Author's Note: This entire story originates from a role-play between me and a great partner. Because of this, not all credit is due to me. I just had to share this. I'm so excited with its end result! The fanfic will be considerably long, exciting, and include all of the characters.
Thanks for taking the time to read!
The Shrike Abyssal. Xe Cha. It was an awfully quiet place, only four planets located in the system aside from the Mass Relay and fuel deposit. The Normandy couldn't just run on their precious elements, however, forcing them to stop somewhere to get more fuel. The commander could have sworn that they were at fifty percent almost ten hours ago. EDI had informed her of this, and EDI was never wrong. At least, that's what she had come to trust.
"A gas leak, maybe?" she mused, leaning against the black leather of Miranda's guest seat.
Her XO laced her fingers together and thought nothing of the stop—sure, they didn't run out this fast most of the time, but there could be all sorts of minor reasons for that.
"Perhaps EDI and Joker were messing around again in the cockpit, trying to see who could fly the fastest without anybody knowing, or something like that," the Aussie suggested, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I'm sure if there was any damage to the deposits, we would have heard from engineering." A buzz sounded from Miranda's terminal; there was an urgent message from—who else?—the blasted lower deck. Soundlessly, she opened the message, turned to the commander, and then said, "Well, that's settled, then. We'll get patched up at the port. Tali says that she can fix it easily, but she's not sure of the cause."
Shepard raised an eyebrow. "So I was right?"
"Yes, not very contrary to the normal."
The commander nodded in farewell and stood up. "Fuel reserve better not be emptying out any damned element zero," she murmured with a shake of her head. "It takes to long to find it. I can't handle much of the 'launching probe' chime for very long."
Her second in command merely gave her a smile and a wave for an adieu.
At the nearest EDI terminal, she brought up the blue orb and asked, "How long till we reach the port?"
"ETA four minutes," the AI replied. "With the rapidly decreasing fuel in the system, we might run out of platinum."
"The element zero …?"
"Will be safe."
In relief, she nodded. "Thank you, EDI. I'll head up to Joker and see what's going on. Maybe he knows something about what happened." She would have just asked EDI herself, but she focused more on human error than computer error. The former was more common, after all, and even though her pilot rarely had a blunder, he did happen to be the cause of her death … That, of course, wasn't a big deal anymore, however. She liked to think of it as a 'remember that one time?' type of deal. Guilty as he might feel, or not, it was in the past. As for the leak, it could have been anything. An overlooked breach when the ship was being repaired? There were so many other things to deal with, something so simple as a metal tank might have seemed rather … insignificant—compared to anything else, that is.
Jeff studied the readouts on the pale orange holo-monitor in front of him dubiously as he tapped a finger against the controls, determined to prove to himself that there was a bug in the system so he could blame this whole screw up on EDI. There was absolutely no way he could miss something as basic as a leak or weak tank in his pre-flight check, those were beginner's mistakes and he never made those. Even as a beginner. Privately, he vowed to kick his own ass if this turned out to be the by-product of an abnormal flaw in his attentiveness—even if he broke a leg in the process.
The faint metallic echo of footsteps approaching from the bridge alerted him to his nearing company and Jeff let his hand drop from the monitor to a cozier spot against the arm rest of his chair. He craned his neck to glance over his shoulder and identify who it was prowling behind him. It was a crying shame, but he never felt entirely safe on-board since Shepard went out and got a nice collection of trained killers with varying degrees of sanity left in them.
Per usual, the cockpit was quiet. "Everything going well up here? Things aren't doing so hot for the Normandy. She's running a little dry." Arms crossed, she leaned noncommittally against one of the nonoperational holo-monitor stations. "It shouldn't be a problem, 'long as you get us up there ASAP." In the distance from the side window, she could see the station not too far away, bright lights drawing attention from the void of black velvet.
"Commander," he acknowledged before returning his attention back on the display of the Normandy's controls to make a few adjustments in their flight pattern. He impenitently participated in the conversation she started, which he knew was a polite way of asking what the hell was going on. "Getting to the station's not a problem. We'll be there in less than four minutes," he threw EDI's station a look as he dared to test her calculation of his skills. He couldn't help himself. What sounded like an accurate estimate to others was an irresistible but unspoken challenge to him. This was never truer than when EDI considered him to be so predictable.
Shepard didn't have an issue with Joker's fretting. She knew how he could get over things like this; it wasn't hard to believe that he was getting paranoid about making a mistake. A perfectionist in the sense where he only flaunts it to the people that matter, such as his commanders or bosses.
