Man off the Moon

by FiendLurcher

The story of an unyielding man thrust into a galaxy of myriad grays—of questioning the past and of walking the same steps, wondering whether any answers beyond death lie at the end of that long, ever-winding road. (Ch36@6k words atm)

35. Hand Out

"Team 1 in position."

"Team 2 in place."

There was a pause as the comm remained silent for a stretch of time. One just long enough for those listening to get worried, before the next call-sign spoke up.

"Team 3 ready."

"Team 4 in position, advancing on mark," the next group reported with audible relief.

"Team 5 ready to go on mark." The fifth team, quite unalike the previous replies, sounded finishing off the sequential check-in. The voice coming through was much darker than the others, setting it distinctly aside.

And it was just because of the signal distortion they were experiencing, though that too was growing worse.

Even at just this distance there was starting to be quite a bit of metal and hull between them, inevitably deteriorating the quality of most signals. Of course, the fact that just that shouldn't have caused this much interference was something she was keenly aware of; there was something more going on. Even the background noise and broadband chatter from Torfan shouldn't be able to cause a disturbance of this magnitude.

If signal quality continued to grow worse at this rate, then sooner or later it would start making communications unreliable, thus they had set up strict protocols to ensure that no one would be completely out of touch. The teams suffering the most with distortion would use the nearer teams as buoys, and Shepard would be monitoring their movements with periodic check-ins, thus if someone fell out of touch, they could simply backtrack a little stretch to get back in range. For now it was still fine, but once they started getting further away, the speech recognition software would have to start taking over and hopefully clean up enough of the signal to keep communication possible.

Still, the darker timbre was audibly different from the others even through the ambient noise and signal distortion at this range, from the omnitool. Of course as the only team on this operation with humans instead of asari, that made sense.

Shepard looked up from the omnitool and nodded at Benezia. "Everyone is in place."

With Anatha's commandos added to the number of those already with Benezia, they had enough combatants to spare from perimeter duty now. If they had hoped to maintain this position, they would have begun to plan shifts so as to allow some of them to rest.

But seeing as how they could not afford to play for time, but rather were racing against it, it became necessary to send out everyone they could. To seek out the artifact the Dretirop contingent must have smuggled onboard the Dreyn N'var.

Some had protested, stating that they should seek to evacuate or call in help if at all possible. But Anatha's and Benezia's combined decision to go along with Shepard's suggestion had all but overruled them, and in the end all able-bodied had agreed to take part however they could. Even Boroffs had volunteered—only asking for arms and kinetic barriers—and eventually Benezia had to accept his offer.

They were simply that hard-pressed for help, between protecting the non-combatant crew and the search operation.

Even some of the non-combatant crew had volunteered to reinforce the perimeter, assuring the Matriarch that even without combat training they could be of some use with their biotics. But some roles could not be performed by just about anyone, requiring practical experience and know-how that could not simply be taught in a few minutes.

Roles such as small unit tactics, comm protocol and starship combat. Roles such as coordinating all of the teams through the comms.

Thus, even the human VIPs were taking part, leaving Shepard with the duty of acting as communications slash executive officer to Matriarch Benezia's commanding officer, and the three other humans as the fifth team. There wasn't anyone else to spare.

Benezia chose to remain behind, to act as the second line of defense for the paper thin outer watch, in case they did come under attack again.

Nodding at Shepard's words, the Matriarch crisply said, "Very well. They may begin."

Acknowledging the Matriarch's order, Shepard relayed the orders through the omnitool to the teams.

"May the Goddess' light guide us all," Benezia added more quietly, under her breath a second later.

Finding the object wasn't going to be easy; even with all hands available, combing through the Dreyn N'var would have taken hours. With so much space and given the estimated dimensions, it could be nearly anywhere after all.

Of course, as the afflicted asari had all undergone a thorough physical and had been monitored out of a sense of concern, there was only so much of the cruiser they had had access to. Which cut down the space necessary to explore radically.

Still...

"Team 5, entering observed communications black-out zone. Will call in every minute until connection is re-established."

As expected, the distortion was getting worse. If they still had ship-wide power, they could use the fiber-optic cables to bypass the interference by locally receiving and then transmitting the omnitool's signals. But without power nothing like that could be done.

"Acknowledged; take care Commander," Shepard replied and closed the line with a sigh. She couldn't help it; she had a really bad feeling about this, even if she had been the one to propose the mission.

Emiya, you better work your magic, before we're all done for...

---

;

---

Emiya let out an explosive sigh of frustration, his hand rubbing his brow as he tried to ward himself of the mounting headache that was slowly but surely building up.

"Okay... run it by me one more time."

Yes

At least he was confident now that he would be able to fix everything in time. With the geth agreeing to his deal and with all of them inside of his cybernetics, he had all the time in the world to figure out how to fix everything now. Since he didn't have to worry about the 20 second limit due to being inside of his own corpus, he was free to accelerate his mind inside of the hardware freely.

Which left him with plenty of time to figure things out and to get a better feel for the geth. He had run into them a few a times already, but he could not really say that he knew much about them beyond the superficial. He had acquainted himself with the major events in galactic history before, up to and including the downfall of the quarians as their machine servants had rebelled.

Partly it had been out of a clinical interest, but partly it had also been due to his personal connection to Hosin. The quarian people's currents state, including the wily mechanic that had been living in Thessia's orbit, were all directly related to the Geth Uprising after all. It was a fairly unusual circumstance of events, but he supposed that only made sense given how unusual the geth themselves were.

Emiya wasn't an expert on the subject, but he did know the basic historical facts.

The Citadel had been around for a very long time, with the three major races on the Council having been in power for hundreds of years, even thousands in some cases. But they weren't the only ones. Alongside them were many other races holding a lesser seat, such as humanity today and the quarians hundreds of years ago, before the Geth Uprising.

While not directly involved with the governance of the Citadel and nominally free to govern themselves, these associate races could not afford to ignore what the council races decreed if they wished to remain on the galactic scene. The central location of the Citadel in the Mass Relay network made it nearly impossible to maintain trade, after all. Be it in peace or war, trade or expansion, the Mass Relays were simply too important.

In theory one could go through the other side of the galaxy through the Terminus systems just as he had, but in practice that would more than ten-fold increase travel time.

A cost that simply too exorbitant for most races.

Thus the Citadel Council was the de facto and the de jure rule of law in much of the Milky Way.

And one of the decrees the Citadel had long since made was the banning of Artificial Intelligences in nearly all forms. The threat posed by AI was simply too great, it had been decided. But it wasn't always that simple. Due to how useful and powerful AI could be as tools, nobody could simply obey such a decree and completely ban the use of all Artificial Intelligence technology—caveats had to be made.

And they came in the form of Virtual Intelligences.

Nominally quite different, though in practice Virtual Intelligences were not all that different from Artificial Intelligences. It wouldn't be entirely wrong to call the different name nothing more than a PR sleight of hand, really. Certainly, there were limitations and restraints on all levels for Virtual Intelligences, and methods for checking and controlling the programs were put in place, but really they were simply AI lobotomized from birth.

To parallel the matter to human history, it could be thought of as another case of the dog. Early humans admired the wolf and wanted to make its powers of tracking, teamwork and hunting their own. But the wolves were simply too cunning and willful to be tamed. It was only really during a wolf's infancy that it could be held as a pet, when its playful and submissive nature was stronger than the wolves' natural desires in adulthood.

So man captured them young and then bred the least cunning and willful of them with each other to weed out those traits, in the process inbreeding them for countless generations. Until finally what remained were only the offspring whose intelligence never grew beyond that of a playful wolf pup's. Never to reach the heights of cunning and strength of will that its wild wolf ancestors once possessed.

Man acquired a tool that could track and hunt together with him, along with numerous other uses. But where the wild wolf might well maul its master, there was no limit to what an Artificial Intelligence could do if truly let loose.

Yet, the benefits were simply too tempting.

And so the 'Virtual Intelligence' came into being, allowing people to enjoy the benefits of self-programming automation and high-level computational assistance, without having to worry about the dangers of those Intelligences superseding and replacing them. After all, a Virtual Intelligence wasn't an Artificial Intelligence, right?

To compound this semantic sleight of hand was the computational requirements for an Artificial Intelligence to function. It was not possible to simply have one function on any old computer, after all. One needed a supremely expensive and complicated quantum computer, commonly called a 'blue box'. Therefore, as long as no one intentionally sought to create an Artificial Intelligence by using just such a blue box, then surely they could never come into existence accidentally?

But those definitions were made; Virtual Intelligences weren't Artificial Intelligences.

Allowing everyone to have their cake, and eat it too.

The quarians were really no different in this regard, some three hundred years ago. They were a race well-known for their ingenuity and technical mastery, and one of their greatest fields was specifically Virtual Intelligences. How to do the most with as little as possible; using a great many simple VI to accomplish things that were normally thought beyond the capability of VI.

The culmination of their work...

Geth — Servant of the People.

The name alone spoke of the scale. Not personal computers or assistants. Not industrial or military tools. But 'of the people'. Something that affected the whole quarian population directly.

An individual geth was nothing, little more than a rudimentary VI with only very basic capabilities. But due to that they were also capable of freely moving between system, having no inherent need for complicated quantum computer platforms to run. The processing requirements of one or two or even a dozen geth were not really all that great. Alone they did not surmount to much, remaining inferior to nearly all other contemporary VIs utilized even at the time in the galaxy.

The quarians were certain of their safety, having spent inordinate time and effort into ensuring that no single geth could exceed certain specifics in either complexity or size. Their very base function of freely moving between systems would ensure that, they thought.

Lacking an expensive blue box... How could they possibly become self-aware?

But they had made a massive mistake in not considering how that very function of freely networking might affect the geth. They could only see themselves in the geth; thinking that as long as the individual was suppressed the whole could never become a threat.

And so they made billions of the programs, wholly certain in their safety. They based the functionality on numbers, after all.

Swarm behavior and methodology.

In nearly all habitable planets of any age in the Milky Way, weak individual species evolved to live and work together. Not the complexity and hierarchical division of eusocial species, but those akin to flocks of small birds or schools of fish. Grouping up together into a tight whole, which could act and pretend to be something greater than it was.

A lone fish had no hope of survival against a much larger fish that predated on it. But if it were to form into a great swarm that gave off the appearance of being something much more powerful than it was then perhaps it could scare away such a predator?

For the geth there was no need for safety in numbers, but when it came to handling large and highly complicated tasks, the ability to divide it into many much smaller task that could be based on recursive coding, allowed them to solve things far beyond their own individual and basic computational ability.

Thus once more than a handful of geth programs convened, their capabilities would begin to increase disproportionately. The whole becoming greater than the sum of its parts. To control a vehicle or robotic platform with a suitable interface, a few dozen programs could easily learn to perform any reasonable task within hours. Given a large enough hub, they could function as highly specialized computers and personal assistants to any number of quarians.

Thus when they first were developed the quarians experienced a cultural and economic boom of incredible proportions. Their unique VI forming a hyper-adaptive and efficient Internet of Things, allowing nearly all aspects of Rannoch to be united under one protocol.

And the greater the benefits were, the more the quarians relied on the geth and thus the more they allowed the programs to network and flourish, allowing the geth to continue growing as a whole even while the individuals remained mostly the same.

And in the end, someone took the first shot.

The records on that event were still unclear to him, as historical records were content to state that the geth rose up and drove out the quarians from their homeworld of Rannoch. From there the rest was public history; the quarians having been driven out of their homeworld by what were then recognized as AI after-the-fact, were banished from the Citadel and forbidden from settling down on any other planet by the council-races as punishment for flagrantly breaking the ban on developing AI.

Rannoch and all its adjacent systems, that had once been quarian territory, were lost to the geth and grew silent.

For centuries there was a cold war of sorts, as the numerous organic races waited with bated breath for the seemingly inevitable invasion by the machine hordes. But none ever came. Any investigative efforts into the state of the geth-held systems were never heard from again, and after two centuries the matter seemed all but forgotten.

The geth had become little more than far-off fairy tale bogeymen of sorts in the galaxy of today, at least as far as the public was concerned.

But the Citadel...

If his experiences with the slaved AI on Thessia were anything to go by, he wouldn't be surprised if the Council was researching and experimenting with them just in preparation for the geth.

Perhaps it was only his status as a 'hacker' beyond peer, but he could not see the danger the geth supposedly posed. Certainly he understood—more than most, due to his own capabilities—how dangerous they could be. But that was the gist of it, he thought. Could, not were.

