"Thinking"
"Talking"
"Impactful word"
Shepard POV
"So, the Illusive Man didn't sell us out, huh? Could've fooled me," Jacob scoffed as Shepard relayed TIM's latest directive.
The Normandy needed a Reaper-designed Identify Friend/Foe (IFF) device to pass safely through the Omega-4 relay. Cerberus intel suggested one could be found on a derelict Reaper in orbit around the brown dwarf Mnemosyne in the Hawking Eta cluster. A Cerberus science team had been investigating it but had gone silent—unsurprising given TIM's track record, Shepard thought bitterly.
Mordin paced with restless energy, muttering half-formed hypotheses. His usual eccentricity grated against Shepard's simmering anger. TIM had dragged her into a pointless five-minute briefing, all while her fury lingered over his previous betrayal. For someone obsessed with keeping her alive, he had an uncanny knack for putting her life on the line.
"Lied to us. Used us. Necessary risk to access Collector databanks," Mordin muttered.
Shepard's tone cut through his ramblings, "He pulls a stunt like that again, and the Collectors will be the least of his problems."
Turning to the glowing blue orb at the center of the table, she asked, "EDI, are you sure this IFF will work?"
"My analysis is accurate, Shepard," EDI replied smoothly. "Additionally, I have determined the approximate location of the Collector homeworld based on the navigational data."
The galactic map shimmered into focus as EDI narrowed the display, zooming toward the galaxy's core. Bright, chaotic light filled the center—a sight as beautiful as it was foreboding.
"That can't be right," Miranda murmured, echoing the disbelief on every face in the room.
"Run diagnostics, Joker. Looks like our AI might have a bug."
"My calculations are correct," EDI countered. "The Collector homeworld is located within the galactic core."
Jacob frowned. "The core is just black holes and exploding stars. Nothing can survive there."
"Artificial construction," Mordin theorized, pacing faster. "Space station, perhaps. Mass effect fields and radiation shielding could create survivable conditions."
Miranda crossed her arms. "Even with Reaper technology, a station like that is almost inconceivable."
Shepard interjected, her voice steady, "The Reapers built the Mass Relays and the Citadel. A station surrounded by black holes isn't a stretch for them. No wonder nobody's returned from the Omega-4 Relay."
EDI expanded on the hypothesis, "The most plausible explanation is the presence of a safe zone on the far side of the relay. Standard relay protocols are insufficient for safe transit. Without precise targeting, even a slight drift would prove fatal. The Reaper IFF likely provides encrypted protocols for accurate navigation."
Shepard nodded, "Which means once we have the IFF, we need to be ready to move. Following the Collectors is one thing—fighting them on their home turf is another. We're not going in until we're ready."
Jacob grumbled under his breath, but Miranda silenced him with a sharp look, signaling her agreement with Shepard.
"It's your call, Commander," Jacob relented, standing straighter. "Whatever you decide, we're with you."
He saluted crisply. Shepard suppressed a smirk. She'd already told him salutes weren't necessary, but at least his heart was in the right place.
Akane POV
Posk leaned back against the console, arms crossed, "You sure you're ready for this?" he asked, his tone low and serious. "Aratoht isn't like anything you've dealt with before. It's hell on a rock."
Akane rubbed the back of her neck, wincing slightly; she must have slept on the wrong side. Her fingers briefly curled into a fist before relaxing again.
"Hell on a rock," she muttered under her breath, her voice quieter than usual. The weight of the mission loomed over her, palpable in the slight slump of her shoulders and the faraway look in her eyes.
"That's what we call it," Posk said, gesturing toward the holographic rendering of the planet.
"Jon Grissom described it as 'Mount Everest inside an oven.' Air pressure's brutal, oxygen's too low. Humans backed off colonizing it decades ago, but we didn't. The Hegemony's been throwing cyanobacteria and invasive plants at it, trying to terraform the place. They've made progress, but most people still need rebreathers to survive."
"And the ones who don't?" Akane asked, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.
"They're underground or clustered at the poles," Posk explained grimly. "That's where you'll find the military bases—and the slaves. Most of the workforce is indentured or worse, mining the metal-rich crust. The propaganda calls it a triumph. The truth? It's a nightmare."
Akane's gaze shifted to the map, her posture stiff. She let out a sharp breath, "Sounds like I'll fit right in as an indentured servant."
Posk frowned, releasing his arms from their confinement.
"Which is why I won't be going as a human."
His jaw twitched in a playful scowl, "Should I even ask?"
She flashed a wolfish smirk, her tone teasing, "I don't know, should you?"
"Bah," he huffed, throwing his hands up, "You won't tell me anyway."
"I have my ways," she replied, smug.
"Why do I even try?" he muttered dramatically, shaking his head.
Akane chuckled softly, but her gaze returned to the holographic map. Posk's humor eased the tension momentarily, but the gravity of the mission hung between them like a shadow.
"You might," Posk admitted after a while, "But don't underestimate them. The Ministry of Information Control has eyes everywhere. One mistake, and they'll have you strung up as a spy faster than you can blink."
She nodded, but her fingers drummed against the console's edge, betraying her unease, "I can't afford mistakes. Not here."
"Good," Posk said, his voice firm, "Use your head. And don't trust anyone. Even the slaves. Desperation makes people dangerous."
She stayed silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the swirling representation of Aratoht. Then, with a sigh, she asked, "Speaking of dangerous… how's Hilo?"
Posk exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Still in his workshop. Hasn't come out since the trial."
"That's not good," Akane muttered absentmindedly, rubbing her temples. She regularly kept Hilo company, bringing him snacks and drinks, but never attempted to break the heavy silence he maintained.
Posk studied Akane for a moment, his sharp gaze catching the tension in her stance as she leaned against the console. "You should talk to him before you go," he said quietly.
"Yeah," he confirmed, crossing his arms, "He's been holed up in that workshop since the trial. Working himself to the bone like he can fix everything with a wrench and some scrap."
She shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through her hair. "I know he's taking this hard, but… I don't think there's anything I can say that'll help."
"You might be surprised," Posk replied, his voice measured. "As much as you pretend to not notice, you know how he gets whenever you're about to run headfirst into danger. If you leave without talking to him, it'll eat at him the whole time you're gone."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled sharply, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"I think it is," Posk said, his tone more insistent now. "Just… make sure he's not drowning in this before you leave. It's the least you can do for someone who cares about you."
