11. RELOAD
Take two. Billions and billions of glassy, human-sized pods. Shepard didn't have to try very hard to be shocked all over again.
This time, when Harbinger showed up, she kept her mouth shut.
They sank into cover, guns and neurons at the ready. The Scions swept in from the edge of the echoing cavern. Shepard's eyes flicked to Miranda. Her dark, glossy hair. Her fragile skull.
She grabbed a fistful of clips out of her pack and shoved the remainder into Garrus's hands. "Change of pace. I'll hang back and deal with the Scions. Garrus, switch to assault and take front. You're on crowd control. Miranda, help him."
Garrus nodded, his face unreadable through the visor, and turned away.
"Stay close. Stay in cover. And watch the shockwaves," she added.
Violet fire swirled through Miranda's fists. "Affirmative."
The buzz of beetle wings filled the air. Shepard's radar pinged with proximity alerts. Gunfire rattled her eardrums. It still wasn't loud enough to drown out the voice in her head.
I am the Harbinger of your ascendance.
Yeah, okay. Whatever. Shepard rose to one knee, exhaled, and readied her rifle. The first Scion lurched into scope.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. One in the throat. Two in the face.
Not as pretty as Garrus would have done it— but not bad for a non-specialist. She braced herself behind the wall as the shockwaves thumped past, and patted her Viper, smiling.
Two and a half heat sinks later, Shepard's smile vanished. The Scion finally dropped, oozing green and grey from dozens of bullet holes.
This was fucking impossible. Last time, she and Garrus taken it down in seconds. Why was this so much harder on her own?
"Reloading." Garrus fell back, came to crouch by her side. "How you holding up, Shepard?"
"I should be asking you that." She rummaged in the ammo pack. Stilled. "You're this low? Already?"
His voice was taut. "These bugs soak up a lot of bullets before they drop."
She put a hand to her forehead. What? Why? Just with this one difference—
They still had another wave left. At least. Who knew when or if EDI would manage to get the door open.
"Vakarian." Miranda sank back on her knees, sheathed in blue, sweat beading on her brow. Smoke drifted up from a pile of carbonized bodies behind her. "The leader's closing in. I need fire support."
Garrus pushed himself up and returned to her side. Bullets and beams ripped across the battlefield.
You are shortsighted, Shepard.
She bit back her retort and took aim at the remaining Scion. Fired. Breathed in, then out, fired again, and again, and again.
She popped the sinks out of her pistol and SMG, took one for herself, tossed the other to Garrus. Miranda's hands flared and wrenched Harbinger's barrier out of existence. Garrus lodged a cluster of rounds into its forehead.
Harbinger let Shepard know how doomed and useless she was as it crumbled into dust.
She glanced at her radar. A sea of red glared back. Fuck.
"Tapped," Garrus said. "Lawson, give me your sidearm."
Fuck. Shepard dodged another shockwave. Rose, aimed, fired.
"Shepard, they're flanking." Miranda sounded a little frayed. "We could use your help over here."
Fuck! She fired again, tagging the Scion in the knee. While the creature lurched and swayed, she scrambled up to join them.
"All right, Miranda— you set 'em up, I'll knock 'em down. Garrus, fall back and find yourself a spot. Finish off the Scion for me." She shoved her Viper into his hands.
"Affirmative." Garrus retreated from view.
Miranda rubbed her temples. "EDI? Any progress on the door?"
Buzzing. Static. "Please hold." Fuck.
A pulse of light from beyond the barrier. Assuming direct control.
FUCK.
Beetle-headed soldiers clustered beyond their wall. The air thickened with smoke.
Garrus made a frustrated noise over the comm. The massing drones had blocked his view downfield. She signaled Miranda, then breathed in deep, her arms flaring, and together they blasted him a clear path to the Scion.
Garrus took his shot, reloaded, and moved to a different position along the barricade. Took another shot. Moved again. Took another shot. The Scion staggered. The Collectors swiveled their heads back and forth, trying to triangulate his position.
Like hell she'd let them. Shepard pitched out Throw after Throw after Throw, bouncing Collectors off the walls, over the edges, into each other. Miranda scrubbed sweat off her forehead, shredded barriers left and right, pulverized bodies in her violet grip.
Harbinger stepped out from the crowd, eyes burning. One by one, the Collectors turned their rifles towards the lone gunman.
I sense your weakness.
No. Shepard powered up her tech armor and launched herself over the wall. She punched an assassin with a blue-clad fist, picked up the plasma rifle it dropped, and fired point-blank into its gut. She grabbed the body by the arm, heaved it straight into Harbinger, and dumped the rest of her ammunition into its smoking head.
