Prologue
The Council chamber of the Citadel presidium was one of the most austere locations in the known galaxy. One could not visit without feeling the weight of past millennia. The Council had presided there ever since the first Isari found it, tens of thousands of years after the Protheans created it for the purpose. Now it was a wreck.
The majestic columns were reduced to chunks of rubble, with who knew how many people trapped beneath. The walls were pitted and scorched from bullets and bolts of energy. Men and women of every species lay in burned, bloody heaps, including quite a few of the mechanical Geth troopers that had stormed the station. At least this room was intact; Elsewhere, a massive hull breach Yawned into the infinite blackness of space. What a mess.
Tevos, Matriarch, Isari counselor, took in the devastation with a sad shake of her blue head. She saw it, it was right in front of her. Even so, it felt unreal. The attack had been swift, ferocious, and totally unexpected. She spared a glance for her fellow counselors. They were all still processing.
The invasion was over, for now. The combined might of the council races had been enough to defeat the Geth fleet and its terrifying flagship. Tevos had lived for more than a thousand years, yet knew nothing of its origin. She’d never seen anything like it. None of them had. Worse, it was captained by Saren Arterius. Council Spector Saren Arterius. Former spector, obviously. Now, Deceased. Courtesy of commander Shepard, the first human ever to become council Specter. Shepard, now feared dead, buried in the ruins with everything else. Shepard had warned them this was coming. They hadn’t listened.
The worst of it wasn’t Sovereign’s attack–Sovereign? Where’d she heard that name? Oh, right–it was in the latest report, the one that said Saren wasn’t even in charge and that the ship was controlling his mind. That was the kind of report you got from Shepard. Small wonder they hadn’t believed. No–the worst part was what happened to the Citadel arms. Each of the arms connected to a different mass relay, facilitating interstellar travel from star systems across the galaxy. It made the Citadel a hub for interspecies travel, making it an essential conduit for trade, diplomacy, all the things that made society work. Seconds after the ship had appeared, the arms stopped responding. Then they closed, isolating the citadel from any reinforcement. If not for Shepard personally defeating Saren and re-opening the arms… Tevos didn’t even want to think about what might have happened. The worst calamity imaginable.
She still had no idea why Saren had done it, or what he’d thought to accomplish. Whatever it was, it hadn’t succeeded. The humans led the counterattack against the Geth, losing several warships to Save the Destiny Ascension, the Isari flagship and the thousands the lives onboard. Not the least of which included her own, and the rest of the council.
It was all so terribly dramatic.
“Times are changing, Counselors.” Tevos’s expression didn’t shift, but she groaned inwardly, recognizing the voice. Turning, she saw Donnel Udina, the human Ambassador, being escorted into the room by a couple of C-Sec agents. Human ones, naturally. He was one of the last individuals any of them wanted to see, particularly here, particularly now.
The Turian councilor, Sparatus, looked like he wanted to spit at the man’s feet. “Ambassador. Here to gloat, I expect. What is that expression you humans have… never let a crisis go to waste?”
“And wonder of wonders, we each find ourselves here. Shared ideals between species. So rare. So precious. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The humans and Turians, The two largest military powers in the galaxy, had been gearing up to fight one another mere decades ago. A potential disaster, averted only by Council intervention. It seemed nothing was ever truly settled.
Valern, the Salarian, shook his amphibian-like head impatiently. “What do you want, Donnel?”
“You know.” Udina straightened, fixing his collar. It infuriated Tevos—they stood with death and destruction on all sides, no one to see but a few guards, and he still felt the need to perform. “On behalf of the people of Earth, the System’s Alliance navy, and human kind across the galaxy, I hereby call upon this Council to at last grant our petition to join your... exaulted company.”
‘at last.’ Humans had been on the galactic stage barely a century, yet they demanded equal rights to the Isari who had been there for millennia. Even as the Council granted them massive exceptions that caused dangerous, permanent schisms. The Batarians had withdrawn their embassy over it, plaguing everyone with terrorism and enslaving pretty much whoever they could ever since. Things had always been thus, but now requests to the Hegemony for extradition--or really of any type--might as well have been sent to a black hole.
“And I suppose you feel that you are best suited for this position?” Valorn asked. “It is the obvious choice, man of the people that you are.”
“The citizens of Sol and all her colonies are confident I will serve their interests best on this council.”
“No doubt,” Sparatus scoughed. “How far you must have searched for the most qualified candidate, to conclude the only person truly worthy of this historic honor was yourself.”
