Grunt heard the krogan before he saw him. The voice was hoarse, as if its owner had taken an injury to the throat long ago. But it also, incongruously, had a liquid quality as if polished smooth through long use.

"No, no, don't send a batarian to shake down a human," said the voice. Shepard and Grunt walked through the door into the private back room. The voice's owner stood in front of a gaggle of turians and asari. They all sat on couches around the krogan as he held his little court. Some of them looked raptly at the speaker as if he was dispensing the wisdom of the ages. But some also looked bored, as if they'd heard it all before.

"The batarians and humans hate each other too much," continued the krogan. "It turns the whole arrangement from a simple business transaction into a matter of honor. Send a salarian instead. That will keep things nice and civilized." The turian who he was speaking to nodded.

"Are you Patriarch?" asked Shepard.

The krogan turned. Grunt felt a little tingle in his chest. He had seen pictures of Okeer, but somehow the imprinting process had never given him a true sense of what his creator had been like 'in the flesh', as the humans would say. But Patriarch was clearly old and gave off the impression that he had been at war longer than many civilizations. Was this what it was like to stand in front of Okeer? Grunt had never really wanted to know until now.

Patriarch narrowed his eyes. "Who asks? Ah, it's Shepard. I've heard of the Spectre reborn." The krogan then shifted his gaze to Grunt. "And who is this whelp?"

Grunt was already standing straight, but now he felt like he should stand even straighter. "I am Urdnot Grunt," he said.

Patriarch walked slowly around Grunt. "I've heard of the doings of the Urdnot clan. They are ambitious, that is for certain." He sniffed in a large lungful of air. "But you do not smell much of Tuchanka. Who is your Battlemaster?"

Grunt nodded towards his Commander. "Shepard is my Battlemaster. And also of my krantt."

"Well, well," said Patriarch in an amused tone. "The galaxy does keep turning. I've never heard of a human in a krantt. It appears your rite went successfully in spite of such a handicap."

Grunt felt his anger begin to rise. "Handicap? My battlemaster has no equal. My krantt slew the maw."

"Indeed?" Patriarch still sounded amused. He walked back in front of Grunt and looked levelly at him. "I imagine Urdnot Wrex was not pleased. He's been flaunting his killing of a thresher maw for centuries."

Shepard stepped back to give them more space, and a few of the onlookers began to look worried.

"Urdnot Wrex is a great man," said Grunt. He could feel his throat tighten with the beginnings of battle-rage. He pitched his voice lower so that only Patriarch could hear. "He is trying to rebuild Tuchanka, instead of squatting in a bar while dispensing advice to second-rate criminals." Grunt planted his feet and waited for the older krogan to make the first move. Shepard would not want him to start the fight, but Grunt was certainly ready to end it.

Patriarch laughed. "Good! Starting with words instead of just throwing your forehead around. Your battlemaster has taught you well." He clapped Grunt on the shoulder. "You should be proud." He leaned towards Grunt and lowered his voice. "And just between you and me, some of these scum I would classify more as third-rate." He then winked.

Grunt nodded in confusion. He realized it must have been a test on the old krogan's part. Patriarch walked away towards the bar at one end of the room. He waved off the asari behind the bar and poured himself a small drink. The various people who had been listening began to disperse. Some of them looked a little sad that a fight hadn't broken out.

"So, gentlemen. What can I do for you?" asked Patriarch. "Would you care for some asari honey-mead? It's a little sweet for my tastes, but it does have the virtue of being very expensive. And Aria picks up my tab."

"I will try some," said Grunt. "If my battlemaster allows it."

"I'm going to abstain, but sure go ahead," said Shepard. Grunt took a proffered glass from Patriarch and gave it a sip. It was very sweet.

"Why is it so expensive?" asked Grunt. "It does not seem very strong."

"It's only made in a single monastery," replied Patriarch. "By these asari called Ardat-Yakshi. They suffer from some kind of rare genetic disorder. I don't know the details, but they have to be kept in seclusion. Are you sure you wouldn't like some, Shepard?"

