InsaneJournal

Requesting access. Shepard, Jane.
Who: Garrus and Shepard, and featuring Natasha Romanoff
What: Grand Theft SSV Normandy
Where: An "abandoned" Marine base in Orange County
When: Today!
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13



“We have unofficial sanction,” Shepard was saying. She checked her omnitool, and then her armor. Both presents from the dreams. Leaning into a box, she pulled out an additional omnitool that had come with the Mako. She tossed it to Garrus. “The Normandy falls under the Agency, but I don’t think the government is going to hand her over.”

She slung an assault rifle over her shoulder, and strapped a shotgun to one leg. “Ready to attack an supposedly closed Marine base?”

Unofficial sanction, that was very reassuring. Not that Garrus had any qualms in doing something they weren’t allowed to do anyway, he didn’t mind the occasional (or frequent) bending of the rules until they shattered into a million pieces. This mission was a little personal in the nostalgic sense. It was the Normandy, the vessel of memories. Home for their team while they went through the hoops and loops of their many missions during the war efforts. It didn’t belong in a ‘supposedly closed Marine base.’

“Like riding a bike,” he smirked, the extra omnitool caught and equipped. Functions tested, and it worked like a charm. “Remind me to somehow get armor like yours, by the way. I got mine. But I don’t exactly have the physical Turian attributes to fit it.” His visor was over his eye, the trusty thing - the carved names of his squad team from Omega on it. One particular one had been scratched out. “Following your lead.”

“Yet,” she joked, always teasing him. Her scars glowed as she flexed her biotics, but she’d always been somewhat of a renegade with a heart of gold. “Our ride should be here…”

“You owe me something big, Shepard.” Nat’s voice cut into their comms. The sound of a helicopter drew closer. “I’m not going to be able to extract you once you’re inside.”

“We already have an extraction plan,” she assured her.

“If you can not jinx me, it’d be greatly appreciate,” Garrus sourly mumbled, passing a look of exasperation with a hint of what maybe was amusement to Shepard. All things considered, this would (or should) be a breeze to go through - working side by side was as natural as breathing. An effect from the dreams, perhaps, but it made things plenty easy for them.

The faceless voice carried familiarity - wasn’t it the redhead that helped with that weapon shipment, a couple months ago? “You do know how to pilot the Normandy, right?” Just checking - Joker had taken that glorious position in the cockpit, and Brittles Bones drove that baby effortlessly in dreamland. But he wasn’t here to help.

And, uh, Garrus also knew how Shepard drove...

The Commander smirked, glancing at Garrus before pulling her helmet over her head. She was looking forward to it. What she’d done before in the OC had been small scale stuff. Nothing really requiring a squad, even. This would be like old times. She just hoped she never needed to drum up an actual platoon for the Agency. Natasha had told her some stories…

“It can’t be that hard, right?”

The chopper appeared overhead, and Nat let down a ladder. Shepard let Garrus go up first, and she had barely grabbed on when Nat started flying away.

“‘It can’t be that hard,’ she says, as we go and steal a a space ship.” Extraction would be rocky, that much he knew - and he very much expected some sort of property casualties. Shepard just didn’t drive well, whoever granted her a license to operate any vehicle must have been drunk that day. There goes his taxes, to government jobs in which people let crazies drive.

Garrus got comfortable, rifle in arms, and tossed a nod to Nat. “Thought it was you. How’s it going?”

Taxes well spent. Once, someone let Shepard drive a tank.

Sure, the mission got accomplished, but at what cost?

She seated herself near the door as the ground rushed past dangerously close. “I figure we just point up and let autopilot take it from there. Landing will be the hard part.”

“Things are fine. I’m late for knitting club.” Nat glanced at them.

Shepard always made it sound so easy, didn’t she? Garrus bit back a sigh. He’d go with it. Those crazy plans of hers usually worked out for the best anyway, and hopefully it’d go quick. “I’ll be sure to wear my seatbelt when we do,” he remarked with a huff of a chuckle, shifting in his seat.

He’d been anxious to actually see the damn thing. The Normandy in all her glory. Would it have artificial intelligence in it? EDI, maybe? It was a little early to get his hopes up, but shit, did Garrus hope. “Maybe you should take up knitting club, just remember those metal stick things aren’t weapons. Well, they can be, that’s just not what they’re used for.”

“Just don’t get distracted by calibrations.” Shepard checked her weapons for what felt like the sixteenth time. She wondered how they were disguising the ship. The Normandy wasn’t exactly small. Not huge, but still pretty big. One-hundred and seventy meters. Nearly two football fields. How do you hide something like that?

