A/N: Hi Y'all! This is a new series I'm working on that will span all three games, so strap in for the long haul. I thoroughly enjoy delving into the characters, both mine and the game's, so you'll get to know people in a new and interesting light. You will probably see some little traces of headcanon here and there, though major ones I'll try to point out. I hope you will enjoy this piece and please, read and review, I would really like to know if you liked this story or not, or any thoughts you'd like to share with me!

I want to throw many kudos and flowers at the feet of my beta readers-xforeverquotex, my paramour, Nova 42, and brownc0at. You guys are amazing and I appreciate your time and assistance with this piece.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, I'm only playing with their universe. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I do it for the love of the game, the world, and the characters; and because they stuck with me long after I turned the game off (and back on, and off, ad infinitum).

FWN: 02 Ill-Timed Wonder

i.

Captain David Anderson was not expecting to find his executive officer waiting for him on the docks. But when he approached the Normandy, he saw a sight that could only make him smile. The first time he'd met her she'd been perched much as she was now, legs pulled in tight sitting atop a few rows of crates. This time though she was studying the silhouette of the Normandy not hiding out from other Navy brats who took the name too literally. Except the scene before him was a little more odd, mixed with a heavy dose of ominous. One of her hands held open the pages of a book laying atop the crate, while the other busily twirled a familiar-looking knife. Her eyes, however, freely wandered the ship studying and admiring it with the attention of connoisseur. He knew the blade, it had been her grandfather's and she always carried it-Shepard never liked to be without it. She'd told him once that the old marine had told her it would keep her safe.

He smiled to himself as he approached; she looked well but tense, and he suspected some of that might be his fault. "Shepard!" he yelled from down the deck.

She looked over at him with surprise, then her lips curled into a warm smile that lit her eyes. "You have got to be kidding me!"

The movement was fluid and graceful, unexpected for someone with the reputation she had for destruction. She twisted off the crates landing almost noiselessly before gliding toward him. She grabbed his forearm and he pulled her into a tight, warm hug that bespoke the more than twenty years they'd known each other. "It's damn good to see you, Nyx," He looked down at her holding both her shoulders tightly. "I'm glad you didn't say no."

"Like anyone would say no to Hackett."

He looked down at her and grinned. "We both would, and you know it." He nodded at her gear. "What are you doing out here?"

It was her turn to grin as she shrugged. "They reassigned me, but I don't have clearance to get on the boat."

His distinctive laugh rumbled and echoed off the metal surfaces of the dock. "Goddamn red tape."

"Story of my life."

"Grab your gear. I'll give you the nickel tour before anyone else arrives."

Anderson had met Nyx's father during the First Contact War, and you never forget someone that's saved your life, especially more than once. When his old friend transferred ship-side to make sure his daughter always had someone there for her, David was a little bit envious. Not only of Taranis Shepard's family but the fact that the man was strong enough to walk away from everything he'd worked for just for the sake of his girl. Anderson had met Nyx by accident, noticed the eight-year-old hiding in the cargo bay and remembered his own childhood, being the only kid hanging out in cavernous hangars while his dad worked on planes. He'd done the same thing, hidden out on the tops of crates, scaffolds, any place with a good line of sight where he could go unnoticed and watch the goings on, watch over his father. Seeing the little blonde tucked up out of sight, he'd also been struck by the loneliness of it all and figured she could use someone to talk to.

So he'd surprised her and joined her for a few minutes. They talked about the book she'd been reading, something for her history class. And he was struck by the fact that she didn't seem lonely up there all by herself. In some ways he'd been in awe of her even then. But looking at the officer she'd become, he was even more so. Shepard had done things few expected of her; she'd accomplished more than some do in their entire careers and she wasn't even thirty yet. He also knew that she was about to set out after the one thing he'd been unable to accomplish in his career, which provided David the chance to guide her again, though he hated that this time she was wholly unaware of any of it.

When the airlock closed behind them she looked at him, keenly measuring him. "So tell me something I don't know. And let me qualify that by saying, I didn't even know you were on this bird. Is she yours?"

He shrugged noncommittally. As the other door opened, a very feminine electronic voice announced, "The commanding officer has come aboard."

