The shuttle ride to Utukku was a quiet one. Vega had been only too happy to come along on the mission when Shepard had asked, and now sat on the shuttle bench, distractedly looking over his gun, making sure all the upgrades and modifications were properly installed. Javik had been less thrilled about being invited, but had done as he was told. He stood a few feet behind the Commander in the shuttle, holding onto one of the overhead railings and staring out the window at the passing spacescape, until finally he looked up at Shepard, one clawed finger tapping anxiously against the hard shell of his leg-armour. "Has there been any change in the situation, Commander?" he asked, breaking the wary silence.

"Our backup's waiting for us at the drop point," Shepard answered, straightforward, not bothering to glance back at him. "Arlakh Company. Krogan commandos."

"That is correct, Shepard," EDI's voice agreed over the intercom. "They are an accomplished unit. Their decisive action in liberating a colony from batarian pirates made them famous."

"Good to hear," Shepard replied. "Other than that, there's been no word from the team of krogan scouts since they went through the rachni relay."

Javik blinked lazily, his clawed, reptilian fingers curling comfortably around the curves of his gun. "In my cycle, we used the rachni as living weapons," he commented, offhanded.

Shepard frowned, turning to face him. "Weapons?" she asked, hoping for clarification.

"They were only animals then," Javik answered, impassive. "Without technology. Violent, but useful. When they became a problem, we burned two hundred worlds to stop them."

"That's messed up," Vega commented.

"Well, thankfully we didn't have to face the entire rachni army," Shepard returned, turning back around, her grip on the overhead handle tightening at the idea of so much destruction. "So that wasn't necessary. Either way, we're here to find out what happened to the krogan scouts. If the rachni are involved, the situation changes. Just be ready for anything."

The Kodiak kicked up a bluster of dust and small rocks as it settled to a low hover over the surface of Utukku. Bracing herself, Shepard jumped down onto the hard-packed, rocky surface, hearing the sound of two more sets of heavy boots connect with the ground behind her. Waving to Cortez that he was clear to leave, she secured her helmet in place, watching as Vega did the same. Javik had opted not to wear his helmet on this mission – he claimed he did not see the reason, that it would only be needlessly confining, and Shepard had been in no mood to argue with him so she had let it go at that. From the drop-off point, the small party was quick to come upon a gathering of krogan scouts huddled around what looked to be a large stack of army supplies, and, coming from the middle of the crowd, Shepard could just make out the sound of a familiar voice giving orders.

"Grunt?" she asked, hardly able to contain a smile.

"Shepard?" Grunt turned, his reptilian blue eyes wide, looking for the source of the voice. Then, a huge, unmistakeable grin lighting up his scaly face, he pushed past two scouts, running up to Shepard with a deep, familiar laugh. "Shepard!" he exclaimed, giving her a friendly punch in the arm.

Shepard grabbed at her now-bruised arm, unprepared for such jubilant roughhousing, before quickly recovering with a laugh of her own. "What are you doing here?" she asked, giving him a quick once-over to see how he was faring.

"I could ask you the same question," Grunt returned, still smiling. "Didn't those idiots lock you up?"

"They did," Shepard confirmed. "Put me on lockdown to keep the batarians off me. Didn't want problems with the council while they prepared for war… but, the situation changed."

"Yeah," Grunt agreed. "They got bigger problems, all right. 'S why I'm out here running Arlakh Company. – And speaking of which, let me introduce you to my team…" Grabbing her by the arm, Grunt began to pull her in the direction of the gathered scouts like an eager child, but quickly let go, allowing her to follow at her own pace. "Shepard," he said, indicating a krogan who had his back turned to the two of them, "this is Urdnot Dagg. Dagg—"

"Commander Shepard," Dagg commented, turning to face her. "I'm second-in-command for Arlakh Company. I was told you're in command of this operation."

"That's right," Shepard confirmed, nodding.

Dagg moved forward, gripping his pistol, and leaned in towards Shepard, giving her a few good sniffs, causing her to rock back on her heels, uncomfortable. Once finished, Dagg grunted, moving back into his own space again, before jerking his head in Shepard's direction and looking over towards Grunt, critical. "Something about her smells off," he commented. "Something's not right."

Shepard felt her jaw lock, her fingers gripping anxiously at the edges of her leg-protectors, wondering if her pregnancy was causing her to give off a distinct smell to other species that she would not be able to be aware of, but her fears were soon put to rest when Grunt pushed out in front of her, throwing an arm across her protectively. "Back off," he warned. "The only thing you should be worried about concerning Shepard is how hard she's gonna kick your ass if you don't start respecting her. She's got enhancements you could only dream of, Dagg. You better watch what you say around her."

Dagg snorted, giving Shepard a quick once-over, before taking another step back, respecting her boundaries. Grunt dropped his arm as well, allowing Shepard to step forward again, taking the forefront position. "I've heard about your accomplishments, Commander," Dagg told her, notably more deferential now. "I envy your enemies. To be hated by one so powerful speaks well of you. My krogan would destroy anything we face to earn such a reputation!"

"My krogan, you mean," Grunt corrected him, trying not to sound too chary.

"…Yes," Dagg agreed, but did not bother to correct himself further than that.

"Wrex speaks highly of this Company," Shepard put in, hoping to diffuse the situation, if only a little.

"Wrex," Dagg snorted, unimpressed. "Arlakh Company was Wreav's idea."

