Shepard saw Miranda walk towards him as he began to exit the hangar. "Sir," she began, "I have a request-"

"You're back on active duty," he said quietly. "Gear up, do a full loadout. I want you on the B-team to replace Kasumi. Follow Zaeed's lead. After you get set up, I want you in the cockpit when we make our run through the O-4."

Miranda blinked. It was clear his statement had forestalled a huge and complicated argument which she had constructed in her head. "Thank you, sir. I will make you proud." And then Miranda stepped back and actually saluted him. There was the slightest tremor in her hand, the only evidence of her inner turmoil.

"I don't doubt it," replied Shepard, and returned her salute. "But no doomed heroics, you hear me? Like I said, we're all coming home. That includes both you and Jacob."

Her face actually broke into a smile. It was, perhaps, the first real smile that Shepard had ever seen from her. "I...I believe you, Commander. I honestly do." She turned and walked off towards Zaeed and the B-team.

Garrus and Tali walked out beside Shepard as he left the hangar. The quarian held his hand as they rode up to to the next floor.

"So I was thinking," said Shepard. "My cabin is due for an upgrade."

"Are you going to give me a hint?" asked Tali. "Or is it a surprise?"

"A surprise, I think," replied the Commander. "I'll tell you about it when we get back."

She squeezed his hand. "You don't need to tease me to keep my attention, you know." Tali and Shepard exchanged a hug as the elevator doors opened. "Keelah Sel'ai," she whispered in his ear and then strode off towards Engineering.

Garrus spoke up once the lift doors had closed again. "I wouldn't contradict you in front of Miranda. You know that. But is it wise to put her back on active duty?"

"It's either that or I have a Miranda-shaped hole in my ship once we reach the Collector base." Shepard put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Garrus, you're pretty much in her shoes right now. If I ordered it, would you stay on board?"

The turian looked away. "No," he said quietly. "You're right. Miranda needs to be there as well." He looked back towards Shepard. His blue eyes were no longer filled with rage. They now only held despair. "I can't lose Kasumi, John. She was just...right. One of the only things in my life that went right."

"I know." Shepard scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his other hand. "What I said back there wasn't just to rally the troops, you know. I really did swear an oath, after Ash died." He stared at the bulkhead, remembering Ashley Williams. He remembered the sardonic grin and the brown and merry eyes which still haunted him.

"Did she...were you..." His friend was clearly at a loss as to how to broach the question.

Shepard gave a little chuckle. "No, Garrus. Ash and I weren't lovers. She was a friend. She kept me grounded. And she called me on my bullshit. Just like you do." He gave Garrus' shoulder a squeeze. "And I meant what I said. We will get Kasumi back, get all of them back, or we're going to make a funeral pyre out of the Collector base that they'll be able to see from the Citadel."

----------------------------------------

Zaeed tried not to think about what his captured friends might be going through. He was going to get them back and burn the Collectors into ash while doing so. If he got through this alive, it would be a nice little trifecta. He would have helped rescue some mates in peril, he'd have done the galaxy a favor, and last (but certainly not least) he'd have a nice pile in his accounts to show for all of his work. Not to mention he'd have the other material that he'd acquired during his time on the Normandy.

The mercenary set his flamethrower aside and began to check over his rifle. This gun wasn't quite as good as his beloved Jessie, but he had to admit that Jacob had done a really good job in customizing it for him. And that thought, of course, led his mind into more dark musings. The mercenary shook himself mentally. He was a little surprised at his own feeling of loss after Jacob's capture. They hadn't been exactly friendly as of late. But on further reflection he supposed that the kid had been all right. The armorer was a good egg even when he'd been following Cerberus orders a little too blindly.

That blindness was one of the reasons that Zaeed had become a mercenary in the first place. It kept things cleaner. Fighting for a cause was all well and good, but if you weren't careful you could wind up fighting for monsters instead. Just as Jacob and Miranda had found out the hard way.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the former XO walked up to him. "I was asked to join the B-Team," Miranda said simply.

Zaeed looked levelly at her. "Did Shepard ask you, or did you ask him?"

"He told me to before I could ask," she replied. Her face looked oddly open, as if her fear and grief had stripped away the perfect mask that she always presented to the world. Zaeed was reminded a little of Oriana. "I'm not here to...replace anyone, just to lend a hand."

Even though Miranda hadn't said the name, there was still a void among the team, a void in the shape of a petite and sarcastic cloaked figure.

Zaeed said nothing.

Miranda got a frantic look in her eyes. "Please, let me come with you. I can't just stay here and wait."

"I know," he replied. "I can't blame ya." He looked over at the other remaining members of B-team. "What do you two reckon?"

