Hello, Time Bomb
Chapter 37
Getting It Right
Three
Shepard looked up at the shroud.
Knee deep in the corpses of brutes and ravagers, she stared at the field around her. The towering building in front, its peak masked by the smoke and dust of Tuchanka's ruined atmosphere; the corpse-littered stadium at her feet, blood smeared stones and crumpled pillars; the empty sand where Kalross had disappeared, taking a Reaper with her.
"Everyone else saw that too, right?" she asked on the open radio channel.
She received a static-filled response from one of the turian fighters. "Yes, ma'am. We'll have a hell of a story to tell when we get back to base."
"The destroyer is gone Shepard. Dr. Solus is waiting for you," Liara said.
She jumped down off the ledge she was standing atop and started picking her way toward the base of the shroud.
Everything about what had happened seemed wildly improbable. She would have to talk to Mordin about it. Kalross should collapse under her own weight. There were a thousand other apparent fallacies – the hull integrity of the destroyer, the damage a thannix cannon should have caused to Kalross' carapace, the bizarrely misplaced predatory instinct of the maw – but her mind could not wrap itself around the idea that such a huge creature could resist Tuchanka's gravity enough to even be alive, let alone mobile, let alone fast.
There must have been something she was missing. Maybe there was an inherent anatomical difference in Kalross when compared to other maws. A study would be invaluable for the development of in-atmosphere superstructures. Maybe when this war was over she could commission an investigation.
Clambering over a fallen pillar, she came up to the final stretch toward the shroud. A section of plating fell to the ground beside her with a crash, edges flaming, carving a red hot groove into the stone. Above her an explosion rippled down the tower. The battle had done its damage, this building was coming down soon. They had to get the cure out.
She entered the building. Mordin was already at the console, apparently having formed the same conclusion about the integrity of the building.
"Is the cure ready?" she asked.
"Yes. Loaded for dispersal in two minutes. Procedure traumatic for Eve but not lethal. Maelon's research invaluable. Her survival fortunate. Will stabilise new government should Wrex get any ideas. Promising future for krogan."
She walked closer. This was a decision they had talked over, virtually since he had come aboard, but there were still nagging doubts. There were variables for which accounting was impossible.
"Is this the right choice?"
Mordin kept working. "No perfect option. No guarantee."
"But is it right?"
He paused to look at her, his expression grave. "Yes."
The krogan future was impossible to accurately predict. She trusted Mordin. He was the expert, smarter than she could ever hope to be and with a wider education on the subject. If he said this was right she would back him.
Eve was alive, Wrex was in charge. Wreav had most likely been killed. New leadership wasn't a magic bullet, Wrex wouldn't live forever, but it was a promising start. Together they could help guide the krogan along a peaceful path. The alternative, continuing the genophage, denying Mordin's prerogative, would only end in more violence and distrust.
"Control room at top of shroud tower. Must take elevator up."
"You're going up there?" Shepard asked before the implications had settled. The tower was coming down, Mordin couldn't make it back in time.
"Yes. Readings at lab suggest temperature malfunction, could affect cure viability. Need to adjust settings manually."
"No," she said impulsively, a stab of panic seizing up her chest. She couldn't lose him. "Options."
Mordin shook his head. "None. Temperature variance could destroy cure, time running out. Have to go up. Not coming back. Suggest you get clear, explosions likely to be problematic."
"What's causing the variance?" She heard the edge of desperation in her own voice. She could feel the blood draining from her face. Even as she spoke the words she realised the problem. The missed call from the Dalatrass; this was STG sabotage. If she had known ahead of time maybe there was something she could have done. If Udina hadn't blacked them out she might have saved him.
"Don't know. Doesn't matter. Have to fix it."
He was so calm, determined. He was certain, there was no argument to make. He was going to die. She shook her head. "I need you."
Mordin stopped working at the console. He looked at her and smiled gently. "My responsibility."
"So is this. The implications are far-reaching."
"No, not this. Just a consult. Initial genophage re-release my work. Cure is your work. Your decision, your responsibility."
Shepard swallowed a lump in her throat, the panic rising. "But you... you protected me. Without you I..."
Mordin took her hand and squeezed. She fought back tears. He was the only person in the galaxy who made her feel less alone, and he was leaving.
