Shepard awoke the next morning aware of two things: the smell of bacon and that she had no idea how she made it from the sofa to the bed the night before.
She remembered lying back on the lovely, squishy cushions. Garrus headed into the bedroom, but didn't shut the door, so she heard his sister answer the call. His mother joined in a moment later. They began with concerned inquiries about his health, but the moment he assured them he was fine, they moved on to scolding him for being out of touch for so long. Once they got that out of the way, they spoke of small things . . . his mother's garden, his sister's continuing success as an instructor at a military academy. In response to his mother's insistence that he travel home at some point, he promised he would as soon as the mission concluded.
She'd started to doze off, her eyelids heavy enough and her thoughts fuzzy enough that she couldn't be certain, but she thought he might have told them he had someone he wanted them to meet.
Then light poured in the windows, cutting straight across the bed where she found herself alone. Incredibly comfortable and warm, but alone.
"The "Cooking for Levos" extranet site says that some humans like their bacon crispy, while others don't," Garrus called from the kitchen.
She rolled over onto her back and stretched. "Crispy. Definitely crispy." Pulling the duvet up over her head to block the light, her grin widened. The perfect scent that was his alone permeated everything, burrowing deep down inside her to make her heart and belly flutter. God, she loved that smell.
The mattress lowered beside her, and a talon caught the edge of the duvet to pull it down until her eyes peeked out. Garrus grinned. "Good morning, sleepy."
"How did you know that I was awake?" she asked, sliding her hand out from under the covers to lace her fingers with his.
"Your deafening snoring stopped rattling the windows and small, decorative objects." He chuckled and tilted his head off to the side. "You were sound asleep when I finished my vidcall last night." Reaching up, he brushed her hair off her face. "Breakfast is just about ready."
She sat up and leaned forward to kiss him, just a soft brush of her lips. "What time is it?"
"0600. We have lots of time to eat before heading back to the Normandy." He traced her lips with his thumb, then pulled back. "However, you've only got about seven minutes before breakfast is ready."
"Roger that, Mr. Chef, sir." She watched him head back out to the kitchen, then threw back the covers and got up. "Is it okay if I leave this ensemble here?" she called after him then bent to pick up her armour. "Do you have a closet or drawer where I could stash it?" No answer. "Garrus?" She straightened, leaving her gear on the floor.
He appeared in the doorway, staring at her, his mandibles dropped but spread . . . his expression unreadable.
Her heart speeding up, Shepard frowned and walked over to him, pressing her hands to his chest. "What? Did I say something wrong, big guy?" Heart dropping, a sick sort of ache spread through her chest. She shrugged when she still got no answer. "I don't have to, I just wanted to save it for when it's just the two of us." She ducked her head a little, the intensity of his stare embarrassing her. "Keep it special, you know?" Despite trying for casual, she heard the disappointment creep into her voice.
In a blur of sudden movement, he scooped her up in his arms, holding her tight against his chest. He bent to brush his brow softly against hers. "Of course you can keep it here." For a moment, he looked like he intended to say something further, but then he set her back on her feet. "I'd better not burn breakfast. Five minutes, Shepard."
She watched him leave, trying to puzzle out what that had been about. Nothing bad, she decided, just . . . strange. Gathering up her armour, she headed into the bathroom. Maybe, for all his calm and apparent confidence, Garrus had some voices inside his head telling him that she'd never be interested in staying with him over the long run.
"Stupid damned voices," she whispered as she pulled her nightgown over her head. "Why don't they ever bombard us with positive, supportive stuff?"
She suited up and headed out to the kitchen, arriving just in time for breakfast to hit the table. He'd set them places at ninety degrees to one another, and pulled out her chair.
"This looks great, Garrus. That extranet site must be good." She pulled her chair up and settled. "Maybe, if there is an accompanying one, "Cooking for Dextros", I'll make you breakfast the next time."
