A/N: I apologize for the delay. I'm moving to a new state and life has been hectic.

Chapter 5: Joker

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xxXxx

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Arcturus Stream. The Normandy, Nearest Celestial Body: Arcturus Station

2183 CE, September, 13th

GST: 16:43

...

Somewhere out in the vast expanse of the galaxy, on one dry-dock or another, there was a design engineer who deserved to be tossed out of an airlock.

The SSV Normandy was a modern marvel, a testament to the creativity and collaborative effort of two separate species. It was capable of stealth flight, something that was fairly remarkable when one considered that even the faintest heat signature stood out like a beacon in the vacuum of space. Thanks to the experimental Internal Emission Sinks installed aboard the Normandy, the ship was capable of storing the expended heat from an ME Core for several hours in a fashion that even the best military array could not detect. Sure, that heat eventually needed to be radiated or else it would cook the entire crew alive, but considering that most starships were constantly bleeding energy, the Normandy was as subtle as they came. This was made even more impressive when one learned that the Tantalus Drive Core at the heart of the vessel was twice the size of a standard core. That massive power source allowed the Normandy to figuratively "drop" into streams of concentrated mass, and in doing so, effectively accelerate without the use of thrusters. Really, the Normandy was more than amazing; it was perhaps the most advanced piece of technology in the entire galaxy.

Yet, with all of that being said, Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau couldn't get past the fact that some triumphant assclown had decided that the best way to connect the crew deck and the command deck was with a staircase.

There was no reasoning behind it. A perfectly good elevator connected four of the five decks, but then, in an arbitrary stroke of stupidity, it simply did not extend up to the CIC. Instead, anytime someone wished to do something like get a cup of coffee or use the restroom, they would have to traverse one of two narrow, curving staircases that ran between the upper decks. Most people wouldn't even give this minor inconvenience a second thought, but then those people didn't have to worry about their skeleton fracturing at the slightest provocation.

Jeff mentally sighed as he began to climb the first step. By this point in his life, he had the process down to a science: both crutches under one arm, his other hand on the guide rail, and then a series of very deliberate motions as he stepped up, moved his crutches, and repeated. All told, it took him a good thirty seconds each time, but he never rushed himself. Even a short fall down these stairs meant far too many painful months in traction and physical therapy.

He hated the staircase with a passion, but it wasn't the hardship or potential danger that bothered him so much as it was the spectacle. Most of the time, he could get around just fine and nobody seemed to notice. When he climbed stairs, it was awkward, painstakingly slow, and crewmen went out of their way just to give him space. One time, a comms officer coming down the stairs had turned around and walked back up just to clear the way. Not only had that been completely unnecessary, but it had basically demanded that he mutter his thanks like some kind of asshole when he reached the top.

So yeah, he hated stairs. Each trip up and down them was a reminder, and when a person already knew his limitations, being reminded of them rankled.

The CIC was a buzz of activity as he cleared the final step. Unlike most human vessels whose command decks were more centralized, the Normandy's CIC was oval-shaped and elongated. A vast, multi-colored hologram of galactic space dominated the center of the room. Captain Anderson stood on a raised platform over it, the elevated position of the commanding officer being one of the design elements borrowed from the turians. A varied collection of communications officers, combat specialists, and flight coordinators sat at the twenty-odd terminals that lined the outer ring of the CIC. During normal flight, this deck was usually a picture of composed efficiency, but in light of the upcoming Mass Relay, it was alive with furious typing and shouted responses as Navigator Pressly led everyone through the pre-jump checks.

Jeff wove his way through the crowded deck as best he could. Captain Anderson caught his eye and gave him an informal nod which Jeff returned with genuine respect. He liked Anderson. In the military, there were a few bad officers, a few good ones, and few who were in between. Anderson didn't fit any of those categories. He was just a natural, one of those men who could give an order and make you obey it without even thinking. Jeff had served under all sorts of commanding officers, and though he always made a point to perform according to his ability, it was a simple fact that a crew functioned better when the captain knew his or her business.