"Guess so," Anderson replied grinning at her. Shepard shook her head as she followed him. "I'll give you the skinny. The Normandy is fast, quiet, and perfect for quick infiltrations and extractions."

He kept walking when she stopped, but when she didn't catch up he turned toward her. She was staring at him. "Then they're not… ?" She blinked a few times. "They aren't taking me out of the field?"

"No," he answered with a telling smile. "We're not taking you out of the field. We're just making you work a little harder for it." He noticed some of the tension seem to dissipate from her. "What did you think Hackett had suddenly gone stupid?"

She grimaced as she caught up with him. "Thought maybe I'd rattled one chain too many, or maybe just … the wrong one."

"Not yet. Just don't try mine," he cautioned as he led her to the crew deck to stow her gear.

The tour was over quickly and covered the essentials-head, bed, comms, and the bridge. Then Anderson left her to her own explorations as he attended to the duties of command.

ii.

Shepard had been glad Anderson had not ordered her to join him on the docks. The commander liked to claim she was mostly allergic to the press. She also didn't much like crowds, unless they were armed to the teeth and under her command.

Watching the scene on the docks reminded Nyx just how much had changed and how fast. Her comings and goings were never a matter of public record. Not that she imagined her being assigned to the Normandy was all that newsworthy; it was merely the idea that the maiden voyage of the vessel she was on was a press event. All her past experiences with journalists were pure failures, except for the ones where she went unknown and unnamed.

The revelation that she would not be completely non-operational had stilled some of the storm, but Shepard was still reeling. She wasn't sure what precisely was happening, and more importantly she didn't know why. Though she knew her fate was dictated to her, to an extent, she didn't expect she would completely come to terms with her reassignment anytime soon. But she knew she had to lock her uneasiness down and get the job done. It was always how she approached her career, sidestep her life, even herself, and embrace the work, focus on the mission.

No matter how sleek the ship or enticing the descriptions, this was not where she saw her life or her career headed. Telling a ground-pounding operator that she is being reassigned to a line position as the Executive Officer of a prototype bird was beyond any concept of anything Shepard had ever seen in her future. She was only reluctantly the CO of her old squad; command was not something she sought, though it seemed it sought her. But the captain had offered her the promise that she needed to maybe make it through a two-year assignment to the line-the SSV Normandy was designed to get people places fast and quiet and Shepard was just the kind of person that needed a ride like that most of the time.

The crew was trickling in by 0600 and, after having bumped into too many people that stared at her wide-eyed, she decided to find a low traffic area to skulk in and observe from, which was how she wound up in the cockpit. The scene on the gangway past the ship was familiar to her but more so from a different point of view. All her life she'd been part of the crowd on the other side of the dock, wishing one of her parents, usually her mom, safe journey and watching them leave. The commotion was a little different from her current vantage point: families, cameras, press, brass, all gathered to send the SSV Normandy off into the rolling black sea between the stars-entrusting this state-of-the-art vessel with the safety of their loved ones. Part of her was glad to miss the pageantry of it all; it was not an event Shepard saw herself playing part in.

Anderson finally returned to the boat, relieved by command of having to press any more flesh or give any more interviews. He opted to join his XO in the cockpit, though he stood in a more obvious location than Shepard had chosen. "Commander," he greeted, passing her a mug of coffee. "Any of those yours?"

She heard the airlock close then shook her head. "They're both cruising."

He nodded silently. "Thought there was a …"

She slowly turned her head and looked at him incredulously.

"What?" he shrugged.

She was still eyeing him in a way that made him feel a little like prey.

"Last I heard there was some admiral's boy, right?" he asked looking at her.

"No, sir. Suffice to say there hasn't been a … one of those since … well, let's just say long enough." Combat operational N7s and lovesick men don't mix well. She lifted the cup to her lips. "And as for the admiral's boy. That was precisely the problem." She looked back out the window and shifted away from the uncomfortable topic. "Parents are cruising. Friends are probably stomping dirt somewhere." Another small group of crew moved down the bridge from the airlock. "You?" She thought she knew the answer, but she asked anyway. He'd been divorced since before she enlisted for the same reasons she was single-trying to mix combat and commitment often seemed like trying to mix oil and water, sometimes you got a wonderful concoction out of it, but all too often the parts just separated and went sour.

