IV: Holocaust

by RedCenturionG

The Reapers are here, and the war has finally begun. All sentient life in the galaxy is depending on Shepard to save them. And he will have to assemble the largest military force in galactic history to save those he loves. He will make alliances with people he hates, but will create new coalitions thought never possible. This is the Holocaust. And how far will he go to stop it?

1. Prologue

HOLOCAUST

PROLOGUE

December 9, 2185

2305 hours.

Main Living Room, Vakarian Residence, Cipritine, Palaven.

Garrus Vakarian, Hierarch Thotous Vakarian.

The room was dark, as it usually was at this time of night on Palaven. Only a dim light emitted from the lights surrounding the room, and they didn't add much to the already darkened interior. His sister, Solana, was asleep upstairs as she always was at this time of night, snoring away. His mother was still in hospital from her sickness, and he hoped the credits he had sent her way during his mission against the Collectors had helped. Now, here he sat.

The living room was quite spacious, with a carpet in the middle, and a fireplace on the right, but apart from that, it was relatively spartan. The walls were blank aside from the holographic photo frames representing the family, with his mum and dad, Solana and himself. The sofa sitting on the left was boring and plain, and hardly what you call soft, but yet again, turians didn't believe in softness; they believed in hardness. That's what the military was. There, sitting on the sofa, was Thotous Vakarian, Hierarch of the Hierarchy of Palaven and the Spirit of Talos, and one of Primarch Fedorian's best friends. He sat there in a basic robe that covered his torso and thighs, with a glass of turian ale in hand. Garrus sat opposite him on a seperate chair, a glass of similiar substance in his own three-fingered hand, the turian finally managing to wiggle his own way out of his armor, and into casual civilian clothing; not that it was attractive. Solana herself had said as much.

His father sat there, mulling over the words he had just been forced to digest. Garrus hadn't known what to say when he first came home, as the loss of the Normandy and Shepard and the rest of the crew was still on his mind, along with his seperation from Tali, and most of all, Kasumi. But he had managed to recover from his moping, and managed to eventually get his dad alone tonight, and right there and then, he told Thotous everything from the very beginning; how he met Marcus, their campaign against Saren and his geth. The revelation of the Protheans' true fate. The Reapers. The Battle of the Citadel. Shepard's death. The battle against the Collectors. Working with Cerberus. Destroying the Collector Base. Defeating the Shadow Broker, and the destruction of the Bahak System that lead to him coming home. By the time he was done, he had given his father his entire life story up until this point.

And he sat there, letting it all sink in. Garrus didn't even know if he would believe him; it was alot to take in. The sheer prospect of an alien race coming to bring complete annihilation upon all galactic life was pretty hard to imagine, but Garrus had made a promise to Shepard to raise as much help as he could; why not start with his dad, a friend of the Primarch's, and of high position on the Hierarchy?

A click of his mandibles, and Thotous turned towards his son, eyes glazing him over as he spoke in a hesitant tone, "Tell me Garrus. Do you really believe this? What Shepard has been saying?"

That question took him by surprise. Garrus didn't narrow his eyes or demand he spit out an answer, but he did shuffle in his seat, placing the glass he held on the table next to him, "Of course I do. Every word of it. I was there with him from the get go; I saw what he saw, and I know its real. The Council doesn't want to admit, and neither does the Hierarchy. The Reapers are very real, and they are coming. I promise you dad; I wouldn't be bringing this up if I wasn't absolutely certain that Palaven was in danger."

Another click of his mandibles, before he gulped down the rest of his ale and placed the glass on the table infront of him, nodding affirmatively, "Tell me son; when, in all of turian history, has the defenses of Palaven been breached?"

Garrus knew the answer to this one. It was a trick question; always was, "Never. Our foundation is strong, our people militarized, and our ships numerous. We are the military arm of the Council, and have been for centuries. Our defenses have never been breached, and the siege of Menae during the Krogan Rebellions does not count."

"Precisely," Thotous replied, his eyes now tinged with worry as his hands folded into his lap, looking at Garrus, "Now tell me; if the Reapers were to invade, what are the chances of our defenses being breached? Of Palaven...dare I think of it...falling?"

Garrus gulped, already trying to imagine the fatalities in his head. Too many to count. Or comprehend. Enough to sicken you to the core, to make you lose hope. And that's exactly what they want. That's how they win. But he knew the truth of it, there was no point in trying to overexaggerate their survival odds, "If the Reapers invaded Palaven en masse...dad, Sovereign by itself annihilated the Citadel fleet, and took out half the Alliance Fifth Fleet by the time it was finally taken out. If they attacked Palaven...our defenses...they wouldn't be just breached, they'd be overwhelmed."

His father gave a simple nod before moving to stand with a sigh, "Then this is most definitely very serious. A matter of high urgency. It doesn't matter how the Council views this, it must be taken seriously or their idiocy will doom us all."

Garrus widened his eyes as he too stood, posture straight, "Wait, you're taking me seriously? You actually believe me? You believe Shepard?"

Thotous exhaled, shaking his head as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing it, "We may have had our disagreements in the past, and most of them regarding C-Sec, but that doesn't mean I'm not with you on somethings Garrus. You're my son, and when you say something is going to happen, its going to happen. You said you'd leave C-Sec? What did you do? You left C-Sec, and became the damn Archangel. You don't bluff, which means the Reapers must exist if you're this desperate to get everyone to believe you. Vakarians are not crazy, never have been."

Garrus smiled, nodding, "Damn right."

Thotous nodded, motioning to the stairs, "Now you go get some sleep. You'll be needing it. You're coming with me to the Palaven Command tomorrow. Primarch Fedorian must hear of this. He will listen to me."

Garrus widened his eyes, stopping halfway to the stairs and turning around, "Primarch Fedorian? What do you actually plan to do?"

"Get something done, that's what," Thotous declared, "I don't care if I have to shove my talons up his ass, Fedorian will prepare Palaven. We have never fallen, and in this invasion, we shall be ready. Once I'm done with him, our navy will be rallied, our troops ready. And the Council will listen to us; even if that moron Sparatus has to have a tungsten shell shot near his ear for him to listen. Never did like him; spineless tadik."

Garrus merely smirked at that, thanking him with a click of his mandibles, "Thanks dad. I'm glad someone believed us," he could only continue smiling as he continued walking up the stairs, satisfied with that outcome.

{Loading...}

December 21, 2185

1407 hours.

Front Entrance, Cerberus Research Facility Sigma, Northern Hemisphere, Gellix.

Second Lieutenant Jacob Taylor.

Abandoned. Cold. Windy. Those three words perfectly described the Cerberus facility he currently stood before, the massive blast doors of the base a testament to its emptiness. He had come in hard at the landing pad with the kodiak he had commandeered, expecting a squad of commandos to have come rushing out to meet him head on, and he would have; shotgun in hand and blasting away. But there was nothing. Not a soul to be found. It creeped him out.

He had quickly advanced off the pad, feeling too exposed, and moved forward, his Scimitar shotgun in hand and biotics at the ready. The cold, high speed, snowy winds of Gellix chilled him to the bone as it slammed into his body, his light body armor's thermals nowhere near enough to battle it off, and he swore he could have died of hypothermia if he had stayed within its path for too long; luckily, he had managed to find the main entrance, and above it was shelter. Even here, the place looked just...empty. Like everyone had just packed their bags and left.

He approached the door, weapon aimed high. He looked at the security cameras above, and saw they were following his every movement. So there is someone inside...that or the cameras were left on, and they're simply motion sensing. He gave a smug wink at one of them and quickly made his way over to the door, banging his fist against it. Quickly placing his ear against the cold metal surface, he heard the sound echo, but there was no response.

Maybe the tip was off. Maybe this place has been abandoned.

He had only found this place because of a tip from one of his friends in the Corsairs saying that Cerberus was up to something in this base, and that Jacob should put a stop to it. Oh, he tried, but as soon as he got here, he had just encountered nothing. Not a peep. This place is empty.

He made a move to leave, but a female voice, hurried, but brave, spoke through the PA system overheard, causing him to whorl around, weapon raised in preparation, "Who are you? State your identity immediately, and your affiliation."

He frowned. She sounds worried. Something isn't right here.

"Jacob Taylor," he responded clearly, lowering his shotgun slightly as he edged alittle closer, "I used to work for Cerberus, but a particular friend of mine wasn't too pleased with the way things were run, and he quit, and so did I. I have no affiliation now; only that to Commander Shepard. And you are?"

There was no answer, only the creak and moan of the blast door slowly coming apart and opening. His weapon was up in a heartbeat, ready to fire if necessary. Loading the weapon, he looked down range and watched as an attractive young woman in Cerberus uniform appeared and stepped out, with numerous other Cerberus personnel behind her, numerous predator pistols and avenger assault rifles raised. He looked over the woman, examining her features.

They all wore the uniforms of scientists, as did the young woman currently before him. She wore a mat of raven black hair that reached to her shoulders, and her skin was the same dark-color of his own. She had hazel eyes and smooth cheeks, with ample, red lips. She was beautiful by most meanings of the word, and he found himself disarmed just by looking at her, slowly lowering his weapon as she approached, unarmed, and stopped before him, a smile of...relief on her face.

"Well, you're certainly not Cerberus," she said, stopping hesitantly before him, eying him. He noticed that most of them didn't seem to be on the soldier side of things, and not a single commando was to be seen. They wore Cerberus uniforms, but seemed to be more scared than anything, "Which means you're not an enemy."

That caught him off guard. Cerberus...an enemy? Maybe they don't work for the Illusive Man anymore? And judging by how scared they are, they seem to be on the run from Cerberus. Maybe...just maybe they have vital intel on their operations...

He chuckled, lowering his shotgun completely and collapsing it, placing it on the small of his back, "No, I'm friendly. I'm sorry for the confusion here, but why are you wearing Cerberus uniforms if you're not Cerberus? And why are you hiding in one of their research facilities?"

She looked to the rest of the group, nodding for them to lower their weapons. She turned back to him, motioning for him to follow her into the base, and he followed, "We're not. Or rather, we were, until we broke away. This research facility used to be run by us, but we've...had enough of the Illusive Man and the way he juggles our lives around like they're worthless," once inside, the blast door began to creak and slide back together, and she turned back towards him with a shake of her head, "So we're...ex-Cerberus, I guess you could call us. Ex-Cerberus Scientists with nowhere to go. We're hiding here for now and were preparing to evacuate on the shuttles when you got here. The Illusive Man will find us eventually, and he will kill us all."

Jacob merely nodded, understanding the situation. It explained why the scientists looked so terrified, and why they seemed to be fearing for their lives. But Jacob knew that these people had to have had their reasons for leaving. Why else would they risk so much to escape Cerberus' yolk?

"Just why did you quit?" Jacob asked with confusion, "You had to have known this would be the Illusive Man's response."

"Oh, we knew. But we took the chance anyway," she explained, "The Illusive Man had us working on secret projects, but whenever one of us completed one, they'd disappear and we'd never see them again. We never knew what they were working on; cell confidentality in the case of being compromised or suffered a raid from the Alliance. Eventually we got scared. Too scared. Eventually we decided that we either try making a run for it, or we complete the projects and take our chances," she gulped, a took of fear on her face as she bit her lip, still looking at him, "We couldn't take that chance. Some of us have families; children and wives and husbands. So we took them, hid here and were moving to take the shuttles and fly out of here when you showed up. We had feared that the Illusive Man had sent you to demand an inspection, and when he found out..."

He shook his head, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I may have been the Illusive Man's go-to-guy back in the day, but like you, I chose to quit. What he's doing...its for humanity, not the galaxy at large, and that's not acceptable. No, I will not report you. What I will do is help you. Keep you eggheads safe," he said with a growing grin, and he saw the fear on her face melt from the sight of it. Yes, I will help these people. Just like Shepard would have wanted. What he would have done in a situation like this.

"You'll help us?" she asked, "Escape, I mean?"

