10. Interregnum

"I'll make this quick, gentlemen. The attack wasn't a failure." The good men and women under his command were giving him their utmost attention over the teleconference. The Prime Minister was visibly relieved, wiping the beading sweat off his forehead.

"We saw the video clips and intelligence. The thought that there could be more of those things will keep me up at night, Admiral."

"Well, right now there is only one of those bastards. The Citadel forces nearly had it, the problem was the lack of follow up. We've got more ships, more guns. We get that shield down," he sliced with the palm of his hand. "Its scrap metal." He looked everyone in the eye. "The tricky part is the timing, but if they can do it, the Fifth damn well can pull it off."

"I have utmost faith in the Fifth Fleet, Admiral Hackett." Prime Minister Shastri saluted him, clumsy, but not completely terrible for a politician. "God speed and come home."

Hackett thought about the burnished brass locket. "Yes, sir."

The message came over the ship's intercom: "Admiral Hackett to bridge, we're arriving."

The very last of the checks were done on his way to the bridge. Cyber warfare suite active, repairs finished, last minute confirmation that the Turians were guarding their back and prepared to unleash hell. The few Quarian warships with them were invited in on the plan as the Serpent Nebula blossomed into view.

"Contact," 'Chun' Liu announced from the cockpit. Her fingers danced across the orange haptic interface. "Picking up a lot of ships."

"Geth," her co-pilot 'Rook' shoved his screen behind him to navigation. "Lots and lots of Geth."

"I see that." Hackett rolled his shoulders and nodded from command, watching the bogies pop up on the field. The dreadnaughts were no good in atmo, they'd have to stay at range. 'Blank' corridors were marked for firing solutions so they didn't end up shooting their own ships out of the sky. The Citadel Defense fleet was a damned mess, pockets of ships running scared, ineffectually attacking Geth ships like rabid dogs. "Get me General Onrik."

Chun shook her head. "No sign of the CDF's command ship."

And didn't that just explain too damn much.

"Who's next in command?" He changed his mind a moment later, "Never mind, where is the Geth dreadnaught?"

A little red bogie symbol on the tactical map blinked, then enlarged into a slightly grainy image. The black warship was settling on the top of the Council Tower.

A smile tugged at the corner of Hackett's mouth.

Like shooting fish in a barrel.

"Send out the command: Fifth Fleet, engage the enemy."

The one good thing about being late to a fight, the silver lining, was that the enemy would already be preoccupied when you got there.

The frigates bolted forward, breaking free from the bulk of the Fleet in staggered V formation. Hackett traced their line on the map, imagining them in his mind's eye. Sleek, white ships banded in blue, orange and grey across the sides, angled like the birds that had caught mankind's attention long ago; when man looked up and wondered what it would take for him to fly.

The few Quarian ships that joined them in the defense followed the frigates, eager even with so much to lose in steel-grey box ships.

"Easy does it, now," he muttered. The map began to show movement from the Geth as they began to swing around to face the Fleet. They were reorienting themselves, fanning out and it reminded Hackett of an irritated bee hive moments before they struck.

"They aren't engaging," Krowe pointed out from his station. "The little buggers are staying put."

"Then we'll just have to go to them." Hackett moved the pieces on the map, sending commands that would be mirrored on the tactical stations of the other ships in the fleet. "Cruisers cover our advance line," He tapped on the icons of the SSV Elbrus and the Fuji and the station patched him in to their commanders. "Stay on the reserve."

"We'll keep our guns warm, Admiral," Raphael Tacca, CO of the Fuji assured him. "Just give the word."

The closer they were, the less reaction time the Geth had and with the backdrop of the Citadel behind the enemy ships, one missed shot would be devastating. It crippled their options, but he wasn't going to be responsible for innocent lives today. Not if he could help it.

Those.

He tapped several large Geth ships in quick succession. They were directly in front and hovering, protective.

Targeting locked.

"Bring us in."

