Hawking Eta, Corang

It was silent. Too silent. The voice that had stroked at the back of his mind was gone. The touch was gone. Unsealing the breather visor of his helmet to free his face to the hot wind, he sniffed hopefully, doglike. Despite the burning air that shot straight through his nose and into his throat, he took a deep breath. Straining with every fibre of his being, for that touch, that music that touched the core of his soul.

It was not there. His hope shrivelled. He slumped. Why, why? Where had it gone to? Where had the voice gone to? Why did it leave him alone? So lonely. He had to find it. Sized with need, he crouched down and frantically dug into the ground, ignoring the particles clogging up his lungs. Ignoring his wheezing. A mound began to build up as he shoveled with all his might, using his gauntlet hands. Engrossed in his task, he did not hear the calls nor the thud of running feet.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Hands wrenched him off the ground. He stared at helmeted faces, sweat running down his face, throat and lungs burning fiercely. Faceless, why were they faceless? Their voices irritated him.

"Goddamn it." A hand reached out to tap the side of his helmet, closing the breather mask over his face, shutting off the burning air. The clean air made him burned even worse. "Get him back to base, have doc look him over."

No, must find, he tried to say but could not get any words past his burning throat. He fought against the hands that started to drag at him. He jabbed a hard elbow into the ribs of the man next to him, ignoring the pain when he struck unyielding hardsuit instead of soft flesh. The impact was enough to stagger the man. He carried on to body slam the man on his left once his right arm was freed.

They fell to the ground. Using all his strength, he pummeled relentlessly at the man's face, ignoring the pain that streaked from his knuckles to his arm as gauntlet fist met unyielding helmet. Someone tugged at him, shouting words he did not hear, his focus was narrowed down on his target. Something hit his helmet from behind, sending him into darkness. The next thing he knew, there were voices over him but they were not the voice he was looking for.

"Shit, doc, you should have seen him. He tried to smash Razo's face in, through his helmet." Incredulous snort.

"How long was he breathing the air out there?"

"Who cares? I don't know why we bother hauling his ass back here. That tick in his head must be going crazy. They're all going crazy." The last was uttered in a growling angry dissatisfied mutter.

"You would if you have to clean the mess upstairs. Be good boys and go play elsewhere."

"Want to tie him down, doc?"

"Just go, I'll deal with it."

Babbling, babbling, not the sound he wanted to hear. Feet shuffled, the sound of a door opening and the shuffling faded. Pain. Something was clotted in his throat. He coughed. Pain blossomed. The air over him changed. Something went over his face. He felt the spray of cool mists, swirling down his nose. A hiss. More mists. The burning ebbed away. Yes, less pain. He gulped in the mists greedily, breathing more easily. Strength returned although there was a throbbing at the back of his head. Objects wavered before his eyes when he opened them.

"Awake are we? How are you feeling?"

Someone leaned over him. He studied the face and blinked to steady the image.

Grey eyes, grey hair, pale wrinkled face. She looked familiar but he could not put a name to her. He felt he should but it was unimportant. Ignoring her questions, he lifted his head to take in his surroundings. Beds. Lights. Beeping monitors. Silence. Silence. Where was it? Pulling away the breathing cone from his face, he sat up, striking away hands that tried to push him down. Pale wrinkled face mouthed more words. She was dressed in a grey cream uniform that roused flickers of memory.

"Quiet," he rasped, wishing she would stop talking but she did not seem to hear him. On and on she continued, distracting him, drowning him. "Quiet!" he roared, unable to bear the sound of her voice.

It was drowning the other out. His fist came up to smash into her face. He felt bones cracking. Blood split through broken skin. She reeled back to fall against the table behind her before slumping to the floor. Rubbing his face, he cocked his head. Where was it? Sliding down from the table, he stepped past the woman, crossed the room and went out the door. Silence. A faint thrum caught his attention. He shook his head, trying to get rid of it but it persisted. Why must there be that sound? It was not what he wanted to hear. He did not like it, he did not want it.

A cough racked him. He wheezed slightly, there was still a burning in his chest. For a moment, he was tempted to return to the room to breathe in more of that mists but the thrum intruded. A brief flash of memory. He turned and walked down the corridor, then another and another. Indistinct figures walked by but he did not see them. One or two went up to him but he barrelled on, intent on his target. Through a door, down a long flight of stairwell. The thrum grew louder and louder until finally, he was in a cavernous room. Full of machines. The thrum became a louder beating boom that nearly sent him screaming in rage. It had to go. It was blocking. Blocking IT.

