To Serve Man was, without a doubt, the finest noodle shop in the Terminus Systems. Tucked away in a near forgotten corner of the Tuhi District on Omega, it was a recent addition to the various stores and restaurants there, having only opened a year and a half earlier. It was owned and operated by a Salarian named Bledok Caetor. On an extended vacation he took on Earth, Caetor had been positively inspired by Asian cuisine, especially noodle soups. He resolved to not only master their preparation, but go into the restaurant business, despite having neither initial culinary nor business experience.

Against all odds, he mastered several styles of Korean, Chinese, and Japanese cooking. From there, he started off catering small events, his reputation growing by leaps and bounds, before finally opening up his own shop on Omega. When asked why someone who clearly had enough talent to make it on the Citadel would instead come to it's evil twin, he remarked, "Terminus deserves good food, for body AND soul. My intention is to provide it. People of Omega have greater need for comfort than those in Council Space."

Legend had it that after sampling a bowl of his sweet and spicy beef champon noodle soup, Aria T'Loak herself declared that To Serve Man was under her personal protection. Bledok had not paid a single days worth of extortion money since.

It was good. It was cheap. He was obviously not in it for the money. The shop itself was small, surprisingly clean and cozy, bathed in a curious orange-red light that was at once both stimulating and relaxing. Given it's popularity, it was often crowded, and yet Caetor had refused to expand. There was little inside beyond the simple ten stool bar, with the five to six booths ensconced in the back on a raised platform. And the kitchen itself, of course.

"Like interacting with the customers. Harder to do, in larger venue. Perhaps someday, if I can find a worthy apprentice to share kitchen duties with."

There was a hardcore Human following; regulars that made up the bedrock of the customer base, around whom various aliens would filter in and out. Among the Human ex-pats was Holliandra Shepard. Rarely a single day went by where she didn't take at least one meal there, after being introduced to it by Kolyat. She kept a low profile, shaved her head, wore color change contacts. An angry glare was usually enough to keep the curious from looking at her for too long.

Omega - and by extension, the rest of the galaxy - seemed largely unaware that the great Savior of the Galaxy was now one of their own. Rumors swirled about her though, regarding her current disposition. Some maintained that she was dead, murdered by a jealous paramour. Others whispered conspiratorially that she was now the head of Asari Intelligence, pulling strings, manipulating political events, and toppling unpopular regimes. A third group swore blind she was deep in Quarian space, installed as the head of some new age cult.

Aria had surprisingly kept the news to herself; there had been no welcome party, when it was clear Shepard wasn't going to play that game. Aside from sending cryptic, half-taunting, half-flirtatious messages every so often, the Pirate Queen had seen fit enough to leave her be.

Bledok himself was the only one on Omega who knew the truth, as far as anyone could tell. It was hard for him not to eventually discover it, after the same woman showed up, night after night, ordering the same bowl of jingoku ramen, ultra-spicy, and a bottle of Kirin lager. But he never spoke to her about anything other than topics she was willing to discuss, on the rare occasions she felt like speaking to anyone at all. When he had discovered her identity, he insisted that her meals were on the house.

It had been an excessively surreal three months for Shepard, as she struggled to hang on to any motivation to continue with her life. The manic, frenzied, tortured nature of her insanity had morphed into the calmer, insidious agony of depression. Her days were spent going over the data that she had managed to take with her from the Citadel. Reviewing every fact, every number, every equation. Desperate to find some missing answer, some holy grail, something to illuminate her life. She often envisioned herself as a prisoner, locked away in an impossibly large, infinitely dark dungeon, hoping against hope that if she groped around long enough, she'd find a flashlight or lantern at long last.

The Other was still with her, but its voices had long since fallen silent. It simply sat there, breathing quietly. Waiting expectantly. For her to fall? For her to succeed? There was no hint or indication either way. No guidance. It was if The Other had only driven her along for all these months in order to accentuate the pain when it finally abandoned her.

The silence became as maddening as the never ending voices before it had been. Natural sleep still eluded her. Pills or alcohol were required to shut her mind down enough to get any rest, but she had managed to keep from mixing the two overmuch.

