.

Nothing's ever changed, you still turn away
You've washed your hands, you've made that all too clear
You just keep on living this lie

You refuse to see, you're denying me
the cross I bear but you don't seem to care
Even Judas knew he had lied

I keep wondering why
I'm still calling your name through my tears

Why have you waited to embrace me my dear?
Cold is your silence, denying what is real
I'm still wondering why
I'm still calling your name my dear

Within Temptation – The Cross

Chapter 5 ~ The bitter taste of defeat

"This! This is best fucking meal I had in ages!"

Across from me, Gabriella Daniels and Kenneth Donnelly stared first in unison at the speaker – an overly tattooed convict, freshly retrieved from the Purgatory – then gazed around the Mess' table as if to rally support for their consternation. It was a vain attempt, though.

Massani, the former Blue Suns mercenary, just snorted and kept flipping through some magazine – of which I wasn't entirely sure if it was about weapons, barbequing or paramilitary women in skimpy outfits. Expectantly, the two human engineers turned to me, as if I could add more than just a non-committal shrug. Though measured by the colorful reactions to the Mess Sergeant's cooking I had observed so far, I was selfishly glad that my food came nicely canned and sterilized to death. Usually the downside of being the only dextro-amino-based life form on a levo-amino ship. At least the last time Tali had been there to share the misery. Appetite gone, I circled my spoon through the bowl with a sigh. The actual plan had been to "enjoy" my dinner in utter solitude. Nice and quiet solitude; just me and the pain that flared along the right side of my body once more and reduced my need for conversation to sub-zero.

However… Just my luck – the two engineers and Massani had also decided to switch the main bulk for a late dinner. Almost I had managed it back to the Main Battery unnoticed when Daniels spotted me – and immediately invited me to join them. No hesitation, no reservation. Which was definitely unexpected. Three decades, and the lingering shadows of the Relay 314 Incident kept stubbornly cankering the minds on both sides of the battle line; let alone that this was, after all, a Cerberus vessel. Yet one smile and two questions later, I had found myself in midst of a lively discussion about the pros and cons of the modified Tantalus core and why – despite the constant danger of cooking us all alive – the SR-2's new stealth system was still the most outstanding enhancement of all.

Well, until the convict that merely called herself Jack had strolled into the Mess, tugging down the hem of a white sleeveless shirt. She'd made a beeline for the stove then sat down at the head of the table, a bowl heaped with some kind of stew in hand, a silencing scowl on her face.

Enter: the leading maniac.

As if on cue the bareheaded woman lowered her fork and glared at the two engineers who still stared at her in disbelief. Perhaps also a bit pitiful. Big mistake.

"What?" Jack snarled.

"You… like it?" Donnelly asked hesitantly in his strange drawling accent. The convict's expression soured further and he resumed stuttering, "Ahh… I mean… never mind…"

From my right came another contemptuous snort. Though this time the veteran merc deigned to add, "The Purgatory isn't a vacation resort, y'know. What do you think do they feed their 'guests' in there?"

Donnelly paled. Jack simply nodded and scraped the last remains from her bowl, then looked at Massani's half-filled with predatory eyes. "Hey! Going to eat this?"

He pushed the bowl in her direction and barked a laugh. "Be my guest, kiddo."

Her forehead wrinkled. The fork in her hand twitched dangerously, but no attempt to violate Massani's softer parts followed. Instead she snatched the bowl and dug into the already cold stew.

"So…" Gabriella Daniels finally said into the uneasy silence and produced a small package from her pocket. "Cards, anyone?"

.~'*'~.

I squinted at the card I just received from the stack and counted the tiny black symbols resembling heart-shaped leaves. Nine. I added the card to another pair of nines, discarded a black two and reached for my mug with a shudder. Dutiful, I sipped on the herbal tea Dr. Chakwas had forced on me. Where she possibly could have found this vile brew was beyond me, yet the taste was actually horrid enough to distract me from the pain. Just coincidence. Sure.

Next to me Jack tilted on the edge of her chair, rapping the table with her finger tips in an unnerving staccato.

"What's up, kiddo? Nervous because of a bad hand?" Massani asked and picked up his glass filled with some kind of blackish soda drink with a grin. Which had a distinct not-entirely-sane edge thanks to the artificial eye and the scar tissue tugging unnaturally at the corner of his mouth. Also, over the last hour, the battle-worn mercenary had developed a worrisome delight in prodding the foul-mouthed sociopath. He probably harbored a secret death-wish.

"Fuck, no. My hand will beat your lousy one any day," Jack spat back, frowning hard enough at her deck as if to scare the cards into compliance. Finally, her fingers stopped and she snatched up a fresh card from the deck.

"She's right," Gabriella said with a smirk for the mercenary and a tap for the scores she had scribbled on a small notepad. "Your overall performance is even worse..."

"Yeah. Bloody women… Always bloody sticking together."

Malicious glee spread across the biotic's features in reply and she dismissed a red face card. The lady of hearts, according to the lack those weird "beards".

So there we were, sitting in the Mess with a drink and a game, while the Normandy was rushing towards Horizon and into the next Collectors' attack. You had to give it to Gabriella, the cards worked as an even better icebreaker than sharing hard liquor behind your commander's back. It had taken only one round to lighten the convict's ramrod rampage mood and keep the two engineers from jumping out of their skin whenever she sneezed in their general direction. She seemed almost sociable. Well, as sociable as a borderline psychopath with a massive impulse control disorder could get.

Jack was tapping the table again. She stilled her hand, sucking in an audible breath. "Thirteen months. I was thirteen fucking months in this hell hole; most of it in cryo, but the rest..." She paused and something indescribable flashed her face before it was swallowed up once more by her usual pissed-off attitude. Wherever the memory had led her, I was fairly certain it was a place I wouldn't want to see for all the credits in the galaxy.

The convict poured herself a shot of some clear liquid, which she had found raiding the cabinets of the Mess earlier, gulped it and slammed the small glass on the table.

