Chapter 1: Shakedown
Against the diamond-studded blackness of space, the Arcturus Prime mass relay hung motionless in the void; a monolithic structure of aesthetic and engineering genius. At it's centre glowed a blue orb of dazzling brightness, the crowning jewel of the entire piece. Surrounding it was a metallic frame, cold and emotionless, but beautifully curved and softened along every edge. A pair of outstretched arms extended from the structure, reaching out into infinity.
Still dozens of kilometres away, but already dwarfed by the sheer scale of the relay, a single starship approached. The main body was sleek and smooth, with angular wings and engine arrays jutting from it's flanks. The ship's designation was proudly emblazoned on both sides:
SR1 – NORMANDY
As the small vessel swooped towards the relay, a bolt of electrical charge leapt out from the element zero core, playing over the black and white hull. As it did so, the ship hit the relay's corridor, dropping it's mass to practically zero. The laws of physics took hold and hurled the ship into the blackness.
At the helm of the small frigate, flight lieutenant Jeff Moreau's fingers danced across the cockpit's holographic interface. The view through the bridge's windows was a blue-shifted blur as the Normandy tore past entire star systems in the blink of an eye. Even if you could pick out an individual star in the miasma, it would be one you had already left far behind.
The pilot focused instead on the display in front of him; a projection of the Normandy and her target relay. Most pilots would be be content to leave the ship be during FTL flight and not worry about missing the relay by several thousand kilometres.
Jeff 'Joker' Moreau was not 'most pilots'.
"Brace for deceleration." He spoke into the ship's comm in a bored monotone; for a shakedown run, everything needed to be by the book, but that didn't make it any less dull. In a split second, the ship snapped back to sub-light speed, the blue outside fading into white – studded black.
Joker allowed himself a smirk of self-satisfaction before sighing resignedly and beginning a systems check, vocalising every tedious line for the benefit of procedure.
"...Thrusters check, navigation check, internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online," he completed. "Drift – just under fifteen hundred K." He settled back in his seat, with another smug grin.
One of the bridge's other occupants spoke up from behind him, his voice distinctly non-human.
"Fifteen hundred is good. Your captain will be pleased."
Without another word, he turned and walked off towards the rear of the ship.
"I hate that guy," Joker muttered, but not until the retreating figure was safely out of earshot.
"Nihlus gave you a compliment," his co-pilot noted. "So you hate him?"
Joker looked over at the speaker and replied hotly, "you remember to zip up your jumpsuit on the way out of the bathroom, Alenko? That's good. I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead! So that's incredible!" He turned back to the his display, setting the Normandy on a course away from the relay. "Besides, Spectres are trouble, I don't like having him on board," he added. "Call me paranoid."
"You're paranoid," the Lieutenant shot back immediately, "the Council helped fund this project; they have a right to send someone to keep an eye on their investment."
"Yeah, that is the official story," Joker replied sceptically, "but only an idiot believes the official story."
The ship's executive officer spoke for the first time since entering the cockpit. "I don't like it either," he said grimly, "turian Spectres have more important business than babysitting Alliance crews on shakedown."
"Right!" Joker exclaimed, holding up a finger in agreement, "we already have you and the Captain here for that; between the three of you, you could babysit for the entire fifth fleet. I'm telling you," he turned back to Alenko, "there's more going on here than the Captain's letting on-"
The ship's comm burst into life, the stern voice of the aforementioned captain echoing around the cockpit.
"Joker, status report."
The pilot hurriedly put on his professional voice before answering. "Just cleared the mass relay, Captain. Stealth systems engaged – everything looks solid."
"Good. Find a comm buoy and link us into the network. I want mission reports relayed back to Alliance Brass before we reach Eden Prime."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Joker acknowledged before adding, "better brace yourself, sir – I think Nihlus is heading your way."
"He's already here, Lieutenant," the Captain said, a shade cooler than before. Joker noticed Alenko shaking his head at him in exasperation out of the corner of his eye. "Tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing."
The comm shut off with an audible click. "You get that, Commander?" Joker asked.
"I heard. Now I have to go deal with a ticked off CO." Joker felt a heavy hand pat his seat's headrest. "Nice work, Lieutenant."
"Don't blame me!" Joker called over his shoulder as the officer strode away. He turned back to his display, tapping at the controls with a little more force than was needed for a holographic interface. "The Captain's always ticked off at something," he muttered to himself.
"Only when he's talking to you, Joker."