A few of the other crewmembers looked up from the workstations long enough to acknowledge his passing before immediately turning back to their business. Dr. Chakwas was on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Commander Shepard and a marine that he did not recognize. Jeff rolled his eyes and mentally wished the good doctor luck. He didn't have anything against marines, but each time he spoke with a Hardsuit, he was left wondering if the IQ entry tests were nearly as selective as the Alliance made them out to be.

Finally, at long last, he reached his place on the Normandy. The flight deck had three seats: a pilot's couch, a co-pilot's station, and a third seat that could be manned by a comms officer if long-range scanning was required. A three-paned observation port took up the front of the deck, its polarized glass providing a view of the stars that remained breathtaking even after years of seeing the like. Jeff knew that some people got sick of space and practically craved the feel of a terrestrial world, but he couldn't see how anyone would get tired of looking out a window and being greeted with all that darkness and light.

He admired it for a few seconds before carefully lowered himself down in the pilot's couch. Wedging his crutches in the gap between two terminals, he settled back into the uncomfortably firm cushions of the reclined chair and placed his arms down on the rests. A familiar sense of excitement tingled through him as he tapped the activation key and brought the ship's controls online.

Several haptic interfaces winked into existence around him, their holographic display bathing the flight deck in shades of orange, yellow, and red. Jeff traced his fingers over the command nodes and couldn't hold back his smile. Making a slight adjustment to the course for the simple pleasure of doing so, he experienced a pang of satisfaction when the Normandy responded with smooth precision. He could feel vibrations from the compensating thrusters in his bones, a faint rumble that made him feel like a part in a larger machine.

A knot of tension eased from his shoulders. This was home, and there wasn't a staircase tall enough to keep him away.

Autopilot had dragged the Normandy out of FTL about a half-hour ago because they were in relative proximity to the local Mass Relay. He could see the colossal construct now, though they were still far enough away that it appeared as nothing more a bluish speck of light amid the field of stars. Jeff sucked at his teeth, glancing down out the navigation display and estimating that they were less than five minutes out. Alenko would have to get up here soon if he wanted to ride sidecar. It did not matter to Jeff one way or the other. He didn't need a co-pilot for a jump and would have happily done it solo had Kaidan not specifically asked to sit in.

His eyes flickered over the auxiliary monitors, taking in the diagnostic feeds from Engineering. With a pang of annoyance, he noticed that the ME core was in an arrhythmic sequence. He had told the gearheads that their processes were off four times this week. Pulling up his personal console, he fired off a terse message to Adams telling him to fix the issue. A poorly-tuned core was not a life or death situation, but it could negatively influence performance and Jeff had exactly no tolerance for that. If he had a sudden need to do something fancy, he wanted to know with certainty that this ship would do what he expected it to.

It was the same reason he made sure to check that the weapon systems were linked and that the shields were overlapping properly. He ran those checks every time he got behind the controls of a ship, not because it was his duty, but because he wanted to know every inch of the Normandy. He wanted to know it so well that the moment something went wrong, he would feel it without needing to be told.

That was part of being a pilot. Too many people flew starships without ever giving thought to anything beyond the cockpit. It wasn't just irresponsible, it was unprofessional.

The steady tap of military boots preceded Lt. Alenko's entry onto the flight deck. Despite being an officer and one of the most seasoned marines onboard, Kaidan looked like a movie star rather than a veteran. His handsome features were the result of an arresting blend of Asiatic and Caucasian heritage, and although he was not particularly tall, his build was all lean muscle. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Kaidan was also a biotic. Although Jeff had never seen him in action, Kaidan had a great reputation and was apparently on the higher-performing end of the human biotic spectrum.

As a general rule, Jeff didn't care for biotics. They were a tiny minority, and though they had their share of hardship when it came to public perception and mastering their abilities, he resented them calling their "condition" a handicap. If he could move stuff with his mind and blow up blast doors with asymmetric warp fields, Jeff would be pretty alright with having a handicap. Instead, he was shattering a wrist and a few ribs every time he tripped.

Still, Kaidan was a decent sort. He exuded an air of calm professionalism that Jeff would have liked to see in more Hardsuits. That didn't keep Kaidan from making the occasional joke, and despite having gone through Basic Training, Kaidan also had an academic background that manifested in sporadic discussions about philosophy that were surprisingly interesting considering they were about philosophy. Overall, he was one of the few people on the ship that Jeff actually enjoyed spending time with.

