Thank you all so much for your kind comments! I'm only experimenting with 1st person and I hope it doesn't sound too... weird. XD I hope you all are having a wonderful Super Bowl Sunday!

&.

"Sovereign's going to have to be sitting on their roofs before they even think about believing you, Commander."

"Man, I just had a funny image of that. . ."

Joker and Kaiden to Commander Shepard following another unsuccessful Council meeting.

(Shepard)

In J.R.R Tolkein's universe of Middle Earth, there were once the Valar. They were people of light sprung into being by the music of their father, born with gifts that surpassed any other on the world below them. They moved in harmony with the world around them, bringing peace and justice to Humans. Sometimes I had to wonder if my name–Valar–was either a play upon 'valor' or some kind of tribute to Tolkein's epic fantasy world. Dad insisted it was just because he liked the name, but that didn't stop me from nosing around during one of our many moves to find his entire collection of books. At the time I was annoyed because of all the attention it gave me at schools around the galaxy, but as time moved on I began to like my name, grow into it.

Besides, the girls liked the name-play. Mainly the smart, pretty ones who actually read the books.

Dad taught me a great deal before he died, and the main focus of the lessons were one thing–live up to your name. You don't lie, you don't steal, and you never, ever take a person for granted. Help the unfortunate, but don't rely on them to help you in return. Do your duty and be an example for the lesser people. And, when I joined the military, don't send other people to do what you're not willing to do yourself.

So far I tried to live up to my name. It was stupid and cliche, a storybook fantasy, but I've learned that, over time, your name is the only thing you can take with you. A human is nothing but a mixture of experiences wrapped into a physical body, but if you give that body a name, he suddenly has purpose and meaning, even if he's the only one that knows it. Even personalities are shaped solely by the experiences that made them so. Attach a name to a personality and boom, you get the idea.

A name fit the person it was given. I couldn't imagine Tali'Zorah having a name any other than her own, and I knew if she did something would have been significantly different–off. Wrex, also, couldn't have had the same effect on me if he was named Rambo or Chuck Norris. He'd be a scary son of a bitch, but the name wouldn't carry any weight. Also, I wasn't sure if Wrex even knew who they were, or cared.

I don't know why I'm dwelling on this. Maybe it's the fact that the Illusive Man has no name and his experiences are unknown. Probably. He's a shadow with no friends and a lot of push. To put it simply, every animal in the galaxy has an erratic fear of the dark unknown. We call the time when our mind leaves our body Death, and it's a name that helps quell that fear. We would be much, much more afraid if it had no name. It was there, unstoppable and relentless, and we couldn't do anything about it.

I won't go as far as to say that this Illusive Man reminds me of the Grim Reaper. Quite the contrary, to be precise. He has the power to take away lives in the advancement of humanity as a whole, and his methods are always brutal, extreme, and completely and irrevocably secret unless you happen to step into his experiments like I'd had the fortune of doing once or twice. But this man, this shadow, he had the strange power of bringing others back to life. Through wealth and resources he put me back together, piece by piece.

A man like that commands respect.

He had no name that I knew of and his background was unknown. I knew why he was given the name immediately–illusive was synonyms with 'unreal' after all.

Negotiating with a shadow was going to be, to say the least, different indeed.

&.

The shadow was smoking a cigarette, silhouetted by a backdrop of an intense red-hot ball of fire ringed with blue in the viewscreen. The dying star, for that was what it was, erupted and bubbled as I watched. This, I thought, was the best place for a being of the Illusive Man's power to preside over the affairs of the little people. I had little idea if he was aboard a ship or sitting comfortably in an office back on Earth with live footage playing like a fancy wallpaper, but the effect was nice. The man who controls life and death watching a life-giver wither and die, something that had been impossible before the mass relays were found.

I'm not a guy to be intimidated, not even by this. I kept my back straight, standing at ease as I watched this shadow of a man puff on his tobacco. I wasn't in the room with him, not really–I'd taken a step into a holographic circle that both scanned my body and relayed my voice and form back to him over lightyears and also gave me a three-hundred and sixty degree of vision.

He wasn't a man to waste time scaring the recruits, or perhaps he knew that his display of power wouldn't work. He turned to face me, his eyes seeming to glow in response to the star's background light behind him.

"Commander Shepard," he said. "Let's talk."

