NAVIGATOR CHARLES PRESSLY

The SSV Normandy's main deck was abuzz with life. Of all the ships that he had served on, and Navigator Charles Pressly had seen his fair share of busy main decks before, this one for sure had a life that others seldom had. He even believed that he had so far never seen anything quite like this. The Normandy had become something else entirely, a different kind of ship that put other Alliance vessels to shame with its effectiveness. As much as he hated to admit such, Pressly could see the turian design of the deck coming to fruition all around him. Everybody was on an equal level, able to see one another and communicate quickly and effectively in a real-time strategy situation. The added benefit of the risen commander's perch allowed anyone across the deck to contact Captain Anderson when he himself would be in position for such a thing to happen.

It all made Pressly proud. He was an Alliance veteran, the grey on his temples beginning to show the amount of time he had served in the navy. The hustle and bustle aboard the ship, the excitement and tension that seemed to have been carried from one soldier to another, reminded him of his days as a lowly ensign, of the days where he had been young, fresh-faced and eager to begin a career among the stars. Looking at the faces of the men and women he now served with, young and old alike, he could tell the same spark and excitement had returned to them all once more. They wanted to make a statement with the Normandy, and there wasn't a single soul aboard not wanting to make their mark.

Looking down at his workstation, Pressly kept his eye on the charts, as he had done thousands upon thousands of times in his career thus far. He was the Normandy's navigational officer, a role that he would let anyone who asked his occupation know about with the distinction and pride that he knew such a position deserved. He was the man in charge of finding the most optimal routes for the Normandy to travel through interstellar flight, working closely in-hand with the pilot in order to keep the optimal velocity and position of the ship in both combat and non-combat situations. Some believed that it was a role that could be held by a pilot alone, especially one with the talents of one Mr. Moreau, but Pressly knew that he and Joker would be able to work hand-in-hand together as an effective team.

Pulling each one of the wood pencils that lined his station into perfect alignment, his eye glued to the compass that sat across from them, Pressly let out a sigh of accomplishment. When he wasn't focused on his duty and ensuring that everything went as well as it should, he was at work making sure that his station was as clean and presentable as he wished to be. He had always been one for uniformity, for order and cleanliness, and could not abide those who did not believe the same as he did. Some called it an obsession, but Pressly called it a sanity check. He needed those kinds of things to keep himself grounded, whether it be a simple group of perfectly aligned Earth wood pencils in the middle of an alien co-created starship. Simple things that reminded him of home.

The charts and meters flashed green before his eyes as he stood, focused and single-minded on his goal. The launch from Arcturus Station had been without fault, all signs green and the Normandy moving on schedule and with no unexpected mishaps thus far. They had found themselves approaching the first navpoint ahead of schedule, with Pressly now focusing himself entirely on making sure they remained on-course and in correct drift to not overshoot their arrival from FTL.

Nobody had been told what the goal of their first stop would be, Pressly included. Everyone had been under the assumption that it would be a straight-forward run from Arcturus to Eden Prime as per the mission specifications, but it seemed that there was more than met the eye with the Normandy's actual goal out in space. Nobody aboard had the gall to question their orders, nor did anyone wish to directly ask Captain Anderson what the official mission parameters were outside of their trip to Eden Prime, but everyone that Pressly had asked thus far about what they had undertaken had told him that the mission had become far more than a simple shakedown run to a major human colony.

"Board is green." Pressly spoke into his computer's comm system, radioing his voice from his current place on the main deck up to the cockpit. His eyes did not leave the charts that flashed routinely before him as he spoke, not wanting for a second to give incorrect information that could jeopardize everything in a split-second.

Joker's voice came through seconds later. "Roger that."

"What are you seeing out there, Joker?"

Pressly felt his breath catch in his throat. His curiosity had gotten the better of him once again. It was his major downfall, his so-called one weakness amidst his many strengths. Pressly had been told he was a gossip, someone who liked to talk about what was currently going on and what he could do to help the situation. It came from a good place, a need to be informed and be knowledgeable about everything around him, but that didn't mean his superiors had often liked his need to question everything.

