Summary: The Normandy's shakedown takes a turn for the unexpected, at least for Shepard and the crew, until she learns that that she was not on the list of those with need to know about the purpose and mission of the Normandy. When the mission takes a surprising turn, she, Alenko, and Jenkins must prepare quickly for a situation they know little about.

A/N: 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!

Acknowledgements: I want to throw many kudos and flowers at the feet of my beta readers-xforeverquotex and my paramour. 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: 04 The Shakedown

i.

The Normandy's turian guest had most people's hackles up. He was dogged and deliberate, and that was putting it delicately. Most of the time he reminded Commander Shepard a lot of Captain Braxus, the turian team leader she'd served under during a training exchange with a turian SpecOps unit. Then there were other times when Nihlus reminded her of the comparatively affable Hierarchy liaison she considered her friend, Marric Toran. The Spectre didn't seem uncomfortable around the human crew, though Shepard was certain that he was more than aware of the discomfort they felt in his presence.

The concern over the turian's presence on the ship surprised Shepard a little. She knew that for most many there was no love lost between turians and humans since the First Contact War. There were some on both sides that still distrusted one another and a lot of bad blood existed between the militaries of both species. Despite multiple attempts by factions in the Alliance and the Hierarchy to alleviate some of the distrust and incorrect assumption, animosity still existed. The training exercises and exchanges that had been happening for years were slowly changing the experiences and opinions of some soldiers, but not all, older soldiers who had actually served during the three-month long the Relay 314 Incident, as the turians called it, still held tight to old opinions and grudges.

Adding to the effect he had on the crew was myth and legend that seemed to surround Council Spectres. For humans Spectre operatives were relatively unknown, most humans knew only what was portrayed in the popular media. One common point of knowledge humanity had learned about this group, was something most of the galaxy had known for centuries-Spectres were agents with relatively free reign to maintain galactic stability. But humanity's experience with these agents was limited to the highly romanticized characterizations from fiction and media. And those representations seemed to latch onto the caveat which qualified their authority: by any means necessary. The Council gave their operatives complete operational discretion, according to all the tales, and many species saw them as above and beyond the law.

The crew's reactions to Nihlus Kryik ranged across a vast spectrum, from the xenophobic to the romantic. Pressly was concerned about the fact he was turian, a sentiment Shepard was certain that others might share. After the First Contact War, a lot of humans still held concerns about turians, but in her own experience those concerns and opinions went both ways and like most opinions of that kind were based on a lack of experience or information. On the other side of the coin, Jenkins was enamored with the idea of Nihlus-his jurisdiction and prowess as a Spectre. Shepard wasn't sure which one concerned her more, neither seemed particularly productive.

Nihlus himself just silently skulked around the decks usually observing the activity aboard the ship silently. Shepard hadn't developed an opinion about the alien, but then typically she based her perceptions on people based on their performance. Since she hadn't seen him in action, there wasn't much to go on. What she had seen of him made him seem a decent sort, if not a little detached. But one trait that was all his own was that Nihlus Kyrik seemed to be everywhere, except when someone was looking for him. She'd caught sight of him one afternoon when she was running hand-to-hand drills with Corporal Niveda, one of the soldiers in her detail. He'd been hovering in Engineering when Shepard stopped in to talk to Adams regarding a report about an inconsistency in shield outputs. When she and Alenko had their little showdown, he'd skulked near the door with the captain. Every time she turned around she ran into him it seemed, even one morning when he'd been helpful enough to fill her empty coffee mug for the first time that day.

"Appreciated, sir."

"You're welcome, Commander," he'd replied with the same calculating look he always wore.

She'd walked away from the encounter shaking her head, wondering how the hell to get a read on the guy; turians certainly didn't have the same tells as humans, though there were some vocal inflections that seemed to cross species well enough. Hell, she'd known Marric for years before she knew for certain when he was smiling and that was only because she could hear it in his voice. But that wasn't usually the case with Kryik.

ii.

It irritated the helmsman when people loomed. He liked having the helm to himself most of the time. He put up with the techs and Pressly's occasional appearance. The only person qualified for the position that continued to actually co-pilot during Joker's extended shifts at the helm, was Alenko, whom Moreau had known for years. The others in the crew that held that designator annoyed him, so he'd convinced them he was grouchy and cantankerous then offered them an out. Joker was not a people person in the largest sense, but he was personable enough when he wanted or had to be. But people hovering in his space was something he didn't abide. Looming drove him toward the edge or sanity and made him testy. He especially did not care for Nihlus' brand of looming.