"I'm sure," said Shepard. "I've had enough dealings with Ardat-Yakshi for one lifetime. As to why we're here...well, Aria sent us."

"Did she," said Patriarch. "I guess it was too much to ask that she come and see me herself. To tell the truth, I kind of miss the old days when she'd stop by in person to flaunt her control over me. But she sent you instead of her own minions. Why?"

"It's a little complicated," said Shepard. "She's worried about your safety, but she can't appear to be too worried. She also can't be seen giving you direct help."

"Ah, yes. The problems of ruling through fear and intimidation." Patriarch leaned against the bar. "I'm valuable to her as an example, but only if I maintain some semblance of ability. If I just look like some old, broken-down varren, I lose my effectiveness as a warning to others." He tossed the rest of his drink down. "So what is it that threatens my so-called safety?"

"The Blood Pack," said Grunt. "Aria has received word that they plan to strike at you."

That seemed to surprise Patriarch. "As a move against Aria, killing me makes no sense. In principle, it does make her look weaker. But all it would do in practice is bring down retribution on the Blood Pack." He tilted his head absently as he thought. "And I speak from experience when I say that Aria's retribution is not something you want to experience."

"Regardless, we're to escort you to safety," said Shepard. "I've got a ship that should be a good safe haven until the Blood Pack gives up looking for you."

Patriarch smiled with a nasty gleam in his eye. "Perhaps I'd rather not be stowed away like so much embarrassing baggage. Maybe Aria's reputation is no longer of concern to me."

Grunt liked the way this was going. It was much more honorable than hiding. "Yes!" he said with enthusiasm. He saw Shepard give him a little warning shake of the head, but Grunt decided to forge ahead since he'd already spoken. "You are krogan! You should fight!"

Patriarch looked over at Shepard as if commiserating. "I remember my youth. Do you, Shepard? I imagine it's much the same for humans. That time in your life when it seems that all problems can be solved if only you hit them hard enough." He turned to Grunt and shook his head sadly. "I can no longer fight, my young and impetuous friend. You could say that my heart is no longer in it." The old krogan tapped his fist over his chest. He was wearing an open vest, and Grunt saw a large and ugly scar right over where one of his hearts should be.

"Then we shall fight for you!" exclaimed Grunt. "We will be your krantt!"

Shepard winced a little, then regained his neutral expression. "Only if the esteemed Patriarch wishes it, Grunt."

Patriarch, for his part, looked to be seriously considering the idea. "I have to admit, the notion of having a true krantt again is a heady one. But we must consider all of the repercussions." He gave Grunt a little bow. "You will understand, in time. Someday, and may that day never come, you will have everything go wrong on you. And then you will realize the value in thinking things through before acting."

Grunt looked over at Shepard. "What do you wish me to do, battlemaster? I will follow your example."

The Commander looked thoughtful. "Well, Aria told us to only keep you in seclusion. You seem like a decent fellow, Patriarch, but we're doing this for selfish reasons."

"Of course," replied Patriarch. "I would expect no less. So let us consider things. If you do indeed act as my krantt and remove the Blood Pack threat, then the immediate danger is gone. However, Aria will then see me as stronger, and a possible threat to her authority. She would not appreciate that."

Grunt's head hurt. Why did everything have to be so complicated? "So you will not fight," he said. "And if we fight for you, that will not turn out well. And you will not hide." He began picturing the various options in his head. Somehow, he could hear Okeer's ghost yelling at him from somewhere in the back of his head. He knew he was missing something. But what? It would be so much easier if Patriarch truly accepted Aria as his Battlemaster. She must have bested the old krogan in combat, after all. Wait, that might be an option to pursue.

"Unless..." Grunt began, then stopped. Patriarch looked at him curiously. "Unless you fight for Aria," he continued.

Patriarch tilted his head. "As I said, my fighting days are over."

