A/N: So a few things to cover.

I'd like to thank everyone for reviewing. And favs, follows. And even reading. If you find it's not your cup of tea, I'd appreciate feedback as to why. I write because it helps me distract myself from problems in my own life (insert emo whining here) and because I love the idea that people can enjoy it. For me, the best parts of ME were the 'oh holy shiat' bits where Shepard just went crazy awesome, and the story is built around that.

If you do nothing else, please drop some reads on "Introduction to Asari for Humans," which is the guide I use for talking about asari. If you need a laugh, read "Mass Effect 3: A Crucible in More Ways Than One." And as always, please check out Owelpost's and Melaradark's masterpieces.

I wasn't sure about this chapter, since it's just a lot of political maneuvering and background stuff. I'm a big fan of Chekov's Gun, the concept of setting things up in one chapter to use them many chapters down the line. The action will pick up again soon, I promise.

Updated 4-12-2018.


"I need forty cc's of amrinone, now!"

Doctor Chakwas bit her lip behind her surgical mask as she struggled to keep Shepard alive on the biomedical table. The med-bay was spattered with blood, bits of armor, and hastily erected UV lights. Two of the ops techs who were off-watch were in full body armor with helmets, hurriedly re-sterilizing the room with handheld UV lamps and portable HEPA filter vacuums, while Chakwas and her assistant Lynn worked on the wounded. Both of the doctors wore 'hot-suits' – half armor and half mass-field hazard area suits designed to protect against infection – and their hands were covered in thick, non-latex gloves tipped with special circuits to allow haptic keyboards to function.

Shepard's face was pale and drawn in pain. Her Spectre armor had flooded her body with stimulants, steroids, and clotting agents as soon as the onboard micro-frame computer registered the vicious shots from Saren's lethal pistol, but it didn't really matter. Shepard had already been wounded – not fully healed from either her efforts on Eden Prime or the vicious blast on Therum, and she had thrown herself into the fight regardless of pain. Bruises mottled her bare torso, along with a patina of older scars. A vicious biotic throw from Benezia and several biotically enhanced blows from Saren had broken bones, and then the pistol shot struck her torso.

The blast was so powerful that it had vaporized her Spectre armor, sending a spray of molten materials into her torso, along with the superheated plasma blast. The shot had punched completely through her and out the back of the armor, wreaking havoc. The only reason Shepard hadn't bled to death instantly was the drugs dispensed by her armor and the partial cauterization of the wound by the shot itself.

Complicating the issue were the extremely virulent spores of the Thorian, which latched onto organic tissue of any kind and began leeching sugars and carbons to replicate themselves. Massive dumps of sterilization agents and heavy UV lighting were the only things that stopped their growth so far. Chakwas had already been forced to cut away a segment of small intestine infested with the growth.

Packing the wound with medi-gel would do nothing, the shot had clipped her spinal column, ruptured her stomach, and the shock, heat, and pressure had broken three ribs. Worse, she had interior second-degree burns and her liver was damaged. Chakwas had to bring down the Commander's heart rate, but in doing so, Shepard's heart suddenly stopped.

Lynn's dark face, framed by severely tied back black hair, was a mask of concentration. "Administered, doctor. Heart rate stabilizing. She's still shocky; I can't pick up decent secondaries on the ultrasound monitor."

Chakwas nodded, even as the ship shook with the boom-thud of mass corridor translation. "It will have to do." She carefully used a protolaser to separate mangled tissue from the stomach, and winced as she applied a patch of non-specialized cell cultures in growth serum to the base of Shepard's stomach. Sealing the patch with a thin layer of disinfective medi-gel, she turned to the small intestine. "The hole in her stomach will be patched in a while." She seared away another eight centimeters of intestine and then gestured. "Field-sterile clamps, please. We'll need to hold this segment of intestine together. There's nothing I can do about the spinal damage. But I've got the ribs re-patched with the regenerator and I've stopped the rest of the damned internal bleeding."

Lynn carefully used a manipulator to control the miniaturized robotic arms, carefully clamping the two ends of intestine together, as Chakwas wrapped them in a thin, glowing green cord, pulling it through and around several loops.

She lathered a broad-based antibiotic paste over the cords, then carefully laid strips of hyper-growth bandages over them. Lynn frowned. "Shouldn't we use interlacing, doctor?"

