Howdy folks.

Obviously my last update for this year. I wish you all a merry Christmas (If it's celebrated in your part of the world) and a happy new year.

See ya 2012 ;)

"Easy, easy!" McCoy yelled, gesturing wildly as Marlowe and Haggard lifted the injured pilot out of the Mako's hatch. The medic had run out of pain killers and medi-gel a few hours ago and winced every time Murphy groaned in pain. The ten hour ride to the planetary capital had been quite bumpy at times and the young woman shuddered, thinking about how the last few hours must have been for the wounded man. She had offered to sedate him but he'd refused, claiming he had something important to tell to the Lieutenant first. McCoy knelt down next to the pilot as they finally lay him down on the improvised stretcher, wiping the sweat off his face and forehead.

"She...Shepard?" He managed to stammer between groans. "Where is she? Need...Need to tell her something."

"I'll get her, just a second." The medic rose and ran over to the edge of the forest, where Cyra and Sweetwater were looking at a small settlement on the outskirts of Discovery.

"Lieutenant."

The young asari turned around. "Yes Corporal, what is it? How's Murphy?"

"He's in pain." McCoy said. "That leg has to hurt like blazes. I want to sedate him but he doesn't let me. He says he needs to tell you something first."

Cyra frowned slightly. "Okay I'll come right over." She said then turned Sweetwater. "Continue your scans private, I'll be right back." She ordered, wondering what the pilot needed to tell her as she walked with McCoy.

"Hey Murph." She said. "How are you doing?"

"Been better." He moaned through clenched teeth. He started to speak several times but barely managed to utter a few words before groaning in pain. "Listen, there is something I need to tell you. The flight recorder data sh..." He broke off mid-sentence again as a new wave of pain from his leg made his eyes water.

"To hell with this." Cyra said forcefully. "McCoy give him the sedative."

"No!" Murphy protested. "Not yet."

"Listen Murph. If you found something in the data I am sure it can wait until we get your leg fixed."

"Oh, I found something all right." He rasped. "The gunship was sabotaged."

The look of concern on Cyra's face was quickly replaced by one of incredulity. "What?"

"Sabotaged." Murphy repeated. "It was an internal explosion that severed the optical cables between the engines and the computer but...but it sure as hell wasn't a malfunction. There is nothing in this part of the ship that can explode like that. Somebody must have planted an explosive charge there." Despite his pain, it was apparent that the pilot was more than a little pissed about this.

"Are you sure about...Yes of course you are." Cyra corrected herself before Murphy could protest, shaking her head in disbelief. The pilot didn't seem to be the kind of guy, who made such a claim lightly. What the hell had she gotten herself into? "Okay thanks for the info, Murph." She said, forcing her mind back to the immediate problems. "McCoy, give him the sedative." She held up her hand as Murphy took a deep breath. "No discussion. If there's something else it'll have to wait. I'm not going to sit here, trying to pry information out of you while you're in that much pain. I'm not a torturer." She said in a tone that made it very clear that it was pointless to argue.

She rose and walked back to Sweetwater, absently waving the other men over as she pondered over possible scenarios and came up with none that made sense. "All right guys, listen up." She began as they gathered up around her. "This whole thing is getting weirder and weirder. Murph just told me we crashed because the gunship was sabotaged." She said, looking in her men's eyes. They looked every bit a baffled as she felt. "Anyone has any idea who could have done this or why?" She asked although she didn't really expect an answer. Why would they know anything when she, herself, had absolutely no idea what was going on? As she'd thought, Haggard and Marlowe just shrugged, but for a brief moment she had the odd impression that Sweetwater seemed to know something.

"Sweetwater? Anything you want to say?"

He hesitated for a split-second before he shook his head. "No, ma'am"

Cyra frowned as she looked at the tech, wondering, whether she should keep on asking or not. She decided against it at this time but she did plan to have a quiet word with him later. "Well, keep thinking about it. I don't know about you, but I would feel better if we had at least an idea what we'd gotten into. In the mean time we still need to get off this rock, preferably in one piece."