"Arlakh may have been Wreav's idea, but it never would have gotten off the ground if it weren't for Urdnot Wrex," Grunt put in, shutting his second-in-command down once again. "As with most things. Wreav wanted to make a point, to show the world that krogan are to be respected because they are to be feared. Wrex put this Company together to demonstrate krogan unity. He wanted a leader who represented the future of our species. That's why I'm in command of this Company, Dagg, and not you."

Dagg grunted again, clearly displeased by the chain of command but unwilling to do anything rash to fight it. "I've been around a long time, Commander," he said, still addressing Shepard. "Fought many wars. Earned every scar. I know my kind, and I know my Company. Every krogan here wants blood."

"Well, I don't know about wanting blood," Shepard joked, "but if these krogan are half the soldier Grunt is, we might all have a chance of making it out of here alive." Reaching up, she put a fond, reassuring hand on Grunt's massive shoulder, causing him to give a low rumble of a flattered chuckle.

Dagg was less than thrilled. "I gotta tell you, Commander, there's something wrong about this place," he told her solemnly, pretending to ignore her buddy-buddy display with his commanding officer. "The rachni are here. I can feel it in my guts."

"The rachni," Grunt repeated, more to himself than to Shepard, trying to hold back a giddy grin. "A chance to face the old enemy? Impossible to resist."

"We've seen some rachni," Shepard confirmed, retrieving her hand and letting it fall back to her side. "The Reapers got to the ones we saw, but we don't know yet if they're responsible for this."

"Of course, Commander," Dagg returned, and Shepard could not help but note a slightly irritated hint to his tone. "Even so, initial scans show that these tunnels connect to a large central point. Like a nest."

"Rachni have nests now?" Vega asked, incredulous.

Ignoring Vega's comment, Dagg turned away from the party, facing the rest of the krogan scouts. "Back to camp!" he commanded. "We're gonna do one last weapons check before heading down into the caves." Glancing back again, he caught Grunt's stare. "If it's okay with the commanding officer," he requested, trying to hide the obvious bitterness in his voice.

"Go ahead," Grunt answered, ignoring it.

Dagg snorted, unamused, before turning back to the scouting party and beginning to follow them towards the makeshift camp site. Propping his clawed hands on his broad hips, Grunt took a deep breath, before letting it out in a hefty sigh. Moving up beside him, Shepard propped her hands on her hips as well, before catching herself and crossing her arms instead, not wanting him to think she was intentionally mimicking him. "What happened to the scouting party?" she asked.

Grunt shrugged, not even seeming to notice her small, awkward blunder, and turned his attention to the sharp drop up ahead, only a few yards from the Arlakh camp. "Looks like something dropped half their camp down a hole," he answered, blunt, crossing his arms, causing Shepard to move hers back to her hips. "Their shuttle must have been lost as well. They weren't going anywhere. Doesn't matter. We're here to find the rachni and burn them out." He waved a half-hearted hand towards a dust-laden, creaking structure that still stood at the edge of the cliff, the last remainder of the previous party. "You can take a look through their stuff, if you want," he told her. "See if you can find anything worth salvaging. Don't know that there'd be anything you might want to use, but… you never know."

"It's always worth looking," Shepard agreed, shrugging, causing her armour to clack noisily with the gesture. "Don't want to take any unnecessary chances if we can avoid it."

Grunt chuckled, deeply. "You?" he asked, incredulous. "Commander Shepard? Taking unnecessary chances? Never."

Shepard grinned back at him, holding back a faint blush from rising to her ears, before turning away from Grunt and heading towards the rickety structure, allowing him to return to his company. The makeshift outpost creaked ominously under her weight as she made her way slowly up each step and into the heart of the building. Once inside, she could see that it was nearly empty. Several sparse, piping-framed beds had been shoved into the corners, and an empty chopping-block lay on an even emptier kitchen counter, but the weaponry table was bare, the only sign that anyone had ever once been there the scrapes and remnants left from modifying a weapon of some sort – a large one, from the looks of it.

Shepard passed a curious hand over the smooth, cool surface of the armoury table, but no sooner had she done so when she heard another, telltale creak, followed by a crunch, before the entire edge of the cliff suddenly gave way beneath her and the tiny outpost went plummeting into the ravine with her still inside. The metal frame of the building gave an unholy screech as it skidded along the sides of the pit, the lurching motion causing Shepard to be thrown from her feet and out of the structure entirely, hitting the ground agonizingly hard. Looking up, she saw the building coming for her, and, reacting without thinking, she rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the outpost.

Laying on her back, too stunned to move, Shepard panted heavily, staring up at the swimming sky, wondering if she were dead and dreaming, or if that had really just happened. She could feel the faintest sick, warm sensation tingling between her legs, and she had to resist the urge to reach down to check if it were blood. Pushing herself shakily up onto all fours, and from there onto her feet, she staggered, still trying to regain her head, the voices of her teammates echoing wordlessly in her ears as they made their cautious way down into the ravine to her, Vega first, panicked and rushed, followed cautiously by Javik.

"Commander, are you okay?" Vega asked, grabbing Shepard's arm gently, pulling her fully upright.

"SHEPARD!" Grunt's deep voice reverberated through the canyon, causing her to look up, still stunned, squinting against the dark-orange glare of the planet's sun. Lifting a hand to block it out, she looked around the perimeter of the hole, her vision still blurry, until she finally managed to hone in on Grunt. "YOU STILL IN ONE PIECE?" Grunt called.

"The Commander is just eager to find the enemy, that's all!" Dagg guffawed back, just as loud.