EDI at first did not respond to Joker's stress on less than four minutes; however, in Shepard's peripheral vision, she saw the blue orb glitch slightly in what almost looked like slight irritation. It was the kind of that a single mother would get after her child interrupted her first good date in a while.
"The problem is how it happened. There's no way I missed something like this. It just came out of nowhere. Then again, we do have a ship full of crazies. Maybe someone decided to use the gas tank as target practice." He spared a glimpse from his work to look back at Shepard, lowering his tone a few octaves so as to better contain his opinion. "Don't say anything, but my money is on Jack. She would find that funny, right?"
The commander's eyebrow slowly rose, but she still rested against the absent holo-monitor. "Jack? You haven't given her one chance to see what she's really like, have you?" she asked, disappointment flooding her tones. "Actually, she's still violent and scary once you get to know her," she corrected quickly. "But she also knows her place and has been living down there for ages. Unless it was by accident, I don't see how she'd damage the tank and expect to survive the outcome. Even if she escaped at the port, where the hell would she go?"
Despite how often he praised the leather in that seat, it just didn't look comfortable to her. The thought always entered her mind, what with it leaning back (she preferred straight-up), the general hard-outside of the chair itself, the shape, and he either had to turn the entire damn thing around or move his neck in strange positions just to take a look at somebody. At least it was a change from the old Normandy; if she remembered correctly, the pilot didn't even make eye contact with anybody—not Shepard, at least. She had always wondered if she was doing something wrong, but now that they were more familiar and—hell, maybe she was aiming to high—friends, he didn't seem as stiff all the time.
With fourteen seconds left to spare on EDI's four minute prediction, Jeff dexterously slid the Normandy into the port of lonely Xe Cha's fuel depot. "Are you logging time of arrival, EDI?" Jeff flaunted his accomplishment with standard protocol and a smug grin stretched victoriously over his lips.
Now, Shepard wasn't counting the minutes, but she could tell by that devilish smirk on Joker's face that they successfully reached the port in less time than EDI anticipated. The commander absently wondered if they had saved at least a little bit of platinum. It's not hard to find, but …
"Yes, Jeff; arrival noted." Her voice was eerily calm. Shepard wondered how hard she worked to keep it that way.
The delighted grin on Jeff's face grew a fraction longer, threatening to quickly tire the muscles in his cheeks, when EDI acknowledged his request. In spite of the aberrant amount of harmony in her voice he knew he had pushed her buttons and thereby won this round. Certainly that meant he would need to be on guard for when the AI exacted her revenge but right now there was no harm done by basking in the glow of success.
She firmly pressed her hand on Joker's shoulder in a congratulatory pat and said, "Knew you could do it. We'll see what's up when we get off. That means you'll need to check it out with Tali."
Nimble fingers worked diligently at the keys of the holo-display closest to him as he did some last minute adjustments to the Normandy's systems to accommodate her to the port and log his flight time. The weight of Shepard's hand on his shoulder summoned a short look from Jeff as she praised him, which he supposed was worth some bragging right. It was not everyday one got thanked by the galaxy's most celebrated heroine but it did absolutely nothing to humble him. "Is there something you think I can't do? Because I'm on a roll about disproving that kind of thing lately."
She brushed past Joker's comment. Going for the main comm, she lifted it up and pressed the button on the side, saying, "We've reached a fuel port; normally we're here for fifteen minutes or so, but we've got a minor problem. I suggest that you get yourselves some fresh air and move around outside for a little while."
Jeff fell silent and finished his adjustments as Shepard gave the call to the rest of the crew and informed them about their extended stay on the fuel port. He peeked past the edge of his chair to the airlock where he heard the engineering team beginning to gather and gave them a nod. On his command, the automatic doors hissed as they spread apart, first allowing passage into the decontamination chamber before the Normandy relinquished them to the port docks.
Tali, Ken, and Gabby were already waiting near the airlock for Joker. The two lower-tier engineers saluted while Tali nodded, presumably smiling under the mask. Shepard made her way out and sighed in contentment when she stepped on the station.
Joker casually spun his seat around and braced his hands against the armrests to push himself up and out of his chair, easing weight on his legs as he stood. It was an easier feat now than it used to be, courtesy of Cerberus' medical care, although he was still far from stable.
"A minor problem? So does that mean we have only half the chance of dying today?" The flanging effect in the speaker's voice told Jeff that it was Garrus who had stepped out of the elevator and made his way halfway up the bridge in answer to Shepard's announcement.
