"And he writhed inside at what seemed the cruelty and unfairness of the demand. He had not yet learned that if you do one good deed your reward usually is to do another and harder and better one."

C.S. Lewis

The avenue was a storm of fast moving mass accelerated projectiles keeping the squad hugging cover. The fading light of dusk had given the small squad an early advantage, but now sheer enemy numbers were proving a problem. Liara could hear the heavy tread of the Guardians as they moved to flank. Across the avenue, Shepard was reloading her Paladin, and of course, smiling. The Asari chirped over their private comm "Something funny I miss?"

"Nope, just turning out to be a better day than I thought." Shepard piped back, peeking around the pillar for a split second, then switching to the squad channel. "Blue: Pinpoint, 3 up, 5 long. Archangel check for pop ups. On three." Shepard crouched.

Liara counted down in her head. As the count hit three, she poked up from behind the planter long enough to toss a singularity at the spot Shepard called for, immediately lifting the two Guardians it appeared behind. Shepard dropped to a knee as she leaned from cover planting a round in the mask of each of the helpless Cerberus troopers. She quickly rolled back behind the pillar as the cover was kissed by a hail of submachine gun fire. Using her feet to push back up along the pillar she called over the comm. "Archangel: I count twelve to the door. Confirm."

Garrus voice hummed across the combat channel. "Wait." The crack of the Turian's Black Widow resounded both through the channel and across the quad from his perch on the walkway above. In the distance, a Centurion's helmet exploded into a cloud of polycrystalline-composite shards. "Red: Eleven on foot. Thermals show a twelfth hugging the shadows. Probably a Phantom."

"Got it. Red and Blue will advance to next position along right flank." Shepard called back as she looked at Liara. She held up her hand and pointed to an empty shop then started to count down on her fingers. She had just made it to three when a grenade sailed over Liara's cover. The flashbang erupted as soon as it hit the pavement. The blast disorienting Liara as she was poised to run. The Asari fell out of cover. Shepard was in the air in a second, at a full sprint. Out of the corner of her eye she just saw a flicker of distortion as Garrus yelled over the channel "Red: Tango Close!"

She barely had time to react and instinctively pulsed her barrier as she leapt to knock Liara back behind cover. The Phantom's blade hit Shepard in the shoulder, collapsing the barrier and scarring the composite. Shepard rolled with Liara behind the cover and emptied her Paladin into the Phantom. The Cerberus assassin's barriers collapsed under the heavy rounds of the pistol and the woman staggered back as she became fully visible. She was about to recover and re-engage when her head vanished in a spray of blood and synthetic fibers.

"Red: You've got seven closing on you. You and Blue need to move." Garrus called, reloading the heavy rifle.

Liara felt Shepard's hand at her scalp. She was still staggered from the close hit of the concussion grenade. There was a warm trickle on the left side of her head and she couldn't seem to keep Shepard in focus. "I'll… I'll… help me up." She stammered.

Shepard peeked over the cover, the Cerberus forces were advancing in cover and would be on top of them in less than a minute, even Garrus couldn't get them all before the two of them were surrounded. Without hesitating Shepard spun on her heel and threw all of her weight and focus into her fist as she struck the ground. The shockwave from the impact, propelled by biotic force, tore through the cover and along the path of the approaching enemy. The blast rippled the air in its wake, lifting and suspending the troopers a meter or more off the ground, helplessly stunned. "Archangel: If you could."

"Fire in the hole." Garrus barked over the comm as a concussive blast slammed into the center of the helpless troopers. The few that survived were picked off by the Turian sniper within moments. The losses seemed to convince the four remaining troopers to retreat. "Red: They're backing off. We should regroup and relocate while we've got the breather."

"Affirmative, Archangel. Get down here." Shepard answered. Liara sat up against the planter they had used for cover. Shepard was already applying medi-gel to the head wound. "How did you do that?" the Asari asked her bondmate. "I've only ever seen Jacqueline do that."