The Spectre would just stand there all mysterious and judgey-arms crossed, leaning back just so, to give that air of turian superiority while retaining the stick up his ass. I could out fly you and your avian buddies any day, he found himself thinking more than once. As the turian stood there, silently observing again, Moreau tried to distract himself. Why the hell are you standing up here being all menacing? Aren't there some other crewmen you can harass? No one else hassles me up here, he ranted silently.

Anderson loomed from time to time, but he was mainly trying to go unnoticed for a few minutes on a ship too small to really get good lost on. Alenko never loomed, that would be unproductive-he really needs to loosen up a little. Surprisingly, Moreau didn't mind when Shepard loomed, though half the time he wasn't aware of it until he said something stupid. But then what she did, really wouldn't qualify as looming; she just sort of appeared and was there, except when she wasn't. Wonder how many times she's been there and gone without me knowing at all? The thought did not comfort him in the least. Someone really needs to get the XO some damn footsteps.

Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau liked Shepard better than most of the line officers he'd met in his career, but part of that he knew was precisely because she wasn't really a line officer. Shepard came to the line after a long career as just another grunt, one of the guys. She was a worker bee, like him, but had the stripes and the clout that made people look at her differently, as more.

When he found out she was the Executive Officer of the Normandy, he'd made a few calls to people he had worked with, trained with, or grown up with. The thing that shocked him most was they were all willing to talk, but most striking was that no one he talked to knew her personally. They'd seen her, heard lower deck rumors, maybe even piloted her teams to and from whatever planet or moon they were working on at the time. Even the few SpecOps guys he knew didn't really know her.

After a few weeks around her he realized why. Anyone who actually knew Shepard wouldn't be so quick to trade stock in rumors or gossip about her. The commander didn't so much command respect and loyalty, she earned them. She didn't see herself as deserving anything that she didn't work for. It didn't take long for Joker to warm up to her, and Shepard had made that pretty easy. Early on he'd had a few stupid slips, but she never dressed him down for it. Mostly she just joined in, easily laughing at herself and the impressions people had of her. He had even noticed that on occasion she would walk a little louder so that he would know she was coming, though that was rare.

When his chair bucked he looked up, and she was standing next to him proffering a cup of coffee. He took it without realizing that his surprise was registered on his face.

"That little purple-haired yeoman, Michaels, I think. I really need to learn her name. … Anyway she swears you're a cream and sugar guy. Hope she's right," Shepard said as she slipped into the empty co-pilot's seat. "I'm commandeering this station because I need more console space."

"Uh… okay." He tried the coffee and tried not to smile. Goddamn, she even got that right. "Why are you doing that up here?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "Why not?"

Moreau didn't buy it. "I mean the CIC has some nice console space, plus that massive display."

Shepard looked over at him and blinked a few times. "I creep them out."

He choked slightly as he inhaled some of his coffee. "Who?"

"The bridge crew." She looked back over her shoulder eying them. "They look at me like they think I'll eat them. Or gut them on the galaxy map."

"Yeah. But I'm sure it would take some major screw up to push you that far."

Another shrug. "As long as they don't mess with the coffee or my pistols they'll be fine," she said lightly as she pulled up a few reports on the console.

"Whatever. You're not as scary as you think you are."

The chuckle was light. "I'm not scary at all. I'm all sweetness and light," she intoned.

Joker looked at her incredulously. "And full of shit."

Her laugh was bright and usually betrayed her true nature. Joker liked hearing her laugh, and no one who heard the sound could resist at least smiling in response. He left her to her reports, as requirements of his own position cropped up. And the two just sat there enjoying the best view on the Normandy as they ground through sleep-inducing reports and read outs until the coffee ran out.

"You, Commander, are in my chair," Alenko noted when he reached the cockpit.

"Yes, I am Staff Lieutenant. Joker was scared of being up her all alone. He has some irrational fear that one of the marine detail is going to flay the flesh of his bones and turn him into stock."

"Have you seen some of the grub that comes out of the mess. I wouldn't put it past them," Joker agreed as she slipped out of the chair.

She stood behind his chair as Alenko took up the spot she'd relinquished. With a glance at his friend Joker noticed the unfocused stare and slight frown, after Alenko had himself settled the pilot noticed the other man rub his right hand over the top of his thigh too often.

"I'll leave you gentlemen to it, then. Pressly's probably looking for me, or will be soon," she stated as she walked up the deck silently.

"What's with you?" Joker muttered narrowing his eyes on the lieutenant.

"What?" Kaidan replied as if the pilot had interrupted his train of thought. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"Yeah. I got that." Jeff stared at him for a few moments before Alenko looked away, seemingly calmer since Shepard had left. Since Shepard left. Holy hell. "She still throws you off?"

The quick turn of Alenko's head and the sharpness of his glare was all the answer Moreau needed.