He took a seat in the middle of the backdrop, once again a silhouette, and placed his ankle on his knee. "Miranda did well. Are you feeling alright?"

I gave him a slow, measured look. "I noticed a few upgrades."

"Technology changed in the last two years." He took a deep puff of his cigarette. "We adapted." He inclined his head. "The medics told me you're exhibiting some flu-like symptoms. I'm glad to hear that the antibiotics are taking effect. Originally we introduced the flu to strengthen your immune system, so you'll be glad to hear that once it's over with you'll never get it again."

He put a reassuring air in his voice, and I moved my threat assessment. Upwards. This was a man very used to playing both sides of the coin. "You spent two years of time and effort to get me operational again," I stated. "Obviously, it's for something important."

He flicked the cigarette with another finger, dropping the ashes into a tray built on the side of his expensive-looking seat. "I think you'll agree with me when you hear what we're up against. Colonies are disappearing–human colonies. We suspect that someone is working for the Reapers, just as Saren and his geth aided Sovereign."

I crossed my arms, doubtful. "How do you know about the Reapers?"

"Commander, we have agents in every level of Alliance military," said the Illusive Man, a small smile on his lips. His face was perfectly symmetrical, so much so that it had to have been a surgical job. His dark hair was graying at the temples. His eyes, I noticed, had implants in them to project a blue glowing light. The best and worst of humanity, I thought, all in one package. "We heard about the Reapers and weren't so naive to dismiss it on the spot. All the evidence points to the fact you were right, but the Council didn't see it that way. When the human ambassador dismissed you on the spot we were all, myself included, very upset. You would have thought it would change after Saren's attack on the Citadel, but the Council, the very ones you saved, dismissed your facts even when that machine nearly killed them. Anderson is trying, but he's only one man."

"Yeah, I remember," I said. "They said it was geth, covered the files, and sent me on a milk run in the Traverse while they hushed up the people who agreed with me."

"Their intentions are good, but they're blind to the real threat while they gamble away at politics and social standing." The Illusive Man waved a hand in dismissal. "The real threat is on the horizon, and only a select few know about it. The disappearance of the colonies is, in a word, disturbing."

"You brought me back to life so I can save a few colonies?" I asked, deadpan. "That's not harvesting."

"We're not talking about a colony the size of Feros, Commander, though you'll be happy to know it's thriving thanks to your efforts. Hundreds of thousands of humans have disappeared without a trace, not even an abnormal DNA sample. So yes, I'd say that fits the definition of 'harvesting.'"

"What are the signs of attack?" I asked curiously.

"The colony loses its' comm systems due to a mechanical blackout a few days before the attack," he said. "When a Cerberus team gets there it's normally after the looters or some Alliance rep has swept the area. Thousands of people, gone. Humans. Shepard, you killed a Reaper. I'm not sure if they understand fear, but that definitely earned you some respect. It's only natural that they'd want to take members of our species for study, or kill them."

"And the Alliance and Anderson just happen to be ignoring this?"

"They're sporadic, isolated cases in the far reaches of space. They think it's slavers. I don't know what Anderson thinks, but whatever it is, it's not going to help us. He lost a ton of political clout after you died."

It was strange to hear those words and believe them to be true. But if I died, where were the memories of Heaven? Why couldn't I remember? Maybe you couldn't take those memories on with you–it was one or the other, life or death. A devout Christian my entire life, this was something unheard of, though I recognized the meaning behind Project Lazarus immediately. Even the Bible says it could happen. But there's no way the Illusive Man is God's new Jesus. Damn it, Ashley's probably laughing her ass off somewhere.

"You're Cerberus," I stated, bringing my mind back to the meager task of killing the Reapers. "I've seen you do more than anybody's fair share of genetic tests during my travels. Tell me–why should I trust you?"

"I wouldn't expect you to take what I say on pure faith alone," he said easily. "That's why I'm sending you to the latest colony hit. It's a run-of-the-mill place out in the Traverse called Freedom's Progress. Miranda and Jacob will brief you."

"What can I expect when I get there?"

"I don't know," he said, "but that's why I'm sending you."

"I had a good team, one of the best," I told him. "I want them with me."

"It's been two years," said the Illusive Man. I felt my stomach flip in reaction to the words he next said: "Most of them have gotten on with their lives."