Shepard steadied herself against Vega, trying hard not to listen to the panicked flurry of worries still spinning through her head. Turning, she stared dazedly down at the ground where she had fallen, looking for blood, but there did not seem to be any there. Still, that did not mean she was entirely clear; it only meant that if there was bleeding, it was not heavy enough to have seeped through her armour. She supposed this was a good thing in itself – she was in no mood for Vega and a company of krogan to have to witness her bleeding from between her legs (she was sure to never hear the end of that one from Grunt) – but still, it meant she would have to wait until the end of the mission to check for spotting. Until then, she was sure the thought would be on her mind the whole time she was down here. At the very least, it would serve as a distraction from the rachni – however unwelcome a distraction it might be.

Pulling away from her teammate's grasp, Shepard waved a reassuring hand in Grunt's direction, taking a steadying step forward on her own, regaining her stalwart composure. "Looks like we're all okay!" she told him, hiding her worry. "Keep in radio contact. We're going in." She started to reach for her Marauder, but then stopped, seeing something glinting from a crevice in the base of the rock face. Moving over to it, she grabbed the metal grip of the object, yanking it out of its web-encased hiding spot to reveal a huge, hefty flamethrower. Shepard took a step back, unbalanced by the weight, before quickly regaining her footing, hoisting the heavy Firestorm into the crook of her arm and securing it against her armoured hip. Vega made a face as she brushed the webs away, but said nothing, instead gripping his own weapon even tighter as she waved them in towards the dark, dank entrance of the cave.

There was no use getting squeamish now, after all. It was only going to get worse from here.

Shepard had never before experienced a feeling of unease quite like the one she was feeling right now. To say the experience of walking through the rachni caves was unnerving would have been a criminal understatement – the caverns were enormous, with what seemed to be impossibly high ceilings, as far as could be guessed by the fact that the beams from their pistol lights could not reach all the way to the top. The air was stale, stuffy, and still, and the cave reverberated with unearthly quiet, broken only by the sound of dripping water from somewhere unseen or the occasional small crumbling of rock. Most of the floor was wet, ranging from puddles barely half an inch deep to wading water up to their calves, but their light was not good enough to figure out what they were stepping in. A small miracle, Shepard thought, as she was not entirely sure she wanted to know what she was stepping in. The atmosphere was making her sick enough as it was without the added discomfort of wondering if she were slogging through something's bodily fluids.

Another short blast from the Firestorm cleared away a thick, sticky web blocking a large passage entrance, and Shepard batted the singed flyaway strands away as she pushed her way through into the clearing, stepping up onto a blissfully dry rock platform as she made her way into the next room of the cave. Shifting the Firestorm more comfortably against the crook of her arm, she took a quick look around, noting the clusters of what appeared to be slimy, pulsating pustules that clung to the walls and floor, bunched up in the corners and along every wall of the room. Vega whistled, taken aback, as he joined her in the newest passage, but Javik, the last to enter, did not seem quite as impressed. Moving over to the spore pods, Vega crouched down, wetting his lips curiously as he leaned in towards the oddities, resting his gun distractedly across his lap as he observed them, watching them flash and pulse.

"Sick," he laughed, disgusted, and reached out a hand, intent to touch one of the pods. No sooner had his fingers made contact with the pod, however, than it burst like an overripe tomato, splattering him in a viscous, yellow liquid. At this, Vega shrieked, startled, and staggered to his feet, frantically attempting to wipe the foul-smelling liquid off of his visor, panicking as the sound of hissing began to reach his ears, the acrid stench of melting plexiglass reaching his senses, causing him to tear up at the smell. Rushing back to the water, Vega splashed some of it on his helmet, wiping off the remainder of the spore liquid before shaking it from his hands onto the floor. "What the hell is that?!" he demanded, pulling up his omni-tool to run a quick armour check.

"Their eggs," Javik answered, simply. "It is a defence mechanism. Although these are no ordinary eggs."

"Yeah, no shit," Vega returned, letting his omni-tool flicker out again, satisfied that his armour had sustained no life-threatening damage.

Shepard pursed her lips, her brow furrowing sternly as she held her breath as well as she could, trying to block out the stench of the burst pod sieving in through her breathing filter. She could feel the urge to vomit steadily building in the pit of her stomach, but she was not about to let herself do that here, not in front of her teammates, and especially not while wearing a helmet. Looking up towards Javik, she noted that all four of his eyes were trained on her, deadpan, unblinking, clearly not caring if she caught him staring.

"Are you feeling ill, Commander?" he asked, flatly.

Shepard faltered, a feeling of indignant anger now mingling with her previous feeling of nausea, her expression twisting into something wholly unreadable as she tried her hardest to keep herself in check. "I'm fine," she responded, forcefully. Turning back around, she readjusted the flamethrower at her hip, indicating for the three of them to continue further into the cave. "Let's keep moving," she told them, before adding in a low, quiet murmur, "Jackass."

They could still hear the eerie squeaking and skittering of large, insect-like feet across the rocks from somewhere in the cavern. As unnerving as it was that the rachni, known for their aggression, would suddenly back off apparently without provocation, Shepard was still glad that the onslaught seemed to have subsided, at least for the time being. It had been a struggle getting here, so to be allowed a breather from fighting off the Reaper-infected insects, however short, was a blessing she was not going to take for granted.

"Shepard!" Grunt's voice suddenly crackled over her headset, and Shepard stopped, letting her gun drop to her side as she raised her hand to her head, pressing the bud harder into her ear, hoping that would make it easier to hear. "The rachni are backing off," Grunt informed her, sounding out of breath. "But whatever spooked them won't last. Finish the job."