"You got a plan LT?" Marlowe inquired. "We can't just waltz into the Space-port and steal a shuttle, can we?"

"Of course not." The asari maiden sighed. "We'll need some time to figure out how to get past their security. We need a place to stay for a few days somewhere close by. A cheap hotel or something like that." She thought about it for a minute. "Does anybody have any idea, whether the mission data contains anything that could help us there?"

Cyra resisted the urge to groan and rub her eyes, as only shrugs and head shakes answered her. "Marlowe, see if you can find anything. Sweetwater you continue to scan the settlement. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves so we'll need some civilian clothing. Try to find us a house where there's nobody at home. Haggard you help him." She looked at them for a few moments to see if anyone had anything else to say. When none did she turned around and walked back to McCoy, who was rummaging through her pack.

"Are you looking for something?" She asked Corporal.

"No, I am just checking what I have left." McCoy replied, looking up. Cyra eyed the human woman for a few seconds. The medic had taken off her helmet and ran her hand through her black hair. Her hand trembled slightly, Cyra noticed. For the first time McCoy looked just as weary as the rest of them. Up to this point it had seemed as if their ordeal had no effect on the young asian.

"Are you all right?" The asari asked, putting a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder.

"I am fine." McCoy replied with a shrug. "More or less anyway. I am just tired, keep forgetting small things and my head feels like somebody stuffed it full of wool." She put the small drug container, she'd been holding, back in the pack and tried to smile put it didn't look very convincing. "I'll be all right. I wouldn't say no to a few hours of sleep though."

Cyra smirked. "Every one feels the same way you do, Corporal. You've been doing well." The young asari said. In her own haziness she couldn't think of anything else to say but McCoy's smile nevertheless brightened a little, looking somewhat better now.

The medic stifled a yawn and closed her eyes. When she reopened them she seemed confused for a second. "Ahh damn it! I wanted to tell you something, but what...?" McCoy said with an ironic smirk. "See? That's what I was talking about a minute ago."

Cyra chuckled softly. She'd experienced similar moments. The young asari found it oddly comforting to know that she wasn't the only one having those fatigue related problems. "Something about Murph?"

"Ah yes of course." McCoy exclaimed smacking her forehead with the palm of her right hand. "His condition is getting worse. He needs surgery. The sooner the better."

"I know, I know." The asari lieutenant grimaced. "We'll get him to a hospital as soon as we can, but we need some clothes and a vehicle first."

"Where are we going to get clothes from?" The medic frowned.

Cyra said nothing, nodding towards the settlement instead.

"You mean we're going to break in one of the houses?" She asked incredulously, her eyebrows rising. "We can't just..."

"I don't like the idea of stealing any more than you do, McCoy." The asari maiden said flatly. "But we have no choice. If we walk into a store in full combat armor, chances are they'll call the police as soon as we're gone."

"And what if someone sees us..." The medic's voice trailed off.

"I never said it was a perfect plan." Cyra admitted honestly. "But what can we do?"

McCoy thought about it for a while, trying to find a better solution and came up empty.

"Oh before I forget." Cyra interrupted the human woman's thoughts. "How much longer until our involuntary guest wakes up?" The young human male, that had walked in when they were 'borrowing' the Mako, was another problem. There wasn't much he could tell anybody about them. Luckily he hadn't seen any of their faces. Nevertheless, if he told people that there was an armed party around, it could potentially put them as risk.

"Three, maybe four hours."

"Okay, good. That should give us enough time to get clear."

McCoy cast a venomous glare at Haggard. "He'll have a hard time, telling anybody anything with that broken jaw of his." There had been a short, but heated debate between the medic and the demolition-expert, concerning the amount of force needed to knock somebody out. For a moment it had looked as if the small woman was going to slap the much taller man when he'd said: 'The guy ought to be glad he's still alive', and Cyra had had to intervene.

The asari maiden sighed again, wondering what her father would do if he was in her shoes now.

The young, female Lieutenant looked up in fright as Marcus Shepard burst into the ante-room of Admiral Moreau's office on the top level of Arcturus Station. Put off her stroke by the sudden disturbance, it took her a moment to recognize mankind's greatest hero. Supposedly he visited quite regularly but she'd only worked as the Admiral's aide a few weeks and never met the retired Spectre.