"Unless you light a match or piss off wrong person you might not have any chance of death at all," Joker quipped back in response, although he could not blame the turian for his pessimistic assumptions. Problems aboard the Normandy—even small ones—were usually not good for one's life expectancy. "Only a leak."
Quiet, breezy, and still—unlike that crazy-pit Shepard liked to call home. Wouldn't change it for the galaxy, though.
She went around to the lower-left side of the ship and crawled in the small amount of space to take a quick look. She was specialized in engineering as well, but not exactly the technical-repair things. Sending out energy drones and blasts of incineration was more of her thing.
"I don't see anything," she muttered, a deep frown plastered on her face. Silently, she felt around on the cool surface and could find no breach. Pulling away to sit in a crouch, she checked her gloved fingers and found no trace of fuel.
The helmsman left Garrus in charge of repeating the same explanation to the rest of the crew who where undoubtedly making their way up now. He hobbled his way into the decontamination chamber before stepping out onto the station. Leaving the ship, or even just the cockpit, was a rarity for him, but he wished to see the extent of the mysterious tank damage himself.
His restricted walk carried him slowly alongside the Normandy's sleek body towards the back of ship where the tanks were housed. He came to stop and braced against the cool metal when he spied the familiar blue glow of Shepard's armor illuminating from under the ship's belly. He decided to let the commander act as his eyes since he had really not been looking forward to crouching under it for an inspection of his own. "How bad is she, Commander?"
Still crouching, she shook her head at Joker's query and bit her lip momentarily. "She's … well, perfect. As far as I can tell, there's been no damage whatsoever," she answered, confusion dancing in her tone. Bringing up her omni-tool flashlight, she crouched under again, this time on her back, and balanced carefully (as there was nothing supporting her waist up). "Make sure I don't fall."
Jeff narrowed his eyes skeptically as Shepard reported the apparently stellar condition of the tanks. He tried to imagine what else could possibly be wrong, but nothing came to him. It had to be reserves. When ordered to do so, he leaned forward and grabbed Shepard's shins to offer a better sense of stabilization. Not that he would have been able to do anything if she did fall; he would go right in line behind her. He was not about to kid himself and think that his legs would have supported the sudden drag of weight.
Alas, when Shepard gave an order, he made it a priority to follow. Everyone did. That sense of loyalty did not entirely wipe out his concerns, he'd already gotten Shepard killed once, so it was a relief when he saw Jacob rounding the side of the Normandy and striding towards them.
With the added light, it was a bit easier to see, but the smoothness still remained. There were a few curious indents that caught her attention, however, and Shepard narrowed her eyes at them and lifted her body up a little to get a better look. The heat of the recently-used metal was reflecting all around her, causing her to get dizzy—especially since she was in her heavy armor.
It looked like something was there. Something that wasn't supposed to be there. It was gone now, obviously, but the remains were sloppy. She slid out from underneath carefully and wiped a bead of sweat from the side of her face.
Feeling the commander starting to back out, Jeff released her and paced back a couple of steps to give her room to slide back to the safety of the solid cold port docks.
A trail of oil was left behind on the skin, and she realized that the indent had traces of fuel, now covering her gloved hands. "Odd. Somebody must have planted a device of some sort. This wasn't an accidental error in your or EDI's flying, or miscalculated repairs in engineering," she informed him, "but I'm not sure what it is." To make things more clear, she frowned and said, "I think this is simply sabotage."
Tali joined the scene, talons laced together and shoulders hunched up slightly. "I … I think you might be correct, Shepard. At 0200 this morning, an unidentified object latched onto the Normandy. Gabby and I didn't think much of it; it could have just been remains of a floating-something. I should have checked immediately."
Shepard pursed her lips and then stood up. Carefully, she said, "The outcome didn't seem so bad. You can fix that indent quickly, I bet, too." She gave her friend a genuine look. "I don't expect you to jump at every little thing that happens to the ship. Don't worry. All I'm worried about is how it got there."
"You think that somebody did it?"
"Maybe."
Jacob came to a standstill next to Tali as he educated himself on the situation by listening to the banter between engineers. His expression shifted and set into one of cautious suspicion before he joined the conversation. "0200?" he clarified the time Tali gave. "Were we even in populated space at that time?"
"None that I can remember," Joker included himself before playing his role in comic relief. "But you know, spend eight plus hours a day staring at space and it all starts to look same."
