Chapter One: This Isn't Working

September 2183

"We're here," Private Morris said. The Mako ground to a halt and powered down.

Kaidan Alenko stepped out into the sloppy Chasca mud. Rain sheeted down, drenching him instantly and trickling between the layers of his hard suit. The helmet would have kept him warm and dry, but ever since he spent a month all but trapped in his suit awaiting rescue on Alchera's frozen surface, he didn't care for it.

The marine detachment from the SSV Agincourt had set up camp beside one of the old colonial labs. Like a number of small Traverse colonies, Chasca's settlers were all but eradicated during the war with the geth. Any colonists left had long since scattered into the wilderness. All they found were piles of ash bearing chemical traces linking them to husks, and dragon's teeth devices for creating them.

They were the last Mako to arrive from the L.Z. The commander sauntered over to him. "Lieutenant Alenko. Good of you to join us."

Commander Thorne was a cocky officer, middle-aged, a half-head shorter than Alenko and the kind of person who took reticence as a personal slight. Thorne hadn't approved of his transfer; he was quite open about his opinion that the Agincourt had no need of the Normandy's "wash-outs". In other circumstances, it might have bothered Alenko, but as it was he had no energy for ship drama. "Any sign of our prisoner yet?"

Thorne's scowl deepened. "No. We've got him though. It's just a matter of time."

During a routine transfer of high-value prisoners from an Alliance outpost back to Arcturus, one of the detainees, a researcher, commandeered a shuttle and fled to the Maroon Sea. The Agincourt patrolled this sector and was called in to deal with the situation. They'd tracked him here, to Chasca. It made sense. There was evidence Chasca had dealings with Cerberus prior to the geth invasion.

Since then, the escaped scientist had led them on a wild goose chase all over the narrow habitable zone that straddled the tidally-locked planet's scorched day side and frozen night side. The stationary sun would be an excellent navigation point, if they ever saw it. The clash of climates created almost constant rain. Mildew had begun to grow in the corners of the Mako ports and under the ceramic armor of their suits.

Alenko doubted they'd find the prisoner. It was a levo-amino planet flush with plant life. If the man was smart, he could hide here for years. But Alenko didn't really care about that, either. There wasn't much he did care about these days. "As you say, sir."

Thorne narrowed his eyes, as if looking for the insult. Before he could reply, Private Morris came around and saluted. "All squads present and accounted for, sir. Scans are clean. This station's empty."

"Check for supplies, and any signs that our Dr. Farrell passed through. He came here for a reason. I doubt it was to count the trees."

"Aye aye, sir."

Thorne spared Alenko one final contemptuous glare. "Get your rations. I'm sending your squad to scout at 1300."

"Yes, sir," he answered automatically, without inflection.

The commander made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, and sauntered off. Alenko wiped the water off his face, a gesture of futility if there ever was one, and tried to concentrate on finding the supply officer instead of the fact that Nathaly Shepard was three months dead this morning.

It was impossible to know the date exactly. The chance that she'd survived the explosion, all alone, running out of air, possibly injured, possibly in pain, haunted him in the hours when there wasn't enough work to push it away. He dreamed about it sometimes, searching through wreckage that sparkled coldly in the sun, or choking on smoke as he scoured the burning decks of the Normandy,following her voice. But the day the ship went down was close enough.

Three months. One minute it would feel like an eternity, and the next it would be like he just spoke with her, just saw her face. Alenko proceeded with the Agincourt transfer because he wanted to get back to work. He pushed to be returned to active duty as soon as the navy would allow it, needed something other than far too much thinking to fill the time- but it turned out he'd have to go a lot farther than the Traverse if he wanted to leave her behind.

He took his field rations and found a quiet rock to eat. Though he tried to peel back as little of the foil cover as possible, water inevitably got mixed into the food, turning his mashed potatoes to soup. Alenko was rarely hungry now. Military food was never renowned for its culinary excellence, but good or bad, fresh or fouled, none of it had any flavor.

The potatoes stuck to his tongue like paste. He ate the peas one at a time, methodic.

Private Morris found him there before he was more than halfway through. Morris was a bit more sensitive than their C.O. Everyone knew Alenko had survived the Normandy attack, and most of the Agincourt marines assumed he never recovered from it. Alenko let them. It wasn't like explaining that he'd been in love with his late commanding officer, that he left her aboard their ship to die, would improve his standing, even if he'd felt inclined to talk about it.