Almost whimpering, he threaded his way through the narrow passages and walkways before arriving at a bank of consoles. For several moments, he stood before them, not knowing what to do before a glimmer of memory floated to the fore. With trembling hands, he enabled a haptic keyboard, automatically punching in codes he could barely recall. A holographic image sprang into life. Speaking words he had no wish to hear yet somehow seemed right.

"Hey! What're you doing?!" Running footsteps before hands pulled him around. "I said, what're you doing?!" Hands pushed him away and faceless bent over the consoles. "Damn it, are you mad?!"

More faceless, more babbling was clattering down the stairs from above. Hands pushed him roughly, demanding answers. Bubbling rage sprang free. He shoved the faceless against the consoles. The faceless fought back, kicking him away before snatching up the pistol at his waist. Before the faceless could shoot, he unthinkingly threw a singularity field, got to his feet and snatched away the pistol as the faceless hung helpless. Blood splattered and floated before splashing to the deck when the field died away. He emptied the pistol into the consoles and threw it at a strange glowing figure, mouthing words. Away. He had to be away. Ignoring the corpse at his feet, he stumbled back down the passage and stopped at an open doorway he did not remember seeing. It looked like a box. No, it was called a lift. It would get him away.

Hitting a button, he crouched down and huddled, jamming fingers into his ears as a wailing siren started up. The thrumming grew fainter as the lift ascended. When the door open, he did not want to move, wishing it would continue ascending, taking him away. To IT. Noises intruded. Shouting. The wailing sounded even louder. He dashed out of the door, knocking into someone. More faceless. Why were there so many? He snatched away a rifle off a faceless's back before shoving it away.

"What the fuck do you..."

The faceless went down. And another. He grunted when pain blossomed in his thigh. He ducked instinctively behind a stack of containers. Something bounced near him. He was rolling and running before he knew what it was. That something exploded behind him. An open hatch beckoned. Shuttle. He remembered and dove into it as a hail of gunfire followed his trail. He hit the switch to close the hatch and rushed into the cockpit. He strapped himself into the pilot chair, sparing not a glance at the chaos outside. Fingers ran automatically over the controls. The shuttle lifted. Below, figures ran for other shuttles. Whatever their intentions were, they were too late. The cannons on the shuttle spat fire, turning the area below into a fiery inferno as fuel tanks were hit.

Turning the shuttle, he fired at the sealed docking bay doors which buckled but did not open. Relentlessly, he continued until the cannons overheated before ramming the shuttle into the doors, now bent and warped. The doors broke, allowing the shuttle to make for the dark skies. As it ascended, he slumped in his seat. The thrumming was gone. Far below, the ground shook before erupting into a geyser of rock and soil. He did not know. He did not care. He was free. To find IT.

SSV Glasgow

An Alliance cruiser in the Terminus Systems was not unheard of. As long as it kept to interests of its own, namely the human colonies, the waves its presence made was near negligible and tolerated. That was the status of the sector pre-Reaper War. Post-Reaper War, the Terminus Systems was nearly denuded of the criminal gangs that had held dominance.

Long running conflicts among warring factions was put aside for most of them could see the writing on the wall when the Reapers arrived. Feuds and fights over territories were abandoned. Pirates, smugglers, slavers banded together to fight the invaders. They had to fight or be stamped out. Not all chose to do so. A few scurried to hidey holes instead, covered the entrance behind them and hibernated, hoping the terror would pass them by. Some chose to make a run for the uncharted sectors. They would rather take their chances out there than faced the terror.

Scum they might be, but lacking in cunning and courage, they were not. Most found it deplorable the slavers used their slaves as cannon fodder against the Reaper thralls. Whatever they could use, they did. Even if they did not succeed in preventing the Reapers from taking over planets and colonies, they did slow their advance. At great cost to themselves. There was no estimate as to how many survived but an offhand missive from Aria indicated some surviving colonies were now hotbeds of transition. Where once the colonists themselves had condemned pirates and smuggling, some of them were now adopting these illegal enterprises in a bid to stay alive.

The only lucrative market at the moment was the black market. Judging from the tone of Aria's message, April doubted the pirate queen was upset that her revenues were diminished. If nothing else, the absence of competition allowed her fertile ground to shape the sphere of her turf carte blanche. For herself, having no slavers was a boon. No doubt the loathsome trade would make a comeback in the future but for now, the surviving colonies that were putting up a fight to carry on could breathe a little easier. It would be better if transit and trade routes were more secured but with their authority not endorsed by the colonists, the Council could do nothing. Their main concern was the security of the home systems, not a outlaw sector.