Her question was answered as they came to the base. A new hangar had been built, just over two hundred meters long and barely tall enough for the Normandy. “Take us down just inside the perimeter.”

“That gun battery’s going to need some attention,” Garrus insisted defensively. Calibrations were no joke, and he’d gone above Legion himself in making those guns as efficient as possible, he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing, thank you. Not that he himself ever fully worked on a spaceship’s insides, but the knowledge carried over and he was sure it’d be like riding a bike.

Then something interesting came to sight, and his eyes tightened suspiciously. “If we didn’t know any better....”

It didn’t mean that Garrus didn’t deserve being teased for the calibrations. Even if Shepard was grateful for them. “I’ll bet you that’s so Top Secret that the President is in the dark.”

“I’m bringing us in,” Natasha said. She flew them in low, hovering over the grass. “Better hurry before they notice us!”

“Yes, Ma’am. Good thing I’m good with orders,” Shepard mock saluted Nat, and then slid down a rope.

“That’s true only sometimes,” Garrus so helpfully contributed - teasing, really - before he gave Nat a respective nod and followed Shepard down. Feet landing to the ground, he gravitated close to the redhead to survey the establishment before them, a quick sweep of his eyes. “Got a couple proximity mines, by the way. Something tells me they’ll be handy.”

They didn’t pack the same punch as grenades did, but they were still effective - and were good against Reaper types anyway. Garrus would preferably not want to put a bullet in someone’s head or blow their arms off; that’d attract too much unwanted attention, and he doubted the Director wanted to handle that kind of backlash (not to mention the heap of paperwork it’d involve).

“Beautiful. If there are any aircraft hanging around we can probably knock them out on the ground, rather than risk one of the pilots in the air.” She pulled out a pistol and checked it. “Non-lethal shots if you can help it. Most of these guys are just following orders.”

Then she crept around the corner of one building, to try to get an eye for the best way to access the hangar.

“Good with those orders,” Garrus agreed, a slight nod. This was her ship - she commanded it, and this was her mission. He followed her on a suicide mission, so stealing a spaceship was actually considered cakewalk. “Were you able to get your hands on any schematics of this place, or are we going in blind? I’m good with either, but a head’s up would be nice.”

“Only some old, outdated plans. That hangar is new, so I’m willing to bet that’s where we’ll find our baby.” There didn’t seem to be anything in the way of patrols, which meant there was some other kind of defense. “Should tried to cut power to this place.” But with their head gear they should be obscured enough. “I’m going to cut across to that building there. If it’s clear I’ll flag you over. Then we’re going to find a way into the hangar.”

“And if it’s sealed shut - the Normandy - we go in the other way? Traynor’s toothbrush with that mass effect field would be really handy, in case.” Seriously, fuck their lives, but a toothbrush literally did help them save the Normandy back when they were on shore leave and Shepard’s clone ran amuck.

Garrus gave her a quick nudge, muzzle of the gun pointed. “Go, then. Someone shows up, I’ll get them before they get you. Deal?”

“Fucking toothbrush.” Shepard nodded, and darted out of cover. It was twenty meters to the hangar, but she made it undetected. A few minutes spent checking for patrols, then she waved Garrus over, covering his fine backside. She pointed up at a window once he was close enough. “There’s our way into the hangar. Hoist me up, I’ll let you in at the door.”

“Just make sure your ass doesn’t make any weird noises in my general direction,” he snorted, holstering his weapon so his hands were free to get a good grip on her hips and up she went - helped her get her feet in too. Then made his round towards the door, eyes surveying the perimeter cautiously. The less altercations, the better. If they could nab the damn ship in one clean sweep, it’d be ideal.

So far, so good. Maybe his successful proposal would turn his luck around.

Right on time, the door swung open, and Shepard leaned against the wall while Garrus came in. The interior was very dark, but something large loomed over them. “We need to find the lights.”

As though that wouldn’t draw attention but at this point Shepard didn’t think it would matter. If they were lucky the Normandy would recognize their command codes and voice prints.

Please let us be lucky.

A place like this wouldn’t have a regular household light switch, unfortunately - but Garrus did spot the fusebox, managed to pry it open and after reading a couple labels and flipping a few things…

“And let there be light,” he whispered. It was a cliche line but whatever, Garrus had this thing where he got a little corny with a dash of snark, judge him all you want. On cue, they flickered on, one row at a time. The illumination revealed exactly what they came here for - the spaceship of, literally, their dreams. Breathtaking.

“God…damn.”

It was a beautiful line and Shepard was about to say so, but then her eyes widened as she took in the ship. Their ship. Her ship. Even seeing it in the dreams couldn’t compare to seeing it while awake. She half reached up as though she was going to touch it. “Alliance blue…”

Alarms started to blare. “Worth it. Move, Vakarian!”