"Copy that," Shepard agreed, returning her hand to her gun and holding it at the ready. She treaded cautiously, clutching her pistol close to her chest as the team approached what looked like an enormous metal plate lodged in the rock wall, much like the other plates that had been attempting to trap them in here in the central chamber. As Shepard took another step closer to the plate, she suddenly felt the ground around her begin to shake, the cavern giving off a low rumble and high-pitched shriek of metal on rock as the plate suddenly sank, unprompted, into the cave floor. Shepard took a step back, gripping her gun, ready to fight, but her defensive stance soon faltered when she found herself face-to-face with someone – or something – she had never thought she would see again.

The rachni queen towered above her, her massive ant-like head swaying in distress, her curled front appendages clenching and unclenching anxiously. Her gleaming eyes seemed almost blinded by the darkness of the cave, looking nowhere in particular, and Shepard could tell from the thin trickle of what she guessed to be saliva dripping down the massive mouth-like pincer that the queen was scared, but she was still not naïve enough to let her guard down around the creature, even so. Taking a cautious step forward into the cavernous opening where the queen seemed to be wedged, unable to get out, Shepard wet her lips, anxiously, gripping her gun close to her just in case she had to use it.

The queen gave a rippling screeching sound, her dazed eyes turning downward to find Shepard in the darkness of the cave, and an unsettling sensation suddenly came over the cavern, an almost electrical energy that made Shepard's skin prickle under her sweaty armour. All around them, the webbed-in and carelessly strewn corpses of krogan scouts suddenly began to stir, lifting their heads, their eyes blank and focusless as they all stared forward, a low, soft humming filling the chamber. "Si…lence…" the krogan corpses gurgled, the chorus of voices an eerie, halted whisper.

"What the hell?!" Vega yelped, taking a startled step backward, clutching his gun to his chest.

The queen did not even seem to notice Vega's reaction, instead turning all of her attention to Shepard. "The… maddening sour note… has ceased…" the krogan chorus informed her, seeming almost relieved.

Shepard slitted her eyes, taking another cautious step forward as she looked up at the sickly-looking queen. "What are you?" she asked, wary.

"The last… queen," the queen answered, swaying on her long appendages. "We listen for the children… they are silent… hollow… The machines come and take them to war… they die alone… silent… far away…"

"The Reapers did this to you?" Shepard asked, frowning.

"Yes," the queen answered, the krogan voices almost seeming to breathe a sigh of relief at Shepard's quick understanding. "The sour note of the machines is… everywhere…"

Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard could see Vega training his gun on the nearest krogan corpse, and even Javik seemed to be on edge, though he tried hard not to show it. Taking a bold step forward, Shepard looked up towards the rachni queen, craning her neck as she sought to make eye contact with the enormous figure. "I let you go back on Noveria," Shepard told her, critical. "You promised not to interfere anymore. The rachni were supposed to disappear."

"We remember," the queen returned, almost sadly. "We kept our promise, retreated back through the relay. We started a new home… beautiful children. Harmony." As she continued to speak, Javik moved up to one of the animated corpses behind Shepard, reaching out a hand to almost touch the cold face, intrigued. "But… the machines came. They heard our song. Their shriek of sour notes drowned us out!"

"They can't hurt you anymore," Shepard assured her, holding up a calming hand.

"Yes," the queen agreed, giving a swaying bob of her massive head. "We… understand."

"Can you still feel the Reapers?" Shepard asked, testing the waters. "Can they still influence you?"

"We hear the machines, but they cannot control us," the queen returned, honestly. Looking over towards the wall of the rock crevice, she indicated with her head towards a large, glowing disc set into an ominous-looking metal clamp that Shepard had not noticed before. "Remove this last shackle… and we are free!" she pleaded. Then, lifting her giant head to the sky, she gave a distressed flail, her massive limbs shifting around heavily, causing the floor of the cavern to shake with the movement. "What?" she insisted. "The children return. They will destroy us all! Release us!"

Suddenly, Shepard's comm earpiece crackled to life, and Grunt's voice could be heard breaking through the static. "We're getting movement here," Grunt warned. "A lot of movement…"

"Copy that, Grunt," Shepard answered. Then, turning her attention back to the queen, she took another step forward, insistent. "Are you capable of fighting the Reapers?" she demanded.

"We hate the machines," the queen returned, the voices of the krogan scouts almost a hiss. "We will fight for our unborn children. For all the unborn children. Release us!"

Shepard faltered, taken aback by the queen's wording, but she hardly had time to wonder if the queen had somehow figured her out when Vega suddenly shook his head, turning to look at Shepard, frowning. "She's a mess," he told her. "She needs too much time to escape."

"Shepard, we're out of time!" Grunt's voice came through the earpiece again. "We stay here, Arlakh Company dies – is that clear?!"

Shepard had only a split second to think about it, but that was all it took to make up her mind. "Listen up," Shepard commanded. "Arlakh Company holds the rachni off while the queen escapes." Looking up at the queen again, she nodded to her, solemn. "We'll buy you some time," she told her. Then, turning away from the queen, she turned her attention down towards her gun, readying it, pressing her comm into her ear with her shoulder-guard. "Grunt," she insisted, "fall back to our position and lead us out."

"Damn you, Shepard!" Grunt's voice blasted over the ear comm. "I'm leaving my team. I'm on my way!"

"Are you certain about this, Commander?" Javik asked, eyeing her warily from over near one of the dead krogan scouts. Shepard turned, shooting him a glance, preparing to retort, but then decided against it, instead making a hard, downward sweeping hand gesture in his general direction.

