Mass Effect 1. Lurking Shadows

(**Disclaimer:** Bioware owns Mass Effect, and the quote below comes from Full Metal Alchemist.)

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_Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. _

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She knew better than anyone that nothing in life was free; everything she had, she had earned with her blood, sweat and tears. In this universe, there were no free lunches, no miraculous reset buttons, and certainly no gains without appropriate sacrifices. So when life, or fate or whatever it was decided to up and give her a second chance where there rightly shouldn't have been one, she should have known there was a catch. 

But of course, back then there had been little chance to consider such things. There were, as there always were, innocent lives that needed to be protected from the hordes of enemies determined to destroy them and very little time to devote to anything else let alone contemplating her own situation. And right now, she just didn't have the time. 

Shortly after returning through the Omega 4 relay, following the destruction of the Collectors' base, the _Normandy_ had found itself pursued by a squadron of Cerberus vessels that had opened fire upon first visual contact. During the fight, Cerberus had managed to override EDI's defensive logic by using some sort of override code, leaving the _Normandy_'s systems completely defenseless. The enemy hadn't hesitated in hacking the ship's systems, locking the crew out of all vital systems—even going so far as to try to shut down life support. Even now fury burned inside her at the thought. She had been right not to trust Cerberus; they had proved themselves ruthless before and had only reconfirmed her suspicions now. They had even been willing to kill their own personnel just to reclaim the ship. But, she supposed with no small hint of pride, the crew of the _Normandy_ no longer considered themselves Cerberus crew members but rather the crew of the _Normandy_—_her_ crew. And her crew was certainly well trained. 

Within moments of the attack, Legion had managed to counter Cerberus' hacking attempts and not only lock them out of the vital systems but also bring EDI back online. Tali and the engineering crew, had managed to coax a few precious seconds of FTL travel out of the engines before they went completely offline, allowing them just enough time to escape. Even after they had dropped back into normal space, Joker had still managed to evade the pursuing fleets, plotting a course so complicated and littered with false readings that it would have Cerberus searching for them for weeks. Assuming they survived that long, of course. 

Following their narrow escape, the _Normandy_ had limped to a nearby nebula, hoping to use the gaseous cloud and their stealth systems which, again thanks to Tali and the Engineering team were already back online, to keep themselves hidden until they could make repairs. But the nebula was quickly becoming more of a burden than a blessing. Apparently, something in the nebula was giving off low levels or radiation. Ordinarily, such levels wouldn't have caused much concern, however, with the hull damaged and kinetic barriers barely functioning above minimum, even these low levels were dangerous. Several crew members had begun showing the telltale signs of radiation sickness within hours of entering the nebula and were sent immediately to Dr. Chakwas for treatment. Ever since then, Mordin and Chakwas had been working feverishly to inoculate the rest of the crew; however, even after that, some crew members developed radiation sickness, so the unaffected members were ordered in to environmental suits to hopefully delay if not entirely prevent them from developing the illness. 

And so, repairs to the ship, which were already difficult enough, now had to be done while wearing clumsy environmental suits which made the already delicate tasks, all the more difficult. Thankfully, Tali and Legion who were, for the most part unaffected by the radiation, were already hard at work, repairing the damaged systems one by one. Still, it wasn't right to leave them to do everything simply because they were unaffected right now. Repairs would go faster if everyone helped, at least that was what Shepard believed, and while she was well, she would do everything she could to help—even _if_ it was damned frustrating to make repairs while encased in an environmental suit. 

As she removed the plating covering the circuit junction she was working on, her mind wandered back to a conversation she had had with Tali some weeks earlier. They had been talking about Quarian environmental suits. Back then, she had truly felt sorry for the girl; she couldn't have imagined living in a suit for her whole life. Even now, after—what had it been—a few hours? she already found the enviro-suit intolerable, but for Tali, this was her every day life, and there was no escaping it. At least, once they either escaped from the nebula or got the barriers back to full power, the rest of the crew could come out of the suits. That was worth something. 

She set to work, re-routing the circuits so that they would bypass the damaged relays. Doing so would increase the strength of the barriers by five percent. It didn't seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but out here, in this nebula, every percentage point mattered. One more percent could mean one less crew member who fell ill, one less person suffering for what was, essentially, her mistake. 

