Chapter Four: Special Tactics

It took fewer than two days for Nihlus to get under Joker's skin.

"Drift of 1500. That's good," The turian's rumble of a voice was approving. His mandibles clacked against his jaw. "Your captain will be pleased."

Nihlus nodded at Shepard as he took his leave of the bridge, and the moment his back was turned Joker pulled a face. She folded her arms and gave him a level look. "What's the problem?"

"After a relay jump, 1500 drift isn't good- it's amazing! It's like hitting a rhino between the eyes from orbit." He made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. "And I don't like the way he's been looking over all our shoulders non-stop, either. Something's up."

Alenko sat in the right-hand couch, with a half-dozen displays circling his hands. His concentration didn't waver from his work. "He gave you a compliment, so he has some nefarious agenda?"

"It wasn't a compliment," Joker protested. "It just doesn't feel right. Why is he here? This mission is boring. We're inside Alliance space, the ship passed all the ground tests with flying colors, and it's just a shakedown for the rest of the hardware. The most exciting thing that could happen is we lose power or something and drift out here all of half a day before the Alliance scrambles a rescue."

"It's not just an Alliance ship, Joker," Alenko replied with the tired overtones of someone who had already made this point twenty times over.

Joker swiveled in his chair. "What do you think, Commander? There's more to this mission, right?"

"You know better than to ask questions like that," she answered, automatically, but with less severity than usual. Joker was well aware that need-to-know was real, with real reasons and consequences. But deep down she agreed and it frustrated her to no end. She was the X.O. It was well within her purview to be informed of all ship operations, classified or not, and furthermore she was an N7 operative and accustomed to dealing in secrecy. What could Anderson possibly have on the boil that was so sensitive she couldn't be trusted?

To her chagrin, Joker winked and touched his nose. "Yes, ma'am. As you say."

"You watch too many extranet spy vids," Alenko muttered, not quite quietly enough to escape Joker's hearing.

He made another face. "What are you even doing up here, L.T.? You can't fly a ship."

"Adams thinks the drive response might be a bit sluggish, but it was hard to test without putting the ship through a real maneuver. But for that same reason, he needed all his engineers on deck." He shrugged. "He needed someone with the engineering equivalent of the ability to hold a hammer up here to run the diagnostic. I can do that."

"This ship practically dances through a relay. No way is the command link slow."

"It is." Alenko swiped at the haptic interface, sending a data screen flying onto Joker's display. "Check it out for yourself."

Joker scrutinized the data. "I'll be damned."

"Is it going to affect operations?" Shepard peered over his shoulder. It was a futile gesture. She could no more interpret a series of raw cable readings than sing an aria.

"No, Commander. She'll need some recalibration, that's all. Adams might even be able to do it live if we're lucky."

"Carry on, then."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

Shepard returned to the CIC. It was an old habit, but she never got tired of seeing a relay up close. That moment when the blue tendril of the giant mass effect field vortex at the heart of the relay spun out and engulfed the ship, and performed the vanishing cabinet trick on an entire frigate in the space of a quantum blink, was about as close to magic as she figured she was ever likely to get. It worked- but it was Prothean. There were any number of details no human or alien truly understood about the relays even after thousands of years of study.

Immediately, she overheard Navigator Pressly arguing over his comm to Adams, insisting there was more to this mission than meets the eye. Her mood soured another notch as she approached his station.

"Commander." Pressly straightened and turned towards her. He looked paler than on Mars, the orange lights designed for dark-sensitive vision washing all the color out of him.

Shepard didn't prevaricate. "Navigator, what is our mission?"

"To fully validate the new stealth system, ma'am," he answered promptly.

"And?" She raised an eyebrow.

Pressly's brow furrowed. "That sums it up, I think."

"Exactly." She folded her arms. "We do not spread rumor and speculation. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." He put his heels together and went to attention, a touch stiffly at the chastisement. "That turian just has me jumpy, ma'am, no disrespect. I've heard about these spectres."

"What have you heard?" she asked, with genuine curiosity. Shepard's knowledge of their remit ended at the bird's eye view of their role as the galactic Council's left hand.

