[Four hours earlier]
There was, of course, no up or down in the infinity of space.
Nevertheless, organic minds were evolved to seek and find an up, or a down, to satisfy the self-preservation instincts of knowing where to go when danger presented itself. Thus, one could suppose that right now, a figure was upside-down, magnetically attached to the bottom of the starboard wing of the Normandy. Below her, the stormy atmosphere of Lorek swirled as the planet slowly rotated. The stars slowly flowed by as the frigate orbited the planet below.
In the near-absolute darkness, a slightly larger, bulkier figure had his face briefly turned out to these sights, the lights playing across the mirrored visor of his armored environmental suit.
"'Tis fuckin' unsettlin', is wot it is," the larger form said, his voice sounding distant through the audio compression of the comm.
"Don't be so dramatic, Ken. I thought you'd be used to this," replied the smaller one, on one knee, hunched forward, and now illuminated by a shower of sparks as she expertly stripped a sub-optimal weld from a capacitor cell.
"Oi'm useta the work, fur sure yah. Usually inna enclosed dock tho'. All this...openness...ugh." He shivered so hard she heard his suit rattle.
"Mmm hmm. I don't really pay attention to that." Blue sparks flew around her visor again as Tali resumed humming with forced contentment. The planet-side mission was running long, and rumor on the ship was that communications had gone dark with Shepard and the crazy girl.
What was her name? Come on, I was around her for two hours while playing cards. I was drinking, though. When I think of her I can only hear a steady stream of human profanity based on various words for sexual activities. Also, I remember that I was staring at her skin the whole time - good thing she can't see my eyes. What did the old scarred man call her? Jackie? Jack! Right.
She was grateful for the distraction of work. The new Normandy was admittedly a fine ship, Cerberus-built or not, but the recent upgrades had been installed with wildly varying degrees of craftmanship.
"Keelah, Ken, who installed this thing? Disgruntled vorcha?"
"Yer makin' me feel right bad, Tali. Gabs 'n me cleaned uppa few things allreddeh, but dinnah hava chance tah git tah theese bits yet, yuhsee."
The quarian paused, letting her translator slowly digest Ken-speak and make best-guess offerings to her. After a few passes, she nodded.
"Right, I think I got most of that. Well, we'll get it done, don't worry. Next time we make port, I have some ideas."
This may be a Cerberus vessel, but it's Shepard's Cerberus vessel and by the homeworld, this thing is going to be perfect.
"Miranda. Possible trouble." Joker's voice came from the comm, this time, and was quietly serious.
Of course. Reclining in the station chair, one leg crossed over her knee and willing herself to relax, Miranda tapped a flickering panel in front of her. "One moment." With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and stretched. The command-team had been on edge for four hours now.
Walking up to the cockpit, she leaned one arm on the back of the pilot's chair, unknowingly mimicking Shepard's typical posture there. She took a moment to nod at Crewman Sarah Patel, who was stationed in the co-pilot seat. They had a half-hour of shift where the duty cycle crossed over, in which they relayed any info that needed to be carried forth.
Be nice to the crew. Show an interest.
"Hello, Patel." That should be satisfactory.
"Good evening, Offi..."
"What do you have, Joker?"
Sarah blinked, then turned back to her controls and made a face, and Joker half-turned and quirked an eyebrow at Miranda from under the edge of his cap, before answering.
"Two shuttles are on a trajectory that looks to intercept our little Eclipse facility, downstairs." Downstairs being Alliance Navy slang for planet-side. Joker traced his finger over one of the many displays that surrounded him, showing the two contacts, before drawing an imaginary line to the mission facility.
"Wonderful. ETA?" Miranda crossed her arms under her breasts, and cocked her hip to rest her weight on one leg. There's always a damned complication.
"Looks like, hmm, about twenty minutes."
"Where did they come from?"
One of Moreau's shoulders raised in a half-shrug. "Not sure. We had no reason to track them when they departed, of course. But...if we assume they've traveled in a straight line - more or less - they came from...here. Small city."
