26 July 2186
19:30 GST
Embassy Level, Presidium, Citadel
"I hear you're staying on the Normandy."
James turned away from the view of the Presidium – it was disturbingly peaceful – and looked at Steve Cortez. The Normandy had only been away from Earth for a few hours, but Cortez looked like he had not slept for days. Given everything, maybe he had not. James got that. He got part of it, anyway. Losing your squad and losing your soul mate were hardly the same thing.
"Yeah," James said with a shrug. "You?"
"Yup. Somebody's gotta fly that Kodiak. Where the hell did you learn to drive, Vega?" Steve said. He tried to laugh, but it came out hollow and forced. It was not time to laugh. Not yet.
"Hey, it worked. Right?"
"Hah! You do know that the Kodiak has guns, right?"
James shrugged in an exaggerated fashion, causing Esteban to roll his eyes in a mocking way. "My way was faster," James said matter-of-factly.
They stood there in silence for a long time. James looked down at his Omni-tool. Of course, there were no replies to any of the messages he had sent.
[Recipient: Emilio Vega, Alliance Military]
[Sender: James Vega, Alliance Military]
[You okay, tío?]
[Recipient: Joshua Sanders, San Diego, CA]
[Sender: James Vega, Alliance Military]
[Come on, asshole. You had better be alive.]
[Dad?]
Then there was the message that had not gone through until they hit the Citadel. Communications must have been cut a few minutes before the attack started.
[SMS Conversation: Marie Rai Mercier]
[J: Don't worry, Mar. Running late, too. Something's going on up here. May have to get a rain check.]
James had not been able to send out the next message to her, left as a draft in his inbox.
[J: You alive down there?]
James did not know why he cared. He had yet to hear from his uncles. His cousins. His friends. His squad. His son of a bitch of a father. What should some woman he had only met once, in a dingy pub on the bay, matter?
He rewrote the message. It would probably never get to her. She was probably dead, based on the few reports coming in. But, if she was alive, Marie had a right to know.
[Recipient: Marie Rai Mercier, Assistant Editor, Print News Division, Alliance News Network]
[Sender: James Vega, Alliance Military]
Hello Mar,
We went to the archives on Mars. After. The Protheans had plans for a weapon. Dr. T'Soni was there. We might be able to take down the sons of bitches after all.
Mar, I should not be the one to tell you this. But, with everything going on, I am probably the only one who can. Well, me and Steve. He's alive, by the way. We're on the Citadel.
But, Cerberus was at the Archives. They killed all of the researchers.
I am so sorry.
I hope you're alive.You still owe me lunch.
Hoping you're alive and safe and still very beautiful,
James Vega
"You hear from your family?" Steve asked, eyeing James's Omni-tool without trying to read the message.
James shook his head and put his 'tool in standby mode. "You?"
Steve shook his head as well. People milled about behind them on the embassy level, as sky cars flew above the canal. Earth seemed like a far away nightmare, a fever dream from weeks ago. James tried to stop himself from imagining all the horrors on Earth, but it was an impossible endeavor. And while he knew staying with Shepard was the right decision, not going back to fight hurt. But, what they were doing here – rallying the fleets – it was the only chance anyone alive back home had.
26 July 2186
2:30 PM PST
CPRail Tunnel, Vancouver, Canada, Earth
The tunnels were packed with survivors. The crowd was oppressive, making the air too hot and hard to breathe. Marie was taking deliberate, deep breaths in an attempt to not pass out. And yet, she found herself praying that the few poor refugees in this hell hole were not the only ones left. There had to be more. Surely the Alliance had helped get as many people as possible to safety. Surely they had a plan for this.
There was an empty feeling in her stomach, though, that Marie could not ignore. Those Alliance bastards sure as hell had done everything in their power to discredit Shepard. After the Citadel. After Aratoht. What if that disbelief really went all the way to the top of military command?
Well, then we're fucked.
Marie was not well versed in war, but she was no idiot, either. They would never win against the Reapers in a ground war. They would never win without a plan.
"Let me see your hands."
Andre held out an open bottle of water. They had been separated from the rest of the survivors in the coffee shop, but Andre had kept tight hold of Marie's arm the entire afternoon. Hell, Marie would probably have finger-shaped bruises from his painfully constant grip.
She did not particularly care.
Marie held out her palms, wincing as the flexing of her fingers trained against the ceramic still embedded in her hands. They had already patched up her ear as best they could, with strips Andre had torn out of his formerly pristine white t-shirt. Her newfound friend began pulling shards of coffee mug out of her hands.
The shock was gone, and the pain was searing. Marie bit down on the inside of her lip, drawing blood, to keep from screaming out. The still-cold water he poured over the wounds did not help. It stung before numbing the pain, bring tears to her eyes as Andre muttered his apologies.
"You're okay," she said through gritted teeth. Then, Marie thought to add a heartfelt, "Thank you."