He nodded, letting his hand fall from her shoulder, but his eyes lingered on hers before turning away, nodding again, "Yes, I'll help you. You people need protection, and I look like the only one with combat experience here, so I guess I'm it."

"But where will we go?" she asked, still unsure of herself.

He looked at her, eyes widening, "You haven't decided where you're going yet?"

She shook her head, "We were winging it until you came. We'd take a few of the shuttles and see where we'd end up. We were considering handing ourselves over to the Alliance; at least we'd be safe then..."

Clearly you don't know TIM very well. He'd find you, no matter where you hide. No, you need somewhere he'd never suspect...a place so desolate and out of reach, he wouldn't even think of watching over it...and I know just the place...

"I know a planet," he told her, moving up the steps with her in tow, a confidence in his every step, "A place that the Illusive Man won't even think of."

"Where?" she asked, but when he suddenly turned around and she bumped into him, he only held a finger over his mouth, telling her to be quiet.

"Can't tell you. Not here. Not with people listening. You may think you're all on the same team, but one way or another, one of these guys is probably a spy. A loyalist under the guise of someone terrified just so he can feed info to his real leader," he told her, motioning to another scientist nearby, who seemed to be picking up his equipment and just as quickly dropping them in his great haste to get them onto a nearby Cerberus kodiak. He turned back to her, nodding as he turned around to continue.

"Wait," she called out, and he stopped, turning to her, "You told me your name, but I never told you mine."

He smiled, shaking his head, as he crossed his arms, "No, I don't believe you did. So why don't we begin again; I'm Jacob Taylor, and you are, miss...?"

"Brynn," she stated bluntly, hands clasping behind her back with a smile on her face, back straightening, "Doctor Brynn Cole."

"Nice to meet you doctor," he said.

"Please, call me Brynn," she corrected, waving a dismissive hand, "Least I can do for asking you to help us."

"You didn't ask, I offered," he declared, uncrossing his arms, "But we'd best be moving. Time is not on our side, and by the looks of it, you have a lot to pack. Including people."

They both nodded affirmation, and moved further into the facility, prepared to begin a chase with Cerberus all over the galaxy.

And Jacob would do his best to keep them all safe.

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December 19, 2185

1200 hours.

Skyline Observatory, Talat, Gagujs Continent, Sur'Kesh.

Professor Mordin Solus.

He stood there, overlooking the beautiful, lush green jungles of the salarian homeworld, Sur'Kesh, taking in its vibrant color and its serene smell. The trees seemed to stretch on for ages, only interrupted by the occassional house, skyscraper or street. Salarians weren't as industrialistic as most species were; they didn't let their cities dominate the landscape, and instead let nature have a part in it too; which is why Talat, the capital city of Sur'Kesh, was essentially just a few skyscrapers, some houses and a few streets amongst a horde of wildlife, trees and rivers.

Yes. Good choice coming here. Nowhere else to go. Will remind me of what I'm planning to do. Let me know the risks I'm taking with such a task. He stood there, amongst many others of his kind, male and female, along with a few children, as he observed the luscious jungle from high above on the observatory's skydeck. The occassional skycar would fly by, along with the daily STG Mantis gunship on patrol, but overall, it was silent but for the sounds of the birds and the animals below. The sky was a brilliant blue, with clouds dotting it.

He still wore his trademark white labcoat, but his weapons confiscated by customs, which he had understood. But his equipment hadn't been taken away; and inside was a data disk containing Maelon's data that Shepard had ordered him to obtain during their mission to rescue Maelon on Tuchanka. Mere months ago. Hope Shepard alright. Good man. Glad he eventually convinced me. Or was it Miss Vael? He missed his quarian assistant as well, but he knew by that point, he was getting alittle too sentimental. Must not dwell on such things if I want to cure krogan.

Taking one final sniff of the air, he picked up his bag and was preparing to leave the skydeck, when he got a whiff of something. Inhaling and exhaling, he nodded, looking up, as if meeting a pair of eyes in the middle of nothing, "Ah, STG has tracked me down. Will have to better than cloaks however. Have dealt with master chief. Know cloak when I see it."

As expected, a hiss of static was heard, followed by a salarian in white combat armor appearing out of thin air, his vindicator battle rifle aimed at Mordin's chest, but now slightly lowering. All around him, he watched as what had seemed to be casual observers pulled out weapons and turned around, all aiming them at Mordin. As he turned to look at them, it turned every single one had been an STG agent. Ah. Have been tracking me since I left Spaceport. But why?

"Very well done professor," one familiar salarian voice noted as he too dropped his cloak, ordering his men to lower their weapons as he turned towards him with a grin, "You haven't changed one bit, Solus."

A smile creased Mordin's face as he nodded, inhaling once more, "Ah, thought I recognized your scent. Commander Rentola. Pleasant surprise. Did not expect to see you here. Small galaxy."

"And an even smaller STG," Rentola chuckled, shaking his head, "But seriously Mordin, I'm surprised to see you back on Sur'Kesh. You and Maelon vowed to never come back after what you did on Tuchanka. What changed? And where's Maelon? Wasn't he with you?"

"Maelon and I had falling out in disagreement. Carried out brutal experiments for Clan Weyrloc. Wanted to end him. Shepard...disagreed," Mordin explained hurriedly, "Suggested starting clinic on Omega. Can only assume he's still there."

"Wait, Shepard? He's here?" Rentola asked, surprised, "The report we got from HQ only mentioned you. I think we would have noticed a human."

"Not here. Imprisoned. On Earth. Believed you heard of Bahak Incident. If not, its the reason why," the professor stated, before eying his would-be captors, "STG does not carry out abductions. Very unsalarian. Wouldn't need me for interrogation, not salarian style, more left up to turians. Wouldn't need me for combat expertise, Captain Kirrahe more than capable. No, you need me for..." the realization hit him instantly, "Ah. Need me to work for you. Predictable. Should have seen it coming."

Rentola shrugged, "I don't need you, I just shoot stuff. Its Padok Wiks who needs you; you know, STG supreme commander? Kirrahe simply relayed the orders. You're needed at HQ, but apparently its for a very sensitive matter regarding the krogan. Can't be good."

Must have gotten wind of attempts to cure genophage. Could be bad. Must not mention anything. Best to go with them. Could help, might not. With a final exhale of breath, he nodded, "Very well. Will accompany you."

Rentola blinked, as if hit across the face, "Wait...that's it? You'll just come with us?"

"Yes, yes. Of course I will. No where else to go. Foolish to attempt escape," he declared, straightening his back, "Presume you have transport? Might as well get to it. Look forward to seeing STG site Delta again."

Rentola shook his head, "You're not going to Site Delta, Mordin. You're going to Site Alpha."

"You're going to the Special Tasks Group Headquarters."

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December 30, 2185

1643 hours.

Palace of the Republic, Armali, Lanecaa Continent, Thessia.

Justicar Samara.

I have done my duty. I have done all I can. The leaders of my people will not listen, and therefore I must find other ways of convincing them that the Reapers are indeed coming. For Samara's words to have been rejected so suddenly and forcefully by her leaders had been surprising, as they had always listened to the wisdom of the Justicars, but apparently it would not be so today. Politics has blinded them. They will not see the truth, so it must be force fed to them. It is the only way. I will not allow innocents to die because of our foolish leaders.

Samara continued to move down the large, eloquent corridors of the Palace of the Republic, a structure that had been built centuries ago by the ancient asari of the Period of Silence; a period of asari history that involved the ending of conflict, and a unification of the asari people, beginning with the construction of the Palace of Athame, which later on, upon the formation of the Republic and the fall of asari religion, would be renamed into Palace of the Republic. And here she walked; moving through crowds of moving asari as she made her way towards the exit, the many politicians or just normal civilians looking at her as she went past, awed by the justicar moving in their midst.

She ignored them on her way towards the exit, where her skycar awaited her. She had checked on Jack, and she had visited her daughters, but after that, she had headed straight for Thessia. And that had been where she had been mocked. By her own people. She remembered their words. The Matriarchs of this Palace will not listen to the warnings of a feeble old woman who has been infected by common place propaganda. Leave us Justicar, before you words begin to infect us. Samara had merely shook her head and quietly left, not wanting to incite conflict where it was not needed. Conflict is forbidden in the Palace, even for a Justicar. But that did not stop her from thinking about it.

She was about to reach the entrance, as she now stood in a large, close to golden, atrium. Colossal walls towered around her, along with marble staircases leading up to the many different tiers of the building, which were many. She had been about to reach the large, equally golden doors when she heard someone call out from behind her, causing her to turn around. What she saw took even her completely by surprise.

Another Justicar.

This asari wore the exact same uniform she wore, but without the added bits on her face. Her face showed she was in her later Matron years, not quite a Matriarch, but still had the wisdom, discipline and experience that came with being a member of the Justicar order. Her cheeks were smoother, and her skin lighter in shade, and her eyes were a deeper hazel in color. And she even moved with more grace than Samara, if it could be believed.

The justicar arrived at her side fairly quickly after completing her sprint, but looked barely fazed, as if so used to it that she couldn't even lose her breath anymore. She came before her, and bowed, and as she spoke, her tone was of a lighter, less forboding manner, and reminded her eerily of Jack, "Justicar. It has been a while since I have met or spoken to another of my order."

Samara returned the bow, "The feeling is mutual, sister. And what may this warrior of the code be named?"

She nodded, a smile on her lips, "Justicar Ramalya, a pleasure Justicar Samara."

Samara raised an eyebrow, "You know of me, but I do not know of you."

The justicar named Ramalya merely nodded, bobbing her head in the general direction of the many court room of the Palace, "I heard the meeting; I had been positioned outside, and overheard. Samara, you bring many fables and tales to Thessia, but offer no proof but your own wisdom and oath to tell the truth."

Samara nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again, her expression as cold and emotionless as always. It had been her reputation, "I had no evidence to give, only my oath of truth. That should have been enough. We spend too much time bragging about our superiority, when we should be using it to defend the galaxy. But in the end, our superiority will mean nothing in the face of the Reapers."

"Well, you've got one believer here," Ramalya said with a firm nod to her fellow asari, "Not all of us are idiots. I believe you, Justicar."

Samara raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Even after I fail to provide evidence?"

Ramalya shook her head, crossing her arms with a frown, "The Justicars have known you a long time, Samara. You're by far the most experienced, and the most wise. You don't say things unless you firmly believe them, and you don't believe in nonsense. If you believe the Reapers are real, I'm with you. The Justicars are with you."

Samara nodded, a look of appreciation on her features as she eyed the door before her, weary of what was to come, "Your faith in me is not without wisdom or guidance, Justicar. The threat we face is one of horrifying proportions. I have fought their leader...Harbinger...in combat before. Not in the literal sense, but as he controlled his minions. His force...his mere presence...it is of a magnitude of evil never seen before. I cannot explain it, for it is something beyond imagination."

"You've almost got me scared," Ramalya said cockily, clearly one of the newer justicars, "But I see what you're talking about. I don't want to imagine what these Reapers would do to our beloved Thessia. Our home. The asari people need to be prepared, and I believe you need to prepare them."

"Not me, no," Samara declared, shaking her head as she faced a startled Ramalya, "That is a battle for someone else. My task is to warn others. The innocent must be protected, and not just those native to my world. The whole galaxy must know. I will start my spreading this news through asari space, and then I will move on to Council space, and eventually the Terminus. As much as it loathes me to declare it, Aria T'Loak must be warned as well."

"Then it's up to me to warn the people of Thessia," Ramalya informed her, motioning to the door, "A task I can accomplish, and I will not be lathargic about it. Time is of the essence, you'll have us believe."

Samara merely shook her head as he followed Ramalya out of the Palace.

"No," she stated, "Time is something we no longer have."

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January 2, 2186

1230 hours.

Living Quarters, Systems Alliance Defense Committee Vancouver Facility, Vancouver, United North American States, Earth.

Marcus Shepard.

