A tremendous belated thank you to Mechanical_Orange and The Crushinator who are delightful human beings, but more specifically helped test-read a scene in the last chapter and gave me a mission-critical verb when my thesaurus and brain both failed me. You guys are gems. (Links to their profiles are in my Favorite Authors.)
Happy N7 day everyone!
16. INTIMIDATE
The upgrades had gone smoothly. The crew was solidifying beneath her. Miranda and Garrus's away missions had passed successfully and more or less without incident, and they were nearly maxed out on platinum again.
Shepard felt... okay. Not great, but okay.
She was moving forward. She'd get it done.
Inhuman wailing echoed along the cavern walls. A husk floated in front of her scope. CRACK. Its forehead burst open with a spray of black mist. "Another."
"This is boring," Jack muttered. But she repeated the mnemonic, and tossed another one up.
"You've improved remarkably, Siha." Thane's low, rasping voice came behind her. "Remember to wait for the right shot, rather than the first shot."
CRACK. The husk spun wildly, bleeding from its missing ear. Shepard gave him a look over her shoulder. "You distracted me. That one's on you."
He made an amused noise. "My apologies."
She adjusted her aim. Breathed out. Waited. CRACK. A crater bloomed in its skull.
Thane nodded his approval. "You've been trained well, and you have a fine eye. All that's left to learn is patience."
"In that case, I'm probably a lost cause." She smiled back at him. "Thanks for all the advice, Thane. I really appreciate it."
"If I might make one last suggestion," he began, lips quirked. "Meditation could be very benefi—"
Shepard stood up and clipped her Viper to her back. "Okay, Jack, your turn!"
"—Another time, then," Thane said, unfazed.
"Ugh. Finally." Jack straightened up, flared, and punched a blue-white shockwave into the mass of bodies pinned behind the piled-up mining equipment.
The husks slammed hard against the walls, then each other, bounced off the heavy mining lasers, smashed into the walls again. Skulls cracked. Bones snapped. Murky blood misted the air.
Damn. Shepard stopped mid-stride to watch. "Impressive," murmured Thane.
Jack mopped up the survivors with a few careless shotgun blasts. "Shepard, when's it gonna get interesting? I thought this place was supposed to be crawling with them."
"Yeah, yeah." Shepard crouched to hack through the lock to the next tunnel. "Ever heard that saying, 'Careful what you wish for?'"
The massive steel doors screeched open. Fifty pairs of glowing eyes turned around to stare at them.
"Now that is what I'm talking about," said Jack.
With any other team, it might have been cause for panic. But two talented biotics— well, one talented, and one godlike— made the cleanup mission feel more like some sort of demented playground game. Shepard and Thane kept the perimeter clear while Jack tossed husks into the air by the dozens with each loose, easy swing of her arms. The creatures flailed and wobbled overhead, hissing, impotent.
Shepard tipped her head back to watch, smiling. Jack tapped a blackened foot with her shotgun as it floated by and set the husk spinning crazily in midair. "Give me ten minutes and one of your energy bars, and I can turn this place into installation art."
"Not sure we're supposed to be having this much fun down here," Shepard said, but handed her the bar anyway. "Feels a little sacrilegious."
"Hey, we're doing them a favor." Jack shoved the bar into her mouth in two bites. "Nobody wants to live like this."
"Let's finish the job, then." Shepard pitched a throw that ping-ponged a handful of them between the tunnel walls. Brittle limbs snapped off in pieces. The glowing eyes went dim. Jack cracked her neck, flexed her hands, and ripped into the floating mass with another shockwave.
"Kalahira guide them," Thane murmured, fists aglow, picking off the husks who'd managed to escape Jack's blast radius. "If indeed there is anything left to guide."
They pressed on. Then got ambushed by a pack of husks all wired up with incendiaries. Those were a lot less fun. Then Shepard discovered the foreman's logs.
Smithson's crew dug out some kind of glowing machine today. I don't get paid enough to expose myself to weird alien artifacts. Gonna try and pawn it off to ECRS, since apparently they're into this sort of thing, and get it out of here quick. Gotta admit, though— the humming sound is kinda nice.