Unlike most of the others, Morris seemed not to care if Alenko failed to uphold the unspoken marine code to either put up a good front or get out. "Sir, the C.O. wants to know why we're still here."

Alenko glanced at his omni-tool and was surprised to see it was time. Lately the clock seemed to get away from him more and more. One hour blurred into the next. "Is Nguyen ready to go?"

"She's waiting at the far end of the lab. Thorne wants us scouting south."

"Understood." Alenko got to his feet, rubbed a crick out of his neck, and did a cursory check of his weapons. The uneaten food lay where he left it.

Corporal Nguyen already had her rifle in her hands and trained on the forest just beyond the lab, eager to begin. She was the tiniest marine he'd ever seen, but also one of the most bloodthirsty people he'd ever met. She lived for the fight. Scuttlebutt had it that she'd been big in the local boxing scene on her home colony and Alenko had no trouble believing it. The woman was corded iron.

"Are we leaving?" she asked lightly, dark eyes gleaming. The ongoing downpour plastered straggles of hair to her forehead.

"We're to patrol south looking for any signs of Farrell." Alenko drew his rifle.

Morris offered an alternative. "If we head slightly west, we'll be walking between this lab station and the next. It's a logical route for him to take."

"Good." Alenko gestured forward. "Move out."

It was a bit drier under the leaves. The dense foliage slowed the course of the rain, and the sound of the drops sliding off the canopy was somewhat soothing. There was little animal life aside from a few birds cawing in the branches. It must exist, to sustain this sort of ecosystem, but evidently the animals didn't like the rain any more than the human trespassers. Alenko took the opportunity to wipe the rainwater out of his eyes.

Nguyen walked several paces ahead, sweeping her rifle over her field of view. Her prosthetic arm, a fully articulated cybernetic masterpiece, had been dulled to the drab colors of the woods, seamless with her suit. God knew how she convinced the navy to let her keep it. SOP mandated recruits have their limbs regrown- sheer intimidation, probably.

The pigmentation, however, was new technology. The latest-issue Alliance hardsuits they all wore incorporated the same photonic crystal-based camouflage. Without diverting from her task, she said, "The patrol Thorne sent out this way when we arrived hasn't come back yet."

Alenko ground his teeth. Thorne hadn't bothered to mention that. "Probably slowed down by all this mud." They were each coated to the knee with the sticky stuff, thick as tar. But as much as he wanted to maintain calm, he didn't truly believe that was why they were late. "We should be careful."

Morris kept up the optimism. "Maybe we'll run into them."

"Look." Nguyen pointed at the ground with a too-sharp mechanical finger. "Here, under this tree."

Alenko knelt beside the footprint. Its pattern was protected by the thick roots. "This isn't from a military boot."

Hard suit boots had a distinct shape and tread. This looked more like a sneaker. And the colonists left Chasca months ago.

Morris peered at it. "Looks like Nguyen was right. Bastard ran this way."

"He can't be far ahead, not if this footprint's still here in this wet."

Nguyen's eyes were fixed on the shadows between the trees. "We still haven't seen any sign of the other squad."

Morris shrugged. "A single unarmed scientist who hasn't eaten in days, against three marines?"

Alenko didn't know what Farrell had or hadn't found to eat. Surely some of the colonists' stores were durable, and if Cerberus agents used this colony as a base, god only knew what kinds of dangerous technologies or substances the man might have commandeered. Alenko had a look at through the Cerberus labs on Nepheron after Nathaly took the whole base prisoner five months back. There were things inside he wished he'd never seen.

"I don't like this," he said aloud, straightening and raising his rifle slightly, to make it easier to aim quickly. His other hand he kept free. Alenko never had the stamina to hold a readied biotic attack for very long, but he compensated by being able to gather the energy rapidly. "I'll take point. Morris, watch our six."

"Yes, sir." Morris fell back. Nguyen took up station between them. Alenko proceeded slowly, taking in every sound, every flicker of motion in the forest around them. He welcomed it. Right now there was no room for anything else in his head. It was a rare occasion these last three months that he ever felt like himself, at home in his own skin.