"I've heard of Vorcha stealing fuel off of ships before, but never like this and in deep space. They aren't that smart." Jacob gently threw a hand up and out to gesture in the direction of the tanks. "You made just as many enemies as you did friends recently, Shepard. Maybe one of them has some damn impressive technology and decided to come step on your toes," Jacob suggested, then sent a distrusting glance around the station and searched for anyone or anything suspicious. "Or set you up."
Shepard put both fuel-coated hands on her hips. "But fuel? Honestly, they should have realized that we weren't very far from a port. Unless it's just a warning of what's to come."
"How does somebody scale the underside of the SR-2 and do something like that? The heat emissions and thrusters would make it nearly impossible," Tali explained, arms crossing.
The commander shook her head. "That's what worries me." She didn't want to say the word. She didn't want to say what she expected. She knew they were coming, but she didn't want to imagine that it would be so soon. This could be a warning, she thought solemnly. So she didn't say it. She wouldn't blow the idea off entirely, but she needed to hear the other team mates' opinions first. Jumping to the conclusion of the Reapers or the Collectors would only display her paranoia.
"So, should I just say it?" Joker offered apprehensively as he studied each of them carefully. Everyone was silently considering their highly possible and highly dangerous culprit, they had to be. "Collectors appear out of no where all the time." He tried his best to say it as candidly as possible but a sense of dread crept its way into his voice.
In spite of his dedicated search, Jacob never found anything in their surroundings to be particularly menacing or unusual. Hesitantly, he drew his focus back to his crew mates as Joker took the initiative to say what everyone else was already thinking. He had not even been the one to say it, but the suggestion that Collectors could be responsible left a bad taste in his mouth anyway. The biotic lifted both of his arms to cross and fold them against his chest apprehensively as he shared in the agreement. "They fit the bill, not quite the conclusion I wanted to jump to." A shrug tugged at his shoulders. "But that doesn't make it smart to ignore."
Shepard's eyes flit shut for a brief moment. "That seems most likely." The sweat on her brow prickled her skin, and the eeriness of how unimportant this was compared to something huge that the evil race could do frankly freaked her the hell out. For now, they seemed to be content with messing her mind up.
"I was thinking about the Collectors too, although …" Tali trailed off, talons still fiddling with one another. She was there, in the vents, when she could get a glimpse at every dead (or worse, alive) human being in each and every one of those pods. Venturing through the high temperatures and crowded atmosphere didn't make it any less disturbing. "They're good at random," she agreed with Jacob, "but why something so little?"
"It's the question on everyone's mind, Tali," was Shepard's answer. "For the time being, I'm afraid that you're going to have to start jumping at everything." A sigh. "I'm sorry for this, but we can't afford anything happening to the crew. Not when there's an entire damn fleet of them out there."
The purple-clad quarian nodded. "I'll fix this up. It wont be very long, and refueling only takes a little while."
Simply nodding, the commander ordered, "Jacob, should the crew get curious while we're out here, would you mind telling them what's going on? They deserve to know. It isn't panic-worthy. Not yet, anyway," she added grimly. "In the mean time … excuse me."
"Of course, Shepard," Jacob complied after she had addressed him with the order. He dropped his arms and stood at attention then snapped off a clean military salute as she dismissed herself and made her way to the public restrooms. With the conversation at an end, he excused himself with a silent nod before beginning to head back inside the Normandy. Tali's band of engineers didn't need him uselessly standing around in the way while he tried to digest the possibility of Collectors draining their fuel. Collectors attacking them were one thing, he had even gotten used to that, but the simplicity of this almost juvenile assault was mind boggling.
She left the vicinity immediately. Images of that woman stationed on Horizon jumped into her mind. That gas searing her skin, molten pieces combining and dripping off. Her screams filled the dead silence of the collector base; it could have been Kelly, Chakwas, or anyone else on her crew—her friends like Joker, Tali, Miranda, Jacob, Garrus … everyone.
Jeff watched Shepard's departure until the lights on the back of her armor twinkled one last time before vanishing from sight as she found sanctuary in the restroom. It was never a good sign when a filthy public bathroom, used by every recognizable species in the galaxy, became a safe haven. It was official, he decided with a barely contained grimace: the shit had hit the fan.
The stall flung open as Shepard leaned over the toilet. Nothing came, but she wanted to be prepared, what with the sickness she was feeling. The commander was damned paranoid. This is a trap, her brain repeated over and over again. My ship and team is going to fall into some trap, laid by the Collectors and whomever else that could be affiliated with them.