When she wasn't eating at Bledok's, she was usually cooped up in her apartment. It was oddly easy to ignore the ghosts of the decade past. She found it disquieting at how quickly she had claimed the space, made it her own, without intending to do so. She had managed to salvage enough junk components in the various trash heaps and junkyards on the station, along with what she found in the apartment itself, to construct a crude but surprisingly useful computer workstation, which she utilized to review the massive amounts of data Aurora had generated in the year of its existence. She even managed to load a copy of her personal VI assistant, which ran - badly - in the system, doing it's best to aid her when asked.

No one contacted her. No one sought her out. In Holly's mind, it was just as well. She struggled with the temptation to go running back to Liara, let her know she was still alive, beg her to take her back. But she couldn't. She was still far too broken inside, now more than ever. Either she would emerge, whole and in perfect understanding of what had happened to her, or she would fade quietly into twilight. She convinced herself it was best this way.

Every day passed by, a picture perfect copy of the last. She wasn't even human anymore, just a ghost. Cursed to run through the same routines, eat the same meals, ponder the same questions, day in, day out.

That was until the Shadow Broker called her up. Mid August, on the Terran Calendar. She was vaguely surprised he hadn't contacted her sooner, seeing as he was the one - she assumed - who paid for the rent on her apartment, and ensured that her bank account, while never lavishly filled, never went empty either.

He called her up, with little fanfare. She opened the channel from her end, expressing neither surprise nor curiosity. Simply attention.

"Shepard. Good to see you. How are you holding up?"

"I'm...here." she said, almost too soft to be heard. "I'm still here."

"I need to ask you a favor. I have something you might be interested in."

Favor, he said. Shepard wondered if that was even possible. It occurred to her that whether or not he intended it, she was effectively in his employ, dependant as she was on his money. Still, it was something new. A change from the unending purgatory of her current existence. Anything he asked would be worthwhile at this point.

"I'm listening."

"I've managed to acquire a piece of Reaper technology. A black box, of sorts. I have reason to believe it's actually leftover debris from the Xipe Totec incident. Something that managed to drift through whatever wormhole they opened up returning Ortiz to the Sol system. Considering that it was discovered out in the open, in a small impact crater on the Utopia Planitia, that would make the most sense."

Something deep inside her began to thrum, like an engine vainly struggling to turn over after enduring quiet decades of disuse.

The Broker chuckled at the expression blossoming on her face. "Thought that would pique your curiosity."

"What do you need me to do?" she asked earnestly.

"I imagine you still have a connection. Understanding. Of this sort of thing. I'd prefer not to analyze it myself, and would appreciate it if you could see what data you can retrieve from it. All I ask is that you send me copies of whatever you find."

Holly began to nod. Slowly at first, but with an increasing frequency. A gnawing emerged in her gut, an acute desire. No. Need. A growing, absolute need to see whatever this was. No questions about how Feron had acquired it. None about what he intended to do with whatever data she sent back to him. None of that mattered to her now.

She realized she was at a point where she would probably kill - and without much remorse - in order to study whatever it was he had found.

This new need seemed to clear her mind as much as it clouded it. It might not have been a healthy motivator, but it gave her a simulacrum of purpose. Made her more willing to communicate, interact, than she had been in weeks.

And so it was that three days later, she found herself sitting in the back of To Serve Man, nursing her beer, occasionally poking at the pork dumplings she was too nervous to eat. She was on edge. Literally feeling the tingle of anticipation roiling up and down her spinal column. A curiously familiar sensation. She lost herself in thought, trying to put her finger on it, as the answer eluded her. It was driving her to distraction, like a long forgotten song that was going to dog her until she remembered the name.

Out of nowhere, the answer hit her.

It was exactly the sort of tactile effect that being close to an active stealth field would create. The sort of thing that only a skilled Infiltrator would think to be aware of.

The courier she was waiting for was a good fifteen minutes late. Now she knew why.

Her hand drifted slowly, casually, to the butt of her N7 Eagle, holstered at her hip. She murmured, loud enough so that only those at the table could hear.

"Alright. I know you're there. Might as well drop the field." She made a show of slowly drawing the pistol, holding it under the table. "And don't try anything stupid. Please."

The air next to her took on a shimmering quality, ultimately resolving itself into the form of a Human woman, perhaps a few years younger than herself. Holly wasn't sure, but the other woman appeared to be Asian, with a small nose, and telltale folds around the eyes. Eyes that were heavily rimmed with dark eyeliner. There was also an odd stripe of color on her lower lip. At least, that was about as much as Holly could make out, given her newly acquired table companion was wearing a heavy hood. One that was unusually similar to the kind utilized by the Quarians.

