Captain Shepard stood at the feet of the out stretched forms of Major Kirrahe, Dianna Allers, and a few more salarians.
“These are the ones that will pull through,” Doctor Chakwas assured him. Shepard nodded.
Kirrahe’s entire torso was encased in a medical wrap that also included a right shoulder that now extended only to a stump halfway down what was left of the officer’s bicep. The salarian rested fitfully. Allers was similarly wrapped, but had managed to keep all of her limbs and was drifting in and out of consciousness. The other salarians each had their own injuries that were not life threatening, but equally incapacitating. Had they been in a proper medical facility, they would have been ready and preparing for the coming battle. In the present circumstances, however, they would be consigned to handling logistics and communications between the teams being assembled to retake Sur’Kesh as they healed at a slower pace.
“These won’t be so lucky,” Chakwas whispered, motioning to a handful of Kirrahe’s other men in a separate section of the deserted salarian home the Normandy’s crew was presently camped out in.
Shepard frowned seeing the toll of the washed out battle from days ago. “It could’ve been worse,” he said, finding the silver lining. “We still have a viable command force and, with the freed prisoners from that large concentration camp in Talat, a small army to command,” he thought out loud. All he needed to do now was contact Joker and see if he, EDI, and Tinman’s team were ready. Then it would take one quick call to the coalition fleet and the battle for Sur’Kesh would begin.
“And now for you, Captain,” Chakwas said.
“What? I’m fine, doc.”
“You always say so, don’t you, Shepard? You were imprisoned for two days, most of which you say you were unconscious, and then tortured with an unknown device. Given the differing levels of medical expertise in this conversation, I’m going to lean toward advice from the actual medical expert,” the doctor said.
“And that would be . . .?” Shepard joked.
The senior doctor shook her head and rolled her eyes as she raised her omni-tool arm and ran the diagnostic program.
“The doctor’s concern is warranted, Shepard, but you may assure her that I have detected no ill effects to your body’s systems,” said a Prothean voice.
“Good to know, Vendetta,” Shepard replied in thought before looking at the doctor and tapping at his head. “My Prothean hitchhiker says I’m fine, too, doc.”
“Does he now? Is he the medical expert suddenly?” she questioned.
“You may tell your Doctor Chakwas that I have stored the readings from when she last gave you a clean bill of health, as you say, and have compared that to what your current biological readings are and have found all to be within tolerance levels.”
“Not that THAT isn’t good to know, but I don’t know if she’s going to take my word that I’m taking your word for that. It’d be more helpful if you could tell her yourself.”
“Which is not possible at this time. However, that is a separate issue I would like to address with you, Captain,” the VI said.
“It will have to wait for a minute, Vendetta. Let Chakwas do her thing first. It’ll be quicker than convincing her of your . . . qualifications,” the captain said, absently wondering about the program’s choice of wording in using ‘like.’
Done with the voice in his head for the moment, Shepard opened his arms to the doctor. “So, how am I, Doc?”
“One moment, Captain,” she answered. A short while and a healthy report later, Shepard headed for the hastily constructed communications room that Miranda, Liara, and Honwol were putting together.
“Shepard,” Vendetta said.
“Go ahead, Vendetta.”
“The collector that questioned you . . . he was altered.”
“To put it mildly.”
“I believe he may hold a clue to technology sufficiently advanced enough to extract this consciousness from you’re body.”
Shepard stopped in his tracks. “I’m listening.”
“For a collector to have survived the Crucible’s effects, every piece of Reaper technology would have been required to be removed.”
“And something would have needed to take its place.”
“So some other tech as advanced as what the Reapers used?”
“At least as advanced. Or possibly live organs were reintroduced through an advanced science along another path.”
“Okay, so this collector stumbled onto an advanced . . . what? Some advanced science lab and then un-Reaperized himself?”
“Data is not sufficient for a conclusive answer, but the indoctrinated would not make that decision on their own.”
“So someone or something did this to him.”
“I believe so.”
“Any competent doctor can clone body parts or even an entire body. That doesn’t really seem that impressive and doesn’t explain how to get you out of me.”
“No on the surface, no, but consider this collector’s actions and words. He is no longer indoctrinated. He has his own mind again. A mind he, in all likely hood, never actually had in the first place.”
“An implanted consciousness?” Shepard questioned the Prothean intelligence.
