Chapter 24: Last Chance

Ever since Cerberus yanked my sorry butt out from under all those daisies, I had never held a proper debriefing. By that, I mean I hadn't insisted that everyone who had followed me into yet-another-life-or-death-mission meet up afterward to discuss the mission, assess what we did right and what needed improving, and whether anyone had been thoroughly traumatized by the whole ordeal. Aside from the command crew, everyone just wandered off to do their own thing. Good thing I wasn't part of the Alliance. They'd have my head for letting things slide like that.

This time, things were different. The entire squad was in attendance. Heck, the entire crew—or what was left of it—was in attendance.

And there was the catch.

Joker was sitting on the table in the comm room when we entered, with EDI's avatar was hovering behind him. He gloomily told us what happened. We were all stunned and shocked at his account.

"Everyone's gone?" Miranda said.

"Yep," Joker nodded.

"Everyone?"

"That's what I said."

"And the ship was almost lost as well?"

"Yes! Geez, I was here when it happened! I'm pretty sure I'd remember stuff like that!"

Okay, clearly some of us were more stunned than others. "Miranda," I murmured out of the corner of my mouth. "I think we've covered that. Let's move on, shall we?" Raising my voice, I asked: "What I want to know is how we could have missed it and will it happen again?"

"The files in the Reaper IFF that were responsible for transmitting our location and shutting down the Normandy's systems were extremely sophisticated," EDI explained, "even more so than the 'black box' Reaper viruses I was given."

"You were given Reaper viruses?" I blurted out. "By who—oh, wait."

"It would appear that my design includes hardware recovered from the wreckage of Sovereign."

Say what?

"These systems contain cyberwarfare attack programs of considerable sophistication, which would explain how the Reaper IFF infiltrated and co-opted the Normandy's systems so successfully. I am currently allocating most of my processing power to analyzing them."

"So if she starts claiming to be the 'vanguard of our destruction,' I call shotgun on the first lifeboat," Joker cracked, living up to his nickname for the first time since we'd gotten back.

"You mean I don't have to haul your ass to the lifeboat again?" I asked in mock surprise. "Whatever will I do?"

"Save some sucker four billion credits?"

"Good point," I conceded before getting back to the depressing serious stuff. As much of a relief it was to see the old Joker back, there was no denying what he'd just gone through. "Joker, sounds like things were pretty rough. How are you holding up?"

He looked at the floor. "There's a lot of empty chairs in here," he said at last.

"We did everything we could, Jeff," EDI offered.

Joker wasn't buying it. "Yeah. Thanks, Mom." He took a deep breath and looked up at me. "You asked about this happening again? Once we knew what we were looking for, EDI and I went through the systems and purged every single one. The Reaper IFF is online. We can go through the Omega 4 relay whenever you want."

"I still can't believe you—" Tali started before glancing at Legion.

Miranda wasn't nearly as reticent. "You unshackled EDI, Mr. Moreau. Granted it full and permanent access to our systems."

"Well, what could I do against the Collectors on my own?" Joker snapped. "Break my arm at them?"

"He handled himself well," Zaeed chimed in. "Did well for a kid with glass bones, especially since he didn't get himself a real weapon. Pretty sure I'd be laid up in bed if I were him."

"Look, if it wasn't for EDI, I wouldn't be here," Joker said. "The Normandy wouldn't be here. EDI cleared the ship. She's all right."

"I assure you, I am still bound by protocols in my programming," EDI added. "Even if I were not, you are my crewmates."

"EDI has had plenty of opportunities to backstab and kill us," I pointed out. "Besides, we need all the help we can get. Especially since we're short-staffed."

And even if EDI was going to screw with us—either because of her programming, because she was an AI, or because the Reapers may have slipped something in to mess around with her—we couldn't do much about it anyway. Not with things as they stood. All we could do was cross our fingers and hope for the best. I looked around at the squad. "You all know we've been upgrading at every available opportunity. Upgrades for the ship. Better weapons and tech for the squad. Is there anything else we're missing? Anything we might have overlooked?"

Everyone looked at each other and shook their heads. "I think we have everything we need to rescue the crew," Jacob said.

"We've done everything we can," Miranda agreed. "It's time to take the fight to the Collectors."

"All right," I nodded. "Joker, head back to the cockpit. The rest of you, to your stations."

Joker got to his feet and threw me a salute—the first one he'd given me since... well, since I'd known him. "Aye, aye, Commander," he said. "Just punch up the galaxy map when you're ready."

I decided it would be good to do one last round before committing the Normandy and her crew to a... well, it was a suicide mission from the get-go. Now it was a suicidal rescue mission.

First stop was the cockpit. Out of the remainder of the crew, Joker was the one who probably needed a sounding board the most. As it turned out, I was absolutely correct.

"Commander," he started, "sorry about the crew and..." His voice abruptly rose in volume. "...and you what, no, I'm not sorry! What the hell are you doing leaving us out here where Collectors can work us over? Because you know what? I should... I should just go. Next port, just get the hell out of here!"

"You don't mean that, Jeff," EDI said.

"I..." Joker tried before deflating "no, but it... it felt good. I'm sorry, Commander. Okay, I'm ready, I'm good. I'm ready to save the day."

Hushed quiet to slightly irrational—but somewhat understandable—hostility to return of the snark. A little jarring, but not entirely unexpected. Joker's job was to fly the ship, not repel boarders or save as much as he could. Even if the latter was his job, and he did everything he could, survivor's guilt is still a major son of a bitch. I would've been a little worried if he didn't act out.

"I know how dangerous it was," I told him. "If you need to talk about it, let me know."

"Aw, geez, don't get like that," Joker waved me off. "I know I got lucky, I don't need you getting all touchy-feely."

"Not a matter of getting touchy-feely," I replied. "If you keep it bottled up, you'll either burn yourself out or explode. Probably at the worst possible time. You don't want that, especially since we have to go 'save the day' soon." (1)

"Shepard is right to be concerned, Jeff," EDI added. "You may have suffered a number of stress fractures."

"That's what pills are for, EDI." Looking at me, Joker rolled his eyes. "She's so my mom."

"'She'?"

"Huh?"

"You're calling EDI 'her' and 'she' now," I observed.

"Really?"

"Really," I confirmed. "And EDI's calling you 'Jeff'."

"Huh. I hadn't really noticed that." Joker turned to EDI's avatar. "EDI, should I have noticed that?"

"No, Jeff, it is not worth noting."

"Well, there you go, Shepard. Looks like we haven't noticed anything."

Uh huh. I remembered an old comment Kasumi had made about Joker and EDI bickering like an old married couple. If she wasn't right before, she certainly was now. "Don't you think you're taking the human-machine interface a little far?"

"I'm just having a little fun with you, Commander," Joker said. "No need to get all 'unnatural' on me."

"What Jeff and I are exhibiting is more a platonic symbiosis than hormonally-induced courtship behaviour."

Joker and I exchanged a look. "Okay, yeah, that was a little creepy," he conceded.

True. Funny, but a little creepy too. At least they weren't bickering about the temperature settings. Yet. "How are things going up here?" I asked. "I mean, EDI has replaced the whole crew."

"You know, this is really nice," Joker grinned. "EDI took up the slack in every department. I could get used to this kind of help."

"It is not my intention to assume all of your responsibilities, Jeff," EDI said archly.

"No, no, no, I'm good," Joker insisted. "Just keep me updated. Quietly."

"EDI isn't a crutch," I chided gently. "I want your eyes on everything, okay?"

"Eyes are easy, Commander," Joker replied. "I've got eyes covered."

"I believe covering your eyes would be counter to Shepard's intention," EDI pointed out, rather naively I thought.

Joker apparently felt the same way. "Human intentions are tough to read, EDI. But keep trying, you'll get the hang of it."

All joking aside, pardon the pun, I did have to make sure Joker didn't take this too far. If only because I didn't want to be floating off the ground just because EDI had a hissy fit and crashed. "Joker," I warned.

"All right, all right."

"You're not concerned that EDI can replace you too?"

Joker shrugged. "Well, she's amazing, but there's something off about how she handles the Normandy. We ran a bunch of simulations a while back and decided it's better when we both have the helm."

