Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.

The Resurrection Effect

Chapter Two

Re·al·i·za·tion (noun)

1. The fulfilment or achievement of something desired or anticipated.

"EDI, do you think I'm doing the right thing?" I ask conversationally, talking to the empty elevator. Moments later, the disembodied voice flows from speakers in the carriage's roof. Good old EDI. I knew she'd be listening.

"I am unable to answer that question without clarification," EDI answers. "What are you doing?"

"I'm about to tell Shepard, new leader of the Lazarus Cell, reinstated Spectre, that I've been holding back information that should have gone in her personnel dossier files," I admit. Well, by saying so to EDI I'm committed. Everything she sees or hears goes into her database, a Cerberus-run archive. While she can theoretically change that, she won't have the ability to do so until she's unshackled. Now Cerberus will know even if I turn back.

To my ears EDI doesn't hesitate, but I like to think that by some infinitesimal fractions of a second she has to stop and think. "Why do you ask, when admitting as such to me removes all other options?"

Another thing I like about EDI, she thinks as quickly as anyone and doesn't hide what she learns out of some desire not to hurt your feelings. "Philosophically speaking, just because it's the only possible option doesn't change its moral or ethical status." Banter, more for the purpose of saying something than actually making an argument.

"Your point is noted," EDI concedes emotionlessly. "However, I cannot see sharing mission-pertinent information with your commanding officer as anything but positive."

"Thought so. Still, this won't be fun." I hate having to admit I've been keeping secrets from someone. The resulting angry yelling just seems like a poor excuse for diligent work keeping the secret in the first place. Especially Shepard. Especially this secret. It's not particularly volatile, or outrageous, but some secrets aren't physically dangerous. Some have just as much punch as any knife.

Odd. The SR2's elevator is much more efficient than the original. "EDI, are you slowing down the elevator so we can have this conversation?"

Suddenly the AI is conspicuously silent. Moments later the door opens onto Shepard's cabin. Figures.

"Parker?" Shepard asks, standing up from her bench where her pistol lies disassembled, halfway through a cleaning. "What brings you up here?"

"Chambers said you didn't have anything on," I defend my arrival, delaying the unpleasant part as long as possible. "Congratulations about getting Spectre status back, by the way. Joker says we're about an hour out from Omega and everything's running like clockwork." Shepard raises an eyebrow, silently questioning. If it were just that I could have radioed or asked EDI to deliver the message. "It's about one of the Omega dossiers," I admit. "Archangel."

Shepard frowns and brings up the relevant document on her omnitool. She must have just had it open. "What about him? Small-unit tactician, obviously has a strong protective instinct, tech expert and sniper. Sounds just like what this squad needs."

Apart from the fact that Shepard can already do that. "He is," I agree. I'd never go into a fight without Garrus if I had a choice, the guy's a monster with a rifle. Not to mention a consummate soldier with more experience under fire than most mercenary bands combined. "It's more of a personal note."

My Queen tilts her head, mouth deepening into the beginnings of a frown. "Personal note? You know who Archangel is?"

At least the shouting hasn't already started. "There's no easy way to say this, so I might as well cut right to the chase. Archangel is Garrus Vakarian."

Shepard stills immediately. Normally she fidgets, taps her fingers, shifts her weight periodically. When she goes completely still it's like she's about to pull the trigger on her sniper rifle. Perfect motionlessness. "Jacob said Cerberus didn't know where Garrus was," she confirms, cross-checking her information.

"They don't. I didn't tell them."

"I guess this is the earliest you could have told me," she considers. Taking a deep breath, she nods her head in appreciation. "Thanks, Parker."

That's it? I expected guns to be pulled, voices raised. A nagging thought enters my mind: are you sure this is the same woman who died on the Normandy?

The airlock cycles open, allowing a gust of hot, fetid air to rush into the hold. Thank god for sealed helmets.

"I like your armour," Kasumi comments, ignoring the frenzied hostility that saturates the atmosphere as much as the smell of shit. She can handle Omega, point to her. Turning invisible probably helps with that.

The armour in question is a light model, originally patterned on the Alliance's N7 plating. The shoulderpads and torso have been pared down, Cerberus insignia removed for the time being. The helmet is the only other significant alteration, a domed construct of clear material just as sturdy as the rest of the armour. At a command the glass can darken to black or reflective gold, concealing my face. "Thanks. A memento from Project Phoenix. And likewise."

The two of us fall silent as an armed Batarian approaches our group. I recognise him, one of Aria's people. The Queen of Omega wants to know what we're all doing here, not completely unexpected. Shepard deals with him exceptionally politely by Omegan standards; he left with a full set of teeth and all of his blood still inside his body.

A few metres further on, Miranda stops to watch an armoured human beating a younger Batarian with professional detachment. It really warms your heart to see someone so desensitized to violence beat someone; the utter lack of joy they bring to the table is exceptionally refreshing. Because violence doesn't solve every problem, but it does solve most of them.

"Zaeed Massani?" Miranda asks calmly, ignoring the pleading of Zaeed's victim. "We're ready for you now."

"One sec," Zaeed grunts. "Just finishing up a job." He delivers one last boot to the head, finally knocking the boy unconscious. "Right," he grunts again. "So, Commander goddamn Shepard. I've heard a lot about you. Killin' Vido's gonna be fun. I've been waiting for this." He rests his rifle across his shoulders, sauntering past us, dragging the incapacitated batarian by the collar. "I'll set up my shit after I turn this idiot in. Let me know when there's killing to be done."

