Beta-read by Saberlin.

-J-

Shepard found that she was not afraid, and it did not surprise her. A bigger emotion was strangling fear. She was livid. Joker's answer to her demand of 'what the hell, Joker?' left her in no doubt: killing Sovereign hadn't been enough. This stank of machine oil and hydraulic fluid, minus the flashlight heads.

Only one species—if she could call it that—bore that description.

Damn Reapers.

The emergency beacon on the crewdeck beeped at her as she activated it, her lips curling. Reapers crawling out of the woodwork and she was stuck on a ship and couldn't fight back.

Normally, Joker would have riddled anyone threatening his lady so full of holes they could rent themselves out as a colander; the fact that the enemy wasn't dead was telling, and chilling.

Or would have been if she didn't feel livid enough to want to try tearing a Reaper apart with her bare hands.

"Shepard," Alenko came crashing into the small alcove, having stopped to check Tali. In the end, it was unnecessary: he and Shepard both saw Tali come stumbling out of the clean room, followed by Dr. Chakwas, still fiddling with the fastenings of her helmet.

Here was hoping she didn't catch anything really nasty from unpurified air…

"Distress beacon's armed." Shepard's voice came out firm, using the in-control tone that went such a long way towards keeping the soldiers who worked with her calm under pressure, but an edge of seething anger was audible to anyone who knew what to listen for.

They exchanged a look: there was no way the Alliance could get here in time to do anything more than pick up escape shuttles. They had served too long in space to think otherwise and if this was something to do with the Reapers…

Shepard gritted her teeth. Damn the Reapers! If they had their way, there wouldn't be enough of the Normandy to fill a champagne glass at a Citadel Embassy function.

Then they'd turn on the escape shuttles.

"We're not going to sit around so they can find our frozen corpses." She said into the silence, as if responding to a question. "I want you to take over the evac. Get everyone on the shuttles. No exceptions."

Alenko shifted, but did not hesitate to respond. "Shepard, I had Joker on the wire before he stopped listening."

Shepard swore, able to read between the lines.

"He won't abandon ship. I'm not leaving either."

Shepard and Alenko rocked as the ship jerked; both automatically reached to check that gravlocks were engaged. "Has something changed?" Shepard's challenge came out cold as ice, reinforcing her original order: everyone on the evac shuttles—no exceptions.

The question hit Alenko like a slap, but he couldn't refute it. His own stipulation had just come back to bite him: here he was acting, out of emotion while she had already compartmentalized. It was almost frightening to think she could simply put her feelings in a box and shove them under her bed to be disentangled later.

"I need you," her tone softened, knowing the words' impact, "to oversee the evacuation, and get everyone off this heap," her voice edged with her 'go kill it' tone, a dire nuance directed at whoever was trying to destroy her ship.

Or was it just the ship? Alenko eyed Shepard, and in a brief moment understood: this was not about the ship or the lives for which she was responsible. This was an alien menace attacking her home and her family all over again. But now she wasn't a sixteen-year-old girl, and she would attack back. There was no fear, there would be no flashbacks, no moments of hesitation—just anger. Here was an attacking menace she could strike back...if less effectively than she might like.

Even as the thought flickered in his mind, he knew he had only a very basic grasp on what was going on behind the tinted visor of her helmet.

"I will take care of Joker's crippled ass if I have to break him in half to do it." She elbowed past him at a jog—as fast as the gravlocks would let her move—in order to end the argument.

"Shepard." She paused, turning so she could see him out of the corner of her eyes. "Move fast."

She knew what he meant, nodded understanding, and started off, barking out curt commands that seemed to galvanize the fear straight out of her crewmen, yanking them onto a plane of functionality similar to her own.

Shepard's mind was not blank, nor was it empty, but it was full of wide open space. Even moving from the small pressurized area between the stairs from the crewdeck into the decompressed CIC did not alter the clarity, except that the notion of the Normandy now being a convertible made her smile.

Above her, the planet—or moon, or whatever it was—gleamed silver-bright, but there was no visual on the attacking ship.

"All right, on your feet," Shepard barked as soon as she entered the cockpit through the barrier seal.

Sweat stood out on Joker's face, his eyes alight. Shepard finally caught her first look at the enemy.

It was not remotely like Sovereign.

"I won't abandon the Normandy! I can still save her."

"Not if you're a corpse. Up. Now." Her tone indicated clearly that if Joker protested she would drag him out of the chair and throw him into the shuttle, broken bones be damned.

Joker hesitated; Shepard took hold of his arm, ready to carry out her unspoken threat. "Okay, help me up."

A console began screaming.

Shepard grabbed Joker, maneuvered him into the evac shuttle. There was no time for finesse: she tried to ease him gently into one of the seats but knew, as she shoved the restraining bar down, that she had already damaged brittle bones.

Light caught her attention, a yellow glimmer out of the corner of her eye. Involuntarily, she turned to look…