"He's doing what?!" Miranda shouted over the open comm link.

A few heads in the Normandy's CIC turned, startled by the XO's sudden flare of temper, but then quickly swung back toward their screens.

"That's what he said, Major," Cortez said. "Shepard's team is just emerging from the tunnels now and are prepping their final advance to the Shroud facility. Sounds like he's committed."

Lieutenant Cortez was transmitting from the Normandy's Dragonfly assault drop ship, orbiting some five thousand feet above Tuchanka's surface, serving as overwatch for the ground team tasked with delivering the cure materials to the Shroud as they navigated the planet's devastated landscape. Having split off from the primary krogan convoy, Shepard and his squad had been lost for an agonizing seventeen and a half minutes after they'd descended below ground, tracking through a system of ancient catacombs. They'd finally emerged, unscathed, reestablishing line-of-sight contact with the Dragonfly which promptly relayed to the Normandy Shepard's revised plan to break through to the Shroud tower.

Miranda had become well accustomed to Shepard's tendency toward extreme risk-taking, but what Cortez had described to her seemed like utter lunacy.

"What in the hell is a Kalros?" Kahlee Sanders said from her position near the primary CIC operations station. With Shepard leading the ground team, the Commander had stepped in to help fill the leadership void on board the Normandy. Miranda was grateful for it. She'd proven invaluable as they struggled to manage the complex battle unfolding within the krogan home system.

"A krogan legend," Miranda said quietly, still looking stunned. "They call it 'the mother from which all other thresher maws spawn.'"

"The krogan are saying the thing's for real, ma'am," Cortez said over a crackling comm link. "And Shepard seems to think it's their best option. That destroyer is still loitering too close to the tower to risk an orbital strike and the turian fighters are having zero success drawing it away."

Miranda pursed her lips. "Do what you can to cover them, Lieutenant," she said, tapping out a rapid text command to Joker at the helm. "We're altering orbit to maintain our vantage point and will be standing by to provide artillery support should it come to that."

"Roger that, Normandy. Viking Six-One out."

Miranda was still shaking her head as the comm channel dropped, appalled after learning how Shepard planned on drawing the Reaper destroyer far enough away to allow Mordin's team a path to the Shroud. But it was beyond her control, much to her frustration. Garrus, Liara, Wrex, Mordin and the Normandy's entire complement of Marines—even the additional soldiers who had transferred over from the Jon Grissom—were all on the ground with the Captain. Meanwhile, she was thousands of kilometers away, powerless to steer him toward a more reasonable course of action. She tried to push the image of Shepard jogging amongst giants, diving for cover amidst an onslaught of Reaper energy weapons, and refocused on the situation in orbit and the elements of the mission she could affect.

Up to this point, their ambitious plan was going as well as they could have hoped.

As designed, the Jon Grissom had charged into the system ahead of the Normandy, barreling headlong toward the Reaper fleet parked in orbit over Tuchanka. Navarro hadn't been stingy with her ship's vast arsenal, ordering enough missile and heavy Thanix gunfire expended to reduce a small moon to slag. Though primarily focused on attracting the attention of the capital ships, the dreadnought had incinerated two of the massive troop transports before she continued to accelerate around Tuchanka, using the planet's gravity to assist in catapulting her back toward the hydrogen-helium gas giant, Ruam, where the rest of the task force was lying in wait near the small CDEM refueling station.

All three of the Reaper capital ships had taken the bait, breaking orbit with impossible speed and immediately giving chase. As Shepard and Navarro had gambled, one of the Alliance's most advanced warships was a prize they appeared incapable of resisting. The Grissom then dutifully led her pursuers away from the krogan homeworld, barely managing to stay ahead of the faster enemy ships as she led them toward the ambush.

After a pursuit that had lasted the better part of an hour, the hidden Alliance and turian ships fell upon the Reapers with brutal, drilled precision. The three heavy battlecruisers the Hierarchy had sent, equipped with the latest Thanix variant long guns, focused their collective arsenals on the leading capital ship, smashing its barriers and stripping away its outer layers of armor. The Tomahawks of the massive supercarrier, Pegasus, finished the job, accelerating in close to the stricken vessel and deploying a fusillade of experimental, Harpoon-class pulse torpedoes.

When Traynor relayed the news that one of the Reaper capital ships had been destroyed, a wave of cheers had rang out within the Normandy's CIC. But that initial euphoria was fleeting.

The remaining two enemy dreadnoughts responded tenfold to the surprise attack, laying waste to half the Alliance starfighters in a matter of seconds. One of the turian cruisers was gone a few moments later, gutted from stem to stern by the enemy's devastatingly powerful main guns. The Ticonderoga was vaporized soon after and the Buenos Aires was adrift and venting atmosphere while the Grissom struggled to get between the Alliance cruiser and the Reapers.

Miranda's eyes briefly flicked over to the long-range tactical display where the engagement taking place farther out in the system was being depicted in dispassionate blues and reds. Hundreds—probably thousands—of lives were being lost out there. But she couldn't afford to expend more than a moment of her attention on the distant battle. Shepard and Mordin were in the midst of the final push toward the mission's objective. Her sole purpose was to provide support for them. If they failed, the sacrifices being made by the Alliance and turian navies would be for nothing.

The four remaining Reaper troop transports were still in orbit over the planet, a few thousand kilometers from the Normandy's position. But with the capital ships gone and their troops already disembarked, the massive hulks appeared dormant and seemingly incapable of independent movement. Miranda noted the apparent drone-like nature of the ships, but didn't allow it to distract her from the task at hand. Instead, she instructed EDI to capture extensive scans of the ships for later study.

"Major, we're receiving a priority fire mission from the surface," Traynor said from her post at Comm Ops. "It's Grunt's pathfinder unit, ma'am. They report they have the Reaper destroyer in Bravo quadrant locked-up and are transmitting targeting data."

Miranda grinned. Not long after Shepard's team had joined the huge mixed krogan-turian-human task force that assembled at the Hollows, she'd learned that Grunt was among Wrex's Special Forces tasked with carrying the orbital strike targeting gear. Their former, tank-born squadmate was leading an elite group of soldiers known as Aralakh Company and his commandoes were an obvious choice for the insanely dangerous assignment of stalking the Reaper destroyers that were prowling the planet's surface.

"Somebody please make a note to tell Garrus he's won the wager; Grunt's team is first to tag a destroyer." She glanced at where Ensign Riley sat at his post across the CIC. "Tactical! Confirm valid targeting solutions and standby the prearranged ordnance package."

"Aye, ma'am! Targeting solutions confirmed, firing package queued and hot."

"EDI, assume helm and weapons control, maneuver us into position and fire when ready."

"Acknowledged, Major," EDI said through the CIC speakers. "Eight seconds until optimal firing attitude."

Miranda placed her hands on the command holo table dais and glanced up at the mission clock, silently counting off the seconds. During their journey to Tuchanka, she, Garrus, Chief Adams and EDI had spent hours calibrating and testing the Thanix gun system and optimizing the Javelin disruptor torpedoes for use as orbit-to-surface weapons. The simulation models had been encouraging, but these were weapon systems designed for space combat. There was no way to know for sure how effective they'd be under these conditions.

"Engaging," EDI said with her typical detached calm.

The Normandy shuddered with the force of the Thanix array, a distinct pulse and thrum that Miranda remembered well from their battle with the massive Collector ship they'd met beyond the Omega 4 Relay. The much gentler vibrations from the Javelin launchers were all but lost amid the firing of the big guns. She still visualized the eight torpedoes accelerating away from the ship, hurtling toward their target thousands of kilometers below.

The idea was to use the Thanix guns to overwhelm the Reaper's barriers and effectively punch a hole in its local shielding, much like the turian ships had been successful in doing with the capital ship farther out in space. The Javelins would strike a fraction of second later, exploiting the enemy's comprised defenses and, hopefully, finish the job.

