Joker glared at the screen. It didn't make any sense.
There simply wasn't much that could go wrong, on an inter-system shot like this. You just pointed the ship in the right direction and went. Shit, even with old Earth tech they'd been able to get a guy on the moon with only a couple of rocket bursts. Some transports didn't even bother with a full time pilot, just a crew-member double-trained to handle dock-n-lock procedures. Military vessels kept a pilot on watch because of risk of surprise attacks –a risk no one knew better than Joker – not because they might accidentally run into a planet or some shit. Even that was pretty much a waste of man-hours in FTL flight; once ships jumped they were untraceable until they dropped back to normal speeds.
Of course, if there was a small error, at FTL speeds it became a big one, really fast, as Mercer's near panic could attest.
It took a bit under an hour to correct their course, as he had to drop them out of FTL, find a new safe vector, and get the Normandy up to speed again. The extra deceleration and acceleration would cut into their fuel, but it couldn't be helped. It took two hours and a whole lot of help to pinpoint the problem (a rounding error buried layers deep in one of the navigation protocols), and another forty-five minutes to make sure it couldn't happen again. Then there was at least fifteen minutes of reassuring Mercer, who'd clearly expected to be verbally flayed for the mistake.
He scrubbed his hand over his beard and blinked a few times, trying to wet his screen-strained eyes. "Look, Mercer," he almost said 'kid', which was something Shepard would do when she was particularly pleased with one of the junior crew, but stopped himself short, "It was a programming glitch – a rounding error. You didn't do anything wrong, really – with that lurking in the system it's surprising it didn't happen before."
He looked from the sub-helmsman to Tali, called in to consult, and the unspoken thought passed between them: It's suspicious that it happened. It's suspicious that it didn't happen before. Mercer, still anxiously regarding the screens, didn't notice the look – nor did Hadley, who was neck-deep in navigational mathematics, still trying to figure out how the glitch had got there in the first place.
Joker winced. It had taken all four of them just to find the damn thing. What if there was something else like that lurking in the Normandy's systems?
"Shit, Mercer, chill. We'll figure it out." His stomach rumbled audibly. "I just need to get some grub." He nodded at Tali. "You?"
She chuckled. "I've been eating the whole time. Benefits of an environmental suit."
"Oh. Right." He looked around the cockpit vaguely. "Well, when they install hamster feeders up here for the pilot, I quit. The crap we get from Gardner is bad enough."
Any thought of seeing if Shepard was in her quarters was forestalled when his stomach rumbled again. "I get it, I get it," he muttered, and punched the elevator button for the crew deck.
Joker smiled when he saw Shepard sitting at the mess table, perusing a data pad and chatting with Garrus. When she saw him she smiled back. The expression there-and-gone so fast he doubted anyone else saw it, but it was still enough to melt away the stress of the last few hours.
Mindful of the half-dozen observers lingering in the mess, he tamped down his grin. To his surprise someone had actually saved him dinner; two plastic-wrapped trays were waiting in the cooler, and one had his name on it. He popped it in the re-heater for a few minutes and then carried his spoils back to the table.
Shepard looked up from her data pad again. "Hope you appreciate that. Grunt was awfully excited when neither you nor Hadley showed up at mess. Thought he'd get two extra meals – it was quite a disappointment for him."
Joker swallowed his mouthful of maybe-once-potatoes. "Poor baby."
"I let him down gently." She glanced up towards the bow. "What was up?"
"Slight error in the original FTL vector. We're good for now, but Hadley's still trying to figure out how the nav error got in."
Garrus clicked his mandibles. "Should have been caught in the shakedown run."
Joker snorted. "I think this is the shakedown run."
Shepard's lip twitched in bemused agreement. "It seems to be a Normandy pattern. Saving the world right out of the gate."
"But it is odd it hasn't come up before," Garrus insisted. "Could it have been externally introduced?"
"Shit, Garrus, I'm not the security tech." Joker's head hurt, despite the magical analgesic properties of Shepard's smile. "Talk to Kasumi. Or EDI. Or, er, you. I don't think so, though."