"That's an order!" she demanded. "She's too valuable an asset to lose!" Quickly loading a fresh thermal clip, Shepard aimed her gun towards the glowing disc attached to the far wall, letting off a volley of shots until finally the panel burst in a shower of sparks, the metal clamp popping off its place on the stone wall and clattering loudly to the floor as the queen eagerly pulled her appendages free of their restraints. Straightening to her full, monstrous height, the queen let out a roar of relief, the interior of her mouth glowing brightly in the darkness of the cavern. Shepard turned away from her again, returning her attention to her comm earpiece. "It's done," she said. "She's free. Now get us outta h—"

But the words had not even had a chance to leave her lips before Shepard suddenly stopped, clutching at her head and falling to her knees, feeling as though her brain were tightening on itself. Every feeling, every sensation, every function felt constricted, cut off, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she dropped to all fours, and then to the ground, convulsing, her hands moving back up to grasp fruitlessly at her head, her legs writhing in indescribable pain. It felt as though all of her organs were shrivelling, her heart racing uncontrollably, her throat tightening. She wheezed in agony, her back arching as what felt like an enormous needle was driven into her brain, and gave out a sharp cry, pulling off her helmet and tossing it aside as she turned over, pressing her forehead into the damp rock in an effort to quell the agonizing pain.

She could hear the sound of the rachni queen's screeching inside of her head, what she guessed was their music, but in her agony none of it made any sense to her. It was a message, that much she was able to decipher, but more than that was too painful, too convoluted for her to figure out. There was just noise and light, blinding light, before it finally let up, and she found herself curled up on the stone floor, her head still throbbing, a thin trickle of blood seeping from her nose. She hardly registered the sound of the wall of the cavern blasting open and Grunt making his way inside, splashing across the rancid pool of water to where Shepard and her companions still lingered, until she felt Grunt grab her off the ground, picking her up and straightening her posture, before draping her arm around his shoulder and making his way towards the hole he had made.

"Saving your ass again," Grunt commented, half-jokingly.

Pushing herself away from his support, Shepard struggled to stand on her own, stumbling once before catching herself, still feeling light-headed. Then, attempting to wipe the blood from her face, hardly noticing that she only managed to smear it across her cheek in the process, she shook her head, letting out a hoarse, forced laugh. "Not a chance," she croaked. Holding out a hand, Shepard reached for her helmet, which Vega handed her, and then, clutching her weapon proudly, she looked back at Grunt, who was staring at her with a look half of concern and half of determination. "Now let's get out of here," she said.

Grunt was only too happy to agree.

The Kodiak shuddered and bumped with turbulence as the shuttle pushed its way through the thick, murky atmosphere and into open space, giving a small kickback as it exited the grungy planet's pull as it made its way towards the waiting hangar of the Normandy. Shepard leaned back in her seat, her legs stretched out in front of her, glad to be off her feet. Her hand rested subconsciously across her stomach, her fingers drumming a distracted, worried pattern against the shell of her armour as she stared at a spot on the wall across the shuttle, deep in thought. The fall from the outcropping in the Arlakh camp had never left her mind, and now that she had time to think about it, she realized that she should probably have anticipated something like that happening.

This was war. It was inevitable that she would fall down, get knocked around, and even sometimes get seriously hurt. This was not one of those times – the fall had probably bruised her in a few places, but it took more than a tumble like that to put her out of commission – but still she realized that she was fooling herself to think that she might be able to avoid another incident, even one as minor as that, for nine whole months. Even if the physical trauma did not kill the child, the stress of the war drawing closer at hand was certain to do it just as effectively. Turning her head, she looked over at Grunt, who sat beside her on the Kodiak's low bench. The bench had been built to accommodate between three and four people, but between the two of them there did not seem to be any room left for anyone else to sit.

"You're gonna need a shower when you get back to the ship," Shepard told him, trying to lift the mood, hiding her worry. "You stink like rachni guts."

"Yeah?" Grunt returned, grinning as he turned to look at her. "Well, you don't exactly smell like a flower garden yourself."

"Better than you," Shepard answered, chuckling.

Grunt chuckled back, glad for the light break, and scooted over across the bench towards Shepard, purring gently as he nuzzled his enormous head against her armoured shoulder, a low, satisfied rumble in the folds of his throat. Reaching around as far as her arm would go, Shepard stroked his rough, battle-worn scales gingerly, her fingertips tracing the grooves between the plates, feeling his dry, scaly skin against the pads of her fingers. For a long moment they stayed that way, an odd silence falling between them but for Grunt's low rumbling, as if both knew the moment would not last, but neither wanted to admit to it. Moments like this, quiet, restful moments, were so rare that even when they did happen, no one seemed to believe in them.

"Grunt," Shepard suddenly spoke up again, wetting her lips, breaking the moment. "What… do you think…" She faltered, fading out, unsure of what she was trying to ask, biting her lip as her words jumbled up in her throat. Grunt opened one baby blue eye, the translucent vertical eyelid sliding lazily back as he turned it up towards her. Shepard looked down at him, meeting his curious gaze. Then, taking a deep breath, she raised her brows, apprehensive. "Do you think… I…" she tried again, but again the question got stuck in her throat.

Grunt blinked at her, silent, listening, his expression unchanging. Then, letting out a deep, rumbling breath, he closed his eye again, satisfied. "Probably," he told her, evenly.