She was smiling. Looking particularly pleased with herself.

"Woooow. You ARE good."

Holly slowly shook her head. "Not as good as I used to be. You've been here what...ten minutes?"

"Twelve, actually."

"And I only noticed you now. Never...never would have taken me that long. Not in the old days."

She glanced over at the Asian woman, "So you're the courier then? Do you have my package?"

The other woman gave Holly a long, hard look. Her expression was a curious mixture, almost playful on the surface, but tinged with sadness. And something else. Anger?

"Do you really not know who I am, Shepard?"

Holly tensed up. She wasn't in the mood for conversation. Wanted that black box, and then back to the apartment. She silently shook her her head, playing along for the moment.

"I'm Goto."

"Gogo?"

The other woman frowned, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. "Goto! Kasumi Goto."

Holly found the exchange growing increasingly bizarre.

"I...sorry? I don't think I re - wait. Wait a moment. Goto. Goto. Kasumi..."

A flood of memories came rushing forth...


2185 C.E.

Shepard was in the Normandy's notoriously slow elevator, slurping at the tall tumbler of coffee she had just procured from the galley. She was going over the latest communications her Yeoman, Kelly Chambers, gathered for her perusal. Miranda stepped in, paused, and then pushed the emergency stop. Holly was too engrossed in reading her datapad to even notice, until Miranda cleared her throat, and finally spoke.

"Commander."

Holly lowered the pad, giving her executive officer a quizzical lift of a brow. "Miranda. Um. You know, if you're interested in getting some quality private time with me, all you had to do is ask.

Not that I think Liara would approve."

She smiled, like a cat who had just swallowed the canary, having recently spent an extended amount of time with her old lover a couple weeks back, during a campaign that saw her installed as the new Shadow Broker. There was no commitment there, no actual continuation of the relationship. Not for lack of want on Holly's part. But she couldn't. Not when there was a very real possibility that she was making preparations for a one way suicide mission. She wasn't about to get Liara's hopes up, only to dash them so cruelly against the rocks.

They had one night together. A final chance to say goodbye. That was more than most people got out of life.

Miranda gave a soft sigh of impatience and said, "Kasumi Goto."

Shepard winced, gripping her face with her palm, and groaning, "Mirannnnnda. No. We are...I thought this conversation was over and done with?"

"You thought so. You were also mistaken. Commander, Cerberus has gone to a tremendous amount of effort and expense to secure her services. You received her dossier over two weeks ago. Given how quick you've acted in the past to make contact with the others, I found your reluctance exceptionally unusual."

Holly paused, taking a long, slow, extended sip of her coffee, drawing the moment out before speaking.

"She's a thief, Miranda. Not a moral judgement on her. Especially given how colorful most of our backgrounds are, in this little troupe we've assembled. But everyone else is either military, or has considerable combat experience. A non-combatant is just a liability waiting to happen. I can't expect my team to function at full capacity if we're having to constantly watch the back of some...some interstellar cat-burglar. Whom I'm sure wouldn't go for the whole notion of 'suicide mission'."

Miranda remained silent, long enough that Holly assumed the conversation was over, and began to reach over to reactivate the elevator. Miranda gently batted her hand away, then cocked her hips, crossing her arms. "Shepard, are you quite mad, or are you just bloody stupid?"

A few slurps of coffee passed, before Holly answered, "If I have a choice, I'm going to go with insane. But I don't see what that has to do with this situation."

"Mordin Solus! You've brought him on board."

"Because he knows how to handle himself in a live fire situation. He's ex-STC. No stranger to a gun, and he's got a cooler head than most combat vets I know. This Goto, she's a thief. Infiltration expert. I think we've got that angle covered nicely, thanks."

With that, Shepard gently punched the control, restoring motion to the elevator. Miranda quietly fumed for the rest of the trip, waiting until Shepard began to step onto the CIC.

"My God, that's it. Isn't it? You're threatened by her."

Holly stopped in mid-stride. Clearly unamused. She stepped back into the elevator, sealing the doors behind her.

"This is not a conversation we are having, Lawson. Especially not on my bridge."

Miranda shook her head, smirking. "Well, that's it then. Am I right? Are you really so arrogant that you can't stand the thought of having another Infiltration expert on board? One who is, and I say this with absolute certainty, better than you."

