'And, your last option is to alter all life to a synthesis of artificial and organic. I can do that. Which option are you going to choose?...'

The apparition's words dissolved and became one with the nauseating, swirling wall of gray mist all around. The visuals had faded completely, the departure of Serena's sense of vision accompanied by the monotonous voice of medical monitoring system behind her ear. 'Warning. Blood loss approaching critical. Seek medical help immediately'.

Commander Shepard, the survivor of Akuze, Spectre of the Citadel Council, hero of the Battle for Citadel, defender of Earth - slowly dropped to her knees in front of the holographic childlike figure.

'You are free to choose any of these options.. Each has its own consequences' the voice continued.

'Choose…choose… choose… choose' resonated each of the darker wisps of smoke, standing out on the gloomy gray background of the mist, which for some reason had assembled in a likeness of a forest.

The superheated bullet wound in her side gave a sharp jolt of pain, passing like a shockwave through her entire body. She tried to shelter the wounded spot with her hand but couldn't. Her arm simply refused to move, remaining rooted to the gray ground.

'choice…choice…choice…it's…up…to…you…Commander'

She looked at her hand, powerless to move, powerless to do anything. She looked at the bruise covering the base of her index finger. She looked at her traditional Old Earth thumb ring engraved with a curved asari glyph standing for 'shadow' and a chilling realisation hit her like an asteroid. She had understood all of it. She really did.

Her pose, on her knees, feeding reinforcements from her body language back into her brain. The fact that if she was fainting from blood loss she would not be able to see her hands. The dark wisps of smoke, just sufficiently humanoid-like to be subconsciously recognised as such. The whispers….

It… was too strong.

'This is my gift to you, love. A gift of a moment'

Serena had no strength to resist – but it was not Catalyst, it was another voice, familiar and warm, filling up every inch of her being with a new energy. Bright indigo wisps of a smokelike mass effect distortion rose from her hands and body and the gray forest started to disperse, giving way to pure, black starlit space…

'I love you, Serena. i always will' Liara's voice extinguished the whispers as surely as if she stood next to the kneeling Commander.

Serena Shepard rose to her feet and stroked back her short, pomegranate hair with little touches of silver at their roots . It was NOT too strong. And it never will be. Her mind shook off the torn web of Reaper indoctrination as she lifted her comms bracelet to her lips.

'Admiral? Anyone? '

'Commander Shepard? What's your status?'

There was a brief pause as the wounded, middle-aged woman straightened up to her full height.

'United Fleet Command, this is Commander Shepard. All guns open fire on Citadel. I repeat, all guns open fire on Citadel. It's the boss Reaper. Take it out at all costs. This is an order. And… give them hell for me. Liara…dearest, I'm sorry. I love you. Shepard out.'

Serena looked triumphantly at the hologram.

'Believe it or not we're both going down. This is a strange aeon we live in, isn't it, Catalyst?'

'You will regret this. Your actions have brought extinction upon the galaxy. Without me, life will turn on itself. Your children will watch it unravel before their eyes. Was that what you wanted?'

'They will do just fine. They have a good example to follow.'

'The combined knowledge of thousands of cycles, all…'

A cascading fusion explosion the brightness of an average sun did not allow the sentence to be finished.

'Wait'

'We should attack! The frigate squadron has distracted the destroyers'

'No. I would wait more, Primarch'

'It's a perfect opportunity…'

'I think I understand them. They…have lost their strategic perfection since Citadel went down. Now! Main guns, full fire on destroyers, distributed evenly '

'What are you doing Admiral? We have an opportunity. The dreadnought is unguarded….what?'

'All capitals fire at the dreadnought, save the 13th squadron cruisers. 13th continue pursuit.

'I don't understand, Admiral Vakarian. The destroyers should have fallen back into formation. Why didn't they?'

'Primarch. My guess is – they now know something they didn't before. They know fear.'

A bullet ricocheted from one of the shoulderplates but the warrior seemingly didn't even register it.

Where were they? Liara opened her eyes. She did not remember what had happened after they got separated from her Serena (she had never called her by the rank, even in her thoughts) by a horde of advanced reaper troops. She remembered stasis-freezing the captain and ripping out a large hole in their lines with her mass effect fields – but nothing afterwards.

'This is where it ends, my lady. It was an honour to know you. And you are a fine warrior yourself, Commander-consort.'

The 4-eyed warrior put her down and the first place where she looked was the sky. And the Citadel was not there, microexplosions still lighting up the place like party glitters. Even if she did not know what had happened, her heart knew it already…

A shriek rippled through the air, it's frequencies tearing at their shields and making their indicator lights glow yellow.

'Javik, I'll get her barrier down. Distract her.'

'Another one behind your back'

The asari sidestepped just in time to avoid the monster's bionic charge attack, one of the claws tearing through her armour. A thought crossed her mind.

'So that's what one's last splits are like, all slow motion. Dum, dum, dum…Javik's gun used to be higher-pitched and faster'

She evaded another charge but slipped on the uneven ground and lost her balance. Lying on the ground she awaited another, this time inevitably lethal attack of the claws.

It never happened. Dum, dum, dum, holes burst through the creature's chest as it fell, first to its knees and then on the ground.

'Get into the truck, girls – quickly. There's too many of them here, even for a heavy machine gun.'

'You. Human. Javik, avatar of vengeance, shall remember your words. I am not female. I am a warrior.'

'Commander would have torn you a new one for that. You're lucky i'm not her' the soldier shouted back.

Two pairs of hands reached out and pulled her into the armoured carrier. Liara collapsed on the bench, the thoughts and realisations finally catching up with her.

'James?'

'Yes ma'am. Lieutenant James Vega, in person. And all that's left of 5th Infantry. On our way to the base, to regroup. You got bloody damn lucky.

'James? What happened? She motioned towards the sky.'

'You don't know, Kiki?'

It was neither place nor time to argue, so Liara chose to ignore the silly nickname.

'No. We got cut off. Our transmitter is damaged,' the protean quipped in.

James pushed a couple of buttons on a device near the driver's cabin. Interrupted by static it began a replay.

'United Fleet Command, this is Commander Shepard. All guns open fire on Citadel. I repeat, all guns open fire on Citadel. It's the boss Reaper. Take it out at all costs. This is an order. And… give them hell, for me. Liara…dearest, I'm sorry. I love you. Shepard out.'

'Serena…' Liara burst into tears. No one interrupted her. She lost the grasp of time and did not know how long she had been crying but it couldn't be much. Despite the immense grief she recognised another feeling. She was lighthearted and proud for the human woman who had chosen to join her life with hers'

When she lifted her eyes she found soldiers on the benches saluting her.

Pontifex, known among its own kind as Mechaton, the Living Conduit, Key and Protector of the Conduit glided silently through the blackness of space, encircled by a group of destroyers and smaller shells.

Defeat.

Chaos.

Emptiness.

Silence.

Loneliness.

Abandonment.

The largest and most powerful of the Reapers now, that Sovereign/Nazara had not returned from its mission, Harbinger and three others present in the final operation in the orbit of the human homeworld had gone silent and even relays had stopped responding, Mechaton was on the brink of panic. For a very simple reason – it was not used to making decisions. The Living Conduit, Key and Protector of the Conduit was not a vanity title. It represented what Pontifex was…or more precisely had been. There had always been answers right there, beyond the Conduit within its shell – and all it had to do was voice them. Now there was only silence and static. But its decimated armada was turning to it for leadership, strategy, all those things that had been so trivial when it could simply ask the Conduit.

Pontifex had to think.