"Shit. She does, doesn't she?" Joker looked back at his console. "You know if she didn't lay you out when you punched her, she's not going to. You can stop worrying about it."

"It's not that. It's … not anything," the staff lieutenant said weakly. "Just let it go."

Joker glanced at him without turning his face from the console. "Whatever you say, man." Something had his friend riled, but Joker knew Kaidan. The biotic never just put anything out there. Hell, sometimes even if he wanted you to know something, you had to pry it out of the man.

Kaidan was a good officer, but Joker always thought he was too hard on himself. Pushing yourself is one thing, even Jeff was guilty of that. But Alenko didn't just push, he rode himself harder than any drill instructor might. Joker could also tell when it was happening some of the time, and this was one of those times-Alenko wasn't seeing the consoles in front of him at the moment, his mind was somewhere else. Probably lecturing himself about some perceived misstep or infraction that no one else could ever see or recognize.

"Hey! Have you got those new calibrations for the refractors?" Joker felt a little bad, but he knew the distraction would pull Kaidan out of whatever little self-reflection he was in.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I finished them this morning," the biotic replied quickly pulling them up and transferring the file over to the pilot for review.

As they discussed the document, Jeff knew the distraction had worked but there was no telling if it was temporary or not. Once he got his friend's mind on something else, Joker let his mind wander back to what seemed the impetus for Kaidan's disconnection in the first place. By his own admission, the lieutenant worked well with Shepard, respected her. Hell, he'd seen the security footage from the sparring match, Alenko had read her better in that fight than any of the detail had in hand to hand. She had controlled the entire thing, up until the punch, but the lieutenant had held his own and kept up with her mostly. Additionally, the commander seemed to appreciate Alenko's efforts and held a high opinion of the staff lieutenant. Why does she still throw him off?

iii.

One afternoon, she'd spent two hours watching over her crew's PT just because there was nothing else pressing. Alenko was taking a turn as head torture master, while Shepard leaned against the Mako sipping her second cup of coffee. He pushed the team through a grueling agility training exercise, when the shadow drew her gaze.

"Nihlus," she said not needing to look to confirm the identity.

"Shepard," he greeted as he took up a position beside her, though he did not lean. "Your unit has surprising cohesion for one with no field experience together. You seem quite skilled at uniting people and encouraging unit coordination."

"Thank you," she replied. "I'm sure my methods are soft compared to yours."

"Incredibly likely. But they still seem adequately successful."

She knew it to be a compliment and opted to ignore both the comment which could be perceived as a slight and the insinuation that human training methods were lacking. She knew first hand they weren't terribly different from turian physical training regimens. The commander glanced over again and he was looking at her. He was standing, practically at attention, or it would have been attention if he was a human. That might just be how all turians stand, she thought, remembering her time with Braxus' unit.

"How much experience have you had with other species?" he asked still studying her.

She stood and faced him, craning her neck to look him in the eyes he had a little over a foot-and-a-half on her in height. "Enough. I know where to aim for maximum results," she replied coolly, resisting the urge to tap her temple for emphasis, though that wasn't the optimal site for taking down a krogan. "I've spent time with a turian unit, worked with the asari, and with salarian operations once. My training with them all was quite enlightening."

He laughed, it was a creepier and a more disconcerting sound than she'd expected. "Any hand-to-hand contact with Braxus's team?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him and how well informed he was. "The brass wouldn't allow it," she disclosed, sidestepping the question. He narrowed his eyes at her and she smiled slightly. Already knew the answer to that one I see. "I've done a few melee take downs, but I know the limits of my skill. I try to keep them at more than arm's length if I can. I don't think I'll be throwing punches with any krogan or turians, by choice."

He nodded, and set his claws against his chin for a moment. "I wouldn't bet on you against a krogan. But I think you could hold your own against a turian."

Her breath hitched in her throat. Did he just challenge me? Surely not.

He was nodding at her.

Son of bitch, he did. "What gives you that impression?" she asked, swallowing her surprise.

"In watching your team's training, I've assessed your abilities. You are very fluid. Stronger than I expected, which paired with your speed and flexibility could prove lethal. You adhere to your own style while reading and adapting to your opponent. Yet I find that you are a little too reliant on brute force for a biotic of your skill and power. Your demonstration with the lieutenant showed that you are quite versatile in that arena, but from what I've read you don't rely on your biotics as much as one of your skill normally might, and probably should."

Shepard was surprised to hear that comment from a turian. In her experience they were a little conservative with biotics, even more so than humans. In fact, turians tended to corral their biotics in small units, keeping them separate from one another as well as from the other troops. Unintentionally, she'd betrayed a hint of surprise at the mention that he'd been observing the training of the marine detail; she'd noticed his observation a few times, but obviously not all of it.