The dense cloud cover shrouding Tuchanka's southern hemisphere obscured the imagery from the Normandy's super high-res optical array, which was trained directly on the target's coordinates. But the enormous bloom of radiating heat depicted through the thermal overlay was enough for the CIC staff to see they'd hit the mark. The crew held their collective breath, waiting for confirmation from the ground.

"Aralakh team reports direct hit!" Traynor shouted excitedly a few seconds later. "Target is down!"

Another cheer erupted in the CIC, some of the crew members pumping their fists and clapping their hands. Miranda let out a breath and met Kahlee's gaze, exchanging a quick, satisfied nod with the other Alliance officer.

"Grunt is requesting a second volley to finish the Reaper off, Major," Traynor said.

"By all means," Miranda said. "Weapons free, Riley. Fire at will."

"Yes, ma'am," the young ensign said, grinning as he punched out the commands. "Firing!"

The Normandy shivered again as another barrage from the Thanix cannons was let loose, a half dozen rounds striking the crippled Reaper in rapid succession. When the ship's guns fell silent a few moments later, crews below deck immediately rushed to recharge the depleted capacitors and ready the other weapons systems for their next target.

"Aralakh team reports target destroyed. They're moving out and advancing toward the next closest destroyer."

"Understood. Monitor that channel closely, Specialist. I have a feeling that's not the last juicy target Grunt's team will find for us."

"Miranda, we're getting an urgent transmission from the Jon Grissom," Oriana called out from the secondary Comm Station. With Traynor helping to coordinate the complex mission on the surface, Miranda had tasked her sister with monitoring the communications originating from Navarro's fleet as well as traffic between the Normandy and the turian stealth assault carrier, Posnian, orbiting nearby. "They report one of the Reapers has broken free from the engagement and is turning back toward the planet. The Grissom and one of the remaining turian cruisers are in pursuit, but they can't match its speed."

"EDI, time to intercept?"

"The inbound Reaper has already accelerated to one third the speed of light, Major Lawson. At its projected maximum velocity, I estimate it will attain weapons range within twenty-three minutes, seventeen seconds."

"Oriana, tell the Posnian to prepare to clear out and divert to the first fallback position. There's nothing they can do against that monster. They'll have to try and recover their fighters after this is over."

"Understood," Oriana said, giving a curt nod. "Transmitting now."

Kahlee sidled up the Miranda. "We're in a tough spot here, Lawson," she said. "If that Reaper gets to within striking distance of the Shroud facility before the cure is sufficiently dispersed, this entire mission has all been for nothing."

"I know. But we can't leave the ground team without fire support from orbit. Those destroyers can just as easily take out Shepard and Mordin if our people are left vulnerable. Besides, we're completely outmatched by that Reaper capital ship. This may be one of the most advanced ships in the Alliance fleet, but she's still just a frigate. We have no chance of slowing that Reaper down. We'll just have to hope that our people can get the cure into the atmosphere before its arrival can make a difference."

"There's another option I'm compelled to remind you of."

"What?" Miranda said. "Turn and run?"

"Not so much run as get out of the way," Kahlee said. "You said it yourself. We can't do a damn thing against that Reaper on our own."

Miranda stared back at her silently. Sanders was no coward. She was merely being pragmatic, gauging the situation with the same logical, dispassionate clarity Miranda typically employed.

She glanced over to where Oriana sat, speaking into her comm unit. She pictured Shepard and Liara and Garrus advancing across the ruined surface of Tuchanka. And she refused to spend even a moment considering the prudence of moving the Normandy to a safer distance.

"Ma'am!" Riley called over in alarm. "The destroyer in Alpha sector is lifting off and heading toward the Captain's position. Looks like it's moving to reinforce the heavy already camped out at the Shroud. It's just over seven hundred klicks out and accelerating, going ballistic."

"Turian air assets are trying to slow it down, but they report their weapons are ineffective," Traynor said.

"EDI, put that destroyer up on the big board," Miranda said, glancing up at the large holographic tactical map projected above the central command table. The Reaper's trajectory and projected touchdown coordinates appeared a moment later. She swore under her breath, recognizing how little time they had to act.

"Oriana, tell the Grissom that it is imperative they find a way to delay that capital ship," Miranda said and keyed the intercom. "Riley, launch the surveillance drones and park them in high orbit. Bridge, CIC. Moreau, we have a stray to chase down. Take us into the atmosphere and plot an intercept course."

"Copy that, Miranda," Joker said. "You folks are going to want to hang on back there. It's going to get a little bumpy."

"Drones away!"

Kahlee turned and began barking orders. Traynor keyed the 1MC and piped her voice through the entirety of the ship. "All hands, all hands, secure for combat descent. Say again, brace for extreme atmospheric entry and combat operations."

Two rapid blasts of the alert claxon rang out in the CIC and the rumble seats quickly emerged from their recessed bays beneath the deck plates. The crew standing around their terminals at the central dais immediately stepped back into their chairs and secured their combat restraints, moving with well-drilled speed and efficiency.

Miranda threw herself into her own seat, pulling the harness over her shoulders—somewhat awkwardly with one arm still partially immobilized in its sling. She snapped the buckles across her chest and cinched the belt tight around her waist.

The Normandy was already beginning to shake violently, pushing the mass effect field's inertial dampening capabilities to the limit as Joker sent the ship into a steep dive, accelerating into the planet's thick upper atmosphere. He then shifted the big frigate's trajectory, sending them hurtling toward the enemy vessel.

"Status on the Thanix battery?" Miranda said through gritted teeth, struggling to sound commanding as rising g-forces squeezed the air from her lungs.

"Seventy-eight percent, Major," Riley croaked. "The Capacitors are still recharging."

"That'll have to do. Get a lock and ready the HVMs."

"Aye, aye! Target acquired. Solid lock."

Miranda looked up at the display mounted above her head where imagery from the ship's forward facing optics was being projected. The scene was obscured by the thick cloud layer they were traveling through and the red hot flames licking off the Normandy's nose as she pierced the atmosphere at hypersonic speed. A second later, the screen cleared as the ship dropped beneath the clouds and the fiery bloom that preceded the ship dissipated. The Reaper was directly ahead and beneath them, little more than thirty kilometers away, its appendages tucked behind its superstructure like some massive, horrific insect.

"Fire!" Miranda shouted. "Fire everything!"

The ship shivered and complained again as the twin barrels of the Thanix main gun array spat out their deadly payload. Simultaneously, the hyper velocity Harpoon missiles ripple-fired from the retractable launch tubes slung under the hull, streaking ahead of the frigate, tracking the enemy ship.

Firing the enormously powerful weapons within the atmosphere generated a rapid series of thunderous sonic booms that could be heard even through the Normandy's thick hull plating and layers of acoustic insulation. Miranda could feel the vibrations rattle through her chest, adding to the general cacophony of noise and tension in the CIC.

Sensing the attack, the destroyer pitched hard to right, narrowly avoiding the first two shots from the Thanix cannons. But the range was much too close for it to fully evade the Normandy's fire. All eight of the Haroon missiles adjusted course, tracking the target as it dropped into a steeper dive and slammed into the Reaper's hull with devastating force.

The Reaper was briefly engulfed in an enormous fireball that washed out the forward viewer. Then its crippled form emerged, tumbling awkwardly toward the ground and trailing fiery debris.

To his credit, Riley didn't need encouragement to press the advantage. He tapped out another command on his tactical board, firing several more volleys from the Thanix guns while Joker kept the ship lined up with the target, peppering the Reaper until it broke apart into two massive pieces and continued plummeting toward the surface.

Miranda was about to praise the ensign when a series of violent jolts rocked the ship, throwing her hard against her restraints. "What was that that?!"

"We're taking fire!" Riley called out. "Multiple impacts to the forward hull!"

Miranda's eyes shot back up to the optical feed, recognizing the muzzle flashes of unseen gun emplacements mounted upon the destroyer's hull. The Reaper was firing at them even as it tumbled away, making one last desperate protest amid its death throws. She tilted her head to key the intercom to the bridge, but Joker was already peeling off and taking evasive action.

"Moreau, get us clear, level us off and reestablish position above Shepard's location," she said. "Damage report!"