"Whatever. The point is, I'd suck the chrome off the scarred's AND the ugly's bumper for a smoke," Jack informed the table, causing Donnelly to almost choke to death on his coffee. She bared her teeth in a wordless snarl. "And with ugly, I mean you, Massani!"

She would do what? Oh. I shook my head. Humans, really.

Said merc put down his drink and laughed. Hoarsely. He even poked with his finger in her direction. Like pointing your finger at a rabid shatha. "Watch it, princess. Don't ya promise what ya can't deliver." He added a rough wink that completely belied the nickname's innocence. Must have been a really urgent death-wish.

"Call me that one more time, Massani, and I swear you gonna breathe through a fucking tube for the rest of your pathetic life…" Jack snarled but curiously her tone was just not quite matching the vehemence of her words. Had they just… Nah. Impossible.

"No need to get drastic." With a flustered smile, Gabriella stood up and sprinted towards the crew's cabin. A moment later she returned and pushed a little white paper box with a red circle on it towards the tattooed woman. "Go into the Hangar, next to the vent near the shuttle. As long as you, uh, keep it low, the sensors won't pick up on the smoke and you avoid getting dosed with extinguishing foam."

"Not that this actually has ever happened…" Kenneth Donnelly mumbled into his mug and received a baleful look from the other engineer.

Gabriella lifted her hand to her mouth, lowered her voice and leaned a little closer towards Jack. "Anyway, if you're quick about it, you probably won't get lectured by EDI."

Certain enough, Jack's eyes actually lit up in joy. It was so out of place, I had to look twice. She snatched the box, dropped her cards and pushed away from the table. "I'm out this round. Perhaps the old man finally manages to catch up."

"Hey, what about my health," the merc exclaimed. "The air you planning to pest will be reused, you know?"

Instead of an answer she graced him with her outstretched middle-finger – the first and probably most important human hand sign I'd learned – then virtually bolted for the elevator.

"You're correct, Mr. Massani," EDI suddenly injected. "But in contrast to the rest of the ship, the Hangar's air is cleansed through an additional secondary filtering system to prevent contamination through environmental toxins brought in with the shuttle. As Engineer Daniels already stated, although violating 21 active security protocols, smoking in the Hangar will cause the least contamination of air." The Normandy's defense intelligence sounded positively vexed, and not for the first time I wondered how much more developed than her congeners the AI really was.

"Doesn't matter. It's the principle and I still don't like it."

"Hey, Kenneth," Gabriella exclaimed and boxed the engineer's shoulder with a fist. "Stop staring after her like an uncivilized dolt, will you?"

"What? Nay! It's just… One of those tat's, it was winking at me, I swear…" the scolded man said and rubbed his shoulder with quite some drama. "Ow. No need for hitting that hard."

Deliberately, Gabriella ignored the engineer and turned to me with a most benign smile, asking suspiciously neutral, "So, Garrus, is it true? I mean, what Jack said to Officer Lawson?"

Right. And here I believed they had invited me solely for my charming nature.

"Which one?" I asked, resigning in my fate. "That she's a spoiled miss-priss, sucking up to Cerberus in general and the Illusive Man in particular? Or that she's in dire need of some 'trunk humping' to loosen it up a bit?"

"Oh my gosh! Jack really said that? What happened then? Tell us everything!" The dark-haired woman propped on her elbows; eyes almost sparkling with curiosity unchecked. Heck, even Donnelly seemed intent on missing not one piece of information.

Soldiers and ship crew – the galaxy's worst gossip-mongers.

"Bah," Massani huffed. "Nothing, lucky us. I thought it best to take the 'homicidal psycho slut' back to the cargo to have her cool her heels before they could rip a hole into the hull."

"The Officer didna try to intervene?" Kenneth Donnelly threw in. "The way I ken, she can be quite… uhh… persistent."

I took another sip from my tea and said, "I managed to convince her that it's in her best interest not to provoke any incidences that might force the Commander into a coronary."

Actually, the Cerberus agent had seemed more than willing to snap my head off instead, but had eventually seen reason. Unfortunately, only after she'd hurled one of her chairs at me.

We had just started another round when Jack returned; wearing the utterly relaxed and pleased expression, a man usually had to make quite an effort for. What did they put into these things?

"Thanks, I owe you one," the biotic maniac said and tossed the box back to Gabriella.

The dark-haired engineer caught it mid-air and it disappeared in one of the numerous pockets of her pants. "Anytime. We girls have to stick together, you know. Feel free to pass by whenever you want to chat."

At that, the vile looking woman actually displayed an expression of pure horror. Let's see: killing hordes and hordes of enemies couldn't faze her, but the prospect of girl's talk did? Remarkable.

A loud, metallic bang from somewhere below ruptured the moment. We shared a questioning look. Cargo Bay? I jumped to my feet, Lawson stretched her head out from her cabin behind the galley, discovered the convict and vanished inside again. Leaving behind the four humans I rushed into the elevator, hitting the button for the Engineering.

What was that blasted madwoman up to this time?

~V~

I flexed my muscles in slow controlled motions.

I was one with myself. With my environment. I floated in peace. I was peace. All disconcerting thoughts pushed back into the remotest corner and – My concentration wavered. All the calm achieved through painstakingly slow tai chi motions fled. Again. Annoyed I growled at the dark walls of the Hangar. Thanks Doc, but this was so not working. I snatched up my towel and my gun, checked for the hundredth time if the thermo clip was full and headed towards the elevator. Shit, I really missed my good old Stiletto.

The elevator doors opened only to reveal the latest ban of my existence. Jack gave a start and the smug grin slid of her face like grease on a hot plate. Yeah. Barely a few hours out of the freezer and freakzilla here was already stomping with her Rampage'R'us attitude over all my efforts to make a group of people with questionable motives team up. Worse, I wouldn't have even known if not for Joker, who had almost fallen over himself to tell me how the two biotics had been ju-ust seconds away from coming to blows, the moment I turned my back on them. And to rip off their clothes in the process. His interpretation, not mine.