Inside the Normandy's comm room, Nihlus Kryik stood studying various images on the holo display: a small space port, a vista of a sun setting above rolling hills, a vast field of crops. The colony on Eden Prime was relatively young in galactic terms, but the human inhabitants had made it into something special.
Behind him, the door hissed open and closed again. Nihlus turned to face the new arrival.
"Commander Shepard."
It was hard to describe individual humans in turian terms – they had differing skin tones and hair but that was all that most turians would notice. But certain other things carried across species. Shepard's eyes, deep set beneath a near-permanent frown, even now were coldly regarding him, studying, calculating. He stood perfectly straight, head up, not afraid to stand out or intimidate, but his shoulders were relaxed, arms hanging loosely by his sides. Unlike the Captain, who wore the Alliance's dress uniform, Shepard was clad in the standard fatigues, with the slight embellishment of a discrete pair of symbols on his chest:
N7. Code for the most highly proficient of Alliance special forces operatives.
Nihlus had spent a large part of his time in the last few months reading and re-reading the files he had requested from the Alliance military regarding the Commander. Even compared to his already-distinguished counterparts, Shepard had an impressive résumé: exemplary completion of the Alliance's special forces training program; specialist in covert reconnaissance and strike operations; great linguistic ability. The most intriguing part of the files had been the last entry, dated just over two years ago: 'Solo Operational Status: approved'. Nihlus had requested more information on that part and had been sent a two-word reply. He had elected not to pursue that particular line of inquiry. The years prior to that were telling enough, with details of successfully-completed missions, special commendations and more than a few records of official reprimands for insubordination and disrespect towards superior officers.
Shepard was, in short, everything he had been looking for.
"I'm glad you got here first; it will give us a chance to talk," Nihlus went on.
"What about?" Shepard asked curtly.
Nihlus began to pace back and forth. "I'm interested in this world we're going to – Eden Prime. I've heard it's quite beautiful."
"If you like looking at plants," Shepard said flippantly, "sure. Why not?"
"You disagree?" asked Nihlus.
"It's a farming colony," Shepard replied uncaringly, "I've been to plenty: one's basically the same as any other."
"But Eden Prime isn't the same, is it, Shepard?" Nihlus stopped pacing. "It's become something of a symbol for your people, hasn't it? Proof that humanity can not only establish new colonies across the galaxy, but also protect them."
Nihlus turned back to the holo display. "But how safe is it, really?" he asked, partly to himself.
There was a brief pause, and Nihlus got the feeling that the Commander was shrugging at his back.
"As safe as any other colony in a cluster crawling with pirates and slavers."
"Yes," Nihlus said thoughtfully, "you would know something about that, wouldn't you?"
"Is there a point you're trying to make here?" Shepard asked, a mite of impatience in his voice.
"Your people are still newcomers, Shepard," Nihlus declared, turning to face the Commander, "the galaxy can be a very dangerous place." He folded his arms across his chest, watching the human intently. "Is the Alliance truly ready for this?"
Shepard didn't reply at first, during which Nihlus fancied his perpetual frown deepened slightly. Before Shepard could say anything, the door opened again and Captain Anderson entered.
"I think it's about time we told the Commander what's really going on," he said – was there a touch of resentment in his voice? The Captain had made it clear early on that he didn't appreciate leaving his second-in-command out of the loop. Still, it hadn't been Nihlus' call to make. He nodded to Anderson and addressed Shepard.
"This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run."
Shepard snorted derisively. "The entire crew's already figured that one out."
"We're making a covert pick-up on Eden Prime," Anderson clarified, "that's why we needed the stealth systems operational."
Shepard nodded. "What's the package?"
"A research team on Eden Prime uncovered some kind of beacon during an excavation." Anderson explained, "it was prothean."
The protheans. The long-extinct race that had devised the mass relay network , the binding force behind galactic society. Without it, every race would still be stranded in their home systems, helplessly gazing up at the stars, but unable to reach out and touch them. Any discovery of prothean technology was a boon to the galaxy: something to be dissected with care to unlock any potential secrets that could-
"We dig up prothean artefacts every other week, what's special about this one?"
Shepard was apparently less enthused than most.
"As far as the research team has been able to figure out, this beacon is some sort of data storage and transfer device. It seems to be intact – possibly even still functioning." Anderson became more animated, visibly excited by the discovery. "What humanity found in the Martian ruins jumped our technology forward two hundred years. And that was just a small data cache - who knows what this beacon could tell us?"