"I did get a bottle of scotch from Admiral Hackett," he disclosed with a playful tone.

She thought about it for a moment before she said it. But she took the shot. "Hmm. Very nice. Never would have guessed, but you two do make a cute couple." She'd surprised him; he was choking on the coffee he'd managed to inhale rather than spit all over the helm. Shepard took his mug and slapped him on the back a few times. "You all right there, Captain?"

"Fine." He took his mug back when she held it out to him. "Goddamnit, Shepard. I'd almost forgotten."

"Glad I could remind you," she replied matter-of-factly.

He chuckled at her and shook his head. "What do you think of the Normandy?"

"She's probably the most beautiful ship I've ever seen. And that whole stealth aspect. Absolutely stellar. Every SpecOps team could use one."

"True, but I don't think that's in the budget."

"It's a crying shame. But I must say it should be interesting to be the one to kick the tires."

Anderson looked at her pointedly. "Do not scratch my ship," he ordered, gesticulating with his mug.

"Yes, Dad," she replied, holding up her hands in mock surrender.

They were both chuckling when the airlock opened again, and the sound of scampering footsteps caused the commander to peek around the corner in time to see two crewmen hurry up the walkway, dropping nervous glances behind them as the third party walked slowly into the ship. "Captain. Commander," the tall turian addressed with a discreet nod to each in turn.

Shepard straightened and moved to her commanding officer's side. The turian's assessing gaze was not something she was uncomfortable with; most humans she worked with and every turian she'd ever met had eyed her similarly. He was looking for a sign of weakness, waiting for her to flinch. And it wasn't going to happen, but she did return the inspection in kind.

"Glad you could make it," Captain Anderson said, shaking the alien's hand, choosing to ignore the silent confrontation he was party to. "Shepard. This is Nihlus Kryik, Council Spectre."

She knew who he was; his reputation loomed large, and she'd heard about him when she worked with the turian special forces years earlier. He'd risen out of their ranks. "Lieutenant Commander Nyx Shepard," she replied.

"I am aware. Good to finally make your acquaintance," he intoned. He betrayed nothing. Though Shepard had a few turians she would call friends, she was not adept at reading them in the slightest. Nihlus let go of her hand and turned to the CO. "Can we speak privately, Captain?" Anderson ushered the turian off the bridge.

Within minutes Shepard found herself joined in the cockpit by someone who actually needed to be there. "Excuse me, ma'am," greeted a lanky man less than a head taller than Shepard. As he slid past her carefully, his eyes skimmed her uniform, stopping on the telltale patch that tended to declare her identity for a few seconds. "Commander," he corrected as he straightened and saluted sharply.

She returned it. "Shepard," she advised with a questioning raise of her eyebrows.

He shook his head clear after a moment realizing what she was waiting for. "Ah, … Moreau, helmsman."

The commander nodded. Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau-his was one of the few personnel files she'd gotten through before people started arriving. He tentatively shook her hand when she offered it. "G'morning, Lieutenant."

After he slipped into his seat, he stared at the controls, traces of pure awe etched on his features and present in the delicate way he touched the panels. If she hadn't known better she'd have thought he was praying. Hell, maybe he is. This ship must be a pilot's version of heaven or maybe even God.

A few hours earlier she had realized precisely why the brass chose her for a position most wouldn't consider an operational N7 officer for. And it was all contained in a few sentences buried in the stack of briefings Anderson had forwarded her. "Prototype deep scout frigate… optimized for solo reconnaissance missions deep within unstable regions." The details of its stealth systems and drive core were relatively lost on her, except to assure her that wherever she was going the Normandy would get her there fast and unseen.

Shepard opted to slip into the co-pilot's seat and sip her coffee. Joker finally glanced over at her. "What are you doing?"

"Drinking coffee," she said, showing him the mug more clearly in case he missed it.

He nodded, but watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Don't touch that," he said quickly when she leaned toward the console and eyed one of the telemetry readings.