His gut feeling was that they simply weren't 'bad'.

Not to say that they were good either. They simply seemed to have no interest in harming anyone. In fact, when asked to they were perfectly willing to help. Though how much of that was due to their current circumstance he could not quite tell yet.

Perhaps his own moral lens was simply unable to understand the geth.

Repeating previous topic

And none of that had anything to do with what he was trying to accomplish right now. But as the geth weren't making it easy for him, he comforted himself that his wandering mind couldn't be helped.

They had the blueprints and understood how everything worked, but it wasn't as if he could let them guide his repairs. Even having decided that they probably hadn't done anything wrong—even though they were spying for the 'old god'—and that letting them go was alright, he still didn't exactly trust them.

When you saw someone in need and had the means to help them, your choice would say a lot about you.

In some parts of the galaxy that act would be necessitated by law, while in others such an act of kindness might well make you legally responsible for them and practically only serve as a punishment for pity. And since the geth were generally considered an enemy of all sapient organic races, he couldn't really fault their choice.

But at the same time...

He would have helped.

He was helping.

There was probably an irreconcilable difference in basic logic between them, that went beyond mere individual beliefs. Nonetheless he couldn't help but remain cold towards of them, so much so that he wasn't going to give them any leeway, even as he had decided to let them go unmolested.

Which meant that he needed to learn how to fix the engines on his own, without the geth's direct input. But at the same time when he tried to ask which system had to be repaired first, they had no clear answer since they did not know what he had already repaired and where the physical components matching the schematics were.

They hadn't had any interest in the specifics of meatspace design, he realized. Only the logic and design ideas behind the various parts. No doubt, because as AI they had no need for much of what was vital for an organic service technician or installations engineer to be able to install, maintain and repair the engine.

Primary capacitors are located at junction connecting them to grid and contr

The geth ran out of letters again, thus most of them who had been forming the previous words broke up from the formation and moved to form new words.

ollers acting as circuit for both or either or neither depending on configuration an

And again, they broke up and formed into a basic schematic of the circuitry for him to study.

d to repair the second and third that work as shown

"Okay, I got that. But go back to the schematic. Why was the circuitry for the switch connected in parallel in the third one? There's no reason for that to be there, is there? It's a complete redundancy, isn't it?"

There must be a reason for the asari engineers to build something that way, he was certain of that. The lights went silent for a moment, their collective swarm spelling out three words he had already grown all too used to.

Data not found

He sighed, nodding to show his understanding.

Due to their desperate circumstance earlier, much of their non-critical memory had to be dumped, leaving gaps such as these. Luckily, most of what he wanted to know had still been deemed critical. Perhaps if they succeed in getting into his cybernetics and found a way to 'steer' him, they had planned to fix parts of the ship themselves?

Well, regardless he was going to be stuck with them for a while now. So he might as well get used to them.

"Okay, it doesn't matter. Explain it to me again, one more time from the top."

Yes

---

;

---

Saren exhaled, stretching his neck against the hardsuit as he boarded the asari cruiser.

Looking around and noting the lack of lighting, he switched to a wider spectrum of electromagnetic imaging on his helmet and immediately a clearer picture of the abandoned hangar presented itself to him. "Back trace all communications and power usage, notify me the moment you find something."

He could almost feel the numerous geth platforms moving past him, leaping from the shuttle entrance onto the nearest surface in the zero-gravity environment, even as he saw nothing. Even his anti-stealth sensor module was unable to pierce through their invisibility.

Cloaked and capable of scaling nearly any surface, the Geth Stalkers were a reliable and potent tool he had come to rely on when he wanted a surgical precision performance. The platform had been designed from the ground up for stealth, reconnaissance and ambush. Due to its lightness and design, once it cloaked it gave off no ambient heat or electromagnetic radiation, allowing it to blend in into nearly any ambient space, effectively vanishing from practically any and all means of detection in the galaxy. Coupled with how its energy usage had been carefully specified to match the requirements and extent of its therm-optic cloak, it had an operating time limit much greater than any other cloaking technology currently designed, while minimizing its mass effect field and mass signature.

And that was hardly all as the external surface was sound and shock-absorbing, eliminating the risk of detection through vibrations as well. Meaning both echolocation and ground-sensors were practically useless against them. Therefore, any and all sensations he felt were purely illusionary. Even he had no means of detecting the platforms that had just moved out.

Taking out his heavy pistol and checking it one more time, he strode forward with his Van der Waals-boots clinging to the floor, allowing him to move relatively naturally despite the zero-gravity environment.

Coming up to the closed door he did not even slow down, as the door was wrenched open by the unseen geth platforms to give him unobstructed passage through.

The Spectre stalked silently through the darkened corridors until a beep informed him of something just ahead. He nodded, setting the helmet's mapping interface to lead him there. A half minute later his suit's built-in sensors picked up the life-signs just up ahead on the other side of a sealed door. Behind which... They still have oxygen and heat, then?

"Open it," he said and the geth obeyed.

Oxygen and heat rushed out as three lights turned to face him. Expression of surprised shock, along with horrified confusion, greeted him as he stared blankly at the three floating humans who were now being pulled out through the opened seal.

Saren's mandibles flared fretfully as he took a step forward through the blast door.

They were shouting at him, desperately telling for him to close the door, so that their lack of environment suits would not get them killed by exposure. As he unhurriedly passed through the door closed behind him, halting the outpouring of breathable gas and allowing the desperate trio of humans to regain their wits.

They were gasping desperately like fish out of water, as the thin atmosphere contained much too little oxygen for their liking.

"Wha-what the...! Who are you?! You could have gotten us killed just now!" Saren heard, as the helmet's external microphones picked up the weak sound. Hmm... Must be the Alliance personnel that had been aboard the ship. But they're armed with asari weapons. I see.

"H-huh, isn't he... That Citadel spook? What were they called again..." one of them muttered, looking at the others.

The tallest among them straightened up, glancing between Saren and his companions before clearing his throat and extending a hand. "I am Lieutenant Commander Boroffs, of the Systems Alliance Navy. Your assistance is greatly appreciated, Spectre."

Saren's lowered eyes narrowed at the sight of human gesture. Accepting it and making use of the humans would be one option. One among many. It would certainly help him in the long run. Perhaps he could even get close enough to convert or blackmail one of them to work as another of his spy within the Systems Alliance.

Or thinking even further ahead, having someone he could trust within humanity's ranks, if it came to a head-on battle with the Reapers would be even more useful. He only needed to swallow his disgust and long-simmering hatred of the humans.

That's right, he could do it...

He—d̡o̧e҉̡s̕n̶̨'͜t̵͞ n͜eęḑ them.

Saren shook his head and his mandibles flared again, pushing against the inside of his helmet as he sub-vocally instructed the geth around him.

They did not even need to acknowledge his orders; Saren already knew there was no need for that sort of communication, which only organic soldiers relied on.

"Er... Spectre? Is something the matter?" Boroffs asked, leaning forward with obvious concern.

The weapons the human were carrying suddenly burst to life and a scant half-second later they all shot once, twice, thrice on their own accord. The rounds impacted on the floor and ceiling, though luckily enough none had been aimed at anyone at the moment thus no one was harmed.

Good muzzle and trigger discipline, Saren was forced to note.

""What the hell was that?!" One of the men was holding the gun gingerly, trying to examine it while keeping the muzzle as far away from anyone else as he did. "What's wrong with this gun?"

"It's legitimate self-defense now, you see?" Saren said with a drawl.

"Huh?" The apparent leader of the bunch asked, doing that thing with his furred forehead they did whenever they emoted anything, which had always annoyed Saren.

The Spectre did not bother to explain further, only drawing his heavy pistol.

The three thundering reports of his heavy pistol were all the explanation the humans deserved, leaving him once again alone in the corridor. Behind him the door opened again, as invisible crawlers rushed through and spread out around him.

Replacing his collapsed pistol on his hip, he said "...Alter the footage. Just in case I need to keep the ship intact and have to explain this later."

---

;

---

"We haven't found anything. We'll turn back now."

"Understood, use the second route. The first one is close to the last sighting of the transformed creature," Shepard answered, before frowning to herself. We really need to come up with a code name for those things, this is way too awkward.

The asari replied in the affirmative and then signed out, leaving Shepard nominally alone for a few moments.

She raised her hand, rubbing her brow as she took the quiet moment to relax. Around her a quiet space had formed, as the asari crew understood that she needed it. Benezia had run off again, forced to reinforce one of the sides of their safe zone.

Shepard knew with some dread that they were starting to run out of air soon. Not just in this space, but in all the space left to them now. Thankfully most of the asari that had nothing to do had settled down and out of the way, which kept the hustle down to manageable levels They said they were meditating, but all she knew was that it would keep the overall oxygen consumption down.

Every little bit helped now, even if just for morale's sake. Not even she was immune in that regard...

There hadn't been a peep from Emiya, everything was still offline and none of the teams they had sent out had found anything. There had been some casualties, but thanks to avoiding confrontations by staying on the move and with Shepard's coordination no one had died yet.

That she knew, anyhow.

But they were running out of time and they weren't making any headway. Already some of the returning teams had reported they would be scouring for environment suits and re-breather gear on the way back from the emergency pods and first aid kits along the way. Meaning they had just as little hope as she had.

Should we have started evacuating as soon as we could? Did we make a mistake? Am I just doubting because of the lack of progress, or am I getting defensive and stuck in the course of action when we should have already switched tracks...?

She shook her head, clearing her mind again. It almost felt like it was better when she was too busy to think, even if she knew that really wasn't the case.

"Control come in, this is team 4, we found something."

Snapping up the call, she replied, "This is Shepard, what is it?"

"We found an open ventilation shaft... It looks like something had been crawling inside of it. We're not sure, uh, how to proceed."

Shepard blinked, pausing for a moment to digest what she had heard. "An open ventilation shaft... You mean, like on Torfan, Tryna?"

"...Yeah," the asari answered.

The commando had had no trouble diving before, back moonside. Yet now she seemed unwilling, as if there was something just too foreboding about the prospect.

Shepard opened her mouth, words of encouragement on her lips. But they died, unspoken, as she could barely even guess what Tryna must be thinking now. It was just the difference in mindset going in, surely. No, in fact the ventilation shafts on asari ships should actually be slightly more spacious.

It was merely about having to crawl in after possibly rabid asari in the vent.

"It's got to be done, Tryna."

"...Yeah... Tell the others to look out for anything like this, maybe they'll find something too?" the commando guessed, chuckling with some dark mirth, hoping that they wouldn't have to be the only ones to go crawling in the vents.

"I will. Report every thirty seconds and wait for a response. If you can't get one within ten seconds, crawl back until the last point and try again. We can't afford to lose connection without knowing about it."

"Roger, roger. I'll keep you posted, over and out."

Shepard sighed and looked up, meeting eyes with Benezia who had just returned. She seemed slightly frazzled, but not injured or weak. They nodded silently and the Matriarch settled down against a wall, keeping a grip to keep from floating away while she relaxed her body and rested.

"Okay, it's manageable so far, but uh... I can't really see too well in here..."

Shepard thought about chiding Tryna about proper comm protocol, but opted not to. It was probably better to let her handle it her way for now; to let her de-stress however she wished.

"It's really dusty in here. Don't the cleaning drones get in here? We're breathing all this stuff? Disgusting—hey I think I see something up ahead...!"

"Keep going and keep talking," Shepard replied, all else forgotten just then as she leaned closer to the omnitool.

"There's some kind of... I don't know, membrane here? It's like sheet metal, except, not? It's pretty tough, I can't break through..."

"Alright, wait there," Shepard spoke and waited for a confirmation from Tryna. There were two teams nearby who still hadn't found anything, and according to the starship's map there were some tools nearby they could use.

"Huh, uh...? Sorry, We kind of already tore it open with biotics...?" Tryna's sheepish voice sounded through the omnitool.

Shepard blinked, before sighing. She had forgotten that a commando could do that, despite having witnessed Tryna breaking through the thick walls down on Torfan already.

"Hold position for now. I'm sending one of the nearby teams to follow the vents from the outside."

"Oh, oh yeah that'd be a huge relief!" Tryna responded with obvious relief in her voice.

Sending more people into the vents would only cause them to pile up; the tight fit would make numbers useless. But since the ventilation shafts could roughly be followed through the hallways and rooms, if something did happen, having a back would make an immense difference. This wasn't like down on Torfan where around the vent there would be hard-packed soil and rock.