In another life it would have amused me greatly to see the uptight Cerberus agent brought down a notch or two, yet the dutiful commander in me was jumping around three steps shy of an apoplexy given the FUBAR potential this was providing. So I settled on shooting the agitator a glare.

That's right, you're sooo busted.

She grimaced and released a string of muttered obscenities as if her life depended on it. Fucking pottymouth.

Finally she said, "I don't know what those idiots told you, but that Cerberus bitch started."

"Aha." Aha was a fantastic word. Neither question, nor statement, but always luring the other person into elaboration.

"Look, we made an agreement. She was trying to weasel out of it. You need to call her off or this business ends right here."

I nodded. "You have my word. You'll get the files. But – "

Her eyes narrowed. Yup. Another one who didn't like getting but'ed.

"But you will at least work together; nice and civilized without trying to kill each other and the rest of us in the process!"

"Or what?" The bald woman asked with a menacing growl.

"Or I'm booting the two of you out the airlock faster than you can blink," I said and fixed her with my little deranged smile. "Just try me."

There are those rare times when a certain reputation actually paid off. Or she simply wanted those files really badly. Whatever the case, the vile-looking woman kept silent for a moment then asked hesitantly, "So, that's all? Play nice with the cun… cheerleader and I'll get the access?"

"That's all I'm asking."

Ah yes and please risk your skinny ass for our mission by killing your way through lots and lots of really weird things.

On a second thought, I really should have thrown it in – might have worked as an excellent incentive with the little creep.

"Okay. Fine. I can handle this," she said, once more filled with so much immoral superiority, it threatened to pour out of her ears. "Anything else?"

"No. Glad to hear we still have an agreement," I replied and stepped into the elevator.

Heh, that went well. I wondered if… Only one way to find out, I guess.

I halted at the engineering and sashayed into the Cargo Bay, straight towards the console. There I experienced a brief moment of doubt upon the sanity of my decision; quickly followed by Miranda's reasonable voice ranting in my head – You know, Shepard, you're about to release a berserk krogan onto the ship? – but I managed to snuff it before it made me change my mind.

Let's face it: reason and me didn't go along too well.

Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that the illustrious TIM had insisted on keeping the tank locked tighter than ass cheeks in prison. My team was still small, and consisted of way too many bodies whose loyalty was ambiguous at best. And I highly doubted a tank-breed super-soldier would come up with that kind of baggage. Plus, I still hadn't the foggiest idea with what we were actually dealing, but if it really tied back to the Sovereign somehow… I wouldn't look a gifted krogan killer machine in the mouth. No seriously, I wouldn't.

"Commander," EDI spoke up. "I calculated that there is a 68 percent probability for the individual to be hostile." If I hadn't known better, I would have said the AI was a little bit uneasy.

I checked my Predator stuffed into the waistband of my track pants. "Relax EDI, I have this under control." Heheh, you know, sort of.

I typed in the command sequence and the opaque nutrient solution drained off. The tank opened with a hiss.

The buck naked krogan took a solid three seconds before deciding to tackle me. Then he jumped down the pedestal, charged and shoved me into the wall. For a scary moment, my lungs refused to work and my head knocked against the wall with dull clonk. Stars danced across my vision. Ow. The musky smell of serpent lair, mixed with the salty citric scent of the nutrient solution, hit my nose. I blinked the spots away. Only to find slitted reptilian eyes, cold and hard, hovering in front of my face. Thick hands clawed into my shoulders like vises. Wet spots formed on my shirt as small rivulets of the solution ran down his arms and soaked the grey fabric.

The krogan sniffed at me, his nostrils wrinkling. "Human. Female. You opened the tank. Fight. Or die like the weak creature you are."

Charming.

"I'm Shepard, the commander of this ship and I've an offer to make." Silence. If anything, something in his drilling gaze told me to better speed this up, so I added, "I'm heading into a battle against impossible odds and I could use a warrior like you in my team. What do you say?"

"The fact that you're in need of asking just shows your unworthiness of mine." He pulled back his leathery lips, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

I wasn't quite sure if it was a grin or just a flexing of muscles before biting my face off. I watched how a small bead of liquid formed at the edge of the scaly bulge of bluish skin above his right eye. It dropped. He never blinked.

What now, Sherlock? All my major experiences in dealing with krogans stemmed from Wrex, and he had been an old-ass bastard with centuries of life's wisdom. This was like hopping through a room littered with bear traps. On one leg. Blindfolded.

"You mistake me. I wasn't asking. I'm giving you the chance to prove yourself against something greater than you. I've strong enemies and an even stronger clan. The question is: are you worthy of them?"

"I think, I'm killing you now… You're talking too much."

Oy. Commander Shepard, top-notch negotiator. My grip tightened around the Predator I had pulled before I hit the wall. Then I thought of something better. Something more flashy.

I tapped into the pool of power waiting just inside me. Energy raced through my body; writhing under my skin; begging to be released. No frigging way to electrocute even a hamster with it, but, as I had gambled for, the unfamiliar shock eased the krogan's grip. The short moment of surprise was all I needed. I built up everything I had into one single blast, hoping it would be enough. The ball of blue lightning surged forward and connected with the krogan's bare chest. He flew backwards. Then crushed into the steel locker near the door with a loud bang.

Holy hell!

Wedged between pieces of steel he shook his massive head. The krogan was built like brick wall that sprouted arms and legs. Thick muscles bulged almost unnaturally along his body, as he griped with his clawed hands at the edges of the locker. The deformed remains groaned in a defiant protest and he slowly got up, cracking his neck. In fascination I watched how the burnt patch of skin on his chest slowly turned pale again. Krogan regeneration. What a pain in the ass.

Though I felt the drain of the demonstration, the gun in my outstretched hand didn't quiver. I aimed low. I didn't want to kill and this would just hurt like fuck. By reflex, my eyes followed the aim. Oh boy. No wonder they were such a self-conceited bunch.