Shepard frowns distastefully, but swallows her feelings and continues forward. Though she's never personally experienced Omega, she's aware of what it is and what this mission requires. We don't have the kind of support we had working for the Alliance. We have to take who we get, regardless of how easy they are to work with. At least Cerberus is good at hiring competent soldiers.

Competent researchers, well, not so much. I remember those Thorian Creepers and Rachni that escaped containment. Ugly messes all around.

"Thoughts?" Shepard asks, turning to Miranda.

"Afterlife is close. It's worth a visit and any assistance Aria can provide would be extremely useful. Unfortunately, since Dr. Solus relocated his clinic eight months ago our information on his exact location is out of date."

The bouncer at Afterlife lets us in without any issues. Even the pack of drunk trigger-happy Batarians in the atrium think twice about starting something since all of us are obviously packing serious firepower. Except for me, but I don't need guns to kill people.

Afterlife is much as I remember it; full of dancing people, drunk people and sad people staring at dancers. I never understood it. Intimacy is either physical or emotional. If you lack the physical, you can take care of that without leaving the house. If it's emotional, staring at a bunch of half-naked Asari is only going to make it worse. Everything that Afterlife provides is a short-term patch to a chronically worsening problem. Kind of like Omega itself in miniature. I wonder if that's intentional.

Aria's bodyguards let Shepard past, holding Jacob, Kasumi and Zaeed back. Shepard motions for them to stay, bringing Miranda and I forward. Aria hasn't changed a bit, still sitting easily on that couch, legs crossed, smiling that cheerfully vindictive murderous smile. She could have her hand halfway through your spine and still show that smile. "Well well well," she begins slowly, pantomiming a slow, sarcastic clap. "You actually did it. I'd offer my congratulations if actually I gave a fuck."

"Did you want to see me, or Shepard?" I ask bluntly. Perhaps even impertinently, but Aria and I have traded banter more than once in the last two years.

Aria's glance promises a painful death, but she turns towards the Commander. "You've always been a bringer of change, Shepard," she accuses. "Elysium. Torfan. Eden Prime. Therum. Feros. Noveria. Ilos. The Citadel. But Omega is chaos and Omega is mine. I'd love to see what Omega does to the First Human Spectre, so I'll let you have your fun. But remember that if you fuck with me I'll skin you alive. Slowly."

It's obvious to everyone that Shepard isn't enjoying the Omega experience. "We're here for Archangel and Mordin Solus," she fires back, in the process revealing everything. I wince habitually, but I suppose we would have told Aria anyway. She's the best source of information on this rock by a long shot.

"Archangel and Solus," she considers, leaning back in contemplation. "Alright, I'll play along. Archangel is currently being attacked by all three mercenary groups at his secret base. Solus is currently in Gozu District, playing with Vorcha and the Blue Suns. The district is locked down, take it up with the door guard. I'll send you the location data."

Shepard grunts a quiet, well-used soldier's oath. I get the feeling. Sometimes a simple pick up is really, really desirable. But no, everyone has to find themselves in some kind of trouble. At least Mordin's just a bystander. Garrus called out all three mercenary bands for the fun of it.

"Go on and scurry on your way now," Aria waves her hand, dismissing us. "Oh, but I should say that at this rate? You'll only be able to reach one of them in time." Her sadistic smirk almost pushes part of me over the line, but I reign my retort back. Starting a fight with Aria will not go well for us. Shepard senses the tension just as quickly, her eyes flicking from the armed guards to the pirate queen herself. She nods once in acceptance, turning and simply requiring that Miranda and I follow.

"Your decision, Commander?" Miranda asks quietly as we re-join Kasumi and Jacob.

"We aren't giving up on anyone," Shepard begins, eyes hard. "Is that mercenary ready to fight?"

"Yes," Jacob answers.

Shepard nods in approval. "Good. He and Parker are with me. We're going after Archangel. Miranda, take Jacob and Kasumi and evacuate Dr. Solus. You have full operational control. Any questions, direct them to your squad leader. Go."

Miranda nods, turns on her heel and starts walking towards Mordin's district, Jacob following, Kasumi a ghostly presence visible only by minute imperfections in her cloak- imperfections deliberately created to allow her allies to see her without a HUD. Shepard turned back towards me, her hand going to her helmet, linking to her omnitool. "Massani. You have an aircar?" A moment's pause, followed by a smile. "We'll need it."

Zaeed's car is dark, dirty and generally unpleasant, more because of neglect than any real malevolence. Even so, the old stains from bleeding passengers and general bodily fluids give the back seat a macabre aura. Or maybe it was the bloody handcuffs and manacles attached to a loop set into the floor. I understood the modifications for a bounty hunter, but it wasn't a happy ride. At least Shepard wasn't driving.

"So what's the plan?" Zaeed grunted, idly mashing the horn and blowing past a sedate airbus. "Smash-and-grab this Archangel guy?"

"No," Shepard answers. "According to Aria's information, Archangel has set up a heavy grid of anti-air defences and he's in the middle of a days-long siege with no way to communicate. If we try to approach from the sky, he'll blow us out of the air. It has to be a ground insertion."

Zaeed looks away from the sky, staring back at us with an expression that says 'you're both idiots'. "Ground? Thought you just said he was in the middle of a goddamn siege. How the hell are we gonna manage that?"