"Thirty-two years old, Ivy. Not going to live forever. Need someone to carry on my work. Thought it was Maelon." He smiled. "Miscalculated."
"I'm not ready."
"Have been ready since Bahak. Survived Cerberus. Survived Alliance. Survived Council. Will survive Reapers. Will win us a future."
He had to do this. Like she had to take care of her rounds, like the Normandy had to fight the Reapers, he had to finish the genophage. Shepard took a deep breath, straightened her curling shoulders and nodded. "Let's do this."
"Good girl." Mordin raise his hand and splayed his fingers across her forehead. "Proud of you."
She couldn't hold back the tears that slipped from her eyes, but her helmet masked them. He needed her strength as much as she needed his. She squeezed his hand one more time then released him, letting him move toward the elevator.
"Goodbye," she said.
The elevator door slid closed, Mordin met her eyes. "Go, now. Be safe."
She nodded, watching just a moment longer as the elevator started moving, then she ran.
She focused on the task, getting out of the shroud, getting far enough away that it wouldn't crush her. Mordin wanted her to survive. She sprinted, taking the course quickly just like she had done on Mars, vaulting over fallen debris. The arena was so dilapidated that there was no clear path, everywhere was broken and unstable. Kalross and the Reaper had all but destroyed the ancient structure.
It was taking too long. Not for her safety, she was confident that she could get clear. It was a long enough run that she couldn't stop reality sinking in. Mordin was gone. He was about to be blown to pieces, his body burned and buried under a thousand tons of rubble. He wasn't coming back.
She reached the pickup area just in time to see the shroud start working, the renewed function clearing the smog in the air, seeming to cast bright tendrils through the sky. It was beautiful.
She leaned against the giant entrance pillar, gasping, and looked up at the sky.
The cure was out, they'd done it. At a cost. His choice.
The top of the shroud exploded, a fireball bursting into the sky as the cure spread, orange against green. Ivy's heart stopped, a sudden lancing pain in her chest and her gasping turned to sobs. She clutched a hand to her chest, doubled over in exhaustion and pain, letting it out in hacking whimpers. The wetness in her mask blurred her vision, she felt the tears track their way down to the edge of her helmet and run along it before slipping down her neck.
A tank pulled up somewhere behind her. She straightened and took in a ragged, heaving breath, trying to calm herself.
She was in control, if shaken, by the time Wrex and Eve approached her.
They stared up in wonder at the widening cloud of healing air. Mordin's life for the future of their people. It was how he wanted it.
Wrex laid a hand on her shoulder. He was serious in a way that she wasn't used to seeing from him. He understood, or maybe just guessed, what she had lost. "Come on, Shepard. This place is going to come down soon."
She nodded and let him lead her to the tank.
He was trying to help her keep up appearances, climbing in ahead of her and hauling her up by the elbow so that it looked like she was operating under her own power and he was just balancing her. Signs of weakness on Tuchanka, in this war, wouldn't be acceptable. Her uncooperative limbs, weak joints and stained face would lose the faith of the krogans.
She sat down heavily inside the tank, taking in another deep breath to fill her collapsing chest. She had to keep going, they weren't finished with this war. This was just one of a thousand steps she had to take.
Wrex ignored her, starting a petty squabble with Eve, giving her time to regroup. Somehow it was worse than if he had just berated her for her weakness. She was so grateful that she felt the tears welling up again. She leaned back against the seat and focused on keeping her breathing regular, her throat relaxed.
After a moment, to the ambient noise of the krogans bickering, she opened up a line to the Normandy. "EDI, I'll need pickup at the meeting ground."
"Councillor Udina has put the Normandy in lockdown. He has kept the protocol active for an unusually long period of time."
"Are you and James still on the ground?"
"Yes. Jeff has been simulating lockdown since our approach to the shroud."
Shepard sighed, feeling bone tired. If this was an actual lockdown instead of a drill she felt as if she would crumple into a boneless pile on the ground. "Can you get the Normandy running again without him knowing?"
"It will require my full resources to mask our signatures. This platform will not be available during that time." EDI had grown attached to her beautiful new body quickly, as had Shepard. Its utility was admirable.
"Leave the body with James and arrange pickup. Mordin won't be joining us."
EDI paused. "I'm sorry, Shepard."
"Thanks, EDI."
"Instituting mask protocol, stand by."