Shepard faltered, taken aback, making a face as she looked over at him, surprised. "You don't even know what I was going to ask," she told him, feeling a small, incredulous smile beginning to touch the corners of her lips. "For all you know I was going to ask something totally ridiculous."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Grunt returned, shrugging his broad shoulders as he readjusted himself on the seat, sliding over further towards her to settle more comfortably against her shoulder. "Still, my answer stays the same. Probably. Whatever it is. Knowing you. Probably."

"So you think I should do it?" Shepard asked.

"Yup," Grunt answered, assuredly.

Shepard nodded, turning her attention away again, distracted. No sooner had she done that than she felt Grunt shift in his seat, reaching over to take hold of her hand in his huge, clawed fist, and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Shepard looked down, a bit dazed, before sliding her fingers through the gaps between his and holding his hand as well, letting her chin rest tiredly against his head on her shoulder. Somehow, the smell did not even bother her anymore. "Thanks, Grunt," she said, quietly.

"Anytime," Grunt answered.

"Mordin."

Mordin looked up from his work, blinking a few times, but other than that his expression did not change. He did not seem surprised to see Shepard standing in the doorway of the medbay, but neither did he appear overjoyed by her unannounced arrival. He was a busy man, and work was his priority. Across the room, Eve still sat on her bunk, her legs dangling off the side, a tray of nearly-finished supper across her knees. She had been given permission to explore the ship, but seemed to prefer staying in the medbay. She claimed the beds here were more comfortable than they were in the overflow quarters, but Shepard suspected it also had something to do with the company she preferred to keep. As little as Eve liked to admit it, Shepard could see that she and Mordin were quickly becoming good friends.

"Shepard," Mordin returned, evenly. "How can I help y—"

"I want an abortion," Shepard announced, cutting over him. Her voice was hard, her expression set, but there was an unmistakeable fear in her eyes, a hesitation threatening to make her crack. Mordin stared at her for a moment, blinking, his expression unreadable, allowing the uncomfortable silence to stretch. Even Eve had looked up by now, her eating utensil abandoned at a corner of her tray, the only sound in the medbay the soft hissing and beeping of machinery. Then, clearing his throat, Mordin took a deep breath.

"Come again?" he asked, still unreadable. If anything, his inquiry seemed almost polite.

Shepard hesitated, reaching out one hand to rest it against the sleek doorframe, the other curling into a loose, anxious ball at her side as she took a deep, shaky breath, lifting her chin. "I want to terminate my pregnancy," she repeated, more forcefully.

Mordin stared at her for another long moment, letting her statement hang in the air like a bad omen. Then, drawing his hands in front of him, his pointed fingers laced together in thought. "I take it you have given some thought to this," he said. "Weighed options. Researched alternatives. Pondered ramifications." He paused, before the ridges of his brows moved upward in faint curiosity. "Consulted child's father?" he asked, tentatively.

Shepard faltered, taken aback. Then, "No," she answered, giving a curt shake of her head. "I haven't told G—him, yet. I thought—"

"Thought it would be kinder not to tell," Mordin jumped in, cutting over her. "Not to give false hope. Didn't want to cause conflict. Knew father would most likely disapprove of termination. Needed to circumvent. Needed one hundred percent certainty you were doing the right thing."

"N… no," Shepard answered, her brows drawing together in a confused frown. "That wasn't… really…"

"Consulting father would decimate certainty," Mordin guessed again, going a different route this time. "Cause internal turmoil. Stress. Loss of sleep. Flared tempers. Bad for morale."

"I can't put the galaxy at risk for my own selfish agenda, Mordin," Shepard told him, cutting his guessing game short. "I can't do that. I have to focus my attention on the mission at hand. All of my attention, on destroying the Reapers. On making the galaxy a safer place. A place… a world I'd feel good about bringing a child into." Shaking her head, she made a finalistic, downward gesture with her hand. "This is not that world," she said. "Not here. Not now. But maybe, if we defeat the Reapers – no, after we defeat the Reapers… if we live through all of this, maybe… maybe then I can try again. But not right now. Not with this child."

Finished speaking, Shepard dropped her hand from the frame of the door, folding her arms, anxiously, waiting for Mordin's response. Instead of responding immediately, Mordin was silent for a long moment, letting the harsh logic of what Shepard had just said sink in. Then, taking a deep, thoughtful breath in, his auburn eyes slid half-closed, and he gave a small, slow, understanding bob of his head.

"I understand your logic," he told her. "However, have small request. Heard you… took a fall on Utukku. Long drop. Hard landing."

"You should really be more careful, Shepard," Eve commented, pointedly. "You could seriously hurt something like that."

"I'm not—I didn't do it on purpose," Shepard argued. "The thing… the ground, fell out from under me, I…" Sighing, she turned her attention back to Mordin, running a frustrated hand through her hair, which was still wet from the shower. "I'm okay," she assured him. "Just a couple bruises is all. Nothing to get concerned about. I take harder falls all the time, Mordin, you know I do."

"Still, is reason for concern," Mordin told her. "Considering other factors. But, request. Considering fall, would like to… check up on foetus. Before you make decision."

Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, Shepard frowned, leaning back against the doorframe. "Why?" she asked. "I already said I wanted to terminate. I don't think there's any real necessary reason to check up on—"

"Precautionary measure," Mordin told her. "Not to worry. Won't take long. Come with me." Waving one thin hand for her to follow him, Mordin turned, heading towards the door at the back of the medbay, towards the medical living quarters and primary power hub. Pushing herself away from the doorframe, Shepard followed him, passing Eve as she did so, trying hard not to be unnerved by the harsh green eyes that followed her through the door before it closed shut behind the two of them. Turning to face her, Mordin gave a soft sigh, holding up his thin hands apologetically. "Apologize for pressing you," he told her, making sure to keep his voice down. "Did not want to speak about this in front of Eve. Childbirth, touchy subject. Did not want to upset her."