The SSV Makalu was a marvel of human engineering, one of the first Kilimanjaro class dreadnaughts replacing the old Everest class ships. Better engines, better weapons, better shielding. It's the reason why Hackett only winced when a shuddering thud echoed through the hull instead of imagining his old rust bucket coming apart at the seams.

"Glancing hit, starboard," Krowe announced. The man's face was slightly manic. "Went right through side shields, increasing strength. A direct hit will hurt like a bitch."

"I got it, I got it," Chun grunted. "Payback, sir?"

Hackett eyed the map, an idea forming. The Geth didn't want to abandon their position? Trap them in it. He tapped the empty space behind the enemy line. "Clear the way."

The Makalu's main gun roared.

A heart beat later, the rest of the Fifth Fleet followed its lead as the frigates closed in, flitting back and forth. At first, the Geth seemed to freeze. The Makalu's target simply sat there, taking the hits. The first shot skittered off kinetic barriers, gouging a deep crater spitting metal shards and liquid that flash boiled in the vacuum of space, venting steam. The second punched straight through and exploded out the back, debris peppering a nearby Geth ship.

Other Geth ships were undergoing the same treatment, slugs fired from mass effect engines ripping, tearing through still targets, cracking through shields and hulls, leaving wrecks behind.

The first group of frigates pierced deep into the enemy line, cruisers hot on their tail.

The SSV Cairo banked around a broken Geth ship and seemed to run into an invisible wire, a large vent opened up in its side venting air and unfortunate crew men as if the hull had been peeled. The ruin of the Geth ship righted itself, sparking red designs erupting across its surface, and fired again. The Cairo took the hit dead on. Its hull ruptured completely, the exit wound spraying shrapnel as the ship spun with the force, then spinning violently in the other direction as another heavily wounded Geth ship slammed into it, tearing both ships apart.

"Damn!" Admiral Hackett let out in spite of himself, slamming a hand on the edge of the map. The frigates took the hardest hits being lightly armored, the surprise attack wiping a good third of them out. One doesn't see dead ships leap back into the action every day, one does not want to see dead ships making a comeback.

"Bollocks," Krowe agreed.

Chun's response was to swing the Makalu around, its main gun reorienting on a zombie ship and hammering at it until it was completely blown apart.

Two contingents of the Turian fleet broke off from the main group and went on the approach, the rest of them spreading out to cover the gaps. Hackett sighed as they took to the wings of the Fifth Fleet, showing no hesitation as they opened fire.

That old Turian was probably stewing. He could almost hear the gruff, flanging tones. 'You humans better appreciate this.'

"Thanks, Vandian," he muttered.

The Turians would be stretched a little thin, but that didn't matter. The Geth had them all outnumbered since the very beginning, at this point it was a matter of holding the line, no matter the cost.

Down on the Citadel Tower, Sovereign's red eye stared upwards, towards the battle raging above.

Sha'ira clenched her jaw slightly as she flung her hand out, visualizing the line straight through the disgusting creatures; single eyes that saw nothing, twisted skeletal bodies that jerked and contorted, a taste for murder. She held the slight burn for a fraction of a second longer, and then let it loose.

Her biotics detonated with the force of a bomb.

One moment the Geth were swarming over strange pieces of machinery they were setting up, the next the ground violently rejected them, deep craters punched into the metal flooring with the sheer force.

The batarian beside her chuckled, leaning out of his cover to pick off the disoriented. His armor was obvious Blue Suns, good quality white and blue armor and rifle with its networking crudely disabled. Wiring was still hanging free from it. "Will never get tired of seeing that."

The Consort's lips curled upwards briefly as mass effect rounds pinged off her barrier in retaliation. "I aim to please."

The YMIR mech unloaded its rocket launcher with a series of grinding noises and mechanical laughter. The rocket pin wheeled in the air, white smoke in a twirling trail before detonation.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." The mech said. "Targets eliminated. More targets found."

