Systems Alliance Navy Yard, Arcturus Station

Arcturus Station saw the arrival and departure of Navy ships at its docks like clockwork. It saw reunions and goodbyes, kisses and tears, thanks offered to different gods and flag-draped coffins off-loaded to the sound of a bugle and the clicking of camera drones.

This departure was more of the same. There was just a bit more brass involved.

The champagne had been smashed. The Minister of Defence, Admiral Hackett and the Hierarchy Ambassador had given their speeches and had retreated to a nice restaurant somewhere while the crew finished final preparations. This was a sign of Citadel-human co-operation, a leap forward for humanity on the galactic stage. AAN was even doing a special on the unclassified details.

Commander Émile Shepard leant against a railing, resisting the urge to fiddle with his cap as Corporal Jenkins said goodbye to his girlfriend. The formal Navy hat was rubbing against his implant every time he moved. It was true that the dress uniforms cut a dashing figure- hence why half the crew were strutting around like peacocks in front of the crowd, enjoying the attention- but they had just had to put a seam there.

"Be careful," She said, her voice barely audible above the swell of voices, her hands on his shoulders.

"It's just a shakedown cruise. You worry too much. I'll show the higher ups what I can do, see if I can get that promotion to Sergeant, and I'll be back before you know it." He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Jenkins had been telling the other Marines that he was planning to propose after this tour, once they could afford the ring and the wedding. (Corporal Draven had rolled her eyes and muttered that if she and Rosamund had managed it on a Serviceman Second Class and a Lance Corporal's wages, he was just dragging his feet. That night had degenerated until Alenko had flung Jenkins across the cargo bay with his biotics, much to the Corporal's delight.)

Shepard glanced around at the crowd of people, half in Alliance blue, then at the matte black hull of the ship cradled in the docking apparatus beside them. The finest ship in the Alliance, according to her captain and her pilot. They'd chewed off Shepard's ear about the damn thing ever since he'd arrived back on Arcturus for the ship's shakedown cruise.

"Besides," Jenkins told his wife, "Alenko's got my back, don't you sir?"

"Of course," He heard the Staff Lieutenant reply, with one of his gentle smiles. That was when the ship's captain stepped up to Émile, gazing at the ship. He snapped off a salute and Anderson returned it absent-mindedly. His medals glinted dully in the artificial light.

"So, what do you think of the Normandy, Shepard?"

Shepard followed his gaze, traced over the sleek lines of the ship, predatory even at rest, the torpedos nuzzled against the hull, the Alliance symbol stark white against the dark paint job. The Normandy was a beautiful ship, "Haven't made up mind yet, sir. We'll see once she's been in action." The space trials had simply been for testing. She might've passed them with only the need for a few repairs and alterations, but the true test would be the maiden voyage.

"Ever the cynic, Commander," He chuckled, pride of his new command written in his posture. Shepard was still wondering who had decided to trial a turian CIC on a human ship, particularly since the bridge was separate from the cockpit. He'd have to use a comm or leave his post to give orders to the helmsman. And considering who the main helmsman was...

"Realist, sir," He said mildly. They were alone, the crowd at their backs. Nothing but the Normandy before them.

"Come on Shepard, there's someone you need to meet." He fell in step at Anderson's side, as he always had.

They moved through the tearful goodbyes and hurried sailors rushing around, the Alliance crew quick to give them space, to a small knot of people near the airlock. The most decorated enlisted sailor of the crew was there, looking like she was ready to deck someone.

But then again, Master Chief Negulesco always looked pissed off, and the fact that the man talking to her, dressed in a hardsuit no less, was a turian wasn't going to improve her mood. Negulesco had gotten the Navy Cross on her chest leading survivors of her ship that had been shot down over Shanxi and the woman had never forgotten nor forgiven.

"Captain, Commander," She said, saluting. The turian turned to them, his eyes settling on Shepard. He felt himself tensing, prickling going down his spine as he returned Negulesco's salute. Those eyes looked like they were systematically disassembling him, looking for fault. He couldn't tell if he came out of the analysis well or not.

"Commander, I'd like you to meet Agent Nihlus Kryik, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Nihlus, this is Commander Émile Shepard."

A Spectre. He glanced at Anderson, looking for an explanation. Spectres were something out of the vids, playing hard and fast with the rules in order to do the Council's dirty work. This guy could theoretically take out that sidearm he was carrying in the middle of a controlled deck, slot all three of them and get away with it. Joint venture with the turians or not, why would he be interested in the maiden voyage of an Alliance warship? The Council was already receiving full reports about the Normandy.

"Nice to meet you," He settled on.

"Nihlus will be joining us for the Normandy's first journey," Captain Anderson said, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, it almost seemed a warning.

Shepard tried to keep the frown of his face, but Negulesco looked as thoroughly disquietened as he did. He hoped they weren't escorting the guy to go assassinate someone or something. "I'm afraid it'll probably be both uncomfortable and boring compared to your normal journeys, Spectre Nihlus."