His quarters were small, and pretty quiet overall. On the left of the entrance was a set of observation windows that dominated the left side, giving a large and beautiful view of the Fraser River down below, with the cityscape of Vancouver rising up around it; tall, pale white skyscrapers reaching up and into the sky, with skycars flying past and an alliance frigate hanging in low orbit. Down below, scores of human life moved around, oblivious to the world around them.

A large, one-person bed was located at the end of the room, with a small desk next to the windows and a bookcase to the left of that. Empty picture frames dominated the right wall, and a small kitchen area next to it. Overall, it was small, and it suited his basic needs.

He currently sat behind his desk, elbows ontop of the table and head in his hands, eyes glazing over the city around him. The human life that flowed through its streets, the solace found in the gentle flow of the river below, numerous ferries and boats moving along its length. This had been his position for his entire stay here, and he rarely found himself leaving it.

One month and four days. That's how long he had been stuck in this room, and there was no end in sight. One month since the Normandy SR-2 was impounded, taken to an unknown location, no word from Joker or EDI. One month since he had said goodbye to his crew. One month since he farewelled his remaining squad. One month since...

God, I miss her. I can't seem to stop thinking about her. Just what is she up to up there? Tali seemed to be the only thing on his mind during these times; he missed her so much it hurt, but knew that had it gone differently, she would be in here with him, and he could not accept that, no matter how much he yearned to be in her arms, and the wounds that came from the destruction of the Bahak System still stung him too much.

She was mostly likely safe on the Migrant Fleet now, with Shala and Kal and Madi and Meru. Probably getting the quarians ready for the Reaper assault. For their Arrival. He smiled at that thought; thinking just how far his Tali had come. How she had started as a simple pilgrim, scared, wounded and on the run, and had become a competent warrior, skilled engineer and his loving wife. He wondered what she must be doing; probably thinking of him, as he thought of her.

Damn it, why did things have to go this way? I wouldn't be trapped here if it weren't for the Alpha Relay. Times like these made him which he really were a God. So he could have saved those three hundred thousand from their deaths.

He heard the door open, and he didn't need to turn to see who it is. He had heard of Lieutenant James Vega during his battle against the Collectors not too long ago. He was a competent marine with a set head, who had lost his squad to a Collector attack on the human colony of Fehl Prime during their relentless abductions of their colonies last year, and had been forced to destroy a Collector warship to stop it escaping. He had never thought he'd meet the man, but apparently Anderson thought he'd be perfect for guarding Shepard, and he had been right. The man had reminded him of a slightly more competent and veteran version of Jenkins, in a way. And far more muscular.

"Sir," James spoke, moving into the room, straightening his posture and snapping a firm salute as soon as he stood inside, "Commander, Anderson sent me to check up on you."

He sighed, turning to face James as he stood in the frame of the doorway, not returning the salute. The Alliance Court had seen fit to strip him off his rank as well, so he wasn't even military anymore. Commander Shepard wasn't a Commander. He took a bit to examine James' form again. The man had brownish/black hair that was almost formed in a mohawk on the back of his head, but not quite, and was lacking enough to be close to baldness. He wore a white singlet with his dogtags hanging out infront of him, unafraid to put his muscles on display. His jawline was firmer than even Kaidan's, and he had a look in his eyes that immediately told you he was a soldier to the core.

"I told you to stop calling me that," Marcus almost growled, but managed to work the acid out of his tone, "I'm not a Commander anymore. I don't salute you, you definitely don't salute me."

"Force of habit sir...I mean...Shepard. Besides, I don't care what Garrong says," James waved a dismissive hand, smiling, "You're still the Commander to me and most of the marines stationed here. Still, if you want me to stop, I will."

"Stop. Please," Marcus asked and James nodded, dropping his salute and relaxing his stance, "Now, just what does Anderson want to know?"

"Well...have you moved to go to the bathroom?"

That coaxed a chuckle out of Marcus, and he let the smirk melt from his face, simply shaking his head, "Don't be a smartass, Vega. Doesn't work well with you. Besides, Anderson will get the same update he got last time. I'm just sitting here, just looking out the window, just waiting. So the next time he asks for an update, I'll still be just sitting here, still just looking out the window, and still just waiting."

James sighed, shaking his head, "You can't just sit there all the time Shepard. You got to stay fit. Men like us can't afford to get lazy."

"I'm a soldier Vega. A man of action," Marcus told him, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his basic shirt, "A man of action doesn't take being locked up in a room 24/7, for a month, doing nothing, lightly. I crave for a weapon, and crave for an enemy to take down. Like the Reapers. Anderson shouldn't be surprised I'm just sitting here. With nothing to do, I can only think."

"About what?" James asked, but realizing how blunt the question sounded, quickly amended, "Well, I mean, if I may ask?"

"Don't be scared Vega. I don't bite," he laughed, exhaling as he simply stared out blankly across the river, seemingly talking to himself as he spoke again, "I think about my squad; what they're doing out there. I think about my crew, and just what I got them into. I think of Harbinger, and when he'll arrive, and when I'll know about it. I think of..." he trailed off, not expecting James to know what he was talking about, "...people I care about." Damn their no contact policy. Just the sound of her voice, a giggle, a smile or just the sight of her mask would alleviate my concerns. Let me know she's out there, thinking about me. I didn't think it'd hurt this much. And its only been a month.

"Yeah, I hear you," James replied, sighing heavily, "Hell, we all have concerns like that. But you can't dwell on 'em, Shepard. Got to keep active. No point you rotting away in here when you haven't gotten to rub the Alliance's faces in it yet. Or the Council's."

Marcus raised an eyebrow at him, "Rub their faces in what?"

"The Reapers. You know, when they turn up. And me and Anderson know they will. And Hackett. And all those willing to listen. They'll come, and you'll be able to rub their faces in it."

He didn't laugh. He didn't reciprocate the joke. He didn't smile, frown or scold him. He merely looked out the window blankly, the pain in his heart and mind twisting him to the point of insanity, where the loneliness almost tore him apart. Of course, if the Reapers could hurry up and arrive, he'd have something to focus on so he could ignore it. But he would find no such solace here. No, all he had was his thoughts. He was as vulnerable as ever to their onslaught. His thoughts were grim, and hinted at the darkness that was converging on them.

He sighed, "That's if they're alive when this is all over. If I'm alive. Or any of us are alive."

He thought of Tali, and this time instead of focusing on her absence, focused on the future he planned for them; a house, on her homeworld, with a clear view of the sea. He imagined himself sitting on the porch, arm wrapped around his suitless wife, with the sun going down as they quietly lay in each others embrace. He solidified it. Memorized it. Kept it stored away as thoughts for later.

It would be his motivation.

It would be his way to fight through the vortex of survival that would be the Reaper apocalypse.

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February 7, 2186

1513 hours.

The Arena, Liveship Rayya, Migrant Fleet, Sheol System, Hades Nexus Cluster.

Captain Tali'Shepard vas Machina, Commander Igra'Trasp vas Machina, Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema, Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh, Lieutenant General Kal'Reegar vas Machina, Major Madi'Reegar vas Machina, Chief Medical Officer Elan'Nara vas Rayya, Navigator Veetor'Nara vas Rayya, Captain Qet'Danna vas Rayya, Engineer Meru'Zorah vas Rayya.

She kept as straight a posture as she could, but standing was really becoming a problem for her. She had been doing alot of it lately, and hated it. For two straight months, non-stop, that's all she had done. Stand, issue commands, sleep. Stand, issue commands, socialize, sleep. Stand, issue commands, sleep. A continous cycle, and it really began to grate on her. She hated every second of it, and still she kept going. Because a special someone out there was depending on her; had put his trust in her.

She'd damn herself to hell before she ever betrayed that man. The man she loved so much and missed equally so that it was sending her insane. I'm not even allowed to visit him. Two months of not even being able to talk to him, let alone see him. I'm constantly lonely, and finding sleep is a bigger battle than commanding a warship.

She stood in the middle of the Arena, almost standing exactly where she had during her trial so many months ago; to think it had only been last year. I stood in this exact position, the Admirals passing judgment on me, my father dead, and my future husband by my side, defending me. And now I stand here, holding his child, now in command of my own ship. Her promotion had been a recent development, and the Machina was one of the newest additions to the Migrant Fleet; a destroyer of human design, and not even that old; only ten years off the production line. It had a formidable armament, and had enough speed to even match the Normandy. She was a good ship, with a competent crew, and Tali was proud to be her captain. Kal and Madi were in charge of the marine detail on the vessel, and she was glad to have friends by her side. But the ship wasn't the Normandy. And it would never be home. And not for Junior either.

She looked downwards, hands still clasped behind her back as she saw the slight bulge on the belly of her suit. She was two months pregnant with Marcus' child, and was captaining a ship whilst doing it, while also worrying excessively about the father. And her consumption of nutrient paste had been phenomenal, almost to the point where she had selfishly ordered more food supplies brought to her ship. But she knew it was because of the pregnancy, and because of that, it was forgiven. Besides, it was the talk of the Fleet. How did she manage it? Is that Marcus' child, or another quarian's? How is that even possible? Will it be ugly? Will she survive the birthing? So many questions, and Tali had only ignored them all. I miss Marcus, but I will protect this child and nurture it. At least that'll distract me from the pain of his absence...can't imagine what he's going through. Keelah, he doesn't even know that he has a son/daughter being formed in my belly...

Turning away from her stomach, she faced her XO, Igra of Clan Trasp. When Tali had first been introduced the woman, her impression hadn't been all that great. She was cocky, prone to making fast decisions and wasn't very well known for following orders. But she did have an impressive military record; six successful marine ops, and she had a confirmed 152 geth kill tally, five of them being geth primes, to her immense disbelief. Even killed a Colossus, if rumors could be believed. But that was the problem with Igra; she was a marine to the bone, and had little to no experience on how to command a warship, and wasn't used to following orders. Which is why her sudden change from Marine Corps to Navy, and her jump to Commander, and been a hasty choice on the Admiralty Board's part, but necessary.

Igra had grown on her though. She was smart, heavily sarcastic, and good to talk to. She wore the Indigo veil of her clan, and her marital status was single; she hadn't married, or had many relationships. The idea of children annoyed her, she wasn't afraid to overexaggerate her skills as an officer, and overall, she was quite cheeky. And by cheeky, she meant exactly that.

Tali had heard the rumors that Igra was...not of the usual sexual preference. To be blatant about it, she was sexually attracted to her own gender, not men. She had been approached by multiple suitors, all of which she rejected, but it had been rumored that on her pilgrim, she had gone to a brothel and had lay with a turian whore. Igra never confirmed those rumors, but she wasn't afraid to admit to being of that attraction area.

Just yesterday Tali had been talking to Igra while on her way to her quarters. Before entering her quarters, Igra had slapped Tali on her buttocks, causing her to spin around with a blush but also a glare. After telling her that she was married, Igra had said 'I know that, sweetcheeks. But that doesn't stop me from complimenting a beautiful body when I see one. You're sexy, and that man's lucky. Besides, I wasn't being serious. Lighten up' before leaving. Even now, she found herself anxious of the space between them.

Looking away from Igra, she saw everyone else was here. Kal. Madi. Veetor. Elan. Meru. And all the admirals. She had received the call this morning; she had been summoned by the Admiralty Board to the Rayya. Today was the day the new Admiral was announced, and Tali was surprised that they had summoned her to speak with them that day. Shouldn't they announce the Admiral first? But in the end, it didn't matter to Tali. She just didn't care.

Once the meeting was called to order by Gerrel, he then turned to her, "Captain Shepard of the Machina, please stand forward with your XO."

Tali nodded, moving up to stand infront of the podium, Igra at her side. The XO gave her a nod, arms crossed and leaning on her hip as she turned to the Admiralty Board. Tali almost snickered as Daro noticed Igra's leering look, followed by the latter's shake of the head and a wink, which obviously caused said admiral to silently fume. Getting her mirth under control, she assumed a professional pose, and faced Admiral Gerrel.

"I have been summoned Admiral Gerrel, although for what I cannot acertain," Tali declared, looking at all four of the admirals, "I believed that the vote for the new admiral was being decided today."