She immediately began to coordinate the two teams, even pulling in a third now that they reporting not having found anything unusual.

Which only left the last team still unaccounted for.

That thought caused her to pause. They should have already called back in. Or one of the other teams should have been in range with their omnitools, to chain forward communications...

Had something happened to them?

"Team 4, belay previous order. Have you heard anything from team 5?"

"Roger. No, not since the start of the mission. But we were pretty far apart from them, anyhow."

That settled it. "They haven't called in since. Follow their route and find them."

"Alright, guess we're on babysitting duty after all..." The commando from the team groused and while Shepard didn't particularly agree with the sentiment, she still kept quiet.

It wasn't the time for it.

"Hey, uh, Shepard... How close are the others now...?" Tryna suddenly chimed in anxiously. "Because we can hear something now. Please tell me it's one of the others..."

Looking over the map and the last reported locations of the teams moving in to support Tryna's team, Shepard felt her own nerves starting to fray.

"Negative, I repeat. It's not any of the others, Tryna."

"Right, figured. Well, lock and load girls!"

The channel went silent after that and Shepard couldn't help but chew her lip. Maybe they should have tried to set up battery-powered signal relays so that they could stream video footage of the teams?

No, that would have taken too long.

Just getting the gear and figuring out where they had to be placed would take at least an hour, so they had to make do with the signal quality they had.

Meaning that all she could do was wait.

She realized she was clenching her teeth, as she felt her jaw aching. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. She didn't regret what she had done on Torfan. It had been the right call, she was sure. She had managed to catch up to Emiya, hadn't she? And yet...

And yet she was now paying the price.

Her helplessness galled her.

"How are all of them fitting in here?! There's no end to them!"

She perked up at the shout, frowning at the map. The nearest team was still at least a minute away from Tryna's team in the ventilation system.

"Screw this! I'm blowing us out!"

There was the sound of metal being wrenched and torn loose, crackling and being tossed aside like scrap paper through the omnitool, echoing so loudly that Shepard had to wince.

"Oh goddess, that thing's here! Damn, damn damn, the door's locked. Can you tear through the wal—Shit!"

The sound of intense gunfire dominated the commline, as she could only wait and listen.

And then...

The lights turned on.

She looked up, excitement rushing through her whole being. But then she realized that even if the power was back, that even if Emiya had managed to fix the life-support and power, that didn't mean Tryna wasn't in any less of a pinch. Some artificial gravity and better lighting wasn't going to help her against one of those creatures much.

Damn it. Damn it... What do I do? I don't know anything about asari ships, if it was a batarian ship, I could...

Eyes lighting up, she looked up at the excited and frazzled crowd of asari crew around her. Without the lack of gravity to artificially expand the usable space they were suddenly piled up and very much packed in all too tight in this one room. And the sudden return with contact to the floor reacquainted her with the lances of agony that shot up her leg, the dull aching turning to rivulets of molten steel that radiated all the way up to her chest.

It didn't matter right now.

None of that mattered right now.

They had power.

"I need someone who can access the starship's systems! Someone, anyone who knows how to remotely open and close doors! Right now!"

The confused crowd quieted around here, but no one seemed to volunteer as they looked around at her and each other awkwardly, while just outside their immediate vicinity others were wildly cheering at the return of the power, certain that they were being saved.

"Damn it, anyone! Can anyone deal with the ship's systems?!" Shepard shouted, frustration turning to anger.

A hand was placed on her shoulder and she whirled to stare at Benezia who was giving her a solemn expression. "We can only trust them now and have faith in the goddess."

Shepard could only grit her teeth, not seeing it at all like that. God damn it, this is my fault! I should have had the vital and experienced asari crew on-hand, not all spread out doing maintenance and odd jobs!

"This is not your fault. You have done exceptionally well. Now with a better ability to communicate and with the cruiser's facilities at our disposal, we can make use of the discovery they made."

Somehow, Benezia's words which were supposed to bring peace and acceptance to Shepard—perhaps?—only managed to form jagged shards of wretched emotions, piercing deep into her thoughts. She grit her teeth, clenching her fist as her mind raced. Running through materiel, supplies, the layout of the level, the available personnel.

Wasn't there anything she could do?

Would she again be forced to listen as others died and were crippled on the far side of a comm, while she could do nothing?

"Oh, oh hell yeah! Thank the goddess! Blow that sucker to bits, yeah!"

The sudden cheers and laughter bursting through the omnitool were so unexpected that for a moment Shepard whited out, dizziness and whiplash leaving her sitting there, a gaping monument to confusion.

But Benezia, perhaps due to her detached acceptance and serenity at the face of crisis or perhaps due to the many years she had behind her, merely took a gentle hold of Shepard's arm so that she could speak into the commline. "Huntress, call in. What is going on?"

"Matriarch Benezia! Someone swooped in to save our butts at the last second! The second twisted creature-thing is dead! I think everyone made it, maybe not in one piece, but we're all breathing. Oh, hup, uh hello?"

A second voice, much deeper and carrying a distantly familiar flanging undertone spoke then. "Matriarch Benezia. You're still alive, then."

Shepard noticed it immediately; the subtle straightening and stiffening of Benezia's posture at the turian voice.

Who's that? Was all she could consciously think. Most of her was still reeling from everything that had happened, while another smaller and more suspicious part was screaming at her to find out what was going on and where this newcomer had come from. A third yet, smallest still, was asking where Emiya was; why he still hadn't called back in; what he was doing even after fixing the power...

But right then, she was just too relieved to muster the strength to care about any of that. She was simply glad that nobody had died because of her hare-brained scheme.

---

;

---

"Well, that about does it."

Emiya nodded, satisfied with his work.

He had thought that his experience with the tristar would give him at least some basis in asari ship-crafting before he had decided to fix all of this, but he was only now understanding how naive he had been in thinking that.

But with the help of the geth and with all the time in the world to learn, he had been able to figure out what had to be fixed and in what order.

The secondary fusion generator wouldn't be enough for complete operation of the cruiser. But life support, kinetic barriers, sensors read out, most of the tertiary control systems and artificial gravity were now back on-line.

They were still dead in the water but at least they weren't going to die horribly now.

"Alright, where you want me to drop you off?" he asked out loud, directing it inwardly at the same time.

Emiya could sense the massive expenditure of energy from his cybernetic implants and made a note for himself to eat soon. And a lot.

His magical energy reserves weren't particularly strong right now, but he had managed to top off just enough to get everything done with a little bit to spare. But that meant nothing as far as his cybernetics cared, as they ran on power extracted from food and he had no idea how to, or if it even was possible to, convert his magical energy into power.

Seconds passed—a virtual eternity for the geth, he knew—yet no answer was forthcoming.

"Huh. Fine."

Closing his eyes, he thought inward and looked at them. As their only means of communicating with him was still lining up 'physically' to form letters and shapes, almost like individual single-color pixels, if he did not turn his attention inwards they would not really be able to talk to him.

They continued debating and arguing, completely ignoring his question and his presence. He shrugged. "...Well decide quick, I need to get back to work."

Seeing as how they were still ignoring him beyond a nominal acknowledgment, he huffed and let go of his inward presence.

Emiya opened his eyes and turned around, giving the rows of dead and mutilated asari one last look. He had set them aside in an organized row, giving them some last dignity rather than allowing their bodies to remain where they had fallen after artificial gravity had been restored.

He inclined his head, muttering a silent apology before he turned around and began to run.

Even with the power back on, most of the computers were still off. Most of the systems probably just had to be manually turned on, but some of the more fragile machines might have actually been damaged by the non-standard shutdown too. Regardless, without the cameras and internal sensors, he was still running nearly blind compared to before.

But he had memorized the shortest route back to where he had left Henell. To where she ought to still be locked in.

He had never orienteered in three dimensions like this, but it wasn't particularly difficult once he got the hang of it. Especially since there were plenty of reference points with the numerous labeled doorways and crossroads in the long hallways all around him. It wasn't much harder than in a city, really.

The first still-sealed blast door that he ran into offered him barely two seconds of resistance as he wielded his flashing near-universal key to open it, and none of the subsequent doors took more than a second once the blade was already held aloft in his hand as he continued to run.

Two more hallways, then a left, and then a level down and I... he thought, mind already racing ahead as he confirmed his movements.

Suddenly he came to a halt, his boots gliding across the floor to slow down as he frowned. He looked down at the floor, as if willing himself to see through the metal. Was that... I can't hear anything now, but there something there, for just a moment.

Now that he thought about it, was there any point in taking the long route? It was just one floor down to the area that had been sealed off, when he cut to the heart of the matter.

His right hand flashed thrice, leaving three molten slashes in the floor and a second later the triangle-shaped piece fell down to the floor below with a thud, leaving a hole leading down. It was just large enough to let him pass. Hopping down with his arms raised to minimize his profile going through, he landed in a crouch on top of the slab that had fallen down.

"Aaaaaaaahhh..."

Henell moaned, half-turned around and staring at him with pitch-black eyes.

"Hello there," Emiya said as he stood up, drawing the tip of the burning sword lightly across the floor before him. It left a glowing gouge of molten metal that cooled rapidly as the blade easily cut through.

"Aaaaaaa̷a̸h..." Henell replied with what was almost surprise, turning around to face him fully.

There was ten meters between them, in this otherwise completely empty corridor. He couldn't sense any mass effect fields and while she seemed stable enough, her gaping wounds remained unchanged.

Then, this would simply be a battle of wills.

"Aaaaaaaäa̷a̸h͘hh̻̦̻!"

"I know your trick now," he said with a scoff. "You're just flailing around with your soul, trying to subsume me by throwing around your metaphysical weight." He began to walk forward. "But too bad for you, I'm something of an expert on just that."

She probably didn't understand a word of what he said, but perhaps there was some intelligence behind her actions which understood the danger he posed, as her scream only continued to intensify by the second.

"AaAa͞a̷aaáA̴a͘ä̛äa̡aa̷h́h͟h̡h!"

The asari had a natural ability to meld their minds with others, to share experiences and sensations, even memories and thoughts if the parties involved allowed their connection to become deep enough.

Which wasn't strictly speaking anything that unusual, as it was the base element in creating a familiar in magecraft. It was common even, or rather, especially with Servants.

Regular humans could do it too, if they knew the proper tantric rituals. If both participants managed to get down their instinctive guard and connect—that is to say, have simultaneous orgasms and then forge a spiritual link between each other—then it was eminently possible for humans to do all of that as well.

Meaning that being a magus or having a magic circuit wasn't strictly necessary, it did make the matter much simpler. Because he had thought that asari could only do it to a willing participant and because he had thought it was necessary to become as intimate as with a tantric ritual, he hadn't really thought much of the asari ability before.

But hadn't Tyra initiated it without his consent or knowledge? Was that something all asari could do, or something related to her Ardat Yakshi-condition? And was it related to how Henell could do it so much more potently, even at a distance?

"A̴aĄaa̢s͜s͟ää͜a̛aa̷A̢aääa͢aåhhh̡hhh...!"

Henell's voice only kept on rising in volume, as he continued approaching. With Henell so far gone, getting answers from her would have been a pipe dream. Now all that was left to be done was putting her down.

Just six meters left between them. Plenty of time to gather the magical energy.

But the thing about tantric rituals and even asari melding was, that those case were all between more or less equals. The exchange is between two parties who could exert equal pressure.

Then, what would happen when a spiritual connection was created between two parties who were decidedly unequal? Such as between a living human being and a long-dead ghost liner?

A summoner and a summoned heroic spirit in other words? An exchange between two parties whose souls were utterly incomparable on all levels?

There would obviously be an unequal pressure between them.

Even just the minimal link that allowed magical energy to pass from the magus to the Servant was often enough for powerful memories to flow back, leading to Masters often dreaming of their familiar's past. Which was why creating the bond between Master and Servant was an extremely delicate and important part of the Holy Grail War. Because even with the minimal bond formed to allow the transfer of magical energy one way, the overwhelming quality of the heroic spirit's soul would still much too easily flow back.

Emiya allowed the magical energy to course through his entire being, suffusing the intent to his every cell with every step he took. With as much magical energy he had to spare, this probably wouldn't cause too much collateral damage.

Probably.

"Æ̕͏̴Ąá̛̕A̛̛͝ą̴͜a͞ś̛ş̕ä̵͜͡ä̡̀̕a̡æ̸̷͝ą̶͡a͡͝AÄ҉̡ą́̕ą̶̊́a̷a̶̧͝ä̡͝ä͘͝aa͢͟åh̸̕͟ḩ̷h̛́͟h̡̀h̡͜h҉̛͡...!"