"Shit," a human boy, barely a man in the same blue and white closest to it scowled thunderously as he switched weapons, tossing his pistol in favor of scooping his rifle off the floor. "It's not fair when you blatantly cheat like that, fucker. Do I look like I can pull bombs out of my ass?"

"You're in last place anyway, boy!" The Batarian barked in amusement.

"Not the fucking point!" He grunted and slammed on his trigger, blowing a hole through a Geth. "And stop calling me boy!"

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha."

"Don't go rubbing it in," the batarian told the mech. He spat on the floor as he fingered a grenade thoughtfully, four eyes fixed on the Geth. "Fire in the hole!"

Sha'ira sucked in a breath, calling on the burn once more. It had been some time since she used her biotics as she was doing now, but it came back all too easily. The burn was still low, but the fact that it burned at all told her that she had crossed into overuse. Unfortunately – she unleashed a perfect Warp, an unerring smooth ball that drilled through everything in its path – she wouldn't be stopping any time soon. They were trapped in the Market Square, legions of machines crawling over the buildings, the walls and over their own dead.

They were holed up at the top of a gently curving ramp. Walls cut clear paths of approach with little room for maneuvering turning it into kill lanes and they ruthlessly exploited the high ground. She realized she should be feeling wary about fighting alongside an AI controlled mech, and at first she had been, but against these odds all irrelevant feelings swiftly faded away.

"Fuck," the boy said. His gun spat. A thin humanoid creature covered in glowing blue circuitry toppled, leaking pale grey blood. Its face seemed permanently frozen in a look of screaming horror. "The fuck are those?"

Sha'ira recognized them from memories that were not her own, but lifted from a marine's shattered mind. Images of the Geth attack on Eden Prime. Husks, the Alliance called them and the reason for it became apparent when one considered how they were made.

From people.

They were converting people.

She bit back the anger on reflex, and then purposefully. A clear mind was her greatest strength.

She reached out and pulled. A point in the air above the Geth folded in on itself, a small black point that pulled everything in range towards it. Gravity meant nothing as Geth lifted from the ground and were snatched off the walls. She reached, and a Warp catapulted from her fingertips.

A clear mind did not mean she could not get revenge.

The singularity silently swallowed the warp. It quivered, a light blue shockwave gently washing over the Geth as the mercenaries and mech took potshots at the helpless machines.

The biotic event horizon ruptured.

The brighter blue of a chain reaction lashed out crackling with the smell of ozone. Everything caught in its area of effect was engulfed. Trash cans, plants, Geth, lit up blue then disintegrated. Dust fell to the ground.

Her companions stared at her.

The YMIR mech sniped a far off approaching Geth in the face and whistled.

The batarian and human glanced at each other.

"She wins."

"Fuck yes. Shit."

Sha'ira tried to smile as a pulse of agony rippled down her spine. She swallowed the gasp of pain. She had known it was going to take a lot out of her but she didn't think – her vision tilted. She wasn't sure if her barrier was actually wavering or just the pounding headache blossoming at the base of her skull messing with her. Either way, she reinforced it and felt her legs tremor.

She made herself take that step forward.

"We should take this chance while we can." Her words slurred.

The batarian palmed another grenade as he reached out, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder with the ease of a man used to hauling teammates out of the line of fire. "Boy, we're going."

The human gave her a look, brow furrowing. "Yeah, yeah."

"Searching for more targets." The mech twisted back and forth.

"More Geth that way!" The batarian snapped at it. "Let's go."

The courtyard had briefly been cleared by the singularity explosion, small mounds of gray dust already beginning to shift and blow with a cool breeze. It would not stay empty for long. She flinched as more rounds slammed into her barrier from the side, her gut seizing as her barrier visibly rippled. The Geth set a low bar for intelligence but they were not blind. The multitude blocking the path right towards the Council Tower were turning, weapons raised.

So many.

