IV: Holocaust

by RedCenturionG

The Reapers are here, and the war has finally begun. All sentient life in the galaxy is depending on Shepard to save them. And he will have to assemble the largest military force in galactic history to save those he loves. He will make alliances with people he hates, but will create new coalitions thought never possible. This is the Holocaust. And how far will he go to stop it?

36. Chapter 28 A Reunion of One

HOLOCAUST

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:

A REUNION OF ONE

June 24, 2186

1225 hours.

Promenade, Docking Bay D24, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.

The Reaper War.

Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Flight Lieutenant Steve Cortez.

They both watched a fighter fly past, leaving a fine trail of mist from where its mass effect core had ejected spent waste from its drive core. In an instant, Marcus pointed at it, grinning as he recited the vessel's name, verbatim, "That one's an SX3-class fighter, Systems Alliance."

He heard Cortez sigh beside him, tensing up as he once again missed one. Still, he was quick to make up for his mistake, leaning further against the railing as he chuckled, "That was nothing. Fighters are easy."

He snorted, gripping the railing just a bit tighter as he drowned out the noise behind him of welders burning and people talking and shouting, as well as the constant beeping of decon fields, activating terminals or Avina being summoned, "That's an excuse, Cortez."

"And I'm sticking with it, if you don't mind, Shepard," the pilot remarked, turning back to the observation window as he continued to examine the many different ships floating outside. Then, he pointed out, "ARW Destiny Ascension, Ascension-Class Dreadnought, Asari Republics."

"Doesn't count," he immediately, dismissed looking up to see the Destiny Ascension sitting infront of the Citadel Tower like a protective mother over its children, "Everyone knows the Ascension; its only the most famous warship in the asari military, not to mention all of Council space."

"Now who's making excuses?" Cortez retorted, shaking his head as he leaned on one arm against the railing, turning away from the beauty and immensity of the vessel he had been gazing at, "You're seeming very hypocritical."

"The name of those fighters isn't as well known as the Ascension, especially after the Battle of the Citadel," he turned back to the ship, nodding with creased lips, "Still, she's a beautiful ship."

"And the biggest the Citadel fleet has," Cortez mused, "30,000 crew and a main gun bigger and stronger than anything our fleet has. How many of this class do they have again?"

He thought for a moment on that, watching the vessel as he did. When he rounded the numbers in his head, he turned back to the pilot, who had a raised eyebrow, "Well, as the Treaty of Farixen dictates, the asari are only allowed to build three dreadnoughts to every five the turians have, which at the moment would mean they only have about...twenty-seven. They only have one class of dreadnought, the Ascension-Class, so they have twenty-seven Ascension-class dreadnoughts, with the Destiny Ascension being the head of her class, hence the name."

"Wait, you're telling me the turians have fifty dreadnoughts?" Cortez whistled, "Damn! They don't call them the military masters of the galaxy for nothing, do they?"

He nodded grimly, "Considering what's happening with Palaven, they probably have alot less now, and most of them are part of separate task forces rather than complete fleets," he replied, "Still, its a substantial amount, I'll give you that. I could name a few Ascension-class dreadnoughts I've heard about; ARW Truthbearer, Peace and Tranquility, Census, People's Voice and a few others."

He heard Cortez sigh next to him, before pointing out again, "THS Swift Judicator, Tribune-Class Dreadnought, Turian Hierarchy."

Marcus chuckled slightly, ignoring Cortez's smug grin before his eyes landed on his own kill, hand reaching out with one finger extended as he pointed, "SUV Ever Alert and the SUV Silent Step, both of them are Silence-Class heavy frigates, Salarian Union."

"You sure know your ships Shepard," Cortez snarkily pointed out, "I might feel threatened."

"Watch yourself," he warned jokingly, "It won't do for you to mock your commanding officer."

"Like its ever stopped me."

Both of them reached out hands to point and speak, but then they stopped, what they thought was one of the new Alliance Richmond-Class Heavy Cruisers. However, while it did have the same design, all its forward batteries were missing, none of its armor was present, and pretty much every GARDIAN unit along its port side was absent. It wasn't even in the black and blue of the Alliance colors or with its insignia; only the words 'MSV Cornucopia' was written alongside as the ship lazily drifted by.