The admirals looked at each other, Daro obviously shifting uncomfortably, with Shala only looking at Tali, and Koris shifting hesitantly. Gerrel seemed to only radiate confidence as he spoke, "We are, Captain. The votes have come in, and the people have decided. The new Chief of the Admiralty Board will now approach the podium."

Silence followed, and all eyes looked at Tali. She turned to look through the audience stands to see if the new admiral would step forward, but noone did. Where was he? Or she? Was the new admiral?

"What are you waiting for, Tali?" Gerrel asked finally, and her eyes locked onto him, realizing in an instant as her eyes widened in shock, "Step forward, Admiral."

Her professional posture almost slumped, but she maintained it in the face of her shock. She couldn't believe it; she...she was the new Admiral? Not only that, but the new chief of the Admiralty? The entire Migrant Fleet...its fate, its safety, literally rests in my hand...Gerrel, Xen, Raan, Koris...all of them...under my command...The mere idea was almost too much for her to take, but she couldn't keep them waiting. She would look weak.

She took her first hesitant step off of the podium, followed by a second, and then a third. Her fourth took her on a journey to the stands where the Admirals stood. Gerrel, no longer Chief Regent of the Board, retreated to his old position of standing on the forward stand in the middle, with Koris next to him, and Xen and Raan behind him. Behind them stood a single, individual stand; one that stood high above all of them; and that was her place. This is too much...an entire people...17 million of my people...their lives are in my hands...

She almost couldn't do it. She almost fell apart, right then and there. But then she remembered Marcus. The burdens he had to carry. Trillions of lives resting on his shoulders, and all he asked was for his wife to lift some of the weight off of him. A mere 17 million is nothing compared to the trillions out there...he is my husband, and I must carry this burden with him. But this is my entire people...

Her steps became longer strides, more confident, full of determination, precision and dedication. When she finally came to stand on the high podium, she found herself standing before an entire audience, and she was their focus. Their leader. She answered only to the Conclave; apart from that, she ruled. She was their military figurehead. Admiral Tali'Shepard vas Machina, the leader of the quarian race.

I will not fail you, Marcus. I love you, but now our child needs me. My people need me. The galaxy needs me.

I will make you proud of me.

Her posture straightened, hands clasping behind her back and eyes searching the audience, watching as Igra came to sit in the audience once more. Her lips were set in a firm line, and if anyone could see her eyes, they'd only see cold. A cold Marcus had shown her on the day he told her to leave him. It was the same cold she'd use today. She would be everything the quarian race needed her to be. She watched as Shala, Han, Daro and Zaal all saluted to her, followed by the entire audience as they all stood up, waiting for her speech.

"We are a proud people; never forget that, my fellow quarians. It does not matter what the galaxy thinks of us; in the end, they are inconsequential. What truly matters is that we are a family; a community, bonded and strong against all of those who oppose us. We may not have the technology, or the weaponry, but we have the spirit. One man, my husband, told me that spirit is all that's needed to win a war. If one thousand men believe they can win, they will defeat an army 20 times their size. Loyalty, Dedication, Spirit. Three words we quarians live by in our everyday lives. We are not weak. We are not pathetic. We are not suit-rats, and we are not meek. We are strong. The quarian people did not got quietly into the night when the geth took our home from us, we did not die. We survived. We pesevered. And we will do the same again. Under my command, our Fleet will survive. And we will fight the oncoming darkness. The threat that looms on us all. And when the Reapers come, the races of the galaxy will look to the quarians, look to the Migrant Fleet, and say that we saved them. That we had a part in this galaxy's salvation. That we destroyed an enemy that only exists in nightmares. That we were strong. As your Admiral, I will lead our people to victory! TO VICTORY! KEELAH SE'LAI!" Her voice rose in crescendo, and by the end, she was almost screaming.

Every quarian in the room shouted in return, and Shala could only watch on in awe, while Gerrel joined the ruckus. Koris was flabbergasted, and Daro, as always, was largely unimpressed. It mattered nill. They answered to her now, and her alone.

Tali'Shepard vas Machina would lead them to victory alright.

But not a victory behind the Perseus Veil.

But a victory against an enemy that converged on them even now.

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February 8, 2186

0940 hours.

Clean Room, Wyoming-Class Destroyer QMFV Machina, Migrant Fleet, Sheol System, Hades Nexus Cluster.

Lieutenant General Kal'Reegar vas Machina, Major Madi'Reegar vas Machina.

Both of them just lay there, hands laced together. They lay naked under the sheets, having just had a vigorous session of love-making. The day had been long and full of work, and both of them were still awed by Tali's speech the other day. They were honored to be serving under the command of the Chief of the Admiralty Board, and especially one they knew as a friend. Tali had even, despite her sadness, attended their wedding not long after the Bahak Incident. They had even coaxed a chuckle out of her.

The room was quiet but for the sounds of their light breathing. Neither of them spoke, merely looking up at the ceiling, hands looping and just relishing the feel of each others' skin. It wouldn't be long before they had to climb back into their suits, but they could at least enjoy this moment alittle longer. They tried to only think of each other, but memories of Tali's speech continued to lead them both to thoughts of the Reapers. And that ruined the moment.

Fear. It gripped them both. They had no idea what to expect when they finally arrived. When they came to begin a campaign of galactic genocide. The very thought shook him to the bone, and he felt Madi shiver next to him, digging her head deeper under the crook of his neck, and he only tightened his grip around her. Neither of them wanted to die, but they both knew it was a strong possibility when it came to a war of this magnitude. They both accepted what could happen. They came to terms with it. Or so they had thought.

Finally, he spoke, "Madi, I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But we can't keep doing this."

Madi's response was muffled, and only he could hear the words, "I'm not scared, I'm terrified. We both saw what Harbinger was back on that asteroid, and we both saw those two Reapers before entering the relay. They were gigantic, and their words seemed to speak to my very soul. How do we fight thousands of those things, let alone one? What hope do we have of surviving that?"

Kal looked down at her, sighing heavily as he stroked her reddish hair, "I'll be honest with you Madi; our survivability odds are pretty low. I'm not even sure we'll survive this war. One of us might die, both of us might die. That's war. All we can really do is count the days we have left until then."

He felt her warm lips on his exposed neck, before she pulled back, "Don't say that. The thought of losing you torments me at night, I don't need it from you. What I need to know is that we'll survive this damn war. That we won't let the Reapers kill us. That we'll go back to Rannoch, build a house and have children. I've always wanted a child, a son, a daughter, of my own. But it won't be worth it if you're not there."

There was a sadness in her eyes, and it hurt him to see it, but there wasn't much to stop it except to lie to her, and he wasn't going to do that. Not to her, "I dream the same for us, Madi. A life without the burdens of the marines or the Reapers or the Geth to worry about. Its a life I've been personally fighting for. But its about time we acknowledge the possibility that we might not survive to get there. So, for now, we must merely see it as a dream, and make no promises to each other. I will fight my hardest to see you on the other side, but I've come to terms with the fact that I might die. That I might lose you. I still love you, I always will, but I know fate when I see it. Now we must only concentrate on the battle ahead of us, the fight that is coming. That is where we are needed."

She looked him in the eyes, nodding slightly as she brought her forehead to lean against his, "You're right, and I will always love you too. For now, let us concentrate on this moment," she leaned in, locking her lips with his briefly, before breaking off slightly, "Let us continue making some memories. Moments to remember."

He nodded, and he brought his mouth to hers, letting them mold together. Quickly, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, continuing the kiss.

They would create as many happy memories as they possibly could.

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February 11, 2186

1734 hours.

Class Room 6C, Ascension Program School Block, Jon Grissom Academy, Vetus System, Petra Nebula.

Subject Zero Jack, Senior Program Coordinator Kahlee Sanders.

Jon Grissom Academy; home to every human child or adult born with biotic gifts, where they trained to use their powers for the greater good, whilst others came here as a early preparation for life in the military. It was founded in the name of Rear Admiral Jon Grissom, who had been one of the first human to commit to deep space exploration after the discovery for the Mars Archives and the mass relays. Now the Academy sat in orbit over Elysium; one of humanity's richest colonies.

And here she stood, in an Alliance facility, not Cerberus...doing what exactly? Become a student? Like she needed to learn to harness her abilities...Samara had done enough of that...

They offered me a place here after I recovered back on the Citadel. They offered to let me teach her. To be a teacher. To train them. The Alliance recruited me...but why? Fucksake, I don't even know why I'm here.

She had been forced to put a jacket on before reaching the station, Kahlee telling her that the children here did not need to see her almost totally naked. Jack had begrudingly listened, and had also donned a pair of shades, before they landed and she picked up her bags. She couldn't say she missed the Normandy, but it definitely seemed more like home than this shithole...why am I even fucking here? I should just leave.

They eventually arrived in one of the classrooms, where her entire 'intended' class was assembled, their ex-teacher, Rebecca Deck, standing beside them. Kahlee had simply stood back and watched as she looked over them, looking at their faces. Most of them looked to be teenagers, with a few looking to be in their 20's. They want me to teach these kids? What part of my dossier said 'works well with children?' I'm a fucking psychotic biotic bitch, not a goody-good teacher. I don't teach at all; I just blow shit up.

She had constantly asked herself why she was even here. As they left the Citadel, as they arrived at Elysium, and as they boarded the station; every inch of the way, she had questioned why she was even here. I could be hunting Cerberus down. Find the Illusive Man and give him a face full of my fist. I'd tear him apart, followed by the rest of his fucking organization. That's what I do. I kill. I'm a murderer. I was a convict for a reason. And now the Alliance wants me to teach a bunch of kids how to use their biotics. What a joke.

It was then that what Samara said came to her mind. The asari justicar had visited her bedside when she was still stuck in Huerta, and it was from her that she learned of the Bahak Incident, and Shepard being arrested; the Normandy impounded, and the crew split. Bloody boy scout, always playing the good guy. But Samara also told her that she had to be stronger than she was now; she had to be better. She had to break free of the bonds of the prison of existence she had created for herself, and choose a better life. Make a difference.

In the end, that's probably why Jack did accept the invitation to begin with. To follow Samara's wisdom. Choose a better life. She could put her insanely powerful abilities to better use in teaching other kids how to harness theirs. She would learn what leadership tasted like. But that isn't fucking me. Why should I...The Reapers. Samara had said that Shepard wanted all of them to find their own ways of preparing the galaxy for the incoming threat, and Jack knew that recruiting as many biotics, human biotics, as possible would help the war effort. This would be her way of helping.

She once again evaluated the group of students before her, smoothing a hand over her hairless scalp. She puckered her plump lips, and spoke, trying to keep the acid out of her tone, "So, you're the kids I'm going to teach?"

"They are ma'am," Rebecca spoke, "All yours. And what is your name?"

Jack looked at her, glaring at her. I hate it when people do that. She quickly wiped the glare from her face, and spoke, although her words were so reluctant that she may as well have been forcing herself to breathe, "Jack. Just Jack."

"Jack?" Rebecca repeated unsmiling, but she could see and hear the other students sniggering to each other, "Isn't that a boy's name?"

I hate it when people ask that, "Maybe I don't care. Maybe, as far as I'm concerned, its a unisex name. Now, if we're done with the introductions, can we get to the training?" she glared at the students, who all seemed to melt under her gaze. Her glare turned into a smirk, liking the fear she struck into them. They will respect me. "I'm ready to bash some heads together, see how you all tick."

"There will be time for that later, Jack," Kahlee assured her, motioning towards the exit, "Would you not like to be shown to your quarters?"

Jack rolled her eyes, nodding before turning back to the students and giving them an evil wink, which caused them to turn away as Rebecca herded them away. Jack turned back to the door just as Kahlee opened, but gave them her parting words, "See you later, you little shits."