Chakwas' voice was tense. "No time for that, they take a half hour to set. Synthetic protein bandages won't hold forever, but they're better than nothing and very fast acting."

The two servicemen began another disinfecting sweep, and Chakwas sighed. "Update on Dr. T'Soni and the Shields woman?" The doctor's voice was tired, even as she picked up a plasma infusion feed and began administering blood plasma.

Lynn glanced over at the multifunction display. "Ms. Shields is concussed. There is very light cranial bleeding and a stage-1 cranial bone deformity. Probably a fractured skull. Some light damage to the ribs and right arm. Dr. T'Soni is severely battered, some small amount of internal bleeding that I can't pin down. Again, heavy concussion. Possible brain trauma, I don't… I mean, I'm not familiar enough with asari biology to be sure."

Chakwas patted her hand reassuringly and turned to face the computer at one side of the biomedical bed. "Well, I took some quick refresher classes on turians and asari about a year ago, but that was basically first aid. My knowledge of asari medicine is not much better than yours." She paused. "Still, let's get them both on thinners to avoid clotting."

Joker's voice broke in from the comms panel. "We've reached DR 939, doc. There's an Eldfell-Ashland medical trauma team on hot standby for Commander Shepard and Commander Shields. There's also an asari specialist. They're requesting you link medical records and treatments."

Chakwas finished the seal on Shepard's intestines and tapped a haptic key on the nearby panel. "It's being sent, Jeff. What's our ETA?"

"Twenty-two minutes. Their trauma surgery center is actually on board a ship, so it's moving out at full speed to meet us halfway. How… how are they?"

Chakwas gave a weary smile. "I think I've controlled Shepard's internal bleeding. Dr. T'Soni is still in bad shape. Commander Shields has a severe head wound and possibly fractured her skull. It's… not good, Jeff."

She was going to continue when Pressly's voice sounded. "Understood, doctor. Keep them going until that ship docks."

A moment later his voice sounded again over the 1MC. "All hands in Ops, move in shifts to the cargo bay to fit full body armor. We'll be doing a full vacuum decontamination of the med-bay, just like we already did with the cargo bay and elevator. After that, section II off-watch personnel will change out all HEPA and DETA filters and go over every centimeter of the interior with UV lamps. Department heads aside from Medical, Council representatives, please meet me in the comms room in five minutes."

Lynn glanced up. "Doctor, what happens now? You don't recover from these kinds of injuries in a day or two."

Chakwas snorted. "You clearly haven't imagined how pissed-off the Commander is going to be when she realizes Saren got away. She'll be up before we know it. I'm more worried about Dr. T'Soni, frankly."

O-OSaBC-O

The comms room's gray, depressing color scheme seemed fitting, the muted lighting soothing, given the events of the day. Engineer Adams felt bone-tired, having gone through the harrowing charge to Feros only to remain on high alert during the Commander's fights on the planet, and then the high-speed, high stealth escape as that monstrous black dreadnought murdered the Council Fleet like a child kicking a kitten to death.

He ran his hand over his shaven head and stared at his Marine-issue boots, noting absently the leather was notched on the right toe. He thumbed a dab of omni-gel from the 'quick-fix' nodule he always had on his belt, smoothing the leather out, and sighed.

Pressly entered the room, his broad chest lifted and his chin held high. As always his uniform was perfect, and Adams always felt a bit diminished next to the picture-perfect XO. The man had never treated him with anything but respect, but still… Pressly was going places in the Alliance navy, that was for sure. XO to Commander Shepard? Pfft. He'd make Commander in six months and Captain not long after that, if Adams had his guesses right.

And me? I'll be lucky to see O4 before I'm fifty. Damn Senator Jackson. The whole sourness of the event had eventually shattered his marriage, and his career was in shambles. It was only because of his skills on mass-field transfer and heat mechanics that he was tapped for this mission, and he was sure that as a shakedown crewman, he'd have been sidelined before long.

Pressly finished whatever he was reviewing on his datapad as Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams came in, followed closely by Master Chief Cole and Lieutenant Friggs, the ad hoc navigator Pressly was training. They all sat. Tali, Wrex, and Garrus had come in earlier, all three aliens quiet and lost in their own thoughts.