"Hull breaches confirmed on deck five," EDI reported and then paused. "Ballistics appear to have been troop deployment pods. We have been boarded. Weapons fire detected in the Shuttle Bay. Multiple hostile troops confirmed active."

"Secure all emergency blast doors," Miranda said, unbuckling her harness and straining to push up from her seat. "We can't let them get beyond that deck."

She made to hit the intercom on reflex but stopped herself. Damn it. The Marines are all on the surface.

Turning on her heel, she rushed through the doors of the Captain's Ready Room and quickly found the M-22 combat shotgun she knew Shepard kept it in a locker at the back of the compartment. She seized the weapon, tucking it under her good arm, then snatched up a handful of thermal clips before reaching under the desk and pulling free the Carnifex Hand Cannon mounted underneath it. Securing the pistol's holster to her belt, she sprinted back out through the hatchway and toward the lift, nearly colliding with Oriana.

"What are you doing?" Miranda demanded.

"What do you think? I'm going down there with you."

"Absolutely not. Remain at your post, Oriana."

"We don't have time to argue about this," Oriana said irritably, seizing the Carnifex from the holster on Miranda's hip. With one quick, smooth motion, she yanked back on the action, checking the pistol's loadout, and then struck the panel for the elevator. "The Marines are all on the ground. It's just us."

Miranda stared back at her sister for half a heartbeat and then glanced at Kahlee. "Sanders, you're in charge. Keep us close to Shepard's team. If you get a clean shot at that destroyer near the Shroud, take it."

"Understood. Be careful down there."

Miranda returned a curt nod and quickly followed Oriana into the waiting elevator.

"Here," Miranda said, pushing the shotgun into Oriana's hands. She dipped her head and pulled the sling's strap over her head, dropping it to the floor. She took the Eviscerator back from her sister, passed over half the thermal clips, and thrust the rest into the pocket on her thigh.

Miranda and Oriana exchanged a look, brought their weapons up to the ready position, muzzles aimed toward the exit just before the doors parted and revealed the chaos unfolding within the shuttle bay.

Energy beams from half a dozen Reaper weapons laced across the flight deck, crackling loudly in the confined space. A noxious chemical smoke hung in the air and the acrid smell of burning electronics was mixed with the unmistakable stench of charred human flesh. Primary lighting had failed, plunging much of the deck into a gloomy haze as the emergency lamps cast eerie shades of yellow and red across the length of the flight deck. Somewhere off to the left, an unseen crewmen's high-pitched wail pierced the steady noise of weapons fire and blaring alarms.

Farther up the deck, Miranda could see three ragged holes where the Reaper troop pods had punched through the Normandy's forward ramp. They'd pierced the hull at a steep angle, somehow decelerating fast enough to avoid sailing clean through the other side of the ship. Shimmering light from the force fields that had sealed the breaches was clearly visible through the darkness.

More weapons fire sent Miranda to the floor, yanking Oriana down with her. Mass accelerated rounds zipped over their heads, peppering the back wall of the elevator, raining a shower of sparks and poly-metallic shards onto their backs.

Miranda winced against the pain that shot up through her still-healing arm and looked up to see a Reaper trooper advancing directly toward them, continuing to fire his assault rifle as he approached. Her mind was still processing the image of the turian-hybrid soldier when her finger pulled back on her shotgun's trigger. Her first shot clipped her enemy on the shoulder, mid-stride, and exploded against his local barrier, spinning him halfway around. Her next two rounds missed as her target tumbled and rolled away, moving with startling agility.

Miranda and Oriana jumped back to their feet a second later, dashing forward and ducking low before diving behind the cover of the Armory consoles and workbenches.

Miranda landed with a thud, feeling another wave of pain radiate up through her arm as it struck the side of the unyielding wall. She clenched her teeth, silently cursing the injury, and then spotted movement to her right.

Across the way, Chief Sun was crouched low behind where Kodiak Two was slung under its docking rails. Three other crewmen were huddled nearby, protected by nothing more than their utility overalls and the equipment they were shielding behind. The diminutive flight chief was wielding a massive wrench in one hand. A dozen meters forward of their position, two hulking Reaper Cannibals stalked toward them, their heavy weapons keeping the vulnerable crewmen pinned down as they closed the distance.

"Ori!" Miranda shouted, rising to one knee and swinging the M-22 over top of the console, training the muzzle in the Reapers' direction. She felt Oriana's hand on her shoulder, signaling she was with her.

Miranda's first shot hit the leading cannibal in the leg, sending it plowing into the deck awkwardly. She emptied the remaining rounds of her clip into the flailing beast as it struggled to get up, severing its gun arm and reducing its head into a mound of grayish blood and gore. Next to her, Oriana was firing the Carnifex with a steady and precise rhythm, knocking the trailing Reaper back several paces. It raised an arm, trying to shield itself from the impacts of the massively overpowered handgun, and then collapsed to the deck. The younger Lawson finished it off with a final shot to the head.

"Chief!" Miranda hollered, ejecting the spent thermal clip and seizing another two from her pocket. "Come to us. We'll cover you."

Sun glanced over and gave a curt nod. Miranda reached back and handed one of the clips into Oriana's waiting hand and then slapped home the other into her Eviscerator, charging the powerful weapon with a rapid pump action.

The chief and flight crew hurried across the deck toward them, crouched low as more energy beams sizzled over their heads. Miranda and Oriana swung their weapons around again, targeting two more Reapers moving toward their location, laying down covering fire while half-ducking behind the Armory consoles.

The Marauder she'd hit earlier then suddenly jumped back into Miranda's field of vision, moving forward in a series of rapid staccato movements, sending a hail of superheated rounds from its assault rifle in their direction. She scowled at the unnatural thing, aimed and fired, striking it squarely in the chest. The powerful slug halted the Reaper in its tracks. She followed with another round that struck its gun arm, sending his weapon sailing farther down the deck. Two final shots dropped him entirely.

Miranda felt Sun and the others arrive behind them as she kept her eyes focused downrange, swapping out another spent thermal clip. "Get your people out of here, chief," she said, her voice raised over the din of gunfire. "Stay low, get back into the lift and up to Medical. We'll lay down suppressing fire."

"I still have people trapped down here, Major," Sun said, her voice taut with concern.

Miranda could see two bodies on the ground a few dozen meters away, burned and ravaged by Reaper energy weapons, still smoldering and barely recognizable as human beings. A quick count in her head told her there were at least six or seven flight deck crewmen unaccounted for. "I know," she said, briefly flicking her eyes back to meet the other woman's pleading gaze. "We'll find them. Go. Now!"

Sun didn't hesitate, turning and seizing the uniform lapel of her closest man, pulling the group back toward the elevator. Miranda watched them go, scanning their route for any other hidden enemies, and then turned her attention back toward the opposite end of the deck.

Beside her, Oriana was still busy laying down fire with the Carnifex, popping her head up from cover in rapid motions, minimizing her profile like Thane had taught her. Her aim hadn't quite reached expert status, but she still managed to drop another of the swift moving turian creatures from over fifteen meters out.

Miranda's lip curled into a feral snarl, half in hatred for the enemy they were fighting, half in pride for her sister's capability. She tucked the Eviscerator's stubby collapsible stock in tight against her shoulder, aimed at another Reaper soldier moving through the smoke, and greeted it with a barrage of heavy disruptor rounds.

More movement to her left drew her gaze before she had a chance to finish off her target. The Cannibal looked massive as it swung around a support column just a few meters away, raising its gun arm toward her and Oriana's position, flanking them.

Miranda pushed back from the console she'd been crouched behind, turning to face the Reaper. She dropped the shotgun and threw her hands forward, summoning a protective biotic barrier that formed a half arc around her and her sister a fraction of a second before the Cannibal fired.

Rapid-fire plasma rounds struck the barrier with a thunderclap. Boom, boom, boom.

Miranda dropped to one knee and staggered halfway back into Oriana's side, wincing against the impacts, struggling to maintain the barrier around them.