"It is that reliance on martial prowess that will keep your opponent on their toes." He clasped his hands loosely in front of him. "In that way you are like a volus or a salarian, most would not expect one of your size and build to handle themselves quite so expertly in a physical confrontation. You have surprising range. Marksman. Biotic with striking power and versatility, though you do not depend on it. Extensive melee training. And your knife skills are quite impressive, from what I've read and heard. Very wise move—diversifying, not depending on any one ability."

"The consideration is appreciated," she said carefully. "But I'll be honest the idea of hand-to-hand combat, or even knife combat, with a turian is not a comforting thought."

Nihlus nodded. "It really is a matter of knowing where to strike and making adjustments for your opponent's increased reach. But you seem to have no problem accommodating for your…" His eyes moved up and down her frame once before decided how to word it. "Build."

Shepard chuckled at the care and precision he had taken in an effort not to offend her.

"You held your own against your male counterparts here in exercises."

She stared at him with rapt attention, ignoring the comment on her height because it wasn't meant merely a neutral observation.

"With an unarmored target, you will want to strike the side of the mid-torso." He gestured to the side of his torso where it seemed to slim toward his thin waist. She nodded involuntarily as she watched the hand's movement carefully. "In armor, however, your striking points are much more limited. In that respect, you would strike just as you would a human."

"Go for the jugular," she muttered, thinking out loud.

"Well that region, yes." He lifted his head to the side and she noticed a long thin scar that ran under his left mandible. His finger moved past it. "Softest point is here-for a knife strike but you have very little leeway, about a half-an-inch, either way, and you can still get the job done. Otherwise you'll just hit bone, very sturdy bone." Then his hand moved a down, toward the outside of his neck, and a few inches below his mandible. "But a quick strike here can stun. It won't give you much time, just a few seconds at most to try and gain your advantage."

"Sometimes a few seconds is all you need," she responded rather more menacingly than she intended.

"Precisely, Commander." The timbre of his voice matched hers ominously.

She couldn't help the wicked smirk she felt play across her lips before she realized she was on her tiptoes still staring at the turian's jaw studying the obvious skin-like texture of his neck. Turian skin was thicker than that of humans but it was only found on the 'softer' parts of the body. Their plates weren't like those of krogan which were thick and protective. Turian plates were just like thicker calloused patches of leathery skin, they protected from the atmosphere of their homeworld, but not much else. Regardless, Shepard had learned enough to know that with this avian-like species preparation and distance were just as key as with krogans. One advantage in fighting a turian over a krogan, turians tended not to charge their enemies in random and unpredictable bouts of rage. But if you were smart and careful you could out think a turian, or get him to out think himself.

"Bare-handed, you likely would not kill a turian. If you draw your blade"-he glanced at her boot-"be sure to put more behind the thrust. As with most other species, you'll want to stab not slice."

"Good to know," she said then looked up at him curiously. "What's with the turian anatomy lesson?"

"Spectre. Commander. Captain Anderson needs to see you two in his quarters, a-sap," the pilot's voice rang through the cargo area.

She grimaced wanting to continue her conversation with the Spectre. "On my way," they replied in unison.

She looked at him with a quick nod, "Appreciate the lesson."

"We can talk krogan another day," he promised with a light playfulness in his tone, or at least that was how she heard it, as they crossed to the elevator at a jog.

Shepard nodded. "That's a lesson I'd definitely hate to miss. Got my bell rung by one a few years back. Learned to keep my distance from them."

"Smart choice. That's my preference as well."

The commander grinned.

Much to Shepard's displeasure the lesson on krogan anatomy would have to wait. As they exited onto the crew deck, they ran into Anderson who gave her a quick look when the pair stepped off the elevator together. He had been rushing down the stairs from the CIC, and tossed a datapad to her.

"Read fast," he told her as he and Nihlus headed into his quarters.

They hadn't had time for a ground drop since they left Arcturus, but she had assumed that might come after the ship had put in some flight time. After all, they'd just barely driven the Normandy off the lot; they were still ironing out some of the kinks. Shepard stalked over to the area of the ship she had pretty much claimed as her unofficial office, and hideout. The observation deck was one of the quietest places on the ship and almost no one bothered her there. Almost. A few people had learned that when she wasn't on deck or in the gym, they could find her in what a lot of the crew termed the Obs.

The file was the kind she hated-just the bare minimum of information. Destination: Eden Prime. Mission: Priority Recovery. There was a short section on the planet and its settlements. But there was almost no information she would need to form an adequate plan, or any type of plan. No mention of possible resistance, no mention of friendly military assets or their place in her assignment. Even the actuation target location was missing, as was any description or hint of what they were after. For all she knew this was a scavenger hunt for a micro-chipped pyjak. The lack of information in the briefing just frustrated her.

