Hello, thanks for reading. Yes, there are lots of references and lines from a certain classic romance movie. See if you can spot them all. Comments are always welcome and encouraged.

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Ch 1. Vultures Everywhere

"It says here that the ship is stolen," said the alien, his big frog eyes blinking blandly at the increasingly furious human in front of him, his green face illuminated by the orange glow of his data console.

"And I told you, it isn't stolen. It's commandeered."

The alien, a member of a race called salarians, stared at the human woman a moment in silence, before lifting a brow, "How is that different?"

"I am a Spectre."

"Yes, you said, but I need to confirm your identity."

"My name is Commander Shepard."

The salarian looked back at the screen in front of him and shook his horned head, "Yes, you said that, too. It says here that Commander Shepard is dead."

The Commander's teeth gritted, her hands curling into fists, "I am not dead, I am standing right here."

"It says here you're dead," he repeated, pointing at the screen with one long finger. "And it says your ship is stolen. We aren't allowed to work on stolen goods."

One would think that a few days after saving the universe from the Collectors, people might be a bit more forgiving. The Collectors had been stealing away entire human colonies, reducing their bodies to a soup that was then fed into a large mechanic life form that would have consumed the planet Earth had Shepard not left the Collector base a floating pile of utterly destroyed debris created by a well placed nuke.

Shepard lifted her hand to rub her forehead, turning to one of her companions. "Mordin, help me out here." She had a single salarian on her diverse team of combat specialists, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she got the feeling he wasn't going to be much help.

Mordin Solus studied the other salarian, then shifted his weight to one foot, leaning to the side so that he could stare at the screen. "Can't argue. No false statements made. Ship is stolen. You are a Spectre. Also dead. Legally speaking." He sniffed, "Logic is sound."

Miranda Lawson shook her head, her dark hair falling into her eyes. She stepped in front of Mordin, "Christ, Shepard, he's trying to scam you. Give him some credits so we can get the repairs done and get out of here."

The ship had been severely damaged during the siege on the Collector base. The hull had several breeches, and the Normandy was holding itself together with kinetic shields that were draining much of the ship's energy. As soon they had passed back through the Omega-4 relay, the Normady headed to the nearest repair hub, in this case an out-of-the-way salarian colony on the planet Olar. The colony was little more than a rest stop, with numerous tourist traps and odd gift shops to entice travelers to refuel and repair there. At first the crew had considered it a stroke of luck. Salarians were renowned for their problem solving skills and technical expertise.

The salarian behind the console pursed his lips into a tight little zigzag and looked back at Shepard expectantly.

She sighed, shaking her head as she pulled out her credit chit. "Will a hundred credits help you ignore what that thing says?"

No sooner had the commander finished asking than the salarian snatched the chit from her fingers. He tapped his omni-tool, and ran the chit through the illuminated holographic scanner that popped up above his wrist. His expression soured instantly, and he handed it back. "Your chit was declined."

"What?"

Miranda rolled her eyes, holding out her own chit, "That goes to the Cerberus account, Shepard. You know he would have closed that out the moment you blew up that base."

Shepard grimaced as she took the chit and stepped back. That made sense. The Illusive Man had been less than pleased that she completely destroyed the Collector base. His speeches about saving humanity, his supposed noble reasons for bringing her back from the dead, his desire to see the Collector threat wiped out completely. All lies. Shepard hadn't trusted Cerberus from the start, and when she was asked to kill all the Collectors but keep their ship intact, his intentions were clear. All he wanted was their base and their technology, and he had used her in his attempt to get what he wanted. Cerberus desired to be the dominant force in the galaxy. Non-human races weren't the only ones at risk if Cerberus achieved its goal. Anyone who dared to cross the dangerous organization would be annihilated.

The salarian scanned Miranda's chip with his omni-tool, and his large black eyes narrowed to slits. "Your chit was denied."

"What?"

"Illusive Man," Shepard growled.

"He froze my accounts?" Miranda tapped her wrist, her own omni-tool illuminating. She spun her thin fingers through the controls, expression growing more and more furious. "My accounts, my assets, my damn investments… everything! He's cleaned out everything! He can't do that!"

The salarian tapped the keys on his console, leveling a look of utter revulsion at the three of them. "I have alerted the nearest Alliance vessel to your location. You are clearly criminals, second rate ones at that, and I don't wish to speak to you anymore."

"Illusive Man has ship stolen. Reports it as stolen. Also retaliates by taking money from former employees. Ruthless. Vindictive. What I would have done." Mordin tapped his lower lip a few times with his fingertips. "Next move? Leave. Find another port, get repairs done elsewhere. No, no. Not enough fuel, no money to pay for them. Ship in bad shape, never make another mass relay jump. Raise money. Sell unnecessary things. Anything with Cerberus logos not attached to ship, models and exotic fish in Commander's room. Not enough to cover repairs, but a start. No, ridiculous idea. Dismissed. Contact Tali's friends in quarian migrant fleet. Ask for aid after helping with Alarei."

