Author's Note: Note this chapter has violence in it, mainly at the end.

"Retreat!"

The Commander's voice rang out through both comms and air. Heavy gunfire rained down around them, making electric buzzing noises as bullets hit shields. The haphazard trio of combatants threw themselves into the tree cover, panting with the effort of heaving armor and weapons through the hazy atmosphere.

"Okay," the Commander gasped, after they'd been running for nearly ten minutes. "I think we're okay. They don't seem to want to stray too far from the base."

"Can still hear gunfire," Mordin reflected, eyes flicking from tree to tree, as if expecting to catch sight of another enemy. "Should not stay for long."

"I am inclined to agree," Samara said, sounding as collected as ever, even while exhausted. "They do not seem to stray far, but they may send a small team after us."

"All right," Shepard said, still wheezing for breath. "Look, you both have lighter armor than I do, and you both have longer legs. Just give me a second."

"Will keep guard," Mordin said, straightening up and checking the thermal clip on his pistol. At Shepard's nod, he ventured a short stretch back the way they came, staying in sight of the other two.

"How are you feeling?" Samara leaned down to look Shepard in the eyes, the other woman hunched over with her hands on her knees.

"Fine," she said breathlessly. "It's just the new armor mods - they help in a fight, but they're heavy . And this blasted atmosphere. I don't know how you all can stand it."

"Mordin is a Sur'Kesh native," Samara stated. "Their atmosphere is rather humid. I don't mind it."

"I hate it," Shepard informed her, straightening up and grabbing the canteen of water clipped at her back. "Okay. Almost ready."

Samara leaned back on her heels and clasped her hands behind her back as Shepard drank deeply. "I suggest you don't drink all of it," she advised.

Shepard finished drinking and wiped her mouth. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Let's see you hike fifty pounds' worth of armor through a humid forest. Mordin," she called. "Let's go."

The salarian clicked the safety back onto his pistol and jogged back. "None following," he reported.

"Let's see if we can get in contact with the rear team, and we'll go from there," Shepard stated. "I want to get out from under this forest - it's interfering with comms."

"May be several miles," Mordin noted thoughtfully, clasping his hands in front of him. "Would suggest climbing a tree."

Shepard glanced upward, then stared at Mordin. "Mordin, these trees are at least seventy feet high, and there's hardly any branches."

Mordin indicated Samara. "Biotics."

Shepard looked to Samara, who was looking between Mordin and Shepard impassively. Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Can you do that safely?"

Samara paused before responding. "Yes. I can create a mass effect field that would negate enough gravity for me to jump to the nearest branch."

"Will you?"

Again, Samara paused. "If it is necessary," she finally stated. "But I would like to say I will not enjoy this in the slightest."

"Afraid of heights?" Mordin asked, mildly surprised. "Did not expect."

"Not of heights," Samara corrected. "I am fatigued. It takes a considerable amount of skill to catch myself if I fall."

Mordin opened his mouth to reply, but Shepard interrupted. "You aren't doing this if you can't do it safely," she said firmly.

Samara met her gaze. "I can. I would not lie."

"Would it be any easier to lift one of us up there?" Shepard asked. "I could go."

"Your armor weight would be difficult to manipulate," Samara answered. "Mordin would be easier, as he is lighter, but I do not wish to volunteer him for the job."

"Can do it," Mordin replied.

"Are you sure?" Shepard wanted to know. "We're talking…" She glanced at the nearest tree, then up to the branch. "That's probably thirty feet up to the lowest branch."

"Can do it," he repeated. "Necessary. Would like to do quickly."

Shepard paused for a split second, then nodded decisively. "Okay. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right. Samara, can you set the mass effect field and then help me spot him?"

"Not without breaking concentration." Samara kept her hands clasped behind her back, as if giving a formal report. "I would suggest allowing me to concentrate in the required spot, and if I feel I am about to break, I will be able to help you catch him."

"Got it. Okay. Walk us through this, then."

Samara nodded to Mordin. "I will create a mass effect field for you which will lessen gravity. You will be able to jump to the lowest branch easily. I will hold the field to help you maintain your balance. Contact the Normandy and notify me when you are coming down."