Shepard shrugged as she ran her hand along the Asari's face. "Dunno. I just knew I needed to." Liara saw the look in her eyes, both frightened and overwhelmed by the promise they held. Worse, she saw the tiny trickle of blood coming from Shepard's nose, a clear sign that she had pushed her implants. She reached up to hold the hand at her face. "You can't keep hurting yourself to protect me." She said. The smirk that was the only response echoed in her mind 'As if I could stop.'

"Help me to my feet, please." Liara smiled. "Otherwise I won't hear the end of it when Garrus gets here."

"Hear what, T'Soni?" the subharmonic chuckle from a few meters away announced the arrival of their sniper. "That it never gets old pulling your blue ass out of it? Stasis fields, Krogan battlemasters, Yahg monstrosities, Cerberus ambushes? Another day, another 'Goddess!'"

"At least I have the decency to duck when shot at." Liara quipped as she stood up. She turned to look at Garrus, instead seeing only the bright beam of his rifle mounted flashlight cut across her eyes.


Exodus Cluster - Citadel - November 2186

The glare of the star Utopia lanced across the face of the sleeping Asari. The Shadow Broker awoke in a bare room with only the light streaming in from a window overlooking the wards. Beyond the glass, aircars passed in the a slow rhythm of the restored space station. Sitting up, the Asari found herself on the floor, with her long coat rolled into a pillow for her head. The room was bare, with only the door interface any deviation from the clean walls. It took only a few moments to get her bearings, first making sure that her pistol was still on its clip at her waist. The Shadow Broker stood up, picking up and dusting off her coat. Standing at the window, she stared out across Zakera Ward while pulling the sleeves up her arm. In the distance, she could see the gold glint of the memorial. There were just as many people there now as when it was unveiled. She checked the time on her omni-tool, three hours had passed.

"What possessed them to make that thing?" she whispered to herself.

"Ulterior motive non existent. Reasons as Ezekiel stated." A synthetic voice behind her answered. The Asari had not heard the door open. She turned to see one of the smaller utility Geth standing in the open doorway. It continued. "Shepard-Messiah gave life to protect us. It is memorable. Others should know."

"But the Council has forbidden release of this information. Isn't the Geth Consensus bound by that agreement?" The Shadow Broker asked.

"Wording vague. Geth not in exact violation." The Geth approached her, handing her a bottle of water. "Geth representation through Allied War Council, not Citadel Council. Legal binding suspect." As she took the water, the Geth held out its hand ushering her towards the other room.

The center room of the apartment they were in was also devoid of furniture. The center of the room was dominated by a server hub of some kind, heavily modified to accommodate the Geth's purposes. Around the station were two easily recognized combat platforms and four more of the smaller utility platforms. In the far corner another utility platform was undergoing repairs on a well lit table. As the Asari's synthetic guide approached, the utility platforms awoke, joining their kin. Each wore a different tool belt and identity badge from some employment facility. The one that had caught her, in the tour T-shirt of a popular band the Asari did not know much about, stood in the back.

"Letter of agreement specific to releasing captured footage. Suspect additional terms of restriction relies on signatory to Citadel Conventions." The Geth inferred, it's tone and stance much more natural than before, gaining processing strength from its counterparts. "Geth not a signatory, nor are Quarians after expulsion. Council oversight."

"The Council overlooks many things in their arrogance." The Shadow Broker commented.

"You are Asari. You do not approve of Council?" Daniel inquired, their collective heads turned to mimic consideration.

The Asari sighed, "At one point I believed the Council truly concerned with the welfare of the galaxy. Their treatment of Shepard, repeated dismissal of the threats the Reapers posed and buried records that my own actions have uncovered have forced me to change that opinion." She took another sip of water. "The Council represents only the interests of the Salarians, Turians and Asari. Moreover they are concerned with keeping their power."

"We see." Daniel paused, contemplating the potential outcomes of this information. "Intend on violating secrecy compact?"

The Shadow Broker did not blink "Most likely."