Pressly glanced around then spoke. "I have an update from Doctor Chakwas. Shepard is semi-stable, and we'll be docking with a medical ship in a few minutes. It's unknown how long we'll be here until the Commander and the other wounded recover, but that's what we're doing. We have a message from the Citadel, inquiring about our status. Apparently, the Council wants us to divert there and give a report. But this is a Systems Alliance vessel, and without Shepard being capable of command, I intend to follow the orders given to me by Systems Alliance officers."

Wrex only gave a snort. "Is this where you tell us to get the hell off your ship, then, human?" His voice sounded too tired to be aggressive, as if he was only being difficult for the sake of doing so.

Pressly gave him a long look. "No, it isn't, Mr. Urdnot. My orders…" Pressly actually fidgeted.Adams had never seen such a thing. "…my orders from the Systems Alliance appear to be having some difficulty being received. Possibly some systems damage from the transit into Feros. It almost sounds like the SA is ordering us back to Arcturus, but it's too jumbled to make out."

There was absolute silence in the comms room for a moment, then Tali muttered. "Those bosh'tets. Why would they issue something like that?"

It was Garrus who answered her. "They're probably concerned about how this looks. It's bad enough Saren got away. If news gets out that Shepard is near-death…"

Pressly gave an angry shake of his head. "Enough. That isn't happening. For now, we are going to hold position here and make repairs. I'm not moving this ship a centimeter in either direction until either an SA admiral boards it and orders me to, or Shepard recovers." Pressly exhaled. "It may be that they thought the Commander could get better medical care at Arcturus, seeing as the best doctors are there. But that would mean Dr. T'Soni would go untreated, so I made the call based on what I knew at the time."

The big man stood. "Until then, I'm in command. And as such, we're going to prepare for war. All sections will commence repairs. Adams, I want any damage to the engines from the Feros run fixed in six hours. Friggs, get me all the nav-chart data on every system within a six-jump range from Feros, I want to know where that bastard Saren could have gone."

His eyes snapped to Alenko. "Lieutenant, I want complete inspections done by 0600 tomorrow, including an update on the men wounded on Therum. Master Chief Cole, we recovered an additional Mako from the surface of Feros. It's unarmed, and I want you and Mr. Vakarian to get on installing two coax mass accelerators into it. We'll pick up a main gun later."

Pressly turned to the aliens, frowning, and Adams suppressed a chuckle. This should be good.

Pressly's voice was tight but firm. "Mr. Vakarian. I believe Shepard also put you in charge of the main guns, so get them recalibrated and put in orders for more missiles and torpedoes. Chief Williams, Shepard ordered up a large supply of battle armor and weapons, but didn't do that for the ground team. Go ahead and get replacements for, at the very least, Dr. T'Soni and Wrex."

Wrex glanced down at the clothes he had on, his armor being so contaminated it had to be hurled out the airlock. "Get something in red. I look good in red."

Pressly turned to Friggs. "Once we're docked, and everything is shut down, run full checks on the navops control surfaces systems and make sure we're ready to go at a moment's notice. I don't want any further surprises from the ship if Joker decides to go all ludicrous speed on me again." Friggs nodded, and Pressly glanced around. "Tali, please assist Engineer Adams as he sees fit."

Pressly folded his arms and glanced around the room. "I am sure that we'll get this mission back on its feet. Right now, we just need to wait and make sure that when Shepard recovers, she's got a place to get back to the fight from. Dismissed."

The crew filed out, with the exception of Wrex, who looked pensive. Pressly frowned. "Is there something you needed?"

The big krogan said nothing for a moment, then nodded. "I'm going to get an update from the Shadow Broker and give him a report on progress. I also want to ask him about this order you got from your bosses."

Pressly rubbed his chin. "Can't hurt, I suppose. But I need to know what you're telling this… crime boss of yours."

Wrex turned. "Shepard trusted me to be discreet."

Pressly squared his shoulders and stared the krogan in the eye. "I'm not Shepard. Just because you're not in league with our enemies doesn't mean I trust you, or any other alien on this ship. When things go bad, everyone's out for themselves. So, yeah, that means I need to see what you're going to tell this Broker."

Wrex leaned forward, his mass and bulk looming over Pressly. "And if I say 'no'?"

The XO met his gaze calmly. Wrex could literally smell the fear on the man, and noticed the ever-so-slight trembling of his hands, but his voice was like iron. "Then, Mr. Urdnot, I can tell you to get the hell off my ship. Via the airlock."