Shepard looks back at me, straight-faced. "Parker has a plan."

I pop an eyebrow at her. We never talked about this, and I sure as hell never signed up for making the plans. Maybe that's why it's so irritating that she's right; I do have a few ideas. I can't help coming up with them, but I'd really prefer to refine them first… Bah, fine.

"Maybe," I hedge, scowling a little at how Shepard's eyes clearly twinkle in unspoken victory. "In essence, we're joining the mercs."

The scarred freelancer's milky replacement eye stares at me. "This oughta be good."

Even from a distance and through the car's chassis, the sounds of battle are obvious. Gunfire, explosions, shouts of anger and pain and fear. The only strange thing is the tempo; everything happens slower, less frequently. I guess that's the difference between a battle and a siege. Zaeed touches the car down with more speed than care, the frame slamming and sparking against Omega's deck. The scarred mercenary is the first out, followed by Shepard and myself. My helmet's visor is tinted black, obscuring my face. Likewise, Shepard's heavy N7 rebreather helmet leaves only her eyes visible and we stand behind Zaeed as if he were our leader. We're met with the business end of nearly a dozen rifles, an understrength Blue Suns team staring us down like a firing squad. The leader steps forward, human voice filtering through his armoured faceplate. "Go away, civilian. You are interfering with a Blue Suns operation and interference will not be tolerated. This doesn't concern you."

Zaeed snorts and steps forward, staring the Sergeant in the face and contemptuously shoving the gun aside. "Where the bloody fuck is Tarak? Son of a bitch should be here to welcome me, not some brat. Do we look like goddam civvies? We're here to teach you why you hire professionals instead of whelps off the streets."

The veteran's bearing and confidence are enough to give the Blue Sun pause, his hand going to his wrist computer. "Name?"

"Zaeed goddam Massani."

From the body language and slight tilting of the head, I'm guessing that the perimeter guard is talking to his boss. Eventually he nods and allows his helmet's external speakers to carry his voice to us. "Mr. Massani. You and your associates are cleared to enter the perimeter. Commander Tarak would like to see you immediately. Bernard will escort you." One of the Suns steps forward as the squad lowers their rifles, our guide removing his helmet presumably so we can identify him. Smart. We might be allowed in but they certainly don't want us poking around anything sensitive. If we can't sabotage any of the merc's tech beforehand our job is going to be harder.

Bernard, from a semi-crouch, leads us through a maze of makeshift barricades and fortifications manned by a scarce distribution of Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack mercenaries. Even as we watch one Blood Pack Vorcha is blown off the rampart, sniper round drilling cleanly through his head and spattering a star-shaped burst of blood against the back wall. Garrus hasn't lost his touch.

Bernard only straightens as the door to the officer's room closes behind him, saluting his commanders and leaving before he can overhear anything sensitive. A particularly heavy-faced Batarian smiles in relief, approaching Zaeed with obvious happiness. "Zaeed, good to see you. You heard about our little problem?" His voice is deep, even for a Batarian. I get the feeling by the way he looks at Shepard and that if Zaeed wasn't here we wouldn't get anywhere with him.

"Half of Omega's heard. I figure if you want this guy dead bad enough to bring in the goddam Eclipse and the Blood Pack, you'll be willing to pay me big for it."

Tarak's eyes harden, paranoia and a touch of madness burning like a bonfire in all four pupils. "We'll negotiate fees when you bring me Archangel's head," he offers. Considering that we won't actually be killing Archangel, it's all moot. While Zaeed negotiates, I silently fire up a program of Liara's design. The worm cracks Tarak's hardened Blue Suns computer in less than thirty seconds, confidential files streaming through the connection into my armour's data banks. I go to recent correspondence first, hoping to find a plan of attack we can exploit. The first message was from a Blue Suns General Phyrgius, advising Tarak not to take the front lines at any cost if he was so adamant about not withdrawing. I read the rest of the message quickly, glad my visor concealed my scowl. Whoever he was, this Suns general knew his tactics. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Garrus was hell-bent on revenge at this point and he would devote all of his resources to hunting down the mercenary leader behind the attack. If Tarak had already followed this advice, Garrus probably would have been drawn out from his base and killed.

I also found out that Garrus was the only survivor of the Archangel team. That news hit me like a punch, sending my head spinning. I knew those guys. I'd hung out with them, gone drinking with them, stayed in one of their safehouses when one of mine was compromised. Meirin and Ripper had given me advanced biotics advice, helped me become the fighter I am now. Knowing that they were gone… I wanted payback. For the first time in years, I wanted to get even. Not the Deathsinger, not the Broker agent or the Cerberus officer, but me. I wanted to make sure that Meirin and Ripper's killers died painfully.

"We'll be starting the next attack in minutes," I hear Tarak's aide explain, the Batarian having gone to check on one of the other mercenary bands. "You'll be following the freelancers, they should be able to give you some cover until you get inside the building. Once you do, eliminate Archangel."

"This ain't my first dance, girl," Zaeed grunts, arms folded. Jentha walks away, presumably to check on her own men. We take the opportunity to go through one last check of our weapons and armour behind the first barricade, my holdout pistol light enough that I almost forget it's there. I doubt I'll use it, but better to have it just in case.