Akane's eyes flickered with something unreadable before she nodded. "I'll talk to him," she said softly. Then, with a glance at the map of Aratoht glowing on the console, she added, "But if I'm late getting prepped, it's on you."
Posk smirked faintly, though there was a hint of relief in his expression, "Fine by me. Just don't keep us waiting too long. The batarians aren't going to roll out the welcome mat."
As he walked away, Akane lingered for a moment, her gaze unfocused. Finally, she straightened, rolling her shoulders as if bracing herself for a battle she wasn't quite ready to fight.
As he turned to leave, she caught the flicker of worry lingering in his eyes. Alone now, Akane stared at the hologram of Aratoht. Her fingers tightened against the console's edge as she took a deep breath. Between the mission and Hilo, it felt like the weight of the galaxy was pressing down on her.
But she couldn't let it show. Not now.
Shepard POV
Zaeed Massani was a man hardened by a lifetime of war and betrayal. His voice was a gravelly growl, his eyes sharp and calculating, and his presence impossible to ignore. Shepard found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn't quite explain. He wasn't gentle or kind like the people she once knew. There was no pretense, no hidden agendas. He was straightforward, unfiltered, and brutally honest.
It wasn't that she saw Zaeed as a replacement for Admiral Hackett—far from it. But there was something in his rough, unapologetic attitude that reminded her of the man she once admired deeply. Hackett had been the steady hand she turned to during the most trying moments of her life. His calm leadership had been a guiding force in her darkest times, and though she still held onto the hope of reconnecting with him, a part of her wondered if that hope was slipping through her fingers.
The connection with Zaeed wasn't the same. It wasn't love, not like what she had felt for Hackett. It was something else—an attraction, perhaps—a familiarity in his confidence and resolve. Yet, she kept it to herself, unwilling to admit even to herself what these feelings truly meant. After all, this was Zaeed Massani—a man with a past so brutal it left no room for sentimentality. And Shepard? She was a Spectre, a soldier bound by duty and strategy, her heart hardened by the galaxy's demands.
Still, there were moments—fleeting moments—where Zaeed's presence was a welcome distraction from the weight she carried. He didn't ask for anything, didn't push. He listened in his own way, offered advice in his blunt, unapologetic style, and never expected anything more than the mission at hand. It was a simplicity she hadn't experienced in a long time, and for a brief time, it eased the ache of uncertainty that lingered after her resurrection by Cerberus.
When things grew tense, and the missions were more dangerous, Zaeed didn't shy away from the truth. He knew the risks, understood the cost, and made no promises about easy outcomes. There was something reassuring about that—an honesty that didn't pretend or sugarcoat the realities they faced.
One evening, after a mission completed successfully, Zaeed leaned against the wall of the ship, a cigarette between his fingers. "You're quiet tonight," he said, his voice low and steady.
Shepard glanced his way, a small smile forming on her lips. "Just thinking."
"About Hackett, I bet," he said with a smirk, though it was devoid of mockery.
She paused, her breath catching for a brief moment before she shook her head. "You know, you really don't miss much."
"I've seen a lot in my time," Zaeed said simply. "Doesn't take much to read between the lines."
She let out a soft sigh, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a little. "It's complicated."
"Most things are," Zaeed agreed, flicking his cigarette away. "But some things, well… they're worth fighting for."
"And some," Shepard said softly, her voice trailing off, "are worth letting go."
Zaeed studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "He'd be lucky to have such a woman's love," he said finally.
Shepard glanced at him, a warmth rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment. "Thanks, Zaeed. That's… thoughtful."
"I don't deal in sentiment," he replied with a shrug, though his tone was gentle. "Just call it experience."
For the first time in a while, Shepard allowed herself to feel the weight of those words. There was no resolution, no certainty, but in that moment, Zaeed's quiet support felt like a steady hand in the storm. Even if it wasn't Hackett's calm leadership, it was enough to remind her that some battles were worth fighting—no matter the cost.
It would be Zorya were the future of this support would be called in question.
They pushed onwards, through the dense jungle and into the metal refinery. Blue Suns greeted them on each step of the way, being incited by Vido to kill them for a hefty promotion. It made the flame of Zaeed's fury burn all the hotter. This was no mere grudge for him, it defined his life for the last twenty years. So much so that he would do anything in this moment to put a bullet through Vido's skull.
Setting a refinery on fire was just one example of this.
As the flames consumed the refinery, the weight of their mission pressed down on Shepard and Garrus. Zaeed's obsession with vengeance was palpable, his focus solely on tracking down Vigo and ensuring he paid for his betrayal. His relentless pursuit didn't leave room for doubt—any obstacle in his way was simply another target to be eliminated. Yet, standing beside him, Shepard knew that sometimes, justice wasn't so black and white.
"You're willing to watch these people die?" Shepard asked Zaeed, her voice firm but incredulous.
Zaeed met her gaze without a shred of hesitation, "Damn right I am. We stop to help these people, and Vido gets away. And if he gets away," he added, his voice a growl, "I'm blaming you."
Garrus stepped forward, his tone calm but resolute, "Zaeed, I get it. Believe me, I've been where you are. But chasing revenge at the cost of innocent lives? It's not the answer. It'll hollow you out faster than any bullet." He glanced at Shepard, his voice steady with trust. "If she says we save them, then that's what we do."
A dark look crossed his face, making his already gnarled face look even grimmer, "I knew this was a mistake," he grumbled over the roaring flames and as Shepard turned away from him, he added, "You're both so damn righteous it makes me sick. No wonder Cerberus had to scrape you off the floor—you'd never survive on your own."
The Commander stopped and bit the insider of her cheeks at the venomous insult. This one hurt almost as much as Horizon. She wasn't the only one who heard it apparently, as Garrus clocked him so hard across the face that he staggered a few steps backwards. Together, they walked away to to save the workers, with our without him.
As Vido limped onto the waiting gunship, clutching a bloodied side, he snarled a string of curses into the radio, "You'll rot in hell before you ever catch me, Massani!" His taunts rang hollow against the sound of the engines roaring to life.
Zaeed, breathing heavily, lifted his assault rifle, his fury palpable. Ignoring the sweat beading on his brow and the heat rising from the weapon, he fired relentlessly at the retreating ship. Bullet after bullet tore through the air until his weapon glowed with heat and whined in protest. One of his shots struck the guard beside Vido, sending the man sprawling lifelessly onto the deck. Vido froze for a moment, visibly stunned, his expression flickering between fear and fury.