"Not much, gonna be honest." Joker replied. He, too, seemed to be someone who liked to speak rather than keep quiet. "It's just a lot of open space. No ships, nothing. Are you sure the navpoint is correct?"

Pressly, albeit to himself, shook his head. "Double-checked numerous times before we arrived. We are where the Captain wants us to be."

"Ah well," Joker said. "Maybe the Captain's gonna start a dance party or something. Or maybe we'll sit around in a circle and play icebreakers. That'd be fun."

"Maybe for you, Flight Lieutenant." Pressly stifled a laugh.

Before Pressly could take a breath, an almighty boom echoed around the whole deck. Pressly recognized the sound immediately, one that anyone who had worked on the main decks of cruisers and frigates for as long as he had would be able to tell within seconds. The sound of FTL travel, the sonic boom that came from the end of travel and heading towards your current location. He had heard the Normandy's own a few moments prior, which told him only that the reason for their appearance was a meeting between two vessels. The real question on Pressly's mind, however, was what kind of vessel it was.

Within moments, Captain Anderson's voice echoed over the ship's comm:

"Commander Shepard to the CIC."

Glancing up from his station, Pressly watched as Captain Anderson himself made his way from the back of ship, using the walkways behind him to navigate through the organized chaos that was his main deck. Following behind, albeit by a few moments, was the man in question and who many believed to be the talk of the hour: Commander Shepard.

There wasn't a person aboard the Normandy, or perhaps in the Alliance Navy itself, who didn't know the accomplishments and exploits of one John Shepard. Pressly himself had the ability to say that he had seen the major accomplishment that many knew the Commander for first-hand, having served as the navigator of the SSV Agincourt during the Skyllian Blitz. He had watched the battle overheard for most of the time, serving to aid the rest of the navy reinforcements that had arrived to liberate the planet from its pirate invaders. He had seen the chaos and the devastation upon their arrival but had also heard the stories of leadership and commitment from Shepard by the soldiers he had met in the aftermath.

Nobody could deny the reputation and the acumen that Shepard held, Pressly especially. He had barely been able to believe the news when he had heard that the Commander had been chosen to serve as Anderson's second-in-command aboard the Normandy. It had been the correct decision, of course, and Pressly would argue for the Commander in any situation against those who wished to talk him down. He was the star that the Alliance needed in a time where they needed a figurehead to lead them more than ever. If Shepard wasn't chosen as that figurehead, then Pressly didn't know who else it could be.

Watching as the two men made their way up the steps towards the cockpit, Pressly kept his eye closely trained on what was going down between them. Whatever seemed to be happening on this mission would no doubt be privy between the Captain and his XO, and whatever was going on would be discussing as they walked. Pressly hated to be out of the loop, to think of himself as underinformed. It was a weakness, a potential liability in the wrong situation, and Pressly knew to try and always keep himself as informed as possible fo the situation where he needed to give that information to the right person.

Yet, it wasn't until the door to the decontamination chamber slid open did Pressly feel as though the mission got a lot more interesting.

A lone turian made his way from the chamber and into the ship itself, standing with his arms folded as he looked both Captain Anderson and Commander Shepard down. He was unlike anything turian that Pressly had seen before, both in size and in sheer volume. He was a huge creature, his height and his body width enough to send shudders down even the largest Krogan. The feeling immediately sent a shiver down his spine, knowing that he was sharing the Normandy with a turian of that size and caliber.

Pressly hated turians, more than the usual discontent that existed between humanity and their Council race allies. It had been a sentiment that had ran in his family for generations, harkening back to the First Contact War all those years ago. His grandfather had served at Shanxi and had been present during the occupation.

Shanxi had been one of humanity's first colonies in space, having followed behind the likes of Demeter and Eden Prime in colonization. However, it was also well-known in the galactic civilization as being the first world colonized by humanity to have fallen to an alien race, when the turians had occupied it following several skirmishes in the beginning of the First Contact War, where the turians had attacked the humans following their use of a dormant mass relay, which had been a galactic law that humanity had not been privy to at the time.