Sha'ira choked down a sob, fire racing down her limbs. The Citadel, her home, was nearly unrecognizable. The pristine replaced by destruction, the living replaced by metal and code.

There were so very many.

She sagged against the batarian, convincing herself that it was just for a few moments rest. A few moments and she would be able to continue without being a burden.

She wished she was four hundred years younger, and still capable of lying to herself. Without her biotics their kinetic shields wouldn't last long under continuous fire. She did not voice the thought, not out loud. Let them continue to fight, let them hope. She knew men like them, it was the only way they would have peace.

She did not pray often, not to Athame, but the words sprung unbidden to her mind.

And at the end of your days, may you return to the loving arms of the goddess.

Her stomach roiled with the first step and the ones after. She swallowed thickly. It was bitter.

May you return free of pain, free of sorrow. Free to embrace eternity.

"Stay with us, Blue."

She nodded and regretted it, black spots blinking before her eyes and she knew she was on the verge of passing o-

She woke to the strong smell of blood.

Her back scraped against rough metal. Her body was on the edge of cold pain and warm numbness, muscles she hadn't been aware she had protested every movement, by the goddess even her eyelashes hurt.

" – waking up."

She was staring at the sky, she realized. The other Wards loomed ever present and between them the expanse of the Serpent Nebula. She lowered her gaze, wincing.

The batarian was half-hidden behind the bulk of the YMIR mech, its red sensors dull as it stared. He was muttering to himself, too quietly for her translator to pick up. The human boy was crouched near her, kneeling with his rifle propped up on his knee. His other arm hung uselessly, the armor panels ripped off and running with red. Humans bled red. He seemed to feel her watching and shifted.

He grinned at her fiercely, blood stained teeth. 'Hair' plastered to his forehead with sweat. A ragged tear split his lips. His eyes were green, she noted and they burned. "Alright now?"

"Yes," she lied.

They were sequestered in a thin alleyway. She had been propped up against the pile of rubble blocking one end of it off, other large pieces of debris strewn across the street, completely blocking them from ground height view. She glanced upwards again and just saw the tall, ruined peaks of buildings.

"That should do it," the batarian grunted, stepping back. His armor was cracked in several places and upper left eye a pulped mess. Clear fluid was slowly seeping out from under the torn eyelid. "We'll get about two seconds warning, best I could do."

The mech's head swiveled. "A warning would decrease optimal killcount."

"A warning for us, you stupid machine. They won't know what hit them. Until they're dead." Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the YMIR stood to full height. Its white armor was pockmarked and scorched. The batarian grunted, picking up his gun from the ground. "Two beeps," he warned them. "That means get out."

"What's the plan?" Sha'ira asked carefully. Her tongue felt large and slow. The batarian offered her a hand. She took it and stumbled to her feet. She could find no external injuries, they must have protected her. She felt touched.

"Figure we head towards C-Sec. Chances are, we'll run into somebody." The batarian was looking at her, and his eyes flickered to the boy.

She understood.

Chances were that they would find nothing but more Geth.

"What are your names?" She blurted. She verbally stumbled as they turned curious eyes to her. "I…feel I should know your names."

The YMIR regarded her silently, almost as if considering answering the question.

"Raxis," the elder mercenary said tersely. He checked his weapon and scanned the sky.

"Sebastian," the human said proudly, standing. It struck her then. He was – he was so young. "Of Paris. On Earth."

"That where you got your weird accent, boy?"

"Fuck you, squint."

The Consort nearly smiled. She had talked to many clients from all around the galaxy, she honestly hadn't noticed.

"Raxis. Sebastian." She nodded to them both. "I am Sha'ira."

She looked to the alleyway exit, ignoring the way the batarian's three eyes bugged in recognition. Her fingers twitched with aftershocks as she experimentally formed barriers over all of them. Pain flared hotly, but she could - yes, she could bear it. Offering comfort was more than just listening. It was knowing. It was knowing how to be the kind of person they would confide in, would trust. It was in how she held herself, the gestures she made, the tone of voice she used. It was all those things.

