Chapter Thirty-Six
Exit Wounds

Omega, Sahrabarik

"This is...murder," the dead man gasped.

"That's right. Cold-blooded murder," Aria T'Loak sneered. Venom dripped from her every word. "No less than you deserve."

Liara watched the steady drip of blood from her fingertips. Her senses were heightened to the extreme where she heard each drop hit the deck with a dull plop. It pooled steadily at her feet. The blood was rich and extremely red. It was the blood of the countless faceless Cerberus remnants that she had slaughtered as she carved her way across Omega. She could see it glistening on the black combat suit she wore. She felt it caked on her face and built up beneath her fingernails. The metallic tang lined the inside of her mouth and its stench was all she could smell. It was almost as though there was nothing left in the world except blood.

A part of her heard the struggles of the dying man behind her, but she did not turn and try to stop what was happening. Petrovsky had ceased being able to beg for his life. Liara was inured to last desperate attempts to gasp a breath. When she finally heard the sickening snap of the Cerberus General's neck, her sole concession to sympathy was a slight twitch of her right eye. A heavy thud followed several seconds later as the body hit the deck. Liara did not bother turning around. She had seen enough dead bodies to last several asari lifetimes.

Heavy footsteps approached from behind and still she did not turn. Eventually vice-like fingers wrapped around her upper arm and whirled her around. Liara stared into the eyes of Aria T'Loak and saw her own bloody face reflected the cold, hard depths.

When the Queen of Omega surged forward and claimed her lips in an unexpected, harsh kiss, Liara found herself responding with savage instincts. For a few desperate, hungry seconds she felt something other than grief beneath the bruise inducing pressure of Aria's lips. It was the same way she had felt only a few minutes earlier as she slammed into her last victim and ripped his throat apart with her bare hands. Through the haze that surrounded her, Liara eventually realised that it was nothing more than desire born of violence. With a cry torn from the back of her throat, she lashed out with her biotics and hurled Aria backwards. The other asari slammed hard into the console behind her. The field had been strong but Aria's reaction was to peel back her lips and laugh with pure delight.

"You surprise me, Liara T'Soni," Aria commented in a pleased tone. She licked her lips as though savouring the taste she found there. "I did not expect you to let me have the satisfaction of killing that bastard. I thought you'd make some heartfelt plea to spare his life."

"His life was not mine to spare." Liara did not want to engage in a discussion with Aria about why she had let her kill Oleg Petrovsky. In would only lead to the inevitable question - why had she not tried to stop Aria from killing the Cerberus general?

"Well, fuck, whatever." Aria shrugged. "I guess this is the part where I say thank you." The Queen of Omega had to grind her appreciation out through gritted teeth. "I would not have been able to do this without your help, Princess."

Liara felt a chill slither down her spine. Another asari had called her that. It already felt like a lifetime ago but still the false title gnawed at her tautly strung nerves. "Do not call me that. Unless you-"

"Unless you what?" Aria interrupted with a callous snort. "Surely you weren't about to threaten me, Dr T'Soni? I thought you were supposed to be clever." When it became clear that Liara was not about to dignify her comment with a reply, Aria stepped forward and continued, "And here I was thinking that we were going to be the best of friends after all of this. Instead you turn back into a scowling little maiden who had just realised that she cannot always have her own way. If I thought it would help I'd throw you over this console and take you here and now."

"I would sooner fuck a Krogan," Liara replied in an inflexible tone. It was lie and Aria knew it. Her own desperate need both scared and enlivened her. She suddenly had the urge to strip of her clothing and throw herself beneath scalding hot water. She would scour herself clean until the water ran blue with her blood. "You are a vile individual, Aria T'Loak."

"Thank you!" Aria laughed contemptuously. The Queen of Omega spread her hands wide in a wild gesture. "I'm extremely curious…why the fuck did you help me reclaim my empire?"

Liara stared at the floor. Anywhere but at her. "Because this is what Shepard would have done."

"Bullshit!" Aria retorted. "Oh, I have no doubt that the revered Commander Shepard would have helped me take back Omega. It would have taken only a heartrending tale about the suffering of the citizens here and she would have come running. Goddess-damned bitch was always so fucking perfect. However, I know you have your own reasons, Princess." As Liara met her gaze, Aria taunted her to make good on her threat with a mocking expression. "And those reasons are not limited to getting a kick out of spilling Cerberus blood…although you did a hell of a lot of that. What do you want, Liara T'Soni?"