"I know that class," Cortez mused, leaning closer to seemingly get a better look. When he was done, he snorted, coming back as he met Marcus' eyes, "That's a Geneva-Class Heavy Cruiser."

"Geneva-Class?" he asked, flabbergasted, "I thought they retired them back in 2184 and replaced them with the Richmond-Class." The Richmond-Class was outfitted with the perfected Silaris armor, along with increased firing range, better VI targetting, more maneveurability in combat and packed more punch. The Geneva-Class in comparison was obsolete; the turians had already matched its capacity a full four years before its decommissioning, and its ability to fire missiles at 0.9 percent of light speed had already been bested by the asari, who's Reliant-Class Destroyers could fire theirs at 1.1 percent of light speed, essentially outgunning it. The Richmond-Class was simply superior, and had rapidly been produced to replace all Geneva-Class vessels, and they were all eventually decommissioned at the Mars Planitia Shipyards. A place that was probably non-existent now.

Obviously, one had survived. The Geneva-Class and Richmond-Class differed little in overall design, and pretty much looked the same; the subtle difference was the sleekness of the latter compared to the former, as well as the thicker armor and more intense armament. But this ship lacked any kind of armor altogether, and to see it without weapons was a bigger surprise.

Cortez nodded, confirming his thoughts, "They retired them, yes, but not all of them were necessarily scrapped. Its safe to assume a few corporations or governments would have paid an awful lot of credits for the use of those ships as cargo vessels or retrofitted tankers, or maybe even convert into expeditionary vessels. All the Alliance had to do was strip it back down to its basic shape, shred the armor and weapons, and then sell it for whatever price; probably in the hundreds of millions. Its not exactly unheard of."

He shrugged, conceding the pilot's point, "Do you recognize the ship though?"

"Its the SSV London. Or was," the pilot elaborated, noticing the surprise on his face, "I remember speaking with the captain once; he docks with the Citadel alot. Said the company he works for, Cord-Hislop Aerospace, purchased the London and renamed her the Cornucopia. Said it was the best buy they made in ages."

He nodded in appreciation of the man's knowledge, giving a brief nod to the ex-cruiser, watching its engines coming into view, glowing a bright, intense blue as their engines were looked tirelessly, "You certainly get around, Cortez," his sentence reminded him of just why he was here, turning away from the Cornucopia's passing bulk as he turned his full frame to lean back against the railing, crossing his arms as he turned to face the dark-skinned pilot fully, "Speaking of getting around...I never really asked before, but I only just noticed. You said you were going to get some time on the Citadel...is this it? You know, sometime off the Normandy? Away from Mr. Vega's taunts?"

The man chuckled, crossing his own arms as he stood straight, taking his weight off the metal railing as he continued to watch the ships fly by, the man seemingly finding some solace in them as his eyes looked less distant than they did in the Shuttle Bay, "Yeah, I took your advice. All work and no play. That's not fair, right? Besides, the Normandy isn't going anywhere for a few days, and we're stuck here, so why hang around?"

He nodded, "I get that. But why here?" They hadn't exactly come up here together. He had been returning to the Normandy after speaking with Bailey when he saw Cortez on the observation deck, deciding to join him. It had been then that the pilot challenged him to a game of 'name the ship,' one Marcus eagerly took him up on. Cortez had won of course, as he was a bit of a naval nut, but it had been interesting, all the same. That, and it took his mind off of Thane. He had put his name on the memorial yesterday, and gotten drunk afterwards to forget it all; a habit that was becoming dangerously addictive. It had been just like after Mordin died, and that had hit him just as badly as Thane's.

The pilot sighed, blowing out a heavy breath as braced against the railing again, eyes never leaving the ships outside, "Its peaceful. I find it relaxing to just watch the ships flying by; distracts me from all the horrors we see in our day to day. I remember when I served on the SSV Hawking all those years ago; I used to stand on the observation deck in the hangar and just watch all the fighters and interceptors take off. The glass muffled the sounds of them taking off, so it sounded like they were gliding out of the hangar like kites; it was peaceful, tranquil, relaxing. I love it," he sighed, turning to Marcus with a look of solemnity, seeming slightly uncomfortable, "I...I put Robert's nameplate on the memorial down in the Refugee Camp, but the amount of people there...it was too much. Its apparently worse now after the siege and what Cerberus did down there."