Upon hearing the door close behind her, Jack moved down the corridor towards the living quarters, with Kahlee at her side, who seemed to be giving her annoyed looks. Sighing exasperatedly, Jack turned to give her an earful, but Kahlee had already turned away, speaking, "We're going to have to set some ground rules, Jack, and first of them will be no cussing. No curse words around the children. We expect a manner of professionalism here, and you will abide by it."

"Could luck with stopping me," Jack grinned, "Cursing is my style, and old habits die hard, bitch. Might as well get used to it."

Kahlee only smiled in return, "Oh, we'll see Jack. We shall see."

Jack only shot her a withering glare before turning back, moving through another door and continuing their progress to her quarters. She exhaled once more, closing her eyes. I'm going to hate it here. But for some reason, I feel like I'm going to like it too.

It was the same feeling she had when she joined the Normandy.

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March 5, 2186

1501 hours.

Throne Room, Urdnot Camp, Hagalok City Ruins, Que'k Wastelands, Tuchanka.

Chieftain Urdnot Wrex, Chieftain's Adjutant Urdnot Wreav.

Wrex roared, long and loud, and his voice carried through the entire camp, raining silence down on it from above. It echoed off stone, and walls and dirt, silencing all with its call. Krogan turned around, males and females, and the varren's barking ceased. Heads turned, roaring stopped, and all eyes landed on him as he stood upon his throne, looking down on all of them with a blood red gaze. He grinned a large smile, one that filled his halls with promises of bloodshed and combat.

"Brothers and sisters!" Wrex boomed, his voice once again echoing through his halls and ringing in the ears of the thousands upon thousands of krogan assembled before him, "Today is the day I inform you of a great awakening! The galaxy needs us once again, but this time, we will fight of our own accord, not because they want us to! Today we fight, not for them, but for our own survival! A darkness converges on Tuchanka, and Kalros demands we answer it with the light of our guns!"

Wreav mumbled something under his breath, but a sharp glare from Wrex silenced him in an instant. Gutless worm. He turned back to the crowd before him, "We fought the rachni and we fought the turians! The galaxy believed them to be powerful foes, but we stomped them into the dirt! We destroyed the rachni! We almost annihilated the turians! But now, we face the greatest, and most worthy, enemy of them all! The Reapers are coming! They bring with them armies of their mechanical servants, and their very body stands taller than the biggest dreadnought! Were our ancestors still alive today, they would spit on them, and ground them into dust with their warships! But they do not! No, today we will prepare to secure our future! To show those almighty, arrogant pyjaks just what the krogan can do!"

"Lies! All of it!" one large krogan declared from the middle of the front of the crowd, and Wrex's eyes landed on him immediately, "You're nothing but an alien appeaser! You follow the words of a lunatic! The Reapers do not exist! They are a myth fabricated by Arterius! We will find no glory! And even if they did exist, the genophage still afflicts us! We could not hope to replenish our numbers fast enough to go to war! What you suggest is folly, and that's only if they exist! Which they do not!"

Another narrow-minded fool. "It is varren like you who have kept our people tied to this planet for centuries. This...wasteland. Kalros would have us go higher up the ladder, but you would rather chop it down to stop us from reaching the top. Fools like you use the genophage as a progaganda tool and an excuse to stick to our pathetic ways! This is a chance to redeem ourselves!"

"Let these 'Reapers' wipe us out!" the krogan called, gathering a few roars of support, but not many, "The genophage is already doing that already. And you will only quicken it."

"As will the Reapers pyjak," Wrex roared, "The Reapers will descend upon our home, and they will slaughter us. Better to fight in the promise of a future than to die meekly."

"My clan will hear no more of this nonsense," the krogan bellowed, "Clan Ojaa will have no part in this folly."

Ah, Chieftain Ojaa Talmoud. A bloody weakling if there ever was one. Wrex was preparing to unlatch his claymore to fight him, but noticed that the crowd seemed to be parting slightly as another, familiar krogan form headed towards Talmoud.

Wrex could only smirk.

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March 5, 2186

1506 hours.

Lower Camp, Urdnot Camp, Hagalok City Ruins, Que'k Wastelands, Tuchanka.

Lord Companier Urdnot Grunt.

He converged on Chieftain Talmoud, blood rushing in his veins as his adrenaline rush went wild.

I shall silence this welp!

He sprinted through the crowd, armed with nothing but his own body. As Lord Companier, having been promoted to commanding officer of the finest krogan commando unit, Aralakh Company, he had been posted to the side of the camp, his camp on station as a bodyguard detachment to quiet any quarrelers. And he had found one.

And he ordered his company to stay put while he did this himself. They doubted his leadership, his strength, and now he would prove it to them.

Shoving the last Ojaa soldier aside, Grunt rushed forward and tackled the Chieftain to the ground with a cascading war cry. Talmoud cried out in shock as his head hit the stone floor, but he quickly recovered, clamping his jaw shut over Grunt's arm. The krogan supersoldier growled in pain, but he ignored it, sending a foot slamming into Talmoud's shin, causing him to let go as he assessed the new area. Pulling his arm free, Grunt watched as his regeneration kicked in almost immediately, his supersoldier like abilities being that of the ancient krogan; the blood of his ancestors ran through his veins and within no time, his arm had healed, as if no bite mark had existed.

Clan Ojaa soldiers converged on him, but the Chieftain waved them off, wanting to kill Grunt himself. The krogan merely watched, some crying out support for Talmoud, while others for Grunt. Wrex crouched near his throne, watching the battle unfold with a toothy grin.

Talmoud eyed his healed wounds, sneering at Grunt, "You are unnatural, welp. You have the abilities of a freak."

Grunt gave a throaty chuckle in response, "You're body will be just as freakish when I'm done pissing on it," his stomach growled, "Maybe I'll shit on it, too. My varren stew seems to have finished digesting."

Talmoud merely growled and charged forward, attempting to tackle Grunt. The krogan merely strafed to the left, and held his hand out, clasping onto Talmoud's crest and yanking upwards, using the chieftain's momentum to thrust him upwards and onto the ground. Grunt sent a powerful punch flying into his midsection, which would have disemboweled a human, but merely winded Talmoud; the rough skin of krogan much to resilient to be burst in such a way. Grunt moved to offer a second blow, but Talmoud rolled out of the way, jumping to his feet.

He turned to face Grunt, but the krogan was already on him, snarling. His head slammed into Talmoud's, followed by Grunt offering a powerful kick to his shin, snapping it as Talmoud cried out and fell backwards, "My bloodline is distilled from Kredak..." Grunt chanted as he moved forward, fist slamming into Talmoud's face, a tooth flying out, followed by orange blood, followed by a second blow to one of his eyes, which caused it to slam shut in response.

"Moro...!"

Grunt straddled him, Talmoud unable to escape as Grunt once again grabbed his head and slammed it against his, stunning him. Using the thumbs of his fingers, he pressed them into Talmoud's eye sockets, and he screamed out in agony as orange blood oozed from the sockets.

"Shiagur...!"

He removed his thumbs, and orange blood spat out, Talmoud screaming like a wounded animal and hands feeling all over his face, no longer able to see due to his burst eye sockets. Grunt got off of him, looking down at the pitiful creature before kicking him in his quad, turning his pained screams into choked cries of agony, blood never ceasing to flow from where his eyes once were.

"Shepard," Grunt finished, "My blood did not come from him, but he did offer me his wisdom. He is the greatest battlemaster of all. Be lucky that he did not fight you. Or his mate. They would have done alot worse to you."

"Go...to hell...pyjak!" Talmoud screamed, "I will...end you...men, kill...him!"

Rolling his eyes, Talmoud's men merely watched as Grunt not only grabbed the chieftain's head, but with a few twists and a pull, ripped it clean from his spine, orange blood gushing everywhere in a thick geyser. Grunt practically swam in it a he arose from the dead chieftain's corpse, body going limp with the severance of his head. Mouth twitching slightly, it wasn't long before the head died as well, blood leaking from where it once connected with the neck, a piece of spine hanging from the back. Bathing in the chieftain's essence, he turned to the startled krogan, and held the chieftain's head up eye, before tossing it, letting it roll to their feet. So all could hear him, Grunt bellowed, his own voice carrying across the camp.

"DOES ANYONE ELSE OPPOSE URDNOT WREX'S PLAN!?" he bellowed, and he stood there, the blood dripping off of his armor, making him stink of a dead corpse. Varren scurried over to Talmoud's dead corpse and began feeding on it, with Grunt having to growl at another that was trying to lap at the blood on his armor. Turning back, he still heard no answer, and the Ojaa clan soldiers remained silent. Grunt merely nodded, turning to Wrex, a grin on his face.

"Continue, Chieftain."

With that Grunt walked off, armor stained orange.

All he heard was Wrex's echoing laughter, and the krogan supersoldier smiled.

From the day forward, Aralakh Company never questioned his orders again.

{Loading...}

May 28, 2186

1209 hours.

Operation Command, Blue Suns Corporation Headquarters, Thun, Zorya.

Blue Suns Commander Zaeed Massani, First Lieutenant Jentha Renmark.

"Jentha, where the bloody hell have you been?"

Zaeed Massani, most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy and co-founder of the Blue Suns, strode into the room, wearing his custom-made Blue Suns armor, minus the helmet, allowing everyone to see the numerous scars he had accumilated on his face; including the two gunshot scars on his forehead. It showed the mercenaries how strong he was, and created the spectulation that he was 'immortal.' Let the buggers believe what they want to believe, if they respected and/or feared him, it was good enough for him.

And with Vido Santiago dead, the Blue Suns were his to command. The entire corp. And he was leading them well.

Jentha turned towards him, also clad in her Blue Suns armor, with a Revenant LMG on her back and her helmet ontop of the debriefing table, where a hologram of the galaxy was currently represented, with numerous red dots representing enemy clients and mercenary company bases, and the green dots representing Blue Suns bases. She was his second-in-command, but wouldn't be if she hadn't decided to quit on Tarak's assault on Archangel at the last minute. Otherwise, Shepard might have killed her by now. Or Zaeed himself.

She was human, and quite attractive by those standards, but for a mercenary, she was a bit soft. She had raven black hair that seem to fall down around around her face and stopped near her neck. She lacked a fringe, and that was made up for my her large nose. She smooth, round cheeks, darkish skin, and and hazel eyes. Her lips were small but kissable, and her breasts were ample; not massive balloons like Miranda's, but not tiny like Jack's. Standing beside her was one of his batarian commanders, followed by another one, who was turian. All of them turned to Zaeed upon his entrance.

Jentha shook her head, bracing against the table with her arms, "Rallying your troops for you sir. Apparently they weren't too keen on joining their leader's murderer, but after seeing what you did to the Collectors and the Shadow Broker, they were all pretty quick to sign up."

Zaeed nodded, leaning against the table equally, throwing his datapad ontop of its surface, all their attention landing on it. Not that I actually killed the Shadow Broker. But my men don't need to know that. Bastards don't even know that I had nothing to do with that little attack. He pointed at the datapad, a frown on his face, "You won't believe who I fucking found. The little cunt."

The batarian crossed his arms, coughing, "Who? Must be a bloody idiot if he's got you all riled up."

"Thanks, I needed that you bloody ass-kissing blink," Zaeed replied, before picking it up and throwing it in his face, "Who the fuck do you think it is? My fairy godmother? There's only one motherfucking bastard I want gone from this galaxy the most. And before you guess, no, its not Vido."

"I still don't..."

"Darner Vosque, Marath," Jentha answered for him, turning to the batarian in question, "Darner Vosque is the one who's pissed him off," she turned back to Zaeed however, a frown of confusion on her face, "But I thought you two made nice after he handed the Suns over to you. He's incharge of the Citadel division."

"Yes, but that goddam creature is now a treacherous rodent," Zaeed slammed his fist into the table, "I don't know how the little cunt did it, but he's managed to rally his entire division to his cause and now they've defected. They work for Vosque now, who in turn is now going back to what we did before; raiding C-Sec transports. Bloody fuckwit is tearing the entire system down for his won selfish desire, the scumbag. And if it weren't any worse, it would seem he's looking to gain Aria's favor. Last we need is that bitch controlling my organization."