"Is he here?" Shepard barked, not bothering to say hello first.

"Co-Commander Shepard?" The Lieutenant finally managed to stammer. "Admiral Moreau, you mean?"

"No, Santa-clause!" The ex-marine scoffed, then took a deep breath. "Yes Admiral Moreau." He said somewhat more calmly. The last twenty hours, especially the trip from the Citadel to Arcturus had sorely tried his patience but it was unfair to take it out on this young woman.

"Y-Yes he's in." She said, still a little bit shaken. "But he made it very clear that he doesn't wish to be disturbed in the next few hours."

Shepard smiled thinly. "I think he'll make an exception for me. Just ask him."

The Lieutenant bit her lower lip nervously. "I can't." She said, casting a glance at the door leading to her boss' office. "The Admiral is in a video-conference and switched off his communicator."

The retired spectre's eyes narrowed. He didn't intend to sit on his ass, waiting for Joker to come out of his office, while his oldest daughter's life was on the line. "I don't have time for this. Excuse me." He growled as he walked around the desk. Pushing the young woman out of the way to get to the haptic interface, he unlocked the door himself. Preventing any attempt of reactivating the door lock with a harsh glare he turned around, walked through the, now open, door...and stopped in his tracks. He took a moment to look at the scene before him. Admiral Jeff Moreau was fast asleep, half sitting, half lying in his comfortable chair, an old, worn out SR2 cap pulled down over his eyes.

"Good ol' Joker." Shepard whispered, fighting back a snicker as he gave the Lieutenant a pointed look. "A video-conference, huh?" He said with a faint smirk before he touched the holographic controls. The Admiral's aide blushed and shrugged feebly. The young human relaxed a little as the door closed, exhaling sharply.

On the other side of the door, Marcus Shepard was trying to wake his former helmsman, his first attempt being a simple 'Wake up, Jeff.' Next he gently shook the snoring man. Then a little less gently. "Admiral, Wake up." He said, speaking a little louder this time, but the high ranking alliance officer was still sleeping soundly, mumbling something unintelligible. Shepard sighed and made a face.

"Joker!"

The Admiral's eyes popped open at once. "Yes Sir!" He replied as he sat up in alarm. He blinked a few times and looked around in bewilderment, only realizing where he was when Shepard caught his eye.

"Come on Shep!" He groaned in protest as he sat back in his chair, looking at his former CO reproachfully. "Do you really have to wake me when I am dreaming of the old days?"

Jeff 'Joker' Moreau hadn't changed much since the days he was referring to. His beard had grown white, the furrows in his face had deepened a little and he was, although he would fiercely deny this, a wee bit slower nowadays. Other than that he was the same cocky, high spirited and sometimes overconfident chap that had gotten the Normandy and its crew out of many a tight spot.

"Felling a little nostalgic are we?" Shepard remarked in amusement. "Missing the old days?"

Joker yawned widely, stretching for a moment. "Of course I do." He said. Pressing the palm of his right hand on a built in control unit, he guided the floating chair to a coffee machine behind him. "Don't you?" He asked raising his eyebrows quizzically.

"Hm well, let me see." Shepard replied, pretending give it some thought. "Am I missing the days

when I had trouble sleeping because the Reapers were standing on our doorstep? When the threat of extinction hung over all our heads like a sword of Damocles? Na not really."

"Pffft! Details." Joker snorted with a dismissive wave of his left hand. "Back then I flew a state-of-the-art starship. Now I'm a desk jockey and all I am flying is this silly chair here." He said with a grin. "Care for a cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

"Black, right?"

"Yeah."

"Anyway." Joker said, getting serious as he pressed several buttons on the machine. "You didn't come here to talk about the old days, did you? You want to know what happened to Cyra."

Shepard's slight smile vanished instantly and was replaced by a scowl as he remembered the reason for visiting his old friend. "Damned right!" He snapped. "Where the hell did you send her that she's turning up MIA on her first goddamned assignment?"