"Population one hundred and sixty thousand, primarily batarian, centered around a significant platinum mining operation. Undetermined population of slave labor that may match or exceed that number. The most significant law-enforcement and security detachment in the region is located there."
Joker's lip curled with distaste, as he turned and looked up at the Cerberus operative, peering at her from under the rim of his cap. "Looks like something down there tipped off an alarm, and they're sending some cops to check it out? Maybe we can scan those shuttles for donut residue."
Miranda nodded thoughtfully, ignoring him. "Or a private security company. Or backup Eclipse forces from another site we don't know about. EDI, tap the known police communications of that area, listen for relevant traffic. They'd be talking about it. If they're actual police, Shepard won't want them shot."
Joker's eyes didn't move away from hers. "If they're batarian police, he might not mind at all."
The Cerberus officer snorted quietly. "I don't care for them, either. We've had some recent history. Can we land the Normandy on Lorek, yet?"
"The probability of a successful surface landing given the current conditions..."
The stubbled pilot shook his head without hesitation. "I got this one, EDI. The short answer is, no freaking way. The SR-1, maybe. Maybe. This thing? Twice as big, four times the surface area. That storm would tear a wing off and we would have a spectacular fireball landing. The shuttles would barely be airworthy in that mess, and they're little compact bricks with engines."
Miranda narrowed her eyes. "You pulled off an impossible landing on Ilos, so the story goes."
"Appealing to my manhood or something? You think I can do this, I'm just choosing not to? I did pull off an impossible landing on Ilos, with a Mako. It's a light tank, and I dropped it like a bomb full of my friends into the eye of a needle. It was absolutely, literally, a-shitload-of-people-could-die situation. And let me tell you a secret, it was terrifying and I did a half-decent job of pretending it wasn't. I have nightmares. Now then, in that Mako was Shepard, Liara, Garrus, and Ash. That's it. If shit went bad, we lost four people, max."
Miranda's face had grown increasingly tight during Joker's little tirade. "Moreau, it was stressed to me by the Illusive Man himself that this data is crit..."
Her eyes widened as Joker actually held his hand up, not looking back at her, to cut her off.
"I'm not finished. Now look around, I'm responsible for forty-seven people here, minus the team downstairs right now. What would I be risking? The whole damn ship that's supposed to chase down the Collectors and gloriously save humanity, adoring public? For what? To help the guys down there fight off two shuttles' worth of dudes? Listen, don't get me wrong, I don't like our guys getting shot at, but are you fucking crazy? Even if whatever they're after is a magic, hand-holdable gun that blows up Reapers, it's not hap..."
"Calm yourself, Joker. The answer is no, I hear you. I trust your judgement in this."
Jeff took his hat off for a moment, rubbed his face with one hand, and put it back on. "Ok, sorry. Yeah. We're cut off from Shepard 'n Jack; Tali has one of the engines offline; and we have shuttles inbound to our people who we can't reach. I'm at the end of a double-shift and I'm starting to feel it."
"Rest assured, you are normally quite pleasant, Mr. Moreau."
"Thanks for the support, EDI. Good to see your sarcasm is coming along."
"I've put in extra reading on the subject, thank you for noticing. Was that well timed?"
Miranda turned and looked out of the cockpit starboard viewport, and rubbed her bottom lip with a forefinger. "Has the weather improved enough for a Hammerhead drop?"
His SR-2 cap went side to side in a negative motion. "Those things are horrible in arctic conditions. The mass thrusters will ice up, and then all we've added is more people that need rescuing. The blizzard will have to settle enough so the thing isn't sucking a continuous feed of ice particles into the fans. This is the worst place to deploy a Hammerhead, and its biggest weakness. Well, aside from 'shoot it with a handgun and it explodes'. Man, a Mako would be sweet right now. Can we get one? Shepard loves those things."
Mimicking his earlier gesture, Miranda rubbed her face. Her eyes burned with fatigue and stress. "Short-sighted of me, anyhow. Releasing commercial-spec shuttles is one thing. If we put down an IFV*, and the local military pick it up, they'll likely mobilize an aggressive response."