An unspecified amount of time later: Smithson and the crew ain't doing so well. Not feeling so good myself either. Stay near the machine, feel better.
Not so sure about selling it to Elanus anymore. Think maybe it should stay right here with us.
Shepard felt the blood drain from her face. "We— Fuck. We have to move. Now."
Jack opened her mouth to say something. No time. Shepard threw the PDA aside and ran.
Where was it? How close? Christ, they'd just been playing around this whole time— how long had they already spent down here, bathing in Reaper brainwaves?
If they'd gotten their fucking tendrils into her—
EDI gave directions she barely heard. Shepard raced down the tunnels past clumps of husks, punching them back with blue fists, spraying bullets with her SMG. Jack struggled to keep up, her shorter legs holding her back.
"Shepard, wait—"
"Thane, watch her!"
Shepard tore around the corner. There. Up ahead. The machine. Graceful arches of gray-black metal, a glowing white sphere on top. It hummed a low, soothing note. Classic Reaper tech. Her stomach roiled at the sight.
Time to blow it the fuck up. Biotics, maybe? Or just shoot the sphere and see what happened? Either way, it had to happen fast—
Oh, look. 40-kilo sacks of gel explosive, heaped up in the corner. And cord, and blasting caps. Miners thought of everything.
A husk screamed in her ear. Latched on to her elbow. Shepard punched it off. She hauled the sacks up and threw them into a pile at the base of the machine.
Thane burst into the alcove, dragging Jack behind him. She snarled, flinging biotic pulses right and left, kicking and hissing like a frightened animal.
"Keep them back while I get this set up," Shepard barked. The machine hummed its empty song in her head. Sweat rolled down her temples. Dampened her helmet liner.
Cord, unravelled. Cap, secured. Explosive— good enough. "Run," she said, and took off again the way they'd come, trailing cord behind her.
"Damnit, Shepard," panted Jack. "This— sucks—"
"Just a little further. Keep going. Keep going. Just a little—" She glanced over her shoulder. "Okay, now. Get behind me and stay down."
Husks howled, sprinting towards them.
Shepard dropped to one knee. Pried the casing off her gun. Ripped out the tiny battery that powered her block slicer, and touched it to the wires in the cap.
The shockwave knocked her clean over. A hot, gritty wind scratched at the exposed skin on her face. Her ears were ringing.
She sat up, dizzy, and watched the mob of husks stagger forward and fall flat on their faces.
Lights out, motherfuckers.
She fished the bits of her gun out of the rubble. Winced. She hadn't been all that careful with the disassembly.
Behind her, Thane helped Jack up. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, yeah." She batted his hand away. "I'm deaf. But fine. Go worry about Shepard."
"Very well. Siha?"
Was she all right? Shepard paused and listened to the flavor of the white noise in her brain.
The usual stuff. Survivor's guilt, loneliness. Low-level self-loathing. Lists of things she ought to be doing. A much longer list of things she wished she'd never done at all. Slow-boiling rage at Cerberus, at the Council, at her life. A wildly sprawling strategic map of the future. And abject, total, full-body terror of the Reapers.
But also: absolute, genocidal, full-body hatred.
She could live with that.
"No more indoctrinated than usual," Shepard said cheerfully, and pushed herself up. "Good work, you two. Things got a bit wild back there."
"No shit," said Jack.
"C'mon," Shepard said, and threw her arms over both their shoulders. "Kozlowski? We're done here. Heading back to the shuttle."
Joker's voice crackled over the comm link. "You know, Kozlowski and I were taking bets on whether you'd manage to get out of there without blowing the place up."
"You and everyone else," Jack muttered.
Shepard ignored her. "Who won?"
"Me, obviously. But in a way, didn't we all win?"
After briefing Miranda, she made a beeline for Gardner's fridge. Her stomach was a ravaged, howling wasteland.
Jack and Thane both looked up from their well-laden plates. "Hey," Jack said, mid-chew.