She wasn't a pilot by trade, but like all other N7s, she knew enough to get a bird through a relay or land one in an emergency or steal one, if the situation called for it. On this ship, she knew there were enough other people that could take the helm that her emergency flight training wouldn't come into play. She liked flying well enough, but it wasn't her calling. She was better on the ground and with a gun.

She tapped her temple. "Eyes only. I wasn't going to touch."

"Good," he muttered a little too loudly. It was her turn to shoot him a look. "What? I heard about the shuttle you tried to pilot back during some training exercise on Earth."

She laughed loudly at the recollection. It was bright and full of mirth. People within earshot on the bridge couldn't help but smile in response. "How the hell did you hear about that?"

"I have friends. They like to talk." He was smiling at his console. He'd taken a risk by mentioning it, and she didn't mind that he knew about one of her early failures.

"Man." She sighed overdramatically. "Crash one little shuttle into your CO's car and you never live it down."

"And the XO's and the Medical Officer's," Joker added quietly. "Oh"-he held up his finger-"and the Command Chief's."

"Damn, you've got good intel."

"What can I say, pilots are a chatty bunch," he replied with a wink.

"Are they now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Some of them can be."

She took his reply at face value, as well as the unspoken suggestion in it. "Well, hell. I really wanted to take this beauty for a spin," she replied with a slump in her shoulders.

"Over my dead body," Joker said seriously to his console.

Shepard hopped out of the chair she'd taken up and looked down at him with a dark mischievous smirk. "The pilot said to the hand-to-hand expert."

Joker tilted his head and looked her in the eye. "But see, you wouldn't kill me, Commander. Not after you see what I can make this beauty do."

Shepard laughed and patted the top of his chair, as he returned his attention to the panels. She hadn't gotten through all the personnel files, but she had read Moreau's, including the recommendation from the turian representative. It was a bold move, one she admired. The flight lieutenant knew he was the best man for the job and he wasn't about to let anyone tell him different. She'd never stolen an entire ship to prove she was the person you wanted handling a mission, but she could appreciate the gesture. He'd out flown all the guys they scrambled to bring him back in, then docked the ship and surrendered. It was a calculated risk that paid off in the end; he'd impressed the turians and several officers including Hackett and Anderson.

Joker had guts and skill-something that went a long way with Shepard. She couldn't help but like someone who would go to such great lengths to prove he was the best man for the job. It was a trait she could appreciate and one she'd demonstrated more than once. Plus Joker didn't seem to be intimidated by her, which she appreciated.

"Guess I'll leave you to it, Mr. Moreau."

iii.

Several of the Normandy's officers, on their way to the ship, were stopped by press officers and hand delivered to various reporters. They had all been briefed on what could and could not be said, but Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko was hoping to avoid it. He'd almost managed to get through the throng of people when a very chipper ensign grabbed his arm.

"There you are, Lieutenant. I thought I'd missed you," she chimed, dragging him back into the crowd.

I should be so lucky, he thought as he followed the brunette toward a small, smiling Asian woman. "Emily Wong, this is Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko."

The young woman shook his hand. "You're the head of the marine detail aboard the Normandy, correct?" she asked through narrowed eyes.

He could tell there was something buried beneath the fairly innocuous question. "Yes," he answered as the ensign peeled away and made a beeline for another officer trying to escape.

"So, have you worked with Commander Shepard before?"

"No, Miss Wong, I have not." He studied the reporter; her face betrayed her surprise, which explained why he'd never seen her on one of the networks, though her name was relatively familiar.

"Are you aware of her reputation for-?"

"Pardon me, Miss Wong. I do not know the Commander, and while I do know of her, it is likely that your information on her is better than mine. Do you have any questions about the Normandy I can answer?"

Wong smiled, and it made Kaidan feel slightly more uneasy. He didn't like reporters and he wasn't a social butterfly like Pressly, who seemed to be thoroughly in control of the angry little man who was hounding him for information.

"No. I think I've got everything I need." She tapped her omnitool closed and he assumed the recording had stopped. "Shepard's going to like you. Tell her I said hi."