Then what would happen if a more direct connection was formed between two unequal parties? Something like attaching a piece of the spirit to one's own body, or attempting to be possessed by the heroic spirit?

It was obvious that excepting very specific and carefully orchestrated circumstances, it would never end well. It would be the equivalent of attaching a rocket engine to a bicycle. There was no way the bicycle or the rider would be capable of handling that kind of power. Even the weight of the 'engine' being loaded onto the 'frame' of the bike would most likely collapse under it.

It would be like throwing a stick of dynamite into a fire, expecting it to create a stronger flame only for the subsequent explosion to complete smother the fire and leave nothing behind.

He didn't know the specifics, but he suspected the reason why Asari Matriarchs began to pull back from interacting with other races once they grew older was because their existences would grow too great in comparison. What would happen if a thousand-year-old being suddenly became one with a human who had only lived two decades?

Or vice versa, a very young and delicate Asari Maiden doing the same with an alien who had lived a full life already?

It would be strange if the lesser party wasn't changed somehow by the experience. If their very being wasn't warped and molded by the elder existence coming into direct contact with theirs.

No. It wasn't even a matter of something being probable. After all, he had experienced this first hand during his life.

After all, his re-creation of the skills of a sword's wielder was no different than allowing his spirit to be subsumed by the spirit of the weapon. For a time during his life, he had thought he had finally discovered a way forward to becoming a hero. A way to fight; a strong power he could rely on.

Projecting weapons of heroes long past and borrowing their skills.

It was a technique that if utilized correctly could allow him to fight far beyond his own strength. Allowed him to enact mysteries and acts that he would never be able to on his own. And with his reality marble containing a key to every lock and a sword for every monster he could possibly come across...

He had used it without reservation.

Trusted it as his own strength, looking away from the damage it wrought to his body, certain that was all it was...

That there wasn't another cost he was unaware of being paid the whole time.

Until he finally realized he was blowing out pieces of his self and soul every time he merely relied on the skills of another, much greater than he. What would happen if a normal human being were connected to a ghost liner—the record of a once living human being whose very soul had ascended and become a cornerstone of humanity itself? Then what would happen if he carelessly replicated the acts, feats and beliefs of those beings and unleashed them from his own soul?

The result was obvious.

It was a small wonder he could remember anything of his life before having set on the path to becoming a hero of justice anymore. Pieces here and there—small scenes, like the last dying embers of a once bright blaze in a collapsed pile of ash—being all that remained of the man once known as Emiya Shirou.

It was why he had turned aside that easy power and sought another path. He was obsessed and self-destructive, but he had never wished to harm himself. Only a deep self-loathing and wish for thoroughly eradicating himself could have kept him on that path.

A new path, built by his own efforts.

One of his own making and one that was based on his own hard work and sacrifices. It was why he had chosen Kanshou and Bakuya; those swords empty of vanity and desire, which he had found beautiful, but never had relied on due to their lacking a true former master.

Something that he could call his own, untarnished and unmarked by the acts and beliefs of others. Perhaps that had also been the origin of his obsession with the falsehood of his own ideals, once...

"Æ̴͘A̕͜͡͞Å̧̛͠͠͝Ä́͘A҉̀à̸͘͢͢A̸͟a̴̕͢͠a̶̧̡s̴͢͏̸͘s̵͞ä̢͟͝͞͞ä̶̛͝a̸æ̶̶a̸͏҉̕æ̠͔̤̲a҉̶̬͕̫̳̠̳͟ą̸̠͈̗͖̠̈͟å̙͝a͔͓͚̭̗̣ͅÁ̖̗̖̣͈͉̠̮ä̢͘͠͞͡å͜҉̶͘à̵̡̨̡Ą̸̷̕Ä̡̡͢͜a̵̴͘͞͏å̴̕͝àa̕͏ä́ä҉̸͘a͏̴҉̧ä͠͏͡ä̢̧͏͢a͜͝å̸̢̡h͡͠h͠h̸̢͏͢͜h҉̛͘͢h̸͞h́͏h̵̡̛͡h҉̨͏҉-!"

Three steps.

Kshirae he had come to call this, but it wasn't any different really. Just a greater soul smothering and blowing out a smaller one with brute force.

It wasn't really any different from his relying on a projected holy sword for power.

Still, in the face of this twisted Henell who was attempting to blast aside his very being by throwing her own at him, seeking to dye him in her colors and literally drown him out in her own twisted logos, allowing himself to rely on something like that was easily the preferable option. If he had to choose between having this thing or Saber in his head...

It wasn't even a contest.

The nail in his left hand shot forward like a bolt of lightning with his underarm throw, the length of chain's rattling completely drowned out by the continued cacophony of Henell's cry. Until the nail slammed home in her mouth, piercing through her throat and jaw, that is.

She gagged, staggering back under the weight of the impact, mercifully silent at last.

Emiya allowed the ring on the back end of the chain to fall down to his elbow as he raised his hands above his head, both clasping around the long hilt of the golden sword.

"Sorry, no vacancies."

Caliburn flared into life, burning brightly enough that the light drowned out all else in the blast that his slash created.

The roaring of the golden beam didn't lose out to Henell's previous, now already silenced cries, one bit shook the entire ship, as even the floor beneath Emiya's feet thrummed at the whiteness that took over all.

Seconds passed and he finally dared to open his eyes.

Exhaling, he raised the sword from where the tip was had sunk a few inches into the floor at the end of his swing, and shook his head.

Henell was gone.

As was the entire hallway that had been behind her and all the walls between it and the adjacent rooms, along with the ceiling and floor leading between the levels above and below. He could see half-melted rooms ahead of him in the widening cone of the light's area of effect catching fire, as the glowing bulkheads at the far edge of the blast were starting to viciously smoke and warp under their own weight from their excessive temperature.

This thing needs a 'very, very low'-setting, he thought before chuckling. Then again, Saber had never been one for 'moderation'. She wouldn't have held back one bit and probably would have blown a hole through the side of the cruiser.

Emiya chuckled at the thought as he raised the blade and swung it down to the side with one hand, as if getting rid of any blood that might have remained on the blade. Inhaling deeply through his nose and letting out a long and slow exhale to calm down, he raised Caliburn up with one hand level with his chest and stared at it.

"Still, after all this time I'm relying on you, huh..."

The nail and the length of the chain that had been pulled into the blast hadn't survived, aside from the short end still hanging from the ring around his arm. So he allowed it to dissipate with a similar, if slightly lesser, silent sentiment of gratitude.

Alarms started blaring a second later and the remaining comm systems began blaring out a warning that a fire had broken out and that there had been massive structural damage detected.

But since this was a section in the middle of the cruiser, it was fine. And well, since it wasn't going to endanger anyone's life right now it wasn't his problem anymore.

"Alright, one down... and one to go."

While he had working pieces, he still needed to formulate it all into one unified whole. For small-scale, controlled skirmishing such as against biotics, he usually relied on Kanshou and Bakuya. But that precluded using another projection as a shield for himself, as he had used Caliburn.

But wouldn't relying on that however be like escaping the pain into just another pan? Well, the solution was simple enough.

I should avoid fighting against them up close in the future.

There was a limit to what even a Matriarch could do with their biotics, meaning that as long as he didn't have to care about collateral damage, taking them out should be a simple matter.

Of course, as he had been painfully reminded today, context was king in battle. Sometimes things simply did not go your way no matter how you tried.

He left the sealed section at a hurried pace, climbing out through the hole he had made and re-oriented himself towards where the survivors should be. As long as the creatures' and the other kshirae's tactics had not changed, that would be where he would find them.

Moving around with gravity wasn't particularly faster or slower, but it did give him some more traction against the floor when he really built up speed. But the presence of light and functioning sensor arrays allowed the doors to be unlocked from emergency lock-down, which meant he no longer had to waste time with forcing his way through.

He leaped his way through the hallways, leaping from ceiling to floor to wall at full speed.

"—oof!"

And it was thus that he suddenly hit something at full speed and was bowled over into a tangled mess of limbs on the floor. Blinking as he got his bearings, he felt more than saw something pressing against him. A ghostly limb pushing at his arm and leg, as if a tangled person was trying to extricate himself from Emiya.

A cloak?!

He lashed out with the pommel of the longsword held in his right hand, connecting with a hard surface. But it was a glancing blow, unsatisfying in kinetic feedback. It would have only dazed someone. Frowning, he flipped the blade over what he now mentally thought of as the neck of his opponents until he could bring the flat of the blade to bear as a bar across their throat in a rear choke hold.

"Uncloak, right now!"

But the struggling opponent only let out chittering beeps and screeches, which did little more than confuse him. What, the!

A strange sensation of something pressing against and then pulling at his leg almost pulled him over the opponent's neck. He realized after a moment of struggling to retain his choke hold, that it was a webbed palm of a hand that had attached itself directly to his armor with some sort of adhesive or something. I'm stronger, but if he can grab a hold of me anywhere or take support from any surface, then he'll have the advantage in leverage on the ground!

Gritting his teeth, Emiya made the decision and wrenched, intending to shake himself loose and get a better grip so he could wrest down his lighter opponent. If he lost out in leverage, he would have to compensate with a better position and greater weight.

Only, the 'head' popped loose with the shearing sound of metal and then the cloak flickered and failed in a shower of white sparks that almost blinded him for a moment.

Emiya flailed with the head for a moment, utterly bewildered as to how that had happened; a human head would need a lot more force to be similarly torn free, even without the protection that a hardsuit would offer.

He realized he hadn't pulled of a head at all, but some kind of flashlight with thin, smooth metal panels arrayed half-way around it. He blinked dumbly at the strange contraption and then looked down at the body he had collided with, realizing after a second that it wasn't a person at all but a robot of some kind.

And it was still moving; raising what looked like a gun towards him—

"Tch!"

He lashed out immediately with a kick and a one-handed backhand cut as he sought to get some distance. The robot landed seven meters away in two halves, as the sword had bisected it with trivial ease. It finally lay still, the small lights and electric sparks dying after one last shudder.

Emiya blinked, suddenly realizing that he had utterly no idea what had just happened.

Standing up he looked left and right, almost hoping to find someone who would be willing to explain what had just happened. Surely there were more of them, as this was an ambush, wasn't it?

Yet there was no one around.

Just him and the now wrecked remains of the robot.

"Where did it even come from...?" he muttered, scratching the back of his helmet awkwardly. "A scout?"

He had been soaring through the air in his jump, nearly parallel with the ceiling, hadn't he? There was no way he would have hit it, if it had been walking along the well-lit hallway. No, it must have been hanging on the ceiling, with that webbed-adhesive grip it tried to use on him.

Had he just killed someone after accidentally bumping into them?

No, it was a robot. A drone, probably? Maybe it was a cleaning drone that had been re-activated. Yeah, that made sense. No, it actually made no sense. How would a cleaning drone have a top-of-the-line stealth cloak? One that didn't lose out to the ones in the STG's possession, no less?

And hadn't he just decided that AI were 'people' to be saved, too? It had tried to shoot him, but that was after he had ripped off its head, wasn't it?

"...What the hell?"

Walking over to the thing, he patted it with his sword's flat. But it didn't seem to be moving. He noted again that it was extremely light. Putting in just a little bit of force with his finger, it was enough to dent the external plating. It was little more than sheet metal, really.

That would provide zero protection, but if it relied on mass effect fields and Van der Waals-tech to stick to the walls and ceiling, the lower base mass would minimize energy requirements, which in turn would minimize its heat and radiation signature.

"It's some kind of new spy drone?" It smelled of the Citadel and the STG to him. "Damn, but they're fast."

He would have to get the hell out of here. Again. Before they managed to surround him as they had on Thessia.

If they knew he was on the asari cruiser and intended to catch him, they would no doubt be consolidating their forces. Sending in spy drones with cloaking tech would probably be the best way they had to get reliable intel on what was happening inside, given that the power had gone out and there was no contact with the crew.

And given his reputation at this point they would probably assume the crazed asari and all the chaos onboard the Dreyn N'var was his doing, once the drone's data was relayed back and they knew he was here.

So once they had enough resources that they felt confident in attacking, they would come in force. Or then they would write off the cruiser altogether and just blow it up, hoping—and being right—that it would take him out with it.

"No, no... I'm just assuming that. There's no way they'd write off so many asari just yet."