Shepard grinned, grabbed what looked like half of a rotisserie chicken but was probably something else altogether, and sat down with them. Thane acknowledged her with a slight wave of his drumstick. He was eating the other half.
She felt— okay. Not great, but okay.
Maybe even kind of good.
"What's next," Miranda asked her, some time later that night. She was sitting at her terminal, chin resting on one hand. Scrolling lines of orange text reflected off her glasses.
Glasses. Shepard tried not to stare. Miranda really hadn't been kidding about going nearsighted from the Lazarus project.
"Haestrom," she replied. "Time to go pick up Tali. Or try to."
"Ah," Miranda said, straightening. "Finally. Why the delay, Shepard? I'd thought once her dossier reached us, she'd go straight to the top of your priority list."
Shepard laughed a little, and looked down at her hands. "Yeah. I don't know. Scared of rejection, I guess."
Miranda blinked up at her. "...You?"
"Yeah, me. What? You must have noticed that I haven't exactly received a hero's welcome from my former crew."
"I suppose. I just thought... I don't know what I thought."
"That I wouldn't let something like that get to me?"
"Well, yes."
Shepard smiled toothily. "Surprise, Miranda. I'm human."
Miranda resumed reading her screen. "In a technical sense, perhaps."
"...Was that a joke?"
Miranda rubbed at the bridge of her nose under her glasses. "Yes. A bad joke, I suppose. Sorry, Shepard. I'm tired."
Shepard watched her for a long, silent moment.
"How much of me is really me?"
Miranda met her eyes. Her face was still and serious. "Everything that we could preserve, we preserved. What we had to grow new, we cloned, using an averaged sample of your DNA as a template. Where we couldn't integrate the cloned tissue, we augmented with synthetic materials and cybernetics. You're as much yourself as we could possibly make you."
"So?" Shepard folded her arms.
"So– what? You want a number? Eighty-three percent. I don't know." Miranda rose from her seat, scowling. "Is a person with a cloned replacement limb less themselves than they used to be? Is a person with gene mods, or a biotic amp, less human than anyone else? This is a very abstract question, Shepard. Come back to me when you know what you're really asking. I'm going to bed."
Shepard found herself standing on the other side of the door, bemused, as the holographic lock bleeped and turned red. Apparently Miranda grew fangs after midnight.
Or maybe it was just the subject matter.
Shepard made a fresh tea, and headed upstairs. She was just settling into bed herself when EDI's voice hummed through the speakers. "Shepard, Officer Vakarian is currently en route to your quarters."
"What? Jesus. Really? Why?" Shepard heaved off the covers and shot upright. There went her newfound equanimity.
"I am not privy to that information," EDI replied. "However, considering the recent change in your relationship, I thought you might like to be alerted ahead of time."
"You were right. Thank you, EDI. Damn." She ran an ineffectual hand through her hair. Tried to figure out how to arrange herself for an impression of cool nonchalance.
The door whirred open while she was still weighing her options. He stood at the top of her stairs, waiting, eyes unreadable.
She couldn't even pretend to be calm.
"What," she said.
He stepped down. Came forward. Too close. Looked at her.
She stared back up at him, rattled.
"You know how I never ask you for anything," he said. His voice was toneless.
"Yeah?"
"I'm asking now."
He gave her the outline of the situation.
"EDI, please change course for the Citadel. You can let Joker know in the morning."
"Yes, Shepard."
Garrus gave her a surprised look. "I didn't think you would–"
"Of course I would," she said.
He exhaled. Stepped back. Collapsed onto her couch.
She sat down, carefully, beside him. "Do you know what you're going to do?"
"Absolutely." His voice was cold and hard.
Shepard didn't say anything. Garrus glanced up at her after a moment.
"You don't think he deserves a bullet to the brain?" His good mandible flared out, exposing a stripe of silvery teeth. "You're right. He doesn't. None of the others got to enjoy a quick, clean death, did they? But I like to think I'm better than that, so I won't make him suffer."
She stayed silent. Looked at him.
Garrus rumbled at her. "Don't bother preaching at me, Shepard. You're perfectly comfortable playing judge, jury and executioner when it's convenient for you. When it fulfills your goals. For once you can stand back and let me fulfill mine."
