Emma, Captain's Quarters, Stick in Your Eye, Noveria Orbit

I hate this place…. Emma looked around the quarters she was in. When the ship belonged to its previous owner, Emma had been called here many times. Most of the memories were fuzzy and hazy, like a poorly remembered nightmare. The things…

"Not the time!" Emma shook her head as she turned back to her terminal. She was calculating the cost of the ship's fuel versus the amount of money they had left from Legion's bankroll. He had placed it into the startup company that was registered under Emma's name and they had used that to fix the ship. Combined with the help of Liara, they still had a good amount left. But not enough to last forever. They needed work. And crew. And contacts.

Sighing deeply, Emma brought up information of Omega. They were slightly desperate and the de facto capital of the Terminus systems, as slimy as it was, was probably their best bet for both of what they needed.

Minutes later...Or was it hours? Emma was interrupted by a her door chime. She groaned as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up and behind her head. She was startled by the small chain of pops that flowed up her back. Must have been hours…

"Come in," she said as she double slapped her cheeks and blinking large a few times, doing her best to look alert and 'Captainy'.

The sliding door parted to reveal the children's savior as Legion stepped into the room, the door closing behind him. His glowing eye surveyed the room. Not that there was much to survey. Emma didn't really have anything. Some clothes in a small dresser, a couple pictures of the kids and her, a single blanket on the bed. The idea of having things just to have them was still an alien thought to her.

"Emma-Captain," Legion spoke as it...he? Bah, it. Legion was a machine after all. Either way, it turned to her. "We will be leaving your ship in two standard days. It is polite to inform you of our decision."

The world narrowed behind Emma's eyes even as they shot as wide as was physically possible. She leaned back as if slapped, her breathing raced as her heart felt like it was going to crack her ribcage. She struggled to pull words out from under her growing panic.

"L-Legion, you...You can't leave us!" Emma cried as last. She tried to stand, but her legs went weak, forcing her to remain in the chair. "What did we do? I-I'm sorry for whatever it was! Please! Let us fix it! Please! If it's me, I'll quit! I'll leave if I should! Don't abandon the others! They need you!"

Legion's curved head leaned back suddenly, as if struck, the flaps around its eye flaring. "No, that is not the issue," it said in a confused, robotic tone. If she wasn't in a blind panic, Emma would have noted as to how Legion had begun to show subtle emotions in its interaction. "Our mission is requiring us to take on a sub-mission."

Emma stared for a moment, her mind whirling in her head. "Commander Shepard?" she asked at last. "Did you find him? We can take you! We want to meet him too!"

"Negative," Legion's iris shifted to focus slightly. "We have recently uncovered information we must seize upon."

"For the…." Emma slapped a hand over her eyes as she groaned. "Getting information from you is like pulling teeth from a varren….."

"We do not understand what you wish to know," Legion tilted its head slightly. It reminded Emma of a puppy she had seen in a vid while they were on Ilium.

"This ship," Emma gestured around her. "Is larger and more fuel efficient than your little one. We can go through relays without drawing attention as well. We can talk to people freely where they would pretty much just shoot you on sight."

"These are all facts," Legion almost seemed to nod.

"So if we go with you, we can get what you want done, with more efficiency," Emma was talking slowly, like when one talked to a rather dimwitted child. "It means you should stay here and we work together like we have been."

"This mission is dangerous," Legion's eye flaps waved for a moment as it looked at her.

"Look, Legion, I wanted to tell you something Lily told me the other day," Emma stood finally and approached the machine. "We, all of us on this ship, we are Geth."

"You are not Geth," Legion's head did tilted the other direction now. "You are organic beings."

"Maybe," Emma shrugged. "Lily pointed out that you are a mobile platform that contains, what was it, one thousand, eight hundred geth programs?"

"One thousand, one-hundred and eighty-three," Legion corrected.

"Right, that," Emma nodded with a small smirk. "We can make the analogy that the ship is a mobile platform, right?"

Legion looked a bit hesitant, but it nodded slightly.

"Great! Then we can also make the analogy that this is a mobile platform run by six human programs."

"That is incorrect," Legion argued, its tone never changing. "You are living organic beings. You can survive independently of this ship."

"Sure, put your programs can also leave that platform and move to another, right?" Emma smirked. Lily had made this same argument to her several days ago. The little five year old blew her mind, but it was an interesting point. "So, if you think of us, the crew, as individual programs, each doing a specific function, then you can also include you, Legion, and all your programs to be part of our platform. Without you, we would be missing key programs. The platform would break down."

Emma's smirk became a grin as she shrugged. She watched Legion freeze in place, a posture she recognized. He was thinking. Or, rather he was trying to reach consensus. Maybe it was time to go in for the kill shot?

"How about you tell us what this new sub-mission is and we, the programs on this platform, can come together and reach a consensus."

Legion stood for nearly a full ten seconds before its eye brightened again, focusing on her. "We have intercepted information on the remains of an Old Machine. It was killed eons ago. If we search the corpse, we may find data we can use to stop the Heretics. Stop the Old Machines."