Shepard waved a hand idly at Garrus, which must have been some ass-kicking-squad code for 'let the guy eat his dinner before he dies of starvation,' because the turian sat back a bit and stopped asking him questions. Rhi turned back to her data pad, reading in companionable silence. Totally professional. He could have thought he'd imagined their whole interrupted episode… if her booted toes didn't keep 'accidentally' brushing his under the table.
The third time it happened, he looked up and caught the tiniest twist of a grin on her face, though her attention was still clearly on her reading.
"Work?" he asked.
Garrus had been perusing something on his omnitool, but he laughed at that. "Unfortunately not. She's planning on repairing that hideous death machine."
Given that most of Garrus and Shepard's daily equipment, the entire contents of the armory, and probably half of Mordin's lab fell under the general heading 'hideous death machines,' that didn't exactly narrow it down. Shit, without much poetic license at all you could call Garrus and Shepard themselves death machines –though she, at least, was far from hideous.
Shepard came to his rescue, tipping the data pad towards him so he could make out a schematic for a motorcycle – presumably one of the bikes from that memorable encounter with Trex. He'd been so wowed by the bad-ass vision of Shepard on a motorcycle he'd almost forgotten she'd brought two back onto the Normandy.
"Of course," Garrus drawled, "I wouldn't be worried if there was only one. But no, she had to bring back both." He shook his head, the affected human gesture looking out of his place on his alien form. "Don't think you're going to get me on one of those again."
Don't worry, Garrus," Shepard chuckled, "I pretty well trashed one of 'em with that last charge."
"And yet you had me drag it along anyway."
"Hangar queen?" Joker asked.
She cocked an eyebrow. "Hangar-what-now?"
"Hangar queen. Old aviation term – grounded plane kept around to be stripped for parts."
"Nice. Then yes, it's a hangar queen."
"Scavenging? Tali should be here. She'd be so proud." Garrus cocked his head to one side. "Of course, then she'll realize you want her to fix it, and she'll be annoyed…"
"If I wanted her to fix it, I wouldn't be reading the manual. Tali has better things to do."
"Oh.You're going to try to fix it? She won't be annoyed. She'll be terrified."
"Hmph. You wound me. I used to get 'em back running with old plumbing pipes and bailing wire. I'm sure I can figure it out again."
Joker stared at her in surprise. Shepard was many things – beautiful, deadly, surprisingly well-read, tough as nails, a really phenomenally fun kisser – but 'mechanically inclined' had never seemed to be one of them. "You used to fix motorcycles?"
"You're an ancient aviation history buff?" she asked. She mirrored his 'you've been keeping something from me' tone of voice perfectly.
He shrugged. "Well, yeah, but, flying. It fits." Huh. If things keep going the way they are, maybe she'll find out just how well it fits. And he could find out about motorcycles. They had lots of mutual finding-out to do. The thought of being let in on all those Shepard half-secrets was tantalizing.
He shoved that enjoyable thought aside. "Anyway, there's no such thing as ancient aviation history. It's like three hundred years, max. That's if you count the people with, like, wing-suits and other silly shit."
Garrus did the exaggerated human head-shake again. "Three hundred years ago you were all on the ground. No wonder your race has the council terrified."
"Aw, don't judge us all by Shepard! We're really very cuddly." This time his foot found hers under the table, to take any sting out of the quip.
"That seals it." Garrus stood up. "Shooting I can deal with. Cuddling… not so much. I think I must have some guns to calibrate or something." His mandibles opened in a brief turian smile, and he nodded his goodbyes. "Moreau. Shepard."
Shepard watched him leave, then turned back to Joker. "So. Nigh-undetectable navigation error. Good thing we found out about it now rather than en route to the collectors." She sighed wistfully. "I could have asked for better timing, though."
"No kidding." He scowled. "Twice in a row, too. You'd think someone was out to get us."
"I know, right?" Shepard sighed and rested her head on her arms. "I think I'm going insane. Paranoid delusions. S'probably a form of ego-mania."
"If you're going anywhere – insane, crazy, any of those places – can I come with?"
"Please." She looked up, her eyes smiling. "The padded room should at least be peaceful."
