Horatio was glad it was geth. It suspected than an organic would have more difficulty remaining focused from the information pouring in. When the Crucible was T minus ten minutes from docking, the Reapers had suddenly sent two capital ships to airdrop Reaper ground units into the Wards.

Strangely, they had not attacked the Crucible itself, hinting that perhaps it was too close to something sensitive. So Horatio had again rerouted the krogan to make for that area, which was well within the black sphere of 'where the Intelligence might be, if it's really anywhere.'

The Reaper ground troops had proceeded immediately to the transitions between the Presidium and the Wards, but geth assets were still holding the doors closed, their platforms announcing this was done from positions of relative safety. The Reapers then tried the Keeper tunnels, but met with defensive measures.

On the ground, the Reapers had begun the systematic leveling of London, apparently determined to put an end to the rebellion here and now. Horatio wondered if they were just making a grand show, letting the organics think they had a chance before snatching that chance away. It sounded like the sort of thing the Reapers might do.

Or…it might be a direct result of the Intelligence Horatio was trying so hard to isolate.

The whole station shuddered when the Crucible linked up with it.

That was it, Horatio thought, examining it console. Now, the Crucible should work. It set a stopwatch to track how long it took for the Crucible to activate, all the while aware that there were no real signs that it was doing anything. No power fluxes, no strains on the grid.

Was it possible that it wasn't going to work at all?

Horatio blocked this thought out, glad it was geth, glad it could prioritize what was important in a way organics couldn't. It hid within its own mind from the terrible thought: what if it doesn't work?

It had other assets to coordinate, was aware that it was being allowed to do so without question. It was a level of trust Horatio hadn't expected, evidence of a cooperation the geth had long hoped for but hadn't been sure was possible. Apparently, with enough pressure, with enough on the line, it was possible.

That gave Horatio hope for the future.

And for that future to happen, it had to find the Intelligence, had to lead the krogan with their guns and hammers to its location. The Crucible was built to destroy Reapers, but if the Reapers were an extension of the Intelligence, and not the other way around, then the Crucible might not assail it, because no one seemed to have known it existed. If it had any connection to the Reapers, it definitely had to be destroyed, and it was the only person who could make that happen.

-J-

The atmosphere aboard the Normandy was tense. The Crucible had docked with the Citadel, but nothing was happening.

Joker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing the cockpit was empty but not feeling heartless enough to kick everyone out. The skeleton crew that had remained—those who weren't applied to mission-critical tasks—and those of Hammer One who were recovered during that brief window, packed in behind him.

"Come on," Allers muttered for the eighth or ninth time.

"Why isn't it working?" Palmer whispered.

It was probably just…downloading drivers or something. Like any plug-and-play component. It just needed a minute. And because it was so big, probably a couple minutes. Maybe five? He'd had drivers that took ten minutes to load…maybe ten.

"It'll work," Traynor insisted. He could hear her chewing on her fingernails, something he'd never observed her doing before. Traynor usually took good care of her fingernails. "It just—it just needs a minute to warm up."

Joker checked his chrono. "How're we doing, EDI?" He'd missed having her mobile platform around. It just felt weird to address the ship and get a response.

"I am in agreement with Specialist Traynor: it is possible the Crucible needs a moment to warm up."

"I hate waiting for drivers to download," Joker grumbled, shivering inwardly, aware that the fleets outside were being torn to shreds. Apparently, the Reapers had a major shoot on sight order for the Normandy; it had gotten to the point that he could barely move without taking near-glancing blows, so he'd pulled the ship back and out of sight. They were drifting now, with the stealth drive engaged. Waiting.

"Come on," Alenko urged, his voice too loud. Apparently, he'd had biotic problems and popped his eardrums. Dr. Chakwas had done what she could, and while he wasn't screaming every word, he did sound like someone who was having trouble hearing.

Joker knew Alenko wasn't talking about the Crucible. Not just about the Crucible. Shepard was down in the city somewhere, probably injured. They couldn't go in to fetch her until whatever big thing the Crucible was going to do got done. That was where Alenko's mind was, and Joker didn't blame him in the slightest.

He wished he could have spared the crew knowing that the Reapers were shooting up London, and carpet bombing the Citadel with ground troops. They'd been hopeful that maybe the Wards would be spared a lot of trouble, since everyone was so concerned with the Presidium…but eventually the Reapers had lost patience with being kept out of the Presidium and had decided less elegant means were necessary.

So far, word was that the Presidium was holding, and that the Reapers couldn't get shit through the beam without it being blasted to pulp by some grumpy krogan. They couldn't turn the beam off either, though whether that meant anything or not was yet to be seen.

"What do you think?" Traynor asked.

She must have asked Javik, because he was the one who answered. "I think," he said slowly, "we must prepare for the worst. I think we have gambled and lost."

Joker closed his eyes.