The krogan looked first at the damaged locker, then at the gun pointing at his junk and then at me. Finally, he coughed up a coarse laugh, smashing his fists together. It sounded as if someone had slapped a T-bone steak on the table. "Perhaps, you're not as unworthy as it seems…"

From the corner of my eye, I registered movement. What the… It was Garrus and he was sneaking into the room. My gaze had just flickered for the fraction of a second, but the krogan had caught on it nonetheless. What else to expect from a killing machine bred into perfection? The krogan swirled around. Huge paws gripped the turian at the collar of his shirt, who for any blasted reason whatsoever, had still been staring at me. It cost him dearly.

"You!" the krogan growled like a landslide racing downhill and pushed my friend forcefully against the mangled remains of the locker. "I know of you! The tank told me who you are! Archenemy!"

O-kay. Now, this was bad. I raised my gun and edged closer. Boy, this certainly had escalated faster than a bachelor party at the Afterlife.

"Your kind needs to be wiped from the face of the galaxy! I will start with you!"

"Release me or die," Garrus hissed; a really evil knife in his hand.

Shit, I hadn't even seen him draw it. The twenty-five centimeters of wickedly jagged blade hovered just before the krogan's eye. And it trembled slightly.

"I'll shove it up your skull before you've time to twitch, krogan!" The turian uttered in the same menacing snarl; the sound of a predator set out to kill. Cold anger radiated from him in waves and his face… Like looking into a glacier.

"Garrus! Stop!" He ignored me. Ah, yes. No intelligent life here.

Voices drifted to us from the elevator. They provided a short distraction, in which the krogan divided his attentions. I sprinted the last meters and stood in his line of sight. I pushed the barrel of my Predator at his temple, all focus on the huge reptile. I also threw in a prayer to the gods of reason that Garrus wouldn't come up with any more creative moves.

"That's enough," I said calmly, but with all the steel, years of military training had ingrained deeply into my bones. I tell you, absolutely nobody took a yelling woman seriously. "Wanna know why my team is that strong? Because we're all different. Different backgrounds, different skills, different species; diversity's the key to true domination over your enemies. Lend the krogan's strength and battle fury to our cause; match yourself against my enemies. Don't you think that's more honorable than bleeding out on the floor; dying like a weakling?"

Heaven help me, I sounded like some dunce of overblown action hero. This is Commander A.W.E.S.O.M.E and the Marvelous Space Knights – Up, up, to infinity and beyond!

Lucky me, the krogan lacked the experience to draw such inconvenient comparisons. With a gruff harrumph he finally let go of Garrus and backed up. Completely unconcerned by his lack of clothes, he crossed arms like trunks before his chest, radiating all krogan pride and confidence. Or male pride and confidence. Kinda hard to distinguish at times.

"Smart choice, krogan." I lowered the gun, ready to shoot his oversized quads off. "Are we cool now?"

"Yeah." Suddenly he snorted. "It's funny. Back in the Tank, there was the voice. It was father, mother, teacher. God. The Tank, it always had all the answers. It was sharing its beliefs. Its hatreds. And always blood and glory. What it really means to be krogan. Perfection." He paused. "I understand something happened. The air… No breath. Then silence."

"Okeer. His name was Okeer. The lab was attacked and he died. He was the one who… the one who spoke to you."

"Okeer." He repeated as if tasting the name. "Yes. I see. He is gone but his ghost is still here. I feel it. It is in my bones. In my flesh. It whispers to me. Pushes me. Blood and glory. But now that I left the Tank, it no longer has the answers. More, it's failing. It pushes and boils my blood and does not realize that dead warriors win no battle." Suddenly his voice boomed. "Silence! I say, death is not an option! I will live! Do you hear me, Ghost of Okeer?" He shook his head and eyed me warily. "I'll fight alongside you and your turian… Shepard. But your foes better be worth my patience."

Aaaand another shithouse-crazy reporting for duty. Jeff was so going to have kittens.

"Believe me, you won't be disappointed," I said and stuffed the Predator into the waistband of my pants once more.

"My name… is Grunt."

I inclined my head. "Welcome to the team, Grunt." My voice hardened. "And Grunt? Never, ever lay hands on one of mine again. Understood?"

Arms stemmed into my side I gave him the evil eye until he finally growled in admittance. Then I picked up my towel and tossed it to him. He was still dripping nutrient solution all over the place. It bounced of his head and dropped to the floor. He looked at it contemptuously.

As if one streaker on the ship wasn't enough.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in resignation and scraped up all my patience. "There are clothes and armor in the crate behind the tank. You better get dressed; it's a pesky burden called 'common decency,' you know?"

Grunt bellowed a short laugh. "Just because I was raised in the Tank, it doesn't mean I don't know the rules of your… society." With that he stomped towards the metal crate and stooped. Uhg, great. Another sight better left unseen. I hastily turned away and listened to him pulling out the armor. Each piece separately.

"Alright," I said when the krogan finally managed to store his goods away in combat gear. "This is Garrus Vakarian." I nodded towards the turian. He was leaning against the wall left to the door with deceptive ease, watching the scene through lidded eyes. "And since they're already watching the spectacle, you can just as well meet some other members of my team. Yeah, I mean you!" For the last I raised my voice, causing our four bystanders – Massani, Jack and two of the Normandy's engineers – to shuffle reluctantly into the Port Cargo.

Positive that they could introduce themselves without another interspecies incident, I motioned sharply to Garrus in the universal gesture for 'let's get outta here'. Later I'd send Kelly down to have her explain to Grunt the other customs on a human ship. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

The doors of the elevator closed behind us. I finally allowed myself a sigh of relief and sagged with my back against the wall. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, too. For once, no dead bodies left behind. No harm, no foul, right?

Slowly, the lingering weakness faded. It left me hungry again. Just a byproduct of my body adjusting to the new implants. At least that was I managed to pry out of the Doc without having her tie me down and examine all the other little freakish extras, I was not ready to face yet. So I was a sissy. Sue me.

"Hey Shepard," Garrus suddenly said from my right. "So… how exactly did the locker get its krogan-shaped dent?"