The heat sink finally overloaded, forcing Zaeed to eject it. The spent sink clattered to the ground, sparking against the fuel-soaked floor. Turning, Zaeed leveled his weapon squarely at Shepard, his eyes blazing with betrayal and anger.
"This is on you," he growled, his voice like gravel. "Twenty years, Shepard. Twenty damn years of my life wasted because you couldn't let me finish it!"
Before Shepard could respond, the discarded heat sink ignited the leaking fuel. The explosion was deafening, sending shockwaves through the refinery. A massive steel beam above them groaned and twisted before crashing down, pinning Zaeed beneath it.
Zaeed roared in pain, his weapon slipping from his grasp as he struggled futilely against the weight. Smoke and flame began to surround them, the heat rising to unbearable levels.
Commander Shepard had enough of him. Shepard approached, weapon drawn, faced with a choice. Her eyes met Zaeed's, seeing not just the rage but the years of bitterness etched into his features.
Shepard holstered her weapon but withdrew her pistol, stepping closer. "You're so focused on vengeance you can't see the bigger picture," she said, her voice steel. She pressed the weapon to Zaeed's temple—not to threaten, but to command attention. Then, with deliberate care, she turned the grip toward him.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it? The gun, the power, the kill shot. But it's never enough, Zaeed." Her voice softened but carried no sympathy.
"You don't throw lives away for revenge. Not mine, not theirs, not yours. If you can't see past this grudge, you're already dead."
Zaeed hesitated, his glare faltering. Finally, he grunted, a mix of frustration and reluctant respect. "Fine. You made your point."
He took the pistol, sliding it into his holster as Shepard and Garrus heaved the beam off him. The weight was gone, but it did little to ease the ache spreading through him—not just the physical pain, but something deeper, rawer. As the adrenaline of battle and the anesthetic of rage began to wear off, Zaeed's sharp mind cut through the haze.
He hadn't lost his life today. But he'd lost something greater.
His gaze shifted to Shepard, her profile outlined by the flickering light of the flames still raging behind them. There was no mistaking the set of her jaw, the cold edge in her eyes when she looked his way. She hadn't just saved his life—she had spared it. And in doing so, she'd made it clear just how far apart they stood.
For all her strength and principles, Shepard was the single best woman he'd ever encountered in this galaxy. And Zaeed Massani, a man who lived by his own code, had hurt her—had thrown away her trust like it was nothing.
The realization hit like a fresh wound, deeper than any beam could crush.
After the fires were extinguished and the refinery workers had been evacuated, the Normandy's shuttle hummed in tense silence on the way back. Zaeed sat apart, his face a stony mask of defiance that cracked ever so slightly when Shepard glanced his way. Her expression wasn't angry, though he'd almost prefer if it were—anger was something he could handle. Instead, it was something worse: disappointment.
He kept his mouth shut as the shuttle landed, trailing behind Shepard and Garrus as they boarded the Normandy. He thought she'd storm off, but instead, Shepard lingered in the hangar bay, her arms crossed as the others dispersed. She was waiting for him.
"Massani," she called, her tone calm but firm, like a drill sergeant ready to issue a reprimand.
He stopped, his jaw tightening as he turned to face her. "Yeah?"
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for something. "I don't know what I was expecting, bringing you along for this mission. But what you pulled down there? That wasn't just reckless—it was selfish."
Zaeed's fists clenched at his sides, but he forced himself to stay quiet.
"You think you're the only one who's ever been betrayed?" Shepard continued, stepping closer. "You think you're the only one carrying scars from the past? Newsflash, Zaeed: every damn person on this ship has lost something—or someone. You're not special."
He opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. What could he say? That she was wrong? Because she wasn't.
"I don't care about your grudge with Vido," she said, her voice softer now, though it still carried an edge. "But I do care about the people we're trying to protect. And I care about the crew I bring on missions with me. You put both at risk today."
Zaeed let out a heavy breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I—" He hesitated, the words catching. Apologies didn't come easy to him. "I got carried away. I know that. But you don't get it, Shepard. Vido didn't just betray me—he destroyed everything. My crew, my reputation… my life."
"I do get it," she said, her tone cutting. "You think I don't know what it's like to have someone rip your life apart? But vengeance doesn't fix it, Zaeed. It doesn't bring back what you've lost."
He snorted, though there was no humor in it. "You're preaching to a man who's lived his whole life by the barrel of a gun. I don't have your… high-minded ideals, Commander. I deal with things my way."
"And how's that working out for you?" she shot back. "Because from where I'm standing, you're a man with nothing left but anger. You want to prove me wrong? Start by making this right."
Zaeed stared at her, his sharp eyes narrowing as he processed her words. She wasn't letting him off easy—not that he deserved it. "Fine," he said gruffly. "You want me to make it right? I'll try. But don't expect me to turn into some choir boy overnight."
Shepard's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "I don't need a choir boy, Zaeed. I just need someone I can trust to have my back."
He nodded slowly, a flicker of something like respect passing through his gaze. "Fair enough. Guess I owe you that much."
"More than that," she said, stepping past him toward the elevator. But as the doors slid open, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. "We're all trying to be better than we were yesterday, Zaeed. Figure out what that means for you."
Zaeed watched her go, the weight of her words settling over him. Making amends wasn't his style—but maybe it was time to try something new.
Shepard POV
Thane Krios was unlike anyone Shepard had ever encountered—and no, it wasn't just because she'd never worked with a drell before.
An assassin with a deep spiritual conviction, he embodied a unique blend of wisdom and regret. His calm, measured demeanor stood in sharp contrast to the weight of his past—a life defined by violence, yet guided by an unyielding desire for redemption. Or perhaps, more accurately, a need to balance the scales of his deeds.
Thane's spirituality provided a way to reconcile his actions with his conscience, separating his soul from the violence carried out by his hands. But his eidetic memory left no room for escape. Every life he had taken, every face, every moment of death—he remembered them all with perfect, haunting clarity. It was a burden he bore in silence, his regret as much a part of him as his prayers. Yet even in his solitude, his profound insights and quiet determination made him a force of unshakable strength.
And he was dying—slowly, inevitably—of Kepral's Syndrome.
The disease was another layer to the complex mosaic that was Thane Krios. As it consumed him, it became both a punishment and a reminder of his mortality. He had accepted it long ago, but Shepard could see the struggle etched into his every breath, every measured step. Despite the strain on his body, his mind remained sharp, his purpose unwavering.