She had laid down the datapad and was about to open her omnitool to do a little research of her own when a chime preceded the voice that lit it up. "Commander, we're about to hit the relay," Joker stated.

"Thank you Lieutenant." She'd previously dropped a quick message to Moreau asking him to let her know when they were headed out.

She closed out the datapad with the little bit of information she'd been given and hurried up to the bridge. The turian Spectre had beat her there and was watching the approach, standing behind the pilot as stoically as ever. Shepard nodded at him slightly as she stopped at his side. She just stared out at the deep, the relay glowing in the distance as if beckoning them to the promise of something new, something undiscovered, something beyond what they currently knew, or at least that was how Shepard viewed jumps, still. She knew her notions about space tended toward the romantic, but even after years of jumps and spending her entire life in space, she was still drawn to it all-soothed by the stars, lulled by the faint vibrations of the engines, and excited by the possibilities and the dangers inherent in any relay jump.

Joker's voice filled the ship as he detailed the event for the crew-the first jumps were always nerve wracking on a new ship. The feeling still got to her-the lurch in her gut, a sudden rush followed by another flip of the stomach before everything righted again. It was less noticeable when one was standing still, which was why the jumps were always announced. When you were moving the effect was profound, light years in a step. She'd seen people pass out from the difference in the sensation. Living and working on a ship one learned quickly if you are among the crewmen that you need to stand still. Shepard was a little odd. She liked the difference in the sensation between standing and moving: the twinge of lightheadedness, the blur or flash in your field of vision, and the adrenaline rush that always seemed to accompany it for her.

After the jump, Joker detailed the results for the ship's log, and Nihlus acknowledged his successful performance. Shepard nodded at the turian again as he turned and walked aft. The pilot was not impressed. The commander just stood back and listened as the two lieutenants discussed the Spectre, his careful praise, and the pilot's speculations about his presence. In the few weeks since they left port, both seemed to have adjusted to the XO, mostly, as had most of the ship.

Anderson had told her that she'd fit in rather easily and that the crew would warm up to her. Initially, she'd felt a little like a circus freak; crewmen staring at her, seeing her as an 'outsider'rather than as one of them. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a part of her that was fairly certain that some of the shift was due to the fact that the staff lieutenant had gotten the drop on her. It made the crew realize she was human-even the pilot and her squad mate.

"Having a Spectre on board is trouble. Call me paranoid," Joker opined.

"You're paranoid," Alenko replied.

The commander couldn't help but chuckle at the lieutenants. Joker was being overly suspicious, but Shepard agreed with him on some level. There was no way that this ship, with a Spectre aboard was just cruising to Eden Prime to check out the sights. Her mission brief had been a joke. Ground-side reconnaissance on a well-established colony with priority on removal of some undisclosed object. That was not an assignment the brass would send her on typically. Unless said object was actually an asset in some sort of danger, but even then the language in the briefing would have delineated the target as human. She knew it how it sounded. Even in her own head it sounded egotistical. But it was still the truth.

In a conversation after they put out, Navigator Pressly had confided that he felt something was a bit askew. "You don't send soldiers like that on do-nothing missions," he'd said about Captain Anderson. She knew he was right, of course, but Shepard fell into the same category. Command didn't send her anywhere just to take a look around and pick up some politician's new tea set.

There was something more going on. Shepard had been around the block. She knew her job and there was something off, she could feel it in her marrow. What got to her more than that knowledge was the fact that she knew her CO was holding out on her; her friend was letting her twist in the wind. But deep down Shepard knew it wasn't by choice. Need-to-know can be a bitch, and if Anderson hadn't brought her into the fold yet then it meant she was still outside that line by the orders of someone higher up the food chain.

"Tell Shepard to meet me in the Comms," Anderson barked at the pilot.

"You get that, Commander?" Joker asked merely out of protocol. They both knew she'd heard it.

"Yeah, I got it. Try to keep his paranoia in check," she suggested to Alenko, gesturing at the pilot.

"I think that might be a lost cause, Commander," the biotic replied, grinning at his friend who was eying him.

"True, but give it a go."

"I'll see what I can do about it, Shepard."

Strutting up the bridge, Shepard couldn't help but hope that they were close enough to the objective that she could finally get a full briefing.

iv.

Nihlus Kryik aimed for intimidating and rarely wavered from it. When the commander stepped into the Communications Room, he was standing before the vid screen eyeing an image of a fairly idyllic-looking planet. The rolling green hills suggested a peaceful and serene locale, but seeing the outline of the stoic turian on the image inspired a pause. He turned slightly at the waist, glancing over his shoulder at her. How am I not surprised?