It had been a short war, but the occupation and how the turians had treated their human prisoners had been enough to turn Pressly's entire family line sour against those who had occupied the colony, something that had instilled into Pressly from an early age. He had grown up to not trust turians, or any non-humans for that manner, and had been constantly reminded of the things his grandfather and the rest of the humans on Shanxi had to endure during those times.

Seeing that turian come aboard just brought bad memories into Pressly's head. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his station and immediately pressed the link to the communications channel on his desktop. Navigating his way through the channels, Pressly found himself opening a link to engineering decks below, all in the name of speaking to someone who he knew would be able to make sense of the situation.

"Charlie." The voice of Chief Engineer Greg Adams echoed through his screen, something that Pressly found himself able to focus on through his frustrations. "What's up?"

Engineer Adams had been one of Pressly's good friends for as long as the two of them could remember. They had first met during basic training, all those years ago, and had maintained a friendship through much of their career. The Normandy had been the second chance for them to work together aboard a ship, following their successful postings individually aboard the SSV Tokyo under Captain Anderson the first time around. Anderson had seen enough from them to bring them both with him aboard the Normandy, something that Pressly was more than thankful for in ways that he was sure Anderson would never understand.

"Greg, you're never going to believe what's happened." Pressly spoke quickly and in hushed tones. "This is big."

"Try me." Adams said. "And why are you whispering?"

"There's a turian aboard the ship." Pressly continued. "A turian!"

"And?"

"And?!" Pressly hated Adams' calmness, it was one of the things he had never been able to understand about him. No matter what the situation was, he had always been able to keep his cool and remain level-headed. He wondered if it was an engineering thing.

"It's not a surprise, Charlie. Half this ship is turian." Adams continued.

"I wasn't expecting one to come aboard, that's all."

Pressly sighed. He knew he would get this kind of reaction. Distrust of turians had been a sentiment in humanity for the longest time, but the constant interaction with their species from others of his kind had begun to show humans that the turians were not as bad as people had first thought. It had been fear that had driven them to hatred, a fear of the unknown and what could have been waiting for them within it. The turians had been that unknown, and they had treated them with hostility from the very beginning. Therefore, humanity had responded in kind and continued to hate whether it was needed or not.

There were those who had changed their minds, a great many in fact. But the sentiment was still there, deep under the surface. There were still those out there who despised the turians for their actions during the war, and many would not be able to forgive as easily as some within humanity that could. Pressly was one of them. He had tried, and he knew he would need to continue to try in order to serve alongside them, but his family history and his desire to want to stand up for what his grandfather believed in left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"If he's here, then it's because Captain Anderson wants him to be here." Adams was the voice of reason, he seemed to understand where others couldn't. "For all we know, he's been sent to oversee the ship on behalf of the turians. I'm sure they have as much of an interest in the ship as we do. They made as much of it as we did, after all."

The reasoning made sense. Everybody aboard knew the history behind the ship. That was what made it different from everything that had come before, the diversity that had been installed inside the ship by those who had created it. Normandy was a creation by both the Systems Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy, a chance for both species to try and work together for the first time since the war that had divided them. An olive branch, Pressly believed, that not many humans had wanted their leaders to give out.

Everything left a bad taste, but one that needed to be stomached and moved on from. The turian was here, and nobody except Captain Anderson could change that. Pressly knew all he could do was pout for a little and then get on with it. "I still don't like it."

"Nobody said you had to like it." Adams' voice was sharp, like a blade. "But there's nothing you can do to change it. So, relax about it, move on. Otherwise, you're gonna give yourself another ulcer and I honestly don't want to have to deal with you moaning about that as well."

A chuckle followed Adams' words down the channel, but Pressly knew fully that the words coming from the engineer's mouth were nothing but truthful. He needed people like that in his life, those who were able to tell him something straight that he needed to hear and not coat them to save his feelings. Pressly wasn't someone who needed to have the blow softened to protect how he felt, he needed to know where he was going wrong and what he could do to solve it. That was the navy way of doing things. The way he had been taught.

"Okay, okay." Pressly nodded.

"Good." Adams said. "Look, I gotta get back to it. See you on break, Charlie."