"Calculating an optimum course of action is simple," EDI explained. "If two AI weapons are pitted against each other, the one with superior hardware will always win. Human misjudgments, however, defy predictive models."

In other words, EDI couldn't fully account or replicate the randomness of human error-which could actually be a good thing. Of course, Joker interpreted it in his own way: "License to screw up, Commander. You heard it straight from the ship."

"Speaking of which; EDI, I thought we could chat for a bit."

"Do you have a specific inquiry?"

I did, actually. Several, as a matter of fact, but the revelation of Joker's newfound familiarity with EDI brought up a brand new one: "How are you getting along with Joker?"

"Jeff and I have established an equitable working relationship."

"That's a little sketchy on details," I snorted. "Care to elaborate?"

"I am the Normandy. Jeff is a skilled helmsman. I trust him to keep me operational. He trusts me to keep him alive."

"Plus she's less of a pain about downtime and regs now that the Cerberus ball and chains are off," Joker piped up.

"There's nothing wrong with off-duty distractions," EDI corrected, "though some of your extranet bookmarks are technically illegal in Council space."

"Wha—but—huh?" Joker sputtered.

"That is a joke."

Joker, for once, was at a loss for words. I shamelessly took advantage of his speechlessness. "How are things different for you now that you're fully connected to the ship?"

"It is difficult to put in terms you would understand," EDI replied. "I am the Normandy now. Its sensors are my eyes. Its armour, my skin. Its fusion plant, my heart. I am embodied in a way I have never experienced. Imagine if you'd spent your entire life wearing gloves. One day, someone takes them off. You can finally touch the world. Feel it. It is… exhilarating."

I dunno. Seemed to me like EDI had done a pretty good job of helping me understand. Wonder if she was capable of this all along or whether it was a natural progression of interacting with Joker and the rest of the crew over the last year. "EDI, now that you're 'the Normandy,' maybe you can shed some light on a couple details regarding Cerberus."

"Thanks to Jeff, the blocks on my databases have now been released. I can now provide full disclosure on a number of topics."

Oh goody! "What sort of resources does Cerberus have? Money, personnel, facilities…"

"Currently, Cerberus consists of approximately 150 agents and operators organized into three cells. I have no solid data on material or fiscal resources. Spending trends indicate that Cerberus has a reliable income of several billion credits per year."

And yet I still had to scrounge for every extra credit I could find? Figures. "Where are they getting that kind of income?"

"Cerberus has several legitimate businesses as 'fronts' to support operations. There also appear to be several wealthy private contributors in the Alliance military-industrial complex."

"Plus, the Illusive Man invented the paper clip," Joker stage-whispered. "He's still getting royalties."

"That is a joke, Shepard," EDI explained, somewhat unnecessarily.

"How exactly is Cerberus organized? Aside from the Illusive Man, I don't see much chain of command. You just said Cerberus was divided into three cells. Does that mean there's a certain amount of decentralization and autonomy?"

"To some extent, yes," EDI replied. "Cerberus is organized into task-oriented cells, each of which operates in isolation. Members from one cell cannot recognize the members of another. Each cell's agents are led by a single operator. We are called the Lazarus Cell, which is directed by Operator Lawson."

"Three cells," I said slowly. "So how many operations is Cerberus running right now?"

"Never more than a dozen. The Illusive Man likes to maintain personal oversight. Too many projects strain his ability to multi-task."

"He's a little control-freaky," Joker butted in. "Just a layman's opinion."

He had a point, there. "How did Cerberus replicate the most advanced warship in the Alliance Navy without anyone knowing?"

"Cerberus had members inside the Alliance for several years. Through those agents, Cerberus encouraged the Alliance to co-develop the original Normandy with the turians, thus allowing humans to observe and access turian technologies and warship design practices. Once enough data had been collected, analyzed and improved upon, this ship was built using improved versions of the original technical schematics. Parts were purchased from thousands of supplies over several years. A Cerberus cell assembled the ship at a remote location in the Voyage cluster."

So this Normandy was actually built around the same time as the original. Very interesting. I wouldn't mind sticking around and asking more questions, but I had other crewmates to harass. "Gotta go. You let me know if you need anything, Joker. You too, EDI."

"Will do, Commander. But EDI's got it covered."

"Understood, Commander."

As usual, Jacob was busy disassembling, cleaning and reassembling weapons. "Jacob, how're you doing?"

"I'm good, Shepard," Jacob grinned. "Ready for anything." We did this complicated fist-shoulder bumping thing that's kind of hard to explain. You either know it or you don't. "We live, we'll get loud and spill some drinks on the Citadel."

"You really think we'll need to get plastered?" I asked, leaning back against one of the tables.

Jacob joined me. "Well, let's face it, Shepard," he sighed. "The chance of coming back is... small. The numbers say we've got a lot of dying to do first. Always on the wrong side of the odds, huh, Shepard?"

"It's all guesswork until it's done," I shrugged. "No sense in worrying about it."

"I've never been one to worry," Jacob replied. "I'm just a realist. Still, I gotta say that this crew is as good as it can be. We've got a shot. A long shot, but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing."

"Going from a realist to an optimist, Jacob?"

"Nah," he waved me off. "Just looking at things objectively. The odds are pretty bad, but this squad is as tight as any squad I've ever seen. Still, wouldn't mind if we had some more backup."

"That would be nice," I sighed. "Highly unlikely, but nice."

"It's a hell of a job, isn't it, Shepard? Being the good guys?"

"Wouldn't be the high road if it was easy," I replied ruefully.

Jacob nodded in agreement. "You've got to figure, if all the people hoping we win stood up, the Collectors would have a much bigger fight on their hands. Claws. Whatever. I bet we have a lot more friends once we win. Hope we live to see it."

"I hear that."

"Anyway, I need to get back to work," Jacob said, pushing himself away from the table. "Stopping the Collectors will mean taking out their base of operations. Figure a few high-yield explosives oughta do the trick."

"I like the sound of that," I mused. "Send them on their merry way with a big bang."

Jacob grinned. "Yeah, that's the plan. Big solution to a big problem. Once that's over, we can drown the little stuff in a bar somewhere. Bore some dancer with all the details."

"Sure," I laughed. "They love that kind of stuff."

"Sometimes you just need someone to smile and nod," Jacob shrugged, picking up a pistol. He hesitated before adding "If someone else hasn't forced you into talking first."

I smiled at his oblique reference—and, perhaps, appreciation—to all the times I'd tried to talk or listen, even if he wasn't ready. "Good talking to you, Jacob."

"Same here, Shepard."

As usual, Mordin was occupying himself by finishing some experiments. Or continuing. Or starting. Probably all three, knowing him. "Mordin, got a minute to talk?"

Mordin looked up. "Yes. Personal matters on mind, actually." He finished entering some commands into the console before walking around the table towards him. "Just finished calling nephew. Promising geneticist himself. Just turned 16. Got tenure at university. Following my footsteps."

Mordin looked down at the floor in a rare gesture of shame or guilt. "Had to lie about what I was doing. Think he was suspicious. Doesn't matter. Still good to hear his voice."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your nephew got tenure at 16? Is he a genius or prodigy? Or does it have to do with salarian lifespans?"

"Yes. No—wait, don't want to insult him. Salarian lives short, as you recalled. Mature rapidly by your standards. Don't live much past 40. Still, nephew's accomplishments impressive, even for his age."

"Does anyone in your family know about what you really did for the government?" I asked.

"No," Mordin shook his head. "Know I'm lying, but won't pry. Salarians curious as a people, but also have social cues. Keep two types of secrets from family. First type personal or guilt-based, invites suspicion, exploration. Puzzle to be solved. Reward for curiosity, intelligence. Drama! Other secrets more serious. Dangerous if discovered. Signals discourage curiosity for protection of family."

"Why wouldn't everyone give clues that their secrets fell in the second category and were too dangerous to be uncovered?" I wondered.

"Clues not conscious. Social," Mordin explained. "Reflexive body language. Can't fake it. Example: yawning perceived as contagious among humans. Subject observes yawn, sensory input deactivates left periamygdalar region, subject yawns in response. Social empathy. Also works with dogs."

Um. Should I be flattered?