He nodded and carefully bandaged her hands, shaking his head absentmindedly every time a lock of curly chestnut hair fell into his eyes. Even now, amid the chaos of genocide, Marie was aware of how attractive he was.
Marie had asked him out, once. It was years ago, now, when she was first hired by ANN. She had just moved to Vancouver. She knew no one, and she figured the hot barista was worth a shot.
It turned out her gaydar was poorly turned, but Andre had let Marie down gently. They had always been friendly after that, building up a rapport over the years. But, Marie had never thought to ask Andre out for a friendly drink or some other excursion outside the coffee shop. Now, she wished she had. The chance would probably never present itself again.
No. Don't think like that.
At least he was here. At least she had somebody among the press of panicked bodies.
"There," Andre said, holding her hands with mercifully gentle grace. He held out the water bottle to her, but Marie shook her head. It was probably a bad call, but she suspected she would vomit up anything she attempted to swallow right now.
There was a child crying to her left. Marie looked over to see a little girl in a blue dress, surely no older than eight, with tears streaming down her face. There was no one helping her.
"Where are your parents?" Marie asked, looking around frantically.
The girl only shook her head and cried harder. Andre carefully released Marie's hands and shifted over to the little girl. He brought her into a wordless hug, and Marie remembered him once talking about a little sister. She had just started high school.
Claire. Was Claire safe, up on Mars? Surely the Reapers were ignoring the planet for now. They had to be. It was almost entirely populated by scientists and their families, leaving it a mostly barren wasteland of red sand. Was Claire just getting word now of Earth? Was she watching some news broadcast in horror, wondering what had happened to her older sister?
Were their parents safe, on Tiptree? The Reapers would save the back-end of nowhere for a later date. They had to.
And what about everyone at ANN? Norah? Her editor, Alex? Even that motherfucker Eric? Were they risking their lives now to report on the destruction, to get word out to other cities and the council races? To plea for help? Or were they–
No.
Marie instinctively checked her Omni-tool with bandaged fingers. Of course communications were down. The Reapers had surely destroyed every single satellite, tower, and communications buoy they could. The last messages glowed at Marie painfully in their bright orange font at the top of her inbox.
She saw her failed message to James. Would he and his Alliance soldiers be able to deliver them from the end of the world?
Andre's hand was on Marie's bicep. "We need to get out of here. We're going to get crushed to death," he said.
Andre was cradling the little girl in his arms. She had buried her face in his chest, so all Marie could see was the orange glint of many illuminated Omni-tools off her white-blonde hair.
Marie nodded and wove her fingers through Andre's. "You know which way gets us out of here?"
He nodded in kind and started to lead, calling over his shoulder, "When I was a kid, we used to sneak down here and play flashlight tag. When I was older, this was my favorite place to smoke."
Marie almost laughed at that. Hiding drugs from your parents seemed so quaint now.
They made their way through the throng. One moment the cries of grief and confusion would be deafening. In the next, there was only stunned silence. Marie focused on the pain in her hands and at her ear. It was far easier than listening to the conversations they passed, choked out in sorrow. It was definitely easier than thinking about friends and family.
Eventually, Andre veered off down a side tunnel. There was almost no one down the path ahead. Andre muttered something about a shortcut and they pressed on, until the cries of the main tunnel mercifully died away.
"We need to rest," Andre said. He carefully extracted the little girl and set her down. "Priya, this is Marie," he said with a gesture. His voice was kind and strong, far better than anything Marie could hope to choke out.
She felt a lump in her throat and held out a bandaged hand. "Nice to meet you, Priya."
They shook hands, and Marie sat down with a total lack of grace. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and she was exhausted. She noticed Andre checking his gun with a practiced confidence, although Marie had little idea what exactly he was looking for. She had never held a firearm. Hell, she had only seen a gun up close a handful of times. She sure as hell had never fired one.
Things would be going right if that changed soon. It would mean she lived long enough to fight.
"Why does a barista have a gun?" Marie asked.
"Why does a journalist known for her stories on social justice know what the hell those ships are?" Andre shot back.
Marie could not help herself. "You follow my work?"
"I got curious," Andre said. "I wondered how a girl oblivious enough to ask me out could make it out of J-school. Turns out you're a much better writer than you are a flirt."
She smirked. It felt unnatural to smile, though, so she quickly stopped. But, there was still a note of humor in her voice as Marie said, "And here I was hoping you didn't remember that."
"You kept coming to my coffee shop," he said, just barely laughing. "You fell flat on your face and just came back the next day, like all was well. You had balls."
"You made good coffee."
"Damn straight," he said with a smile. It did not quite reach his eyes. Those kinds of smiles may never be seen again among humanity. But, it was something. "And you didn't answer my question."
"You first."
"My dad's paranoid," he said with a shrug. "Grew up in a bad part of town, down in the States. New York. He wanted me to know how to use it when I started opening and closing on my own. – Hey, um, you got family here? In the city?"