She turned her attention back to the panel, more focused than she was before. When she had finished, EDI informed her over the comm that there was yet another circuit that needed to be bypassed—this time in Engineering itself instead of on the lower decks. She closed up the panel and headed up the stairs. 

Engineering was in a state of controlled chaos, if such a thing were possible. Technicians in soot-coated uniforms rushed to and fro, carrying toolkits or spare parts or whatever was needed to complete the necessary repairs, their faces tired and grease-stained, expressions grim but determined. 

She fought to suppress another swell of pride. These were good people. Many had signed on for the initial mission, knowing that their lives were on the line and here, again, they found themselves being hunted across the galaxy by an organization feared for its ruthlessness. She knew there was no avoiding such things—especially not on this mission where danger lurked around every corner, but she'd be damned before she let any of her crew make such a sacrifice when there was another option. 

The panel she was looking for was down a small access corridor that branched off from the main area. She weaved through the crowd of people, stepping over pieces of twisted metal and other debris that littered the floor. Glancing around, she noticed that Engineer Daniel's usual panel had exploded some time during the fight, leaving behind only charred bits of metal. She looked around, trying to spot the red-headed woman, hoping that she hadn't been killed in the explosion and let out a sigh of relief when she spotted Gabriella working with Donnelly over by the mass effect core. Her arm was bandaged and tied in a sling, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. Shepard couldn't help wondering who among the crew hadn't been as lucky. Like it or not, the casualty reports would be waiting for her when she finally returned to her quarters this evening. But that was something to deal with later. Now, she had to worry about getting those kinetic barriers back up to specs. 

She made her way to the access corridor and found the junction she was supposed to bypass. She quickly detached a large section of wall plating, revealing the glowing, pulsing guts of the ship. Feeling overwhelmed for a moment, she paused to wipe away a bead of sweat that had trickled down the side of her face, forgetting that she had her helmet on. Really, she'd been in this armor in hotter places and hadn't sweated as much as she felt she was sweating now. In the back of her mind, she knew this could be a warning sign of radiation sickness but filed the fact away to deal with later. She could go see Chakwas once she was done here. 

The junction she was looking for was located behind a large bundle of thick cables, and she had to wedge herself between the cables and the wall to access the junction. The bundle weighed heavily on her back, and she ended up being pressed flat against the wall in order to escape the weight of the cables. It wasn't the most comfortable position to work it, but she made the most of it, connecting the like pins one by one until at last the junction was bypassed. 

Quickly, she extracted herself from beneath the cables an slumped back against the wall, aware that she was now sweating profusely inside her suit and that her throat was twitching with the first signs of nausea. Damn it all! This was no time to get sick. She forced herself to replace the panel, not wanting to create more work for the already busy engineering team, but it was slow work. Her hands were no longer as cooperative as they were earlier. She was fumbling with and constantly dropping the bolts now, and she knew that this had nothing to do with the environmental suit this time. When the sheet metal began to slip out of her grasp, she leaned against it, using her body weight to pin it in place while she secured it. It was slow, tedious work, made difficult by her swimming vision and sudden clumsiness, but after several attempts, she finally closed back the panel and picked up her tools, determined to head to the Medbay for treatment before her symptoms became any worse. After all, she was little use to the crew if she couldn't even see straight. 

The deck pitched suddenly underneath her feet, sending her crashing into the panel she had just repaired. She was about to comm Joker to find out what the hell had just happened when the ship pitched again. This time, she was prepared and managed to keep her balance by bracing against the adjacent wall of the narrow corridor. She heard footsteps through the buzzing in her ears and looked up to find Donnelly approaching her. Funny, he didn't seem to be having any trouble keeping his balance. Maybe the radiation had affected her more than she had thought. 

She regained her footing and stood up straight; it just wouldn't do to look weak in front of the crew, no matter how sick she felt. Her head swam as she nodded to Donnelly who, strangely enough only regarded her curiously, before pushing past the startled engineer with a "Carry on, Donnelly" as she started down the hallway. A firm hand on her shoulder halted her in her tracks, and she looked back to find that the Irishman had stopped her. But this was no time to be stopped. She had to get to the elevator, then elevator to deck three to the medbay where she could get some medicine to take care of this and get back to work on the hundreds of other things that needed to be repaired before the _Normandy_ would be up and running again. She had no time to be stopped here. 