Liara tilted her chin up defiantly. She did not fear the Queen of Omega. "I want you to help me disappear," she admitted in an intense voice. Even Aria, as omniscient she believed herself to be, had no intimation that she was the Shadow Broker. Had the other asari been aware, she would have snorted at the incongruity of being asked such a favour. However, it was effortless for the Shadow Broker to disappear. That was not what Liara was asking Aria.

She wanted Liara T'Soni to disappear.

SSV Normandy SR-2

{Sam, it is against Alliance protocol to access ANN reports from your work station.}

"EDI!" Sam hissed, anxiously glancing around in case other CIC personnel had overheard the warning. "My shift hasn't even started yet. It's Lucy's commendation ceremony, if I can't actually be there then the least I can do is watch it live at my station instead of on a crappy vid projection on my omni-tool."

{I have noticed that your heart-rate increases markedly whenever you make mention of Lieutenant Park. Following extensive discussions with Jeff, I have arrived at the conclusion that you have romantic inclinations towards her} EDI said in her smooth voice. {The probable conclusion is that you desire to have sex with her}

"EDI!" Sam felt like crawling under a nearby console and hiding for a lengthy period…or taking a sledgehammer to the A.I core. The fact that EDI and Joker had discussed her love life, or rather lack of it, more extensively than she had was altogether mortifying. "Would you shut up…please?"

{You are embarrassed, Sam?} EDI speculated.

"Of course I'm bloody well embarrassed!" Sam gasped.

{Could you help me to understand the source of your embarrassment? Jeff stated that you and Lieutenant Park were both fans of Vaenia and it would therefore be inevitable that you entered into a sexual relationship. I myself have seen Vaenia but I found the preoccupation with close up views of-}

"Shut up, EDI, shut the hell up…or god help me I will never speak to you again!" Sam finally snapped.

EDI did not reply for several seconds. When she did, her voice sounded decidedly subdued. {I was under the impression that we were friends, Sam. If I have offended you, I apologise.}

Sam scrubbed at her temples. She felt a headache coming on. "We are friends, EDI."

{I have run scenarios…and have concluded that a possible way to atone for the offence would be to allow you to access the ANN feed. I could also scrub all evidence from your console} EDI suggested.

"That would be sweet of you, honestly," Sam replied. "But I don't think I should-"

Her protest was interrupted as the screen winked into life, immediately showing an impressive gathering of military personnel. Although the image was grainy at best, Sam could see that the precise formation of the men and women were incongruent with the war ravaged surroundings in the distance. The ANN reporter was delivering a voice-over, but Sam did not need to pay any attention to his words to know that Lucy Park was a hero. The camera zoomed in on the figures elevated above the rest of the gathered crowd. They looked to be standing at the top of a wide set of steps, the once proud building behind them was blackened and hollow. Sam immediately recognised the British Museum. It was a miracle that the columns across its façade were still standing.

"Thank you, EDI," Sam eventually said.

Lucy appeared exceptionally small amidst the distinguished company. Sam could only just make her out until the feed switched to a different camera and went to a close up. Lucy met the camera with a determined gaze consisting of her own dark brown eye and the unnerving pale silver of her artificial eye. Several faint scars still surrounded the socket, a lasting legacy of the wound that had claimed her eye. Sam thought it made the young woman appear both fragile and formidable at the same time.

When she had spoken to Lucy a few days earlier, just prior to the operation, she had expressed her disquiet about the ceremony. Lucy believed that for her to be singled out when so many had fought and died felt wrong. In response, Sam had offered her own simple thoughts in exchange. Humanity, and the Galaxy as a whole, was desperately in need of heroes of all shapes and sizes. The story of the unassuming Intel Officer who had helped Commander Shepard within the Crucible itself had caught the imagination of the survivors. Sam had then grown bold enough to express her hope that there would still be something left of her to share on a more personal level. Of course she had not expressed it in such poetic terms at the time. In her awkward, stunted sentences it took five minutes before she could get her point across.

"Are…are you asking me out on a date, Specialist Traynor?" Lucy had asked with a nervous smile on her face.

