Date: 2464 G.S

Location: Low Palaven Orbit

Ranen hated flying cruise liners.

It wasn't the pay that bothered him. In fact, the pay was good, much better than a lot of other jobs he'd worked. No, it was... the lack of excitement. Sure, one had to be well-trained in order to be entrusted with hundreds of lives, but very rarely did anything serious happen with cruise liners, especially in the heart of Turian space. Occasionally, one would hear of pirate raids, but those were on the very fringes of Citadel space, and even those were a rarity these days.

"Final reentry trajectory has been prepared," Tarus said beside him.

"Understood," he replied. "Field integrity is holding. Meteorological data indicates low levels of turbulence."

"Moving in for final approach."

Through the camera feeds of the cockpit, he could see the silver shores of Palaven beneath him. It was a beautiful sight, he had to admit, but he'd be glad to return home to Aephus. Maybe he'd finally pay to have that heart flutter fixed, so he could finally be a fighter pilot like his father before him...

That was when things went wrong.

There was a faint pop, then everything lurched to the side; it was only due to his seatbelt that Ranen avoided smashing right into Tarus. Years of military training kicked in, and he felt his mind clear as he assessed the situation.

One of the field generators must have failed, leaving only one to support the craft as it decelerated. They were uneven, now, and most likely going in for a spiral. Turning off the other field generator would stop the spiral, but doom the craft to burning up in reentry at such a steep angle. He need to act fast, before the acceleration induced a blackout.

Reaching for the controls, he managed to ease off the spinning, but not completely. The liner was still falling, parts of its structure buckling from the stresses placed on it. If he were at a lower altitude, he could ease it into a glide and land it roughly, but they were still in the outer reaches of the mesophere; that wouldn't be possible.

Flipping on the cabin speakers, he said, "This is your pilot speaking. Brace for impact."

Thank the Spirits that the cabin behind him was soundproof, otherwise he likely would've heard two hundred various sophonts panicking. He couldn't blame them; it was never easy to come to grips with your mortality. As for himself...

Despite facing the likelihood of his death, he felt a strange calm fall over him. If he did his job right, then perhaps there would still be survivors. No doubt the traffic control on the ground and in orbit had taken notice, and were likely scrambling a rescue team.

With that in mind, he kept at the controls, fighting to keep the liner from falling into a death spiral. Talus was doing the same, rapidly playing with the thrusters and trying to spread out the field.

For the briefest of moments, he could've sworn he saw a red blur race by the window.

He didn't have much time to process that, before the spinning suddenly stopped. He lurched in his seat again, but it was far less rough than before. It took him a few moments to realize that the liner was righting itself, and resuming its original course.

Had the Spirits taken pity on him and the passengers? Perhaps the generator had managed to turn itself back on, or a rescue craft was assisting them already.

"D-do you see that, Captain?" Tarus's voice was uncharacteristically shaky as he pointed to one of the camera feeds.

Ranen spared a glance over, and froze.

There was a... person holding the wing of the liner, pressing against it with strong hands. Ranen blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he saw. The person appeared to be some kind of alien, but he'd never seen such a species before, and it was garbed in some strange blue uniform that had a red cape fluttering behind it.

Oh, and it was supporting a falling liner.

As if sensing being watched, the figure glanced at the camera and offered a small wave. Ranen realized he was waving back, and stopped himself. There was still a liner to land, regardless of the strange sight before him.

The spires of Tilirus came into view, shining in the low morning sun. Ranen steered the liner towards the landing strip, with the strange visitor's assistance, and let out a breath of relief when it finally touched down. Already a rescue team was scrambling towards them, no doubt attracted to the smoke coming from one of the wings, but the person was already on the move.

Ranen unbuckled, and opened the cockpit door to see the strange being calmly peeling a heavy door away, like the superstrong alloys were mere putty. Ranen felt a small tingle of fear at that, then dismissed it. If the visitor had wanted them dead, it could've just left them to die.

The visitor stepped inside, red cape billowing. Now that Ranen could see it up close, it almost reminded him of a pink asari, but with strange black fibers on its head, and with a decidedly male appearance. The uniform appeared to be skintight, revealing a muscular frame, and a strange symbol graced the man's chest. He was tall, only dwarfed by the liner's sole elcor passenger, but he was not intimidating.

"Is everyone alright?" the man inquired in flawless Turus.

Silently, the assorted passengers did their affirmative gestures. The man smiled, then turned to Ranen.

"You did a good job there, Captain. You couldn't have stopped that generator incident, but you handled the situation like a true professional."

"T-thank you," Ranen mumbled, dumbstruck by the sight.

"Now," the man said, glancing at the others, "I hope this incident hasn't put you off flying. Statistically speaking, it's still the safest way to travel."

With that, he simply stepped out of the liner, and flew away. There was no sign of a flight pack or field generator; it was like an invisible string had just plucked him off the ground. Ranen watched as the figure disappeared into the sky, going up, up, and away.

"Captain," said Tarus, "what in the Spirits' names just happened?"

"Tarus," Ranen said, "I was going to ask you the same thing."