Grunt realized he hadn't been specific enough. "I do not mean fighting physically. You have a long lifetime of experience. You have many who come to you for advice." He waved at the few remaining patrons. "Make Aria one of them. You said it yourself, it makes no sense for the Blood Pack to target you. So find out what they are up to! And then Aria will know your true worth. You can be a valued member of her krantt."

Patriarch gave a short bark of laughter. "Asari do not have krantt, young one. Not everything can be shaped to fit krogan values..." He trailed off. "Although, the thought of being honestly asked for my input does sound appealing."

Shepard smiled. "And if you help us find out why the Blood Pack are gunning for you, then Aria will appreciate that. Yes, I think Grunt's onto something."

Patriarch smacked a fist into his hand. "Excellent. We have a goal. Now we just need a strategy. Shepard, you said something about a ship? I should probably avail myself of it while we plan. After all, I cannot give advice to Aria if I'm dead."

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"Hold still, Jack," said Jacob. "This is not something we can half-ass,"

Jack rolled her eyes. Why she was even in the same room as She-Bitch's boy toy was a mystery. "Yeah, this should definitely be a full-assed thing. So...why am I getting roped into this horseshit?"

Patriarch raised one finger as if he lecturing a classroom. "You have a significant bounty on your head, young Jack. Combined with the Blood Pack's desire for my head, together we should make irresistible bait."

She snorted, and gave Patriarch a sideways glance. They were both sitting on crates on the hangar deck. Jacob was attaching an emergency shield harness to Jack's armor, while Donnelly similarly fussed over Patriarch. The engineer glanced at her over the old krogan's shoulder. Donnelly put on a very serious expression and raised one finger, mimicking Patriarch's gesture. He then crossed his eyes and flapped his mouth as if silently lecturing her. Jack smiled and felt a little surge of happiness, followed by a little bit of worry. Things between her and Marcus were going great, but how long could it last? She told herself to stop being stupid and just enjoy the moment.

Shepard stood nearby and was checking over his weapons. "Don't worry, Jack. We'll have lots of eyes on both of you."

"I ain't worried, exactly" said Jack. "Just be warned, if it looks like things are going south I'm gonna start squishing fools."

"As long as they can talk afterwards, then squish away," said Patriarch. "I have my suspicions as to what the Blood Pack is up to, but I need confirmation."

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A fully armored krogan resembles nothing so much as a tank on two legs. Jack felt a slight tingle of fear in her chest as she watched what looked to be dozens of them walk slowly towards her and Patriarch. Their attackers' armor was the dull red of the Blood Pack. In the dull overhead light of the corridor, the red coloring looked almost black. Jack shifted her stance a little bit to keep Patriarch at her back.

They had been continuously walking through the underbelly of Omega and trying to look like 'irresistible bait', in Patriarch's words. The old krogan had picked this particular corridor intersection as the most likely ambush point, and sure enough once they'd entered all of the exits had been blocked by a swarm of armored krogan.

"Patriarch!" said one of their attackers. The mercenary's voice was harsh and amplified. "Your time has come. Fight well and we shall make sure your skull is transported to the Hollows."

Patriarch turned to face the speaker. He had an odd smile on his face that Jack didn't like the look of. It looked too much like someone who was making peace with himself and getting ready for death.

"You speak well, whelp," replied Patriarch, "In spite of your dishonorable task. It seems you have not entirely forgotten the old ways. I will make sure to remember you."

"Human, you do not need to die," added the mercenary. "Stand aside, and we will treat with you fairly."

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"Squish time now?" muttered Jack.

"Stand by," said EDI in Jack's ear. "They need to fire first." The plan was to let the Blood Pack's gunfire cover the sound of the Normandy's strike team attacking from the rear. Jack's attention was suddenly diverted by a symphony of harsh clacking noises. The Blood Pack now had their guns aimed at the duo.

"Steady, Jack," commed Shepard. "We're in position."

