Author's Note:
Yes, you are not mistaken. At long last, The Hero Rises, my novelization of Mass Effect 3, is being posted. Here are a few things that you may not have known because you didn't read my profile or otherwise simply forgot:
First: be patient. It takes an obscenely long time to write each chapter, especially since when I have to watch a few seconds of game play, stop, figure out what I want to say, frantically write the damn thing down, replaying those seconds, stop, write some more, then repeat ad nauseum. The chapters will come out, but only when they're ready.
Second: I do plan to cover all four ME3 DLCs. That means From Ashes, Leviathan, Omega and Citadel. So please stop asking me whether I'm going to cover them because I've already said yes. One of the DLCs will be incorporated into The Hero Rises, while the others will be standalone fics/novelizations.
Third: this novelization will follow the Extended Cut version of ME3. I have a few ideas to throw in here and there, and my own interpretation of various events, but it will still be fairly close to canon. So for anyone who's hoping that this amateur, unpaid writer who's doing this mostly for gits and shiggles can magically fix all the screw-ups, travesties and outright wrongs ever made by the Mass Effect franchise, BioWare, EA and The Powers That Be….while I'll certainly do my best, you may want to readjust your expectations. Consider yourself warned.
Fourth and most importantly: I've decided to try implementing a reward system. For every 100 reviews that The Hero Rises get, you readers will get some kind of treat for taking the time to tell me what you think. For starters: when THR reaches 100 reviews, I'll start posting (very, very) short snippets of the next chapter in my profile. When THR reaches 200 reviews, I'll post an original one-shot. When it reaches 300… well, you'll just have to keep reviewing (and check my profile), won't you?
This wouldn't be possible without a couple partners-in-crime. I'd like to thank Chu.e, who took the time and effort to take my save file, play through Mass Effect 3 and post the results online so I could watch them over and over (and over) again. Without all that hard work—which was done strictly on a volunteer basis—I never would have managed to get this off the ground.
I'd also like to offer a sincere and heartfelt thanks to Chris Dee for acting as a sounding board, a beta reader and a cover picture artist over all these years. If there's a catchy turn of phrase you saw or grammatical goof you didn't see, it's probably because of Chris's hard work. That goes double for many insights and perspectives that made all these characters more real and three-dimensional than any advances in video or graphic technology.
I can only hope you get as much pleasure reading, following, favouriting—yes, I know that's not a word—and reviewing this as it was for me to write it (seriously, please review it. You have no idea how much that would make my day). Enjoy!
Chapter 2: The End of Days
When I looked back on the day that the Reapers began invading the galaxy, began invading Earth, I remember reporting my conversations and experiences on the way to the defence committee. What I said and heard and saw in front of all those men and women. What I felt when I realized that we'd run out of time and the Reapers were here. How the shockwave from an errant Reaper beam sent me flying into a large desk and knocked me senseless. How, when I finally came to, I was really disoriented. I couldn't hear anything other than a lot of muffled voices and a high-pitched whining in the background.
I lied.
Oh, I did black out for a few moments at least. And my hearing was definitely impaired when I came to. But I wasn't out as long as I said I was. Part of me wanted to just stay still. Lie down. Keep my eyes closed. Let my ears ring and ring. Because as long as I did that, as long as I was in that self-imposed sensory deprivation, then I didn't have to acknowledge what had happened. I didn't have to admit that it was too late to stop the Reapers from arriving. I didn't have to face the facts.
I didn't have to recognize that I had failed. (1)
"Shepard!" That was me. Someone was saying my name. At least, I think they were saying it.
Part of me, though, wasn't content to sit still. Part of me wanted to know what the hell was going on, no matter how painful it might be. I tried to get up, opening my eyes—
—and immediately regretting it as a spike of pain lanced right between my eyes and into my brain. At least, it felt that way.
"Shepard!" Okay. Yeah, someone was definitely saying my name. Or calling out for my name.
Wincing, I rose into a sitting position, taking it much, much slower this time. One hand pressed against the floor to help me up; the other pressed against my head to keep it from splitting open.
"Shepard!"
It was Anderson. He'd been searching for me, judging by the way he was looking around. Catching my movement, he turned, saw me and ran towards me. "Come on. Get up."
I grabbed his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He quickly waved his omni-tool over me. While he read the results of his med-scan, I looked around. Viewscreens were shattered. Furniture was broken and spread all over the place. Columns lay on the ground, broken to pieces. Men and women of all ages and ranks lay amongst the debris. None of them were moving.