"You are organic closest Shepard-Messiah, she spoke you as last words, you wear same adornment. Believe she would wish us do same?" Daniel queried.

The Shadow Broker thought for a few moments, weighing her choices. She could leverage these Geth to her advantage, using their proselytizing tendencies to drive popular support against the Council. They would be an incredibly valuable asset. Somewhere in the parts of her mind locked away with her pain, Shepard's voice echoed They're just like us, Li. She suddenly knew her answer.

"No. She wouldn't" the Asari admitted. "She would want you to make the most of the respect you've earned in your alliance with organics. She wouldn't want you to squander that good will just for her."

"Honesty appreciated." Daniel nodded. "Sometimes organics work against own best interests. Not know if their aspiration or flaw."

"Shepard aspired to more than any of us." The Asari started walking towards the door. "Sometimes, she aspired for us when we couldn't."

"Will keep in mind." Daniel once again nodded. "Good bye, Doctor. We wish you well."


The bustle of the converted shipping facility that now served as the Citadel's primary dock on Zakera Ward was deafening. Since it was not a dedicated facility, it served as commercial dock, passenger dock, customs house and transit hub in one tightly packed facility. Shipping containers were stacked between bays as mechs and cranes tried to clear them to heavy transports past the customs house. Refugees, furloughed military personnel, passengers and workers mixed in a chaotic and cacophonous mix of people and machines. With the Alliance fleet returning to Earth and the announcement that the Citadel would move to Annos Basin within a day, the activity was at its peak. No one really noticed the raven haired woman in work coveralls and alliance kit bag leaving the docks.

Miranda Lawson blended perfectly into the crowd, her usually luxuriant locks pulled into a pony tail through the opening in the back of her Alliance cap. The coveralls were a standard engineering shift issue in a bland khaki. Coming to the Citadel risked being recognized, but she had no other options. She didn't think that there were many free willed Cerberus operatives left out there, but she wasn't about to take any chances. On exiting the station, she made her way to a nearby cafe. There she ordered a black coffee and sat with her bag under a table. She pulled up her omni-tool interface, set it to privacy occlusion and went to work.

Maybe in an effort to punish herself, she re-read the last two messages from Allied command:


TO: Lawson, M. (7D178EC), FR: COMAL (1000000), CC: Hackett, S. ADM. (4AA1920)
RE: Services Rendered - Project Termination (INTSEC ORDER 21861112.0172)
SD: 21861112.053024GST
Miss Lawson, due to coordination with Council Resources on the investigation into the Crucible Effect, additional security protocols have been engaged. Pursuant to those protocols, your former association with Cerberus disqualifies you from participation. Your accounts on Project Synthesis have been suspended, as have your access codes to project resources. Transit clearance and bookings have been tagged to your Alliance account to remove yourself from MSV Balboa to one of the civilian fleet vessels listed in your transit codes. You have 12 hours to secure your belongings before access to the quarters is revoked. All luggage will be scanned for project materials prior to departure.
Note, you are still expected to abide by the terms of your Non disclosure Agreements with both Alliance Command and as required by Citadel Conventions.

TO: Lawson, M. (7D178EC), FR: Hackett, S. ADM. (4AA1920)
RE: Apologies
SD: 21861112.053510GST
Miranda,
I'm sorry about this. I couldn't get the Council and their STG Science Oversight Teams to bend on this. Despite your outstanding work on the project, they are still pretty vindictive regarding Cerberus associates. We're keeping you on Alliance books as a contractor, but we've got to keep you away from anything close to Project Synthesis. That also means your options are pretty limited with regards to the fleet. You're best bet is to head to the Citadel, we can set you up with contractor quarters out of the new facility in the Tayseri Ward, but I have no feel for what work we'll have available.
Don't worry about C-SEC, I have explicitly forwarded all documentation regarding Shepard's negotiated pardons for you and the Cerberus resources that worked on the Crucible. The Council has agreed to treat your disposition as an internal matter for the Systems Alliance, even if they won't clear you to keep your job.
I've tagged your account with all the ident codes and resources for the Tayseri Facility. I wish I could do more. Were Shepard's endorsement not enough, were not your efforts during the Battle for Earth not enough, you have been an exemplary asset for me over the past month. To have you bearing the brunt of this political nonsense is an insult to your professionalism and I told the Council that exact thing.
Again, thank you for your service.
-Hackett