Silence. He only looked more irritated with every passing second.
"What is your goal, Garrus," she said, finally.
"To make him pay for what he's done," he bit out. "Ten good men burned to ashes because of him."
"That's not payback," she said. "You said he deserves to suffer. He won't suffer with a headshot."
He scowled. "He just needs to die. He's still alive, and they're not. I'm going to correct that. And I want your help."
A pause.
She contemplated her desk drawer.
"I'll be with you every step of the way," she said carefully.
He stared at her, frowning. His jaw tensed. Then with a sharp click, he unfolded himself from her couch and stalked out.
They docked at the Citadel the next morning. She stood just behind the threshold of the battery doors, arms crossed. "Are we going to run into trouble? Do you want to bring backup?"
His back was to her. He worked over his Mantis with a rag. "Possibly. I don't know. Bring whoever you want."
"Fine." She touched the comm button at her collar. "Massani, you're up. Look alive."
His voice came drawling over the line. "Been hoping for another chance to stretch my legs. Thanks, Shepard."
Garrus squinted through his scope, then bent down to clean it again.
She watched him for another long moment. Then exhaled, and walked away.
Bailey looked thoroughly unsurprised to see her again. "What is it this time."
"You know a guy named 'Fade?' Helps people disappear?"
"Sure do." He tipped back in his seat. "Affiliated with the Blue Suns. Might have an inside source at C-Sec. Network division's been trying to put him in a cell for years. If you're looking for him, maybe you can do me a favor, this time."
He pointed them towards a warehouse on 26th. Two bleeding and disarmed krogan bodyguards later, Fade's front man gave him up.
"Harkin?" Shepard echoed, disbelieving. "That scummy asshole cop?"
"Ex-cop," said the volus.
A low rumble came from Garrus. "Now we have two reasons to put him out of business."
She gave him a sharp look. "Bailey wants him alive."
"So do I," he said darkly. "At least a little while longer."
Harkin looked about like how she remembered him, plus a little beer gut, minus a little hair. "What the— Vakarian? Shepard?"
"Guess you haven't been paying attention to the news," she said.
Garrus put a neat hole into one of the Blue Suns flanking him. Massani splattered the other two with assault fire. Shepard didn't even have to uncross her arms.
Harkin turned and booked it into the factory.
"Looks like things are about to get interesting," Massani drawled.
LOKI Mechs. Blue Suns. A sprawling maze of crates and shipping containers. It actually wasn't all that interesting.
Shepard flicked her fingers. A fuel canister skidded across the floor, and came to rest at the feet of a blue-suited merc. He glanced down at it just in time to see her incendiary round puncture the hull.
She stepped forward through the wisps of flame and locked eyes with a well-armored, well-shielded batarian. A tech mine and two bullets later, and his eye count was down by fifty percent. Massani barked a laugh and put out the other two before the batarian dropped.
They carved a bloody path through to the shipping and distribution sector. An overhead conveyor belt whirred and clanked and abruptly reversed course, raining disoriented LOKI mechs down upon them. Shepard flared blue and punched them aside. Small fry.
Garrus snarled abruptly and pushed ahead of her, switching out for his assault rifle. "Harkin's close. I can smell him."
A flash of something large and white passed overhead. The ground shook underneath her. Through the smoke and dust ahead of them, she saw the silhouette of an YMIR slowly rising to its feet.
Garrus was standing, wide-open, right in front of it. She lobbed another tech mine, and yanked at her Collector rifle. "Garrus! Move!"
He leapt behind a partition as she unleashed a stream of molten plasma downfield. Massani raised his assault rifle and pitched in.
The YMIR's armor melted. Innards sparked. It lifted its gun arm, turned to aim at them, shuddered, then stopped.
Had its auto-targeting locked up? Fine with her. She kept her finger on the trigger. The YMIR just stood there, frozen in a hellstorm of bullets and plasma, until it finally blew.
"Idiot machine," Massani said.
Shepard toed the wreckage with her boot. "I almost feel bad for it."