Sliding down into the co-pilot's chair, Kaidan flashed his perfectly white teeth in a friendly grin. "Joker, how's things? Ready to embark on the great adventure?"

"If by adventure you mean a vanilla jump along one of the most frequented routes in human space," Joker grunted in disgust. "Then yeah, I'm gushing."

"C'mon, with the way you've been going on about this bird, I figured you'd be a little excited."

Jeff spread his hands to indicate the command nodes in front of him. "That's the point. I'm flying the most sophistical machine I've ever touched, and they're sending us out on a Sunday drive. Gimme' a chance to put her through the motions and we'll talk about excitement."

"It's a trial run, what do you expect?" Kaidan shrugged easily and activated his controls. "If it makes you feel better, I'll probably end up bored out of my skull doing field exercises once we reach Eden Prime."

"Field exercises under Commander Shepard."

Kaidan gave him an amused look and rapped a nearby bulkhead with his knuckle. "Vanilla run with a ship that cost as much as a space station."

"A space station's budget wouldn't even cover the R&D on this beauty." Jeff stroked an affection hand over the interface in front of him and brought up the engine output on his screen. "You still want to take shotgun on the jump?"

"So long as I'm not in your way."

"Nah, let's start up the protocols. This is the first officially documented run, so we might as well make it a good one."

Kaidan nodded, and soon the two of them were working together to establish a link with the Mass Relay. The navigational coordinates for Eden Prime had already been transmitted the moment the Normandy left FTL, but now that the relays were aligned, they needed to transmit the ship's flight path, approximate mass, current acceleration, and finally, the intended destination. Actually flying the ship into the Relay's mass corridor would be the tricky part, but the general rule of modern spaceflight was that a pilot spent just as much time doing math as touching the controls.

After they had gone over all the pre-jump checks, Kaidan cracked his knuckles as he settled back into his chair. "Relay is hot and all pertinent information has been transmitted."

"Roger that, we got about 30 seconds until the jump." Jeff leaned forward and flipped the intercom. As he spoke, he could hear his own voice echoing back at him from the CIC. "All crewmembers prepare for Relay Transit. Decks 2 and 5 confirm readiness."

The confirmation pings from Engineering and CIC flared up on his terminal almost immediately. Pleased by the quick response, Jeff glanced over at Kaidan. "I got an approach vector. Are we clear?"

"All points are green. The engine is reading perfect."

"Alright, let's make this happen." Jeff adjusted the course and grinned when he felt the Normandy respond to his command seamlessly. Hitting the intercom once more, he issued the final warning. "Be advised, relay transit will occur in…" Jeff shot a look over down at his terminal to confirm to the time. "Fifteen seconds."

A sharp clicking noise entered the flight deck as someone drew up behind his chair, but Jeff did not bother to look back. Only turian boots made that distinctive "click-tap-click" sound, and as there was only one turian aboard the Normandy, Jeff made the safe assumption that Nihlus had joined them. Ignoring the alien entirely, he devoted his attention to the much more pressing matter of launching a ship across the galaxy.

The Mass Relay grew larger and larger until it was dominating the observation screen. At the heart of the Relay was a vast core of Element Zero that shown a bright and vivid blue. Gyroscopic rings swirled about the core in concentric layers, and the two massive arms of the Relay began to crackling with great arcs of energy as it created the mass corridor through which they would travel.

Jeff's job was simple and fiendishly difficult all at once. A pilot needed to keep a constant rate of acceleration while still entering the mass corridor at both the right time and place. It was all in the angle of approach. Coming in from directly behind was a risky move as the Relay's core tended to fluctuate when it was active, creating a "wake" of static discharge and variable mass pockets. Flying into that was just begging for trouble, so the best course of action was a wide arc that would end with the Normandy drawing up parallel with the Relay's core at the very last minute. It was one of those simple concepts that proved difficult to master. Too many pilots came into the mass corridor early and ended up several dozen light-minutes from their intended exit point. Still, that was better than coming in too late or at a bad angle. That ran the risk of having the ship leave the corridor at an unexpected point. Depending on where you ended up, a stranded ship might be looking at several months of FTL flight just to get back to inhabited space.