Thane was no longer wearing a breathing mask. He'd given Zaeed multiple reassurances that his 'asthma' attack had passed, and that he was fit for duty. All he had given as an explanation was that the air in Imorkan Station had been far too humid. Zaeed had decided that they needed all hands for this mission, so he wasn't going to be the one to send the drell off to the figurative showers.

At Zaeed's question, the drell just shrugged. "I have no issues," he rumbled. "Ms. Lawson is a valuable asset, and we will need every bit of help in the fight ahead."

Samara stared for a bit at Miranda. The ex-justicar's face actually showed a bit of anger. Zaeed remembered their face-off in this very hangar not too long ago, after Jack's kidnapping. Miranda dropped her eyes and didn't meet the asari's glare.

Finally Samara shrugged as well. "Miranda and I have had our differences in the past. In any other situation, I would not accept this. But I have to say that I am sympathetic to what she must be feeling right now."

Miranda looked back up as Samara continued. "She may join our team and fight alongside us. I would not rob her of the chance to rescue our people." Samara's eyes suddenly became very wet. "No matter how slim that chance may be."

"We're getting Kelly back, Samara," said Miranda. There was a weird light in her eyes that Zaeed hadn't seen before. It almost looked like...hope? "We're getting them all back. We're all coming home."

Zaeed finished his checkout and slung the rifle over his shoulder. "Oh yeah? I don't mean to be the turd in the punch bowl here, but what makes you say that?"

"Shepard told me," replied Miranda.

The scarred man gave her a lopsided, sad smile. "And you believe him?"

"I don't believe. I know." Miranda's eyes narrowed and she gave a smile. For a moment, Zaeed saw her old persona assert itself. "I know a great many things, Zaeed. For example, I know about the rather significant amount of pentanitrogen azide explosive that you've been accumulating in the port storage bay."

Zaeed started a bit. "Ah, yeah. You knew about that?"

"It was my job to know. Might I ask why you have five hundred kilos of it? PNA makes C4 look like baking soda."

"I got a good deal," said Zaeed sheepishly.

They all looked at him incredulously.

The mercenary shrugged. "Well, ya know, we kept stoppin' off at Omega station and I knew a fella there who knew a fella and, well, I guess I kinda got in the habit of buyin' some every time we went through."

"But five hundred kilos?" Samara sounded almost in awe. "And you sleep with it?"

Zaeed held up a hand. "I may have gone a little overboard. But it's all safe, right? I've got it properly stowed. I just figured it might come in handy sometime. Ya know, after this job is done."

"After this job?" asked Samara in a deceptively quiet voice. "You don't think it might be useful now?"

He squared his shoulders. "Maybe. But look, I bought it with my own money, and it still wasn't cheap, even with the deal I got..."

Zaeed trailed off as he looked at the others. Miranda's face had darkened in a manner he didn't like. Samara looked like she was about to wrap his flamethrower around his neck. Thane, of course, had his usual vaguely interested look as if he was about to break out some snacks and watch the upcoming festivities.

"Of course," he added quickly, "If ya reckon' we need it for the current situation, by all means take the PNA."

Miranda's stormy face relaxed. "I don't know that we'll need it. But just in case we do, I have an idea of how to use it..."

----------------------------------------

Donnelly knew he was in a confined space, but that was all he knew. He couldn't really move, he could just twitch a little in the fluid which surrounded him. The same fluid seemed to be in his lungs, and yet he wasn't panicking or drowning. He mind was just...drifting. He could open his eyes a little, for all of the good that did. Beyond the translucent wall of his cramped tubular cell was an impressionistic gallery of brown and green shapes. There was the occasional glowing set of eyes passing by outside as one of the Collectors scuttled past. None of them bothered to look in at him.

His eyes drifted closed again.

Once he was back in the dark, his memories became confusing. He could remember the panic of not being able to move as he lay paralyzed on the dirty deck in that corridor on Imorkan Station. But then there were other memories of panic and paralysis. He remembered looking up into a beautiful blue sky as a black cloud of insectoid forms descended, he remembered running in utter fear through the colony on Horizon before being stung into submission. But that was wrong...wasn't it? He was never on Horizon, But was the Imorkan memory wrong?

No. He had to focus. The Imorkan memory was his. He was Marcus Donnelly, Chief Engineer of the SR-2 Normandy. Born in Glasgow, a child of the streets. He remembered his poor mum's exasperation at yet another bloody nose or black eye. "Ye cannae fight all yer life, ya great daft lump!" The memory of her chiding voice made him smile sadly. At least she'd gotten to see him join the Alliance.

Another memory swirled into his mind unbidden. He remembered somebody else's mother, a taller woman with black hair frosted with just a tinge of gray. Or was that a memory of his mother? The image slipped away, and Donnelly let it go. More memories intruded, some of them his, some of them not...perhaps. It was getting hard to focus.