Oh, right. Lights would signify the presence of unauthorized personnel - the sound of cameras turning and zoning in caught his ears through the blaring, and he quickly blew the visible ones with a bullet each. Minimize as much possible evidence, the Agency could handle the rest of the clean up should something rise - this was pretty damn relevant to Orange County shenanigans, anyway.

“Open it up,” Garrus motioned, his back to the Normandy while he scouted for the arrival of security. “I’ll take care of the little surprises.”

Shepard rubbed her hands together gleefully as she pulled herself up to one of the access hatches. “Requesting access. Shepard, Jane. Authorization code: Gamma Gamma Yankee Kasumi is a butt.”

Don’t ask.

And here Garrus was, seriously keeping an eye out for the presence of what were probably military personnel stationed here, playing ‘bodyguard’ to this galactic treasure, ready in case shit seriously went down when he heard that particular gem.

So, yes, he did actually turn his head and stared at Shepard in bewilderment. “What?”

He’d ask anyway.

“One time she reprogrammed my command codes to sing her praises and she included a line about how nice her butt was,” Shepard explained, the hatch sliding open. “So when I fixed it, I only changed that part a little it.”

Someone shouted to their left, and a gunshot echoed through the hangar. Shepard ducked inside, then reached out and pulled Garrus in with her.

He felt a bullet whizz past the top of his head, so Shepard’s reflex of pulling him in had been spot on. “Closing the hatch,” he announced, though he wished it’d go at least a bit faster - he could see the outlines of men beginning to close in, hear the shouting of emergency codes over the radio.

And when it was successfully shut, Garrus exhaled a deep breath. Crisis and bloodshed averted. Fuck, they were lucky today, weren’t they?

“We’re here,” he then suddenly said. Reality finally sunk in. His eyes looked around before landing on Shepard, something of a smug grin breaking across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. We’re on the Normandy.”

The interior lights started to come on as the ship registered that they were on board. It was like a guide, leading them away from the airlock and towards the elevator. Shepard paused to look down into the cargo hold. She could picture Vega doing chin-ups. But it was just her and Garrus, and the feeling was just a little bittersweet. “We’re going to give the OC a really interesting show in just a few minutes.”

Garrus’ memory flickered to Vega for a bit, just like Shepard - but the sight of the Hammerhead brought him the thought of Cortez. Listening to him and Vega’s back and forth bantering, and once he got closer he could see the elevator that’d take them up. Shepard’s cabin, the mess hall. Med bay.

“Makes me wish she came with the entire crew,” he whispered, echoing that bittersweet sentiment. Joker at the cockpit, EDI in her new ‘body’ next to him. Liara’s headquarters, which used to be Miranda’s office, if he recalled correctly. And that thing with her. Glitch? “Let’s go up and get her in the air. Then we can walk around and look.”

Shepard nodded, and resisted the urge to wipe at her eyes. She tugged her helmet off and stowed it next to the galactic map. She stared at the map for a long moment. “That’s going to be very interesting, and probably a little depressing.” Did Thessia exist? Tuchanka?

She jogged towards the cockpit, and slipped into Joker’s seat. “There’s probably something blasphemous about this.”

From the readout, the engines were online, and it looked like she just needed to set a destination. “We can set the autopilot to take us into orbit. … or.”

She grasped the controls, and said dangerously. “I can take us out manually.”

“How about no?” was Garrus’ clear objection, a hint of horror and annoyance in his voice. He’d trust her in space. Less things to hit, more wiggle room to move around. This close to the ground and surrounding civilians, they’d be falling into disaster’s hands and would have Carter pouring out of their asses in rage. If her taking the wheel when it came to the Mako said anything… “I’ve been recently engaged, I would genuinely like to see it through my own wedding, thanks.”

Shepard frowned, then sighed dramatically. She looked at Garrus, then used exaggerated motions to program in the course for the Normandy. It would take them over the city, buzz Stark Tower, and then shoot up into orbit. She wanted to make a show of it, and she’d accept a reaming from Director Carter in the process. It was the sort of course Joker would lay in, and it seemed only right. “Lets give the city something to talk about.”

“Something to talk about that isn’t us crashing and burning back into orbit,” he smirked, but stood beside her regardless and rubbed elbows. It was his way of being affectionate, anyway - and it was his job to give her some shit every now and then, sort of like a sibling relationship. They were bros, weren’t they? They dreamed about the same hellish war and from it, all they had was each other.

“To infinity and beyond, I guess? Buzz Lightyear traveled space.” Pause. “It’s relevant.”