Molten beams bored into her and burst open her tech armor. Pistol shots and wingbeats rattled her ears. Harbinger disintegrated into powder. She darted behind another wall, panting, chanting at her shield generator under her breath, come on come on come on.
"Shepard—" Garrus's voice, sharp with alarm. She glanced back at his position. Collectors swarmed, hovering, blocking him from view. His shield status in her HUD flickered and died.
No! "—I'm coming. Hang on." She swallowed her fury and panic, fed it out into her fists, and Threw. The cluster of winged bodies broke apart. She charged in, kicking and punching and pushing them out of the way, a snarl twisting her mouth, fire scorching her back.
There were so many of them. They were everywhere. How had she let this happen?
She whipped an elbow across a Collector's face and slammed its head into the barricade, then turned to see a drone staring at her down the barrel of a plasma rifle.
Miranda's Warp field ripped through its body before she could react. "Vakarian's pinned. We have to—"
The Scion's shockwave slammed into them, knocking Miranda to her knees, tossing drones into the air. Shepard staggered. Her head was ringing. The ground swayed and blurred in front of her. Flashes of rifle fire lit the cavern walls.
A short, sharp gasp came over the comm link in her ear.
No.
"Vakarian," Miranda said again. Her face was blank. White.
Shepard ran.
A drone stood over him. Shepard flared and put her fist through its throat. The body exploded into dust.
She sank to her knees. Garrus's armor was a blackened, smoking scar from hip to collar. She groped around his wrist for the medi-gel dispenser on his trauma unit. Powered up her omni-tool to give the command override for a second dose.
Her fingers trembled over the keyboard. This was not the plan. She was supposed to die for them. Not the other way around.
Garrus's hand lifted and brushed against hers. She tilted her head to look at him. "...Hey."
"A sniper in an arena fight," he murmured thickly. "What did I tell you?"
"Shut up," she said, doing her best to smile. "It's your fault for being non-negotiable."
His status on her HUD glowed a dull, rust red. Warnings scrolled past. Lung inflammation. Tissue death. Fluid damage. Massive immune response. The medi-gel could stop the bleeding, but it couldn't stop what would happen next.
She pressed her hand to his armored cheek. Cursed the opaque visor of his helmet. "Garrus. It's going to be okay. "
Pistol shots. Another shockwave ripped through the decking around them. She braced herself against the barrier, shielding him with her body.
He tried to speak. A wet bubbling sound rose up from his throat.
She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly sick with fear. Omega all over again. "—Don't try to talk. You're going to be okay. You have to be here to hold my hand, remember?"
He gasped out a laugh. "Want. A pay r-raise."
Miranda crouched down beside them. Flakes of ash clung to her hair. "Scion down. Collectors regrouping."
Garrus heaved himself up on one elbow. "G— give me—" His breath rasped. "The Vviper. I can still—" He broke off, coughing. Something splattered against his comm pickup.
Shepard swallowed the lump in her throat. Pressed her forehead against his. Their visors clacked. "Shut up."
He was silent. His gloved fingers came up to brush the edge of her visor. His lungs rattled.
She eased him back down to the ground. "Just rest. You'll be fine, Garrus. You'll be okay. I promise."
"Sszhepard, you—" He coughed hard. His long body twisted with the convulsions. "R-rrotten. Liar."
We will end you.
She picked up her Viper, rose to her feet, and punched up her tech armor. "Hang on. I'll be right back."
"Shepard?" Miranda stared as she strode past. "—Wait. What are you doing?"
Shepard's shields rippled with plasma fire. Her fists bloomed violet. "That glowy fucker's making trouble again. Stay put. I'm going in."
"What?" Miranda grabbed her forearm and yanked her back behind their wall. "What are you talking about? We have to retreat."
"Not an option, Miranda. There's nowhere to retreat to."
"There will be, once EDI gets the door. Give Vakarian the rifle. He can hold them off while we fall back—"
"Like. Hell."
Miranda's lips thinned. She put a hand over the comm pickup in her collar and lowered her voice. "Shepard, I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But you know he's not coming back from this."
Shepard eyed her radar. She wasn't going to have this conversation again.
"Vakarian knows it too. He accepted the risks when he signed on." Miranda leaned forward. "Shepard— let him help you. He wants to see this mission through, no matter what. We all do."
Coughing erupted over the comm line. Then bubbling, gargling.