Wrex convulsed in laughter, taking two steps back. "By Kalros you have a quad on you, human. Shepard must be putting something in your food."

Still chuckling, the krogan turned to the box on the wall, placing his hand on the circular panel in its middle. After a second, his hand was outlined in blue light, and the box chimed softly. "Voiceprint."

Wrex spoke softly. "The Hollows is where my faith died."

The box beeped, then chimed again. "Accessing. Connection authenticated. Encryption established."

A long pause followed, and then the main screen lit up with the Broker's symbol – a stylized triangle, in red, like some kind of bizarre mouth, followed by a low, grating voice. "Tetrimus. What is it, Wrex?"

Wrex strode to the front of the comms room, as the symbol vanished and a grainy image of the broken turian filled the screen, his hood thrown back, revealing his ravaged features. "My report. Short version. We tracked Saren to Feros. He was after some kind of sapient plant that had information on the Protheans. We think he got what he was looking for, but we nearly took him out. He got away. There's an asari we took captive who says she can give Shepard the same information, but Shepard is badly wounded, along with the Prothean expert. Citadel Fleet got chopped up like cheap varren meat by the big black ship. They're falling back; we're headed to get medical help for Shepard."

Tetrimus exhaled, his eye glowing softly in the darkness. "We have heard bits from our operatives, but nothing concrete. The Broker Network is scouting the areas around Feros, but they reported nothing yet. What else do you have to report?"

Wrex sighed. "We may have another problem. The humans sent a recall order for this ship, even though Shepard is down and hurt bad. The human commanding this ship fears the human government will try to break off this little jaunt due to bad press and political bullshit."

Tetrimus nodded. "Yes, sadly. There's already been some… pressure about that, even before this. The Systems Alliance put forth Shepard as a candidate, but there are elements within the SA that are pushing for her dismissal. We feel these are more than likely Cerberus-backed. The Broker anticipated this might be a reaction from Cerberus, using politics to smear the air. Already the news feeds are full of humans stating they won't defend independent colonies. They're using the Saren fiasco to pressure independent colonies into having no real course of protection except to work with Cerberus."

Wrex groaned. "How many times have I told you, I only want jobs that involve me, my shotgun, and a dead body?" Wrex balled his fist. "Shepard had Saren cold, and he got away. I drilled him, but I'm not a hundred percent sure he's dead. Whatever Saren is doing, he was involved with Ganar Skal, and that means he's using my people for something bad. This is personal now, Tetrimus. Keep the humans going on this, at least until she recovers."

Tetrimus's mandible flickered, slowly. "That shouldn't be a problem. The Broker doesn't want any changes in how things are proceeding. For the moment, at least." He paused, pulling something up off-screen. "I'll get to work on making sure the SA stays… pliable. In the meantime, I'm forwarding intelligence we currently have now; the Broker just pushed me an update. Our spy drones tracked the black dreadnought, but it made a mass effect jump out of the middle of the system to… somewhere."

Pressly's jaw dropped. "A jump without a mass relay? That's impossible!"

Tetrimus peered at the human for a long moment. "I assure you it occurred." When Pressly said nothing, he continued. "It implies a level of technology that is so far beyond ours as to make us rakti beasts huddling in a cave. Samples taken by the drones indicate the weapon that assaulted the fleet is the same one used on Eden Prime; ferro-metals accelerated to a huge fraction of light-speed, bound in a mass-free corridor to form a beam. It's like a thousand hits from a dreadnought's main gun every second. There can be no defense against that kind of firepower. Kinetic barriers get flooded with molten metal and start conducting, inducing either collapse or a massive electromagnetic explosion from charge differential." He tapped some keys, and data began flooding the smaller screen on the box on the wall. When the flow of data stopped, it beeped and discharged an OSD, which Wrex took.

The turian's voice grew grimmer. "Worse, we've lost track of Saren. The geth that were in the Theseus System fell back to a system about five jumps outside the Perseus Veil. We're dispatching scouts for a look-see. We also have boots on the ground at ExoGeni HQ. Cerberus has been picking off surviving executives."

Wrex tossed his head. "We have one of those. Ethan Jeong."

Tetrimus narrowed his eye and nodded. "I think some of our analysts would be more than happy to have a… conversation with this Jeong. Whatever Saren was looking for, knowing the threat is critical, and as I said, with Cerberus on the prowl, he'd be safer with us."

