A/N: Nearing the end of this fanfic, just one or two chapters left after this one. It's not a very long story, but I hope I've succeeded in making it an entertaining one. I know I had a blast writing it. ;-)

Disclaimer: In this time and in this reality, Pandorum does not belong to me.

Another violent shudder brought them all to a halt. Lights strobed and metal groaned, a few stray wires sparked. No matter how many times he went through this, Shepard was never any less freaked out. Once the power surge finally passed Imahara asked Jethro, "Will the reactor last long enough to start the evacuation?"

The tip of Jethro's tongue darted out as if to lick her lips, then she thought better of it. They had all covered themselves in cruddy oil to block their natural scent. She shrugged. "If we're quick enough, maybe."

"Perhaps we should try to fix the reactor first, da?" Ivanov suggested.

As if the spirit of irony listened in, a far-off howl reached their ears. Shepard gave his head an emphatic shake. He might have been depressed, but he wasn't fucking suicidal. The bridge lay in the opposite direction from where that howl came from. For whatever reason, the Hunters seemed to prefer the area of the ship closest to the reactor. Maybe because it might be a tad warmer there, or maybe because that's also around the same sections where most of the passengers were stored. Sticking close to the food source. Shepard felt bile rise in his throat at that morbid thought.

The four of them continued on without another word, Jethro in the lead, Ivanov and Imahara to either side of Shepard. More than any of them, he needed to be kept alive in order to save whatever passengers remained on the Elysium. Being surrounded by three other, more experienced survivors didn't make Shepard feel any safer, however. Their weapons seemed pathetic in the face of what he'd seen the Hunters do. Everything in him screamed to run away and find someplace to hide. His earlier melancholy had obviously done nothing to stifle his survival instincts. About the fifth time he jumped at some unidentifiable noise, Imahara placed a hand on his shoulder. Maybe she wanted to reassure him, or maybe she was just making sure he didn't bolt. "How much farther?" he whispered. It still sounded way too loud.

Jethro answered just as quietly, "We still got maybe an hour before we get there."

"Jesus." The sheer massiveness of the ship finally hit home for him. "We're not gonna make it."

"Shut it," Jethro hissed, "Keep that shit to yourself."

Shepard swallowed and tightened his sweaty grip on the blade he'd been given. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears he was amazed he could hear anything else. Jethro suddenly stopped and held up a hand. The others peered down as she knelt and indicated a thin line running across the floor, a tripwire. Cutting it would trigger the mechanism and cause a lot attention-getting noise, so instead they all carefully stepped over it. Shepard trembled at the memory of the snare he'd been caught in. Christ, was it only one day ago? If that guy, Bower, hadn't shown up... Shepard felt something akin to pity for the young blonde man who'd woken up to this hell. He had to be dead. Shepard couldn't imagine the guy escaping from a pack of Hunters, especially ones who were bound to be extra pissed when Shepard was literally yanked from their grasp. He hoped when Bower met his end it was quick.

A flicker of movement above and to the side was his only warning before a Hunter leaped down from some unseen perch with an unholy shriek and landed just behind their small group. The creature lashed out, slicing into Ivanov's back and knocking Shepard aside in one move. The blow to Shepard's midsection knocked the breath from him and sent him sprawling on the floor several feet away. Ivanov roared like an enraged bear and spun with incredible speed for someone of his size, swinging one of his broadswords. The Hunter dodged his first blow only to wind up in the path of the second sword. The monster screamed as the blade cut into its side. Imahara rushed in to help the old man while a second Hunter dropped down just as suddenly as the first and went after Jethro. The creature was preternaturally fast. It was all Jethro could do to fend it off. She couldn't hope to keep it up, and once she tired it would have her.

Shepard struggled to his feet, gasping, one arm clutching his abused midriff. The sounds of shouts and wails and clanging metal filled the corridor. He saw his companions fighting desperately for their lives. Adrenalin surged through his system and panic overcame physical pain. Save yourself, his instincts cried. Run!

He ran, raising his weapon in both hands and driving it into the second Hunter's shoulder. He felt the blade grind against bone and heard the creature screech in rage. The Hunter spun, tearing itself loose from Shepard's blade, and struck him across his face. Its jagged claws left fiery trails of pain. Shepard staggered back with an agonized cry.