The ones with their eyes open were the hardest to see. I couldn't help but think they were staring at me, accusing me, blaming me for not doing more.
"Here, take this. We've got to get moving."
Satisfied that I wasn't gonna croak on him in the next few minutes, Anderson gave me his M-3 Predator pistol, thereby distracting me from all my guilt. He reached down and checked a nearby soldier. The way he shook his head told me she wouldn't be getting up ever again. Reaching over, he took her sidearm and activated his comm. (2) "This is Admiral Anderson. Report in. Anyone."
Nothing. We were alone.
For want of anything better to do, I followed Anderson's lead and began checking the other bodies. All dead. We were the only survivors.
"Major Alenko, is that you?"
Or not.
"What's your status?"
While Alenko reported in, Anderson glanced at me. I gestured around us and shook his head. Understanding that there was nothing we could do here, he waited until Alenko finished. "I can't raise the Normandy," he said. "You'll have to contact them. Shepard and I are the only ones who made it out of the defence committee meeting alive. We'll meet you at the landing zone. Anderson out."
With contact established with at least one living soul out there and a plan in place, I joined Anderson at the shattered windows of the courtroom and looked out at the nightmare Vancouver had begun.
The sprawling metropolis of metal, concrete and glass was marred by scorch marks, smoke and fire. The clear, blue sky was crowded with shuttles and fighters flying frantically through the air. And through it all, the Reapers were everywhere. Hovering in the air like cold, unfeeling demons from the pit. Towering over the men, women, children, vehicles and buildings like some dark titan or god.
It was the end of days. The eschaton. Doomsday.
Anderson watched the horror unfold all around us. Then we looked at each other, nodded grimly, and hopped out of the window onto the balcony below.
"They're massive."
I don't think Anderson meant for me to hear that. If he had his wits about him, he'd know that that kind of comment is one you keep to yourself, lest you risk damaging the morale of the men and women around you. Granted, it was only me and my morale was pretty low already. But it's the principle of the thing. Chances are, it just slipped out. (3)
Pretending I didn't hear him, I checked the pistol. Only one clip, but at least it already had a disruptor mod attached. Next item was my omni-tool. It only took a few seconds… "Anderson, is this—"
"Yeah it's your old omni-tool," Anderson said, divining my question. "Fair warning: Internal Affairs went all over it and deleted quite a few programs here and there."
"You just happened to have my omni-tool with you?"
"Hackett woke me up this morning with a priority communiqué. Warned me that we'd lost contact with two of our deep space outposts and that something massive was on the long-range scanners."
"Wonder what that was," I said wryly, gesturing at the nearest Reaper.
"He bet it was the same thing," Anderson sighed. "After that, I knew I had to get you out and have you hit the ground running, so I went to Storage, signed out your omni-tool and loaded a few programs. Some old, some new.
"You can play with it later, Shepard. Come on. Kaidan's headed to the Normandy. They'll pick us up if we can get to the spaceport. Let's move."
The way three of downtown Vancouver's buildings collapsed under the onslaught of the Reapers energy beams told me that might not be so easy. The screaming I heard below pretty much confirmed that. I didn't point any of that out, though. Didn't have to. "Lead the way," I said instead.
We'd only run along the balcony for a minute, maybe less, when a red beam cut vertically through the air in front of us. Anderson abruptly stopped and shouted "Look out!" just before part of the building exploded. "How do you stop something so powerful?" Anderson coughed, waving the acrid smoke out of his eyes.
The balcony in front of us was now destroyed, so we had to reroute onto the support columns and bracing around the building. Thankfully, they were designed to handle the occasional maintenance worker or automated drone, so they were well-suited for our needs. Except for the 50-degree incline, that is.
"Take a running jump," Anderson warned after a minute of jogging. "It's farther than it looks."
He demonstrated for me, leaping over a large gap in the path. I slowed down, looked at the hole and back at the hole we'd just detoured around. To be honest, I couldn't see much of a difference.
"What're you waiting for, old man?"
In spite of everything that was going on around me, I somehow found myself feeling mildly insulted. Backing up a few steps, I broke into a sprint and leapt into the air. For a moment, I thought I was gonna slow to a stop, look down, look back up, then plummet to my demise like some character in one of those old vids with a cavalier relationship with the laws of physics. But no, I made it to the other side safe and sound—physically, anyway. "If I'm old, you're ancient," I retorted.