"As long as you promise not to poison me . . .." He sat and placed his hand on her knee. "That way, I could sleep in and be lazy while you work your talons to the bone." His mandible fluttered, teasing.
"You . . .." She just shook her head and turned her attention to her breakfast. "This really looks great, though." Two eggs, four strips of bacon, two slices of toast, and a large, squarish mug of tea sat before her. She dug in, starving, partially because of hunger, partially because of nerves. In a couple of hours, the Normandy was set to rendezvous with the geth and then head on to Virmire.
Apparently, Garrus's thoughts had been travelling the same paths, because a couple of mouthfuls into his meat and brownish eggish things, he cleared his throat. "So, we're assuming the council has told Saren we're on our way?"
She nodded. "No doubt, but if the operation is as big as Benezia said, he's going to have a hell of a time evacuating it, if he even decides to. The council gave us permission to apprehend him, so he'll be expecting a specific sort of attack. He might just grab as many of his krogan as he can and run."
"So basically, we're going in and hoping for the best?" He looked up at her without lifting his head.
"More like planning as well as we can and kicking as much ass as he lets hang out for us to kick. At worst, we give him one less place to hole up. There's no way he is going to be able to dismantle his facilities and labs, move everything out, so we destroy all that." She put her eggs on her toast and paused to take a couple of bites. "We could find valuable intel, maybe even his genophage cure. I doubt he'll move the quarians—he'll want to use them to bring me to heel if things go badly for him—so, we rescue them. If the geth and quarians can pull their part of the mission off, and we can start forging peace there, we end up with a hell of a formidable fleet building resource."
Shepard shrugged. "We won't get Saren, but we'll serve notice to the Reapers that we're ready and willing to fight back." She let out a bitter laugh as her worst fear clawed its way up over all her hopes. "Or, Sovereign could be sitting right at the relay and blow us all to hell the moment we exit the mass effect corridor."
Garrus winced. "Let's try to avoid that part." He squeezed her knee, his palm remaining there, warm and comforting. "We're going to take casualties, Shepard. We've been damned lucky so far, but an op like this . . . we're going to lose people."
Shepard placed her hand over his and squeezed his talons. "I know, Garrus. I know."
They finished their breakfast and discussed the plan, tossing ideas back and forth for the best way to keep things as unpredictable as possible considering that the enemy knew they were coming.
When they finished, she helped clean up, freezing everything that could be frozen, and tossing the rest into the recycler so he didn't come back to things trying to crawl out of his fridge. They returned to the Normandy, hand in hand, something solid and still having settled between them despite, or maybe even because of Garrus's odd reaction to her wanting to keep her nightgown there.
They shared a quick kiss outside the Normandy's hatch, then headed in to prepare for the long couple of days ahead.
No sooner had Shepard made it to her quarters to change when knuckles banged on her door. She let out a long breath and braced herself. "Come in, Nihlus."
The door opened, the Spectre stepping through. Shepard had expected him to be huge, arrogant and demanding, taking up every centimetre of space and every atom of oxygen in the room, but he'd calmed since the afternoon before.
He walked up to her, stared into her eyes for a moment, and then reached out to brush her cheek with a thumb. "Rested up and ready to go?" he asked, throwing her completely. So completely that the thought sprang into her mind that he'd found a way to counteract her plan.
She cocked a suspicious eyebrow at him. "Yeah. Fell asleep playing video games at about 2100." She backed up a bit so she could meet his eyes without craning her neck. "How about you?"
He nodded toward the end of the bed. "May I sit?"
"Sure." She watched him, trying to decide what it was she felt going on with him. It felt off, whatever it was. Well, off for Nihlus anyway. Sitting in the chair at her desk, she turned to face him. "Are you okay, Nihlus?"
