Chapter 7: Bullets and Other Remedies

We knew we were at Mordin's clinic when we saw a mixture of human guards and LOKI mechs. For once, the organic guards were more talkative than their synthetic counterparts, warning us not to try any funny business unless we wanted to tangle with the mechs. After all we'd been through, a handful of mechs and a couple guards who didn't regenerate would be a very nice change of pace. I managed to keep my mouth shut, though. We were trying to get Mordin to join us, and shooting the hired help would probably make a very poor first impression.

I tried making some conversation with the staff, patients and refugees inside the clinic, but they weren't interested in talking all that much. Which meant I got bored. So I started looking for stuff to loot.

I know, I know, looting from clinics doesn't look good. But it's not like I took anything they needed. Swiping meds, surgical equipment and that sort of thing—yeah, that's pretty low. Grabbing a couple packs of medi-gel was borderline, but we were probably going to run into more hostiles before this was all over, and every bad guy we faced meant one less to cause trouble for the clinic. It was easier to rationalize swiping the refined packs of minerals—I mean, why would anyone here need palladium or platinum?

There was also a schematic for a hardsuit microscanner upgrade, one that could dispense medi-gel to heal our wounds more efficiently. While I struggled to copy it, I overheard the receptionist behind me calling out to Mordin. "Professor—we're running low on cipoxidin."

"Use malanarin. Plenty on hand. Almost as good," a voice—presumably Mordin's—responded at a rapid-fire pace. "Causes cramping in batarians. Supplement with butemerol."

"Malanarin and butemerol. Got it."

So did I, I thought with satisfaction, as I finally uploaded a copy of that microscanner schematic. I followed the conversation I'd heard earlier to another room. It was easy to figure out which one was Mordin—there were only three people in the room. We just had to look for the salarian. Mordin looked busy though, so I spent the next minute convincing myself that no one would miss a couple power cells, iridium or eezo. I had a bit more difficulty with swiping a pack of medi-gel, but I told myself that you never know when you'd need to revive another sick plague victim.

Meanwhile, Mordin was patching up a patient while talking to himself. Sounded like he was weighing the merits of different medication: "Cenozine is the catalyst. Bonds to genetic markers. Hard to find. Expensive to mass produce. Why not heplacore? No. Too unstable. Inconsistent results. Demozane better option. No. Demozane toxic to humans. Not an option. Not an option."

At last, Mordin paused for breath. "Professor Mordin Solus?" I asked before he could go off again.

Most people say 'Yeah, that's me' or 'Who's asking?' Mordin walked up, scanned me with my omni-tool and looked at the results. "Hmm," he said. "Don't recognize you from area. Too well-armed to be refugees. No mercenary uniform. Quarantine still in effect."

Back in high school, I had an English teacher who was renowned for talking really, really fast. Since then, I'd met some salarians who could rival her speed. Mordin blew them all out of the water.

"Here for something else. Vorcha? Crew to clean them out? Unlikely. Vorcha a symptom, not a cause."

Something told me he was the kind of guy who made differentials and diagnoses by verbally listing possibilities and eliminating them one by one.

"The plague? Investigating possible use as a bio-weapon? No. Too many guns, not enough data equipment. Soldiers, not scientists. Yes, yes, yes!"

Call it a hunch.

"Hired guns, maybe? Looking for someone? Yes! But who? Someone important. Valuable. Someone with secrets. Someone like... me."

"Relax, Mordin," I finally said, raising a hand. "My name is Commander Shepard, and I came here to find you. I'm on a critical mission and I need your help."

"Mission? What mission? No. Too busy. Clinic understaffed. Plague spreading too fast. Who sent you?"

I answered his last question once my mind caught up with what I'd just heard. "Ever hear of an organization called Cerberus?"

Mordin had reached down to pick some piece of equipment up. He slowly got back to his feet and put the doohickey down. "Crossed paths on occasion. Thought they only worked with humans. Why request salarian aid?"

"The Collectors are kidnapping entire human populations. I'm trying to find out why and stop them, along with whoever's willing to help. That's Cerberus right now. And you, I hope." I worded that last part deliberately, trying to make it clear that while we had mutual goals, I wasn't part of Cerberus.

Mordin scratched his chin. "Collectors? Interesting. Plague hitting these slums is engineered. Collectors one of few groups with technology to design it. Our goals may be similar."

That's more like it.

"But must stop plague first. Already have a cure. Need to distribute it at environmental control centre. Vorcha guarding it. Need to kill them."

And there's the catch.

"Just once," I said plaintively, "I'd like to ask someone for help and hear them say 'Sure. Let's go. Right now. No strings attached.'"

"Life is a negotiation," Mordin smiled. "We all want. We all give to get what we want."

The vents above us chose that moment to shut down. I'm pretty sure none of us wanted that.

"What the hell was that?" Jacob asked.

"Vorcha have shut down environmental systems," Mordin replied. "Trying to kill everyone. Need to get power back on before district suffocates. Here, take plague cure. Also, bonus in good faith—weapons from dead Blue Suns mercs. May come in handy against vorcha."

He handed over a vial of liquid as well as a handful of heavy pistols. Carnifex Hand Cannons, according to the label. The weapons interface of my hardsuit immediately scanned it and told me that they'd be better than the pistols we were currently using, so I distributed it throughout my squad.

"One more thing."

Seriously? Isn't battling through hordes of ravenous vorcha to insert some cure and turn the fans back on hard enough already?

"Daniel," Mordin said, missing, or choosing to ignore, the look of exasperation on my face. "One of my assistants. Went into vorcha territory. Looking for victims." He finally took a breath before finishing, "Hasn't come back."

"If I see him, I'll do what I can to help," I nodded.