“It appears so. One that was transferred from some other location, technical or biological would just be a matter of adapting a process for one type of electrical input versus another.”
“So the point of all this theory is . . . that we have to track this guy down and get those answers.”
“Yes. You are surprisingly adept at forming conclusions, Shepard.”
“Thanks,” Shepard said dryly.
“For a human,” Vendetta added.
Shepard ignored the comment and resumed his path to the communications setup where he found Miranda, Liara and Honwol, as expected, working to put the finishing touches on a radio that would allow a secure link to the Normandy, among other communications. The Alliance ship’s systems would act as a signal relay, from that point, for the ground teams.
“How’s it coming?” he asked.
Miranda looked up with a smile, moving a fallen strand of hair from in front of her face. Liara turned to him as well with a smile, though it did not hold the soft warmth as Miranda’s did. The salarian agent of the Shadow Broker did not look up, continuing to work, unknowingly, next to his boss.
“Just about ready, Shepard,” Liara confirmed. “As soon as our new friend, Honwol here, finishes tying the power into the array, we can contact Joker.”
“We would not have been delayed by this task if your shuttle had not been captured by the enemy, Captain Shepard,” Honwol said in a disapproving tone.
“We couldn’t have known the yahg would be so . . . thorough in their retracing of our path after the battle,” Liara countered.
“Indeed, they DO seem to be much more intelligent than anyone assumed,” Honwol conceded. He then leaned in, whispering conspiratorially,”I have sometimes wondered if my employer was such a creature. I’ve done research, read reports, a few history lessons, and the bits and pieces of information I’ve put together . . . just between you and me, I think the Shadow Broker is a yahg. And even he may be a mere puppet under someone else’s direction. A smart puppet in his own right, but still a puppet of a master with a much larger plan.”
Liara’s expression masked the inner terror she felt at the agent’s resourcefulness. She made a mental note to keep better tabs on his activities while she played the conversation out. “Aren’t you taking a bit of a risk sharing that with us?” she asked. “How do you know we aren’t agents of the Shadow Broker ourselves, willing to report you? And what master would the Shadow Broker have?”
Honwol studied her, Miranda, and Shepard with a serious face that held only a few seconds before he broke into laughter. “Ha ha ha! You have quite the wit, Doctor T’Soni. While I have no doubt the Broker may contact you for information or to try to recruit you when refilling his ranks now that the Reapers are gone, I don’t believe you would join him. As for Miss Lawson and Captain Shepard . . . the Shadow Broker would not want former Cerberus agents nor someone as high profile as the first human Spectre, as useful as he could be.”
Liara feigned indignation. “Why would I turn down someone has powerful as the Shadow Broker if he were to recruit me?”
Honwol shook his head. “Doctor T’Soni, while you no doubt have the intelligence he seeks, you are too kind a person to carry out the Broker’s . . . less reputable dealings. I believe your conscience would be tangled with eternal conflict.”
“Hmmm . . . I see your point, Honwol. Thank you for the advice.”
“Not a problem, Doctor,” he said, closing an electrical panel. “As to who is directing the Broker’s actions . . . that is something I have run into a wall on. Only reports of a strange ship in conjunction with very coincidentally timed actions of the Broker are all I have. They have trailed off lately, but that would make sense with the Reapers, and now the yahg, bringing war,” the salarian said. He flipped a switch on the rigged up communications equipment and it hummed to life. “That should do it. Now if you all will excuse me, I will test this out by checking in with said employer as I am overdue after helping with the escape of my fellow salarian prisoners.”
“Of course,” Miranda said. “Shepard, whenever you’re ready.”
Shepard nodded as Honwol slid past him through the doorway to go place his call in private. Once he was out of earshot, the marine waved Liara over to him. “And how exactly does that work out?” he asked, throwing his head in Honwol’s direction.
“Glyph takes my calls when I am not around. He has very good improvisational programming if needed, but many of the contacts the agents make are handled through automation already. Though I probably should send a command to Glyph for the next time Honwol contacts the Broker when I am around to give the illusion that he is speaking live to the Broker when I am within his sight. He is dangerously intelligent, but arrogantly confident. He could cause trouble in more ways than one with those traits.”
“Just don’t get yourself in trouble, Liara,” the captain said.
“Thanks for caring, Shepard.”
“Would I ever not?” he asked.