"I'm… sorry," Shepard said, her eyebrows shooting upward, feeling suddenly very guilty. "I didn't even think about that."

"Not to worry," Mordin assured her, shaking his head. "Were thinking of other things. Which, agree with, by the way. Logic is sound. But, should still check up on it. For medical purposes." Accessing his omni-tool, he tapped in a few commands before some sort of scanning software pulled up on the main hologram screen, humming loudly. Looking up at Shepard again, Mordin beckoned her over. "Lift shirt, please," he told her, and Shepard did as she was told, lifting her hoodie and shirt up to her chest to allow Mordin to pass his omni-tool slowly in front of her stomach, collecting data. When he was finished, he took a step back, allowing the scan information to process, before finally an image pulled up on his screen, which was quickly flooded with scrolling text.

Letting her shirt and hoodie drop, Shepard fidgeted, watching Mordin, not wanting to pry but wanting to know the significance of the data he had collected. "I checked for spotting," she told him, trying to be helpful but not wanting to seem too overeager. "In the shower earlier. I thought I might have started bleeding after my fall, but it was just a false alarm. There wasn't any blood in my armour, or in my… clothes." Going silent again, she tucked her hands under each opposite arm, biting her lower lip. Then, collapsing his omni-tool, Mordin turned to face her again.

"Spotting not necessarily only indicator that harm has been done," he informed her, evenly. "Only most extreme indicator. Either way, foetus still intact. Doing fine. Healthy, even. Most likely due to armour cushioning fall. Took majority of the hit. As you guessed earlier, injuries sustained mainly superficial. Primarily bruising." He pursed his thin lips then, his brow drawing inward in a faint frown, and braced his fingertips together, thoughtful. "Shepard," he told her. "Have… small request. Actually, large request. You may not like it, but have to ask anyway…" Taking a deep breath, he blinked rapidly, his thin shoulders stiffening, bracing for impact.

"Would prefer to wait to do termination," he told her. "Please— hear me out. Will still do procedure, of course. Just, afraid doing procedure now would upset Eve. Need her to remain healthy. Emotional distress would be… bad, for healing body." Holding out his hands in an apologetic gesture, he took a short, sharp intake of breath. "Do not think Eve is incapable of handling the idea of termination," he clarified. "An adult, after all. Intelligent. But now is… turbulent time." Clasping his hands together again, he bobbed them downward once, thoughtful, strangely reassuring, before giving a curt nod of his head.

"Would request we wait until after TuChanka," he told her. "Would make the most sense for everyone involved. Mission is simple, and foetus still in earliest stages of development. Even if mission is delayed a short time, should not be overly detrimental to functionality at this point."

"Wait for TuChanka?" Shepard repeated, stunned. "But that's—" Putting her hand to her head, she let out a heavy, anxious huff of breath, staring distractedly at the floor as she attempted to weigh the options. "That's a long way away, Mordin," she told him, looking up at him again, anxious. "At least a week's travel, maybe more. Maybe two weeks, depending on if we head there straight away or take time to pick up supplies. Will I still be okay to terminate in two weeks?"

"Will be unpleasant," Mordin warned, honestly. "But can still be done. If it is too much to ask, I can do procedure now. However, would much prefer to go to TuChanka, get mission over with… then, once Eve has left, will be happy to do procedure right away, if you still want it." He tapped the tapered tips of his thin fingers together, keenly, his burnt-umber eyes never leaving her face as he waited for her to decide. "Is up to you," he told her, finalistic.

Shepard bit her lip, running her hand back through her hair, before finally letting it drop to her side again, defeated. "Okay," she answered, sighing. "I'll do it. I'll wait for TuChanka. Eve is… well, she's our last hope for peace between the krogans and the salarians, and we need both if we're going to win this war. So I'll wait. For Eve's sake."

"Excellent," Mordin gave what could almost have been a sigh of relief. "Now, just one more request, Shepard. Might be a bit strange. Could you, perhaps… pretend to have changed your mind? Pretend to be keeping child? At least until out of clinic. For Eve's sake."

Shepard faltered, feeling an odd, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was a simple request, and it made sense, but something about it still made her feel uneasy. But, putting on a false smile, she nodded, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, and shrugged. "Can't wait to be a mommy," she practiced, trying hard not to grit her teeth.

"Playing with toys, Commander?"

Shepard turned, glancing over her shoulder towards the figure standing in the doorway of her cabin, before turning back to her model ship, setting it down on the desk in front of her, and leaning tiredly back in her chair. "Models," she corrected him, tiredly. "They're model ships. Not toys."

"But you are still playing with them, are you not?" Javik observed, blunt as always.

Pursing her lips, Shepard opted to ignore this comment, instead pushing her chair back to allow herself to stand up, before picking up the model rachni ship and carefully replaced it on its hook in the window panel of her desk. In all honesty, she could not care less what Javik thought of her – his idea of constructive criticism generally leaned more towards destructive criticism, and she was not about to let him ruin her hobby for her with one small, throwaway insult. "What can I help you with, Javik?" she asked, turning around to face him again, this time leaning half-interestedly against the desktop as she stared at him, intent.

Javik stared back at her, silent, contemplative, clearly trying hard to hide the fact that two of his eyes kept flicking towards her model ship collection, intrigued. "Simple curiosity," he finally answered, evenly. "In the cave, before we left to join the Arlkah group—"

"Arlakh Company," Shepard corrected him.