"Huh. Hadn't thought of that, but it sounds about right."
"Dammit."
Joker nodded, thoughtfully. "Yeah. That sounds about right, too."
"I'll communicate with them, if nothing else they can at least be warned."
As the Cerberus operative's heels clicked back down the command hall to the CIC, Joker felt Sarah's eyes on him, and he turned to return the look. The coffee-skinned woman's eyes were nearly black, but sparkled in the thousand lights of the cockpit.
"You were really ready to get in her face about this. I've never seen anyone talk to Miranda like that." Sarah's voice was warm with quiet admiration.
"Aw, that wasn't anything. We had a decent-but-weird chat once. Had a semi-understanding come out of it. Don't get me wrong, she has all the humanity of a box of door hinges - and that's me talking - but I kinda can work with her, now. Flying for Anderson was no piece of cake, either - dude was gruff."
"I don't know anything about him, except he's the councilor now. What do you think of Shepard? I was terrified of him when he first showed up here. I could just feel him looking for an excuse to kill something in a Cerberus uniform, and those eyes of his...he looks like bird of prey, sometimes."
Jeff faced the controls in front of him, not looking at Sarah anymore. "What do I think about Shepard?"
I think the whole fucking spineless galaxy piles their shit on him, and he doesn't know how to say no, and then I fucking killed him. Now he's with Cerberus and everything is fucked up. We goddamn well took out Saren and killed a Reaper, which still blows my mind. His funeral was hardly done when the brass started sweeping shit under the rug. I'd fly this boat right into the fucking Citadel and wipe them out, if I thought it would give him his life back. That's what I think.
With a grunt and the clenching of teeth, Joker pushed himself to his feet. "I need some sleep. I'll see you in eight."
[Four hours later]
Biting her bottom lip, Jack turned towards the sleeping commando slowly, the mylar blanket crinkling with her motions. The upper edge of it pulled away from his neck, exposing his round, muscled shoulder in the meager orange glow of the heater behind her.
Painstakingly, she slid one palm slowly up his arm, marveling at his bulk and strength - briefly laying her slender forearm atop his massive one, and snorting quietly at how he dwarfed her.
Her fingers traced lightly over his biceps and deltoid, larger than her thigh.
Maybe they'll never find us.
Maybe I don't care.
The biotic gritted her teeth, terrified of breaking this dream of a moment but unable to resist getting closer, as her heart hammered the inside of her ribs. Her hand traced up and over him, finally coming to rest behind his neck. Leaning into his chest, she felt her small breasts flatten against the unyielding wall of him.
His hand slipped down from her hip again, this time moving to the small of her back. Jack closed her eyes, gently touching her forehead to his.
"Mm." The sound escaped Shepard's throat on another soft exhale.
Jack flinched and froze in place, fighting the urge to pull away. She forced herself to match his deep, steady breathing, even as the lump in her throat grew and she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill.
He's huge and solid and warm and Jesus Christ I just want to be normal for him and make him happy and myself too and I can't and fuck I hate myself and he likes me and I don't know why and I'll fuck up and I'll ruin him I don't want this very second to ever end and I just want to hold him so tight that we both can't breathe and cry myself to death and...
Her stomach growled. A comically loud, angry-bear-charging-at-a-hiker growl.
Glistening eyes snapped open, her lashes nearly brushing his, and she waited for him to wake up and ask what the hell she was doing right now.
He slept.
Jack was starting to think he was one of those sleepers who snored through bombs exploding and the house burning down around him.
The biotic had a mad urge - tears, terror, and all - to burst into giggles at the absurdity of the moment. It hit her all at once.
She had come thisclose to dying, three times. Once, by flaming omni-blade; then, by freezing to death; and finally, by crashing shuttle. Pretty exciting day, she had to admit.
She didn't have a clue where she was.
Speaking of...
Taking a second, she squinted up into the near-darkness. Seats? Her eyebrows furrowed together.
That's the floor above us. We're lying on the ceiling of the shuttle, it crashed upside-down. Okay.
She didn't have a clue when it was.