Liara smiled up at him. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
Shepard smiled back and then held up a finger to his communicator. “Joker. It’s Shepard. You there?”
“Goddamn it’s good to hear your voice, sir! We were getting a little worried when we tracked the shuttle’s signal to the center of Talat. Tried to reach you on the secure channel relayed through it, but that went dead pretty quick. We couldn’t get through the yahg jamming after that. I take it things didn’t go as planned?”
“You know me too well, Joker.”
“That I do, Captain. What’s the situation down there?”
“After a few surprises and delays, the mission is still a go. We lost a few people, but we can manage with who we have.”
There was a moment of silence and then Shepard heard a bit of commotion of the link. “. . . said I’ll ask him. Hey! Don’t make me sick EDI on you!”
“Traynor?” Shepard asked.
“No, it was Tinman,” Joker shot back sarcastically. “He’s asking why you let his best friend get captured. He’s really tight with that Kodiak.”
“Ha ha,” Shepard deadpanned.
“Yeah. Traynor. She’s been foaming at the mouth ever since she found out Allers was gone . . . she’s not, um-“
“No. She’s alive, but not for lack of trying. It’s a damned good thing I brought Chakwas down with us, otherwise the news wouldn’t have been good. Yahg opened her up across the chest. Broken ribs, punctured lung. Good thing she’s got two. Missed the heart by millimeters. And Traynor doesn’t need to know that right now. Only that Allers is fine.”
“Shit! I mean: understood. . . no, she’s fine, Traynor. Bumps and bruises. Salarians took the worst of it,” Joker told the communication specialist, not even checking to verify that. “Is that about it, Captain?” he asked, coming back to the conversation.
“Yeah, and good guess. Kirrahe lost an arm but is alive, a handful of his men dead or soon will be and a couple others injured but able to do light work. You guys ready on your end?”
“You bet. Just give us the targets and when the fleet jumps in, these bastards won’t know what hit them.”
“Copy that. Wait for my word. It should be within the day. We need to organize our new army down here and then we’ll be ready for our three prong attack.”
“Roger, Captain. Normandy out.”
Shepard ended the link and found Miranda watching him and waiting. “Well?” she asked. “Everything still good up there?”
He nodded. “Sounds like it.”
“So they’re just waiting for us to do our part down here, huh?”
“Same as always,” Shepard said with a smile. “So let’s go get it done, Miss Lawson.”
“Right behind you, Captain Shepard.”
* * * *
“. . . and so this collector is in control of the yahg?” Anderson asked Caretaker.
“That is correct, Admiral. This unit . . . I was deceived even though I had my suspicions. Given my programming, my mission, and the damage dealt to me by the Rialusan herald, there was little I could do.”
“Understood. Now that we’ve repaired your communications array, where do we go from here?”
“I thank you for that assistance, Admiral. In return, as promised, you will be given those communication designs. This technology, once implemented, will allow you to contact your allies and arrange for pick up.”
“Any other help you can provide?” Jacob asked Caretaker, staring down the yellow hologram still bearing Shepard’s likeness.
The hologram shook its head. “You are asking about further technological advances. At the present, I cannot, but-“
“But?” Nahlyon interjected.
“-but I am still uploading my logs to my counter-parts in the other galaxies and receiving theirs. I wish to confirm the Rialusans’ defeat in all known locations before moving forward.”
“Other galaxies?” Sooltir questioned. “We never considered that the Reapers were in other galaxies . . . I guess we didn’t have the time to worry about that.”
“Indeed,” Caretaker said. “The Prothean empire, as widespread as it was, only dominated this galaxy, one of many. The current cycle’s rules for leaving deactivated mass relays alone, similarly, has left you isolated from many other species who have suffered at the hands of the Rialusans as you have. What’s more, had you merely defeated the threat on this front with conventional means in this galaxy, it would have bought you little reprieve. As the other species in the other galaxies fell, those dormant relays would have been activated and the Rialusan forces in those galaxies would have been diverted here. Maintaining control of the structure you call the Citadel was a key advantage and prevented an even larger immediate force from invading as this galaxy was deemed the highest of threats.”
“And rightfully so, it would seem,” Kahlee Sanders mused.
“Yes, so it would appear . . . communication complete. All galaxies accounted for.”
The team held a collective breath.