"Enough to know that spectres don't bother with this kind of mission, no matter who built the damn ship. They could have sent anyone to do a simple inspection." He shook his head. "And from the way he's scrutinizing us, hardly saying a word, it's clear he's expecting something to happen."

"I hear that. He's been sticking to my ass like a burr since he came aboard." It was beyond tedious. Every checklist, every order, he wanted to double-check personally, and what was worse, Anderson let him.

As if reading her thoughts, Pressly continued, "And then there's the captain. If there's a more decorated black ops officer in the fleet, I'd be hard-pressed to name him. Why is he overseeing this mission personally?"

Shepard rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It's his ship. It's hard to imagine he wouldn't want to take charge of her maiden voyage, test run or no."

Pressly went on as if he hadn't heard her, ticking off his third point on his fingers. "And why do we have a full crew? A skeleton crew would be cheaper. Special operations, special personnel, and a damned turian. No offense, ma'am, but this doesn't smell right."

"We need a full crew in case-" She sighed, and gave up. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Do your job and stop spreading this kind of shit around. Even if you're right, it'll only make people nervous."

"As you say, ma'am." He turned back to his console.

She folded her arms and changed the subject. "What's your problem with turians anyway?"

"My family fought in the First Contact War. We lost some friends. I can't say I trust them."

"My parents lived through Shanxi, too. But that was a long time ago." In truth, Shepard could barely remember the war, if you wanted to call a three-month misunderstanding a war. She was only a toddler when it happened. Most of the old guard, however, those who could recall Relay 314 with great clarity, felt like Pressly, so she tried not to sound too dismissive.

"Yes it was, but they're still the same damned-" Pressly caught her look and swallowed the end of his statement. "Was there anything else, ma'am?"

"As you were." Shepard found her own terminal and began looking over the crew reports from the transit. So far, it was a textbook run. All the training paid off.

Shepard was only at it a few minutes before Joker's voice crackled over the speakers. "Commander, the captain wants to see you in the comm room."

She glanced at the ceiling instinctively, even though Joker would hear her response no matter where she directed her voice, courtesy of the Normandy's VI. "Tell him I'm on my way."

Shepard rounded the corner and nearly collided with Dr. Chakwas and Corporal Jenkins.

"I can't wait for the real mission to start," Jenkins was saying. Indeed, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a two-year-old, and there was a wild look about him, two parts excited to one part nervous.

A biting response rose to her tongue- couldn't anyone on this ship focus on their stated mission?- but Shepard was learning to reign in her temper fast. "You better settle down before you strain something, Corporal."

"Sorry, ma'am." For a split second he seemed appropriately chastised, but it passed quickly. "I can't believe there's a real spectre on board!"

"Spectres are trouble," Chakwas stated, with little inflection. There was that little half-smile playing about her mouth Shepard was coming to regard as her base expression, as if she'd seen so much of life the only logical response left was to be vaguely amused. "They have no official authority, only a general mandate to protect galactic interests. And they keep to themselves. It's rare to see one working with a ship's crew like this."

"Protect the galaxy at any cost," Jenkins emphasized. "Spectres operate above the law. The only person who can take out a spectre is another spectre."

Chakwas chuckled. "I believe the corporal is mistaking romanticized anecdotes for reality."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "So why aren't there any human spectres? If it's a council-wide organization?"

The doctor shrugged. "They're drawn primarily from the council races. Turians of course have a strong military tradition, but asari turn up everywhere, and salarians are widely considered the galactic masters of covert operations. The Alliance has tried for years to forward a human candidate for consideration, but so far, no luck."

"Hey." Jenkins' eyes lit up as a thought struck him. "I bet you'd make a pretty good spectre, Commander. You proved you can hold your own against any of those guys back on Akuze. I hope I get that kind of chance someday."

Invoking that event in defense of this nonsense made her stomach churn. Jenkins was as bad as those guys who obsessed over combat sim tournaments, the ones who thought they could be N7 if only their lives turned out differently. Her eyes narrowed. "Fifty marines died. Show some damn respect."

He swallowed. She didn't let up. "The Alliance Navy isn't about seeking personal glory. It's about doing the best damn job you can, no matter what, and then getting up the next day and doing it again. Every last one of those men and women understood that."