"Thank you. Told him not to go. But he's smart. Bright future. I hope."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

Mordin shook his head. His reply came out even faster, if that was possible. "No. Heard infected batarians trapped behind vorcha lines. Daniel went to help. Warned him not to go. Too dangerous. Patients need him here. Snuck out anyway. Wanted to find him myself. Can't leave the clinic. Have to look after the patients."

I remembered the batarian we'd met earlier, the one I gave some medi-gel to. "I found a batarian plague victim near the entrance to the neighbourhood. Can you send someone to help him?"

"Hmm," Mordin considered. "Risky. Blue Suns, vorcha still battling. District not secure. See what I can do."

I started tinkering with my new heavy pistol. As I inserted a warp ammo mod, I asked Mordin a few questions. Just to pass the time, you know. "I heard you had some trouble earlier. With the Blue Suns?"

"Nothing major. Blue Suns came for humans. Made threats. Killed them before things escalated."

"For a doctor, you're awfully calm about taking out a bunch of mercs."

"Wasn't always a doctor. Some work with salarian Special Tasks Group. Can handle myself." He pulled out a pistol to demonstrate. "Advantage of being salarian," he added, putting it away. "Turian, krogan, vorcha all obvious threats. Never saw me coming."

Well if I needed any proof that Mordin had some spec-ops training, that sealed the deal. (1)

"What can you tell me about this plague?"

"Advanced design. Suspected Collectors before you mentioned them. Purpose seems experimental. Destroys respiratory systems with harmful genetic mutations. Makes sense to avoid humans. Unnecessary to force mutation on human genetic structure for sake of variance."

"'Unnecessary mutations?'" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Possible goal of virus," Mordin replied matter-of-factly. "Testing viable mutation levels in various species. Horrific, but feasible for Collectors. Humans known to have diverse genetic background. Wider range than other sapient races. Makes sense as control group."

"And the environmental control centre where we can distribute the cure is being guarded by vorcha? What do you know about them?"

"Cowardly, opportunistic scavengers," he scowled. "Not tactical or aggressive. Scale of attack unusual for them. Suspected vorcha working for someone like Collectors. Distributing plague, gathering data. No proof. But theory fits evidence."

Okay. I think I'd gotten enough out of him. My brain couldn't handle processing any more of his babble. I needed to save some brain power for the vorcha. "Let's head for the environmental plant."

"Yes. Good. Release cure. Restore power. Will be here when you return."

Mordin made it sound so simple. Go out. Fix things. Come back. Easy.

I remembered that when we left the clinic, went round the corner and saw a couple dozen vorcha. Thankfully, they didn't see me. I hastily duck back into the corridor and motioned for the squad to stop. Quickly, I filled them in on what I'd seen.

Miranda immediately went to work analyzing the situation. I swear I could hear the gears in her head go 'click-click-click.' "It seems like the Blood Pack have taken over more territory than anyone had thought," she said. "Zaeed and someone else should take cover by the entrance and lay down covering fire while the rest go inside. Once everyone's found cover, we can start taking them down."

I nodded in agreement. "Miranda, you stay with Zaeed. You'll have a better vantage point to use your abilities and direct our fire. I'll lead Jacob and Kasumi inside."

Before I led them into yet another dangerous situation, I tried to take one of the vorcha out with my sniper rifle. I blasted through his armour and dealt significant damage to him, only to see him start to regenerate. Stifling a curse, I sent a plasma bolt his way and charged frantically for the nearest cover. Behind me, I could hear Miranda and Zaeed firing away.

As Jacob and Kasumi joined me, I saw that my little pyrotechnic display finished the job. One down and all that. I looked at my ad-hoc team and counted to three with my fingers. On three, we popped out of hiding and opened fire. From what I could hear, everyone—even 'civvies' like Miranda and Kasumi—were firing in short bursts rather than go full automatic. That would conserve our ammo, not to mention keep the weapons recoil down. As a result, I wasn't surprised to see ten or eleven vorcha dead on the ground within a couple minutes.

The rest of the vorcha were much more reluctant to engage us. At first, I thought they were just exercising caution after we'd taken out half of their forces. I was even considering sending Miranda and Zaeed into the room to try and flush them out, or at least flank them.

Then I saw three vorcha move forward and into cover, with two more vorcha right behind them.

And a krogan.

"Miranda," I radioed.

"Tag-team the krogan on your mark." Miranda must have read my mind.

"On three," I confirmed. "One, two..."

On three, the krogan was hit with a combination of biotic power and good ol' fashioned superheated plasma. Naturally it didn't kill him. That would be too easy. But it did melt through his armour.

Jacob immediately enveloped him in a biotic field and levitated him off the ground. As the krogan twirled helplessly, Jacob laughed. "Gravity's one mean mother, ain't it?" he taunted.

I would have laughed, had I not realized that the krogan was floating towards us. Once the biotic field wore off, if the krogan was still alive, we'd be in serious trouble. "Miranda, Zaeed; prioritize fire on any threats," I immediately ordered. "Everyone else, take out the krogan."

The three of us immediately filled the krogan with lead. I finished things off with another plasma round before turning my attention back to the vorcha. That was pretty much how I handled things during this round of combat—directing fire, firing the odd burst of weapons fire and spamming plasma rounds at every opportunity. In this age of limited ammunition, a self-replenishing—albeit slow—source of damage was most welcome. Plus, regeneration might be great against bullets, but it does squat against fire.

As I sent a bolt of flame at another krogan, it occurred to me that I might be starting to become a pyromaniac.

The krogan staggered as my plasma bolt hit it, then got knocked on his ass as Zaeed fired off a concussive round. Somehow, I didn't feel too guilty about finishing him off while he was down on the ground. Probably because I was busy ducking behind cover, waiting for the next wave of vorcha.

