Officer's Club


Ash watched helplessly as Joker gave Lieutenant Hendricks a hug. It shouldn't have affected her. It shouldn't have. Scuttlebutt said Joker specifically requested Hendricks for the Eden Prime mission. He hadn't been shy about flirting with her—even with regs against fraternization—and they seemed to know everything about the other.

"Aw, you guys are so cute," Operations Chief Lela Carpenter groused from her prone position on a medical bed. "Makes me ill."

"I can hug my best friend, Carpenter," Joker said, not pulling away from the red head.

"Are there fraternization regs on this boat or can I just fuck a Jorge when I want?" Carpenter asked. The infirmary, which had been bustling with activity, tensed and some eyes looked at Commander Shepard who was seated on another medical bed as Private Lu applied a patch of medi-gel to an abrasion on her arm.

Ash even looked at Shepard, almost desperately so, before catching herself. She was not jealous. Nope. Williamses didn't get jealous. They sucked it up and dealt with it. And regs. There were regs. And—

"No fucking on my ship," was all Shepard said. The Commander's voice was subdued, but the points were clear: First, no fucking allowed; second, Carpenter had yet won the right to call the Normandy a boat. Williams was secretly pleased.

"Ew," Hendricks and Joker both agreed as they quickly broke away like each thought the other might have Scale Itch or something.

"Damn," Snake grinned from his post by Carpenter's side, "they both friend-zoned each other."

Joker glared at the N stubbornly then cast another glance at Hendricks before hobbling out of the room.

"Rebecca," Dr. Chakwas told Hendricks after Joker had gone, "you can go. I expect you to rest at least two days. Gregor can take over your shifts for you."

The young helmsman grimaced before nodding. "Aye, ma'am."

After Hendricks had left, Alenko spoke up. "Joker won't like it."

"He's too happy she's alive to worry about it," Shepard told him.

Ash swallowed hard and wondered—not for the first time—what it would be like to know someone cared about her as much as that.


Shepard sighed and rubbed her eyes, the data pad's images not fading from her retinas fast enough. Funeral preparations were never an easy thing. Since she had no next of kin, she wondered if the Alliance would put as much thought into her funeral or if they would just stick her in a coffin and dump her into the nearest star. She hoped so. The less media the better. She was sick of the tabloids and pundits. Everyone had their own two credits to throw in about the Sole Survivor and her curse. Thankfully, this was a classified mission and no one but the brass knew her ships' roster. It both irked her and brought her peace that she didn't have to face Serviceman Le Souef's family. She would have had to lie about it anyway.

"You're tired, Shepard," Dr. Chakwas stated, took a sip of coffee. Her faint smile held a touch of sadness and the dim light of Shepard's cabin made her eyes seem darker.

The Commander nodded. Too tired. "Yeah," she agreed and leaned back in her chair, taking her coffee with her. The bitter liquid had gone cold and she made a face, replacing the mug on the conference table. "So where are we?"

Chakwas sad smile became bemused. "Not much further than we were an hour ago," she said. "The Sol system is too out of the way from the Traverse to waste fuel—" She held up her hand to stop the argument forming on Shepard's lips. "I'm merely repeating your own words from earlier, Commander." Shepard settled down and grabbed her coffee again and again made a face when she sipped it.

"We would still have to backtrack through the Arcturus relay to get to Sirona. It would put us out of the way five days. Sirona isn't located near the cluster's mass effect relay. Again a waste of fuel."

Shepard nodded. Alliance personnel with no next of kin were allotted a 'death allotment,' or DA, so that the soldier could be buried at the soldiers' expense instead of the Alliance. It was supposed to cover the cost of fuel to get the soldier to the burial ground, the coffin and the funeral proceedings. Each funeral was left up to the individual CO. Shepard had once served in a unit where the CO simply put the bodies in the coffins and shoved them out the cargo hold with only a few words. They had been in the Terminus systems in the middle of a cluster, heading for a nearby star system when a malfunction had occurred with the drive core, and they lost most of Engineering.

"When are we rendezvousing with the SSV Warsaw?" Dr. Chakwas asked.

"Two days," Shepard replied, a pensive shimmer in the shadow of her eyes. She was more shaken with the accident that she cared to admit. All because the damn Mako—No, because she had gotten the damn thing stuck and couldn't move it when they found themselves downwind of a falling geth ship. She was sure she was responsible for the cables too. After all, she had been the one to sign off on the inspection reports. There had to have been something she missed. Shepard wondered if her vigilance would ever pay off.