I gave him a long, solid look, my insides churning. I wanted to know about Ashley, Garrus, and the rest of them, but if what he was saying were true, then I would just be wasting my time. Later, I promised myself. "I saw Miranda shoot and kill someone in cold blood," I said instead, switching to the subject that mattered. "How can I trust her?"

"Miranda," the Illusive Man said carefully, "is very devoted to our cause, and she acted exactly as I expected her to do. Wilson was one of the best, but he was a traitor and would have destroyed humanity's chances of survival if she hadn't acted the way she did."

"I notice you keep saying 'humanity's survival' and not 'everybody's.' Are your interests solely for human political control?"

"I've got humanity's best interests at heart, Commander; you can always count on that. But that doesn't mean I'm xenophobic–I just want to give our species the best chance as possible. Our methods may be rough, but they get the job done."

I frowned at him. "You know, I nearly got sent to Akuze before I was given some shore leave on Elysium," I accused. "Experimenting on thresher maw acid on live human beings? How is that furthering your goal?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't be coy, Commander, it doesn't suit you. Who do you think petitioned to give you shore leave?"

"I did. I didn't think it'd be accepted. You can't go on and say you knew about me before Eden Prime–"

"Actually, I will," he said, cutting me off. "We can discuss the details later. Meanwhile, Freedom's Progress is wasting away. You're to take a shuttle to the planet with Miranda and Jacob and discover what you can. Report back here and I'll answer every question you have."

He was a shadow, the best and worst of humanity, and right now I knew which side of the coin he was playing on. Not only was this to edge away from my questions, he was asserting his authority over me. He was the boss, and the subtle threat in his voice spoke more about his character than a few honied words ever could. "One last question, then," I said. "Jacob's a gun for hire. Why would I trust him?"

"He's formerly Alliance. He's never trusted me, but he's always been honest about it. I'll leave it to you to make your own judgements."

I nodded. "Alright. Thanks." It seemed like such a stupid word, 'thanks,' but he'd brought me back to life. A second chance. . .

I turned to step out of the ring. "Shepard," said the Illusive Man, "Ashley Williams hasn't forgot about you, but she doesn't know you're alive, either. That's a secret between Miranda, Jacob, and us. Not even the medical team that met you as you disembarked know of your former condition. Don't go contacting her or any of your old friends until you come back."

I kept my shoulders and arms relaxed, betraying none of the sudden tension in my body. "Yeah, she'd be a bit disturbed," I muttered, and stepped out.

The sudden return to the small, cramped room with disorienting. I could see the slight orange reflection of the walls at the holoprojector shut down, and looked up the stairs leading down into the room. I climbed them, feeling old and recyclable, and thought about our conversation.

Ash still thought I was dead, and not for two weeks–oh, no, it was two years, because my life really is that complicated. She probably found a nice guy somewhere, maybe she and Joker. . . I didn't know. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to. I needed some kind of stability in life, some direction marker that said: Reaper colony here. Weapons system here. Button directly in front of you. Press when ready to save galaxy.

Two years. . .

"Damn," I muttered.

Miranda and Jacob were huddled together by a terminal, checking some readings–mine, probably. Jacob saluted as I approached, but Miranda only shot me a single glance before returning to her work. Her nose wrinkled. "Time to go, Commander. You'll be able to eat and drink on the way there."

A pressure in my bladder deigned otherwise. "Actually, bathroom. Do you know where it's at?"

"Directly behind you, next to the locker," she said without looking up.

As I left, I heard Jacob distinctly say, "I almost expected you to ask him for a urine sample."

I closed the door behind me, blocking their conversation, and did my business. As I did so, I checked my merchandise. Everything was still the way I left it, happily, and it seemed to work reasonably well. I felt pretty uncomfortable when I wondered if they'd tampered with anything. . . down there. There are three sacred areas of my body no doctor was allowed to touch, look, or modify in any way–the front, the back, and my nose. The first two for obvious reasons, the third because having another person stick their finger up your own nose was a serious violation of space. I had a feeling that all three had been messed with.

I growled.

Jacob seemed to be fighting a smile when I returned, and even Miranda looked humorous. "Did I miss the joke?" I asked.

"Nothing you want to know about, Commander," Jacob told me, grinning now.

"Tell me anyway. Can't hurt."

"Well. . ." He threw a look at Miranda.

Miranda cleared her throat, dropping her eyes about mid-waist. "We were wondering when you'd make a pit stop to make sure everything is in working order." Her eyes returned to mine, and suddenly I was fighting a blush.