As it was, the Glasgow traversed through the sector without incident and rendezvous with the Normandy as arranged near the Mu Relay. As April waited patiently for the airlocks to pressurize, she wondered what sort of package Admiral Hackett had arranged. He refused to divulge what it was except that it would help the Ilos expedition. The stipulation was that she was to be the one to receive it. Whatever "it" was, she hoped it was portable and extremely useful. Perhaps it was a sort of V.I. If it was, maybe it could come up with some magic answer within twenty-four hours, whereupon the solution to the TI could be applied at once and they could all live happily ever after.

I should try writing fairy tales for once.

The V.I. announced pressurization complete. The hatches slide aside. Facing her on the other side was a uniformed officer, the current CO of the Normandy, Captain Votik, formerly the XO of the SSV Culloden in the 63rd Scout Flotilla. Her impression of him was vague. She had exchanged the barest pleasantries with him during the handover and farewell reception. Partying was the least of her concern then. As she now looked at him, she saw he was about her age, dark of hair, square of build and sporting a neat beard. There was nothing but friendly regard in his countenance as they exchanged salutes and carried out the standard boarding procedure.

Much as she would like to take the tour he offered, she had to decline. She would have liked to have a word with her former crew, especially Joker and EDI, to see how they were doing but they had a schedule to keep. The crew sent her regular emails but her replies were sporadic. She wasn't sure how she would be received after her departure under dark clouds. Votik excused himself, presumably to get the package. Wouldn't he have it on him?

"You're not going to leave without saying hi, are you Skipper?" drawled a familiar voice.

April turned and grinned at Joker, standing at the open hatch of the cockpit, his lucky cap snugged on his head. "Who's in the driver's seat?"

"Who else but my favourite backseat supervisor-," he jerked his head towards the cockpit.

"Backseat supervisor is a misnomer when I am omnipresent," EDI said placidly.

"Don't remind me," Joker groaned theatrically. "I can't even take a peaceful leak knowing there's someone looking over my shoulder."

"I need not look over the shoulder when I can look wherever I like."

Joker rolled his eyes. "You know what, forget I said that."

"Forget which? You will have to be more specific, Jeff. I have redundant memories."

"I can't win." Joker pretended to slump dejectedly. "Can I come with you, Shepard? I must have backlogged leave I can take."

"Two years three months ten days five hours to be specific."

"Jeez, that much? I could-," he broke off, cocking his head when April rubbed her brow. "You alright?"

"I really miss you guys," she laughed before pulling a surprised Joker into a careful hug.

"I miss you too," he said, squeezing back before withdrawing, blinking rapidly. "You look really great."

"Whatever you do with your leave, keep a few days free about twelve months from now."

"What happens in twelve months?" he asked curiously.

"You'll find out." She refused to say any more but looked into the cockpit. "You too, EDI. I hope you can turn up."

"To the best of my ability, Shepard, I shall." EDI waved to her from her co-pilot seat.

"So, any idea of what's this package?"

"It's coming your way now." Joker nodded behind her.

Coming her way? Puzzled, she turned and her jaw nearly dropped. Was that a Geth Prime? Hackett's package was a Geth Prime? Coloured black and striped in hues of white with purple lights, it was a striking sight. Its antennae nearly brushed the ceiling. The deck barely shook under its tread. Surprising, considering its size. Perhaps it too, had a EZ core installed somewhere that allowed Geth to fling themselves from a height without smashing themselves to bits on landing.

"Captain Shepard," it said once it reached her, the flaps around its optic perceptor lifting slightly. "I am Module."

"You are the package I'm supposed to bring along?" She gingerly took the hand it offered to her, somewhat surprised. The hand closed around hers gently. So much for portable. Light. Easy.

"I am. If we may proceed?" Module stepped aside, indicating she should lead.

"Lieutenant, Captain." She nodded to Joker and Votik who was standing behind Module before heading back to the Glasgow. Dorrin would have a field day. The marines standing at the other side of the airlock did their best not to gawk and failed. She kept a straight face despite the desire to laugh.

"Conference?" she said once the airlocks were sealed. The V.I. noted Module's presence automatically.

"Yes. To begin, Dr T'Soni, Captain Dorrin and you." Module glanced to the left and right of the corridor. It was getting slightly crowded as passing crew members paused to take their fill of the odd sight of a Geth Prime on a Systems Alliance cruiser.

"We're on deck ten," she offered helpfully, thinking for a moment. "We can confer at my quarters."

