Three days later and the Normandy had been in orbit over Earth for almost forty-nine hours, awaiting an empty dry dock for the retrofit. Shepard sat on a container in the shuttle bay watching people scurry around the shuttle. It still wore Cerberus colours. There was no paint on board to make it less conspicuous, and Shepard shook her head at someone trying to colour over the orange with a marker. That was just going to burn off when they entered atmo.
James had disappeared to the armoury. Apparently, it was safe to let her sit in the one place where she could commandeer a shuttle and get off the Normandy, but it wasn't safe to let her go to the head alone. Shepard guessed it might have to do with the smidgeon of trust they'd built up since James was released from the medbay. After all, the bars on her cell hadn't been fixed, but she'd still dutifully stayed inside the cell, even if she could now climb out of it whenever she pleased.
Corporal Hornby was pacing up and down in front of the shuttle. Pilot Officer Torig—yet another person she didn't know—was tinkering with something under the shuttle.
"This is what happens when you don't stick to the schedule," said Hornby, punctuating his words by banging his open palm with the side of his other hand like he was chopping something. "Everyone's caught with their pants around their ankles, trying to do everything double-time to catch up. If we'd stayed at Arcturus for as long as we were supposed to, we wouldn't be sitting up here."
Shepard suppressed a smile. Hornby reminded her so much of Aaron. Not just in how he looked, but his mannerisms. She could picture Aaron now: his brown eyes serious even at seven years old and his foot tapping impatiently because fourteen-year-old Shepard was taking forever to get ready for school. She looked away from the corporal, thankful that he was too focused on complaining to take notice of Shepard's gloominess.
"You gotta learn to be more flexible," said Torig as he stuck his head out from under the shuttle. The pilot had been under the shuttle since before James had deposited Shepard in the shuttle bay. "Can you shut your trap for a sec? I'm trying to get this bird ready to fly."
"What's wrong with it?" asked Hornby as the pilot disappeared under the shuttle again.
Shepard hoped they weren't about to delve into shuttle mechanics. She'd rather listen to an elcor sing opera.
"Nothing. I'm just doing pre-flight checks."
"Under the shuttle?" Hornby sounded sceptical as he walked closer to the shuttle. "I can help, if you need an engineer."
"No, it's fine," said Torig quickly and climbed out of the recess under the shuttle, wiping his hands on a dirty towel. "I'm thorough, that's all."
The conversation between them came to an abrupt end as Torig went to change out of his dirty coveralls. Shepard tuned out of Hornby's muttering about schedules when she heard the distinct clanking of armoured boots moving toward her, rather than the soft thudding of everyday boots that everyone else in the shuttle bay had on.
"Haven't been back on Earth in four years," said James, clipping his weapons to the back of his armour as he sauntered up to Shepard. He dropped a pair of cuffs into her lap. "Anderson wants you to at least try to look like a prisoner."
Her lips curled in disgust as he held up the cool metal cuffs. She didn't have to be wearing the cuffs to remember how they weighed her hands down as heavily as guilt weighed on her conscience. Not all cuffs were like these. When locked and activated, they were made to feel heavier the further they moved from the tracking device strapped to her ankle, preventing them from becoming blunt weapons with the power of two arms behind them. Every time she tried to move freely with them, panic bubbled and she had to wrestle it down.
"Put them on right before we get out of the shuttle in Vancouver. Never know what might happen between now and when we land," he said as he walked off to inspect the shuttle.
Shepard wasn't buying his attempt at nonchalance. For one thing, Anderson probably told him to slap the cuffs on her now, and, for another, she doubted he was truly interested in a vehicle that had no weapons. No, he was just being nice.
"You really are the worst guard in the galaxy." She stood, still holding the handcuffs, and followed him to the shuttle. "It would be really easy to manipulate you if I were some pretty young thing with big, blue eyes that could cry on cue."
Her jibe didn't have the venomous coating that it would have had a few days ago.
James chuckled. "Had my fair share of those girls already, Shepard. Not my type anymore."
"Oh? What is your type now?" she asked, hopping deftly up to sit on the floor of the shuttle and letting her legs dangle off the side. Her knee was still in a brace but walking no longer made her want to swear and her shoulder had finally been unstrapped. She leaned back onto her hands, happy that she could move freely again.
"I bet you'd like to know," he said with a grin, resting a hip on the shuttle next to her.
"It's guys isn't it?" She laughed at James's roll of his eyes. "At least the female population isn't missing out on anything."
"Oh, I can be very charming." He leaned in close, a hand braced on the shuttle floor close to her hip. He smelled like Alliance-issue soap mixed with popped heat sinks. "Wanna find out, bonita?"
If Shepard had been ten years younger, she might have blushed. She might even have fallen into bed with him, but ten years was a long time to develop some sensibility.
She leaned toward him, lips centimetres from his. His eyes flickered down to watch her tongue dance across her lips. He didn't go red, there wasn't a comical ding of something getting hard down there, but she did see the sudden dilation of his pupils that came with desire, and the slight frown that followed. She attributed that frown to either surprise or confusion.
A small smirk spread across her lips.
"You couldn't handle me, Lieutenant." She tapped his armoured chest with the handcuffs. "Best you stick to the little leagues."
"If you're both done, you have landing clearance for the shuttle."