At least the Op was over and all bases including the hidden one were taken care of. They hadn't found anything, not one clue as to what Saren was up to. The entire mess made her uneasy, and a flicker of apprehension coursed through her at the thought of the entire thing being some kind of diversion. A diversion from what? What was Saren up to? Was he even in control? Or were the geth somehow controlling him? That idea sounded like something out of B-rated science fiction vid. The whole thing sat ill with her.

She had said as much in her report to FleetCom and Admiral Hackett had agreed with her instincts, had congratulated the crew and gave his condolences on the loss of people.

Two days. The memorial service would take place on board the Normandy in the cargo hold, but that's as far as the actual planning had gotten to. Shepard still needed to decide where to place the bodies. She didn't just want to dump them in space.

Guo had been born on the Vercingetorix Outpost on Sirona. Dawson had been born on Titan. Chakwas had originally suggested taking the bodies to Sol and allowing the coffins to go into the Sun. Shepard had briefly entertained the idea before going over the financials and fuel costs. Neither Marine had enough DA for the journey and though her crew was important to her, they had to stop Saren. The coffins were designed to be spaced and to burn in atmospheric entry. So far, they had no reason to go to Sol. It was out of the way and Saren already had a good head start on them.

For the moment, Shepard comforted herself with the idea of the memorial service happening before they headed back to Artemis Tau to get Matriarch Benezia's daughter. Or kill her, whichever needed to be done.


Shepard was one of the few COs that Kaidan had served with that had an open door policy, yet he hesitated, hovering at her cabin door wondering if Shepard would speak with him about losing crew mates. It was one thing to lose a team member whom they had served with only briefly, but Dawson had served with Shepard for several tours before she was stationed on the Normandy, describing the younger man as the "little brother I never wanted to have."

Kaidan swallowed, remembering the look of raw pain on her face when Chakwas had told her, bluntly but gently, that Dawson had not made it through the night. In that one instant Kaidan wanted nothing more than to take Shepard in his arms and hold her, but her facade fell back into place almost immediately, shattering any daydream about his CO he may have had.

It wasn't like there would ever be a chance. Not only were there geth and Saren and War, there were the Regs, too. But damn it, there wasn't anything in the Regs that said he couldn't be her friend.

He steeled himself and walked in. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness of the Shepard's quarters. Dr. Chakwas was there, sitting at the conference table, a mug of something steaming in her hand. Shepard was opposite the doctor, her mug not steaming.

The doctor smiled at him. "Lieutenant Alenko."

"Doctor." He looked at Shepard, held her gaze briefly. The dimness of her cabin enhanced the dark circles under eyes, making them look bruised against the paleness of her skin. "I didn't mean to interrupt, ma'am."

"The door is always open, Kaidan," Shepard told him, a warm smile on her face. Kaidan. She only called him by his first name when they were off duty.

"I'll come back when—"

"Nonsense, Kaidan." Chakwas rose and crossed the coffee pot on Pressly's desk. "The Commander and I were finishing up going over last minute details for Guo and Dawson." Her voice wavered but her face stayed neutral as she poured a cup of coffee and held it out to him.

"And Le Souef?" he asked as he accepted the cup and stepped further into the room. He took a seat beside Shepard, his leg grazing hers as he sat. He studiously ignored the tingling sensation.

"Le Souef has family on Demeter," Shepard told him. He nodded, took as sip of the hot, bitter brew. All three bodies were currently in specially-made coffins in the cargo hold. Only two more days after two weeks of Hell, and the Normandy would rendezvous with the SSV Warsaw to collect the extra teams and Le Souef's body.

Shepard's doors swished open, interrupting the sudden silence, and Pressly walked in looking haggard.

"That shift was too damn long," he said, then noticed Kaidan and the doctor and looked sheepish.

Chakwas offered him a cup and he perked up a bit, nodding his thanks. He took a sip and then studied contents. "Who's reserve are we drinking?"

Shepard shrugged, a grin forming on her lips. "Gear Adrift."

Pressly snorted, took another sip. "That should teach them to stow their stuff properly."

Shepard's grin became a chuckle and Kaidan smiled at that.

"It tastes similar to Mindoiran reserve," Chakwas commented lightly.

Shepard shrugged. "Wouldn't know." Kaidan glanced sideways in surprise. She shook her head, her smile fading. "I haven't tasted anything from Mindoir in—" She thought about it a moment, her expression pulling into a small frown. "Well, since I was seventeen, I guess."