"Hey, slow down okay?" Joker said with a sigh as he floated back to his desk with two steaming cups of coffee. "Why don't you take a seat before you rip my head off?"

Shepard bit back an angry retort and sat down in the closest chair. "Well?" He demanded testily.

"Well first – here's your coffee by the way – I didn't send her anywhere." The admiral replied, pushing the coffee cup towards his former Captain. "Her unit being sent on this op was not of my doing." He clarified with a slight shake of his head.

"Whatever!" Shepard said, ignoring the coffee completely. "Look, Joker. Right now I don't give a shit about, who's responsible or anything. We'll get to that later. I just want to know what the hell happened."

"Well, I don't really know to be honest." Joker said, holding up his hand as the former Spectre inhaled sharply. "Just listen for a moment before you leap at my throat okay?" He continued quickly.

Shepard sat back in his chair, folded his arms and nodded curtly.

"I can't really tell you anything about the situation Cyra is in I am afraid." Joker began again. "All I can tell you for certain is that I received a casualty report, saying that her gunship crashed but she has probably survived."

"Probably?" Shepard roared. "What do you mean by 'probably'? Why the hell wasn't a rescue mission launched?"

"Look, I don't know damn it." Joker said , shrugging helplessly. "I have been trying to find out details about the operation ever since I got that report yesterday."

"And?"

"And this op is a mystery. I mean, I've really seen a lot in the past fifty years but I've never seen such a tight security. Nobody seems to know anything about it. Hell, even the marines, that guarded the bay where the Wake Island was docked, got transferred off the station."

Shepard frowned, absently picking up the coffee cup. Something didn't quite add up. "Wait a moment, Joker." He said. "In her last mail Cyra said she was going to serve on a stealth frigate and those fall into your area of responsibility, don't they?"

"Normally yes, but for some reason Alliance Intelligence was put in charge of the ship."

Shepard's eyebrows shot up. "What the...Since when does AI have anything to do with Navy ship operations?"

"Beats me." Joker said. "When I asked the supreme commander about it all I got for an answer was 'mind your own fucking business, Moreau'."

Marcus Shepard sat back in his chair and took a sip from his cup, brooding over what he'd just heard. Alliance Intelligence had their own vessels, small unarmed ships bristling with surveillance equipment for the most part, and every once in a while Navy vessels would support their operations. But AI being put in charge of a front-line warship directly was unheard of. He didn't like it one bit.

"If that's so, how come you got a casualty report?"

"Well, that is a mystery in itself. Maybe it was just a mistake of the Wake Island's comm officer. I don't know."

The ex-Spectre was getting sick and tired of his old friend telling him he didn't know about this or that. "Well, what do you know?" He demanded heatedly.

Joker made a face. "Come on Shep! Gimme a break, will ya? I am not a magician, you know." He replied. "I'd only just gotten back from an exercise when I received the report. I haven't slept properly for two days." He said somehow feeling the need to justify the nap he'd been taking. "I am not a machine either." He gave his former CO a pointed look. "And neither are you!" He paused for a moment. "And by that I mean you look like shit." He finally finished.

Shepard fought back an angry remark and closed his eyes for a minute. Joker had a point of course. He hadn't had any sleep for the last thirty-six hours and he was beginning to feel it. 'You're getting old' He thought with a grimace. In the 'old days' he'd been able to cope with lack of sleep much better, admittedly aided by stims sometimes. That he had been able to control his emotions better back then had probably nothing to do with his age though. 'You didn't have a lot to lose, now you have a wife and four wonderful daughters.'

"Anyway." Joker interrupted his thoughts. "Believe it or not, there are a few things I DO know." He said, activating his desk's holo-projector. It took a moment to start up then it displayed a three dimensional model of a starship.

Shepard's eyes narrowed a little as he leaned forward to get a closer look at the slowly turning 3D image. "What the heck is that?" He asked in puzzlement. Although he'd retired half a century ago, he would still keep up to date on new ship and weapons developments. This particular ship, however, looked like nothing he'd ever seen.

"That's the Wake Island." The other man replied with a nod. "Haven't seen anything like this have you?" Joker continued pressing a few buttons to display a regular frigate for comparison.