"That...that has nothing to do with it. And yes, I can handle all our stealth, hacking and infiltration needs, just fine. By myself. No need to overspecialize."

"Mmmmhmmm. And what happens, Shepard, if we make it onto the Collector base. If we fight our way through, and much to everyone's shock and horror, the great and mighty Commander Shepard is taken out. Maybe permanently? We have plenty of medics, fighters, biotics. But we only have one competent Infiltrator. Imagine if the entirety of this mission hinged on those skills. If all our efforts were to go down the loo because YOU didn't know when to put your fragile ego on the shelf for the sake of the mission."

Holly found it incredibly, infuriatingly insufferable, how Miranda could remain so calm while so passionately making her case. She began to pace in the cramped confines of the elevator. She took the time to finish her coffee before answering. She could see it in Miranda's eyes. Lawson already knew she won. It was all over but the crying.

"Tali. She'd take over."

"No. She wouldn't. Not as good as you. Not at this."

Shepard was clearly just hating this, pounding gently on the wall with her fist.

"You're suggesting the kingdom might be lost, for want of a nail? A stealthy, hacky nail, perhaps?"

Miranda gave her head an almost unperceivable tilt, her lips forming themselves into a slight smile. "Something like that."

Holly rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, chewed at her bottom lip, before throwing her hands up in surrender. "Okay. Okay, we'll get her. The crew almost has that Reaper IFF installed, and after they're done, we'll swing by to pick Goto up before we go through the Omega-4 Relay. Happy?"

"Blissfully, Commander." Miranda drolled.

Unsealing the elevator doors and stepping out, Shepard called out softly behind her, "You know, you can be a real pain in my fucking ass, Lawson. And as an executive officer...you remind me a lot of myself." She glanced over her shoulder, smiling "Don't go changing."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The doors closed on Miranda, but not before pumping a fist in the air once, when she clearly thought no one could see.


"..oh God. The thief. You were the thief. The one Cerberus hired."

Kasumi gave a confrontational smirk, "Hired sounds so...plebian. I prefer 'retained the services of.' At least, I assumed they had. At first, I thought we had an agreement. They told me to expect you at the Citadel." She took a deep breath through her nostrils.

"But you never came. Three and a half weeks later, I get a very terse message saying that my services were no longer required. I didn't know what to think. At first I blamed you. After a while, I blamed them. Wondered if Cerberus was trying to double-cross me. Didn't make sense though. I had the money. I just didn't have you. So naturally, I went back to blaming you again."

Holly's jaw dropped, as she gawked at the strange turn of coincidence. "I...uh...well...look. You seem awfully unhappy about this, but let me just assure you, it wasn't anything personal. You were a...a..." she tapped her fingers on the table, trying to find the right phrase. "A fourth quarter substitution. By the time we were finally ready to come and pick you up...I mean...did they not tell you what the situation was?"

Kasumi leaned in slightly, as her anger slowly gave way to confusion and curiosity. "Noooo. They only said it was a mission of 'vital galactic importance'. Honestly, I'm surprised they didn't contact me sooner. I may not be the most famous thief, but let me assure you: it's because I'm the best."

The two locked eyes, a moment passing between them. Holly spoke, in a placid, even tone.

"It was a suicide mission."

"I'm sorry, a what?"

"Suicide mission. Our ultimate goal was to take down the Collectors. That meant traveling to the center of the galaxy. Picking our way through the Tartarus Debris Field, crashing into their base, fighting our way through, defeating some...god knows what kind of Reaper." She shook her head hard, swallowing as she relived the moments in her retelling.

"It was touch and go. Like a game of chess. I had to plot out each move, so carefully. One wrong misstep, and it would have been a disaster. Even then, not all of us made it out alive."

"I see." Kasumi's expression softened further. She turned her head away for a moment in contemplation. "Huh. Perhaps it was just as well that you didn't pick me up, after all. But I still don't understand why you didn't come find me first. Before you went to the base."

Shepard shrugged. "We were going to. But then...then the Collectors attacked. Kidnapped most of my crew. Forced my hand. And I had to make a snap decision: spend the time to pick up one more asset that may or may not have made the difference, or execute the attack plan right then and there. Any delay would have meant more of my crew, more of the captured colonists, would have died. I'm sorry, but the choice was clear. There was never any slight against you. Anyhow, almost immediately after the mission, Cerberus and I parted company on very unfriendly terms. Then the Alpha Relay thing happened and...never a chance to follow up."

