Donovan had spent most of his trip either being pumped full of meds by Chakwas, 'accidentally' bumping into and subsequently psychoanalyzed by Yeoman Chambers, or probed by Solas as a rare and exotic specimen.<br/>The first had been amusing; the drugs generally had numbing sensation but were all but useless when it came to curbing his more esoteric tendencies. Sleep came to him with difficulty, and was generally fraught with nightmares, leaving him ever-vigilent against the fugue of dreamland. Chakwas eventually gave up her attempts, encouraged by one of Donovan's more sly observations that the rate of consumption there would be no meds left for anyone by the time the Normandy had reached the Omega 4 relay.<br/>The second was annoying, although tolerable. A pretty woman actively keeping a mildly discreet eye on him was a tolerable level of magnanimity for the brass to show an abrupt wildcard.  It grew aggravating when she began to notice that he never slept, although her refusing to accept his explanation that his Exaltation allowed exercise to count as rest -verily, it had made rest by normal means<span style="font-style: italic">useless</span>- allowed Donovan to convince the therapist that his occasional discussions with himself were simply the result of sleep deprivation.<br/>Solas was lucky that anal probes aren't fire-proof.<br/><br/>The rest of the crew, including Shepherd's rag-tag band of misfits, had generally left him alone. Legion and EDI had allowed him to listen in on their conversations, but beyond that he had chosen to stay fairly hidden aboard the ship. For the most part his free time went towards avoiding the challenges of an overzealous Grunt.<br/><br/>And building a chirality prohibition index. !evil<br/><br/><br/><br/>Donovan spun in his seat at the CiC, quietly humming along to a tune only he seemed to hear. He seemed almost childish, appearing to be doing anything but pay attention. At the mention of his name he snapped back into focus however, giving a grim nod to his new commanding officer.<br/><br/>"If I may sir, here would be the best option."<br/>He reached out an tapped a stretch of hull on the Collector base hologram. His touch left a glimmering emerald spark dangling at a point several hundred relative feet below the opening marked as 'Hangar'.<br/>"It's their main production facility for Seeker Swarms. Those little buggers take a lot of power to produce en mass, so the room sits right in the middle of the power grid for that section of the base. We could hit there, causing untold millions in property damage, then follow the exploding power relays down to the core, slaughtering the Collectors that will invariably stand in our way with glee."<br/><br/>He sat back, smiling almost naively at the rest of the room.<br/><span style="color: #000000">Um... Excuse me, moron? How are you going to explain off knowing all that?</span>