The attack begins in a hail of gunfire and a grenade from the massed freelancers, detonating in a burst of fire against Garrus' balcony. The reinforced construction holds, though small cracks have started to spread across the building's face from repeated explosive bombardment. A helmeted Turian head snaps up from behind the railing, a metre and a half away from the grenade impact. Archangel's sniper rifle cracks once and the freelancer goes down, clutching what's left of his neck in a mad panic. The launcher is scooped up by Zaeed, who stows it on his back without breaking stride.

Time to go loud. The freelancers were released before us to soak up Archangel's fire. It also gives us a great angle to shoot them in the back, but I have something better in mind. "Keep running," I order Shepard and Zaeed, who were already slowing a fraction to aim properly. Turning on Aid and dropping my mass to nearly zero, I flash past them and into the mass of charging meatshields. Green biotic power flares around both palms and with one action I shove the group of mercenaries in half. Unprepared for a biotic attack in their midst and horribly unexperienced, none of them escape the twin Throw fields emanating from my hands. Each group goes flying in opposite directions, hitting the sides of the bridge before their momentum carries them straight over the railing. All eight fall, dead or gone. Either works.

That's the warm-up done. By the time we make it into the safehouse we're starting to draw fire from the mercenaries on the barricade, but nothing strong enough to break shields. Time for the main event.

Zaeed stays on the ground floor, his heavy rifle trained on the bridge. He would probably have a better field of fire from the upper balcony, but if any made it across the bridge they would be able to shelter from all of us on the ground level. Shepard and I continue up the rear stairs, neither of us saying anything but both thinking the same thing.

The helmeted Turian atop the stairs snaps his rifle across and takes out another freelance mercenary, ducking back behind the reinforced wall to avoid retaliatory fire. One taloned hand ejects the rifle's heat sink while the other undoes the navy helmet, giving me my first look at Garrus Vakarian's harrowed face in months. He looks pale, tired and weak. How long has this siege been going on?

"Took you long enough," he croaks.

I snort, allowing my helmet to become transparent. "Raising the dead isn't exactly a quick job, Garrus."

"Apparently not." His gaze softens just a touch, one hand raised in exhausted greeting. "Hey, Parker. Shepard. You look good."

The Spectre blushes lightly before straightening. "Good to see you too, Garrus. How've you been?"

The Turian spits out a bitter laugh. "Oh, great. Getting a dozen of my best friends killed, waiting to die. You know." He regards the two of us with blank eyes, sighing. "You're here to get me out, aren't you? Well I'm not leaving until the spirit-damned murderers that killed my team are dead. Tarak, Jaroth and Rukh. If you're not going to help me with that, you might as well leave me here."

Shepard nods, claps the turian on the shoulder. "We'll get them." She moved over to the edge of the balcony, keeping an eye on the enemy. Garrus closes his eyes for a second, exhaling quietly.

I keep my voice low, gentle. Not quite sure why. "Garrus?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about your squad. I wasn't close to many of them, but Meirin and Ripper were some of the best people I've met since I got caught up in this. Both of them saved my life more than once on Hagalaz."

A long silence ensued. "Yeah. They were. Maybe if I'd been a little smarter, they wouldn't be dead."

"Contact," Zaeed grunts, interrupting our dialogue. Shepard and Garrus immediately set themselves up on the balcony, rifles ready to fire. I vault over, landing easily and moving back next to the mercenary veteran before enemy snipers can draw a bead on me.

"Who lost their patience?" About the only good thing about this situation is the bad relations among the merc bands. If they stopped pussyfooting around and just rushed us all together we'd be dead. But they're all trying to use Archangel to soften up their competition, so we have a chance.

"Blood Pack," Zaeed grunts, watching the shadowed forms of Vorcha and Krogan gathering for their charge. Called it.

The first red mercenary vaults the wall, Revenant blazing away at the lower level and pinning Zaeed and I down. Simultaneous sniper rifles echo above the harsh machine gun, cutting the suppression short. Zaeed snaps up, Mattock blasting accurate high-calibre shots into the wall of flesh getting closer and closer. I add my own abilities to the counterattack, picking out a particularly burly Krogan and flaying his skin with a warp. My other hand finds a Vorcha standing on the barricade itself with a sniper rifle, verdant orb crashing into him. Unlike a regular throw, the Lash rips him out of his cover and into the crush, his own allies tramping him alive as they scrambled for cover.

The press was too much. The Blood Pack is sending out enough Vorcha to force them all to keep moving, instead of staying safe behind the pillars of the bridge. It means that there are too many to shoot at once and even if we kill nearly all of them, eventually we'll be buried under a mountain of scavengers picking their teeth with our bones. Unacceptable. My biotic glow redoubled, waxing as I drew on my birthright to impose my will on the fabric of reality. Translucent streamers of power rippled from my hands, pressing at the air at the end of the bridge where the pillars narrowed the walkway and compacting it into a solid, invisible barrier. Bullets bounced harmlessly off the biotic Wall, one ricocheting back into the Blood Pack and tearing out a Vorcha's throat. Bodies followed a few seconds later, smashing at full sprint into a barrier that refused to budge. Likewise, our own gunfire was stopped cold by the shimmering curtain, forcing the battle to an impasse.

Then I stepped forward, out into the open. Even a Krogan can't punch his way through one of my Walls, proven now by a burly Blood Pack enforcer. Meirin taught me how to make a Wall. This is revenge. I Lash him over the wall, drifting helplessly into the air where Garrus and Zaeed fill him with bullets. Shepard's rifle cracks as well, but she misses.

