Extra special thanks to my wonderful beta, peptoipso, and to all of you for reading.


Joker would have skipped dinner again, but his stash of ration bars had run dry. He'd been planning a quick run to the cafeteria, but for some reason, a much larger-than-normal crowd had gathered around the elevators. Being smushed in a cramped elevator full of noisy, jostling people did not sound at all like a pleasant experience (Joker thought it might actually be his own personal incarnation of hell), so he slipped into a nearby stairwell and began the laborious descent down to the cafeteria. He slowly made his way down the stairs, one stair at a time, leaning heavily on the banisters for support.

A door slammed open a flight above him, and the thunderous steps of a group of people barreling down the stairs echoed throughout the stairwell. Joker tensed at the sound, and flinched at the imagined pain of what would happen to him if he just decided to barrel down a flight of stairs.

He was still reeling from that thought when he noticed that the thunderous noises had disappeared, replaced by quiet whispers and sniggers. He rolled his eyes, and turned his head back towards the sound. Two familiar (and utterly unwelcome) human faces greeted him with unfriendly smiles. These two again. He groaned internally. This day officially cannot get any worse.

Most people pitied him. They'd avert their eyes whenever he made eye contact, awkwardly trying to pretend he didn't exist. Marcus and Grant, however, were special cases. They seemed to take real pleasure in making him uncomfortable and in pissing him off. This time, they crowded him on the stairwell, standing directly behind him without saying a word, practically kicking his heels every time he took a step.

Joker ignored them, and continued his trek down the stairs, feeling their ugly smiles burn through the clothes on his back. A door opened a flight below him, and he heard a light jog up the stairs. The footsteps got closer and closer until he turned the corner and came face to face with Shepard.

Joker's heart leapt into his throat, and immediately plunged down into his stomach. Why did he have to run into Shepard at exactly this moment?

"Hey, Joker." She smiled at him pleasantly, oblivious to the tension emanating from the group.

She tore her eyes away from his and took in the scene - two older, larger boys crowding around Joker in a stairwell that was wide enough to comfortably hold two rampaging krogan. Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Is there a problem here?" Her voice was clipped - not harsh, but with a subtle overtone of threat and danger.

One of them – Marcus – gave her a suggestive smile that was meant to be alluring. "Just heading down to the caf." His gaze traveled down over her chest and down to her hips, before slowly reaching her face again. "You, uh, might want to join us."

"No thanks. I got enough practice shattering femurs back in CombatSim this morning." (Joker flinched a bit at that.) She crossed her arms across her chest and gestured with her head towards the door below them. "Caf's that way."

The two boys walked by Joker on the stairwell without incident, but Grant knocked Shepard's shoulder with his when he passed her. They exited through the door a flight below, and the stairwell was silent again.

Joker felt his face begin to heat (a sure sign that it'd soon begin to turn a shade more common on hanar than on humans), but he kept the blush from taking over his face through sheer force of will. Shepard turned on her heel and walked next to him, idly keeping time with him as he continued to move down the stairs.

"Weren't you going the other way?", Joker asked. He was annoyed and frustrated and frazzled and would have probably given up on food if he hadn't already worked so damned hard to get down the steps.

"Yep."

"So . . . shouldn't you keep going that way?"

"Nah. Wasn't that important." She gave him a cheeky smile. "I think I'd rather talk to you anyway."

That made Joker a bit flustered. He liked that she wanted to talk to him (he really liked that, in fact), but he hated thinking that she thought she needed to protect him.

"Okay, look." He took another step. "You didn't have to do that - "

"Nope."

"Because I can look out for myself - " (Step.)

"But of course."

"And look," (Step.) "I didn't even ask for your help anyway - "

"Do you wanna eat with us today?"

The abrupt change in topic gave Joker metaphorical whiplash and almost caused him to lose his balance. He was surprised enough that he answered her honestly.

"No. I eat alone." (Step.)

Shepard's face fell a bit, and Joker felt like a bit of an asshole.

"I um – I don't really do well with crowds."

"Well, there's only 5 of us today."

Only five, she says. Joker resisted the urge to laugh nervously. He was set to argue the point, but then he saw how hopeful she looked and was startled into saying "Okay."

Shepard smiled at him then, a wide, toothy smile that made dimples appear in her cheeks. "You'll like everyone," she told him, and then proceeded to give him brief descriptions of her friends.

