A/N: So I spent last night at a terrible party. And just in case we weren't already sure of how big a nerd I am, I sat in the corner the whole night, watching all the drunks act like idiots and thinking about Mass Effect. And this is the result. Set pre-ME1, featuring the same Erin Shepard and same continuity from Trust Implicit. Enjoy!

Unbecoming a Marine

"Corporal, you need to take a deep breath and pull yourself together."

1st Corporal Veronica Hornig, marine and security officer on board the SSV Miami, had pounded back a few too many shots tonight. Assuming the words "a few" had been redefined to mean fifteen 60-proof Illium Russians. Veronica was a lightweight to begin with -- five or six drinks usually took her to the edge. But tonight, she'd gone to the edge, past the edge, down the cliff and through the ravine until there was nowhere left to take that tortured metaphor. The Corporal was far past happy. Now she was just incoherent.

"What are you doing now?" Erin put a hand on Veronica's shoulder as the Corporal tried to get up out of her seat and… was she trying to climb the bar counter? "Let's sit back down, okay?"

Veronica gave her commanding officer a bent and crooked smile as she bobbed her head wildly to the beat of the music. "S'the music of the night…" she slurred. "Gotta dance."

"Alright. That makes sense." Erin had learned long ago that the cardinal rule of interaction with the intoxicated was to agree with everything they said. "Just not on the counter, okay?"

Marine First Lieutenant Erin Shepard had been in the Alliance for nearly six years. She'd endured hundreds of hours of high-stress training, commanded elite ground forces in live combat, taken out raider ships and pirate bases… hell, she was the Hero of Elysium, as the Earth media loved to say. She had made First Lieutenant in five years, faster than any marine in the last two decades. And she was assigned to the SSV Miami, one of the most advanced Alliance frigates in space. She'd done quite a bit in her time. But very little stressed her out as much as dealing with a drunk crew member.

"D'y feel it, LT?" Veronica was swaying lightly to the rhythmic pulses of the music. "It gets in your soul. It's like, why do anything, you know? Music and art and self-expression… those are the only things that matter." Veronica Hornig had been under Erin's command for about a year now. The Corporal was an exemplary marine, and Erin liked her well enough. But on shore leave breaks like this one on the Citadel, Veronica had a tendency to drink far more than her slender body could take.

"Alright, Corporal, it's time to get you back to the ship." Erin strengthened her grip on the marine's shoulder and tried to pull her away.

But even while very drunk, Alliance marines are strong. Veronica held onto the counter tightly. "Shh!" she hissed, attempting to bring a finger to her lips but missing her face entirely. "You're blocking the music!"

Erin groaned. Why did she ever volunteer to make sure Veronica made it back to the ship? She should have ordered one of her squad to do it. But no… that would have been unprofessional. Probably violated all sorts of regulations.

"Alright, Corporal, you're the one who made this difficult." With a thought, Erin activated her omni-tool and called for backup.

The comm rang three or four times before she got a response. "Lieutenant Shepard?"

Erin's attention was diverted away from Veronica as the voice poured through the comm system into her ear. It belonged to Private Bryson Chu, who, at just over two meters tall and 126 kilos heavy, was the biggest, burliest marine under her command. "Hey, Private," she said. "Any chance you're still near that club we were all at, Flux?"

The Private seemed to hesitate. "Err… yeah. Just off the market, right? I'm still in the vicinity."

"Good. I need you to come back and help me." Erin wasn't one to admit defeat easily, but she had bitten off more than she could handle here. "I'm still here with Corporal Hornig. She's… not in the clearest of mental states."

"Uh oh. She's drunk?"

Drunk. Erin couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Private, she left drunk behind ten Illium Russians ago."

"What's an Illium Russian?"

"It's a Flux specialty. Vodka mixed with some sugary asari stuff. She's had about fifteen of them, and now she's…" Erin looked behind her, and realized that Veronica Hornig was gone. "Oh shit." She terminated the transmission and left Private Chu in silence.

Veronica had stumbled over to the dance floor and found her way into the arms of the single greasiest guy in the club. He was human, young, and muscular, with a sleeveless leather shirt over his torso and a wide scar across his face. He held his arms tight around Veronica's waist, and he swayed his hips suggestively from left to right. If Erin had to bet, she'd have wagered he was a criminal. Veronica, for her part, looked wildly uncomfortable, somewhat desperate to get away.

Damn it! Erin cursed herself as she moved through the club with long and agile steps. As she approached, the criminal gave her a very unfriendly glare.

"Come on, Corporal. We're leaving." She put both hands on Veronica's shoulders and tried to pull her away.