Shepard let out an impressed whistle for the Wake Island was much larger than the other ship. "I'll be damned." He mumbled. "Are you telling me this thing is stealth capable?"

"Looks like it. I got these schematics only a few hours ago and didn't have time to examine them properly yet." He frowned as he gestured at the holo-image. "You have no idea how many favors I had to call in just to get these blueprints." Joker briefly took off his cap and scratched the back of his neck before putting it back on.

Shepard took a moment take a closer look a the spinning image. "So, what are we looking at anyway?" He finally asked pointing at the virtual ship. "Is that thing some kind of a stealth carrier? Looks like a pretty large flight deck there."

Joker shook his head in denial. "Na, it's too small to be a full blown carrier. Sure, you could jam a couple of fighters in there but the way I see it, it's a planetary assault ship. Designed to approach by stealth and to put ground troops behind the enemy lines undetected."

The retired spectre frowned. "You can do that with regular stealth frigates as well." He said, waving dismissively.

"True." His old friend replied. "But normal frigates are only able to carry small commando teams. The Wake Island can put a full fledged fighting force, tanks and gunships included, on the ground before anyone knows its there. Judging by its size, it could probably overpower the defenses of many planets on its own."

Shepard nodded thoughtfully. "I see you point. I take it the rest of the galaxy hasn't been informed about these special capabilities, right?"

"Nobody was." Joker confirmed. "Even I thought it was just another frigate until I got these blueprints. It was developed and built in total secrecy, it seems and here's where it gets interesting."

The former helmsman touched a few holo-buttons, replacing the ship-model with the image of a man. "Know this guy?" He asked.

"That's the director of Alliance Intelligence isn't he?" Shepard said with a shrug. "What was his name again...?"

"Fisher."

"Right, what is his part in all this? And..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "What has all this to do with Cyra anyway?"

"I spoke to a couple of people in pretty high places about the director – by the way am I the only one who thinks the abbreviation AI for Alliance Intelligence is a little misleading? I mean AI? Maybe if an AI was behind AI maybe we'd get our intel a little faster." He furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "On the other hand the Reapers were Ais, so this kinda fits. After..."

"Joker!" Shepard barked impatiently. As amusing as Joker's ramblings usually were he didn't have time for it today.

"Oh, err...Where was I?" The admiral scratched his head. "Right, the director, of course – come on Joker, focus! Anyway as I was saying, I tried to find out something about the operation and the Wake Island in general."

"Joker, can we please just cut to the chase?" Shepard groaned rubbing his eyes in exasperation. "Just tell me what you know and let's save the what, how and when for later okay?"

The former pilot stared at him for a heartbeat before shrugging. "All right, fine." He puffed. "From what little I've managed to find out so far it looks like the Wake Island was designed specifically for this operation. It seems like Fisher has a personal interest in all this. I've been told he flew out to the ship to be on the scene personally and several people told me he's holding a grudge against someone in the terminus systems."

"Wait a minute Joker. Are you telling me this whole thing is some kind of a personal vendetta? And my girl got caught in the middle of it?"

"That's what it looks like to me, yes. But as I said I don't have a lot information so far so I could be completely wrong." He paused for a second. "However I have some people looking into Fisher's past in case I am right. If we can find out what his story is we may be able to tell what this whole business is about."

"Perhaps, but that doesn't necessarily mean we'll know where Cyra went missing."

"It would be a start."

Shepard's eyes narrowed somewhat. "Yeah maybe. Anyway if my daughter comes to harm because of some silly little intrigue, that Fisher guy is going to regret it." He said, emptied his cup in one gulp and rose. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Shep, where are you going?"

"I don't intend to sit around, waiting for your people to come up with something." Shepard replied as he was walking to the door. "I guess it's about time I start treading on some people's toes. And if that doesn't work, I got other means." The way he said it sent a chill down Joker's spine.

