AN: Hello everyone and welcome to Afterburner! I hope you'll enjoy the plot I put together for you all. I won't spoil much now, but I put a lot of time into coming up with a story that will really complement the main storyline of the Trilogy, and I'll give more insight at the end of the chapter into my thought process. Also, explanations of obscure acronyms etc will be included at the end as well. Those will be marked with an *. For now, sit back and enjoy!

Disclaimers: I do not own Mass Effect or its characters. Only my OC. There is no implied or actual relation to real life individuals in the Navy section of this story, only created characters/ships/squadrons.

It was mid-2004, military ops in the Middle East were in full swing. The Ready Room of VFA-3 was buzzing this July afternoon. It was getting close to the end of deployment for the USS Calhoun, and all the squadrons as well as ship's company aboard were more than excited to be out of the Mediterranean. 6 months down, 1 to go. Four pilots from VFA-3 (otherwise known as the Stormriders) sat near the whiteboard, getting ready for a brief while munching on some of the ever-present popcorn from the machine set up in the corner. LT Cody "Shredder" Harris checked the time on his watch before standing up and tapping the board.

"Alright y'all listen up, pretty straightforward flight today. We're on CAP* duty, we launch 20 past the hour, up to the standard hold and wait for something exciting if anything. We'll have 1 bag* each, sidearms*, and 4 fox 3's. Callsigns are going to be myself as 1-1 with Bird as 1-2, and Tums as 1-3 with Disco as 1-4. Any questions?" As the rest of his flight shook their heads or responded with a chorus of "Nope"s, Cody closed his notebook with a smack, "Let's do it, people!"

***** Cody's POV *****

My flight headed off towards the paraloft* to get on all our gear before stepping off towards the flight deck. I have been an Aviator for almost 3 years now, this is my second and last deployment before heading off to train new pilots. I always consider myself lucky to be a part of the fighter community, I came dangerously close to the anthro* limits of the aircraft standing at a tall 6'3. Nevertheless, I made it through the pipeline and here I am, leading formations and missions in the fleet! "Bird" is my wingman for the day, even though this is her first deployment she's a great pilot, despite having earned her callsign from hitting multiple birds with her jet during workups.

I smirk while putting on my harness and g-suit, thinking back to earning my own callsign. One of my first jobs with the Stormriders was cleaning out old file cabinets of paperwork, thousands on thousands of pages of it, with a slow as fuck shredder. Someone noticed, thought it was just hilarious, and it stuck! That's how a lot of Aviators earn their names, they either do something goofy or jack something up and it stays with them for a while. Finishing up prepping the last of my kit I grab my helmet and flight bag. "Who's ready to rock?" I say to Bird.

"Let's get it, boss! Another day, another dollar." She replies.

"Hell yeah, see you up there!" We bump fists, leading the way to the armory to grab our pistols, then up to the flight deck. I find my chariot for the day, number 306, a beautiful F/A-18C fighter, doing a thorough walkaround to make sure everything's in working order. I trust our maintenance team, but you always check again.

Returning the salute from the plane captain* as I walk up to the nose of the jet, he shows me all the pins he collected from his own pre-flight, "Morning sir! All pins accounted for, you're ready to go."

"Perfect, great work as always! Thanks for the help" The noise of the deck makes it hard to get a point across sometimes, but he smiles and gives me an appreciative nod while I climb the ladder to the cockpit. Muscle memory kicks in, running through checklists, setting up the jet and getting her ready to fly. Soon enough, all 4 of Storm flight are set, taxing out to the catapults. "Storm 1-1 is up on mids, check in"

"2 good jet" Bird calls in, letting me know she's ready as her and I hook up to the cats first.

Tums and Disco follow suit quickly, radioing with a chorus of "Good jet". Music to my ears. As my aircraft gets put under tension, I do one last control check, before pushing her to full afterburner, saluting the shooter and holding onto the handles above my HUD. Before I knew it my favorite sensation hit me yet again as the catapult all but threw me forward into the air, Bird following close behind. 3 and 4 launched not long after, and we were on our way on the mission for the day.

One quick stop at a tanker later and Storm Flight was holding over our zone, "Darkstar, Storm 1 flight checking in as fragged*". We were on friendly radar, and they would call us if they needed any assistance chasing off hostile aircraft or checking out a potential problem.

Settling in for a long orbit over the eastern Mediterranean, I was startled to hear the AWACS* come on the radio calling for me, "Storm 1-1, we have an unknown contact, bearing 030 for 40 miles. Appears to be stationary, also holding at 25000 feet, which sounds impossible but it's definitely on our radar. Push to the target and intercept, report back what you find."

"Storm 1-1 copy all, 1-1 and 1-2 pushing." I replied, acknowledging the call before radioing Bird on our flight's frequency. "Hey 2, we're going to break right to 030 and check this out, apparently the E2 has no idea what it is."