"Feel bad for Harkin once we're through with him." Garrus stalked forward.
She shot him a look, which of course he missed.
Massani paused to fish around for spare heat sinks. "Here, Shepard. Fuel up."
She caught it out of the air. "Thanks."
"Vakarian's having a rough time of it lately, eh?"
She glanced up at him, then continued frowning after Garrus. "It's mostly my fault."
"I can relate," Massani said.
"Oh? What'd you ever do to piss someone off that bad?"
Massani grinned at her. "I meant I can relate to him. You're a real pain in the ass sometimes, you know that, Shepard?"
She glared. "You know what else is a pain in the ass? Trying to keep an entire refinery's worth of civilians from burning alive after you—"
He waved her off. "—Yeah, yeah. I know. Ancient history. I'd forgotten it already."
She sighed and checked her radar. "Let's move. I don't want Harkin dropping another mech on his head while we stand around."
They caught up to Garrus in the foreman's office, crouched over a laptop. "Found some extra identities. Documentation in order, all ready to go." He looked over at her. "You ever want to disappear, Shepard? Just say the word."
It didn't sound like a friendly offer. Shepard ignored him, and concentrated on relieving Harkin's bank accounts of their assets.
Massani poked a button on the console near the desk. The window shutters lifted, exposing a vast landscape of shipping containers stacked on top of hydraulic platforms, and a long ramp leading up to another office on the second story.
Shepard turned her head just in time to catch a white blur of movement in the corner.
"More mechs?" Massani pursed his lips. "For an identity broker, this Harkin fellow's not very creative."
"He's hiding up in that observation room." Garrus growled low in his throat and pushed off from the desk. "He's cornered himself. Let's go get him now, before he can tip off Sidonis."
"Garrus—"
He looked back at her. "Are you going to help me, or not?"
She dug her fingers into her temples, against the distant premonition of an oncoming headache. "Just... don't kill him."
He unhooked his Mantis, turned, and stepped out the door.
More mechs. More Blue Suns. Conveyor belts dropping exploding crates.
"You know what, I take it back." Massani crouched to reload. "The crates are a nice touch. Very homey."
They cut their way through, pushed closer, closer. Harkin actually started taunting them over the PA system. Shepard made a face. You've got nothing on Harbinger, pal.
She climbed up to the next platform and booted the remains of the Blue Suns squad commander off the edge. Garrus walked a few paces past her, then stopped.
"Ah, crap," he said, gazing up at the ceiling.
She tilted her head to look.
YMIRs. Plural. "Massani, get up here," she yelled, unhooking her nearly-spent Collector rifle.
Massani hunched below a crate on the lower left-hand platform, swearing and shooting in roughly equal proportion. She'd ended up on top with Garrus, pinned behind the same battered container.
"One bullet to the neck, you said." Shepard laughed, a little hysterically, as rockets and gunfire rained down around them. "And the head pops right off."
Garrus flicked a mandible at her. Jammed a fresh clip into his Vindicator. "Maybe if you were a better shot."
"Then you do it, asshole." She popped off the last rounds in her heat sink. "You think you're here just to look pretty?"
Shit-talking between the bullets. Almost like they were friends again.
Hydraulics whirred and thunked. The twin YMIRs stopped, turned, and started stomping their way towards Massani. Time to get to work. She tossed a tech mine into their path and triggered the overload charge. Their shields bloomed with static.
"I'm here to do a lot of things, Shepard. Looking pretty just happens to be first on the list." Garrus rose to a crouch and fired four quick, precise bursts downfield. The mechs paused in their advance. Slick white heads slowly rotated back to face them. "Second is getting those shields down."
Garrus unloaded the rest of his clip into their faceplates as they marched forward. She put her eye to the scope of her Viper, and joined in. One. Two. Three shots. In near-perfect sync, the YMIRs shifted their weight. Lifted their arms.
Shepard dove behind the edge of their container. Rockets whistled through the space where her head had been.
"All right, you two, take a breather. My turn." Massani's assault fire cracked into their plating from the left. Servos whined as the YMIRs paused again, twisted around, and started lumbering back towards him.