All-in-all it wasn't the worst of all possible outcomes. She could, after all, be in prison. After Horizon, Shepard went to the mat for her, again. Miranda hadn't even asked her for help this time. The Commander was still looking out for her, even if she didn't know it. Miranda pulled up views of the new Alliance apartments available. They were hideous. The XO quarters on the Normandy was a luxury suite in comparison. She immediately made the request for the housing stipend to be applied to her account instead. She still had some access to funds she had squirreled away from Cerberus ops. She'd go hunting for a better townhouse or apartment later.

The speed at which the Reapers were reconnecting Relays was nothing short of astonishing. She had seen the Exodus primary and secondary relays close up from aboard the Balboa, they were a shambles of fused structures, broken focusing rings and burnt out systems. That it took less than 72 hours to restore functionality on each, even if only the Reapers could use them, was a staggering technical achievement. With every relay activated, another system regained communications access. Much of the financial brokerage network was back online, but limping along as the economies of the worlds invaded by the Reapers were still a void. While the Extranet was phenomenally slow, it was there. People could reach out to their homeworlds at least, even if they weren't able to get back to them.

She hadn't managed to get a vid call, much less QEC call through to Oriana on Elysium, but she had gotten a few messages through. Elysium escaped the attention of significant Reaper advances during the war, many refugees fleeing Eden Prime, Terra Nova and even Horizon after the Sanctuary debacle, wound up there. Miranda started to compose a new message to her sister, but thought better of it. Oriana had been so thrilled that she was finally "working for the good guys" as she had put it that Miranda didn't want to disappoint her. With nothing better to do, she started a search for both a new apartment and a new job.

While that was queued on the Alliance extranet server, she started scanning the Citadel News Feed. Much of the feed contained safety bulletins, relocation services, supply centers and C-SEC notices, but a growing number of job postings and actual news reports shared the bandwidth. The Citadel was still home to millions of inhabitants and local news drowned out what little came in from other worlds. The mood of many of the local pieces was incredibly optimistic given the events of the war, celebrating success stories of Citadel citizens with the attention formerly given to actors on the galactic stage.

Miranda was drawn to a local color segment for the Zakera Ward. The field reporter was walking around a massive shipyard operation, interviewing workers and customers while the camera in a split screen highlighted various working teams and structures within the yard. What drew her attention was the camera's focus on a Reaper Destroyer delivering the hulk of a Cerberus frigate into one of the salvage cradles. Miranda was certain that in the weeks in the Arcturus System patrols had not encountered any Cerberus ships, she had also not heard of any reports of any entanglements with the Citadel Fleet in the Exodus Cluster. That frigate had to come from somewhere else. While she could see that the Reapers might be willing to clear debris from the system they were repairing, she couldn't figure a motive for transporting something like that from another system. She pulled up related links to the story from the news network's streaming chyron. Apparently salvage and shipyard operations were the biggest booming business on the Citadel, dwarfing all startup operations by four to five hundred percent. Each one utilizing space cleared on the surface levels of the wards by the Reapers.

"What the hell are they up to?" she whispered to herself. Miranda started compiling lists of operations and the various companies put in charge of them. She would try to find any links behind the companies. The spectre of indoctrination kept popping up in her mind, a lasting gift of her investigation into the Sanctuary operation. Bringing up another window on the omni-tool, she tagged the feeds for a number of cross-reference topics, half of them from the local news stories. It was an old habit from her days as an operative, but a good one. One never knew if any stray events winding up in the news would lead back to a link. She tapped away at the tag search, Quarians, Docking Cradles, Salvage, Stevadore, Shipping, Employment Boom, Geth, Religion. She had already entered the last tag when she stopped, realizing what she just entered. She backed the currently playing story for review. The reporter was interviewing a Geth platform working at one of the salvage yards. That alone was odd, but the particular platform, a Hunter she thought, was talking about the example that Shepard had been to the Geth.