Which never came. Cautiously, I poked my head up and looked around. Nothing.

We waited a minute. Still nothing. We looked at each other in confusion.

"Maybe one of us should scout ahead," Miranda suggested. "See if anyone's coming."

"I'll go," Jacob volunteered.

As much as I liked having someone else go into the dragon's maw, it wouldn't look very good for my rep. Besides, I had my cloak, so I could always pull a vanishing act if I needed it. "Thanks Jacob, but I've got this one," I said. "Gotta use this cloak sometime."

Jacob shrugged his acknowledgement and hunkered back down behind cover. I snuck out, darted to the nearest cover and consulted my HUD. Nothing. Scampered to a nearby column. Nothing. Ran to the next one.

Heard maniacal laughing. Two targets detected on my HUD, dead ahead. Probably vorcha, given the high pitch. I was tempted to activate my cloak, just so I could sneak around and get the drop on them.

Then I saw three more contacts show up. Coming from my left. Turning in that direction, I saw a flight of stairs. A krogan was coming down, flanked by two vorcha—one of whom was toting a flamethrower.

Aw, crap.

I made a somewhat undignified dash back to the others, taking a bit of fire along the way, and reported what I found. It was only then that I realized I could have saved myself some trouble by cloaking on the way back.

"Back so soon?" Kasumi asked innocently.

"Krogan and two vorcha incoming, with another two sniggering away in a corner," I replied.

"And here I thought you missed me," she pouted.

We were interrupted by the aforementioned posse of regenerating bad boys, who picked that moment to stroll into view. All five of them. The three of us took one of the vorcha out before it had a chance to blink. Then we hit another one, forcing it back under cover. Meanwhile, Miranda and Zaeed were doing a good job of distracting the krogan. They might not have killed it outright, but biotic attacks and sniper shots to the face are apparently enough to make even a krogan take pause.

"Hit the krogan?" Jacob asked.

"Not yet," I shook my head. "Take out his flunkies. I'll join you guys after distracting him."

I sent a bolt of searing plasma into his face. He roared in pain. Guess we'd finally busted through his armour. I couldn't resist the urge to fire a few submachine gun rounds at him before turning my attention to another vorcha. That guy hit the ground at the same time as the krogan. That made four bad guys down for the count.

So where was the fifth one?

A burst of flame answered my question. We all staggered back, flailing madly. Logically, I knew my hardsuit could stand a little heat. Apparently my gut hadn't gotten the memo. After what seemed like an eternity in the inferno, the vorcha lifted his claw off the trigger of his flamethrower. The fires sputtered away and he squinted, leaning towards us to see if he'd gotten any of us.

I decided to return the favour, fighting fire with fire. Mine was bigger. Okay, it wasn't, but it was definitely more effective. And lethal.

After a quick round to scoop up extra thermal clips and loot, we made our way up the stairs and down a corridor. We could've taken a right, but the panicked cries from an open door on the left changed our minds. Carefully peeking around the corner, I saw a trio of batarians holding a human at gunpoint.

"Please, I'm telling you the truth," the man begged. "I work for Mordin at the clinic. I came here to help you."

Guess we found Mordin's assistant. Just in the nick of time, too.

"We know you're spreading the plague virus," one of them hissed. He was the one holding Daniel by his collar and pointing a gun in his face. "We saw the vials in your bag."

Daniel shook his head violently in denial. Either that, or the batarian was shaking him. "No! Those vials contain the cure. Please... you have to believe me."

This was going to get ugly real soon. I motioned for the others to move in. "Maybe we should cut off your fingers," the batarian hissed as we entered the room. "That should loosen your—"

"Look out!" one of the other batarians yelled out. The first one shoved Daniel aside. Then he realized he'd just sacrificed a human shield and belatedly pointed his gun at him. "Don't move!" he barked. "One more step and we'll kill your friend!"

"I know you're scared," I said soothingly. "Of the vorcha. Of the plague. But this man isn't to blame. If he was spreading the virus, why would he come into vorcha territory? They're immune."

The batarian who'd first noticed us frowned. "He's right. It doesn't make any sense."

The ringleader thought about it for a minute before grunting in acknowledgement. The fact that I had four other armed men and women backing me up probably helped. "If we release the prisoner, we can go?"

"You have my word on it," I nodded.

Slowly, the batarian lowered his pistol. "Let him go." As his companions complied, he turned towards me. "You got what you wanted, human. Are we free to go?"

"We had a deal," I agreed, holstering my pistol.

The batarians looked surprised. "Human nobility," the ringleader harrumphed. "I didn't know such a thing existed." (2)

"Learn new things every day," I shrugged, stepping aside so they could leave. Daniel shuffled forward once they were gone. "Thank you," he said. "I thought they were going to... to kill me. Did Mordin send you to find me?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "He could really use your help right now: too many patients, not enough volunteers. Go back to the clinic. We'll handle delivering the cure."

"Yeah, okay," Daniel licked his lips nervously. "I'll go right away. Thanks again. I owe you... well... everything."

It didn't take long before we bumped into another pack of vorcha. They opened fire as soon as they saw us. Unfortunately for them, we had gotten the drop on them, and we didn't wait to fire in self-defence. After we finished them off, we moved into a large courtyard. The entrance to the environmental control centre was situated one level down in a building at the other end. Of course, there were lots of vorcha milling around down there for us to fight through.

The vorcha toting rocket launchers on the balcony of that building didn't help.

I didn't need to tell my squad to concentrate fire on the vorcha trying to blow us up. Zaeed occasionally sprayed some rounds down at the other vorcha to keep them from climbing the stairs and flanking us. Otherwise, we contented ourselves with whittling down their heavy support, one howling vorcha at a time.