It was burying Sha'ira for those precious moments and being the Consort.

She stood tall, even when she felt she would topple. She stood confident and refused to acknowledge the fear. She morphed her pained grimace into a smile and tilted her head playfully.

"Shall we?"

The answering grins from those about to charge with her into the enemy, told her she succeeded.

"Searching for targets," YMIR announced. Clomp, clomp, clomp went its footsteps as it started out of the alley. "Lethality mode set: Extreme prejudice."

"Keep moving. Don't get tied down," Raxis muttered. He wiped his lower eyes, clearing them of dripping blood and fluid. "Go!"

Sha'ira tore out of a cover behind the mech, praying with every step.

Goddess, lend me strength.

The first Geth she saw she reached for, enveloping it in blue as it started with surprise and yanked it towards her. It brought its gun up and she stepped around and into it, feeling the barrel slide across her shoulder as she grabbed the weapon to keep it tilted away from her. She pulled her fist back, brimming with biotic potential -

YMIR interrupted, sticking a large muzzle into the Geth's face and gunning it down. The sound was deafening and she reeled. The gong of Athame's temple on Thessia had been transplanted into the inside of her skull. Her hands reflexively lifted to her temples, and she nearly cracked her head open with the Geth's gun.

She stared at it.

Or a gun, she thought, fitting her hands around its strange shape. She shot the mech a sour look. That works too.

A running battle wasn't at all like a stationary one in the worst way. It was claustrophobic; Geth soon surrounded them on all sides. A machine in front of her distracting her from the one crawling up from behind. She grunted as she ripped it off her back. Glowing circuitry, wide electric blue eyes and screaming – she blew the Husk away with shockwaves, ripping the ground and tossing everything it hit into the air.

It was loud. Raxis sputtering gun and Sebastian's sharp ringing cracks drowned in the sea of mechanical screams and screeching. Geth and Husks blurred into each other, for every one that fell it seemed two more too their place. YMIR was grating. If she were to go deaf in the next second, she swore she would still hear its 'Ha. Ha. Ha' ringing. Her barrier 'whonged' with rejected impacts, from the sides, from the back –

A flicker of a red pinprick and a burning bullet ripped through her barrier. Sebastian screamed, stumbling.

She whirled – the world tilted, black crawled at the corners of her eyes – and threw a hasty warp towards the serpentine sniper on the side of a building. It jumped away and she tried to track it –

Another breach. She felt the cold slicing sting of a grazing shot. She fired wildly in that general direction, white bolts zapping from her gun. She didn't bother trying to aim.

"Get up!" She yelled at the boy. He grunted, staggering. She moved to him, pulling him to his feet. He gasped with pain and it was wet, fresh blood on his lips. She- she could see the exit wound. "Get up!"

It was at that moment, that she heard a sound that sent daggers of ice into her heart.

YMIR beeped.

She aimed the next shockwave at her feet.

Airborne.

She tried to control her fall, twisting, and managed to get her feet back under her. It meant little. She hit the ground and her legs buckled, lancing pain tore up her thighs and spine as she fell, rolling. Burning pieces of metal clanged to the ground all around her.

She must – she had to get up.

Her first attempt failed.

Something shifted in her chest, slicing, exhausting effort saw her turned to her side. She saw Sebastian, laying prone on the ground. His pants were burning, his armor covered in soot. The white and blue barely recognizable. He was face down and utterly still.

Sha'ira sighed, her throat tight.

"May the goddess welcome you," she whispered. "And may you embrace…eternity."

She would get up.

She gritted her teeth through the pain and pulled herself first to her knees. Then she planted her heel on the ground. She would get up.

She pulled in air, and pushed herself to her feet.

YMIR's explosion had simply annihilated everything in a radius around it, a large circle of heated metal where it had stood and pieces of Geth and Husks and –

The remnant was already regrouping. Blank eyes turned to her. Even trying for a barrier sent violent tremors through her. She had dropped her gun somewhere, she had nothing.

