Chapter Two
A Magnificent Anachronism

Fiordland, New Zealand

In tearing free from her nightmare, Liara awoke with an anguished scream on her lips and a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. Her t-shirt was plastered to her torso, clinging to her chest in a manner that would have been titillating if there was anyone to stare at her.

As the echoes of her scream faded, the only sounds she could hear were the faint humming of the fish tank and her own gasps for air. Liara eventually slumped forward, her head falling into her hands.

Sweat soon cooled on her skin to the point where she was shivering uncontrollably. Still, she did not move. Instead, she lost herself in thoughts of the nightmare. It was the same one that had woken her for the past three nights. Her sleeping pills were supposed to suppress dreams, but for some reason they no longer granted her the oblivion she craved.

The routine that she had followed mechanically each morning for months usually brought a measure of comfort and normality. It was a technique she had always employed during her long months of isolation on a dig site. With strict adherence to times for waking, eating and working, she had always managed to stave off the irrational loneliness that others would have felt. Now it was an oppressive chain bound around her limbs. Her stomach craved food, but she did not want to go through the motions of eating. Nor could she work. There were no doubt dozens of messages waiting for the Shadow Broker, but she could not face the harsh glare of the screens. Even the promise of frenetic, mindless activity within one of her training programmes held no appeal.

Usually she felt safe within the thermocrete walls of her compound, but this morning the low ceiling seemed to press down on her body. The walls seemed closer together than they had the day before. Every dull grey surface was shrinking inwards at a rapid pace. Her heartbeat began to rise again.

Her actions became driven by the sole purpose of getting outside as quickly as possible. She dragged on a minimal amount of clothing over her chilled limbs and made her way to the double-sealed door that separated her from the world outside. Having deactivated Glyph the previous evening and with the blinds still down, she had no idea as to the weather or even the time of day.

You're falling to pieces, T'Soni, she thought as she dragged on the heavy coat she kept by the door. Fifty years working on isolated dig sites and you can't handle a few months alone?

Liara jammed her feet into a pair of boots and went to disable the security system so she could leave the compound. Her fingers trembled within the haptic interface, inputting the wrong code twice before she forced herself to slow her breathing and concentrate. The aggravatingly slow pace of the automatic door drove her to shove her shoulder against it and force her way outside.

Space. Although a biting cold immediately assaulted Liara through the clothes she wore, she eagerly embraced the world beyond her sterile home. Her boots made little sound on the soft earth beneath her feet, at least until she reached the shore of the lake and smooth rocks ground against one another as she stepped on them. Liara drew in a deep breath of bitingly fresh air. Thank the Goddess. I can breathe again.

Her panic attack melted away in the face of the view laid out before her. The surface of the lake was a mirror, reflecting the surrounding riot of colours. From the vivid green of the closely packed fauna to the stark black and white of the peaks that hovered protectively above them. In every direction, the mountains were crowded and crushed together as though some cosmic power had driven them together with a crushing grip. Contrasted against this violence, the expanse of the lake created the illusion of infinite space. The stormy patchwork of clouds rolled by overhead – some were white, others a slate grey that usually heralded rain or snow.

It was scenery that encompassed an entire breadth of emotions – from anger to peace; from loneliness to intense fulfilment. As a whole, it offered a silent counterpart to Liara's tortured emotions. She took several steps forward until the toes of her boots tapped against the surface of the lake. Ripples radiated outwards from the small contact – eventually dying as the lake swallowed them. She tapped her toes again, more ripples spread forth. Once again the ripples died and the lake returned to a seamless whole.

Liara ignored the cold and picked out a seat for herself on the fallen limb of a tree. It was slightly damp with dew, but she did not care. Overhead a nameless bird dipped and soared. Liara watched its flight, losing herself in the way it blended against the landscape around it. The bird belonged here, she did not.

