Chapter Nine

Joker leans heavily against the arm of his chair. They've been up and down the surface of the planet for hours now, but he knows there's little to no hope of finding anything. A visual from this height might not reveal anything even if they were right over the commander and his squad. They have to keep searching, though.

Joker sits up suddenly. A light flashes on the console before him, and he feels his heart accelerate to match its rhythm. Could it- He doesn't finish the thought, biting his lip and flipping the channel open. Another screen opens on the display.

Joker leans closer. It's a map! A target blinks steadily on its surface, outlining coordinates. He almost yells, controls himself, and activates the intercom. "Garrus Vakarian to the bridge, Garrus Vakarian to the bridge."

Within seconds the Turian comes bounding into the cockpit. "What?" he demands. "Did you find them?"

"Yes! Well, no!" says Joker gleefully. "I mean, they found themselves! The jammer is off, and we're getting a locator signal!"

"Do we have a visual?" asks Garrus.

Joker's hands fly over the transparent keyboard. A window comes up, showing a live feed from the surface. "Doesn't look like much. Let's switch to electromagnetic." Joker enters a few more keystrokes, and the visual switches abruptly from an innocuous forest landscape to the shimmering outline of a building.

Garrus squints at the grainy picture. "Are they in there?"

"Probably," says Joker. "That's where the signal's coming from."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for? Take the damn ship down!"

There was a certain bond between pilots and their ships, and under normal circumstances, Joker would have had a few words to say about such a disrespect of the Normandy.

But these are not normal circumstances. Shepard is down there.

Joker takes the damn ship down.

…

The door shudders. Muffled voices yell something from outside. An arpeggio of gunfire follows, and the door shakes again.

Legion stands perfectly still. From the voices outside it projects their numbers to be around ten or twelve at the most. Judging by the tight quarters, that means four on the landing and more lining the stairway. It also means that the basement levels are more extensive than it had guessed. Legion wonders what is hidden down there, although it is hardly important at the moment.

"We can't hold them out forever," says Shepard from further back in the room. "We're going to have to make a run for it."

"We can't just run out there," says Jack. "We'll be killed. No way."

Shepard checks the time on his omni-tool. "Then I really, really hope Joker isn't napping up there..."

…

"There it is!" exclaims Garrus. The base suddenly fills the Normandy's view screen, magnified several hundred times; they are still half a mile over the forest. "Can't you get any closer?" the Turian demands.

"Hold it, hold it! I'm gonna make audio contact first!" Joker types into the console, then speaks loudly into it. "Hey, Shepard! You alive down there?"

There is a momentary pause, while the two hold there breath and static fills the cabin. Then the silence is broken by the familiar, if slightly haggard voice of commander Shepard. "Yes, for now. But enough about me, how was your day?"

Joker laughs giddily out of relief, makes to clap Garrus on the shoulder, thinks better of it, and returns his attention to the console. "Hold tight commander. We're going to pull you out of there."

"I would be obliged if you would hurry. We're about to have company in here."

Joker hears gunfire, and Jack's voice in the background. "Shit, they're coming through!"

"Hold positions," screams Shepard. "Take cover!"

There is a sudden blast of sound, and the comm channel dies. Joker taps at the controls, preparing the Normandy for descent. "Here we go."

Garrus leans over the pilot's chair, his talons digging into the synthetic leather. "Joker..."

"What?" snaps Joker. "This isn't as easy as I'm sure I make it look, you know."

"What," says Garrus, urgency seeping into his voice. "Do those blinking red lights mean?"

"What, those? Those are just-" Joker looks down at the panel. His face falls. "Motherfucker."

The Normandy jumps.

…

The door flies off its hinges with a screaming crash, bullets whizzing by, and Shepard leaps over a desk, hunkering down behind it as the room fills with projectiles.

He looks to Jack and Legion, taking cover behind a console on the other side of the room. "Jack!"

The woman turns her head towards him, eyes blazing blue with biotic energy.

"Get them out of here!" he yells.

Jack nods briefly. She balls her hands into fists, drawing them close to her, then springs to her feet and releases the energy in a wave of rippling blue light. The nearest soldiers are blasted off their feet, knocking back into their comrades and propelling them over the railing and down the stairs. Jack roars in animal rage, flinging another shockwave after them.

Shepard stands up and returns fire. The remaining Batarians retreat hurriedly from the doorway, falling back to the landing. Shepard grimaces and smacks the spent clip out of his gun. They'll be back.

…

"Yes I was paying attention!" Joker cries, as the Normandy swerves alarmingly to the side. A trail of smoke cuts along their starboard bow, picked up by the cameras as it disappears behind the ship. Joker hits a button franticly, and the keyboard in front of him folds in on itself, transforming into a transparent orange yoke. He grips it firmly, easing the bar up. The Normandy's nose rises to follow his command, and he smiles. "Haven't had a chance to use the new manual pilot much yet. Time to put her through her paces."

The blinking sensor, quieted since the first missile had passed, begins to flash again. Garrus looks at it in alarm. "Joker! It's the, uh, thing again!"

Joker looks over his shoulder at the Turian. "Huh?"

The light flashes more rapidly. "The missile is back," yells Garrus. "Do something!"

