"Okay." Shepard strode into the hangar, carnifex held loosely in her hand. "Anyone find the 'on' button yet?"
The young Cerberus security officer came to a sloppy salute. After the reaming she'd given him for putting the geth in the AI core he'd be walking on eggshells for weeks. "No, ma'am."
"I'm more worried about the off button," Tali grumbled.
"You and me both," Jacob said.
"Off button's right here." Rhi held her pistol out briefly. "But I want answers from this thing." They formed a loose circle around the dormant geth. "Like how it can talk, and why it's wearing – if wearing is the right word – a piece of N7 armor."
"Perhaps 'incorporated into its external structure' would be more accurate, but 'wearing' is quicker." Tali shrugged. "Sorry. I really have been trying to figure out how to turn it on! There's physical damage to some of its systems from the husks, but nothing that should prevent it from activating. I soldered the head cable conduit where it had loosened. I don't know what else to do!"
"Have you tried unplugging everything and plugging it back in again?"
Tali glared at her. "Shepard."
The corner of Rhi's mouth twitched up. "Just a thought." She nudged the geth with her booted toe. "Tech's not my forte. That's why I have people for this part."
When her toe connected with the geth's head the second time, there was a click, a whir, and the front-mounted light came on.
She had her pistol up and aimed in a heartbeat. "See? You just had to thump it."
–––
Joker laughed aloud when the geth activated. It wasn't just that everyone but Shepard – Tali, Jacob, even Miranda – had jumped about a foot backwards in surprise. It was the looks they were giving each other. Looks that said "I won't tell anyone you spooked if you won't tell anyone I did" across language and species barriers. Shepard hadn't noticed; all her attention was on the geth.
He cut the clip from the hangar footage and sent it to her omnitool. Anything that good had to be shared.
"I could have mined the geth system for intel without risking reactivation if I had been allowed a hard-wire connection," EDI pointed out.
"What's that you said? You could have been mind-wiped by a geth and given over control of the Normandy? Good point, EDI."
"You are being sarcastic."
"You're learning! I'm so proud of you."
"I am. And I look forward to many enlightening conversations with our newest team member – whose name, by the way, is Legion."
"New who what now?" He turned back to the screen. Shepard was talking with the geth, gun apparently forgotten by her side. The geth was animated, gesturing and tilting its strange head in a mimicry of organic habits.
He slumped back in his seat. "Holy shit. Now we're friends with the geth. Love and bunnies and robots. I hope she knows what she's doing."
"You do not seem intrigued by this discovery, Mr. Moreau. This is the first recorded instance of a human being speaking to geth."
"Bullshit. Shepard's spoken to lots of geth. She usually uses four letter words."
"It is the first instance of speaking with the geth. They are effectively a new synthetic species, for all that is known about them. The news that they have factions is entirely unpredicted. What this means for synthetic/organic relations is… vast."
Joker yawned and patted her console. "Look, I don't mean to seem bored with your new robot friend. It's great that you can two can talk subroutines or whatever. I'm just kinda tired."
It had been hard to drag himself from Shepard's bed last night, and harder still to fall asleep in his own. It seemed like such a waste, knowing she was only two decks above him. He went back to his work for awhile, but the mind-numbing reports didn't help him stay awake.
He yawned again, loudly.
"Oh, don't start," Rolston yelled from his station. "D'you know how many hours of the shift we have left?"
"Don't mind him," chimed in Hadley. "Fly-boy over there was out la-ate last night."
Shit! Joker scrambled for an excuse. How many late nights had it been in a row, now? Not counting the one night he'd stayed. Someone was bound to catch on sooner or later.
"What," said Matthews, "You think he was meeting a girl behind the bleachers like in high-school? Don't be ridiculous."
"Hey!" Joker's ego jumped in front of his brain. "Why couldn't I be? Aside from the lack of bleachers, obviously."
"Because all the women were on duty or asleep."
Joker grimaced. Shit, but Matthews could be weird. "You checked?"
He turned his chair around in time to see Hotchkins, who had been walking down the companionway, fetch Matthews' a rap on the head with her data pad.
"That's for being creepy," she said.
Joker laughed.
"I look out for people, and all I get is abuse? I should report that," Matthews grumbled.
"Yeah, you do that," Joker said. "See how far it gets you with Shepard."
"Yeah, maybe she'll give me a medal," Hotchkins agreed. "I'm certainly not going to win anything for launching probes. Hey, Joker – datapad's for you."