He called on his many hours of meditative practice. In his mind, Donnelly pictured himself in lotus position and let the images pass through him. As long as he didn't panic, he would be okay. He would just let the memories come and go.

The welter of memories increased, and he was just barely able to keep himself from feeling fear. Distantly, he knew that he had to become like a greedy dragon guarding his hoard of memories. If Donnelly wasn't careful, 'he' would be lost in here. But it was so hard. Fragmentary moments and images crowded in around him, images of Horizon as well as other places. He began to feel a remote, rising panic. What could he grab ahold of? How could he know what was him and what wasn't? There had to be something...

Another fragment of memory floated by, this one the image of a slender woman with a shaved head and a scarred back. She was lying on a mattress and facing the wall. Her back was covered with a dense quilt of tattoos. The woman rolled over, revealing a sneer on her beautiful face.

Jack. It was the first time he'd seen Jack. That one had to be his. There was no one else like Jack. Donnelly seized on the memory and clung to it tightly, and as other bits of Jack-memories floated by he grabbed them as well. Donnelly held the growing memory-bundle of Jack close to him like a man with an armful of precious gems.

He remembered her sneer, her high and mocking laugh, her initial contempt at the very notion of friendship. But he also remembered her smile, the way her skin fizzed with biotic sparks as she lay in his arms and shook with her climax, her fierce joy at being able to hit back at a universe which had shown her nothing but cruelty.

He smiled, not sadly this time, as he remembered how Jack and Samara had become unusual friends. Samara...the thought of the ex-justicar also made him happy. Donnelly could remember the first time he'd met the asari as they had meditated in the observation lounge on board the Normandy.

But then, oddly, he could also remember the first time he'd seen Samara naked. He could remember every detail, as was as if he was seeing it anew. Samara stared at him with wanton lust and reached for him, crushing her mouth down onto his as Donnelly's arms went around her...

No, this wasn't right. This couldn't be his memory, it must be that of...

-KELLY!- he shouted inside his head, hoping somehow to be 'heard'. The engineer was gratified to hear a responding 'shout'.

-MARCUS! Is that you?-

-Aye, lass! Think about Samara, it helps!-

It was odd, he could now 'feel' Kelly's presence nearby. Her mind stayed near his, as if she'd grabbed ahold of his hand in a gale-force wind.

-Have you felt the others?- he asked. -Jacob was with me when we got captured. What about Kasumi or Thane?-

-I think Thane made it out,- she replied. -I don't know about Kasumi. How the hell do we find them?-

-The same way I found you, lass. Think about the people they love. Then look for a memory that can't be yours.-

Adding to his growing bundle of 'Jack-memories', Donnelly tried to remember Garrus. There was a dim, boozy memory of that time on Tuchanka when he and the turian had gotten well and truly rat-arsed on krogan moonshine.

-Wanker,- thought Donnelly, and laughed again as he remembered the turian's delighted response.

He could feel Kelly's puzzlement. -What?-

-Sorry, lass. Just an amusing thought-

Donnelly suddenly saw Garrus looming over him, as if the engineer was much shorter. At first Donnelly thought that Garrus was wearing a much more slim-fitting set of armor. Then he realized with a bit of embarrassment that the turian was actually naked. Donnelly was naked as well. Garrus reached out one clawed hand and combed slowly through Donnelly's long black hair while the other clawed hand reached down to gently caress him much lower...

-Kasumi! Is that you?-

-Marcus? Oh, it is so good to hear your voice!-

-Aye! Hold on to us and remember Garrus!- yelled Kelly. -Keep all of your memories of him! We've got to find Jacob in here!-

The three of them clung together as they whirled along the stream of thoughts and memories. All around them, underneath the welter of images, was a mournful wail of pain that seemed to come from thousands of voices.

-What is all of this?- asked Kasumi. -Where did all of these other memories come from?-

-From the kidnapped colonists, I'm guessing,- replied Kelly. -They've been in here much longer. This forced memory-sharing has destroyed a lot of their individuality.-

Donnelly gripped the other two's minds harder, and it was almost as if he could feel their small hands in his much larger mitts. -We've got to keep together. We have to hang on. Shepard and Jack and the others...they'll come for us, they have to.-

He saw second-hand as Kelly remembered the first time she'd met Miranda. The yeoman had been so intimidated and yet intrigued by the aloof Cerberus officer. Then Kelly remembered that horrible time in the hangar right after Jack's kidnapping, when she'd faced down Miranda. That perfect and sneering alabaster face was seen through the veil of Kelly's tears.