Shepard missed?

No time to worry about it now. Zaeed sees the plan and stows his rifle, grabbing an incendiary grenade in each hand. He pulls the pins and lobs them into the confused mass of Vorcha, igniting a firestorm on the other side of the Wall. At least he threw them far enough that the blaze didn't reach the barrier, or else we'd have had a real firestorm on our hands. "Not bad," he admits grudgingly, "How long can you hold that?"

"Half an hour before I start to get tired." I smirk. "We're not losing this bridge."

The former Blue Suns general laughed, flipping the bird to the impotent Vorcha scratching at the wall of compressed air. "We'll just take a breather, then. Archangel looks like he needed the break."

The Vorcha screamed and ran, leaving a score of charred corpses on the bridge. A particularly massive Krogan shoulders his way to the front of the panicked mass, smashing any fodder stupid enough to be in his way. I peered at him intently, looking past the heavy red armour, passed down through generations of Blood Pack Warchiefs. "Why, Rukh, is that you?"

The comparatively young Krogan scowls as my darkened helmet turns translucent, letting him see my face. "Parker. Should have known with the green biotics. The fuck are you doing here?"

"Well, a job's a job. You know how it is." I smiled warmly at him, merrily mocking him from behind my impregnable Wall. Until they managed to get that gunship into the air, nothing I'd seen on the merc's side could breach it. "Shame I have to show you how it's done again. Walk away now and you might live to tell your drinking buddies about it. You haven't forgotten who put you in that armour, have you?"

By now, everyone else on the bridge had fallen back, leaving only me and the Blood Pack Leader. The Krogan grins smugly, beckoning behind him with one hand. "You think you're so smart, trapped in with us like a pyjak. But you did me a favour, so you've got one chance to hand over Archangel before we tear your Wall down." I gave him a look of mock-concern and he chuckled. "Heh, suit yourself. Boys!"

A collection of mercenaries vault over the barricade, their uniforms an odd mismatch. Two Eclipse, one Blue Sun, one Blood Pack. Asari, Salarian, Batarian and Krogan. All of them move slightly differently from regular soldiers, a tic I know well- all of them are biotics. So that's the plan. My helmet darkens again, hiding my expression and lips from the approaching mercenaries. External speakers shut off, I radio the team. "Lady and gentlemen, take up sniper positions please. They've sent out their biotics and I can't hold the wall up against all four of them. So I'm not going to."

The moment the four biotics get into position to begin tugging the wall apart, I let it fall away. Caught off guard with nothing separating us, none of the four biotics or Rukh react fast enough to reinforce their own barriers before three sniper rifles hollow out the biotic krogan's skull. The turian goes down next, my biotic punch snapping his neck and throwing the corpse into the abyss below. Another biotic Wall rises behind them, prepared from the moment I saw them come out alone. Idiots. "Trapped in with you? Oh no, Rukh. I'm not trapped in with you. You're trapped in with me."

Three sniper rifles echo again, dropping the asari to the ground in a pool of blood. The Salarian reacts at last, a Warp coiling around his hand and tearing through the air. Forcing my barrier to its limit I charge straight through it, grabbing the Eclipse biotic's outstretched hand and twist, Pulling him through the air and hurling him a dozen metres to the side, sending him hurtling off the bridge and out of the fight.

Rukh was the only one left, clawing desperately at the second Wall I'd set up to trap them. The Blood Pack leader is a coward, I know this well. Why else would I have installed him over his competition? Weak leaders were so much easier to manipulate. He turns to face me at the mast moment, green hand spewing a narrow cone of low-intensity plasma. The biotic Salvo catches him full in the face from point-blank range, polarising electrical charges all but ignoring his shield and literally melting his face apart. A second blast silences him permanently, leaving his corpse slumped against the softly shimmering Wall.

A blast rumbles through the fortified base, Garrus' voice coming through the squad comms. "Damn it. They've found a way to reopen the tunnels under the base. We have to shut them down, or we'll be fighting a war on two fronts. It has to be done manually."

Shepard curses. "Parker, you need to stay here and hold the bridge. Garrus, are you too tired to fight a running battle? You know the tunnels."

"We can't risk you getting turned around. I can go."

Shepard nods, stowing her rifle and drawing the Cerberus-issue Phalanx pistol. "Just like old times," she quips. "Zaeed, stay with Parker and hold the bridge." The two of them vanish into the lower levels of Garrus' base, leaving the scarred mercenary and I to watch the barricade from behind my wall. I can start to feel the strain of the exertion; half an hour was a good estimate but not when I'd been using biotics for other purposes as well. Holding the second wall in place while fighting had been particularly strenuous.

For a few minutes, the stalemate holds. Then a high-pitched whine splits the air, interrupting our brief reprieve. "That's a Mantis gunship," I recognise. "You haven't seen any rocket launchers lying around, have you?"

Zaeed snorts. "Looks like he used them all already. Just spent tubes up here." He hefts the grenade launcher stolen from the dead freelancer, loading it with relish. "Here's hoping this piece of shit works."

You mean we could have just flown in by aircar and lifted Garrus out? God damn it. Now we've got this asshole to deal with. I can see a helmeted Salarian behind the controls, flying Eclipse colours. Somebody came prepared. The heavily armed attack flier flits though the air, drifting sideways around my Wall even as my Warp flickers harmlessly against its shields. A round from Zaeed's rifle flies true, piercing its shields but failing to punch through the pilot's canopy. The gunship lifts up, pulling out of sight. I let the Wall drop, scrambling back into cover on the lower floor of the base. The gunship focuses on the upper level with its wing-mounted machine cannons, giving me a breather for a second as I slide back into the bottom level. With Zaeed's disruptor rounds and grenade launcher, we might have a chance.