"What? Oh, thanks." He skimmed through it; notes on the geth – Legion, he reminded himself, we're giving them names now – interrogation. Judging by the number of typos and lack of organization, Shepard had been jotting down her thoughts whenever they occurred to her. The window into her thought process was surprisingly charming. She wanted to consult with him.
"So, what were you up to last night, Joker?"
Joker looked up, irritation replacing his smile. Try the truth. "I was with Shepard."
"Aw, man, she had you crunching tactics shit again? I know you're a workaholic, but everyone needs a break."
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Tell 'em the truth and it flew right by. What would he have to do, kiss her on the bridge in front of everyone? Would they believe it then? Shit, I don't care what they think. Still, he'd like to see their faces if he did. A long, deep kiss that no one could mistake for anything but what it was, dispelling the little nagging voice that said it was shame, not propriety, which kept her so discreet. Stop it. You know it's not.
He squirmed, uncomfortable. "If a few late nights is all it takes to keep us flying? I am not going to complain. Anyway, I get to avoid Rolston's snores. I keep trying to delay the inevitable."
Rolston's 'I'm sorry! I can't help it!' was interrupted by Shepard on the radio. Joker spun back forward to give her his full attention. "Commander?"
"Did you get a chance to look at that data pad?"
He glanced down again to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "Geth schism, our good geth wants to kill the bad geth, and, oh, you noted something from Tali about engine manifold calibrations – was that supposed to be part of it?"
"Oops." He heard a beep; she must have transferred the mistplaced note to her 'tool. "Yeah, that's about it. Chance to hit the geth – the 'heretic' geth, that is, hell, even the robots have religious wars now – where it hurts."
"Does that mean they're Grown Up Life? I'm pretty sure 'have deadly religious schism' is one of the final qualifications."
"Don't ask me. They should've sent a philosopher. So, whatcha think?"
He snorted. "Chance to see the inside of a geth station and kill thousands of the things that made our lives hell back in the day? Doesn't matter what I think; I know we're going."
"See, that's insightful. I should consult you more often. Plot a course, Joker."
"Did it five minutes ago, Commander."
––––
The geth station was both stranger and more familiar than Shepard had expected. It was startlingly disturbing to walk among all that whirring machinery without a console or read-out in sight, but at least they could walk. She'd half expected to learn that the geth stored their mobile platforms on the outside and moved their electronic selves around over wires or something. Finding something as prosaic as a hallway – even a hallway with such low gravity – was a relief.
The fact that the dormant geth platforms powered up and started attacking them whenever she put a foot wrong was less relaxing, but she'd fought geth before. They went down just like anything else.
They flew really well in the low gravity, too, once she gave them a little biotic help.
Legion's little moral dilemma was more of a challenge. Rewrite the geth, or erase them.
The thought of all the intel they could have brought back on the reapers wasn't enough balanced against the threat of them turning again, or spreading their virus. Legion was too new a factor to trust completely, even if he – it – they? – had saved her life. Besides, the thought of 'rewriting' anyone, whether they were exactly living or not, made her stomach turn. Better a clean death than brainwashing.
She was much more comfortable with explosions.
They made it out of the collapsing station with a full minute to spare; the violent collapse Legion had unleashed a roar behind them. Joker grinned at her when she stopped by the bridge and made a crack about the daily-recommended value of running-from-explosions.
"Don't be silly. If it was daily I'd have to blow up parts of the Normandy. Weekly, at most."
"Someone needs to put you on a diet. Pretty sure explosions are a sometimes-food."
"That one didn't even make any sense, Joker."
"I'll explain it to you. Later." He winked. "Got a ship to fly, y'know."
–––
"So, uh… how long do you think this cloak-and-dagger thing is going to work?" Joker rattled his fingers on the edge of the couch. He'd been trying to think of a better way to put it without luck.
"What?" Rhi lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him in confusion.
I should've waited, he thought. She was worn out from her fight through the heretic station, whether she'd admit it or not. The impressive amount of food she'd consumed since was a testimony to how much she'd pulled on her biotics. It also was making her a bit slow. No backing out now, though.
"Y'know, this." He curled his fingers in hers for emphasis. "I mean, not this this, just the keeping-secrets part. It's a small ship. Hadley was wondering where I was last night."
She sat up. "Shit."
It hurt, a little. Stop it. She has valid reasons – morale and professionalism and all that command stuff you ignore. You're just tired. "S'alright. They all just assume you're working my ass off."
"I was working your ass off." She chuckled and settled back into his shoulder.