Marcus nodded, his amusement fading slightly, "What they did is unforgivable. Cerberus will pay," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "But let's not talk about that. Its enough that we have to fight them on an almost daily basis; I'd rather not bring them into every conversation. Let's...let's just not talk about the war for now."

He nodded, smoothing a hand right through his hair, "I can live with that," he focused his blue eyes on him, a smile crossing his lips. He turned back to the ships, eyes widening as he spotted a ship, almost shooting back as he shot a hand up at it, "That's the THS Havencore, Servitor-Class Destroyer, part of the turian eleventh fleet."

Marcus grinned, turning to look at the fearsome looking vessel as it floated by with the rest of its escort force tasked to the THS Hardened Conciliator, another Tribune-Class Dreadnought that served as flagship of the eleventh fleet, along with its commanding officer Fleet Admiral Petra Invecticus.

"Must be part of the turian forces Victus has committed to the UGC," Marcus stated, "The Eleventh, along with the Twelfth, Second, Fifth and Seventh fleets have been dedicated, while the rest of his navy is redistributed to asari and salarian space," his smile briefly disappeared as he turned to the confused Cortez, "Victus just made a very tough gamble; he's effectively given up all major offensives in the Apien Crest and has left behind a few token battlegroups to keep the battle going. Like Earth, Palaven is on its own now."

Cortez snorted, "You're right, that is one hell of a gamble."

"Sacrificing for the greater good. Victus is giving away everything, possibly sacrificing the survival of his people, because he has faith in the UGC, and the Crucible," he sighed, turning away from the destroyer, "And he has faith in me. He, along with everyone else, seems to think I'm the one hope this galaxy has. I just hope their faith isn't misplaced; its alot of cards they're committing to the table," he groaned, shaking his head, "We're talking about the war again."

"Right. Sorry," Cortez, despite what they were talking about, couldn't help but chuckle at that, "It all comes down to the war, it seems."

He nodded at that, not saying anything else. They remained silent for a few precious seconds, drinking in the silence. Or what existed of it, considering the dock was almost crowded with onsite workers and the sounds of repairs going on.

"Do you...do you ever wonder if you should have stayed with Robert, back on Ferris Fields?" Marcus asked, seemingly out of the blue, "Do you ever have any regrets?"

To his surprise, Cortez didn't waver on the question, simply looking distant, "All the time. I wonder if it should have been me who got taken by the Collectors. I wonder if I should have gone back; if I might have saved him. In the end, I guess it doesn't matter. He's gone," he sighed heavily, looking incredibly sad in that moment. He felt his chest, as if trying to touch his heart, "He'll always live on down here, but I don't think I'll ever quite recover from losing him."

He remembered how Cortez had hinted at an interest in him, and his hand subconsciously reached up to his forehead, feeling for the mark on his forehead. He smiled at the memory; a symbol of his union with his unionmate, his wife. It also made him remember how much he missed said wife, and decided not to linger on that thought, letting his hand fall back down to his side. He must have loved incredibly weird to the odd passer by, having a random line running down his forehead, but he didn't care. Besides, anyone tried to hit on him, and he knew one thing that was universally known. He rubbed his finger, feeling the ring underneath his gloves. Yes, others would know when they saw it that he was indeed a married man; and a happy one at that.

He placed a hand on the man's shoulders, grasping them tightly, "I can't claim to feel the same, but I'm a good friend when you get to know me, Cortez. I'd like to think we're more than friends at this stage, so I can say this with some certainty; don't let Robert weigh you down. Don't let him anchor you down, because if he does, you'll never move on and you'll always live in the past; and that can be devastating."

"That's easy for you to say," he motioned to his forehead mark, "You've got a girl waiting for you out there. What would you do if she died?"

I would continue to fight in her memory. And then, and only then, would I join her. He wanted to say. Instead, he said, "I would be a lost man, Cortez, but I would never stop fighting. As long as I have a purpose, I can bury those feelings down and fight. But in peacettime? I don't know, Cortez. I guess I'd move on." You're not one for moving on, Marcus. Don't even try to tell yourself that you are. I'd join her. Once my purpose is fullfilled, I will gladly meet her up in that bar...