Kasumi was quiet at first, then leaned in close, until her face was mere inches away from Shepard's.

"Are you going to eat your dumplings?"

"What? Uh...no."

"Can I have them?"

"Oookay. Go for it."

She picked one up, dipped it in a small dish of soy sauce, popped it into her mouth and chewed carefully. Swallowed.

"Thanks. God, the food here is so good!"

Shepard tried to make sense of the sudden change in Kasumi's demeanor.

"There's something you're not telling me. About what was happening with you. Back then."

Kasumi smiled. A facade. A brave front to hide a still fragile heart behind it. At once, Holly found her overpowering, almost unnatural desire for the Reaper black box fading. In that moment, she saw...herself. Or rather, a kindred soul. Someone who had been hurt, somehow, someone who had spent the past decade trying to discover why. Trying to understand a situation that seemed to have little to no meaning behind it.

They were both so close to getting the answer they sought.

Holly found it far less difficult to help Kasumi find hers, before setting out to find her own.

"I needed help." Kasumi started. "Needed your help. Did they not tell you?"

Holly shook her head as she relaxed. Found herself focused in a way she hadn't experienced in months.

"No. Your credentials were really impressive. I mean...uh...they were good. Yeah. But the overview attached to your dossier? Fit on a four by ten card. It might as well have read: 'THIEF GOOD. GO TO CITADEL. PICK UP THIEF. DO NOT FAIL. Love Timmy."

"Timmy?"

"Yeeeeah. That was my private nickname for The Ill-. You know what? Not important. They didn't say anything about your situation. I'm sorry."

Kasumi nodded, downing another pork dumpling.

"There was a man. He and I were very close. He was killed. A job we did together ended badly. And he...well, he had a greybox installed in his head. With some very dangerous information on it. But more important? All his memories. Experiences." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "All that I have left of him."

Holly nodded. She then turned for a moment, caught Bledok's attention, and called out. "Hey! Uhh...can we get a couple jars of Ozeki, and my usual, and uh..." she turned back to Kasumi. "I'm buying. What do you want?"

She smiled gently, in an almost child-like fashion. "Tonkatsu ramen."

Shepard called out to Bledok, and then returned her attention to the thief. "And a Tonkatsu ramen. Yeah? Thanks."

"So...I'm assuming you had a plan. Or were you just gonna wing it?"

"Plan. I most certainly had a plan. Something I actually spent a tremendous amount of time and effort developing. The man who stole the greybox. A weapons dealer named Donovan Hock."

Shepard nodded, "Kinda know the guy. Well, know OF him. Know the name at least. He was that Dutchman who sounded vaguely Australian, right?"

Kasumi's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Afrikaans. He's South African. That's the accent."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Goodness, you're really quite American, aren't you?"

"Hey! Don't blame me...um...er...the Spectre file on him a while back. Caught my eye. It didn't mention any of that."

Kasumi gave a snort, clearly unconvinced, before going on.

"Yes. Your Spectre clearance at the time A major reason I was hoping to get your help. And the fact that you're almost as good as I am. I mean that, by the way. It would have been nice, working with a fellow...artiste. Someone to trade notes with, someone who understood the mindset, the way you no doubt do. Would have been real complimentary, you know? Us working together."

Shepard shrank down in her chair a bit, trying to keep the guilt burning in the back of her neck from showing on her face. She was struck by the notion how much her childish ego had potentially cost both of them. All that time she had been worried about Kasumi upstaging her, and Goto was instead looking forward to interacting with a fellow stealth expert. If only she had gotten to her in time...

"Anyhow. My plan. I suppose there's really no point in going into further details, other than it involved you going in undercover." Kasumi then gently pounded the table. "I even bought you this amazing dress, and I still have it. Would you like it? I'd bet it would look spectacular on you!"

Shepard laughed, shaking her head side to side, "This is THE weirdest fucking conversation I have had. In a real long time. But...ah. So you weren't able to get me to help. What happened? You have to give up?"

Kasumi pursed her lips. "No. Too much was at stake. When it was obvious you weren't going to help me, I took every credit that Cerberus paid me, and more. Hired a team of my own. We got what I wanted, but it was a pyrrhic victory, to put it lightly. I ended up owing favors. To the kind of people it's best not to owe anything to."