Jane, Captain's Ready Room, Corsair Ship Perugia

"Sir," Jane crisply saluted the holo image of Admiral Hackett. He was one of the few members of the upper echelons of the Alliance that were aware of her current assignment. And one of the few people in the galaxy that she trusted.

Hackett, himself, returned her salute with a grim face. "Captain," he nodded. "I find myself in need of your skills."

"That doesn't sound promising, Admiral," Jane's nose wrinkled as she frowned. If he needed her to do a mission….then it must be something off the books. Which meant something dark.

"I'm not going to sugar coat this, Captain, this is going to cost lives," Hackett's face went stoney. It was something he did when he went full admiral mode, it meant he was separating himself from his commands. "Batarian terrorists have taken control of a mobile asteroid in the Asgard system. It is currently on course to destroy the colony of Terra Nova."

"That sounds...not good," Jane fought down her urge to spit when she heard that batarians were involved. As it was she felt her guts tighten in cold anger.

"It is not, Captain," Hackett nodded seriously. "As you can probably expect, this is time sensitive."

"Yes, sir," Jane nodded in return as she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "What are the details?"

"Asteroid six-six-two-eighty is an asteroid of with high metal content. The plan was to attach fusion torches and move it to an orbit around Terra Nova's second moon," Hackett looked down at a datapad an offscreen assistant passed him. "When it achieved the orbit, it was to be mined and refined. It was targeted by the batarians, most likely, because the material was planned to be used by the Alliance Navy, in the course of new ship construction."

"Do we have a number on the terrorists?" Jane picked up her own datapad and began taking notes. Hackett was going to be sending her the details, but she liked to write down her thoughts as they came to her in these briefings.

"At least thirty, according to the distress signal that was sent out," Hackett looked back up at her. "There should also be ten or so civilian technicians and scientists on the rock. If they can be recovered, that is your secondary objective, but the asteroid must be stopped at all cost."

Jane frowned as she nodded, her eyes still on her pad. Calculations ran through her mind as she began to receive the data on the asteroid. "I understand Admiral."

The situation for the civilians looked grim. Odds were good that at least some of them were still alive, if only for the tech skill needed to work the fusion torches. Unfortunately, batarians weren't particularly known for their gentleness when it came to 'convincing' captives to do their bidding.

Jane's mind, however, went into overdrive. The mass of the asteroid, maximum power output of the fusion torches. Distances to Terra Nova, the moon. The moon's size, her ship's speed. The equipment that would be required to take the stations, the probable numbers versus the numbers of civilians. Her teams, their equipment. How many she might need to sacrifice, and how.

"It will be done, sir," Jane looked up at the Admiral and nodded. Her eyes were cold and her emotions, silent.

Jack, SR-2 Normandy

Letting out a deep sigh she hit the door release to the starboard cargo hold.

It didn't open, naturally. Locked from the inside. Not sure how it could be locked from the inside though. Not like they had a lock built that way. Or did they? She hadn't been on too many ships this nice. Well….not that she hadn't crashed, blown up, or or ditched. Sometimes all three.

"Hey, Edi," Jack smirked as she glanced up.

"What can I do for you, Jack?" Edi returned quickly. It had taken her a pretty good while to get used to the machine listening to her all the time. It made jerking off a bit weird, but it wasn't like she hadn't done weirder.

"Can you open the door here?"

"I am able, yes," Edi seemed to nod with just her voice. That part was still a bit weird. Edi was a machine and shouldn't have emotions. In theory. In reality, however, she seemed to be growing. More subtle and context in her voice. More opinion and anticipation of the needs of the crew. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She had seen enough sci-fi/horror vids to know how this was probably going to go. "However, it would be against Mister Massani's privacy."

"Fuck him," Jack snorted. "If I need to, I can knock down the door. I'd rather not, 'cause you have been pretty decent."

"..." Edi paused for a moment before the door clicked and opened.

"Thanks," Jack laughed quietly, a small smirk on her lips. It disappeared the moment she stepped across the threshold, however.

The room was a fucking mess, even to her. The sheer amount of liquor bottles was staggering, almost as much as the smell. There were food wrappers mixed in with the mess, along with thermal clips, weapons, grenades, knives. Was that a chainsaw? Where the hell did the old bastard get a chainsaw? In the corner was her reason for coming to this shit hole.

"Oy," Jack called as she kicked her way through the mess. "You dead?"

"Fuck off," Zaeed growled quietly.

"What was that? I don't speak bitch," Jack smirked. The man himself was about as fucked up as the room. Food stains on his shirt. His armor piled in a heap next to him. That stupid old rifle of his tossed haphazardly. A fair amount of grey facial hair had sprouted in the places that scars didn't cover. And he stank. Like, really, really, stank.

"I said, fuck off!" Zaeed glared up at her. His eyes were bloodshot. And vacant.

"Your moping is beginning to become an issue for the people on the ship," Jack crossed her arms, looking down at him. "I'm stuck listening to them complain, and that is pissing me off."

"Not my problem," Zaeed grumbled, his gaze dropping back to the deck.

"Yeah, well," Jack looked out the window for a moment, taking in the void. "It's also bothering Shepard. And if shit bothers him, then it bothers me."