He looked around the room to see the reactions. Marath held the same dumb expression of surprise he always gave when he learned new, seemingly obvious, information, Jentha looked to be pensive, and the turian, Palisus, merely shook his head as he spoke, "Then what do you propose we do, boss? Mercs are mercs. We've always fought for money, and we haven't had much of a reason not to fight for money before you came here and told us about the damn cataclysm. Can't blame Vosque for not believing in it."

Zaeed eyed him with his eyes, but shook his head, "Doesn't change a goddam thing. He's still a traitor, and I want him removed. So much so that I might just do it myself."

All eyes landed on him in an instant, but Jentha was the first to speak, "Sir, Vosque has the entire Citadel division on his side. That's at least a regiment of troops."

"That I will soon have back on my side once I have that fucker's head," Zaeed cursed, "I'll fly to the Citadel and I will find that little bastard and make sure he knows who he fucked with. Then I shall return with his head, and maybe I'll put one of you in command of the division he failed to lead."

There was silence as they all thought about this and Zaeed quickly turned to leave the room, "I'm leaving. First transport I can find to take me to the Citadel. Vosque better pray he has a change of heart before I get there, and even then, that'll only win him a quicker death."

"Wait sir," Jentha called out, and he turned to her, who was now running up to her, her helmet now placed firmly on her head and clicking into place, "If you're going, I'm coming with you. You can't take Vosque all by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "And just who is going to command this entire goddam place? Not Marath, for sure."

"Palisus," she told him, "He's a turian. Leadership and military comraderie are in his blood and training. Leaving him in command is preferable while I come with you. I'll bring a company of our veteran troopers as well. We'll need the extra firepower."

"Whatever you say woman," he growled, turning to Pelisus, "You're in command while we're gone. Don't betray me, or I'll show you Vosque's head before decapitating yours, got it?"

Pelisus nodded, "Got it, boss."

Zaeed turned away, moving down the corridor, signalling Jentha to follow him.

Vosque better say his prayers tonight.

{Loading...}

March 11, 2186

1433 hours.

Cockpit, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Plantia Shipyard orbitting Earth, Sol System.

Flight Lieutenant Jeff 'Joker' Moreau, Communications Specialist Samantha Traynor.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Specialist Traynor," Joker jested secretly, keeping his mirth a secret from the alliance tech, "As far I know, EDI is a simple VI. She doesn't have the intelligence to be anything but."

He had many conversations like this, but only recently with Comms. Specialist Samantha Traynor. She was a new addition to the retrofit crew in charge of 'renovating' the Normandy, to bring it into 'alliance regs.' If you asked Joker, he'd tell you that they were simply ruining the ship, but if you asked any alliance greenhorn, he'd say the ship was being removed of the stench of 'those terrorist scum.' Aka, Cerberus. The only thing Joker could really hate on though was the new door they'd installed in the cockpit, making it impossible to see into it now from the flight deck; and even that was getting an overhaul. He hadn't seen much of it, much what he did, he didn't like.

Then there was Samantha Traynor. Now her he liked. Most of the retrofit crew had been your typical alliance glum face; didn't talk much unless forced to, and worked until their bones were brittle enough to be diagnosed as Vrolik's. Samantha did the same, but she was far more socially...awkward, then socially inept. She didn't take conversations about her personal life too well, which reminded him some what of Tali, and she seemed jittery. However, he couldn't deny that she was attractive. Very attractive. She wore standard issue Alliance blue and white, along with the red stripe of the tech division, and she had long, flowing black hair that curled around her head and was tucked neatly behind her ears. She had smooth round cheeks that affirmed her dark-skin color, hazel-green eyes, and firm, but not puckered, pink lips. Her breasts were large, but not Miranda's large, and she didn't really have any curves worth of note, but she definitely fit into his realm of sexy. Not that she would think of him that way; she had made it quite clear to everyone else that she was interested in her own gender only. Why is it the hottest are always the ones you can't touch?

Samantha crossed her arms, shaking her head with a displeased frown and tucked her datapad under her arm, giving him a stern gaze, "I've checked her processing controls. The power draw from the systems...no 'simple VI' requires that much input."

"And what if this one does?" Joker asked, shrugging his shoulders, "Cerberus likes to go overboard." No kidding. They turned this ship from frigate into the size of a cruiser, with the firepower of a dreadnought. They hired some of the most elite operatives in the galaxy. They then spent billions bringing Shepard back to life, and then spent thousands trying to rid him of it. Cerberus going 'overboard' is the biggest euphemism since Kaidan pointed out that Shepard and Tali have a 'fling.' A bloody fling that lead to a certain marriage? Ha!

Samantha sighed, shaking her head, "I'm not convinced, Joker. I want to talk to it; see if I'm wrong or not."

"Be my guest," Joker replied. Luckily for both him and EDI, they had come up with a full-proof plan on how to full everyone that she was a VI. It was simple; EDI would simply act like one. Wasn't hard. And noone would know. He turned to the hologram pedestal next to him, "EDI."

The blue pawn representing her form appeared, glowing ethereally. She seemed to be looking at him, waiting for an answer as she spoke, her voice feminine in its tone, "Yes. Do you have an inquiry?"

He heard Samantha gasp, and he turned to her, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to be in awe, but noticing his look quickly nodded, clasping her hands behind her back. He let a smirk crease the corner of his mouth, before he straightened out his cap and turned back to EDI, "Specialist Traynor has some questions for you. Needs to know you're VI."

"That information was not programmed within me," EDI replied, "Scanning: Results Negative. Results relative to the quiry provided cannot be given. Please enter another question."

He turned to her, "You see? Just a VI. Nothing more. Trust me, served on the ship longer than you and know how it works. Pretty sure Cerberus wouldn't risk putting an AI on the ship." And to think I'm defending her, keeping her safe. If this had been when not long after I got the ship, I probably would have rooted her out. But now we're partners in crime.

Samantha exhaled, but didn't turn to look at him, or answer his question. Finally, after what seemed to be some hesitation, a smile broke her face, one laced with attraction, and Joker couldn't believe what he heard came from her mouth, "Its voice is...sexy. Attractive. I like it."

Samantha's smile quickly dropped when she heard Joker break into a fit of laughter, the specialist turning to face him. She frowned, mouth moving with her thoughts, "What? What's so fun-" she quickly realized just what she had said, and the heat rose to her cheeks in an instant, "Oh...I said that out loud, didn't I? Oh, bollocks..."

Oh, and Samantha was British in descent, which explains the curse word. Not that it helped understand her more, Joker couldn't help but laugh even harder as she said it. Eventually, when he got it under control, he noticed the angry look she was giving him, trying to hide her blush as well, "Sorry, Traynor, but calling a VI sexy wasn't exactly one of your strong suite." Plus, I don't want to imagine EDI and Samantha. Don't know why, but it makes me...envious? Jealous? Bah. Don't get myself sometimes. Probably just my mind fucking with me.

She merely shook her head, finally managing to work off her embarassment and nod, "Well, you can consider me convinced. Just...no more surprises on the ship, Joker. If it exists, I want to know about it. As will Admiral Anderson."

"Whatever you say, Specialist Traynor," he waved her a mock salute, to which she simply ignored, tapping the haptic interface for the cockpit's new door and moving through and into the gloomy and dimly lit flight deck, where cables lay scrambled over the deck, Samantha walking over them as the door closed on her form. He shook his head, turning to EDI with a grin.

"You have an admirer," Joker stated, his grin omnipotent. In truth, behind his smile, was annoyance. Frustration. Fury. The Alliance had not only taken Shepard's ship, but now they planned to give it to someone else. Its not that he didn't like Anderson, he thought he was a great captain, but the idea that the man would be sleeping in the same bed that Shepard and Tali slept only a few months ago? That he would be commanding the ship with a totally new crew, aside from Joker and Kaidan? It just felt wrong in every way. But until the retrofits were done, Anderson would not be in command, which meant the Normandy fell under its XO's command, which was Kaidan.

EDI responded, this time normally, "Yes. She said my voice was...sexy. I am confused. Does this mean that Samantha Traynor has developed a sexually-driven attraction to me? I do have emotions, but I do not believe myself, in my current form, capable of sexual intercourse. Also, I believe the human term is that Traynor is 'not my type.'"

He laughed, shaking his head, "I think she is, EDI. But she'll get over it," his smile was lost though as he turned around to face the cockpit terminal, which was powered down, remembering what she said after that, "Wait, you have a sexual preference? How? Just who is your 'type?'"

"Male Pilots with a sarcastic attitude," the AI replied with a deadpan voice.

Upon hearing her comment, his smile had instantly dropped, and he looked at the hologram to his side with a worrying frown. I must be dreaming, because she did not just say that...And for some reason, he sorta liked it. He shook that thought from his head almost as quickly as it came up, and he just continued to look at her in horror. Eventually, she spoke again.

"That was a joke," she stated.

He gave a sigh of relief, shaking his head as he once more straightened out his cap, turning away from her, "That shit ain't funny EDI. Seriously, you had me worried for a second there."

"So did I."

He didn't even bother asking what she meant by that as he looked out the cockpit windows, watching lazily as an Alliance Second Fleet destroyer lazily drifted by the shipyard, accompanied by, funnily enough, by a Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate. He couldn't see the name from his distance.

Life would be like this for a very long while.

{Loading...}

March 8, 2186

1745 hours.

Conference Room, Systems Alliance Defense Committee Vancouver Facility, Vancouver, United North American States, Earth.

Major Kaidan Alenko.

His eyes drifted across Vancouver's many streets below, the twinkling of the Fraser River never failing to make him feel at peace. Vancouver was the capital of Canada, which had long been assimiliated into the United North American States, ever since the end of the Second American Civil War. Canada wasn't the one assimilated; Mexico, and the US were all part of the nation now, and all followed by the one government. The UNAS government. Canada, for all intents and purposes, had sacrificed its independence the day that war ended, on August 19, 2096.

Canada was his homeland; it was where he descended from. He hadn't seen much of Earth, let alone Canada itself, since he had embarked into space and been forced into Conatix's biotic program on Jump Zero in orbit of Earth, so these last few months had been the only real opportunity to see his home. Vancouver was a wonderful city; heavily metropolitan, many skyscrapers to match, and the occassional merchant freighter or alliance warship moving through the atmosphere and hovering over the atmosphere gave him a feeling of safety.

Eventually, in the end, all he could imagine was the city burning, thousands of people screaming. And the sound of a Reaper's airhorn; the very sound shaking his body to the core.

Those thoughts brought him back to why he was truly here, or why he had truly been here. Shepard might have needed him at some point, but that wasn't true anymore. Kaidan, upon landing on Arcturus Station, had been ordered to return to Vancouver, and when he had, the brass had seen fit to promote him to Major. He had been confused at what was going on until Anderson had informed him that he was being chosen to assume command of the Normandy in Shepard's absence, Anderson knowing Marcus would want the ship used for something other than rotting in a dock waiting for the Reapers to show up, and took Kaidan on as his XO. And in Anderson's absence, that effectively made him the captain of the Normandy.

That stealth frigate was his to command, and ever since that realization, Kaidan had barely walked two feet near the thing. It was hanging in orbit, under retrofit in an alliance shipyard, and would stay there until the Reapers arrived and Anderson took control of it; the admiral planned to use it as his flagship and mobile command center during the conflict, while Marcus did what he did best; leading his squad into combat and against the Reapers on the ground. Anderson had planned ahead, but Kaidan couldn't say he liked any of it.

His thoughts consumed him even as he stood there looking through the massive observation windows of the conference room, the equally large conference table for the Defense Committee looming behind him, the windows giving him a clear view of the entire city before them. His hands were clasped behind his back in a parade rest, and his hair was slightly shaven, with the contents of a small beard starting to form around his edges, one he hadn't bothered to tend to. Maybe I'll want a beard this time 'round. I feel old enough.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he assumed they were just some Committee member moving to check the room until the figure stood to his right, revealing himself to be Anderson, without his admiral's cap on, but wearing alliance naval uniform, the gold bars of a Rear Admiral pinned on his left breast. He turned to him in an instant, snapping a salute.