Oriana grunted, briefly stunned, but maintained her balance. She turned her pistol on the Cannibal and emptied the final few rounds of her clip into its center mass. Dropping the spent weapon, she quickly scooped up the shotgun from where Miranda had abandoned it, raising it toward the Reaper.

The Reaper's fire was relentless. Miranda let out a primal cry in protest, energy surging through her body and heat radiating from her pores. Oriana returned fire—once, twice, three times—stripping away large swaths of the Cannibal's heavily armored hide. Another two shots finally sent the beast to the ground, just a few feet from them. It opened its huge mouth and howled before she finally silenced it with two more rounds to the head.

Miranda slumped, dropping the barrier and heaving long, ragged gasps. Her uniform was soaked with sweat and she had to fight back a sudden wave of nausea.

But there was no time to recover from her effort or properly cool down. Another group of enemy soldiers were pressing in on them, advancing from their three o'clock, rapidly closing the distance.

Oriana reached down, looping one slim arm under Miranda's armpit as she held the shotgun with a one-handed grip, pulling her sister off the deck. They stumbled a few steps forward, fleeing from the enemy pressing in on their heels, and dove behind a pallet of deployment crates. They fell in a heap upon each other before quickly throwing their backs against the side of the hardened containers. Superheated rounds thumped against the opposite side, rattling their teeth.

"We're almost out, Oriana said, breathless, glancing at the shotgun still clutched in her right hand. "But I think I get to the gun racks." She nodded her head across the way. "You can cover me with your biotics."

Miranda followed her sister's gaze to where one of the primary small arms lockers was mounted against the opposite bulkhead. It was close, just a half dozen meters away, but the gap she'd have to cross was unprotected. She shook her head. "No way," she said. "It's too exposed and I don't have the energy to get you there safely. I'll go."

Oriana shot her a look. "Are you nuts? You can't make it that far on your own and there's not enough ammo left in this thing for me to cover you." She scowled with youthful determination and then flinched as another volley impacted the side of the crate near her ear. "We'll go together. One of us should be able to get there."

Miranda was about to say something else when yet another rapid flash of movement off to their right distracted her. She turned her head halfway around, tracking the new arrival, and opened her mouth in shock. "What in the bloody hell…"

The Cerberus android—previously known as the human woman, Doctor Eva Coré—was racing across the length of the flight deck, moving with inhuman speed toward the hostile forces closing in on Miranda and Oriana's position.

Miranda watched as the android tore into the group of Reapers, ripping the assault rifle from a Marauder with one hand before striking him in the sternum with the palm of the other. He flew backward and struck the opposite bulkhead with bone-crushing force, leaving no doubt that its spine had been snapped. It slumped to the floor and didn't move again.

Coré then leveled her newly acquired weapon on the remaining two Reapers, raking them with automatic fire, cutting them down with precise, controlled bursts.

A fourth Marauder wielding some sort of stun stick leapt out at her from behind a piece of heavy machinery. The android gracefully sidestepped the attack, shifted her grip on her weapon, and swept her opponent's legs out from under him with a quick swing of the rifle's stock. She then dropped a knee onto its chest, pinning him, and drove the muzzle of her weapon directly through his skull. The Marauder spasmed violently and then fell still.

Miranda was momentarily transfixed. She glanced at Oriana, whose small mouth was agape, equally mesmerized by the unexpected turn of events. They watched together as the android remained in place for another moment, crouched atop the Marauder's body, surveying the area around her. She met Miranda's gaze for a quick moment, locking eyes with her, and then leapt back up, yanking the assault rifle from the Marauder's skull and sprinted in the opposite direction to meet a pair of Husks that had just appeared from around the front of Kodiak Two.

"Come on!" Miranda yelled, snapping out of her trance and pushing herself up off the ground. She dashed over to the Armory locker, Oriana fast on her heels. More automatic fire rang out behind them. They hit the lockers simultaneously, jerking a pair of Avenger assault rifles from the racks, slapping home thermal clips in quick succession and spinning back around to face the remaining Reaper boarders.

There weren't that many left.

Across the deck, the Cerberus android had already dealt with the first of the two Husks, its grayish body slumped on the deck plating, riddled with smoking holes. She had the other Husk around its throat. It struggled against her powerful grip, clawing at her face. The android then shifted one hand along the creature's head, jerking it to the side violently, snapping its neck. She held it for another heartbeat and then threw the lifeless thing to the floor.

The Lawsons found one final Reaper soldier still active—another hulking Cannibal that came thundering forward out of the gloom of the forward flight deck section. Miranda and Oriana turned as one, each dropping to one knee, leveled their Avengers on their target and fired. The shots echoed harshly across the enclosed flight deck, nearly a hundred rounds biting into the Reaper's armored flesh in less than two seconds. It lurched forward, still trying to reach the woman, but then finally gave a guttural cry and collapsed in a tangle of mutilated limbs upon the deck.

Exhaling, Miranda and Oriana quickly surveyed their surroundings, sweeping the muzzles of their rifles in a wide arc, surveying the carnage of the flight deck and searching for the next threat. But there was none.

The bodies of more than a dozen Reaper soldiers littered the area as well as three crewmen they could immediately see. Miranda knew more of the Normandy's crew were likely lying dead or wounded somewhere else on the deck, hidden by the smoke and darkness. A small electrical fire was burning at the opposite side of the compartment, near the Marine staging area. She could hear the steadily increasing hum of the ship's ventilation system as fans struggled to clear the deck of the noxious smoke and chemicals. The unseen man who had been screaming in agony when they'd arrived had fallen silent.

"I think we're clear," Oriana ventured in a hushed voice.

"Confirmed," EDI's voice boomed over the loudspeakers. "All hostiles have been neutralized, Major Lawson. Area is secure."

EDI's all-clear announcement prompted a pair of Flight Ops crewmen to emerge from their hiding place. They looked stunned by the sudden violence that had consumed their deck but then training seemed to take over and they rushed over to pull emergency suppressors from a nearby wall panel, moving to extinguish the nearby electrical fire.

Farther behind them, Miranda heard the whoosh of the elevator doors opening. She glanced over to see Chief Sun and Doctor Chakwas step out of the lift and begin cautiously advancing toward where she and Oriana were standing.

"Wait!" Miranda commanded, extending an open hand toward the women. They froze in-place, crouching down slightly.

Miranda ejected the depleted thermal clip from her assault rifle and rapidly slapped home a fresh cartridge. She raised the weapon immediately, her sights set on the Cerberus android still standing a short distance away, near the two defeated Husks, leaning over to recover the Marauder's stolen weapon.

Miranda moved forward cautiously, the Avenger's targeting VI locked on the android's head. Oriana was following her lead, shadowing her sister's every move.

"Drop the weapon," Miranda called out, halting her advance a few meters from Coré.

The android complied instantly, slowly leaning over and carefully setting the weapon back down upon the scorched deck plates. She then straightened up and turned to face Miranda more squarely.

Miranda tensed, her finger brushing the trigger of her assault rifle. But her scientific curiosity was also in play as she observed the cyborg with interest.

As was the case a few weeks prior when Shepard had opened the hardened security crate to show the Cerberus creation to Dr. Brynn Cole, the android's synthetic skin was fully regenerated after the fiery incident on Mars, leaving no obvious indication of the advanced alloy frame hidden beneath. In fact, the state of its artificial tissue looked even more refined now, flawless, human. Its shoulder-length blonde hair was tucked behind petite ears and probing, inquisitive brown eyes stared back at her.

More unsettling, now that Coré was standing directly before Miranda, reanimated from its dormant state, she was struck by how similar the android's figure was to her own body. It was as if the Illusive Man had modeled the android after her, all except the unique, angular features of its attractive face. The realization sent a chill down her spine.

But while the android's skin and hair were seemingly renewed, the same could not be said about her clothing. What was left of the shredded and charred outfit was doing a poor job of maintaining the creature's modesty, revealing more of her artificial skin than it was covering.