While huddling behind some cover, I pricked my ears and listened. Over the next few minutes, I heard the hiss of rockets flying by and the dull thunder as they exploded. Gradually, I got a sense of where the closest rocket guys were and how long it took them to reload. Then I cloaked, lifted my sniper rifle, breathed out and aimed.

With a gentle press on the trigger, a shot rang out. I ducked back down, automatically repressing the urge to grin. That sort of unprofessional behaviour gets a sniper killed, after all. One down, but there were still plenty to go. Still, this was the sort of combat I preferred. (3)

And boy did I get a lot of it. Plenty of targets to scope and drop. Didn't take long before we finished off the heavies and started dealing with the troopers on the ground below. "I'll kill you," I heard one of them snarl defiantly. I chose to let my sniper rifle reply for me.

Just before I dove for cover, I noticed a vorcha on the stairs. He was dancing up a couple steps, then back down, as if he was trying to get a clear shot on us. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.

Down for the count, courtesy of a well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and yours truly. Guy should have varied his pattern a little. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.

I looked around, but there were no more targets. Good thing—I was almost out of clips for my sniper rifle. I mean, I might have had to resort to another weapon like my submachine gun or *gasp* my pistol. Thankfully there were lots of spare thermal clips lying around.

We met a trio of vorcha as soon as we entered the environmental control centre, backed by a krogan. Unfortunately for them, Miranda and I took turns hitting the lead merc with biotics and plasma fire. That effectively turned him into one big barrier, preventing his buddies from moving towards us and getting a clear shot. My squad didn't have that problem, though.

Miranda looked around once we were in the clear. "Judging by the layout, I'd say we're getting close to the core."

"Then we're almost at the environmental controls?" Jacob asked. She nodded. "Good. Let's get that cure in, then we can hit the fans."

"I'll stay on point," I said without thinking. Great, I just volunteered to be the first guy the bad guys could fire at. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now.

There was another group of vorcha inside the core room. This batch was a bit more talkative. Well, their leader was.

"Yarrgh! You no come here. We shut down machines, break fans!"

I don't think English was his first language.

"Everyone choke and die!" the vorcha snarled. "Then Collectors make us strong!"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Collectors want plague! You work for doctor, turn on machines, stop plague."

Good guess. So much for the stereotype of vorcha being nothing but mindless animals.

"We kill you first!"

Naturally.

Everyone scattered for the closest spot of cover. Downside, it left us spread out, with me stuck all alone behind a console. On the upside, it meant they wouldn't be able to take us out in one spot.

As I joined my squad in shooting at the vorcha, I noticed one of them was packing a flamethrower. I remembered how that Wilson guy managed to spark a bunch of canisters into blowing up by overloading their control systems. "Miranda," I shouted. "Flamethrower incoming. Overload it."

My hunch paid off. Miranda's pulse ignited the flamethrower—incinerating the vorcha toting it—and set another vorcha on fire in the process. "Yes!" she cheered.

The other vorcha temporarily halted their fire, taken off guard by the unexpected explosion. Some of them even forgot to stay in cover. Zaeed was the first to take advantage of the situation with a concussive round. Not to be left out, the rest of us were quick to follow. Before long, there was only one lone vorcha left. He didn't have a chance to use his rocket launcher against us, as Kasumi snuck up behind him while cloaked and got the drop on him.

I glanced around. This place was pretty big, and I didn't think we had time to leisurely search around. I reached up and activated my comm. "EDI," I said. "You there?"

"Yes, Shepard."

I quickly gave it a sitrep. "Can you scan the area and figure out where we need to go?"

"One moment," it replied. "The central control console is located within an alcove in the centre of the back wall. You can inject the cure and re-initialize the systems there. However, you will then have to go to each of the fan controls and turn them on manually."

"And they are where, exactly?"

"Please stand by."

Wonderful.

Biting back a complaint on how life wasn't fair, I led the squad over to the console EDI indicated, found a slot that seemed to fit the cartridge that the cure was sloshing around in and hit the power button. As the machinery hummed to life, Jacob grinned for the first time. "Once we get the fans going, we should be good."

Five or six vorcha charged in at that moment, guns blazing. Once again, we scattered, lunging for the nearest refuge. Zaeed leaned out long enough to fire a burst. "Taylor," Zaeed snapped as he ducked back, "you're lucky your boss paid me a shitload in advance. Otherwise, I'd tack on extra for that remark."

"Hazard pay?" I called out, letting loose a shot of my own.

"Something like that."

EDI picked that moment to inform me that it had completed its scan. "I have located the fan controls, Shepard. There are two, one on either side of the room you are in."

Great timing. "Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"You are welcome."

We'd gotten into a rhythm by now, so we were able to keep the vorcha pinned down. As they started dropping one by one, I took a moment to consult my HUD. Aside from the ones trying to riddle us with holes, it looked like there were two more. Where were they?

I looked to my left. Nope. Same with the right. It was when I looked up that I saw a pair of vorcha, each with a rocket launcher. They didn't realize that I'd spotted them, so it was easy for me to take them out with my sniper rifle, one at a time. Okay, okay—so the second one ducked and I had to wait until he poked his head out again. I still got him, and that's what counts. Right?

Now we could head to the fan controls. They were located at the end of a long corridor, in the same direction as the alcove where I'd popped the plague cure in. Each of them were accessible via a number of staircases.

Operating on a hunch, I chose the stairs farthest away from the fan control. Sure enough, there were a dozen vorcha guarding the entrance. My selection meant that they would have to run down the entire length of the corridor before they could reach us.