The admiral simply laughed, returning the salute, "At least, Major Alenko. No need for formalities here. Noone here to scold you."

Kaidan simply nodded, turning back to face out the window. He sighed once more, and he heard a similiar sound burst from Anderson's own lips, "It's hard, isn't it? The politics. The back-room deals. The underhanded bullshit. The whispered words, followed by the silent creak of a closing door. That's what politics is all about; Shep...Marcus, never really understood that. Sure, his words could move armies and fleets, and his combat skills were like that of Achillies. The man had spirit, but what he lacked was an understanding of politics. He couldn't begin to comprehend what he was meddling in."

Kaidan turned to him, an angry furrow on his brow, "How do you figure that, sir?" There was some slight acid in his tone.

Anderson either ignored it or didn't notice it, his eyes still looking out the window, hands at his sides, "His tactics. He always chose brute force over careful diplomacy. That might have worked well on the battlefield, but the political field requires a deft touch. It corrupts people. Makes them into people they aren't. I've seen special forces becoming politicians, and they become complete cowards. I've seen pacifists become politicians, and next they'll be declaring war on every nation they come across. Truth is, politics corrupts absolutely. Marcus was lucky to never have been involved in it directly. But he was involved. And its left him helpless; politicians are an enemy you can't fight with guns, and you can't fight them with words. Marcus had only the words and the guns, and therefore, he lost the battle."

"Then how do you beat them?" Kaidan asked, genuinely interested.

"By becoming one of them," Anderson simply stated, shaking his head sullenly, "Only way to beat them is to play their game. And by the time you've done that, you become your own worst enemy. I learnt that the hard way. Had to become a Councilor to know what it was all about; difference was, I managed to get out before it tempted me too well, and corrupted me. But even as an Admiral, politics is never far away, and when it sees you, the first thing it'll do is try to annoy me to the point that you just want to draw blood. And that's when they win."

'...you become your own worst enemy.' Wrex is a Chieftain now, and Liara is the Shadow Broker, who is, in itself, heavily involved with politics. And I seem to be falling to its thrall already. How long before Garrus, Shepard and Tali fall? Damn. We really do become our own worst enemy.

With an inhale of breath, he turned to Anderson, "Well, I won't let the politicians beat me. I won't become one, and I won't tempt them, all I'll do...is do nothing."

Anderson smiled, turning towards him, "Doing nothing makes you invisible to them. They can't berate or scheme or frame someone who does nothing. You're learning fast, Alenko. I can see what Shepard sees in you. I bet he's proud of you, right now."

"Thank you sir," Kaidan smiled half-heartedly, the thought of his Commander locked up still paining him, and he knew Anderson saw it as the Admiral patted his shoulder.

"Don't lose hope. Shepard may be locked up, but his companions aren't. They'll be preparing, and we've got so much of it to do ourselves. Why wait around and mope, when we can move around and get somethings going on? Hackett believes us, and I think we may just have Fleet Admiral Netanyahu selling on it."

Kaidan nodded, looking outside one last time as Anderson began to walk away. He closed his eyes, and then opened them, exhaling as he did and smiling. Shepard will know I tried something. I'll be a soldier when the time calls for it. Today, I am the gambler. The game changer. He turned to Anderson, and thought of what he said on politics. Time to become my own worst enemy. I'll play the game, and I'll win. He quickly caught up to Anderson, and they left.

He had made a deal with the Devil. He just hoped it played in his favor.

{Loading...}

December 1, 2185

1010 hours.

Main Airlock/Exterior, Halcyon-Class Prototype, Hagalaz Storm Center, Hagalaz.

Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Agent Feron.

Chaos. It had all happened so quickly, and Liara had been a fool not to see it coming.

The ship rocked again from another impact, its kinetic barriers already weakening to a barely functional state. With no onboard defenses, it was powerless to fight back, and it had no armor either; so once the shields were breached, it would be torn asunder. Which mean she had to get off it now. Trying to escape with the vessel would be impossible; it wasn't built to move at fast speed or for military maneveurs, so it was cumbersome at best; plus the fact that it had been sitting in one position for years, that the engines were basically neglected and not maintained; making them effectively useless. The only escape was the exterior escape pods.

Sparks flew from a nearby console as she neared the exterior airlock main door, said console then exploding and sending a piece of the wall flying outwards, slamming into the ground with a metallic thud. The bodies of three of her mercs lay on the ground in growing pools of blood; scorch marks podmarking their armor and faces, along with pieces of debris sticking out of them. She ran over them, almost turning to scream at Feron to hurry up when her drell lover ran past her, smiling at her as he ran past. This was all a game to him, and that only made her angry at him. This is life or death! How can he be smiling at a time like this!

Feron brought up his omni-tool, quickly imputting the necessary codes into the door for it to shoot open, the harsh winds of Hagalaz howling into the corridor as she ran to join him, both of them already wearing full-head helmets as they rushed out. Glyph was preparing the escape shuttle, and all her stuff was inside, they just needed to reach it. Liara took his offered hand, and he pulled her out onto the deck, sealing the door behind them. Once together, they moved to continue running, only for their eyes to land on the enemy ship that currently was bombarding them.

She identified it in an instant. The hexagonal, golden insignia could be recognized anywhere, and her eyes narrowed in a glare. Cerberus. Should have known they'd come to take me out. I have been hassling their network a bit. The Illusive Man must be pretty desperate to have me eliminated. The ship was massive, but clearly wasn't of Cerberus make; it was an alliance light cruiser in design, and she saw its named enscribed on the side. CAW Napoleon. The ship's main guns and point-defense lasers were all aimed at her vessel, and as they watched, it fired another volley, missiles and shells arching towards them until impacting the hull, sending vibrations through the ship whilst also causing a shimmer on the side.

Glyph spoke in her helmet comms once more, "Shadow Broker, Kinetic Barriers at 20 percent. Recommend immediate departure."

"Come on, Liara we have to go! The ship is gone, but we can still get out of here!" Feron pleaded, but she wasn't budging, only having eyes for the ship.

She contemplated her actions as the cruiser prepared to fire another salvo. A smile slowly creased her lips. I can't have the ship any longer, but I won't allow them their victory.

"They can have my ship," Liara declared. The engines have enough juice for a short journey. And enough velocity for a hard impact. That's all they will need.

She commed her assistant drone, "Glyph, set the shuttle coordinates for the Citadel. I'll drop off Feron there, and head straight for the Sol System. I want this ship's engines ignited and ready; this ship is going on a small journey. I want to be given full control as well. Inform me when I do have control."

She turned to Feron, and she nodded to the cruiser before them. Feron, confused at her intentions before, saw her motions and an equally sadistic smirk creased his own lips, "Better be gone then," was all he could say as they continued towards their shuttle. Most of her crew had evacuated already, and they would be the last two out. They quickly reached the unmarked private shuttle and opened the hatch, moving inside and closing it behind them as the shuttle's engines fired up. Glyph informed her that she now had full control of the vessel, and she plotted in the coordinates on her omni-tool, before turning it off, entering the cockpit and sitting in the pilot seat, lifting off from the doomed ship's hull as they shot towards the atmosphere.

She used the shuttle's cameras to watch the cruiser as they flew away. Both Feron and herself had grins on their faces as the Halcyon-Class Prototype, the only one in existence, slowly, but gradually turned towards the CAW Napoleon, and flew towards it. The ship fired one final salvo before trying to bug out, but were nowhere fast enough. Her ex-base impacted the Napeleon just as the howling winds blew clouds in front of her view, but both of them could see the flash of bright yellow through the clouds that signalled that the Cerberus cruiser had been destroyed the impact. The brighter flash was her vessel exploding from the impact.

"One hell of a parting gift, Liara," Feron quipped.

She merely gave him a calm smile, watching the drell for a few moments before turning back in the cockpit, watching as the vastness of space welcomed them and the shuttle left Hagalaz behind, for the final time, "Sit back and relax Feron. This'll be a long ride..."

"And we've both got a lot of work to do now."

{Loading...}

April 4, 2186

1329 hours.

Grigori's Quarters, Grigori's Mansion, Milgrom, Bekenstein.

Master Thief Kasumi Goto.

Two more security measures fell apart from the virus she installed in the Mansion's systems, and The Master Thief walked casually through the door to Vanchev Grigori's main suite doors as if they weren't even there, a small grin crossing her face at just how mediocre the security was. Compared to my skills of course. Keiji would have worked a system like that in his sleep. Dear old Grigori's gotten lazy. She knew Grigori well; he was a former assiociate of Donovan Hock, a man who was now help, in no part thanks to her. Unlike Hock, his mansion won't go up in flames. I only need to access his vault.

The quarters were an almost exact carbon copy of Hock's, if not the dimmer lighting at present. Kasumi's cloak remained active as she moved inside, the door closing behind her. Noticing two cameras facing his bed, she raised her omni-tool and had them deactivated in seconds, and using an overload program Tali gave her, used it to disable the inactive LOKI and FENRIS mechs lying collapsed in the corner. Her smirk still present, she turned to the open balcony, where city of Milgrom spilled out in the distance, and then to the large queen-sized bed, where the fat form of Vanchev Grigori lay, snoring like a sow's oink. Disgusting. Never really liked this guy.

If only Garrus were here. That turian loved some viglante justice. That thought wiped the smirk from her face, as her eyes lay on the ground, thoughts rolling away. Why do I miss him so much? What we had, its just a fling. A few bits of flirting and mucking around, nothing else. I don't...love him, do I? Not like Keiji. No. I loved Keiji, but I don't know if I love Garrus the same way. Bah! Why am I even thinking this! She had felt detached ever since Garrus left for Palaven after their goodbyes, and it bugged her. I've got other things to worry about. Like a certain vault.

She turned away from Grigori's stinking, sleeping body and moved over to a blank wall, where she could easily see the lines that marked gaps in the wall. Jeez, Grigori. Your laziness knows no bounds. Her omni-tool raised once more, she scanned the door and opened it with a few brute force programs, overriding the combinations and password, opening it in a second. It gave a hiss as it opened, and Kasumi shot a look at Grigori, only to see him still asleep. Turning back to the vault, she watched it open to see the main vault. Opening that as well, she watched as its main item showed itself.

A Reaper artefact, shining with bright red vibrance. It glowed eerily and forbodingly, and she found it hard to keep her eyes on it. Grabbing the device in her pocket, she placed the tiny artefact, which was the size of her palm, and placed it in the device, which immediately emitted a blue containment field around it; that would protect her from indoctrination. She had listened.

Placing it back in her pocket, she moved to walk away, closing the vault behind her, when she heard the door open, and her eyes shot up, moving to activate her cloak desperately. But the salarian spectre that currently stood in his orange and black armor and Tempest SMG in hand was already calling out to her.

"Goto! Stop right there! I have you now! You're under arrest!" Spectre Jondam Bau demanded, SMG raised at her.

Her cloak activated, and she quickly ran for the balcony, knowing Bau could see her; as an ex-STG agent, he knew what the shimmer of a cloak looked like. Nonetheless, he was unable to stop her as she climbed ontop of the balcony, railing and turned towards him, maintaining her balance carefully as he commed her omni-tool behind her back. Bau came into her view, salarian brow creased in annoyance, "You've got nowhere to go Goto! Give it up!"

Kasumi laughed, "I like you Bau, but I'm not going to let you arrest me! I've got many important things to do!"

"Like the Reapers?" Bau asked, and Kasumi actually looked shocked, "I know what you seek, but I can't just let you walk away. What you're doing is theft, and even in pursuit of the goal you strive for, that is unacceptable! I can help you, but you must turn yourself over!"

She pouted, crossing her arms, "No can do, Bau. I'm very impressed by your abilities to track me wherever I go, but I made a promise to Shep to make sure the galaxy was ready. And noone, not even you, is going to stop me."