"Respect your elders, sonny," came the reply. "Come on, let's go."
Before I obeyed his orders, I paused and looked down. Below me, on the streets, a couple figures were running. They looked so small and helpless, like ants. Was that what we were to the Reapers? Small? Helpless? Insignificant? Something to be stepped on and squashed without any thought or hesitation? Putting that thought aside, I ran after Anderson. A fighter flew by us, three Oculus drones hot on its trail. (4) The pilot jinked left and right, trying to shake them. Unfortunately, it was all to no avail. One of the Oculi's energy beams grazed the fighter. There was a small explosion, followed by a larger one as the fighter crashed into one of the buildings.
Anderson stopped by a ladder and consulted his omni-tool. "Come on," he decided aloud. "We'll have to go this way. I'll go first."
When I reached the top of the ladder, he was crouched down behind one of the girders. "Looks clear, let's go," he said. I was about to leapfrog past him when he reached out and grabbed my shoulder. "Hold on." He raised a hand to activate his comm. "Major, you read me? I'm patching in Shepard."
Alenko's voice entered my ears, interrupted by the occasional burst of static and gunfire. "We're almost to the Normandy. I've got Lieutenant Vega with me, but we're taking heavy fire. What's your status?"
"We're about five minutes out," Anderson replied. I did a quick sweep of the area. No hostiles in the vicinity. Well, except for the Reapers. There were… one, two, three… maybe four of them? In Vancouver alone? How many of them had invaded Earth? How many of them had invaded the rest of the galaxy?
Whatever Alenko was saying came across as a garbled squelch. "Say again?" Anderson asked. "Major? Damn it," he cursed. "I lost him." He tried to re-establish contact before giving up. "Come on, we've gotta move."
"You said that already," I told him. "Don't you remember?" When he looked at me, I added "They say memory's the first to go, old man."
He gave me a slight grin for my trouble before sliding down onto the top of a crosswalk. We made our way over and around ventilation shafts and exhaust vents, more screaming filling our ears as men, women and children ran from the Reapers. At least, I thought that was all they were running from before Anderson saw something else. "Husks!" he cried out. "Take them out."
There were four or five of them, crawling up the side of the wall like Spiderman. (5) As I lined up a shot, I glimpsed someone running into the building below and to my right. Anderson and I each took out two, but the last one managed to crawl out of our range of fire. "Damn it," Anderson cursed. "I'm out of ammo." He looked off at where the husk had crawled away before shaking his head. "Come on."
We went down a ladder to a shorter building. To my left was the rooftop access where the person I'd glimpsed a few seconds ago had entered. In front of me were a trio of husks. I dropped one before running out of ammo. "I'm dry," I announced.
"Then we'll have to take these things out the old-fashioned way," Anderson declared.
I was afraid of that. I've never liked getting up close and personal. Mostly because I really, really suck at it. But husks are even worse at close-quarters combat than I am. And the odds were only one-on-one. Best of all: the husks were too busy pawing at the wall to notice our approach. So it was really easy to get the drop on them.
"There's more coming up the side," Anderson warned. "Don't let them grab you."
"But what if they want a dance?" I said.
"Tell them you have two left feet," Anderson replied.
That was all the witty repartee we had time for before another pair of husks arrived. Anderson beat one of them down with his fists. I let the other get close to me while I fiddled with my omni-tool. Unless someone had altered the settings.
"Yes!" I crowed as a bolt of plasma flew out, hitting the husk and lighting it up like a bonfire. (6) "That's right, baby! I'm back! I'm rested! And I'm ready to set the whole lot of you on fire! I'm—" I broke off as the back of my neck began tingling.
Aw, crap.
The Reaper in front of us fired its energy beam. We watched as it swept in our direction. Turning around, we ran like hell. The windows to our right briefly lit up…
…then they exploded in a storm of glass and flame. Just like when the Reapers first landed in Vancouver and blew the courtroom to smithereens. My head started pounding again, a distant echo of my earlier concussion.
Picking ourselves up, we dusted the debris off. Anderson motioned towards the newly-created entrance. We made our way into the building, stepping over the broken glass and—ooh!
"Gotta find a way out of here," Anderson mused aloud. "Any chance of going that way, Shepard?"
"Uh, no," I replied, turning around to hide the med-kit I was looting. (7) "Maybe we'll have better luck over here—"
"Watch it!"