(He realized somewhere in the back of his mind that Shepard had almost certainly slowed down for him, but she'd moved so naturally around him that he hadn't noticed.)

Joker and Shepard reached the lunchroom, which, Joker noted with some relief, wasn't actually that crowded. There was a comfortable silence between them as they got food, and Joker appreciated that she didn't try to fill it with small talk. She pointed out their table across the cafeteria, which currently seated Wrex, Ashley, Kaidan, and Tali.

When Ashley saw Shepard walking towards the table with Joker, she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and her voice came out wry as Joker took the seat across from her.

"Ah. It's the dude who hates poetry. Charming."

Shepard shot Ashley a pleading look. "His name's Joker." Be nice, she mouthed silently behind Joker's back.

Joker, oblivious to Shepard's silent conversation with Ashley, simply shrugged. "Hey, I told you all the issues I had with poetry back in that class. I just need to know what you think. No frills, no hints, no bullshit."

Ashley looked positively eager to argue the point again, but she backed off after receiving another glare from Shepard. "Fine, fine. I'll chalk it up to personal differences," – she couldn't resist a final jab – "And life experience."

Shepard rolled her eyes and sat down in the space next to Joker. It was a tight fit, but she dutifully resisted the temptation to lay her leg flush against his.

Ashley gestured at Joker's legs with her fork. "So, what, you broke a leg?"

Well, that was blunter than usual. Joker decided he liked it, or at least liked it better than what usually happened. "Uh, yeah, actually. Quite a few times, in fact."

Wrex nodded almost sagely. "Ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system."

Joker cocked his head. "Yeah . . . humans don't have that."

Wrex looked startled. "Oh. It must have been painful, then."

"Yeah." Joker looked around at the puzzled faces and prepared himself. "I have Vrolik Syndrome. Brittle bone disease. My bones never developed properly, they're basically hollow, too much force and they shatter."

(Shepard caught a faint tinge of bitterness in his voice, but no one else seemed to notice.)

"Oh. So what do you study here?"

"I'm in flight training," replied Joker.

Kaidan piped up. "Can you do that, with your, um . . ."

"Uh, yeah. I don't exactly fly with my feet."

Shepard snorted, and the ensuing laughter broke any remaining tension. The conversation devolved into more routine dinner conversation, and it became easy for Joker to yield the reins of conversation to someone who actually liked talking. Tali and Kaidan commiserated over some monster problem set that their Advanced Combat Engineering professor had given them. (Everyone else nodded and smiled sympathetically, as if they'd had the slightest idea what Tali and Kaidan were talking about.) Joker participated if he was asked a direct question, but mostly kept quiet and re-acclimated himself with the feeling of being part of a group.

Shepard watched him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to guard his emotions intensely. A few times he smiled at things that weren't funny, as if he was lost in his own thoughts, and Shepard wished she knew what he was thinking. She tried not to stare, but she found herself always aware of his movements.

She liked the way he moved - slowly, quietly, decisively. He wasn't . . . graceful, exactly. It was more that his movements were incredibly economical – he moved only when he had to, and his movements were precise. Maybe it was an artifact of flight school – jerky movements are probably not conducive to flying a ship. That's probably why she noticed it - it showed that Joker was a pilot, through and through. Or maybe, Shepard mused, you just really, really like this boy.

Shepard flushed a bit at that thought, and ducked her head.

Joker and Shepard continued eating dinner, both sneaking peeks when they thought the other wasn't looking.


Shepard slipped into Anderson's office. He was hunched over his datapad, muttering to himself as he typed on the datapad in front of him with his two index fingers.

Shepard held back a snicker. Anderson was notoriously bad with "all this new-fangled technology", as he called it. His datapad was a full seven generations old, but he continued to use it because it was the last to come with a stylus that could be used for writing, as well as a fully tactile keyboard.

She watched him hunt and peck for a while, but then announced her presence with a smart rap on the door to his office.

Anderson's head shot up. "Shepard." He gestured to the chair across from him, and Shepard took a seat.

"Normally I'd have time to chat, Shepard, but I'm a bit busy at the moment. So I'll just get straight to it." He adjusted his shoulders. "I'll be speaking to the Council tomorrow. They're looking for – They want me to recommend some highly ranked candidates for the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Unit."

Shepard sat in stunned silence for a moment, but then her heart began to beat faster, and she began to hope. "Do you - do you think that -"

"Shepard, they'd have to be looking for reasons not to pick you."