And then Miranda's face was suddenly back in sharp focus, the sneering now gone. Miranda's head was thrown back, her eyes closed tight and her mouth open in ecstasy. The three of them moved as one on top of her, exulting in the feel of thrusting into Miranda's warm and wonderful body as she writhed beneath them...

-Jacob!- yelled Kasumi.

The armorer's voice was distant and vague, as if he'd almost given up. -Who's there? It can't be...Kasumi?-

-No, you idiot, it's a Reaper!- replied the thief. -Now take our hands and think of Miranda!-

The four little minds bent together, seeking shelter amidst the noise and chaos while all around them sentient minds screamed with the pain of being torn apart.

----------------------------------------

Pat Simons glanced over as Joker settled himself into the main pilot's chair. "Your ship," she said.

"My ship," he replied, and placed his hands on the controls.

She began to unbuckle herself from the copilot's chair, only to feel Joker's hand on her shoulder.

"I need you here, Pat," he said.

"You do, sir?" Normally Pat was on one of the damage control teams during combat.

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Joker nodded. "We need another set of eyes looking for threats. We have no idea what's on the other side of that relay. Plus you should be here in case, you know, I don't...make it. We need somebody to keep flying her."

Pat felt puzzlement. "But if that happens, then EDI-"

"EDI will have her hands full dealing with spoofing the IFF as well as any cyberattacks the Collectors throw at us." He gave her a smile, a warm smile. "You can do this, Pat."

She settled back in her chair and reattached her restraints. "Speaking candidly, sir, I wish I had your confidence."

"You're a damn good pilot," Joker replied. "If I...look, nothing's gonna happen to me, okay? But in case it does, just remember to not fly like me."

"I'm sure I couldn't fly as well as you, sir."

"It's not a matter of skill. I'm talking about style." Joker shrugged. "I tend to try and 'finesse' things more than I should. I've got the skill to back it up, but I still dance around too much. You fly well, and your style is a lot more straightforward. If you wind up flying her, treat the Normandy like an extension of your fist. Just go for 'em, don't get fancy."

Pat smiled a bit as she remembered her gang days from long ago. "Make it a street fight, not a dance."

"You got it," replied Joker.

Shepard came into the cockpit and stood behind Pat. He set his helmet aside and ran one gauntlet through his short brown hair. "Time to relay?" he asked.

"Seven minutes," said Pat. "Approach vector is locked in, Mr. Moreau has the helm."

"Thank you, Pat." She almost expected him to say something else, even something as simple as 'good luck'. But the Commander just tapped one boot on the deck and waited.

The red-orange glow of the Omega Four relay was growing larger as Miranda also came into the cockpit. She was armored up like Shepard, and had twin machine pistols strapped to her hips. The effect was almost like some kind of high-tech gunslinger. Pat glanced back and saw with some surprise that the usual Cerberus color scheme of Miranda's armor had been changed over into the red, black, and white that had been chosen after the Normandy had broken off from Cerberus.

Shepard looked a little surprised as well. "When did you have time to do that?" he asked, gesturing at Miranda's newly colored armor.

"After I was stripped of my rank," she replied, then gave a ghost of a smile. "I had quite a bit of down time, after all. I thought it was wise to be ready in case I was returned to active duty."

"Hmm." Shepard looked back out the front window. "Well, I appreciate the foresight. I just wish the circumstances of you getting back into active duty were different."

Miranda's ghost of a smile disappeared. "Me too, sir."

The Omega Four relay swelled in the forward windows. The titanic hoops that contained its core began to spin faster as they approached.

"EDI, how is the IFF performing?" asked Shepard.

"I have successfully activated it. Standby. Receiving acknowledgement from the O-4. Analyzing back-and-forth traffic between the IFF and the relay. This is a very complex handshake. I can now see that there are multiple access levels in the mass relay network. Process is complete, we should be ready for transit."

"One minute to transit," added Pat. She felt like she'd taken a step off of a cliff. It was all out of her hands now. It was going to work or they would be dead in less than sixty seconds.

The Normandy began its relay run.

The delta-winged craft swooped in a graceful arc towards the spinning hoops of the relay. The cockpit windows filled with a blazing orange light, and Pat suddenly felt the ship gripped and thrown like a dart. The flickering blue of FTL flight sped by the windows, the patterns moving much faster than during a normal relay transit. And the trip was taking a lot longer as well. Pat rubbed her hands on her pants and nervously waited.

"Standby," said EDI. "We should be coming out in ten seconds. Brace for deceleration."

Shepard gripped the back of Pat's chair, and Miranda copied him as she grabbed Joker's seat.

A small bright patch of light appeared in the distance and in an eyeblink expanded to fill the windows. Pat's first impression was of harsh orange light, but her attention was suddenly occupied with the huge and tumbling chunk of metal that was right in front of them.