Miranda knew the Geth had an odd fascination with Shepard, going back to before the Lazarus Project, and she knew that before she left the Alliance Fleet, many of the Geth on the research project tended to make odd statements about her former commander and friend. The Geth were supposed to be abiding by the secrecy order from the Council, but the one on the news feed could be talking about her sacrifice at the Crucible. She pulled up the transcript and scanned it. The Geth was deliberately keeping his statement vague, indicating only the liberation of Rannoch for hard reference. But to anyone who had seen the footage recovered on the Citadel, the intent was clear. The news chryon streamed by with a link to "Zakera Memorial Fields restored by Geth - New VI recreation of Park's Shepard Statue available." Miranda clicked on the link and the VI was downloaded to her imager. The photonic construct flickered to life from the omni-tool.

Miranda was at a loss for words as she stared at the final second of Jennifer Shepard's life frozen in platinum, steel and gold.


Sol System - Earth - Late November 2186

Relief operations had begun almost as soon as the Alliance Fleet returned through the Charon Relay. Evacuation ships of the Turian and Asari fleets mobilized their officers on Earth as the Systems Alliance forces secured and evacuated crews from the struggling remote outposts on Titan and Europa. The system was buzzing with ships as many of the ground forces were at least able to return to either the Citadel or their own fleets, taking the strain of quartering millions of additional troops off the struggling resources on Earth. Between Mars, Luna and Earth, the devastation was staggering. For the most part the Luna colonies were a loss, their habitat domes shattered, major power facilities in meltdown and their infrastructure a shambles. Mars was not much better, but the vast system of underground facilities remained largely unscathed. Earth was a completely different story. Most of the major cities more closely resembled the bombed out skeletons of World War II than the modern technological marvels they once were. New York, London, Madrid, Sydney, Chicago, Toronto, Vancouver, Paris, Moscow, Tokyo, Beijing, every major center of government and power was a pile of rubble, unrecognizable from the once proud cities they had been. Every arcology, every skyscraper, every ancient monument nothing more than a twisted pile of metal and glass. Humanity had retreated to the towns or abandoned infrastructure altogether in an attempt to flee the invasion. The casualties were enormous, but people remained.

Ships now descended on the planet carrying supplies, construction equipment, pre-fab facilities, but most importantly it brought people home. Non critical Alliance personnel were transferring to ground operations by the shipload, eager to be reunited with their families. Not all would find their loved ones, the toll of the dead and missing was almost too terrifying to comprehend. Millions had died each day of the invasion, lost to destruction, converted to the dreaded husks, or harvested for a fate worse than death. Earth was a scarred world, her survivors bore those scars in every describable way, physical, mental, and spiritual, yet they survived.

Major Ethan Coats had never thought to look so longingly at a troop transport. He blinked away the dust as the anti-proton thrusters of the SSV Carcharadon touched down at Mildenhall Field. The heavily armored transport was classed as a frigate, a small ship, but it still dominated the landing field. It was one of the oldest ships still in service, lacking any of the smooth angles of the new Systems Alliance ships so heavily influenced by the Turians. To call her a flying brick would be a disservice to masonry, but it shared a similar profile. Low, squat thruster assemblies and a monstrous central drive dominated the ship. Its odd dual centerline design a hallmark of the older fusion powered vessels of her time. Charcaradon carried a single spinal mount rail cannon down the port spine while all command and control functions rode in the starboard spine. Each of the massive troop hangars on her belly could be detached, rapidly delivering a battle-ready marine company to the field and dusting off before the enemy could penetrate her formidable armor. When the ship was converted to a mass effect core twenty five years ago, Carcharadon was already fifteen years in service. The Major thought it was the most beautiful ship he had ever seen.