"You don't look so well, Commander," he said cautiously, as though uncertain as to whether or not saying something like that to the CO of the ship was considered disrespectful. "I think you should go see Dr. Chakwas." 

She tried to tell him that was exactly what she planned to do but seemed to have difficulty focusing on his face. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision, and everything else blurred together into indistinguishable masses of color and light. The ship pitched wildly again (she would have to talk with Joker about that once she was done in the Medbay), and she slumped gracelessly to the group, the sound of Donnelly calling for help ringing in her ears as the world faded to blissful blackness. 


	2. Kill Switch

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Mass Effect.

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Unity

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Consciousness returned with a vengeance. Sharp, searing pinpricks of white light pierced the comforting veil of darkness which surrounded her, needling her back to awareness. Slowly, she opened her eyes, taking some time to adjust to the brightness of the room. Sterile white walls floated into view, and as she tried sitting up to look further around the room she felt the dull ache of a headache pounding behind her eyes. A pair of small, cold hands gently pressed her shoulders back to the mattress, forcing her to lie down. When her vision cleared enough to see, she was able to make out the concerned face of Doctor Chakwas amidst the brilliant lights.

"Take it easy, Commander. You're in the medbay on the _Normandy_._"_

The _Normandy_? Just what had happened? The fog in her head made it difficult to think. Had she been injured on a mission and brought back to the ship? The ship! Was it under attack again? Something unclear in her memories indicated that might be a possibility.

Fragments of memories ghosted across her mind—terrifying and alien: the bleeding away of life-giving air, the desperate breaths of a body craving oxygen that was no longer there, the blossom of pain inside her as her body starved, twisted and died, and that final moment when the spark of consciousness had faded leaving---nothing.

She forced the thoughts from her mind; they were too distracting and didn't help her figure out what had actually happened to her. She focused, determined to clear the fog from her head. The last thing she remembered for certain was going to Engineering which had apparently suffered a great deal of damage—because of an attack. She remembered now. She had collapsed while working to bypass a damaged relay.

She sat up, slowly this time and looked around the medbay for Doctor Chakwas. The older woman was on the other side of the room, working at a small alcove.

"Do you remember what happened to you, Commander?" she asked, turning to face her patient.

Shepard started to nod but quickly decided against in when the pounding ache in her skull reasserted itself with a vengeance. "Yes," she replied after a moment. "I collapsed in Engineering. I assume I was brought here."

Chakwas nodded. "Some of the engineering staff managed to carry you here." Chakwas paused and chuckled to herself. "Even Lieutenant Daniels tried to help, broken arm and all. It was quite a sight."

Shepard paled. "They _what_?"

"They had no choice but to carry you here. You were unconscious and showed no signs whatsoever of waking."

Shame bubbled up inside her. Great, not only had she shown vulnerability in front of her crew but she had caused them to worry about her as well.

"Nevertheless, Commander," Chakwas continued, cutting into Shepard's thoughts, "you still haven't answered my question as to what caused you to lose consciousness. Do you remember?"

"I—lost my balance I think. I remember falling; I think I must have hit my head then and blacked out. But before that, I suddenly broke out in a cold sweat and became nauseous. I had no idea that radiation sickness could hit so suddenly. I always thought it was a gradual process."

"Have you experienced any motor dysfunctions?"

The question caught her off guard. What on earth did motor skills have to do with radiation sickness? She glanced at Chakwas, wondering if she had heard correctly, but the medic was watching her silently waiting for an answer.

"Motor dysfunction?" she asked, stalling why she tried to piece together why the doctor would be asking this question, "What do you mean by that?"

Chakwas gave her a knowing look but elaborated anyway. "A sudden inability to perform delicate or complex tasks that you were previously able to accomplish, inability to maintain balance when walking or standing evidenced by uncharacteristic stumbling or falling, sudden, involuntary movements, need I go on?"

"No, I get the picture."

"And?"