He didn't reply right away, instead, he seemed to be studying her face, looking for something. "Yes," he said at last, his voice still eerily calm. "I spent some time meditating when I got back to the Normandy. It helped me sort a lot of stuff out." His mandibles spread but then dropped as if he were embarrassed. "Merol was an amazing person. His passion for his work, and for his family . . . his spiritual peace." He shook his head. "Do you realize, there wasn't a single selfish desire inside his heart? When they arose, he either acted on them or meditated and released them into the water. He coveted nothing."
Shepard smiled. "Yeah, he was remarkable. Tashac never quite managed to quell her anger or selfishness in the same way, but she sure loved him and her children . . . and her empire."
"The council called me in last night," he said. "They showed me the vid of your performance on the presidium, asked what I thought they should do." A sly smile spread his mandibles a little. "I told them to hang onto it so that if you started gaining some actual credibility with this insane Reaper fixation of yours, they could tear it down before it gained any momentum." The smile faded and he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
"I told them the last thing they wanted to do was turn you into a martyr, and everyone who knew you would do just that." His hands jumped up, palms facing her. "Don't worry, about the Normandy. They want to use it to turn the Alliance to their side. It's a hell of a web they've got going, but for now, they're content to see how things play out.
"I'm sorry, Shepard." He took a deep breath, his shoulders lifting with it. "For not trusting you to know what you were doing, and then jeopardizing it. You were right. They're testing me out, seeing if they can draw me in. If I play it cool, I'll be able to keep them off our backs and gather intel." His eyes looked up, that amazing green locking onto hers. "It's just . . . I have this lifetime of love and companionship and passion inside me. I know it's not mine, and I know it's not for you, but it feels like it is. It's so real, and it's all tangled up in what I feel about you."
His hands smacked against his thighs as he thrust himself up off the bed and paced to the door. "The thought of you . . .." Pivoting on his talons, he spun back. "The council could still decide to kill you, Shepard."
"Yeah, they could, but it's not going to stop me from doing what needs to be done to stop Saren from getting his hands on the Conduit." Straight, joints stiff, she stood and walked over to him.
"Can he?" Nihlus frowned. "Can he even get to it? He'll have Tashac and Merol in his head too, but Vigil would never let an indoctrinated pawn onto the elevator." His eyes searched hers as if she'd have a piece of information he didn't, some loophole he couldn't see that would allow Saren to bypass the security.
Shepard shook her head. "I don't know. I want to say it's impossible, but it feels like there's something I'm missing. We need to talk to the queen when we're done with Virmire, see if there is anything else hidden in our heads that will help." Pacing a little, she sorted through the information. "I mean, I know the other keys are hidden as well, but I don't know where or how well. He just needs to get his hands on one."
"If he knows where any of them are, it's just a matter of time, Shepard. We have to take him out, and Sovereign. Any ideas how?"
Chuckling, she shrugged. "I feel like a broken recording, but I don't know. It's going to take a fleet or two to bring Sovereign down, and that's going to mean a trap, lure it in." She looked into his eyes again, the beginning of an idea sparking to life. "Once we see what we find on Virmire, we'll sit down with the queen and see what we can figure out."
Reaching out, his talons slipped around her fingers. "How am I supposed to live with all of this in my head, Shepard?" His eyes betrayed the struggle going on within him, and his hand trembled with it. Or was it hers that trembled?
Either way. She understood his difficulties. Tashac slammed at the barricades Shepard erected around her memory, demanding that Shepard give in to the emotions and desires. As long as she'd been alone with Garrus, the prothean had backed off, but with Merol back in her sphere, she seemed to have focused all of Shepard's blood flow between her legs and kept weaving random memories of Merol making love to her through Shepard's thoughts. Distracting didn't quite cut it as a descriptor. Shepard forced the prothean's memories back behind an iron wall.
Nihlus still stared at her, still waited for an answer that she didn't have. Shepard shrugged. "I don't know, Nihlus. I'm sure, judging by how Garrus knows everything going on with my body before I do . . . you know she's messing with me as badly as Merol is messing with you."