Time was running out for him, and she understood how it had reshaped his priorities. So, when he reached out to her for help, asking for a chance to fix the greatest mistake of his life, she hadn't been surprised.
He'd left his son behind after the death of Kolyat's mother, walking away from fatherhood in the name of protecting him. But that decision had cast its own shadow, and Kolyat was now walking the path Thane had tried so hard to keep him from.
Captain Bailey had been an immense help, his familiarity with Zakera Ward proving invaluable. He'd greeted Shepard with his usual gruff professionalism, but there was a note of respect in his tone when he offered his assistance.
"I've worked Zakera for two years," Bailey said, leaning back in his chair as he eyed Thane. "Every day, kids turn to crime because they've got no other choice. No stability. No guidance. Sometimes their parents don't care. Sometimes, the parents just... aren't there." He folded his arms, his gaze steady but not unkind. "Sounds like your boy's running with the wrong crowd. You're trying to pull him out before it's too late. That's more than most would do."
Thane stood silent for a moment, his head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. His posture was controlled, but Shepard saw the slight tension in his shoulders, the faint tightening of his jaw. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, laced with a sorrowful resolve.
"He faces a dark path," Thane murmured, his words measured. "One that mirrors my own. I walked away to protect him... but in doing so, I left him unshielded. Now, I must correct that failing."
Bailey nodded, his expression softening just slightly. "At least you're trying. Most people don't bother until it's too late. Good luck finding him. If you need more leads, you know where to find me."
Shepard offered a small smile, nodding in thanks. "You're a good man, Bailey. We appreciate the help."
The captain shrugged off the compliment with a dismissive wave, but Shepard caught the faint hint of pride in his expression as they turned to leave.
As they walked away, Shepard glanced at Thane. He was quiet, his green-skinned features unreadable, but the weight he carried was palpable. Whatever lay ahead, it was clear this mission wasn't just about saving Kolyat—it was about giving Thane a chance to finally set down some of the burdens he had carried for so long.
The meeting with Mouse felt like looking into a mirror from another lifetime. Shepard could read him like a book—the quick glances over his shoulder, the twitch of his fingers, the way he talked fast to fill the silences. She'd been there once, surviving on the streets with nothing but wits and grit, and she recognized the desperation that still lingered behind his bravado.
"Mouse, right?" Shepard said, her tone calm but edged with authority. She didn't want to spook him, but she needed him to focus.
Mouse gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I mean, Commander Shepard. Heard about you. Who hasn't? You're, uh, kind of a big deal."
She crossed her arms, offering a small, knowing smile. "Relax, Mouse. I'm not here to drag up your record. I just need information."
He shifted his weight, eyes darting to Thane, who stood silently like a shadow, before looking back to Shepard. "You know, I used to run with some kids who talked big, dreamed about joining the Alliance, being a hero like you. Guess you got out."
"Guess I did," Shepard replied, her voice softening. "But it doesn't mean I forgot what it's like. So help me out, and maybe we can make sure Kolyat doesn't end up where we've been."
That seemed to settle him. He nodded, exhaling sharply. "Yeah, okay. For you. And for Mr. Krios." But his gaze lingered on Shepard a moment longer, as if seeing in her what he might have become with just a little more luck.
The information pointed them toward Kelham, a man with enough power and influence to shield himself from Citadel Security, setting the stage for their next confrontation.
They returned to Bailey, who leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh as they relayed what they'd uncovered.
"Kelham," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figures. That guy's been a thorn in C-Sec's side for years. He's got half the ward greased with bribes and favors. Every time we get close to pinning something solid on him, he slips right through."
Shepard crossed her arms. "So what's keeping him untouchable? You can't tell me there's no way to pressure him."
Bailey let out a frustrated sigh. "Kelham's no amateur. He knows how to work the system. Keeps the bribes subtle—enough to make people look the other way without drawing too much heat. Hell, even I've had to deal with him a few times. Not for me," he added quickly, catching Shepard's sharp look. "I've diverted some of his payouts to keep the ward running. Fund some undercover ops, keep good officers on the streets. It's ugly, but it's the only way to keep the balance down here."
Thane's voice was low, his words deliberate, "And now Kolyat threatens that balance. Kelham will not shield him without expectation."
Bailey nodded grimly. "Yeah. If Kolyat's working for him, it's because Kelham sees an opportunity. If I bring Kelham in, he'll talk—he owes me that much—but it's going to cost me. Kelham's not the kind of guy who takes humiliation lying down."
Shepard stepped forward, her voice firm, "That's where I come in. Spectres don't need bribes to operate, and Kelham knows it. Let me handle him directly. He'll give me what I want, and you won't have to clean up any fallout."
Bailey hesitated, his expression wary, "You sure about this? Kelham's slippery, and if you push too hard, he'll make noise. That's going to blow back on all of us."
Shepard's gaze didn't waver, "He'll make noise, but not against you. Kelham isn't stupid enough to pick a fight with a Spectre. I'll make it clear he doesn't have a choice."
Bailey studied her for a moment before nodding reluctantly, "Alright. I'll set it up. Just remember—Kelham's a talker, but he's also a weasel. He'll try to spin this if he sees an opening."
Shepard smirked, her confidence unshaken, "Let him try. I've dealt with worse than Kelham."
Bailey sighed and grabbed his comms, "Fine. Give me an hour to bring him in. Just don't make me regret this, Shepard."
Thane's voice was calm but resolute, "We'll ensure you won't have to."
Kelham's interrogation unraveled under Shepard's relentless questioning and the quiet intensity of Thane's presence. Initially smug, he leaned on his political connections and influence, dismissing their accusations with thinly veiled threats. But Shepard's Spectre authority left no room for evasion, and her calculated approach quickly stripped away his bravado.
After leaving the interrogation room, Shepard found Kasumi waiting in the hall, her arms crossed with a knowing smirk.
"Well, that went about as smoothly as a krogan dance recital," Kasumi joked, her tone light but her eyes sharp with focus.
Shepard chuckled softly, "Yeah, not exactly subtle, but it got the job done."
Pressed for answers, Kelham admitted to hiring Kolyat for a hit. The target was Talid, an anti-human politician who had been working tirelessly to expose and dismantle organized crime in the ward—a stance that directly threatened Kelham's operations. Talid's efforts had put him squarely on Kelham's bad list, and a swift, quiet removal seemed the simplest solution.
Though Kelham tried to downplay his involvement, Shepard made it clear that any harm to Talid—or Kolyat—would have severe consequences. Realizing he had no leverage, Kelham begrudgingly provided Talid's location and the time of the planned assassination.