Slowly backing away, she turned to the long mirror and stared at herself for a few seconds. She turned on the sink and washed off her gloves and the smudge on her face, also glad that the crystal, sharp cold water ushered the heat away. She felt ten times more refreshed without the sweat, took a deep breath, and stood leaning against the wall.
Proceeding as planned seemed like the best thing to do. Keep doing missions, keep asking for help against the Reaper threat.
"Take good care of her, Tali," Jeff said with a pat on the quarian's arm.
Tali bent down to the gas tank's level and glanced up at Joker. "I always do," she replied warmly. She had the utmost faith that she could do the repairs quickly and efficiently, just so they could get them up off the ground and back in more populated space. Stopping at the Citadel sounded nice to the alien woman, despite how much she didn't care for the place. However, talking to Anderson might help a bit with their suspected problem.
Joker then shuffled past her and left the Normandy in her capable hands. Of all the aliens Shepard had befriended, Tali was his favorite. She was the only one to date that didn't make him feel as though he was just one bad joke away from finding himself knocked out stone cold—or worse.
It took him a while to make his way down the extensive dock that lead to the center of the station where the bathrooms, snack machines, and a resting area were available to needy travelers. The whole set-up had always reminded him a little of the way rest stops used to work back on Earth, when people drove actual cars.
She exited the room and inserted a few creds into a drink machine for a water bottle. Barely being able to see her crew from here, she relaxed and let herself take a drink. Tali would fix the tank, Joker would fly the ship safely, Garrus would do calibrations, Jack would pace, Grunt would punch things, Thane and Samara would meditate, Miranda would do reports, and everyone would be doing what they normally do.
Monitoring the ship closely was all that she needed to do for now. Keeping them safe was the main objective.
By the time Jeff had reached the building that housed the public facilities Shepard had already steadied herself to a degree, but he knew the look of paranoia when he saw it. Even in someone as courageous as Shepard. "So, even the fearless Commander Shepard gets butterflies in her stomach?" he pried when he caught up to her.
Shepard's back straightened and her shoulders hunched at the sound of another pair of feet; she didn't know whether to be relieved or angry that it was Joker. She settled with relieved, deciding that it could have been somebody worse—like Miranda. She loved her XO to death, but she didn't ever stop advancing into the 'make sure you've got your head in the game' territory. After all, that whole mission with her and Orianna had been dropped like a hot plate right after they had talked about it merely once.
Back to business, Miranda would always say. They knew that they had to keep everything under check; if they didn't, who would?
She saw his black and white hat first, the signature item that everyone recognized, then his beard, and his obviously not black-clad, Miranda-curved body, contained her gracious sigh and put back on her 'commander posture'.
Rather than heckle her over it, or find time for a wise crack, Joker smiled amiably and slipped a few credits into the drink machine as well and summoned forth an orange soda, just to make it appear as though his venture down the docks had been for something other than to check up Shepard. She had face to keep in front of the crew. "Good to know you're still human."
At his remark, her eyes narrowed ever-so slightly. Her arms laced around her stomach casually, answering, "Not butterflies, just thinkin' about the crew is all. I just came down here to get a water." She held up the bottle as if to provide evidence to secure her alias in some court trial.
"Uh-huh," Jeff acceded when she held up the plastic bottle as testament to the fact that she was here only to quench her thirst, nothing else. That small moment of closing her eyes to steel herself against the idea that the Collectors could already clawing at their coattails was apparently to be completely dismissed.
Then she cracked, physically at first when the frown tugged at the corners of her mouth, and her features relaxed since there was no longer a reason to guard the truth from easing into her expression. "Ah, you're better than that." She felt guilty for making a bull excuse and supplied, "Human, yes. Have I ever convinced you otherwise?" she asked, idea sounding silly. "I gotta say, I've been called a robot by a few, asexual by others—even an AI in a human's body."
Watching him buy a drink for himself, she felt better knowing that he had come down here for his own intentions, and not just to check on her. That would be damn right embarrassing, and she would have none of it.
"Well, there are times I think you might be a little more than human, or at least a really impressive one. Maybe a superhero?" he said facetiously as he pulled the tab on the can and popped it open; the caffeine inside fizzled quietly in the momentary silence.
"A superhero?" she echoed, smile finally gracing her features. "Well, who knows what sort of additions and abilities Cerberus invested to put into me." Miranda said that there were only a few cybernetics, but with her slightly altered appearance and stronger incinerate blasts, longer drones, and sturdier shields, she had her hesitations. Despite trusting the XO, she did not trust the Illusive Man—or Wilson. She could have sworn, the first time when her consciousness returned, that he kept her awake to listen to the rapid-beeping and pumping of her heart, purposely trying to let her die.