In all truth Liara had very little knowledge of this small corner of Earth in which she unexpectedly found herself. Her perfunctory scans had revealed that the lake was a glacier formation from Earth's last ice age. Densely packed, almost impenetrable rainforests clung precariously to the steep slopes. Local wildlife was abundant but mostly consisted of small mammals and birds. It was quiet…almost painfully so.

Aria T'Loak had obviously appreciated the isolation of the place when it came to building her safe-house in the remote wilderness. Liara was also grateful for that fact, but unlike the Queen of Omega she could find solace and comfort in beauty. The knowledge that there were still small corners of the galaxy that had remained untouched by the war gave her a measure of peace.

A few icy drops from above suddenly splashed against her crest. The rain she had predicted earlier had arrived. Instead of retreating indoors, Liara titled her face skyward and closed her eyes. The heavy rain pelted against her bare skin. The water eventually began tracking down over her cheeks before dribbling off her jaw.

For a few blissful minutes, she could pretend that she was crying


SSV Normandy SR-2

Throughout the day, Sam dutifully responded to an array of messages that arrived in her inbox. Most were of the mind-numbingly boring variety that required little thought. Some she had to flag for Commander Williams' attention, others she simply deleted after a perfunctory scan.

There was one message that stood apart. One she stubbornly ignored. It was the message she had been both anticipating and dreading for several days, yet it remained unread. Several times her fingers had made an awkward twitching motion on her interface, as though her subconscious was trying to open it. Once she even found herself with the message selected, her finger poised above the 'open' command. This hesitation lasted for almost two minutes before she jerked her fingers again and forced herself to open another window.

As the end of her shift neared Sam spent a full ten minutes simply staring at the message without opening it.

Sam, you're being ridiculous. Just open the bloody message and stop wasting time in which you're supposed to be doing your job.

Her shoulders sagged heavily. She was exhausted. Alongside most of the crew, she'd been pulling regular double shifts. Morale was low. The crew's promised shore leave looked like nothing more than a distant carrot dangling above their heads as they pushed themselves beyond the limits of endurance.

In the wake of the incident with the MSV Steinbeck, the entire crew was on edge. The lives of their commander and two senior crewmembers had almost been lost for absolutely nothing. The speculation that the Normandy itself had been the target was running rampant amongst the crew. No one performed at their best with a giant target painted on the hull of their ship – imagined or otherwise. As much as she respected their CO, Sam knew that Ashley was struggling to hold everything together.

With an air of decisiveness, Sam finally stabbed her finger on the message she had been avoiding. She groaned audibly when she realised that Lucy had taken the trouble to record a vid message. The auto-play function kicked in while Sam was too numb to stop it. Lucy's soft features emerged on screen. The Lieutenant looked incredibly tired…but also unmistakably happy. She was dressed in a white tank top and her hair was slightly mussed.

{Hey, Sam…} Lucy suddenly paused following her initial greeting. She propped her elbows up on the table she was sitting at and rested her chin in her hands. Eventually she had to turn her gaze away from the feed as she continued, {This has to be one of the most difficult messages I've ever had to leave. I'm not even sure what to say other than I'm sorry, but I'd be lying. How can I be sorry about something as precious as having Susannah alive and well? I honestly do like you, Sam. Your friendship was pretty much all that kept me going in those first months after the end of the war – after all that I had seen with...Shepard. Throughout all those games of chess I still maintain that the only games I won were the ones you let me win. I'll never forget what you did for me.} Lucy shook her head and finally looked back at the feed. Her dark brown eyes were luminous. {This is probably stupid…you're probably thinking that I'm stupid for being so cut up about this, it's not like our relationship had even begun-}

Great, so now I'm stupid, Sam thought with an ache.