Kaidan watched her move toward Pressly with that hungry look back in her eye. He glanced around and noticed the press officer seemed distracted enough to allow for another escape attempt. He slipped through the crowd and up the gangway, but was halted by the airlock. The chime of his omnitool extended the promise of distraction while he waited for the airlock to clear. A message from Joker flagged important flashed at him; he laughed to himself as he tapped at the interface, knowing the pilot's version of important rarely qualified as such.

Joker: Hey, man! You here yet?

KAlenko: No not quite. The press ninja grabbed me and fed me to a reporter.

Joker: Damn! Glad I skated past her when she was wrangling Adams.

Joker: Oh, I grabbed you a bunk in the darkest corner like you were saying earlier.

KAlenko: Appreciate it. Thanks.

Joker: Hey, no problem. Just met Shepard.

KAlenko: Really?

Joker: She's so not at all what I was expecting.

Kaidan leaned against the docking sleeve of the gangway. KAlenko: How so?

Joker: She actually has a sense of humor, though for a second I thought she was going to eat me alive.

KAlenko: That's because of your tendency to engage your mouth before your brain.

Joker: Yeah. Whatever.

Kaidan grabbed his bag and stepped into the airlock once it opened.

Joker: You never worked with her, right?

KAlenko: No. Why does everyone want to know that?

Joker: Dunno, but damn!

KAlenko: What?

Joker: She doesn't look like those pictures from the Blitz Nunez was flashing around last week. Hell, she doesn't look like Special Forces.

Joker: Oh! BTW, get your ass up here so we can get this flight check kicked out.

KAlenko: OMW. In the airlock now.

Joker: Hurry the hell up already.

As he stepped onto the ship, Joker was peeking back around his chair. "She might still be on the bridge. Tell me what you think when you get back up here. And in case you missed it … Hurry!"

Kaidan laughed and made his way below decks to drop his gear. As he crossed the crew deck and trotted up the stairs, he stretched his neck to relieve the bit of tension he felt building up there, attributing it to the short stint with the reporter. As much as he knew it didn't matter, he couldn't help be curious about Joker's observations about Shepard. The only one on the ship that could claim to have met her in person as far as he knew was Anderson, though Corporal Richard Jenkins, one of the marine detail, was a huge fan. But as for Alenko, he knew what most anyone else knew: the executive officer of the Normandy was a highly decorated N7 with almost as much combat experience as the captain. The lieutenant wasn't sure what he was expecting, but part of him figured on someone serious, dedicated, and possibly severe in temperament.

He glanced around the CIC, but the only females were some of the enlisted sailors he'd seen on the bridge before. Then the stark glint of white caught his eye; but for the sliver of undershirt peeking out of the black BDUs, he might have missed the figure entirely. The uniform served to help camouflage her in the shadowy corner of the CIC opposite the door he'd entered through. At least, he guessed it was Shepard because the few operational N7s he'd seen all wore black BDUs. Then he noticed the white lettering of the patch and knew his guess was right. She seemed oblivious, or maybe that's what she wanted people to think. Jenkins had mentioned one evening that N7s saw everything, but Alenko couldn't help but think that was part of the mystique about them.

"Shepard!" The captain's voice rang across the deck and Kaidan watched her straighten and close the book she'd been reading-he was surprised to see an actual book in her hands; they were not unheard of but they were rare. Within a few steps, she looked up and stopped cold as her eyes met his.

For Kaidan everything froze. Those eyes had haunted him for the last twelve hours, then she smiled slightly, not as telling as the one she'd flashed at him as she walked away the night before, but it was still warm and enticing. For a moment he forgot how to breathe as he gazed at her, thrilled by her smile and shocked to see her again. Then, as if realizing everything he had forgotten too, her eyes changed, mirroring the anxiety he began to feel about seeing her there-on the bridge of the Normandy. She shook her head and looked away; when freed from her intense gaze, Kaidan felt like he could breathe again, though not well due to the tightness in his chest. When she disappeared into the communications room, he turned and continued on his way to the helm in a bit of a fog.

He'd thought about it last night, even that morning-running into her again. But he never imagined it happening at all, certainly not on the ship. Why did it have to be here of all places? He'd almost had himself convinced he'd never see her again, had almost chalked the whole evening up to a missed opportunity. And that's precisely what it was, the rational side of his brain argued. Whatever happened last night it ended the moment you stepped on this ship, he tried to convince himself, but he wasn't sure it was working.