Morris swung his gun wildly. "What was that?"

"A branch falling." Nguyen was amused. "Deadfall."

"Quiet." Alenko moved forward, each step landing softly in the mud. Something about this didn't feel right. It was almost too still. Even the birds had fallen silent. There was something in these woods they didn't like.

He stepped on something that wasn't wet earth, and wasn't a tree root. "What-"

The rope caught the toe of his boot as it flew through the air and knocked him off his feet. He stared up at the dancing line. A few centimeters closer, his ankle would have been snagged and he'd be dangling five meters in the air.

There was a second cry and the sound of a tree whipping upward with some speed. He twisted around just in time to see Morris disappear into the canopy. In distance, someone laughed. It was not a friendly sound. "Nguyen."

"Sir," she said, coming to his side with her weapon raised.

He retrieved his rifle from where it fell. "Where is Private Morris?"

"Here," came the private's voice. He bobbed down, still held by the bouncing tree, a bruise blossoming on his face and a look of chagrin beneath it.

Alenko sighed. "Cut him down-"

The forest erupted in fire. All around them, whole strips of terrain exploded out of the earth, sending fountains of sparks and mud high into the air with a sound like thunder. The air choked with their smoke. Alenko threw up a barrier before he could form a coherent thought- bone-deep training reacting faster than his brain. Nguyen plastered her back to a tree. Morris, unable to escape, let out another yell and tried to shield his head with his arms.

Alenko directed a biotic throw into the loose soil and managed to disrupt the charges, flinging them away from his squad. They corkscrewed into the woods shedding flame. He thought he spied a figure through the smoke. Alenko sent three shots after him, certain they all missed.

Nguyen took a breath and darted for Morris' position. The private was a sitting duck. He watched her sling her rifle over her back and shimmy up the tree like a spider. He covered them from the ground, continuing to search for the person he'd seen. It had to be Dr. Farrell. Nothing else made any sense.

A sniper's shot chewed into the tree beside him. He doubled the strength of his barrier and returned fire, blindly. Nathaly had this trick she could do, sighting accurately on sound alone, like the report of a gun, but Alenko was nowhere near as good a shot. "Come out here! Show yourself!"

Morris fell in a heap beside him. Nguyen followed, landing lightly in a crouch, her eyes already scanning the trees. Her fingers, fused into a blade to cut Morris' snare, flexed and separated. "We need to move."

"Retreat?" Morris gasped.

Alenko's hand slashed through the air, negating. "No. We find this bastard."

The two enlisted marines exchanged a glance. Morris grimaced. Nguyen offered him a feral smile.

He looked out into the woods. "This is a show meant to scare us."

"Is that what snipers do?" Nguyen asked sweetly. "Scare people?"

"Get moving." Alenko stepped over the depleted charges and moved into the smoke. It was thin enough to breathe easily now but still limited visibility. The squad crowded close.

Another shot smacked into Alenko's barrier and caused him to falter in his step. He lost his grip on the dark energy field. Nguyen turned and fired back. There was more laughter.

Morris was sweating. "Sir, we really ought to get some backup-"

"He'll be gone by then." Alenko stomped toward the sound. "What do you think he did to that other patrol?"

"He must have found equipment in one of the other lab stations." Nguyen kept pace with him easily, her eyes alight. "There's another not far from here."

"That's where he's leading us." Alenko was certain of it. He started to jog.

They fought their way forward, if exchanging potshots could be called fighting. The pillbox hab soon emerged from the forest, smaller than the others the Agincourt marines had visited since starting this chase- more like an outpost. The door was locked tight.

"Keep your guard up," Alenko said, as he hacked the electronic lock and the hatch slid up into the depths of the wall.

The stepped into a dark hallway, dripping water and wiping the rain off their faces for the first time in hours. Nguyen and Morris clicked on the flashlights mounted to their guns.

Alenko did the same. "If he trapped the woods, he probably trapped this place too."

"At least it won't be snares," Morris said dryly, rubbing his ankle with his foot.

Alenko pointed. "Look. Mud."

"Farrell," Nguyen spat. It wasn't a question. It was the same sneaker print from outside.

