Shepard and his squad have managed to convince most every race of the threat of the Reaper invasion, ironically right as that Black Fleet itself finally made its way to the Milky Way. All the governments in the Galaxy have convened at the Citadel to hold council on what action should and can be taken against a force that defies reason, logic, and understanding in its motives but has no remorse in its actions. The hour draws near when all of them must unite, or each of will falter and fade out, as many have before. Yet, even now, one man's actions will decide whether such a great alliance will be merely a futile but noble effort, or the salvation of a Galaxy that has never known such against the Machine Gods.
The Normandy races towards the Citadel, the hear t of Galactic civilization, bearing news and a plan that are critical to any effort against the Reapers. The crew enjoys the calm before the storm, resting and recovering for what may be their final days.
Flashes. The grinding of metal teeth. The rending of flesh. The last gasp of the dying. Planetary explosions. Civilizations snuffed out. The untold mass of shimmering darkness emerging from the inky void that is Dark Space. Finally a voice, with its every utterance triggering a pain so severe that its words are muffled but its intentions are clear. You are with us, you are us, you cannot escape us. Then a vision, a blue orb set against such a force. Itself about to become victim to a story replayed for billions of years yet never recalled…
Shepard snapped out of his rest, coming upwards and gasping for air. Sweat dripping from his face and a gnawing pain at his back reminding him that this was no mere sleeping fit but a warning. The Illusive Man told him the operation would be painful for some time and its effects would be unknown, possibly even fatal. Yet the dreams were what haunted him, and even in his waking hours heard them. The voices, thousands of them, growing stronger and nearer. He felt the forces of billions of years speaking into the farthest recesses of his mind, though he masked them as headaches to others. A symptom of stress, Mordin said. Few knew what he carried inside him. Less than a handful knew its purpose. Only Shepard was certain in what he ultimately had to do, something he had put off far too long.
Tali was sleeping, the sounds of her soft breathing still emanating from her helmet. Their time with each other had made her body tolerate his nearness even when she was without her suit, but even so he insisted she still protect herself as much as she could. He looked at her sleeping next to him, how she insisted her body rest so near to his.
They never had the time to really court or do any of the other rituals of romance or mating that most enjoy. The moments they shared were fast, dangerous, and very rarely allowed a moments peace. In combat, exploring far off worlds or the confines of the Normandy itself, their relationship had been forged. He wished he could have had more time, more moments when he could express what she meant to him. Yet duty kept them busy, apart, and what time they found was usually shared in whispers at night, when their bodies came together.
As he rose out of his bed, he looked around his quarters, everything reminding him of, on one hand what drew him to her, and on the other why he must leave. Tali had become such a regular that she had left her mark on what was to be his space. Various bits of Quarian culture, art, and their famous technical prowess could be found. Usually, soft singing in their tongue could be heard when they had the fortune of being together. His ship collection had been thoroughly examined, picked apart, and put back together. Even his hamster found itself with a companion creature, small and furry but alien, and they had found some friendship together. All around could be found their attempts at domesticity, at making a home for themselves, a refuge. He approached his desk and a picture of one of the few moments that truly belonged to them brought a flood of happiness tempered with a heavy pressure of coming regret into him. They had commandeered a small table and placed it in the Engineering section, Tali's favorite spot. There they had dined on different foods as they could not even share, but what mattered is they had a brief moment where they could act like a "normal" couple. Garrus had even brought wine for them, but warned that while Tali would enjoy it Shepard might suffer some unfortunate side effects. He endured them because it was something they could have together.
He had little time for such an introspective moment. Coming back to reality he focused on the task he needed to accomplish and the signs of her presence, her affection, only reinforced what he must do. Opening his desk quietly he removed a small data pad, one he had kept secret and safe for some time. Quickly he pulled from a small bag a small token that he had wanted to give her for awhile.
It was funny really. Shepard has always thought the woodcarving skill he had learned as a child of little use. His teachers insisted he learn such a skill, as not to become so reliant on technology that his "hands would lose their usefulness relying on damn machines". This was the closest he would come, unfortunately, to a promise he made Tali. He smiled as he realized he never really knew what a Quarian house looked like, perhaps not even they did. Instead he had shaped what he imagined a small and normal house might look like for a family that had settled. On the base of this carving he had put words he thought might explain, excuse, or perhaps even apologize for what he was doing now. He knew it would probably fail to ease her pain, but his conscience demanded he give her some solace.
He moved quickly through the halls of the ship. There were no day and night schedules in space, so some crewmembers were still milling about. Reading reports, having a snack, chit chatting to allay their nervousness. None of them paid much attention to the Commander moving so swiftly to the docking bay. Perhaps they thought the was just making rounds, checking on things, all part of his job description. As he settled into the shuttle, he looked around. He was not bringing much, just a pistol and a few other small items. Larger weapons, even the intention to fight at all, would be useless where he was going. He began the procedures to open the bay doors and power up the engines when a small blip and the appearance of a familiar blue avatar interrupted him.
"Commander, the statistical probability of this course of actions success is…"
Shepard shot a hard glance at EDI. Since being released of the restrictions on her AI Core, she had become quite adept at expanding her knowledge and of understanding emotions. She became silent, knowing her words would do little to dissuade him.
"You must give this to them. ", he said as he uploaded data from the pad he carried to her. "They deserve the full explanation now. They must have the confidence and knowledge they need to convince the Council. They must not fail…"
EDI was silent. After a few more moments, as the upload completed and she fully realized his intentions, she mustered only the words "Goodbye…Shepard" before she disappeared. The engines were ready, he was already lifting off towards open space . He would never see this place again, he thought to himself. He might never see much again. He set the course for the nearest relay and hoped he would not be too late, cursing to himself for waiting so long.