“No Rialusans- no Reapers- remain alive. In every galaxy they have been destroyed, though the losses in many of those galaxies were much higher than in this one. While the death count was extremely high, the species that survived will all return to sustainable population growth, largely due to the actions of one human.”
“Shepard,” Anderson stated without question.
Caretaker nodded. “The other galaxies had no such force to rally them and no help from previous cycle species as this galaxy has received from the Protheans, the Inusannon, and others.” Caretaker paused, its countenance hardening in sorrow. “There are far fewer species in existence in the other galaxies, now.”
There was another moment of silence as everyone thought of those they knew that had been taken by the Reapers.
“So what does this confirmation mean?” Brynn Cole asked.
“It means that my primary mission has been completed. Secondary missions have been activated.”
“Secondary missions?” Anderson asked. “What secondary missions?”
“Your original human ship that detected my signal twenty years ago noted many large objects that then retreated. This was due to the sabotage of the Rialusan herald.”
“Yes, I was wondering what those were, where they went,” Kasumi said, her interest evident in her voice.
“Station Slenthix is part of a group of stations with one defensive ship capable of escorting the stations through what you might call . . . extreme FTL. It was merely the outlier of the stations that you reached. One of many duplicate facilities that house what the Rialusans believed they had themselves sought to save in a less than ideal fashion.”
“All of the lost civilizations that the Reapers destroyed?” Nahlyon asked. “You have them?”
“We do not have them all. But we have a great many. Every species is unique, worth preserving.”
“And your plan for them is what, exactly?” Anderson wanted to know.
Caretaker was silent a moment. “That is under debate. My fellow caretaker programs are unsure, as am I, as to the answer of that question. We will consult our creators, if possible. They have been slow to react for a very long time. We caretaker units have even wondered if we are merely communicating with an even more advanced AI left behind to answer us. Whatever the case, what we have decided on, until the creators answer our message, is that they cannot be returned to their original home worlds in their original systems.”
“Why not?” Kasumi asked.
“If for no other reason than many of their planets are no longer capable of supporting life. Some have been destroyed. Others are now home worlds or colonies to this cycle’s species. Displacing them in exchange for the species that once owned those worlds would be no different than what the Rialusans have done to these species. We have decided that we shall take them to a safe location that cannot be found until such time as we or the creators have found an appropriate solution.”
“And what of your stations themselves or the ships docked here?” Kahlee asked.
Caretaker turned to her and said,”The stations are ours and cannot be left to be exploited by any species. The ships do not belong to us so it has been deemed within guidelines to leave them to you, but without our aid in understanding.”
“So that other ship out there isn’t your defensive ship?” Anderson asked.
“No, it is far too inferior to be of any use in that regard,” Caretaker answered.
“That’s all well and good,” Jacob started,”but your station, your technology has already been exploited by this collector controlling the yahg. What are we supposed to do about that?”
“You are already doing something about that Jacob Taylor, however, the distinct advantages the Rialusan herald gained have been noted and concessions have been deemed within post-Rialusan guidelines.”
“We cannot give you technology which you are unable to fully comprehend or safely use, but given your current research areas, our predictive algorithms prove you will reach certain conclusions inevitably. Those conclusions we can help you reach on a much shorter timetable if only to offset what the herald has gained access to. We have already traded our rudimentary communications designs in exchange for your help in repairing our communication link. We have, in fact, used that to activate our other physical units which are modifying your shuttle’s communication systems with this upgrade as we speak. There are only two other areas we can provide aid in.”
“What areas of research are we talking about?” Sooltir asked, the scientist in her demanding the question be asked.
“Master Sooltir Gelten, you will be most pleased. Your particular research, that which the Inusannon also wished to gain aid in but were denied during their failing cycle, is one.”
“Your civilizations often reference it, primitively, as singularity transit.”
“Say what?” Jacob asked.
“I believe the simplistic notion your people use is-“
“Wormholes,” Brynn spouted excitedly.
Caretaker continued. “You will find that the Inusannon vessel has much information to aid you with that, so the remaining locks we retained on that craft, as well as on the other, have been lifted. In addition, you will find a single equation now solved that had been left unfinished in their files. You will have to connect the two sets of data, yours and theirs, but it should take you little time to do that, where as the equation itself would have taken you a few decades. Given the advantages of the herald, the one you know of as a collector, this will prove to be a military advantage once solved.”