There wasn't a great deal of spare space on a ship as small as the Normandy, particularly with its over-sized drive core. While they didn't have all of their Marine complement onboard-they'd be picking up a few extras during stop-over, a minor hassle due to Anderson's decision to handpick every person onboard-everyone was hotbunking as it was. Only the captain had a bed and not a sleep pod.

Nihlus twitched his mandibles in an equivalent to a smile, "The Normandy is close to luxury compared to some of the places I've slept, Commander."

Anderson cut in, "Now everyone's introduced, I say we go aboard and get this bird flying."

Nihlus followed the Captain into the airlock, while Shepard fell into lockstep with the Master Chief. They exchanged wary glances and quiet words.

"A Spectre, huh?"

Negulesco scowled, "Fuckin' politics, sir. Don't like them bein' all mixed up in my ship's business."

Quietly Shepard said, "As far as the crew's concerned, this is business as usual, Master Chief."

The last thing they needed was an anxious crew. No doubt there were a few smart or paranoid enough to work it out- Pressly would be pitching a fit about this when he found out but there was no reason to make things worse by the command crew being noticeably on edge. Negulesco nodded, "Yessir. But I'll be keepin' my eye on our ally, yeah?"

Shepard gave Anderson an appraising look. They'd worked together before- hell, Shepard would happily admit he'd follow the man to hell without a word of complaint- and he liked to think he knew the captain well from their days in the dirt, out on the frontier and then when Shepard had been his Marine Detachment commander on the Tokyo. This surgically clean dock on Arcturus was a world away from sleeping in a foxhole with mortar shells bursting above your head, but Anderson's shoulders were stiff, like someone had a gun muzzle pressed into the small of his back.

They emerged into the CIC, boots clicking against the metal deck. Captain Anderson called to Shepard, "You've got the deck, Commander. Soon as the crew's aboard, set a course for the Relay. I'll show Spectre Kryik around the ship."

"Aye aye sir."

While he waited for the last of the crew to report aboard for the 11:00 CST departure, Shepard headed for the cockpit. No doubt Lieutenant Moreau was already at his post- the man was practically salivating over the thought of flying the ship without a dozen bureaucrats and engineers watching over his shoulder.

Joker was lounging in his helmsman's chair, looking over his displays. He tugged at his cap as Shepard walked in, "The dog and pony show over yet?"

"Looks like. Everything good up here?"

"Yup," Joker said, popping the 'p' in the word, "You can stop watching over my shoulder now." At Shepard's flat look, he added, "Sir." After a moment Joker twisted carefully in his seat to look at him, "So, it true there's a Spectre aboard?"

"Yes. Nihlus Kryik. Try not to piss him off, huh?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you." Then with a touch of irony he added, "As you were, Flight Lieutenant."

Back on the bridge, Shepard stepped up onto the commander's podium and began plotting the ship's course on the galaxy map.

"All hands aboard," The VI advised him in that bland mechanical voice.

He hit the comm, "All hands, prepare for departure. Serviceman Wei," He had to look at her name tape to make sure he got her name right, "Get us clearance for departure and a vector to the Relay."

Barely a pause before the comms specialist replied, "Clearance granted, sir."

"Take us out nice and slow, helm. Once we're clear of the station, half ahead speed. Course is plotted to Arcturus Prime relay. We're jumping to Utopia- once we're through I want us headed to Eden Prime, stealth systems engaged and full ahead. Time to see how she does with all that heat."

The whole ship shivered as the thrusters hummed to life, the Tantalus core like a heart starting to beat. On the dock family and loved ones waved as the docking clamps peeled away from the black matte hull. None of the crew could see the last goodbyes, focused instead on the frigate as it eased free of Arcturus' hold, slipping into the void between stars.

At first Joker coasted along the route out of Arcturus. The Normandy's thrusters at the power required to take to fling them into FTL could melt anything behind them into so much slag, and the space around the Alliance's capital was thick with ships both military and civilian.

A few of the crew were catching last glimpses of Arcturus Station and the Fifth fleet over the ship's cameras. Shepard took one last long gaze himself. He'd spent more time out in the Traverse or on a ship these last few years than at the capital, but it was something close to being home.

A prickle crawled down his spine and he glanced at the door in time to see the Spectre walk into the CIC. The Marines on guard duty glanced at each other, seemingly at loss as to what to do about a Spectre just waltzing onto the bridge.

Nihlus had that same calculating look on his face and he was again looking at Shepard. It was hard enough concentrating on not fucking up commanding a starship- sure, he was trained in it but he'd spent far longer commanding Marines or on N7 missions- without a famous Spectre watching him doing it.

"We're clear of traffic, sir. Entering FTL."

The ship's cameras turning off were the only sign the ship was entering FTL for those inside the ship. Deep in thought, Shepard barely noticed Nihlus heading for the cockpit- where Alenko had surfaced. The various displays before the officer of the deck were a blur of blue and orange, haptic interfaces in his fingertips a low sort of buzz as he flicked through indicators of the ship's performance.