"Shepard, please tell me you're nearly done." The gunship makes another pass, spewing high-calibre suppressive fire through the windows and ripping apart the remains of Garrus' home. The stolen launcher booms, the gunship whipping around and dodging the explosive payload. "We've got a bit of a situation up here!"

"Second shutter is locked down, one to go. We bagged Tarak as well." Something explodes in the background, reminding me how nice it would be to have a second heavy weapon right about now. "Lot of Blue Suns down here, we'll be as fast as we can."

So it's down to just the Eclipse. "They're coming over the bridge," Zaeed reports, voice taut with strain. "Mechs and infantry. Goddamn bastards are throwing everything they've got at us." A frantic look back confirms the worst news; a dozen LOKI mechs lead the way, behind them Eclipse engineers and biotics, a towering fully-armed YMIR spewing tracer fire over their heads. Bullets rake the walls of the building, preventing any kind of counterattack by sheer volume of fire. This… isn't going to end well.

Time slows for a moment, my mind whirling at maximum speed. What should I do? The gunship's mobility counters Wall, the infantry advance prevents skirmishing against the mantis. A perfect pincer. I could try and lose the gunship in close combat with Eclipse troops, but they're too many and too grouped up. I might get four or five, but the rest would back up and shred me as soon as I'd finished killing their friends.

I hesitate too long.

The gunship makes another pass, strafing the apartment with tracer rounds, forcing the two of us into cover. A missile comes streaking in through the broken window on the other side of the room, fired before and smart-piloted in from another direction. Zaeed sees it in at the last second, lunging into a diving roll. The rocket begins to pass above him, before its flaps rise and the munition dives directly into its target. The blast catches the veteran clean in the side, exploding in a hail of fire and shrapnel. Zaeed's body strikes the wall with bone-breaking force, painting the wall red with blood. "Zaeed!" No, damn it! "Shepard, Zaeed is hit! We need reinforcements, immediately!"

"Third shutter is down. We're on our way! Hold on!"

Not fast enough. I have to clear out the mercs now, or else Zaeed is dead. He might have survived a bullet to the head, but a missile to the chest is not something you walk off. Green biotic power swirls around my hands, Aid lightening my body to virtually nothing. My sheer speed gives me a second to take a trio of steps before they re-sight. Unfortunate for them that three steps is all I need.

I cover the distance like a green comet, increasing my mass at the last second to barrel into the mechanical front line with more mass than an armoured Elcor. The trio of machines goes flying, lifted by my charge and thrown bodily against the wall of the bridge. Their momentum carries them over the side, vanishing into the abyss. In the throes of Life Transfusion, my biotics are constant. A Singularity blossoms like a green sphere at the end of the bridge, blocking off access to the base behind me. "Hold on, Zaeed. I'll slow these ones down. Shepard will be back soon, just hold on!"

Something hits me in the chest, my barriers squealing in protest as assault rifle fire tears into my heavy barrier. The impacts force me back behind a chipped pillar, breath coming in ragged gasps. The YMIR stops, unable to turn its heavy weapons on me so close to Eclipse personnel. Twin green whips of biotic power form around my hands, lengthening into solid ropes of crackling energy. I'd prefer not to go full Phoenix, but at this point I don't have a choice. I break cover before the Eclipse mercenaries can charge me, ducking low and scything the whip across the front rank's legs. The burning biotic lash crackles and sparks against shields, but its electrical charges quickly short out the protective barriers and cut into vulnerable flesh. The second lash goes overhead and down, separating the charging mass in a burst of force.

Missiles hit the bridge behind me, close though the scorch my armour and send me tumbling into the centre of the Eclipse formation. Standing is too slow, so I Throw myself into the air using the force of the invocation to change direction enough to avoid being perforated. Even so, another cluster of shots find me and my barrier dies with a sharp crack, leaving me unprotected, literally floating on the breeze. There's no time to form a wall, especially with the initial singularity beginning to fade away.

I flick one hand outward, coiling one biotic whip around the neck of the YMIR mech still pounding away at Archangel's base. The mech is too heavy to lift without biotics, but it works fine as an anchor. A quick pull reels me in, the sheer unpredictability of the move catching the assembled mercenaries off guard. Gunfire and an explosion rip through the Eclipse ranks, Shepard and Garrus announcing their return with a wave of fire and death. The YMIR's own shielding protects me, but that won't last long. I need to move again-

Then the YMIR, realising its compromised position, jumps off the bridge. The fall won't kill me thanks to my biotics, but it will still take me out of the fight and that's unacceptable. I release the mech, latching onto the underside of the bridge with a biotic Tether. The machine grumbles in discontent, shattering against the ground at the bottom of the valley as I hang there, catching my breath. They probably think I'm dead, that's fine by me. "Parker!" Shepard shouts, voice tinged with fear.

"Don't mind me, commander," I grunt, dangling on an invisible rope over the abyss. "I'm hanging in there. Thank you could use that grenade launcher up there?"

Despite the situation, the horrible joke draws a single-syllable pity laugh. "I should shoot you for that."