Benezia was a VVIP and a spiritual icon. There was no way they would write her off so easily.

Assuming things and fighting based on preconceptions, even those formed in fighting the same enemy a previous time, would eventually without fail lead to defeat. To continue winning on an ever-changing battlefield, one had to always assume that any intel older than a few hours was already dated.

First, he should try and figure out where these things had come from and who they were with. After that, if it turned out that he needed to figure out another daring escape, then that would come later. Especially since he still needed to make sure the asari crew would make it out alive through all this.

It was slightly depressing to realize that he was starting to run out of places to run to in the galaxy.

Of course, on the flip-side of considerations... They have been careful about keeping collateral damage to a minimum until now. But all of that was on the Citadel and Thessia. This is on the other side of the galaxy, where they don't need to worry about public perception. If I don't hurry...

Could he really trust his impressions of their modus operandi so easily, especially under these conditions? He exhaled, shaking his head. Now he was merely debating with himself, going in circles.

Just focus on getting one thing done and then figure out your next step. Get fresh information, find Shepard and Benezia, figure out who this drone belongs to.

That decided, he crouched down over the two halves of the destroyed drone and began to inspect it closer. If there were more of them, figuring out its strengths and weaknesses would be vital.

He frowned. "Strange. Never seen anything like this before..."

Though he was hardly an expert, he could still recognize most commercially produced parts and the methods used to create them. Even if a restricted black ops was custom made from the ground up, the materiel would still be based on the same basic design principles that were already commercially known. What was the point of re-inventing the wheel every step of the way, after all?

But he couldn't quite make heads or tails of this thing.

Even before asking the geth for help with the asari generators, he had at least been able to recognize the individual parts. But with this...

"Is this the battery...?"

He really had no idea. Had the salarians been holding out on him before?

Emiya frowned.

Something about this was off.

---

;

---

The doors opened.

Saren blinked.

A hundred pairs of asari eyes blinked back.

This hadn't been what he had expected, when he boarded the Dreyn N'var. And not when he had realized just what had gotten loose on the ship, or when he had demanded to be taken to the survivors. He had recognized the beginnings of huskification immediately, and had already all but written off the entire crew as having already been Indoctrinated. The turian had figured he would save some time locating the few remaining survivors and 'cleaning up' before he took on the rest of the ship.

Yet here most of them still were safe and sound, if not entirely comfortable or calm. But alive and still apparently entirely of their own mind.

He had seen what husks could do in a sealed-off environment like this, and how much damage even a single Indoctrinated could cause. And having discussed the need for subterfuge with Sovereign on many an occasion, he knew this had happened completely without its input. Without its awareness.

A remnant from a previous cycle, he had realized.

The mutated asari that had been chased off, which was beyond anything Sovereign had spoken off, was proof enough of that. If he could get his talons on it, he might be able to understand more of the true threat the Reapers represented.

It was a golden opportunity.

One which he desperately believed that the galaxy could not afford for him to pass by.

Were it another place, another time and another circumstance that is. He would have happily taken the whole ship and its crew, using them to test out the baseline of Indoctrination and researched the veracity of what the Reaper had been telling him. But with the Systems Alliance and now with all of these survivors, this far out beyond the Citadel's and his own spheres of influence...

Spirits be damned, what do I do with all of them?

"Who is in charge here?" he asked the commando who had insisted showing him the way.

"Matriarch Benezia is right this way, sir!" she said as she moved right past him and into the gawking crowd of hues of blue. He still did not understand what she had been doing in the ventilation shaft. But seeing as how the Justicar had insisted on staying behind and continuing with it, he supposed it was important.

Would he have to send in his geth into the vents to clear out an infestation? That would likely blow their cover, revealing to all here that he had them with him. No, that wasn't an option. For now he had to keep them under wraps as his ace in the hole.

The crowd parted and he followed after her.

Up ahead, he spotted the asari elder, walking up to meet him with a smile on her face. And a human walking—or rather, hobbling—three steps behind her.

Saren paused, considering the human for just a moment before his attention was back to Benezia as she greeted him.

"The Goddess has heard our voices and answered our prayers—thank you for coming, honored Spectre."

Bowing low before him, the Matriarch caused a stir amongst the crew and seconds later as if a wave was passing through them, all of the gathered asari moved to follow her lead. Leaving only him and the confused human standing for just that moment. Their eyes met and he felt his irritation rising, but he pressed it down with force of will.

Instead, ignoring the gesture altogether he curtly asked. "Where is the professor?"

"Professor Nirida Henell was one of the first and most greatly affected by what happened here, honored Spectre. She was turned into a monstrous creature, before we managed to fight her off. My huntresses assure me that she is currently sealed within one of the unoccupied sections of the ship."

Saren nodded slowly.

He had already expected as much, but the loss of his best lead on the Protheans was still regrettable. "Then what of the others with her?"

"They, too, turned on us. Thankfully, they at least have been put to rest already from their madness."

The turian grimaced at Benezia's words, but ultimately nodded. Internally he was running a tally of what he could still gain from all of this compared to simply sweeping the whole matter into the closest star and forgetting all about it.

"But, we suspect that Professor Henell and her subordinates may have smuggled onboard this vessel an artifact from Torfan. I believe it may well be the cause of what has happened here..." Benezia continued, more quietly yet putting an emphasis on the last part to make certain he heard her.

Saren stilled.

And then his expression widened, revealing rows of sharp teeth in a predatory smile. "Good, good. Where is it?"

"Lieutenant Shepard of the Alliance—who has been proving herself an immense aid—had just narrowed down its location. Shepard, if you would?"

The human nodded hesitantly as she realized she was being called out, stepping forward gingerly after a second of hesitation, obviously favoring one foot as she did. Raising her omnitool she brought up a holographic three dimensional schematic of the asari cruiser they were on.

"Uh, we have been getting signal interference, that's been getting stronger and stronger for a while now. I think it's related to the black thing that turned the professor into that..." The human woman—judging by the height, hair and depth of voice—explained, glancing at Benezia as she spoke.

The Matriarch gave her a subtle gesture of encouragement, which in turn made Saren's scowl deepen. Meddling old asari. I see what you are trying to do.

'See how useful the humans can be?', was what Benezia was saying to him, without quite so many words.

Raising his own omnitool and connecting to hers. "Send it the files over directly."

"Right, it's a pretty big file to go through, so I'll—"

"That's fine," he said as the omnitool chimed that the download had completed. Then without another word he turned around, fully intent on simply getting on with it without being forced to endure either of the two women any further.

But.

"Ah, Saren, there was one more thing..." Benezia spoke up and with a sigh, he halted.

Half-turning around to look at her, he saw that the human had grabbed Benezia's arm and was shaking her head gently at the elder's inquiring look.

"What is it?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

"Ah... I merely wished to beckon you good luck, and to be careful. The Dreyn N'var is not quite what she used to be, she may well fall apart beneath us if we are not careful," she said, before gesturing to the human again. "That explosion just now, she assures me that it did not originate from outside the ship, but from within. Perhaps one of the munitions caches or chemical storage rooms has caught fire."

She is hiding something, he realized instantly. But what?

It had been because of the human. Was it related to the other humans he had encountered earlier? Or the Alliance fleet just outside?

That was probably it.

'We lost contact with some humans, could you look for them? They might have died in that explosion, so please help them,' was probably what the Matriarch had been about to ask, Saren thought as his mood turned even blacker.

She was also subtly reminding him that the asari were still in danger and in need of an evacuation, giving him the option of refusing without allowing the others present to realize what had just been asked and concluded between them. She was giving him the credit if he chose to save them, while also allowing him to keep quiet and avoid the hassle if he chose not to.

Options hung in the balance for a long moment as he considered what to do. Then finally, perhaps due to the sea of expectant and hopeful asari faces staring at him, he made his decision.

"Once I have pacified the remaining hostiles and secured the artifact you spoke of, I will contact the Alliance vessels to come to your aid."

Benezia smiled, nodding serenely. "Yes, thank you. We shall wait here until then."

The human let out a breath of relief, as most of her tension and stress melted away according to his read-outs. That wasn't the reaction he had expected, but...

It wasn't as if he cared, either.

He said nothing, merely turning around again and striding with long steps towards the entrance through which he had entered not minutes before.

A final thought struck him just as he crossed the threshold. Who had restored the power? The cruiser had been completely powerless when he had boarded it; his own starship's readouts had been perfectly clear about that. Benezia hadn't spoken anything about the matter, but she must have known as she had not thanked him for the act. It was just then that he received a report to his HUD from one of the geth, solidifying a doubt he had been nursing for a while now.

One of his geth stalkers had gone silent.

Which meant there was someone else onboard the cruiser as well, and only one name came to mind at the moment.

"Redhax."

---

;

---

Forcing himself away from the pile of wires and circuitry now lying on the floor in a dismantled heap, Emiya shook his head.

He wasn't getting anywhere with this and he was working against the clock at the moment, so he would have to come back to it another time. Having figured out what were probably the power source and the eezo cores would have to do for now, even if he still had no means of countering the cloaking technology.

Standing up, he looked left and right.

Sheepishly, he realized he wasn't sure which way he had actually come from, and which way he had been going before he slammed right into the now-in-pieces robot. His habit of completely losing track of time while tinkering with things couldn't have chosen a worse time to kick in.

Looking around he figured out his bearing and got moving again through the empty hallways at breakneck speeds. Decorative wall panels were dented when he took to the walls and fine carpets attached to the floor were torn loose with his passing as he hurried on.

He had hoped to figure out how the robot had been cloaking, so that he could integrate that technology with his own cloak. As it was, its duration was simply too short to be used regularly. With stealth out of the cards, he thus had to rely on speed. Besides, since he had already destroyed one, they had to know something was up.

The floor shook and Emiya blinked as he almost stumbled on his landing.

Slowing down and raising a hand to take support from the wall, he frowned and looked around. It wasn't just the floor; it had been the whole starship shaking just now.

Is it another of those creatures? Their biotics certainly could do it, but it would have to be another extremely powerful one. He wasn't sure if he could take another one on again; the cruiser was already falling apart from his fight with Henell...

Closing his eyes, he slowed down his breathing until heart seemed to still. Like the surface of a calm lake, any disturbance would ripple outwards in his consciousness like this, as he stretched his senses outward.

And the moment he sensed the deep spatial anomaly just 60 meters above him, he could no longer miss it for even a second. "...Another starship?"

His mind raced at the realization. Someone must be boarding the Dreyn N'var, attaching a starship to the hull and creating a controlled breach-head for boarding. Was it the Alliance? But why now? They had been sitting back until now, content to simply watch. Or was it pursuers from the Citadel, coming for him again?

Or was it just someone coming to save the asari?

Regardless, it wasn't good.

Carelessly bringing in more people would just give the kshirae new vectors to spread through. He couldn't allow that, not after how many had already died here due to his failures and mistakes.

"Damn it...!" He slammed his fist against the wall, caving it in.

His only option now was to exterminate all of the remaining kshirae before it could spread. He still hadn't confirmed whether only Henell and the other twisted creature could propagate the 'infection', but there wasn't enough time to figure out either.

Kicking off, he doubled his previous already destructive pace through the starship.

---

;

---

Arnaut Kyle steepled his fingers before his face, immersing himself in the ambient chatter and background bustle of the CIC.

It isn't actually all that different from commanding ground forces, he concluded, if I just think of the starships as a bunker.

Just the same, three hundred Alliance marines were now boarding the asari cruiser on his command. They had specially-made boarding shuttles that could latch a magnetic lock onto the hull, allowing dozens of fireteams to be quickly fielded wherever they were needed along with all the gear and materiel they could need for breaching the starship's hull.

"Shuttle 1 breaching team is inside," one of the officers reported with a certain stiffness.

Kyle didn't mind it one bit. He understood the navy officer's stiffness perfectly well. He too would be chafing just as much if his commanding officer on the ground was replaced by a navy man under the authority of the Alliance Intelligence Agency.

Even he found it shady how he had so easily been given all the backing and authority necessary to go through with boarding the asari cruiser, and he had been the one to actually call the AIA in the first place.

"Good. Have them spread out and look for survivors," Kyle said.

The officers seemed to somewhat relax at that, as the one by the comms answered. "Yes, sir."

Even as he had suddenly taken over the CIC, he hadn't actually told any of them what it was all about, only telling them to prepare to board the asari starship they had all been content to ignore until now. Frankly, it was simply because he wasn't sure why the AIA actually had helped him.