“Enough.” Tevos hadn’t really raised her voice, yet it cracked across the sounds of smoldering wreckage and distant shouts like a whip. “A quorum is present and a motion has been tabled. I second.”
Sparatus was incredulous. “We’re doing this? NOW?”
“The floor is open, councilor. Make the case that we were right and they were wrong. Explain to the spirits of those humans who died defending our errors how superior we are to them.”
“Guilt is not an argument. I will not vote to put someone utterly bereft of morals on this council.”
Udina chuckled. “My,, that is harsh. I forget--who defended Saren at every turn? Who was it that called our only specter a genocidal lunatic, opposed her nomination, and threatened to have her expelled?”
“You agreed with every word at the time. Now that she’s dead, you’re best friends. Point proven.”
“Ambassador,” Valornchimed in, “You will not insult and bully this council into granting you a seat on this council.”
“Why not? That’s how galactic politics work.”
“No, Udina, that’s how you work. You humans. You just go. Until we stop you.”
“Enough! Who sits the seat is a separate matter, it can be decided later. Preferably at a formal proceeding, with witnesses, and attendants, at a time when the halls of the Presidium are not soaked with the blood of our closest advisers and friends.” Tevos took a breath to center herself. “The question before us now is whether a human should be granted a seat on the council. Objections? ...Hearing none, Valorn, please call the roll.”
Tevos raised her hand first, followed almost immediately by Valorn. Sparatus looked between the two of them, and then raised his hand as well. Tevos knew Sparatus saw this as Udina extracting a concession, that they were acting out of a sense of misplaced obligation, but there was a more pragmatic reason. It was clear the humans would play a pivotal role in whatever was coming. A seat on the council would inextricably tie their fates together. Better that, than make a powerful enemy at a time of relative weakness.
Shepard’s reports, erratic as they had been, spoke of starships that flew themselves. They spoke of horrifying amalgams of flesh grafted to machines, twisted into monstrous shapes, charging out of nightmares to lay waste to civilizations. Exaggerations, surely. But that damned capital ship, the one that made all the others look like children's toys by comparison, the one that looked nothing like the Geth, nothing like anything they had ever seen. That ship, too, was now a wreck, totally unrecognizable. In fact, a giant piece of it had crashed into the presidium, causing much of the structural damage. No doubt everyone with a well-connected Aunt would pay whatever they could for scraps of it, until nothing remained. Souvenirs, or research into illegal technologies. Most people would never see the whole ship. But the Council had been there as it came through the conduit. They had seen. They understood.
“The motion is agreed to. We stand together, united, for our shared future and against the very grave threat we all face. Thank you everyone… Thank you, Ambassador.”
Udina stared at the alien counselors, growing red in the face as he struggled to control his temper. He’d gotten all he could reasonably expect from this, yet it wasn’t enough for him.
The council looked back, impassive. “If there is nothing else?” The Ambassador turned, slowly, and left. “This meeting is adjourned.”. It was the shortest council gathering on record.
Tevos turned on her heel and swept toward the door. The others followed more sedately. They’d come to see the damage; they’d seen it. Now, the Destiny Ascension awaited to transport them to their various homeworlds. They would each visit Thessia, and Palavin, and Cerkesh. They would each tell their people what had happened here, somehow. They would assure them that nothing like it would ever happen again. As if they could promise that. Comforting lies, but lies nonetheless. It was what the people expected, and anyway, it was all the counselors could give.
Tevos felt the eyes of the dead on her, accusing, blaming them for their failure. Forms of bodies and pieces of them could be seen between fallen chunks of stone and steel. Hours ago, these monuments to history had stood for fifty thousand years. All ruined now. Tevos vowed never to forget how helpless she’d felt , the moment Seran had led a fleet of hostile alien warships onto their doorstep, through a back door they’d never even suspected. There had been no demands, only death. And that awful scream. Everyone on the Ascension had heard it, though none knew from where. It was like rending metal and wailing children. The ground torn asunder. Apocalypse. Death.
One of the c-sec officers ushered in a demolition crew, who began rigging explosives to clear the worst of the debris. Tevos squinted, trying to remember the human’s name. Bales, was it? With a will, she suppressed her rising tide of panic, her fear that nothing they could do would stop the thunder, and gave him what she thought was a fairly reassuring smile. He nodded to her, respectfully, but didn’t smile back. She couldn’t blame him.
*****
Lights, sounds, stabbing into her, consciousness fading in and out. She had the vague impression of being dragged. She tried struggling, but she couldn’t get out of her armor. Whatever had her had a grip like a vice. She’d met Krogan with more upper body strength. What the hell?
