Omega is a shit hole among shit holes, a last shelter for wild animals to curl up in and die. Also, it looks like the sort of place to give you lice or ticks or scale itch (and why can humans get scale itch?), which makes Joker exceptionally glad he's watching from the safety of the Normandy's cockpit. Bridge. Whatever.
Afterlife has embraced the station's rotting atmosphere with open... arms. The music is loud enough to be deafening, even in the VIP section where the club owner sits, and the fuscia lighting may just be the only color Asari don't look good in. Whoever designed this place should be charged with crimes against humanity.
"Well, aren't you sweet." The Batarian's voice drifts over the comms. "You're in the wrong place, Honey. Stripper's quarters are that way."
Joker knows a moment of terror for the unnamed Batarian, even as he switches out Shepard's feed for Miranda's. Sure he feels a little bad for the guy, but that doesn't mean he's going to miss out on a show.
Shepard has three different guns visible on her armor, but to Joker's great disappointment, she doesn't pull any of them. Instead she just stares at the Batarian, one finger brushing the Predator at her hip.
"Come on, how about a little brandishing for the folks at home?" Joker says. Can he help that he likes his CO with guns blazing?
The corner of Shepard's mouth curls, something between a smirk and a sneer, and it intimidates the Batarian into moving the meeting along.
A few minutes later, Shepard breaks some kid's gun with her bare hands. Joker should probably find that more disturbing than he does, but it's almost a little hot. It doesn't even look hard.
After the mechs have been sabotaged, and the ground team stands waiting to cross the bottlenecked bridge, Joker closes Miranda and Jacob's comms. "Wrote you a poem, Commander."
"What?" Her vid feed upends as she rolls into cover. The merc in front of her doesn't have a chance.
"You know, like we talked about.
There once was a man from Arcturus-"
The cackle of her laughter rewards the first line, and Joker waits until the pop of gunfire quiets to continue.
" Who learned how to pilot a space bus.
He took down a Reaper,
In a volcano flew deeper,
That he's handsome is only a plus."
"Jeff, I can't aim while I'm laughing." The three freelancers that fall before her belie the statement.
The Turian has barricaded himself on the upper balcony, making the bridge into a kill shoot. Joker's seen Shepard come through worse unscathed, but she makes the run so problem-free that it almost seems as though Archangel isn't even trying.
Jacob takes a concussive round to the shoulder, but while his shields drop, the Turian doesn't send another round his way until they've regenerated.
The sound of metal feet on stairs, and then, "Archangel?"
The Turian snipes the last of the wave of mercs, then turns and pops the seal of his helmet.
It's Garrus.
Joker chokes on thin air. He hasn't seen the Turian since Shepard's funeral, and the intervening years have been anything but kind. Seems as though Joker's not been the only one to flirt with self-harming impulses. He'd willingly walked into the arms of Cerberus, and Garrus had pissed off an entire station worth of gangs.
But Garrus is genuinely surprised to see Shepard alive, which means he hadn't abandoned her like the rest. He might be a mess, but at least he's there.
The mercs return, and Shepard and Garrus turn from their conversation to fight.
The attack drags on for hours, and Garrus is visibly fading. Too many days of stims would be Joker's guess. Still, it looks like everything is going as planned. One more wave, and the team will be able to return to the Normandy.
The ship's scanners ding. "Incoming gunship, on your eleven," Joker says.
The ground team scrambles for cover, but Garrus isn't linked into the comms, so he remains standing just a second too long. His shields fall, but he rolls behind a crate before the bullets do any real damage.
Something, anger or desperation, posses Garrus, and he dives into exposure, just in time to catch a rocket to the face.
"Rolston, Chakwas," Joker radios. "Report to the shuttle now. I'm sending coordinates. Maintain distance until I give the all clear. Prepare for pickup, at least one injury, active combatants, at least one airborne."
It takes the ground team too long to down the gunship. There's no medigel for Garrus' injured face, because his damned helmet is still sitting on the balcony railing. EDI is running a probability of survival calculation for Garrus, and one of Joker's screens displays a rapidly falling number.
Finally, the gunship plummets. Joker green lights Rolston and the doc. They have maybe three minutes before the fire clears enough to allow more combatants to cross the bridge.
"Joker," Shepard's voice never wavers, but now that she's crouched over Garrus, Joker sees EDI's calculations were optimistic. "We need emergency pickup, tell Doctor-" The sound of the shuttle thrusters interrupts. "Ah," she says, "I forgot how good you are."