Miranda knew it wasn't an accident, that's why she scolded the hell out of him. Shepard didn't know much after that, because she was out for whoever knows how long. The thought didn't bother her much anymore. I'm here, aren't I? That's good enough.
Bringing the can to his lip, Joker took a long drink from it before lowering it again and lifting his forefinger off the can to point at her thoughtfully. "Technically, I could call you a zombie and not be wrong …" It was only halfway through his sentence that he realized what he was saying and the way his voice dropped out on him gave away his feelings of sudden self consciousness. "Uh, never mind."
His subtle complement had her grin increasing, but she faltered in a brief-second at his slip-up. He honestly didn't have to worry so much about that—and she would try and try again to tell him so, she really would … She could understand his guilt. One day she'll get it through that stubborn head of his that he could stop fretting like that.
Joker's always been her motivational expert, probably without him even realizing it. When she went from second-in command to commanding officer, he told her that the crew was behind her one-hundred percent. He was that voice in her ear, she supposed; the one that calmed her the hell down.
"Anyway, don't think to hard about the crew, Commander. You have led them this far and it all worked out okay. Plus, if they think I'm going to let them get that close to the Normandy again, they've got another thing coming."
"Good." She nodded. "You're right—and I like to hear that." Even if there was still a pessimistic bug crawling through her insides, she could say she felt a tad better.
One poorly thought out joke aside, he appeared to have been able to inspire a smile back onto the Commander's face, so he considered his job here done and done. Jeff placed the can back to his lips and threw back what was left of the beverage he had purchased, letting out a satisfied sigh once it was empty. It was then cast off as garbage and thrown into the metal trash bin compressed between the snack and drink machines.
"I don't know about you, but I have had enough of the outside world for today," Jeff concluded with a grin to dismiss himself. He was sorely starting to miss his comfortable spot tucked away in the Normandy's cockpit. Cerberus could bite him, but, oh, how they had spoiled him with that chair.
Shepard couldn't say the same about the 'outside word,' for she really did enjoy getting out of the ship sometimes. Places like Illium, the Citadel, and even Omega were nice to go to after being on the SR-2. Sure, it was big, but she still felt cramped with the crew and squad. She could understand that Joker wanted to get back in his seat, where he felt most comfortable, and do his thing.
"Later, Commander." He gave his accustomed farewell and a brief raise of his hand that served as a lazy wave, and then he turned to take his first few hobbled steps back towards the waiting ship.
She gave him a warm smile that he didn't see and said, "See ya, J—"
He only got as far as the corner of the building that housed the public lounge before he was stopped by bumping into something that had suddenly appeared there. A batarian stepped around the corner and directly into the helmsman's path, his lips stretched in a straight serious line. Jeff scowled and opened his mouth to speak, but his jaw hung loose and the hardened expression that crossed his face so quickly faded twice as fast when he felt the barrel of a pistol pressed against his rib cage. Jeff attempted to take a step back when he felt his body regain the ability to move after the initial shock passed but the batarian extended his arm an inch further and followed him with the pistol, pressing it even harder into his side.
"No sudden movements, Shepard. I have a quick trigger finger." Two of the Batarian's four eyes were on Normandy's pilot; the others were busy sizing up the Commander while he calmly addressed her. He was adorned in jet black armor with no symbols or logos that advertised his loyalties to any known mercenary group, making it highly unlikely that this was an act of revenge or a hold up for all the credits they were worth. If it had not have been for the sabotage on the Normandy, the attack would have seemed entirely unprovoked, but as of now it felt more like the pieces of a puzzle were coming together—or so Jeff hoped. They seemed like a less formidable foe than Collectors or Reapers. Although, thanks to the gun currently pointed at him, they were not entirely the push overs he wanted to make them out to be.
The smile faded so quickly, as if her muscles went through an ice age and melted into a frown after global warmth. Why was there a batarian right there? In the first split second, she imagined him harmless, but it was just too suspicious that he was fully armored. Not to mention they hadn't seen another ship docked here.
A gun. She saw the gun, and more importantly, she saw it up against her pilot's ribcage. Her blood simmered with anger—nobody messes with her crew. Nobody. She'd put herself in danger a thousand times if it meant that they'd be safe, hence her prior (and still-lasting) worry for them. Once Joker leaned back a little, she constricted a swallow; suddenly, she had a bad feeling about who did the little fuel-hunt. The fact that he was in simple black, giving nothing away, frustrated the hell out of her, but she didn't exactly have much to do.