I did not answer. Instead I stretched out my hand, blue sparks licking at my skin from forearm to fingertips. I concentrated on the force within and a small orb materialized to hover over my palm. A few seconds later I closed my hand with a slow circling motion and the mesmerizing light vanished. It should have freaked me out how much easier this was getting with each time, but somehow I was just too tired to summon any anxiety.

"I thought your biotics aren't worth mentioning?"

"Yah. That's what I thought until recently as well. Someone at Cerberus obviously felt that this is an 'error' in need of a fixing…" Bitterness swallowed my words.

The turian shrugged, as if spontaneous ability buffs were the most ordinary thing where he came from. "It's an edge and I suspect we will need each and every one we can get our hands on." Then he chuckled softly. "Commander Shepard, fearsome biotic AND passable shooter? I can't help but feel sorry for our enemies…"

"Passable? I'm going to give you passable, Vakarian. Besides–" I turned my head and looked at him sharply; in his shirt, with the now thoroughly mangled collar. "What the actual fuck possessed you to do this… this demented stupidity of sneaking up on a krogan with obvious issues to distinguish friend from foe?"

He suddenly turned all serious and pointed at my face. "You're bleeding."

"Huh?" It was only then that I registered the sting on my cheek and something wet drying against my skin. I wiped over the spot. My fingers came away red. Grunt must have scratched me at some point. Probably when he departed for the locker.

The lift stopped. I opened my mouth to argue that this was no explanation whatsoever, but he forestalled me by saying, "See you in the morning, Shepard."

And he exited the cabin.

"Hey!" It was all I managed to shout before the doors closed behind him and cut off my protests. The elevator resumed riding upwards, but I hadn't pushed the button.

Insufferable turian.

.~'*'~.

Alien.

This was about the first thought that came to my mind when confronted with the compound eyes, so cold and indifferent, of the corpse that slid to the ground to my feet. Funny, how death hadn't changed them a bit. The business end of my Predator had punched a series of ragged holes through the elongated triangular head, oozing out blood like thick yellowish pus. The insectoid had dropped from Horizon's overcast sky directly in front of me, giving me barely enough time to raise the pistol and pull the trigger.

I exhaled. Looked around for another foe. Adrenaline flooded my body and color was returned to the world.

I smelled the rain in the air, the wet grass below my feet. Gunfire and shouts, so crystal clear. In this brief moment I could even forgive Cerberus for dragging my rotting ass out of its grave. I was surrounded by death, and yet I felt more alive than ever. Instinctively, I knew food would taste like heaven. And if I had sex right now, it would be rapture. No brawl, no N training, no mock fight could prepare you for this unique feeling, when the thrill of combat was surging to the remotest corners of your self, and you staked out your life, all bets off.

It was a sensation of oneness I was craving for ever since I could remember.

I left the Collector's corpse behind and headed towards a wall that fenced in a square patch of greenery. Suddenly a swarm of those tiny synthetics, the Professor had named "Seeker," bustled up from the red-blossomed scrubs. They buzzed like a miniature tornado around me, their humming loud and close enough to make my skin crawl. Then, just as abruptly, they zipped off. I released my breath. At least the disrupters seemed to work. I spared a glance heavenwards and watched how the blackish cloud sped towards the center of the colony. There – right above the GARDIAN turrets, as if to mock us – an enormous ship hovered; its looming presence intensified by the sheer grotesqueness of its look, like the unholy merge of a gigantic termite hive and a space station.

I tore my gaze away.

So far, so bad.

Our plan was simple. Lawson, Taylor and Massani would circle the colony and approach the GARDIAN from the north east. It left me and Garrus with the honor of keeping an eye out for Jack and Grunt while we moved in from the south. There was no obvious reason for them to cause trouble, but you never know. There were many ways to describe the two and 'mentally stable' was not among them.

The first team to secure the turrets would establish a link to the Normandy and allow EDI to override the flawed calibration sequences. In the meantime the second team would keep its guns ready to carve a way out if needed. Simple enough, it might even work after the first enemy contact.

Suddenly Jack shouted. "Watch out! There are… zombies coming from the left!"

Zombies? What…

Through my radio I heard a muttered turian curse. "Oh, c'mon, this must be a bad joke…"

Ten meters ahead, Grunt readied his shotgun and exchanged a glance with the biotic covered in a blue sheen head to toe. The pair looked as exhilarated as two rabid sharks about to tear into a cluster of baby seals – but yeah, who was I to judge?

And then an all too familiar humanoid nightmare broke free from its cover, 25 meters ahead.

Oh, hell. No.

Husks.

In macabre fascination I watched how the incarnation of my worst speculations ran across the short clipped lawn with jerky, inhuman motions. The last bit of my hope shattered. Until now a small part of me had been hoping, that for once – just once – things weren't as bad as they seemed. I was wrong.

Ah, do you remember that middle-finger-shaped cloud? I think I spotted it as it agglomerated spontaneously right above my head.

A group of three monsters broke off and scrambled towards my position. A sphere of trapped lightning sprang into life above my left palm. I threw it into the oncoming Husks, raising my gun. The trigger clacked three times and… they wouldn't go down. Vexed, I kept firing until the prehistoric cooling system they sold me as high-tech, put a short and abrupt end to my bullet parade. Just as the last husk hurled itself over the wall to get me.

To hell with it.

I dropped the gun and snatched my combat knife out of its sheath on my thigh. A conglomerate of Reaper tech, teeth, saliva and claws crashed into me. The momentum toppled us over. I hit the ground back first, fighting to keep the snapping jaws off my face.

I inhaled into a cloud of roadkill three days dead, but I barely noticed. Once again the horrid details burned into my mind. The gaunt tech-twisted face. Grey skin pulled taunt, defiled by wounding cable and that eerie bluish Reaper glow. Dead eyes opened up before me like unblinking portals, leading to another world. Where the screams lived. Or probably went to die.