He couldn't help but grin at that. Practice might not make perfect, but it made damn good – and they were getting practice whenever they could. He wrapped his arm around her and murmured into her hair, "Someday, I want to kiss you in the CIC, in front of who cares who." I want you to kiss me.
He thought she stiffened a little, in his arms, but before he could ask why the radio crackled to life.
Shepard sat bolt upright, all traces of her lethargy gone.
"Commander!" Mercer's voice was intense, but not panicked. She'd come a long way. "We just intercepted a report from Verde Tau. Their comm-buoys started going down an hour ago – the last transmission was a visual. A collector ship."
He exchanged a loaded look with Rhi. Another colony vanishing on their watch.
"Shit." She breathed it out softly enough that Mercer probably couldn't hear. "How far away is this place, Mercer?"
"One quick jump, commander. We could be there in a matter of hours – but EDI is still busy installing the IFF."
They were lurking in an uninhabited system give themselves breathing space for the IFF install. Joker had spent hours with EDI making sure the strange device was working with his systems, but the intricacies of the reaper IFF were beyond him. Identify Friend/Foe units were usually nothing more than a coded beacon – this one was something else.
"Heard and understood, Mercer. EDI! Abort the IFF integration. We need to move."
The pause before EDI responded made his heart sink. It was brief – only a moment, just time to watch Rhi's chest rise and fall with her breath, to see her face go still as the mask fell into place – but for EDI, it was an eternity. He knew something was wrong just by the delay.
"Shepard, the integration process is proving surprisingly complex. It is not possible to 'pause.' At this point, I estimate reverting to the Normandy's previous defaults will take approximately six point three hours."
"So work while we go."
"I cannot guarantee we will be able to use a Mass Relay safely. The ship is in effect part way between registering as a reaper and its previous human civilian designation. The result is… unpredictable."
"My ship has an identity crisis?" Joker said.
"Worst case?" Shepard asked.
"The Normandy could be reduced to particulate matter. In the second worst case, sheer forces caused by non-uniform registration could tear the ship apart." EDI paused. "Or the relay/ship interface could function within normal, crew-safe parameters. It is very difficult to determine."
"Six hours before we can jump, got it." Shepard was on her feet, heading for the armor locker. "We'll take the shuttle."
"The shuttle?" Joker pulled himself up, suddenly scared. "Shit, that's like leaving your gun at home! That thing's not even armed – how're you going to face down the collectors without some air support?"
"We managed it on Horizon." She'd stripped down to underwear and a sports bra, her uniform forgotten in a pile by her feet.
"When they were already packed up and halfway out the door, yeah! What if you interrupt the middle of the party?"
She shoved one foot and then the other into the thick full-body under-armor and yanked it up. He was too worried to appreciate the little wiggle she did to get it over her hips. "We'll take the whole team. That's more than I had on Horizon. If it's not enough to stop the collectors it should still be enough to get us out again."
"Okay." This was what they were here for, after all. Protecting the colonies. He turned towards the door as she got her hands through the sleeves and started zipping up the front. "I'll go warm up the kodiak."
"No." She stopped with a piece of ceramic armor in her hand. "Miranda will pilot." She smiled a little to take the sting out of it. "I need you here."
"With a ship I can't fly? What good can that possibly do? If you're going to charge the collectors with that cow of a shuttle, you're going to need the best!" He'd never worried before when Shepard went into battle. Because we always fought together. Her on the ground, him in the sky.
She reached him in two long strides, straight posture and armored boots making the most of their height difference. "That was an order, helmsman." Her voice softened, but her stare didn't. "What I'm going to need is the one person I totally trust in command of the Normandy."
He deflated, closing his eyes against her gaze. "Aye aye, ma'am."
"Joker –"
He realized how sullen that had sounded and mentally kicked himself. Shit. "No, I get it. It's… just a bad situation."
"Yeah." She sighed. "With people-eating machines out there we can't expect too many good ones."
He slipped his arms around her waist for a breath, the weird slick weave of the under-armor unpleasant against his skin, then left for the helm.
The awkwardness still hung in the air, frustration and hurt and no time to examine any of it.
–––
Joker watched the shuttle leave from the bridge via vid-feed. He couldn't fault Miranda on her take off, though he watched like a hawk for any little wobble. Her skill shouldn't have been irritating, but it was.
The real test is in atmo, anyway.