Joker's performing routine Cerberus monitoring- not snooping- when Garrus wakes and goes to see the Commander.
"Looks like your calculations were wrong, Thing."
"On the contrary, Mr. Moreau. I calculated a five point seven percent chance of Mr. Vakarian's survival. Your quick thinking increased that to eleven point two percent. His current health remains within predicted outcomes."
Joker slams EDI's mute button and brings up the audio from the Communication's Room.
"-sick experiments they were doing?" Garrus asks. The Cerberus thing. Does he not remember Shepard's wrath every time they cleaned out one of those labs? Does he really think she's forgotten?
"That's why I'm glad you're here, Garrus. If I'm walking into hell, I want someone I trust at my side."
There's a war on, so Joker ignores the ache in his gut and shuts down the feed. Rolston said the shuttle was flying funny, so Joker pulls up the computer log to see if he can't find the issue. It's probably the damned starboard thruster again. Maybe Garrus will be as good with shuttles as he was with the old Mako.
He's neck deep in numbers when Shepard's hand settles on his shoulder. "That was good work, Lieutenant. Thank you."
"Commander." Joker shrugs. It's not like he'd even done any flying.
Shepard moves into his line of sight. "Really, Joker, I couldn't do this without you." He shrugs again and Shepard rolls her eyes. "We're headed back stationside. Have a couple more idiots to add to the squad. Who knows, maybe this 'Veteran' is really Wrex under an assumed name."
"He sure as hell fits the dossier." There. It is the damned Thruster. Joker sends out a work order to Hawthorne. "So back to Omega already? You slept since we left Bethany Station?"
Shepard's saved from answering by the arrival of Miranda to the cockpit.
"You asked for me, Shepard?"
"Officer Lawson," Shepard inclines her head. "Two things. I'd like you to accompany me back to Omega at 1300 hours."
"Of course."
"Good. I'm also relieving you from your position as Executive Officer, effective immediately," Shepard says like she might mention they need extra coffee next time they take on supplies.
Miranda's perfect skin flushes tomato red, "You have no right-"
"I have not granted you permission to speak freely, Officer Lawson, but I will explain my orders. One time." Not that Joker's not enjoying the show, Shepard is fantastic when she's angry, but he wishes they were having this conversation somewhere he could eavesdrop but not become an unwitting biotic casualty.
"As Commanding Officer of this ship, the position of XO is mine to give. You are a critical member of my ground team, and as such, you are absent from the Normandy far more than is acceptable for an XO. Moreover, you are not equipped to handle alien crew as your longstanding ties to a human terrorist organization make you suspect."
"And who will you put in my place? The Turian?" Joker wonders if he could surreptitiously film their fight. He's just about to pull up the cockpit's vid feed, when Shepard's next comment stops him dead.
" You will retain your duties as operation officer. The Normandy's new XO is Lieutenant Moreau. "
"You're kidding." Miranda says, so he doesn't have to.
"You are dismissed, Officer Lawson. I will see you in the airlock when we are ready to leave."
Joker's jaw is hanging open.
"Sorry for springing that on you." Shepard sighs. "Wasn't fair of me, but congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant Moreau. Though I'm afraid it doesn't come with a pay increase." She frowns. "Probably. I honestly have no idea how Cerberus functions. Do you even draw a paycheck?"
"I'm flattered, Commander, really, but-"
"I didn't promote you to flatter you. What I told Miranda was the truth. I need someone on ship who I respect and who my crew respects. Like it or not, that's you."
He's not command material, that's a truth he knows deep in his bones. "All due respect, Commander, but I'm a recluse, and a cripple, and I don't like people."
"Which makes you good at calling people on their crap. Most of the time you're funny enough you don't even piss them off. You intuit the ground team's needs. You're the best man for the job. But I'm not asking, Joker. I'm your commanding officer, and if you make me pull rank, I will."
"Aye, aye, Commander." He snaps a salute. It's still a fucking bad idea, but he's not sure Miranda is a better one.
Shepard smiles, relieved and grateful. "You'll be good at it, trust me."
When the ground team leaves, EDI's voice comes over the speakers saying, "The Commanding Officer is ashore, XO Moreau has the deck." It's the most frightening thing Joker's ever heard.
A/N: The previous chapter was missing a scene break, I apologize for any confusion. Thank you to everyone who has read/commented/favorited/followed this story.