My left arm pressed against the struggling husk's throat. I was unable to look away. The inhuman face contorted; the mindless fury of a being bereft of any traces of self-perception. My right hand moved on its own. Unforgiving, my blade bit deeply into the eye socket. Whatever nasty trick had animated this perversion of once human life, it couldn't resist the hot kiss of good old 420 high carbon steel.

My breath came ragged. For a brief moment I simply stared at the overcast sky. Fuck me. I would never get used to them. I pulled the knife out of the skull and shoved the corpse off my body. A shadow fell on me. An armed and winged shadow, standing on the narrow wall that had been my cover seconds ago.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

The Collector turned its head in my direction. It made some eerie, scratchy noises. My imagination told me it sounded gleeful. Irritation stabbed through me. If this locust believed I was easy meat just because I was lying there like a slug, it would be deeply disappointed.

I flicked my wrist and the knife went airborne. Suddenly, a fat hole appeared on the insectoids forehead, one hand-span above the spot where my quivering blade had just carved an additional spiracle. The Collector crumbled like a wet rag and disappeared on the other side of the wall.

Behind me, feet hit the ground with the familiar sound of heavy boots sliding across gravel.

"You alright down there?" My turian wingman asked.

"Sure, just checking out the ground." I said and rolled to the side and into a crouch, snatching up my pistol.

"Anything interesting?"

With a soft hiss the spent thermo clip dropped to the ground.

"Nope, but it's hard and dirty," I said and shoved a new clip into the gun.

Suddenly I realized that Garrus was looking funny at me. Oy. It must have taken a heroic effort out of him to maintain that straight face. Especially considering that he replied with something I could only identify as poorly hidden amusement. "Well, isn't that exactly how we like it?"

Huh? Our banter had never ventured down there. It had always been by the book; friendly but never forgetting the invisible line rank had drawn and military drill had ingrained into our bones. Innuendo was just too dangerous with its flying-in-the-face-of-all-authority attitude.

Luckily the turian decided not to poach any further in this area. Instead he nudged the dead husk with his foot. "Hmm, is it just me or are they harder to kill than the last time?"

I wasn't sure when exactly kill-talk had turned into safe-talk, but I jumped at the exit strategy with both feet. "See that ridges on the ribcage? A human body is not supposed to have them. I bet this is implanted plating." I looked at the turian and shrugged. "You're not really surprised, are you?"

A snort was all the answer I got, so I vaulted over the wall to retrieve my knife and do a quick cleanup on the damp grass. Weird alien insect blood had already destroyed my gear once. I was not about to take any chances with my only remaining combat knife.

I gathered my army of four and we ventured deeper into the colony. In the distance, massive gray clouds billowed, building up to a towering dark front that shrouded the light of the pale morning sun rising at the horizon.

A storm was coming.

.~'*'~.

Somewhere between the small plaza we faced now, and the indistinctive street canyon we cleared before, I had lost track of my body count. Even Garrus had fallen silent, and he usually never missed an opportunity to lighten the mood and brag at least a little about his BC.

We've been here for, what? Two hours? Three? Heaven help us, but there were so many of them. Collectors and husks seemed to crawl out from every slit the maze of buildings provided, completely unhampered by the tropical downpour that hammered down at us. I wiped my face in a more or less futile attempt to clear my sight. Rivulets ran down from my soaked hair, down my neck and into my armor. Well, at least the rain was finally lessening somewhat.

To my right, Grunt's big paws grabbed a Collector about to lift off at his leg and pulled it down. With a sickening crack, he smashed his forehead against the chitinous carapace of the Collector's face. It crashed to the ground, limbs twitching. It hadn't uttered one sound. The shotgun's thunder ringed my ears, but I had already turned and used the small break to advance. I made it a full ten meters before a Collector armed with sniper rifle sent me skittering through drenched grass and mud into another hiding place.

At that speed we would never make it to the GARDIAN. And it was right behind the hangar, I could make out from here despite the downpour. Just as well it could have been on the other side of the solar system.

Worse, an itch had grown between my shoulder blades. Nothing where I could exactly put my finger on, but something about this colony felt terribly wrong. Something about this warning felt terribly wrong. So far we hadn't encountered one colonist alive.

This wasn't a rescue mission, it was a frigging cleanup commando.

"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL!" The low emotionless voice reverberated across the plaza once more.

Aww, fuck.

I had just ducked into cover next to Jack and our clip stock. Who or whatever this Harbinger was, it seemed impossible to get rid of it. Whenever we killed its current host, it would soon be back, possessed another Collector drone and resumed with sputtering its dumb threats.

And you know what? Whenever a Collector lit up like a freaked-out Christmas tree, my stomach sunk a little further upon the unpleasant déjà-vu.

"Kill Shepard, but preserve her body!"

What?

I shared an alarmed look with Jack, who squatted next to me and pressed a bandage on her right arm. Pink was soaking through the rain-drenched fabric. Underneath, a nasty husk bite decorated her biceps, the latest evidence that her concentration was slowly but surely as frayed as mine. I was so exhausted I couldn't snuff out a candle with my biotics. She released her arm and snatched up her Katana shotgun, fierce eyes daring me to comment on her wound.

"Is that a new line?" The biotic asked with her usual indifference but I spotted a worried edge in her soured expression, too. Great. Fantastic. Now the bastard had managed to creep out my homicidal maniac.

"Yep. Before we had, 'knowing pain, anguish, death,' and various suggestions that we better should surrender right now, because hiding is a futile waste of time. Didn't specify if ours or its, though," I said through clenched teeth.

"Shepard. Destroying this vessel gains you nothing."

"I beg to differ. It pleases me greatly to kill your ugly ass over and over again!" I shouted, emptying my clip into the glowing body. It was nothing but a mean to hide something entirely different.

Fear.

Deep down the thing filled me with a silent dread. The Sovereign had also been in control of Saren. Of his mind and his body. I could do my maths. We were in even deeper shit than we thought.

They know your name! The Reapers know your fucking NAME!