There was a little silence. If this was a western movie, thought Jack, a tumbleweed would blow across the road right about now. But of course there were no tumbleweeds on Omega. So Jack decided to kick things off.

"Well, lizard breath?" she called. "Are you gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?" She'd heard a similar line in a movie once, but she had no fucking idea who or what Dixie was. It sounded cool, though.

There was a huge, rolling rumble of thunder as all of the krogan fired simultaneously. Jack flinched involuntarily, but the rounds just ricocheted off of the emergency shield that formed around her and Patriarch. She saw several of the rearmost members of the attacking krogan go down right after firing. The krogan who had accosted them bellowed, "To the rear!". Some of the krogan turned to face the new threat, but it was already too late.

Jack had her own shotgun out by now. Just as she let loose a blast, there was a roar beside her and Patriarch began waddling into the fray. The stupid krogan didn't even have a gun, but the wide smile on his face told Jack that Patriarch did not care.

Fuck. She had been told that, no matter what, she was to keep the old bastard safe and unharmed. Jack threw a shockwave into a clump of krogan to distract them from Patriarch's attack and quickly thought through her options. She decided that valor and honor could go fuck themselves and reached out with her power.

Patriarch's gleeful expression became puzzled as he realized he wasn't actually touching the ground anymore. Jack gently set him back down behind her as if he was a delicate soap-bubble. "At least use a gun, dude," she yelled as she began firing. The Blood Pack numbers were definitely thinned by now, and only a few were left. By now, they had to use the corpses of their own comrades as cover. Jack stopped firing. After all, they needed at least a few of them alive to interrogate.

The old krogan stepped up beside her and shook himself. "My apologies. I didn't...expect the blood rage...at my time of life." He was breathing heavy and his hands clenched spasmodically. Jack glanced over at him and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she replied, and tossed him her shotgun. He caught it easily with one hand in spite of his apparent tremor. "Have at 'em, grandpa."

Patriarch aimed with one hand and fired just as one of the Blood Pack came out of cover. The shot caught the mercenary right between the shoulder-blades, and the impact shoved him forward onto his stomach.

"Nice shot," said Jack, a little grudgingly. It really had been a good hit.

Patriarch gave her a toothy smile and handed her back the shotgun. "That one, at least, should still be alive. Let's go check."

He walked forward and Jack followed. By now, there was no one left firing on the Blood Pack side. Patriarch stood over the mercenary and kicked away several nearby guns. He reached down and undid a few latches, then gently pulled the mercenary's helmet off. "Can you give me a hand?" he asked Jack.

The downed krogan groaned as they wrestled him into a sitting position against one of the other krogan bodies. "What?" murmered the mercenary, then looked up. "Ah. You had more allies than we thought, old one." From the voice, Jack guessed that this was the Blood Pack member that had spoken to them just before the firefight. The mercenary had a rattle in his breathing that didn't sound healthy to Jack.

Patriarch leaned over as best he could and gave the younger an almost sympathetic look. "You fought well, whelp," he said. "I'll offer you the same honor you would have given me. I will make sure your skull reaches The Hollows."

The Blood Pack krogan gave a little laugh and spit up some blood. "Not for free, I'm guessing."

Patriarch nodded. "I just need to know who gave the order to kill me."

The younger krogan shook his head. "I don't know why, I only follow orders. I'm assuming it was to weaken Aria."

"I did not ask why, I asked who. Was it Kureck or Womerck who gave you the order?"

"It.." the Blood Pack krogan looked confused. "It was Kureck. Kureck told us to kill you."

"And Womerck didn't agree." Patriarch's reply wasn't a question. The younger krogan just nodded with a confused look still on his face. He kept looking confused even as his eyes grew dull and unseeing.

Patriarch reached forward and gently closed the krogan's eyes. "Thank you, young one," he said quietly. "I will keep my promise. You will see The Hollows." He straightened up as Shepard approached. The Spectre looked at the body with disappointed expression.

