold railing and thought of how proud her parents would have been of her. She rarely had sentimental moments, but as she thought of all she'd accomplished to get to this post, she hoped that somehow they knew all she had done.
She'd had plenty of command positions, but those were mostly as a squad leader. She was usually the general leading the troops into battle, giving the commands in the thick of it. She was a much better soldier than she was a commander, she thought. She knew the job she'd been given, was confident she would be great at it, but she still thought of herself more of an in the trenches grunt. Maybe that was why she'd gotten so far. She wasn't ambitious, just driven to get the job done.
She walked past the sleeper pods, the practically upright chambers that most of the crew would be sleeping in. For once, she was glad she wouldn't be bunking with them. She made her way to the tiny XO quarters down in the depths of the ship, and the door hissed open. There was a tiny bathroom, a single, firm looking bunk and a small workstation. There was a locker for her clothes. She smiled at the idea of putting the evening gown in there.
She sighed, decided it was getting late and made her way back to her modest Lower Wards apartment. She was rarely there, but it was important to her to have some sort of permanent dwelling in the universe.
It wasn't much, very small, sparsely furnished, and barely decorated. There was a single picture of her parents and older brother, the only thing she was able to salvage from her life on Mindoir. She flicked on the light in her small kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from her cabinet and a tumbler. She poured a small amount into the glass and drank it in a single gulp, putting the bottle back where she found it. She hung her gown neatly in her closet, threw on a tank top and crawled into bed. Tomorrow would be a long day.