"Oh god no!" was Sam's spluttered response. "That wasn't what I was trying to…unless…you actually do want to go on a date? If it's even possible to date anymore. I mean, where would we go? A picnic amidst the rubble?"

Lucy had smiled shyly. "A picnic in the rubble sounds wonderful."

Sam felt her cheeks warming at the memory. However, with the Normandy operating on the fringes of the Attican Traverse, it would likely be weeks until they returned to Earth. She had time to prepare before facing the actual reality of a date – conversation and, if everything went well, actual physical contact. Her cheeks burned even more fiercely.

{Sam, you are perspiring. Do you feel ill?} EDI suddenly asked.

"Ah…no," Sam replied slowly. "It's just been a bloody long time since I kissed anyone."

"Do you need to practice? I no longer have a physical body, but I am sure Jeff would-"

"I'm sure he would too," Sam interrupted quickly. "But it's not really appropriate, EDI. It was sweet of you to offer his services."

It was then that she noticed that there was some sort of commotion at the ceremony. Sam's eyes narrowed as she strained to see what was happening near the back of the crowd. Suppressing her irritation that the view was no longer focused on Lucy, Sam watched the throngs of people part. While the actual noise from the crowd was difficult to hear over the poor feed, she thought she heard a roar of excitement start to grow. Eventually it became clear that one lone figure was pushing their way through the crowd towards the steps. ANN found a better angle, zooming in to show a tall, red-haired woman mounting the steps two at a time. Sam's first instinct was that Lucy was in some sort of danger, however this was completely dispelled only seconds later when the two women embraced fiercely. Although Sam couldn't hear what they were saying, she saw the unmistakable track of tears down Lucy's cheeks as the camera focused directly on their faces. She heard another roar of approval as their lips met in a passionate kiss. It was then that Sam realised who the red-haired young woman was. Susannah. A soft sob left her lips – it was born of an odd combination of elation and despair at seeing the reunion. A part of her was overjoyed that Lucy's wife was alive…and yet she felt devastated beyond words.

Sam's shoulders sagged and her fingers darted out toward the interface. With an abrupt movement, she cut off the feed.

{Sam-}

"Just don't EDI…just don't," Sam said quietly.

{Traynor, are you there?}

The voice of Commander Williams pierced her despair and Sam's eyes widened when she realised she was supposed to be on duty. Her comms relief on the watch prior had picked up a distress call from the MSV Steinbeck – a freighter carrying agricultural supplies. Ashley had changed course to intercept. With no further response from the damaged vessel, the Commander was leading a small boarding party.

"I'm here, ma'am," Sam said quickly, mortified by the fact that she had not been paying attention.

{We're about to go in} Ashley continued.

"Aye-aye, comms standing by."

Relieved to have something to do, Sam pushed the images she'd seen to the back of her mind as she directed all of her attention toward the small squad about to board the MSV Steinbeck. In six hours, when her shift ended, then she could curl up in her bunk and have a bloody good cry.

MSV Steinbeck

Docked alongside the sleek SSV Normandy, the battered freighter looked like nothing more than a piece of space trash. Commander Ashley Williams checked the Valkyrie in her hands as the airlock created a vacuum tight seal. She glanced across the tube to her squadmates. Garrus gave her a casual nod while Tali was too preoccupied with running scans on her omni-tool to offer a response. Both appeared relaxed in the apparently effortless pose adopted by soldiers trying to seem nonchalant in the tense wait before the start of yet another mission. Another day in the marine core, Ashley thought as a sudden, urgent hiss indicated that the seal was almost ready. Hoo fucking rah.

{Commander, my sensors are detecting anomalies in the vessel's fusion plant} EDI informed her. Ashley thought she detected a sense of urgency in her otherwise emotionless voice. {They are currently fluctuating within acceptable levels, nevertheless it seems…odd}

Ashley raised an eyebrow at the nuances within the A.I's voice. "EDI, are you trying to tell me that you have a hunch?"