"It is satisfactory."

Module stepped after her down the passage to the lift. She quickly sent a message to Dorrin that the package was safe and to meet her in her quarters. A faint tremor was felt under her feet seconds later. The cruiser was moving towards the Mu Relay. With little information on the movements of their adversaries, speed was of essence. If no solution could be found at Ilos, they would have to fall back on the grinding process. It would be slow, painful and costly but she did not doubt that eventually, the thralls and their supporters would be gone. But it would leave the survivors that much more damaged at all levels.

Having received a mental message what was coming her way when April was approaching their quarters, Liara greeted Module with aplomb. Dorrin, who showed up a few minutes later, barely turned a hair and shook Module's hand fearlessly. As they sat down in the armchairs around the small table, Module folded itself beside April. The effect was that it became "smaller" than they were. April was certain it was a deliberate form of presentation along with it being very courteous to present company.

"Let's get the ball rolling. Why did Admiral Hackett send you?" began April.

Module's eye flaps wavered up and down. "We need the knowledge of Vigil."

"That is correct," Liara nodded. "The preliminary plan is to locate the spent power core within the archives, replace it and try to revive the V.I. And-," she eyed the Geth, "an expert in tech will help greatly if there is a problem with the mainframe."

"Yes. The results of previous Ilos expeditions in 2184 has been inconclusive." A ray of light from Module's optic receptor was directed to the table and a holographic map sprang up. "Explorations are extrapolated to have covered only thirty percent of the Ilos archive before all attempts to map the facility was withdrawn."

"Lovely, that leaves us seventy percent to wade through," said Dorrin, wrinkling his nose. "By the time we arrive at the end of it, the conflict is over."

"We are not mapping the entire facility, we only need to locate the power core," Liara pointed out. "Although it would not be as easy we might think it is," she said reluctantly. "We can only hope the layout is the archetype of Prothean colonies found on other planets."

"If it isn't, we're in for a long dig," April sighed. "Literally. You might have to pick up a shovel, Dorrin."

"I wouldn't mind hitting dirt once in a while," he grinned.

"You two can shovel all you like." Crossing her arms, Liara regarded them narrowly. "I am banking on the Prothean V.I. Module is holding to cut short the grunt work."

"You have Vendetta?" April turned to Module.

"Admiral Hackett surmised it is more prudent to transfer the V.I. to me for security reasons, Captain Shepard."

"Just Shepard," she said, thinking she could grow tired of being "captained" given Geth tendency to include her rank whenever they addressed her.

"As you wish," Module nodded. "Additionally, I can provide secondary support in the search should Vigil fail to function or either Vendetta is unable to supply information."

"How do you plan to do that?" Dorrin asked curiously.

"By integrating myself with the mainframe."

"Is it wise to download into a mainframe you have no knowledge of?" asked Liara.

"Only a part of my programs would be deployed, Dr T'Soni. Moreover, it is not for me to stand aside when the future is threatened."

"How much function would you lose should those programs go astray?" Liara asked worriedly and added when the others looked at her. "Module's structure may not integrate well due to differing technology. If it is able to integrate, we also have to watch out for sabotage from TI sympathisers."

"No one has a comprehensive blueprint on Geth. It would be hard to attack it via technology but they could use physical attacks," April paused and eyed the Geth Prime. Having fought against Geth before, she had an idea of their abilities. Geth Primes were formidable but a big enough projectile could take them out.

Module returned her gaze. "In that, you are correct, Shepard. Geths are impossible to hack into." Was that pride in its voice? April flashed Liara a glance, wondering if she caught it. "If the programs within the mainframe are lost, my primary functions will remain un-impair. If there is any physical attack, I am prepared. I am primed for all possibilities."

"I guess that pretty much answer the vital points." Dorrin shrugged at April.

"We will have to decide on the best plausible point of entry." Leaning forward, Liara studied the holographic layout. "We are not landing in a Mako this time, are we?" She shuddered at the memory of that first trip to Ilos. That frightening drop, knowing they could all die immediately if Joker miscalculated or if they smashed into something along the way.

"That was a wild ride I wouldn't mind repeating." April grinned at the look Liara threw her.

"You'll have to tell me about that one," Dorrin said. "Our cruisers don't carry Makos." He laughed when Liara heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. "You'll be shuttled in."

"All right then, let's get going." April studied the map. "Recommendations on point of entry, Module?"

"The previous expeditions have set up camps in annex B and C, north and west of the original entry in your initial landing," Module began, zooming in on the specific locations. "They have been designated..."