The line went dead and Shepard heard, outside the tank, the last of the Shroud come crashing down. It was over.
The tank pulled up at the Hollows. The hatch opened to let in the blistering Tuchanka sun. Shepard managed to stand, her knees felt as if they wanted to give out, but she stood. She staggered out onto the stone paving, barely keeping herself from falling as she hit the ground.
This wasn't fair. Mordin had only altered the genophage. He wasn't the one to uplift the krogan, or the one to start the krogan rebellion, or even the one to release the genophage. Those mistakes were the ones he had paid for with his life. It wasn't fair.
Wrex placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her forward, into the Hollows proper. He gestured around the ruins, stained with blood and ash. "A long time ago my father betrayed me in this place. His own son. He tried to kill me. So I had to kill him... right over there. That's what the genophage reduced us to. Animals. But you changed that today, Shepard."
Shepard smiled helplessly. He was trying to be nice. Trying to cheer her up. She remembered all the reasons she valued him aboard the first Normandy. The straight-talking, gruff, strangely sentimental mercenary.
"Now we'll fight for our children. Not against them," Eve said, then shook her head sadly. "It's just a pity Mordin had to die."
Eve knew. She understood. She had gone through the same thing that Shepard had endured. Stuck in a strange lab, a bargaining piece for warring factions with only Mordin there to protect her from everyone who wanted to exploit her.
"Yes," Shepard said, feeling her lip tremble.
Wrex clapped her on the shoulder. "We'll name one of the kids after him. Maybe a girl."
"But you, Commander – we can thank you in person." Eve took her hands, gave them a squeeze in solidarity.
"Tell the turians I'll be deploying troops to Palaven immediately," Wrex said. "And when you're ready to kick the Reapers off Earth, you let me know. The krogan are back in business."
"Goodbye, Commander," said Eve. "We have to spread the hope you've given us. Even now clans are gathering in the Kelphic Valley. I'll go speak to them and make sure this gift isn't squandered. Thank you for all that you've done. And know that Urdnot Bakara calls you a friend."
Shepard gripped the hand in hers tightly when Bakara reclaimed her name.
Mordin may have given her credit at the last moment, but he was the one who had done this. He had given these people hope, he had led Bakara back home, he had led her back home. He thought this was worth dying for and he was right.
James hovered in one of the major archways, EDI's platform draped over his shoulder. Shepard walked over to him and he gave her a gentle smile.
"Hey, Lola. Ready to go home?"
"Yes."
"Come on, EDI has the Normandy back online."
"Are we still locked down?"
"Yeah, as far as I know." He followed a couple of steps behind her as she led the way to the parked shuttle.
Shepard opened up her radio. "Joker, set a course for the Citadel. I want to be moving as soon as we're back on board."
"Aye aye, ma'am."
Cortez opened the shuttle door. He looked like he was about to say something, but Vega shook his head sharply and he turned back to the console, getting the shuttle powered up.
She sat down and leaned her head against the shuttle bulkhead, closing her eyes. Mordin wasn't going to be the last casualty of war. At least Kaidan was alive. She didn't know how she would survive if she lost both of them. They'd be at the Citadel soon. She could go to him, talk to him over datapads, reassure herself that he was alive.
"Shepard," EDI said through the radio.
"What is it?"
"I've returned a hit on the search protocol you set up."
EDI was stalling. That was unlike her. "Tell me."
"The first New York casualties have been retrieved. Father Levi Mills was among the dead."
The words didn't hit for a few seconds. Father Mills. She hadn't seen him in years. He was dead.
"Thank you, EDI," she said, her voice coming out as a whisper.
She stared at the far wall, the shock settling over her. Her breath was coming in short puffs, her mind wasn't putting all the pieces together. Father Mills was gone, just like Mordin. Just one of tens of millions of dead humans on Earth. She would never see him again.
James moved fast, tearing off his helmet and letting it drop to the floor, even as he moved to sit beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Just like Father Mills had done when he'd told her the Alliance were after her. It had been so cold, the dead of winter, snow so thick on the ground it soaked her ankles as she sat on the stoop of her shop, the elderly man trying to tell her that it would be alright, that he could help her. He had smelled of strong soap and leather.
Something terrible welled up inside her, a pressure that clawed to get out, stinging her eyes and tightening her throat.
She fell into Vega's arms and started to cry.