He chuckled, but it came out strained and breathy. "I'm trying not to breathe right now."
That shattered any hope Shepard had of maintaining calm. Laughter brayed from her, all her control dissolving into helpless cackling. Pulling her hand from his, she staggered over to the bed, folding down onto the mattress, her arms wrapping around her stomach. "Sweet baby Jesus, Nihlus . . . this whole thing is nuts." She chuckled for a couple more seconds, then let out a long sigh.
"We have to control it, Nihlus. The fact is, it's not us. We can't live other people's passions. That's just becoming a puppet. Do you want me touching you because some leftover imprint of a dead woman believes she's touching her husband? How fucking creepy is that?" She laughed again. "So, we control it."
"And if the council kills you?" His face showed more pain that she ever thought a turian face could. "I feel panic at that thought, Shepard. I'm a Spectre. I don't panic. I've never panicked, but the thought of suffering through what this damned link will cause if you die . . .."
"If they take me down, and that's a big if, because I've proven very hard to kill in the past, it will be up to you and Garrus to take up the banner. Someone has to, and that someone has to be you. When it's time to bring the council down, I'd never have the juice to do it. You, on the other hand, could be a force to rally the Spectres."
She stood, strode over to him and gave his talons a bracing squeeze. "You'll get through it by doing the work, Nihlus. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. The same way I'll deal with being left here if anything happens to you. There's no other choice." For a moment, she almost tugged him down to meet her, her lips aching to kiss him, her cheek burning to press against his and feel his mandible flutter against her skin.
Do you think I won't mourn if something happens to you, Nihlus? Sweet baby Jesus, it'll tear the heart out of me. Why do you think I went to the council alone, you idiot?
But instead of speaking, she released his hand. To do anything else would prove too cruel to both of them, and to Garrus. Nodding toward the door, she said, "Turn that way so I can get changed. We need to meet with everyone and get things in motion." When he turned his back, she headed over to her closet.
"Saren has been warned," Nihlus told her. "The council seemed to think he wasn't all that worried, so he's got some sort of trap planned."
"Of that much, I'm certain." She grinned. "But I have a few tricks up my sleeve."
Whatever Shepard thought the inside of a geth ship would be like, what she saw when the shuttle door opened didn't match to most of it. The utter calm of the place struck her first. During her brief biathlon career, she spent nearly a year stationed at the Alliance nav-sat station in the Tibetan Himalayas so she could train. One of her trainers was a buddhist monk, and although she was never permitted into the inner portions of the monastery, the whole place always felt hushed, but not in a restrictive way. The monks and their students went about their business, people came and went, but the most amazing quiet ruled over everything.
The geth ship sat shrouded in a very similar, monastic sort of peace, as if every being contained within its hull existed in communal harmony. She supposed they did, requiring no movement or words to interact, their gestalt existing within computer processors and memory banks somewhere in the heart of the ship.
The quiet helped set her at ease, but as she followed Legion off the shuttle toward the line of geth units awaiting them, she could see that not all of her team felt the same. Although, Nihlus trailed behind her, never more than an arm-length away, and Garrus followed a little behind him, the rest of the team hung back by the shuttle. She supposed they were waiting to see if she ended up bent, broken, or spindled before deciding whether or not to commit or flee. Not that she could blame them.
At her order, they stepped into the unknown. For her part, Shepard's nerves and senses all sent constant, pricking-nettle reminders that taking the bold strides meant enduring the discomfort of stepping out into the great vacuum. She couldn't expect her people to endure it as well. It fell to her to fill the space with air, to give them familiar footing.
She counted her steps in time with her breathing, her boot soles ringing off the metal decking. Cool, controlled, and collected.
Let the peace and energy of your surroundings enter your heart, for only when you allow yourself to be connected to everything around you, will you truly see.
"Thank you, Lama Choden." She saw but didn't respond to Nihlus's curious glance as they stopped a couple of metres away from five gigantic prime units.