Garrus flashed her a quick look, and readied his rifle. She eyed her heat sink and judged it adequate for another round. Cued up another overload. Waited.
Once the mechs started firing on Massani again, Shepard and Garrus sprang into action. They laid down some damage to pull the YMIR's auto-targeting system in their direction, unleashed as much hell as they could get away with, then ducked out again while Massani repeated the process and drew the heat off them once more.
The YMIR's heads swiveled back and forth between their platforms like they were at the galaxy's slowest tennis match. Idiot machines.
Somehow she hadn't noticed that the mechs were actually gaining a sliver of ground with each pass, until one of them fucking climbed up onto the lower platform. Massani stood directly in its path, behind what was now very inadequate cover.
"Fucking hell—" He threw himself to the side as its rifle ripped through his shields. The YMIR stepped forward. Flattened his crate under its foot. Loaded a fresh rocket.
Fucking hell. Shepard pitched a near-useless throw at the mech's arm just to buy an extra half-second, powered on her tech armor, and stood up.
Garrus made a low, grating noise, but he was too busy shooting to stop her.
She vaulted over the edge of their platform and thudded down next to Massani. His armor was splotched with red; his leg dragged as he scooted himself back with one arm, dumping bullets into the YMIR with the other. His rifle hissed and smoked in protest.
She stepped directly in front of the YMIR and stretched her arms wide. The rocket smashed into her chest; her tech armor exploded into static. Electricity flickered along the mech's cables. She shook her head to clear the ringing. Pointed her Viper up into its blank black face, not bothering to scope. Squeezed the trigger until the heat sink started hissing. Switched out for her pistol, and fired everything she had in that, too.
Her bullets chipped, millimeter by millimeter, through the tempered glass plate. The noise changed pitch as she cracked through to the inside.
The YMIR stood still for a moment. Sparks spat from the tunnel she'd drilled into its face.
Shepard stared up at it, unblinking, breathing hard. She'd punch it to death if she had to.
The YMIR slowly tipped over backwards, and collapsed. The explosion rattled their platform.
No time to celebrate. The second YMIR was close behind it, and advancing fast.
Shepard tucked herself behind a too-narrow pillar, and glanced down at Massani. "You're bleeding. Need medi-gel?"
"Duck," Massani shouted.
She ducked. A rocket whined past her ear, trailing smoke, and crashed into the underside of the platform above. Flame exploded and boiled out around them. She bent low, trying to shield her face from the heat.
"Shepard," yelled Garrus, somewhere above. The second YMIR stepped onto their platform, and tilted its head down to look at them.
"Keep firing," she yelled back, and sucked in a lungful of smoke for her trouble.
Her throat spasmed; her eyes streamed. She threw down her empty pistol, punched up the sequence for her tech armor, and stepped out again to meet the mech.
The YMIR paused to consider her. Shifted its weight back. Raised a shiny white arm.
She pitched the last of her tech mines into its chest, and deployed the charge. Its shields crackled and hissed with blue-white static.
POP. POP. POP. Pistol fire cracked into its faceplate from the right. The YMIR recovered, whirring, and slowly turned to regard the new threat.
"Massani, STOP HELPING!" Shepard lunged forward, biotics wreathing her fists.
She punched straight up into the YMIR's gun arm as it opened fire on him. Her knuckles splintered in agony, then went numb. The YMIR's bullets sprayed uselessly into the flames above.
She shook out her ruined right hand. Yanked at her SMG with her left. Poured every single last bullet she had into its face. The underpowered little gun barely made a dent.
The mech refocused on her. A rifle round thunked into its head from somewhere behind it. Garrus was back on sniper duty, and moving.
The YMIR swung its arm around to bear on her. She found herself staring down a long, black barrel.
Walled in on her left; Massani, injured, to her right. Nothing at her back but a steep drop. And fresh out of heat sinks.
Well then. Nowhere to go but forward.
She ducked low and charged directly at the YMIR. Bullets pinged off her shields, striking over her chest, chin, eyes. Her tech armor detonated as she ran between its legs. She staggered. The mech swayed. Whirred. Recovered its balance.