"Obviously, this goes beyond mere human interests, Commander," Nihlus interjected, "this discovery could affect every species in Citadel Space."
Anderson nodded. "Eden Prime doesn't have the facilities to handle something like this. We're to take the beacon back to the Citadel for proper study."
"And the Council sent a Spectre along for the ride to make sure we don't try and make off with it," Shepard amended, giving Nihlus a pointed look.
"Partly," Nihlus stated cryptically.
"Nihlus isn't just here for the beacon, Shepard." Anderson lowered his voice, although there was no chance of their being overheard, "he's also here to evaluate you."
There was a a tense pause. Shepard turned his head to look at Nihlus, who looked back, trying to gauge the Commander's reaction. Finally, Shepard spoke to Anderson.
"I think I'd remember whatever it was I did to warrant a Spectre investigation, Captain."
"I didn't say investigation, Shepard, "Anderson said patiently, "I said-"
"Evaluation," Shepard finished thoughtfully, turning back to Nihlus, "for the Spectres?"
"The Alliance has been pushing for this for a long time," Anderson said, "Humanity wants a larger role in shaping interstellar policy. We want more say with the Citadel Council."
"The Spectres represent the Council's power and authority." Anderson pounded his fist into his open palm in emphasis, "if they accept a human into their ranks, it'll show just how far humanity has come."
"You held off an enemy assault during the Blitz single-handed," Nihlus said appreciatively, "you showed not only courage but incredible skill. That's why I put your name forward as a candidate for the Spectres."
For the first time in the conversation, Shepard's expression changed as he lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "You did?"
Nihlus nodded. "Few individuals have the skills we seek; I don't care what species you are, Shepard, I only care that you can do the job."
Shepard's frown had reasserted itself. "It's not exactly the career move I had in mind-"
Anderson interrupted him. "This isn't just about you, Shepard – humanity needs this. We're counting on you."
Shepard nodded, though he looked far from happy. Although privately, from what he'd seen of the Commander so far, Nihlus doubted that Shepard had ever been in a state anywhere near 'happy' in his entire life.
"So how will this work?" Shepard asked Nihlus, "I'm guessing you need more than a few character references."
"I will need to see your skills for myself, Commander," Nihlus said, "Eden Prime will be the first of several missions together."
"You'll be in charge of the ground team when we reach the colony," Anderson said, "secure the beacon and get it onto the ship ASAP. Nihlus will accompany you."
"Simple enough," Shepard observed. "Just give the word, Captain."
"We should be getting close-"
"Captain! We got a problem!"
Captain Anderson glanced up at the sound of Joker's voice echoing around the comm room.
"What's wrong, Joker?" he snapped.
"Transmission from Eden Prime, sir, you'd better see this!"
"Bring it up on screen," Anderson ordered. The three soldiers turned to the holo display. The idyllic fields of Eden Prime faded away.
The footage was choppy and blurred as whoever was holding the camera turned back and forth, ducking and rising. Only brief flashes were clear; armoured figures huddled behind rocky outcrops; dirt being thrown up by weapon impacts; at one point, a view of a clouded, red sky as the camera user was bowled over. An armoured man appeared in view, holding the camera steady, his voice obscured by the constant cacophony of gunfire in the background.
"...-nder attack, tak-...-vy casualties, we-" the marine was thrown off balance by an explosion, "we need evac – they...-ut of nowhere! We ne-"
The marine was cut off as he was struck in the face by a lucky shot, the grisly view of his shattered skull obscured by his blood spattering the camera. A shaking hand rose into view and dabbed at the lurid spray, managing only to smear it more thinly across the lens. The constant tumult of gunfire and shouted voices suddenly died away; the view on the display swaying back and forth until it settled on the cause.
Like the hand of a perverse god, a metallic vessel was descending from the crimson-tinged sky. Fiery tendrils of lightning leapt between a mighty set of appendages that stretched out, as if to take a hold of the planet and tear it to shreds. As the leviathan sank lower, an eruption of sound caused a burst of static to echo around the comm room. 'Sound' didn't do the sensation justice: deep enough to shake the bones and piercing enough to pain the ears.
The camera looked away, catching a fleeting glimpse of marines throwing down their weapons and running before the footage cut out.
A/N: Well, I guess I should say hello, welcome and thank you for reading my first (published) attempt at fanfic. This mostly started as a way to burn off some creative juices I had lying around and next thing I knew, I had eleven chapters done. So, I figured I might as well see if some fellow internet dwellers could get some enjoyment out of it.