{Affirmative, Commander} EDI replied as though this was not a particularly momentous occurrence. {I will monitor the levels and inform you if they move outside of normal parameters}

"I don't know whether to be proud or nervous," Ashley commented on the A.I's development. She took position in preparation for the airlock to open. She tried to focus on the mission at hand, but she found her mind wandering to the fact that she had not spoken with Miranda in over a week. There was nothing wrong with galactic wide comms, they'd just been too damn busy with their respective lives to find the time to talk. As reluctant as she was to admit it, she missed the ex-Cerberus Operative fiercely. "Right, we're not mucking around here, guys," Ashley said, injecting an element of authority into her tired voice. "We don't have time to delve into what happened on the Steinbeck, our main priority is to find whoever activated that distress signal, and get them the hell off this ship-"

"I could attempt to stabilise the fusion plant," Tali suggested. "It might be easier to search for survivors without the threat of the whole ship going boom hanging over our heads."

Ashley paused and considered her options. "Negative, I'm not splitting the squad. EDI will keep an eye on the levels - one bar out of range and we're getting the hell off the ship. I'm not risking the Normandy for the crew of one freighter."

The green light winked on in the docking tube and Ashley lifted her Valkyrie out of instinct. As soon as the airlock opened, she was struck by a wave of heat carrying with it the odour of death and decay. The smell was so foul it was almost gag-inducing.

"Damn, that is bad," she muttered, pressing her gloved fist to her mouth in an effort to keep some of her breakfast in her stomach.

However when she glanced over her shoulder to confirm that Garrus and Tali were in position behind her, she was annoyed to find that neither displayed such extreme reactions. The environmental controls on Tali's suit were filtering out the noisome stench while the turian's sense of smell was warped at best. Whatever had happened on the MSV Steinbeck, it had kicked up one hell of a stink.

The layout of the small Kowloon class freighter brought back memories from several years earlier. The Normandy SR-1 did not seem to be able to travel more than a few thousand light years without running into some distress beacon or an unidentified hulk floating in space. A small shiver ran down Ashley's spine, more often than not those vessels were crawling with mercs, terrorists or goddamn husks. She could rule live husks out of the equation, but Ashley had to expect the threat of other hostiles. There was something odd about the whole encounter other than the leaking fusion drives - the sudden activation of the distress signal for one. Ashley knew that this region of space was relatively stable in the wake of the War. Pirates and mercs weren't interested because there was very little of value in the system.

"Neither of the life pods have been deployed," Garrus observed as they passed the standard life-saving gear, one on each side of the narrow corridor. "It's possible the crew is still on board."

"Agreed," Ashley said in a tight voice.

"How's your other half doing?" Garrus asked as he picked his way over a pile of fallen kit. He poked at it with the toe of his boot. It was mostly clothing, with a few books and photographs.

Ashley glanced over her shoulder. "Wouldn't know, I haven't spoken to M for over a week," she muttered. She had not intended to sound so bitter about their lack of communication.

"It's understandable," Garrus replied. "When I went through boot we had about six hours downtime each day, and that was supposed to include sleep!"

"You're a turian," Tali added as though that made all the difference.

"Focus on the mission." It wasn't the conversation that Ashley wanted to be having at that point in time. "And Garrus…she's not my other half." I don't know what she is, but 'other half' sounds too fucking possessive. Miranda was definitely not the sort of woman to be possessed by anyone.

With the fetid small still clogging her nostrils, Ashley paused at the first junction of the freighter's transposable compartments, both doors were shut. She signalled to Garrus and Tali to take the door on the right, while she checked the left. At least the whole scenario offered the prospect of kicking down a few doors if nothing else. Ashley paused before planting her boot squarely in the middle of the door. The sound reverberated around the small living module as she surged forward with the Valkyrie jammed hard against her shoulder.

"Clear!" Garrus' shout barely registered as Ashley froze in place, the muzzle of her Valkyrie falling. "Oh my god," the whisper seemed to tremble from her lips.

Before Ashley could react in any other way, the food that had rebelled in her stomach at the first hint of the air inside the Steinbeck suddenly came up. Ashley pitched forward as the runny, powdered eggs and toast that she had not enjoyed eating in the first place were violently expelled from her stomach. She remained doubled over, dry-heaving several times before she could bring herself under control.

"Ash-" Tali's concerned cry was cut short when she pulled up behind the Commander. "Keelah!"

"Shit," was Garrus' succinct observation. However that one small word conveyed as much horror as Ashley's explosive gastrotechnics. He reached out a hand to place it gently on her back as Tali hesitantly moved forward. "Ash…are you okay?"