One of the primes stepped forward. "Shepard-Captain, prime runtimes housed in server 02242-14521 stand prepared to assist designated creator allies as requested by geth programs housed within hardware designation: Legion."
Shepard looked up at the massive platform, its armour a flawless, matte white, head flaps moving in slow, timed waves almost like sighs, practically static compared to Legion's expressiveness. "Legion has explained what we need from the geth on this mission?" She backed up a step, her neck getting sore from staring up over twice her height. "The Reaper . . . Old Machine, Nazara, may well be waiting for our arrival."
The prime didn't move, returning Shepard to her impression of everything within the ship being a part of the whole rather than an autonomous unit.
"Geth will broadcast IFF codes used by heretic runtimes in order to approach the planet and deploy designated allies," it reported. "As a precaution against heretic active scans, Geth have manufactured cargo containers designed to shield allies during approach and deployment."
"Excellent, thank you." She wondered if they cared about thanks. "Your assistance is both appreciated and vital to defeating the Old Machine." Shepard turned to face the shuttle and waved the rest of the team over. "Come on, people. Grab your gear, and let the shuttle get back to Normandy for the second load."
Once her people started to move, Shepard tapped Legion's elbow. "Bring Tali, Kal, and Rael over. See if you can help make them more comfortable with your buddies here."
Legion's head flaps moved from dancing a waltz to the cha cha at the word buddies. "Geth do not—"
"Figure of speech, Legion. The six of you have to work together, and while the primes might not have emotions . . . might not be scared or anxious . . . I can guarantee those three are. If you're going to integrate the quarians back on Rannoch, all of you living and working together . . . you're going to have to do what you can to help ease their fears."
"This unit does not understand how to make creators more comfortable. A successful mission will further mutual goals and cooperation." It wrung its hands, so like Tali's nervous habit. Shepard wondered how many quarians must do it for the habit to have made it into the geth's programming. Most of them, she would think.
"Yes, it will, but for the mission to be successful, those three need to be able to focus on what they're doing, not jumping every time a prime moves." She raked a hand through her hair, trying to think of a way to explain it that Legion would understand. How did beings without emotions empathize and comfort beings with emotions?
Or vice versa, apparently, judging by the frustration just starting to burn between her eyes. "Start by discussing the plan. Ask them questions about what you can expect from the quarians. Pretty much all the same stuff you and Tali have been talking about over the past days. Just get some communication going." She gave him a little shove toward the three quarians, all of whom were sort of mincing across the space as if they expected attack to come from everywhere.
Shepard turned to her people and pointed to two large shipping containers. "These are our homes for the next few hours. Stake your claim, make them as comfy as you can. If you didn't bring blankets, water . . . anything, there are extras in that crate. Just leave me a blanket and some water and ration bars." She pointed to the crate that sat next to where the shuttle was lifting off. "Jenkins, Sparky . . . toss it in one of the containers for me, please."
Kaidan saluted. "Yes, ma'am, happy to schlep for you, ma'am."
"It is why we spend all that time training," Jenkins agreed, crossing the cargo bay at Alenko's side. "Build up our muscle mass and fitness levels for fetching and carrying."
Grinning, Shepard pointed to Jenkins and Sparky. "If anyone needs a bullet shield at any time, or you get tired and need to be carried, those two volunteer." She looked over at the primes who appeared to be staring at her with something akin to curiosity. "Well, except for you guys. You'll need a large single family home or something to take cover behind."
"Prime platforms do not take cover," the spokesgeth said. "They are equipped with six layers of shielding."
"Excellent," Shepard replied, trying not to laugh, despite the fact everyone else did. "Always good to know."
"I couldn't borrow three or four of those layers, could I?" Kaidan asked as they carried the crate back. "Particularly if our fearless leader intends to boldly stride through the mission hiding behind me."