Shepard raised a brow again. "Mordin, what are you doing?"

Mordin glanced up from stripping his gauntlets off. "Need grip," he said, flexing his fingers.

"Grip?" Shepard asked blankly, and Mordin reached forward, pressed the pad of one finger to her armored shoulder, and drew his hand back; she felt herself pulled forward, as if his fingertip were coated in glue.

"Salarians have variable sticky pads on their fingers," Samara noted.

"How come I didn't know about this?" Shepard complained as Mordin finished pulling his armored gauntlets off.

"Never came up," he commented. "Funny thing - accidentally triggered allergic reaction involving them with last Collector vaccine experiment."

"You'll have to tell me about that later," Shepard remarked. "Okay. So - Samara is going to throw the field; Mordin, you'll be able to climb that pretty easily, then; and I'll stand here - " She took up a place near the closest tree, "and Samara, you'll stand there. That way, we can try to at least make sure you don't slam into the ground if you fall."

"Won't do much," Mordin noted, though he stepped up to the tree anyway.

"It's better than nothing," Shepard told him. "If you hit the ground flat-out from the very top, it could kill you. If we catch you, especially from one of the lower branches, you'll live ."

"Very well." Mordin flexed his fingers again, then pressed the tips of the fingers on one hand to the tree bark, testing the adhesion. Once satisfied, he gave a nod to Samara.

Samara held out both hands, a pale blue glow surrounding them, and she gestured upward. Mordin's feet left the ground; he slid upward so quickly he had to scramble to readjust his hands so he didn't end up upside-down. Once oriented, he began to climb, placing one careful hand above the other.

Shepard watched him from the ground. "This makes me nervous."

"Myself as well," Samara admitted quietly, brow furrowed. "I could accidentally fling him off the planet."

"Then concentrate," Shepard said hastily. "Sorry."

Mordin continued upward steadily until he reached the lowest branch, then very carefully climbed on top of it and leaped. He heard Shepard yell out from below, but he caught the next branch deftly, then crouched atop it.

"Normandy? Shore party to Normandy," he said into his comm. "Normandy?" He began repeating the phrase, knowing they were more likely to pick up on a noisy channel than a silent one.

"-arty, we read you. Repeat, shore party, we read you. Mordin? Is that you?"

"Joker," Mordin said, relieved, gripping the tree branches tightly. "Forest cover too dense; comms cannot get through."

"Yeah, the whole planet's vegetation has metallic compounds in it," Joker said. "Are you all okay?"

"Yes. How is rear team?" Mordin asked quickly.

"They ran into some issues. The force is stronger than we expected. Too many snipers and not enough cover."

"Encountered the same," Mordin reported. "Had to retreat. Injuries?"

"Thane got shot in the leg, but he'll be fine. We're already working on an evac and Jack's going to go take his place."

"Need to find different infiltration route," Mordin mused. "Ideas?"

"Mordin!" Shepard yelled, her voice carrying easily. "You need to hurry up!"

"Need to go," Mordin said quickly. "Will contact again if possible."

"Good luck, dude."

With that, Mordin signaled Samara and carefully dropped off the branch, wriggled his fingers as he adjusted the sticky pads, and began to slide down the tree, boots rasping against the bark.

"There we go," Shepard said, reaching out to help Mordin as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. Samara immediately cut the field and took a step back, tense.

"Okay?"

"Yes," Samara said stiffly. "I just need… need a moment."

Shepard wordlessly held out her water canteen; after a moment's consideration, Samara accepted and began to drink.

"Well done," Mordin said quietly. "Never felt nervous."

"Thank you," Samara replied once she finished off the canteen; she handed it back to Shepard. "Thank you, Shepard."

"No worries," Shepard assured her. "I've got a filter - I want to find some natural water somewhere. How's the rear team?" she asked Mordin.

"One injury; Thane shot in leg. Will be okay," he said, raising one hand as Shepard turned to him, worry clear on her face. "Need to find alternative route. Take down cyber shields, then EDI can help."

"We'd have to be inside to take down the shields," Shepard remarked. "I doubt we can do that."

"Unless we find another way in," Samara commented, one hand to her chin thoughtfully. "There have to be complex systems keeping this place working. With this much humidity, they would need runoff channels for storms, rain, and condensation."