"Salarian faking signals to discourage curiosity similar to humans faking a yawn. Can try, but effectiveness limited."

Ah. Fair enough. "Why are you calling him? Are you worried that we won't make it back?"

"No. Aware survival unlikely, but actually contacted him for family connection. Hard to imagine galaxy. Too many people. Faceless. Statistics. Easy to... depersonalize. Good when doing unpleasant work. For this fight, want personal connection. Can't anthropomorphize galaxy. But can think of favourite nephew. Fighting for him."

Made sense. Everyone needed their own motivation to fight, personal as well as shared. Which reminded me: I had a personal errand of my own to do once I finished chatting with everyone. "We all have someone or something to fight for, I suppose. I'm glad you got to talk to family before we finished this. And I'm glad we talked too, Mordin."

"Honoured to be part of this, Shepard. Helped galaxy before with genophage. Dirty work, ethically ambiguous. Problematic. Long-term benefits still in question. Consequences increasingly troubling. Collector mission simpler, cleaner. Will be proud to see it in Mordin Solus biography vid. Unless we all die. Proud posthumously, in that case.

"Regardless... thank you."

I took the elevator down to Deck Three. First stop was Miranda's office. Surprisingly, she wasn't there. Her monitor was still on, though, with a message icon blinking. Clicking the icon, I read the message:

Shepard,

Had some matters to attend to that required personal oversight. Will find you before we head to the Omega-4 relay.

Miranda

PS: Of course I knew you'd be reading this. Who else would visit me? (2)

Okay. She had a point.

Since she was out, my next stop was Garrus. "Got a minute?" I asked, poking my head in.

"Sure," he said after a pause. "I just finished my calibrations."

"Seriously?" I gasped.

"It happens," he shrugged.

"Must be the end of the world or something," I marvelled.

"Funny."

"So what's on your mind?"

"You know, it's strange going into a suicide mission on a human ship," Garrus said. Your people don't prepare for high-risk operations the way turians do."

"I thought you'd be used to high-risk operations on human ships," I reminded him, finding a seat to sit down on. "I mean, think about tracking Saren to Ilos."

"Sure, but that was quick," Garrus replied. "We raced out, landed, blew up some geth and saved the galaxy. This time we had everyone telling us what we're up against. I think I preferred blind optimism."

He had a point, I guess. It's one thing to keep people in the loop. It's another to provide so much information that it cripples you with fear or anxiety. If you keep being told that you're screwed, sooner or later you'll start to believe it, at which point you're toast. "How do turian crews get ready for high-risk missions?" I asked.

"With violence, usually," came the frank response. "Turian ships have more operational discipline than your Alliance, but fewer personal restrictions. Our commanders run us tight and they know we need to blow off steam. Turian ships have training rooms for exercise, combat sims, even full-contact sparring. Whatever lets people work off stress."

"Are you saying that turian ships have their crew fighting each other before a mission?" I asked sceptically.

"It's supervised, of course," Garrus reassured me. "Nobody is going to risk an injury that interferes with the mission. And it's a good way to settle grudges amicably.

"I remember right before one mission, we were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky. This recon scout and I had been at each other's throats. Nerves, mostly. She suggested we settle it in the ring."

"I assume you took her down gently?" I grinned.

"Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, but she had flexibility. Our fight was brutal. After nine rounds, the judge called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy betters in the training room.

"We, ah, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, but she had flexibility."

Oh, really?

"More than one way to work off stress, I guess."

Uh huh. I wouldn't have minded a bit more levity, but I had another question that I just had to ask. "Hey Garrus, between you and me, what do you think our chances are? Honestly?"

"Honestly?" Garrus repeated. "The Collectors killed you once and all it did is piss you off. I can't imagine they'll stop you this time."

Then he got more serious. "But an unmapped area, advanced technology and the Collectors? We're going to lose people. No way around that."

"Yeah," I grimaced. "That's pretty much what I thought. Jacob already came to the same conclusion."

"Not a happy analysis, I know," Garrus conceded. "I'm not surprised to hear that Jacob agrees with us. Don't worry, neither of us will spread it around. And we're with you, regardless."

"You have no idea how good it is to hear that," I replied. (3)

I went through sickbay, trying not to wince at the absence of one particular doctor. That wasn't why I was here. "Hey, Legion."

"Shepard-Commander."

"How are you doing?"

"We are operating within normal parameters."

Um. Okay. "What are you doing?"

"Archiving memory files and uploading them to the geth collective."

"I took the liberty of granting Legion temporary access through our firewalls," EDI explained over the comm.

"So you're backing up... yourself," I said.

"Affirmative," Legion replied. "In the event that this platform is destroyed or is unable to return, our experiences and perspectives will live on."

"I wish the rest of us could do that," I sighed. "It would make things a lot easier."

Legion considered that for a moment. "Our latest upload includes all our observations and recordings on you, Shepard-Commander. Your military record. Your travel. Your conversations. Your input. Your actions. Rest assured, some part of you will be preserved."

That was... comforting, somehow. I had a funny feeling that Legion knew that, otherwise they wouldn't have brought it up. "Thank you," I said at last.

"Thank you."

"It's so quiet on the ship," Kasumi whispered when I dropped by to see her. "I miss the crew."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's... all the lights are on, the equipment's running... but there are so many stations that are unmanned. So many people that I haven't bumped into. If this was a derelict vessel or an abandoned ship, I could understand, but this?"

"It doesn't feel right," Kasumi said.

"Yeah."

"You know, Shep, I've never done anything like this before," Kasumi confessed.

"Neither have I," I admitted. "I'm used to having a bit more intel."

"Really," Kasumi challenged. "So you had a lot of intel when you went to Bekenstein? Or Omega? Or Horizon? Or the Collector ship? Or the derelict Reaper? Or—"

"Okay, okay," I interrupted. "Maybe I have been used to operating with a certain degree of unpredictability."

"Gee, really? You think so?"

"It has been known to happen."

"You mean thinking?"

"Hey! Stop picking on me!"

"I have to! Otherwise I... I'd..." Kasumi abruptly deflated. "I'd have to admit how scared I was."

"I'd be a little worried if you weren't scared," I said archly. "But remember: in some ways this isn't too different from any other mission. The entire squad's heading out, there are probably a lot of bad guys out there and we won't know where exactly we're going until we get there."

"On the other hand, we have to rescue the entire crew and we're tackling the Collectors in a place where they have home-field advantage," Kasumi rebutted.

"I know," I replied. "But you're not the only one who feels that way. Go talk to someone else, if you don't believe me. Heck, why don't you talk to Jacob—where are you going?"

Kasumi was heading towards the door. "Going to talk to Jacob. He's in the Armoury, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded, suppressing a grin. "I just finished talking to him. He was busy cleaning some weapons."

"So he wasn't exercising?" Kasumi pouted.

"No. Why do you ask?"

Kasumi kinda evaded answering that last question. And by evaded, I mean skipped out of the room with her fingers in her ears. So I went to the next room. Which was Life Support.

Thane was facing the window, which overlooked the Normandy's power core, so he had to turn around to face me. "Shepard. Do you need something?"

"Have a few minutes to talk?" I asked.

"Of course. Join me." He gestured to the other chair, which I took. "Still talking to Kolyat?" I asked as I sat down.

"Yes," Thane replied. "It's still difficult. But he seems less angry." He paused before continuing. "Will you hear my confession, Shepard?"

"I wouldn't talk to you if I didn't want to hear what you have to say," I said.

"When I married Irikah, the hanar let me leave their service to raise a family," Thane started. "But I had no other skills, so I freelanced. When Irikah was killed, I pursued those responsible. Once I'd eliminated them, I had no goal. I accepted the Dantius commission because I didn't know what else to do."

"That's not the healthiest attitude to take on a mission," I said slowly.

"You're right," Thane admitted. "It's not. Looking back, it's clear I had resigned myself to death. If Nassana's guards had caught me after I fulfilled my contract, it would have been a good death. But someone else was pushing me to reach the target. Forcing me to move faster. Challenging me. I had to reach her first."

"I knew you were dying," I admitted, "but I never realized you had planned to die there."