They followed the faint trail into the lab until they came to a hallway where the floor was slick with fluid. Alenko sniffed the air but could detect nothing foul. There were no leaks in the ceiling or the walls; no natural reason for the floor to be this wet, regardless of the weather outside, even if Farrell passed this way. What did it mean? What danger did it pose?

The uncertainty that had plagued his decisions since the Normandy crash grew and grew, until he could bear it no longer.

"To hell with it," he muttered, and splashed through the corridor, his squad at his heels.

So naturally, as soon as they reached the midpoint, the liquid ignited.

There must have been fumes of some kind, undetectable to the human nose, because it rose up around them in a cloud. Yelling and cursing, they each fled for the nearest point that was not on fire. Alenko reached safety and beat the last of it off his boots. The suit had protected him from the worst of it but his face was singed and all over he was uncomfortably overheated. The suit webbing where it attached to his boots seemed half-melted, though the fire wasn't nearly that hot. Acid? Was acid flammable?

Morris was with him. Nguyen was not. He called through the fire. "Corporal, report!"

There was no reply. He tried again. "Corporal Nguyen!"

Alenko's eyes darted between the flames, straining to see something. A hunched figured, shadowed by the fire, hurried towards the blaze and bent to retrieve something on the floor. There was a dragging sound. Alenko took a half-step towards the fire. "Farrell!"

The figure paused and gave a low chuckle. "Leaving so soon?"

Alenko was moving before he'd even made a conscious decision to go. Morris yelled after him. "Lieutenant! Sir!"

He shielded his face with his arm and prayed his suit was as good as Hahne-Kedar claimed. Biotic barriers were useless against heat and corrosion. Ten long steps and he was out the other side, the soles of his boots squashy and too hot.

The figure disappeared through a hatch down the hall. Alenko hit the ground at a dead run and skidded through the door. Small patches of flame flickered over his boots and calves.

The second he entered the doctor flung a rack of glass test tubes at his face. Alenko batted it aside and it shattered where it struck the wall. He got off one shot before he noticed Nguyen slung over Farrell's shoulder, her wet hair hanging down towards the floor. She seemed unconscious. Alenko cursed.

Farrell was already fleeing through another hatch. He couldn't move fast under his load, but Alenko couldn't get a clean shot. Damning his energy reserves, Alenko let go the barrier, prepared a biotic attack, and chased after.

As soon as he hit the next room, he flung it through the air and sent the doctor crashing over a table, knocking several instruments to the floor and dropping Nguyen. Farrell's sneakers scrabbled on the broken glass and he half ran, half crawled to a counter, dragging the corporal with him. Alenko charged his position. Farrell popped up over the countertop and let off six rounds in rapid succession.

Three hit. They brought down his shield and left a good pockmark in his ceramic suit plating. Alenko was forced to spend his energy replacing his barrier.

Farrell got to his feet, dragging Nguyen upright between them and aimed the pistol at her head. Alenko recognized it as Alliance-issue, probably Nguyen's. The woman groaned against the counter as she started to awaken. She was scorched in places, skin turned red from getting caught in the blaze.

Alenko held his aim but did not fire. Farrell's smile widened. He spoke in a measured London accent, each syllable crisp. "Game over, Lieutenant."

"I don't think so." He took a step to the right, careful, evaluating his options. Nathaly would take the shot. Then, ruefully, but Nathaly could actually manage a tough shot like that and make it a sure thing. "You alright, Corporal?"

"Still here, sir," Nguyen slurred.

"Quiet," Farrell instructed, glancing down. His gaze flicked back to Alenko. "You Alliance are soft. Too soft. You could have me now if you were willing to let the grunts die. That's their purpose, after all."

"I don't need a lecture on morality from a Cerberus operative." His eyes narrowed. "I've never seen anyone treat an animal like you treated some of your victims on Nepheron."

Farrell tilted his head, caught by surprise. "Nepheron- I thought you looked familiar. Wait…" Now he truly was grinning, ear to ear. "You were the officer with the busted leg, following that bitch commander around. Well, well."

Alenko raised his gun a little higher. "Call Shepard that again and you'll regret it."

"Will I?" He tapped the barrel against Nguyen's skull to make a point. Beneath her hair, she glared sullenly at Alenko, the last traces of Farrell's drug gone. He saw her give the slightest of nods.