I hopped back as a husk reached out towards me. The doors closed, trapping it mid-lunge. It hung there, flailing at me while I activated my omni-tool. I was about to charge up another burst of plasma when I saw another program. Omni-blade, it read.
Ooh.
The last time I saw something like that was while I was relieved of duty and condemned to a never-ending trial. For one night, I was released for a mission. Well, more of a personal favour than a mission, for the Deputy Director of Alliance Intelligence. At the time, I could see how omni-blades would be a nifty weapon for an agent.
Its presence in my omni-tool was probably less intelligence and more military. Someone must've read my reports and decided to develop a way to counter husks. (8) Either way, I had no problem with flash-forging an electrified, superheated and disposable silicon-carbide blade to decapitate the moaning husk.
Now that the husk had been dealt with, I could continue my search. As I forced open the door, some small part of my mind noticed it was quieter here. Inside the building, it was harder to hear the cries and yells. Forcing open the door, I saw it. Not loot—I can prioritize, after all. "Over here," I called out to Anderson. "We can get out through this way."
Anderson ducked underneath me and slipped on through. I was about to follow when I heard a noise. "You go on," I said. "I thought I heard something."
Anything Anderson said was cut off as the doors closed. Partially—I could still get out if I needed. For now, it was time to listen. And there was that noise again. I followed it to an open ventilation shaft. There was a kid backing up inside the shaft. "Hey."
The kid backed up some more. I crouched down by the shaft opening and peered inside. "Hey," I said gently. "It's okay…"
It was a young kid, wearing dark pants and a light grey hoodie. "Everyone's dying," he cried out, backing up some more.
Damn it. This kid's entire world had just been shattered. He'd never be the same again, would he? It had only been, what, a few minutes since the war started and already I hated it.
The ground trembled. I glanced behind me and saw the leg of a Reaper stomping through the streets. Turning back, I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "You and me—we're still alive. I've got another friend who's alive too. And there are plenty more too. I'm sure of it. Now come here. I need to get you someplace safe. Take my hand." I reached out into the shaft and extended a hand.
"You can't help me," the kid whimpered.
"Try me," I returned.
"Shepard!"
It was Anderson. He'd come back to find me. "In here."
"I can't," I shook my head. "There's a kid here who needs my…"
I trailed off. The kid was gone. He'd retreated so far into the shaft that he'd disappeared from sight. "Hey!" I called out. "Kid? Where are you?"
"Someone was hiding in there?" Anderson asked.
"Yeah."
Anderson looked torn for a moment. "Son?" he called out. "Are you there? Come on out, son, we have to get going."
We waited a few minutes. The kid never returned. "I'm sorry, Shepard," Anderson said. "We have to go."
"Yeah," I agreed reluctantly. "I guess you're right."
The path I had found would probably lead us out. Eventually. We just had to work our way around all the collapsed girders and columns and support beams and loose wires—all live and crackling with electricity, of course. "This is a goddamned mess," Anderson cursed for the fifth time in as many minutes, stepping over a large chunk of concrete. "Every minute these machines are here, thousands of innocent people die. I won't be responsible. I can't."
I looked back, still thinking about that kid. "It's hard enough fighting a war, but it's worse knowing no matter how hard you try… you can't save them all," I agreed.
"Exactly." The way Anderson looked at me suggested that was the real purpose of his words. To somehow help me get past the feeling that I'd failed just because no one else would listen to me. To convince me that, just because the universe hadn't listened to me before and the Reapers were here now, it didn't mean I should throw in the towel and give up. Funny how, in the midst of all this shit, Anderson had time to worry about me.
"They hit so fast…" Anderson grunted, lifting a girder so I could crawl underneath it, "I thought we'd have more time."
"We knew they were coming," I said, holding up the beam for Anderson in return. In more ways than one: maybe it was my turn to try to cheer him up. "We must have done some preparation."
"We did," Anderson nodded. "And they still just cut through our defences like they were nothing." He crouched down to gauge whether we could navigate the tangled mess of metal bars in front of us. "We need to go to the Citadel. Talk to the Council."
Say what now? "The Citadel? The fight's here. Look around you."
Anderson gave me a look. "It'll be everywhere soon enough. You said it yourself: the Reapers will destroy everything if we don't stop them."
He began squirming through the bars. "The Council… *mmph* has to help us."
I laughed. "You sure about that? They're pretty good about giving humanity a hard time. Have been from the beginning. They don't really like listening to anything, unless it's so they can dismiss it later." (9)
"No, but you're a Council Spectre. That has to count for something."