"SHIT!" Joker's yell was simultaneous with his yanking on the controls. The Normandy pulled up and over the ragged piece of hull, only to have another mangled chunk of debris come barreling down on top of them. Joker slipped them down and around that one as well, and after a few more moments of hasty maneuvering he brought them up and out of the mass of debris that surrounded the exit relay.

They all stared in fascination at the scene. The exit relay was the same size as the O-4, and had the same red-orange glow in its mass effect core. Around it was a huge accretion disk of tumbling junk. What few bits Pat could identify might have been pieces of ship hulls.

"These must be all of the ships that tried to make it through the Omega Four relay," mused Miranda. "There could be debris here that is millions of years of years old."

Shepard nodded. "It looks like it. The exit relay must just chop them into bits if it doesn't get the proper IFF signal."

EDI spoke up. "Speaking of the IFF, I have deactivated it until we go back through, just to be safe."

"I like your optimism, EDI," said Joker with a smile.

"Thank you, Jeff. I am now scanning the area."

Pat looked farther off. The debris field eventually ended, and beyond that was appeared to be an earth-colored fog in the distance that stretched out in a much larger disk that mimicked the junk around the exit relay. And embedded in the middle of that fog, at the limit of her vision, was a small dark sphere surrounded by a bright orange aura. That sphere was utterly black, so black that it looked like a hole in creation. And Pat knew that was exactly what it was.

"The core of the galaxy," she said in wonder. "And we're the first humans to see it."

She felt Shepard's armored hand rest on her shoulder. "Not bad for a kid from the streets, eh?"

Pat gave a chuckle. "Yeah, sir, I guess so."

Shepard activated his comm. "Tali, how are the systems holding up? Is the radiation as bad as we thought?"

"We're doing okay, Shepard," replied Tali's voice. "Most of the systems are handling the increased flux from outside, and Oriana and I are able to keep ahead of any failures."

The screen above Joker's chair was filled in with a wireframe tactical display of the area. The supermassive black hole's accretion disk was outlined, along with the debris field around the relay. EDI had overlaid a small blinking light onto the display. "I have detected an energy signature near the edge of the core's accretion disk," said the AI. "It is the only large power source that I can detect."

Shepard studied the display. "That has to be the Collector base. Take us in, Joker. Nice and easy. We don't want to attract attention just yet."

The Normandy cruised over the drifting debris. Pat tore her eyes away from the view outside and set up her console to search for anything nearby moving under its own power. Her attention was drawn to several small dots on her display that weren't moving at the same speed as the other junk around them. "EDI, are you seeing these?" she asked as she highlighted the suspicious debris on her console.

"Yes, Pat, I have flagged them as possible hostiles," replied EDI. "But I have not detected any power signatures...nevermind, they have just activated their drive cores and are in pursuit. Three craft in total."

"Company, eh?" said Shepard. "Well, I suppose it was too much to ask that they leave their front door unguarded."

Joker twisted the ship about as red beams stabbed overhead. "Lasers," mused Miranda. "Just small craft, then. Our point defense system should be able to take them out."

"I was expecting something bigger," said Joker as he continued to evade their attacks. "I smell a big fat Collector rat."

"As do I, Jeff," said EDI.

"Joker, let them get closer," said Shepard. "Pat, you cue up the point defense and wipe 'em out if they get close enough. EDI, I want you to scan the debris field ahead of us and see if you can get an image match to any Collector ship. They might be using those small craft behind us to drive us towards an ambush."

"Wouldn't we have seen an ambusher's energy signature?" asked Miranda.

"Not if they're lying doggo with their drive shut off," replied the Commander.

Pat called up a rear view and was soon able to spot the three pursuit craft. They were indeed small, barely half the size of a shuttle. They seemed to consist of one big laser lens with a drive stuck on the back. She highlighted the enemy craft and let the point defense system's image recognition software get a good lock on them.

"Found the bastard," said EDI. Another blinking dot appeared on the tactical display in between them and the Collector base. "I believe that this is the Collector strike craft which we encountered at Imorkan. They are operating on minimal power to avoid detection."

"Is there a chance our people could still be on board?" asked Shepard.

"Highly unlikely," replied the AI. "Their current power level does not allow for life support. The ship's current interior environment would not be survivable without extensive cybernetic modification such as that possessed by the Collectors. I believe our crew and the others kidnapped on Imorkan were delivered to the main base. They have had plenty of time to do so."

Shepard nodded. "Okay. Then plot a course around 'em. I want to be on that base as soon as possible. We have no idea what they're doing to our people. I don't want to waste time dancing around in a firefight."

The Normandy began arcing around to approach the Base from a different vector. Pat saw the laser-ships alter course as well. "The small pursuit craft behind us are at about ten klicks," she said. "Five clicks until our point defense can engage them."