Armed with this information, Shepard and Thane left the interrogation room, the weight of their mission heavier than ever. They had a chance to save Kolyat from repeating his father's mistakes—but time was running out.
Bailey arranged transportation to Talid's location, ensuring Shepard, Thane, and Kasumi were ready for the mission. Thane directed Shepard to shadow Talid from above using the maintenance catwalks, staying hidden as they tracked his movements. The narrow, dimly lit pathways made it easy to lose sight of their target, but Kasumi's expertise kept them on the right trail.
As they tracked Talid's movements, waiting for Kolyat to reveal himself, they maintained their watchful stance. When Kolyat finally emerged, his intent clear, Shepard and her team moved swiftly to intercept him. Kolyat saw them and fled, driven by desperation, taking Talid hostage and running into the politician's apartment.
Shepard, Kasumi, and Thane followed closely behind, their presence a relentless force. The confined space of Talid's apartment heightened the tension as they closed in on Kolyat. With careful precision, they maneuvered through the cramped quarters, determined to end the confrontation without further bloodshed.
Kasumi stayed in the background, blending into the shadows with her usual grace. Her presence was a silent assurance, an unseen force guiding the team through the intricate steps of their mission. Shepard knew Kasumi's expertise wasn't just in infiltration—it was her ability to read situations, understand motivations, and act without being noticed.
Kolyat's eyes were wide as they took in his father, "Now? Now you show up?"
Talid tried to speak, but no one listened. He was not the focus here.
"Put the gun down, son," Bailey ordered as a C-Sec ops team slowly secured the perimeter.
Kolyat snarled at the C-Sec officer like a child disappointed by a bad gift at Christmas. Yet, this child still believed he had a chance to walk out as a free man. It was at this moment that Thane moved to intervene while the others kept their weapons trained on Kolyat, ready to act if he became too impulsive.
"They have snipers outside," Thane remarked neutrally.
Kolyat was quick to snap back, "I don't need your help."
Shepard stepped forward, taking a calculated risk. With a swift shot, she hit a lamp beside Kolyat, causing him to flinch away from Talid. In the brief moment of surprise, Shepard moved quickly, striking Kolyat to disarm his rage.
"Talid, get the hell out of here," Shepard commanded as the distressed politician hesitated before fleeing the apartment. Kolyat cursed her with barely contained anger, still seething from her strike. She was surprised Thane had no intervened.
"Your father doesn't have much time left, Kolyat. He's trying to make up for his mistakes."
"What, so you came to get my forgiveness? That was what it took for you to show up? So you can die in peace or something?" Kolyat spat, his voice brimming with bitterness.
Thane approached him slowly, his calm voice steady despite the storm in the room, "I came to grant you peace. You're angry because I wasn't there when your mother died."
Kolyat bared his teeth, his resentment boiling over, "You weren't there when she was alive! Why should you be there when she died?"
"Your mother—they killed her to get to me. It was my fault. After her body was given to the deep, I went to find them. The trigger men. The ringleaders. I hurt them, and eventually, I killed them. When I found you were older, I should have stayed with you."
"I guess it's too bad for me you waited so long, huh?" Kolyat retorted, unimpressed and unconvinced.
"Kolyat, I've taken many bad things out of the world. You're the only good thing I ever added to it."
Those words seemed to break through Kolyat's anger. His gaze dropped, his eyes becoming glassy. Thane stepped closer, standing in front of his son.
The blue and red lights from outside bathed the room in a surreal glow, and Kolyat knew he had no chance of escape—he was surrounded. It was then that Bailey intervened.
"This isn't a conversation you should be having in front of strangers. Boys, take Kolyat and his father to the precinct. Give them a room and as much time as they need."
As they escorted them out of the apartment, Bailey stayed behind to handle the aftermath. Shepard approached him with gratitude, "Thank you again, Bailey. Though I'm surprised you're letting him do that."
Bailey looked away, his gaze distant, as if lost in thought. "You think he's the only man who ever screwed up raising a son?"
The question hung in the air, making Shepard reflect on her own abandonment as a child, "No, I suppose not."
"Come on, I'll give you a lift," he said after a brief pause.
After the intense confrontation in Talid's apartment, Thane and Kolyat were escorted to the C-Sec precinct for further discussion and reconciliation. Shepard and Bailey quietly intervened, leveraging her Spectre status to ensure Thane's past indiscretions—his covert "cleanup" 10 years prior—were not brought to light. They agreed to avoid court proceedings, instead assigning Kolyat community service to help him grow beyond his impulsive actions.
While Kolyat's anger remained palpable, he began to see the sincerity in his father's efforts to make amends. Thane's relentless pursuit of redemption gave Kolyat the opportunity to understand his father's motivations, even if forgiveness wasn't immediate. Through shared moments of reflection and vulnerability, they began to bridge the gap between them, slowly rebuilding their relationship.
Shepard POV
The Normandy's shuttle descended into the shimmering atmosphere of Bekenstein, its sleek lines reflecting the artificial glow of the planet's opulent cities. Commander Shepard stood in the shuttle bay, adjusting the neckline of the black, form-fitting dress she'd reluctantly donned. The outfit left little to the imagination, accentuating every curve with unapologetic confidence. She tugged at the hem, her discomfort apparent as she muttered to herself, "Tight fit is an understatement."
Across from her, Zaeed leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His scarred face was unreadable, though his sharp eyes flickered over her attire with a mixture of irritation and something else she couldn't quite place. Kasumi Goto, standing between them, grinned mischievously.
"Relax, Shepard," Kasumi teased, her voice laced with amusement. "You'll fit right in. Donovan Hock's parties are all about excess, and you're going to be the most dangerous thing in that room."
Shepard arched a brow at Kasumi. "Dangerous, huh? Let's hope Hock focuses on the charm and not the weapons under this dress." She patted the concealed pistol strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath the fabric.
"Just make sure you don't let him get too close," Zaeed grumbled, his tone a touch sharper than intended. His gaze flicked to the dress again before settling on Shepard's face. "I know his kind. He's scum, but scum like him can… get ideas."
Shepard's lips tightened into a thin line, her irritation with Zaeed still simmering after the debacle on Zorya, "I can handle myself, Massani. Stay focused. Kasumi's counting on us to pull this off."
Kasumi cleared her throat, sensing the tension. "Right, then! Showtime. Shepard, you're Alison Gunn tonight, galaxy-class thief and criminal mastermind. Zaeed and I will handle the technical details. You just make sure Hock buys the act."