Her spirits dropped. "Well, I'm human. There's one big whopping reason."

Anderson opened his mouth to disagree, but then sighed. "I'll be honest with you. It'll be hard to convince the Council. But you're the best candidate. You've got the combat skills, and you've got the leadership skills." He paused, and looked her straight in the eye. "You're the candidate I'm going to push for."

It was the most passionate Shepard had ever seen Professor Anderson, and she was touched.

"Do you think the Council is ready for a human Spectre?"

"It doesn't matter if they're ready. It's necessary." He paused. "Humanity is still mostly remembered as the species who started the First Contact War. The turians think we're weak, the asari think we're war-hungry, the salarians think we're dumb brutes."

"You think I can prove them wrong?"

"No. I think you don't have to." He leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on the table. "Who says the Council gets to set the bar for humanity?"

"They're looking for a few candidates, and Shepard, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you're on that team."


". . . .And what about this Shepard?" The turian councilor's voice was skeptical.

Anderson responded promptly. "Born in the colonies. Grew up in an orphanage on the Citadel. 'S been training at the GTA since she was thirteen."

"Highly ranked, I see."

"The highest," Anderson corrected.

"Hm. Well, you know what we're looking for. Tell us honestly now, who are the best people for the position?"

Anderson rattled off the list he'd spent hours preparing. "Azri Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, Urdnot Wrex, Tali'Zorah nar'Rayya, Ashley Williams, Kaidan Alenko."

(At Ashley Williams' name, the turian councillor widened his mandibles in a gesture that everyone recognized, but no one commented upon. )

The asari councillor made a skeptical face. "That's a very human-heavy list. And the krogan is simply out of the question." She scanned the list of prospective candidates. "What about this Kiala T'Mei? She's highly ranked in both Biotics and Combat Training as well." She raised her eyebrows. "And rifles. Not often you see a biotic with Rifle skills."

She adjusted her shoulders. "The T'mei's are a strong family on Thessia. It could be good to have their support."

Politics. Anderson resisted the urge to spit. "I've spoken with T'mei. She's already in training for a high level asari commando position back on Thessia. Doesn't have time for outside training."

"Regrettable."

"Shepard and Alenko are both highly ranked biotics, they'd both be good candi-"

The turian councilor interrupted. "Patience, Anderson. You're already campaigning for one human."

A bout of anger flashed through Anderson, as if he'd been stricken with a hot poker. Gotta be twice as good to get half as far.

The turian continued. "What about Vakarian? Garrus Vakarian."

Anderson responded immediately. "A strong sniper. Decent tech skills. Intelligent. Works best under the command of a strong leader." A leader like Shepard, he thought, but remained silent.

The turian councillor nodded. "He sounds like a solid choice." He paused. "Let's aim for a balanced team for the first run. Who might you suggest as a tech specialist?"

Anderson responded immediately. "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."

"The quarian?"

"Her technical skills blow anyone else's out of the water. I've seen her do things with an omni-tool that I didn't even know were possible."

"And her combat?"

"Solid. Not her strongest suit, but she can handle herself." Anderson smirked. "Uses shotguns."

The turian paused. "I know we're looking to diversify the council, but . . . I'm not prepared to compromise on the, ah, quality of our prospective candidates.

"Turians and asari have always been staples of our Spectre recruits, simply because of how consistently good they are. Representation of other species in the Spectres is a nice, lofty goal, but-" The turian shrugged. "-but if turians and asari are the best combatants, then they're the best."

Anderson's patience with the turian councilor was growing thin. The man was being deliberately obtuse - he'd seen the rankings, he knew who 'the best' combatants were, and they weren't the damned turians and asari. Anderson answered him firmly and decisively.

"But they're not the best candidates. Not this time. Vakarian is certainly a solid soldier and skilled marksman, but Shepard is top ranked in both Biotics and Combat Training, and an excellent leader. And Tali'Zorah, the quarian, is a better tech specialist than anyone else on the station."

There was quiet as the Council members ruminated over Anderson's words, but the salarian councillor filled the silence. "Then it would seem we have our first round of candidates."

Anderson allowed himself a small, internal cheer of victory, but jumped immediately into the next battle. "Shepard leads well. Put her in charge of this mission."

There was again silence for a moment. "Are you sure you're doing this for the right reasons, Anderson? Perhaps you are motivated by other, shall we say, biases?" The turian's voice was positively filled with doubt and suspicion.