{-before it ended.} Lucy sighed and a small grin swept across her face. {It still feels as though it's a dream. Susannah doesn't remember a lot of what happened to her and I'm not surprise. Apparently, her hard suit remained intact when her fighter was destroyed. Her limbs were pretty burned up and she was unconscious when a rescue shuttle hauled her aboard. They were one of only three ships to make it clear of the Battle for Arcturus. Three. Although her suit sealed itself successfully they still thought she was going to die. She spent months semi-conscious and delirious…sorry, Sam, I'm not sure why I'm giving you the half-baked story when Suze could tell it a hell of a lot better. Listen, when you're next on Earth please get in touch. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Suze would love to meet you-}

"Not bloody likely," Sam muttered to herself.

{I'm so sorry it had taken me so long to send this damn message. I don't know…I guess I thought I was living in some dream world where I meant a lot more to you than I actually did. The offer of a picnic still stands…that is if I can get time off from my duties. There's so much to do, Sam, but I think the Alliance has stepped into the breach to hold humanity together. I'm recommending to my campaign manager that the Normandy be taken off active duty to tour – you know, drive up morale and urge people to pull together-}

Sam wasn't entirely sure she liked the idea of being part of a PR campaign. She also knew that Ashley would respond with her trademark 'with all due respect, sir' if it was suggested by the brass.

{It's vital at times like this. Without the Alliance, we'd end up like the other systems. I've heard it's pretty bad out there. Pirates, anarchy, random massacres-}

A frown creased Sam's brow. Is it really that bad? I guess we are in a cocoon here on the Normandy.

{Anyway, I've waffled enough and you're probably busy. Take care of yourself, Sam. I'm sure I'll see you soon.}

The message ended and Sam was left staring at her console. She drew a complete emotional and mental blank for several minutes as she simply stood...staring.

After only a brief consideration, she deleted the message from Lucy. Seeing it gone from her inbox brought an instant feeling of satisfaction for about two point four seconds before she regretted her decision.

Okay, breathe, Sam. You don't need to go back into the message logs and retrieve it…you're good. Breathe…

"Traynor?"

Breathe.

"Traynor!"

"Sh-" Catching herself before the entire expletive left her mouth. Sam turned around to find Commander Ashley Williams standing with her arms folded across her chest in an intimidating pose. Obviously having emerged from the elevator at the same time Garrus and Tali stood just behind her. It wasn't exactly an ideal moment to be caught up in her own thoughts, ignoring her CO. Sam snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm expecting an urgent call from Alliance HQ. When it comes through, can you let me know asap?" Ashley asked. She continued even as the trio started walking away. "I'll be in the conference room."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam nodded in response. As soon as the CO, Garrus and Tali had disappeared in the direction of the War Room, Sam turned and slapped her hand against the console in frustration. "Damn you, Lucy Park."

Sam's watch relief turned up five minutes later. As Williams had given her the detail, she sent the Yeoman away reluctantly. Her sleeping pod would have to wait. Thankfully the message came through less than ten minutes later…or at least Sam thought it was the message Ashley was waiting for. There was nothing to patch through, it was a terse communication from some colonel Sam had never heard of simply stating Permission denied.

Oh bloody hell, Sam groaned inwardly. I'm going to have to go in there. Whatever happened to the good old days when I could just tell Shepard there was an incoming call and be done with it?

Sam passed Privates Campbell and Westmoreland in the security alcove, both gave her 'better you than me' expressions. She wasn't sure why they were so touchy about everything, although she speculated that it had something to do with the fact that she had been present when Miranda Lawson took them both down with one hand.

The conversation in the conference room came to an abrupt halt when Sam peered in nervously. She paused for a few moments, wondering whether Ashley wanted Garrus and Tali to hear the contents of the message.

"Traynor?"

Sam took a punt. "It said permission denied. No further explanation. Do you…want me to establish contact with HQ and ascertain-"

"Shit," Ashley hissed as she slammed her balled up fist on the table. Sam immediately stopped talking at the harsh tone. The Commander eventually sighed in resignation and shook her head. "Well that's the end of that. Mission's scrubbed."

Garrus' mandibles twitched in agitation. "Commander, if we don't act now we'll lose their trail altogether. They were using a stolen ship as it is. Think about it, the intel strongly suggests that they were targeting the Normandy specifically. Vengeance for the 300,000?"