"That so?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jacob began to chuckle and gestured to the shuttle-bay doors. I followed him, feeling very violated indeed.

&.

Freedom's Progress was a ghost town. I knew that even before the dropship landed and we jumped down on to the slippery rock. The colony was mainly compromised of large stone buildings that looked like they'd been quarried out of the local basalt caves the scanner was picking up to the south. A dusting of snow lay upon the houses and the ground, making the prospect of running doubtful. The cool air felt welcome on my face, though, tempering the receding fever. The snow was lightening up according to the skies, which meant better visibility. The first house we entered was empty and devoid of life. "It looks like they just got up and left," Jacob noted, gesturing to the half-eaten meal on the table.

I nodded, glancing out the open door. "Listen, let's keep our guns up. Something doesn't feel right here."

"Yes, sir," Miranda said. I looked around when I heard the lack of motion on her part and realized her weapon was already out. "They had a cat," she said, nodding at a small glass plate set on the counter. It looked like somebody was right in the middle of preparing food when they'd been abducted. "I wonder if it was taken."

Taken by who? I thought. "It probably ran off," Jacob said. "The snow would have buried the tracks by now."

"Keep moving foreword. Nothing here." We continued on, though abandoned buildings, and Miranda and I stopped at the same time about ten minutes in. Faint voices carried over the wind, too quiet for Jacob to hear, and I wondered if Miranda had some tweaks, too. She pressed a finger to her lip and slid into cover with the grace of a dancer. "More than one person," I said quietly. "Let's give them a surprise."

&.

(Tali'Zorah vas Neema)

"You'd think the bosh'tet would have realized that we didn't do anything," Hadi'Naad vas Rayya said, fingering a small, bullet-sized hole in her red tunic with an air of apprehensive disgust. Her kinetic barriers had taken most of the impact and the bullet had lodged harmlessly in the suit's additional armor plating above her stomach. She sighed. "Sorry, I'm just worked up. Go on."

We bent over a holographic layout of Freedom's Progress, determining. I glanced up at Hadi'Naad, empathizing with her. She wasn't part of the quarian military and her times spent under fire from an enemy were few and far in-between. "We know, Hadi," I said, trying to calm her down. Her nerves were beginning to affect the others, and it was my job to get them back alive. "You did very well, just keep your head down next time."

I used to recognize when Shepard did it, that kind of small encouragement that makes you glow inside. I wasn't a good leader, not really, but I cared for my team. Despite my own doubts, Hadi nodded once and let go of her fabric.

"What about that vehicle that landed earlier, Tali?" Prazza asked, glancing up from the hologram. We hadn't had time to focus on that recently with all of the explosions, but I was apprehensive. If Cerberus was around, it was bound to complicate matters.

"There's no way we'll be able to get Veetor without running into them first," I said slowly, thinking. "We're not prepared for combat, and the mechs are going to give us enough trouble. Just don't shoot them–let me handle it."

"You've been against Cerberus in the past, ma'am," Teeson'Korya stated, his voice full with the unshakable confidence of youth. "We trust you to know how to handle them."

Prazza shrugged, and turned back to the holoboard. "If Veetor is hold up here," he said, pointing, "we could move a team through each side and flank him. That would give him less chance to–"

"That only works in the vids," I said, shaking my head. "We'll have to–"

The door burst open. Prazza moved at the speed of light, his assault rifle trained on the intruders. "Stop right there!"

"Prazza, no!" I yelled, stepping between him and the target. "You said you'd let me handle this." I glanced at them, prepared to give them a piece of my mind–

–and stopped. I'd recognize those eyes anywhere.

"Wait. . . Shepard? Is–"

"I'm not taking any chances with Cerberus operatives," Prazza snarled.

"Put those weapons down!" I growled, turning back to glare at him. I'd thought it would work, dispell the illusion, but he was still there. The human male and female flanking him had their weapons drawn, but his was held loosely at his side. He looked pale, paler than I remembered, and his eyes had lost some of that intensity, but it was him. It was him. "Shepard?" I asked again, waiting for my hopes to be dashed away in another explosion. "You're alive?"

"I'll prove it's really me," he said earnestly, placing his weapon back on his belt. "I gave you the data we collected from those geth holdouts so you could complete your Pilgrimage. Did it help?"