Jeff took his approach and instinctively knew that it was a good one. As the Normandy entered the Relay's mass corridor, his entire body began to feel light and airy like he had just huffed a few breaths of nitrous oxide. The hair on his forearms stood on end, and there was a great, warbling roar as the Relay's accelerators kicked on—

—And then it was over.

A Relay Jump was next to instantaneous. One moment they were entering the mass corridor, and in the next, Jeff was looking at an entirely different field of stars. The only thing that marked the passage was the slight pause in his breathing rhythm that lasted just long enough to be noticeable. It happened to almost everyone during a jump. Crewmembers called it "The Hitch", and it was considered something of a phenomenon because relay transit didn't introduce any outside force on the occupants of a vessel. Some people said it was psychosomatic, but Jeff figured that it was just the body's way of reconciling itself with the fact that it had leapt across an unfathomably large distance in less than a heartbeat.

He breathed out slowly and looked down at the ship's readings. "All systems are reading normal, Internal Emission Sinks are active, drift is…just under 1,500 kilometers."

There was a shifting sound behind him, and then the turian Nihlus spoke up. "1,500 is good. Your captain will be pleased."

With that, the alien turned and started back toward CIC. Jeff waited until he was sure Nihlus was out of earshot before making an irritated sound. "I hate that guy."

Kaidan raised his brows. "Nihlus pays you a compliment and you hate him? Sounds reasonable."

"Compliment?" Jeff rolled his eyes mightily as he adjusted the course towards Eden Prime and began priming the FTL drive. "You remember to check your fly before leaving the bathroom, that's good. You take a speck of metal and launch it across the galaxy with a drift of under 1500? That's approaching miraculous."

"Uh-huh."

Jeff ignored Kaidan's skepticism. "But even if I was willing to look past that, it wouldn't change the fact that Spectres are trouble. I don't like having him on board. Call me paranoid, but his being here means something."

"You're paranoid." Kaidan responded with an insulting degree of confidence. "The Council paid for the Normandy's development, it makes sense that they would want a representative to keep an eye on their investment."

"Yeah, that's the official story, and who would be dumb enough to believe the official story?"

A low chuckle sounded from behind his chair. "Certainly not you, right, Joker?"

The voice that answered him definitely did not belong to Kaidan. It was rich, throaty, and touched with a lazy colonial drawl. Already knowing what to expect, Jeff glanced up from his terminal to find Commander Shepard standing a few feet to his left.

Their new commander had been aboard the Normandy for a little over two weeks now, and he still did not know what to make of her. Way back when Elysium had been the only thing the extranet was talking about, he remembered seeing a picture of her and thinking nothing beyond the fact that she was fairly hot for a Hardsuit. She had changed since those photos, the four subsequent years having shaved off a few soft corners to leave her with a fierce, arrogant sort of appeal. Shepard was tall for a woman, strong-shouldered and characterized by the wiry toughness that most female marines seemed to acquire after a few years in the service. Her black hair was straight and cut close to her skull, and her skin tone was the ashy-pale of someone who had grown up in unnatural lighting.

Trying not to be unnerved by the fact that she had entered the flight deck without making a sound, he managed to smirk at her. "I try to always expect the worst when it comes to politics, Commander. It keeps me from being surprised."

"Yeah?" She breathed out another quiet laugh and moved up so that he wouldn't have to crane his neck to see her. "And what about you, Alenko? Any cynicism on your end?"

Kaidan gave a brief shake of his head. "I think the Council has its own agenda, but that doesn't mean it's a sinister one. We can't fault them for having motives when we have plenty of our own."

"That's diplomatic of you."

Her tone was so completely even that Jeff could not decide whether she was mocking Kaidan or not. That wasn't so unusual. Shepard was an odd breed of cat, and through the handful of conversations he had shared with her, the most Jeff could say was that she had a sense of humor and a bizarre way of expressing it.

In any case, Kaidan didn't seem offended. "I was under the impression this was a diplomatic mission, ma'am, a chance to foster some solidarity between ourselves and the turians."