He'd felt an unexpected surge of pride when Shepard announced his temporary command. Silly, since it would have been de facto anyway, but still. The crew had seemed impressed, showing him unusual respect – for the first hour. Then it started to sink in that they were stuck in dead space with nothing they could do to help, and the grumbling started.
"Some command, eh, Joker?" Matthews called. "All hands, head for the Citadel! Oh, wait, we can't. Return to Earth – oops, can't do that either. Quick, head for –"
"Shut. Up." Joker looked back over his shoulder to see Matthews with his feet up on the console. His ankles were sticking through the holographic interface.
He thought of the quiet voice Rhi sometimes used, the one with hints of both humor and menace. "I could still order you to spit-polish the console you've got your boots on, Mr. Navigator."
It didn't come out quite right, but Matthews put his feet back on the deck fast enough.
Hadley chuckled. "Thanks." He cocked an eyebrow at Matthews. "Haven't you figured out 'hurry up and wait' yet?"
Joker abandoned his useless screens and turned his chair around, stretching his stiff legs. "'Course he hasn't. That's a military specialty." He grinned at Matthews. "Private sector doesn't have the skills."
Matthews stuck out his tongue.
Joker turned back, idly scrolling through a read-out. Rhi must be past the relay by now, halfway to the colony. How could she possibly stop an attack with twelve people? With the comm-buoys down, how long would it be before he knew if they'd succeeded… or failed? His stomach twisted. What if something happened and he didn't know? What if she didn't come back, and that awkward, half-sullen hug had been the last one? He wished he hadn't questioned her. He wished she hadn't pulled rank.
He wished he'd gone with them.
EDI interrupted his miserable thoughts. "Mr. Moreau, I have discovered concerning anomalies in our energy signature."
She illustrated her findings on his console, data scrolling past almost faster than he could follow. He reached out and stopped it, reversing to check the numbers. Could they be sending something besides their normal heat out there? He didn't want to believe it. "It's just radiation. White noise."
"I have detected a signal embedded in the static. We are transmitting the Normandy's location."
She had his full attention. "Transmitting? To who? Are we broadcasting or is it a tight beam? How long have –"
A collector ship appeared in front of them, dropping out of FTL bare meters from their position.
His mouth dropped open.
"Oh. Shit," he whispered.
A tiny, treacherous part of him was awed at any being that could pilot a ship through FTL and emerge meters, rather than kilometers, from their target. That took skill – and guts. Or maybe a death wish.
He didn't let his respect slow him down, though. His fingers flew over the screen, focused, blocking out the gasps and shouts of surprise from behind him.
"Getting out of here!" The collector ship was right on top of them, but if he dropped her straight down her z-axis they could get enough clearance to make it FTL. He'd take his chances with 'unpredictable results' – the results of sticking around were far too predictable.
The screens flashed red under his fingers. "EDI, what the –"
"The propulsion systems have been disabled. I am detecting a virus in the ship's computers."
"From the IFF?" They'd spent days analyzing the thing and they hadn't found that? Had EDI just missed it, or had she ignored it?
No time to wonder. The collector vessel filled the entire view-screen, impossible to ignore. They haven't blasted us in two yet. They want to board. He toggled the ship-wide comm, fighting to keep his voice even while his gut flipped in terror. "All-hands. Prepare to be boarded by a hostile force. Arm and take emergency positions."
He didn't have to tell them where. Shepard had drilled them in that, just like everything else.
Behind him boots pounded as the CIC crew jumped to his command. He grabbed the heavy pistol strapped to his chair, the one Shepard had suggested. Ever since the explosion on Omega he'd felt more comfortable with a gun to hand, but he'd never expected to use one on his own ship. He loaded the heat-sink with numb fingers and tried not to think about how many shots it took to take down a collector.
He almost wished he hadn't spent so much time watching Shepard's feed. Ignorance was bliss.
EDI's voice interrupted his frantic thoughts. "Primary defense systems are offline. We can save the Normandy, Mr. Moreau, but you must help me."
Can't just save the Normandy. Have to save the people. He'd learned that last time, when he watched Rhi die. But Rhi isn't here now. He felt an irrational surge of anger. She should be here. She knew better than to leave her crew undefended, she knew how to fight, she'd know what to do.
His fingers moved over the controls, trying the propulsion systems again even though he knew they were useless.
"You have to give me the ship, Mr. Moreau."
"Give you the – you're crazy!" Did EDI want to help, or kill them all? Had she known about the virus?
"There are no other viable options. If I can access the Normandy's systems I can remove the virus. Without that access I am useless."
"Why?" he shouted, "Why do you care?"