Now I laughed even harder. "That was just a token gesture, Anderson. And as soon as they reinstated me, they sent me to the Terminus Systems. The Terminus Systems." I shook my head as we began tiptoeing across a metal beam."You know as well as I do that my Spectre status would mean nothing there. That was the extent of their help. That's about as much help as they'll give now: nothing. They'll be too busy watching—"
The whine of a Reaper energy beam echoed through the air, followed by the entire building shaking. I almost lost my balance and tumbled into the abyss below…
"Gotcha!" I felt Anderson grab my belt and haul me back. "Thanks," I panted when I caught my breath. "I owe you one."
"More than one," he grinned. "I've been watching your back all along."
"I know," I said. "And thank you."
"My pleasure."
The rest of the journey was uneventful. We emerged into a hallway that was relatively intact, aside from the shards of glass from the windows that were strewn across the floor. Along with quite a few thermal clips. "Grab some ammo," Anderson ordered. "Reload. Let's get moving."
Good idea. Time to do some looting. I quickly scooped up a couple clips and reloaded. I paused at the window, looking at the Reaper standing in front of me like some bizarre art sculpture, taller than all the buildings around it. Then we climbed out and began jogging along the outside of the building, God knows how many floors above the ground. Another Reaper landed, its energy beams burning through a park. "God," Anderson breathed. Getting a grip, he activated his comm. "Major Alenko, we're in sight of the spaceport. ETA: 3 minutes."
"We've made it to the Normandy," Alenko shouted back. "Taking heavy fire—Oh God! They're gonna take down that cruiser! Evasive manoeuvres! Take evasive manoeuvres, for the love of God!"
We could see the cruiser hovering above the city as it opened fire on the Reaper. "Major? Kaidan!" Anderson tried. "Damn it. They're in trouble."
As we watched, the Reaper struck the cruiser with a single beam. The cruiser managed to fire off a few more shots. Then we had to shield our eyes as the cruiser exploded, creating a new sun just above Vancouver, or so it seemed.
The back of my neck tingled.
That was when the shockwave hit us. The steel and concrete beneath our feet gave way. Thankfully, the building didn't collapse completely. Part of it actually formed an incline for us to slide down. Still it was a bumpy descent as we bounced and grunted our way down.
It took a while for me to pick myself up. I ran a quick scan on myself. Lots of bruises. Maybe a microscopic crack in one of my ribs. But otherwise, I was in pretty good shape. Guess all those genetic enhancements, surgical upgrades and cybernetic implants really paid off.
Anderson was okay too, thank God. We looked at all the debris around us. It simultaneously blocked the path we were gonna take, while forming a bridge of sorts that offered an alternate path. "Normandy," Anderson said. "We're going to reroute. Do you copy?"
All we got was a garbled mess that vaguely sounded like Alenko's voice. "Normandy? Come in!" Anderson tried again before giving up. "It's no good," he sighed. "We'll have to—"
"Wait!" I interrupted, a bit of motion catching my eye. "What's that?"
As Anderson was in a better vantage point, he identified them first. "Friendlies."
A pair of Alliance soldiers were down below, next to the collapsed remains of a catwalk. One clearly injured in some way, the other trying to take care of him. We hopped down. "You two all right?" I asked.
"Get down!" the would-be medic hissed. "They'll see you!"
Too late: the back of my neck told me they already saw us. They looked like batarian husks, with glowing eyes and implants sticking out of their grey skin. Along with what looked like faces on their shoulders that looked like they were straining against the skin and trying to push their way out. Guess Anderson was right: the Reapers had already hit the batarians. Just like they were originally gonna do in the Bahak system.
To my surprise, they raised their arms. Well, their right arms. The claws stretched out, revealing a palm that looked suspiciously like the muzzle of a gun.
I hastily ducked down as bullets ricocheting everywhere. Husks with guns. That was new. "Keep your head down," Anderson warned.
The husks were approaching and laying down cover fire. I needed to get an advantage: fast. Activating my cloak, I raised my omni-tool and fired off a stream of plasma. As the husk I hit staggered back, I dropped it with a couple shots. "Good shot," Anderson complimented me before plugging another one full of bullet holes. "Finish them off!"