"Got it," said Joker.

"Alert," said EDI. "The Collector strike craft has powered up and is moving to intercept."

"Damn it," growled Shepard. "We can't waste time with this shit."

The new contact on the display started to move towards them rapidly.

"Pat," said Joker evenly, and she looked over at him. "Scan the debris field, and plot a path through it towards the base. You keep an eye on the long range and feed me the waypoint coordinates. I'll take care of the short range and avoid the junk."

Shepard and Miranda looked at each other. "It'll keep them from following us," said the Commander. "Do it, both of you."

Pat could now see the cylindrical form of the strike craft in the distance. The Collector vessel had various biomechanical spurs sticking off at right angles from its front, making it look like a huge and thorny seed-pod. She turned towards her display and began plotting. Her fingers shook slightly with nervous energy, but she was calm enough to see a decent path and set it up. "Course set. Sending you the entrance point now."

Joker dove the Normandy back down towards the debris field as a brilliant white beam stabbed towards them. Pat clutched her console as the mass of drifting junk came closer and closer. It took all of her self-control not to squeeze her eyes shut as they plunged into the mess. Joker spun the ship around its long axis and began weaving through the junk in their path.

Pat checked the rear view again. "The three pursuit craft have followed." There was a bright flash off of one chunk of ancient hull. "And now they're down to two." A larger bulk became visible behind them. "I don't believe it," she said in fear and wonder. "The strike craft followed us in."

"I guess they really want us," replied Shepard.

"Coordinates?" asked Joker, his face a mask of concentration.

The wreckage whirled and flew past their windows as Pat called her plot back up. "Sending you the next two waypoints now. It's getting crowded in here." Something big banged off of the starboard side of their hull, shoving the ship to the right.

"Shields are holding," said EDI. "Good thing we upgraded."

The Normandy ducked and wove like a boxer, chunks of ancient metal whizzing past her bright white hull. The pursuing craft were not quite as expertly piloted. Pat saw two more bright explosions bloom in the rear view. "All three of the laser craft are down. Just the strike ship left." As if to emphasize her words, a bright white beam came from behind them and vaporized a drifting blob of metal to their starboard.

Pat looked at the rear view again. The larger strike ship had multiple white flashes appear on its surface as it barreled through the debris. The Collectors were not using any fancy maneuvering, they were just bulling their way through. "There's some damage being done to them by the debris, but so far nothing major."

"We need to really discourage them," said Joker. "Replot it, Pat. With tighter clearance, or bigger bits of junk."

She felt a little bit of sweat coming down one temple as she complied. "Hang on." It was difficult to concentrate, both with the mental pressure as well as the physical maneuvering that the ship was undergoing. Then Pat had a brief memory of her childhood, a memory of her running through contested territory and back to safety while angry rival gangs chased her. She grinned in a feral way as she remembered how she'd taunted her pursuers.

"This sly little cheena's too quick for you, you bolshy bastards." Pat suddenly realized she'd spoken aloud.

"What?" asked Miranda in confusion, but Shepard just nodded with a smile.

Pat shook her head. "Never mind, ma'am. Joker, there's a really big chunk of a ship near the edge of the debris field. I think we can lure them into crashing onto it. Sending you the next waypoint."

The ship spun, narrowly avoiding another beam. They sped along, and then broke out into a relatively clear area. Ahead and to the side was a massive black cloud of shattered ships. Pat pointed at it. "In there. The other debris should block their view of the larger piece until it's too late."

The Normandy sped towards the cloud. The Collector's strike ship burst out of the debris behind them like a charging bear and followed right at their heels.

Pat realized at the last moment that her plot through that cloud was not quite going to work. She had to change one of her waypoints. "Shit, I have to replot. Hang on."

The black cloud got closer very quickly as Joker gritted his teeth. "Dammit Pat, find me a hole!"

Right as he spoke, she sent him the new coordinates. "You're cute, Joker, but you know I don't swing that way."

"HA!" Joker let out a single bark of laughter as he drove the Normandy forward into the cloud. Pat clung to her chair and watched their progress on her console. She tried not to look out the windows; it would surely freak her out.

"The strike ship is still following," said EDI. "It has sustained significant damage but does not appear to be breaking off pursuit." Pat took a quick look at the rear view. Sure enough, the rocky cylinder had multiple large gashes and scorch marks on its surface.

"You're almost there, Joker," said Pat. "Five more klicks."

"Got it." Joker now sounded relaxed, like he was taking a drive to the corner store. "Let's see how well these fuckers can take a corner."

It happened so fast that Pat didn't even have time to gasp. A huge wall of green metal appeared in front of them just as Joker was already pulling the ship up into a climb. The pursuing ship was nowhere near as nimble, and Pat could see small control thrusters flare on its surface in a doomed attempt to copy the Normandy's maneuver.