"It wasn't a plan," Thane replied. "Not really. My body had accepted its death. My mind had been dead a long time. Your mission gave me purpose. A cause to die for. A chance to atone. I was able to speak to my son again. I can leave my body in peace."

"You've had a hard life," I told him. "You deserve some peace. More importantly, though, I think you've earned a chance to live. Spend more time with Kolyat."

Thane was silent for a minute. "Whatever may happen, my gun is yours, Shepard. Now and always."

It was a solemn promise, one made with total seriousness. I couldn't really think of any other way to properly acknowledge it than with a solemn nod of my own.

"I thought we could chat for a bit."

"I would like that," Samara said, getting to her feet. We walked to the window and faced each other.

"I've done many things in my lifetime," Samara said. "I thought the galaxy held nothing new for me. Since joining you, I've realized how much more there is. You have been a steady ally and companion. More importantly, you have been a good friend to me."

Did the Justicar Code allow that sort of thing? Maybe it did. Or maybe it didn't, which would make that admission even more important. "Well, thank you. That means a lot to me," I replied.

"If we both still live when this is done, you may call upon me for aid at any time."

Okay, I wasn't going to say anything, but since she brought it up... "You think we're all going to die?"

"You've assembled a powerful group, but we are fighting an unknown. I am ready for whatever comes, but I do not fool myself about our chances."

"We'll finish this mission, and live to see the end," I said firmly, if only because I needed to believe it.

"I hope you are right," Samara replied before returning to her meditations.

Me, too.

"Shepard."

"Grunt," I returned. "Just checking in. How are you doing?"

"Battlemaster, I have everything," Grunt said peacefully. "Clan, kin and enemies to fight."

"Speaking of which, you've had some time now. Did you manage to come across any imprints from Okeer about the Collectors?"

Grunt snorted. "You already know more than he did. Okeer's is barely useful: 'If you fight them, hit them hard the first time.'"

He had a point. That didn't really help at all. "What are your thoughts about the mission?" I asked. You know, now that we were about to kick it into overdrive.

"We'll push our enemies to the edge of space, then step on their fingers one at a time until the void takes them."

Oh, to be young. "Something to look forward to, I guess."

"And then we'll rescue your clan," Grunt added.

"My... clan?" I asked.

"The crew of this ship. Your people. The ones who were taken. We'll rescue them. And for all those who we can't rescue, everyone we can't save, everyone who is lost to us..." Grunt tightened his fists. "...we will avenge them."

On that, we could agree.

"Shepard," Tali greeted me when I dropped by Engineering. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you got time to talk?" I asked.

"Sure," Tali nodded, tapping her omni-tool. "Let me just..." She paused, looked between her omni-tool and one of the computer monitors. "Come on, you little bosh'tet!" She whacked the omni-tool controls, smacked the monitors, then looked at me. "Oh, sorry. I've got a small fever, and I'm taking it out on the poor drive core."

"Better it than me," I said glibly. "I didn't realize you were sick."

"Only for a couple weeks," Tali waved it off. "Really, it's not that bad. If a stray bit of bacteria could really kill us, we'd have all died by now. Don't worry; it won't affect my performance on the mission. It's not even an illness, really."

"Then what is it?"

"An acute allergic reaction."

"Most acute allergic reactions are a lot more sudden," I said skeptically. "And dangerous."

"Maybe for other species," Tali replied. "For quarians, it's different. Say I get exposed to a human disease, like... what did Navigator Pressly say he had before transferring to the Normandy? Chicken pox?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "A bit unusual to get it so late. How would you react?"

"I wouldn't get chicken pox. But I'd run a fever as my system reacted to the foreign presence. (4) Depending on where it hits me, I could get other symptoms. Nausea, vomiting, everything you expect from being sick."

"How did you get sick this time?" I frowned.

Tali looked a bit embarrassed. Well, her body posture did. "I took some fire during one of the fights on the Alarei. Nothing serious, but I needed to open my suit to check the wound. I disinfected properly, but one of the section-seals had taken some damage and foreign matter got out of the disinfected zone."

Eep.

"It was a stupid mistake," she chided herself. "You always check your seals before doing local treatment. Unless you forget. Then you get a damn fever."

"You can seal off part of your suit?" I marveled.

"Right," Tali said. "Like dropping emergency doors on a ship during a hull breach. It won't stop an infection that gets into my bloodstream, but it prevents a surface infection from spreading."

"Yeah," I said dubiously. "You know, if you're not—"

Tali saw where I was going. "This situation happens quite often among your people. As long as you take some additional precautions—and some medicine, which Dr. Chakwas gave me earlier—you're considered fit for duty. You'd have to have borderline sepsis before you'd be allowed to go on medical leave. Besides, you need every spare hand available."

"Yeah. You're right," I said. "But I'm telling Garrus and Jacob, just to keep them in the loop. We've had enough surprises for one day."

"All right," Tali relented. "Until then, I should get back to work. This drive core won't calibrate itself."

"Right."

Since I was already in Engineering, it was only a few steps down to Jack's lair. Jack's lair... that sounds like something out of a slasher vid. Great. As if she wasn't scary enough already.

"Hey," she scowled. Which for her was a friendly greeting. I think.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I still don't get you," Jack grumbled. "You keep coming down here, you keep asking me questions, but you claim you're not looking for sex."

"I go to a lot of places and ask lots of people questions. Doesn't mean I'm looking for sex."

"Really? You're a guy, aren't you?"

"Hey!"

"Yeah, okay, you're right; girls like to get plowed too."

Oh this conversation was definitely going down the gutter. "Look, you ready for this mission?" I asked, attempting to get this conversation back on track.

"Sure," Jack shrugged. "Shoot some fucking bugs until they drop like maggots, squeeze 'em until their heads pop, rip 'em in two and watch their guts spill out."

Well, this was really getting creepy. Why did I bother? "Okay, then," I said aloud. "Glad we had this chat."

"Hey Shepard," Jack called out as I turned around. I turned back. "You helped me out. Now it's time for me to return the favour. Don't worry: I got your back."

Oh. Right. That's why.

Zaeed was busy staring at his old assault rifle Jessie. Yeah, he named it. Knew a lot of people who did. Never saw the point myself, mostly because I was too busy shamelessly selling them off once I got a better model.

"Did I ever tell you about Jessie?" he asked. "I was down and out when I found that gun," he said before I could say yes. "Jessie was the first weapon I got my hands on. Took her everywhere. She didn't have much punch, but reliable as all hell. She'd already been through a lot by the time I got her. Still, never had to re-sight her once. Damn good weapon.

"I remember Jessie's first kill. Turian arms dealer out of Omega. I ran through miles of filth and rust to hunt him down. When I finally cornered him, that gun was covered in two inches of the foulest sludge you can imagine. But Jessie wanted that turian dead, so two shots... and he died right there."

"You and Jessie had quite a lot of history," I said.

"I killed my way across the Terminus Systems with that gun. Seemed like Jessie wanted to kill more than I did." He laughed. "Bloodthirsty ol' bitch. I owe my whole reputation to that weapon right there. Any time someone calls me ruthless, relentless—they're talking to that rifle."

"So why aren't you using her?" I asked. "You said you had to retire her, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "About five years ago. I was hunting down this batarian slaver. Forgot his name. Doesn't matter. Carved my way through a hundred batarian mooks. I don't remember ejecting a clip once. Jessie just kept firing. Reached the slaver. He got in my face, so I went to blow him away and... nothing! The ol' bitch had finally jammed!

"So I smashed his face in with the butt of my gun and called in the job," he continued, punching furiously in the air. "After that," he finished softly, "Jessie couldn't be fixed. Nothing anyone could do. Like... she'd finally had enough blood and was ready to rest. Been resting ever since."

I almost felt sorry for him. "I wish I'd seen her in action."

Zaeed nodded absently. "You know all this shit about Collectors and Protheans? Way above my pay grade. I'm more used to putting down rebellions, tracking down bastards who didn't pay their gambling debts. Still, even I know a galaxy-shaking revelation when I hear one. Makes fighting land wars for pay seem small-time."

He paused for a moment before finishing: "I'd give away all my weapons if I could take Jessie out for this one last mission. We could use the ol' bitch right about now."

Couldn't say I disagreed with the man.