"Ally designated Alenko-Lieutenant, mission parameters do not allow sufficient time to co-develop layered shielding to integrate with your hard suit," the prime replied, its head flaps all spiking out for a moment before fluttering and settling. "Geth shielding upgrades can be made available to allied biological units in the future."
Shepard grinned as her people chuckled again. "Sparky, you diplomatic devil, get your backside into a shipping container." She winked at him, grateful that she could always rely on him to play along. Even the quarians seemed to breathe a little more deeply as they joined Legion and the primes.
Stepping back, she watched Rael'Zorah in particular. Kal'Reegar, she harboured no worries about. When they'd met upon her return to the Normandy, he immediately set her doubts to rest. Strong, practical, and grounded, soldiers didn't come more solid. And something in the way his mask followed Tali's every move gave Shepard confidence that he'd bring her youngest team member back alive.
As the discussion between the six strange team members turned from the mission to the complications of the quarians resettling Rannoch, the admiral really seemed to calm. He listened intently, rarely commenting, and spent a lot of the time watching his daughter rather than the geth. When the second shuttle arrived from the Normandy, he excused himself and approached Shepard.
She gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded. "Admiral."
He stepped up beside her and turned to watch his daughter and Legion running through their route into the base. "My daughter . . .."
Shepard didn't fill in the gap when he stalled, waiting for him to finish.
He made a low, incredulous coughing sound in his throat. "The pilgrimage was meant to allow our youth a chance to experience the galaxy, to step out of the confines of the flotilla, assume some risk, and grow. Tali . . .." Again, he was left shaking his head. "Tali left the flotilla a brilliant child, and in your company has undergone a metamorphosis. If she were to return to the flotilla, she would be elevated to rank within a season." He turned his silver-reflection stare to regard Shepard. "But she will not be returning to the flotilla, will she?"
Smiling, feeling a connection to the admiral at last, Shepard shook her head. "I don't think so. Something tells me that she's going to insist on leading the first expeditions to Rannoch. One day, our little Tali will be remembered as the spirit of the great quarian homecoming."
The admiral stared at her for another second, then returned to his daughter's side.
Shepard straightened and turned toward the shuttle as it opened and the second half of her team started hopping down. "Okay, people, let's step lively. Our hosts have provided us these luxurious shielded cargo containers to smuggle us past any Reaper welcome wagons, so step on up, make yourselves at home. Any old camp songs you can remember . . .." She grinned. "Yeah, keep those to yourselves."
Within twenty minutes, all her people sat settled and as calm as could be expected inside the containers, but she couldn't quite bring herself to step over the threshold.
They could just eject all of us into a star and be done with it.
Shepard stayed outside the doors as long as she could, her heart pounding harder and harder as the deadline to locking the doors approached. When at last, time ran out, she stood in the door, staring into the perfectly well lit, but altogether too tomb-like box.
Garrus stepped up beside her and looked down into her eyes, saying nothing, but letting her know that just like Feros, he'd get her through. She nodded, gratitude warming her. With his help, she'd gotten through a lot worse.
"Anyone needs a bathroom break, now's the time, people!" Forcing a grin that she didn't feel, she stepped between the doors to both containers so all her people could see her. "And no grousing about how crowded it is." She stood at parade rest. "Okay, quick recap. Saren knows we're coming so could well have a welcome wagon waiting at the relay. This little geth beauty is going to broadcast a heretic IFF code to sneak us past Sovereign and any heretic vessels or ground scans. When we get down below the treeline, teams one, two, and three will run out, leap in the shuttle and head in to take out the AA guns on the three main gates while team four proceeds to their drop zone at the back of the compound."
"Once we're on the ground and in play . . ." She looked to Kaidan. "Team One?"
"Disseminate the demolition charges through the lowest level of the compound, ma'am," he sounded off, giving her a cocky salute.
Shepard grinned. "Team Three?"