Shepard stiffened. He was drowning in his own blood.
Miranda put her hand over her face.
A low, rattling gasp. Then silence. Shepard stood. Gunfire raked at her armor. Her vision blurred.
This hurts you.
She scanned the battlefield, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. Hunting for the trail of smoke. The glowing body. The hellish voice.
"Shepard, stop. Shepard— Shepard, don't you dare—"
There. Back ranks. She took a step, then another step, and began to run.
"Shepard! Damn you—" The air twisted and grabbed at her legs. "I said stop!"
Shepard struggled forward through the grip of Miranda's biotics. Harbinger turned its head to track her.
She wrenched free of the biotic field, and ran. She vaulted over walls. Blasted drones out of her path. Her shields shuddered and burst.
Harbinger took a step towards her. A warp field— not hers— cracked its armor apart. Molten liquid glowed between the plates.
Its hands reached out. Little flames danced along the knuckles. Smoke boiled off its skin.
Miranda screamed behind her. "—SHEPARD!"
You will know pain.
Fine.
She threw herself into Harbinger's embrace.
Her nerves flooded with acid. Her armor smoked and hissed and fell off in molten chunks. Her oxygen supply steamed out into the void. Her body tried— despite herself— to fight it, to thrash and punch and kick and scramble away. Harbinger's burning hands held her fast.
You cannot resist.
As her skin swelled and split in peeling sheets from the blackened meat below, as her fingers carbonized and crumbled away, she heard her own voice stutter and climb into a scream. The comm feedback blistered her ears.
Some part of her watched her flesh slough off her bones in detached fascination, and thought about Miranda, pale and desperate, howling at her to stop.
When Shepard burned, did everything burn with her? Or would Miranda keep going without her, all alone, until she couldn't anymore?
Did it hurt her to watch Shepard die like it hurt her to watch them?
Your interference has ended.
Just wait.
Take three.
She'd memorized every inch of their path through the ship, every beat of their conversation. Garrus and Miranda marched alongside her like wind-up toys, poking at consoles, reciting their lines.
She'd killed them over and over. She'd probably kill them again before the hour was up, and they didn't even know it.
They didn't know anything at all.
"I understand your history affects your judgment, Shepard."
She ground her teeth.
They plodded onward. Miranda communed with EDI by the command node, omni-tool aglow. Shepard watched from the upper ridge. The platforms would drop in about forty-five seconds.
Did they really not remember any of this?
"A sniper in an arena fight," she murmured.
Garrus turned to look at her. "What?"
"Mm? Nothing." She unclipped the Viper from her back. "Hey, didn't you say a while back that this thing was supposed to have a bunch of fancy bells and whistles? I'm not seeing any."
"It's a rifle, Shepard. It's not going to make you coffee." He took it from her and turned it over in his hands. "But it's got the best heat sink efficiency in its class. Firing rate's excellent, recoil minimal." He tapped a finger against the barrel. "Not great on penetration or stopping power, though. Heavily armored targets won't go down easy. A one-shotter like the Mantis is better for that."
"Hmm," she said. Scions.
He passed the rifle back to her. "I don't blame you for being jealous, you know. It's only natural."
"Ha," she said reflexively. "There's nothing natural about your relationship with that gun."
"You're unqualified to judge. You've never handled truly superior equipment." He stroked a finger along the edge of his scope. He leaned in close. His voice lowered to a purr. "But if you ask really nicely, I might let you touch it."
She snorted. "In your dreams, Vakarian."
It was time. The platform began to vibrate. She squeezed his arm. "We've got incoming. Stay here."
This time she bunkered down in front with Miranda. Shredded barriers, sent bodies flying, put bullets in the skulls of the stragglers. Behind them, Garrus did what he did best. One shot. One kill. Reload.
They stayed cool and calm and deadly under pressure, as they always were. For them, it was just another day on the job. Shepard was all alone with her memories of fire and blood and fracturing reality.
All alone, with a pile of Garruses and Mirandas slowly stacking up behind her.
She bit her lip to blot out that thought. It didn't matter. Even if they weren't the originals, even if they were just Garrus- and Miranda-shaped marionettes, it didn't fucking matter. They were still here. Still hers to protect.
She'd do her job. And she'd do it right this time.
"Pick off the small fry first. Don't let anything get closer than twenty meters. I'll keep an eye on the shockwaves, so duck when I say duck—"
Assuming control of this form.
"—And watch out for the glowy fucker."
"Affirmative." Miranda slapped a fresh clip into her Carnifex.
