Shepard stepped away from the Normandy, aware of Ghur behind her, sticking close like her shadow, aware of Antilles, suddenly present again, assuring her that there were others 'right behind us!'

Her head ached and part of her—a small part, which was probably just reflex—wanted to vomit. But there was no time. "Come on! We can still do this!"

Meaning they could still get a little closer before peeling off.

Already, Sophie the mech-dog had been released into the streets of London…wearing Shepard's locator. Anyone watching for her on a screen rather than with their eyes, wouldn't be watching the real her. It would make recovery if she was injured a bitch, but if she could keep Harbinger's attention, then get out of sight, maybe it would be forced to look for her in other ways. And maybe, depending on how far Sophie got, her speed regulated to what an injured human could probably manage, perhaps she could draw Harbinger off.

It was Palmer's idea, which was why Shepard was now wearing another locator, which would paint her as someone else. Someone EDI would know to look for. That was why—one reason why—EDI was back on the Normandy with the other wounded.

Shepard wondered how many wounded they hadn't been able to save, but only for a moment. Her three shield generators thrummed—the two she normally wore and Alenko's. All remaining Hammer members were wearing triple shields. Those probably wouldn't stop a direct hit, but for anything merely glancing…there was a chance, a good chance, they would survive. No one wanted to speculate on what condition they would be in, but alive was better than dead.

She gritted her teeth, forced herself to continue running. With fewer targets, with those targets getting closer, Harbinger seemed to be done playing games.

Finally, her luck ran out. Shepard saw it happen as if in slow motion: the beam cutting so close to her—

With a roar, Ghur barreled into her, a full krogan charge that ended in him tripping, but pushing her just far enough that the direct hit became a glancing blow.

-J-

Shepard awoke to water dripping on her face, to the sound of her own labored breathing, aware of total, diffuse pain. It wasn't like anything she'd ever experienced before. It was just…everywhere. Encompassing. She swallowed. "Ghur?" she managed, her voice rusty and cracked.

It occurred to her that water was dripping on her face.

She opened her eyes, which sent lancing pain through her head. She was on the ground, lying in the shadow of rubble. Ghur lay spread-eagle on the run-up, not moving. His last act had been to slam her just far enough and take the direct hit himself. If she was over here after being slammed, no wonder she hurt!

She fished out a painkiller hypo from her web gear, worked her damaged helmet off—the visor had cracked, which explained why water could seep in—and pressed the hypospray into her neck. She hissed in pain as it bit, then sighed with relief as the cool flood hit her blood stream. Within moments, the pain reduced to a manageable level.

Slowly, she rolled onto her stomach. From the quality of the light and shadows, she was still on the run-up to the beam. Slowly, with effort, she got to all fours, then sat down, kneeling where she was. Her armor was ruined. Plates blasted off, even the mesh on the side that took the blow had been somehow torn away. More than that, she thought she had fractures in her rib cage from Ghur slamming into her like that, but her armor held her mostly in shape.

She slowly, dazedly, took a sip of water from her canteen, ignoring the rain plastering her hair to her skull. It might be warm, and tasted of plastic, but it was wet and clean. Finally, she peeped over her cover, and found that Harbinger was gone. Either it had gone to chase Sophie, or—she prayed she was just imagining worst cases—it had decided to chase the Normandy.

The fact remained that the run-up was no longer guarded by a Reaper. Shepard got gingerly to her feet, stabbing pain in one hip. But she could walk. She could move. She didn't have her Collector particle beam anymore—that had been knocked out of her hands and she couldn't see it—but she had her shotgun, rifle, and pistol. That was something.

She checked her shield modules; only the third in the series was still functioning. She took the other two off her belt. Her stealth field generator sort of worked. The coverage was patchy, but it was better than nothing, and this was now a stealth mission.

She took a moment, the series of actions leaving her exhausted, to look back down the run-up, to see if she could see anyone else moving. There was no one. Of all Hammer One, she was alone.

Shepard closed her eyes, then forced herself to get up. It was hard, her joints all hurt and her left knee kept trying to lock up. Her head pounded with blood, the way Alenko sometimes described how a migraine felt. She leaned on the chunk of concrete.

"EDI?"

But no, she'd taken her helmet off…it took effort to retrieve it, to punch out the remains of the shattered visor, and put it back on. "EDI?"

Static.

Shepard closed her eyes. It could just be that EDI was busy. Or that the radio was damaged or the signal just wasn't getting through. It could be a hundred things. It didn't mean…

…Shepard aborted the thought, began struggling forward, horribly aware of how inadequate a damaged stealth field generator was.

The beam loomed closer, and closer. Only a few husks shuffled around, dragging bodies to the beam. Her rifle was too heavy, the kick of her shotgun more than she could handle. She pulled her pistol and dispatched the husks.