Before the notion had a chance to manifest further and drag me under, I killed it with the fastest mean I had. I thought of the Husks. Of the abducted colonists. The families. The children. The dead. Hot anger churned inside me, burning away my fear as a small controlled fire ate its way through the grip I had on my emotions. Fury lingered on the outskirts, waving at me to draw my attention.

Oh yeah. Harbinger would feel pain before the end.

~V~

I took the staircase along the outside wall of a building two steps at a time and pulled myself up to the flat roof. I would be exposed to enemies from above, but it couldn't be helped. This was the only position that provided an overview of the whole plaza.

The rain had finally stopped. In the distance I could see the outskirts of the jungle that hugged the flanks of the colony. It reminded me unpleasantly of my first survival training with the military, dropped off in one of Palaven's wild forests, armed with nothing but a canteen and a knife. Turian boot camp was hell, but it made for damn hard soldiers. When I came out that blasted forest four weeks later I wasn't a kid anymore. The experience hadn't made me exactly fond of jungles. Or insects.

"This is ridiculous," Shepard's voice cracked through my headset and I picked out the next enemy to fall prey to my Mantis. There. Collector's version of a sniper. Mind drifting in the void, I aimed and shot. Dark yellow liquid sprayed from the Collector's head as it fell. In my ear she resumed, "It can't be that hard to make it across this friggin' plaza, for fuck's sake! Jack? Anymore clips?"

And in a nutshell, that was exactly the problem. We were pinned down, with our destination just a few hundred paces ahead. The Collectors were sending enforcement troops too fast; we barely kept them from pushing us back.

The dull, pulsing ache that had built up in my right shoulder for a while became unbearable. I swapped the Mantis to the left. It would screw with my accuracy, but there was nothing to be done about it either. Despite the armor, I felt each recoil of the rifle keenly. I took a moment to relax my sore muscles. Still, after days of kicking my heels it was contenting to be back in the field.

Through my scope, I watched Jack tossing a few heat sinks behind in the Commander's direction.

It was remarkable. Dozens of times I had seen it work and it still amazed me how easily people would follow Shepard's lead. Over the years I had met many leaders; commanders, generals, Primarchs. Neither had been like her – leading by simply pulling those around her along with her drive and her unconditional will to fight for her cause to the very end. Be it so that a stranger could bury the body of his mate, or hunting a rogue Spectre once across the galaxy.

I dropped the thought and resumed clearing the perimeter from my elevated position. Thinking too much about the Commander and the latest changes in her harbored its own pitfalls.

Ahead of the two women, Grunt wreaked havoc; showing each Collector, husk and whatever abnormality they threw at us, what it meant to be the vent of overbred krogan battle fury. It gave the Commander and the Maniac time for a much needed breather, but I wasn't sure if it would do for much longer. Shepard was exhausted, no doubt a side effect of her involuntary reacquaintance with her biotic abilities, and so was Jack, as impossible as it had seemed at first. Her biotic attacks had since long lost much of their initial fervor. Being a biotic gave you an invaluable edge in short skirmishes, yet in long, static battles it became your biggest liability. Back on Omega, I had spent many evenings with Monteague, planning strategies on how to use his 'gift,' as the human had called it, to our best advance. Handling that much power was strenuous. Forcing it to your bidding was even worse. Under spray and without rest, a biotic would drain thrice as fast as any ordinary soldier.

We had to break through soon or we would be overrun long before the sun reached its zenith.

"Any news from the other team?" I asked Shepard and felled two husks running in her direction while she reloaded her weapon. "Can they bypass the GARDIAN and cut at the flanks of the Collectors' reinforcements?"

"Negative. They first gained ground, but now they're bottled up as well. Miranda said they found a group of colonists who escaped the attack…" She sighed in a mixture of vexation and dull resignation. "They must be protected."

I perfectly understood. She could order Lawson and her team to hit at the supplying troops and provide us with the opportunity to reach the GARDIAN that much faster. And to strike directly at the Collectors' ship. And it would condemn the colonist to their certain deaths.

A life sacrificed here, ten saved elsewhere. Your choice and the price of being in command – a price, I had sworn in another life never having to pay…

"We can make it without them." I tried to sound optimistic. Not easy, since the last remnants of optimism had abandoned me two blocks ago. "Look, seems they're actually retrea-"

The sky darkened. I dropped flat to the roof. "Heads up!" I shouted. "Enemy inbound from above!"

"Oh, screw me," came Shepard's exasperated outcry through the radio. "What the hell is this now?"

.~'*'~.

The plaza had erupted into pandemonium.

Everyone and everything was shooting for all their worth. Collectors at humans. Humans at the huge floating monstrosity that inhabited the center of the plaza. Krogan at everything on the move.

The monstrous thing looked like it was built out of husks. A random collection mangled and stapled together, then forced into a metallic carapace. Revolting, but clever. Got a monster and stagger hostile forces with nausea in one shot.

I ran towards the center of the fight until I saw Jack on the left, backed against the wall of a building, a group of husks closing in on her from the one side, a Collector from the other. I turned to the side. The Collector spotted me and fired. I dodged and my shields deflected bullets. The biotic howled in fury. I accelerated. The Collector's weapon clicked empty and I vaulted over the obstacle that separated us. Too close for my rifle. My tactical knife ripped through chitinous skin and bit into a shoulder socket until it met resistance. Bones? How strange. The Collector's arm went limp and dropped the biomechanical-looking weapon. I slashed again, severed muscles cords and sinews. The Collector remained upright for a few seconds longer, as if its body had failed to notice what happened. Then the half-detached head sagged to the side and the insectoid fell.

I closed the short distance to the former convict, fighting the last husk. She smashed her elbow into its twisted face, it staggered back and the Katana roared. Black blood sprayed her. She grinned and it was diabolic.

"You took your sweet bloody time coming down here."

I opened my mouth and a deafening drone rung the air. One moment later an enormous shockwave followed suit and ripped away my footing. I curled up to reduce the impact and rolled off, my damaged shoulder a mass of pain. From my right Jack cursed and staggered to her feet, kicking against the dead husk that had cushioned her fall. I pulled myself up. My right arm felt numbed. I locked my jaws and I rolled my shoulder slowly. The half-way dislocated joint popped back. I would not yell.