Ashley nodded. "Bahak…I know, Garrus. I agree with you, we should pursue…but HQ obviously feels otherwise. My hands are tied on this-"

"They were targeting the Normandy!" Garrus repeated. "The three of us were almost killed…the ship destroyed. Whoever is behind this is a very clear threat, we need to eliminate-"

"Whoever is behind this being the operative words in this scenario!" Ashley's frustration was evident in her voice. "We could spend weeks traipsing around the Traverse…maybe even the Terminus Systems before we catch a whiff of those bastards. As a Spectre, I'd love nothing more than to hunt them down, but we have other priorities."

"Like looking out for human colonies…human interests," Garrus suggested pointedly.

"That's unfair, Garrus!" It was the first time that Sam had heard Tali add her opinion to the conversation. "Everyone is stretched. The Alliance are doing the best they can."

"And how much aid have they given to Rannoch? To Palaven?" Garrus demanded.

"Garrus, this isn't you," Tali admonished. "If not for Shepard's efforts, you would never have had Krogan troops on Palaven. You owe the Alliance...you owe Shepard."

Garrus appeared slightly mollified, he looked away for a moment to bring himself under control. Sam saw his fingers ball into large fists and knew that he was struggling. For the first time, she began to wonder if she could make a discreet exit from the conference room even though Ashley had not dismissed her.

"My apologies, Commander. It's just that I have a bad feeling that this will come back to bite us in the ass." Garrus gave his CO a level stare. "If Shepard were here she would have-"

"If Shepard were here she would have what, Vakarian?" Bitterness was evident in Ashley's tone. "We don't know what the hell Shepard would have done in this situation because she's dead! She doesn't get to experience the peace that her death won us." As Sam suppressed a slight gasp, Ashley suddenly lowered her gaze. A few moments later she sighed wearily. "The discussion is over. Archive all files relating to the MSV Steinbeck. I don't want any more time wasted on this matter. Understood? You're both dismissed."

And me? Sam thought hopefully. Or was I supposed to have slipped out after delivering the message? Shit, does the Commander even know I'm still standing here?

Garrus responded with only a stiff nod, whilst Tali circled around the table to lay a gentle hand on Ashley's shoulder. Sam did not know what the quarian was trying to convey, but she saw Ashley respond with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Tali and Garrus left together, both moving past Sam as she searched their faces for some hint of whether she ought to join them. Garrus merely shrugged. Sam looked desperately over her shoulder as they left, looking away only when she saw Garrus reach out to take Tali's hand in his own.

Okay, still standing here, Sam thought as she turned back to face Ashley. "Um…ma'am?"

"Permission to speak freely, Traynor," Ashley said without lifting her gaze.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" Sam was quite sure she hadn't asked the necessary question in the first place.

"Do you always have to be so damn polite?" Ashley smiled sardonically. "I'm giving you permission to tell me what a crap job I'm doing. It's a rare opportunity to let your CO know exactly what you think, so I'd take it if I were you."

Sam didn't think she was being polite. Regardless of her current state of mind, Ashley was her CO. As a Specialist, she was so far down the food chain that just thinking disrespectful thoughts about an officer made her slightly nervous. Of course, that wasn't to say that Sam wasn't a polite person, her parents had raised her well, but she did resent the implication that she was incapable of speaking her mind.

"No," Sam replied abruptly. "You want me to tell you what a crap job you're doing as some sort of…of vindication for your behaviour. I stand here and give you a piece of my mind, letting you know exactly what I think of your leadership qualities and your failure to live up to expectations. Meanwhile you stand there and listen, feeling like shit, and wallowing in a mind-set of your own creation. Well I won't give you what you want, ma'am."

Ashley was inscrutable. "And why not?"