I repeated my cloak, burn and shoot trick. This time, I wasn't able to get the kill shot, having to duck as I was hit from multiple angles. Without a hardsuit or even a portable shield generator, all those bullets went right through me. Seeing my dilemma, the medic slid over a pack of medi-gel as well as a piece of equipment. A portable shield generator. Perfect. Nodding my thanks, I injected the medi-gel, strapped the generator on and waited for it to charge up before setting another husk on fire and unloading the rest of my clip into its head. As it collapsed, I watched another husk—heavily wounded from Anderson, no doubt—crawl over to it and…
…
…and begin eating it. Ew. Not so much a typical husk than a… cannibal, I guess. (10)
"Shepard! Over here!"
I finished off the last cannibal and joined Anderson. He was crouched beside the friendlies we were trying to talk to earlier. "What happened here?" he asked them.
"Our gunship was shot down," the medic replied. "We barely made it."
"They say any landing you can walk away from is a good one," the other guy joked. Now that we were close, I could see a metal column was trapping his leg. "I haven't gotten up yet so…"
We all shared a tired grin. "You have a radio?" Anderson asked. "We're trying to contact our ship?"
"No," the medic shook his head. "There's one in the gunship, but it's gonna be crawling with those things."
We looked up. So all we had to do was jump in the water, try not to impale ourselves on any of the wreckage, swim across, climb out and shoot our way to the gunship. Piece of cake.
"Stay here, son," Anderson said. "We'll get you out of here."
Anderson and I lifted the column up while the medic pulled his buddy free. When we lowered the column, the catwalk sank into the water. Not all the way, but enough that we wouldn't have to do any swimming. "Come on," Anderson ordered me. "Let's get to that gunship."
We crossed the makeshift bridge to the other side. It was clear that we wouldn't be able to make a straight trip over, so we had to detour around a mountain of debris. As I climbed over a particularly large metal plate, a gunship flew by. Hot on its heels was… it looked like… a harvester. The last time I saw one of those things was on Tuchanka, when I was helping Grunt with his Rite of Passage. This one had a darker, almost black pigmentation and was riddled with glowing blue lights. Another product of the Reapers' handiwork. Damn, they worked fast!
I found another med-kit. As I crouched down to swipe its contents, I noticed more of those Cannibals. Activating my cloak, I launched a fireball before opening fire. I waited for my cloak to recharge before doing it again and again. Anderson laid down cover fire to keep them from getting too close. While I reloaded, he continued firing at another wave of Cannibals. I moved to a better vantage point under cloak before lighting them up one by one and riddling their bodies full of holes.
Finding another thermal clip, I ejected my spent one and reloaded as I advanced. It didn't take long before we found the radio. All I had to do was step around the dead Cannibal and the equally dead Alliance soldier, the latter gripping an M-8 Avenger.
Anderson quickly moved to the radio. I picked up the assault rifle, transferred the disruptor mod to the weapon and watched his back as he fiddled with the controls. "Normandy, this is Anderson. Do you read?"
"Admiral." Alenko's voice was much clearer: no surprise as the radio was a hell of a lot better than our personal comms. "What's your location?"
"By a downed gunship in the harbour," Anderson replied. "I'm activating its distress beacon. Send support. We've got wounded down here."
A staccato of static was the only reply we got. "Major?"
More static. The lights on the radio went out. "Damn it," Anderson cursed. "I lost the signal."
"Let's hope the beacon does its job."
"Yeah, because we have a problem."
"No, really?" I snorted.
"No," Anderson said seriously, looking above my head. "Really."
I turned around. Meteors seemed to be plummeting through the air, burning as they cut through the atmosphere. One landed a few hundred metres to our right in a burst of flame and smoke. As I watched, I saw movement.
They weren't meteors, I realized as my neck began tingling again. It was the Reaper equivalent of a drop pod, delivering a fresh supply of infantry to invade Earth's shores. More Cannibals, to be exact. Wonderful.
Anderson and I found cover and opened fire. I cloaked and barbequed one of the Cannibals, then cloaked and fired several rounds into another. Anderson was setting several of the Cannibals on fire himself, thanks to an incendiary mod he'd equipped at some point. There were only three left, I saw as I launched another fireball. Anderson let off a concussive round, knocking another one on its ass. Now there were one—no, two. Anderson's Cannibal had gotten to its feet and was retreating. Wait, there were three. Four? And was that another drop pod? Yeah, it was.
Aw, crap.
"Hope they get here soon," was all that Anderson said.
"You and me both," I shouted back as I reloaded.
