The continued tale of the crew of the Normandy SR2, as they transpire AFTER the events of Mass Effect 2. For those who haven't played it - SPOILERS will ensure. You have been WARNED!
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"Come on you bosh'tet, work!" She hissed under her breath, her fingers a blur as she tapped at the command consoles overlooking the mass effect core. Despite appearances, the core was in trouble. The greatest threat the Normandy faced right now was not the other ship firing at it, nor the boarding party that was even now battling with the assassin Krios and a fire team of the ship's crew in the cargo hold at the front of the engineering deck. No, the thing that worried her the most right now was the stability of the mass effect field generated by the huge orb and field dampeners that made up the heart of the Normandy SR2.
She kept her voice low, and mentally ran through a quarian breathing technique used by machinists to keep calm under pressure. She couldn't let engineers Donnelly and Daniels see just how terrified she really was. She had to stay calm, or at least appear to, for their sakes. She had the utmost faith in her abilities, and knew that if anyone could fix this, she could. They trusted her to know exactly what she was doing at all times, Daniels was even in awe of her technical abilities.
But Tali was frightened now, seeing the readouts before her and knowing just how fine a line she walked. If she showed even a flicker of doubt - if she hesitated even for a split second - and if the two human engineers saw it...
They were good, some of the best humanity had to offer. But they were human, not quarian. They were nothing like as skilled as she was, as her people were. If they panicked, they could make a mistake, and at this point even the slightest error in their calculations could begin a chain reaction that would tear the Normandy apart.
She couldn't risk it.
Tapping away at the console, she finished her latest adjustments to the field density and glanced up to see what effect it had on the field, hoping that this one wasn't the mistake, that this wouldn't spell their doom. As she did, she spotted a figure through the glass view port of Mordin's tech lab. Shepard?
Could it be the commander? Was Shepard alive?
Shocked, she watched - hypnotised, as the figure turned and hurried away, out of sight. It was too far a distance - and the lab too full of smoke - to tell if it had been Shepard, but she hoped in her heart that it had been. She wanted him to be here with her, now. Despite the presence of the engineers, she felt so alone, and the lives of the entire crew rested in her hands. Shepard had helped her on the Migrant Fleet, had shown her since that he could see past the mask she wore, that there was life beyond her paltry existence.
Right now, in what could be her final moments, she needed him. It was all she could do not to cry out his name, but she thought of Donnelly and Daniels, and how fragile their calm must be. She needed Shepard, but she couldn't risk damaging their calm. Not now.
Returning her full attention back to the console, she scanned the readings scrolling across the screen, rapidly typing the commands to adjust the mass effect field to correct any anomalies, and risks to the ship.
Please Shepard, she thought, fighting down the panic that she was so expertly hiding. Help me. I need you.
The airlock door to the combat information centre opened to a scene of barely controlled chaos. He scanned the room quickly, taking stock of the situation. Smoke was fairly thick in places, as numerous fires were burning amongst damaged control consoles and ruptured pipes. The crew - including Yeoman Chambers - were busy with extinguishers, trying the douse the fires before they began to burn uncontrollably.
Looking the length of the deck, he could see Dr Solus just off the flight deck, the salarian's eyes narrowed as he barked orders to the rest of the crew. He did not seem in any distress, though his uniform was in tatters, scorched in places and smeared black with soot in others. Across his sternum was a bloody hand print, though none of the crew in this section of the ship appeared to be injured. Another good sign. Though knowing what he knew about their enemy, he had expected the damage to the CIC to be minimal - Cerberus hadn't spent billions rebuilding this vessel and it's commander just to blow them both into so much space debris.
He nodded in solemn greeting as a few crew members looked up at his entrance, Jacob Taylor amongst them. The soldier looked pissed off, which was a strange but welcome look from the young man. He hadn't thought Jacob had the balls for this kind of work - more of an honest grunt than a black ops specialist. It was nice to see some fire in his eyes for once.
They didn't exchange words, but that look had been enough. He knew that that anger had been reflected in his own eyes. He was easily as furious as Jacob, even more so. This was his own fault though. He had grown complacent whilst working for Cerberus. Working on the inside of the most disreputable human organisation in the galaxy has numbed him to exactly what they were capable of. It made him feel sick to be a human, seeing how Cerberus was conducting this attack.
They were in the middle of nowhere, moving away from the quarian migrant fleet after some business with that marine, Kal'reeger. The flotilla had been passing through an uninhabitable system to refuel from a local gas giant, whilst on route to rendezvous with one of their exploration vessels, the Idenna.
Shepard and the Normandy had met the quarians out there to keep things quiet, to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to the migrant fleet, now that Cerberus had declared them traitors. First the Alliance had turned its back on Shepard, and then Cerberus had as well. The quarians were some of the few the Normandy could still count as friends, or allies at the very least. That Cerberus had sent a ship to ambush them out here, too far from both the flotilla and any settled worlds to call for help, meant that this was very personal indeed.
The Illusive Man clearly hated them.
Dismissing this train of thought, he turned away from the chaos in the CIC and headed into the elevator, readying his rifle and thumbing the button for the engineering deck. Last reports he'd heard before he blacked out were that the main contingent of Cerberus soldiers were in the shuttle bay, and that the drell, Thane Krios, was down there with some of the crew trying to drive them back.
The doors sealed shut, and with a quiet hiss the elevator began to descend into the bowels of the Normandy.
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