The future of the Alliance's stealth project hinged on this voyage. The Normandy was horrifically expensive, but he was starting to understand why Anderson was so enthused. She was faster than any other ship Émile had served on and there was something exhilarating about being on board her. And, if she succeeded, she would be an unparalleled long distance recon and special forces insertion vessel. If the brainiacs in R&D could downsize the tech to shuttles and corvettes…

Well, it might be the edge the Alliance needed in its border conflict with the Hegemony.

Alright, that was probably wishful thinking. The politicians were all too willing to expand the Alliance's borders, but never to give the military the hammer needed to secure the colonies.

"We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination." Joker reported.

Shepard spoke strongly, glancing to where he could just see Nihlus' back, "All hands, all hands, this is the bridge. Secure your stations for Mass Relay transit." Lights in front of him switched from green to orange as the crew turned off the ship's sensors and the damage control team stood to.

Not that'd do them much good if their FTL field collapsed during transit and the radiation fried them all like calamari on grill. Particularly since they had the untried IES system, and god knew what effect that thing could have on them if something failed. Still, it was protocol.

"All stations are secure, Commander," Lieutenant Commander Pressly, the ship's navigator and second officer, advised him from his console.

"Roger. Joker, begin the approach."

"The Relay is hot. Acquiring approach vector."

With the CIC working smoothly, Shepard stepped off the command podium and headed back to the cockpit. Whether he was going to save Joker and Alenko from Nihlus or stop Joker from starting a war with the Citadel, he wasn't quite sure.

"The board is green," Joker said as Shepard came to stand behind the pilot's seat, "Approach run has began."

Through the shutters of the cockpit windows he could see the first flickering tendrils of blue light, and the remnants of the sheer joy and excitement he'd felt during his first transit stirred in his belly.

"Hitting the Relay in 3...2...1…"

There would never be another moment like this.

The frigate, dwarfed by the massive, ancient Relay, was swallowed by the blue light and abruptly was flung across space, as if by a sling shot. Due to the inertia dampeners, the most Shepard felt was a tuck in his stomach.

They were through. Joker began to sound off the ship's systems, but Shepard barely needed to look at the ship's readout to know that everything was good.

Nihlus finally spoke, "1500 is good. Your captain will be pleased."

And then he abruptly about-faced and walked out. Shepard watched him go, looking a bit bemused.

Joker and Alenko began to bicker but he paid it little attention. Banter was a way to keep people's minds off the stress of their jobs and build unit cohesion. Brilliance and good records or not, cohesion was something the Normandy's crew lacked.

Hell, he was still having trouble remembering the difference between Brown in engineering and Brown in supply.

"Bridge, this is the captain. Status report."

Shepard replied over the comm, "Clear of the Relay, sir. All sensors are green and the stealth system is engaged. Everything's solid so far."

"Good. Get us linked into the nearest comm buoys and status reports relayed back to Command before we reach Eden Prime."

"Aye aye sir." Shepard replied, relaying the command to Serviceman Third Class Wei. Then he looked over at Alenko, who was gazing out at the blueshift surrounding the warship, "Alenko, if you're free, I'll leave the deck to Pressly and Joker and we can go over some stuff I'd like to get sorted out before we have to send your Marines groundside."

"Yessir." Alenko agreed, picking himself up. They headed for the XO's office, dodging busy sailors and officers. Shepard had taken an immediate liking to the guy. He was level-headed, controlled. He came out of the shit the military flung at him calm and adjusted.

Shepard wondered how much of that calm came from necessity, from having to fight back in his own way against the talk around L2s and their 'instabilities'. He'd never ask him that, but sometimes Émile thanked god that he'd narrowly missed BAaT, even if it meant he was stuck with the lower baseline of a L3 implant.

They sat down and Shepard brought up the Marine Detachment's table of organisation on his omnitool, "You're still down a troop sergeant, right?"

All of the Marines aboard the Normandy were from the 103rd Marine Division, a direct action special forces unit. N5s, most of them. While he'd gone to ICT too, as an N7 he hadn't spent too much time working with the 103rd. When the 103rd went into combat, you heard about it. Usually when they'd taken a spaceport in under eight hours or something like that. The signs of an N7 strike were usually a disorientated enemy who suddenly had no commanders left.

Alenko nodded, "Corporal Jenkins is filling in. Anderson said we're picking up Staff Sergeant Duran on Eden Prime, right?"

Shepard frowned just a bit, "They've got Ns on Eden Prime?"

The lieutenant shrugged, "Trainers attached to the garrison brigades, as far as I know, sir."

"Right. Just...keep an eye on Jenkins, alright? He's a great combat Marine but he...loses his head sometimes. He's got his mind stuck on that promotion, not on doing his job."

Alenko opened his mouth to reply when Anderson's voice came over the comm, "Commander Shepard to the comms room."