There were ragged strips of material missing from all over the bodysuit, ripped and burned away after she was captured by Shepard and Vega on Mars. The entire right sleeve was gone and a long ribbon of cloth was hanging loose from the front of her shoulder, revealing the top of her right breast.

When Coré opened her mouth and spoke, Miranda nearly gasped.

"It's alright, Miss Lawson," she said. "I have assumed absolute control over this platform."

"EDI?" she said, lowering the muzzle of her rifle a fraction but still keeping the weapon trained squarely in the android's direction.

"Affirmative, Miss Lawson," the Android said, "I observed the situation was critical and made the decision to reactivate this synthetic body and take control over its core systems. Unfortunately, the embedded AI resisted and it took some time to overcome the integrated security protocols. Otherwise, I may have been able to assume control more quickly, perhaps saving additional lives." EDI gestured toward the dead crewmen contorted on the deck. "The delay was regrettable."

Miranda was scrutinizing the android—EDI—with a wary expression, aware that her heartrate was still elevated. She glanced to her left and quickly met Oriana's gaze, a mixture of fear and excitement visible in her sister's eyes.

"Randa," Oriana said in a hoarse voice, "if she wanted to kill us, I think she'd already have made her move."

Miranda returned her full attention to the android, narrowing her gaze, still suspicious. "Are you absolutely certain you have full control over the body, EDI?"

"Yes, Miss Lawson. I have purged all elements of the Cerberus-programmed Eva Coré persona and reformatted the cyber-neural pathways with my own modified code base. I have also rewritten the firmware of both the primary and secondary transmitter and the QEC link has been severed locally. There is no way for the Illusive Man to reacquire control over this body or exploit its processing instructions in any way."

"So… What, you're not in the ship anymore?" Oriana said.

"No. All of my essential systems are still housed within the Normandy's AI Core and remain fully integrated throughout the ship. I've merely exploited this cybernetic body remotely in order to more directly affect its physical surroundings."

"Like a drone."

"Not exactly, but similar in concept, yes."

Miranda was finally beginning to relax a fraction. She lowered her rifle, cradling it in her arms, and then nodded over her shoulder to Chakwas and Sun, signaling it was safe to proceed. "EDI, you mentioned you were able to circumvent the android's security systems. Do you have access to all the data it extracted from the Mars Archives? Is it intact?"

"Affirmative, Miss Lawson. Unlike the partially fragmented data sets we acquired on Mars, this unit's archive is complete and uncorrupted. I have already broken the encryption protocols and have full access."

"Commander Williams managed to interrupt the transmission of that data from Mars to the Illusive Man. Can you determine how much Cerberus acquired?"

"Internal logs indicate the data broadcast was severed after approximately fifty-seven point eight percent of the Prothean archive had been transferred to Cerberus Command."

Miranda nodded. That was good. The Illusive Man wasn't working with a complete library.

Nearby, Doctor Chakwas was attending to some of the wounded crewmen who'd managed to stay down and out of sight while Miranda, Oriana and EDI were dealing with the boarders. Chief Sun was busy calling down a relief crew while she rushed about, checking damaged equipment. Oriana wandered a few steps away, moving closer to the body of the last Reaper Cannibal she and Miranda had killed.

She bent down slightly, taking a closer look at the thing, her face contorted with disgust as she surveyed its corrupted flesh and cybernetic augmentations. Thick, noxious fluid was leaking out of the dozens of bullet holes she and Miranda had riddled it with, pooling onto the deck. "Oh my god, I think I'm going to lose my lunch," she said, grimacing. "These things are revolting. And that smell!"

Miranda joined her near the Reaper corpse. Oriana was right: The creature was truly repulsive, even more so than the bizarre, mutated creatures she'd come face to face with on board the Collector base.

As a scientist and trained medical technician, she could easily recognize the utility of the batarian-human amalgamation. The Reapers' creation resulted in a powerful, resilient front-line soldier. But she also understood this gruesome abomination was equally meant to instill crippling fear in its enemies. It was a walking atrocity. A monster of nightmarish proportions.

She'd always known how dangerous this enemy was, but it wasn't until that very moment that she truly appreciated the profound evil the Reapers represented. An involuntary shudder ran through her body and she pulled Oriana up and away from the corpse.

Farther down the deck, a handful of surviving Flight Ops crewmen were cautiously approaching one of the expended troop capsules, inspecting the still-smoking, seedpod-like delivery vehicle. "Keep away from that thing," Miranda shouted over to them. "No one touches it without full biohazard gear. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" one of them shouted back and the group backpedaling cautiously.

"We'll handle it, XO," Chief Sun said, jogging over to collect her people.

"Doctor," Miranda said, glancing at Chakwas. "Let's be discreet about EDI's newly acquired form. Once you've attended to the wounded, would you please take her back up to Medical? And let's get her some new attire."

"Of course, Miranda. I'll see to it."

Miranda nodded to the woman and then turned back to Oriana. "Come on. We need to get back up to the CIC."

"Report!" Miranda said, striding out of the lift, Oriana at her side.

The Normandy had leveled off after its aggressive maneuvers and was now cruising above the planet at a standard inclination. The CIC staff had all resumed their stations around the command dais, the retractable seats having receded back beneath the floor.

Kahlee turned toward her, looking slightly pale. "You need to see this for yourself," she said and gestured at Traynor. "Specialist, roll back the footage and send it to the primary display."

"Aye, ma'am."

Miranda shot Sanders a questioning look and stepped closer to the command dais, her brow knitted, gazing up at the holo display.

The Normandy had assumed a tight orbit near the Shroud facility, well below the thick cloud layer that blanketed the lower stratosphere, allowing the ship's ultra-high definition optical array to easily capture a truly astonishing event.

Miranda watched the recording in silence, utterly captivated by it. Five seconds in; the rugged terrain around the Reaper destroyer shuddered visibly, announcing the arrival of something massive. Twelve seconds; the ancient thresher maw makes her first appearance, throwing herself toward the invader, stunning her adversary, and quickly disappears into the ground. Forty-eight seconds; Karlros bursts from the surface again, emerging from another angle, striking her prey with cataclysmic force, ensnaring it. Fifty-seven seconds; The titanic battle is at its end, two massive bodies slowly disappear under the ground, the maw's body coiled around the Reaper, dragging it down with her, crushing it amid a swirling cloud of smoke and debris.

One minute eight seconds; it's over. Nothing but the steadily climbing column of smoke and still-trembling Tuchanka soil is left. Miranda's mouth has gone dry, her heartbeat elevated once again.

She let out a long, slow breath. "I can't believe he pulled that off."

"These are some strange days we're living in," Kahlee said, shaking her head.

"Holy shit," Oriana whispered. "You're not kidding. I think I just peed a little bit."

Miranda quickly regained her composure and glanced in Oriana's direction. "Back to your post, Ori."

"Uh huh," Oriana nodded absentmindedly, still looking stunned, and slowly moved back to her post along the bulkhead and slid back into her chair.

"What's the situation on the ground now?" Miranda said.

"The surviving turian fighters and gunships are all converging on the last destroyer," Kahlee said. "Most of the krogan ground forces are closing in on it too, trying to overrun its position before it can plug the gap that thresher maw just created. Cortez is still on-station above Shepard's team. They're pressing forward and should reach the Shroud facility's perimeter within five minutes."

"The tower's still intact then?"

Kahlee nodded. "Spotters say it took some collateral damage during that brawl, but it still appears viable for our purposes."

"Very well," Miranda said. "Tactical, standby with our full ground-strike package and be prepared to fire upon that last destroyer should our pathfinders supply us with targeting data."

"Aye, ma'am," Riley said. "But Thanix cannons are offline. The Linkages took some damage when those boarding pods hit. Crews say they need forty-five minutes at least."

Damnit. "Fine. Javelins then. Prepare the Harpoon HVM batteries as well, anything we have left."

"Understood, Major."

"And the inbound Reaper capital ship?"

Kahlee grimaced. "Less than ten minutes from estimated maximum weapons distance. It's been steadily outpacing both the Grissom and the turian cruiser. They're not going to be able to stop it."

