Disclaimer: This story is based in Bioware's universe of Mass Effect. I do not own any of the characters, names, or places from the Mass Effect universe. This is simply my interpretation of the events that took place on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. All original characters and places are of my own creation, and all errors or inconsistencies are of course my own fault.

Grounded

2176 CE (7 years before the events of Mass Effect)
Elysium, 0800 hours, GST (galactic standard time)

Lieutenant Elin Shepard groaned slightly as the piercing tones of the bedside alarm jarred her out of a deep sleep. She took a second to disentangle her arm from the twisted sheet, before smacking the offending device and silencing it. The morning sun streaked through the half closed blinds of the windows, the light falling slantwise across the bed as she sat up stiffly. She opened bleary eyes to take in the still somewhat unfamiliar surroundings and rubbed at the muscles between shoulder and neck with her right hand.

That's right, she thought. Hotel room. The barracks at Rendar Base on Elysium were being refitted, and she was one of quite a few Alliance personnel on leave who'd been given a hotel room off base for the duration of the refit. She wondered if the poor quarters were some form of unspoken punishment from the brass for telling off Captain Davidson several weeks ago while aboard the SSV Dunkirk. Shepard was still embarrassed by her own outburst, but the man's inability to effectively deploy the Dunkirk's fireteam had nearly gotten the five man squad killed, herself included. The near death experience and the fact that the man then had the nerve to lecture her on the finer points of tactical deployment had taken her temper over the edge and the normally quiet and reserved N7 infiltrator had loudly informed the captain where he could shove his tactical deployment. The corner of her lips twitched upward as she remembered the startled look on Davidson's face before snaffling off a salute and stalking away to the showers in a huff.

She rolled off the side of the mattress and reached her fingers toward the ceiling, a low sigh escaping her lips as muscles, stiff and tight from several nights sleep on the sub-par mattress, stretched out, releasing tension with that "oh-so-good" feeling. She shook out her shoulders and then crossed the tiny room in three strides to enter the bathroom. She took a short, hot shower to help loosen the muscles further. As she toweled off, she looked at the mirror, always slightly taken aback by how much she resembled her mother. Her dark, burnt orange hair, a legacy from her Dublin born grandmother, was cut at her jaw and the sea-green eyes that stared back at her from the mirror were so much like her mother's that sometimes the memory of it hit hard enough to knock her off her guard. But Sara and Jim Shepard were six years dead, and she tried not to think about Mindoir if she didn't have to.

Even though she was on leave, Elin still dressed in the blue fatigues of an Alliance Navy marine as she owned only two civvie outfits. In fact she had remarkably few personal possessions that didn't pertain to her job. After losing everything on Mindoir it was easier to simply move on with life when it all fit into a single, Alliance standard issue duffel bag. She reached for one of those possessions now, a well worn leather bound book that had belonged to her father. It was James Joyce's, Ulysses, and had been Jim Shepard's favorite. She always took some time to read through the novel on her shore leave as if it were some ritual attempt to keep his laughing memory alive. She tucked the book and her datapad under one arm so she could buckle on her side arm and checked to make sure she had all other essential items, mainly her ID, key card to the room, and her credit chit. Satisfied, Shepard left her room, nodding courteously to the man behind the main desk in the lobby, and stepped out into the crisp, early morning light.

Elysium was one of the Alliance's oldest colonies, it had a modest population of several million people, half of which were non-human. Located at the "crossroads" of multiple primary and secondary mass relays, the colony itself had become a massive hub for trade and commerce in the Verge. Thousands of beings passed through the space port on business ventures of numerous kinds on a daily basis. Because of this, security measures were tight, and getting through port security was always a nightmare, even for an Alliance soldier. Shepard had spent a few hours herself waiting to get through security when she had arrived on Elysium at the start of her leave three days ago.