"Roger, 1. I'm with you" bird called back. We broke off, pushing our engines into afterburner yet again to speed towards the potential hostile. Once we got within 10 miles, though, I was confused to see… nothing. As far as I could tell, and Bird as well, there was nothing there. Darkstar wanted us to stay there for a moment just to observe, and as the two of us got within 5 miles, everything went to shit. Where just a second before there was clear morning sky, now I was in what looked to be an intense thunderstorm that had seemingly come out of nowhere, I would never willingly fly through a storm like this had we seen it. Icing on the cake was that all my electronics were useless, too. I had control, but I was flying off of the analog backups with no radios and hoping I didn't hit my wingman in the process. "Fuck… fuck fuck FUCK!" This was living up to the Stormrider name, that was for damn sure! The turbulence was throwing me around in my seat, and even with my experience I was feeling sick to my stomach.

Not even a minute later, though, and I was back out of the soup* flying through a clear, blue morning sky again. My electronics flicked back to life, and the turbulence vanished with the storm. Checking over my systems, I tried radioing my wingmen, "2, you still with me?".

Nothing. No response. Maybe she was having radio issues after the storm, should have come back by now, same as mine… "Bird, you copy? Anyone?" Yet again I was answered with silence. Pulling up my map on my data display was the moment that I first felt the pit in my stomach that something was truly wrong. Moments ago I was overflying the Med, now if my nav system was to be believed, I was flying over… fucking VANCOUVER. I made it halfway across the globe in less than 3 minutes? Staying as calm as I could and remembering the old adage Aviate Navigate Communicate, I checked off the last box and made a radio call on the guard frequency*. "This is Storm 1-1 on guard, anyone receiving?"

To my relief I heard a voice respond, "Uh… Storm 1-1, this is Vancouver Center, you just appeared on my scope, out of nowhere. Say ship type and intentions?"

"Vancouver, what do you mean by ship type? I'm an F/A-18 Hornet jet aircraft… and I don't know what just happened to me. I was flying over the Mediterranean less than 10 minutes ago and now here I am, I'd like to land so I can figure out what happened." My heart is racing, stress being poorly kept under wraps by the fact that I still had to fly my aircraft.

"Excuse me Storm 1-1, you said Hornet? How'd you get that antique flying? In any case, Vancouver Spaceport has traditional runways available, we'll have emergency services meet you on the ground. I'll get you vectored in…" I worked closely with the controller as he set me up to land. I was still thinking at 1000 miles a minute though, why the hell would he call me an antique? I also didn't know the Canadians had a Spaceport, in Vancouver let alone anywhere! The sights as I broke through the cloud layer, though, didn't help alleviate any uneasy feelings. There were aircraft of many different types, almost looking like thin, aerodynamic pods zipping along in organized lines all across the city. I was taken aback by the sheer size and look of the buildings, too! They rose higher and appeared more futuristic than I'd ever seen, and while I'd never visited our neighbors to the north, I'm pretty damn sure from the pictures that they don't have anything like this dotting their skylines…

"Where the fuck am I?" I mutter to myself as I get set on final approach to the so-called 'spaceport'. As I touch down, I am surrounded by a multitude of what could only be described as flying cars boasting white and blue lights, and a logo reminiscent of the UN's under a V design that looked like something out of 'Star Trek'. Setting my parking brake and shutting down, I pop my canopy and begin climbing to the ground, a man in a dark blue and gold uniform of sorts approaching me. I take off my helmet, revealing my blonde, regulation hair as the man stops.

"Son, I'm Captain David Anderson of the Systems Alliance Navy. I'm going to need you to come with me back to Alliance headquarters, we have quite a few questions, as you might expect. And you are?"

"Lieutenant Cody Harris, United States Navy, sir. I know where I am, but I have to ask, what year is it?" I ask.

"Good to meet you, Lieutenant. We were shocked to see you in a 180-year-old fighter, that's for sure… welcome to 2181." He extended his hand, and on instinct I took it with a firm shake, but I couldn't stop one question from bouncing around in my head, what the fuck happened to me?

AN: I hope you all enjoyed chapter 1! I thought it would be a fun crossover to do a semi self-insert, with similar themes to Final Countdown, in a way, except there's no going back for Cody, at least not for a long time. The first few chapters will see our protagonist adapting to life in the 22nd century and the Mass Effect universe, and after that you'll have to stick with me to find out! Please fav and follow, that really helps to motivate me, and all reviews are appreciated! Positive and negative! We'll see you all back for chapter 2 soon.

P.S. not all the navy procedures and comms were exactly correct, and that was on purpose :)

Navy Terms List:

CAP - Combat Air Patrol, airborn guards in a way.

Bag - Fuel Tank

Sidearms - Sidewinders

Paraloft - Pilot gear locker room.

Anthros - Measurements to ensure you fit in the aircraft.

Plane Captain - Enlisted maintainer that oversees that specific aircraft's work.

"As Fragged" - "We're here exactly as we planned to be".

AWACS - Airborne warning and control system. Big radar in the sky.

'Soup' - Thick clouds/weather that is hard to see through.