Unless they were smart and took the stairs to sneak up and around, thus getting the drop on us. But they didn't. As we opened fire, I noticed that a couple of them had flamethrowers. "Miranda?"

She was already priming her omni-tool. "Open a hole in that armour and I'll take care of the rest," she grinned.

Between the fire-lane that the corridor conveniently funnelled all the vorcha into, the distance between us and them, and the plan that we'd honed over hours of combat, it didn't take long before we cleared them out. Motioning for them to cover me, I entered the fan control room and reset the breakers.

"One down, one to go," Jacob smiled.

Naturally, more vorcha showed up. As we split up and took cover behind pillars on either side of the corridor, I raised an eyebrow at the ex-Alliance marine. He shrugged. "Just trying to stay positive," Jacob flashed a grin.

"Noted," I replied. "Kudos for keeping squad morale up."

"Now let's finish them off," Miranda added, sending a ball of biotic energy sizzling at the closest vorcha. Good thing too. That one was only a few metres away when Miranda's attack sent it hurtling into the wall. Time to get serious.

The squad quickly fell into a rhythm. Zaeed, Miranda and I took down anything coming down the right side of the corridor, while Jacob and Kasumi did the same on the left. Once we had some breathing room, I would sneak up under cover of cloak and lay down covering fire. The prospect of being attacked by an invisible man kept the vorcha back long enough for the others to leapfrog forward, two at a time. This way, we managed to keep the pressure on them and slowly make our way towards the stairs.

We were almost there when I noticed that Kasumi was firing at someone above us. Jacob's shotgun couldn't reach that far, so he was watching the corridor and covering her. I followed her gaze.

A krogan was coming down the stairs. Big one, too. Well, they're all big so that's not saying much. Maybe he seemed big because I was closer to him, and the others were at least five metres behind me.

I fired a shot with my sniper rifle, hoping to take him down. Instead, I just gouged a nice deep furrow in his helmet. He laughed at me and lifted his shotgun. "Why don't you take a look at a real man's weapon," he taunted.

Aw, crap.

I didn't bother opening my mouth to answer. Probably for the best. Under the circumstances, all I'd have been able to do was gibber incoherently. Instead, I sent a round of plasma off from my omni-tool. Judging by the flares and sharp flashes, my plasma fire was accompanied by another of Miranda's biotic displays and a heck of a lot of gunfire.

Jacob took the opportunity to lift the krogan up in the air, where we could shoot him like some giant piñata. I waited until my omni-tool generated another charge of plasma, then set him on fire.

While the krogan plopped to the ground, courtesy of my 'real man's weapon,' we headed up the stairs. The plan was to cross the ventilation control room and head down the stairs to the corridor leading to the other fan control.

That plan worked right up 'till the quartet of rockets whistled our way.

I waited before we'd all found cover before issuing orders. "Zaeed, help me take out the rocket launchers. Everyone else, make sure no one comes up those stairs."

Zaeed and I had fun returning rockets with sniper rounds. We were more accurate. Not that the vorcha weren't capable of dealing some damage of their own. I'd taken out my second vorcha when I noticed that Jacob and Kasumi were both lying on the ground.

My stomach dropped. When did that happen?

"Concussive wave from a rocket knocked them out," Miranda filled me in. "They're unconscious, but still breathing."

"Look out," Zaeed warned, swinging his sniper rifle over.

I followed Zaeed's cue and saw another krogan. The two of us fired our sniper rifles in unison, cracking his helmet. Miranda used that as an opening to generate a biotic field right over its head. I'm not going to describe the sounds I heard in too much detail. Suffice it to say that his cranial plates shifted, his skull cracked and his brain... made squishing noises.

In hindsight, that might have been too much detail.

Anyways, there was only one more vorcha to deal with after that. I quickly took him out, then ran over to check on Jacob and Kasumi. The former was already up, lifting the latter to her feet. "You guys okay?"

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," Kasumi replied.

Grinning, I led the team down into the corridor. I had Jacob and Kasumi stay behind to cover our six, with Zaeed tagging along in case they were still out of it. That left Miranda and me to leapfrog down the corridor towards the fan control room.

We were rewarded for our caution by facing exactly... zero bad guys.

Typical.

Once we got the second set of fans going, it was smooth sailing all the way back to the clinic. Mordin was hard at work when we returned, moving from patient to patient with incredible speed. He still had time to notice me when I arrived, though.

"Environmental systems engaged," he told me. "Airborne viral levels dropping. Patients improving. Vorcha retreating. Well done, Shepard. Thank you."

"And thank you from me, as well," Daniel added, coming and dropping off some syringes. "Those batarians would have killed me."

He rubbed his brow before adding "For a second there, I thought you were going to shoot them even after they let me go."

"I made a promise to spare them if they let you go," I replied, choosing to stick to my rep. "I honour my promises."

Mordin raised an eyebrow. "Merciful of you. Risky. Would have killed them myself."

Daniel was shocked, like a kid who just learned that Santa Claus was just some big fiction propagated by commercialism. "How can you say that?" he demanded. "You're a doctor. You believe in helping people."

"Lots of ways to help people," Mordin replied matter-of-factly. "Sometimes heal patients. Sometimes execute dangerous people. Either way helps." He saw that Daniel wasn't buying it. "Go check on the patients. Lots of work to do. Think about what I said."

His assistant reluctantly obeyed, shaking his head as he left. Mordin sighed once he'd left the room. "Good kid. Bit naive. He'll learn. Letting him take over the clinic. Should be able to handle it now that vorcha are gone."

"And now that the plague's been cured," I added. "Are you ready to help stop the Collectors?"

"Yes," Mordin said. "Unexpected to be working with Cerberus. Many surprises. Just need to finish up here at the clinic. Won't take long. Met you at your ship. Looking forward to it."