A quick trigger finger, she repeated in her head. Despair flooded her veins—what was more worth it? Beating the shit out of him and his cronies at the cost of Joker, or totally submitting and relinquishing her weapons? As an engineer, at least she'd still have her combat drone, incinerate, and a heavy shield, but without her recently-acquired sniper rifle, heavy pistol, and sub-machine gun, things might get a little complicated. Not to mention Joker couldn't fight CQC, didn't have abilities like incinerate, or even a gun.
A chorus of footsteps shuffled from building's corner behind the commander as four other grim-faced assailants left their hiding places and immediately trained their ready assault rifles on her. Two of them were also batarians, one was human, and the last an asari, all of them sporting the same undisclosed dark armor as the first.
The batarian currently threatening the life of Shepard's helmsman stood strategically with his back facing the Normandy and his armed hand hidden from sight by his body, so that if any of the crew happened to notice the scene it would appear as though he was only there for a chat with them. "Release your weapons." He jabbed Joker with the gun, forcing him to instinctively lean back. "I think you know what happens if you refuse."
"Commander?" Jeff turned his head slowly until he could just made out Shepard in his peripheral vision, urging with widened green eyes for her to just take a shot at the guy. He knew she could do it, and take out the goons behind her before these guys even knew what happened to them. In spite of his trust he felt his heart hammer against his chest when he looked back to the tensing batarian's hand to see one finger just barely depressing the trigger in anticipation.
She bit her lip. Joker's widened, worried eyes pierced through her like a bullet itself. I can't, she wanted to say. Because, jeez, that finger on the trigger was too twitchy for her liking. With the three around her, too, it would just be bad news. What if they had reinforcements watching the rest of her crew? Not that they couldn't handle themselves, but …
"I won't repeat myself, Shepard," the aggressor informed gruffly. A blink passed in a wave over his face as each eye fluttered individually, taking turns to watch Shepard carefully for any signs of rebellion. "Hands out to your side so we can relieve you of your guns," the alien ordered.
A trickle of precipitation from her water bottle made its way around her fingers and dropped onto the floor; she slowly and cautiously dropped it in a garbage can. Her arms then went to her sides, complying with mix of stubborn, sad, and pissed expression. "Dammit."
She was Commander fucking Shepard. They'd get out of this—she'd make sure of it.
A satisfied hum rumbled roughly through the batarian's vocal cords and Jeff's beating heart plumped to his stomach in a defeated response. He could hear Shepard's trash hit the bin and the low hiss in her voice as she reluctantly complied with her orders.
"Great," he muttered, starting to follow her lead and raise his arms into the air submissively. He did not like being the only thing that kept Shepard from kicking their asses; in fact he hated that once again he was becoming a liability.
"Arms down, human," the batarian barked when Jokers hands rose. "Don't draw attention."
Jeff complied quickly and dropped his arms back down to his side, peering over the alien's shoulder to the Normandy where help was so close yet so uselessly far away.
That's right, he thought to himself. They did not want to draw the attention of Commander Shepard's famously lethal crew.
The anguish was written all over Joker's face, but Shepard could almost feel it emanating off of the helmsman. In these types of situations, she figured that she would be able to handle herself and whomever happened to be with her—but then she realized that she had never been in said position. Her guard had always been up. Her team was always near. Even on the Blitz, she had her team with her. On the Lazarus station, Miranda was talking to her through the microphone. At the very least, she had Joker with her. It was a positive and negative factor: positive because she damn well wouldn't want to be alone; negative because they were both pretty much useless at this point.
She wanted to snap at the batarian for treating her friend like that, but consequences would stab her in the back so very quickly. In fact, she'd rather ram their faces through the drink machine and watch as the electricity fried them to death … it was a crying shame that she couldn't. She couldn't do anything.
Attention should be drawn, she thought. Maybe somebody would wander over here on their own. There was a large chance that they wouldn't, however, seeing as there were bathrooms on the ship and food and drinks in the mess hall.
The group was dedicated to the effort of secrecy and was doing an adequately good job of keeping this whole thing quiet, but the forceful meeting had not gone without drawing some notice.
Avian-like eyes narrowed at the scene in the distance as Garrus stopped halfway down the loading ramp extending from the ship's airlock. It was a normal scene—Shepard drew fans from all around the galaxy, and even Joker earned himself some recognition after piloting through the Omega 4 Relay. But from a batarian? He did not fancy himself as a racist, but he was a realist, and there were incredibly few batarians that could even stand the sight of humans—yet alone approach one willingly for a chat.