"I suppose I can think of uses for a padded room…" he agreed slyly.
He was rewarded with a blinding grin. It was the exact same kid-with-candy look she'd given him when he'd accidentally made that stupid joke about going down, when they were spying on Kelly. Now, there's a situation put in a whole new light by recent events. At the time, he'd thought she was delighted at watching him squirm, but now he strongly suspected otherwise. And what a promising otherwise it is.
"Well… we're stubborn, remember? Once more into the breach. Fall back and regroup for a new attack." He waggled his eyebrows and looked pointedly at the deck above them. "What d'you think?"
She chuckled. "Love to, but are you up for dealing with whatever minor emergency inevitably happens next?"
He sighed. "Shit, no." His eyes were about to fall out of his head from all that time glaring at the screen. He frowned. "Why'd you have to go ask a mature and responsible question like that? Man, being a grown-up sucks."
"Yeah." She looked thoughtful. "But then, being a kid wasn't exactly shits and giggles, either."
"Really? I thought that was pretty much what kids did."
She snorted. "Fair point. I was thinking of being an older kid. I'll remember to schedule my next vacation in toddler-hood instead." She stood up and stretched. "Sleep well, Joker."
–––
Shepard strode into the conference room, nodding a general greeting to the assembled squad. The room felt fuller than thirteen bodies could account for, even considering that one of them was Grunt. Miranda and Jack could make a warehouse feel full all by themselves. The two women had staked out opposite ends of the room, and Miranda's perfect posture was even more perfect than usual, probably to make up for the fact that Jack's feet were on the table. Joker sat in a chair pushed as far from the table as possible, like he was trying to pretend he wasn't there, which was a reasonable response to sitting next to an assassin. She'd extended Mercer's shift so Joker could attend in person. Rhi didn't let the smile she felt at seeing him show on her face.
"So, time to talk about taking the fight to the collectors. Miranda?"
The Cerberus operative nodded and took over the briefing, efficiently outlining what they knew so far. It didn't take long.
We never have enough intel. Shepard kept her face impassive as Miranda ran down their (very short) list of known facts. She'd been running blind when she went after Saren, too – unless you counted the fucked up prothean visions planted in her head, and she usually didn't – but back then, a shot in the dark was the best they had. Now she couldn't shake the feeling that other players knew more than she did and just weren't telling. That was normal for enemies, but these players were supposed to be on her side.
She'd hoped that hearing someone else lay out the situation would give her some new ideas, but no such luck. They still had to get to the collectors, which still meant taking the Omega-4 relay to the center of the galaxy, and the only way to have a chance of surviving that was with a reaper Identify Friend/Foe device. If they could really find one, and if it worked like they hoped. Hell of a lot of ifs, Shepard.
Zaeed spoke first. "You better not be thinking of makin' this hero-run before we get a chance to finish up that business of mine."
"We'll meet the terms of your contract, Mr. Massani," she said quietly, "We're headed to Zorya as we speak."
"Hmph." The merc nodded. "So we really are getting down to brass tacks, here."
She nodded. "Take care of your job on Zorya and we're ready to go after that IFF. Unless, of course, there are any other random little errands the Illusive Man throws in our path."
"Ever get the idea he's the kind of guy who likes to swat flies with a plasma cannon?" Joker muttered.
We knew he had an odd sense of priorities when we saw the fish tank, she thought,but kept it to herself. What she said was: "I'm not complaining. Field experience is vital, no matter how we get it. Everyone has it individually, but we need it together to be any good. If any of you have been wondering why we've taken our sweet time, now you know."
"We had less time to train than this, for Saren," Tali said, gamely.
"Hey, yeah," Jacob said, "Commander, you had an entire alliance-trained crew at your disposal, but all the reports said you kept the krogan and Tali," he nodded at her, "as your ground-team. That's basically training up a whole new squad, on the field. Why?" He quickly added, "If you don't mind my asking."