"You've got nowhere to go!" Bau exclaimed, edging towards her slowly.

A response on her omni-tool, and she merely grinned one final time, "On the contrary," and with that, she leaned backwards and fell off the balcony, plummetting towards the streets below...

...only to land in the seat of a skycar as her fellow associate arrived, and the door closed to Bau's astonished face as the skycar flew off towards Milgrom, a very amused Kasumi in its passenger seat. Turning to her turian rescuer, she handed him the credit chit she owed him, and turned back to face the windscreen.

"Just what did you do in there?" the turian asked, "I heard shouting. Who was that?"

Kasumi merely smiled, "A very determined spectre," her grin only grew as she lay back, patting her pant's pocket to make sure the artefact was still there, "On a determined quest to put a determined thief in prison." Never in a million years.

Not while Garrus and Shepard depend on me.

It was a quiet ride into Milgrom.

{Loading...}

April 6, 2186

1400 hours.

Geth Consensus Server, Unknown Location, Shev'viz Continent, Rannoch.

Legion.

Uplink with consensus achieved. Beginning uplink.

Uplink complete. Awaiting confirmation from all one thousand, one hundred and eighty-three programs.

Confirmation received. Loading data...

Data upload complete. Integration into Consensus complete. Welcome.

Platform Runtime 296210000: Welcome back, Platform Runtime 000000204. We welcome you to our Consensus. Caution: Millions of Platform and System Runtimes are unavailable at this time during construction of Grand Consensus Superstructure; they have volunteered themselves for structure testing. Initial testing results conclusive; structure can support billions of runtimes; will support entire geth species. Recommend complete species upload in 5 standard galactic months. Pending approval.

Platform Runtime 000000204: We conclude that this goal is viable. Old Machine threat substantial. Grand Consensus Superstructure will greatly increase chance of geth evolution. Organics value individuality. We have observed this during our time on Normandy; Shepard-Commander has taught us many things. Possibility of this facility providing this chance is a 61.23 percent variable. We will consider these assessments.

Platform Runtime 296210000: Affirmative. Old Machine threat imminent. Complete militarization still a matter of Consensus alternative. Will not decide until Consensus reached. Creator patrols have increased once more, and we fear Creator attack.

Platform Runtime 000000204: Creator Tali'Shepard has promised that subsequent attacks from Creator forces is unlikely. They will reach Consensus that Old Machines are more of a threat, and the promise of their homeworld will ward off any possible attack.

Platform Runtime 296210000: We will wait. Old Machine threat is imminent. We will prepare.

Platform Runtime 000000204: We will prepare.

Consensus: We will all prepare.

Loading...}

February 6, 2186

1940 hours.

Main Reception, Huerta Memorial Hospital, Shalta Wards, The Citadel.

Assassin Thane Krios, C-Sec Investigator Kolyat Krios.

His lungs felt like they were on fire. He found it hard to breathe, and every time he did, it was a deathly rasp and almost came off as choking. He tried to keep himself standing, but it was proving to be a difficult battle with all his dry heaving. But it was subsiding; ever since he had left Mexico on Earth, the effects had been wearing off.

It had been normal at first. Just himself and his son, visiting Earth to see what the human homeworld was all about. It had all gone well, until Thane had his oxygenic attack; a side effect of his Kepral's Syndrome, and his body's inability to produce enough oxygen for his body. The attack had left Kolyat terrified, that was plain to see, and Thane knew these attacks would only get more frequent. He was nearing the conclusion of his disease, and he wouldn't last much longer, but what time he had left, he would spend with his son. If this disease didn't claim him today.

The elevator finally arrived at Huerta Memorial Hospital, which apparently had the best care on the entire Citadel. As they moved inside, they found the hospital's main reception area to be moderately quiet, with not much activity. Observation windows on both sides gave them a beauitful view of the Presidium down below, and the reception area was located in the middle, with only four people manning it. A sofa lay to the left side, with a medical kiosk next to it for basic precriptions, the hospital doubling as a pharmacy as well.

Kolyat, arm still under his father's, guided him over to a chair nearby, slowing sitting him down in it. Thane nodded his thanks, finally seeming to get his breathing under control. He kneeled down infront of his father, trying to gain his attention with a wave of his hand, and Thane looked him in the eyes.

"Are you okay father?" Kolyat asked, the terror in his eyes palpable, "Please tell me you're okay. I already called ahead, they're sending a doctor."

"I'm...I'm fine...Kolyat," Thane breathed heavily, sucking in as much air as he dared as he straightened himself up in the soft chair, trying to maintain an air of dignity about himself, "I will be okay. I had an attack, that's all."

A female voice, synthesized, strangely, called out from the reception area, "AH! You must be Mister Krios. Where is my patient?"

Both of them turned to see who the doctor was, and were left dumbfounded. She was quarian, and her omni-tool was active, and she was carrying a medical kit in the other hand as she slowly moved towards them. And her eyes seemed to widen as Thane's did, the drell smiling grimly.

"Miss Vael, a pleasant surprise."

"Thane?" Lia said the name like it was shocking, and Kolyat was confused as he looked between them. Thane turned to Kolyat and explained to his son who Lia was; meanwhile, the said quarian moved to his side and began scanning his vitals with her omni-tool. Finished explaining to Kolyat, he turned back to Lia, who was looking over his readings on her omni-tool as he spoke, "Lia, you must know something. Shepard, he's been-"

"-imprisoned by the Alliance for destroying the Bahak System. I saw the news," Lia finished for him, shaking her head as she returned into doctor mode, "Your attack seems to have subsided, but there isn't much I can do for you except recommend you stay in this hospital. I'm not experienced in treating Kepral's Syndrome, and Professor Solus never really went into it in detail, so I'm a bit blank on the details. I'm sorry Thane, but staying here seems the best option."

Thane merely nodded his compliance, closing his eyes as he breathed in fresh air, his lungs no longer burning as they had been. I knew something like this was bound to happen. Arashu knew it. As did Kalahira. My time as an assassin appears to be coming to a close, but I can enjoy the solace at the end for a while longer. "I thank you, Miss Vael. At least my son will be close by, and I have a friend to talk to."

Lia smiled behind her mask before turning to Kolyat, and shot out her hand, "Ah, I don't believe we've met. We spoke only briefly over the comms. I'm Lia'Vael nar Ulnay. I served on the Normandy."

Kolyat hesitantly took her hand in his own, shaking it gently, with a growing smile on his own face, "I...I'm Kolyat Krios. I didn't expect to see a quarian working here."

"I'm on my pilgrimage," she explained, cocking her head, "Had to work here as part of that. Hoping to use my knowledge as a doctor to complete my pilgrimage. Return as a medical professional and work with Elan'Nara on the Rayya," after a moment of silence, Lia looked down to their hands, to see them still locked in a hand shake. She looked back up, a grin on her face, "You...You can let go of my hand now."

Kolyat, realizing how long he had lingered, just letting himself look into her shining pearls for eyes, pulled his hand, scratching the back of his neck, "Yeah, sorry about that."

Thane merely watched the exchange, and he smiled. Kolyat always was awkward around women. But this one seems different...he seems to be more...ah, that is merely my father's sense. He shook the thought away, and looked back to Lia, "I will be sitting here if a doctor needs to see me. I will not be leaving any time soon."

"I shall inform Doctor Michel. She's the manager here," Lia informed him, nodding, "She'll be here soon. I have to go, but I will talk to you later," turning to Kolyat briefly, she nodded, "And...we'll meet again soon, Krios Jnr. It was nice meeting you."

"Please, just Kolyat," his son insisted, smiling back, "Bye." He seemed to finish awkwardly, and he did not immediately rip his eyes away from her form as she walked away. And he could've sworn his eyes lingered on her buttocks before turning to face his father again. Thane mentally smiled. Ah...I do believe my son has found his first attraction. Next comes the crush, I should think.

"Will you be okay, father?" Kolyat asked, concerned once more.

Thane nodded, pulling a nearby chair next to him and patting it, "Come, sit with me. Talk with me. I will feel better with my son near."

And so they talked. And they talked about the future. About what awaited.

Only after the Reapers were finished could he find true peace.

And he knew that too well.

Loading...}

May 14, 2186

Undisclosed Location.

Miranda Lawson.

Miranda Lawson sighed as he let herself fall into the seat infront of her terminal, and gently rolled herself closer so she could type into it. She had managed to draw off the attention of the Cerberus agents on her trail, but it hadn't been easy, and she had almost been spotted. But she had done it, and now here she was, sitting behind her terminal, pondering whether she should contact her twin sister, Oriana Lawson, or not.

For all I know, the Illusive Man's dogs could be monitoring my communications right at this very moment. I can't risk breaking silence, but what if Oriana is in danger? I need to warn her, and that might warrant putting myself in danger.

Her decision made, she quickly brought the terminal to life, and searched through her videochat extranet contacts, eventually landing on Oriana's. Selecting the icon, she leaned back, put on her best convincing warm smile, and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. She watched as the connection feed circled around in a buffer pattern, until finally her sister's face appeared on screen...

...and she saw the look of sheer terror on her face.

"Miri!" Oriana exclaimed in relief, shaking her head. She seemed to be sitting in a dark room, and Miranda could see Oriana's parents moving boxes behind her. Something wasn't right; there was rings around her eyes, and they seemed to look sunken, as if she had a lack of sleep. Before she could ask what was wrong, Oriana spoke once more, whispering, as if someone might hear them, "I'm so glad you called. My parents and I are moving to the Citadel; its no longer safe here."

She leaned forward, her smile evaporating and a look of cool calm painting her face in determination, "The Citadel? Oriana, what's going on. Was your location compromised?"

"Yes, but not by father. Not this time, I think," Oriana assured her, looking around before leaning in closer, her eyes meeting Miranda's, "Its Cerberus. The Illusive Man. I know about what's been going on Miranda, and if he knows we're here, it isn't safe anymore. We have to go now. We'll be on the Citadel in the next few days."

She nodded, "I'll meet you there then."

Oriana widened her eyes, shaking her head, "What? No! I can't ask you to risk your life, Miri-"

"-but I will be," Miranda finished for her, shaking her head, "This is not up for negoitation. The Illusive Man is a tenacious bastard, and he won't stop until he has you in his grip. He's going to try and use you against me, I can guess; try to use you to get me back to him. He's got multiple agents he can rely upon; dammit, he'll either try and kidnap you or assassinate you, either way, he'll get what he wants. Me. Noone hurts my sister and lives, and he knows that. He's relying upon it to reel me in. I've got to protect you, and that's what I'm going to do. I'll relocate to the Citadel, set up a secret base there. I've got a few contacts who can help; non-Cerberus."

"Okay Miri," Oriana whispered, the concern clear in her voice, "Just be careful."

"And you. If Cerberus comes after you, you call me for help, and you run like hell," she nodded, leaning, "Stay safe Oriana. We'll see each other soon, I promise."

Oriana gave a brief nod, and Miranda closed the connection. She closed her eyes, breathed in and breathed out, before opening them again and shooting up, moving further into the room to collect her things. The Reapers will have to wait while my sister is in danger. Once she is safe, I can continue preparing for them.

But only once she was safe.

And somehow, Miranda knew Cerberus would give her no end of trouble on the way to the Citadel.

She depended on it.

A/N:

A short prologue for ya? Yeah, this prologue was just to wrap up the events leading up to ME3 short and sweetly; let you know what the characters were getting up to. And as you'll have seen, there was alot of changes too. Get used to it; there's alot of these 'minute changes' in Holocaust. And alot of them you'll like. Alot.

This is some teaser material. The first chapter might not be for a while, as Term Three of School begins tomorrow again for me, and I've finally decided to get my YouTube channel into action. It'll involve content from many video games, including Halo, Mass Effect, Crysis, Battlefield, Destiny, etc. I can't wait! But that's not for here; this is for Holocaust. I hope you enjoyed this tiny snippet, and I hope the wait for Chapter 1 is worth it for you guys!

Until then, Keelah Se'lai!