"That's too bad," said Shepard. "None of the others were taken alive. I know you needed information."

The old krogan smiled widely. "I have enough. I know exactly what the Blood Pack is up to."

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"It all started with Archangel," explained Patriarch. Aria had agreed to come visit the older Krogan, and now she sat in a relaxed, almost sprawled manner on a couch as she listened. Shepard could have sworn that she almost looked interested. Apart from Aria's batarian lieutenant, there was no one else in the little bar.

"The three big mercenary companies on Omega teamed up to take down the vigilante," continued Patriarch. "The original Blood Pack leader, Garm, was killed during the last assault on Archangel's stronghold. There's been a power vacuum in the Blood Pack's Omega chapter ever since. The two big contenders are Kureck and Womerck."

Aria sighed. "I forgot how long-winded you can get, old friend. I'm assuming there's a point to this?"

"Kureck was the one who gave the order to have me killed," replied Patriarch. "He's the ambitious one. He was Garm's right hand, and he was the one who pushed the Blood Pack to team up with the Blue Suns and Eclipse in order to deal with Archangel. In contrast, Womerck is much more...conservative."

"So just kill Kureck," said Aria. "Problem solved. Should be a piece of cake for whoever it was that killed Garm. Right, Shepard?" She gave him a little smug smile and a wink.

Patriarch smiled wider. "Kureck isn't working alone. As I said, he was the one who made contact with the other two mercenary chapters on Omega. And he is still in contact with them. My murder was meant to be a...call it a 'flanking maneuver'. A maneuver against you."

Now Aria no longer looked bored. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. The mercenary companies want Omega. You were the actual target, not me. The idea was to get you distracted and chasing after my murderers while they all made their move on you." Patriarch held out a hand to Shepard, who slapped a datapad into it. It was a little bit of theatrics which they'd worked out in advance. The krogan then handed the datapad to Aria. "It's all here. I already had lots of circumstantial evidence, but the key to it all was knowing that Kureck ordered my killing. Once I had that, the rest of it just fell into place."

Aria paged through the datapad with an increasingly stormy expression. She finished and her face relaxed into an eerie calm. She looked at her batarian flunky. "So tell me," she said to him in a grating voice. "Why the fuck am I only finding out about this now?" She flicked the datapad at the batarian like a shuriken.

The lieutenant caught it clumsily. "Um, I'll look into it, Aria," he mumbled.

Aria motioned her head towards the door. The batarian ducked his head in a quick almost-bow and hurried out the exit. She turned and gave Patriarch a long look.

"You could have kept your mouth shut and let them kill me," she said, in a much calmer manner. "Shit, you could have teamed up with Kureck once you knew what the play was." She glanced at his scarred chest. "I would have, in your shoes."

Patriarch shrugged. "What happened between us was a long time ago. Call it...the fortunes of war. I've long since forgiven you." He gave Aria an equally intense stare. "Besides, Omega is much better served with you in charge. I have no doubt that, after you were gone, I would be able to get all of the mercenaries working against each other. And after a bloody and tedious struggle I could once again rule Omega. For a while, at least. But it would end. It always ends." He shook his massive head. "As rough as Omega is right now, it could be so much worse. And...as foolish as it may seem, I would miss you."

Aria leaned back and gave Patriarch a small smile. "Well, I'll be. A sentimental krogan. It's just like my mothers told me." She stood and winked at Shepard. "If you live long enough, you'll eventually see everything." The asari walked towards the door, and paused next to Shepard. "Docking bay twelve, in six hours." She turned and looked back at Patriarch. "And you, you old bastard. I miss seeing your ugly mug up in Afterlife. Don't be a stranger any more, okay?"

The krogan nodded. It could have been Shepard's imagination, but the ancient alien actually looked happy.

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Oriana peered over Donnelly's shoulder as he opened the container of the tachyon coils. Each coil consisted a of bronze knurled cylinder about the size of a human forearm, and each nestled snugly and neatly in separate foam cutouts. The coils also had a strange glittering texture and sparkled in the hangar's lighting.