Anderson decided to hold his tongue, and answered the question respectfully and impartially.

"If you're referring to a personal bias that I may have towards Shepard, I only have to present her record. I have no bias. She's the best."

"If you're referring to my desire to see a human Spectre, then I say absolutely. But don't be fooled. Shepard isn't just the best human candidate. She's the best candidate. Period. She's already developed the leadership skills, and right now, she's the person I'm most comfortable having oversee this mission."

The turian councilor nodded reluctantly. "We should begin with a shakedown run. Something simple, avoiding combat for now."

The asari councilor spoke up. "We have reason to believe that there are valuable asari matriarch writings to be found somewhere in the Plutus system. The words of this matriarch are valuable to my people." She took a breath. "Retrieving them would serve as a good first mission for a prospective Spectre."

"This will be the first in a series of shakedown runs. We'll see how well they do out in the real world, facing real combat," the turian councilor added skeptically.

The three councilors looked at each other and nodded, and made notes on the datapads in front of them.

The salarian dalatrass spoke. "The council has moved to initiate Spectre training for Azri Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, and TaliZorah nar'Rayya.

"We wish them well."


Anderson's class had been brutal. The two teams (Shepard/Tali/Garrus and Kaidan/Ashley/Wrex) had run a difficult CombatSim against what felt like an entire platoon of geth, each team trying to kill as many geth as possible. Kaidan had employed an aggressive and offensive method of combat for his team. The geth had ultimately been unable to counter their attack, but Kaidan's team paid for it dearly. By the end of the CombatSim, his team had taken the brunt of the fire, and were in noticeably worse shape than Shepard's.

Shepard, on the other hand, had strategized smartly. She let the geth focus the brunt on their attack on Kaidan's team, while she and her team had stayed in cover. Shepard used biotics to herd the geth out of cover and into her teammates' lines of fire, where Garrus and Tali picked them off easily. At the end of the CombatSim, the score was close, but Shepard's team just barely eked out a win over Kaidan's team.

Shepard, Tali and Garrus were packing up to leave when Anderson called them into his office. He was standing in front of his desk, his hands tucked behind his back. The three of them entered and stood at attention in front of him.

"I've spoken with the Council. They're interested in recruiting you to the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Council.

"You're not Spectres yet, but the Council is interested in jump starting your training.

"Congratulations to all of you. If you're still interested in the Council's offer, I need to know by 0900 hours tomorrow. Your first mission could be as soon as next weekend."

In a rare break in his veneer of professionalism, Anderson relaxed his shoulders and smiled at them. He crossed his arms across his chest, and the normally cool and collected features of his face transformed into a rare, deep, one-sided grin. He gave his head a small shake. "You done good."

The three students had barely contained their excitement up until that point, but at the uncharacteristic praise from Anderson, they all broke into huge, unrestrained smiles.

Anderson moved to dismiss them, but then leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "By the way. The turian councilor was sure to stress that this would be the 'first in a series of shakedown runs.' He 'wants to see how well you do in combat situations.'

He shot a quick glance towards the empty CombatSim room, leaned in further and spoke from deep in his throat. "Keep up performances like that and you should have no trouble. "


"Mr. Moreau, a moment please."

The lecture was over, and Professor Jassal had again called Joker down to talk to her. It had become a kind of ritual, him coming to talk to her after class. Usually she gave him books he'd be interested in, but this time, she seemed more determined, as if she had something specific she wanted to talk to him about.

"How's your FlightSim Training coming along?"

"Just hit 10,000 hours a couple of days ago."

Professor Jassal flashed him a smile of real pleasure. The wrinkles around her eyes creased, the dimples in her cheeks grew more pronounced, and Joker swore that he could see an actual sparkle in her eyes. He couldn't help but smile, himself – he liked knowing that there was someone on this space stay who appreciated him for his talents, and who'd just be genuinely happy for him when he did well. There was no pity in her smile, no barely-contained disbelief that the boy with the funny walk was currently the best flight student on the station. Just pleasure and pride, and Joker was grateful.

His reverie was interrupted by Professor Jassal's voice. "Jeff, have you heard of the 10000-Hour Rule?"

"Er. . . no." Joker fought the urge to rub the back of his neck. "Do I - Is there something I need to do?"