Jethro took advantage of the Hunter's distraction and stabbed its side, her sword slipping between its ribs and into its lung. A mortal wound for an ordinary human, but though the Hunter gurgled and spat up blood, it continued to fight back.

Shepard straightened and wiped the blood from his eye. Strangely, the injury had transformed his fear into hatred. He roared and came at the Hunter with his weapon raised. Wounded, the monster wasn't able to keep up with both his and Jethro's relentless attacks, though it sure as hell tried. Shepard's vision was lost in a red haze. Stabbing, slashing, screaming, an endless nightmare of violence. He didn't stop until a pair of hands grabbed onto his arms and pulled him away. He struggled, tried to slash at whatever had hold of him. But then the sounds he heard finally resolved themselves into words and his reason returned.

"Shepard, stop! It's dead!" Jethro dragged him from the bloody remains of the Hunter. Shepard stared blankly at the corpse. He couldn't even recognize it. Absurdly, the first word that sprang to his mind was hamburger, and then he was doubled over and vomiting up his last meal. He staggered away from the mess, wiping his mouth on his grimy sleeve. Then he opened his eyes and saw something far worse than what he'd turned away from.

Imahara was sprawled on the floor a short distance from the corpse of the other Hunter. Ivanov knelt at her side, his big hands clamped around her throat. At first, Shepard's addled brain told him the Russian was strangling her. But then he noticed the blood seeping from between his thick fingers and realized Ivanov was trying to save her. The Hunter's blade had cut through the botanist's neck so deeply it was a wonder she still clung to life at all. But even Shepard could see there was no hope for her.

They were covered in blood, all of them. Theirs and the Hunters'. It dripped from Ivanov's long dreadlocks. It coated the hands Jethro pressed to her mouth and left streaks on her face where her tears fell. It soaked Shepard's uniform, his hair, his skin. It flowed from the deep wound in Imahara's throat like a small river.

"It will be alright, kraseevah Kuri," Ivanov whispered, because that's what people said when things were hopeless. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears and he smiled down at the dying woman. "It will be alright."

Imahara choked, blood dribbled from her lips. "Please," she gurgled weakly, "Don't...let them...eat..." Then stillness. Her eyes staring, lips parted. Gone.

Ivanov removed his hands from her throat, then gently closed her eyes with the tips of his fingers. The despair etched into his features was too much for Shepard to look at and he turned away. He could hear Jethro sobbing nearby. They all remained locked in their grief for several vulnerable moments, then Ivanov rose and hefted the woman's slight body with ease.

"Mike," Jethro sniffed, wiped her eyes, "We can't take her with us."

"I will not leave her to these beasts," the old man's soft tone brooked no argument. Neither Jethro nor Shepard could blame him, but where could they take her body where it would be safe from the Hunters? There was no place on this ship entirely out of their reach.

An idea formed in Shepard's mind. "I know where we can take her." He started down the corridor, glancing at the letters etched onto the doors. He heard the others following. No doubt they wondered what the hell he was up to. A couple minutes later he found the door he wanted and hit the control to open it. He and his companions stepped inside and he quickly sealed the door behind them. They found themselves in a room containing half a dozen hypersleep chambers that once belonged to a maintenance crew. All empty now.

"I can activate the launch sequence on individual pods," Shepard explained, "We can send her outside the ship." It was something that had occurred to him in his panicked state, just jump into the nearest cylinder and escape from all this. He still wasn't sure why he hadn't gone through with it.

"A burial at sea," Ivanov murmured. He placed Imahara's body in one of the cylinders with infinite care. She slumped gracelessly at the bottom of the chamber, her upper body leaning against the back wall, head lowered so that her dark hair obscured her face. She looked for all the world like she'd simply passed out after a rough night partying. Ivanov touched the controls and the chamber hissed shut. Without a word, Shepard stepped forward and typed the launch sequence into the keypad. If only he could do that for all the chambers at once, so he wouldn't have to continue this insane journey. But it just didn't work that way.

Shepard had only known Imahara for little more than a day, yet her death affected him more than he would have expected. She hadn't been killed running away from danger, she'd died trying to save everyone who remained alive on this godforsaken ship. Shepard didn't know if she had family, someone she loved, who might or might not have died centuries ago. He didn't know if she would make the same choices if given the chance. But he did know she was a better person than him.