Lance Corporal Preston Marlowe felt very awkward, going through a stranger's wardrobe and for a second he wondered, what his parents would say if they saw him now. His mom would probably just look at him in disappointment while his father would most likely yell: 'I told you to join C-Sec but you didn't wanna listen! Now look at you'. Or something along that line anyway. He shrugged it off. As the lieutenant had said several times, they didn't have much of a choice.

So far it seemed their break in had not been observed by anybody, at least he couldn't hear any police sirens. Considering they'd 'borrowed' a delivery truck earlier that was a especially good news. Still, Haggard, Sweetwater and McCoy were on guard, looking out the windows while Shepard and himself changed. He could hear rattling behind him, as the asari maiden peeled off her armor.

"Come on, Marlowe. Move it!" Cyra said, as he looked from one set of clothes to the next. "Just pick something and put it on. Doesn't matter if you like it or not."

He turned around and froze with his 'Yes ma'am' unuttered on his lips. Somehow the asari had managed to get the top half of her armor off already and he saw that she wore nothing but a bra underneath as he stared at her with a wide open mouth, letting his gaze wander over her body. The thought 'So asari do wear bras' flashed through his mind. Fortunately she didn't notice him gaping, as she proceeded to take off her leg armor, obviously not expecting an answer. Marlowe whirled around, desperately trying to suppress his body's reaction to the sight of the half naked asari. He grabbed a random set of clothes and hastily left the room.

As Cyra looked up in bewilderment, wondering, why the Corporal had left in a hurry, Marlowe let himself fall into a chair and buried his face in his hands, trying to get the picture, he'd just seen, out of his head. Unsuccessfully. During the last week he'd caught himself thinking about his new Lieutenant more than just once and it'd only gotten worse after they'd shared a watch last night.

He couldn't help but wonder what her skin felt like, how it would be like to run his hands over those wavy folds on the back of her neck – and other parts of her body, how her kiss would taste. 'For Christ's sake, Preston!' He interrupted his fantasizing, scratching the back of his head in exasperation. 'Get a grip, will ya? She's your CO, the daughter of the galaxy's greatest hero and you're just a dumb-ass grunt! And this is neither the time nor the place. So forget it!' He stood up and started to peel away his own armor, trying to distract himself but it worked only partially.

He was just about finished, when her heard her come out of the other room. He was careful not to turn around as she walked by him. He relaxed a little after she'd walked through the door, taking a deep breath. He was trying so hard to think of something else, that he didn't notice Haggard until he started to speak.

"Nice ass, Pres." The demo-expert laughed as Marlowe was just putting on the pants. The sniper swore under his breath, barely able to keep himself from flinching.

"Very funny Hags." He growled, turning around to glare at the other man. "Now why don't you get YOUR ass in civi clothes instead of pestering me? We don't have all day."

„Pestering? Bah!" Haggard said in mock indignation. "I was just trying to be nice but okay."

"Just get going."

"Fine, fine if you can't handle a compliment..." The Private huffed as he walked away throwing up his hands.

"You know." He said as he came back, carrying a set of clothes. "I am a little disappointed."

Marlowe knew he was going to regret it, but he replied anyway:"Is that so?"

"Yeah I was kinda hoping, you would be the first to finish getting dressed, you know, I may have been able to get a glimpse what the LT is wearing underneath her armor." He grinned. "Did you..."

"Hags!"

"What?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

It was raining heavily as the team came out of the house, they'd broken in. The hedges around the property hid them at least partially as they boarded the stolen truck. It wasn't a full blown skytruck, it could only float, at most, half a meter above the ground. But it was inconspicuous and large enough for themselves and their gear. Cyra almost expected a police blockade waiting for them behind the next corner but the road was clear.

Trying to keep away from surveillance cameras as much as possible they first drove to a supermarket to purchase some additional clothing, some food as well as a few communicators. Since Asari were a rare sight on Horizon, Cyra decided to stay in the truck and let Haggard and Marlowe do the shopping in an effort to keep a low profile.

Everything seemed to go smoothly but neither Haggard nor Marlowe noticed the woman in the gray raincoat, looking at an old fashioned PDA, when they came back. She waited until they'd entered the truck before pressing a few buttons on the device's touchscreen, calling her boss.

"Found them." Was all she said.