"Find piping?" Mordin asked curiously. "Could be hazardous."

"We obviously won't go in it if it is full of water," Samara stated.

"Let's just explore around a little," Shepard said wearily. "I want to find water and see if there's a break in the foliage where we can get better contact with the Normandy. Report back here in ten minutes. Samara, you go that way. Mordin, you go there. I'll go back along the way we came for a short bit." She pointed to two directions equidistant from each other, both pointing away from where they came.

"Shout if you need us," Mordin advised, and Shepard nodded.

"Trust me, you'll hear me," she said dryly, and the three split up.

Ten minutes later, they regrouped.

"Okay," Shepard began. "Anything?"

"Trees with lower branches," Mordin said. "Easier to climb. Not much else - just vegetation." He blinked slowly. "Somewhat like Sur'Kesh."

"Easy for you to navigate, then?" Shepard asked, and he nodded. "Good. That may come in handy. Samara?"

"A pool," she reported. "It is small, but seems to have a current from beneath. A small spring, perhaps."

"Let's go," Shepard decided. "We can fill up on water - we'll need it, with as much as some of us are sweating - " She glanced at Mordin, who smiled placidly. "Except you, I guess." Mordin inclined his head. "Okay. Move out."

After a few minutes of walking, the three came across a small pond, about fifteen feet across, partly nestled under the roots of a large tree.

Shepard unscrewed the cap of her canteen and stuck it into the pond water, watching a dial on the top. "Looks good," she commented. "No chemicals. It's either just storm drainage, or a spring."

"Pipe," Mordin said.

"What?"

"Pipe," he repeated, pointing, and Shepard followed, only just able to make out the silhouette of a large pipe under the water.

"Runoff, then," she noted. "What do you think the pipe's made out of?"

"Wood," Samara replied. "It is laced with metallic compounds, so it must be much stronger. Possibly a series of hollowed-out trees."

"That means the pipe is probably seven feet wide," Shepard mused. "What?"

Mordin had raised a finger, his other hand to his mouth, deep in thought. "Know I said was hazardous, but gentle current." His eyes flicked to Shepard. "Way in."

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying. "No," she said. "Absolutely not."

"Said just runoff," Mordin reminded her. "No chemicals; no processing."

"Mordin, you can't just swim up a pipe and pop out the other side. We have no idea how long that is."

"Being an amphibian species, salarians can hold their breath for up to thirty minutes." Samara came to stand by Shepard. "It is still quite risky, however."

"Current running this way," Mordin observed, pointing in the direction out of the pipe. "Could swim in for count of five minutes; if nothing, swim back out."

"How long can you hold your breath?" Shepard asked.

"Two hours." At her raised brow, he smiled sheepishly. "Getting old," he said. "Could hold for longer during STG days. Personal record five and a half hours."

"That's still risky," Shepard muttered. "What happens if you can't get back out?"

"Vine," he said thoughtfully. "Vine as rope. Pull me back."

"I don't like this," Shepard said bitterly. "I don't like this at all."

"Won't if you don't want me to," he told her.

"I could use my biotics to halt the current," Samara remarked quietly. "I can send a mass effect field along the length of the vine."

"And the vine won't break? No, I guess it wouldn't, being metallic." She sighed. "I can't - " She broke off; there was a loud rumbling under their feet, then it went silent again.

"That was an explosion," Samara murmured, and Mordin nodded agreement.

"Need to work quickly," Mordin said, beginning to strip off his gauntlets again. "Shepard?"

"I still don't like it," she told him sourly. "Are you sure you'll be safe?"

He smiled. "Good swimmer." He raised one hand and stretched his fingers out; she could see the webbing between them in the light.

"Is the webbing just pulled back inside your gloves all the time?" she asked curiously, and he nodded. "Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"No. Stretchy." He pinched the webbing between two fingers and pulled at it; the skin slid forward easily, and Shepard winced.

"That looks painful."

"Not painful," he assured, flexing his fingers. The webbing went back to normal quickly after he released it.

"Will this suffice?" Samara asked, coming near; she was holding a thick vine. Shepard could see at least twenty feet trailing behind her.