He moved one hand behind his hip, casually, as he adjusted his stance. Farrell was too caught up in his complaints to notice. "It's absolutely odious to be kept prisoner by the very people you're trying to help. The Alliance only gets in the way. With Cerberus, I served humanity more than you ever-"

The energy gathering in his fist reached critical mass. As his arm swung up, Nguyen simultaneously drove her elbow into Farrell's stomach and pivoted on her heel. The fingers of her prosthetic sealed together into a hard, sharp point and drove into his side.

He dropped the weapon with a rough gasp, clutching the wound. Alenko's lift caught him and set him spinning in mid-air.

Nguyen stumbled clear, wiping at her mouth. Blood dripped from her hand to the floor. "He just doesn't know when to quit."

Alenko moved in, keeping his rifle trained on the scientist, who groaned as he tried to staunch his bleeding. He kicked away Farrell's dropped weapon. To Nguyen, he asked, "How'd he get you?"

"Rag over my mouth, while I was still stunned from the flames." She spat. "Wet. Tasted foul. Guess it wasn't strong enough."

"Go vomit anyway." Throwing up could worsen certain poisons, but with no clue what it was and little chance of finding out quickly, it was worth the risk. Plenty of inhalants were never meant to be swallowed.

She nodded and headed for a lab sink. Alenko called in to camp, relaying the situation in a few short words.

As Nguyen retched, Dr. Farrell managed a choked laugh, revolving slowly in place. There couldn't be much time left on the field. "I'm surprised to see you here alone, Lieutenant. I didn't realize you had an ounce of autonomy in you."

Now that Alenko could see him properly, it was clear life on the run had not been kind of Farrell. He had a gaunt look, as if he hadn't found much to eat here, his eyes even more rat-like in his thin face. What hair he had left was in wild disarray and his face was pale. But Nguyen's stab seemed to have left only superficial damage, based on his lucidity, though its stain continued to spread darkly across his tunic.

Alenko's radio activated, relaying orders to sit tight and wait for backup. He acknowledged, absently stomping to pat out the last of the fire still clinging to him. At the sink, Nguyen shot him a glance, and half-groaned, "We just gonna let him bleed out? After all that?"

Farrell fell heavily to the floor as the mass effect field gave way. Alenko's gun followed him all the way down, walking carefully around the lab bench to keep him in sight. "No."

He fished through a pouch one-handed, and tossed him a tube of medi-gel. It landed a few inches from Farrell.

The doctor groused. "What, I have to do it myself?"

"You're not bleeding that fast," Alenko replied, stoically. "The coagulant will set in before it gets bad."

Farrell muttered and picked up the tube, fumbling at the cap. "So decisive. It's like seeing a trick dog off the leash-"

"I was following Shepard to keep her from strangling you lot with her own two hands," he said, thoroughly irritated, and not liking the reminder.

"Ah, yes. I was concerned about that myself. Kept my head down, out of her sight." Farrell flashed a smile, showing teeth. "Shepard was always prone to… hasty actions."

"A kindness I am regretting now." He watched as Farrell took a breath, removed his hand, and hissed as the medi-gel squirted into the wound, oddly devoid of empathy though every marine was familiar with that particular sting.

It was more than what Farrell was saying. Nepheron had come on the heels of Virmire. Nathaly was in a terrible place. He'd tried to talk to her for days and she wouldn't even hear him out. She was too distraught to listen to anything but the nagging of her own guilt. She'd gone to Nepheron because she wanted to kill something that deserved to die, and Cerberus made an excellent target.

He was too injured to accompany her on that mission. So he wasn't there when she confronted Wayne; wasn't there when she learned the terrible truth of what happened to her at Akuze. But he'd been on the ground later, while they waited for a Fifth Fleet patrol to take over the situation, and held her afterwards in the shuttle bay. It was the only time he'd ever seen her close to breaking.

Nguyen lifted her head from the sink at last, and took a few deep breaths. "Where the hell are our marines?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." He smiled.

Nguyen retrieved her pistol from the floor, her every slight move a threat, and trained it on him. "That's exactly why I asked."

Again the laugh. "My wits may be addled by my prolonged confinement amongst such imbeciles, but not quite dulled enough to give up my last ticket out of here. I want a shuttle, fully stocked, and when I'm in orbit I'll send their location."