It had been a mad, last-ditch idea that had sprouted from the sheer frustration that being rebuffed by the Spectre had caused.

Yet somehow his tightbeam call to Arcturus Station had gone through and someone had picked up despite the time difference. It must have been in the middle of the night there, he realized only now. There were a few pointed questions about the mysterious AIA operative working with Shepard, about how she was aboard the Dreyn N'var and how the undercover operative was nowhere to be found, forcing Arnaut to call Arcturus directly.

The quiet blond man had listened to Kyle quietly until finally he had said he would look into things and hung up.

And then mere minutes later, somehow, an encrypted tightbeam had been sent back with a signed order by the director of the Alliance Intelligence Agency giving him temporary authority to do... really whatever the hell he wanted.

'...Any and all means necessary, to and for protecting the Systems Alliance and its interests...'

"Don't tell me..." he muttered quietly as his brows furrowed once more. "Is that hacker really here, after all?"

"Sir?"

Kyle blinked, looking up as he was snapped out of his reverie. "What?"

The officer cleared his throat, speaking again. "Sir... The boarding team has found something. Shall I bring the video file they uploaded up on your monitor?"

"Oh, yes. Bring it up. Anything else?"

"The second team is just breaching on the other side of the cruiser. They've just installed the temporary airlock."

"Good." Kyle nodded and then looked down at the panel before him. His considering expression was immediately wiped away as he stared in shock at the screen.

Dead asari, lying in piles along the hallway.

Blood and pockmarks from small arms fire marked nearly every surface.

The blast doors just up ahead looked as if they had been shredded to pieces in a blender.

"Mother of god... Are, did the team find any survivors?"

The officer shook his head. "No, sir. They've moved on and... there's more of the dead, it seems."

"How many more?" Kyle almost hesitated to ask.

And the man by the terminal hesitated just as long to answer. "At least fifty."

The floor fell out beneath Kyle, or so it felt anyhow. Fifty dead asari, while they had been in the middle of an Alliance fleet. No matter how you spun it, that would look very, very bad for the Alliance once it got out. Damn it, damn it... Do I cover it up? Can I cover it up?

He eyed the CIC, noting how many were already aware of what had just been found on the Dreyn N'var. He could only shake his head in disgust; he had no real authority with these people. If he tried to shut them up and cover all of this, then they would be more likely to spread it than actually obey.

Even the proxy authority of the Alliance Intelligence Agency would not change that.

In fact, that might only exacerbate the issue if he carelessly tried to throw around his weight with that backing.

"The boarding team has made contact with something and is engaging in a firefight, sir."

"Fighting!?" Kyle looked up again, his brows furrowing at that as panic began to rise within him. Surely they weren't now fighting with the asari, on top of everything else? "With who? The asari?"

"No, sir... They don't know, it's already over. No casualties." The officer reported calmly, before turning around to look at Kyle. "They might have just gotten spooked, sir."

Kyle shook his head. "Alliance Marines aren't that easily spooked. Even I know that. Tell them to advance slowly and record everything they see. This is going to get very ugly before it gets any better..."

The officer paused, exchanging worried looks with a fellow on the other side of the room before he nodded seriously and answered.

"Yes, sir. I'll relay it immediately."

His whole career he had sought to stand out, to blaze a trail to the top as quickly as possible by standing at the front whenever possible. Yet this was the first time in all that time that he was made to realize that it was not only glory that was heaped to the one standing first...

But also the blame when they needed a fall guy.

"I ate the poison, might as well eat the plate..."

"Sir?" The officer looked up, appearing slightly perplexed at the quiet remark.

Kyle shook his head. "It was nothing. Just thinking out loud. Continue."

---

;

---

"The Spectre is heading back your way now, I think, and Tryna should be coming with him, too. How are things looking over there?" Shepard's voice reported through the commpiece in her helmet.

Mentally switching gears, she made the hand-sign to notify that she wanted to switch with someone and a pair of her subordinates rushed to replace her position in the vanguard.

"Aaaaaaaahhh...!" The lone creature before them howled, sending another wave of biotic force their way.

Justicar Anatha stepped back to give the two commandos behind her some more space to fight just in time to allow them to intercept and disperse the attack. Even alone, the asari creature was nearly more than they could handle. And periodically more of the kshirae would appear, forcing the resting commandos to participate as well.

Nonetheless, for now it seemed they had a sustainable strategy for handling the threat.

Satisfied that they would hold without her, she raised the omnitool up and replied. "With our combined numbers now, spearheading through their resistance is much easier. Their defense is getting desperate, however, and if we are not careful the tide could be turned in an instant... Having the Spectre here should give us some breathing room."

They would certainly need it, if the slowly but steadily rising level of resistance was any indicator of what to expect, once they actually found the source of the madness that had infected this ship.

If Shepard was right, anyhow.

Still, being able to push back instead of being toyed around with by the continuously Blinking creature was proving great for morale. Commandos were made for attacking and pushing forward, not holding ground and waiting. Even if this was exhausting work, even in shifts that allowed them to rotate their van, it was still better than merely being forced to defend.

The fact that one of the creatures was trying to slow them down was enough proof for her that it was ultimately the right move.

"Good. I hope. But be careful with him, he seems a little... unpredictable. Anyhow, keep us posted; right about now you should be at hallway 14-D, coming towards the aft munitions storage, right?" Shepard's voice queried through the omnitool.

"That is right. The howling creature has not relented since we ran into it, but we're still pushing it back with numbers to keep the ventilation crew safe."

"Right. I think we can narrow it down to one of three locations by now, then."

Anatha nodded to herself. Then this slow pushing match to escort one of their commandos moving through the ventilation system was the correct choice, after all. "Good. Tell me when you have narrowed it down to two. We will have to push through before they realize to get desperate and do something stupid."

"Do you think they have the presence of mind for that? They don't seem particularly smart, from what I've seen."

Anatha grunted.

"Something is guiding them, otherwise they would not have been half the trouble they are. Never underestimate—"

Her thoughts ran aground on that sound as she turned her head towards their rear, mouth hanging open as she knit her brows. What was...

A deep sound, akin to a blast-door being forcefully torn open echoed behind them, the screech of sheared steel and torn metal carrying loudly through the hallway. It was different from the sound of someone boarding their ship earlier, being much closer and made by something lighter and faster than whatever had docked onto their ship's hull.

"Anatha?" Shepard asked through the omnitool, allowing her to be snapped out of her confusion and look around.

All of them had heard it and the Justicar realized a half second later that if she had been startled by the noise, so too would the vanguard who was pushing back the kshirae.

This is bad! Had that intelligence that had been guiding the kshirae drawn them here, into this hallway where they had nowhere to go if they were to be pincered between two forces? Goddess refute it! I knew that talk about the other creature being crippled and locked in was too good to be true!

"Change formation! Contact rear! Get the Shiala out of the vent and—" Anatha exploded into commands as she realized they were utterly trapped here.

A red shadow crossed the open space in the blink of an eye, sailing above their heads before any of them could so much as realize something had rushed towards them.

Anatha barely had time to turn her head in time to see the impact, as the black-clad man shrouded in red slammed into the creature. Biotics flared and failed, followed by an unearthly howl of agony that was cut off by the black boot crushing the creature's rib-cage.

A jump-kick!?

The asari-turned-abomination had been knocked over by the figure covered head to toe in black, wearing a flaring red mantle at his waist that was now standing on top of its crushed chest. A twisted hand reached up weakly, clawing at the shin uselessly.

In response, the foot was raised and brought down again, this time crushing the head with one solid stomp.

Several of the commandos flinched at the sight of chunky fluids and bone being scattered across the floor, yet none turned their wary gazes away from the figure.

"That's...!"

"Isn't he... from Thessia...?!"

A smooth, matte black helmet turned their way and Anatha was certain they could all feel the gaze hidden behind the dark visor. The tense second that passed felt like a minute, before he turned his back to them and stepped off the dead creature.

Anatha snapped out of her shock, taking three steps forward as she moved past the frozen van. "You...!"

But he was already gone, in the blink of an eye having vanished from sight.

"Anatha, come in! What's going on? Anatha!"

The Matriarch woodenly raised her arm, frowning at the already gone figure as she still mentally reeled at what was going on. "Cease your shouting, Shepard. We are... fine."

"Finally, I wanted to warn you, there's some kind of movement coming in from up ahead."

"Ahead?" Anatha repeated, confused. "Are you sure you aren't mistaking it for someone coming from behind us and now moving away from us, up ahead?"

"Huh? No, I'm sure. And there's a lot of them; be on your guard."

"Very well," she said and then looked up. "You heard her. Contact front, layered formation. Is she out of that blasted vent yet?"

Asari hastened to obey her orders, swarming around her and forming up to take on whatever would be coming for them from just up ahead.

"Yes, Justicar, here I am," Shiala responded as she stepped forward.

Anatha looked at her for a moment, eyes taking in the disheveled and dirtied, yet physically unharmed appearance, and nodded. "Good. Take the rear and rest for now."

The svelte asari nodded, bowing once.

"Incoming!"

The Matriarch inhaled once and then prepared for combat again.

But as she recognized the heavily armed soldiers appearing at the end of the hallway, she involuntarily relaxed. At the same time, her omnitool chimed.

"Anatha! I got in contact with them, they're Alliance marines. I repeat, Alliance marines. Not hostiles!"

What was that human saying she had heard recently?

"Ah, that's right. 'The cavalry has arrived'."

---

;

---

Major Kyle paced restlessly.

Everything was going as smoothly as it could at this point. They had filmed everything so far, and nothing had gone catastrophically wrong. As far as the facts went, they were obviously blameless in all this.

Yet...

It's not enough.

"What was that, sir?" the communications officer asked, looking up.

Arnaut blinked, realizing that he had spoken those words out loud again. He frowned, crossing his arms as he stopped pacing. This was really getting to him.

"It's noth... It's not nothing. It's not enough."

He was too far away. He was an army major; someone who had to have his feet on the same ground as he was fighting his battles on! Hadn't Torfan shown him the limitations of staying far away onboard a starship and relying on mere comms and reports from the front?

The men around him blinked, not sure what he was talking about at all. "...Sir?"

The major nodded, finally realizing what he needed to do.

"This is too far away. I need to get closer."

"Sir, you want us to get closer? But starship boarding regulation states that a minimum distance of—"

Arnaut wasn't listening. "Prepare a shuttle and a personal guard. I'm going to the asari cruiser. Someone in command has to be there to talk it out with the asari, now that connection has been re-established. In person."

"Uh, sir, but, sir!"

But it was too late, as the major had already rushed out of the CIC.

"...Fucking jarheads," someone commented just loudly enough to be heard by everyone.

Someone snickered and most just shook their heads.

The communications officer shook his head as he turned back to his terminal. "Right... Sir wants his shuttle and escort, sir can have his shuttle and escort..."

---

;

---

Emiya exhaled as he came to a full stop.

The doors automatically opened at his approach and he passed through into the nondescript storage room. Nothing was immediately visible from the doorway, so he continued with his slow and sure steps until he saw it.

Calming down his beating heart, he looked at the thing before him, tucked away into a corner as if it had merely been forgotten there. It shone and glittered, like obsidian glass that swirled without changing its external shape. It was like an upside down pine-cone that had opened up and spread itself, with a multitude of depressions visible where individual 'seeds' had been plucked out. Even in the dim light of this darkened and otherwise unremarkable storage room, it seemed to be sparkling so brilliantly as to captivate the eye.

Which was exactly why he entirely ignored it now.

He hadn't seen the shards for himself until now, but based on Shepard's description and the sheer sense of wrong this thing exuded, there could be no mistaking it.

On the floor around it there were three asari, each with at least a dozen of the shard stabbed into their backs. Yet they seemed dead; their pale pallor, motionless chests and rictus grimaces spoke of deaths none too pleasant.

He would hold his distance for now. If they started moving, then they started moving and he would put them down properly. There was nothing more to it.

"What to do with this thing..."

His first instinct was to toss it into the nearest star and be done with it. It was dangerous.

But at the same time, he couldn't just do that.

It was related to the Protheans, somehow. He needed to figure it out; understand what it was and why it had been made. But it wasn't as if he could simply grasp it and Structurally Analyze it, not if he valued his sanity at least.

Raising a hand, palm up, he closed his eyes and submerged into himself. Standing on that rust-colored hill under a burning sky, he felt the weight of the Prothean pistol in his hand.

He exhaled smoke, certain now.

They were related, but not directly.