"Everyone alright?" Shepard asked through the radio. It was met with three different versions of a 'yes'.

"Okay. Show'em hell!"

~V~

In the stories it is always so goddamn easy.

You rush in, bash a few heads, shoot around wildly, throw in a menacing snarl to spice things up – and Bam! all baddies dead; all innocents saved. The reality though… the reality is more like running from one clusterfuck to the next, while the realization slowly dawns on you that despite all your bullet dodging, you're still riding to hell in a little fucking hand basket.

After the gigantic piece of junk had killed most of its own minions with a shockwave, it had been almost ridiculously easy to dispatch the flying abomination and power up the GARDIAN cannons.

And despite all our efforts, the Collectors escaped.

All for nothing…

Frustrated, I tore my gaze away from the vanishing ship, just to watch the remaining colonists pick their way towards us. Their forlorn looks were like needles that pricked directly into my soul.

I wouldn't lose sleep about those I killed – not anymore. But those I failed to save? They were a different story.

At least Lawson and the rest of her team seemed unharmed. She waved at me, then she and Taylor ushered the colonists to the side, most of them simply slumping to the ground. The day's events had devastated them. Massani and a forth soldier walked over to us. It was… Kaidan? All of a sudden I felt dumbstruck. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ivy?"

I flinched at the way he said my name, hating myself for the tiny shiver of warmth the tender note in his voice still managed to evoke.

"You're… alive…" the dark-haired Alliance soldier, and my yearlong comrade-in-arms, added slowly and stretched out his hand to touch my arm. I fought the impulse to pull away and let him. Our relation had always been difficult. And I mean not in some pathetic ex-lover kind of way, but in that screw-up one. Before I had the chance to reply, he plowed onwards like a tank. As usual.

"Why haven't you told me? I thought you were dead! Dead! Cerberus," he spat out the word and pointed at Lawson and Taylor, "Claimed you came with them…"

I gritted my teeth. Of course. Cerberus. He hadn't seen me in over two years; years I had spent as fucking far away from the living world as one could possibly be, and this was all I got. Figures.

I unlocked my jaws, ignoring the painful jab that rose somewhere in my chest. "Yes, but it's not-"

"So it is true, then." He said flatly. "You're one of them now! How can you brush aside all the things we've seen? What they did to Rear Admiral Kahoku? Akuze?"

"What? No! Listen, Kaidan, this isn't like you thi-"

"You betrayed us! After everything the Alliance did for you…"

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. Once again his refusal to look past his preconceived opinions was driving us apart, but the man who had been my friend, my only friend, almost from the very day I entered the Alliance just kept staring at me, his whiskey-colored eyes full of disappointment. It stung. As if someone was slowly shoving a hot knife between my ribs.

Too close. I had allowed him to come too close and now I was paying the price for my stupidity.

"All the years…" I began softly and for his ears alone. "All the things we've been through together... They just mean nothing... God fucking damn it, Kaidan! I should have earned your trust by now, or at least the chance to explain, but no! You know me better than everyone else and you still don't hesitate for one fucking heartbeat before you decide to screw me over."

Something like guilt flittered across his face. Until he set his jaw and his expression shifted into the same old stubbornness I knew so well. "Explain? You can't explain this. You can only make excuses."

For a moment I squeezed my eyes shut. It was useless. He would not listen. He would not listen. I felt the rage boiling inside me like a savage beast just begging for a chance to break free. And here I believed I had after all these years buried Ivy and her destructive feelings too deeply to cause any more harm.

Wrong. So terribly wrong.

The tiny cracks in the once so thick and all-smothering layer of the dutiful commander grew a new set of spidery fissures as the furious need to simply beat the explanation into him became an almost overpowering force. My feet moved on their own. Hurt. Oh, he would hurt. As much as I did. And then some.

No! A small voice shouted in the back of my head. Don't. Lose. Control!

Kaidan had retreated a few steps and was watching me carefully, tiny blue flashes dancing treacherously around his fingers.

So that's where we stand then, huh?

Ever so slowly I unclenched my fists, bit by bit forcing all the churning feelings back into their little box and sunk it to the bottom of the dark sea my soul had become. I waited until there was nothing but the soft burning ache of sadness and deprival. This was familiar; this I could deal with. Later.

Commander Shepard had to function. She couldn't afford to be thrown off by petty issues.

I steeled my voice and said loud enough for the others to hear, "Lieutenant Alenko, I'm terribly sorry you feel this way, and I'm even sorrier that you allow your suspicions to override your better experiences. But we know that's nothing new to you, isn't it? Also, I officially apologize to you and all inhabitants of the colony Horizon that the Normandy SR-2 and her team couldn't make it in time to save the abducted colonists. My heart grieves at your loss, but rest assured that we won't stop until the Collectors are brought to justice for their crimes."

I saluted to him and stalked off, back to where my team was waiting.

"Hey," he suddenly shouted. "You can't just walk away!"

You bet. Just watch me.

"Shepard!"

I flipped him off over my head and kept walking. Not so commander-like, but in this situation probably the safest action. The alternatives were many things I would certainly regret later. I heard him follow. This idiot would simply not stop pushing his luck. Garrus probably realized it as well. He took one look at my face and went over to Kaidan.

"Get out of my way, Vakarian. This is none of your business."

"Maybe. Unfortunately, you completely fail to realize how thin the ice is you're stomping on, and we simply can't afford her getting court-martialed for assaulting Alliance personnel, so... I think this makes it very much of my business."

I stopped listening to them. It was time for me to care for my team and not to pull off any more of my personal drama. Jack seemed three steps shy from passing out the way she clung to Massani's arm. The merc shot me a worried glance. I opened the communication link to the Normandy.

"Joker, do you copy?" I asked and rubbed my forehead. I was soaked, muddy and really really tired.

"Yes, Commander."

"Get us the hell out of here."