"Because you're not doing a crap job." Sam sometimes surprised herself with her own powers of articulation. Crap job? Is that a technical term? "And every crewmember on this ship would agree with me. I was in command of the Normandy for about ninety minutes, and that was eight-nine minutes too many. You've held this ship…and its crew together for over five months without leave, you haven't lost a single man and the Normandy has barely suffered a scratch. I'd say you're doing a bloody good job, Commander."

Sam's words finally earned a reaction. Ashley's shoulders sagged slightly. "But Garrus-"

"Is clearly as stressed as you are. As much as he and Tali want to remain on the Normandy, they have their own homes to consider. Neither of them has been home for months. Garrus' hasn't seen his sister. Tali desperately wants to join her people on Rannoch-" Sam bit her lip. She knew it wasn't her place to fill Ashley in on the personal lives of her crew. "You should talk to them, ma'am."

"It's Ash, Sam. We're off the record," she replied quietly, straightening a little. "And thanks for the advice. I might even take some of it into consideration."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You damn well better."

Ashley managed a small smile. "How do you feel about scotch?"

"Huh?" Sam frowned.

"I'm inviting you to drink with me," Ashley explained. "I think your answer is supposed to be 'ma'am, the Specialist loves scotch, ma'am!"

"Then…that's my answer." Do I like scotch? "I'd love to join you for a drink, Comman-…I mean, Ashley. Thank you."

"Too polite, Sam…too damn polite." Ashley shook her head in mock disapproval.


Undisclosed Location

"You're going to be a father..."

As she slid in and out of consciousness it became more difficult to focus on the dream. It had initially felt so real that she thought it was her reality. Then it was gone, yanked cruelly out of her grasp as she was dragged back to the hell of her physical body.

Every simple act was an exercise in torture – from opening her eyes to drawing in a breath. She had been staring up at an unfamiliar face - a heavy-set man with thinning red hair and sympathetic green eyes. Something in his gaze told her that she could trust him and so she tried to speak. Only whispers emerged, barely sounds let alone words. It was vital that she get the name out, but it was becoming increasingly difficult just to breathe.

When she woke again the kind-eyed man was gone, replaced by pure-white nothingness. Everything was still difficult and painful, which ordinarily would have indicated that this was real. Then again, she had been mistaken once already. Opening and closing her eyes came easily. She did this several times until her vision focused. Instead of nothing, she found a white ceiling above her. Tilting her head a fraction left and right confirmed that it was a white ceiling in a white-walled room. There were no variations in colour other than the bank of machines next to her bed. The pumps, monitors and fluid stations were appropriately coloured in bland greys with haptic readouts that hurt her eyes to stare at.

Her first instinct was that she was utterly alone and this unnerved her more than her pain or the stark white room. Unlike the dream, she found that she could move her hands and feet at will. After testing each experimentally and determining her strength, she forcefully willed herself into a sitting position. A sharp cry of effort escaped her lips and the white room spun wildly for several moments. Her heart hammered in her chest as though she had been running. When she slumped forward, strands of dark hair fell in lengths over her face. With agonisingly slow movements, she reached up to run a hand through her hair. It trailed down over her shoulders.

A flash of remembered conversation accompanied the movement. "You're a butcher, T'Soni."

There were tubes connected to her arm. They snagged on something as she moved her arm and a sharp pain went shooting up her arm. Her hand fell. She studied the two tubes protruding from her arm. Eventually she grew bored of watching the fluid move along the tube. The fingers lay pale and thin but very ordinary in comparison to those of her left hand which were white. When she moved it she realised that the hand wasn't simply white. The harsh lighting in the room reflected the crystalline formations that covered the skin of her entire left hand and forearm. It joined with her natural skin at the elbow in a mottled effect that made the skin look diseased and patchy. With trembling fingers, she reached across to touch the growth. She gasped at the first contact. It was ice cold to the touch and as smooth as marble. The white fingers twitched slightly, but the touch did not register as it should have. Although she could feel herself touching the arm, it felt distant and removed from her own body. She scratched at the surface, but it was impenetrable.