I said my goodbyes and headed out. We were almost at the entrance to the clinic when a batarian stumbled to his feet. It was the one I'd given some medi-gel to earlier. Guess Mordin sent some people to find him after all.

"I... I know you," he said slowly. "From the apartment. You found me. You told Mordin about me, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"You... you saved my life. I... didn't expect that."

"The last time I saw you, you were too weak to move. How'd you get here?" I asked.

"Two of Mordin's assistants found me," he said. "They administered a cure, then watched over me until I was stable enough to move. They were human, but... they risked their lives to find me and bring me to safety."

"Can't blame you for sounding skeptical," I shrugged. "It's not as if our two species have ever gotten along. Still, there's an old human saying: 'Don't judge a book by its cover.'" (4)

That chestnut's a bit archaic, but the batarian seemed to get the gist of it. "I was wrong about you, human," he admitted. "I was wrong about a lot of things."

"So what'll you do now?"

"I think I'll stay here," he replied. "Help these humans out. I owe you, and them, my life. This is how I can return the favour."

That's one way to pass the time, I guess.

True to his word, Mordin arrived about a half hour after the squad got back to the Normandy. Jacob and I met him in the comm room.

"Welcome to the Normandy, Professor" Jacob greeted him. "It's an honour to have you on board."

"Yes. Very exciting," Mordin replied. His head was constantly moving about as he took in his surroundings. "Cerberus working with aliens. Unexpected. Illusive Man branching out, maybe? Not so human-centric?"

"You're very well-informed," I complimented him.

Mordin waved it off. "Salarian government well-connected. Espionage experts. Had top-level clearance once. Retired now. Still, hear things. Informed of name only. No knowledge of man behind it. Anti-alien reputation listed as... problematic."

I laughed. "Don't kid yourself, Professor. Humans still come first in the Illusive Man's eyes. But this mission is too big for them to handle alone. Hence dragging me out here to gather up people like you."

"As we explained in your clinic, the Collectors are abducting human colonists out on the fringes of Terminus Space," Jacob explained.

Mordin shook his head. "Not simple abductions. Wouldn't need me for simple."

"Entire colonies disappear without a trace," Jacob elaborated. "No distress signals are sent out. There are no signs of any kind of attack. There is virtually no evidence that anything unusual happened at all... except that every man, woman and child is gone."

Mordin immediately started brainstorming out loud. "Gas, maybe?" No. Spreads too slow. Airborne virus? No—slower than gas. Drugged water supply? No—effects not simultaneous."

I raised a hand to stop him. "You don't have to sit there and guess. We collected samples from one of the colonies. I'd like you to analyze them, figure out how the Collectors did this, and devise a countermeasure."

"Yes. Of course. Analyze the samples." He was halfway to the door before pausing. "Going to need a lab."

"There is a fully equipped lab on the combat deck, Professor Solus," EDI informed him. "If you find anything lacking, please place a requisition order."

Mordin looked around, trying to find the source of EDI's voice. Not seeing it, and not knowing what we knew, he started speculating out loud again. "Who's that? Pilot? No. Synthesized voice. Simulated emotional inflections. Could it be... no. Maybe. Have to ask: is that an AI?"

Okay. That was impressive. "This ship is equipped with an artificial intelligence," I confirmed.

"An AI on board? Non-human crew members? Cerberus more desperate than I thought," Mordin deduced.

"The Collectors have taken tens of thousands of colonists," Jacob said. "We'll do whatever we have to do to find and stop them."

"Yes," Mordin nodded. "Of course. Can't risk being captured like colonists. Need to identify, neutralize technology. Need samples. Which way to the lab?"

"Follow me, Professor," Jacob grinned.

I left Jacob to escort Mordin to the tech lab while I headed for my quarters. Had to catch up on e-mail and all. Plus, I had fish to feed.

About a half hour later, I left to go harass everyone. It didn't take long before I made my way down to Deck 3. Gardner called me over with a grin on his face. "Commander! Those provisions you provided were perfect. I owe you."

"Just whip up some of those decent meals you were promising and we'll call it even," I waved it off.

"Actually, I've already thrown together some of my calamari gumbo. Wanna try a bite?"

"Sure."

Gardner turned around, scooped a ladle of gumbo from a pot behind him and passed it to me. I took a bite.

Wow. That was good. That was damn good. I told him as much.

Gardner leaned over and whispered "Truth be told, it's based on an asari recipe. Seems a little cannibalistic to me with their tentacle heads and all, but they know good grub."

"You could say eating ribs is cannibalistic, what with our rib cages," I shrugged. "Or chicken thighs or legs—we may not have feathers, but we do have everything else."

"Huh." Gardner rocked back on his heels. "Never thought of it that way."

"Well, now you have," I said, finishing off the gumbo with relish. "I know we're supposed to be saving humanity and all that, but that doesn't mean the other species aren't worth caring about. If they can inspire good grub like this, they can't be all bad, right?"

"Got a point there, Commander," Gardner conceded. "Anyways, thanks again for those provisions. You really came through."

I continued on my rounds, chatting with Miranda and a couple other crewmen. Dr. Chakwas had recovered from our impromptu round of drinks, so I stopped in to check on her as well.

"Commander, bringing me that ice brandy was above and beyond. Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

"I very much enjoyed sharing it with you," she added, "but I hope I wasn't too unprofessional. Brandy goes straight to my head."

"You weren't that bad," I reassured her. "Besides, it's nice to see you let your hair down."

"Guess I hadn't realized how much those feelings needed airing," she admitted. "But I didn't give you much of a chance to vent. So tell me now—what do you think?"