Shepard glanced back over her shoulder. "Garrus, you're on the Scions. Take 'em out."
The crack of his rifle echoed across the field. "You got it."
She punched an assassin off the edge of the platform. Filled a pair of drones up with bullets. Tore through Harbinger's defenses. Punched holes through its leathery skull. Pulled Miranda down into cover with her as the Scion's shockwaves pounded through the floor. Got up and did everything all over again, beat by beat. Her focus was absolute.
Garrus made a sharp, satisfied noise into the comm as the first Scion dropped.
Shepard checked her radar. "Short-range clear. How're you two doing on heat sinks?"
"Sixty percent," Miranda said.
"Same," said Garrus.
"EDI?"
Static. Beeping. "One moment."
Wave two. Wings filled the sky. Shepard swatted the drones aside. Harbinger reasserted itself. Our power is unmatched.
Shepard ripped through its barrier. Miranda leveled her pistol. Smoke exploded from its throat. The body crumbled into ash.
"Four left. One o'clock." Miranda pivoted and kept firing. Paused to reload. Launched a Warp at a drone that had fallen out of cover. "One left."
Shepard unloaded her SMG into the remaining assassin. "Got it."
CRACK. Pause. Reload. CRACK. "Second Scion down. Perimeter clear."
"EDI," Miranda said.
Shepard waited, perfectly still.
A hum and a click. The door behind them slid open. "I have restored access."
Finally. The cold knot inside of her began to loosen.
"Good work, you two." Shepard pushed herself up and flashed them a sharp grin. "If the Illusive Man wants us KIA, he's gonna have to try a lot harder than that."
Miranda stiffened. "Shepard, that's a ridiculous accusation."
Shepard tilted her head. Gestured back at the console, the raised platforms, the discarded plasma rifles surrounding them. "Is it?"
"Of course it is! He has absolutely no reason to risk you. You're the most valuable investment Cerberus has ever made."
"I've seen how Cerberus treats their investments." Shepard clipped her gun to her side. "Especially once they become inconvenient."
Miranda scowled at her. "If the Illusive Man didn't tell us about the opposition, it was for a good reason. He would never—" She stopped, and put her hand to her forehead. "I don't know why I even bother trying. You're every bit as bad as Alenko. Too blinded by your hatred to listen to reason."
Shepard narrowed her eyes.
Miranda crossed her arms.
"...Just another day on the Normandy," Garrus drawled into the increasingly hostile silence. "Layers of conspiracy. Certain death. Miraculous escape. Just a thought, but we probably ought to keep working on that last part."
Miranda wrenched her eyes away from Shepard. "...Right."
Shepard shot him a grateful look. His blank black stare met hers for a long moment. Then he draped his Mantis over his shoulders and turned away.
Garrus kept up a stream of ironic commentary as they retraced their steps. Miranda eventually thawed enough to respond to him, here and there. Shepard stayed silent while they zigzagged back down through the twisting, snakelike corridors, passing familiar landmarks in mirror image and reverse order.
Their voices floated in her ears. She barely heard the words. Waves of deja vu gripped her. What had just happened? When was she?
...Was she really being unreasonable?
She remembered Kaidan's face, distorted with suspicion, anger. He'd stepped back from her as if physically repulsed.
I trusted you, Garrus had said, despair staining his voice, while Miranda hemorrhaged out onto the dirty floor.
—No. She was right about Cerberus. She was doing the right thing. She was doing exactly what she was here to do: spring the trap, then save them all. Everything was fine. Garrus and Miranda were fine.
At least for now. At least these versions of them.
But if she died and had to do it all over again from the beginning, what would happen to this Garrus, this Miranda? Would their world just blink out of existence, or... not?
She imagined Garrus carrying her vacant, mangled body back to the Normandy. Miranda, ashen-faced, explaining to the crew. What would they do without her? Would they keep chasing after the Collectors? Would they build up their defenses in time before the Rea—
Fuck. She was barely paying attention to her surroundings. Shepard put her fist up. The footsteps behind her stopped.
"Garrus, you take point. I'll keep an eye on our radar."
He tilted his head to one side. Reflections of honeycombed light slid across the surface of his helmet. "Sure. You okay, Shepard?"
"Fine. Let's move."
It was easier if she didn't have to watch the landscape rewinding around them. She could just follow the sounds: footsteps, creaking armor. Barbed comments. Laughter. The sounds were new. The sounds were different.
Comm silence was SOP for a tactical withdrawal, for obvious reasons, but she couldn't bring herself to give the order.