The gobs of pale, regurgitated food plastered on the deck in front of her were all Ashley was aware of for several moments. When she realised exactly what had happened, she straightened quickly and responded with a curt nod in Garrus' direction. She forced herself to join Tali in studying the body strung up at the front of the compartment.

"Human, female, approximately twenty-two years old," Tali said in a breathless voice. "Cause of death…" Her voice faded. It was all too obvious what the cause of death had been – no further explanation was needed. "Time of death, forty-eight hours ago."

The young woman had been strung up by her wrists from a hook in the ceiling and eviscerated. The floor at their feet was covered in dried blood which had drained from her body. Ashley drew her attention away from the wounds and studied her face. Her expression in death spoke volumes where she could not. Her eyes were still open, still staring at the monster that had did this to her, her teeth were peeled back from her lips as though she was still trying to scream. No…death had not come quickly.

"We search the rest of the ship," Ashley ordered in a hollow voice. You vomited, Williams, she thought in disgust. You're a damn Alliance marine and you vomited at the sight of a dead body. "Weapons at the ready, whoever or whatever did this could still be on board."

A part of her already knew that the young woman was not alone. Records showed that the freighter had carried a crew of twelve. The Normandy squad found all twelve butchered in a similar fashion to the first. Is this what our civilisation has descended to? the marine asked herself as she made her way out of another compartment. Although Ashley knew that this was so far an isolated case, she could not help but believe that such savagery was all too easy to perpetuate. The Alliance and their allies were spread too thin, with too many preoccupations to worry about the disappearance of a small freighter carrying agricultural supplies.

"Normandy, this is Commander Williams. There are no survivors, we are en route back to the ship." Then I'm going to blow this piece of hell sky high.

"Hey, Ash," Garrus had reached the cockpit first. "You might want to take a look at this first."

The Steinbeck's Captain was still strapped into his chair. However most of his blood was plastered across the window in front of him. It took several seconds to realise that the splatters actually spelt out a message.

"Vengeance for the 300,000," Ashley read the crudely written words.

"What does that mean?" Tali asked quietly. The young quarian had carried out her duties in a subdued manner, much as had all three of them. She had said very little throughout. As Ashley and Garrus stared at the message, she dumped the ship's logs into her omni-tool. "I don't understand how we picked up possible life signs. All of the crew are accounted for…and they're all dead," she ruminated sadly.

Ashley shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. There was a foul, acidic taste in her mouth and she badly needed a drink. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here."

All three of them were on their way out of the ship when Ashley caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. The shadow darted behind some crates in the main cargo hanger and was gone. As Garrus and Tali pushed ahead, she lingered for a moment.

{Commander Williams, the activity within the vessel's fusion plant has increased by twenty percent over the last five seconds} EDI informed her suddenly {The best course of action would be to vacate the ship immediately}

"Understood. Garrus, Tali, back to the airlock," Ashley ordered. "I'm right behind you."

Neither of her squadmates appreciated that she was lingering on the off chance that she had not been seeing things. She kept her Valkyrie pressed lightly against her shoulder as she advanced through the maze of supply crates.

"Is anyone there?" Ashley felt ridiculous even asking. The crew are dead. Are you going to risk your life for what is probably the ship's cat or a fucking pyjak?"

Nevertheless, something compelled her to push forward. At this point the footsteps of both her squadmates had faded from earshot. All she could hear over the blood pounding between her ears was the insistent tone of EDI's warnings as the fusion plant further destabilised. There was another flash, although this time Ashley caught the distance shape of small human limbs and the flow of long, blonde hair. God no, a kid!

"Hey!" Ashley yelled desperately. She broke into a run as she darted through the crates. The young girl eventually disappeared into a narrow gap between a stack of supplies and the ship's bulkhead. No doubt she was terrified of the strangers with guns. Ashley slid to her knees in front of the gap and caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes wide with fright. "My name is Commander Williams," she said in a gentle voice fraught with strain. "I'm a soldier here to help. Please come with me?" Ashley pleaded desperately, but there was no movement from the child. She peered into the shadows and tried to keep her expression and her voice calm. "You've got to come out, sweetie."

When she received no response whatsoever, she began struggling to push the crates away from the bulkhead so she could reach in and drag the kid out.