Joker yanks up on the yoke, twisting the Normandy in a gentle roll. The hull sensors pick up two more contrails crossing over the side of the ship, barely missing contact. Garrus and Joker are pulled towards the deck by the G force as the Normandy comes out of the spin ungracefully, tipping slightly as she tries to right herself.

"You were not paying attention! And what the hell was that?"

"The artificial grav's been out since we entered orbit!"

"I mean the thing that almost hit us!"

EDI's artificial voice chimes in, obscenely calm in the current situation. "That was a programmable ballistic missile, Mr. Vakarian. It was fired from a gun platform half a click south of this position, two hundred feet above surface level."

"Bring up a tracker!" says Joker.

The screen shifts, showing a hovercraft skimming above the tops of the trees down below. The camera zooms in, and Garrus and Joker see a launcher of some kind affixed to the craft's deck. Three humanoid figures pilot the hovercraft, two of them occupied with loading another missile into the launcher. The picture wobbles slightly as the Joker turns the ship again, trying to put distance between them and the first missile.

"What happens if that thing hits us?" asks Garrus.

"Normandy's shields will be able to sustain 1.78 impacts at projected payload," says EDI. "Weapons most likely have locked on to our mass effect signature."

Both men are silent as the implications of the situation sink in. The Normandy can't stop moving; There's no way they can land. Shepard is stuck down there in a building full of hostiles.

Suddenly Garrus's brow ridge raises slightly. He stands rigid, talons sinking deep into the back of the chair. Could it work? There's no way…

Joker looks over his shoulder worriedly. "Garrus?..."

The Turian stays still for a second, then pulls away and charges down the hallway.

"Garrus!"

…

Shepard squeezes the trigger. Once. Twice. The Batarian falls, holes through his head. Shepard hears another soldier, trying to squeeze around the corner while his back is turned. He raises his right leg, whips it around behind him in a hook kick, his boot heel connects, crushing glass and breaking teeth. Shepard brings his rifle around, and it blasts through the soldier's stomach sending him stumbling backwards.

The gun clicks. Overheated. Shepard turns, jamming the red-hot barrel into a Batarian's eye. As the soldier screams Shepard slams a left jab into his chin and follows through with his knee. The soldier crumples, Shepard brings his boot up and crashing down into the back of his neck with a yell. He ejects the dead clip and pops in a new one. Two left.

A whistling sound flies toward him, and Shepard feels a rushing sensation behind his eyes. The feeling fills him, and he feels time slow to a crawl. Molten gold fills his veins, and he is burning, and he moves, twisting back and away as the bullet spirals past his face, carving a furrow of skin off of his cheek. He continues the movement, bending impossibly low, reaching into his boot strap, drawing out the serrated knife.

The gold in him ripples, reaching towards his heart, pounding at his temples, and he unbends, the knife flying from his hands as if through water. He sees it sail across the stairwell, feels the thunk vibrate through him as it hits its target, and suddenly the gold and the fire are gone, pulled back into whatever deep recess of his mind they came from, and he staggers against the wall.

Come on, Joker, he thinks.

…

Garrus tears through the armory. He snatches up a gun, any gun. He sees Jacob, and snatches him up too.

"What-?"

"No time. Come on!"

Jacob drops his sandwich and they run.

Doctor Chakwas is just stepping out of the elevator, cradling a mug of mint tea, as Garrus and Jacob barrel around the corner. She gives a squeak of surprise, stepping backwards as the two men pile into the compartment and Garrus slams the button for the hangar.

Chakwas puts a hand over her chest, trying to slow her heartbeat. She rallies herself, glaring sternly at the two men. "You ruffians spilled my tea. I think an apology is in order- Where are you going?"

Garrus pounds down the corridor to the hangar. Did they still have it? He could have sworn he'd seen it, wasn't the new assignment for a Kodiak shuttle and a-

He skids to a stop. There, sitting forgotten in the shadows at the corner of the hangar, aged but resplendent in all its turtle-shaped glory, is the Mako. Mindful of the situation, Garrus slows his stride nonetheless, taking in the view as if reuniting wit an old friend. "You know," he says to nobody in particular. "Sometimes I feel like I spent all my time on the old Normandy fixing this old bastard."

"That's because you did," says an elderly female voice from behind him. "I always thought it was a bit odd."

"Chakwas?" says Garrus, startled. "What are you doing here?"

The doctor fold her arms in front of her, raising an eyebrow in incredulity. "I might ask you the same thing, but I know what the answer will be. What's John got himself into this time?"

Garrus stares at her for a second, then shakes his head and waves to Jacob. "Let's go. Not you, Doctor."

Doctor Chakwas draws herself up to her full height, scowling ferociously at the Turian as he towers over her. "I happen to have known John for longer than any of you, and if he's in trouble, which is a guarantee, then there is no chance I'm staying here. And if you think that you can just scare the daylights out of me, spill my tea – which was a damn rare blend by the way – and charge off without an explanation, then you have another think coming young man!"

Garrus continues to stare at her. After a few seconds he closes his mouth, and blinks. "Um. Okay."

Chakwas nods resolutely, then looks up at the Mako. "Good. Now, what do you intend to do with this vehicle?"