"Coming right up." Alenko couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. "You're not my problem much longer, anyway."

"You were there," he growled, sitting up on his knees with a wince of pain, spitting the words like a curse. "Shepard interrupted our beautiful work. She had no conception of what she was destroying."

Alenko shot him a dark look, but didn't offer a reply. Maybe Farrell would run out of complaints.

The hatch opened. Morris stepped inside. "Sir-"

"How'd you get here?" Alenko was grateful for the interruption.

"Flames burned out. Our backup should be here soon."

"I've got it in hand."

"Yes." Farrell raised his hand in an expansive gesture of welcome. "We were having a nice chat about old times."

Alenko raised his rifle, just enough to make his point. "Stop moving and shut up, or so help me I will make you shut up."

Morris glanced at him, startled. Alenko ground his teeth and tried to reel in his temper.

"Try to imagine my position." Farrell gestured. "My life's work- gone! All because some navy cunt was too thick-headed-"

"I told you to leave her out of this. I won't ask again." He meant to ignore the jabs. He really did. But all he could see was her standing in the battery, beating back the flames while the ship went to pieces around them.

"Or you'll what? Offer more empty threats? Maybe use one of your fancy biotic tricks?" Dr. Farrell chuckled. "Harm me, and you'll never get the other marines back."

"Hey, L.T." Morris laid a hand on his arm. "Maybe bring it down a notch."

Nguyen was nervous, and nervous made her angry. "Can we stop talking? Nobody cares how much fricking research Shepard burned at some Cerberus lab."

Suddenly, Alenko's expression grew quite shrewd. He stared at Farrell. "That's it, isn't. Cerberus wasn't going to bust any of Nepheron's researchers out of a navy brig, not after you lost an entire base in one go. You came here looking for something they'd want badly enough to take you back in the bargain."

The doctor looked up at him with true revulsion. "I heard Shepard died."

She screamed at him to leave as fire consumed the ship. He came to make certain she stay behind, but his resolve disintegrated in the face of that sudden barrage, her ironclad tone of command that stopped charging krogan in their tracks, as she ordered him to go.

He left her standing in the battery and never saw her again.

"Her ship was attacked by geth," Nguyen said, disdainful. "Everyone knows that."

Farrell kept his attention on Alenko. As if he read exactly the effect the invocation had on him. "How did it happen, Lieutenant? We're all curious about the details. Surely you were there."

Alenko swallowed. He'd never know how exactly Nathaly died. It had haunted him all these months, the question that wouldn't go away, the one that wouldn't allow him any peace. The slight motion of his throat didn't escape Farrell's notice.

"I hope it was slow," Farrell said, drawing out the words. "I hope she survived the attack and it was suffocation that got her."

Sitting on the surface of Alchera, staring up at the dark canopy of storm clouds and wondering if she was still alive, in pain or just cold and alone. Waiting for him to come get her, knowing rescue was impossible. Carbon CO2 scrubbers wearing out like a ticking clock with every breath.

Alenko's mouth had gone dry. "I've asked you twice now to be quiet."

Farrell looked up at Alenko, his eyes glittering with triumph. "I hope she waited up there, among the dead, running out of air, and had a good, long time to think about what was coming. Just like I did when she made us crouch in the dirt for two days."

Alenko ran a sandpaper tongue over his lips. Joker nudging through the wreckage in their slapped-together shuttle. Fearing with every piece that they'd find her frozen, broken body lurking behind it. Almost more afraid they wouldn't.

Nguyen and Morris' nervousness hung palpable in the air. Alenko tried to remember himself. Cleared his throat. Wet his lips again, as best he could. "You're going back into Alliance custody. I don't need to answer any of this."

"Do you know what happens, Lieutenant, when the body begins to want for oxygen?"

When he made no reply, Farrell continued, "It feels like your lungs are coming apart. The throat goes dry. The eyes bulge. I've heard it's quite painful, to need air and not have it." His smile widened a fraction. "When a human drowns, they reach upwards, desperate, as if trying to climb a ladder out of their predicament. Do you think, in her final moments, Shepard reached-"

He never finished the sentence. Because at that moment, Lieutenant Alenko lost his mind.