Anderson's voice broke the tension between them, and James jumped away like he'd been burned. He stood to rigid attention, his salute textbook, and he stayed like that while Anderson eyed Shepard, who was shaking with silent laughter. She should salute the admiral, but they were long past those kinds of formalities. Besides which, she'd been stood down. She didn't need to salute anyone.
Finally, Anderson acknowledged James, and the lieutenant put his hand back by his side, still standing to attention. Shepard would not have pinned James as a by-the-book soldier, but apparently he was very serious about things pertaining to rank. Once she got reinstated—and Shepard had no doubt that she eventually would—she wondered if he'd show any deference to her.
"Put the cuffs on, Shepard," said Anderson. "I'll do what I can about your freedom while on Earth, but for now the galaxy wants to watch you walk out in cuffs."
She contemplated telling Anderson that James had allowed her to keep the cuffs off until they touched down in Vancouver, but decided not to when she noticed the touch of pink to James's ears. As she suspected, he'd disobeyed Anderson's order to cuff her now. For that small measure of comfort he wanted to give her, she kept her mouth shut and clamped her wrists into the cuffs. Anderson touched a few buttons on his omnitool and little green lights flickered to life on the cuffs. Even if she hadn't seen the lights, the sudden weight of the cuffs would have told her they'd been activated.
Doctor Chang and Corporal Hornby hopped into the shuttle after Shepard and James. She didn't know why the other two were there and she wasn't given an explanation.
"I'll be following you to Vancouver tomorrow," said Anderson from the doorway of the shuttle. "Try not to blow anything up, Shepard."
"No guarantees," she said with a grin.
Anderson shook his head, a little smile on his face, and walked away from the shuttle. The door hissed closed. Shepard eyeballed the five-point harness and then James.
"How am I supposed to put this on when my hands are cuffed?" she asked.
James pressed a few buttons on his omnitool and the cuffs unlocked. "Keep them off until Vancouver, but don't tell the admiral."
"You're a sucker for a pretty face, sir," said Torig, shooting a wry smile over his shoulder.
"Shut up and fly, kid," said James with a laugh and the pilot saluted.
Shepard strapped herself into the five-point harness, clutching the handcuffs in her lap. James strapped himself in next to her.
"Why are you going to Earth with us, doc?" asked James.
"Medical supplies," said Chang as he checked over his harness to make sure it was tight. Nervous flyer, thought Shepard. "The Normandy doesn't have all the Alliance standard issue medical supplies and, while we wait for a dry dock, Anderson doesn't want an understocked medbay."
The shuttle left the Normandy so smoothly that Shepard only realised they'd entered space when the shuttle's artificial gravity took over from the Normandy's slightly higher one. She craned her neck to look out the front window. A tapestry of green lay out under the halo of ozone surrounding Earth. She hadn't been back since she left the Villa in Rio, N6 designation on her scuffed armour and heart set on gaining the coveted N7 insignia.
She looked away from Earth. The coming months were not going to be like her time at the Villa.
The corporal was leaning his head back against the headrest, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. He looked to be concentrating on something, but there was nothing on the ceiling but bare metal.
"Why are you being sent to Earth, corporal?" asked Shepard.
"Escorting some of the engineers up to the Normandy so they can get acquainted with her while she's running, ma'am," said the corporal.
"If anyone's interested in why I'm here, I'm piloting the shuttle," said Torig, glancing at them over his shoulder.
"No one's interested," said Hornby, laughing.
They fell into silence as the shuttle descended into the atmosphere. The shuttle shook hard enough to make her shoulder twinge as she was rattled in her harness. The doctor had his eyes closed, knuckles white as he gripped his harness. The corporal's gaze was fixed on the windshield, watching the burn of reentry lick up the shuttle.
Shepard didn't know how many times she'd escaped and reentered atmo over the years. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. The only difference was how long it took. Shepard relaxed in her seat as much as she could with James's considerable bulk taking up half her seat as well as his own. Why did he have to wear his armour anyway?
The shuttle stabilised as they moved into the lower atmosphere. The doctor visibly relaxed and the corporal looked away from the windshield to check his omnitool.
"We'll be at Vancouver within the hour. We came in too far north, over the Canadian wilderness. Have you ever seen so much green–?"
An explosion—rocket, bomb, shots, Shepard couldn't identify the source—rocked the shuttle and threw them all forward in their harnesses. Acrid smoke filled the cabin and she covered her mouth with her hands before she could inhale too much of it. The cabin lights flickered into emergency orange and alarms rang from the cockpit.
"We're going to die." The doctor's mournful moan made Hornby glare at him.
"We're not going to die, doctor." Shepard knew she couldn't promise that, but she said it anyway.
Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling and Shepard pulled hers down, tightening the strap around her head. Sweet air filled her lungs. James nudged her and jerked his head at the two sitting opposite them. The doctor had his eyes closed, hands clasped in front of his chest and his mouth moving rapidly.
"Praying's not going to help the doctor, Corporal," said Shepard, gesturing at Chang with an impatient hand. "Put his goddamn mask on for him."
Hornby scrambled to comply.
"Aft thrusters completely disabled. We're pretty much dead in the air," Torig's fingers danced over the shuttle controls and his voice had climbed a few notes in his panic. "Brace for impact in two minutes."