EDI guided them past a set of double doors and up to the crest of a long ramp. A dark, leathery cavern stretched out below them. Garrus turned back to look at her.
She nodded. He planted a hand on the ledge and launched himself over. She landed behind him with a thump.
Shepard turned and frowned up at the walkway. "Miranda? You coming?"
Miranda was standing very still. "There's something moving out there, Shepard. Long range. I think it's spotted us."
Garrus unclipped his rifle and pressed his eye to the scope. "Praetorian."
Fuck. Shepard took a deep breath. "We'll split up and keep moving from cover to cover. It can't target all of us." She helped Miranda down and unhooked the Viper from her back. Shitty armor penetration or not, it was the best gun she had.
Of course she'd left all the heavy hitters back on the Normandy. What was the point? She'd thought she could die her way out of anything.
And she could. But— she was starting to suspect that they couldn't.
"Collectors incoming. Eleven o'clock." Garrus sank down into a firing stance at her right. "Looks like they decided to throw us a going-away party."
Light bloomed in the center of the crowd. I will direct this personally.
"Miranda. Take out that lightning bug."
"On it." The low whoomph of a Warp field. Pistol fire.
"Garrus, focus on the Praetorian. I'll keep the others off your back."
CRACK. Eject. Reload. "Affirmative."
Shepard picked off the rest of the Collectors one-by-one. Loaded a fresh clip into her Viper. The Praetorian floated lazily towards her. Its hum vibrated in her teeth.
"It's closing. Miranda, fall back and find some cover. Garrus, stay here, but stay loose— you might need to move. Keep the pressure on. I'll run and try to pull it after me."
"Just like Horizon," Garrus said. CRACK. Eject. Reload.
Fuck, she hoped not. "Yeah. Just like Horizon."
The hum was deafening now. The Praetorian's eyes flashed.
Shepard tensed. "Miranda—"
"I'm in position. Go!"
The beams touched down at her feet. Shepard turned and ran.
Bullets pinged behind her, chipping away at the Praetorian's plating. Lasers hissed at her heels. Shepard raced towards the port end of the cavern, vaulted over a low wall, then turned and hurled a Warp into the creature's face. Garrus's rifle round met it an instant later. The Praetorian reeled.
"Reloading," Garrus called.
"I'll keep it busy." Miranda's pistol flashed from the far corner.
The humming reflected off the walls, rattled back and forth inside Shepard's skull. Her eyes were locked onto the Praetorian, but something else tugged at her attention. The smoke from its lasers was drifting away from her. A shift in the air currents. A door had opened somewhere.
On cue, her radar flared.
"Husks. Shepard—" Miranda's voice rose in pitch. "They're closing on me. Fast."
The Praetorian hovered just beyond Shepard's wall. Sniffing her out. "I'm coming, Miranda. Garrus, pull this thing off me for a second."
CRACK. Pause. CRACK. "Doing my best."
Shepard could hear the husks moaning, now, over the comm. Thumps. Pistol fire.
Wingbeats. Assuming control. She still couldn't move. "Miranda—"
Plasma fire flashed across the room. The snap-hiss of Harbinger's biotics. A scream pierced her helmet speakers. Miranda's status icon went rust-red.
Shepard felt the blood drain out of her face. "—Report!"
"I can't see her," Garrus snapped. "Praetorian's backing off. Fifteen meters, your ten. I'll cover you. Move."
Shepard launched herself over the barrier and ran. Static crackled in the air. The Praetorian swung around to watch her as she streaked past.
Shallow panting came over the comm. A bitten-off moan. Shepard skidded into an alcove, flung husks aside with a biotic punch, tossed a Collector drone over the wall.
—Oh. Oh no. No no no. She dropped to her knees.
Miranda's bodysuit was fused to her blistering skin. Her hair had melted into a tarry sludge. Her face was peeling, dripping, unrecognizable.
Garrus's voice crackled in her ear. "Status."
"Harbinger," Shepard said, voice low.
"What?"
Smoke poured off the distant figure. It spread its arms in greeting. Pulsed with hellish light. Shepard.
Shepard stood. Raised her Viper. Started firing, and didn't stop, until the body dissolved into powder.
At her feet, Miranda's arms twitched, groped for purchase against the ground. She was trying to push herself up. She was still alive. She was still conscious. Shepard stared down at her in disbelief.
"Praetorian found me," Garrus said in her ear, dead calm. "Thirty meters and closing."
She stood frozen for a sick instant, one hand still on her rifle.