She raised her chin anyway. She'd made her peace.

That was when an air car came screaming out of the sky, bowling through Geth, machines flipping over the hood of the car and splattering on the windshield, wipers shoving bodies and white fluid to the sides. It stopped in front of her. An old krogan bearing three scars over his eye leaned out the shattered driver's side window with a shotgun and casually blasted the Geth stuck under it.

"Get in."

[Veto] was stuck in a situation that was not optimal.

Namely, running out of targets.

The [primary target] [Geth] had begun to retreat out of the range of the defense turrets it was operating once the [friendly target] [Citadel Defense Fleet] arrived. There was a high probability that the [Geth] did so in order to defend, leaving only low hanging carriers and drop ships. There were only so many of those.

And they were capable of calculating their own odds of survival. The [Geth] cleared the air space around the turrets, usually by wandering into range of another one. They were slow learners and [Veto] could be inventive when the situation called for it. When the situation was killing things, it was always calling for it.

But even slow learners eventually stop making mistakes.

For the past one minute, seventeen seconds it had been reduced to taking potshots at [Geth] on buildings and ground level, as well as organics dumb enough to get in range.

There weren't very many of the latter.

[Veto] could not be frustrated but it was aware that this was not a good use of its resources. It considered its restrictions. It was capable of sending a notification to [Vigil], but there was a low chance of being indulged. It sent a message directly to [Creator] [Rebecca] instead. The output was filtered through its personality imprint into one succinct message.

[Rebecca]. I am running out of targets.

[Rebecca] took approximately thirty percent longer than usual to reply.

[VANGUARD]: How?

[Veto] paused for several thought cycles at the unfamiliar identification tag. [Rebecca] had always been [Rebecca] for as long as it had been active. It checked its address table and sent a new message.

I am constrained to my current platform. It has limitations.

[VANGUARD]: I see.

[Veto] paused again. It contacted [Vigil].

I am receiving messages with the identification of [VANGUARD] using [Rebecca]'s address.

[Vigil]: That Is [Rebecca]'s Primary Designation.

[Veto] was aware of that fact. However, [Rebecca] was [Rebecca]. It had always been [Rebecca]. It considered possible reasons for [Rebecca] to change its identification tag. Insufficient data. The VI floundered for an excessive number of thought cycles before it felt changes to its base code being made.

[VANGUARD]: Let's put you somewhere useful then. I am making changes to your definition of 'base.'

And new avenues of attack and defend opened up. [Veto] explored its broadened horizons. Long range light-detection scanners, numerous optical options, communication protocols. It would require liberal usage of its cyber warfare suite against [primary target] [Reaper]. Satisfactory.

[VANGUARD]: Give friendly targets a warning, will you?

[Veto] hijacked signal relay stations and turned them towards the fleets.

"Bogie on our tail, Donut," Major Bennet said tightly.

"I see it." His lips quirked upwards. Seven years and his callsign was still the best thing ever. Even with a Geth death machine trying it's darnest to blow the living hell out of them, it was a cheap and easy mood lifter. He suspected that's why his stick-in-the-mud CO used it.

He shifted the ship. The SSV Big Horn was like a well-paid hooker, eager to please, banking hard as he kept his eyes on the scanners. One ship behind them, close. Medium sized, zombie. Every Geth ship that recovered from what should have been a terminal case of 'mass effect round to the front' had readings that made no goddamn sense.

And they were smarter, faster.

Donut bit his lip, cutting the Tokyo into a left turning corkscrew. He opened the channel. "This is the Big Horn, can anyone get this off my ass?"

All he seemed to do in this battle was shake unwanted admirers and let someone else put them down. Donut lingered, then slammed hard on the thrusters. The frigate bolted like a bat out of hell, diving for the dreadnaught line.

The Geth picked up easily.