"What...th-"

It was too difficult to make her voice work. Her words rasped in a dry throat. She clutched at her forehead with the natural fingers of her right hand while the foreign appendage lay in her lap as though discarded.

There were memories scattered throughout her mind but any sort of overall cohesion remained elusive. As she struggled to try and make sense of what had happened, part of the white wall suddenly moved, sliding to reveal a door. A few moments later, her entire world was jarred by the appearance of a smiling woman wearing an Alliance science uniform. Shepard did not recognise her. However, when she opened her mouth and spoke -

"Hello, Shepard."

- the two simple words set a flurry of chaotic scenes in motion.

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack, T'Soni?"

"Even if you are honorary Krogan, you're still a pale, squishy little human. If anything happens to you, the wife would never forgive me."

"Fuck appropriate. Is it going to be more appropriate when we're out in the open fighting Reapers? I want you to kiss me, Commander Shepard."

"Like any family, you're a pack of goddamn arseholes…but I wouldn't be standing here without you. If I had my way, none of you would be following me in this madness, but I know I don't stand a chance in hell of getting to that Crucible alone."

"You reckless...obtuse..fool!"

"We're cut off from the Crucible. Someone has to take down that fucking Reaper or this whole show is over."

"For the love of the Goddess let me go! Please Evan...Evan!"

"Your scars...and your eyes...they're um...they're glowing red."

"I've already broken my promise to her, help me save her life. Liara...she's my everything."

As the memories came flooding back, so did her identity - Commander Evangeline Hannah Shepard, Alliance Marine Corps...and human battery for the Crucible. Shepard started to run her right hand over the accessible skin she could see. It was smooth, unblemished. With a frown, she dragged open the medical gown she wore. Where there had once been a hideous tangle of scars across her chest, there was only her own pale skin. She pressed her fingers against the skin of her face, searching frantically for the scars she had carried for almost a year. There were none.

"Wha...happened?" Shepard whispered.

"You were missing for six months," the other woman replied cautiously. "We are still unsure how exactly you survived-"

"Who are you?" There were so many questions flooding her mind that they overlapped. She turned to look at the woman and analysed her in a perfunctory manner - blonde hair, what appeared to be green eyes, slim...attractive. None of it mattered, all Shepard wanted were answers.

"Dr Naomi Stone," the woman replied calmly. "Please call me Naomi. How do you feel, Evan?"

"Like shit." Shepard muttered, plucking at the tubes impaled in her arm. It still hurt to speak and she desperately wanted a drink, but she was reluctant to ask this woman for anything. "Missing? For six months? I remember...I was inside the Crucible with my heart skewered. Then the fucking thing blew up, and now I'm lying here without a scratch on me."

"I'm afraid I cannot explain-"

"I need to see Liara T'Soni. Surely she knows I'm alive. Is she already here?" Shepard demanded. "Wherever there fuck here is."

"Shepard, we've attempted to locate Dr T'Soni-"

"What do you mean attempted to locate?" Why can't I get a single answer out of this woman?

In her anger, Shepard's trembling fingers closed over the tubes impaled in her arm. With a severe tug, she jerked both free and tossed them to one side. Ignoring the trickle of blood that followed, Shepard forced her body over the side of the bed. Her legs refused to cooperate. With little strength in her muscles, they immediately gave way and she fell hard.

"Shepard! We're trying to help you."

Dr Stone's voice was tinged with concern – real or artificial, Shepard could not tell. The woman was difficult to read.

There was absolutely no dignity to be found in the manner in which Shepard clawed her way across the slick floor. Nor did she know what she was trying to achieve. Shepard pressed her body into the corner of the white room, wedging her back against the solidity of the wall behind her.

When she turned, she saw others in the room in addition to the blonde doctor. Shepard identified another scientist and an Alliance soldier, a holstered pistol at his waist. All Shepard could do was drag her emaciated legs to her chest as a sort of makeshift shield. She wrapped her arms around them, still loathing the feel of her artificial limb as it touched her skin.