The number one hatch on the first hangar cracked open, still venting heat from re-entry. Coats suspected they hadn't even bothered reducing mass, simply relying on the foot of polyceramic armor to dissipate the heat. Two Orca cargo haulers pulled out of the bay before the other three hangars had even opened. Major Coats' comm was buzzing with the chatter coordinating the relief deliveries north to Nottingham and south to Cambridge. Crews and load lifters streamed from the ground bays towards the lumbering giant of a ship with all hands ready to pitch in. Coats strode towards the deck officer shouting orders to forces within the bay. Before he could get there, three armed marines rounded the corner of the ramp headed straight towards him. Two wore the standard field issue light combat armor and carried M8 Avenger rifles. The center, with officer pips on the chest was wearing one of the Defender series heavy combat suits. The armor enhancing what was already a large marine to inhuman proportions. The trio reached Major Coats just as the thrusters of the Carcharadon finished their power-down.

"Major Coats!" the Marine Lieutenant called to him, collapsing his ferocious looking M-99 Saber and locking it onto a mount point over his right shoulder. The marine extended a hand and retracted the combat visor.

"Lieutenant Vega?" Coats took the marine's hand and shook hard. "Bloody good to see you, man! If you're here, must mean Normandy's back with the fleet. That is proper good news." The two marine soldiers were not exactly sure what to do with themselves, struck by the sudden lack of formal recognition between the officers. "But what in God's name are you doing back here?" Coats inquired.

"I hear you have a package for us." Vega answered, cocking his head to the side.

"Don't tell me they stuck you with that? Who's tea did you piss in?" The Major gestured for the three to follow him as he led the way to one of the barracks buildings.

"Nah, nothing like that. The Admiral thought since I was a friendly face and all, I might keep him calm." Vega chuckled. "I didn't want to correct the Admiral and risk my bars."

"Good on you." Coats laughed as they arrived at the barracks. "More likely he figured anyone else they sent would wind up putting a bullet between his eyes."

James shrugged. "Yeah, Buggy does get under your skin like that."

"Here." Coats transferred codes to Vegas omni-tool. "Here's the release order and the lock codes. The guards should let you through."

"You're not coming with?" Vega asked, puzzled.

"I know I'd wind up putting a bullet between his eyes." Coats laughed.


The barracks were empty and the pervasive chill of the November air seeped into the unheated rooms. Power to the building was minimal with only the lights of the main corridor and the single locked cell kept online. Two RAF Warrant Officers stood flanking a door at the end of the corridor. A small induction heater warmed the area in front of the door, bu the two were still wearing thermal suits below their service fatigues. The quiet of the place was more oppressive than the cold, Vega thought. The isolation would wear on anyone's nerves.

The lieutenant identified himself as the guards snapped salutes. Vega returned the gesture adding "As you were." He coded into the guard's duty log with his omni-tool. "We're here to take charge of the detainee." The words were as awkward to Vega as the situation. The prisoner was not an enemy combatant, nor was he an Alliance soldier, the Systems Alliance Code of Military Justice did not cover beings without a nation and the Council didn't want anything to do with the situation. Not officially a prisoner, too volatile to release, secured custody was the only place for him.

"He's all yours Lieutenant. Good luck to you." Answered the guard. "Will one of you be securing his personal effects?"

"Corporal Ramirez." Vega ordered "See to that detail. We'll secure the package." He keyed in the access for the cell.

From within the brightly lit room, a familiar voice called out "Ah Vega-human. I see that I have overstayed my welcome on your primitive planet." The Prothean, Javik, sat in repose on the floor. Deprived of his armor and wearing simple workers fatigues, the alien commander seemed so much smaller than the last time Vega had seen him. The Prothean did not bother turning around.

"Yep. We're here to bring you back to the Citadel, Buggy." Vega answered. "Seems the natives have just had enough of basking in the superior Prothean glory."

