A brave soldier who has proven himself again and again

Unfortunately, at a certain point, there was nothing he could do. John Shepard could make others respect him but he couldn't stop two humans from fighting at times, let alone two people of different species. In the Spectre's world of long lonely missions where outside communication was monitored, at times it felt like the whole ship was at your throat. Shore leave was rare for the average crew member and rarer for John and those closest to him.

But now wasn't the time to worry about that. The Normandy was on its way back to Citadel for some rest and relaxation when the distress beacon had pinged against Normandy's sensors. In a world of relays and easy travel, it wasn't unheard of to just ignore some distress beacons. It was a dirty secret that everybody liked to ignore.

But not for a Spectre and especially not for Metgos.

Every minute a human being spent on Metgos' surface was a new brush with a painful . Shepard wasn't sure what the pre-space exploration concept of hell was like, but he was pretty sure Metgos looked like it. In a universe where planets could rain acid or produce toxins that made your brain come leaking out of your nose, Metgos was still a godforsaken rock in space.

Shepard made his way to the loading hangar, where it seemed most of his companions had gathered already. As John clicked the last of his combat suits locks into place the general comms crackled to life.

Joker rang out into the room, his usually snarky demeanor a little softer than most were used to. Trouble. Bad trouble.

"Commander? Bad news, no landing craft is getting within low orbit of that place. The gravity will shear the thing apart."

Shepard winced "Is a high-orbit Mako drop an option?"

"I think that thing is designed for high-orbit drops, you could probably dunk it in a volcano and it'd keep on ticking."

There was a moment of silence.

"I won't dunk you in a volcano though, purely hypothetical."

The comms fizzed dead as quickly as they'd opened. Shepard sighed and looked around.

"Well, you heard Joker. This is a high-orbit Mako drop. That means minimal crew, no more than a three-person team. I don't suppose anybody wants to volunteer?"

He offered it mostly as a joke. High-orbit drops were an agony most wouldn't wish on their worst enemies. Especially in a gravity dense environment, the landing was going to feel like your entire skeleton trying to squeeze its way through the top of your head. The silence in response spoke louder than words, those words being "Not even for you John."

The choice was going to be up to him.