Even with the extended vision his visor provided, he could not find clarity in the scene. It was unusual, but there was nothing he pick out as necessarily precarious. Unfortunately for Shepard and Joker, the group with their assault rifles drawing a bead on the commander was standing just out of sight, and the batrian's foresight to stand with his back to the Normandy was working flawlessly for him.
It was just one harmless looking guy, as far as the turian could tell, and even if he tried to cause trouble, Shepard could easily handle a solitary heckler; but something was still off about it.
"Miranda?" He hailed the XO through his radio and then reported, "Shepard and Joker have been approached by a single batarian. Nothing appears to be wrong … but something just doesn't feel right."
Miranda, still in her office, raised an eyebrow at the message over her comm link. "A batarian? If there's only one, don't you think she'd be all right?" she drawled. "I know she left the ship armored and secure. It's hard to imagine that she's friendly with a batarian, but maybe they were acquainted at one point?" She raised her slim shoulders and brushed a piece of dark brown hair behind her ear. "If you've got such a bad feeling, then go check it out yourself. It wont be my ass on the line if you're interrupting something important." Her tone was joking and soft, but had that hint of 'she probably would do that' if the situation was personal.
Unaware of their possibly growing audience, the batarian reached out and placed a heavy hand on Joker's shoulder to walk him backwards until the pilot stood a mere three feet away from Shepard (and just out of Garrus' sight).
When Joker got closer, Shepard imagined herself grabbing the pilot, twisting the gun that was held up to him, and sending out an incineration blast towards the other three so they could make a run for it, but … he kept doing it. At any sudden movement, he'd shoot. She couldn't risk anything like that.
Her teeth ground together, and her fists clenched and unclenched. Colorful words ran through her mind, along with all the revenge ideas.
He made sure to keep his finger visibly tense on the trigger to discourage the commander from trying any last minute heroics. Another controlled blink fell down his face while he eyeballed the asari in their group. "Do it."
In silent compliance, the asari slipped one hand out from under her assault rifle and lifted it into the air, fingers spread as wide as the joints would allow. A blue glow lit like a flame around her extended hand as the biotic activated her pull ability and skillfully plucked all of Shepard's weapons from her body, drawing them back to herself and over her head before allowing the collection to fall in a heap behind her.
Those were her babies falling to the ground, those weapons. So carelessly strewn down on the metal flooring; Shepard's spent hours cleaning those things—especially the Viper sniper rifle. Punching the asari sounded like such a bad idea, but so good …
Hearing the guns clatter to the ground—away from Shepard's skillful hands—made the tempo of Jeff's pounding heart quicken. He could hear the distant sound of blood flow humming in his ears as his blood pressure sky rocketed. The sound was growing steadily louder and—closer? Jeff's head snapped up a mere centimeter in sudden recognition. That wasn't him, that was the rumble of a stealth class ship's engine. The low ominous growl was approaching them at a steady crawl from behind, as though it had been laying in wait for this moment like a predator stalking its prey. He had not seen any other ships coming in nor had EDI mentioned detection one. He knew there was another port on the opposite side of the one they had landed in but nothing had been there. They were supposed to have been all alone, just like they had been in deep space when their fuel tank was penetrated. He was no Sherlock, but those clues added up fairly effortlessly.
"You are making this real easy on yourself, Shepard," the batarian complimented as he lifted his unarmed hand off of Jeff's shoulder and motioned with his index and middle fingers for the group to close in; all four obeyed without question.
"Easy for us, huh? Does that mean our death will be quick and pain—agh!" Her voice fluttered in slight hurt when she felt the jolt of her shields getting shocked away.
One of the other Batarians positioned himself closely behind the commander and looked expectantly to their leader. A silent nod passed between the like species, and the individual behind her brought up his omni-tool to overload Shepard's shields.
"Bastard," she hissed. They were slowly depleting everything that would give her and Joker a fighting chance.
She should have seen it all coming. The stealth ship hovering around them, the tank, the leak, the depot in deep space, the silence …
"A smart move, Commander," the first batarian concluded before lifting his chin in a silent gesture to the only human in their party. The human stepped up to take the place of the bararian who was still fiddling with his omni-tool and laced his fingers more tightly around the assault rifle in his hands. In one quick motion he brought up the butt of the gun and jammed it as hard as he could towards the back of the Commander's head.
There was no time to dwell. Darkness engulfed the commanding officer as she slid to the ground.