{Commander, the reactions within the Steinbeck's propulsion systems have reached critical levels. According to my calculations, the structural casing will lose integrity within two point five minutes. If the Normandy is caught in the explosion-}

"Godammit, you don't need to tell me, EDI!" Ashley snapped, straining against the crates. Even with pushing herself to point where she could feel the veins throbbing at her temples, Ashley know she didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of shifting the crates. Make a choice, Williams or you're going to die here and take the entire Normandy with you…

"Garrus, Tali, get yourselves back on board the Normandy," Ashley hissed through gritted teeth.

{We're coming back-}

"Belay that, soldier! Get off the ship, that's a goddamn order!" Ashley yelled. "I'll use one of the pods." It was a terrible plan, but it was the best she could come up with in the circumstances. "Fuck…move goddammit or I'll see that both of you are court-martialled for disobeyed a direct order!"

Then suddenly the crate was moving. With a slight screech of protest created by the friction between the crates and the deck, the weight finally started to shift. As soon as the gap was wide enough, Ashley held up her fist to call a halt on their efforts. She hunkered down at the opening so she could reach inside and drag the kid out.

Ashley's blood went cold when she saw the little girl's mouth open and teeth bared. Her small shoulders were shaking in a strange, jerky motion. Feeling as though she was going to vomit again, Ashley knew that the kid was laughing at her. It was only then that she noticed that the girl's skin was an odd shade of green, her eyes were cold and lifeless. Ashley saw the unmistakable flicker of light beneath her skin and realised that it was not a kid at all, it was a goddamn V.I. The fake girl continued to laugh at her even as she scrambled backwards.

"Fuck," Ashley whispered. I've screwed up, M, she thought with the sickening realisation that she had run out of time.

She hauled herself to her feet only for a sudden wall of flame and heat to strike her from the side. With a grunt, Ashley was thrown clear across the compartment. Her helmet struck the side of a crate with a sickening crunch and her limp body crashed to the deck.

London, Earth

Black grime covered the handkerchief when David Codrington finished wiping the sweat off his forehead. He debated as to whether he should throw away what was now essentially a scrap of rag. However he paused when he ran his thumb over his initials stitched into the bottom corner. Amanda had always said he could never hold onto a handkerchief for more than a week due to his propensity to lose them. This one he'd carried with him for the past seven months – throughout the hell of war and what followed. In all truth, rebuilding was only a few steps removed from hell. The work was both backbreaking and heart-breaking, but nothing was shooting at him and he knew what he was doing. His sense of pride in his work was all that kept him going. Amanda and the kids…they were long gone. Codrington gently folded the handkerchief and tucked it back into the pocket of his overalls.

He stepped out of the harsh sun and into the welcome shade offered by the marquee they were using as their base of operations. He frowned when he saw an unfamiliar face standing next to his second in charge, Hardy. The stranger wore an Alliance uniform. Codrington was hardly surprised that the military were keeping tabs on their operation. After all, they were dealing with water – one of the most precious commodities around.

"Dave, mate," Hardy called him over. "This here's Cap'n Prowse. Come to keep tabs on us lot he has."

"I wouldn't say 'keep tabs' as such," Prowse protested. "More like a progress report. I don't need to remind you gentlemen of the importance of restoring water to central London. The supply from the north is sporadic and demand far exceeds supply."

Codrington waved the Alliance man over to the large table set up in the middle of the marquee. "As you're no doubt aware, most of London's reservoirs were taken out during the initial attack due to their proximity to Heathrow. The entire area was smashed. However we've got the underground supply at Honor Oak intact. Repairs to the pumping stations here…and here are nearing completion. Our one hold up is the piping running through this area, here."

"See, our first thought was to go round it like," Hardy chimed in. "But we don't got the raw materials or the lads to do the work."

Codrington nodded in agreement. "Which means carving straight through. Unfortunately that area was severely damaged and it's been tough going."

All three men were suddenly interrupted by an urgent shout from outside the marquee. Codrington turned in time to see one of his grunts brush beneath the flap. "Dave, we've got a problem down in the new pump-out shaft…a blockage. Cooke's hurt, but not too bad."

He frowned. "Can't you sort it out, Durham?"

The man stubbornly shook his head. "I ain't sorting this out…it's…well, you need to see it for yourself."

Fuck, just what I need at the same time that the bloody Alliance is here, Codrington thought. He grabbed his helmet and turned to Hardy. "Come on, Hardy. Captain Prowse, sir, we've got a brew going on the stove. Make yourself comfortable."