"It's him, Prazza," I said, hardly believing it myself. And where was his hair? "I'm sure of it."

"Miranda," Shepard said, his eyes never leaving my own, "Jacob, stand down."

The human male, darker-skinned than I was accustomed to, reacted instinctively, lowering his weapon. The woman, dressed in a white skin-tight suit, obeyed slower, gazing calmly at me with shaded blue eyes. "As you say, Commander."

"Why would your old Commander work for Cerberus?" Hadi asked. There was a hard edge to her voice, tempered by the slight curiosity. Commander Shepard's story was well-known within the Flotilla.

"I. . . nearly died." I watched you die. I scanned for your suit's transmitter as I left–I watched the life leave your body. Do not tell me you nearly died. "For the past two years they've been putting me back together, piece by piece, to address the abductions of human colonies. Tali, I didn't wake up until today. You have to believe me."

"We'll beg your pardon if we don't trust your word, Cerberus," said Prazza angrily. "Nobody would have done that much to bring back just one soldier."

"You have never seen the Commander in action," I said, smiling despite of my disbelief. I looked back at Shepard, my heart beating hard enough that I was surprised he couldn't hear it. "Then perhaps we can work together," I said, trying to get back to business. "A young quarian named Veetor came here for his Pilgrimage."

"Isn't that a little strange?" he asked, his eyebrow twitching in surprise. "A quarian coming to a human colony?"

"We can choose where to go in Pilgrimage," I told him. "He always liked the idea of helping a small settlement. He was always... nervous in crowds."

"She means that he was unstable," Prazza stated. "Combine that with damage to his suit's CO2 scrubbers and open-air exposer, and he's probably delirious."

I closed my eyes, feeling as though we weren't doing the best at describing his erratic tendencies. "When he saw us landing he hid in a warehouse on the far side of town," I explained. "We suspect he also programmed the mechs to attack anything that moved."

"Veetor is the only one who can tell us what happened here," said Shepard. "We should work together to find him."

I nodded. "Good idea. You'll need two teams to get past the drones, anyway."

"Now we're working for Cerberus?!" Prazza spat.

"No, Prazza," I snapped, rounding on him. "You're working with me. If you can't follow orders, go wait on the ship." He glared right back at me, but dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I found a warehouse on the far side of the colony," I continued, glancing back at Shepard. "We'll circle around the far side and draw off some drones to clear you a path."

He tapped his ear. "Keep in radio contact."

"Will do. Good luck, Shepard." I turned to go, motioning to the others to go out ahead of me. Prazza hung back, waiting. "Whatever happens," I said quietly, "it's good to have you back. Commander."

Shepard didn't call me out on the obvious, and I was grateful. Only he really knew about quarian culture, and would have known that we don't send entire teams to find one person if they didn't make a call in a specified time. I wasn't about to tell him that we suspected Cerberus might be behind it when two of their operatives stood behind him, measuring my every word. As soon as we heard about Freedom's Progress losing comm capacity a small group had immediately volunteered to do some recon–it was only a matter of pure luck that I was on the Rayya when it happened. We weren't military–Hadi worked on the agricultural ship in the middle of the Fleet, Prazza was fresh from his Pilgrimage, Teeson had gotten back only days ago, and the others were of the same mold. They'd been relieved when I came with them.

In truth, the reason I'd come was far more simple than simply wishing to extract a mind-fuzzed brother from the teeth of Cerberus, though that was a very large part of it. The reason I'd come was to see humans again, as much as that shamed me. I wanted to save another colony, to experience the warm glow inside when I succeeded. I wanted to, somehow, feel as young and naive as I'd been on Feros and come out without so much as a suit puncture.

And what do I get? Was this just dreaming on my part? Was I sick with fever, hallucinating all over again? Because surely Valar Shepard would never shave his head, and he'd never ally himself with Cerberus. And then there was the fact he was clinically dead.

His cheeks were flushed with the cold and my suit detected an elevated core temperature belying a fever. Knowing that he was sick with symptoms I was intimately familiar with did nothing to ease the tension in my shoulders. Keelah, I wanted this to be true, but. . .

He seemed to read the indecision in my body language and took a step foreword, holding out his hand. Prazza jumped and I heard the whirr of an assault rifle being trained on Shepard. The woman, Miranda, reacted instantly, snapping her pistil up so fast her arm appeared blurred. Shepard touched the tip of my shoulder, protected by layers of section seals and environmental units, and I wished I could have felt his fingers, to know that it was really, really him.