Shepard's lips twitched, her eyes trained on one of the distant stars outside the observation port. "Of course, lieutenant, that's why we're out here."

Again, there was no inflection to her voice, but Jeff was almost positive that was sarcasm. It was enough to pique his interest and he decided to see what Shepard knew. "Give me a break, Commander, if that was the case, there would be more than one turian on the ship. Don't you think this is all a little strange?"

Shepard tilted her head to regard him silently. Briefly, Jeff wondered if he had overstepped his bounds. She didn't seem like the type of officer to get hung up on rank protocol, but then again, this was the first time he had tested her limits when it came to impropriety. Just as he was preparing to apologize, she surprised him with a sudden bark of laughter. "Hey, Alenko, what does a marine think?"

Kaidan chuckled and glanced up at her. "You haven't heard, ma'am? Other people think, a marine follows orders."

The two of them traded knowing smiles and Jeff fought to keep from sighing. He had never heard anyone say that before, but Kaidan made it sound like something that had been recited and repeated often. He would have bet all the credits on his chit that it was some dumb inside-joke from Basic Training. Marines loved to exclude people from their insular bullshit almost as much as they enjoyed looking down on Academy recruits. It didn't matter that all recruits received some form of combat training regardless of assignment; Hardsuits seemed to think that you weren't a real soldier unless a DI with anger issues had made you eat bugs or whatever.

Jeff was tired of that routine, and his irritation momentarily got the better of him. "I was being serious, Commander."

"As was I." Shepard's smile faded like a passing thought. "We have orders, Joker, and barring a spectacularly ill-advised mutiny, everyone on this ship is going to follow those orders. So, although the three of us could spend the next couple hours talking about shadow politics and the turian menace, I don't much see the point considering we're going to do what we're told regardless of who's doing the telling."

Jeff frowned slightly as he turned back to his terminal. That was a conversation killer if he'd ever heard one. "I was just thinking it would be nice if a pilot actually knew exactly what he was flying into for a change. If we're doing something other than an easy run into Eden Prime, I'd like to be prepared for it."

"Expect the worst. It'll keep you from being surprised."

Now, that was unquestionably mocking, but before Jeff could formulate a reply, the comms channel lit up on his display and Captain Anderson's voice filtered through the flight deck's speakers. "Joker. Let Commander Shepard know that I need her in briefing."

"On my way, sir." Shepard answered the captain's summons directly and turned to leave. Just before stepping clear of the flight deck, she hesitated just long enough to grace Kaidan and Jeff with short nod. "Gentlemen."

As with Nihlus, Jeff waited until the commander was well out of earshot before adopting an exaggerated form of her accent. "No point in knowin' anything cause ya don't have a choice in the end." He dropped the drawl and rolled his eyes at Kaidan. "Jeez, glad they sent us a genuine Alliance hero. That was inspiring as hell."

Kaidan laughed at that. "She's not so bad."

"She's a pod person, and someone should tell her that ordinary humans blink every once in a while." He shrugged in response to Kaidan's disapproving look. "What, you got a soft spot for her or something?"

"Oh no," Kaidan warded off the suggestion with a wave of his hand. "Shepard isn't my type. I tend to go for women who are a little less…terrifying."

Jeff scoffed. "Terrifying? Don't tell me you actually believe those stories about her."

"I'm not talking about stories, I'm talking about Peluso."

"What in the hell is Peluso?"

"Peluso is a who. He's one of the marines we got onboard. Big guy with the neck tattoo, always bringing up this asari he slept with one time?"

"Oh, him." Jeff made no effort to hide his distaste. Peluso had taken to calling him 'sticks' because of the crutches, and Jeff had yet to find that endearing. "What about him?"

Kaidan took his hands off of his terminal and leaned back into his seat. Folding his arms across his chest, he took a breath in preparation of launching into a story. "Okay, so in order to appreciate this fully, you need to know that Peluso loves to talk. He's dead-set on joining the R.O.E, and if you stand still long enough, he'll feed you a line about how orbital insertion is the toughest branch of the service and how N7 doesn't even hold a candle. It's a load of hot air, but there was nothing mean-spirited about it. I let it slide at first, but when he started joking that the commander was just a poster girl that the Alliance drummed up to increase recruitment after Elysium, I told him to put a lid on it."