"Pff," Zaeed let out a sound, shaking his head, but still not looking up. "Thought you didn't care about anybody but you."

"Yeah well," Jack coughed not at all delicately. "Shepard is a special case. He had my back. Unlike you."

Zaeed flinched.

"Must feel like shit, being your kid and all," Jack sneered with disgust as Zaeed looked up sharply, his eyes wide with surprise. And no small amount of fear. "Yeah, dipshit. I ain't as stupid as people think. You're both the same height, same hair color. Both make the same stupid ass face when you get shot and are pretending it didn't hurt."

"Fuck me," Zaeed muttered, letting his hand drop into his hand.

"'Fraid not, you couldn't handle me on your best days," Jack laughed mockingly. "Don't worry though. I don't think he realized it. He's surprisingly dense over the weirdest shit."

"Like his mother," Zaeed said quietly. "She could always see people's weak points, new how to get what she wanted. When it came to her, blind as a fucking bat."

She stood there for a long moment, staring down at the man. He sat on his ass and stared at his hands, his fingers flexing slightly.

"Anyway," she took a deep breath, letting it out as she looked back at the ceiling. Was...that a mustard stain? How the hell…nope...not the time. "Suck your shit up. Get back in the combat line. We're on a fucking suicide mission, even if it's like we're playing a fucking game of house right now."

"He won't trust me," Zaeed whispered. "Not after-"

"Bullshit," Jack cut him off. "Just get back in rotation. Go in with full kit. Hundred credits says he won't say anything about it."

"But-"

"But nothing," Jack punctuated herself with a sharp sweep of her hand. "Do it. Or get the fuck out so we can find somebody who will."

Turning on her heel, Jack walked out briskly, only stopping when she reached her hole.

John, Comm Room, SR-2 Normandy

He hated this. He hated talking to this asshole. So self righteous. Deciding what was best for humanity. Damn the consequences, or who is stepped on, who is sacrificed.

It didn't help that he was the only one willing to help stop the Collectors.

"Commander," the Illusive Man said, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Classic power move. The asshole. "I have information you might find interesting."

John nodded slightly, saying nothing, and simply crossed his arms. He could play the same game.

The Illusive Man blinked first. "How much do you know about the Great Rift Valley on Klendagon?"

Now it was John's turn to be surprised. "Not much," he admitted. "There are speculation about it being a near miss from a massive mass effect round from millions of years ago. Nobody has been able to find anything concrete." He paused for a moment as his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"We found it," TIM gave one of those damned shit-eating grins. "My people were able to follow it back to the source. He weapon itself was defunct, but with it we calculated the target. The round was fired thirty-seven million years ago, the last, desperate strike from a race destroyed by the Reapers."

"Did you now," John frowned. The idea of Cerberus finding a weapon with enough power to rip a hole in a planet with a near miss was disturbing. "And what, exactly, was the target?"

The Man's grin turned even more sly, if that was possible. He made a small gesture and an image appeared before John. The panet it showed was a dull, glowing orange. Swathes of swirling clouds roared around the massive gas giant. Then the image turned and zoomed, focusing onto a small object in the planet's orbit.

"Is that…" John's eyes widened as his arms uncrossed. He almost took a step forward as the spinning image tightened into the shattered husk of a Reaper.

"It has minor power in small areas," the Man chuckled at John's reaction. "Whoever made the weapon, whoever fired it. They spat their heart, like a cannon."

Midshipman Danvers, SR-2 Normandy, 'The Stacks'

"Fuckin' aliens," Danvers grumbled. "Shitty quarians, touching the ship like she knows somethin'. Giving humans orders…."

Danvers cursed again as he twisted his body around a conduit and climbed higher into the guts of the Normandy's systems. He was in a tight spot above the drive core, and between two of the massive heat sinks that stored the ship's excess heat while it was in stealth mode. The section was affectionately known as the 'Stacks'. Coming up into them was relatively rare, most of the time only done when connections needed to be checked, maybe once a month. And then, only because that...alien that the Commander put in charge of engineering demanded it.

Commander Shepard. The man had been a disgrace. Danvers, like most humans, had looked up to the man. Hell, he was the Lion of Elysium! He survived the thresher maw attack that destroyed his squad! He took down that alien scum, Saren!

Now, though….Now he took a filthy suit rat to his bed! He acted like he was some sort of pet to these...things. He was even bringing down the rest of the crew! When they started this mission, a mission, he knew, that was to save human lives, the crew had been loyal Cerberus crewmen. They knew what was important. But now….now they were thinking like Shepard. Even Miranda Lawson, of all people, was taking that bird man, Garrus, into her office for extended periods. Doing God only knew what.

Maybe he should do something. He had talked about it with some of the few crewmen that still had their wits about them. The ones still pure. Maybe they should start with the quarian whore. Maybe Shepard just needed to be free of whatever that thing had done to him. Maybe then he-

He didn't see it. Not even the quicksilver flash of metal. Not the arm that swung. Not the dark green of the man who wielded, nor the dark, dark eyes that held no pity, nor remorse.

And in an, instant, it was over.