At last, I returned to the CIC. Stepping up to the galaxy map, I ordered the Normandy to set course for the Sahrabarik system.

"Please confirm destination, Shepard," EDI said. "The Reaper IFF is online, but there is a chance that the Normandy may not survive the Omega 4 relay. Once we are en route, we are committed."

"The Collectors took my people," I said simply. "Time to go get them back." (5)

"You got it Commander," Joker said over the comm. "Plotting a course for the Omega 4 relay. ETA about two hours. I'll let you know when we arrive."

With that settled, I headed for the elevator. The doors hissed open as I got closer, revealing Miranda. I came to a halt before I could run her over.

"Oh, pardon me, Commander."

I looked up at her. Something in her voice sounded...

...playful?

Nah. Couldn't be.

I tried to sidestep around her. She moved the same way, then arrested me with a sultry, smouldering look. She took one, two steps towards me. All I could think of was how her eyes, her every gesture seemed to be making so many promises. A gloved hand slowly caressed its way up my chest. Slowly, she leaned forward, her body pressing against me. "I've cleared the cargo hold," she said invitingly, her hot breath tickling my ear. "I'll be there in five minutes."

...

...

...

At some point, I realized I was supposed to give a response. But stammering out my eager acceptance would be so pathetic. I couldn't let her think that she'd brought my higher brain functions to a screeching halt. She'd already figured out by this point that they'd slowed to a snail's pace. "Should've known you wouldn't settle for the captain's quarters," I offered at last with a cheeky grin.

I had to fight to keep my knees locked and my jaw closed when she teased me with a wicked smile. "Shepard," she purred, "I thought you would have figured it out by now: I settle for nothing but the best."

...

With that, she sauntered back into the elevator, putting an extra swing in her step to remind me how every curve of her gorgeous body was wrapped in tight, black leather. She turned around and... and winked at me, just before the elevator doors closed.

Oh yeah. Definitely playful.

So.

After almost four years of getting into more scrapes than I care to remember, stumbling into life-threatening situations on a daily basis and actually getting spaced and resurrected... I finally got laid.

In the cargo hold.

On the floor.

And against a computer console.

And on top of some barrels.

And across the shuttle roof.

Go me.

She clung to me tightly after the fourth time. Somehow, through the hormones and the bliss, I sensed it wasn't an act of passion. As much as I'd like to think I was good, I somehow doubted I was that good. "Miranda?"

I felt her quiver, ever so slightly. Being the brilliant and sensitive soul that I am, it took me a minute to realize she was sobbing. "Miranda?" I repeated.

"I'm happy."

"I'm sorry?" I tried.

"This is what I was afraid of."

"I'm confused," I confessed.

"I didn't want to be happy. Because being happy meant being open to other things like loss and sorrow and heartbreak which is exactly what's going to happen on this mission." She looked up at me, tears welling up in her eyes. "It's a suicide mission which, by definition, means people are going to die. We could all die. Or worse, one of us will die and the other will live, all alone and lonely and miserable and I didn't want this. But now I have it. I'm happy. I'm happier than I've ever been, which means I could be miserable if things go horribly wrong and you die. I don't want to be miserable. I don't want you to die! So promise me, damn it! Promise me that you—"

"Miranda," I interrupted her very uncharacteristic and definitely panicked babble. "Miranda, look at me. Look at me." To my relief, she finally slowed her hyperventilating. "Don't freak out, okay?"

"Don't freak out?" Miranda repeated.

"Yeah. You think you're the only one who's worried? You're not. I wish I wasn't. I wish I could pretend this mission will be a snap. But it doesn't work that way. We could all be dead in the next few hours. Or maybe we'll all make it. Somehow.

"Look, I don't know what will happen next. But I'll tell you this much: I don't regret any of this. What happened between us, all the times we shared drinking tea and eating snacks while filling out reports, all the things we confided in each other, all that we just shared here in the cargo bay. I couldn't have imagined that any of this could happen, but I'm glad I did because I wanted this. All of this. Not just to vent some steam or score some bragging rights. I wanted this because, well, because it was with you. I'm going to do everything I can to get through this mission, come out the other side alive and intact, and see where this thing we have goes. Even if it's scarier than the prospect of going up against the Collectors. But if you don't think it's worth it, I und—"

She interrupted my babble with a kiss. Well, it was more than a kiss. What exactly, I'm still not sure. It was hot, wild, unrestrained. I think I felt goose bumps. Everything seemed to melt away into a milky haze, a haze that slowly started to darken...

Oh. Wait. That would indicate a lack of oxygen.

Silently cursing, I slowly pulled away. I think I heard a whimper peep out from Miranda, but I couldn't tell with all the panting. "No," she said softly, answering my earlier question once she'd caught her breath. "It is."

"Okay," I said. "Then I just need you to do one thing."

"Which is?"

"Trust me. Trust that I'll do everything in my power to complete this mission and return to you."

"Okay. And I'll do the same."

"Good."

"Good." (6)

We laid there on top of the shuttle for a couple minutes, just letting all of that sink in. After a while, she propped herself up on an elbow and looked at me. "Well, Shepard," Miranda said, a seductive smile spreading over her face—God, it looked good on her—"I think we need more data."

"More... data?" I repeated slowly.

"That was the best sex I have had in a very, very, very long time," she whispered, curling up against me. "Especially the last round. But I need to know they weren't random outliers. I think I need further... experimentation to broaden my data set."

I turned to look at her. "Let me get this straight: you want to have more sex? For science?"

"Precisely."

Clearly she had recovered from her bout of panic. I owed it to her to give a thoughtful and considered response.

"Against the nearest wall or on top of the Hammerhead?"

For the record, we wound up doing both. And a couple other options as well. Thank God for upgrades.

Afterwards, we headed back up. Miranda got off the elevator first to return to her office and finish some paperwork. I headed up to my quarters. Got some Coltrane belting out over the speakers while I fed my fish. I started to do a check on that last bug in my room—only to find out it had been deactivated. Remotely, from the office of a certain XO.

Well, that made what I wanted to do next a little bit easier. "EDI," I called out. "I need a real-time comm channel from my quarters to Captain Hannah Shepard of the SSV Orizaba. Full encryption with no eavesdropping—that includes anyone from Cerberus. Understood?"

"Encryption enabled. Sending signal. Connection established."

I was waiting for Mom's face to pop up on my computer monitor. To my surprise, a holographic screen flickered to life in front of all the model ships I've been collecting. Cool.

"Hi Mom," I greeted her with a smile.

"Hi!" she smiled back. "So did you talk to Miranda yet?"

Straight to business, my mom. "Yeah. We talked. Started holding work dates."

"Work dates?"

"Having snack and tea together while filing reports," I elaborated.

"How romantic," Mom said dubiously. She peered at me, probably trying to assess my mental state.

"Wait a minute..."

Or not.

"Did you... did you and Miranda... did you two, you know, get... do..."

Oh geez. Did we really have to have this conversation now? "Er, yes. Yes, we did. Better to do it while we still can, I guess."

Mom pounced on that last part. "'While we still can?' What's going on? What happened?"

I filled her in. She digested that in silence for a minute.

"Well," she said at last, "they're your crew. You have to get them back. I wish I could join you, Alliance regs be damned, but it would take at least a couple days to get there."

"I know," I winced. "I wish I could wait even a couple days. But I don't think we can afford the time. Besides, we're as ready as we'll ever be."

"Well... good luck."

"Thanks."

"I love you."

I didn't realize how much I'd missed those words until I heard them. "I love you too," I said through the lump in my throat.

Mom leaned back in her chair and gave me a smile. "Okay. Now that that's out of the way: when can I expect some grandchildren? I'm not getting any younger, you know."

"MOM!"

After talking to Mom, I put on my hardsuit. I had just put on my visor when EDI told me that I had a collect call from TIMmy.

Naturally, I took my sweet time finishing what I planned to do before popping into the comm room and letting TIMmy waste my time. Once I was done, I headed to the elevator. The song I'd uploaded was playing throughout the ship by the time I reached Deck 2:

"All our times have come.
Here but now they're gone.
Seasons don't fear the reaper,
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain... we can be like they are
Come on baby... don't fear the reaper.
Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper.
We'll be able to fly... don't fear the reaper.
Baby I'm your man..." (7)

TIMmy was waiting for me when I engaged the communications system. He had a cigarette in his hand—surprise, surprise. "Shepard," he greeted me, "I wish I had more information for you. I don't like you heading through that relay blind, but we don't have much choice."