"I'm- I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't mean anything by it."

Shepard watched him for a long moment before she let her expression soften. "Just remember your training, keep sharp, and follow my orders, and you'll be fine. Whatever happens."

He drew himself up. "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded at them both. "The captain's waiting for me."

Normandy's comm room was state of the art, as befit a ship specializing in reconnaissance. Aside from the obvious- top-notch displays and audio, multiple channels and terminals- there were the hidden technologies, encryptions so bleeding-edge half the protocol book still had editorial notes from the coders penciled in the margins. The antenna could get a hook in a comm buoy half a system away, and deliver that signal straight back to Earth if necessary, on a beam so tight she'd bet the whole ship against its interception. Or it could project a conversation in real time, on a secured link, with fully rendered holos of all the participants from several worlds.

When Shepard walked in, Nihlus was using all that brilliant tech to screen a commercial tourist vid of Eden Prime.

"Planning a holiday?" Shepard asked dryly.

"Ah, Commander." The spectre turned and clasped his hands- claws? Turians had such bony fingers- behind his back. He wore his hard suit, as he had the entire trip, despite the discomfort. "I hoped to speak with you privately."

"Regarding?" She folded her arms and leaned back against the rail ringing the room to protect the video equipment.

"This world of yours, Eden Prime." He gestured at the vid. "Lovely, isn't it?"

"Not my world. I've never been there." She tilted her head. "What's this about?"

"Like every species, humanity is of limited resources. Yet you pour so many of yours into this jewel of a garden world, this colony, right on the border of Council space, with pirates, slavers, mercenaries, and worse just waiting to spill over from the Terminus the moment you let down your guard." His mandibles flared.

Shepard was no expert in turian body language, but she sensed displeasure. "What do you care? It's an Alliance colony."

"Your aptly-named Alliance is still young. Humanity is young. You're still used to thinking in terms of disparate nations, not as one people of intertwined concerns." Nihlus paced before the holo pedestals. "This is why you don't have a good foothold on the galactic stage. And you have no idea of the true dangers this galaxy can present. None."

The corner of her mouth quirked. "Are you trying to scare me, spectre?"

"Enough."

Shepard straightened automatically as Anderson entered the room. He nodded to her. "I think it's time we told the commander what's really going on."

"Indeed." Nihlus turned to her. "This is not a simple shakedown run."

"Thanks. I'd already figured that one out, along with half the crew." She glanced at Anderson. "I assume there is a good reason I wasn't informed earlier. Sir."

"Don't get cute with me, Shepard. This came straight from the top. Strictly need-to-know. We couldn't chance an information leak." He paused. "Scientists on Eden Prime have unearthed a Prothean artifact. Our job is to go in, quick and quiet, and retrieve it for further study aboard the Citadel."

She took a moment to absorb that. There wasn't a human alive who didn't appreciate the magnitude of how the Prothean archives on Mars changed the course of their history. Other than the relays, they'd found no other technological remnants in forty years, in any of their colonies. "The Protheans disappeared fifty thousand years ago. What are the odds the thing still even works?"

"Right now, it appears to be intact." Anderson was quite serious. "Shepard, this is big. What if this time it's not just ship technology, but something even more dangerous, like a weapons cache? We can't risk it falling into the wrong hands."

Shepard considered Nihlus' concerns in a new light. Eden Prime sat just this side of the Attican Traverse, an unstable region humans and batarians had fought over for ten years and a buffer zone for the true lawlessness of the Terminus Systems at the far edge of the galaxy. If Eden Prime was an old Prothean colony, it was uncomfortably close to Terminus territory. Suddenly, she was worried too. "Sir, why are we bringing it to the Citadel? This is a human colony, a human ship. Is it really a good idea to make this information so public?"

"We need to spread a little goodwill among the other races, and the sanctions for concealing Prothean technology are among the harshest in the galaxy." His expression was severe. Then he admitted, "And we'll need their help to crack its secrets. They have more expertise with this kind of scientific work."

"This goes beyond human concerns, Shepard, regardless of the need for secrecy. That's why we want to extract it with a stealth ship." Nihlus tossed Anderson a significant look that left her puzzled.