“And the other,” Anderson asked, feeling the time dragging, imaging the battle with the yahg on Sur’Kesh wearing on without them.
“Your phenomenon, Captain Shepard, holds a second consciousness within his mind.”
“He does,” Sooltir confirmed. “The VI created by Master Paskek Vran.”
“You already know that it is not a simple VI, Master Gelten,” Caretaker said.
“I had my suspicions that it was a full AI.”
“It is even more than that. It is a hybrid artificial intelligence and actual consciousness. Your Master Vran merged his own mind with his adaptive artificial intelligence. We will provide the means of extracting that hybrid consciousness from the captain and your allied geth will doubtlessly be able to provide an artificial body to which it can be transferred until such time as resources can be pooled to grow a new physical body for him, should he desire it. It will also help the ones you call the virtual aliens, as my records indicate an impasse in those developments.”
“Something like that . . . if they’re still safe,” the admiral tacked on.
“My indications are that their ship is still functional. It was well hidden by your Council. They are a very clever species we were unable to act to preserve, ourselves, as they were a species whose end was one of this cycle’s that was not brought about by Rialusan activity.”
“The what?” Jacob asked.
“Long story,” Anderson said. “Classified by the Council.”
“Amazing,” an astonished Sooltir whispered.
“Yes, and with that, I must say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Kahlee asked.
“Yes. I can offer nothing else, and my newly restored communication capability has brought reports showing your team is needed elsewhere. Things have not gone as your coalition planned and your attention must turn to that. For my part, I must now fully activate Station Slenthix and the rest of my facilities to carry out the secondary missions I am charged with.”
Caretaker turned once more to Admiral Anderson and his yellow image changed into a much taller form, an alien that he and his team marveled at. It’s body and face imparted the sense of a species both dominate and compassionate, at ease under any circumstance, be it the pursuit of knowledge or engaged in war. “I leave you with a warning, Admiral David Anderson: there are many species that claim to be the first and are powerful in their own right, but any claim to being the best among all is as arrogant, deceitful, and blind as they are impressive. Those that seek to instill a belief that they are to be treated as your gods, are less than you. Those that seek to rule through might shall fall to it. Even my creators, old as they are, mighty as they might be, do not know all, do not claim first-born, do not strike unless stricken, and know that many layers of the universe are yet unexplored by our kind. Do not search for us. We do not wish to be found. We may come to you some day, when you are ready, should you survive until that day.”
“What do your predictive algorithms say about that?”
“They . . . are inconclusive. I . . . am hopeful.”
Caretaker vanished in a flash and the team found themselves back aboard their shuttle.
Anderson took in the situation with an instant,”How in the hell?”
“Incredible,” Brynn said in a muted voice.
“Status?” David requested.
Kahlee sat down at the controls and accessed the ship’s sensors. “The shuttle is at one hundred percent, but. . . David . . .,” she whispered.
He came closer to her. “What is it, Kahlee?”
“The signal is gone,” she answered and then ran another scan as a thought occurred to her. “Check that: the entire station is gone.”
“Just like that,” he stated, less than shocked.
“And the Inusannon and other alien ship?”
“Still there. Just sitting.”
“Okay, we’ll get to those as soon as we can. First, let’s see if Caretaker’s comm system works. Cole, get a hold of Admiral Hackett.”
“On it,” Brynn said from the co-pilot seat. Her face contorted in frustration after only a few seconds. “I think- I think we’re being jammed,” she finally said.
“What?” Anderson asked. “Damn it! Pull up long range sensors! Is that ship back?”
“Negative, Admiral. It looks like inbound messages to Earth are being blocked. Not sure how this system works, but I can see ships, stations, and even ground bases in nearly every other system . . . I guess where we still have them. Nothing out of the Sol system, though.”
“‘Not according to plan’ barely covers it,” Anderson commented on Caretaker’s previous remark. “Tell me, can you see the Normandy?”
“Checking. Yes, sir.”
* * * *
“Go ahead, Captain.”
“We’re in position down here. What about you?”
“Targets are locked. Waiting on your signal.”
“Then go. Now. And as soon as the relay is clear, send the signal to the fleet. Can’t afford to tip our hand, so hopefully the fleet has been holding through all our delays.”
“No shit, Captain. Tinman and crew are on their way. You’ve got three minutes and counting.”