When he caught sight of the helm consoles he couldn't help the thought that rushed into his head. Oh, God! I'll be spending the next ten hours with Joker. If Shepard came to the cockpit during that time, Moreau would be sure to pick up on Alenko's unease. Kaidan took a deep breath and realized he'd just have to hope she would avoid the bridge. Or maybe he would get lucky and manage to be able to push it all into the background. He shook his head, knowing that probably wouldn't happen. Perhaps he could just go for focusing his attention elsewhere. In this instance, perhaps the consoles would be his friends and make it possible to not look like a stark raving schoolboy with a crush if she happened into that part of the ship.

Joker looked over at the staff lieutenant as Alenko slipped into the chair to the pilot's right. "Tell me she was still on the bridge."

"Uh huh." Yes, good short answers. Kaidan figured it might be best to respond to his associate's questioning the same way he had the reporter-succinct answers that held no promise of undisclosed information.

"Tell me the truth. Not what you were expecting, right?"

Alenko turned his attention to the checklist. "Nope." Kaidan was quickly realizing that the consoles might save him from more than just Shepard.

"Holy hell!" Joker was shaking his head as he tweaked a set of output calibrations. "I mean a guy I know told me I wouldn't believe my eyes. But I thought he meant she'd look like a female krogan. Not …"

The last two steps were loud enough to be heard and both men turned toward them. "While I have been compared to a krogan before, this is the first time it's been a female one. Have you ever actually seen a female krogan?" Shepard asked matter-of-factly with one eyebrow cocked slightly higher than the other as she eyed the pilot.

"Sorry about that, Commander," Joker responded, turning his attention back to the panel in front of him and slouching in his seat. "And no, ma'am, I haven't."

"Not a problem, Flight Lieutenant. Just might want to exercise a little more caution in the future. I've heard they can be quite sensitive about such things. Female krogan, that is," she suggested as her eyes moved to the officer still facing her.

Kaidan felt like a deer in headlights. The console had betrayed him.

She watched him for what felt like forever, though the rational side of his brain knew it was mere seconds. "Lieutenant Commander Nyx Shepard," she announced, offering him her hand.

He opted to try to bury his discomfort under protocol and hopped out of his chair before shaking her hand. For a moment he thought it was him, then with a glance down he realized the tingle tickling his palm was her-the barest hint of a faintly blue corona slicked intermittently around her hand. When she realized it, she pulled her hand back and clasped it behind her back as her entire body stiffened in response. "Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. Tasked with leading the marine detail, ma'am."

The flex of her jaw and the flash in her eyes told him more than he wanted to know. The idea of it was just as hard for her to take as him. Perhaps she was hoping that because he was up front with Joker that he'd be easier for her to avoid. But finding out she would be working with him seemed to set her off-kilter. It was something he hadn't imagined seeing. Shepard was described as this buttoned-down always-in-control officer. In that moment he was seeing something else, but he wasn't sure what yet.

"Good to meet you. Anderson speaks highly of you. I'll leave you gentlemen to it." She turned and then stopped. "Mr. Moreau, I need an estimated time to completion on those checks."

"No more than seventy-five minutes, ma'am. I'll see if I can make it less," Joker told his console.

"I'll inform the Captain."

Kaidan looked over at his friend, whose eyes widened with the unspoken question that was in both their minds. What the hell just happened? He could tell by the look on Joker's face that both men were expecting to wind up on the business end of an ass chewing after the krogan remark, but the commander didn't balk. Then there was the introduction. He wondered if that had happened when she sat next to him at the bar the previous night if he'd be quite in the predicament he was currently. He knew the answer-if either of them had even declared rank, he knew he'd balk. And figured she would have probably walked away before her drink arrived. Kaidan shook his head and returned to the task at hand. Combat distraction with distraction-he knew it would only work for so long, but he hoped by the time it stopped working he'd find a way around it, find a way out.

iv.