Eternity didn't seem so bad when you had someone you loved to spend it with.

"Then you're a stronger man than me," Cortez mumbled, "I...I don't think I-" he cut himself off, looking over Marcus' shoulder. Suddenly, he snapped a salute and made to leave, "I'll talk to you later, Shepard."

"What-?" he never got to finish his question as a voice spoke from over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Cortez," Kaidan stated, "I appreciate it."

Cortez was halfway down the corridor by the time he finally turned to face the second human spectre, still wearing the armor he had been wearing when he had been with Udina, the familiar eye piece folded back as he braced against the railing next to Marcus.

He raised an eyebrow at the man, "Good to see you, Kaidan. I was wondering when we'd...talk."

"Yeah," Kaidan began, laughing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck, armor shuffling as he did. There was silence for a moment, with neither of them really saying anything. They knew what they wanted to say to each other, just not how to properly word it. Meanwhile, Marcus just turned and leaned against the railing with him, both looking out and glazing their eyes over Shalta Ward's cityscape. Everything had gone back to normal, more or less. But it had only been two years since the attack; and it was all too fresh in their minds for anyone to forget. Still, he imagined that alot of people in the other wards didn't care; they'd been virtually untouched by the Cerberus attack, aside from having to watch the space battle below or around them.

Another turian vessel was floating by, an Imperium-Class Supercarrier, along with its escort of three Venator-Class light cruisers and two Titus-Class heavy cruisers. Apparently, the turian sixth prime task force, which was assigned to the eleventh fleet. All turian fleets had prime task forces, which were assigned separate dreadnought task groups. Most prime task forces surrounded a single supercarrier, one of the largest vessels ever built and the closest to matching the size of a Reaper; essentially, they were only a kilometer smaller than a Sovereign-Class Reaper dreadnought, but despite their size, the Reapers still outmatched them. Still, it would be handy having a supercarrier committed to the UGC armada. Or more than one.

Lost in the hierarchy warships moving for drydock, he only just caught Kaidan's response, "Shepard, I took one hell of a beating on Mars. And now Udina...I'm a Spectre. Just like you, I answer to the Council and I have more power in my hands than I know what to do with. We're the only two spectres of our race, and despite how Udina used me, I don't think I can drop this. Being a spectre will help make a difference, I know it will."

He sighed, nodding as he turned to face the soldier, "Kaidan, I understand if you have to stay...I understand...if you won't be joining us again. I'm not going to force you to-"

"Let me finish," he placed a hand on Marcus' shoulder, smiling as he did, "But despite all that, I'll follow your lead. I've been with you since the very beginning; longer than anyone else on the crew aside from Joker, Chakwas and Adams. Hell, I knew you before Tali did. And I know without a doubt that you're the man who can win this war. Yeah, its going to be long and bloody. And we're nowhere close to the end, but I'm glad to know that I served with you, and will continue to serve with you. Fighting beside you...I know we can't fail," he stood up, straightening his posture as he snapped a firm salute, "Which is why I'm formally requesting to be assigned back to the Normandy detail, sir."

He looked at the man for a long while, returning his salute but not saying anything. Despite all he had achieved; his spectre status, everything, he still wanted to serve under him. He could practically ask for a ship of his own, whether it be the Council he asked or Hackett, and he'd get it. His own crew, supplies, his own command and a mission of his own to complete...instead, he chose to give that up just to serve under him one more time.

Because he, like all others, believed he was the one to win the war. He didn't hate Kaidan for that; he didn't hate anyone for that. But what they didn't seem to realize is that it was a burden he struggled with, and that was partly his fault. He never told anyone, not even Garrus or Kasumi or even Joker. He never told Hackett or Anderson or Jack or anyone. He kept it to himself, all bottled up; because he wasn't a whiner. He didn't complain. He simply got the job done. That's what being an N7 was about. Toughening up and pushing through.

Spectres were born, not made. He had been chosen because he didn't complain, he didn't falter, he wasn't weak. He did what needed to be done and then got to live when it was all over. That's why he was so unique.