The trio arrived at Donovan Hock's mansion under the cover of night, the estate sprawling and gaudy, its lavish decor screaming wealth and ego. Shepard stepped out of the shuttle first, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she straightened her posture. With a confident stride, she approached the grand entrance, her every movement calculated to exude authority and allure.
The bouncer's gaze lingered a second too long, but he waved her in with a respectful nod. Zaeed and Kasumi remained outside, blending into the crowd of attendants and security personnel. As the grand doors closed behind her, Shepard's comm crackled to life.
"You're in," Kasumi whispered. "Remember, charm him, distract him, and get that voiceprint. We'll handle the rest."
"Copy that," Shepard murmured, her eyes scanning the room. The opulent ballroom was filled with high-society elites, each dressed to impress and vying for Hock's attention. The man himself stood at the center of it all, a smug smile plastered across his face as he basked in the adoration of his guests.
Shepard's approach was deliberate, her steps unhurried as she navigated the sea of guests. Hock's gaze found her almost immediately, his expression shifting to one of curiosity and interest.
"Ms. Gunn, I presume?" he greeted, his voice oozing with false charm. "Donovan Hock. It's an honor to finally meet you."
Shepard offered a sultry smile, extending a hand, "The honor is mine, Mr. Hock. I've heard much about you… all of it fascinating."
Hock's grin widened as he took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "Please, call me Donovan. I'm eager to hear what brings a woman of your reputation to my little gathering."
Shepard leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone, "Let's just say I'm here to… expand my horizons. And from what I've heard, you're the man who knows how to make that happen."
Outside, Zaeed gritted his teeth as he monitored the exchange through the comms. Kasumi elbowed him lightly, her voice teasing.
"You're growling, old man. Relax. Shepard's got this."
Zaeed shot her a glare, "Doesn't mean I have to like it. That bastard's looking at her like she's a prize on a shelf."
"That's the point," Kasumi replied with a smirk. "She's playing the role. And doing it damn well, if you ask me."
Zaeed didn't respond, his jaw tightening as he watched Shepard laugh at something Hock said, her hand lightly brushing his arm. The sight made his blood boil, though he couldn't pinpoint why. It wasn't like he had any right to feel this way—not after what he'd said to her on Zorya. Yet, the respect and admiration he'd grown to feel for her only deepened his frustration.
Inside, Shepard continued her charade, engaging Hock in a game of verbal chess. She skillfully steered the conversation, dropping hints about her supposed criminal exploits while subtly extracting the voiceprint she needed. The moment came when Hock offered her a drink, his laughter filling the air as he raised his glass.
"To new partnerships," he declared.
Shepard clinked her glass against his, her smile never wavering. "To opportunities," she replied, her tone layered with intrigue.
The comm crackled again as Kasumi's voice came through. "Got the voiceprint. Moving to phase two."
Shepard excused herself from Hock's company, claiming she needed to freshen up. As she slipped away, she spoke softly into her comm, "Voiceprint secured. Zaeed, Kasumi, how's it looking on your end?"
"We're in position," Kasumi replied. "Zaeed's covering me while I hack the security systems. Just keep Hock busy a little longer."
Shepard sighed, glancing back toward the party, "Understood. Just don't take too long."
As Kasumi worked her magic, Zaeed kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, his rifle slung over his shoulder. The tension between him and Shepard hung in the air, unspoken but undeniable. When the time came to regroup, the three of them converged in the hallway leading to Hock's vault.
"Nice work," Shepard said, her voice brisk. "Let's get what we came for and get out."
Zaeed's gaze lingered on her for a moment, his tone gruff. "Still playing the role of Gunn, huh? Got to admit, you're convincing."
Shepard shot him a pointed look, "You want to talk about convincing? Maybe save it for after we've finished the mission."
The tension crackled, but Kasumi cut in, her voice cheerful, "Focus, people! We've got a vault to crack."
The vault itself was a testament to Hock's ego, filled with priceless artifacts and stolen treasures. Among them was the graybox Kasumi sought, its sleek design almost understated compared to the gaudy surroundings.
"Got it," Kasumi said, cradling the graybox like a sacred relic. "Now let's get out of here before Hock realizes what's missing."
The escape was anything but smooth. Hock's guards swarmed the mansion, forcing the trio to engage in a frantic firefight as they fought their way to the extraction point. Shepard's dress, though elegant, proved less than ideal for combat, but she moved with her usual precision and grace, her pistol barking in sharp bursts. Zaeed was a relentless force, his grenade launcher creating chaos as he covered Kasumi, who darted between cover like a shadow.
"You okay, Kasumi?" Shepard shouted over the commotion.
"Never better!" Kasumi called back, her voice laced with adrenaline-fueled excitement. "But I'd like to get out of here without ruining my dress too!"
Zaeed barked a laugh as he reloaded. "Priorities, Goto."
Shepard smirked despite herself, firing off another shot as they reached the estate's perimeter, "Shuttle's ahead. Move!"
The trio boarded the shuttle just as the estate's defenses locked down behind them. As the shuttle ascended, Shepard sank into a seat, exhaling a deep breath. Kasumi cradled the graybox, a bittersweet smile on her face.
"We did it," Kasumi said softly, her tone tinged with gratitude. "Keiji… he would've been proud."
Shepard nodded, her expression softening, "I'm glad we could help. He deserved to be remembered."
Zaeed leaned against the shuttle's bulkhead, his usual gruffness giving way to a quieter demeanor, "You pulled it off, Shepard. Didn't know you had it in you. Smooth talking, shooting, the whole deal. Hell of a job."
Shepard glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected compliment, "Thanks, Zaeed. Coming from you, that means something."
He grunted, looking away, "Don't let it go to your head, Commander. Just calling it like I see it."
Kasumi chuckled, breaking the tension, "You two should bicker less often. You make a good team when you're not at each other's throats."
Shepard and Zaeed threw her a dirty look but said nothing. The silence was companionable, a truce forged in fire. As the shuttle soared away from Bekenstein, the stars stretched out before them, promising more battles, more victories, and more moments like these—moments of camaraderie in the chaos.
Shepard POV
The Kodiak shuttle cut through Alchera's stark atmosphere, its thrusters dispersing the snowstorm that blanketed the planet's frozen surface. Commander Shepard sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out at the blinding white landscape. The usual steady hum of the shuttle felt oppressive, a stark contrast to the cacophony of memories clawing their way back into Shepard's mind.