Codrington would have given his right arm for the sort of kit and machinery he'd had at his disposal before the war. However they had only a decades old tunnel boring machine and the sheer willpower of the men and women in his teams. It was a relief to descend into the depths of the tunnel, out of the heat. It wasn't necessary to switch on the lamp on his helmet as a series of lamps were strung up along the side of the tunnel.

He and Hardy followed Durham down the gentle slope of shaft D. The tunnel borer was halted up ahead and a small knot of people were clustered behind it. Cook was on the ground, her back pressed up against the side of the tunnel.

"Alright, Cooke?" Codrington asked.

"Fine, Dave." His crewmember nodded with a grimace. "Rex told me not to touch it but trust me not to listen. The damn thing burned straight through my glove. Hurts like hell but it's just skin."

One of their trained medics was tending to her hand, but he caught more than a glimpse of the blackened flesh. As his gang parted to allow him through, Codrington saw their rather ashen faces. His first instinct that it was a pit of bodies, as they'd come across while digging over in Battersea, but he did not understand Cooke's injured hand.

He rounded the bulky boring machine and his own face paled slightly. Slightly off to the left of the shaft was something other than the usual rock and mud, it was a barrier of sorts. Slightly blue and opaque, it appeared to be spherical in shape. However much of it was still buried in the tunnel debris. On a hunch, he turned to look at the piece of machinery behind him. Where the boring platform had come into contact with the barrier, it had been seared clean off.

"Christ! Don't touch it!" Hardy snapped when he saw that Codrington was approaching it cautiously.

"Didn't cross my mind." Codrington had seen what the barrier could do to flesh. He had absolutely no desire to touch it. However his eyes narrowed with strain as he thought he could make out some sort of mass lying within the sphere. "Hardy, start telling the guys to clear the hell out of here…it looks like some sort of weapon-"

Codrington's command faltered when the barrier suddenly came down, leaving a perfect indent of half a sphere in the debris around it. A limp shape tumbled downwards. Without thinking, Codrington surged forward instead of back. He extended his arms in time to catch the frail body of a young woman.

"Fuck," he whispered. "What the fuck is this?"

Although a part of him was screaming inside to be allowed to get the hell out of the tunnel, something about the body he cradled gave him a measure of reassurance. With his hand shaking uncontrollably he gently reached out and brushed a length of long dark hair away from her face. Her eyes were closed in the midst of an ashen face, eyelashes dark against pale cheeks. Even her lips were almost colourless. Codrington thought with an ache that she was dead, until her body twitched. He then noticed the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest. Without wanting to move her, he searched for any sign of wounds. The pale skin stretched across almost emaciated limbs was perfectly unblemished save for an odd crystalline growth covering her lower left arm. When he gingerly reached out to touch it, he found it to be icy cold.

"Bloody 'ell, Dave, the lass is starkers," Hardy whispered above him.

Codrington glanced up at the other man. "I think the real question is what the hell is she doing in my tunnel?"

Hardy hunkered down beside him. His sharp eyes picked out the gleam of metal around her neck. Gingerly he reached for the narrow chain. A gentle clink of metal of metal sounded as he drew it toward him. Both men's eyes widened when they eventually saw a pair of dog tags. Although her body was unmarked, the tags were blackened and covered in grime. Hardy carefully scratched at the embossed lettering with his thumbnail. Codrington looked up sharply when he heard a sharp intake of breath between the man's teeth.

"Jesus H. Christ," Hardy whispered as he cradled the battered tags almost reverently in his grubby fist. "It's Commander bleedin' Shepard."

FIN

Well, it feels distinctly odd to write this, but that's the end of Catalyst of Fate.

I'd like to extend most humble and grateful thanks to everyone who has managed to put up with my version of the ME-verse long enough to read the whole damn thing. To those who have offered encouragement along the way, you all rock. I'm not sure what you're going to take away from it, but for me it's been a hell of a ride. I loved the characters after playing the games, but writing CoF has further enhanced my appreciation for this universe and made me fall head over heels in love with my crazy little family. If you've managed to reach the end, do drop me a line and let me know what you thought of my manic ravings.

If you haven't had enough, then check out the sequel – Architect of Fate.