“You guys are clear, right? I don’t want any of those clouds kicking up in a few minutes to be one of your teams.”
“We’re good, Joker. Moving out in ninety seconds.”
* * * *
Shepard silenced his radio contact with the Normandy and looked at the virtual watch on his omni-tool. The seconds ticked by at a painfully slow pace and the Spectre found himself holding his breath. A minute and half later, he signaled his team to move forward. They swept out in a spread formation from their hidden position at the edge of a tree line only a short sprint away from the perimeter of a minor shipyard. The area was dominated by small cruisers, frigates and fighter craft from the yahg fleet, but the base’s contingent of salarian ships still sat off to one side.
“James: Rocket launcher on those fueling tanks!” Shepard ordered, pointing out a central station surrounded by a contingent of the larger ships. “Javik: Grenade on that squad! The rest of you, pick your targets and let’s take this air field! And remember: keep the salarian ships safe!” Jack, Vega, Liara, Wrex, and Miranda followed Shepard as he initiated the attack. An incinerating blast, launched from his omni-tool, seared into the face of a yahg battalion leader just turning to see what had tripped the proximity alarms. The alien warrior fell to his knees with an anguished wail, clawing at the flames melting the flesh off his face. His soldiers scattered, some diving for cover, some running headlong into a hail of gunfire. The others returned fire in an uncoordinated attack.
“Just like the files say: pack mentality,” Shepard realized. “And every pack needs an alpha wolf,” he thought. He switched on the secured link to his team. “Take out their commanders first!” The Normandy crew acknowledged the directive and the yahg forces were soon a sad, chaotic mess of unchecked defenders.
Shepard ducked behind a power generator and connected to the other team leaders who were conducting simultaneous attacks on other such facilities across Sur’Kesh. “Get ready for it,” he broadcast. They replied in the affirmative and Shepard switched to Joker’s channel. “Status?”
* * * *
“Got ’em just where we want ’em, Captain,” Joker replied, a delighted grin on his face. His hand flew rapidly from control to control, panel to panel, at the Normandy’s helm, piloting the warship around yahg ships and firing bursts of energy that exploded at calculated distances to overwhelm the enemies’ sensors. “Tinman. Confirm.”
“Confirmed, Joker. Ordinance has remained undetected. Impact in three seconds. Targets cannot counter. Suggest pulling back to safe distance,” the geth prime responded.
“Acknowledged. You get that, Shepard?”
“Copy that, Joker.”
The Normandy broke off the attack and as the blinding barrage cleared, it was instantly replaced by a massive field of asteroids guided by a sphere shaped eezo field formed by three rocket propelled generators. Guarding this collection of devices was Tinman. His geth compatriots directed separate swarms towards the larger targets on Sur’Kesh.
Tinman joined the Normandy in retreating to a safe distance as the generators switched off, unleashing a hurtling wall of rock that smashed into an unprepared yahg fleet of capital ships. The salvo, extracted by the geth’s quick work in the Pranas system’s asteroid belt, bombarded the yahg armada, ripping the dangerous ships apart in a multi-explosion display that lit up the star speckled blackness of space around the system’s mass relay.
“And now just to make sure,” Joker commented, firing a wave of Javelin missiles into the fray. The Normandy’s last battering of munitions finished the job. The final asteroids were reduced to nothing more than dust upon impact with the enemy. Dying yahg ships became nothing more than jagged and twisted fragments of metal, twirling and colliding in the silent vacuum of the universe. Joker radioed to Shepard back on Sur’Kesh. “Target’s destroyed, Captain. The relay is clear of the enemy!”
“Nice work. It did a hell of a lot down here, too. I can see those clouds of destruction you were mentioning for miles. Send the signal to the fleet, Joker. And make it quick! We need to nail what’s left of their fleet before they can get the remaining heavies off the ground to come after us.”
“On it,” the pilot assured his commanding officer. He turned and nodded to EDI who did the same before engaging the QEC comm system.
“Normandy to Coalition fleet, this is Joker-“
“Jeff!” EDI cut him off abruptly.
“EDI, we need to contact-“
“What?” Joker cried.
“The signal to the Sol system is being blocked!”
* * * *
Shepard listened to the exchange between Joker and EDI play out, still linked in over his direct channel to the Normandy. A sick feeling grew heavy in the pit of his stomach and his head dropped to his chest.
“Son of bitch!”