"The rachni queen… she spoke to you," Javik continued, ignoring her. "She took control of your body, your mind, and… said something to you. Something that we could not hear or understand."

At this, Shepard frowned, taken aback by his almost unnerving assessment of what, to almost anyone else, might have been a completely unknown and frightening situation. "That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, guarding herself from his scrutiny. "What makes you think she talked to me at all? Maybe I was just having another bout of sickness, as you're so fond of pointing out I have from time to time."

"This was not sickness," Javik returned, flatly. "I have only seen it happen once or twice before, this… hijacking of a living being. In my cycle, the rachni were much smaller, but also much more potent in their ability to communicate psychically. Your rachni, they can only communicate through bodies in biological distress. She taps into a dead mind with a still-active nervous system, or a weakened mind with an even more active nervous system, in order to communicate. Or a fully-functional but willing mind." His four eyes blinked in individual succession, causing Shepard's skin to run cold for a split second, and she quickly put a hand to her upper arm, disconcerted by the reaction.

"As for you, your biological distress made your mind weak, as your body is more focused on other things, such as breaking down, or… appearing to break down," Javik went on, not seeming to notice anything. "Fighting itself. Have you ever seen a queen use bodies that were not freshly dead to communicate with?"

"I've only ever seen the one queen," Shepard confessed, rubbing her upper arm apprehensively. "But… there was one asari I met, back on the Citadel, who let the queen use her as a mouthpiece willingly, and she was still alive."

"Willingly," Javik repeated.

"Yes," Shepard answered. "She… said the queen helped her, so she was letting the queen use her to spread her message. Willingly."

"But she did not take your mind willingly," Javik pointed out.

"No," Shepard admitted, truthfully. "She didn't."

"And all of the other unwilling subjects she has used… the bodies she used," Javik pressed, slowly but surely getting to his point. "They were always freshly dead?"

"More or less, I guess," Shepard conceded. "Though I don't know how long those krogan scouts were down there. Could be a couple days, could be… two weeks."

"Still relatively fresh," Javik returned.

"If you say so," Shepard answered, shrugging.

"But the queen spoke to you," Javik repeated, insistent. "And you are avoiding my question. What did she say?"

Shepard looked away, her attention returning to her chair, and she slowly sat back down in it, thoughtful, before turning her gaze back up towards Javik again, serious. "She said… that… even the best of intentions sometimes yield the most horrific of results," she told him, truthfully. "She said that I should take care what decisions I make in the long run. Which seems like it would be common sense, but… I guess she thought it was worth mentioning?" Shrugging, she twisted her mouth to one side, pensive. "She was probably talking about me sparing her life on Noveria," she figured. "Only to have her end up there in that cave, watching her children being turned into monsters by the Reapers… it's a terrible fate, to be sure."

"Yes," Javik replied, deadpan, clearly not in agreement. "That must be what she meant."

Shepard frowned, irritated, reaching out to take hold of a small, starry-pattern bouncy ball sitting on her desk and beginning to fidget with it. "Well, what do you think it means, Javik?" she challenged, looking up at him, annoyed. "Since you don't seem to like my guess. What do you think her message means?"

Javik frowned, his lips pursing into a hard line. "You know what I think it means, Commander," he told her. "You are clearly only trying to antagonize me."

Shepard clutched the bouncy ball, gripping it tightly, frustrated, before finally letting her hand unclench, letting out a soft, defeated sigh. "I'm sorry, Javik," she told him. "I'm not meaning to antagonize you. I just… feel like we don't always see eye to eye, you know? I'm just… I'm under a lot of stress right now. You understand."

"I do not," Javik answered, flatly. "I do not understand why you insist on creating situations that will only ensure additional stress for yourself. I do not know why you make something so simple out to be such a difficult and complicated problem. Your responsibility is to your ship, your crew. Your galaxy. You are a commander. This is war. Everything else is unimportant."

Shepard faltered, taken aback by his harsh attitude, feeling her metaphorical hackles starting to rise. "You really feel that way?" she asked. "That war, duty… that they are the most important things in this life? You'd pick your responsibility to your troops over your responsibility to your family?"

"Yes," Javik said, simply. "Every time. Without hesitation." He was silent a moment, sucking thoughtfully on his lower lip, before taking in a short, soft breath. "Then again, I am not you," he added. "I only know how much value I put on each of those things. I cannot speak for you and your values, or your motivation." He paused again, and for a single moment Shepard thought that perhaps the two of them could see eye-to-eye. "But I can question your judgement," Javik suddenly added, and all illusion of camaraderie was quickly shattered. "When you put the lives of billions of innocents on the same pedestal as the life of one as yet unborn. One who has never had life versus all of those who wish to retain theirs. People whose lives already have value."

"You think my child—" Shepard began, but then stopped, catching herself, before taking in a deep breath, settling her nerves, and trying again. "You think my… that it… its life… that it doesn't have value?"

"Not yet," Javik answered, frankly. "It does not even yet have a name. You do not even seem to know what to call it. How can something have value that does not even have a title?" He snorted, glancing towards the door, before folding his arms across his chest and letting out a deep, tired sigh. "I must take my leave now," he informed her. "The asari is looking for me, and I fear she will try up here next. I believe the turian saw me getting into the lift and may tell her so if she asks around. I do not believe it would be in my best interest if she were to find me. She is very… curious."

"Yeah," Shepard agreed, darkly, more than ready for him to be gone already. "She does that."