"Ah. Commander Shepard, I was hoping you would arrive first. It will give us a chance to talk," Nihlus told the image.

Their conversation began like most of the one's she'd had with the turian, a seemingly random question that was meant to lead to a specific place. When he turned and faced her, feet shoulders' width apart and hands clasped behind his back, which was ramrod straight, Shepard mirrored his stance. The scrutinizing gaze was back and his bright eyes moved over her in the same calculating way they had the first time they'd met. This too she copied, again. According to her friend Marric Toran, it was the correct response to this type of confrontation. Even if she hadn't known that for certain, her response would have been the same.

Despite moments of cordiality with the Spectre, Shepard wouldn't even really call him an acquaintance, though she thought the title Spectre apt, since he tended to haunt the ship and her-materializing at will, spooking people, then fading back into the shadows.

"About?" she asked finally.

"Eden Prime. What can you tell me about it?"

Shepard felt lucky that Jenkins talked a lot, when he was nervous, or bored, or awake. She knew more about the planet because of it, since the briefing had been blank and her own research cut short. Besides what the corporal divulged, she knew the bare minimum she needed to get through her galactic geography class in school. The garden world was one of the earliest human colonies, peaceful, serene. She'd never been there or been sent there before now.

"It's kind of a symbol for your people, isn't it? Proof that humanity can establish colonies across the galaxy, but also protect them. But how safe is it really?"

Adept at reading between the lines, Shepard's eyes narrowed. She knew it wasn't a threat, nor was the statement innocuous. And it wasn't about Eden Prime. This was about something larger and that realization made Shepard consider her reply carefully. She finally opted for a silent stare. He didn't really want or need an answer, she knew.

"You're people are still newcomers Shepard. The galaxy can be a very dangerous place. Is the Alliance truly ready for this?

And here it is, Shepard thought, the more that had Joker paranoid and Pressly on edge. She wasn't sure precisely what it was, but the revelation was momentarily interrupted by the captain's arrival. She'd had been given the previous few weeks to acclimate to the new assignment. The Normandy had been dashing about checking and triple checking all the systems, which she could feel were about to be put to a real test finally.

Nihlus' approach from the moment she walked in the room had set Shepard in a defensive position, prepared her for some substantial revelation. But there was nothing she could have done to prepare for what came next.

The statements seemed to swirl into a choking mist that clogged her brain. "Time to tell her what's really going on." "More than a simple shakedown run." "Comes down from the top." "This is big." "Beyond mere human interests." "Humans don't have the best reputation." "Not the only reason I'm here." "Wants to see you in action." "Evaluate you." "Accept a human into their ranks." "I put your name forward as a candidate for the Spectres." "Need to see your skills for myself."

The revelations about the mission she had expected, not the content, but the fact that information would be forthcoming. What totally caught her off guard was the reason for Kryik's presence. This news cast the reassignment in a whole new light, but she still felt like she had been charged by a krogan at first; her chest tightened and her nerves tingled almost to the point that they were burning. She kept her hands tightly clasped behind her back, tensing the muscles in her arms trying to exercise as much control as she could muster, despite it she still struggled against the familiar tingling sensation in her fingertips. The commander was certain that her surprise was obvious by the candor of her questions. He responded to her frankness with more of the same.

"It's rare to find individuals with the skills we seek. I don't care that you're human, Shepard. I only care that you can do the job," Nihlus replied to her question about his recommendation of a human. He loomed over her for a moment. "I've been watching you and your work for quite some time."

Anderson went farther, assuring her that this course was something the Alliance supported fully. Shepard knew why he said it. The captain had probably overstepped because his statements made clear that she was being groomed, which was both flattering, but not at the same time. Being given orders and being reassigned and being sent on missions was one thing. Being told your entire career was becoming some type of political endeavor was wholly another. She felt like a human sacrifice in some ways, a specimen being offered up to the Council for the promise of tenuous future blessings from the alien gods in control of the galactic community.

Shepard had already gone through this with the Alliance after the Blitz; some of the parliament and the Alliance brass had wanted a poster girl, a hero they could plaster everywhere and point to as a symbol of humanity's strength and resolve. She'd shrank back from that and dashed their hopes in the one press interview they'd gotten her to agree to. Now it looked like the same thing was about to happen. The Alliance needed something and she fit the bill, but this wasn't like being sent to some pirate moon and clearing out a threat. To Shepard this was asking her to step outside of everything she knew, this felt like being asked to walk away from everything she was.