"Like the Shadow Broker?"

"Not at first. The Broker was the one who bought off all my markers. So now I pay him back. Mostly doing what I do best. It's not a bad way to make a living, really. It's just..." She let out a heavy breath. "You ever feel like something in your life was meant to go in one direction, and for some reason, it didn't? That it just broke down? Went wrong?"

Shepard leaned back in her chair, "These days? All the time. All the time..."

The food and the drinks arrived, and both leaned forward to tuck in. After a moment or two, Shepard reached over, pouring a couple cups of sake.

"So what are we drinking to?" she asked.

Kasumi picked up her cup, studying it critically.

"Missed opportunities."

Shepard saluted with her own cup, "To missed opportunities." before slamming it back.

Over dinner, they chatted some more. Filling in the blanks of the last ten years. The directions their lives took. Neither seemed willing to discuss the more recent events in their lives, and that suited them both.

But the itch finally returned. Shepard had spent long enough pretending to be a normal person again. The Other pressed against the back of her mind, coating it in corrosion.

"Kasumi," Shepard spoke, wincing hard. "It's been fun and everything but...my box? I gotta really get on it. A-SAP. The Broker, you know? He's jonesing for whatever I can find."

"Oh? Yes. Sure, just a moment." From seemingly out of nowhere, she produced a small, locked metal box, shiny and black. She placed it on the table, and pushed it towards Holly.

Shepard tried to slow the movement of her hands, to not broadcast the desperation she was feeling for the contents inside.

"Th...thanks. Really. This thing is...it's really important." She started to rise, then paused, looking back towards Kasumi. "Uh. Hey. This was actually...ah...fun. You know?" She smiled, in earnest. "I haven't ah...talked. Like in a normal way. In a while."

"I know *I* enjoyed myself, Shep. You mind me calling you that? Of course you don't, Shep. You know what? Take this." She reached into her jumpsuit, producing a flat, metallic rectangle with a contact code stamped onto it.

"Business card."

Shepard pocketed it. "Oh. Thanks."

"Yeah. I just...I get the feeling I missed out on something amazing, before. Next time you go out on some incredible mission to save the galaxy, or whatever. Call me. Alright?"

Holly gave a chuckle at that, one that turned into a heartfelt laugh. "Alright, Kasumi. You bet."

"Oh, one last thing. There's a pack of Vorcha planning to ambush you near your apartment. I'm rather ashamed to admit it, but I wasn't going to tell you. I was still angry at you, before. I figured you'd find out on your own. But now? Anyhow, try to act surprised when it happens."

Shepard burst out into a full laugh in this, as she walked away, playfully murmuring, "Oh you bitch."

"See you 'round, Shep."

Kasumi disappeared in a shimmering wave as Shepard made her way out of the restaurant.

Six dead Vorcha, and one grievously wounded Batarian later, Holly was back in her apartment. Finally ready to dig deep. Perhaps to attain, at long last, what she had so desperately sought.


With trembling hands, Holly worked the keyboard of her console, having hooked the Reaper artifact to a crude interface device she whipped up for the purpose the day before. The black box itself was surprisingly non-descript. She had seen examples of Reaper tech before. They always had a feeling about them that was difficult to describe, other than menacing. Foreboding. Something about the look, the sound it made, the feeling of the metal under the fingertips.

None of those qualities were present in the sample. If anything, it vaguely reminded her of Asari design aesthetics, with the more rounded curves and lighter colors. For a minute, she wondered if Feron was putting her on.

...or maybe this is what happened to the others. The scientists studying Reapers up close. Indoctrination. Maybe it only looks unthreatening because...

If she was already Indoctrinated, another dose wasn't going to kill her. Her mind was forfeit a long while back. Her system was completely isolated from any of Omega's, so she wasn't worried about viruses or trojans that might try to seize control.

She tapped her fingers against the rough metal exterior of the console, waiting for the answer to come to her. Figuring out exactly how to proceed. Finally, she pressed a button and spoke.

"Mandy?"

Mandala, her old Asari-made VI, fuzzed into view, her holographic avatar skipping and buzzing.

"C-c-ommander? H-ow may I assizztt?"

"I've got a good feeling about algorithm array sixty-six. The..uh...the Mandelbrot Set-based sub-version, actually. Grab a raw dump of any data from the device I've hooked up, run it through, and give me the output, alright?"