But it was a burden he suffered nonetheless, and sometimes, it crippled him. But despite all of these thoughts, he couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips as he held out his hand for Kaidan to shake, "Welcome back to the Normandy, friend. You're always welcome," as the man took his hand and shook it, he finished with a whisper, "You're family."

Kaidan nodded, slightly surprised, "Shepard, you're willing to accept me back even after what happened? I pointed a gun at you."

He snorted, waving away his concern, "It was for a split second, and you reacted on reflex; any soldier would have done the same thing, Kaidan. You meant nothing by it, and in the end, you sided with me instead of Udina. That's what counts. Besides, its not like you actually thought I was working with Cerberus, was it?"

Kaidan chuckled slightly at that, "Somehow, for some reason, I feel like in an alternate universe, that would be different," he grinned, shaking his head as he shook his hand again, "But its not a universe I want to be in. I like the one I'm in just fine. So when do we leave?"

He blew out a long breath, motioning to the battered and blackened hull of the Normandy. Joker hadn't been joking when he said she had taken a pounding; one of the GARDIAN batteries hadn't folded back in, disabled and hanging off the wreckage after being damaged. From here, he could see workers in EVA hardsuits moving about in thruster packs, repairing the damage, "Not for another few days. Normandy's going to need alot of repairs after the damage the Deliverance dealt us."

"Yes, I heard about that," Kaidan murmured, slightly perturbed. He turned back to Marcus, looking slightly worried in that moment, "Shepard, I find it a bit concerning that there's a clone of the Normandy just wandering about out there with Cerberus colors. It doesn't exactly inspire courage."

"I'm still wrapping my head around it myself, but we should have known this would happen eventually. The Illusive Man has virtually unlimited resources, and he knew he couldn't beat the Normandy, so why not join it?" he shrugged, "It doesn't matter. The next time we meet the Deliverance, it won't be escaping, especially if what I hear is true, and its Leng's flagship. I'll reduce it to space dust."

"There's something I can get behind," Kaidan cheered, smiling slightly. He let out a long breath before suddenly whipping out his omni-tool and checking the time. Satisfied, he deactivated it, looking back up at him with a devillish grin, "Hey...I heard Apollo's is open downstairs. Want to get a bite to eat? I can page Garrus and Liara if they want to join us. And Kasumi, too."

Marcus smirked, "Somehow I think Kasumi's a bit...preoccupied," he motioned down the corridor, beginning to walk, "But that sounds nice. I could do with a break."

A very long break.

But at least the Normandy's crew would be one man stronger from now on.

But there was still a space in engineering that needed to be filled. And until then, the Normandy would alway fill empty.

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June 24, 2186

1342 hours.

Elizabeth Tower, London, Republic of England/European Union, Earth.

The Reaper War, Occupation of Earth.

Major Patrick Coats.

This metal was really uncomfortable.

That's the one thought that ran through Coats' mind as he lay against said metal, his standard issue light combat armor scarred and scorched from fighting, his right armoured gauntlet removed due to the amount of damage it had taken. His face was just as bad; he had once had a nice smooth face, a large nose, solid, small lips, nicely cropped black hair and pointed ears. Now he had been forced to shave his hair back, he had numerous scratches across his face that would later become scars, and he was covered in more dirt and soot than he had had in the Anhur Rebellions.

He had an Incisor sniper rifle flipped across in his lap, his hand pulling back the slot to eject the spent shell, before roughly shoving it back to insert the next one. His thermal clip had only half of its heat left, which meant he'd have about seven more shots before needing to reload.

War. It had been brought to Earth with a fury, and Coats had watched his country, his homeland of England, one of the economic and military leaders of the once proud European Union, burn to the first alien invaders to attack and occupy Earth.

It was like watching War of the Worlds, or any other alien invasion movie. They had come quickly with unbelievable might and strength, overwhelming their defenses and butchering civilians in the streets. And it wasn't just England; it was the whole world. The United North American States had been the first to be attacked, specifically the area around Vancouver. And steadily, one by one, the nations began to fall.

The Systems Alliance World Assembly was likely no more. He didn't even know if there was a city out there that was left untouched by the Reaper invasion. These days, there was two types of besieged city; Reaper concentration camp, or one the Reapers razed to the ground while slaughtering everyone inside.