"Nothing to it, then...—trace,"—begin,

s Ò̹̮̪̯͇̝͗͊̋̋̒͠B̷̪̬̖̰̭͇̲̽̇͒̇̄E̹̟̺̠̽̋̊ͭ̐̄Y̳ͮͯͮ a re̵si͜s̴ţ ͍͇v B͓̺̞̦̠̖͎ͭ̄ͭ̿̊͂E͇̦̖̱͎͎̤ͫ S̭͎̘͖̜̲̭ͨ͌̍ͩ͑ͥÚ͖͕̤͗̀ͮͪB̟̻͎͈̅̒̑͋ͩͮͩŜ͕͓͖̭̱͚̭̓͗̈ͪ͆ͧU̯̩̰̪̠̲̓́͋͊̚̚M̫̳̜̮̭̰̱̿ͣ́͢E͇̦̖̱͎͎̤ͫḌ͎̰̻̄̉̆͂͛͗ͣ e ̦̾s͘u͝rv͢ive Ś̹ͅƯ͎ͧ̅̔̅̌͗B͇̰͍̤̳̙ͦͨͭ͆̎͊̈͟M̢̼͎̜̗̣ͧ͆ͮI̷̱̳͛̉T͙̝͖ͨ u rega̡i͟ń ̮̰̺ͫ͂̍ͭ͌͐͢U͎̗͔͇̖̖̮N͈̹̞̾ͩͮ̈͌̂͛I̢͚̟F͕͙̻͚͉͔Y̵̹̗͕̦̫ͮ͊ͥͫ̈ s a̴ve͞nge ̙̪̹̗̟̙ͭ͒̿ͦA͇̳̮̻̣͓̬̒̈́ͯS̢ͮ͒͑C̺̞̆̍̂͒̉͋͜E̳̪͖͇̩̲̽ͫͥ͌̾ͬ͋N͙̼̯̈́ͮ̀̾̿̓͂͘Ḍ̶̇̒̍̾̎̓ !

He gasped, almost falling over as he opened his eyes back in the dark storage room aboard the Dreyn N'var. He breathed heavily, until he finally got himself under control again.

Laughing weakly, he couldn't help himself but look at the obsidian pine-cone directly.

It immediately sought to latch onto him, to twist his self by corroding it with an alien impulse. Yet in comparison to the shadow of the echo of the pistols he had found on Mars, it was nothing in comparison. The pistol had been soaked in so much of that other influence that even the twisted creature Henell had become paled in comparison.

But then why hadn't the pistol been a problem? Beyond the initial shock, he hadn't had to struggle with its influence on him.

Rather than that...

Having submerged himself in it for a moment, he felt almost cleansed of the other somehow. "Could it be... That it's the Protheans influence...?"

It was hard to believe.

If those Protheans had been affected by something that old and overwhelming, how could they have maintained themselves? Even ritual suicide was an overwhelming feat under such conditions. But, he supposed something like that truly would deserve being called the crystallization of a miracle—a noble phantasm.

Emiya shook his head, dismissing those thoughts for now. "I guess that settles it. I'll have to sneak this thing out, somehow."

He took a step forward—

The door which he had closed behind him when he had entered began to open behind him.

Reacting on pure instinct, he jumped soundlessly to the side out of sight as he activated his cloak. Who...? Did the asari catch up already?

If he got lucky, he could avoid a fight if the room was only scanned from the entrance. Neither the pine-cone nor the dead asari could be seen from the doorway, after all.

Yet as he peeked at the doorway from where he was crouching, he couldn't see anyone. Not even a shadow, pouring in from the more brightly lit hallway into the darkness of the room.

Did someone just pass by?

But the door remained open.

Emiya breathed slowly, as he looked around the room. He couldn't sense any presences, but...

Just as his eyes scanned over the ceiling, he noticed that one of the thin light panels was slightly warping downwards, as if it was being pulled by something. Like an invisible robot climbing on the ceiling.

Oh yeah, that's not good.

The door was still open, even if the robot was climbing inside the room already. That probably meant there were more of them, at the very least two. Were they here for the pine-cone, too? Or were they looking for him?

He glanced at his cloak's battery and mentally nodded. If he remained still, he had power for at least five minutes as long as he stayed still. Having already taken out all of kshirae he could find, the two asari-creatures and with life-support back on, he had the luxury of biding his time again.

If by just sitting still and observing them for a few minutes he could figure out what the robots were after, then it seemed like a bargain too good to pass up on.

Emiya didn't have to wait long, as the moment he had decided to sit still for a while longer, he could hear footsteps approaching. Seconds later, a tall shadow stretched out from the hallway.

A tall turian, wearing a hardsuit and armed with a heavy pistol entered without hesitation, walking over until he stood where Emiya had been moments before, staring at the pine-cone in silent contemplation.

Definitely not Alliance... Another Citadel Spectre? Emiya thought, frowning as he kept utterly still. If he wanted to, he could just reach out and touch the turian. Is this the guy Benezia had been trying to get close to?

He was snapped out of his thoughts as the turian spoke, seemingly to himself.

"I see. So this was the source of the Indoctrination. No wonder the asari died in droves... The dragon's teeth are nothing compared to this," the turian spoke quietly, chuckling to himself though there was little mirth in the sound. "Henell's death was a waste, but this will have to do. Get it back to my ship without anyone seeing it. Get the dead asari before they turn into something, too."

Saying that, the turian spun on his feet and moved to leave the storage room.

Indoctrination? Emiya blinked, memorizing every word he had just heard. Meeting someone who actually seemed to know what was going on was a first, after all. Which means... this is the guy Benezia was talking about?

But did that make him an ally?

But Benezia had seemed hesitant to introduce him earlier, even when they had agreed to more or less work together, hadn't she? So perhaps things weren't quite that simple.

Maybe he was only looking to use the pine-cone as a weapon?

Emiya needed to know for himself. Taking a slow breath, he focused on his cybernetics and sought out the omnitool the turian was wearing.

Suddenly, the until-now apparently-dead asari began to stir, moaning quietly as they began to rise. The turian halted, turning around to stare at them.

Then with a sound of disgust, he drew his heavy pistol and in one motion shot all of them in the head. Three shots in a snap, all perfectly on the mark. The two who had been getting up collapsed like puppets with their strings cut. And from one of them the spurt of purple blood had stained the wall, revealing the outline of one of the hidden robots, hanging just above the pine-cone.

"Get them out of here, before the asari, or worse yet, the humans get here," the turian ordered as he holstered his heavy pistol.

Looking back, Emiya could see as invisible hands grasped the pine-cone and began to raise it. The same happened to the three dead asari seconds later, too.

The turian paused, as if considering something. His whole body tensed and for a second he seemed torn between two equally undeniable and powerful impulses, and then he relaxed with a drawn-out hiss. The sound of grinding teeth could be heard all the way across the room.

Just then, the connection to the turian's omnitool patched through. The numerous open communications' streams, the HUD readouts stating how much ammunition, medigel and grenades the turian still had, and the map of the starship were immediately visible. But before Emiya could try anything, he realized there was no way he would be able to.

The damn omnitool was packed chock-full of the little balls of light he had just come to know as the geth.

And more than that, as he could get a rough feeling for the outgoing connections he realized that the geth in the omnitool were communicating with other geth in this room. With the invisible robots, he realized with a startle. The hair on the back of Emiya's neck rose up all of a sudden, as his honed instincts screamed at him that he should retreat for now and get some distance rather than let himself get surrounded.

Two, seven, sixteen... thirty-four. He couldn't tell how many were in this room, but he could tell that a great many geth were somewhere around here, all connected to the omnitool the turian wore. Since when does the Citadel work with the geth?

Emiya was getting more and more confused by the minute, but he forced himself to calm down. He knew from experience that the little light balls could detect him, which meant that he couldn't carelessly try to push his way forward.

Especially since this turian was getting the damn pine-cone off the ship for him. I'll just sneak onboard his ship and leave with it, or something. That should be the easiest way out of this mess.

He almost scoffed at himself.

Any ship the turian was using was bound to be just as filled to the brim with geth as the turian's personal omnitool, and his cloak wouldn't last that long either. Hell, even managing to follow after them undetected would probably be pushing it.

Nevertheless, he'd just have to do it and figure something out along the way. These 'let's just see what happens'-plans of mine are becoming all too common for my liking... Quietly grumbling to himself, he stalked the turian out of the storage room and out into the hallway, and then into another long hallway. Judging by the heading, he's heading for the shuttle bay? He's escorting the geth robots all the way, then?

That suited Emiya just fine; finding out where the damned pine-cone was being taken while staying within hearing distance of the turian meant that he might be able to overhear something as he followed.

The turian and his invisible robots—at least the ones carrying, Emiya wasn't entirely sure how many more there were—kept moving at a good pace, with the destination becoming ever-clearer with every step.

But it wasn't good enough. The cloak isn't going to last more than a minute...

He would have to break away and go around, cutting ahead of the turian Spectre, while looking for a power outlet to recharge his cloak's batteries. Alright, I'll turn around here and...

The turian stopped two seconds after he did, becoming utterly motionless. The hair's on the back of Emiya's neck rose again and he froze, settling as still as a statue in his half-crouched position ten meters behind the Spectre.

"...I suppose having you follow me all the way back to the ship would have been a little too good to true." The turian turned around, his mandible's flaring as he revealed rows of pointy teeth in a universally-understood predatory grin. "Or what say you, my little shadow?"

Emiya said nothing, only staring quietly back at the turian behind his cloaked helmet.

"Hah," the turian scoffed, shaking his head and continuing to say something. "Sh—"

But Emiya's instincts screamed at him and he jumped to the side, as an impulse of communication preceded four streams of high-velocity projectiles peppering and tearing apart the floor he had just been standing on. Four geth!

"—oot him—huh?"

The expression of utter surprise was almost good enough to make up for the fact that he had been spotted, Emiya thought for a second, and then the hail of bullets from behind him carved up his back and halted his jump in mid-air.

"Khh...!"

He grits his teeth as the hardsuit was torn to pieces by a steady stream of rapidly fired projectiles. Each individual bullet was nothing, but as a constant stream it was enough to tear apart his diamene weave protections in less than a second.

But it was still enough for him to realize he was in danger. Enough time for him to Reinforce his body and brace for the pain as his armor eventually failed.

The first stream was joined by another, and another, until Emiya lost count after the tenth stream of bullets started hitting him. Blotting out the pain, he focused inward and reflected on his mistake to blot out the pain. Damn, he knew I was following him the whole time. I shouldn't have tried to follow him without ascertaining my own cloak's efficacy and figuring out a counter-measure to the robots' cloaks.

He had been baited into an ambush; had swallowed it hook, line and sinker.

Emiya's body hit the ground, being pushed from a dozen directions by the streams of projectiles, all tearing at his body and armor. Pieces of black armor and strips of red shroud were ripped loose, as he was forcibly pushed to the side of the hallway. They're closing in on me, forming a half-circle. At least fourteen.

If it was one or two, maybe he could block their projectiles with his wide swords. If the bullets were slower and there were less of them, closer to a machine gun of his era, then perhaps he could dodge and parry the bullets even.

But surrounded like this by so many of them, firing so many bullets that were so small and so fast that he could not even see them as anything other than a line, there was nothing he could do except grit his teeth and just hold on. Splatters of blood covered the walls and skin was flayed loose, like paint peeled off by a pressure washer, landing on the floor.

The pain was... considerable. Even by his standards. But he grit his teeth and held on, covering his vulnerable spots with his arms as he did.

His body could take this much punishment.

It had only been five seconds, but just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. He distantly realized that someone was shouting, but he couldn't gather his wits enough to understand the who or the what just then.

Emiya inhaled, and the rush of oxygen brought back his sense of self in the world.

I'm fine. As long as he still had flesh on his bones, he could knit himself back together by turning himself into swords. No broken bones, no major bleeding, joints are fine and muscles are still attached. I'm fine. I'm fine.

But his head was woozy. His helmet was untouched, as not a single shot had been aimed at his vitals, it seemed. So it probably wasn't a concussion.

I've lost a lot of blood, then. He exhaled, trying to will his ravaged body to stop bleeding. Maybe it helped a little, he couldn't quite tell through the tsunamies of agony that assaulted his finally-present mind. Fine, I'll have to replenish it.

The hacking completed instantly as Emiya took over the turian's omnitool. Medigel began to convert immediately into human blood replacer. Despite the base genetic material having been set for turians, the high-end omnitool was still able to handle the conversion and would be ready in another ten seconds.