Her hotel was not far from the port and as she walked out towards the street, Elin could see the bustling crowds moving to and from the port transport station. Transport speeders hovered away, navigating the skylanes with ease while a few, more conventional cars sped away on the streets. Apparently automobiles (not counting necessary military vehicles) were a human oddity in the galaxy. A sign that home-grown human technology reflected the youth of its species. At least that is what the Turian barkeep at The Black Hole had argued the other night. Though she had a sneaking suspicion the barkeeper had been taking shots when no one was looking, he'd been particularly chatty... for a Turian at least.

Shepard made her way down the busy streets, past shops with glowing neon signs advertising omni-gel convertors and the latest in omni-tool tech. The crowds of shoppers and crew from the visiting ships at the space port weren't as heavy now as they would be in a few hours. She picked out a few other Alliance personnel in the passersby, marked by the dark, navy blue of fatigues like her own, or the more formal uniform of an officer on duty.

After a few minutes more of walking, Elin entered a local cafe, one she'd frequented every morning since she'd arrived. It was a popular, but quaint establishment run by an Asari and several of her sisters. Shepard seated herself at a table in the back that gave her a clear view of the room and its patrons along with every entrance,. She hardly even noticed the standard training taking over at a subconscious level anymore. It was quite simply an ingrained habit. One of the Asari waitresses wandered over to take her order.

"Coffee, black." Elin said, but before the waitress could leave the table another voice interrupted.

"Make that two coffees." A man's voice said, "And put em on my tab, Salora." The Asari gave the newcomer a knowing grin as Shepard arched a brow at him in dawning recognition, mentally subtracting two years from his face. He hooked one foot around the leg of a chair and jerked it away from the table before seating himself without invitation.

"Lieutenant Plunkett." She said, her voice neutrally cool.

"Lieutenant Shepard." He was smirking, just like he always used to, and that alone grated on her nerves more than he could imagine or maybe he could imagine it, and was laying it on thicker than usual. Salora returned with their coffees and vanished quickly after sensing the frosty air around the table. Plunkett's eyes followed her retreating back with a thinly suppressed interest that made Elin roll her own.

She watched with mild irritation as he took his time blowing on the scalding hot liquid before taking a cautious sip. Luke Plunkett had been a source of aggrivation for Elin since the day they'd began training together in the N7 program at the academy on Arcturus Station. The comradely relationship they'd developed on first acquaintance had turned painfully competitive as they both rose to the top of their class, and then spent weeks upon weeks of grueling training continually trying to one-up each other. His displeasure at graduating second to a farm girl like Shepard had been evident, and even now when they no longer had to deal with each other on a regular basis, the chilly competitiveness persisted.

"Is there something I can help you with Plunkett?" She said as he took another sip. He set the mug down with a loud clunk of ceramics hitting the table. His brown eyes, the same mousy brown color of his hair seemed to be mirroring that annoying smirk of his lips.

"Just thought you'd want to know that as of twenty minutes ago Fleet Command assigned me to the SSV Waterloo." Shepard's teeth ground together painfully as she clenched her jaw, a horrible habit that gave away her anger... one she was also trying to break. She had expressed interest in the open SpecOps posting on the frigate, Waterloo. It wasn't so much that she hadn't received the post that angered her, but that it had been assigned to Plunkett of all people.

"Did you buy me coffee just so you could gloat?" She said through clenched teeth. He sipped the offending drink with mild casualness, clearly enjoying her irritation.

"I thought it might help to soften the blow of disappointment a little." And disappointing it was. Elin knew now that this was most likely her punishment for her outburst at Davidson. Now she'd have to deal with the insufferable captain for who knew how long.

"Anyway," Plunkett said, while getting to his feet. He drained the last of the coffee in a few gulps before setting down the mug. "Waterloo ships in a few hours, so I need to go prepare. No rest for the wicked eh, Shepard?" He shot her a mock salute before swaggering out of the cafe.

"Well that just ruined my day." She muttered to herself.