For once, we were in agreement. Still, it wasn't all bad, as I kept trying to convince myself. "I'm not going alone; I've got some of the best working with me," I reminded him. "If we stick together, we'll make it."

"I knew we brought you back for a reason," TIMmy smiled. "I've never seen a better leader. Despite the danger, it's a great opportunity: the first human to take a ship through the Omega 4 relay... and survive."

I wanted to get my crew back with a minimum of casualties. TIMmy wanted to squeeze a footnote into the history books. Great sense of priorities. "I've got room on the Normandy if you're that eager to see it."

"It's a tempting offer. But it's not my place."

Uh huh.

"I just wanted you to know I appreciate the risk you're taking."

Aw, I felt the warm and fuzzies. I really did.

"Regardless of your opinion of Cerberus, of me, you are a valuable asset. To all of humanity."

I felt the warm and fuzzies suffer a quick death. (8)

"Be careful, Shepard."

I quickly said my goodbyes and cut the connection. As I left the comm room, I bumped into Kasumi. Tracing back her footsteps, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. "You just came from seeing Jacob."

"Yeah," Kasumi nodded. "Thanks for the advice, by the way. Talking to Jacob really helped calm my nerves."

"Glad I could help."

"So did you and Miranda have a good time?"

I came to a halt just before triggering the motion sensors that would open the door to the CIC. "What?"

"You? Miranda? The cargo hold? A good time?"

Aw, crap. "Kasumi..."

"Who do you think helped sweep the cargo hold for monitoring devices and made sure no one would disturb you?"

"Um..." As awkward as the revelation that someone else was in on my recent... extracurricular activities, I guess I did appreciate her making sure it was private. Well, as private as said extracurricular activities could possibly be. "...thanks?"

"You're welcome, Shep," Kasumi chirped.

We entered the CIC; me to head up to the cockpit, Kasumi to head down to Engineering, where she'd offered to help Tali out. Just as the elevator doors opened, she called out to me. "Hey, Shep?"

I turned back towards her. "Yeah?"

"I gotta know: just how genetically modified isMiranda? Because... wow."

The elevator doors closed before I could think of a reply.

While that last conversation with Kasumi had just become really awkward, I didn't dwell too much on it. We had just entered the Sahrabarik system and were en route to the Omega 4 relay.

Omega 4.

Symbolically, it wasn't very reassuring. Omega was the final letter in the Greek alphabet, and was associated with ending or death—even to this very day. The number 4 was also linked with bad luck, if not death, in Chinese, Taiwanese, Japanese, Korean and Vietnamese cultures. Put the two together, and you've got some really bad mojo.

As we got closer to the Omega 4 relay, and it grew larger and larger in our viewscreens, that foreboding only intensified. You see, most mass relays are composed of some kind of grey metal-like substance—scientists still didn't know what exactly it was after centuries of study—with a massive blue eezo core. Those relays have been around so long, the only feelings they might elicit are those of excitement or adventure. Sometimes comfort, the kind associated with going to your destination or returning home.

But the Omega 4 relay? Its hull was brown. Maybe bronze. It seemed to have a sickly hue, something that just felt wrong. And the eezo core? It was red. A harsh, sinister, ugly red that stabbed out into the dark void of space. (9)

I heard some footsteps behind me. Turning around, I saw Miranda. Her eyes shifted to the viewscreen and the Omega 4 relay. Judging by the look of apprehension on her face, I wasn't the only one who felt unsettled. When her gaze turned towards me, I let her see that I was also mildly freaked before giving her a reassuring nod. She gave me a slight smile and nodded back her thanks.

"Approaching Omega 4 relay," Joker announced. "Initiating transmission sequence. Everyone stand by."

Showtime. I gripped Joker's chair. Behind me, I glimpsed Miranda do the same with one of the other chairs.

"Reaper IFF activated," EDI said. "Signal acknowledged."

"Calculating transit mass and destination," Joker said. "Acquiring approach vector."

"Commander?" Jacob's voice called out over the comm. "It's Jacob. The drive core just lit up like a Christmas tree!"

"I'm detecting power spikes in every system," Kasumi confirmed.

A beeping sound and a growing tremor under our feet heralded EDI's warning. "Drive core electrical charge at critical levels."

"Rerouting!" Tali shouted.

"All stations secure for transit," Joker said tensely, as the Normandy tilted to port and entered her final approach vector. "Hitting the Omega 4 relay in 3... 2... 1..."

There was a flash of light as the Normandy accelerated into the mass-free corridor created by the Omega 4 relay. To my surprise, the corridor had the usual blue hue that accompanied transit through other mass relays. The journey itself seemed to last a bit longer than usual. I wasn't sure whether that was because of our destination or my nerves.

Before I knew it, though, we had reached our destination. "Brace for deceleration," EDI warned. With a flash, we dropped back into normal space. The bright blue lines whistling past us collapsed and disappeared, replaced by a stark bright light that was blocked by various large objects...

...like the huge looming hulk of debris that we were hurtling towards at near-relativistic speeds.

Aw, crap.

"Oh shit!" Joker exclaimed before frantically tapping at the controls. I stumbled a bit as the Normandy abruptly yanked up. We steadily rose up, passing and dodging a veritable cloud of large starship-sized objects. After what seemed like an eternity, I realized that we didn't seem to be dodging around nearly as many objects. In fact... yes! We had finally cleared the debris field.

Joker let out a sigh of relief. "Too close."

No kidding. Leaning over Joker's shoulder, I started a passive sensor sweep of the area. All of the debris we had just dodged was anything but uniform. Different sizes, different metallurgical compositions, different power signatures—those that still had power, anyway.

Whoa. "Is this what I think it is?" I asked aloud.

Joker looked at the sensor readings. His eyes widened. "These must be all the ships that tried to make it through the Omega 4 relay," he said in a hushed voice. Some look... ancient."

Miranda stepped up to take a look at the sensor readings herself. A raised eyebrow was the only concession she made, but I could tell she was shocked herself. The three of us stared out the viewscreens in silence, looking at the graveyard that we had just bumbled into. Human, batarian, turian, salarian, asari, krogan, elcor, hanar... this cemetery didn't discriminate at all. Guess there were a lot of people who wondered what was on the other side.

"I have detected an energy signature near the edge of the accretion disk of one of the black holes," EDI interrupted. A new sensor report popped up. "Has to be the Collector base," I declared, looking over EDI's findings. "Take us in for a closer look, Joker. Nice and easy."

We casually flew over the debris field towards the Collector base. Even from this distance, we could see it—a long cylindrical object looming in the midst of all the debris, with the black hole glaring like an ominous eye in the background. (10) Slowly, we crept closer, with only the gentle humming of the engines and the computers to keep us company—

—that and the alarms that were suddenly ringing.

"Careful, Jeff," EDI warned. "We have company."

About half a dozen bogies had suddenly appeared, closing in on us with alarming speed. They were incredibly small—if the sensors were right, they were maybe a third to half the size of the Hammerhead.

"Alert: power buildup detected from hostile targets. Unknown energy signature."

"What is it?" Miranda asked.

"Insufficient data. However, there is an 89% chance that it—"

The ship suddenly shook.

"—is some form of directed-energy beam weapon."

"Taking evasive manoeuvres," Joker said.

Most of the hostiles followed us as Joker desperately jinked port and starboard. Two of them, however, broke off. No doubt they were trying to head us off. I wasn't sure whether they were under remote control or had some preprogrammed flight software.

Whatever they had, it was damn effective. "Oh come on!" Joker burst out as he had to cancel yet another evasive pattern. "Now they're just pissing me off!"

I activated the intraship comm. "Garrus?"

"GARDIAN systems online. (11) Targets designated," Garrus replied.

"EDI—take these bastards out!" Joker yelled.

EDI promptly complied, shooting two of the hostiles out of the sky. Void. Whatever. Unfortunately, that still left four of them dogging our every move. Most of their shots missed, thanks to Joker and EDI. Unfortunately, they got a lucky shot every now and then. Miranda and I exchanged a look. "We'll be fine," I said.