"We commend her soul to God," he whispered, pressing the final key, "We commit her body to the sea."

The cylinder rose up with a blast of air and vanished through an opening that appeared in the ceiling above it. Before the opening irised shut, a thin stream of seawater spilled down. The three survivors stared at the spot where Imahara's body had been. Her absence left a void, like a missing limb. The tiny group would never be whole again.

They took the time to clean off the blood and tend their wounds as best they could. The claw marks on Shepard's face were bound to leave scars, especially since they all planned to apply more oil to themselves. Not the most sanitary stuff to put on one's cuts. Ivanov also changed the bandages on Shepard's side. The fight had pulled some of his stitches, but there wasn't time to redo them. Nor was there time to properly care for the gash on Ivanov's back. They depleted the bandages in his tiny first aid kit so that the Hunters would not catch the scent of their blood. They hoped.

"Mike," Jethro's voice was startling in its rawness.

Ivanov turned towards her, his movements stiff.

"Your injury's too severe. It's gonna slow you down."

He quirked a bushy eyebrow. "Why not let the qualified doctor be the judge, da?"

The woman sighed and ran a hand through her oil-matted hair. "You don't have to risk your life. You can take one of these chambers, have Shepard launch you to the surface."

"Nyet, Lenora," he answered somberly, "I will see this through to the end."

She looked like she wanted to argue further - she'd already lost one friend today - but she knew he wasn't about to change his mind. Her shoulders slumped in resignation.

Shepard watched their argument with a strange sense of detachment. They weren't about to offer him the chance to escape the ship, even though he was hurt just as bad as the old man. They needed him, after all. Without his ability to access the ship's computer, there was no point in continuing. His hand slipped into his pocket and found the arrowhead. His thumb traced its edge, back and forth, like a desperate man invoking a good luck charm.

"It's not a gift. I expect it back when we get to Tanis."

A faint gasp escaped him, unnoticed by the others. He remembered. The arrowhead was hers. He could see it so clearly, he wondered how he ever could have forgotten. She wore it all the time, even under her uniform, which was against regulations. She'd jokingly called it her talisman.

"It's for luck," she said, placing the precious token around his neck, "And so you won't forget me."

"I wouldn't forget you," he denied, even though they both knew he wouldn't have a choice.

Shepard tightened his grip on the arrowhead as his vision blurred. Jethro walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll mourn her later," she said, misunderstanding his sadness, "Right now the only way we can give her death any meaning is to keep going." Her eyes were red-rimmed from her earlier crying. Shepard wondered how close she and Imahara had been. Like sisters? Lovers?

With a nod, he picked up his weapon and followed the others back out into the corridor. It was then that another power surge went through the ship. But - Shepard frowned - this time was different. The violent shudders were reduced to faint tremors. A low hum filled the air. He looked at the others and saw the same confusion. Then the lights flickered, brightened, and settled into a steady glow. The control panels scattered throughout the corridor blinked to life for the first time in centuries. Cool air blew down from a ceiling vent.

"Oh my god," Jethro gasped.

"What's happening?" Shepard asked.

She stared around in amazement. "Th-the generator. Somebody's reset it."

The revelation left him dizzy. He actually staggered back a step. Someone else...someone else was alive. They weren't alone.

Ivanov recovered first from the shock. He set his jaw and tightened his grip on his broadswords. "This gives us time to reach the bridge, then."

He was right. With the reactor functioning again, they no longer had to fear the ship's power grid failing altogether and making it impossible to start evacuation. They could proceed at a more cautious pace, and that was what they did.

Shepard reveled at the fact that he was no longer surrounded by shadows. It was hard not to grow overconfident from this. He had to remind himself that just because the lights were on didn't mean the monsters had vanished. It was just easier to see them coming now.

They walked in a row, Jethro in the lead, Shepard in the middle, and Ivanov bringing up the rear. Shepard moved to close the distance between him and Jethro, still behind her but off to her side. She cast him a warning glance at leaving his position of relative safety, but didn't say anything.

"Did Imahara have any family?" He didn't know why he asked this. Maybe to ground himself after the high of witnessing the ship come back to life.

Jethro pursed her lips. "No, not that she mentioned. Mike has a daughter. If she hasn't woken from hypersleep yet, she'll still be eight years old."