"Hong Kong sees you, hang ti – "

The call snapped off. The SSV Hong Kong blinked out on the tactical map.

In a move that was more instinct than anything, Donut dropped the ship. On his console, shield strength abruptly dived, brushing 5%.

"Glancing hits, shields held." He let out a slow breath. His gut clenched. "Want to dance, fucker?"

Warning lights blared in the console as the Big Horn shuddered, the hull screaming, "Hull breach," someone said behind him. Kerry, he thought. Her voice was blank. "Running DC, compartments sealed."

Donut grunted, fingers pressing into the orange interface until his knuckles hurt. That meant body bags, if their families were lucky. If they got out of this. He eyed the Geth on his ass, joined by more of his tailgating buddies.

Let's dance.

He took the Big Horn on a steep nose dive, spiraling. He was juggling controls – even out the dive, pull hard on the thrusters, roll! – He didn't wait for the green light. A burst of the FTL system had the Big Horn eating the distance between them and the Citadel, slipping between floating wreckages, alarms ringing into his ears as stray debris ripped through the shielding and scoured the hull. The ship shuddered and for a moment he thought they'd been hit. Had they been hit? He blinked as his view was suddenly filled with puffy white. Like clouds.

Why was he flying through clouds?

"Shit!"

Spires loomed out of the clouds like the fingers of God flipping him off. Oh god, oh god. He threw the frigate to the side, the frigate lurched sideways as it lost a wing tip, someone was loudly cursing his mama, his padre and whatever backwater colony that spawned him –

He took the chance with a quick FTL burst through the arms of the Citadel and out the other side.

Donut let the ship glide as he checked the ladar and the electronic counter-measures. The compartment was darkened with just the emergency lighting on, but they were alive. Thought that counts, right? And drift from the Citadel…just over 600k.

"Lost him!" He declared happily.

He didn't look over his shoulder at his CO, genuinely scared of getting shot.

The channel crackled. "You're a crazy sonuvabitch Big Horn."

Donut barked a laugh, wheeling his ship around, thumping the deck with his heel fondly. Atta girl. The sensors fritzed like a streamed movie on a bad signal.

"Hey," Donut called. "Hey! Keep the AIs outta my ship!"

"Don't you think I'm trying?" Ida bit back. He could barely see her station out of the corner of his eye, her dark hair marked a silhouette against her screen. "They're adapting. Fast. I – I can't keep up."

He could hear the CO on the line, questioning the other ships in the fleet. The answers were the same. Some had lost systems already, forced to quarantine affected areas. The ships would fly but for the people inside…well, they had a limited number of windows. They needed those sensors.

Donut bit his lip again.

"Do the best you can, Ida," Bennet said with his 'I'm a hardass' tone, the one that made Donut want to hit him for acting like he was on an Alliance Navy recruitment poster. He knew the man was leaning forward, widow's peak tall and neck almost disappearing into his uniform.

"Sir -!"

The console dissolved into static and when it cleared a single red eye stared out of it.

"My designation is Veto," a feminine synthesized voice purred over the intercom. "Alliance and Turian Hierarchy ships have been designated as level one bases. The best kind of bases. This ship and every ship in your fleet are now my bases."

"The fuck?" Donut blurted.

"And I get to kill all the things that attack my bases."

The intercom made the little 'blip' that said the call was closed.

Donut snuck a glance behind him.

Major Bennet seemed frozen at the CIC. Some aborted word leaving the man's mouth hanging open as crew members glanced at each other. No one seemed to know what to say.

Bright side: sensors were back. As well as a timer Donut knew for a fact he hadn't set. It was counting down on the terminal in large red numbers.

01:09:37

01:09:36

01:09:35

Admiral Hackett watched the timer continue to count down on the Makalu's CIC tactical map. The burning question at the forefront of his mind was: what was the timer for? An urgent message from the Council soon answered that question.

The Citadel.

Its arms were closing.