Garrus Vakarian sat across from her, his mandibles twitching slightly as he studied her with quiet concern. Tali'Zorah was beside him, her hands wringing in her lap, the faint glow of her helmet lights reflecting her unease. Neither had said much since they'd left the Normandy. The weight of the mission—the personal nature of it—seemed to hang over all of them.
"We're approaching the coordinates," Joker's voice crackled through the comms. "Looks like the beacon's right on target. Brace yourselves; it's rough down there."
Shepard didn't respond. She clenched her fists tightly, her gloves creaking under the strain. She felt Garrus' eyes on her, a steadying presence that she wasn't sure she deserved.
"Shepard," Garrus finally spoke, his voice low and even. "You don't have to do this alone. We've got your back."
Tali nodded, her voice gentle. "He's right. We're here for you. Whatever we find… we won't let you face this alone."
Shepard gave a small nod, unable to form words. The shuttle shuddered as it touched down, the whir of the engines fading into the howling wind outside. When the doors opened, an icy blast hit them, the cold cutting straight through their gear. Shepard stepped out first, her boots crunching against the snow.
The crash site was just ahead. Jagged pieces of debris jutted out of the ground like tombstones, marking the final resting place of the SSV Normandy. The once-proud vessel that had carried them through so much was now a scattered ruin, half-buried in the frozen wasteland.
Shepard's chest tightened as she approached the wreckage. Her breath came in shallow gasps, visible in the frigid air. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of her failure pressing down on her. She stopped in front of a twisted piece of hull plating, her reflection distorted in the scorched metal.
Garrus and Tali flanked her, their presence steady and grounding. Tali's hand hovered near Shepard's arm, a silent offer of comfort.
"It wasn't your fault, Shepard," Garrus said softly, his voice barely audible over the wind. "You did everything you could. More than anyone else would have."
Shepard didn't respond immediately. Her fingers brushed against the plating, the cold biting even through her gloves. Suddenly, her thoughts drifted to that moment on the bridge, when Joker's voice had crackled through her headset in a panicked rush, warnings flashing across her HUD. The shattering of shields, the deafening explosion, and the brief, terrified realization that her crew was gone—she couldn't save them.
"You saved who you could," Tali said, her tone firm but kind. "And you honored them by coming back. By fighting for what they believed in."
Shepard turned away from the wreckage, her jaw clenched. Her eyes scanned the debris field, landing on a mangled piece of the Normandy's nameplate. She knelt in the snow, brushing the ice away to reveal the scorched lettering.
"SSV Normandy SR-1," she murmured, her voice breaking. Memories flooded her mind: the hum of the engines during the relay jump to the Citadel, Kaidan's steady voice reassuring her during battle, Joker's quiet, confident humor over the comms, and the vivid images of their laughter and camaraderie—their last moments together as the ship tore apart in flames.
Garrus crouched beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "We're still here because of you," he said. "And we'll keep fighting because of you."
Tali joined them, placing a hand on Shepard's other shoulder. "We'll rebuild," she said softly. "Just like you rebuilt us when we thought all hope was lost."
Shepard let out a slow breath, lifting her head to the wind. She knew she wasn't the same captain who had once steered the SR-1, but that didn't matter. The Reapers had taken much from her, but they couldn't take her resolve. She would honor their sacrifice by continuing their fight, by continuing to fight for the future they believed in.
Her fingers brushed against a cold, jagged fragment lying nearby. With care, she picked up her old N7 helmet, its surface marred by time but still familiar. The insignia was still visible, though faded, a stark reminder of who she once was—and who she had become.
She stared into its visor, her reflection distorted by the cracks and wear. This helmet, she thought, symbolized the years of battles fought, the choices made, and the sacrifices endured. It had always been a part of her identity, a silent witness to her growth as a soldier and a leader.
Her knees gently hit the snow, her gloved hands cradling it like a precious memory. "This is where it all began," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.
Garrus and Tali stepped back quietly as Shepard took a moment alone with the helmet. The snow continued to fall, but it couldn't erase the legacy the Normandy had left behind.
For a moment, Shepard let herself feel the pain. She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking as silent tears fell. Garrus and Tali stayed with her, their presence a quiet reassurance.
After a long moment, Shepard straightened, wiping her face with a gloved hand before she realized her helmet prevented her from doing that. She stood, her gaze steely as she looked at the wreckage.
"Let's finish this," she said, her voice steady. "We'll take what we can and honor what we've lost. They deserve that much."
Garrus and Tali nodded, falling into step beside her as they began collecting what remained of their fallen ship. The wind howled around them, but together they faced the storm, their bonds unbroken by the past they carried. Each piece of the Normandy they recovered was a piece of their story, a story that wasn't over yet.
Shepard POV
The derelict Reaper hung in the void like a black scar against the stars. A monstrous relic of an ancient war, its skeletal remains still exuded a faint, pulsing energy that seemed to vibrate in Shepard's chest as the shuttle approached.
"We're here," Miranda said, her voice steady but tinged with unease as the shuttle clamped onto the docking port.
Shepard adjusted her helmet. "Alright. Eyes open. The IFF is priority one. Everything else is a bonus—or a threat."
Jacob gave a tight nod. "Can't believe Cerberus was poking around this thing. There's reckless, and then there's suicidal."
As they stepped out of the shuttle, the metallic clang of their boots echoed in the vast emptiness of the Reaper's interior. The air was heavy, oppressive, as if the ship itself resisted their presence. Twisted corridors of blackened steel stretched in every direction, illuminated only by the cold, flickering glow of their Omni-lights.
It didn't take long to find the first signs of the Cerberus research team. Bloodstains streaked across the floor, leading to the crumpled body of a man in a Cerberus uniform. Nearby, a datapad lay discarded. Miranda crouched to retrieve it, her Omni-tool flickering to life as she scanned its contents.
Log Entry #1: Dr. Garret
We've made incredible progress. The Reaper IFF is located near the core, but the residual energy readings from the core itself are... unsettling. Several team members report headaches and vivid dreams. Dr. Yune claims he's been 'hearing voices.' I've dismissed it as stress, but I'm starting to feel... uneasy myself. Regardless, the IFF is too valuable to pass up.
Shepard frowned, "Stress? More like indoctrination."
Miranda's face was grim, "If they stayed here too long, they wouldn't have stood a chance."