Anderson seemed to see it. "Hackett put your name up. I backed it. As did Zahakis." Shepard's eyes shot to his at the mention of the Commandant of the N-School, who had been her training officer. "Hell, no one who had any input expressed any doubt. And the Alliance needs this."

Her mind raced, but there didn't seem to be anything coherent in any of the thoughts. The commander had never considered this possibility; she didn't even know the job well enough to know if she wanted it. But in that brief moment it seemed like it was enough that the people she trusted wanted this for her, that the Alliance needed her to take this step. So she agreed, like they all knew she would. Because when push came to shove, Shepard was a dedicated soldier and one thing people always counted on from her was that she would do what needed to be done.

Joker's voice was a welcome reprieve from her thoughts and the weight that had been placed on her. "Transmission from Eden Prime. Captain, you need to see this."

The video served to push everything else to the back of her mind. In that moment there was no recommendation, there was no evaluation, and all the parts of her life listing off course disappeared. Shepard's focus was keenly turned to the attack, that ship hovering frozen on the screen, and getting the artifact out of the middle of whatever was happening on Eden Prime.

"Tell Alenko and Jenkins to suit up, Commander. You're going in," Anderson ordered still staring at the image of the strange vessel on the monitor.

"On it, Captain. See you down there, Nihlus," she said as she darted out of the room.

v.

Dr. Chakwas reminded Corporal Richard Jenkins of his grandmother, and not in the good way. She continued to lecture him about his romantic view of the situation on the ship long after the commander had slipped past them into the comm room. Chakwas was nice and all but he didn't understand what she was trying to accomplish. All he could do was think how wrong she was. How can she ignore the fact that there were two highly decorated N7 officers and a well-respected turian Spectre on board? He knew there was something going on. There just had to be. The corporal merely hoped that he might get to play some kind of part in it. He had a little hope of it, despite his relative inexperience in the field, Shepard had told him he had potential.

Leaning against the wall, he partially listened to the doctor as she informed him that his notions were exaggerated and he should consider exploring some less fantastic sources for more realistic information about the officers and other individuals he worked with.

"Excuse me, Doctor," Shepard said too calmly.

Jenkins straightened when he felt the commander's hand on his arm. He could feel the expression of surprise on his face as he looked over at her, and immediately tried to contain it.

Her voice was low as she looked him in the eye. Jenkins was held spellbound in the cool seriousness of her gaze; he couldn't have looked away if he wanted to. Her tone was even and impassive as she said, "I need you to walk to the cockpit. Walk. Quietly tell Lieutenant Alenko to suit up and meet us in the cargo bay."

Jenkins nodded. "Yes, ma'am." It didn't hit him until he was halfway up the bridge. She'd said us. Us. He was going. His heart started pounding in his chest when the realization struck him. And he had to make a concentrated effort to walk to his destination.

When he delivered the message Alenko's eyes had widened slightly and he hopped out of the chair. "Walk," Jenkins said, repeating the word Shepard had stressed to the Corporal.

The lieutenant shot a look at the corporal.

"Shepard said to walk." Jenkins nodded at the officer and Alenko returned it.

Within minutes Richard was in the cargo bay, pulling the Lancer assault rifles out of the weapons locker and setting them on the nearby table. Shepard already had her sidearm, a banged up little Edge pistol that looked like it had seen more action than the corporal had. Lieutenant Alenko's pistol he noticed was a pristinely kept Kessler. He couldn't help but notice the similarity between the officers and their side arms, or so it seemed from his point of view -Shepard was battle-hardened and proven leader; Alenko was clean cut, by-the-book tech genius.

He grinned as he turned back to the locker. Jenkins didn't much like pistols and pulled out a Scimitar shotgun, placing it on the table. He hadn't anticipated Shepard to return from the locker with a Reaper. Jenkins guessed that fully extended the sniper rifle was almost as tall as she was, though he knew it to be an exaggeration, the only person who didn't seem surprised to see the weapon in the commander's hands was the Spectre. But then Nihlus didn't seem surprised by much and probably wasn't.

None of them spoke. They prepped their weapons as they waited. Within a few minutes Nihlus had joined them to wait for the drop. It was distracting. Jenkins watched them all. They each had their personal tastes in weapons and each had their own rituals. Alenko rechecked his pistol a dozen times while he ran some sort of program on his omnitool. Shepard had broken down and reassembled her weapons then leaned against the weapons locker twirling that blade people whispered about between her fingers. They said she always carried in her boot, even on the ship. Even Nihlus wasn't immune to superstition; once he'd cleared his shotgun, he'd held it delicately and whispered to it softly before holstering it.

Jenkins was keenly aware that he didn't have a ritual. He had cleared his weapons then stood there observing it all. But then surrounded by that group of soldiers, how could he really do anything else?