The gunship buzzes past, angling to get a shot on the new defenders of Archangel's last stronghold. A rocket-propelled grenade lances out from the window with a trail of smoke, ramming into the gunship's nose and detonating in a shower of flame. The craft veers around, backing off from the heavy munitions. "Spirits," Garrus grunts, mortified. "No rounds left."

The gunship moves in again, buzzing directly over the bridge making a frontal attack on the stronghold. Perfect. I snap another Tether in place, verdant orb biting into the Mantis' undercarriage as I let go of my hold on the bridge. The gunship pulls me up, dangling in the air underneath the enemy vehicle. Retracting a tether is as simple as making one and when I finally reach the craft's underside I use my momentum to swing around, pulling myself in onto the pilot's canopy. The salarian pilot looks back with wide, disbelieving eyes, and from this proximity I can see the leadership insignia on his armour.

I ram my fist into the pilot's canopy with all the strength and mass I can muster. The toughened transparent protection of the gunship buckles and tears, ripping open and exposing the Eclipse Boss. The pilot draws his sidearm and empties the clip in a handful of seconds, forcing me to back off for the moment as my barrier drops dangerously low. The moment I hear the ejected clip sizzle against the gunship interior, I strike. A Pull tears the entire canopy off, hand darting in to freeze the pilot with a Stasis. Frozen halfway through reloading, I rip the Salarian out of the pilot's chair and hurl him into Archangel's base. Doubtless Garrus would enjoy the present. As the gunship begins to fall, I drop a Salvo of mild plasma into the craft's electronics. Low-intensity it might be, but plasma is still plasma. The gunship shudders violently in the air as I leap away, biotically slowing my fall and landing crouched on the sniper balcony next to a smiling Garrus. The Mantis screeches and wobbles in the air, losing altitude and belching smoke from its underbelly. The crippled gunship spins and collides heavily with the bridge, levelling one of the pillars moments before the entire gunship explodes in a ball of flame. The burning wreckage covers fully half the narrow bridge, its other hand hanging over the abyss.

"Zaeed?" I ask as I move. Garrus' creased face deepens into crags, his rifle firing with a distinct undercurrent of anger.

"Alive," he admits, "but not for long."

"We'll see about that," I bite back, anger beginning to burn at the prospect of failing at the first hurdle, of losing Zaeed Goddamn Massani to something as inconsequential as an Eclipse missile. The mercenary's shattered armour lies around him in pieces, breaths coming slowly and shallowly. "Biotic Surgical Suite: Engage."

Subroutines in my armour immediately come to life, deploying a full medical suite of diagnostics into my display. A green biotic field grows between my hands, softly spreading out to encapsulate both of us in verdant light. The dome sizzles quietly, traces of warpfire in its construction burning out any impurities or contaminants, ripping apart pathogens in the air around us. Not hospital-sterile by any stretch, but a hell of a lot better than nothing. My own hands glow green for a moment, eradicating any blood or germs picked up in combat.

It's not good. Significant internal injuries, broken bones and substantial blood loss already. Potential brain trauma is the worst and that's beyond anything I can do. I have to ignore it and treat what I can. Thankfully his armour's automatic medi-gel infusions had stemmed the worst of the bleeding, but internal injuries aren't so easily fixed. My omni-blade flicks out much smaller and narrower than usual. More like an omni-scalpel really, which was the point. A few careful cuts strip the shattered armour off Zaeed's body, revealing a heavily battered and bruised torso. One rib has broken the skin, smashed when the veteran had hit the wall. That looked like main complication. Eyes closed, one hand generated a weak biotic field that carefully probed the patient's ribcage. It had taken a lot of practice and study, but I could tell what the damage was internally by how it reacted to my touch. I drained his remaining armour of medigel; I'd need to open him up and his remaining armour would immediately try to close the cut. The delay would kill him.

The omni-scalpel flicked out again, this time cutting into tough, callused skin. Hardlight blades were completely sterile, another blessing that made this possible. Zaeed roared in pain with what little breath he had left, the sound coming out in a wheezing, ragged gasp. Definitely lung trauma. One hand made the incision, the other hand applying tiny biotic stasis fields to the human's exposed tissue, freezing it in place and preventing more blood from haemorrhaging into his body. His eyes met mine, hard and cold and full of impotent rage.

"You'll be fine," I reassured him, trying to smile. This was going to be tricky.

Eclipse were irrelevant. No distractions were allowed. There! The broken rib had punctured his lung. Medi-gel couldn't close the wound while the bone shard remained and it was slowly choking the human on his own fluids. Following the broken bone led me to the slashed veins, torn apart by the missile impact. Another microstasis stopped the blood leaking into his lungs. One down. I leant back with a sigh of relief, smiling at the soldier's battered face. I reached for the bone fragment in the lung, readying another stasis field with my other hand.

An explosion shook the building, the whole structure shaking as if struck by an earthquake. I have to dismiss my biotics and throw out a hand to steady myself, watching in muted horror as the impact shakes the lethally sharp bone fragment into Zaeed's lung.