Ashley stood. "Take out the AA guns on the interior of the base and provide support. Keep as many of the bastards off the rest of you as possible, ma'am."
"Team Four?" Shepard turned to look into the second container.
"Find the quarian hostages and get them to the evac site," Tali replied.
"Excellent. Team Two will walk in the front door and make our way to the labs." She paused, looking over the tight, but ready faces. "You all know what you need to do, and I have every faith that you'll do this ungrateful wench of a galaxy proud. They might call us crazy, deluded, or even traitors, but when it's all said and done, we will have stared into the face of the darkness and defeated it. On that day, they'll call us heroes." She nodded, a swell of confidence flowing through her at the calm, business-like manner of her teams. They'd get it done. "Good luck, and let's kick some ass."
"Oorah!" the Marines bellowed in reply.
"Saved a cozy spot back here in the corner for you, ma'am," Kaidan called as she began looking for a place to settle in. "It has a great view of the back of Jenkins's and Ashley's heads."
"Excellent, I can take vids to show my grandkids. I've always wanted to visit such exotic locales." She picked her way through her people, sitting in the corner, her back pressed against both walls. Having walls at her back helped, oddly, and Sparky really had made her quite the nest back there.
Garrus followed, wedging himself on her right. "Cozy." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in against his side.
Shepard closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, jumping a little as someone else sat on her left, and a hand took hers.
Oh man, this won't be good.
Cracking one eye, she glanced up at Garrus to find him staring over her head. Changing eyes, she turned her head to see Nihlus staring right back. Teeth clenched, she winced and waited, but then they let out a tandem sigh and relaxed back against the walls. She didn't know which concerned her more, the worry that they would end up in a shouting match in the close space of that coffin, or their quiet acceptance of one another.
Janey Shepard, you're life just keeps getting stranger.
"We're taking fire," Kaidan called from the shuttle's cockpit. The shuttle bucked under them, slewing hard to port as a missile impacted the shields.
"I've got it covered," Garrus replied, "just try not to fly us into every single missile."
"I thought we took down the AA guns at the gates," Shepard shouted up. After a moment of enduring the helpless 'I should be flying this brick' feeling, she unbuckled her harness and stood. Flinging herself across the couple of meters, she bounced off Ashley and the interior bulkhead, both leaving hefty bruises before she made it through the doorway to grab the back of Kaidan's seat. "I think I preferred the Mako," she said through clenched teeth.
"We're coming up to the last gate now," Garrus reported, "but we're still well out of range of its guns." A sharp nod of his head directed her toward a missile incoming from the shallow water below. "This is geth ground units: rocket troopers and armatures mostly. One colossus." He strafed the geth positions with the shuttle's mass accelerator cannons, taking out an armature and rocket trooper.
"Okay, finish those puppies off, and we'll get that last gate down." She clung to the back of Kaidan's seat, feeling the time ticking past, each second echoing a warning to be unpredictable.
As if to add emphasis to Garrus's words, a huge blast of plasma from the colossus hit the shields at the starboard bow. Shepard clutched at the seat, her fingernails leaving tracks over the leather even through her gloves as the floor dropped out from under her. The inertial dampeners kicked in, but a fraction of a second too late to stop her front teeth from slamming into Kaidan's pauldron. Pain exploded through her sinuses, but dull as if someone had wrapped a grenade in shielding and shoved it up her nose before detonating it.
"Ow, son-of-a . . .. I hate heretic geth." She clapped her hand over her mouth and nose as the initial wave of pain passed, settling into a throb.
"Go sit and buckle yourself in," Garrus snapped. "We're going to need to do some fairly fancy thruster work here."
Three explosions erupted out of the water below, finishing off the geth units in a series of spectacular mini-mushroom clouds.