"I fell," Shepard ground out, knowing exactly where Chakwas was going with this, "but not because of 'motor dysfunction' as you put it. I lost my balance. That's all."

Chakwas studied her grimly, but said nothing further, turning back to her work at the alcove until the doors at the far end of the medbay swished open and Miranda strode in, followed closely by Mordin. Shepard studied the unlikely pair incredulously, wondering what they were doing here and why they were both regarding her with the same grim look that Chakwas had given her earlier.

"Well," Chakwas said, turning away from her console in the alcove, "since everyone is here now, I suppose we can begin our discussion."

"Discussion?" Shepard cut in, "about what?"

"About your condition of course, Commander," Chakwas answered matter-of-factly.

Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing. "My condition? The only condition I have is a mild case of radiation sickness. And besides, what ever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?" She tried to make the last part sound like a joke, but her building suspicion strangled the sound in her throat.

"Unfortunately," Chakwas responded with a sigh, "we don't have the luxury for such things right now. This is a matter of extreme urgency that I believe Miss Lawson and Doctor Solus can help me with."

"I think it's time you enlightened us as to why we're all here, Doctor," Miranda said, moving forward until she stood near Shepard's biobed. Shepard couldn't repress a smile. Though the former Cerberus agent's manner had softened somewhat compared to when she had come on board, her assertive nature still surfaced from time to time, but for whatever attitude she might sometimes give, she could certainly always be counted on, especially on the battlefield where she would be ready with a well-timed shot or biotic pulse. Miranda was a formidable soldier and ally—even if she looked like she belonged in the movies rather than in the middle of a war. And she was brilliant, capable of understanding and applying extremely complex material. Though Miranda hated the word, "perfect" was the closest term that could describe her. Now, if only she could learn to accept the credit for what she had accomplished instead of attributing everything to her genetic tailoring.

Mordin was brilliant was well, having worked for some time with the Salarian special forces. Though Shepard still considered his work on the Krogan Genophage somewhat unethical, there was no denying that he was a highly capable scientist; after all, he had come through for her when she had needed it by developing a defense against the Collectors' Seeker swarms and giving them a fighting chance against those creatures.

Together, Miranda, Chakwas and Mordin made up a formidable scientific team. Whatever Chakwas had called them here had to be serious. And from the way the doctor was studying her, Shepard knew that she wasn't going to like this.

"I believe I do owe everyone an explanation." Chakwas paused. "Doctor Solus, have you had a chance to look over the readings I told you about earlier?"

"Mordin," the Salarian corrected without looking away from the screen. "And yes. I see what you mean." He entered several key strokes in succession. "Very usual. Highly unusual indeed."

Miranda moved over to take a look, paled and then turned towards Shepard. The brunette seemed to understand what was going on as did Chakwas and Mordin, but none of them seemed willing to explain it.

"Am I supposed to _guess_ what's going on?" she asked at last with a tired sigh.

Chakwas and Miranda looked away, but Mordin turned to her, as though the thought of explaining had just occurred to him. Trust Mordin to give it to her straight.

"The implant in your neocortex. It shows unusual bio-electric activity. Hmm." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Levels are too high to be normal."

Okay. So that explained some of what had happened, but it still didn't explain the need for all this secrecy. She turned to Miranda. "Can it be repaired?" If anyone could repair the damage or malfunction or whatever it was, surely the scientist who had been in charge of the entire project would be able to.

Unsurprisingly, Miranda shook her head. "It's not that simple, Shepard."

"If you need resources, I'll find them."

Miranda looked at her, but took great pains to avoid making eye contact, behavior which was completely unlike her. "It's…not a matter of resources either."

"Then what is it?" Their refusal to clearly answer her questions had quickly eroded her patience.

"The implant," Mordin continued, "is emitting the bio-electricity. High levels of it. It's—"

Chakwas cut in suddenly. "This specific type and wavelength of energy we detected is harmful to human tissue. I believe this abnormal energy is the cause of your strange symptoms earlier. If this continues, it will cause—permanent harm."

The news was surprising, but hardly devastating. "So it's malfunctioning. What will it take to fix it?"

"It's not a malfunction, Shepard," Miranda replied, picking up where Chakwas had left off. "And as I said before, it's not something that can be repaired."