Mandala's speech and appearance improved slightly, as her corrective subroutines engaged.

"Affirmative. Time to completion estimated at two hours."

What passed was the longest one-hundred and thirty eight minutes of Holly's life. Pacing back and forth, working on a ship model, making an impromptu effort to teach herself how to play bass guitar, or occasionally banging her head against the wall.

This is what it must feel like to be a tiger in a zoo cage.

"Processing complete. You may now view the results."

Holly found it odd that she strained to check her eager enthusiasm in front of her VI, but she did, nonetheless. Sat herself down in the chair, forced herself to breathe, ignore the pounding of her heart. Closed her eyes for a moment, pushed the appropriate button on her keyboard. Steepled her fingers, sat back a bit, opened her eyes. And just watched.

This was the moment she had been waiting for. She was absolutely convinced.

To say that the displayed images and text on her screen were strange was a tremendous understatement. There were fractal patterns and screens full of blinking, colorful characters. Things that looked like ship designs, or full page equations flashed through, barely long enough for her to even consciously note the content.

There was a faint buzzing, building up to a roar. Holly wasn't sure where it was coming from. She never quite realized it was inside her head.

She was shaking quietly, limbs occasionally jerking at random, eyes zipping about as she struggled to continue taking in the data on the screen. Possessed of the curious sensation that it was somehow being forced into her. Or drained out of her. Or both.

A tiny voice inside told her she needed to stop. The primal, lizard-brain, whose only job was to fear the unknown. The rest of her demanded to press forward. Soon enough, Holly couldn't have stopped the process, even if she wanted to.

She was starting to remember...something...

Darkness. Wet. Falling. From someplace curved. Hard.

Glass?

There is a soft chittering noise, like a nighttime forest filled with insects. Crickets. Maybe.

She can almost make them out, understand what they're saying.

She's still in pain. The bullets are still in her, the other wounds, burns, lacerations. She wonders why they went to all the trouble, if they weren't going to take care of that.

Naked, but not for long. Hands gently grab her, lift her up. Clothe her. They carry her now, down long tunnels. She's far too weak to resist, not that the thought to do so ever crosses her mind.

They drape her over something large. Heavy and metallic.

Now she lies there. Waiting.

They'll find her soon enough.

Holly wondered why the world was tilting over at a ninety degree angle. It wasn't until she hit the floor that she realized the tilting was from her end.

From a thousand light years away, she heard Mandala's artificially chipper voice.

"Hello, Shepard! You appear to be undergoing a: SEIZURE, GRAND MAL."

"Would you like some help with that?"

Shepard was beginning to understand.

Everything.

Everything. In the entire Universe.

But only for an infinitely brief moment.

"You have failed to respond in the allotted time. I will attempt to ERROR. KERNEL PANIC. CORE DUMPED."

A million years in her mind later, Holly was relieved. That voice was really starting to grate on her nerves.

As the blackness rushed to swallow her whole, she thought to herself.

Finally. This whole living thing was starting to drive me to distraction.


A/N: Alright...probably not much point in sitting on this one any longer. Close enough to Monday. :-) And I love this chapter. I had it in my head for months and months, eagerly dancing on tippytoes waiting to bring Kasumi into the fold like that.

Bledok Caetor, if you say it really fast, sounds a little like TheBleachDoctor. Who has been reading almost from the start, quietly supportive. Sublimely humerous with his Earl Grey Hot series of one shots, which I highly recommend. So enjoy your cameo, TBD :-)

The bit with Kasumi and Holly talking about Hock's accent is also supposed to be a touch meta-fictive, as it was something Corentin IV pointed out to me during her edits; I like to tease her when she's being oh-so-British, and she likes to zing me right back for my 'MURICA!-ness. :-D

So the next week with work is going to be bonkers. So I fear that it might be a week or two before I get the next chapter out. DEFINITELY before months end, should be easily accomplished. But we're starting to get into complicated things that require me to try and review previous chapters to make sure I don't accidentally bust my own continuity sooooo...(fingers crossed)

I also want to take a moment to thank all the readers and reviewers; you guys have been more supportive than ever lately, and it's really motivated me like nothing else. Even some folks who have IM'ed me, to tell me they've caught up, and are really liking how things have gone lately, even though they haven't had a chance to review. You guys are all the best!