She waved her hand. "No, no, nothing like that. It's an unofficial rule, more like a trend, really. When we look at people who are excellent in their field- we're talking experts, best of the best, pioneers in their fields - most of them have practiced their specific task for roughly 10000 hours."

Jeff was silent for a moment as he took in the implications of Jassal's words. "So, that means –"

"It means that I'm expecting big things from you." Joker's chest swelled with pride, and he was again immensely grateful for Professor Jassal.

"Listen, Jeff. A few of your colleagues will be doing a series of missions for the Council in preparation for training as Spectres."

"They'll be doing quite a few intersystem missions, and they'll need a pilot. The council was going to assign them a standard Alliance pilot, but I think it might be a good opportunity for you to get some real-world experience on a real ship. Would you be interested?"

Joker felt a thrill run through him. He was going to fly. Flying a real ship on a real mission with real consequences. His heart felt as though it would beat out of his chest.

He looked up at Professor Jassal. "Is this for real?"

She laughed easily. "Yes. It's for real." She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. " You don't have to give your answer right away. Why don't you think it over, and let me know –"

"No. Yes." Joker shook his head quickly, as if to clear his thoughts. "No. I don't need to think it over any longer. Yes, I'll do it. Absolutely."

"I know it's exciting, but are you sure you don't want to –"

"No. I want it. I'll do it. Of course I will."

She nodded at him. "All right. I'll let Anderson know."

"When would I start?"

"They're looking to take their first mission in the next week or two."

Joker's heart leapt into his chest. "Wow."

Jassal patted him on the shoulder again. "You're ready."

Joker nodded, dazed. "Yeah, I just – I hadn't expected it so soon."

"You're ready," Jassal repeated.

Joker nodded again and then left the room, a bit more slowly than he usually did.

Jassal watched him leave, then pulled her datapad out of her bag and began a message to Anderson.


Later that night, Joker laid on his bed and thought. After his talk with Jassal, he'd gone through the motions of student life for the rest of the day, but his mind had been preoccupied, racing with thoughts of ships and mass relays and . . . and flying.

When he looked back on this day years later, Joker didn't think he'd remember what any of his professors had said in any of his classes. He wouldn't remember how many laps he'd swum in the pool, what he'd had for dinner, or even how many times Shepard had smiled at him. (Three, actually, his inner voice insisted unhelpfully.)

But even considering all the things that he knew he would forget, he would remember at least one particular moment of this day. As if to prove the point to himself, he closed his eyes and replayed the memory of his conversation with Jassal for the 50th time, resolving to never forget it.

I'm going to fly. He'd always known he would, of course, but in the six years that he'd been training at the GTA, it had been easy to forget that he would one day be the pilot of a ship. The thought had gotten lost in countless hours of FlightSim practice, in classes, in all the time spent trawling the space station. Actually flying a ship had seemed impossibly distant, something that'd happen to him eventually, like taxes. But not anymore. He was going to fly and it was real and it was here and it was now.

I'm going to fly. His mind repeated the phrase over and over again, as if the dream might leave him if he didn't say it often enough.

He drifted off easily to sleep that night, flitting between dreams, feeling as light as air.


Author's Notes

#1

The 10000-Hour Rule is a real thing! Malcolm Gladwell gives a great argument for the relevance of the 10000-Hour Rule in his book "Outliers." Basically, it suggests (and gives evidence supporting the idea) that while anyone can be good, or even great at something, an expert in a field, (the best of the best - think Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Yo-Yo Ma) has practiced their craft for around 10000 hours.

Outliers is a really easy, interesting, and accessible read that discusses a lot more than the 10000-Hour Rule, so check it out if you think you might be interested!

#2

Anderson's List for the Council

Rifles
1) Garrus Vakarian
2) Ashley Williams
3) Taurus Kavarik
4) Kiala T'Mei
5) Gaius Kivaelan

Tech
1) TaliZorah nar'Rayya
2) Merian Pellus
3) Varoth Salos
4) Kaidan Alenko
5) Garrus Vakarian

Biotics
1) Azri Shepard
2) Kiala T'Mei
3) Kaidan Alenko
4) Urdnot Wrex
5) Isana T'Pella

Combat Training
1) Azri Shepard
2) Garrus Vakarian
3) Ashley Williams
4) Urdnot Wrex
5) Kiala T'Mei

Anybody want to take a stab at the species of the non-canon characters on the rank lists?

#3

Next Chapter: The First Mission. Are you excited? I'm excited. See you Friday or thereabouts.