Anomaly Detected

Boredom was not something that Commander Jane Shepard handled very well. And after the assault on the Collector base, it was a pretty regular feeling.

The quiet was absolute. No messages, no leads... just silence in every direction. The sort of silence that made her think and remember too much.

So, she tried to keep herself busy.

Usually, boredom for Shepard meant one of two things. Either someone was likely to get beaten up, or there was about to be some serious, environmentally devastating planetary strip mining going down.

Today, it was strip mining.

“Probe away,” sounded in the otherwise empty room, and Shepard leaned back with a yawn and stretch, desk chair squealing indignantly beneath her as her back popped in two places. She kicked her feet up onto the desk, crossed at the ankles, and let her head tip back, eyes falling shut.

It had been weeks now. Weeks of drifting around aimlessly, as she tried to get the Alliance to listen, or the Citadel, or literally anyone. Weeks worried that she would hear from the Illusive Man, that he wasn’t yet done with her.

Weeks of probing random planets for resources, trying to find anything to distract herself from the ball of worry deep in her gut. The Collectors were coming. And no one wanted to help, except the most shitty man in the known universe. Of course.

Another press.

“Probe launched.”Shepard rolled her head on her shoulders and hit the button once again.

“You have been scanning and probing these planets systematically for the past six hours, Commander,” came EDI’s reproachful chime.

Shepard mashed the probe button repeatedly, tongue out, glaring straight into the ceiling cam like a rebellious teen

Childish? Maybe, but it felt good.

“Is anyone bleeding or suffering from broken bones?” she deadpanned.

“No, Commander.”

“Then trust me, this is what I need to be doing right now. Unless, of course, you and Joker want to take bets on how many punches it takes before Miranda goes down?” There was a slightly hopeful lilt to her voice, her lips quirking in amused anticipation.

Ah, yes, XO abuse: another great way to pass a boring afternoon. Evening? Night? It was impossible to tell, which wasn’t helping her mood in the slightest. Maybe it was time for some shore leave?

“No, thank you, Commander,” came EDI’s clipped tones, and Shepard gave a wry smile and another purposeful press of the ‘probe’ key.

A pregnant pause.

“Anomaly detected.” Was it possible for an AI to sound surprised? Because she sounded surprised.

“Hnnng?” Shepard grunted, blinking rapidly and struggling to sit up straight to look at the screen.

“I’m picking up a weak distress signal; it appears to be Alliance in origin. Playing encrypted message…”“Lost power to the—crackle—emergency landing—buzz—attack—beep—so many out there—whoosh—” The radio faded into static, and Shepard frowned, her brow furrowing in thoughtful concern.

“Why can’t these messages ever come in clearly?” she grumbled as she punched the button for the ship’s intercom system.

“Attention, Normandy crew. We’ve detected a planetary anomaly. Miranda, Garrus, Jack, and Grunt, report to the briefing room ASAP.”Then she turned off the scanner, ending the fuzzy background noise abruptly, and stood up from her desk, casting her eyes around her quarters, face illuminated by the blue glow of the fish tank.

Squaring her shoulders, she strode towards the door, the hydraulics hissing as it slid open to reveal the elevator.

Well, at least she wasn’t bored anymore.

[ ∎∎∎ N7 ∎∎∎ ]

Shepard stood in the briefing room, arms crossed over her chest as her crew argued about whether or not to check into the distress signal coming from the planet below them.

“I say fuck ’em. What has the Alliance done for us lately?” Jack shrugged one shoulder and then looked directly at Miranda expectantly.

How much longer could she hold this crew together without a clear mission or any concrete objective? How much longer would all of these people be willing to travel and live together, with all of their differences?

Would it be her fault if tensions rose too high, if things came to blows?

She hadn’t expected Jack to be enthusiastic, given her history, which was why she didn’t intend to bring her along with the landing party. If they went.

“We can’t just leave them, Commander.” Miranda’s voice was strained as she leaned over the table, hands white-knuckled where they gripped the edge. “You heard the message, whatever they’re dealing with, it’s a lot of them.”

“But we can’t just charge in without knowing what we’re up against either, can we?” Garrus pressed, mandibles flared wide with his concern, and Grunt scoffed.

“If you had half the quads I do—”

“Well, technically-”

“Shut up, Turian. Rushing headlong into danger is the way we operate. Right, Shepard?”

Great. Angry boyfriend or angry Krogan?