It didn't even come close to making it. There was a huge pulse of light that filled the windows as the Normandy sped up and away. Pat called up the rear view and saw nothing but a white-hot cloud of expanding vapor.

"Pursuit craft is definitely dead," said EDI with satisfaction. "We are about to clear the debris field."

The tumbling chunks of metal dwindled away, and they now flew through empty space. Joker highlighted the large power source on the tactical display and magnified it.

The screen showed a tube standing on its end and sporting a definite bulge in the middle. Pat looked at the scale at the side of the image and whistled. The structure was almost as big as a mass relay. Various spikes and protrusions hung off of the topmost end of the huge station, and lights twinkled over its entire surface.

"There it is," whispered Miranda. "The Collector base." Her jaw was clenched. "He's still in there, right?"

"He is, Miranda," said Shepard. "Just like we will be soon enough. Joker, see if you can find a place to land without drawing attention."

"Too late," replied the pilot. "It looks like they're sending out an old friend to greet us."

On the image of the Collector base, a cylindrical form slowly emerged from a huge port in the base's side. This was similar in shape to the Collector ship that they had just destroyed. But Pat could tell that this craft was much, much bigger.

Shepard's face was set like implacable death. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah, Commander," replied Joker. He sounded equally grim. "That's the Collectors' 'carrier' ship, for when they need to capture a lot of humans. That's the one that hit Horizon and the other human colonies. It's the ship that shot down the first Normandy over Alchera."

EDI spoke up. "Analysis of this vessel indicates that it is similar in construction to the strike craft, although it is of course much bigger. We should be able to destroy it in a standard ship-to-ship fight, but it will require multiple hits from our main cannon."

"Damn it, we do not have time," grated Shepard. "It'll take too long to kill that thing. And we don't have any more debris to throw at it."

The Normandy speared towards the enemy base as the huge Collector vessel angled towards them and began to pick up speed.

----------------------------------------

"So, how did ye and your friends meet?"

Kelly saw Marcus pause with his teacup halfway to his lips. "Well it's a little complicated, mum. I met them at...work."

"Ohh, lovely!" The small gray-haired woman bustled around the table and set a tray of teacakes in its center. The table itself was clearly old, its synthetic surface showing permanent stains from ancient tea-spills. The kitchen around them was similarly old and stained but was otherwise utterly spotless.

The older woman sat at the table herself and gave them all a beaming smile. Somehow Kelly already knew her name; Brenda Donnelly. "I'm ever so proud of me Marcus." She reached over and patted his meaty shoulder. "He turned out to be such a canny one. After all of that nonsense he pulled as a wee lad, he then goes and gets himself intae a posh school. And then intae the military, no less! I only wish his sainted da was here to see him. Anyway, it's good to know he's settling in well in his new career." She took a sip of her tea. "So what do ye all do fur the Alliance?"

Marcus had hit on the idea of trying to create a 'safe space' in the middle of the mind-hurricane they'd found themselves in. He'd supplied this quasi-dream out of his own memories. Kelly wasn't sure what would happen if they 'broke character'. Somehow she knew that would allow the raging storm outside to break back in and continue its attempt to tear their minds asunder.

She decided to go first. "I'm not a soldier, actually," she said brightly. "I work on counseling those who've seen combat."

"Oh, that must be very challenging!"

"It is," replied Kelly. "But I enjoy helping people."

"Well isn't that nice!" Brenda smiled. "You seem like a lovely and sensitive lass." She glared over at her son. "Why don't ye ask her oot, ya great lump? Her haid's even got the same color as ye." Brenda reached up and ruffled Marcus' short red hair.

He actually blushed. "Well, ma, we do have rules about dating co-workers."

"Ha! They can blow the rules oot their fanny-flaps," muttered Brenda. "I'm no' gettin' any younger, ye ken. I expect some grandchildren afore I go."

Kelly hid her smile behind her teacup.

Brenda turned to Kasumi. "And you, my dear?"

The thief daintily set down her own cup. She had her hood pushed back and the purple mark on her chin stood out in the fluorescent lighting overhead. "I work in acquisitions, ma'am. When the Alliance needs certain valuable items, I help get them."

"My word, that sounds fascinating. Does it involve a lot of travel?"

"On occasion," replied Kasumi with a smile. "And a little bit of excitement now and then."

Brenda sighed. "I always had a yen ta travel. Off planet, I mean. I did get to go and see my wee bairn get sworn intae the Alliance." She patted Donnelly's hand. "In Australia, no less!"

"Was that in Australia?" said Donnelly. "I thought it was in London..."