"Aww, you do have a soft spot for her."

"Empty bluster and a few lame jokes is one thing, insubordination is another." Kaidan gave him a pointed look that Jeff chose not to notice. "Anyway, fast-forward to about three days into FTL transit. A few of us were passing time in that gym they set up in the cargo hold when Shepard walks in and starts working on one of the bags. She pretty much ignored us at first, but then Peluso gets it into his head that it would be funny if he offered to spar with her. He made a big deal about it too, like he was challenging her without actually saying so, but I don't think he truly expected someone who weighs half of what he does to accept."

Jeff could see where this was going. "Let me guess: she did?"

"That's putting it mildly."

"Took him apart, huh?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't the surprising part. I mean, ignoring her reputation, no one makes N7 without being dangerous." Kaidan paused for a moment as though uncertain of his next words. "I guess what stood out to me was the way she did it. Peluso might be an ass, but he went through CQC and he's on the large side. If I was up against him, I'd be cautious. Shepard ripped into him like a wolverine going after a big sack of stupid. There was nothing playful about it, and that made an impression."

He shrugged and then fell silent. Jeff waited to see if there was more, but it looked like Kaidan's story had come to a close. "Okay, so in addition to the pod person thing, she's also scary. That makes her "not so bad" in your opinion?"

"I'm just saying she could have chewed you out for talking the way you did, but she chose not to. Hence: not so bad."

Jeff snorted. "Whatever. Let's run through the diagnostics since we don't have anything better to do. I want to see how well those sinks absorb the Relay bleed."

They went through the checks together, though Jeff had suggested it entirely for Kaidan's benefit. Thanks to his early years at some kind of secret biotic academy, Kaidan had an atypical resume that included an out-of-date qualification for comms and flight. Jeff wouldn't trust him to fly the Normandy on his own, but Kaidan made a good co-pilot and the two of them got along. Considering that Jeff didn't work well with most people, he was willing to bring the lieutenant up to speed if it meant avoiding the irritating nav officers that Anderson had tried to saddle him with.

He half-listened as Kaidan went over the temperature readings of the ME core, most of his attention focused on bringing the Normandy into low-burn FTL. The Relay had dumped them just shy of one hundred light minutes from Eden Prime, and though the Normandy could go a hell of a lot faster, he wanted to go slow and see how the ship's IES system functioned after a jump. They were traveling at just above the speed of light, and if he was being conservative, he'd put their ETA at about an hour. Of course, that was assuming that their big ME core didn't prove as unstable as some of the early reports had—

"Joker?"

Masking his annoyance at being pulled from his thoughts, Jeff looked over at Kaidan. "Yeah, what's up?"

Kaidan tapped something on the comm terminal and with a swipe of his hand, "threw" it over to Jeff's screen. "I just picked up a vid feed being broadcasted on the secure channel."

"Eh, it's probably the planetary governor expressing his sincere and honest pleasure at hosting the famous Captain Anderson." Jeff scoffed derisively and turned back to start adjusting the ship's bearing. "Forward it to the Captain's inbox and we'll let him know when he's done with the Commander."

"Joker, it's tagged as priority Cerulean."

Jeff froze with his hands a few inches off the haptic interface. In the seven years he had been a Flight Lieutenant, he had never received a transmission designated as priority Cerulean. That was code used to designate an emergent assault on an Alliance-controlled world. Priority Cerulean was never used in drills. As any missive of the sort could contain sensitive information regarding an ongoing combat zone, the designation was also to be considered classified. Honestly, Jeff had learned about it back at the Academy and assumed that he would never actually encounter it in the real world.

Sparing only a second to make sure that Kaidan had read the designation correctly, Jeff flicked on the comms to the CIC briefing room. "Captain Anderson?"

There was a pause, and then Anderson's deep and faintly irritated voice responded. "This isn't a good time, Joker."

"Apologies sir, but we've just received a broadcast. Security level Cerulean."

The captain's response was instantaneous. "Put it through."

"Aye-aye."