She started marshaling her strength for a more serious attempt, but then the movement stopped. Craning her neck, she could see the outline of a room that was barely larger than she was. The hatch was open, but something was blocking it–
More light stabbed into her eyes, forcing them to close. Then it was gone. Cracking them open again, she saw a figure hunched over her, a single eye glowing in its forehead. She almost swore it raised an arm in a shushing gesture. Then it slowly vanished from sight, and the hatch closed. A tactical cloak? Who was–
She felt a jolt, then a slow rumble that was more felt than heard. She’d been in space long enough to recognize a mass effect drive kicking in. Then she heard a hiss. It was too dark to see what was happening but everything was suddenly very cold. She tried to struggle, but there was nowhere to go, no one to call, nothing to do but wait for the inevitable.
*****
“I want to thank you all for coming on such short notice. We’re all in a bit of shock right now, as you can imagine, and–”
“Where’s Shepard?”
The question didn’t come from Garrus Vakarian, turian, former investigator for Citadel Security–before his reports on Saren were swept under the rug. It didn’t come from Kaiden Alenko, First Lieutenant Alliance navy. The question hadn’t come from Tali'Zorah, the Quarrian whose intel had been integral to stopping Saren before he could complete the reaper invasion of the galaxy. It hadn’t come from Liara T'Soni, the Isari whose experience as a Prothean researcher had allowed her to decode Shepard’s visions of the future. Or was it the past? That part was fuzzy. It hadn’t even come from Urdnot Wrex, the towering eight hundred pound Krogan battlemaster who had put his own species’ hopes for a genophage cure aside to join Shepard in taking Saren down.
No–the question had come from all of them at once.
The man giving the briefing flushed. Kaiden didn’t recognize him, or his rank, but judging by the lack of decoration on his uniform, it probably wasn’t high. The one with all the rank was standing behind him. Steven Hacket, Alliance fleet Admiral. God, effectively.
“Umm. Yes. Right. Thank you, all of you, again. I can tell we’re all very anxious for some news!”
Not a chuckle. No twitch of expression from anyone. Just heavy, expectant silence.
“So. The long and the short of it–” he tapped the datapad on his desk and it projected to a screen on the far end of the room. Everyone craned to make out the text while he scrolled through the presentation, but it was too fast to actually read much of anything. One phrase did tend to repeat a lot though: “search complete.”
“We’ve put our top men–top agents on this,” he continued. “We’ve, as you can see, tracked down several leads that were promising. Unfortunately, um, most of them did not turn up much–”
“Nothing. You found nothing. You know nothing.”
Kaiden winced. Belligerence in this situation wouldn't change anything, but Wrex was like that. You got used to it, or you didn’t. Kaiden had no desire to tell him off for it–nor, unsurprisingly, did anyone else.
The analyst flushed hotter. “We found all sorts of things! They just didn’t pan out. It happens, in intelligence work. You have to sift through what’s true and what’s not, figure out what matters–”
“While you’re sifting and figuring what matters, my friend is gone, and your intel isn’t worth a pijack’s crap. She saved all of us. Saved the galaxy. She deserves better.”
All true words. All-okay, mostly–measured words. If Kaiden had said those words, this guy would appreciate his candidness, and then blow him off. From Wrex, though, the undertone of menace wasn’t much of an undertone. Krogan often sounded threatening, but Kaiden knew Wrex well enough to know the difference. A lot of people assumed his temper made him a brute, slow and stupid. A lot of people thought that about all Krogan. Kaiden had once, long ago. Now he knew better. Wrex, at least, knew exactly what he was doing.
“Is the Krogan going to be a problem? It’s really not conducive to–”
“Wrex,” Kaiden said, keeping his voice low and expression carefully neutral, squeezing Wrex’s shoulder reassuringly. An extremely firm squeeze that, on closer inspection, may have been more of a death grip. “His name is Wrex, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hacket murmured. Kaiden blanched. For a moment he’d almost forgotten he was there. This could go south, fast. Hell–it already had. “Go on, Max.”
So that’s his name. Look at us, getting acquainted, making friends–well let’s not get ahead of things.
“Thank you–Admiral. Yes. So, her last known location–”
Wrex shrugged off Kaiden’s hand, like it hadn't even been there, and lumbered out of the room. A relatively low key exit for a Krogan, but Krogan didn’t really do low key exits. Max cleared his throat while the echoes of Wrex’s footfalls faded into the background. Inwardly, Kaiden despaired. He didn’t think Wrex would be back–not to the briefing, not to Arcturus station, probably not to the Normandy. He definitely felt another migraine coming on, and he didn’t think this one was due to his aging L2 biotic implants.