With the faintest bit of static, the call dropped and the line went dead. Staring down at the station in front of him, Pressly couldn't help but let out a sigh. Everything that he had believed about the mission had started to change, to the point where he couldn't recognize whether he had been lied to about his official orders. Nobody had expected the arrival of a turian, no matter what business he was on. It had supposed to have been a simple shakedown run to test the systems, nothing more. The fact that everything had started to change had left a bad feeling in Pressly's gut, something he was sure that many of his crewmates across the ship would feel when they found out as well.

He stood back, trying to do his best to make himself relax. That's what he had been told to do, what he knew he had to do. Yet, Pressly couldn't find the right feeling inside of him to fully let go of the situation and how he felt towards it. Something wasn't right, something about the entire situation that simply needed to be known. Turians didn't come aboard for no reason, whether it be to do their own overview of the shakedown run on behalf of their government or not. If that was the case, then he was sure the crew would have been informed of the addition prior to them starting the run in the first place.

No, Pressly couldn't let it go. He couldn't leave it, not when he knew that there was something out there that he was being kept out of the loop of. Curiosity had always been his downfall, and it was proving to be such once again. Whether or not it would prove to be his disastrous downfall like it had sometimes been in the past, he didn't know, but Pressly wasn't about to not take the chance out of fear. That had never been his style. No, he lived by his own rules and that meant learning more about what was going on from the one person he believed would have as much insider knowledge as possible.

Joker.

He hadn't known Joker for very long, with the Normandy being the first ship that the Flight Lieutenant had been able to fly following his graduation from the academy, but Pressly had immediately started to feel as though the pilot was someone that he could get along with, someone who liked to be kept in the loop as much as he did. Joker was in the valuable position this time around, able to listen in to conversations happening around him without having the fear of someone thinking about whether he was listening to it or not. The real question was whether he was the type to spill that gossip with others, or if simply kept it to himself unless it was prudent for him not to do so.

Nevertheless, Pressly was willing to take that chance.

Stepping away from his station, Pressly turned as officially-looking as he could in the direction of the cockpit and started walking, heading up the steps like he was someone on a mission and in desperate need to visit that area. He was never one to abandon his post, never one to question orders when he received them, but even he was starting to believe that there were certain things that didn't add up. He respected Captain Anderson and everything he stood for, an ardent admirer like the rest of humanity of the things that he had accomplished over his career, but even he couldn't admit that there was more going on around them that truly met the eye. He needed to find out.

Heading underneath the cockpit alcove, Pressly peaked his head towards the main seat that housed their pilot and coughed. Watching Joker's head pop up for a moment in surprise, he smiled as best he could and received a similar one back from the Flight Lieutenant.

"What's going on, Pressly?" Joker smirked. "Adams reporting a total engine failure yet?"

"What's going on with that turian?" Pressly spoke, his words curt and to the point.

"Who, Nihlus?" Joker smirk was as cocky as it could be. "Oh, nothing. It just sounds like regular Spectre business to me. The usual galaxy-saving stuff."

"He's a Spectre?" Pressly felt his jaw drop a little.

"A good one, apparently." Joker said. "Captain Anderson seemed to hold him in high regard, and Commander Shepard even got a handshake from him. That's high praise from even the nicest turian, in my opinion."

The Special Tactics and Reconnaissance division, or Spectres, were the elite agents of the Citadel Council, the operatives sent to conduct missions when nobody else could. They were the among the greatest heroes that the galaxy had ever known, existing to protect the peace and stability within the societies of galaxy space. There were few Spectres that were known to the public, those who the Council held in high regard as the best operatives that they could possibly call upon in the direst of situations. Pressly had heard of a few, but there were surely those who liked to keep themselves under the radar.

To have a Spectre aboard changed the mission ramifications entirely inside Pressly's head. There was no way that the Council had sent a Spectre aboard to simply oversee the ship's shakedown run, not with the weight that Spectres held on their shoulders. No, he was here for a specific reason, something that the crew were not being told about. It sent a shiver down Pressly's spine, the sick feeling in his stomach growing stronger by the second.

"What is going on?" Pressly kept his voice hushed. "This can't just be a shakedown run."