"Ssz—" Miranda's lips were stuck to her teeth. "Sshepard? Are you there? I can't— I can't see—"
"Twenty-five," Garrus said.
Shepard knelt. Her fingers hovered over the melted ruin of Miranda's cheek. "I'm here. It's going to be okay. You'll be okay, Miranda, I promise."
The noise that came from the operative was thick. Clotted. But it sounded kind of like a laugh.
Shepard's hands shook as she synced their med units and entered the command override. FIELD EUTHANASIA AUTHORIZED.
The combined dose of sedative and opiate slipped into Miranda's bloodstream. She breathed out, once. A quiet, whimpering rattle.
...She wasn't protecting them. She was torturing them.
What kind of sick joke was this?
Shepard stood, picked up her Viper, and ran.
Garrus didn't look up as she slid into cover by his side. "Lawson's gone?"
"Yeah," she said.
"Bad?"
"...Yeah."
He pressed his eye to the scope. Took his shot. The Praetorian lurched. "Shepard—"
"If you tell me to leave you behind, I'll shoot you myself."
Garrus exhaled. "—Nevermind."
They pumped round after round into the Praetorian. It wobbled and crashed down in front of them, barrier pulsing.
Shepard took a moment to consider her options. Getting liquefied in a biotic explosion hadn't been much fun. Better to go out with lasers. She grabbed Garrus's hand and pulled him with her as she ran.
He sank down beside her, breathing hard, then loaded his next round and took position. She pitched a Warp at the Praetorian's force field. Readied her rifle.
"We're going to die together in this spirits-forsaken hellhole," Garrus muttered.
"Quiet," she said, aiming. And then: "I thought turians loved dying in battle."
"Usually we prefer to get killed somewhere really scenic. Or for an honorable cause." CRACK. The recoil rippled through his arms. "We're not doing so great on either front."
She couldn't really argue with that.
Shoot. Eject. Reload. Shoot some more. They needed to get it up and moving again. The Praetorian's scythe-like legs unfurled. It pushed itself up from the ground.
"And you never even bought me dinner," Garrus added.
"I brought you a ration bar," she said, in between shots.
He slotted a fresh clip into place. "So you did."
The fragile peace she'd made with her new life lay in ashes at her feet. It was all her own fucking fault. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rip apart the fabric of the universe and set the tattered threads on fire. She wanted to hunt down whatever twisted god had done this to her and spit into its molten eye.
Instead, she nudged him with her elbow. "Let's see some gratitude, Vakarian. I wouldn't do that for just anyone."
"I've always been grateful, Shepard," he said quietly. "For everything about you."
She turned to look at him. The reflection of her own helmet stared back at her from his faceplate.
"Hey. I— You— um. Me too." She reached out and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
The thrumming rose steadily around them. Their barricade began to vibrate.
"Garrus, listen," she said. "I'm— this isn't the end. I know it looks bad, but we're going to be okay."
He tilted his head to one side. "You have a history of beating the odds, Shepard, but unless you're hiding a tactical nuke behind your back, I don't see us getting out of this one alive."
"I'm not. We're not. But— just— I don't want you to—" She grabbed him and hugged him fiercely.
He made a low, soft hum and folded his arms around her.
Laser fire crackled overhead. She pressed her armored cheek against his.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. For all of this."
His voice was very gentle. "Don't be."
"I'll do it right next time," she said. "I promise. No more fuckups."
His arms lifted, and he pulled back. "Wh— Shepard—" His voice slid up into a strange, thin register that she'd never heard before. "What are you saying?"
She suppressed a sigh, and stood up. He grabbed her elbows and wrenched her back down.
"Shepard! What are you— No. Don't."
"I'm sorry. Look, the Praetorian's right on top of us. It'll be fast. We'll both be back soon." She tugged at his hands.
"Shepard— DON'T. Shepard—"
He wouldn't let go of her. She wrestled with his grip, then gave up and struggled to her feet, dragging him with her.
The Praetorian's mouth opened before them, white-hot, electric.
Garrus wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her back.
At least they would die together this time. Sort of.
He screamed her name.
They burned.
Blink. Reset.
Oh good. They'd bypassed the glass pods. No more speeches about the infallibility of Cerberus intel.
Miranda was giving her an odd look. Had she missed a cue? Whatever. Didn't matter.
Shepard readied her Viper as they came up to the ledge. She sank to one knee and unloaded the entire stock of her remaining ammo into the Praetorian before they'd even seen it.
"What the—" Miranda grabbed for her pistol.