I wouldn't have minded telling her the truth. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. But there were all those annoying bugs floating around. With all the ones I found in my quarters, there was no telling how many of them might be hiding around sickbay. Besides, Dr. Chakwas herself said that she needed an 'immovable centre.' That meant sticking to my heroic rep, not burdening her with the truth.

"We've been spaced, reassigned, abandoned and now we're sleeping with the enemy," I shrugged. "None of that matters, though—everyone's depending on us. We won't let them down."

Dr. Chakwas shook her head in admiration. "They just don't make them like you anymore, Shepard."

"That's 'cuz they can't afford the price tag or the time," I said dryly.

She laughed. "Well, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

In other words, she suspected that I might not have 'fessed up to everything, but I wasn't showing signs of cracking up so she'd respect my privacy. I always liked that about her. She knew when to let things slide and when to stand her ground.

"Yeah, I know," I said before heading for the door.

"Commander?"

"Yeah?" I paused and turned halfway back.

"Promise me we'll share a bottle every year."

That sounded like the kind of promise worth keeping. "Done."

"The next one is on me."

"All right."

I thought I'd check in on Ken and Gabby in Engineering. See how the new couplings I got them were doing.

"I heard Rupert's actually cooking some good meals lately," I heard Gabby say as I walked in.

"Yeah, right," Ken snorted. "That scunner couldn't serve a good haggis if his life depended on it."

"Well, all haggis tastes like ass, anyways."

"Aye," Ken admitted. "But in the right hands, it can taste like mighty fine ass."

Then he noticed me. He turned around, beaming from ear to ear. "You're the best, Commander. We just got those FBA couplings installed. Now we only have to calibrate every week instead of every day."

"Glad to hear they worked out for you," I nodded.

"You know, we were thinking about celebrating our newfound free time with some Skyllian-Five poker. Want to join us?"

"Come on, Kenneth," Gabby interjected. "The commander doesn't want to play cards with grease monkeys like us."

Not an unreasonable assumption. It's rare for officers to mix with NCOs, command crew to mix with everyone else, and so forth. Mostly to maintain that level of respect and authority. But hey, I was bored. (5)

"Actually, that sounds interesting. As long as everything is running smoothly right now."

"They are," Gabby confirmed.

Ken looked positively ecstatic, practically bouncing on his feet. "Fantastic. I'll get the cards."

"My Skyllian-Five's a bit rusty," I lied, faking a nervous look. Well, mostly faking—I had been out of the game for two-plus years. "You'll be easy on the rookie, right?"

"Of course, Commander," Ken reassured me. "It's all friendly."

"Yeah, right," Gabby said.

Each of us bet 300 credits. I purposely folded in the first round, just to confirm my sense of the other players. I could have saved myself the trouble. Ken was an open book. Competent player, but he was way too easy to read. No poker face whatsoever. I got the sense that Gabby was probably a better player, if she wasn't so fixated on beating her fellow engineer. It's no surprise that, within a half hour, I'd completely cleaned Ken out. Gabby didn't fare much better, only coming away with a third of her original stake.

As I scooped up my winnings, Ken put the cards away. He seemed a bit disgusted with himself. "'Be gentle on the rookie?' I can't believe we fell for that."

"It's so worth losing to see you taken down a notch," Gabby teased.

"You beat me at my own game," Ken shook his head. "You're all right, Shepard."

"So... same time next week?" I suggested.

We shared a good laugh at that.

I bumped into Zaeed on my way to the elevator. "What brings you down here, Shepard?"

"Just walking around, seeing how everyone's doing," I shrugged. I decided not to mention that we'd played a few hands in Engineering. Not that I wanted to exclude him. But if Zaeed decided to play, he might win using sheer intimidation, and the engineers had lost enough money this week. "You?"

"Going to the can."

"Ah."

"We heading out soon?" Zaeed asked.

"Once the squad catches a bit of shut-eye," I confirmed. "Got another potential recruit on Omega. Guy named Archangel. You hear of him?"

"Some vigilante who's makin' trouble for all the mercs on Omega," Zaeed said. "Sounds like we both want the same thing."

"And that is?"

"A lot of mercs dead."

I had to raise an eyebrow at that. "You do realize that some people would call you a merc as well."

"Way I see it, main obstacle between me and my bounties are other mercs. The fewer of them around, the easier my job is," he replied frankly. "Besides, most of them are scum. Yeah, there's the odd merc who's decent and all, but most of them are sick bastards. Ain't personal, really."

"Just business," I concluded.

"Yeah."

I spent a good deal of time in the tech lab, which was finally open. There were two doors that could access it, both near the bow of the ship. A couple terminals were conveniently situated there as well, allowing me to research new upgrades-for my squad or the Normandy-or look up what upgrades I'd already researched. So long as I had enough minerals to build a prototype, EDI could run some simulations, make any corrections and order the ship's fabrication systems to mass-produce and install those upgrades in the appropriate weapons, omni-tools or hardsuits . Not that there were a lot of upgrades available—at the moment, I was still missing a few key pieces of software or hardware. Still, some is better than nothing.

A bunch of counters or benches were built into the port side of the lab, each with a few pieces of fancy-looking equipment on them. Scanning electron microscope, anoxic containment chamber, tissue culture incubators, that sort of thing. The aft wall held an empty bookshelf, a maintenance hatch and a window that looked down into Engineering-specifically the drive core. A lot of rooms in the Normandy had windows that offered a view of the drive core. Yeah, it was that big. Kinda looked like EDI's avatar, come to think of it.

The starboard side boasted a small desk, covered with reference books and manuals. Another bench lay in the centre of the lab, with more equipment and tubes. Mordin was standing there working away on some experiment, with at least three or four others running concurrently. After a few minutes, I walked over to talk to him. Just to see how he was settling in.