"I see." Javik ignored the attempt at humor. "Shall I wait for the restraints?"

Vega sighed. "If you can give me your word that you're not going to try something stupid, I think you can walk out of here with some dignity."

"There are no more Reapers on this world. I have nothing to gain by, how you put it 'trying something stupid.' I just wish to away from this place now." Javik stood slowly, turning to face James. "That should be sufficient."

"If that's all I'm going to get, I guess it'll do." Vega gestured to the door. "After you."

The three walked out of the barracks, leaving the guard to power down the structure and lock up. Teams were almost done unloading the second hangar of the Charcaradon and passengers were already queuing with the travel officer at the entry to the first. Vega pointed to the troop transport across the quad. "We'll be lifting in about 30 minutes. The Admiral thought it best to get you out of sight as quick as possible."

"That is agreeable." The Prothean commented as he walked behind the Marine Corporal and ahead of the Vega. "I have no wish to be among these cowards any longer."

"Buggy, you need to lighten up." Vega shrugged "You're lucky some limey Sergeant didn't decide to put round in your head for your little stunt. Brush it off and call it a day. You get an all-expense paid vacation on the Citadel out of it."

"Lucky? What manner of luck makes soldiers into cowards?" Javik spat. Raising his voice, he continued "The Reapers are still there! They are still a threat to every living person in this galaxy! Shepard's foolish errand did not change anything except stealing your will to fight."

Vega stopped. The large human turned around and calmly addressed the alien. "Okay. I got it, Buggy, I got it. You've had a shit hand dealt to you. Everything you had is gone, and the Crucible took away your chance for revenge. Yeah, it sucks and I'd hate to be you. But that was your 'one.' I don't care who you are, you get one and only one chance to badmouth my C.O. in front of me. Got it?"

"I was behind you, human." The Prothean replied. "Will your defense of misplaced idealism save you when the Reapers turn on you again? I think not. You are a soldier, Vega, you know what it is to vanquish a foe. They are not vanquished. Do not let yourself be led along. Shepard was a fool to…"

The rest of Javik's rant was cut off as the cannon of Vega's right hook knocked him sideways to the ground. The Marine corporal immediately took combat stance and trained his Avenger on the downed Prothean. A security detail from the Carcharadon was already running to their position. Their reactions were unneeded. James Vega was an incredibly strong man, the peak physical example of an Alliance Marine. Hitting an unarmored opponent while in a musculature enhancing exoskeleton was quite enough.

Vega popped up his omni-tool and scanned the alien, making sure he was only unconscious. He muttered to himself "Guess you're tougher than you look, Roach." He turned to the Corporal "Roberts, clap some irons on that pendejo. I want him in a cell before he wakes up." He paused. "Damnit, now I owe Ashley a hundred credits."


Annos Basin - Citadel - Late November 2186

"Are you sure Liara?" the Ashley Williams' image over the comm channel flickered slightly.

"Yes. With the Citadel Exchange opening again in two weeks, I can get back to work." The Shadow Broker lied easily, knowing that this last performance would let her largely retire the mask she had been forced to use. "All my equipment has been transported to a new data center, I'll be interviewing for new employees within the week. The last place I need to be is on Normandy."

"I know, I know. But it just won't be the same place without you." Ashley added.

"It hasn't been the same place for me since Earth." The Asari admitted in a moment of almost honesty.

"Then I guess this is good bye for now." Ashley added.

"Best of luck to you Ashley. You've got big shoes to fill."

"I know it. Normandy out." The channel cleared.

The Shadow Broker shut down projection field and the image of the data center vanished behind her. She stuffed the device into a black duffel bag at her feet. In her hands she activated a small scrambler processor and attached it to the comms relay. She spun up several extranet connections on the now anonymous node, linking to the other anonymous nodes that would relay her next data package. She inserted an OSD into the relay and signaled the upload. A few moments of activity and the package was away.