She made a not-at-all gesture. "A few reasons. Balance of skills, obviously, though I could have found that another way. Surprise –people expected humans off a human ship, so it shook things up a little. And of course, it allowed Alenko to stay on the Normandy." She shrugged. "In case I bit it, he was placed to keep going." She remembered Alenko on Horizon, convinced she was a terrorist and working for people who denied the existence of the Reapers, and added under her breath, "Or at least that was the plan." She left out the part about how fighting alongside Wrex had been like having the security of a wall at her back, with the convenience of having the wall move wherever you asked it to. Wrex was a mobile strategic position. Grunt could match him for size and brute strength, but he lacked discipline – and a few hundred years of cunning. I miss my Mountain.
As for Tali, well, neither she nor Wrex could code their way out of a paper sack, so they'd needed a tech who knew how to handle herself.
Miranda looked intrigued. "I always assumed it was politics."
Rhi shook her head. "Politics in the field gets people killed. Though there were a few times when having a mixed party helped smooth things out. That's the difference between politics and diplomacy: The latter is practical. The former makes me want to shoot things."
"More than usual?" Joker asked quietly. Most of his face was hidden beneath his cap, but the tip of his mouth had twisted up in a grin.
Zaeed snorted.
Shepard let out a sharp breath of amusement but otherwise ignored the quip. "Any other history questions?" I'll tell stories all day if that's what it takes to get some brilliant ideas. "No? Then we start with the threat we know the most about. Joker?"
Joker pushed himself laboriously out of the chair to gesture at the images EDI helpfully started to display. "The collector ship. With the SR2's supplemented shielding, she can probably take two, maybe three, direct hits."
His voice was flat, and Rhi felt a momentary pang. Joker can't handle losing another ship.
"The Normandy's advantage is maneuverability, and that she's a smaller target – the collector's broadside is broad." Joker's jaw clenched and he darted a glance at her, like he knew she wouldn't like what was coming next. "The safest way to take it out is to catch them planet-side. The ship's sheer mass makes it slow to lift-off – we saw that on Horizon – and it won't be able to bring its main gun to bear until it's in space again. But…"
Miranda's eyes were alight. "That's perfect. We've only seen the one ship- if we could find where it's going to strike next, and –"
"Unacceptable," Shepard squashed that line of speculation. "The only time we've seen them planet-side they've been in the process of kidnapping civilians. We don't have any way of knowing in advance what their target will be, or even when they'll make their next raid – by the time we showed up, they could have half a colony loaded onto that behemoth. We'd be firing at our own."
Joker nodded, like he'd expected the response and was just covering all the bases. "Which leaves space battle." Now the holo showed a series of maneuvers, the Normandy a tiny dot against the huge collector vessel. He ran briefly through their chances and possible tactics. Most of the squad looked somewhere between baffled and bored when faced with the prospect of ship-to-ship warfare; their only experience was more up-close on personal, and if it came to a space fight they were just fancy passengers. Garrus was engaged, though, as was Tali and, surprisingly, Zaeed.
"When we encountered them before, the Normandy's weapons and shielding hadn't been upgraded, and maneuverability was limited by having to wait for the Kodiak," Joker wrapped up. "Now, we have a half-way decent chance. Of course, all the tactics change if we're dealing with more than one ship."
"Understood." The question of how many ships the collectors actually had had been bugging her ever since Joker realized they'd been chasing the exact same one that had attacked the original Normandy. The thought that there might only be onewas… beguiling. Probably wishful thinking. "If we could track their movements through the omega-4 relay, we'd have a much better idea."
"Have you tried asking the Illusive Man?"
"Repeatedly." Shepard turned to Miranda and asked pointedly, "Any info on why he hasn't had an answer yet?"
"Commander, you're used to having the numbers of the alliance fleet as back-up. Cerberus simply doesn't have that many human resources."
"Just say 'people', damn it," Zaeed muttered. Everyone pretended not to hear.
"And yet we keep running into them," Shepard said dryly. "Anyway, it doesn't take numbers to watch a relay. If stopping the collectors really is Cerberus' first priority, they'd have had that relay observed ever since they first suspected the collectors – which, may I point out, is considerably before the Illusive Man saw fit to inform any of us about our enemy." She took a deep breath. "But, this doesn't accomplish anything. Joker, we'll talk multi-ship tactics later. No need to take everyone's time."