"How long is it?"

"Sixty-three feet, at my guess," Samara replied.

Shepard hesitated, uncertain. "Mordin, are you positive about this?"

Mordin paused, sizing up the situation, then nodded decisively. "Yes."

"If you get hurt, I'll wring your neck," Shepard muttered, reaching out for the vine. "You had better be right about this 'just runoff' business."

"You checked chemicals," Mordin noted, sitting down and kicking off his heavy boots.

Shepard squatted next to him. "If you change your mind about this, nobody's going to think worse of you," she told him, quiet but firm. "Just so you know."

"Know that," he said, and tilted his head. "Will stay within safe parameters. Five minutes."

"Okay." Shepard stood, rolling her shoulders, and grabbed the vine again, offering one end to Mordin. "Can you grip this okay?"

Mordin wiggled his fingers, indicating the sticky pads on the tips. "Will be fine."

"That works underwater?"

"Of course."

"Of course," Shepard said, rolling her eyes. "Okay. Fine. Mordin, if you want us to pull you back, tug on it twice. Samara, you and I are going to have to stand here for the whole five minutes; we'll feed it through our hands so we'll know if it goes slack or when you pull on it."

"Affirmative," Samara said.

Mordin took the end of the vine. "See you shortly?"

"Be safe," she told him, and he nodded. "Okay. See you in a bit."

After a moment's hesitation, Mordin pulled his armored protective band off, along with his shoulder frame, slipped his lab coat off, and pulled the armor back on. Picking up the lab coat, he folded it and placed it delicately next to his boots, then grabbed the vine, wrapped it around his hand a few times, and gripped it tightly. "Ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Shepard said; she and Samara both gripped the vine loosely. "Good luck."

Mordin nodded, and dove into the water.

Yahmalay? Meisiy ap St Petersburg, Yahmalay? Biah gozkeay ap mnu?

Mordin hummed as he swam, awkward with one hand occupied, but he kept the vine tight around his hand. He paid attention to the current: a gentle brushing of water past his hands, the tug of it at his clothing.

He hadn't done something like this since his STG days. Required to be able to hold their breath for at least three hours, STG agents spent time training specifically on breathing, and were tested on it prior to full initiation. Mordin had passed with half an hour to spare.

He hadn't expected to actually need it, but the trick had unexpectedly allowed him to play dead and avoid detection during an enemy infiltration. Separated from his team, among the bodies of hostages, he had thrown himself on the ground and held his breath; it was harder above water, but he could still manage it for a while. The enemies, expecting a living being to be breathing, hadn't bothered to check for pulses among the dead.

He had stayed like that for nearly twenty minutes when his team found him, fearing he had been killed.

The current brushed past his collar, tugging it. Mordin frowned; something was off about that.

He continued on, humming the song; it was almost exactly five minutes long, and easier to keep track of than counting.

The current brushed past him again, more insistent.

Bemniak bhaz, bemniak biymnak, bemniak negehk sumak…

Mordin frowned as he felt the current. He reached out a hand to the wall of the pipe, using the sticky pads on his fingertips to halt his momentum. Hesitating, he drew one hand over the other, climbing along the side of the pipe - but he was suddenly buffeted by a stronger force coming from the side: another adjoining pipe, he realized, and tried to twist around, but without warning, the force grabbed him and threw him backwards. The adjoining pipe was where the current came from, he realized; it fed into the main pipe he was in at an angle, providing a deceptively small current. His broken horn slammed into the wall, and he hissed in pain, then let out a yelp as his shoulder was nearly pulled from its socket, the vine going taut. He felt the vine pull at him, but the current dragged him down; he strained to keep his grip, but his shoulder was becoming more and more painful the longer he held on.

Finally, his shoulder gave, and slipped out of place. His arm went slack, and he hurriedly seized it with his other arm and tried to gently maneuver it back in place.

The current from the other pipe pushed him along, and before long, he was rushing past the pipe walls. One attempt to halt his movement nearly dislocated several fingers, so he turned to face the direction the current was taking him. At least the water was clear enough to see. His eyes widened as he approached a bend; he tried to swim in the direction of the bend, trying not to end up slammed into the wall again, but his efforts didn't push him far enough and he hit the wall with his back, then was tumbled around as the bend led into a snaking path. Twisting madly, he flared the webbing on his hands, his shoulder twinging painfully, willing it to help orient him before he ran into anything.