Under cloak, I opened fire once more. My bullets didn't seem to be doing as much damage. Looking closer, I realized that these Cannibals had what looked like maroon-coloured plates of chitinous armour covering their backs like a whole mass of tumours. I looked down at my skin and fatigues, covered by an invisible kinetic barrier. Not the same, I thought. So not the same.
I cloaked and launched some more plasma at a trio of Cannibals. Anderson had his pistol raised, but held off on firing until the fireball hit. Then he fired.
A fiery explosion knocked all three Cannibals over. I belatedly realized that he'd fired another concussive round, timing it to land just after my plasma hit. Somehow, the impact had re-ignited any leftover plasma, with impressive results. "Nice!" I shouted.
"Thanks!"
We took advantage of their vulnerable position to finish them off. Then I swivelled on my feet and killed another Cannibal with a fireball. One more Cannibal to go—no, scratch that. One plus who knows how many more, courtesy of another drop pod. I set another one on fire, finished it off with gunfire, began firing at another. I had to duck down before finishing the job as my shields were almost depleted. So I let Anderson have some fun while I reloaded. 48 shots left in my assault rifle. Shit.
Alenko, I wondered, where the hell are you?
Standing up, I fired off eight or nine shots into the back of a Cannibal. That took it out. Anderson knocked another one over with a concussive round, so I finished it off.
32 shots left.
Cloaking, I launched a fireball. Then I opened fire. I dropped one, seriously wounded another, lost track of it as a third one got in the way, focused my aim on that pesky bugger. Ducking down to catch my breath, I activated my cloak again and launched another fireball. The explosion told me that Anderson had combined my plasma with his concussive round for another effective combo. Too bad there were still two more Cannibals.
12 shots.
I fired off several rounds at one, set it on fire and switched to the last one…
No ammo
Aw, crap.
"Running out of ammo," Anderson warned.
Aw, crap.
I holstered the assault rifle and switched to the pistol Anderson had given me. It only had 35 shots. Spotting another Cannibal, I dropped it with a round of gunfire.
26 shots.
Yet another Cannibal. No, two… three. Anderson and I dropped the farthest one with a plasma-concussive round combo before focusing our fire on the left Cannibal.
15 shots. One Cannibal left.
"There's more of them!"
Plus several more buddies fast approaching. Anderson and I fired at it before I sent a fireball arcing over our heads and down to light it up.
11 shots left. Three more Cannibals. And another drop pod with God knows how many more buddies. I'd have to make every single shot—
"Cavalry's here, gentlemen!"
Oh thank God. I never thought I'd thought I'd be so happy to hear Alenko's voice.
The Normandy swooped out of the sky, obliterating the Cannibals in a single burst of gunfire as it flew over our heads. As we stood up, we watched her take a sharp turn to port. (11) The sun poked through the clouds, illuminating the Normandy in all its glory…
My jaw dropped. Not just at the sight of my old ship again. But… she had changed. Instead of sporting the white, gold and black colours of Cerberus, she now proudly displayed the dark blue and gunmetal grey colours of the Systems Alliance.
Damn, that looked so… it looked so right.
"'Bout time!" Anderson breathed.
I felt the same way. "Let's go!" I barked.
We ran towards the Normandy as it slowed to a halt, hovering over a broken ramp. The shuttle bay doors lowered, revealing Alenko and another soldier. I broke into a sprint and jumped. For a moment, I was reminded of the gap I had to clear on my way out of the Collector Base. Only the distance wasn't as great. Alenko reached out a hand. For a moment, I thought twice about grabbing his hand. Then I swallowed down my ill will and let him pull me aboard.
"Welcome aboard, Shepard," Alenko said.
That didn't feel right. It wasn't his ship, after all. Still, I guess it would be rude to point that out after he'd saved my butt. "Thanks," I said.
Turning around, I gestured for Anderson to follow me. "Come on!"
Anderson paused for a moment. Alenko and his companion turned around and retreated inside the hangar, no doubt called away by other matters. Anderson watched as a shuttle flew by. It slowed down, the hatch opening. The soldiers inside looked at us, decided we were okay, then closed the hatch. As the shuttle flew away, Anderson came to a decision. "I'm not going."
I stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" I sputtered.
"You saw those men back there," he explained. "There's a million more like them and they need a leader."
Of course he'd say that. "We're in this fight together, Anderson," I protested. "I need you."
"It's a fight we can't win," Anderson sighed. "Not without help. We need every species—all their soldiers, all their ships—to even have a chance at defeating the Reapers."