"Now, Shepard..." The male scientist took a few hesitant steps forward. He kept his hands raised in an attempt at a placating gesture. "You need to calm down before we can help you."

Shepard narrowed her eyes as she studied him – thin with balding dark hair and a ridiculous attempt at a moustache above his thin lips. There was absolutely nothing about his simulated sympathetic expression that she trusted. Nor did she trust Dr Stone, regardless of her claim that they were trying to help her.

"You keep saying you're trying to help me." Shepard's throat felt like sandpaper. "I want to see Liara T'Soni."

"As I was saying, Evan," Dr Stone said gently. "We have been unable to-"

"Bullshit!" Shepard spat. The sudden escalation in tone distressed her throat. "If Liara knew that I was alive, then she would be here already. Which clearly indicates that you haven't made any effort to contact her or even broadcast news of my survival. Which leads me to the question of why the fuck are you hiding me?"

Stone cast a quick, worried glance across at her colleague. In that instant Shepard saw something flicker in his eyes that only heightened her distrust. What she did not understand was why Alliance personnel seemed to have no interest in trying to contact her bondmate or indeed confirming that Commander Shepard had survived the destruction of the Crucible. A dozen possibilities entered her mind, but none seemed to make any sense.

Shepard tried a different tact. "At least let me talk to Admiral Hackett...or Anderson?"

Another flicker, another strange reaction. The growing sense of anxiety in Shepard's gut became full on dread. Keeping her movements as casual as possible, Shepard pressed the palms of her hands against the floor. At full fitness she could carve a path straight through both scientists and reach the armed soldier without raising a sweat. She cursed her frail condition, knowing she would be lucky to stand let alone move quickly enough. Shepard was extremely tired. All she wanted was to go to sleep with the knowledge that Liara knew she was alive. Clearly that was too much to ask for.

Both scientists were staring at her intently when Shepard's eyes suddenly rolled back in her head and her limp body slumped to the cold floor. Her limbs spasmed in jerky, uncontrolled motions.

"I told you she was about to crash, Stone!"

"It's Shepard. We don't know how the hell she'll react to anything for god's sake, Heller. You...Corporal, help us get her back onto the bed," Stone ordered. "Careful with her or you'll-"

Stone was cut short as she found herself flailing backwards following a shove to her chest. The corporal who had been attempting to lift Shepard by her armpits now found himself staring down the barrel of his own Predator.

"Back the fuck up," Shepard hissed. "All three of you."

"Shepard-" Stone began.

"Shut-up." It took every effort for Shepard to keep both the tone of her voice firm and the weapon from trembling in her grasp. Already the relatively light Predator felt as though it weighed a ton. "You're going to bring me someone I recognise - T'Soni, Ashley Williams, Admiral Anderson...I don't care. I just want to see the face of someone I don't suspect to be a lying snake."

"Or what, Shepard?" Heller asked, annoyance was creeping into his thin voice. "I hardly think you're capable of shooting your way out of here."

"Probably not, but I will be able to shoot you so-called doctors and Corporal Cheese-dick over there. I want answers from someone I trust!" Shepard demanded. Her heartbeat was once against hammering wildly. She tried to calm herself, knowing that she would crash for real if she could not bring her heart-rate under control. The brief burst of exertion when she had taken the Predator had taxed her severely, sapping what little strength she did have. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Calm down, Evan," Naomi Stone pleaded. "You're dehydrated and incapable of thinking rationally. You're pointing a weapon at unarmed SA personnel. This isn't you."

Shepard was unfazed. "How the hell do you know what I'm capable of?"

"Evan-"

Her placating tone failed as Shepard snapped, "Don't fucking use my first name like you know me!"

The Predator began to waiver slightly. Shepard's heart was beating so fast she was on the verge of passing out. Throwing in the towel was not an option. She needed answers, but even more she needed Liara.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Heller scoffed. "I want a marine detail in here immediately, someone put this crazed woman down before she shoots herself in the foot!"