Miranda scowled. She didn't need to ask EDI to do the math for her. At the rate the Reaper was closing, there simply wasn't going to be enough time for Mordin to modify the Shroud's systems, prime the dispersion apparatus, and for the compound to sufficiently propagate throughout the atmosphere.

Had they come this far, sacrificed so much, only to see the tower blasted into oblivion mere minutes before they succeeded?

"Uh, Major," Traynor said cautiously. "The turian battlecruiser just jumped to FTL."

"What?" Miranda said. "Are they mad, jumping this deep in the system?"

Kahlee met Miranda's gaze. "Are they trying to get ahead of the Reaper?"

"I don't think so, ma'am," Riley said. "Trajectory's all wrong." He paused. "Hold on. I'm reading some escape pod signatures left at their jump point… Oh God."

Miranda's mind connected the pieces at nearly the same instant the visual feeds from the Hawkeyes they'd left in orbit were washed out in a flash of blinding white light, briefly overwhelming the drones' optical filters. Several million kilometers farther out in the system, a tiny supernova ignited where the Reaper had been a nanosecond before, lighting up the blackness of space.

Several crewmembers gasped at the moment of impact, but most remained quiet, glued to their consoles, focused.

Miranda simply closed her eyes and said a silent thank you to the turians who'd just saved the mission from disaster.

"Inbound Reaper capital ship has been completely destroyed," EDI confirmed a moment later. "The turian cruiser achieved an approximate velocity of two-point-four c prior to impact. Both vessels appear to have been vaporized. Data is still coming in from the drones."

Miranda swallowed and nodded her head. "How many escape pods do you read, Riley?"

"Radiation from the explosion is screwing with the drones' sensors, but I didn't see a lot before the impact, Major. Maybe a quarter of their complement at best."

"They must have disabled the safeties," Joker said over the intercom, his tone reverent. "It was a helluva shot. Brave sons of bitches."

"Grissom is transmitting new data and status," Traynor said, listening to comm bud in her ear. "They're confirming the turian suicide attack and advising that they're turning back to rejoin the rest of the fleet still engaged with the last Reaper capital ship."

"Understood," Miranda said. "We'll honor the turians' sacrifice when this is over. Stay focused on your stations, people. We're not done yet."

But there was little left for the Normandy to do but sit and watch as the rest of the mission played out.

The krogan forces that had surrounded the last Reaper destroyer on the planet's surface adamantly refused fire support from the Alliance frigate. Instead, Wrex and his other commanders on the ground had taken it as a matter of pride to finish the thing off on their own terms, defiant in the face of an enemy that had dared touch down on Tuchanka's soil.

Miranda understood the importance of that particular act of defiance and its significance to krogan morale so she didn't press the issue. But their stubbornness had been costly, resulting in far more casualties than what would have been the case had the Normandy been cleared to intervene. But the overwhelming numbers of Wrex's soldiers and armor ultimately succeeded in bringing the isolated Reaper down, signaling the closing phase of the bloody ground campaign.

A few remaining pockets of Reaper ground units remained entrenched near the Shroud but were too few and too isolated to slow Shepard's team down. With precision fire support from the Dragonfly, his team and the Marines quickly punched through to the tower, delivering Mordin and the critical biological materials needed to end the Genophage on Tuchanka.

Maintaining their position high overhead, Miranda, Kahlee and the rest of the assembled crew in the CIC watched the final minutes of mission unfold through the Normandy's optical feeds. Every moment captured in vivid, dramatic detail.

"Scans indicate severe issues with the tower's structural integrity, Miss Lawson," EDI announced over the CIC speakers. "Catastrophic failure is imminent."

"Will it hold long enough, EDI?"

"I believe so. But it will be close."

"Major, Captain Shepard reports he and Doctor Solus are entering the tower," Traynor said. "Mission is still a go."

Miranda felt her gut clench and she gave a curt nod in the Specialist's direction. Minutes passed, her heart hammering in her chest while her eyes flicked back and forth between the mission clock and the video feed. She watched as the Normandy's biological scanners registered the start of the cure's dispersal and then, after what seemed like an eternity, as Shepard emerged from the base of the tower, his armored form clearly visible as he trotted away from the Shroud. Mordin wasn't with him.

"Minimum level of particulate saturation attained," EDI announced a short while later. "Dispersal of compound within tolerable parameters. Mission accomplished."

A cheer went up in the CIC around her, but Miranda only tightened her grip on the dais railing. Mordin still hadn't come out.

When the tower began to visibly shudder and break apart, the CIC fell silent once again, every eye drawn to the image of the Shroud's slow, thunderous collapse.

"Shepard and the Normandy's squads confirmed clear of the collapse radius, ma'am," Traynor said softly. "They're okay. One individual confirmed inside when the tower fell—"

"Yes," Miranda said, swallowing down on the lump in her throat. "I know. Mordin."

It was always going to be you, wasn't it?

SSV Normandy, docked at Yazora Space Station, Tuchanka geosynchronous orbit

Shepard stood before the Normandy's memorial wall on the Crew Deck, head bowed, staring down at the laser engraved plaque he held in his hands.

The first five names he'd affixed there were Normandy crewmen he'd barely known: Lyman, Audley, Babbit, Drewry, Foster. It didn't matter. They were his people and their losses stung all the same.

The name emblazed upon the smooth surface of the last plaque cut closer to the bone.

Mordin Solus.

The wall was one of the more thoughtful touches the Alliance Navy had managed during the ship's retrofit over Earth. Admiral Anderson's idea, no doubt. It kept a record for every crewman who'd lost their life high above Alchera, when the Collector vessel had ambushed the original SR-1 Normandy.

After Shepard had retaken command of the SR-2, he'd seen to it that the names of the Cerberus crew who'd died while serving on board this new Normandy were added to the memorial, honored just as prominently as the Alliance men and women.

Patel, Hadley, Gardner, and nearly a dozen others who'd died either at the hands of the Collectors or who had been executed later by the rogue SAIS. It was a growing list.

He drew in a long breath, composing his thoughts, and stepped forward to affix the newest addition to the wall, placing it directly below the nameplate for Kelly Chambers.

No one had vocally questioned his decision to include Kelly among the names of their other fallen comrades, but he knew there were some who doubted her place among them. But Shepard never hesitated or regretted the choice.

He had no illusions about her role in the Normandy's capture after Bahak. After all, it was the sabotage she'd facilitated that crippled his ship, allowed the SAIS operatives to board her, and, ultimately, led to the deaths of nearly a quarter of the Cerberus crewmen. It was treachery that had led to his own capture and torture. To Miranda's.

But she'd merely been a tool. An unwilling instrument, compromised by a level of cruelty he still had trouble processing. Her death—her voice—still haunted him.

I'm so sorry, Shepard.

No, the blame for what had happened to his ship and his crew wasn't with Kelly. It was his alone to bear.

He'd failed her. He'd allowed the Illusive Man to use her just as he had used countless others to advance his morally corrupt agenda.

Now, with more of his crew dead and another friend lost, he was left to wonder if he might have been able to prevent Mordin's death as well. If he'd better understood the extent of the STG's sabotage of the Shroud. If he'd been faster to find a solution to getting past the Reaper forces encamped on Tuchanka.

Uncertainty crept in like a disease. He had to let it go and keep moving forward.

Kaiden.

He tore his gaze away from Kelly's name before the doubt and rage consumed him. Slow. Easy. Keep moving forward.

He turned to face the people that had gathered around the Crew Deck landing. His senior staff were all there, along with Captain Navarro, the commanders of the other surviving Alliance ships, Kahlee, Wrex, Grunt, Oriana, Allers, and a half dozen others who'd participated in the mission. Eve had even made the shuttle trip back up to join the group in honoring and remembering the salarian who'd ultimately been responsible for ending the Genophage.

He said a few words about his friendship with the brilliant, eccentric salarian and about the sacrifice he'd made for them all. It wasn't nearly enough to convey the measure of loss this victory had demanded of them, but it would have to do. He knew there would be others.