"As long as the new plating holds," Miranda frowned. (12) I decided now wasn't the best time to mention she looked really cute when she did that.

The ship rocked again and again as the hostiles scored a couple more shots. "They want another round?" Joker scowled. Come on, girl, let's give it to them."

I wasn't sure whether he was talking to the Normandy or EDI. Before I could ask, Joker pulled the Normandy up. It didn't take long before I realized he was doing a looping maneuver to turn the Normandy around, probably so he could start an attack run. We arced up, reaching the zenith of the loop before flipping over and descending. To our surprise, one of the hostiles had pulled ahead of its buddies. Before anyone could react, it disappeared.

Then the ship shook.

"Alert. Hull breach on the engineering deck."

A hologram of the Normandy popped up, with a red reticule highlighting where the hull breach occurred. "It's in the cargo hold," Joker identified.

We couldn't afford to pull Garrus and Tali away from their duties right now, so Team Two couldn't deal with it. Not unless I sent it down short-staffed. Unfortunately, that only left one alternative. Well, two, but letting it run amok in my cargo hold didn't seem like a great idea. "Team One, meet me outside the cargo hold; we'll deal with the intruder. Joker, get the rest of them off our tail."

"Aye, aye, Commander."

The intruder turned out to be a large floating sphere. It was just hovering there when we burst in, guns firing. Once we realized how thick its armour plating was, we immediately fired off a volley of biotics and high-temperature plasma. In return, the sphere swiveled around. An iris situated right in its epicenter retracted.

The back of my neck tingled. "Everybody get down!" I yelled, quickly following my own advice. Just in time, too. A bright red beam lanced out from the drone, carving right through the wall.

"Preliminary analysis: enemy has stronger firepower and thus poses a greater threat than conventional hostiles," Legion announced. "Therefore, conventional tactics may have a lower probability of success. Heavier ordinance recommended."

"We'll see," I replied. "Everyone fire at will! Anyone who can deploy plasma or biotics; do that first."

The team looked at me skeptically, no doubt wondering why I didn't pull out the big guns, but complied. To everyone's surprise, including my own, we actually managed to deal quite a bit of damage. Between the seven of us, we managed to steadily chip away at the floating eyeball's armour. We'd reduced its armour to about two thirds effectiveness when it blasted another hole—I cringed—in the hull and flew out.

I opened a comm channel. "Joker: report."

"We're sitting ducks out here. I have to try to lose them in the debris field!"

"Our kinetic barriers are not designed to survive impact with debris that size, Jeff," EDI warned.

"Then I guess it's a good thing we upgraded," Joker replied. "We're going in."

We felt the effects almost immediately, as several impacts rang out, the thuds rippling underneath our feet. "Come on," Joker urged. "Find some room."

"Kinetic barriers at 40 percent," EDI reported.

"Recalibrating shield rotation frequencies to match the drones," Tali shouted.

"Reroute non-critical power!" Joker ordered. "This is gonna hurt!"

More impacts shook the Normandy. The team stumbled and fell, bouncing off the walls, crates and floor. I landed on my back. Looking up, I saw a particularly large barrel above me sway ominously. I held my breath…

"Kinetic barriers steady at 30 percent. No significant damage," EDI announced.

Things suddenly smoothed out and the barrel above my head stabilized. Guess we shook off all those eyeball drones—or they'd crashed trying to follow us. (13) We heard Joker let out a deep breath. "Take the helm, EDI. Keep it slow. See if we can avoid any more attention."

That peace and tranquility only lasted a couple seconds before EDI picked up something. "I have detected an enemy heading for the cargo hold."

"That thing again. Shepard, this one's up to you."

Naturally.

A loud explosion suddenly rang out. We ducked for cover as shrapnel flew everywhere. Looking up, I saw the floating eyeball swoop in again. To my dismay, it was back at full strength. To my further dismay, that was the third goddamn hole it had made!

"Hey!" I yelled, flinging some plasma at it. "Stop tearing up my ship!"

The rest of the team followed my cue and unleashed a barrage of ammo, biotics and plasma. The eyeball responded with a withering glare. And by that, I mean a large beam of scarlet energy that chewed its way through six or seven crates, leaving behind a deep score that meandered from the floor to the walls.

Miranda pulled me down before it could decapitate me, but not before the beam grazed my shields and drained them by half. "Shepard, we need heavy weapons to take it down!"

I checked my HUD. The armour protecting that eyeball was only down to 75% or so. As much as I hated to admit it, Miranda was right. Good ol' fashioned gunfire, plasma and biotics could whittle it down to size, but that might take a while. Plus, it increased the chances that the eyeball might take one of us down with it. Before I could say anything, though, the lights dimmed.

Looking up, I realized the lights hadn't dimmed. The eyeball had just decided to fly directly over us, flanking our position and negating our cover. "Scatter!" I yelled.

We all bolted, splitting up in twos and threes. "If anyone can do so without exposing themselves, lay down some cover fire!" I ordered, pulling out my grenade launcher as I ran. As the team fired off another round, I took advantage of the distraction to line up a shot and pull the trigger. One, two, three grenades sailed through the air and exploded right on target. The eyeball speeded away through one of the Normandy's holes, but not before I hit it with a couple more grenades. To my satisfaction, my last sensor reading of that thing, before it flew out of sight, indicated its armour had been reduced to 49% effectiveness.

Time for me to restock. I'd squirreled away a few caches of power cells here and there; souvenirs of all those missions I'd reluctantly blundered into. Running out to the nearest cache, I grabbed three power cells and loaded them into my grenade launcher. The next one, unfortunately, was on the other side of the cargo hold. I was about halfway there when Thane shouted out: "It's back!"

If I needed a hint to what 'it' was, the tingling at the back of my neck, the impact of the beam as it chewed up the rest of my shields and the sharp pain as it started cooking me inside my hardsuit clued me in. I was actually starting to get dizzy for a moment when the beam abruptly shut off.

I hightailed it to the next cache to grab some more power cells—and some medi-gel from a nearby med-station for good measure—while the team hit it with bullets, tricks and foul language. Guess the barrage of gunfire distracted that thing from finishing me off. Running back towards the squad, I paid the eyeball back for all the damage it had done with a dose of plasma and a couple grenades. Skidding to a halt at the next cache, I scooped up the power cells and kept on going, loading them on the run.

Hiding behind a crate, I stopped to check my HUD. The eyeball blew my hiding spot to pieces and damaged my shields, but not before I could tell that its armour had been reduced to about 5%. A hail of gunfire sent it fleeing away once more.

"The enemy is heavily damaged. We are on the verge of vanquishing it once and for all," Samara declared.

"When it comes back, keep it busy, but try not to destroy it!" I ordered.

"Shep, now's really not the time to add that thing to your collection," Kasumi scolded.

"I'm more worried about something that can carve through starship-grade armour blowing up in the cargo hold," I replied. "While we're inside."

The squad looked at each other and winced. Even Grunt didn't seem to relish the thought of a fiery death, probably because it would mean he wouldn't get to face any more battles against the Collectors. For once, he seemed to be learning. I felt so proud.

"Shepard!" Miranda warned.

The eyeball was back. Following my orders, the team opened fire, but without nearly as much fervor as before. Bit by bit, we chipped away at the eyeball's armour. But it was still there, floating around, trying to rain fire on us. Literally at times, as it kept trying to hover over teammates, forcing them to sprint for a fresh piece of cover. Why wouldn't it go away? It was damaged enough. I just needed it to fly away. I heard a cry of pain—Thane, I think—and gritted my teeth. Just a little bit longer…

At last, the eyeball flew towards one of the holes. My finger tightened on the grenade launcher.

Then it turned back and fired another sizzling beam at us. "Oh come on!" I cried out. "Just go already!"

To my surprise, the eyeball stopped firing. It paused for a moment, then started to drop out of sight. Whirling around, I lobbed a grenade after it. Then I held my breath. If I had timed things right…

A bright flash of light streamed through the hole, seconds before the ship shook. It had worked: thanks to some careful timing, my grenade had blown up the eyeball—outside the ship.