Jeff patched the feed into the briefing room's monitors, and then a moment later, looped it back to his own terminal. Kaidan saw what he was doing and looked like he might protest, but curiosity triumphed over the lieutenant's sense of duty, and Kaidan said nothing as the classified message began to play across the flight deck's holoscreen.

A second later, both of them jumped as the sounds of a firefight blasted out of the flight deck's speakers. Shouted orders, muzzle reports, and the grumbling scream of anti-armor ordnance surrounded them as Jeff scrambled for the volume control.

He brought the chaotic mess of noise down to a reasonable level just in time for the picture to kick in. It was coming from a Hardsuit's helmet came, the picture grainy and unsteady as the marine jerked his head around. Jeff couldn't make out much of the background, just a series bright flashes and rumbling explosions that reminded him of a live-fire training exercise he had once observed. The picture continued to shift about for a moment, but then a second marine came into the field of view and jerked the camera operator around so that he could stare directly into the lens. He began to talk into the camera, his voice raised to a near-shout and partially obscured by interference.

"This is Operations Chief Nichols of the Alliance Military calling on any allied vessel in range! Eden Prime is under assault by geth forces. They are targeting civilian centers and have not responded to any attempts to communicate. Any available Alliance forces, please respond. Our defenses are being—"

His next words were lost to the bullet that tore through his throat in a spray of fine crimson mist. The camera man jerked in reflexive response to seeing his NCO killed, but before anything else could occur, an ungodly noise chewed its way through the speakers.

Even with the volume turned down, Jeff could tell that it was an impossibly loud sound. The speakers rattled as they tried to replicate the deep, echoing growl that reverberated in Jeff's chest like a physical blow. It sounded like a strange blend of organic and mechanical noises, like a whale song that was being performed by a gigantic blender. His skin prickled with goosebumps, and when the cameraman swiveled to face the source of the noise, his unease grew exponentially.

It hung in the sky over Eden Prime like an ancient god roused from slumber. Jeff's first guess was that it was a spacecraft, but there wasn't a vessel in any known fleet that came close to approaching the size of this thing. Most of its black hull was shrouded from view by the smoke rising from the battlefield, but Jeff could clearly see a cluster of finger-like protrusions that flexed and writhed as though reaching out toward the planet below. Great bands of red energy arced and snapped between the flailing tentacles, and small flashes of light flared up around it as shells from the defensive cannons impacted against its kinetic barriers. An audible gasp rose from the cameraman as he took in the sight, and the picture went completely still as the man froze in place. For two or three long seconds, the massive spacecraft filled the holoscreen, and then there was flash of red light and the video feed abruptly terminated.

At first, neither Jeff nor Kaidan moved as the soft whisper of static played in the wake of the transmission. Then, without saying a word, Kaidan tapped his terminal and rewound the transmission before freezing it on a still frame of the unknown vessel.

"Shit." Jeff muttered, his eyes fixed on the black arms that protruded from its front. "What in the hell is that?"

Kaidan let out a slow breath. "I guess it's a geth warship."

"You ever seen a geth ship? Those things have no aesthetics, they look like big cylinders or squares, not nightmare squids. Besides, do you know how big of a shipyard they would need to build something that size? No way we wouldn't have noticed them doing it."

"Then where did it come from?"

Jeff tried to think up a decent response to that as he stared at the holoscreen. There was something about that ship that spoke to a primitive part of him, some unknown quality that had set a cold feeling in his stomach. Whatever the hell this was, he didn't like it.

The comm channel to the briefing room opened up. "Joker, take us to Eden Prime at full burn. Be ready to enter a combat zone."

The captain sounded even more grim than usual, and mindful of the fact he should not have seen that message, Jeff refrained from asking any questions. "Aye-aye, sir."

He vented the IES system before bringing the Normandy into its top speed. That cost them an extra minute, but if they were going to be engaging the flying nightmare squid, he wanted the stealth system to last as long as it possibly could. He had just finished adjusting the acceleration when Commander Shepard suddenly appeared next to him.

"Joker," the lazy quality had vanished from her tone and in its place was hard professionalism. "Give me an ETA."