She was buck-freaking-naked and pressed exceptionally tightly against the only man she'd ever, ever envisioned enjoying being pressed against.
She was also fucking starving. Suddenly, it was the kind of hungry that made it entirely possible to imagine eating his face.
Baser instincts took some of the sharp edges away from her tension, and impulsively, she touched her lips to his forehead, and whispered against his skin.
"Don't go anywhere, dumbass."
Slipping away from him again, she slowly - though not as slowly as before - rolled away until she was on her back again. His arm that had been folded over her dragged across her body, his hand slipping over her lower abdomen until she grasped it and moved it down between their bodies.
"Not so fast, Shepard. Buy a girl dinner, first," she muttered quietly. She was in a good mood, suddenly.
I really am fucked up. Maybe I'll be crying in five minutes, again. Or I'll kill him in his sleep in a murderous rage. Yeah, it's fun to be me.
Puffing out her breath, she watched it steam up into the cold air, the fog red-orange from the blessed little heater.
Alright, manic-depressive bitch, this is going to suck. Time to put on your big-girl pants and...actually I'm not wearing pants.
Biting her lip to stop herself from bursting out laughing, she turned her head and looked at the heater. Next to it, propped up on tools and a box, she saw her tiny black underwear, socks, pants, and the undershirt she'd worn under the parka.
Nice. She glanced back at Shepard again, for a moment. Fuck, you're sweet. Really. I'm going to think that very clearly while I'm riding this little good mood, here.
Stretching out, she managed to hook her panties with a forefinger. Warm and dry.
Fuck yeah.
Reaching under the silver emergency blanket, Jack pulled her knees to her chin and slipped them on.
Underwear warmed up with a little toaster, oh Jesus yes. This is my new favorite thing. Who will I tell? Zaeed? Oh, Christ, no. Ok, don't laugh. Shut up. Maybe if I get drunk with Kelly again I can talk about this.
Reaching out again, she touched one of her socks.
Damp.
Fffffuck.
Her boots were sitting just past the heater, neatly unlaced, placed together properly.
Fucking guy. No way in hell those are wearable.
Stretching just a little farther, she touched her shirt.
It was ripped pretty badly. And damp.
Argh, seriously?
She touched her pants.
Dry.
You rule, magic military-pants fabric. Now I can have pants on, nice. And nothing else. In the freezing cold.
Shit.
[Four hours earlier]
"Ground team, Normandy." An accented woman's voice. Very precise in speech.
"Normandy, ground team. Read you five."
"...who is this?"
"Lt. Ashley Williams, Systems Alliance Marine. Is this some sort of Cerberus cockbag? How's terrorist business? Blow up any turian orphanages today?"
There was a long pause, broken only by the occasional crackle on the channel.
"Would Jacob, Garrus, or...anyone else be available?"
"Nope. They stuck me with a relay to the main comm, here in medbay. I'm fine, thanks. Everyone else is scrounging up equipment and basically dicking around until the storm settles, then we're going to go out there in the last shuttle - ours, and you're welcome - and find Shepard and whatshername."
"You're not a member of our ground crew. Find me..."
"You really want to bitch it up right now? We were all just shooting the same bad guys together. If you got something important, spit it out before I hang up."
"Fine. You have two inbound shuttles, no police chatter. Likely batarian sec-forces or Eclipse, and hostile. ETA twelve minutes. You're welcome."
"Cute. You're breaking up, Normandy."
"What? I don't..."
Ashley severed the connection with a smirk. Sliding off the medical bed she'd been resting on, she landed awkwardly and hissed in pain, clutching her side and feeling the broken shards of her own armor moving inside of her flesh.
At her feet was her bloodstained breastplate and the rest of the upper half of her cobalt-colored hardshell suit, piled next to her Avenger rifle. She half-bent to reach for the chestpiece, and the pain stood her up again.
"Fucking dammit," she hissed. Drawing in a deep breath, she leaned around the medbay door to shout down the hall.
"Hey! GET HOT, WE HAVE INCOMING! And...um, could somebody c'mere and help me get my armor back on?"
*Infantry Fighting Vehicle