"I am tasked with protecting ship, crew, and mission." EDI paused and added, "And I do not want them to destroy my… home."
"Me neither," he muttered, and hauled himself out of his chair, "but if you start singing 'Daisy Belle,' I'm done."
"You must reach the AI core undetected. Collectors have breached starboard cargo. Use the maintenance shaft in the science lab. The lights in the corridor will guide –"
"I know my own ship; I don't need to follow the god damn bouncing ball!"
The CIC was almost deserted, only four crewmen guarding the elevator. As he came abreast of them he thought about taking their place. Someone healthier, someone quicker, should do this – he could stand still and fire a gun.
Before he could say anything the elevator door opened with a scream of tortured metal and someone – Matthews – shouted a warning.
No time to trade, now. He was closest to the lab. Joker lunged for the door as the first claw came through the door. Hadley was yelling, telling him to hurry, voice barely carrying over the rattle of gunfire.
The door closed. On the other side someone screamed, a sound so twisted by pain that he couldn't even tell which of his crewmates it was. He wanted to run, but he'd never run in his life. He didn't even know how. Even augmented his bones couldn't take the jarring. Instead he sped his stride. The scream turned his stomach in knots, made him want to go back and help, or hide, or something. He lurched into the lab bench, fear and haste making him unsteady. "Shit!" You can't help anyone if you fall.
Down into the dark maintenance shaft, ladder cool beneath his fingers. There he could breathe a little easier; his arms shared the work with his overburdened legs, and he didn't have to worry that a collector was sneaking up behind him, noise covered by his own loud progress, mouth or proboscis or whatever ready to –
I should never have watched all those horror movies. "Shit. Shit shit shit."
"Multiple hostiles detected on the crew deck!" EDI's warning came just as he reached life support. Hawthorne was waiting – EDI must have briefed him. Why didn't she send him to the core? Damn it, EDI!
Hawthorne leveled his rifle, spouted something about protecting him, and charged out the door. Shit!
Joker followed, fingers sweaty on the grip of the pistol. Just have to make it to the med bay.
The hall between crew quarters and the observation lounge was a mess, screaming, shooting, and strange alien noises combining into a wall of sound. Some part of his brain kept expecting to hear Shepard's voice raised above the din, taking charge, saving them all – but all he heard was chaos. He pressed his back to the wall and stuck close to Hawthorne.
Hawthorne stopped at the intersection, firing. In front of them a nightmare of conjoined once-human husks, back bulging with unthinkable fluid, was pulling at a body in Cerberus fatigues. The monster squealed at the interruption and raised its arm. Images from Shepard's mission vid flashed before Joker's eyes: footage shaken by waves of force, the thud of her armor hitting the ground after she'd been flung off her feet. If that thing unleashed its biotics neither of them would survive.
Luckily that wasn't the only thing he'd learned watching all those missions.
He fired over Hawthorne's shoulder, once, twice, three times, straight into the bulging fluid membrane on the thing's back. The sack ruptured, viscous fluid and lumps of flesh spilling out over the thing's body, covering the floor, and Hawthorne, in vile gunk. The monster staggered and started to go down.
She never mentioned the smell.
"I've got it, keep going!"
Joker didn't hang around to see Hawthorne pick a new target. The med bay was only a few steps away, and he had a clear path. Most of the fight was by the elevator, collectors and husks mauling the crew in the confined space. Someone started screaming as they were dragged away, the sound of pure terror filling the deck.
He almost turned back when he realized it was Mercer.
"No." He kept going, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Come on, Jeff, almost there.
The med bay door closed behind him, but there were more creatures moving beyond the glass. He ducked bellow the window level, but his thighs weren't strong enough to move in a crouch. He crawled the rest of the way to the AI core, panting, sure that at any moment the glass above him would shatter and he would be hauled to his doom.
The AI core doors closed him into eerie silence.
He pulled himself up, shaky on aching knees, and looked around the core for a large red button labeled 'DO NOT PUSH.' There wasn't one. "Alright, EDI, I'm at, uh… you."
"Connect the core to the Normandy's primary control module."
It turned out it was a big red cable, not a button. The coil was covered in warning tape and secured with plastic security ties that had to be cut before it would reach to the port EDI had indicated.
Stepping back into the med-bay for a scalpel was the scariest thing he'd ever done. Why don't I have a knife? Rhi always has a knife. He wished she and her knife were here.
