SSV Cambrai, Silean Nebula

Day 1, 1900

Thud.

"How the hell do you two still have the energy to do that?"

"Do what?" Zel smiled, with mock innocence. The illusion was somewhat shattered, however, by the fact her heels were currently above her head, Ethan's hand still gripping her collar in the tail end of a textbook judo throw.

"It's ninety degrees in here, we ran a mission this afternoon, and you two are sparring," Vimes groused, from his perch on a nearby cargo crate. "You're turian - what's his excuse?"

"Prospect of a cold shower after?" she chuckled, glancing up at Cash.

"Sounds fun…" her partner grinned.

"You know…" Kan piped up, with a sigh, "we're all very glad you get to sleep with your best friend now, but get a room."

"Gladly," Ethan grunted, releasing his grip on the turian's collar and offering her a hand up instead, as he muttered sarcastically: "For the record, I've heard Sam's a very tender and attentive lover."

There was an awkward pause, as everyone let that sink in.

"…well he's not wrong," Sam shrugged.

"Both of you, please shut up now," the quarian shuddered.

"Yeah… will do."

Ethan just smirked at the pair of them, and after a moment more of silence, he and the turian disappeared towards the elevator, still in their sparring gear.

"Is it wrong that his happiness annoys me?" Kan frowned, ruefully.

"My friend, it's almost human," the detective chuckled. "Come to think of it… how the hell are you holding up in that suit?"

"I have air filters."

"…son of a bitch."

The quarian cackled, and Sam just shook his head, glancing around the hangar bay. Most of the crew were up in the mess hall, or the showers, but a few were lingering down here, a few more dropping down in the sleeping area already… Captain Tarenna and her asari were in one corner, clustered around the med bay Dr O'Leiph had set up, but everyone knew better than to approach them. Their expressions were sullen, their heads bowed. Poor sods…

"Hey," a new voice muttered. Looking to his side, he saw Victor Cross wandering in tiredly, and-

"Seriously?" Sam scowled, noting the long-sleeved shirt.

"It's fine," the big man shrugged, although seeing as his sleeves were clinging to his wrists with sweat, Sam didn't quite believe him.

Before he could push the matter any further, however, Victor's cargo took his attention - without warning, the big fighter slung a six pack of beer up onto the nearest cargo crate, and hopped down onto the one beside it.

"Sorry, quarian…" he murmured, pulling at the tab. "There wasn't any dextro."

Kan just shrugged, and waved it off. He was a lightweight anyway, Sam noted, chuckling a little at his own thoughts. Meanwhile, Victor had gotten two bottles free, and held one out to Vimes wordlessly.

"Where'd you get the levo from, anyway?" the detective asked, taking the bottle nonetheless and twisting the cap free.

"Supply crate," Victor chuckled. "The salarian was taking inventory, and I guess this was some stacker's idea of a joke. Big crate labelled 'Dutch courage'."

"Makes sense to me," Sam laughed, taking a swig as he did. "I'd want a couple of these in me before I went at a Reaper."

"…you make a good point," the other man nodded, with a wry smile. "Speaking of which, how was your op today? Evac was hairy."

"The mission was worse," Kan sighed, quietly. "They hit that city hard."

"Couple of close shaves," Sam agreed. "Almost got a grenade to the face."

"Yikes," Victor muttered, taking a swig. "Andersen handle himself alright?"

"…yeah. Why?"

"Kid's new to his command."

"Just checking, alright? Not much worse than bad leaders."

"Well, the 'kid' did alright, okay?"

"Mm. Didn't mean to offend anyone."

"Eh… sorry," Vimes groaned, shaking his head. "It's hot, and we spent the day getting beat up. Not in the best of moods."

"Happens to the best of us," Victor shrugged, quietly. "Come on. Let's talk about something less grim."

"Thought you were meant to be the antisocial one?" Kan smirked.

"Yeah? Well I'm having a day off. Humour me."

"Alright, alright… the heck do we talk about?"

"Drink and women, mostly," Sam laughed. "Now let's see, stories… first kiss?"

"Pass," the quarian scowled.

"Aye. What is this, a slumber party?" Victor grinned.

"Okay, tough guy… first kill?"

"Boring story. Military."

"And you've heard mine before," Kan added. "Twice."

Sam just shook his head, glancing at his two companions and then at their surroundings, at the hangar bay… finally, his eyes settled on his rifle, stacked against a nearby crate, and a sly smile crossed his features.

"Best killshot," he suggested.

"Ego contest? I'm game," Victor chuckled. The big guy was coming out of his shell… "You first, quarian."

"Alright, alright…" Kan nodded, rocking back on his perch and tilting his head back, thoughtfully. "Best killshot… are we talking ancient history, or since we signed up?"

"Either," Sam shrugged.

"Well, you were there for it, then," the quarian laughed, nodding at him.

"I was?"

"Mhmm. Illium."

"Safeguard, or Blizzard?"

"Safeguard."

"Oh, shit, the gunship!"

"…okay, you're gonna have to explain that one," Cross muttered, looking between the two of them as they grinned at the memory.

"Ah, right after you joined the crew, we went on a deployment to Illium. Covert op, it got a bit…"

"FUBAR," Kan interjected.