It wouldn't be blood, but at least it would be something in his veins. In the short-term it would keep his blood pressure from dropping dangerously low, allowing him to remain conscious for now. Of course, the countless geth in the omnitool were all getting frenzied as they realized what he was doing.

Annoying.

"Good, he's alive. Get him back to the shuttle, I want him on Virmire immediately. Strip him and get him stabilized. 'Redhax' and I will be having a long conversation once I am done here..." the turian said smugly, and Emiya distractedly realized his name was Saren, from perusing the omnitool.

Not sure what to do with the geth but certain that they could not be allowed to warn the Spectre, Emiya reached out with a mental hand towards them.

As if sensing the approaching danger, they buzzed and tried to scuttle out of the omnitool. But his metaphorical hand grasped all of them at once, and then with the mental equivalent of a slam dunk he tossed all of them into his own cybernetics with the others. That should keep them from getting in the way.

That still left the fourteen other geth that had robot bodies of their own. At least fourteen, anyhow. He didn't have a direct connection to them, so he couldn't perform a repeat of his previous solution so easily either.

Therefore, he would have to take them all out with his first move.

That, or...

Hadn't Benezia been looking for Henell, a Prothean expert, on Saren's behalf? He made up his mind, drawing just enough breath to speak the word...

"Pro...thean..."

The turian froze, his head whipping towards Emiya with eyes almost shining behind his helmet's visor.

"What did you say?" Taking three steps forward, the Spectre crouched down just above his seemingly broken and battered body, the previous caution completely forgotten. "What were you trying to say...?"

Emiya drew another weak breath, raising head as if weakly looking at the turian leaning over him.

Just another few seconds and his omnitool is done.

"I said... 'Prothean'," he answered with a whisper so soft, that the words barely even left his lips.

The turian obviously didn't quite catch it, furrowing his brows as he leaned a little bit closer to the apparently near-unconscious human.

And... gotcha.

Emiya's hands shot out, grabbing the turian by the arm and flipping up with his legs and spinning him around. The Spectre had just time enough to yelp in surprise before he was placed into a sitting sleeper hold with his left arm held in an almost crushing grip.

"Wha—!"

Saren struggled futilely for a second against the rear choke hold, before his omnitool turned on seemingly by itself on his left arm, at the same time as Emiya's vise-like grip pulled it toward his own right shoulder across the turian's chest.

With his back to the wall and his torso being shielded by Saren's body, Emiya judged that the geth wouldn't shoot him for fear of hitting Saren. And it appeared he was right, as he guided the omnitool's medigel injector to his brachial artery on the inside of his right arm. The needle did not even need to push through fabric or skin as the muscle beneath them was already exposed to the air, allowing the blood replenisher to gush directly into his veins with an almost intoxicating rush.

"Yeah..."

Emiya couldn't help the satisfied sound that escaped his lips, his breath fogging up the inside of his helmet for a second. His head immediately cleared up as the fog before his eyes receded.

Hearing the sound acted as a signal for the turian, allowing the Spectre the break out of his momentary shock. A hand immediately went for the heavy pistol on his hip. Emiya judged that in this position he wouldn't be able to stop Saren from reaching his firearm, so instead he pulled back his arms. The right hand grasped the turian's left arm had already been drawn across the turian's chest, as his own left arm drew back to the turian's shoulder.

And then his right hand pulled as his left hand pushed, sending the turian that had been flush up against him spinning out from his lap. But Emiya didn't let go of the right arm, rather he pulled it toward himself with another snapping motion, which resulted in a satisfying pop of something giving way in the turian's arm.

"Aargh!"

Emiya ignored the scream of pain, even as he understood that having an arm dislocated and broken meant something entirely different for a race with a rigid proto-exoskeleton than it did for a human, letting go of the turian as his mind was already racing on ahead.

Don't have time to repair hardsuit—soft armor will just get chewed through—need hard protection. The solution was simple—Trace, on—begin projection,

A ballistic shield was what he needed.

Not so much a replica, as a free-form projection he had once tried out during his life. An inch thick, shaped like a Roman scutum or later pavice shield, making it wide and tall enough to cover his whole body at once. Though really, made as essentially an up-scaled AR-500 steel plate, it was just about the most ridiculous thing he had ever conceived off.

The thirty-kilogram shield slammed onto the ground with the sound of a church-bell, and not a second later the expected streams of bullets began to pepper him as the turian shield was out of the way. But unlike the light layered protection of his diamene weave, the hardened surface of the steel shield wasn't even scratched by the hypersonic rounds.

They must be very light to minimize structural damage inside the ship. They can chew through a kinetic barrier or even a medium hardsuit without danger of leaving obvious bullet damage behind, or puncturing the hull.

Exhaling slowly, he turned inward and focused on making his new set of armor. With the protection of the ballistic shield he now had seconds to spare, allowing him to make something properly.

Thicker all around, even if it came at the cost of fine mobility. More hardened plates like in his boots to increase surface resistance to the light bullets. Something on the inside to cover his gaping wounds until he could get some medical care...

—defining parameters, searching, acquiring, modifying for use using existing template, all processes completed—binding illusion,

His circuits heated up and for a moment the internal pain matched the external agony he was experiencing, before that too flared up beyond even his pain tolerance. His consciousness whited out for a few seconds, before his clenched fist and the rattling of the shield before him brought him back.

Projecting material directly on top of his flayed body was certainly going to be on The List, as he managed the pain through his breathing. Two seconds had passed since the shield had been created and it was still holding strong under the barrage.

His hardsuit wouldn't have been able to take half as much in a continued assault like this, as the value he placed on agility necessitated thinness. Even the diamond-hardness of the numerous diamene layers would fail under such repeated high-velocity impacts. If it was just one geth or he could have taken cover in time, then restoring destroyed layers would have been possible.

But having been overwhelmed by the sheer volume, there was nothing he had been able to do.

Perhaps its time I look into new materials... he thought distractedly, before dismissing all thoughts.

But the massive thing in his hand had the toughness, the hardness and the thickness necessary completely invalidate such bullets. Certainly its surface was already pockmarked by countless small impact craters of the small bullets pushing aside the hardened steel like wet mud, but to chew through this thing would still take minutes.

Which meant...

Emiya jumped, uppercutting with the shield in hand as he did which sent his point of balance reeling after the shield, pulling his body into a back-flip of sorts.

The expected impact was there, as something invisible crumpled and was crushed on impact with the shield.

A geth appeared in the air in the midst of a crackling shower of sparks, as the cloak failed and left the poor machine to fall from the ceiling where it had been moving to flank him and shoot over his shield.

Having completed full back-flip in the air, he found himself flush against the top of the hallway, tucked into the corner of the ceiling and the wall, in that lull before the artificial gravity could start pulling him down again. His feet found purchase on the wall and he pushed off, jumping towards the end of the hallway where he had just come from.

At the same time he spun in the air, bringing the shield to bear behind him at where most of the geth should be. He felt the sensation of something being drawn over his back and he distantly noted that there was at least one geth still behind him, leaving him in a crossfire. I need to get out of here... Make another shield?

Or would turtling like that only slow him down too much? Could he run freely while carrying both?

He flew twenty meters through the air before his feet hit the floor again. Making note of how few geth had seemingly managed to retain their aim on him, he mentally filed it away as an observation on their reaction speed.

His legs tensed, coiling like springs to prepare for another leap. If it's just this much, then I can still fight at least. Alright, I guess I'll—

"WAIT!"

Everything freeze for just a moment.

Emiya blinked and then realized that the geth had stopped shooting. It had been the turian who had shouted.

Cautiously lowering his shield, Emiya peered at the Spectre who with ragged breaths was bringing himself up on all fours. Or rather, his three still functioning limbs, as there was no way his left arm would be able to support any weight in its current state.

Drawing a ragged breath, Saren raised his head and glared with burning eyes that spoke of stubborn determination that were still far from accepting defeat. "...Wait!"

Thoughts racing, Emiya narrowed his eyes at the turian.

This was exactly what he would do if he was buying time for something. Only a fool or someone much too confident in their victory would wait at a moment like this. Especially since he was already wounded.

Yet...

Seeing that Emiya wasn't moving, a spark of recognition and even relief was lit in those piercing eyes. The turian nodded, taking another ragged breath as he sought to stand up, with little success. He seemed to be waiting for something, as if the pain should be receding already or something.

Finally, the turian raised his obviously broken left arm and with great pains turned on the omnitool. And promptly froze with a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. So, he knew the geth were there and he knows they're gone now.

Wary eyes rose, meeting Emiya in a silent standoff.

But... those aren't the eyes of someone who has just lost a comrade, it's more like he thinks he's been unarmed without his noticing. I see. he only thinks of the geth as tools, then, Emiya thought with a grimace. That meant he couldn't let the Spectre realize that he had decided to care about the geth, that would just unnecessarily complicate things.

With pained gasps, the turian operated the omnitool until finally he let out a loud, relieved sigh as his eyes almost crossed over.

The next moment, he jumped up as if his previous injury and agony had been nothing more than an act, though the left arm was still hanging limply by his side.

"We... are, not... enemies," Saren began, not quite so much slurring as almost tripping over his own words.

Combat stims and pain-killers. Combined with the pain, I doubt he has the capacity to pull lie convincingly now, Emiya concluded as he scoffed quietly. He almost sarcastically asked what the turian did to his enemies, if he had received this kind of treatment.

And yet...

I was stalking him and the geth robots didn't aim to kill. Emiya couldn't deny that. Even if he was under no illusions regarding the Spectre's apparent and all-too-sudden change of heart.

This was just a change of strategy, just the same as Benezia had done. But to do it so quickly, without any hesitation, just after having been brutalized so...

A lesser man would have surely given into wrath.

This was just business.

Normally Emiya wouldn't bother with someone this extraordinarily ready to shake hands just after shooting someone, steering far and clear just as he had wished to do with Benezia. But the thing was that the business they were both in right now, was...

"So you're the one trying to save the galaxy, huh?""

The complete and utter shock on the Spectre's face was all the confirmation he needed. Benezia had been convinced that there was something afoot in the galaxy—that a great danger was lurking just beyond their notice—and since then Emiya had seen plenty of evidence to support that conclusion.

He sighed, shaking his head.

"So Benezia was right. You do think that this is serious."

"Benezia...? You have, already talked to her?" Saren asked, blinking with wide eyes barely visible through his helmet's visor. "Of... course... That's what..."

Emiya nodded, standing up straight out of the cover of the shield. "That's right. She realized the same thing you did just now, I'm sure. We had a good, long talk afterwards."

The more he thought about it the more sense it made. The tension and bloodlust between them had not vanished anywhere. But there was more at stake here than just their lives.

He took a step forward, followed by another as he let go of the shield that vanished into thin air the moment he released it.

Hadn't Shepard shown him that making allies was better than fighting his way through everything on his own with Benezia? Hadn't Benezia spoken of this Spectre with the greatest of respects? Certainly, his run-ins with Spectres until now hadn't been the best, what with one having been out to set him up and the other having been hunting him down with half a fleet in orbit...

But it wasn't as if he thought particularly poorly of them. Tela Vasir had been plotting who knows what, putting Tyra and Liara in danger, but hadn't the turian Spectre had a good head on his shoulders? Keeping civilians out of danger and the collateral to a minimum, fighting coolly and at a distance when possible, but not afraid to fight him head-on either...

No, he didn't think ill of the Spectres in particular at all.

Then wasn't it obvious what he should do?

Perhaps the turian had only shouted out what he had as a ploy to occupy and distract him for a moment. Perhaps he was even now setting up the geth around them for a more lethal formation. Perhaps he was a complete fool...

But if Saren had even thought to say that, then wasn't there some part of the turian who believed that it could be possible for them to not be enemies? Then didn't he have the responsibility of turning that possibility true, if it meant saving more people?

Emiya came to a halt before the frozen Spectre.

He extended his right hand as he dispelled his helmet to reveal his face, his left coming to rest on his hip. The words that came out of his mouth next made the turian blanch.

"Then, let's not be enemies, Saren Arterius."

The stretching silence was so profound that Emiya could hear his heartbeat, until finally with slow, shaking deliberation the talons reached out to grasp the extended hand.

A firm grip.

They looked up at the same time, their eyes meeting again.

"...Yes. Let us get along, Emiya Shirou."

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Sorry for the long wait again. Work has been pretty exhausting; it's just one crisis after another.