But the criminal did not look pleased with this interruption. He gave Erin the kind of glare that she'd only seen on the faces of batarian pirates and krogan mercenaries as they prepared to kill her. It was a toxic glare, and it caused a knot to form in the pit of her stomach. "Your slutty friend is with me now," he hissed.

But before Erin could respond, Veronica had pulled herself away from both their grasps. "Wadyu just call me?" she demanded. She gave him exactly one second to reply.

When he didn't, there was a sudden flash of movement. With a full fifteen shots of Illium Russian flowing through her bloodstream, Veronica Hornig somehow managed to fall back, spin her body twice to gather momentum, raise her leg to chest level and, in one fluid motion, plant a graceful yet searing roundhouse kick directly on the criminal's face.

Patrons around them started to gasp and whisper as he fell to the floor in pain. But Veronica just stared. "Screw you, asshole."

Then, a single, powerful voice tore through the growing commotion around them. "Hey!" It was rich and sandy and resonant, coarse yet commanding, like the crackling of a dying fire on a cold and quiet night. Erin spun around immediately, compelled.

A uniformed turian C-Sec officer with intricate blue markings across his face was moving through the crowd, making his way past stunned patrons with timed and determined steps. His onyx eyes were fixed on Veronica and the slimeball she'd just KO'd. Erin watched him with stunned curiosity, and a little bit of fear. He was taller than the humans and asari that made up most of the bar's patronage. He looked stronger, too. A bit ferocious. She watched his talon-like hands clench, his powerful legs move… and she couldn't help feeling rather intrigued.

She had always found turians interesting. Aesthetically pleasing, she liked to tell herself. It wasn't something she freely admitted, especially not to fellow marines, since she knew firsthand how quickly such things spread around on board a ship. But it wasn't something she was ashamed of either. She found herself intrigued by their speed and preternatural reflexes, their lean, rigid bodies, their resonant voices, the agility and the fierce predatory strength that they barely managed to contain with each lithe step. This C-Sec officer was especially enthralling -- tall and strong, agile and poised, with silver-iron skin shining against the club's pulsing strobe lights.

But then again, pretty much every turian she'd ever met had hated her on sight solely for being human. And it wasn't like she found her own species unattractive. No, she'd decided long ago that turians were something to admire silently, from a distance, like her own personal version of the asari dancers that the guys on board the Miami went all slack-jawed for.

The C-Sec officer was practically on top of her before she realized how blatantly she'd been gawking at him. She quickly shook herself away, dropping her eyes to the floor as the music drummed on. The patrons around them had stopped murmuring, but she could still feel dozens of curious eyes watching the four of them from all directions. Of course. These people were hoping to see a fight break loose or someone get arrested. Who could resist that?

The officer stopped in front of them. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the music. "What's going on over here? What's this about?"

Over the veil of music, she barely heard a soft groan of pain. It was the criminal, who was still lying on the floor, his nose now pouring out near liters of blood. "That crazy woman kicked me!" he cried, pointing straight at Veronica.

The C-Sec officer glared at him. "You, shut up!" Then he turned to Veronica. "You. What the hell are you doing?"

But the marine was far too drunk to understand the severity of the situation. She stared at him for several awkward moments, shrugged, and descended into giggles.

"She's with me," Erin said quickly. God damn it. Veronica Hornig really was the most moronic drunk she'd ever met.

Then the turian officer's eyes were on her, and she felt herself going red, withering beneath his glare. She didn't know what it was. She'd faced a lot of armed and dangerous turians in her time… killed more than a few. But she was having serious trouble meeting this C-Sec officer's eyes.

"Your friend has had a little too much tonight, hasn't she?" His tone was sharp, but there was something… else beneath it. If she didn't know better, she would have said he sounded amused.

Erin forced herself to make eye contact with him, straightening her body in strict Alliance posture. "I'm so sorry, officer. First Lieutenant Erin Shepard, Systems Alliance Military, SSV Miami. And this is Corporal Veronica Hornig. She's under my command."

"Alliance?" His eyes dropped. "Damn it, nothing's ever simple." After a few seconds, he brought his eyes back up again. "Listen, your friend just committed assault. I can't let that slide."

Oh, son of a bitch! As if tonight wasn't a disaster already… now Veronica was going to get her ass hauled off to jail, and as her commanding officer, Erin would have to take full responsibility. Hell, it was somewhat her fault. She never should have let the woman drink one beer, let alone fifteen Illium Russians.

I've got to find a way out of this, she thought. She took a deep breath and stared at the turian.