“As I was saying. Her last confirmed location is on the presidium. That was where she fought Saren. It would seem that one of the columns fell down around her. She was in armor, of course, so it’s quite possible she survived. However, we have–um, haven’t been able to get a solid location on her since.”
More silence. Then, disbelieving “We know that! I told you all of that. Me and Wrex were there the whole time!”
Tali folded her arms. Her expression was invisible under the helmet, but Kaiden could guess what she was thinking. They were all thinking it. And then, she said it. “You’re wasting our time. Why did you call us here just to tell us what we already know?”
“Now look, I understand why you’re upset, but I don’t think you’re being very appreciative. We risked our lives hunting down every lead, every scrap of data we could find–all classified, by the way, just so we could tell you first, even though none of you have any alliance clearance to speak of. Why is the quarrian even here? She has no rank whatsoever, she’s just some–”
“Baushtet,” Tali actually growled, sweeping out of the room without another word. Another awkward silence.
“Her name is Tali'Zorah, Vas Nema. But the Vas Nema part is just her ship name. Her father is Rael'Zora–fleet Admiral Rael'Zorah, actually. Sir.” Ever since he'd totally lost his temper on Jump Zero all those years ago, Kaiden had made a point to never show disrespect to a fellow officer. This guy was making that really tough.
“I take your point, Lieutenant.” Hacket stepped forward and put a gentle hand on the analyst’s shoulder. “Max, I appreciate the packet you’ve put together here, it looks quite extensive. I’ll read it cover to cover. I think we can take it from here. You’re dismissed.”
Max nodded and picked up his pad. He walked quickly out of the room, looking relieved.
Kaiden glanced over at Liara, the one who hadn’t left. She was just staring with the thousand yard stare of someone who had found someone and lost someone in very little time. He wished he didn’t know it so well he could recognize it on an alien face.
Hacket sighed. “I’ll cut to the chase. Shepard’s gone. Without a trace. We don’t know if she’s alive, dead, captured, fighting the reapers–hell, she could be taking shore leave for all we know. Who could blame her?”
“Commander Shepard didn’t just peace out and take a vacation,” Garrus chimed in. “You know that as well as I do. She’s a workaholic, she’d never stop fighting. We can’t either.”
“You’re right, of course, and of course we’re not going to stop. Our highest priority is recovering Shepard, in whatever state she’s in, as soon as possible. We have teams on every system in the cluster looking for tips. And we’re not the only ones. The council has pledged its resources, Isari high command–even the STG is looking for her. Something will turn up.”
“And what if it doesn’t?” Liara finally spoke.
Hacket gave her a sympathetic look. “Something will. It’s a big galaxy, and she just became the most important person in it. She can’t just disappear.”
Liara laughed, humorlessly. “Sure she can. I did.”
“Liara–” Garrus tried to comfort her, but she was done. She stood up, turned away and practically ran out of there. Funny–Isari were blue, of course, so a flush didn’t look the same way, but Kaiden could swear her cheeks were more… vibrant? Not a look he’d seem much from an Isari. He hoped he wouldn’t again. Garrus shook his head and followed her out, giving Kaiden a sympathetic look over his shoulder.
Hacket met Kaiden’s gaze, then spread his hands. “I’m sorry, Kaiden. We’re doing everything we can.”
“I know sir, And thank you.” Kaiden paused and took a breath. “Sir, if I can ask–if we…” Kaiden took another breath. “Our commanding officer might be absent for some time. What’ll happen to the Normandy? Our mission? To find the reapers–”
”You should go. Comfort your friends, Lieutenant. We’re done here.”
Kaiden definitely didn’t like the sound of that, but he didn’t know what else to say. So he nodded, saluted, and walked out of the office. He didn’t look back, but he knew the eye of god was on him. It probably would never leave. There was a time when Kaiden would have given just about anything for that kind of attention from his superiors. Now he just wished he could go back to when things mostly made sense, when living starships didn’t leap out of the depths of space to turn everything he knew into a waking nightmare.
But that wasn’t the universe they lived in. It never had been.
*****
“Shepard did everything right. More than we could’ve hoped for.”