They moved on to other issues. Those who'd been groundside on Horizon or aboard the collector ship shared their first-hand experiences of dealing with an enemy who could fly in reinforcements at will, and the zombie-like husks that killed with sheer numbers. Suggestions flew thick and fast, and Shepard leaned back and watched, content.
When they ran out of steam, she pulled the meeting back to the bigger picture. "Our first target is the derelict reaper. We don't know if the collectors are even aware of it. If they aren't, it should be a simple pick-up job."
Miranda nodded. "Cerberus teams are already on-site, searching for the IFF."
"If they do know about it, it's likely they'll attack while the ground party is on the hulk – either firing on the Normandy, firing on the reaper, or sending troops in after us. In that case," Shepard kept her voice calm and controlled, "The Normandy is to disengage from the derelict and attack the collector ship."
"Even if the collectors are targeting the reaper?" Jacob asked.
"Especially if the collectors are targeting the reaper." She was careful not to look too obviously at Joker, but she still saw his face go hard. She hated it, but it was why she'd wanted him here. He knew what that order meant, and he shouldn't have to hear it over of the radio. "If the collector ship chooses to attack the ground team, they'll either have to hold a docking position or keep their beam weapon aimed at the derelict. It's the nearest to a sitting duck we can get without waiting for them to abduct another colony."
There were nods around the table from everyone but her pilot. "If we don't face them at the derelict, I think we'll see them at the relay – on one side or the other. We'll deal with that when we get there. Let me know if you have any ides over the next few days. Dismissed."
They filed out of the room, leaving only her and Joker.
He was leaning on the table, the slight twist in his back more apparent than usual because of the tension in his shoulders. If not for that, she might have imagined him engrossed in the holo displays.
She wanted to touch him, but he radiated 'stay away'. The protective bubble of personal space was almost dense enough to see. She stayed where she was, near the head of the table, and said evenly, "If it would be easier for Mercer to carry out that order, I'll put her at the helm when we approach the reaper."
"No," he growled.
She waited.
"No. She wouldn't have it easier." His face twisted. "Because she's soft-hearted and I'm a jerk."
She'd known it would be bad – just one more reason you're not supposed to do this, girl– but she hadn't expected that reaction. The self-loathing tore at her heart. She wanted to banish it, to pull it off him and kill it for good, but she couldn't throw herself between him and this enemy.
"No," she said carefully, her voice still professional, "you can do it because you're good at your job."
It wasn't enough, but she didn't know what else to do, besides prove she was willing to wade through the almost palpable barrier he'd thrown up. She walked towards him, intentionally ignoring the don't-touch-me body language, and placed her hand on the tense muscles of his neck.
"I can do it," he sighed.
Her thumb was drawing circles on his neck, without her conscious thought or direction. As it brushed his uniform collar the fabric moved enough to reveal the tip of a black spike. Curious, she pushed it down a little more… and then froze as she saw what she'd uncovered. The image of the Normandy SR1, etched in ink over his vertebra, so tiny and perfect she could conceal it with the pad of her thumb.
When her fingers brushed the tattoo he froze as still as she had. For a moment the only sound in the room was their breathing; two silent statues joined by the image of a dead ship.
Joker broke the tableau. When he jerked upright she thought he was trying to get away, to put cold distance between them, but instead he turned on her, caught her hand, and pushed her back toward the wall.
Startled, she let him push her, though he stumbled forward in his haste and she fetched up against the bulkhead with a harder thump than either of them had expected. She hardly noticed. His mouth was on hers, fierce and demanding, the tickle-scratch of his beard a rough counterpoint to his kiss. His hand pinned hers to the wall above her head. He was as intent as when he flew through enemy fire, every molecule trained on the task at hand. She'd never seen him so aggressive anywhere other than the helm of the Normandy.
Her heart-rate jumped in surprise.
She could break away in a heartbeat. The deceptively firm grip pinning her hand was really fragile as glass, the thigh pressing her to the wall already straining just to hold his own weight. And she'd never dealt well with being trapped.
Instead, she gave in.