"Shepard, you daft bitch," Massani shouted after her.
Just like old times.
Her shields were out anyway, so she pulsed another overload charge through her mine, planted a foot on its massive knee, and launched herself up. She grabbed the edge of its chestplate with her injured hand, hissing at the pain, and reared back. Biotics bloomed around her fist.
"SHEPARD!" Garrus's voice tore through the comm line.
Her punch smashed into its faceplate, snapping its head back. The mech lurched. Shepard's bad hand stiffened and lost its grip; she dropped to the ground, flung herself to the side to avoid getting stomped flat, then grabbed onto the mech's gun arm and heaved herself up again.
"Shepard, get down! Are you fucking insane—" Oh, there he was. In a sniper's crouch at the far edge of the platform. "The ricochet might— I can't shoot it if you're on it!"
"Ran out of clips," she panted, clinging to its shoulder, and kicked the YMIR's arm to the side as it tried to launch a rocket at him. "You know I get bored when it's too easy."
The YMIR turned its head to look at her. Her own dull reflection stared back at her from the cracked, sparking glass. Servomotors hummed. It shifted its weight back, and raised both arms at once. Was it going to try to shoot her off of itself? That'd be hilarious—
The arms kept coming closer. Oh shit. No. It was going to crush her.
It already had boxed her in; she didn't have enough leverage for another punch. She flared and whipped an elbow across its head, but the mech just stuttered and whirred and kept moving.
Her shield recharge meter flickered. Seventy percent— eighty— come on. The YMIR would mow her down the instant she dropped.
"Garrus," she called out.
Garrus stared up at her for a half-instant, then pressed his eye to his scope.
CRACK. The bullet smashed into the thick cables of its neck, right in front of her face. The massive arms creaked to a stop.
Shepard slithered down out of the mech's grip and backed away.
There was a loud, musical twanging sound as a steel cord snapped apart. Then another, and another, and then a dozen more all at once, like a harp struck with a sledgehammer.
The YMIR's head popped off as if it had been spring-loaded. It traced a long, high arc through the air, then crashed back down onto the ramp, rolled, and came to rest near her feet.
The body reeled back and exploded. Bits of white ceramic plating rained down around them.
"Well, I'll be damned," said Shepard.
"Told you so," said Garrus, sounding a little stunned.
Shepard squeezed out the last of her medi-gel onto Massani's shredded leg. "This'll take care of the bleeding, but I don't know about the muscle damage. It's better if you don't walk."
"After all the shit he put us through, I want to look this Harkin bastard in the eyes," Massani growled. "I'm coming."
"Anyone ever told you that you're a real pain in the ass, Massani?"
"Not in the last ten minutes."
Shepard sighed, ducked down and threw his arm over her shoulders, then straightened up. "C'mon."
She helped Massani limp his way up the long ramp to the door. By the time they got there, Garrus had recovered his equilibrium, or whatever passed as equilibrium for him these days. He lurked in the shadows at the far side of the office, waiting for them, the line of his shoulders tight and hard.
She exchanged a glance with Garrus. Nodded. Then walked (limped) in the door with Massani, pistols drawn.
"Hi, Harkin. Long time no see."
They were both completely out of heat sinks, and she couldn't actually move her swollen trigger finger, but Harkin didn't need to know that.
He turned to run from them, and bounced directly off Garrus's armored cowl. Garrus followed it up with a rifle butt to the face.
Shepard couldn't really find it in herself to protest.
Harkin continued to be a smarmy piece of shit, even with blood streaming from his broken nose, even when cornered by three of the galaxy's most pissed-off and dangerous people. It was borderline impressive.
"There. You have your meeting. So, if our business is concluded, I'll just be going–"
Garrus slammed him into the wall.
A brief back-and-forth. He dropped Harkin, drew his sidearm, and put a bullet into the man's knee. "Might as well leave C-Sec a blood trail to follow."
Shepard checked the urge to shout at him. Kept her face cool, neutral. Never show outsiders the fault lines in your unit.