The MIa red supergiant Anadius is a minor footnote on the star maps of the Horsehead Nebula: a cold, dying star of about 20 solar masses, 1,500 times the size of earth’s sun. Not listed on any charts, Chronos station was nearly imperceptible in the star's periodic bursts of solar output. Depending on the station’s position orbiting the star, the light cast was either the fiery red of the dying part, or the cold blue of the part that had already died. A striking view, to be sure, but one the occupants of the station had long since become inured to. There were about fifty of them, and they all catered directly to the Illusive Man. As such, they weren’t allowed to leave, unless on personal business for the illusive man. Miranda Lawson didn’t envy them. Besides, she was far too busy enacting his will elsewhere. She’d only been here once before, when she had joined Cerberus, so the visual was still new to her. An absurd gesture of trust at the time, one she doubted he’d continued as the organization matured. These days he communicated with his operatives remotely wherever possible. That he had sent for her specifically spoke volumes as to his intentions. It was always like that with him. You had to decipher his statements through the prism of action and inaction, implication and level of investment. Games she didn’t have time for.
“Commander Shepard found the truth,” said the illusive man. She knew his name, at least, she thought she did. It didn’t really matter though. The reputation of his pseudonym had far eclipsed that of who he had been. He didn’t continue, so she supposed he was prompting her to go on.
“She saved the citadel, even the council. Humanity has the trust of the entire galaxy. And still, it’s not enough.”
Well, that wasn’t quite true. A lot of Turians were still grumbling, but Turians were always grumbling. The Krogan had barely moderated their rhetoric at all, but they were Krogan, they hated everyone and everyone hated them right back. The Batarians, if anything, had gotten even more belligerent, but even less people cared about Batarians than Krogan. There were always racists in every species. The point was, the reasonable Isari, Salarians and even Turians were now fully onboard with human expansionism. In some ways this was a trap, since it meant that they could send humans to chart out the more remote regions of space, places they feared to go themselves. But it also meant opportunity, and it was what humans were primed to do anyway. The powers that ran the civilized galaxy–the part that mattered–had chosen to help rather than remain apathetic or overtly hostile. It changed everything, at least in the short term. Particularly for an organization like Cerberus, whose aims were human equality and rule throughout the galaxy. It might even be just in time to matter.
“Our sacrifices have earned the council’s gratitude,” the illusive man agreed. “But Shepard remains our best hope.”
“And still, it’s not enough.”
The illusive man nodded. “We’re at war. No one wants to admit it, but humanity is under attack.”
“And they’re sending them to fight geth!" Miranda threw up her hands. "GETH! We know that’s not the true threat and so do they. The reapers are still out there.”
The illusive man took a drag off of his cigarette. Miranda had never bothered to ask about them. He discouraged questions which weren’t focused on the mission. She could probably learn his favored brand from the lickspittles who waited on his every call, but she wasn't interested. “And, it’s up to us to stop them.”
It didn’t have to be that way. It shouldn’t be that way. Stupid, short-sighted… “The council will never trust Cerberus, they’ll never accept our help. Even after everything humanity has accomplished. But Shepard… she’s a hero, a bloody icon. They’ll follow her. But she’s just one woman–if we lose Shepard, humanity might well follow.”
The illusive man nodded, and stubbed out the cigarette in an ornate silver ash tray. “Then, see to it that we don’t lose her.”
*****
Things sure weren’t like they used to be.
Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau leaned back in the pilot’s chair of the Normandy. They all called him Joker though, rarely Jeff. Unless you were Dr. Chakwas. She always doted on him a bit. Probably because of his disease. Or maybe his charm and good looks! Yeah, probably more the brittle shin bones. It would have been annoying if she wasn’t so damn perfectly useful about it. Hell of a way to say thanks, Jeff.
If he’d been born a few generations earlier, he might not have been born at all. Thanks to modern medical advances, he was able to fly the most advanced stealth warship in the galaxy. As long as he stayed in the chair. Getting out of the chair, though, was a bit more of a challenge, since his legs could barely support his weight. He managed though, like everyone else.
Since the Geth attack on the Citadel, everyone agreed that the Geth were the most important threat out there, and that the humans were the best equipped to take it out. There was just one problem–well, several, actually. But the main one was that the Geth were simply not the threat. They were just pawns of the real threat, the Reapers. Joker had seen Sovereign–hell, he blew the damn thing up. No matter that goody goody Shepard, glory hound of all civilization, got the credit while Joker did all the work. Praise travels up, blame travels down. Everyone knew that. But that was the other thing–Shepard. It’d been two months, and she still hadn’t turned up. They were still looking everywhere but you could tell by the language that most had given up weeks ago. It was part of why the crew had jumped at the chance to come out here: the Geth were the prime suspects for whatever had happened, so perhaps finding the Geth would also find Shepard. That wasn’t the official reason, but the Admirals knew they wouldn’t object too much. Which was also fine--it led credence to his hope that they were actually being halfway clever about this and planning some whole-of-galaxy approach in secret... sure, Jeff. Maybe they'll even pass a balanced budget.
