Admiral Han'Gerrel regarded his control panel, aware of just how close victory was…and that it was slipping away from him.
He did not miss that there was something haunted in Shepard's tone, nor did he doubt what she said: the geth were about to start hammering back…and this time he felt absolutely certain that there was nothing more that could be done. No fallbacks. No Plans B. No miraculous ideas. This was it and, if the quarians couldn't obliterate the geth in the next fifteen seconds, it was the quarians who would die.
Part of him wanted to shout at her for betraying the quarian people—
Except when he looked up, he found four quarian marines, with the ship's captain standing behind them, all glowering at him, arms crossed over their chests.
"I'm sure Admiral Raan would agree with Admiral Zorah and Admiral Koris," one of the marines said flatly.
"Seconded," another agreed, looking angry.
"I'll recognize that as technically being three to one," the captain declared coolly. "You're outvoted, Admiral."
"That human betrayed us the geth and I'm outvoted?" Gerrel demanded.
"'That human's' been doing her damnedest to fix this problem," the Captain snapped. "And every time I look up, you're giving her one more problem to fix! Do I agree with her? No. Do I understand why she's doing what she's doing? Yes."
"Captain?" one of the techs asked, sounding flustered.
"What is it?"
"I'm getting a flood of messages from ships in the Flotilla—from the Heavy Fleet, too! They're all the same! If Adm. Gerrel doesn't stand down immediately…" she turned in her chair. "I'm sorry, Admiral. But if you don't stand down, you won't have a Fleet to command. They're all refusing to open fire on geth targets. Many are threatening to withdraw immediately through the Relay."
"We're evacuating the civilians!" the Captain gaped.
"They know that, sir," the tech responded uneasily. "Some of them sound like they don't care. Others…some of them may be bluffing, hoping the Admiral won't want the evacuation order disturbed, but I wouldn't want to test them." She frowned, returning to her console. "Oh, Keelah…"
"What is it, now?" the Captain demanded, moving to read over her shoulder. "Oh, Keelah," he exhaled sharply, turning to face Gerrel. "The Conclave just had a unanimous vote. If you don't back down right now, they will declare you removed from office."
Gerrel felt the felt the blood rush to his face, almost ignoring the fact that the civilian bureaucracy had managed a unanimous vote—a happening most quarians could count on two hands. "The Conclave doesn't have that authority! They never have!"
"With the number of captains refusing to stay part of the Flotilla while you're making decisions, I think they have it for the moment," the Captain answered. "Stand down, Admiral."
Gerrel wanted to shout again, but he thought he recognized what the grim determination in the marines facing him—now with their arms loose at their sides and seemingly readying themselves—meant. If he didn't stand down, he would be removed forcibly from the bridge and put somewhere that his orders didn't matter.
"We can still win this!" he hissed.
"No," one of the marines answered curtly. "We can't."
It was torturous to him, watching all his work, all his plans, going down the toilet. Everything sacrificed so far would now mean nothing. More than that, he would be made accountable for the failure, even though it didn't have to end in failure! His stomach seethed.
"One more time, Admiral. Or with all due respect—" the marine curled one hand into a fist, not needing the finish the sentence.
"Thank you, Reeger," the Captain cut in easily. "But the Admiral is going to do what's right. You need to open the channel to do it, Admiral."
There was nothing for it. He didn't have any friends in the room. It galled him, but there really was nothing for it. And if Shepard was wrong, if this was a geth trick…well, then it could all be her fault. Gerrel almost, almost hoped she was wrong about all this. The quarians knew the geth; they'd created the geth, after all. It wasn't a matter humans needed to stick their noses into.
Gerrel opened the channel. "All units…hold fire." The resignation over a war lost, not through the other side's victory, but from the crumbling resolve of his side of the war suffused his voice. What a way to lose. And he suspected there was more humiliation in store. The Conclave would be quick to pander to whatever the Council wanted, when they finally cared to consider the situation here. Doubtless he'd be the first one hung out to dry.
A man of principle, reduced to a scapegoat. The thought disgusted him; the unfairness made him want to shout and rage.
"Thank you, Admiral," the Captain declared, tone quite civil, then turned to the marines. "Please conduct the Admiral to his cabin. It's been a long day." Then, back to Gerrel, "If anything arises, Admiral, I'll see that you're informed."
Gerrel wanted to protest this dismissal, but there was no point: he didn't have any friends in the room. It was either house arrest or actually being conducted to the brig. Well, he could still write to the Conclave from house arrest, could still defend his position and try to put things in perspective for those myopic, gutless civilians…although apparently people these days thought you could simply quit a war when you got tired. It didn't bode well for the rest of the galaxy's Reaper war, did it?
So this was how the war was lost, Gerrel through bitterly as he withdrew from the bridge. Because the quarians hadn't been willing to see it through. Because they let aliens come in to assist, and those same aliens wound up calling the shots.
They should never have let Tali'Zorah onto the Admiralty Board, tainted as she was by prolonged service on an alien vessel.