"These look brand new," he said.

Jack chuckled. "All they said was that they fell off the back of a freighter passing through. You know how it is on Omega." Oriana was glad that Donnelly was here. In spite of Jack's prior reassurance, she was still uneasy around the biotic. Jack seemed to be a lot calmer when the Chief Engineer was around.

Oriana looked down and counted. "They gave us five instead of four. I guess we have a spare if we need it?"

Donnelly shrugged. "They don't really break. I tell you what, lass. After we get these drones built you can use the extra coil for a project of your own."

"What do you want me to build?" she asked.

"Anything you like. It'll give ya something to do in your downtime."

Oriana stood up and stretched. "That sounds neat. I wish I could say I had all that much downtime. Doctor Solus is keeping me pretty busy as well."

Jack peered at Oriana. "I was wondering what the frog-dude was up to. He's been kinda avoiding me recently."

Oriana had heard from Kelly about what had happened in the medbay during Samara's near-death experience. She'd asked Mordin about it, but only once. The salarian had shook his head and refused to answer. He didn't look angry. He looked more like he was stricken with doubt.

Aloud, she said, "Mostly we're reverse-engineering some pieces of Collector tech picked up on Horizon. We're going really slow, just in case there's any danger of Indoctrination. There was a particle-beam weapon in particular that Shepard really wants to get his hands on."

The biotic smirked. "I guess that makes two things our fearless leader wants to manhandle. I wish he would just go pull her into his cabin and be done with it."

Oriana looked around. They were the only three on the hangar deck for now. "This is about Tali and Shepard, right?" she asked in a low voice. She was still unsure about how much gossip was tolerated on board.

Jack waved one hand at Oriana in a there it is gesture. "You see?" she said to Donnelly. "Only fifteen goddamn days on the ship and she knows what's up. Why are the two of them so fucking clueless?"

Donnelly stood. "It's not that simple, Jack. You know there are other issues involved."

"Why, because one of them is a buckethead? That's stupid. If they want to bone, they should just figure it out and bone. But nooooo, they have to be all sensitive about it." Jack clasped her hands together and brought them up to one side of her face. She fluttered her eyes and began speaking in a high falsetto. "Oh, woe is me! For I am in love with Mr. Hunky Space Hero Shepard. But alas, it cannot be because I am a delicate little buckethead and I might catch a sniffle." Jack then shifted her hands to the other side of her face and began talking at a much lower pitch. "Oh, how sad I am! For I am in love with Miss Waifu 'Hips For Days' Tali. But alas, it cannot be because she is a delicate little flower and cannot withstand a schlonging from my Mighty Space Hero Penis."

Donnelly began laughing right at the start. For her part, Oriana tried to keep a straight face. But she couldn't hold it in after the 'schlonging' bit. She let forth the first real belly-laugh she'd had since Illium. The laugh echoed around the hanger deck, and Jack grinned back at her.

"That's better," Jack said. "You were looking too serious."

Oriana got her laugh under control. "It really is kind of like one of those horrible old-time gothic novels, isn't it? One of those where everyone's mooning after each other and dying of consumption."

Jack gave a laugh herself. "Yeah, all we need is a crazy wife hiding out in the attic."

Donnelly gave a evil grin. "Wellll, lassie, we do have a crazy person hiding out in the basement. Is that close enough?"

Jack pointed a warning finger at him and gave him a friendly glare.

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Joker tapped in a few commands into the console. "You should be all connected to the drone, EDI," he said.

"Affirmative," replied EDI. "I can feel it."

He felt Oriana lean over his chair as she looked out the forward windows. Tali stood on the other side with her arms crossed in a confident manner. They could see the little pulses of the drone's thrusters as it darted around the front of the Normandy.

"It all appears nominal," said EDI. "I have full control capability, and the sensor input from the drone is as expected."

Tali nodded. "Good, a successful prototype. I guess we'll go ahead and build the other drones, then."