It certainly wasn't an imposter.

"After this is over," he said in a low voice, barely audible, "I'd like to talk."

I nodded, and he took a step back to resume his position at the head of the team. "I would like that, too," I said. If only he knew how much. If he were a quarian and part of my team I would have made him stay in the ship. Fighting, in these temperatures? "You're sick. Will you be okay?"

He smiled ruefully at my concern. "I'm not likely to keel over and die again, Tali."

"I know, it's just. . ." I just shook my head in amazement. "You cheated death once, and if I watch you die one more time I'll just–I don't know. I want to talk. Soon."

"We will," he promised. "Now get moving, before all the good ones are taken."

"Taken by who?" I challenged. I turned around, joining Prazza at the door. He ushered me out before Shepard could answer, closing the door behind us. "Prazza, you don't have to worry. No matter what Cerberus has done in the past, Shepard is a good man. And he's not being manipulated. So save it."

Prazza growled something deep in his throat. "They'll take Veetor and go without us," he said angrily, slamming his fist against a wall. "They'll–"

"Listen to me, Prazza, nobody is going anywhere," I snapped. "Get over it for now, or else we'll all be wiped out." When he didn't answer, I turned around to look at my team. Their body language was tense, focused, but from that alone I couldn't tell if they'd follow me. "Look, Cerberus did awful things to the fleet, and I hate them, too, but I trust Shepard and that should be enough for you. Now come on."

They moved, albeit reluctantly, and I made sure the watch them carefully as we set foreword, circling around in a wide arc to draw the mech's fire. Hadi was nervous and stayed in cover most of the time, reminding me of my first firefight. A wave of my omni-tool disabled a FENRIS, a type of mech than reminded me of a rabid guard-animal, and the shock of its explosion sent a neighboring LOKI to the ground. A few bursts of Teeson's assault rifle silenced it for good.

I radioed Shepard when I saw a squad of security drones detach themselves from the main wave and head towards their general area. Prazza's gunfire stopped abruptly–we were out of enemies.

"We're not going to let them take Veetor," he said in a hard voice. I recognized the tone too well; he'd made up his mind. "Are you so willing to give him up?"

"Prazza–"

"Are we going to let them take him?" Prazza shouted, directing his glare at shy Hadi. "Tali'Zorah would have him taken to those monsters. Are you going to let that, Hadi? Feesa?"

"I. . . I don't know," Hadi whispered. "Prazza, it's Commander Shepard–"

"It's not," he replied, kneeling down next to her. "It's not. They only want us to believe that. Somehow they must have known she was here with us. They hacked into our channels once, they could do it again! They'll kill Veetor!"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, getting to my feet. "You idiot. That's him–I don't know how, but it is, and he would never let them get their hands on him–"

"Tali," said Prazza, "that's not Shepard. It never was. He is dead!"

And he aimed the assault rifle at me.

"I don't want to do this," he whispered, "and please–please don't make me. But you're being manipulated by Cerberus, we can all see it! We have to get to him before they do. We have to."

I sputtered at him, enraged by the betrayal, and Teeson gently took the pistil from my hand. "I'm sorry," he apologized, sounding scared, "but he's right. We can't let this happen." He began to unclip the other weapons from my belt, hesitated, and left the omni-tool where it was. Even he wasn't as heartless as to leave one of their own without a viable piece of tech to defend themselves. I was outraged.

Prazza motioned me to move back, and I did, seething with every step. He motioned for them all to move away; Feesa, Teeson, Hadi, and Nosawd didn't spare a backwards glance, as focused as they were on their new objective, and Prazza hesitated only a second before following them.

As soon as they were out of side I switched to an encrypted channel, knowing that they'd be eavesdropping on Shepard's official one. "Shepard! Prazza and his squad rushed on ahead! I told them to wait and they wouldn't listen! They want to find Veetor and take him way before you get here."

"We should have expected this," Miranda muttered.

I shook with anger. Everything was ruined, and it was my fault–no, wait, it wasn't mine. Dammit, Prazza, why couldn't he listen to me? If we all got out of this alive I was going to take him by the neck and place him in the most painful joint lock I could imagine, and I could imagine quite a bit. "Can you divert them at all?" Shepard asked.

"They took my weapons. I'll come meet you. Stay in contact."

I took off.