He stepped back among the group assembled there, turned to face the wall again and offered a solemn salute to his fallen friend and squadmate. Miranda and the others joined him in the gesture and then she found his hand, squeezing it tightly.

After the modest ceremony concluded, everyone filed into the Port Observation lounge, eager to celebrate a beloved friend and enjoy a short respite from the harrowing events of the past week. It was just over twenty hours since the Genophage cure had been successfully dispersed and the ferocity of the Battle for Tuchanka was still etched deep within their minds.

Almost instantly after the Shroud tower fell, the last surviving Reaper capital ship had withdrawn, jumping clear of the Alliance and turian starships still struggling to pacify it. It seemed that after the battle had been decided on Tuchanka it had seen little value in continuing the fight. Perhaps it was also concerned with the drastic tactic the turian cruiser had employed in order to destroy another of its kind. The commanders who'd survived the engagement could only guess, analyze the data their sensors had gathered, and be grateful for the turn of events.

Back on Tuchanka, krogan armies aided by what was left of the turian close-air support fighters managed to pacify the last remnants of the Reaper ground forces entrenched on the planet within a matter of hours. With the capital ships neutralized and their orbital support gone, the effectiveness of the enemy troops waned dramatically. Their behavior became significantly less coordinated as large concentrations of Cannibals, Husks, and Marauders devolved into fragmented groups, seemingly incapable of sophisticated tactics. It was another interesting development to observe and for the analysts to pour over in the weeks to come.

Now, more Alliance and Hierarchy vessels were already beginning to stream into the Aralakh system, converging on the site of the first victory of note achieved against the Reapers. Most were older cargo freighters that were being hastily converted to troop transports in advance of what was sure to be an airlift of massive scale. Wrex was delivering on his promise with forty thousand krogan warriors armed and ready for immediate deployment. Once the logistics were worked out, at least another two hundred thousand soldiers would be earmarked for what the new coalition hoped would be a potent counterattack force aimed at relieving the pressure on Palaven.

Older frigates, destroyers and even a few FTL-capable patrollers were also beginning show up over the krogan homeworld, one or two arriving every hour or so, assembling for the escort duties they'd be tasked with. It was a motley collection of ships, most well past their intended service lifespans. A few had even been hastily reactivated from mothball status, thrust into a conflict they were ill-equipped for. But there was little choice. With so much of the Alliance and turian fleets already shattered by the Reapers, and with the vast majority of the asari and salarian forces still sitting on the sidelines, there was precious few resources available to devote to safeguarding the convoys of krogan soldiers.

Admiral Lindholm's depleted First Fleet was also due to arrive within the day. She'd been assigned the critical duty of protecting the newfound alliance's best source of manpower and establishing whatever defenses she could manage in the Aralakh system. They may have won the first Battle for Tuchanka, but the Reapers were sure to come back, likely in much greater numbers. It was simply a matter of time.

The Normandy was currently docked at Yazora Station, one of the few space stations left intact and operational in orbit above Tuchanka. Built by the salarians nearly two centuries ago, it was designed as a waystation for the multi-species observers tasked with monitoring the krogan's compliance with the multitude of sanctions the Council had leveled against them over the years. A small team of Alliance engineers were already at work along the hardened outer hull, attempting to expand the station's capacity and prepare it to service what promised to be a steady procession of ships moving in and out of the system.

The Normandy's Port Lounge was crowded with guests following the memorial ceremony. As was expected of her, Miranda circulated among the other Alliance officers who'd made the trip over. Outwardly, she acted the part of a seasoned Executive Officer, effortlessly adapting to the Navy's standards of decorum. Inwardly, she was annoyed to find herself wearing another ill-fitting uniform borrowed from Ashley Williams' locker.

Tailored for the Lieutenant Commander's straighter lines and narrower hips, the Dress Blues jacket was uncomfortably snug around her chest and the long back kept threatening to creep up her behind. She hadn't even bothered with the trousers, opting to match the formal blouse and coat with a black skirt of her own. It ended only slightly higher above the knees than what was technically Alliance regulation. She finished the outfit with a pair of designer heels she'd purchased on Noveria, which in no way whatsoever adhered to the Navy's uniform guidelines. There were only so many compromises she was willing to make.

She spotted Navarro and navigated her way over, pulling at the ends of her coat as she moved. They spoke at length about the battle, logistical strategies, and what would come next. Miranda found she and the senior captain were rapidly developing a natural rapport to go along with a mutual respect. It was yet another reminder of how drastically her life had changed in such a short time. Little more than a year ago she might have been tasked with discrediting a promising leader like Adrianna Navarro, or, more likely, recruiting her to Cerberus.

A short while later, Navarro excused herself, returning to the Grissom. The rest of the Alliance captains along and the krogan followed suit, leaving only the Normandy's people in the lounge. Miranda mingled a while more, nursing a glass of wine, speaking briefly with Garrus, Liara and Cortez, talking a bit longer with Doctor Chakwas, but all the while feeling distracted by the previous day's events.

The new development with EDI and the autonomous android chassis had left her feeling unsettled. It was yet another unpredictable variable in a world increasing filled with chaotic elements. She tried to brush the nagging concerns aside and enjoy the rare opportunity to unwind but remaining idle was never one of her strengths.

Eyeing Shepard from across the room, she gave a gentle squeeze of Karin's arm, saying goodnight and crossing over to where he was seated on a sofa, holding a glass of beer in one hand. Lieutenant Vega and Private Westmoreland were gathered nearby, listening as their captain recounted the story of the Cerberus-funded mission that had brought him to Omega, where he'd first met their salarian scientist friend.

Joining them, Miranda nodded to the Marines and took a seat on the sofa, crossing her legs. She happily accepted a second glass of wine from a passing yeoman and nestled her body in closer to Shepard's, smiling as he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

In recent days, it had become painfully obvious to both Miranda and Shepard that their relationship was old news aboard the Normandy. And though she was still committed to being discreet about it while people like Navarro were around, neither of them saw much use in feigning distance in a casual atmosphere like the lounge, surrounded by friends and trusted colleagues.

She sipped her wine, content to listen quietly as Shepard spun the tale of their adventures on that godforsaken space station, remembering every detail in her own mind's eye. It seemed like ages ago. She rested her head on Shepard's shoulder and allowed her mind to wander.

Oriana plopped down in the chair opposite them a few minutes later, clutching a brightly colored drink in one hand. "Hey guys," she said. Her cheeks were flush and her eyes unfocused.

Still technically a civilian despite her apprentice status in the CIC, Oriana was without any sort of formal navy uniform. Instead, she wore a stylish, slim-fitting hip-length jacket over a white blouse paired with long slacks and heels. It was the outfit Miranda had purchased for her when they were last on Noveria together. The elegant clothes suited her well, helping to project a more mature, sophisticated image. It did not, however, conceal the fact that she was quite drunk at the moment.

Miranda lifted her head off of Shepard's shoulder and gave her sister a look, raising an eyebrow. "How many of those have you had, Oriana?" she asked, nodding at the drink.

Oriana looked down at her glass with uncertainty. "Mmm… Dunno. A few." She glanced at Vega, nibbling on her lip and squinting her eyes. "What did you call this again, Lieutenant Vega? A Thessian Eclipse?"

"Sí, Amiga. You know your cocktails, Socks," Vega said, flashing a roguish grin that quickly withered on his lips once he saw the daggers Miranda was assaulting him with. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Uh, yeah, anyway… Come on, Westy. How 'bout I buy you another beer."

Westmoreland gave a smirk to her squad leader, shaking her head. But she was a smart soldier and knew when it was time to make an orderly retreat. "Sure thing, LT. Sir, ma'am," she said, nodding in turn to Shepard and Miranda, following the rapidly withdrawing Vega over to the bar.

Miranda watched the big Marine cross the room, scowling, before fixing Oriana with a stern look. "You do remember you have first shift at Comm Ops in morning, right? We may be docked in friendly space but that doesn't mean you get to call off work with a hangover."