"Commander." The knife stilled instantly and her eyes shot to the corporal's. In fact, they all were looking at him. "What's the job?"

Shepard didn't answer immediately, but her eyes did move to the others before returning to Jenkins'. "Let's go with elaborate Easter egg hunt."

Jenkins smiled, while Alenko's brow knitted tightly.

"There's something down there the brass wants us to pick up," Shepard clarified after a glance at the lieutenant.

Jenkins looked over at Nihlus.

"Corporal," Shepard said, drawing the young marine's attention back to her. "It's a recovery mission. That's all you need to know right now. That's all you're cleared to know." The look in her eyes cleared up the state of things and the calmness in her voice served to remind him of his position.

With a nod he looked away and noticed the lieutenant was still staring at the commander with an intensity that suggested he was trying to achieve some level of psychic communication. Alenko didn't seem to take too well to the scant information she'd provided either. But both men knew it was all the explanation they were going to get.

When the captain came down, Shepard propped her foot on a crate and slipped the knife carefully into its sheathe. He couldn't help but wonder why she had that one when she also carried a standard issue blade strapped to her thigh as well. He shook it off and followed the others toward the bay doors that were opening slowly.

The wind whipped through the bay as the ship neared the first drop point. Nihlus was dropped first. And Jenkins couldn't help the satisfied grin that curved on his lips when the Spectre announced that he moved faster alone, and left on his own.

Shepard's eyes on him wiped the smile from Jenkins' lips as she assured the captain her team could handle their part of the mission just before they were offloaded south of Nihlus' drop point. For the corporal it quickly became clear that he wasn't chosen as part of the fire team for this mission just because he was from Eden Prime. Shepard relied on her nav points for locations. Though both officers directed occasional inquires in his direction and he freely offered up other information as it seemed useful, Richard genuinely felt that he was on the ground because he was supposed to be, because he was ready.

vi.

The ship they'd seen on the transmission was still hovering on the horizon when the fire team from the Normandy was dropped and Shepard couldn't place it. She'd never seen or even heard of anything like it-the scale was impressive and intimidating. It dwarfed most of the ships she was familiar with. But from their drop point she couldn't get a line of sight on it to get a better look. As a kid she'd built models of everything: planes and ships, fighters, cruisers, and frigates; human, turian, asari, salarian, anything she could get her hands on. Her father encouraged it because it gave the two of them something they could share together-there wasn't a lot in the way of entertainment on military vessels, at least not for children.

Their insertion point was quiet, and though they heard weapons fire in the distance, there seemed to be little or no fighting in their immediate area. The simple retrieval was now surrounded by too many questions for her tastes. Not that she ever expected a mission to be clear cut. But she didn't even know what she was dealing with on Eden Prime, outside of a mysterious Prothean beacon.

"Keep your eyes open people," she ordered as she flipped the safety off her Lancer and moved across the rocky little plateau toward the mountain pass smoothly at a pace akin to a jog.

None of them knew what to expect nor did they even know what to look for. The transmission had shown the vessel, and there was clearly an attack happening. But at no time in the transmission had she seen anyone who was not human, and all those in the feed had seemed to be Alliance. Hell, Shepard couldn't even guess if they would meet any resistance. But she leaned on the side of caution and ordered them to leap frog their way along the pass, two covering one as they moved toward the cliff side. Shepard held the point and scanned the perimeter, once satisfied that it was clear she ordered her squad to move up.

Alenko and Shepard waited as Jenkins moved toward his next cover position; the officers' eyes scanned for targets. She heard it before she saw anything. The shots seemed to come out of nowhere then Shepard saw the small culprits. Three small drones hovering in the distance. What the hell is going on? She hadn't been looking skyward, she'd been expecting mercenaries: batarians, humans, maybe a few salarians, an asari or two-you're typical pirate crew. She turned her sights on them, but once they were down she realized it was too late. The mistake had been made, and the false assumption had proved fatal.

"Ripped right through his shields," Alenko said kneeling over the body, swiping a hand over the young man's face, closing Jenkins' eyes.

Shepard nodded as she looked down at the boy's face. Fuck. This was precisely what I'd hoped to avoid. Her jaw clinched involuntarily as she chastised herself. She should have seen them. Shepard shook her head, as the lieutenant stood. He looked a little guilty too, but she couldn't do anything for either of their consciences in that moment.

"We have to keep moving." Shepard glanced at her rifle then met his gaze again. "We'll come back for him. Never leave a man behind," she whispered the last sentiment to herself more than to Alenko, and she damn well intended to ensure it. She might have lost men before, but she'd never left anyone, and she was not about to start now.