"Oh," Victor blinked.

"Yeah… long story short, I end up chasing our target across the courtyard of his estate. I'm out of ammo, I'm out of armour, and he calls a goddamn gunship in to back him up. Mantis troop carrier, the works."

"So he's running across the courtyard, screaming his head off," the quarian continued-

"I was not screaming."

"Eh."

"I wasn't!"

"Either way, I come out on the second floor and find that whole circus going on. So I knock the window out, I lift my rifle, and- bang. Right through the left thruster."

"One shot?" Victor chuckled, taking another deep swig.

"One shot. Winged bosh'tet hit the ground hard."

"Nice. Can you beat that, Mr Vimes?"

"Maybe not for size, but who's comparing?" Sam grinned, necking the bottle. "Reckon I've got him on distance though."

"Go for it."

"Six months after I went to Special Response. Bank job goes wrong, and it turns into a hostage situation. Gang of batarians with guns and masks. Captain Marin takes four men in through the back entrance - kills two of them, subdues two more. The last guy runs into the manager's office with a hostage and puts his back to the wall."

"Tricky one…" Victor frowned.

"Right. Gabriel eases up, stacks his guys on the door and tries to get the bastard to back down. I'm number five in the team - marksman. Maybe a hundred metres up, two hundred out, sitting in the back of a shuttle with a police-issue Mantis. I'm talking to our number two on the radio, but problem is, we were set up on the south side. After this last guy runs, the standoff's on the north side."

"You're mobile. Just relocate the shuttle."

"Still messes up my shot. We come around the corner on the south side, and Two's in my ear going: 'He's gonna do it, he's gonna do it, Five, take the shot.' I don't even have time to zero for range, or wind… but what are you gonna do? I put the scope up to my eye, I tweak the crosshair left, and I pull the trigger."

"I guess you hit the guy, or you wouldn't be telling this story…"

"Yeah. Wind takes it left, gravity takes it down. Shot goes right through the office window, over the hostage's shoulder, and pushes our bank robber's eyeball so far inside of him the coroner couldn't find it."

Victor winced and shook his head, taking another glug of beer as a wry smile spread across his features.

"Gory," he chuckled. "You get a close-up of all that?"

"Nah. Recoil took the scope, I didn't see shit. All I hear is the shot, then a flashbang going off, the team storming the room… I'm up there trying to sight down on the bastard to see if I got him, but my hands are shaking too much. Couple seconds later, I just hear: 'Five, Two. Clean shot, you got him.'"

"Regular little hero, huh?" Cross grinned.

"Somethin' like that," Sam laughed. "Gabriel took the guy's helmet from evidence once they were done with it. Cleaned it up and hung it on the wall next to my desk. Big goddamn hole in the middle of the visor."

They all chuckled a little at that, and the two humans finished up their bottles, Victor reaching for two more from the pack at his side. The trooper was smiling more than Vimes had seen since he joined the crew - potentially talking more, too…

"Alright then, big guy," he muttered. "You owe us one too."

"Tricky," Victor replied. "Not a sniper like you two. Hm…"

"Doesn't have to be a sniper shot," Vimes shrugged. "Fancy burst from that rifle of yours, or a sidearm…"

"How about an axe?"

"…you have my attention."

The other man grinned, and necked his drink before leaning forward, hands together, eyes down as if they were swapping stories around a campfire.

"Back when I was with the Alliance," he began. "Few years ago now. A band of pirates took down a convoy off one of the Traverse colonies, and tried to lay low on an abandoned world nearby. Some snowball moon, uninhabited. Idiots parked their ship on a glacier, didn't realise it'd be a big old red dot on our thermals. So we chased them down, moved in low, and climbed up the side of the glacier to get to them. Like some exercise out of basic training, ice axes and crampons and mooring lines, all very gruelling…"

"Still not seeing where a shot comes into this."

"Hey, I let you set the scene, didn't I? Anyway. I was second on the tether line. We get to the top of the cliffs, and there's a bloody glacier whipping round us, couldn't see more than twenty feet. Our point man goes up over the edge, and I scramble up after him. All clear, we thought. Rest of the squad's still climbing up behind us. So, I've got this climbing pick tethered to my wrist, just in case. Nasty-looking thing, sharp spike."

"Popular murder weapon," Vimes noted, tilting his bottle as he dropped that fascinating nugget.

"I can see why. I've just pulled the thing off my wrist when something comes out of the blizzard. Batarian sentry. He puts a harpoon through our point man's shoulder and he goes down screaming, poor sod. Next thing I know, the batarian's loading another round and turning to me. Well, I don't have my rifle, do I? It's still on my back, sidearm's in a holster… all I've got to hand is this ice axe."

"No way," Kan chuckled, quietly.

"What's a guy to do?" Cross shrugged. "I pull back my arm, and I tomahawk the thing at him. God as my witness, it spins twice and lands right between his eyes. Bastard was probably dead before he knew what hit him."

And with that, Victor just shrugged again, taking another swig of his beer as his audience of two gawped at him. There was a moment's silence, and then:

"…yeah, he wins," the quarian muttered.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Goddamnit."