He muttered to himself as he sawed off the security tape. "This is where it starts. When we're all organic batteries they'll know who to blame. 'This is all Joker's fault, what a tool he was. I have to spend all day computing pi because he plugged in the overlord'."
The last tape snapped, and he pulled the cable over to the core's console. Here goes nothing.
The lights winked out.
Well, shit.
They came back on again with a flicker. "Thank you, Mr. Moreau. You will need to reach engineering to manually reactivate the main drives –"
"Ugh, you want me to go crawling through the ducts again."
"I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees."
He stared at her hologram. Not just crazy. Textbook crazy. And your fault.
"That was a joke."
"Right." He turned for the maintenance shaft leading down towards engineering. "Remind me to talk to you about how there's a time and a place for your kind of 'humor'. If I survive." He strained to hear the sounds of conflict outside, to get some idea of what the hell was going on, but the layered shielding around the AI core was too thick.
The shaft let him out in Jack's pit. He'd never been all the way down there before; there was no reason to see it, and, with Jack in residence, a lot of reason to avoid it. Dim red emergency lighting made it even grimmer.
Two staircases lead up to engineering; either one could lead to collectors. "Port or Starboard?"
"I thought you did not need to 'Follow the bouncing ball.'"
"Damn it, port or Sta–"
A line of lights flickered to life in the floor, and he started to climb.
A shadow overhead warned him in time to duck back down the stairs, crouching around the corner while the silhouette of the collector passed above. They were carrying body pods. Each would have someone trapped inside. Ken? Gabby? Don't think about it.
EDI whispered an all-clear and he started moving again. Engineering was empty.
"Activate the drive and I will open the airlocks as we accelerate. All hostiles will be killed."
"What? What about the crew?" She had known about the virus, she wanted the ship for herself, she–
"They are gone, Jeff. The collectors took them." The softness in her voice was as surprising as her use of his first name.
"Shit." He didn't feel anything but tired. It was too much to grasp. Part of him was still expecting Shepard and her team to return, to miraculously pull triumph from disaster at the last possible moment. This couldn't be happening.
He started the drive activation sequence, thankful that it wasn't so different from the systems that managed shuttles like the kodiak. The core started to glow again, the massive sphere lighting the darkness of engineering. Around him, the Normandy hummed to life.
"I have control."
The surge as EDI flung the Normandy into motion threw him to the floor.
–––
Joker moaned.
He hurt everywhere; head, bones, and heart. And butt. At least he'd landed on a part that was padded. He started to roll to one side and a rib joined the cacophony of shouting body-parts. Great.
The headache didn't hit until he was upright. He took off his hat and ran a hand over his head, feeling for swelling. There was a small lump on the back of his skull. Concussion? Have to ask Chakwas.
Chakwas was gone.
Everyone was gone.
Everybody's dead, Dave. A stupid line from a stupid old TV show. That had been the computer talking too, hadn't it? A messed-up computer talking to the only human left alive. He started to shake. They were gone. Shepard was gone. He'd failed and he was alone. "Everybody's dead. Everybody's dead, Dave."
"Who is 'Dave'?" EDI asked.
He hadn't realized he'd said it out loud. Get a grip, man. He took two deep, steadying breaths. "Not important," he said, "What –" No. "Nevermind." He didn't need EDI to tell him what to do. He clutched his aching head.
I have to call Shepard. He'd have to explain the inexcusable, have to hear her voice. He'd have to tell it to the whole crowded shuttle, full of warriors who'd left to save a planet when he couldn't even manage one ship. She should have been here all along. If she'd stayed this wouldn't have happened.
His head pounded when he stood up. His stomach roiled on the point of nausea. Side effect of concussion. Right.
Rhi's parting words echoed in his mind – The ship's all yours. Take care of her. He'd thought it was a silly thing to say at the time – it's what he always did, what he did even when it was stupid, what he'd done even when it meant she died. Now it was bitter. He'd saved the ship – but only the ship, and only by unleashing EDI. EDI saved the ship, really. He'd just hid.
Collectors carrying frozen crew-mates marched through his memory to a soundtrack of Mercer's screams.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't face her. She left me with her crew, with her ship – with our ship. And the ship's all I have left. He closed his eyes. I can't do it.
"Send a message to Shepard's shuttle." He mumbled it, ashamed to be avoiding the task, unable to face it. "Tell her what happened."
"Message away." EDI must have drafted it while he was still lying on the floor moaning. "Are you feeling well, Jeff?"
"No. But thanks for asking."
He hobbled stiffly away. Maybe he could get to the med-bay before he puked.