She opened her omni-tool and tapped in a message to Bailey, over the sound of Harkin's gasping and cursing. Coordinates for 'Fade.' Familiar face. Bring analgesics and medi-gel.
She lowered her wrist and looked over at Garrus. "You were holding out on me," she said lightly. "Could have really used that extra heat sink earlier."
Garrus shrugged, and turned away. "You didn't die, did you?"
So much for concealing the fault lines. She gaped at him as he walked out.
"Rude," said Massani.
They rented a car. Took Massani to Huerta to get patched up. Shepard didn't bother mentioning her own injury.
"I don't see why it can't wait until we get back to the ship," he griped from his stretcher. "Our doctor has the look of a competent professional. And a lot of looks in general." He waggled his eyebrows. "Wouldn't mind getting to know her bedside manner a little better."
"Shut up, Zaeed." Shepard patted his good leg with her good hand. "Get well soon."
Garrus drove them to a dim, shadowy lot above the rendezvous site, and disengaged the omni-tool linkup. The car shuddered and powered off.
They sat there for a moment in silence, looking out the windshield.
Even now, being alone with him still had her entire body on high alert. Every glance. Every breath. Every millimeter of empty space between them.
"Garrus," she said, finally.
"What."
"Are you sure you want to do it like this?"
He didn't bother looking at her. "It's like you always say, Shepard. You can't control what other people do, but you can control how you respond."
"You know what else I always say," she ground out. "Don't ever let it get personal."
He twisted to face her, good mandible flaring low and wide. His teeth flashed in the darkness. "Of course it's fucking personal! Because of him, my entire team is dead! Because I didn't see it–"
"Listen to yourself! It's not about him anymore, it's about you. Because you didn't see it, you're going to shoot him? How is that going to help?" She grabbed his cowl. Leaned in close. "It's not his failure you want to punish. It's not his head you really want to put that bullet into."
"You're one to talk," he hissed. "You've been trying to put bullets in your head ever since you got up."
He wrenched himself out of her grip. Unfolded his Mantis, slammed open the door, and left.
Shepard leaned back in her seat, and closed her eyes. The distant headache had finally marshaled its forces, and was marching in at strength.
And her hand hurt.
She went to meet Sidonis.
He hunched over, even when standing. Moved slowly. Stumbled over his words. A shadow of a man.
Underwater, just like Aresh. At sea in grief and confusion.
"Look at him," she murmured over the comm. "Just look. He's already suffering. Just let it go."
"Stand aside, Shepard."
"Garrus—"
"Shepard."
"I just want it to be over," Sidonis said quietly.
She hesitated. Then stepped back. It was Garrus's choice; she wasn't going to make it for him. If he wanted to move on— if he wanted to accept it—
The bullet winged past her ear.
Inky, oil-slick blood sprayed out over the tile. Someone behind her gasped, then screamed. She walked away.
Garrus stood by the car, radiating with a strange, carnivorous satisfaction.
"Thanks, Shepard," he said. "Feels good to put it behind me."
"Yeah," she said.
He started the car, and flew them back to Huerta.
She tapped out another message to Bailey. Spectre business. Sorry about the mess.
Chakwas reset her knuckles, gave her a painkiller and a trio of energy drinks, and ordered her to rest.
Back up in her cabin, she sat on the edge of her bed for a long time, staring at nothing.
She woke up five hours later, on top of the blankets, still in her sweaty, sleep-wrinkled underarmor. She showered and dressed in a haze. People cleared out of her way a bit more quickly than usual. Small talk with Hadley and Matthews felt oddly strained.
In the cockpit, Joker looked up at her. "Shepard? The hell happened to your face?"
There weren't a lot of mirrors on the Normandy. She stepped up and leaned into the window of the cockpit. Looked up at her dim, hazy reflection in the glass.
Hellish red light glowed from the crack in her cheek.
"Let me know when we're thirty minutes out from Haestrom," she said.
"Uh. Aye-aye, Commander."
Her eyes were dark. Sunken.
She put a hand over her face and went back down to medbay.