The team moved deeper into the Reaper's interior. The corridors grew narrower, the walls twisting unnaturally, as if the ship's architecture had been warped by some alien logic. More bodies appeared—some shredded beyond recognition, others slumped against the walls as if they had simply given up.
One body lay beside a makeshift barricade, its outstretched hand clutching another datapad. Miranda activated it, her expression tightening as the audio file played.
Log Entry #2: Dr. Yune
The core's signal is... intoxicating. It's beautiful. I can hear it all the time now. Garret says I'm losing it, but he doesn't understand. None of them do. The Reaper is alive in ways we can't comprehend. It's not just technology—it's something greater. I... I need to go back to the core. I need to see it again.
Jacob shook his head, "They were falling apart before the husks even showed up."
"They didn't stand a chance," Miranda murmured, glancing at the remains. "This place eats at you. Indoctrination like this—it's subtle. Slow. You don't even realize it's happening until it's too late."
Shepard's grip tightened on her rifle, "Let's make sure we don't end up like them."
The team pressed onward, their path littered with the remnants of Cerberus equipment and more data logs. One particularly damaged datapad contained a corrupted file, which Miranda managed to partially restore.
Log Entry #3: Dr. Garret
We tried to contain the core's energy, but the systems are failing. Yune is gone—no, he's worse than gone. He's one of them now. The others want to abandon the mission, but I can't. The IFF is right there. If we leave now, it will all be for nothing. If I don't make it back, tell my family I tried. Tell them I did this for them.
Miranda closed the log, her face pale, "He was desperate. But staying here doomed them all."
A distant noise interrupted their conversation—a faint metallic clanging that echoed through the corridors. Shepard raised a fist, signaling silence. The team froze, their weapons at the ready.
The sound grew louder, more erratic, until a swarm of husks burst from the shadows. Their hollow cries filled the air as they charged, their twisted limbs jerking unnaturally.
"Take them down!" Shepard barked, opening fire.
The battle was brutal, the tight corridors forcing the team into close-quarters combat. Jacob's rifle roared, cutting through the front line of husks, while Miranda's biotics slammed into the oncoming wave. Shepard moved with precision, her rifle picking off targets with deadly efficiency.
As the last husk fell, a deep, resonant hum filled the air. The walls seemed to vibrate as a shimmering kinetic barrier materialized in front of the only exit.
"What the hell?" Jacob exclaimed, turning to Miranda.
"It's the core," Miranda said, scanning the barrier with her omni-tool. "It's activated some kind of defense mechanism. We're trapped."
Shepard's jaw tightened, "How do we disable it?"
"We'll need to overload the core," Miranda replied. "But that means getting closer to it. And it's already destabilizing—it's going to be dangerous."
"Of course it is," Shepard muttered. "Let's move."
The team made their way toward the core chamber, the air growing thicker with each step. The oppressive energy emanating from the Reaper seemed to weigh on them, slowing their movements and making every breath a struggle.
The core itself was a monstrous, pulsating structure, its sickly glow illuminating the chamber. Tendrils of energy arced out from it, crackling against the walls and the surrounding machinery. The IFF module was mounted nearby, shielded by another energy field.
Miranda immediately set to work, her omni-tool glowing as she scanned the console.
"This is it," she said. "The IFF is intact, but I'll need to overload the core's defenses to bring down the barriers. It's going to get rough."
Jacob moved to cover her, his shotgun ready. "We've got company!"
Husks poured into the chamber, their numbers seemingly endless. Among them were abominations—larger, more grotesque creatures that moved with terrifying speed. The team fought desperately, their backs to the console as Miranda worked.
The Cerberus data logs had hinted at the dangers surrounding the core, but nothing could have prepared them for the oppressive atmosphere aboard the derelict Reaper. Its influence was palpable, a malevolent presence pressing down on them like a physical weight.
Amid the chaos, a lone Geth emerged from the shadows, its blue optic glowing faintly in the dim light. It moved with calculated precision, picking off husks with its sniper rifle before turning to Shepard.
"Shepard-Commander," it said, its voice calm and unflinching despite the carnage unfolding around them.
Shepard didn't have time to question its appearance, "If you're here to help, then help!" she barked.
The Geth complied without hesitation, moving swiftly toward a console near the core. Its mechanical fingers worked with efficiency as it attempted to stabilize the core's defenses long enough for the team to retrieve the IFF.
The Reaper's kinetic barriers suddenly flared, trapping the squad within the chamber. Massive energy pulses surged through the room, and husks began pouring in from all sides. Shepard, Miranda, and Jacob fought relentlessly, but the sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm them.
Miranda's voice cut through the chaos, "We need those barriers down now! I can't extract the IFF until they're offline!"
The Geth continued its task, moving with singular focus as it disabled the core's defenses. Finally, Miranda seized the opportunity, racing to the controls and pulling the IFF module free.
"I've got it!" Miranda shouted, holding up the device triumphantly.
But just as they began to regroup, several husks breached their line. One leaped onto the Geth, slamming it to the ground. It struggled briefly before going still, its optic flickering weakly.
"Shepard, leave it! We have what we came for!" Miranda called out urgently.
Shepard hesitated only for a moment. Then, slinging the Geth's inert body over her shoulders, she made her decision. "Jacob, cover us! We're moving out!"
As the barriers dropped, the Reaper core began to destabilize. Massive arcs of energy erupted from it, ripping through the chamber and tearing apart the surrounding structures.
"Fall back to the shuttle!" Shepard ordered, sprinting for the exit with the Geth's body in tow.
Jacob and Miranda followed, laying down suppressive fire as waves of husks gave chase. The ground shook violently beneath their feet, and the air was thick with heat and static as the core's energy spiraled out of control.
They barely made it to the shuttle before a massive explosion rocked the chamber. The core imploded in a cascade of light and sound, consuming everything in its path.
The Normandy pulled away just as the derelict Reaper began to collapse, its monstrous frame breaking apart and spiraling into the gravitational pull of the nearby planet.
On the shuttle, Shepard glanced down at the motionless Geth lying on the floor. It had fought alongside them, however briefly, but its true intentions remained a mystery.
"EDI," she said, catching her breath, "We've got the IFF—and a guest?"
EDI's voice came through the comms, calm and clinical, "Understood, Commander. I suggest bringing the Geth to the AI Core Room, where I can safely contain and analyze it."
Shepard nodded, her gaze lingering on the Geth. Whatever this machine's purpose, it had risked itself to aid them. And now, it was her responsibility to find out why.
Tali was going to have a field day.