"Mordin, take a breath before you pass out." Shepard grimaced at him. "And the quarians already thanked us for helping them; they gave us credits that were put in the Cerberus coffers." She stalked away from the mechanic's console, leading them back towards the Normandy.

"You still are a Spectre, Shepard," Miranda added, turning to sit on a bench in the shuttle bay, still twirling her fingers in her omni-tool. "Perhaps now that the Collectors have been dealt with and you've severed your ties with Cerberus in the most explosive way possible, the Council might be more willing to help you. Damn it, he got my Illium accounts, too!"

Shepard sighed, sitting beside Miranda. "Worth a shot. Admiral Anderson would have my back, at least." She leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees, rubbing her face with both hands, "For now, though, it looks like we're grounded." Shepard ran her fingers through her hair before pushing back to her feet, turning to walk back into the Normandy.

"Commander?" Joker's voice came from the bridge, turning in his chair to face her as she returned. "Why aren't we pulling to the shipyard? Why aren't they babying my baby?"

"Change of plans, Joker," Shepard murmured wearily.

"Does it have anything to do with why an Alliance battleship is radioing us asking for you?"

Already? The salarian didn't waste time. She sighed, "Patch it through to the comm room, then set up a connection with the Citadel."

"That's going to take awhile, Commander. We've been cut off from Cerberus' communication systems and high level clearance to the extranet. We're now down at the level of every other poor slob out there. Which means you're going to need to just send a message rather than a live feed, and we're going to need to wait until the next pulse."

"Which is?"

"Out here? Probably every six hours."

Shepard's jaw flexed cantankerously, her eyes closing. Six hours between messages. This day was just getting better and better. "Okay. We're going to be here awhile. Let the crew know. There might be some time killing attractions in a place like this. They're off duty until oh-eight-hundred hours."

"Sweet, Commander. I hear they have the galaxy's largest phlegm ball here. Cross that shit off my bucket list."

Shepard strode out of the bridge and through the CIC towards the comm room at the back of the ship. It would appear that an Alliance vessel was close, which wasn't all that surprising. Plenty of Alliance ships patrolled the edge of the Terminus System, as far as both the Council and human's influence reached. There were many human colonies out here, along with pirates and slavers. The military would be slow to realize that the geth and the Collectors were no longer a threat.

The doors closed behind her, and she crossed her arms, "EDI, give me the call." She sucked in a breath, "This is Commander Jane Shepard of the Normandy. I'm uploading my identification code."

"Commander. Is that still your title?" came a woman's voice on the other end. "This is Captain Amelia Halabi of the SSV Crerar, pulling into Port Olar now. I understand you're in possession of a stolen ship."

Shepard bent over to rest her throbbing head on the cool, flat surface of the conference table. "Yeah. I'm dead, too. You've probably heard that." She stood up straight again. "This ship formally was property of the terrorist organization known as Cerberus. I took possession of it, acting as a Spectre working on behalf of the Council."

"Our records say you are working for Cerberus."

"Your records are outdated." She drummed her knuckles on the tabletop, grimacing. "While you're at it, also update them with the fact that both the geth and the Collectors have been eliminated as threats against humanity." She smiled grimly, "I've had a busy few months."

The captain of the Crerar didn't have a barbed reply to that. There was a long pause before she spoke again, "Permission to board your vessel, Commander. Perhaps we should discuss these developments face to face."

Shepard raised a brow. "Granted, Captain."

"Thank you, Commander. Halabi out."

Shepard rolled her shoulders back and rocked her head from side to side, feeling her spine pop and creak. This might be a good turn of events, considering her current situation. Her relationship with the Alliance was never clearly defined after her resurrection. She was dead, after all. While she had managed to have her Spectre status reinstated with the Council, aside from Admiral Anderson she hadn't met with any Alliance leaders to find out if she was still among their ranks. There were more pressing concerns at the time.

She puffed her cheeks and let out an exhale, turning back towards the Normandy's CIC. Then again, she'd just invited the Alliance onto her stolen ship after spending the last few months working for a terrorist organization. So really, it could go either way.

After a thoughtful pause, she changed course, tapping the door control that lead her into the weapons room. Her eyes fell on Jacob Taylor in his usual spot, bent over a computer console. Kasumi had pointed out many times, and Shepard was inclined to agree, the man cut an impressive figure. Broad shouldered and dark skinned, every muscle on his body was toned to perfection. Kasumi's preferred term was Adonis. "Jacob. I need you to back me up. Alliance is coming aboard."