The Praetorian's barrier flashed. Shepard hopped down from the ledge and gestured at them. "Miranda, Warp. Garrus, pick off those Collectors. Now."
"What Collectors— oh." He sank into a firing stance.
Harbinger flared into existence. My attacks will tear you apart. Two Warps ripped through its force field. Two rifle rounds perforated its skull. Harbinger crumbled out of existence.
She filched fresh heat sinks from Miranda's hip pocket and kept firing, firing, firing at the Praetorian as it drifted infield. "It's about to drop. Let's move. Miranda, take out those husks."
"What husks— oh." Blue fire wreathed her hands.
"Garrus, get behind me. Keep firing, don't stop. Miranda, shred that barrier." Shepard slapped in a fresh sink. Fired again and again and again, not bothering to scope. "It's regrouping. Get up. We're getting more distance."
She herded them into fresh cover. Kept firing until her Viper clicked, then swapped out for her pistol. Her eyes never left the Praetorian.
"Shepard—" Miranda began, sounding unnerved.
"Garrus, concussive." BLAM. "Miranda, wreck its armor." WHUMP. "Good. Now open fire. Rip it apart."
The Praetorian shrieked and flailed and broke into pieces. White-hot shards of magnesium rained over them.
Shepard turned on her heel and strode off.
"Bloody hell," said Miranda, staring after her.
Shepard marched them back down through the bowels of the ship, obliterating all obstacles in her path.
She'd thought it was a gift. She'd thought she was a god. She'd thought she'd be their sword and shield and keep them safe. Instead she did nothing but fuck up and watch them die, disillusioned and abandoned, over and over and over again.
She was in hell and she was all alone.
A pack of drones alighted before her. Shepard dispatched them with a quick flurry of biotic punches and two rounds each to the head. Her armor was on fire. She patted it out and kept moving.
Another flash of light. Swarm their position. Husks erupted from the hallway up ahead.
"On it." Miranda stepped out from behind the corner to corral them.
"Hold it, Lawson," Garrus barked, but not quite quick enough. The blast from a distant Scion ripped through the walkway and knocked Miranda off her feet. Her head cracked hard against the ground.
No. Not again. Shepard shoved the husks back with a biotic pulse. "Garrus."
He unclipped his assault rifle and stepped in front of her. "Covering. I'll take 'em down."
She dragged Miranda's limp body back behind the wall. Miranda lay still for a long moment, eyelashes fluttering. She blinked, looked around. Tried to push herself up, then made a strangled noise and fell.
Shepard crouched and helped her stand. Miranda leaned heavily on Shepard's arm. Blood dribbled from her mouth.
A yellow alert flashed on Shepard's HUD. Fractured collarbone and jaw. Moderate concussion.
Medi-gel would stabilize the collarbone; Chakwas could take care of the jaw. It was that last part that worried her. "Miranda? How do you feel? Do you need another dose?"
Miranda's voice was slurry. "Mmm?"
Shepard closed her eyes and let out a breath.
She'd walk head-first into the Scion. She'd destroy them all. She'd do it over and over and over again, as many times as it took. If she had to.
"Miranda. Are you okay?"
"Nnm— I'm— I'm fine. I'm fine, Shepard." Miranda's eyes still weren't quite focused. Her left arm dangled oddly.
Shepard stared at her. The bones would heal. But what about her brain? "Can you walk?"
Miranda's eyes cleared. Her voice firmed. "Yes."
...God, she hoped she was making the right call.
"Then walking is all you do. No shooting. Absolutely no biotics. Stick behind Garrus. I'm on point."
Shepard jammed a fresh sink into her Viper. Harbinger was up ahead waiting for her. Good. She had a few things she wanted to return to it, at near-lightspeed velocity.
Four bullets, one for each eye. Signed by Perez, Lawson, Vakarian, and Shepard.
Kozlowski looked like she might faint with relief as Shepard clambered back into the shuttle. They tore out of the docking bay. The great maw of the Collector vessel swung around, slowly, slowly, to square off with their little ship.
The vast plasma cannon sparked and began to glow. Garrus and Miranda stared at the viewscreen, gripping their seats. Miranda's face was pale, the blood on her chin dry and cracking.
Shepard crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair.
"By the way," she said. "Good job, both of you. You really work well together."
Garrus and Miranda shot her twin looks of surprise, then glanced at each other.
The hangar doors of the Normandy slammed shut behind them. Joker shouted for everyone to hang onto something, then punched the engines. They streaked out of the Korlus system. Goodbye and good riddance.
Shepard ripped off her helmet the instant EDI released them from decon.