Anderson cleared his throat. "But this so-called beacon isn't the only reason Nihlus is here. He's come to observe you."

"I guess that explains why I've been bumping into him every time I turn around." She fiddled with her thumbs behind her back. "Why?"

"We've petitioned the Council for years to inaugurate a human spectre. Nihlus has put your name forward. They've been watching you for some time."

"Nihlus put my name forward?" Her surprise was obvious. Shepard didn't have a knee-jerk distrust for turians like Pressly. She knew they were just people, like anyone else, good, bad, and indifferent, but the Hierarchy wasn't exactly a friend of the Alliance, either. Just like the Alliance still remembered the affront to their sovereignty, the turians recalled the staggering reparations they were ordered to pay when the asari brokered peace, for what in their eyes was simply enforcing galactic law.

"I don't care about species representation." Nihlus was frank. "I do care about the defense of the galaxy. People who possess the skills required of a spectre are rare in any species, and I suspect you may be among them. There's too much work to ignore any candidate on arbitrary grounds. I care if you can do the job."

"Nihlus will observe your next several missions and forward his recommendation to the Council." Anderson made it sound like a done deal.

Suddenly, it all made sense. The sudden promotion to X.O. The way Anderson was riding her about the politics of the position, nitpicking everything from her interactions with the crew to how she dressed. She hadn't lived through Akuze for nothing; she knew very well the kind of media circus that could erupt from being singled out like this, and how touchy the galactic Council was about perception. Nobody wanted to see the Alliance embarrassed.

Shepard's mind raced. This was the last thing she'd expected, and she found herself floundering a bit. "I assume this is good for the Alliance, sir?"

"Very." Anderson watched her closely.

A dozen questions immediately sprang to mind. Was it even possible to be both Alliance and a spectre? Wouldn't that be a conflict of interest? She signed up to defend humans, human space, against any and all threats, and moreover she enjoyed serving. Most of the time, anyway.

But the offer was also alluring, in the same way as N7 before she understood what that really meant. It was a chance to be recognized as the best of the best. Shepard was no more immune to that than the next marine. And god knew she chaffed at the restrictions placed on her, sometimes.

In the end, it didn't matter. She'd ceded a portion of control of her life when she signed up, and a great deal more when she joined special operations. This was nothing new. She saluted smartly. "I'll do my best, sir."

"Good." He sounded pleased. "We should be making our final approach soon-"

"Captain." Joker's voice filled the room. "I just received a transmission from the surface. I think you need to see this."

"Put it up on the screen."

What filled the room next was nothing less than a vision of hell.

The farmland of Eden Prime was transformed into a field of corpses. Marines littered the ground. A shaky camera captured a few still fighting, firing shots at unseen enemies. At one point, a fellow marine pushed the cameraman down, in an apparent protective gesture, and continued shooting. Smoke and a strange pinkish-red light were everywhere. Shepard found herself glancing at Anderson, checking for surprise, and saw no trace of recognition on his face. This was a shock to him, too. Which meant it was outside the plan.

Further down the line, Nihlus' mandibles were flexing again. She definitely called it right as a sign of unease. He fingered the pistol hanging at his hip, thinking furiously. Shepard turned her attention back to the display.

"That's all of it, Captain," Joker said. "Nothing but dead air on every channel now."

Anderson's eyes never left the vid. "Take it to 38.5 and hold."

Joker did as he asked, and then Shepard saw it, the object that was too fleeting to make out the first time through. It was gigantic, sleekly black, perched like a wasp on long segmented legs over the colony. Pink lightening crackled around its carapace.

"The hell is that?" she breathed. It surely wasn't a ship of Terminus pirates or mercs.

"What's our ETA?" Anderson barked.

Joker answered immediately. "17 minutes out, sir. No other Alliance ships in range."

Nihlus turned towards them. "A small strike team could get in undetected. Maybe get a handle on the situation, maybe get the beacon out."

"Get your gear and tell Jenkins and Alenko to suit up." Anderson never looked at her, his eyes narrowed at that strange ship. "Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated. You're going in."

Shepard stared at the frozen image a moment longer. "Roger that."