So here they were, getting paid to do nothing.
From that perspective, things weren’t at all how they used to–they were far better. No one was shooting at his ship, he didn’t have to touch down on any freaking lava planets or drop the mako right on top of any tenacious Turians out to destroy the galaxy. He just had to plot mass relay jumps, which he’d done his whole life. A simple matter of calculating half a dozen interstellar vectors and cross-referencing them to the expected coordinates of every major object in the target system in under five seconds, so as to not pop the Normandy into a sun and instantly kill everyone on board. Kid stuff, really.
“Disengaging FTL drives. Emission sinks active. Board is green, we are running silent.”
So why the steady drumbeat of dread? He knew it wasn’t just him either. He was far from the most observant person around, but everyone could tell the vibe was off. Shepard wasn’t the only one gone–the aliens had left too. Wrex had just walked off one day, didn’t tell anyone why or where he was going. That was Wrex though, he supposed. Tali left soon after, though she had the grace to tell everyone in advance. She’d only joined up to Shepard to stop Saren, she’d explained. Now that that was done, she had a pilgrimage to complete. He understood, but he missed having her around. A lot easier on the eyes than Wrex, to be sure.
Then Liara and Garrus had gone soon after. Joker and Garrus didn’t really get along, he was way too serious. They respected each other though, and mostly stayed out of each other’s way. He’d left a promising career at Citadel security to hunt down Sarren. That wasn’t a big deal by itself, but in the process he called the whole establishment rotten to the core, blind, stupid… pretty incendiary stuff. Someone else might have found ways to mend fences and maybe get his job back, but not Garrus. The stick up his ass wouldn’t let him. And now that Saren was dead, he had nothing else to do. Joker wished him well, but had no idea what his plans were.
He liked Liara a lot better–of course. Everyone liked Isari. Still, a lot of the Isari he’d met had a fakeness to them, that aloofness from pretty girls who know they’re pretty, always sizing you up. Liara wasn’t like that at all, she was just quirky and a bit–okay, a lot awkward. And totally focused on the Protheans. Those had all died fifty thousand years ago, so her chances of dating one were pretty slim. Shepard, though, had stumbled on a vision by a beacon they’d left behind on Eden Prime, and another one on Virmire–so she was the next best thing, Joker supposed. Can’t let a fish like that slip away!
Actually, he had no idea if that’s what it was, or if they were even dating. All he knew was that she’d taken Shepard’s disappearance harder than the rest of them. They were all scared of the future, even more scared of the Reapers coming back, and terrified of facing them without her. But they’d mostly bounced back. They were military professionals, death and loss was part of what they did. Not Liara. Shepard was her new obsession, one way or another.
Oh, right. That was it. The reapers. The damn starships that flew themselves, got in your head and made you wish the universe was a bad dream you could wake yourself up from. That was why everyone was on edge. Krogan were one thing, Batarian slavers, even killer robots like the Geth–it was all just part of life in a big galaxy, right? Of course there’d be a few killer robots. Of course there’d be big bullies. Of course some races would just like to slave. Earth already had all of those, why wouldn’t they be in space too? The Reapers though were a different class of threat. He didn’t know what to do with them. Nor, it seemed, did anyone else, which was why the mood had been so bleak lately. Kaiden tried his best of course, and none of it was his fault, but he wasn’t Shepard and he certainly wasn’t Anderson, their last captain. Anderson was now Councillor Anderson, the first ever human to hold that role. Poor naive bastard.
“We’re wasting our time,” grumbled Presley. “We’ve been searching all over this sector for four days and haven’t found anything.” Presley was the navigator, and Shepard’s XO. As such he was the next logical choice to lead the Normandy–only the brass had other ideas. He probably wasn’t happy about that. He certainly wasn’t happy about how no one else seemed bothered by it.
Joker shrugged. “Three ships went missing here this month, something happened to ‘em.”
“Sure. Slavers happened. They’re all over the Terminus systems.”
Presley was probably right, it was statistically more likely. It was the job though, no sense getting spun up about it. Things could always be worse. He started to reply when an alert appeared on his display, marking the appearance of a new ship in the quadrant. The system hadn’t identified it yet, but its heat emissions matched the profile of a cruiser quite a bit larger than the frigate-sized Normandy. The Normandy, though, was special, in that it stored its heat emissions in specially-designed scoops. These scoops would be vented during a faster-than-light jump, so as to not destroy the ship. Until that happened, though, they could observe a system for hours without anyone knowing they were there. It was what made them the bell of the alliance ball. It let them go where no other starship could. No other race in the galaxy was able to–
The cruiser abruptly changed direction and headed straight for them. Uh oh.