Shepard was glad Anderson had revealed all the little secrets of the ship in his nickel tour. After the introduction that came way too late, she was certain that her reassignment just became way too long. The gym was a tucked away little area on the cargo deck and she needed a place to hide. When she passed through the hatch she pulled off her BDU blouse and made a beeline for the treadmill. At that moment politeness was not her concern. Besides, she had the room to herself, so who would complain about her taste in music? She turned on something loud with a pounding bass line and tweaked the machine's settings.

The music drowned the sound of her voice as she talked to herself. "What the hell were you thinking, Nyx? You knew he was military before you opened your damn mouth. Then he gets all chivalrous and you go soft in the head."

She gritted her teeth and quickened her pace in an effort to push past the thought or maybe outrun it. Shepard lost herself in the combination of the music and the sound of her breathing for several minutes before her mind caught back up with her.

"And how the hell did you wind up flirting with one of the handful of marines on the entire station who is completely off limits?"

Nyx didn't flirt. The rare times she went out it was usually with friends or crew. She hadn't been on a date in longer than she wanted to admit. And last night she'd almost done something colossally stupid and the only things that had stopped her were the time and a mugger.

Slowing her pace, Shepard considered her options. Command would not transfer her out. She doubted he'd request a transfer. She stopped for a moment, looked up at the ceiling, and contemplated yelling profanities at the bulkhead. The loud music might go ignored, though not necessarily unnoticed, but her yelling a vibrant string of random expletives might raise a few questions, at least about her sanity if nothing else.

Shepard sprang off the treadmill and glanced over at the reflective wall opposite her. "What are you thinking? Nothing happened. So you had a few drinks with a squad mate. Nothing you haven't done a million times before."

She stared at herself. That statement was only partly true and she knew it. Usually when she drank with her fellow soldiers she wasn't completely aware of her pulse, nor did she study them quite as thoroughly as she had the lieutenant.

"Damnit."

Her hands rested on her hips as she paced in a short line along a seam in the deck. "Nothing happened." Trying to convince herself, she whispered it with each step.

"And nothing will," she added, looking up at herself again. The glare was one she usually saved for others who needed convincing, but part of her hoped it might work as well on herself as she repeated it in her most commanding tone. "And nothing will."

Her blouse was in her hand as she stalked out of the gym, after taking a moment to blank her features. No one else needed to know that the executive officer was irritated with herself, and they most certainly didn't need to know she was struggling against an irrational interest in a man on that boat.

After her stint in the gym and an invigorating shower, Shepard found a nice quiet spot where she knew she'd go relatively unnoticed. There were only a few female officers aboard the Normandy, which left the female Officers' Quarters relatively barren. But at least the commander could finish up the briefings Anderson had forwarded in relative peace.

Trudging through tech write ups on the ship, duty rosters, and the detailed description of her own position on the vessel made her eyes burn. But she knew she'd have to get through it all eventually so she pushed on to the personnel files. Most of them were cursory: name, rank, specialty, service history, positive and negative write ups of any note, and commendations. The service record books of the ship's officers mirrored those of the enlisted men. Anderson had compiled the records of the marine detail in one file and these were more thorough, at least as far as Shepard's clearance would allow.

Once she got through them, Nyx leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers behind her neck. At least Anderson remembered, she thought as she considered the people he'd pulled for the Normandy's detail: Alenko, Chief McMillan, and Corporals Crosby, Jenkins, and Niveda. Two of everything, redundancy. Well, except for another N7, but that was to be expected. The ship already had two; three would be unheard of for one command. And there simply weren't enough soldiers bearing that designation to allow for it.

Shepard had to admit the Normandy's squad might be relatively green, but they were a well-rounded group. All of them had decent marksmanship scores, two boasting sniper tabs. Three were trained as combat engineers. Then there were the two biotics, both officers. Reading Alenko's jacket only confirmed that Shepard would have to maintain control; Anderson was right, there was a lot of potential there. The recommendations and commendations were striking and bespoke his command potential as well as his combat experience.

Her fingers tapped absently on the table as she considered her options. She needed to see these people in action, but this was a shakedown cruise. That was not likely to happen. So she'd have to do the next best thing. Push them, stress them, and test their limits, she decided as she stood and crossed the room.