I opened my mouth. Then closed it. Damn it, he was right. Deep down, I think I knew that. We needed help and, out of the two of us, I was probably in the best position to get it. The thing was... right now… the way things stood… the chances of uniting the various races together had never seemed so pathetically, abysmally low.
Anderson must have read my mind. "Talk to the Council," he implored me. "Convince them to help you."
OK, I take that back: now the chances were pathetically and abysmally low. I threw up my hands helplessly. "What if they won't listen?"
"Then make them listen," Anderson insisted. "Now go! That's an order."
"I don't take orders from you anymore, remember? I was relieved of duty, remember?"
Anderson pulled something out of his pocket. He bounced it in his hand, getting a feel for its weight, before throwing it at me. "Consider yourself reinstated… Commander."
I caught it with my free hand. Opening my fingers…
…
…it was my dog tags. This was happening. This was… really… happening.
"You know what you have to do," Anderson said. "I need you."
Staring at him, I gave him a reluctant nod. "I'll be back for you, and I'll bring every fleet I can. I promise."
I started to walk into the hangar, then stopped. Looking over my shoulder, I added "Good luck."
"You too, Shepard," Anderson returned.
Out of the corner of my eye, Alenko stepped towards me. I wasn't sure how much he'd heard. I wasn't sure what I could say. Instead, I turned back and watched as the Normandy took off.
I watched as Anderson grew smaller and smaller, his frame still standing tall and proud as he snapped off a salute. The two of us saluted back.
I watched as a trio of shuttles descended towards the wreckage that made up the spaceport, searching for survivors. As they touched down, soldiers got out and began frantically waving civvies over. One by one, they began darting towards the shuttles. One of them paused and looked around. It was the kid. The one who'd retreated into the ventilation shafts. I was sure it was him. He'd made it!
I watched as the kid suddenly cringed in fear as a harsh sound blared out. A Reaper—or some giant machine of Reaper construction—stomped towards the shuttles. My heart slowed as it approached.
I watched as the Reaper's red eye blazed, charging up another energy beam. The kid just stared at it, watching his doom grow in strength. Then he came to his senses and sprinted for one of the shuttles, dodging two of the soldiers who were frantically laying down cover fire. Climbing onboard, he got to his feet and looked at me. Then the soldiers banged their fists on the shuttle. The hatch closed as the shuttles lifted off, leaving the soldiers to an uncertain fate.
I watched in horror as the Reaper's energy beam lanced out towards the shuttles and took them out one by one.
And then I couldn't watch any more.
(1): Shepard always was his own worst critic, holding himself to the harshest and highest of standards. While that surely motivated him to be the man he was and accomplish all he did, it is fortunate that he had friends around him to offer additional points of view when he went too far into self-recrimination.
(2): Some humans—and, admittedly, some members of many species—looked down on taking items or belongings from the dead. Shepard was an exception, for his own reasons. Anderson no doubt did so reluctantly, and only out of pragmatism.
(3): While Shepard was undoubtedly correct, Anderson may also have been comfortable enough around him and confident in his ability to maintain morale to allow himself the occasional lapse.
(4): The first time Shepard encountered the Oculi was shortly after he and the crew of the Normandy SR-2 passed through the Omega-4 Relay, where they served as a final defence screen around the Collector Base.
(5): A fictional comic-book superhero whose powers included the ability to cling to and climb up walls.
(6): Many squadmates had noted Shepard's tendency for setting things or people on fire, a habit that intensified during his preparations against the Collectors. The combination of something familiar and the stressful situation Shepard found himself in no doubt led to this unusual outburst.
(7): Some things never change.
(8): Although melee-combat applications and programs had existed almost as long as the omni-tool itself, there was never any pressing need for such a feature until the Reaper War. Shepard is correct in that the omni-blade was specifically designed by the Alliance as an offensive application that wouldn't add any extra weight. As an added benefit, it could surprise any opponent expecting a supposedly helpless target.
(9): A reference to Shepard's first meeting with the Council following his resurrection and the response from turian Councillor Sparatus.
(10): Indeed, this class of husk would subsequently be referred to as 'Cannibals'.
(11): In Alliance naval terminology, this meant it turned to the left. Also, this is one example of the Normandy's upgrades, as it previously was too massive to safely descend and fly through a planet's atmosphere without assistance from planetside mass effect generators. Still, the maneuver was extremely dangerous and would not have been attempted were the situation not so dire. Finally, I point to the personal pronoun Shepard used, an example of anthropomorphism that is common amongst many space-faring species.