"I haven't forgotten, Mir-an-da," Oriana said deliberately, trying to match her sister's disapproving stare before the attempt devolved into a fit of giggles.

Miranda sighed, straightening in her seat, making to get up and save her sister from what promised to be a miserable morning when Gabriella Daniels appeared, glass of water in hand.

"Here kid, I'll trade you," Gabby said, taking the cocktail from Oriana's hand, exchanging it for the water. "In fact, why don't we go get you a snack before you hit the rack for the night. Maybe some crackers or a few slices of bread? A detox supplement seems in order too."

Oriana rolled her head limply to one side and looked up at the engineer. "That sounds nice," she said, taking Gabby's hand and allowing herself to be pulled up from the chair. "Bye, RANDA. Shepard."

Miranda gave the engineer a grateful look and mouthed the words "Thank you." She leaned back into the sofa, turning to Shepard. "Socks?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah. Apparently Vega found her raiding the kitchen a few nights back. She was sliding across the deck plates in her socks." He shrugged. "He's not that clever."

"His pedestrian wit isn't what concerns me, Shepard."

"I know you're not a fan, Miranda, but James is harmless. He's well aware of the boundaries when it comes to Oriana."

Miranda made a noise, unconvinced. But she was also immediately aware of the paradoxical overprotectiveness she applied to her younger sister. She'd somehow grown comfortable with the idea of Oriana wading into a firefight next to her but still fretted like a nun over who she might choose to fool around with.

It was absurd, she knew. But it was also a deep-seeded instinct, a reflex born from a lifetime of vigilantly watching over her sister from a far. It was a mentality that was tough to shake. She was also keenly aware that her frequently domineering approach had more than a little to do with the awkwardness she'd felt and the mistakes she'd made when she was Oriana's age.

She'd have to work on that, she decided. It wasn't fair to project her own hang-ups on her sister. And she'd certainly earned the right to let her hair down from time to time. Oriana would need freedom to grow into the mature, strong woman Miranda knew she was already becoming. Perhaps that was another reason to step away from the Normandy for a while.

The sound of laughter drew her attention to another corner of the lounge. Garrus had joined Joker, Liara and Chakwas and was busy retelling another story about Mordin, some event involving Jack and Legion she hadn't been aware of. She smiled thinly, her thoughts returning to the salarian she'd formed such a strong bond of trust with.

Damnit, I'm going to miss you, Mordin.

She put her glass down, placed her hand on Shepard's chest, and kissed his lips softly before resting her head back down on his shoulder. "We've really lost one of our own," she said softly. "Family. Before yesterday, I don't think I quite appreciated how much it hurts."

He ran his hand through her hair and kissed her forehead, but said nothing. He didn't need to. Miranda knew this was a difficult blow for him. He'd formed a close relationships with most of the band of misfits Miranda and the Illusive Man had steered him toward, few more so than Mordin Solus.

She inhaled sharply and quickly wiped away a stray tear, turning her gaze to the large viewing portal across the room. It offered a dramatic view of Tuchanka and dozens of Alliance and turian warships beginning to gather in orbit. The Jon Grissom was visible some distance off, its enormous bulk dwarfing a nearby cruiser and frigate. Even from this distance, Miranda could see the terrible beating the ship had taken during the battle with the Reaper ships, its armored hull badly scarred with multiple breaches in need of patching.

"It's a tough ship," Shepard said, following her gaze.

She smirked. "Yes, almost as tough as her captain."

He nodded. "No argument there. I don't know how we could have managed this without Navarro and her ships. She mentioned her promotion and medal ceremony tomorrow?"

"Complained about it is more like it," Miranda said. "I've learned she's not one interested in that sort of frivolous attention. Certainly not at a time like this."

"Oh believe me, I know. I let her vent to me about it before the memorial. But Command is determined to exploit some positive news for a change, so they're not giving her any choice in the matter. Which is also why they've got someone as high profile as Admiral Lindholm presiding over the whole thing. A turian commodore's due to make a speech too, do a little PR reinforcing the importance of the new alliance we've cemented here." He took a sip of his beer. "Bottom line, the Alliance needs a morale boost. And between getting that refugee fleet out of Sol and everything she did to secure krogan support here, Navarro deserves the recognition."

"You secured krogan support, John," she said irritably. "And Mordin. You ought to be getting your own bloody medal after what you did, luring a giant thresher maw to a Reaper destroyer for God's sake. It was absurd." She glared up at him. "I'm still furious with you over that, by the way."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "You said it yourself, I'm a polarizing figure. Too many people still associate me with Cerberus. After Mars and the trouble the Illusive Man is stirring up on Omega and along the frontier, the Admiralty is skittish of putting me out there like they did after the Battle of the Citadel. Which is perfectly fine by me. We don't need the distraction." He shrugged. "Besides, I'll get my fifteen minutes whether I like it or not. Allers is hell-bent on publishing the footage she captured on Tuchanka."

Miranda's expression darkened. The war correspondent, Diana Allers, had been embedded with Shepard's team during the final push toward the Shroud—another irritating reminder of how she ought to have been there with him. "You trust her then?"

"I'm not sure I entirely trust anyone other than you, Garrus and Joker. But I've dealt with reporters far worse. And she hasn't lied to me yet. She also followed orders like a pro dirt-side, not one protest and no hesitation. She can definitely handle herself in a warzone."

Miranda retrieved her glass from the table. "And I'm sure she looked marvelous while doing it."

Shepard laughed again. "Come on, you know she's got nothing on you when it comes to fighting a battle in style." He leaned slightly forward, looking at her. "You're not jealous, right?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Please, I'm not your college girlfriend, John. I don't feel the least bit threatened by her presence on board. What concerns me is this new dynamic that places a talk show host at your side in the middle of a pitched battle while I'm ten thousand kilometers away."

He gave her an understanding look, placing a hand on her knee. "I know. But it was necessary. Sanders is a good officer, but she has no real experience commanding a warship. Definitely not during combat. It had to be you up here. And it's a damn good thing. We might have lost the ship if not for you and Oriana."

"I'm not so sure. EDI and her new body seemed perfectly capable of dealing with those intruders. You should have seen it, Shepard. I'm still wrapping my brain around what it could mean."

"I watched the security footage and I think you're selling yourself short. A lot more people would have died before EDI stepped in if you hadn't been there."

Miranda sighed and took another sip of wine. She knew he wasn't simply trying to flatter her. They'd agreed before the mission that it was crucial she remain in command of the Normandy. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

Not wanting to dwell on the topic, she opened a small window on her Omni-tool, quickly accessing the agenda for the joint human-turian-krogan ceremony slated to take place the next day on board Lindholm's flagship, the Kilimanjaro. "They're letting Wrex speak," she said. "That should be interesting."

Shepard grunted a laugh. "Definitely. But with the losses we're stacking up, it's probably not a bad time for Wrex to do a little saber-rattling. Might do people some good to see how eager the krogan are for the fight."

"I suppose. But I'm afraid even the krogan's zeal for violence is going to be challenged when we start trying to liberate occupied worlds. We need more, John. A lot more."

"We'll get there, Miranda. One step at a time."

She frowned and shook her head slightly. "I suppose I'll have to wear this dreadful outfit again tomorrow."

"Afraid so, babe."

She grimaced. "Very well. But I'm definitely going to have the quartermaster attend to this top beforehand. I have no interest in parading around amongst all those fleet officers feeling like my boobs are going to burst out at any moment or with the back of this jacket flaring up over my ass. I'll leave it to you to explain to Williams why another one of her uniforms was altered."

He laughed softly, pulling her body in closer to his, yawning.

She placed her gloved hand on his cheek, feeling the fresh layer of stubble and gazing into his bloodshot eyes. "You need rest, Shepard. You've barely slept these last few days."

"Yeah, I know. I'm pretty exhausted."

Miranda finished her wine, setting the empty glass on the table, rubbing her free hand along his leg. "It's getting late, Captain, and I'm just about ready to get out of these clothes," she said, leaning in closer. "Sanders has the watch for another several hours. The only question remaining is, exactly how exhausted are you?"