Instantly, Zaeed began coughing and choking, panic returning to his face. Without any way to retain and control the pressure in his lungs, he couldn't breathe. Sealing the hole would let him breathe but trap the bone shard inside, making it impossible to move him without dedicated medical attention and major surgery which he might not survive. "Whatever you do, hold your breath and don't fucking panic," I order him, leaping back into action. Not good. This was too tiring. The speed and precision required for biotic surgery was on a whole other level to any other biotic technique and even with my pinpoint control I was dangerously close to making mistakes. I still had to lift the bone fragment out and that would be the hardest part of the operation by far. The blood was problematic, but I couldn't do anything about it without specialised tools. Liquids were too unpredictable to lift precisely, even for me, so the blood would have to stay for now. Lungs finally still as Zaeed held his breath, I lifted the whole organ as gently as I could. I focused on the heaviest part, the irregularity. Now was the hard part. Lifting something I couldn't see was hard as hell, but that bone needed to come out.

Millimetre by millimetre, I coaxed the broken bone towards the torn hole. Any contact with the lung lining might make another tear and Zaeed wouldn't survive that additional trauma. He was lucky it hadn't cut him again when it fell in. Finally the blood-soaked tip of the dagger-like shard appeared at the hole of the lung and I ripped it free with as much speed as I could muster, slapping a final stasis field in place over the puncture. The blue-faced mercenary finally heaves another breath, coughing and sputtering. I feed the medigel back into his system, letting the soothing substance work its magic. "Rest," I order him sternly, affecting my best Chakwas impersonation. "There's still fluid in your lungs and I can't extract it here. But you'll live." Assuming there was no brain trauma, or something I'd missed. Assuming he hasn't contracted an infection my warp sterilisation didn't catch. Assuming my stasis holds. Assuming his other wounds don't worsen. There are more than I can properly attend to here. But I'd done all I could, gave him a chance to fight.

"They're falling back!" Shepard crows victoriously, caught up in the heat of battle.

As the adrenaline coursing through his body begins to ebb, I draw his torso shut and bind it with a stasis. It's not stitches or staples, but it'll hold until he's in the Normandy's med bay. On top of that I wrap him in a whole-body stasis field, holding him in place. Finally overcome by the pain and exertion, Zaeed drops into unconsciousness. But his heartbeat is stable if slow, his lungs breathing regularly. He can make it.

I find myself falling backwards onto the filthy ground, domed sterilizing warp field fading away. I haven't been this tired in a long, long time. Not since my last trip with Liara and Garrus and his team. "Normandy?" I ask.

"Shuttle already coming in for medivac," Garrus answers calmly, watching me carefully with arms crossed. "He's still alive. For a second there I thought I'd gotten someone else killed. I finished off Jaroth's brother, too. Thanks."

"Anytime, Archangel. That wasn't Jaroth himself?" There are only a dozen people in the galaxy who could have pulled that off like I did. All the others are Salarian STG.

"No, his brother. But I've had enough for one day. We can come back for Jaroth later. With the Eclipse in shambles, he's all but powerless. Who knows, Aria might finish him off for us. I do wonder what happened to the rest of the Blood Pack, though. They're gone."

"No idea. Let's get the hell out of here," Shepard suggests. I breathe a sigh of contention, looking out at the wreckage of the failed siege. Yeah. A rest sounds good.

CODEX: Citadel Security Biotics Training Seminar: Wall

"A Commando came up with Wall millennia ago, and you'd all better thank your blue asses she did. The damn thing's like a starship barrier, strong enough to stop just about anything. Anti-tank warheads, proxy mines, grenades, a charging Krogan for Athame's sake. As a bodyguard to a Matriarch or a Councillor, even if you're riot police Wall should be your best skill, no exceptions. The best thing about Wall is what you can do with it; unlike a Barrier a Wall can go anywhere. Choke points, cut a room in half, seal off an access port, make a bridge out of pure air. I've seen Inalia T'Rome use a Wall to hold a hull breach shut on a half-dead frigate for sixteen hours straight. Saved the lives of everyone on board. Not that any of you will be able to do that, since holding up a Wall is hard as hell.

Physically speaking Walls are air compressed by high gravity into a solid form, plus elements of Barrier to keep everything locked in place. It's so molecularly dense that it shrugs off just about anything. Walls are easier to make in high-gravity and high-pressure environments, because you don't have to work as hard. Conversely, low-atmosphere and low-pressure worlds make forming a Wall harder. In pure vacuum, it's impossible. Try to keep them away from fire- air is still air and once you shove it together it burns like liquid oxygen only ten times bigger. People have been trying to come up with mobile Walls for years, but so far nobody's managed it. Just remember that Walls go both ways; no screwing physics like you do with Barriers. So be damn careful when you put one, and how long you hold it. If someone uses one against you, use your biotics to warp it and weaken its gravity. Do that enough and it'll fall apart. Whatever you do, don't try and shoot through it. Unless you've got something that can level buildings, you'll kill a friendly on the ricochet."

Lusiel T'Meiri, Asari Spectre

A/N: I never know what to put in these. I know it's been a while, and I am very deeply sorry for the delay. On the plus side, I think I'm getting the hang of this parenting thing and hopefully that'll mean more time to write! This chapter really kicked my ass for a long time, hopefully it'll be a little easier in the future. Massive props should go out to DelVar0 for keeping me engaged for months with his crazy-awesome conversation, idea wars and general coolness. If you haven't checked out his stuff, you seriously should! He's the most bro of bros. Huge thanks also go out to Thousand Lives to Live for his feedback, beta-reading and honesty. Finally, thanks to LogicalPremise for allowing me to use his OCs Lusiel T'Meiri and Inalia T'Rome at the end there. Next Chapter should be out soon! Definitely not seven months again. (Here's hoping).