The Asari powered down and collapsed the relay, packing it into the bag with the projector. Shouldering the duffel, she headed for the door of the nondescript and empty apartment. The one room studio was small and far out of the way of the inhabited sections of Zakera, unlikely to see any pedestrian traffic for some time. She took one more look around, mentally inventorying everything she had brought or touched, making sure nothing was left behind. She lifted the hood of her coat and reached for a small sphere at her belt. She spun the dial on the sphere for five clicks, then tossed it towards the center of the ceiling, where it mag-locked. Closing the door, she strode for the lift at the end of the hall. A few seconds later, the sphere detonated, bathing the room in a flash of hard radiation destroying any organic residue or DNA accidentally left behind.


Miranda Lawson sat in the Zakera Memorial Park on what had become her favorite bench. She was currently scanning through a number of job posting in the medical and science facilities throughout the wards. She had to flag too many as unapproachable due to extensive background checks. That left her a shockingly small pool of potential employers. There were a few poorly disguised drug pushers looking for chemists, and quite a number of unlicensed clinics looking for any kind of doctors. While she had yet to descend to that level, she could see a day when that was an option. For now, she would put in her hours at the Alliance facility and hope they saw sense enough to put her back on a real project instead of the current report analysis she was stuck in.

The park at least was some comfort to her day. She spent at least an hour or so after each shift in the shadow of the Geth monument to Shepard. The Geth behavior, along with the machinations of the Reapers, was still a puzzle she was trying to unravel, but without real resources, she was not able to get very far. She wasn't the type to start pinning colored threads to her wall either. She had filed some observational reports with the base C.O. as well as C-SEC. While she wouldn't normally have left it at that, she had to admit that losing had stung some of the the drive out of her. She accepted the fact that she'd eventually have to leave the Citadel and head to the colonies or the Traverse to really have a chance at a new life. Now she just had to wait for the Relays to open back up.

Miranda took another drink from her bottle of water. She switched her omni-tool to the news feeds and started watching a story from reporters embedded in the Alliance relief fleet at Earth. They had just ended a segment on North America and were transferring to a unit in New South Wales when the feed went black. Alarmed, Miranda checked the rest of the extranet links, wondering if her tool malfunctioned. All the other streaming data sources were still there, financial indicators, community boards, messaging systems, all were fine. But all vid resource streams were black. She opened a trace feed in another window, watching the black screen of the news feed in the main one.

Music rose over the black screen as titles appeared one by one.

Taetrus - 108 Million Dead

Gellix - 54,000 Dead

Invictus - 210 Million Dead

Digeris - 411 Million Dead

Altakiril - 13 Million Dead

Manae - 25 Million of the best trained military in Council Space Dead

Palaven - 2 Billion Dead

The Turian people ask what led them to such a tragedy.

The blackness dissolved into a video stream from what appeared to be an Embassy office. She could see the backs of Anderson and Shepard standing before the projections of the Council. The video stream focused on Sparatus, the Turian Councilor.

"Ah yes, Reapers. The immortal race of sentient starships, waiting in dark space to consume us all. We have dismissed that claim."

The image froze with Sparatus dismissively waving his hand at the end of his statement. Blood red text burned through the image.

If there are too many damned souls in hell, it is because the blind have led them there.

Slowly the image faded, pixelating as it disappeared from the video feed. The news from Earth emerging from behind as if parting a curtain. Miranda looked at the screen, awestruck, she quickly tried to rewind the last minute of the feed but only found segments of the news program she was watching. Whatever that broadcast had been, it recursively erased itself from the data stream.

"This is going to be very bad." She remarked to herself. The former Cerberus operative gathered he belonging and made for the aircar terminal, and through it, back to the Alliance base.


Author's Notes (11/23/13): First off, happy 50th to the Doctor. So now we see the Shadow Broker release the first of her "Damnations" attacking the Council. Her efforts to destabilize the Council pick up speed as we move into the second part of the story. Will Miranda Lawson, with far too much time to herself throw a wrench into the plans? Will the Council uncover the efforts against them? Stay tuned.

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