The next few minutes passed in a haze of shouts, frantic gunfire, and lots of running as the Worm that Walks burned out, Harbinger's host insects dissolving into ash. John felt himself fading away into unconsciousness from the strain. He envied the Worm. It was better to burn out than fade away, at least according to Def Leppard. Team Four linked up with the other members of the<span style="font-style: italic">Normandy</span>crew soon after its exodus from the hive. Mordin, at least, had been glad to see them alive.<br/><br/>'Excellent,' he said. 'Glad to see vaccine worked! Might even put it out on open market, yes, yes!'<br/><br/>He fought the pain, fought the fugue, fought the La--No, now is not the time for humor, dammit.<br/><br/>Gunfire. Ionized air. The buzz of too-large wings. Good, he thought. They were safe (for a given definition of the word, anyway). He'd reloaded at some point during their exodus, taking a couple of thermal clips from a dead Collector's flesh-pockets.<br/><br/>'Contact left! Contact left!'<br/><br/>'Shoot that bastard!'<br/><br/>'Incoming, two o'clock, high!'<br/><br/>'Praetorian!'<br/><br/>The rush to Shepard's location was frantic, fraught with Collector ambushes, hard vacuum, and perilous terrain. Harbinger itself seemed to be manipulating the architecture to kill them with an array of shifting platforms and unstable gravity. He heard EDI giving them directions in her customarily glacial tones, even as she fought Harbinger for control of the station's systems. At last, after a seeming eternity, they came to the final door, from which poured a torrent of gunfire. The rest of the<span style="font-style: italic">Normandy</span>crew, then, judging by the sounds of the gun reports.<br/><br/>They were so close. He would not die. Not here. Not now. His anima was ablaze once more, his pool of divine Essence partially restored during their mad dash away from the Seeker hive. He made himself a target, drawing the Collectors' attention while the others retreated to the safety of the doors. Using what little cover remained in the blasted, pockmarked chamber, he slowly backtracked to Shepard's position, firing as he went.<br/><br/>Shepard's voice called out on the comm. 'Four, One! They're clear! Go!'<br/><br/>His cue to leave, the--Oh. Okay, possessed Scions are fine, explosions are cool, too. John hoped the Freemasons were watching, because he<span style="font-style: italic">bricked</span>it.<br/><br/>He dove in through the doors just before a possessed Praetorian dropped from the ceiling. Great soulsteel slabs slid shut as Legion fiddled with a control panel on the other side. Shepard pulled him up. Finally, a bit of peace and quiet.<br/><br/>'Christ, John. Are you okay?'<br/><br/>John quirked an eyebrow. 'Whoa, Shepard, were you actually worried there?'<br/><br/>'Hell yes, I was!'<br/><br/>'Aw, boss, you really do--'<br/><br/>'You still owe me fifty bucks from Super Bowl Sunday!'<br/><br/>'Jerk.'<br/><br/>'Oh, and by the way, that anima display?<span style="font-style: italic">NERD</span>.'<br/><br/>Yep.<br/><br/>'Alright,' he said as he reloaded his weapons. 'So what's the plan?'<br/><br/>Shepard turned and jerked the thumb in the direction of a raised platform, one of the mobile plates the Collectors used to get around the ship quickly.<br/><br/>'I'm going to get on that thing, take a team, and shoot whatever's in the center of this station. That's why--' she tapped an M-920 Cain mag-locked to her back '--I brought this. I call her Vera.'<br/><br/>'No, I mean what's the plan for dinner?'<br/><br/>'Oh. I'm going for Chipotle. Gonna to hit up Cold Stone after.'<br/><br/>Frickin'<span style="font-style: italic">finally</span>.<br/><br/>Shepard stepped onto the platform and unlimbered a Widow anti-materiel rifle. 'John, Esone, new Geth, you three are still Exalted, right? Good. You three are with me. We're going to give that massive energy reading a dose of the Shepard treatment.' Then she put on her best Vader impression. To be honest, it wasn't that great. '<span style="font-style: italic">You</span>are in command now,<span style="font-style: italic">Admiral</span>Vakarian.'<br/><br/>The turian saluted and barked an affirmative.<br/><br/>'Everyone else, gather 'round.'<br/><br/>Oh lord, another of Shepard's Picard speeches. Time to cut audio feeds. John pulled up a menu on his display and ran diagnostic checks on his armor. Might as well do it now. Shepard would talk for a bit anyway.