Like a turbine.

He thrust out a hand, realizing too late that the vine had slipped from his hand when his shoulder dislocated. Damn it, he should have tied the thing. Cursing, he kicked away from the approaching turbine - Shepard was right, some part of his mind told him, and he kicked that thought away, too. His swimming, although it slowed his pace quite a bit, wasn't enough to halt or reverse his movement.

He twisted and, thinking quickly, flung his limbs out to catch himself on the lip of the turbine's slightly-smaller pipe - and froze like that, the turbine blade about six inches from his face.

He stayed like that for several minutes, arms and legs trembling with the effort required to fight the current. He had to get past it.

Think. Think.

The turbine wasn't spinning horribly fast. A turbine like this wouldn't be powered - it would be powering other things, which meant there was only the force of the water behind it.

Could he stop the turbine? Experimentally, Mordin leaned forward until his armored band clipped the turbine blade.

It actually slowed the rotation, though for one perilous moment, he was pulled closer, his head coming within very close range before he could pull back.

That meant it was stiff enough he likely couldn't stop it - but not so rigid that it would cut through another material. Struck by an idea, Mordin frowned, then reached over his shoulder to unhook the clasp holding his armor on. Awkwardly, he dragged the armor over his head one-handed, having to take several breaks to rest his arms. Carefully, he hooked the shoulder strap of the armor on one of the large, rusted bolts holding the turbine in place, then released it, allowing it to fall into the turbine.

The result was instantaneous. The turbine jammed with a screeching noise that echoed down the pipe, the water carrying the sound easily, and Mordin wasted no time slipping through. He grabbed for his armor as the current pushed him. He caught it easily enough, but grimaced as a sharp stabbing pain shot through his injured shoulder, and he realized he had no way to unhook the shoulder strap from the bolt.

After a moment's hesitation, he let go, and twisted around so he was facing the direction of the current again. After several minutes' worth of being pushed along, he found himself thrown into a broad reservoir; seeing open air above him, he quickly swam upward.

His hands hit a thin metal grate, and he cursed again, gripping it tightly. The open air was close enough that he could stick a hand out and break the water, but the grate was too tightly woven for him to fit through.

He tensed his muscles, then relaxed - an underwater, breathless sigh - and began to swim around the perimeter of the reservoir.

After a minute of this, he couldn't see anything.

Determined, he swam lower, then looked around from the better vantage point - there was a lock and a gate at one side, and he darted toward it, tapping his omnitool between swimming strokes and pointing at it. He grimaced - this wouldn't be fun - and twitched his finger, pulling the trigger.

The cryo-blast tore through the water, dropping the temperature around him instantly, and hit the lock on the gate with a clang. Mordin darted forward and activated the omni-tool's blade, and wasted no time punching the blade directly into the frozen lock, which shattered, bits of metal flying past him as he shielded his face.

Once he determined he was safe, he swam forward as fast as he could. His face broke the water, and he gasped, coughing. Wiping water out of his eyes, he surveyed the above-water section of the reservoir and swam to the rim.

A footstep caught his attention, and he glanced up, freezing when his eyes met an armor-clad turian in blue.

"Hey, little fishy," the turian said, and Mordin imagined he was grinning under his helmet.

Mordin immediately tried to kick off the side of the pool, but the shallow water above the grate hindered his ability, and the turian grabbed his leg and splashed into the water. Mordin, sensing he was at a disadvantage nearly laying down as he was, rolled over and tried to stand, but the turian grabbed his injured shoulder and yanked. Mordin hissed, forced to go with the turian's momentum.

"G'night, little fishy," the turian said cheerfully, and slammed the butt of his rifle into Mordin's head.

Author's Note: Did you know frogs can hold their breath for up to seven hours? They're small, so I figured salarians wouldn't be able to do it quite that long, but still - an impressive amount of time.

The song Mordin is humming is "Rumor in St. Petersburg," from the Anastasia Broadway musical, translated into Covus.