Pressly frowned. "He'd be safer with a highly covert criminal organization than on board a Systems Alliance military vessel?"

Tetrimus gave a cool look in the human's direction, the screen flickering slightly. "Considering that Cerberus assassins got to the eyewitness on Eden Prime behind far heavier security, I'd say the odds are good. I can't force anything, of course, but the Broker would be appreciative."

Pressly said nothing for several long seconds, then gave a sigh. "I'm not the one to make that kind of call, but Shepard… isn't available. He's not under arrest, so what he wants to do is up to him. We're docking at a medical ship in the DR 939 System in a few minutes. He'll be on board until we dock somewhere else."

Tetrimus glanced away, then nodded. "You'll receive a call from the Systems Alliance shortly, Lieutenant Commander Pressly, clarifying any confusion about your current orders. I'll be on my way to DR 939 as soon as possible. Tetrimus out."

The link went dead, and Wrex sighed and turned away from the screen, limping still from his wounds. "Satisfied, human?"

Pressly nodded. "For now." He frowned, then squared his shoulders. "Thank you."

The big krogan just shouldered past him, grunting. "If you wanted to thank me, you'd order up some jaaki. The rations on this ship are horrible."

O-OSaBC-O

"Senator Adkins?"

Smoke circled lazily above, swirled about by the wood-bladed ceiling fan in the ceiling, and the stone-set fireplace crackled merrily with its own blaze in the far wall. The room was large, even for a senator's office, set with thick pile rugs of pale crème, the walls covered in handsome bookshelves, pictures of the Senator with various celebrities or at events, the wide windows overlooking the gleaming skyline of English Bay in Vancouver. The Senator's wooden desk was clear except for his ashtray, comm-padd, and the documents he was considering, his thick cigar clamped between his teeth as he measured how to respond to his guests.

Having his secretary's voice break his concentration was bad, but it also gave him more time to stall.

"Senator Adkins, incoming call, line three." Her voice was perky and young, like all his secretaries, but she sounded tense.

Probably PMS or some such shit. The Senator chuckled indulgently. "Cherry, I'm meeting with the repre—"

Her response was even more strained. "Y-Yes, sir, but the caller says it's about FLASHBACK. And that you… should answer."

The blood drained from the Senator's face, and he glanced at the two other men in the room. Commander Branson's model-perfect face showed nothing but impatience, his perfect blond hair in waves, his iron jaw and cobalt eyes fixed firmly on the Senator. His uniform was perfect, thin rows of decorations in a neat block on his chest, his hands folded calmly across his stomach. Next to him, Charles Saracino seemed almost tiny, despite his expensive, nova-silk clothing. He didn't recognize the reference either, and Adkins gave a tiny internal sigh of relief.

"Alright, Cherry, tell him I need a minute or two, and to hold." Tabbing off, he turned to the two men. "Gentlemen, I understand your position. And unlike some, I'm flexible about how we further humanity's position among the stars. I know some people have knee-jerk reactions, but we both know the truth of the situation." He paused, puffing on his cigar, mind still racing about who could be calling about FLASHBACK. Dr. Amang wouldn't call unless the project was totaled. It must be Agent Ghrath, the moron. Stupid AIS agents think they can run everything.

He smiled, exhaling, and spoke again. "And to your points, Shepard has certainly gotten the job done, but she's hardly going to be an asset for furthering humanity's position. Aliens seeing her will see someone who is terrifying, but bloodthirsty, uncultured, blunt, and awkward. Unfortunately, I'm still of the opinion that the most important thing is getting the job done, not political maneuvering around the Council. And I'm a politician myself, for God's sake."

Saracino's eyes narrowed. "That kind of reluctance could cost you in the long-run, Senator. We aren't blind to what is happening in the Parliament, and the days where you could be guaranteed a viable bloc of votes for your programs are long over. We could deliver that again… or cause difficulties."

Adkins leaned forward; his large shoulders squaring back as he did so. "And I get what you're saying, but if you think you can pressure me into making a snap judgment, you are sadly mistaken. I'll get in touch with my own contacts and we'll talk about this at a later date. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a call related to our intelligence assets that I need to take privately." He fixed his famous glare on the other politico, and waited.