“Wait what the hell? Even the Geth never–”
“It’s not the Geth.” Joker flipped on the PA. “Hostile ship sighted, brace for evasive maneuvers!” He gave everyone about three seconds to grab something before he swung the ship right back towards the mass relay they’d just left. He Probably should have waited longer, but tough luck. The crew would manage. The Normandy would lose a conventional chase or battle, its relative size meant it probably had better weapons, better armor and a larger drive core. But a relay jump would put them back in council space. A lone vessel wouldn’t pursue.
The ship had closed to the range of the visual sensors–far too close for Joker’s liking. It was unlike anything he’d seen before. Industriel grey, it looked both metallic and… not-metalic, with thin bone-like protrusions to either side. Streamline despite its size, the ship tapered off near the stern with a pointed bow. Three points of light grew there, aimed right at the side of his ship. Shit–
Three beams of light exploded out from the ship, a blinding kaleidoscope that scalded across space. It made up the distance between the ships in about half a second, went straight through the Normandy’s kinetic barriers like they weren’t even there, burned all the way through Normandy’s armor and caused three hull breeches. Joker’s screen fizzed and went out, the shields and weapons consoles dimmed, and the roar of the engines suddenly stopped. At once they had been blinded, defanged, and paralyzed. They’d just left the relay so they might actually be in range now, but it didn’t matter with the drive core offline. Joker had no idea what was wrong with it, but whatever it was, he was pretty sure Adams wouldn’t have time to fix it before the next attack, which would end them all. Joker guessed the only reason it hadn’t done so already was the course it was on, which meant it would swing back around again. Which could take anywhere from ten seconds to a couple of minutes. The Normandy might even survive the next bombardment, but the crew would not. Just like that, the Alliance’s most advanced warship was cooked.
Everything was in chaos. Red emergency lights strobed on to illuminate the bridge. Alarms alarmed. People screamed. Pressley had fallen out of his chair and hit his head. He wasn’t moving.
“someone put that fire out!” Joker switched frequencies to alliance emergency priority, making the call that everyone hoped they’d never have to make. “Mayday Mayday mayday! This is SSV Normandy! We suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy in the Amada system. Shields down, weapons offline, engines disabled. Request immediate rescue and assistance!” He hoped that communicated the seriousness of the threat. It was all he had time for.
Kaiden suddenly burst onto the bridge. “Status rep–” he took one look at the destroyed or nonfunctional consoles, Presley slumped beside one of them. He still hadn’t moved. “Shit.” He grabbed the mic away from Joker and switched back to in-ship comms. “Abandon ship. Everyone get to your pods now. Move!”
It must have killed him to say that. Still, it was nothing to how Joker felt. It was his ship, dammit! His– Kaiden started out the hatchway, then caught sight of Joker and blanched.
“We can’t abandon the Normandy, I can still save her!”
Kaiden ignored him and rushed across the room, grabbing Joker none-too-gently”Aw, man, come on, you don’t have to–”
Kaiden continued ignoring Joker as he hoisted him up in a fireman’s carry, carrying him bodily from the cockpit. So much for dignity. “Ow–watch the arm!”
With an awesome rending of metal, the far bulkhead deformed, split apart, and vented to space. A flurry of wind started blowing every loose item towards it. Seals in Joker and Kaiden’s flight suits activated automatically so they could continue to breathe. Kaiden swore and slapped the button to open the hatch, which had sealed automatically due to the hull breach. It opened, thank everything, and out they went.
Fortunately the escape pods weren’t far. In fact, Joker had specifically requested a launch tube close to the cockpit, specifically for this reason. The Turians seemed to find this weakness, but Anderson had stepped in and that was that. Roughly fifteen seconds later, Kaiden reached their destination. He did his best to let Joker down easy then slapped the hatch open. Joker squirmed his way inside and Kaiden turned to leave.
Through the viewport, Joker saw the silhouette of the ship that had attacked–Joker still had no clue who had done this to them. It didn’t look like a reaper–then again, he’d only seen one. But if it was that close–
“They’re coming around for another attack!” Kaiden paled and sprinted back down the corridor. Unencumbered by Joker, His feet blurred as he engaged biotic charge, zooming down the halls at superhuman speed. Some people had all the luck.