“We’ve definitely had it worse,” she agreed, and gave Garrus an apologetic look.

The truth was, the vigilante had been fiercely protective (and also ungodly paranoid) ever since the night before the Collector base, when they’d finally stopped dancing around each other long enough to fall into bed. Shepard knew it was not a coincidence.

She tuned out the escalating argument between Jack and Miranda, their squabbles more annoying than concerning at this point, and instead let her mind wander back to that night several weeks ago, before they reached the Collector base.

He’d been so careful, so adorably unsure once they’d finished their drinks and retired to her bed. Neither of them knew if it would even work, for all their preparations and planning, and the awkward way he’d touched her, checking in every 3.5 seconds to make sure he wasn’t hurting her, nothing was chafing, his talons had been sufficiently blunted...

Shepard smiled to herself. What a difference a few weeks could make.

Coming back to the present, feeling a bit flushed, she was glad to find that Jack and Miranda had seemed to stop their bickering. Instead, Miranda caught Shepard’s eye with an almost knowing look, as if she could tell what her Commander had been reminiscing about.

“We don’t have any other information?” Miranda asked, “No ground scans?”

“Atmosphere’s too thick. If we buzz in low, we might be able to get a reading, but by that point, we might as well have just landed and taken a look,” Shepard reasoned, going back into leadership mode.

“Look, we’ll take the shuttle in nice and quiet. Once we’re through the cloud cover, if we don’t like the look of things, we bail. But we can’t just leave without trying.” She held back from finishing with ′this is the first somewhat interesting thing to happen in weeks, and if I have to probe one more planet, my fist is going to probe someone’s face.’ Prudence was key, after all.

“Right,” Garrus agreed, stepping to her side. “Who’s going to join us?”

Shepard barely hid her smile. The Turian’s assumption of his involvement was certainly romantic in her book, and she blushed slightly. His eagerness to shed blood with her spoke volumes of his dedication and affection. And it was also really, really hot.

“Jack, you up for a little exercise?”

Miranda pouted on the other side of the table, and Jack laughed, rubbing her hands together and cracking her knuckles as biotic energy flared to life across her body, flickering and casting an eerie shadow across her maniacal face.

“Hell yes! But if there isn’t anything to blast, those Alliance fucks better watch their backs,” she cackled, and Shepard rolled her eyes.

“Right, let’s roll out. Meet in the hold in ten,” Shepard stated, then grabbed Garrus by the arm and dragged him from the room.

As they suited up, Garrus strategized.

“So I figure I go in first and wave in Jack, and then once it’s clear, you come in—”

“Hold it right there, buster,” Shepard interrupted, stopping halfway through putting her combat armor on in order to poke a self-righteous finger into his chest. “I’ve had just about enough of all this male posturing. I can take care of myself, and I don’t need you to protect me like some delicate flower. Watch my back, but don’t shelter me, Garrus.” She stared hard into his eyes, and the Turian put up his hands, taking a step back. His mandibles fluttered close to his face, head tilting to the side.

“Easy, Shepard, I wasn’t—”

“Can it,” she hissed, and he deflated, shoulders sinking.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re… important. To me,” he murmured, mandibles tightening against his face in embarrassment as he reached a hesitant hand out to rest on her shoulder. “I mean, to the universe, and humanity, too. But—”

“You’re special to me, too, Garrus. But we need to be reasonable, here,” Shepard interrupted, stepping towards him, negating his retreat. “There’s still a chain of command. Outside of the bedroom, I need to know that you’re still going to follow orders, even if you don’t like them. Especially if you don’t like them.”

“I understand, Shepard. Don’t worry, I know who’s boss,” he moved nonchalantly past her to pick up his helmet, bumping his hip into hers and leering down at her, “at least during the day.”

Shepard paused as Garrus turned away. There was always a part of her, the supremely girly part deep inside, that wanted him to fuss, to worry, to promise he’d throw himself between her and danger. But the bigger part, the part that had clawed her way back from death, needed him at her side, not in front of her.

Shepard was just about to make a rebuttal when Jack entered the room. She immediately made a face like she’d just walked in on her parents mid-bondage session, and she made an exaggerated gagging noise.

“Hey! Less fucking, more kicking ass!” she griped, and then left for the cargo hold, grumbling about horny Turians and her dominatrix commander.

“We’d better go,” Garrus stated. “I hate it when she gets impatient. It’s painful.”

Shepard nodded, and together they headed for the shuttle.