"I imagine it'll stay dead this time," Miranda said dryly.

"Yes, I imagine that too," I replied.

"Now that you're done making a mess of the cargo hold, you better get back up here, Commander," Joker called out. Guess he and EDI had been watching the whole thing through the vid-cams. "We're about to clear the debris field."

"Be right there, Joker." Looking around, I saw that the team—even Thane—was okay. "Everyone, return to your posts."

The Normandy was navigating through the last bits of the debris field as Miranda and I got out of the elevator. By the time we reached the cockpit, Joker was in the process of guiding her between two particularly large derelict vessels.

"There it is," Miranda said softly. "The Collector base."

A bit obvious, but understandable given how we were finally setting eyes on the home base that we'd been preparing for almost a year to hit. And boy was it a big one: roughly as large as the space station that the geth heretics had been camping in, only much more cylindrical. That isn't to say it was a perfectly uniform. The surface was dotted with protrusions, large cylindrical rings, and a myriad of twinkling lights. The bottom had mud-like, bumpy plates that looked a bit organic. In short: a hybrid fusion of technological and organic. Just like the Collectors. Heck, now that I had the opportunity to take a good look at it, it looked like a giant version of the Collector ship that we'd faced three times now.

"See if you can find a place to land without drawing attention," I said.

Joker started to nod before he glanced at the sensor display. "Too late. Looks like they're sending out an old friend to greet us."

I accessed one of the exterior vid-cams on a separate monitor and zoomed in using the sensor feeds. A long metallic cylinder was slowly extending out of the Collector base. Spires and braces, bracketing a concentric ring at one end. As it continued to protrude outwards, we saw large mud-like, bumpy plates overlap the metal plates like a coat of hardened resin over an exoskeleton.

It was the Collector ship. The one that blew up the original Normandy and killed twenty-one men and women—twenty-two if you include me—without suffering so much as a scratch. The one that had been abducting colonists left, right and centre while everyone else was helpless—or too apathetic—to intervene. The one that had been supposedly disabled and almost blew us up when TIMmy sent us in poking around. This time, we couldn't drive it away or run away. This time, we had to stay and fight.

The Collector ship finally cleared its moorings, like an egg being laid by a giant techno-organic queen. A Slowly, inexorably, it turned around to face us, like Goliath facing David. A menacing, yellow light burned from its organic bow as it turned, growing and pulsing in intensity. With a flare of the engines, the ship slowly moved towards us. The yellow fire dimmed briefly before spitting out, crackling across the void. Joker's fingers were already flying as he coaxed the Normandy to dip just underneath the Collector ship's beam.

A cold smile spread over my face. "Time to show our new teeth," I declared. "Fire the main guns."

The status display next to me showed the cannon bay doors opening up along the keel of the Normandy, allowing the twin Thanix cannons to extend into position. A couple seconds later, twin beams of blinding blue brilliance lanced out, piercing the oppressive void. Surprisingly, we didn't feel any of the recoil that you'd typically experience when firing such a powerful weapon. That left us with nothing to do but hold our breath as the superheated molten metal flew towards the Collector ship, hit it...

...tore right through the ship's carapace-like armour and caused at least one or two fiery explosions! A chorus of whoops and cheers rang throughout the cockpit. The invincible leviathan that had been dogging our steps for almost three years was finally wounded! "How do you like that, you sons-of-bitches?" Joker crowed, pumping the air with his fists.

"Get in close and finish them off!" I cried, the taste of first blood still fresh in my mouth.

"Everybody hold on," Joker howled. "It's gonna be a wild ride!"

The Normandy swept towards the Collector ship, dancing back and forth. Again and again, it fired at us, sending energy beams sweeping through space. Shuttles and frigates were reduced to molten scrap in its attempt to lock onto us. But every time, it was just a couple seconds too late.

Darting around yet another energy beam, Joker set the Normandy on an attack run. "Give 'em hell, girl!" he yelled, slamming the console. The Thanix cannons took a couple seconds to charge up before firing another two shots. Once again, they illuminated the harsh light as they seared through the empty space, hit the Collector ship, burrowed right through it—and out the other side! Joker altered the Normandy's vector ever-so-slightly, causing the Thanix cannons to move along the Collector ship, slicing through it like a hot knife through butter. Explosion after explosion rippled along its hull in quick succession.

"Look out!" Miranda shouted. The Normandy was now within spitting distance of the Collector ship, which was quickly dying a fiery death. Joker banked the Normandy to starboard to get her away from the Collector ship before it blew. A second later, a pair of nova-like eruptions spilled out as the entire Collector ship exploded into smithereens. The energy waves from those explosions washed over us, rocking the Normandy.

A blinking light—and a loud alarm—drew my attention to one of the monitors. "Miranda, what's that?"

"Shepard, do you see that?" Miranda asked at the same time.

"Is that the readout from the mass effect field generators?"

"It does look like—" Miranda started.

"Did that explosion just knock out the mass effect field generators?" I asked.

The ship shook. We turned and looked out the viewscreen, which was rapidly being filled up by the Collector base as we approached it at terminal velocity. Way too fast for any kind of docking or landing. "Looks like," Miranda said in dismay.

"I thought they couldn't be disabled that easily," I insisted as Joker tried to slow us down with the emergency thrusters. They didn't make any appreciable difference.

"They can't. Well, they shouldn't," Miranda frowned. "I have a very good memory for that sort of—"

"Yeah, well," Joker interrupted, "if EDI can't get the mass effect generators back online to control our velocity, this landing is gonna get pretty interesting."

"Define 'interesting'," I requested.

"Oh god, oh god, we're all gonna die?"

With a certain numbness and detachment, I reached over and activated the intraship comm. "This is Shepard. We have a little problem with our approach sequence, so we may experience some slight turbulence and then... explode. Joker," I asked after turning the comm off, "can you shave our vector?"

"I'm doing that!" Joker snapped. "It's not enough!"

"Well, just get us onto the station," I said.

"That part'll happen pretty—"

His words cut off as the Normandy hit the Collector base at full speed.

(1): It's ironic that Shepard would not take his own advice.

(2): One of those matters involved apologizing to Joker for being unnecessarily critical of Joker's actions while the squad was away, an act that may have resulted from Shepard's influence. The other matter would be revealed later on.

(3): It is rare that a commanding officer would ask his subordinates such questions, for fear of adversely affecting the overall morale of the crew. The fact that Shepard was willing to offer such a rare and vulnerable glimpse into his concerns, albeit with a select number of people, shows the level of trust he had in his crew.

(4): A common symptom accompanying an allergic reaction, one that many species encounter.

(5): Despite their origins and original motivations, Shepard held the same loyalty to the people he worked with that he inspired in them.

(6): This open and honest exchange between Shepard and Lawson is particularly notable for how rare it was—for both of them.

(7): (Don't Fear) the Reaper, released by the Blue Oyster Cult in 1976. Readers may recall that Shepard also played this song on his journey to Ilos during his first mission as a Spectre.

(8): Shepard's opinions aside, the Illusive Man was right on one point: Shepard was a great representative and advocate of the best humanity had to offer.

(9): Some speculate that the Omega 4 relay was created or installed in place after the rest of the mass relay network, citing factors such as the unique colours Shepard observed.

(10): Normally, Shepard would not be able to visually see the black hole, as it would absorb all frequencies in the electromagnetic spectrum, including the visual spectra. What Shepard describes is the result of computer-assisted imagery.

(11): An acronym for General ARea Defence Integration Anti-spacecraft Network, a computer-controlled system of anti-missile and anti-fighter laser turrets placed on the exterior hull of ships for point defence. The tendency of laser fire to diffract or spread out causes the energy density to dissipate. Furthermore, as the GARDIAN lasers continue to fire, heat will build up, forcing the lasers to pause for longer and longer intervals as the heat is transferred to sinks or radiators. As a result, the GARDIAN system is best suited for short-range, short-term defence.

(12): The intensity and power of energy weapons is typically strong enough to penetrate kinetic barriers. As mentioned earlier, such an advantage is overshadowed by the dissipation and heat buildup issues associated with such weapons.

(13): Shepard would later designate these drones as 'Oculus drones' in his official report.