"I'm sure the Captain will tell us when it's prudent." Another voice spoke up, directly to Pressly's right.

In the corner of his eye, he spotted the man who had so far remained quiet in the conversation until now: Lieutenant Alenko.

Kaidan Alenko was not a man that Pressly had been given the pleasure with serving alongside before, the Normandy being the first posting he had received alongside the Lieutenant. However, just like many of the marines who had been posted to join him on the Normandy, Pressly had heard the name mentioned in navy circles and heard of his accomplishments prior to meeting him in person. Alenko was a behind-the-scenes character, according to many of the people who had met him, someone who liked others to take the spotlight while he worked to get things done.

His medals spoke for themselves, of course, but Pressly could never have imagined him to be the type to be an Alliance poster boy from the character he cut to those who knew him or had even come across him and recognized him for who he was.

Looking at him in the moment, Pressly couldn't see a single thing about the Lieutenant that showcased him as anyone that would stand out among a crowd. He was an average man to the eye. His brown eyes were simple to look at but seemed to house a curiosity inside of them that was much akin to Pressly's own. His hair was black but cut to a normal medium-length and styled in a conservative manner. He wore regular Alliance navy fatigues, wearing them as seen in Alliance training with seemingly no desire to untuck his shirt or customize them in any way that Pressly had seen others do so before.

Alenko was normal. Perhaps even boring to some.

Raising his hand to his brow in a salute, Pressly lowered his head slightly. "Alenko, sir," he spoke in the Lieutenant's direction. "I didn't see you there. I apologize."

Kaidan waived away the salute with a smile. "Relax, Pressly. It's fine."

"I don't see you doing that to me, Pressly." Joker whined from his chair.

"You don't have the medals the Lieutenant has, Joker." Pressly snapped, his tone playful.

Although he tried to hide it, everyone in the room saw Kaidan fight back his laughter. The Lieutenant was respectful, honest and just a genuine sort. He came across to anyone who knew him as a decent human being, not someone who could be larger-than-life.

"Captain Anderson's a good man. He knows what he's doing." Kaidan said. "If he doesn't want to tell us why Nihlus is here, then that's his decision. I'll respect it."

"You don't think it's strange?" Pressly folded his arms. "A new ship with a completely new crew made up of the Alliance's best up-and-coming talent, helmed by an Alliance legend with the Alliance's new poster boy as his executive officer?"

"Commander Shepard's more than just a poster boy." Joker scoffed. "He's done more in his career than most soldiers hope to do. I'm glad he's on board."

"I was there on Elysium. I don't doubt our XO." Pressly sighed and looked down at his feet. "I just don't understand this mission. It can't be just a shakedown. They don't send a ship on a shakedown with more than just a skeleton crew."

"Maybe not, but we'll find it out when it's time for us to find out." Kaidan rose from his chair, finally turning to look at Pressly. "If I were in charge, I'd have done the same thing. Keep the crew focused on making sure the ship is running smoothly, then let everyone focus on the real task at hand when we're there to actually see it for ourselves."

"But why is a Spectre needed? They only bring trouble with them." Pressly said.

"I agree with you there." Joker nodded. "I'll say it before, I'll say it again. Spectres are trouble."

"Whatever trouble he's bringing, we're being dragged right into it." Pressly furrowed his brow.

"You don't know that. We don't know if there is any trouble." Kaidan sighed. "Neither of you know, none of us do besides Captain Anderson and the Spectre. Whatever their business is, they'll tell us about it when the time is right. How many times do I have to say it?"

Absent-mindedly messing with the chain on his dress uniform, Pressly shrugged. "I don't like any of this. It's not right. We should know what we're getting ourselves into."

"Maybe we should." Kaidan placed his hand on Pressly's shoulder. "But we don't. We'll have to live with that until we do get told. Just follow your orders and keep your head down."

"Captain Anderson doesn't like people who don't follow his command." Joker chuckled. "I've had more than a few angry glares from him in my time."

"That's not surprising from you, Joker." Kaidan smiled.

"I think he likes me." Joker shrugged.

"I'm sure he does, Flight Lieutenant." Kaidan shook his head, before sitting back down. "I'm sure he does."