Jeff jerked in surprise. Wondering how anyone could be so quiet while wearing armored boots, he recovered enough to respond. "Twenty three minutes until we hit Eden Prime's atmo."

"Good. Alenko, inform all three squads that they have fifteen minutes to get kitted up and in the deployment bay. Tell them that they will be entering a combat zone against a hostile force and this is in no way a drill."

Kaidan opened a comm channel and began to relay the orders. Shepard listened to him for a brief moment before her attention snapped back over to Jeff. "Weapons systems. Are they ready?"

"I made sure they were prepped and linked with the kinetic barriers before leaving dock."

"What are we carrying?"

"Other than the GARDIAN array? Just the main cannon."

"No torpedoes?"

"This is a shakedown run, ma'am. No one was expecting us to enter combat. We can take on frigates without any trouble, but I wouldn't be comfortable taking on anything like a cruiser without having disruptors."

Shepard's eyes flicked up to the holoscreen, and with a sickening jolt, Jeff realized that he hadn't bothered to take down the frozen image from the message. He went still, debating whether or not he should try to turn the screen off and pretend that nothing was amiss. It wouldn't work, but maybe he could try to plead some form of sudden-onset stupidity.

"I wouldn't let the captain see that." Shepard murmured softly, her eyes sliding from the screen to rest on his face. Surprisingly, she almost looked like she approved of his borderline treason. "I know we can't engage something that size, but if push comes to shove, could you distract it?"

Jeff flicked off the holoscreen with a powerful sense of relief. "It's pretty hard to get a lock on a ship that doesn't emit heat or electrical signatures. I could probably be a big pain in the ass if nothing else."

"Good, the captain is on the long-range comms requesting assistance. We've got two dreadnaughts in the same system as a Mass Relay, but at best we can hope to see them in about four to five hours. The captain might need you to stall for time."

"Not a problem, commander." A chime sounded as a new order appeared on his terminal's HUD. Squinting at it, Jeff frowned in puzzlement. "Ma'am? I'm getting coordinates for two separate drop points."

"That's correct. Squads one through three will be dropping by the civilian center located here to combat hostile forces." Shepard reached over his shoulder to point at one of the coordinate sets. "The other location is going to be a low-altitude drop by a secondary team pursing an unrelated objective."

"Unrelated objective?"

"Yes, and we're going to leave it at that, Joker." She gave him a flat look that clearly marked the end of that of questioning. Considering that she had just given him a pretty huge pass on that classified distress message, he was more than willing to let it drop. As soon as Kaidan finished distributing orders, she turned back to address him. "Alenko, correct me if I'm wrong, but the two of us are the only marines on board with actual combat experience?"

"Yes, ma'am. Most of these marines are just doing their first flight run. We were intended to meet up with more experienced troops planetside."

"Then you're with me on the low-altitude drop. While you're at it, grab that twitchy recruit who thinks he's the next Drescher."

Kaidan looked confused. "Um, you mean Jenkins, ma'am?"

"It depends, is Jenkins a pasty guy who claims to be certified with Anti-armor ordinance?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Shepard nodded. "Then yeah, grab Jenkins and get outfitted with drop packs. Make sure he's got a tube and as many rockets as he can carry. We're going in blind so we need to be ready for most anything."

Kaidan rose from his chair and stepped past the commander as he moved to follow her orders. Shepard waited until he had left before casting a sidelong glance down at Jeff. Gesturing toward where the holoscreen had been, she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "A ship that size…should have all sorts of logistical problems in atmosphere, right?"

"Should have. Probably couldn't land safely and it's gotta be murderous for an ME core to be keeping it in the air given its weight." Jeff lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Any idea what that thing is, ma'am?"

"All I know is that it's an enemy." Shepard responded easily. "Beyond that, it's just a big nasty surprise for everyone."

"Weird coincidence that it showed up on our routine diplomatic mission, huh?"

A thin smirk cut across her face. "How 'bout saving the 'I-told-you-so' until after we survive, Joker?"

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

Shepard gave him an odd sort of smile and then stepped out to leave him alone in the flight deck. Shaking his head slightly, Jeff focused on flying the ship.

She wasn't so bad. Weird as hell, but maybe not so bad.

...

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