It was heady. She tested her wrist against his grip, just hard enough to be aware of him holding her there, and was totally unprepared for the thrill it sent through her. The abdication of even that little responsibility, relinquishing that little control, was like setting down a weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. Conscious thought melted. The feel of her hand pressed firmly against the cool bulkhead, the warmth of his body, the hungry feel of his mouth – for a wonderful moment, they were all she had to worry about in the wide world. All she had to do was meet intensity with intensity, straining back towards him, free hand pulling him tighter to her, tongue in his mouth… until they desperately needed air, and fell apart.
Her head banged lightly on the wall behind her. Her eyes were wide, shocked by her own reaction. Bemused and breathless, she stroked the back of his neck where tattoo etched the past into his skin. Had he gotten it as a sign of mourning, or in the first flush of pride?
When her racing heart finally slowed, she asked, "Before or after?"
"After." His voice shook.
"Joker…" The shake in his voice brought her abruptly back down to earth, and she closed her eyes a moment in the face of that pain. "You can do it," she whispered fiercely. "And you won't lose another ship."
"I'm not worried about losing the damn ship!" Joker's green eyes bored into her, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can do it," he repeated, "But I can't be happy about it. Not if defeating the collectors means letting you die." His voice shook. "Again."
"Good," she said huskily, and struggled to free the voice caught in her throat. "I don't expect you to let me die. I expect you to pull off a miracle and save my stupid ass. Again." She curled her fingers up into his short hair. "Anyway, we're borrowing trouble. If the collectors knew about the derelict surely they'd have done something about it by now."
"I know," he muttered. The tension had started to bleed away. The absence of all that distraught energy left him weak. He wasn't trying to press her into the wall anymore; now he needed something to lean on.
She moved her hand to his lower back and slid down the wall a few inches, legs spread on either side of his for a little extra support.
He leaned into her and lowered their clasped hands. "It just seems like this running-into-possible-doom thing is a whole lot closer than it felt a few days ago."
"I know." She smiled sadly. "For me, too. A week ago I wouldn't have cared much; now I want to put it off. But I can't do that."
"I know."
"So, we'll just have to make sure we make it back." She squeezed her thighs a bit around his hips. "And it's not like we're headed through the Omega-4 tomorrow."
"You think you'll still be up for this without the threat of imminent death hanging over us?" He phrased it like a joke, but his voice held real doubt.
Oh, Joker. "Yes," she growled, "What a silly question. Though…" she tapped her fingers on his back as if she were lost in thought, "I do suppose some of the mystery is gone now that I've seen your tattoo." Treating his question with the seriousness it deserves. As if I'd let go now.
To her delight, the joke brought the more confident side of his nature flooding back to the surface. He winked at her saucily. "The tattoo? Whatever made you think that's the only one?" He grinned. "You aren't nearly done finding them yet."
She inched her hand down his back and squeezed his butt.
Joker rested his forehead on hers and laughed, a real laugh she could feel in his whole body. "No, Shepard. I still don't have any on my ass."
She made a pout face, and he laughed again – probably because it didn't suit her, which she knew damn well. "Well, shit, I suppose I'll just have to look for them, then… of course…" she looked over his shoulder at the empty conference room and sighed.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. No interruptions for once, and I have to get back out there before Mercer falls asleep in the chair." He straightened up and released her hand.
She walked her feet back in so she stood her normal height. "Turn around."
He looked confused but did as she asked. She cocked her head to one side, inspecting, then straightened his uniform at the waistband and collar. His eyes widened in understanding, and he circled his finger in the air. She obligingly repeated the spin for his inspection, grinning when he had her pause facing away from him. "Like the view?"
"Mm, yeah, uh, you're good." He tucked a lock of her hair back up in the bun and chuckled. "Shit, it's like being in high school again or something."
"I wouldn't know," she said. They started walking towards the door. "We'll have to discuss tatt –" the door slid open "Tactics more, later."
"Aye aye, commander!" he answered, and went forward to the helm.
author's note: I know there's been schedule-creep lately. It's not indicative of waning interest in the least, just real life events (Storms! Power outages! Illness! Vacation!). So, if you're worried/despairing of me, don't be!