"Officer, I know this looks bad. But this guy was crawling all over her, getting a lot closer than she was comfortable with. She knows she's drunk, and she didn't want to get taken advantage of." Erin glanced at Veronica, who was leaning against a nearby pillar, looking utterly lost. "Besides, she's Alliance. If you arrest her, all you'll get is a massive pile of paperwork."

At that, turian sighed a long and tired sigh. "Damn it, I don't have time to bury myself in procedure…" He scowled. His mandibles flared hard and tight. "Today's your lucky day, Erin Shepard. The guy your friend just took out is the reason I was here in the first place. He's a suspected drug runner. I've been following him for weeks. I was hoping he'd do something to give me an excuse to take him in."

The criminal was still on the floor, looking very miserable. He wasn't paying attention to their conversation.

"Now he's injured," the turian continued. "It's my duty as a Citadel Security Officer to take him to a hospital for treatment. And while he's there, I can get the doctors to run some standard non-invasive drug tests. You know… diagnostic purposes." The turian's eyes took a devious quality to them, and she could have sworn his mouth broke out in a grin. "That should give me all the probable cause my boss could want."

"Thank you, officer," Erin said, relief washing over her body. "You've just made my life a lot easier."

He flashed her a brief, yet friendly turian smile. "I know. You owe me. And I'll see to it that you pay your debt."

She chuckled, her eyes falling again as she felt her cheeks go red. "Err… yeah."

"Now get your friend out of here before I change my mind." The turian turned around and leaned down over the injured criminal.

The criminal cursed loudly. "Wait, you're just gonna let this crazy bitch go?"

"I have to," he said smugly, pulling the criminal to his feet. "The safety of civilians is my first priority, and I have to get you to a med clinic. To make sure you're okay."

Erin didn't waste time lingering back to watch. She grabbed Veronica by the wrist and pulled the inebriated marine with her, heading straight for the exit of the club. But as they left, she let herself take one last glance back at the turian. Hard to shake him from her…

That was when she caught notice of Veronica giggling wildly beside her. "What's so goddamn funny, Corporal?"

The marine cackled. "Nothing… just that Lieutenant Shepard's a freak!"

"Excuse me?"

They crossed the threshold of the club, and as the door closed behind them, the music disappeared into a heavily muffled thrum. "I saw you," Veronica said with a devilish grin. "You've got the hots for that turian!"

Erin found herself gasping at Veronica's words. Was it really that obvious? "What are you talking about, corporal?"

"I was watching you," she said quickly. "Your pupils got all dilated. You turned bright red… and you lost your words." She grinned. "LT, that's the first time I've ever seen you lose your words. Admit it!" She broke out into cackles once again.

But Erin couldn't bring herself to say anything. Instead, she looked straight at the ground, praying that Veronica wouldn't notice the fresh coat of red painting itself across her face.

And her prayers went unanswered. "Knew it!" the marine exclaimed, pumping her fist wildly in the air. "The LT's a xenophile, and it's turians after all! I was right all along. Looks like Bryson owes me a hundred credits."

Veronica often tried to get a rise out of her CO, and sometimes it worked. But never before had the marine managed to floor Erin Shepard so utterly. It took several long moments for the lieutenant to come up with a response. "Alright, Corporal, you've been acting stupid all night and I haven't pulled rank on you," she said finally, doing her best to keep her voice rigid. "But now you're out of line. Your behavior is unbecoming a marine. And this conversation is over."

After another minute or so, she gathered the nerve to add, "And betting on your CO's personal preferences? I'll have to have a talk with you and Bryson once you sober up, Corporal."

The rest of the walk back to the docking bay passed in silence. Veronica, for her part, managed to keep a pretty straight and constant pace despite the thrashing she was giving her liver. If anything it was Erin who was more distracted. She was having a hard time getting Veronica's words out of her head. That C-Sec officer really had thrown her a curve. At first she'd just been intrigued by his voice, and by how fiercely powerful he looked. But seeing him operate, watching him craft his way through due process like he had, with such graceful self-assurance… it was like he owned the room. Very few people carried such an air of confidence. She was one of them… usually. But not after talking to him.

And Veronica had seen it all along. If it had been that obvious, to someone so drunk…

Had he caught on too?

Damn it, she didn't have time to worry about such frivolous things. So what if he'd caught on? It wasn't like she would ever see that C-Sec officer again. And even if she did, how could she expect anything to come of it? Really. Her, with a turian?

"That's the most absurd idea I've heard in a long, long time," she said aloud, not caring whether or not Veronica heard her.