It was Saracino who broke eye contact first. "Of course, Senator. We'll be at the Cord-Hislop building meeting with CEO Harper if you need anything for the rest of the day."

Branson merely nodded, standing with a degree of elegance belied by his muscular form as the two men turned and filed out the door.

Adkins exhaled and tapped his comm panel. "Ghrath, I told you never to—"

"I am afraid Agent Ghrath is indisposed." The voice that interrupted him was cold, rumbling, almost malignant in its power and tone. It was a voice that spoke of complete, unyielding control and dismissive contempt all in one set of syllables. "Nor will he be able to take any calls for a very long time, Senator Adkins. How is your family? I believe they are vacationing at the Hotel Shara in Zurich this week."

Adkins felt ice creep down his spine. "Who is this?"

The voice answered immediately. "This is the Shadow Broker, Senator. I am, at heart, a businessman, and I dislike it immensely when there are challenges of any kind to ventures I am involved in. I thought a human of your intellectual breadth and political savvy would have enough sense… or self-preservation instinct… to avoid causing me issues."

Adkins' mind raced. "And… FLASHBACK caused you that?"

The Broker laughed, a sound like two trains colliding over a pit leading to Hell itself. "Of course not, human. I have had your project infiltrated for years, before it even got off the ground. The idea of building in drell memory proteins into bio-neuronic drones is brilliant, though that is not what you were doing. Using actual drell brains is much better, if unethical, and of course, illegal."

The voice paused, tauntingly, then continued. "No. I reached out to this project because it was the most deeply concealed and heavily protected that you knew about. To demonstrate my… influence."

Adkins bit his lip. "It got my attention. What do you want?"

The Broker's voice was a silky, guttural growl, a mix of contrasts in suave civilization and savage undercurrents. "There is talk of abandoning Shepard as Spectre. There is talk of pulling back Systems Alliance support of the project. It has been ongoing for some time."

Adkins exhaled, shivering. How can the bastard know that? He must have my goddamned offices bugged. The only people that got anything were the SA admirals with that recall order to the Normandy. He forced his voice to stay calm. "Yes, that's been discussed… although I'm not convinced of the need."

The Broker spoke flatly. "Then, Senator, I would very strongly advise you to use every bit of your power to make sure that does not happen. I trust that leaking certain activities that the Systems Alliance has been up to on Rakhana would be taken poorly. Or that incident on Akuze, perhaps even the ugly truth about Elysium. These sort of releases would be paid for handsomely by those interested in such events, but it would be unneeded if Shepard was to remain in the full confidence of the Systems Alliance."

If the floor had fallen out from under Adkins' feet, he could not have felt it. This… alien thing… had penetrated the government of humanity deeply enough to casually name off three of the most damning and embarrassing incidents in human military history, cover-ups that kept men up at night hoping the truth would never come out. The message between the lines was clear, and Adkins' took a shaky exhalation of breath as he mastered himself. Why so heavy-handed? Unless it's important. He may have me over a barrel, but I can still twist the knife.

Reaching for a cigar, he lit it, forcing himself to calm, and then spoke. "I always figured you for a calm customer, not wasting anything you could use. You know full well what kind of damage releasing that sort of information could do to the Systems Alliance… and frankly, canning Shepard to appease a few Earth First and Terra Firma nuts ain't worth my time."

A calming puff of smoke, and he watched the paneled ceiling of his office for a moment before continuing. "But now I have to wonder what kind of nerve we hit here. I mean, what if I call your bluff, Mr. Broker? Sure, I'll probably end up dead, so will my wife, and the SA will be a shattered wreck, but what's so important that you have to have Shepard on this?"

There was silence on the line for a very long second. Then the voice spoke. "We believe Cerberus has an interest in recruiting her for their services. We have evidence that Cerberus's infiltration of your government and economy is deeper than you comprehend. And we have hard proof that Cerberus is working with Saren Arterius. This is no longer a profit motive. This is a survival imperative." The voice was like iron, unyielding. "We have no intention of allowing that to happen. I've stated what will occur if your colleagues proceed with their plan to replace her, Senator. Your compliance is expected."

Adkins was still for a very long moment. "I'll see what I can do, then. Is that all?"

The line went dead, and Adkins shakily killed the comm-link. He massaged his forehead with one hand, and then slammed his fist down on the link again. "Cherry, get me Admiral Hackett. Now."