Note: In this variant, a female Shepard initiated a variant of the destroy ending. The Reapers themselves were rendered completely inert, all Reaper creations died where they stood, Reaper technology ceased to function, and indoctrinated creatures regained their minds. No other technology or race was harmed. Shepard is MIA and presumed dead. The Crucible expended its energy, teleported the Citadel back to the Serpent Nebula, then detached and exploded.

When a word is spoken enough times, it loses all meaning. The letters split from the interpretation, the sound becomes unreal, and the syllables are rendered foreign as they spill off the tongue. For Liara, the word afforded this linguistic trickery was "millions". It came across her terminal so often. In the casualty dispatches from exhausted commanders. In the lists of missing recited by the news. In the frantic requests for resources from a hundred burning worlds.

On her more cynical days, Liara had Glyph render the numbers in ancient Thessian rune-script, Prothean tapping code, or even primitive Earthen hexadecimal. She'd shift the translators from Turian to Volus and back again, challenging herself to parse the message without any technological aid. Anything to relieve the constant repetition of a word people felt comfortable saying because "billions" was too excruciating. Millions. Millions and millions. A word with no meaning but pain.

She pushed away from her expanse of monitors and rested her tense blue forehead on her hands. The agony she had expended about the millions dying on Thessia seemed a distant whisper. On Palavan, the bodies had fallen so thickly that all funeral rites were suspended in favor of quick prayer and massive pits. Earth was a roiling cinder and Khar'shan a glassy rock. The thoroughness of Thessia's pummeling was mitigated by its relative brevity. More so than others, her people still stood. What right had she to grieve?

But objectivity did not come easily when the call for supplies were Asari. The bodies of the fallen husks had contaminated their colony's water supply, bringing a plague that was wiping out the survivors. Could the Shadow Broker arrange for a filtration system, or medications, or perhaps enough flashfire to burn their corpses? They could not pay, but certainly the Shadow Broker could use a few grateful warriors to do his will, or grateful bodies to fill his bed. The Shadow Broker gave his assurances, as always, and took the dossiers of those who would serve, and filed both away in a file of empty promises.

Equipment from where? Which planet had a glut of resources that it would happily throw at another race? Starved and battered children to throw in front of whom? The doctor was not so callous as to spill blood for the sake of collecting a debt. And share her bed? Never. Only one woman had ever done that and, save a restored Lazarus project, no other woman would again.

"Shepard," she whispered aloud. "My love, was this your legacy? A galaxy saved from the Reapers so it could die in a wasteland of pestilence and famine? How many more months until the ones you saved curse your name?"

The life within Liara stirred restlessly at the sound of her father's name. Shepard's other legacy, albeit a hidden one, tended not to agree with Liara's forays into despair. The Asari leaned back and rubbed her stomach thoughtfully. If the galaxy were doomed, Liara would not bring a new life into it. Technology and philosophy offered her outlets from pregnancy. Yet here she was. Waiting with some anxiousness to see the daughter who Shepard would never know, wondering how much of the Commander this little one would carry in the curve of her face and the strength of her will. It was a secret, though; Liara was not ready to share.

The door chime startled her and she unsuccessfully tamped down the rush of excitement at its sound. A mere five months since the Normandy had lost its Captain left Liara still expecting the lean frame and loving smirk to grace her quarters. Instead it was the compact frame and dark eyes of Major Alenko, whose mission was no less important but whose presence lacked the gravitas and desire of his predecessor.

"Dr. T'soni," he stated, his approach formal as always. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, of course not Kaidan," she replied, favoring the more casual address. "What can I do for you?"

"The Normandy has been recalled to the Citadel for a mission debriefing. We have a little time before we need to arrive, though. Are there any things you or," he raised an eyebrow, "the Shadow Broker require before we do so?"

She gave him a freckled half-smile. "No, thank you. I have finished consulting with the research team in the labs below. Of course, I am certain the Shadow Broker will let me know when the Normandy's services will be next required. And what about you?"

Kaidan offered a noncommittal shrug. "A lot of calls from all over the galaxy, some human, some alien, some official Navy business and some specter. I have a lot of choices…" His voice trailed off.

It was a rare display of public uncertainty from the Normandy's interim captain. Kaidan had none of Shepard's powerful leadership and command inspiration. It was doubtful he could rally the galaxy in the way Shepard had. But in a time of relative peace, overseeing a crew of wounded and overwhelmed humans, Kaidan's quiet steadiness and resolute presence would suffice. And for those who needed more fire, the ever present James Vega strode around Kaidan like a faithful pit bull, snapping at anyone who dare step out of line. The two men were oddly and evenly matched, a good captain and good first officer in the most unlikely circumstance. But in private, Kaidan would like the façade waiver.

"No one would blame you, Kaidan, if you decided to prioritize human needs over those of other members of the galaxy. Certainly that is what… she… would have done if given the option."

He leaned against the door and tilted his head against the bent metal bulkhead. "She would, wouldn't she? But not unless she was sure there was someone else to take care of the rest of the galaxy. Sometimes, I think the only people left are us."

"That may be. So I will give you the same advice that I had to give her: you can't save the galaxy alone. And part of not being alone is taking care of your own people as often as you take care of someone else."

"I know," he said with a long exhale. "I keep waiting to be reassigned to some sort of Earth detail or for the Normandy to be handed over to one of the admirals. No one wants to replay Shepard. Hell, the only reason I'm here is because I'm willing to carry her legacy." He stood up again and ran a dark hand through his spiky black hair.

"Anyway," he said brusquely, "I will let Joker know Liara going to make a stop at what's left of the Watson colony to see if we can deliver some medicine and pick up some food supplies. Speaking of which, if you want to join us for dinner, you're welcome to."

Liara rose and followed him out of her office. "That sounds lovely." She could do nothing about the millions right now. Attending to her needs would have to suffice.