"Is the lab working well for you?" I asked.

"Very satisfactory," Mordin nodded. "Impressive laboratory setup. Missed working for operations with a budget. AI in particular very helpful. Best setup I've seen since work with Special Tasks Group."

"Must've been a change from working in the clinic," I said. "It must have been frustrating working in such a limited facility."

"No!" Mordin shook his head. "Loved it! Limited facility presented challenge. Save greatest number of people using limited resources. Security threats, gangs, mercenary groups add additional difficulty. Quite enjoyable. Plague stretched abilities to limit. Couldn't have asked for more.

"Also enjoy saving people, of course," he hastily added. "Helping the helpless, greater good. Nice retirement after STG work complete."

Some people like a peaceful, tranquil retirement. Clearly Mordin wasn't one of them. Probably would go stark raving bonkers if he just sat around all day. "So there aren't any problems?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Nothing significant. Found a few surveillance bugs. Destroyed most of them. Returned expensive one to Miranda. Nothing unexpected. Just need more samples. More Collector data, tissue samples. Anything you get, I can use. Find new tech."

I was reminded of Aria's warnings, and my own firsthand encounters, with Mordin's fast babble. I'd have to stay on my toes to keep up with him. Speaking of reminders, there was something I should have asked Dr. Chakwas earlier. Given Mordin's medical expertise, I decided to ask before I forgot again: "Are there any medical concerns I should be aware of on the team?"

"Cerberus personnel in excellent condition. No squad concerns to report. Always some matters, but nothing requiring immediate mission."

"Have you got a minute to talk?"

"Of course." Mordin finished what he was doing and stood up. "Plague on Omega dealt with. Analyses underway. Plenty of time to analyze Collector intelligence."

"Speaking of Omega, how's Daniel doing? Has he settled in all right?"

"Just received preliminary report from him. So far, so good. Mostly safe and secure. Neighbourhood mostly quiet with plague gone. Left him the security mechs, just in case. Can't be too careful. Also, tired of mechs. Noisy. Never used them in STG."

"What kinda stuff did you do in STG?"

"Recon, analysis, occasional wet-work. Identify problems, have neutralization options ready should need arise. Model for Council Spectres based on Special Tasks Group. Very similar."

"I'd heard about that," I admitted. "Similar in what way?"

"Salarians lack numbers, brute strength, military prowess. Have to rely on stealth, intelligence. Agents given wide operative freedom. Spectres similar—given goal, told to accomplish. STG better funded of course. Didn't have to buy our own weapons."

I somehow managed to repress a groan. That was always a pet peeve of mine—we were top covert operatives with wide discretionary powers, and yet we had to get our own weapons. We didn't even get an operational stipend—or if we did, someone had been siphoning it off.

"What did you do with the STG?" I asked. "Research?"

"Not simply research. Several recon missions. Covert, high-risk. Served under young captain named Kirrahe."

That rang a bell. "Kirrahe? I worked with an STG captain named Kirrahe. His team helped me destroy Saren's cloning facility on Virmire."

"Heard he was part of that," Mordin nodded enthusiastically. "Jury-rigged explosive? Always got job done with limited resources. Good captain. Bit of a cloaca, though. Loved his speeches. 'Hold the line!' Personally prefer to get job done and go home. Probably military bravado. Jargon, chest-pounding." He paused for the first time, perhaps realizing who he was talking to. "No offense."

"None taken."

"Anyways, studied krogan genophage. Took water, tissue samples from krogan colonies."

"What can you tell me about the genophage?" I asked. "I know it was designed by the salarians and deployed by the turians to end the Rebellions. But what else can you tell me?"

"Affects every cell of krogan body," Mordin replied promptly. "Commonly and incorrectly considered a sterility plague."

"It doesn't do that?"

"Actually adjusts viable fertility rates to compensate for high krogan birthrate. Stabilizes to pre-industrial population growth levels."

"I see."

"Why would STG study the genophage?"

"Krogan Rebellions bloody, dangerous," Mordin said frankly. "Nearly as bad as rachni attacks. All species evolve, adapt, mutate. If genophage weakens, need to be prepared."

"'Prepared?' What was the STG preparing to do?" I asked warily.

"Military schematics for likely krogan population growth. Political scenarios for attack points. Genophage reduced krogan numbers. Species aggression unchecked. Population explosion would be disastrous. STG helped check Krogan Rebellions. Needed to be ready to do the same. Simple recon. Nothing to worry about."

Nice. Honest. Probably a good thing Wrex or any other krogan wasn't onboard.

"Should get back to work. Need to study. So much data."

"Yeah, about that. I was going to head back to Omega to track down another recruit. Will you be ready in an hour or so?"

"Perhaps, no wait, yes. Yes. Can run some tests again to get duplicate results. Analyses can be done later. Biometric comparisons still ongoing. Yes, available in one hour. See you then."

Huh. That was an interesting conversation. Not that I necessarily agree, but it's nice to hear the other side of the story. I'd later learn that things were a bit more complicated than Mordin initially let on. For the time being, I'd just relax for an hour. Feed the fish again, listen to some jazz.

Enjoy the calm before it's abruptly blown out of the water.

Again.

(1): Slang for 'special operations.'

(2): Clearly they'd never met Shepard.

(3): Readers will be familiar with Shepard's fondness for the sniper rifle, and his occasional laments on how he didn't get to use it as often as he'd have liked.

(4): I'd tell Shepard how he was winning more hearts and minds in his own way than the entire corps of Alliance diplomats combined, but he'd just pass it off as 'just doing his job.'

(5): Readers are well aware that Shepard tended to disregard such conventions, without any negative impact on the level of respect or authority afforded to him.