"Tissue levels of the bio-electricity show that it suddenly spiked several hours earlier, during the battle with Cerberus," Chakwas continued.

Miranda picked up where the doctor had left off. "Around the same time that they hacked the _Normandy_'s systems. Do you understand what that means, Shepard?"

Truthfully, she couldn't say that she understood perfectly, but the ill feeling settling in the pit of her stomach told her all she needed to know about the situation. "Do you mean—?"

"A kill switch."

They all turned towards Mordin who had cut in suddenly.

Miranda glowered at the Salarian. "A bad choice of words, Solus," she spat.

Shepard turned the words around and around in her head. _A kill switch_. _Kill switch_.

Was she going to die just like this? Truthfully, it wasn't the thought of dying that bothered her. After all, she stared death in the face every morning that she woke to find she was still alive. Hell, she had even died once already. But in a way, this was worse. This wasn't death on the battle field—death suffered while fighting for what she believed it—fighting to protect those dear to her. This was a meaningless death, if any death could ever be considered meaningful.

"How?" she managed to force out at last.

"Asphyxia most likely," Mordin answered simply.

So here fate, or chance, or whatever it was out there that determined how things played out in one's life had determined once again that her number was up, and it couldn't even be bothered to be creative?

Chakwas elaborated further. "The implant itself is emitting some sort of bioelectric pulse that will cause demyelination of your neurons. This will, in the long run, leave you paraplegic. Eventually, it will likely paralyze your respiratory muscles killing you."

So not only was this an arbitrary death forced upon her by another person—not only that, but one that she couldn't really pre-empt with a bullet to the brain like she could an enemy, but it was a slow, gradual death in which she would only be able to watch as her body deteriorated around her. As a soldier, she had been prepared to die on the battlefield from anything that it could throw at her—bullets, explosions…asphyxiation in the icy blackness of space. She'd never actively pursued death—just always remembered it was there and gave thanks for each day she managed to keep it at bay. But never once, in all her time had she ever thought she would die in such a way. This was…terrifying—like hearing the telltale hiss of oxygen as it escaped, knowing that each second that sound continued brought her one second closer to death.

"Then if the implant is malfunctioning," she suggested, trying to focus on the problem at hand, "then why not just remove it?"

Again, Miranda shook her head. "From the looks of things, the implant that's causing the problem is in your neocortex." She looked to Doctor Chakwas who nodded. "Removing it would certainly kill you."

"Then how did you install in the implant in the first place?"

Miranda glanced away again. "You were already dead when you underwent that particular procedure, Shepard. These implants were used to restore the functions that your body was no longer able to maintain. Since they were supposed to sustain you, we didn't really worry too much about whatever damage your body would sustain from the implantation procedures. Likely, your original brain tissue is now too damaged to manage without the implant. Not only that, but the extraction procedure would cause even more damage."

"So then what do you suggest I do? I'm tired of hearing about what we can't do! I need options, people."

"Honestly," Miranda answered after a long pause, "I have no idea what we can do. I—didn't even know about this."

"I remember you saying something to that effect, Miranda. You had wanted to install a control circuit in my brain but couldn't understand why the Illusive Man hadn't. But I guess he had an even better idea, huh?"

Miranda's expression twisted guiltily. "I'm sorry, Shepard. I should have been more careful—checked what he gave me, but I was so focused on achieving my goals that I couldn't think further than the completion of the project."

The guilt was contagious. "There's no way you could have known, Miranda. And even if you had, back then, your loyalty was to the Illusive Man. Not to me."

"I just can't help wondering why he never told me," the brunette continued. "Maybe he felt it was a conflict of interest to tell me—thought I would be too protective of my 'project' to let him harm you. Or maybe, he thought that I would eventually turn on him once I got to know you. You are, after all, known as a charismatic leader."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "So, it was 'control' not kill?"

Miranda looked startled. "No—well, yes, I guess," she admitted with a sigh. "Of the two options, I supported the idea of a control chip because, at least it would have kept you alive…even if it meant you weren't free. Instead…this happened."

"Like I said, it's not your fault, Miranda."

The other woman nodded. "I know. I swear, Shepard, I'll find a way to fix this."