Shepard started. Eight years old, and her father had been awake long enough to become an old man. Was eight old enough to understand why he'd aged so drastically while she stayed the same?

"What about you?" he asked, "You got anybody?"

She stared straight ahead, ostensibly to keep alert for approaching danger. Her answer, when it finally came, was so quiet Shepard had to strain to hear it. "Yes."

"Who?"

She swallowed. "I don't know. I don't remember anything about them, what they looked like, who they were to me. All I have is a name and a feeling. That's all."

Shepard thought about the faceless, nameless woman he loved and felt a surge of empathy for Jethro and her broken memories. He touched her arm. "I'm sorry."

Jethro took a deep breath, nodded. Shepard allowed himself to fall back until he was between her and Ivanov again. They continued their journey in silence until Jethro brought them to a halt in front of a specific door. "We're here. This is where one of the flight teams was kept in hypersleep. We can go through here directly to the bridge."

Shepard read the words stenciled across the door:

FLIGHT CREW

TEAM 6

He snorted. Right back where I started.

Yowls and screeches cut through the air. The three companions jumped.

"They sound pissed," a nervous Shepard remarked.

"They're getting closer," Ivanov said.

They didn't waste another second to enter the room. Jethro activated the door locks, their muted thunks bringing some small relief. Shepard took in his surroundings. It was strange to see the empty cylinder with his name on the front. It didn't feel like weeks since he'd been revived, it felt like years.

The others didn't spare the three empty chambers a glance as they walked past. As they neared the massive door leading to the bridge, Jethro slowed to a halt, one hand raised to check the others. A deep frown creased the space between her eyebrows.

"What?" Shepard asked. Why wasn't she opening the door?

She moved her hand in a beckoning gesture. "You hear that?"

Puzzled, the two men stepped closer and turned their ears to the door. Their eyes widened as the same realization hit them at the same moment. There were people already on the bridge. And they were fighting. There were the sounds of fists connecting, grunts of pain and angry shouts. None of these were Hunter sounds. There were no unearthly shrieks or terrified screams from their victims. This was human against human.

A woman's voice cried out, "What are you doing! Why don't you shoot!" And then the sound of something metallic breaking and the loud ping of a ricochet. The crackle of reinforced glass forming cracks. Then chaos.

A loud siren blared. It took a second for Shepard's training to remind him what it meant. "Oh, fuck," he stumbled back from the door, "Hull breach!"

The door moaned as water sprayed out from its seams. The ship's interior was strong, but it wasn't designed to contain an entire ocean. They only had a few seconds before the door collapsed and the entire room flooded. Ivanov started for the door they'd entered through, but Jethro yelled, "No! We need to get into the pods!"

Shepard nodded in frantic agreement. A hull breach meant the ship would automatically evacuate all occupied hypersleep chambers. This was their only chance. Jethro leaped into the cylinder that once belonged to someone named Lieutenant Shannon. No sooner did it hiss closed than it jettisoned itself out into the unknown. Shepard ran for his own chamber just as the door they'd used to come in here - the door leading out into the corridor - suddenly slid open and a snarling Hunter burst in. Ivanov lumbered forward to meet it, brandishing his swords. Shepard found himself locked in place, torn between escape and coming to his friend's aid.

"Go!" Ivanov bellowed over his shoulder. He was already bleeding from half a dozen cuts inflicted by the Hunter's wicked blades.

A pained groan escaped Shepard's throat and he ran towards the combatants. He was terrified, but he couldn't leave Ivanov to face that monster alone.

A horrific screech rent the air as the door to the bridge chose that moment to fail. A tidal wave swept through the room, knocking both men and the Hunter off their feet and slamming them into the opposite wall. Shepard gagged on saltwater and flailed ineffectually until a meaty pair of arms wrapped around him and lifted his head above the water. He choked and sputtered. Ivanov dragged him over to the nearest chamber and shoved him in. The cylinder automatically sealed itself. Shepard stood chest-deep in water and stared through the window at the old man's calm face. He could see more Hunters coming, climbing down from the ceiling and fighting the gushing tide through the door. Shepard tried to shout a warning, but there was no way the other man could hear him through the chamber's impenetrable walls. And then he was launched and Ivanov, the Hunters, and the ship were swept from his sight.

Russian words:

Kraseevah - Beautiful

Nyet - No