"Why not?" Pressly asked, his eyebrows hiked, surprised. Then he added: "Ma'am."

Shepard waved him off. "Cut the 'ma'am' crap. We're off duty, Charles."

Pressly visibly relaxed, took another sip of his coffee. (More like inhaled it.)

"To answer your question," Shepard said as she rotated the coffee mug on the table between the palms of her hands, "I guess it was because they—the social workers—were always pushing the fact that I was alone. 'Here, Calleigh, eat this. It's from Mindoir (where everyone you knew and loved were either taken or died horrific deaths). It'll make you feel closer to home.'" She shrugged. "I know they weren't really. They were trying to get me to connect to something. But it sure as hell felt like it at the time.

"When I finally ended up in an orphanage on Arcturus, they were shocked and appalled whenever I would turn my nose up at food. Especially if they told me they had it flown in from Mindoir." She gave a small, mischievous smile. "Only made me refuse food all the more and they ended up branding me a danger to myself." She frowned. "I joined the Alliance the first chance I got. Happy birthday to me. But here I am. All grown and kicking ass."

"You've been through more than David had at your age," Chakwas noted.

"I'm not weighed down by metals," Shepard countered. She seemed proud of that fact. She tapped the N7 and its blood-red triangle. "Besides, this is weight enough."

Pressly laughed. "You'll be weighed down by brass by the time you get his age, Shepard."

She gave a barely repressed shudder. "Great. Let's give the vids more to talk and discuss about me."

The XO nodded jovially. "According to those extranet reports my wife likes to read, you've been spotted recently in asari space."

Shepard quirked an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Apparently there's a matriarch that has chosen your genes to spawn her daughters."

Shepard made a face and then tried unsuccessfully to hide behind her coffee mug. "God. Why?" She took a sip and studied the brown liquid with a frown. "I don't know whether to be flattered, annoyed or completely weirded out by that."

Kaidan nodded, then grinned suddenly as a thought struck him. He raised his coffee mug. "To Commander Shepard, may her genes propagate the asari culture and carry forth her hallowed love-children."

"Here, here," Pressly agreed.


Liara blinked, vision fading from black to violet to gray. Her head throbbed, the room—where?—spinning. She worked her tongue to wet her lips. Her mouth tasted of carbon and salt and felt like she had swallowed sand.

By the Goddess she hurt. Her scalp especially. No. Her shoulders. No. Her back. No. No, her eyes. Yes. Especially her eyes. The blue glow of the barrier curtain hurt and... was that a krogan? Briefly Lady Aethyta's gruff laugh came to mind. Liara, surprised at such a memory, tried to shake her head but found that she could only move it minutely.

She was trapped in some sort of field. Had the krogan—?

Therum. Saren was after her. There were geth.

Oh, Goddess, the volcano. Liara swallowed what little moisture she had in her mouth as fright clamped down onto her. How long had she had been unconscious? If only she could reach her omni-tool.

The krogan peered up at her from his perch on a beam outside the barrier curtain.

"Bout time," he sneered, his voice echoing strangely against the curtain, the sound frequency bending through the shielding, reverberating against the walls and bending again to tap against her ear drum. "Open up."

"I'm trapped," she told him, her voice rough with disuse. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Long enough," he snorted, paced in front of what had become her holding cell.

Liara tried again. "How long was—"

"I look like a timekeeper to you?"

"How long—"

"You're just gonna keep it up till I come in and beat your brains in, huh?" The krogan was studying her with a curious intensity.

"Yes," she told him, getting frustrated that she couldn't move, couldn't... do something. She had little idea of what she could actually do to him. Maybe if she could anger him enough, he would find away to break her out.

And then what, Little Wing? She asked herself. Geth. Guns. Shooting. Explosions. That's what.

"A day or two," he told her after mulling about it. "Local time's funny. Short."

"A day or two local time then?" she asked, trying to get her bearings. She felt exhausted, needed energy, food. She hurt from the top of her scalp to the tips of her booted toes.

"Didn't say it was local," was all he said. He pointed a geth into the opposite direction in which it was headed. "Don't set the charges there. Saren wants her alive."

"Why?" she wanted to know.

The krogan only sneered at her, done with answering questions. Her stomach growled, and she wondered again how long she had been unconscious. She could go a month without food, but only two weeks without water.

Why was this happening to her?


For the record, Liara's timeline is different from Shepard's and crew (several months has passed for Shep, only a few weeks has passed since Liara appeared in the story). I totally borked my original pacing by going off on the Geth Incursions tangent. Sorry, guys.