Shepard smiled. "I have faith in you." She turned back to Chakwas. "How long do I have?"

"Not long, I'm afraid. Usually diseases of this type are progressive, but this isn't a disease. This is being caused by the implant. As such, it's progressing at a much faster rate than it would otherwise. From my calculations, you'll lose fine motor coordination by the end of the week, be a quadriplegic by the end of the month and dead within half a year. I wish there was a better way to say this, but---"

Shepard held up a hand to stop her. "I prefer that you be direct with me. We don't have time to be vague. Now, is there anything we can do about this? Anything at all?"

Her heart fell when both Miranda and Chakwas both fell silent, but she steeled herself. So, they didn't know the answer right now; they would keep thinking until they came up with something. She wasn't going to quit; she'd be damned before she gave up.

"One option," Mordin said, shattering the tense silence that had filled the room.

_That _was more like it.

"Let's hear it, Mordin."

He looked up from the console he had been working at the entire time. "According to readings, stress exacerbates the condition."

She frowned. If he was going to tell her not to get stressed….

"Exacerbation of condition means faster progression. Disease progresses by breaking down nerve insulation. Don't know how to prevent breakdown but figured out how to slow it down."

He tapped a few commands into the console, and a hologram appeared before the surprised group.

Oh no.

A miniature, holographic version of Grunt's former stasis tank floated before them. He wasn't suggesting what she thought he was suggesting. Was he?

Miranda seemed just as surprised. "You're going to put her in stasis? In that?"

Mordin nodded.

Doctor Chakwas stepped forward. "Fascinating idea. The breakdown itself is a metabolic process. The bioelectric pulse triggers an autoimmune response that destroys the myelin. Slow the body's metabolic processes, and you slow the degradation! Can the tank be adapted for human physiology?"

"Yes. Minor modifications needed though. Easy enough."

"Doctor Chakwas, I assume there's no way to slow the immune response," Shepard said, hoping that she was mistaken.

Mordin answered instead. "No, no, no, not good enough! Would need to suppress entire immune system for that to work. Makes you too vulnerable. Would have to live in environmental suit until cure found."

"We could ask Tali to help engineer a suit."

"And while waiting for suit, disease progresses. Would never work. Stasis best option."

Wonderful.

"What kind of modifications would be needed and how long would they take?" Miranda asked.

"Not long," the Salarian responded. "Already made calculations. Just need to implement."

"We can get Tali to help," Miranda suggested.

Well, if there were no other options…

Shepard frowned, not liking the idea of being unconscious while things went on around her. "I assume that you'll be looking for a cure in the meantime."

"Of course," Chakwas answered matter-of-factly. "Doctor Solus' solution gives us much more time to find one. After all, we're not about to let you suffer _any_ permanent damage from this."

Miranda nodded. "Of course. We're going to stop this thing completely."

"Exactly," Mordin agreed.

She couldn't even describe the feeling welling up somewhere inside her chest. They hadn't been thinking only of saving her life, but of saving her—saving who she was, stopping not just at victory but pushing on for complete victory. If they were willing to go so far for her, then she would do whatever was necessary to help them accomplish their goal.

Shepard nodded and pushed herself to her feet—a show of strength for those who were being so strong for her sake. "Then let's get started on those modifications, and report back to me when they are completed." She looked each of them in the eyes. "And not a word to the rest of the crew, Tali excepted since she's necessary for the project."

Miranda gave her a doubtful look. "You'll have to tell them eventually, Commander."

"I know, but until then…I just don't want them to worry. I mean, I need them in top form if we're going to beat this."

Miranda moved over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We're going to beat this, Shepard. After all, you've made a career out of achieving the impossible; don't think we haven't picked up a few tricks either."

"Of course not. I wouldn't dare. Now, let's to work. Remember, quickly and quietly."

Miranda saluted, and Mordin nodded before taking their leave from the sickbay.

After a moment, Chakwas spoke. "You took the news pretty well, Commander."

Shepard turned to face the older woman, mouth set into a thin, determined line. "Of course. Death caught me once because I was careless. This time, I know it's coming. It doesn't stand a chance."

Chakwas chuckled to herself before turning back to her console.

"No," she agreed, smiling to herself, "I don't believe it does."


End file.