The hatch slid shut. Joker sure hoped he’d make it. He felt bad enough about leaving Presley behind. A screen displayed, “Ready to launch. Proceed>” Joker frantically pressed the button. “Confirm–this will cause you to leave the ship. You will not be able to return. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Stupid alliance. Joker pressed “yes,” praying it would just launch already. He wasn’t that lucky. The screen displayed “Preparing for launch. Sequence will initiate in 00:05.” with a cancel button at the bottom. Unbidden, a line from a vid he’d seen years ago popped into his head–”Why are you preparing? you’re always preparing! Just go!” Giggling hysterically, Joker waited the longest five seconds of his life. Four seconds. Three…
He never saw the attack coming, but felt the shriek of sheering metal as the ship started to fall apart around him. Two fucking seconds. One–
The safety feature didn’t count 00:00 as a second, saving Joker’s life–for the moment. The tiny craft’s engine fired, ejecting the pod from the tube, sending Joker’s view spinning crazily in all directions. There was virtually no control in an escape pod–you had thrusters of course, which you could use to generally find a heading and stabilize it, but the distances involved in interstellar space travel meant you were basically helpless. For a moment he saw the particle beam slicing his baby in half, and then it spun away again, revealing naught but the twinkling blackness of distant stars. A moment later, he’d circled back again, and all that was left was a cloud of debris. He realized that the ship had slowed its velocity so that it could concentrate its fire on the ship, the awful energy leaping out from the ship again and again. The Normandy was reduced to twisted scrap in a matter of minutes. Then it moved–but not to leave. To Joker’s horror, the ship turned and headed toward a tiny collection of dots Joker suspected belonged to the escape pods that had managed to launch before his. There were so few. As he watched, a blue light encircled one of them and it moved, the two ships drawing closer until the tiny pod was subsumed into the superstructure of the huge vessel. Then it did it again to another pod.
Well that was it, then. Check mate. Game over, man. Game over.
As the terrible ship sailed closer to his pod, Joker started making a list in his head of all of the things he’d never gotten to do. He didn’t know why, exactly, it just seemed like the thing you did at a time like this. He didn’t have to do it for long. Joker squinted, the scene bathed in a bright white light. That was something else. Who was–
It was coming from the mass relay. A space that had once been nothing, suddenly contained an alliance frigate, barriers up and looking for trouble. It found some immediately. The ship sighted the cruiser at once and opened fire, cannons blazing again and again. The ship shimmered, showing it had kinetic barriers of its own, which seemed largely unaffected by the blasts. The ship abandoned its pursuit of the pods for the moment, turning to engage the frigate. It fired a blast, though it seemed dimmer than the ones that it had used on Normandy. The frigate was prepared for this though and quickly shot to the side, narrowly avoiding most of the deadly energy, and returned fire.
Joker despaired. This wasn’t even close to a fair fight. It would do what it had done to the Mormandy and then go right back to harvesting the pods. Why hadn’t they–
Another bloom from the mass relay. Then another, and another. As Joker watched, five more frigates and a dreadnought shot out from the relay, forming a loose ring around the ship. Evidently, Alliance took “SSV normandy has suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy” to mean “send half a fleet, right goddamn now.” This was the interpretation Joker had intended. Good to see some things hadn’t changed.
All the new ships opened fire at once, a withering attack that sent the enemy ship spinning, barriers flashing, sparking and going dark, the hull pitting with impacts. The rear of the ship lit up blue as its drive core blazed to life, and it took off. Not towards the mass relay–just, away. The alliance launched probes to plot its heading, but Joker could guess they wouldn’t learn anything new.
Fine with him. He was still alive, which was more than he’d expected mere moments ago. Better than a lot of people. Better than his ship. Oh, God, the ship. It was all ruined. What would he do now? What would any of them do? It was a thought both too big and too small for the current moment. He just sat, watched, and waited for the Alliance to pick him up.
*****
This was it.
The pod had come severely damaged. Miranda didn’t even know from where. She’d asked her boss about it, of course he didn’t give her a straight answer. What was inside was barely recognizable as a body–if it even had been a body. Miranda was pretty sure that whatever was left was little more than a pile of organic matter. Useless.
But that was the task they had been given. Preserve Shepard–no matter what. Unlimited resources for as long as she needed, to achieve that single goal. Bring her back, exactly how she was before, with whatever they could find. Raise the dead, in other words. Cybernetic enhancements, gene splicing, cloning–whatever it would take to bring Shepard back. It was just what had to happen. Besides–Miranda knew the Illusive Man well enough to know he didn’t tolerate failure–not from anyone. There was simply no choice involved.
Project Lazarus would proceed as planned. Commander Shepard would be recovered. No matter the cost.