The room around them rumbled and shook, and then steadied as the engineer shook his head. "No, no, it was definitely Australia."

"Of course it was dear, don't contradict your mother." Brenda gave Jacob another beaming smile. "Now you look very big and impressive, my dear lad. What is your job?"

Jacob cleared his throat. "I, um, do security. For the Alliance. On things."

"Things, dear?"

The armorer looked a little panicked. "Ships, I mean. Ship things. Things on ships." Brenda reached over and patted his hand as well. The touch seemed to calm Jacob, and he smiled. "It's pretty boring most of the time, ma'am. A lot of standing around."

Kelly wondered how long they had actually been in here. The strain of keeping up the pretense was getting to her. It must be getting to all of them. At least she'd gotten to 'meet' Marcus' mother, if only second-hand. She hoped that Brenda was still alive, and that someday she could meet her in person. The little woman barely came up to the engineer's chest, and seeing the two of them together was simply adorable.

It could have been worse, much worse. Her own mother could have shown up, after all.

Damn it.

No, that was a mistake. Don't think about her. Because in this place, if you think about her, then...

"Fornicator!" hissed a voice from the doorway behind the yeoman.

Kelly's shoulders slumped. "No, please, not her. Not now."

Brenda stood with a stormy look on her features and glared at the intruder. "Who are ye? How didje get intae my hoose?" She gripped her teacup as if she was going to throw it, and the walls began to ripple.

"I'm so, so sorry," whimpered Kelly. She didn't have to turn her head; she knew that her tall and aristocratic-looking mother was striding into the kitchen with a sneer on her features. It was a look that Kelly had come to know all too well.

"No daughter of mine will indulge in such filthy behavior! How dare you pollute the family name!"

"Ye'd better remove yourself right quick, ya radge boot," growled Brenda. "Or I'll gi' ye a wallop to remember!"

The table slid away from all of them, and Brenda's image fluttered and winked out. The only consolation was that her mother's image was also gone. The walls crumbled, and Kelly couldn't raise her eyes to meet those of her comrades. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I didn't mean to..."

The dream blew apart, and they were back in the whirlwind of memories. Kelly suddenly felt her grip on the others 'slip', and then she couldn't feel them any more. Desperately she tried to recover her contact with them. This time she thought about Jack.

The first time she'd talked to the biotic one-on-one had been right after the Haestrom mission. It had been a long, hostile affair where Jack had made it quite clear that she was only there under orders from Shepard.

"I'm not fixable, you fucking idiot," she'd said to Kelly.

Kelly didn't like having an 'office' to use for her role as ship's counselor. Instead, she preferred to find little private areas to meet her patients. This time they were in the shuttle down on the Normandy's hangar deck. She looked at Jack sprawled along the plastic seats. The biotic still sported the cuts and bruising from the fight which had landed her in the infirmary.

"It's not about fixing, Jack," she said. "It's more about making peace."

The biotic turned her head and glared at her. "Peace? I will never make fucking peace, you twit. Not after...not after my childhood."

"I don't have any details on that part of your life, Jack," said Kelly smoothly. "I just have your criminal record. But if you care to confide in me, please be assured that anything we discuss will be between the two of us. I take doctor-patient confidentiality very seriously."

Jack snorted in derision. "Yeah, it'll be between you and me and every other fucking listening device on board this fucking ship." She slammed the wall above her with the palm of her hand. "You don't get to find out about where I come from. You don't want to know anyway. Nobody would."

Kelly didn't allow herself to feel hurt. This was all about gaining trust. "There must be somebody that you trust on board."

"Shepard. And that's only when we're in a, whaddyacall, combat situation. I know the Boss has my back then. But that damn cheerleader is always watching. She's the one really runnin' stuff on this ship, ya know."

"I wouldn't know, actually. I only report to Shepard."

"Really? Well, color me shocked."

Kelly thought a bit more about Jack's recent rescue during the geth attack over Haestrom. "What about the Chief Engineer? You must trust him now, at least a little bit."

"Assface? I guess I do. He saved me, even after I...look, I don't wanna think about that. So why don't you just lay back and let me do all the work. You're still injured, after all."

The sudden change in Jack's tone confused Kelly, and then she realized she was flat on her back and staring at the medbay ceiling. She hurt all over, as if an entire gang had been hitting her with clubs. Her right leg was especially painful. But there was also a growing pleasurable sensation coming from her groin. Jack was now lying alongside her. The biotic had her tongue in Kellys' ear as she stroked...

-There you are, lass!- Donnelly's mind grabbed hold of hers again, and the memory blew apart into the maelstrom.

Kelly hung on to the others, but it was getting harder. Shepard had to be coming, she told herself. She couldn't allow herself to despair, even though she could feel her strength fading.