"EDI, you said you could 'feel' it," said Oriana. "Does it feel like an appendage to you?"

"I cannot say, Oriana. I have never had appendages as organics do, so it is difficult to compare. I would say that I perceive it more like a locus of my conciousness."

"Hmm." Joker looked over his shoulder to see the young woman deep in thought.

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Operating at General Quarters was getting to be boring for Kelly. That wasn't something she would have expected a week ago. They had to be ready for when the Collectors next came out of the Omega Four relay, but so far the Reaper's proxies had been a no-show. She walked up the aisle to the cockpit to check on Joker and Shepard. The two of them had been a more or less constant fixture up there during the vigil. Sure enough, they were both present. Shepard was awake in the copilot's chair. Joker was dozing and lightly snoring.

"Coffee?" Kelly asked quietly, holding up a drinking bulb. They were on zero-gee protocols in case of violent maneuvers, which meant in turn the crew was eating prepackaged food and drinking through straws. Both Garrus and Tali were now smugly telling the rest of the crew to deal with it, since they'd had to do the same since coming on board.

Shepard nodded, and gave Kelly a little smile as he accepted the drink. "Thanks," he murmured. "How are things going back there?"

"It's holding together, so far," replied Kelly. "But I almost wish something would happen. We can't stay at alert forever. Seven days is a long time to be on edge." There was something else bugging her. It involved the date, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I know," replied Shepard. "Unfortunately, the Collectors don't seem to hold to any timetable. The average between colony abductions has been four weeks. It's been almost three weeks since Ferris Fields got hit. Horizon was about six weeks before that." He made a palms-up 'what can you do?' gesture towards the cockpit's windows. "Right now, we're waiting on them to make the first move."

"What about bait?" asked Joker. Kelly started a little; she hadn't expected the pilot to talk.

"Sorry, Joker," said Shepard. "We didn't mean to wake you."

"Nah, it's cool. But really, why don't we put out some bait?"

Kelly smiled. "What do you suggest? Some cheese?"

"Nope. Us. More specifically, him." Joker waved at Shepard. "That is, if the Commander is cool with it."

"Right now, I'd put on pasties and a g-string and do cartwheels on top of Omega if I thought it would help," replied Shepard. He thought for a bit. "Are you thinking of a well-crafted distress signal from the Normandy?"

Joker nodded. "Yep. That Harbinger dude seemed to have a real hard-on for you during the Horizon action. He even called you by name."

"Yeah, and I'm at such a loss here," said Shepard dryly. "I mean, should I be sending him flowers or something?"

Kelly had long ago gotten over her initial fan-girl awe of Shepard, but for just a moment it came back in full force. If she had been the focus of attention for an eons-old destroyer of civilizations, she sure wouldn't be making jokes. She would be curled up in a corner and trying very hard not to whimper.

"What do you think, EDI?" asked Joker.

"The idea has merit, Jeff," replied EDI. "I can create something that will look very convincing. But we can't broadcast it from right next to their mass relay. That will definitely smell like a trap to the Collectors. And we can't use a standard distress beacon, not without extensive modification. It needs to look like it's coming from the ship, not from a beacon."

"What if we use one of the drones to broadcast the signal from somewhere else?" asked Kelly. "Can we get a good track using only three drones plus the Normandy?"

"It will be less precise," replied EDI. "But if we can draw out the Collectors using a planted distress signal, then we will have the advantage of knowing their destination. We can certainly tell if they've fallen for the deception."

"And we can prepare them a nice warm reception as well," mused Shepard. "Let's do it. EDI, secure from General Quarters and get Sergeant Gardner on the line. Let's give everyone the chance to have a nice hot meal before we start."

That kicked loose in her brain the issue that had been bugging Kelly. "A big meal! Shepard, I don't know if you realize it, but it's towards the end of November on the Terran calendar. There's a North American holiday called Thanksgiving which involves a lot of eating..."