Drawing in one even breath, Shepard gentled squeezed the trigger. The Predator jumped once in her hands. The retort sounded like thunder within the confined space. Heller froze, the blood having drained from his face to render his skin almost white. The Alliance insignia on his sleeve had been seared off with almost perfect precision.

"Go ahead...tell me I missed," Shepard whispered. Her entire body sagged with fatigue and she could not even bring herself to care about the insanity of her own actions.

Shepard heard heavy bootfalls beyond the door. Less than a second later three armed marines filed into the room in perfect tactical formation. Each carried an assault rifle, levelled with intent in her direction. Shepard did not lower the pistol in her own hand.

"Stand down, marines!" a voice sliced through the tense silence in the room.

The Predator in Shepard's hand trembled and almost slipped from her grasp altogether when Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard forced her way through the marines. She moved past both Heller and Stone, stopping only a metre short of her daughter. The pistol twitched.

I'm pointing a gun at my mother, Shepard thought in disbelief.

Hannah Shepard looked as though she had aged at least five years since Shepard had last seen her. Her previously long hair had been cut into a neat bob, with more grey strands than Shepard remembered. Her mother looked tired in every sense of the word, even her perfect posture appeared to have deserted her as her shoulders slumped.

"Evie." Hannah's face creased into a reassuring smile. "You're still very sick, honey. These people are only trying to help. You need to let them do their jobs."

Although she did not trust Heller or Stone, Shepard lowered the pistol – as much a result of exhaustion as her mother's presence. It was no longer just her hand that was trembling. Her entire body was gripped by crippling spasms of pain. Her efforts to hold herself upright failed and she slumped to her knees. Hannah surged forward and managed to catch her as she fell, cushioning her fall.

"Mum what the hell is going on here?"

"Hand over the gun, sweetie," Hannah said gently, her tone perfectly calm despite the situation.

"I need to see Liara," Shepard pleaded. "These morons say they don't know where she is. I think they're lying."

"Evie, you need to calm down, hand over the gun and I promise you I will personally do everything I can to bring Liara to you."

"I've been missing for six months. Six fucking months!"

Even as Shepard spoke, the pistol slipped from her grasp. Hannah caught it before it fell to the floor. Wordlessly she handed it butt first to the Corporal standing behind her as her daughter finally relaxed and sagged into her arms. Hannah closed her eyes. She could not remember the last time she had held her daughter in such an intimate manner. She was five years old. She'd skinned her knee running on the tarmac at some airfield on Earth. All she wanted to do was see the fighters...

A rough hand suddenly grabbed Hannah by her upper arm and pulled her away from Evan. Hannah could only move aside as two marines pushed past and seized her limp daughter, forcing her roughly to the floor.

"Mum!"

The cry was plaintive, desperate. It was enough to drive Hannah close to tears. Dr Stone reached out a hand to help her to her feet. She straightened almost immediately, smoothing out the creases in her uniform as she stared at Evan still trying to fight back. "They're only trying to help you, honey."

Shepard could no longer see Hannah. All she saw was the red rage of betrayal. Even as she fought against the hands that held her, Shepard could not believe that her own mother was letting them treat her in this manner. Fingernails dug cruelly into her skin as she struggled. Then Heller's sneering face loomed over her.

"Listen to me very closely. You're officially dead. You're not The Shepard, you're not even Commander Shepard, you're dead. You know what that means? We can do whatever we like to you."

Shepard felt the sharp stab of a needle pierce her skin and her attempts to struggle grew weaker.

"Li-" The whisper left her lips but all she could see as her vision folded in on her was Heller's sneer. What kind of hell have I woken into?

"You know, Shepard..."

Heller was still talking as the drugs lulled her toward the darkness of unconsciousness. She fervently wished she had strength enough in her arm to ram the palm of her hand into his nose.

"I once heard that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He was supposed to win it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. I guess that makes you the dumbest bastard of them all."