Shepard leaned further over Kaidan's shoulder, craning to see the goings-on at ground level. "Who the hell has three M-920 Cain's in their back pocket . . . and how can I get them to give me one?" As she spoke, a needle-sharp pain yelped over the dull thud of her pounding teeth, lifting her fingers to her lip. They came away bloody. "Great. Not even to the mission yet, and I'm already bleeding."
"Turn the workplace injury sign back to zero," Kaidan said, chuckling when she swatted him in the back of the head. He nodded to figures stepping out from behind one of the flowerpot island formations. "Salarians. Huh. Should we go down and see who they are?"
Shepard shook her head after debating it for half a second. Even though using the geth ship had allowed them to get to the planet without Saren knowing, destroying two massive gates and their AA guns on the way in was sure to have tipped him off. "Keep going and take out that last gate so the Normandy can get in to save our asses if they need saving. Even if these fellows are with someone, they're a forward unit. No doubt, we'll find their command further in."
She watched the salarians for another moment, the dark, slithering warning in her gut at war with the fact that the STG—for surely that was who they were—had saved them a pummelling.
"Go, get buckled in, and put some medigel on your lip," Garrus said.
Shepard nodded and ducked back out. Taking her seat, she worried over the complication of a Special Tasks Group in the middle of her mission. The council had to have sent them, but why would the council send help? It didn't make any sense.
"What?" Nihlus called over the thrusters roaring to bring the shuttle around, then the mass accelerator cannons firing.
She looked across the overcrowded shuttle to meet his eyes. "Complications. What else?" She just rolled her eyes then dug into her belt looking for medigel. She smoothed it over her split lip and then on the inside over her bruised gums.
When the firing and jolting ceased, Garrus looked over his shoulder. "Last gate's AA guns are down. It looks like you were right about the salarians having a command: a camp just up ahead. Looks like they're expecting us."
She nodded, the thunderhead building in her gut starting to roll and crackle with lightning. "Take us down, but give us a little room to suss out their intentions."
"Yes, ma'am."
Five minutes later, the shuttle noise eased up as Kaidan set the thrusters to idle. Shepard unbuckled and headed back into the cockpit. "Sparky, you stay here. First sign of anything that looks like trouble, get the shuttle out of here."
"Aye, aye, ma'am." He glanced back. "Be careful out there."
"Always." She nodded to Garrus, needing him at her back. "Come on, C-Sec. Enough sitting around." She pulled Roger off her back and headed for the hatch. "Nihlus, you coming along?"
He stood, his rifle already in his hands, all business. "Right behind you."
She took a deep breath, calming the squall down to a storm. "Two metre spread," she ordered, meeting both their stares. "Don't make it too easy for them to take us all out."
Garrus shrugged. "Won't matter if they have more of those M-920's."
Eyebrows raised, Shepard nodded, giving him a crooked grin. "All sunshine and happiness, you are." She sucked in a deep breath and focused on the feel of the rifle in her hand and the task at hand. "Okay, let's go and see who our reception committee is."
Shepard stepped out of the shuttle into the nearly knee-deep water of low tide. Eyes taking in every detail, locating every advantage for the salarians and every weakness, she kept Roger sweeping their line. She edged along the body of the Kodiak, using it as partial cover before she opened herself to fire. The STG camp had been built up against the cliffs and consisted of three large tents. Two turret guns, nestled in behind shields and barriers, protected the small camp on its open corners. She queued up an overload, overclocking it to take down at least the shields on one, should they open fire.
When she felt her team take positions behind her, fanning out at the ordered two metre spread, she stepped out into the open, hoping like hell Garrus and Nihlus had their sniper rifles ready to finish off those turrets before the turrets finished her.
Two salarians stepped outside the perimeter of their camp, stopping about a third of the way to the shuttle. One of them raised a hand. "Captain Shepard?"
She nodded, just a quick vertical jerk of her head. "Yeah, that's me. Who are you?"
"Captain Kirrahe, 3rd Infiltration Regiment, STG." He gave her a salarian salute. "I've been sent by the council to kill you."