Marie shook her head. "I'm a colony kid. Family's a long way away from here. I know your dad – well –"
"I got your flowers," Andre said with a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry I never really said thank you. It was just hard, you know? My mom – my parent's split when I was a kid – she's up on the Citadel. Works for Udina."
"Seriously?" Marie asked with wide eyes. "Well, I really am a shitty journalist. Could've turned you into a source a long time ago."
He laughed at that. It was almost genuine.
"Seriously, though," Marie continued. "I'm sticking with you. You might be able to get us off this rock."
"Ah, I see how it is," Andre said, his tone remaining light. "You just want me for my connections."
"I want you for your gun," she said frankly. Then, Marie reached out to touch the back of his hand lightly with her finger tips, and her voice softened. "I want you for your incredible altruism. Your bravery. You could have bolted without us. Probably would have been smarter."
He took her hand, watching Priya warily. The child was observing their conversation with wide eyes and a wordless, slightly open mouth. Neither of them knew what to possibly say to her.
So, Andre turned back to his original question. "So, those ships – Reapers? How the hell do you know what's going on here?"
"They're not ships. They're A.I.s," Marie said, getting two highly raised eyebrows in response. "I've got a sister at the Prothean Archives. She was researching what the Protheans knew about the Reapers. At least, I think that's what she was doing."
"And what did the Protheans know?"
Marie sighed and shook her head. "I have no idea. Claire – my sister – she got a message to me on the darknet two days ago. Told me to leave Earth."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah. She said they might come years from now. Or they might come tomorrow." – Marie's voice broke, and she pushed away the emotion angrily. Now was not the time to have a breakdown. – "I worry that the Alliance was banking on a few years."
"Is that why the hit here first? To get–"
Marie held out her free hand to cut him off. The sudden anger in Andre's voice was misplaced.
"They didn't hit Vancouver first. My friend Norah – she works at ANN with me – she texted me right before. We were already getting in reports from London, New York, and Tokyo. They're just hitting every major city that they can."
"This isn't a war," Andre said in a low voice. "It's an annihilation."
"That's kind of what they do," Marie said quietly. "We should get move–"
There was a sudden screaming from the main tunnel. Marie snapped her head up at the sound of gunfire. She leaned out from the alcove they had tucked into and saw people running frantically away from the entrance. What were they running from? The Reapers surely couldn't come down here. Was someone already taking advantage of the situation and terrorizing their fellow humans? Was there an explosion? Or –
Son of a bitch.
"Go!" Marie shouted, giving a backwards glance to a creature she could only describe as a monster.
Andre must have seen something definitive in her expression, because he scooped up Priya in one swift move and motioned Marie in front of him. "Next left!" he yelled, firing behind him. The high pitched sound of the shot echoed with force in the narrow tunnel. "What the fuck are those things?"
Marie almost slammed into the wall as they ran to a tunnel on the left. It was exceedingly narrow, barely wide enough for a full grown adult to move through without turning sideways. Marie threw a look over her shoulder as they ran between disused pipes, and she saw that the armored monstrosity was unable to fit through the gap. It fired at them from the tunnel entrance instead, and the sound of bullets hitting brick or iron drowned out the reverberating screams of terror.
They bolted through the tunnels, rough brick and sharp metal leaving deep scratches against Marie's arms and legs. She vaulted over a low pipe and lost a shoe. She kept running. They had to keep running, even though there was a very illogical and stupidly brave part of Marie that wanted to run back toward the sound of screams.
There was nothing they could do now but move forward.
The sudden feeling of cool, fresh air an hour later slammed into Marie with a shock. Marie recovered quickly and ran toward it, where there was a locked iron grate between them and the outside world.
"Get behind me," Andre said. Marie obliged, and the barista shot through the lock on his second try.
They exited and looked around, Andre with his gun raised and Priya still in his arms. Marie suddenly felt very helpless as she hugged herself. The trio had emerged on the edge of the city, where rows of project housing gave way to an empty field of tall brown grass. Behind them, the world was burning. But, ahead, all was quiet.
Holy shit. We made it.
"Can you walk?" Andre said.
Marie turned to see that he was talking to Priya. The little girl nodded, and he set her gingerly down. Andre steadied the gun in front of him with both hands and began to wearily do a sweep of the surroundings again. Marie extended her broken hand to the girl.
The child had not spoken a word to Marie. But, she said quietly now, "I've seen you. On the vids."
Marie gave a little snort. She was occasionally asked to cover one mediocre story or another, although her heart was never really in camera work. She took a low paying job in the archaically-named "print" division for a reason.
"I'm a journalist," Marie said simply. "If we can find a working comm tower, I should be able to use that to get you somewhere safe."
"Between the two of us, we'll figure it out," Andre said over his shoulder. "It's all clear. I think we should try to get as far from the city as we can. Once we're a bit further out, we can look for supplies."
Marie nodded, and they headed off into the discomforting quiet of the hot afternoon.