Chambers was waiting for her by the docking elevator, beaming. "Commander, well done! The Illusive Man—"
"—Can wait." Shepard dropped her helmet into the startled yeoman's hands. "I'm taking Miranda to medbay."
They made a picturesque trio in the elevator. Shepard stared out into nothingness, her face cold and blank. Garrus leaned against the wall, shoulders slumped, worn out. Miranda stood carefully, holding her arm motionless. Her face had started to swell. Dried blood crusted between her lips.
"I'm fine, Shepard." Her speech sounded thick. "You should go and make your report to the Illusive Man."
"I'm not 'reporting' anything. He already knows exactly what happened to us."
Miranda opened her mouth, then closed it, and looked away.
Shepard uploaded the data from her hardsuit logs into the medbay terminal and helped ease Miranda onto a cot. Chakwas shoved a pair of electrolyte drinks into her hands and shooed her out of the lab.
She walked with Garrus to the battery doors. "Thanks for the help. You're off-duty for the next six shifts. Eat some real food this time, all right?"
He looked at her for a long moment. "Everything okay?"
"I'll talk to you later," she said, more quietly. He nodded and turned away.
She punched the button for the main deck. Stalked into the comm room. Slapped the door panel shut behind her. Killed the lights.
It wasn't personal. The Illusive Man could fuck with her all he liked. He'd paid for the privilege.
But he'd compromised the safety of her crew.
She activated the link.
A holographic curl of cigarette smoke flickered in the dark. "Shepard."
She lifted her chin. "Surprised to see me?"
"Hardly. I knew you'd pull through. It was a calculated risk, and it paid off. The Collectors needed to believe you'd fallen for their trap."
Then the Collectors underestimated her intelligence just as much as he did. She held her tongue. Better if it stayed that way.
"Miranda almost died down there," she said instead.
He took a long, thoughtful drag on his cigarette. "That would be a regrettable loss. But I understand— as does she— that the mission has to come first."
He hadn't seen her body burnt and blistered. Her hair melted down to sludge. The fluid seeping out of her eyes. He had no fucking idea. "Horseshit."
The Illusive Man raised an eyebrow. "Calm down."
"No. If you truly cared about the success of this mission, you would have given me the tools and the intelligence I needed. You didn't."
His projection frowned at her through the smoke. "Shepard, try to see the bigger picture. If you'd known it was a trap, you would have acted differently. Or not gone at all."
"You don't know me at all, do you?" Shepard leaned forward. "I always expect the worst. If you'd seen fit to treat me like a person, instead of a puppet, I could have expected the right kind of worst. I could have gone with bigger guns and extra heat sinks and a plan, and we could have kicked ass instead of barely escaping with our lives."
"You're being dramatic. One bump on the head isn't I'd call 'barely escaping.'" He sat back in his chair. "The mission was a complete success. Now we know who the Collectors really are, we know how to get through the Omega Four relay to find them, and we took zero losses acquiring the intel." The cigarette flared between his lips. "Judge me if you must, Shepard, but judge me by my results."
"I'll start when you judge me by mine." Shepard folded her arms. "You brought me back to life to do a job that only I can do. It's about time you quit this chessmaster bullshit and let me actually fucking do it."
"That's enough." The Illusive Man's voice hardened. "I have a team securing an enemy IFF for the Normandy. EDI will fill you in on the details. In the meantime, Shepard, I suggest you take a moment and remind yourself of everything we've already accomplished together."
Shepard glared at him.
He stubbed out his cigarette. "I'll be speaking with Miss Chambers. The stress is clearly getting to you."
He made a cutting gesture with his hand. The projection blinked out. The lights rose.
Dismissed as if she were a child throwing a tantrum. Underestimated and undermined at every turn. It was the motherfucking council all over again.
Shepard took a deep breath and counted to ten before leaving. She greeted Chambers pleasantly. Thanked Joker, and EDI, for getting them out of the Korlus system in one piece. Downstairs, she found Kozlowski in the mess hall and thanked her too.
She wanted to throw things, break all her datapads in half, scream, beat something up.
EDI's invisible eyes watched her in silence. So she went up to her cabin. Sat on the couch for a long time, motionless, staring out at nothing.
Shepard? Are you there? I can't— I can't see.
Damn it, Shepard, just RUN!
"Joker. Set a course for the Citadel."
"Aye-aye, Commander."
...You really were crazy all along.
Shepard shifted down in her seat, and watched the stars streak past.
EDI's invisible eyes watched back.