London was both.

Despite his body screaming at him not too, he needed to get up. Ever since five days ago, the Elizabeth Tower, also known as Big Ben had been his watch tower; his bastion. For five days he had taken his sniper rifle and shot everything that moved. Indoctrinated, husks, whatever it was, it would die. He had watched as new types of husks came to Earth; the marauders, the brutes...they had all come like the raging storm. And they only bolstered the enemy forces.

His found felt along the dust for his water canteen. Finding it, he swished it around to uncover what was left. To his relief, he could hear the sloshing of water inside, and its weight was sufficient to mean there was at least half left. That would last him until he could make another run. He flipped the lid, unscrewing it as he placed it on his lap and took a long swig, the lukewarm water bitter and unenticing, but enough to satisfy his dry, sore throat.

He licked his lips, wetting them as he grabbed the lid and screwed it back on, this time tying it back to his utility belt so he doesn't need to look for it again. Forcing himself to stand up, he placed his incisor ontop of the metal sheet that was his cover, head popping up to look down on the streets below.

Big Ben was a ruined husk of what it was; one of England's most iconic symbols totalled beyond recall. The clock itself had been smashed completely, where he currently found refuge, able to be found just under the mechanics of the clock. The Reapers, to their credit, had left the tower well enough alone, but there was still the occassional chunk taken out of it by thanix shots or the odd explosion. It was a surprise the tower hadn't collapsed yet.

London was even worse; it was like a thunderstorm on perputual repeat. He didn't know how it worked, but it seemed the Reapers were able to manipulate weather patterns, because London never saw the light of day anymore; the sun was unable to pierce the black clouds that covered the sky, plummetting the city into constant darkness. Ruined towers littered the landscape, broken structures that were either shattered corpses of what they were or blown apart or crushed by Reaper firepower and weight. Some sections were sectioned off to become concentration camps; he had even spotted a school, either as a sick joke or simply out of necessity, which had been turned into a camp, with a Reaper Destroyer constantly standing vigil over it, eye scanning the city for any trying to escape. The all-seeing eye, for all intents and purposes.

Fires raged, smoke bellowed and the occassional report of a thanix cannon sounded in the background, some poor bastard incinerated. Screams were lesser now, as civilians or members of the worldwide resistance had learnt long ago to never engage the Reapers in direct combat; shadow tactics and guerillla warfare were their best friend now. Even Coats had learnt that very important lesson. The only sounds that could be heard was the odd moan from the concentration camps, or the screech and warble of a marauder as they patrolled the streets.

And then there was the Oculi. He watched a squadron of them fly by, patrolling the sky and streets as their eyes aided the Reapers in finding more victims or harassing the resistance. The Reapers were patient bastards; they could besiege Earth for a few centuries and still be patient enough to wait out the resistance. They knew Earth would fall eventually, and the resistance was formed more out of spite of the enemy than any real hope of victory. And if you were moving around on the street, the Oculi always spotted you. Always.

As a consequence, he kept his head down until the squadron had passed; usually they came by in pairs or groups of five. But sometimes they'd come in full force; a full fifteen scything through the sky in search of prey. Many would think that it would be representative of a large bulk of their force. But Coats had heard the reports; not even 8% of the Reaper forces were present on Earth, and barely 13% were in orbit, and even then their forces were ridiculous in sheer size. Thousands of capital ships, hundreds of destroyers, and millions upon millions of ground troops. He had no idea where they kept getting their troops, but yet again, something told him he didn't want to know.

So when he poked his head back up, lowered his rifle and peered down the scope, he knew what he was here for. Those husks, whether he wanted to believe it or not, had once been people. Living, breathing, ordinary people. Soldiers, factory workers, accountants, politicians, diplomats, lawyers, judges, solicitors, policemen, children, child-care workers, hard working labourers. And the Reapers had sucked the life from their bodies; leaving them an empty husk, befitting of their name. Whatever had made them who they were was now gone, leaving their minds empty, memories erased and personality deleted, converting them into the perfect cannon fodder; creatures of cybernetic enhancement, dumber than shit, yet their minds filled with the voices of their masters; the heralds of the cycle.

So he peered down the scope, zooming in until he could see the street in perfect quality; and from there, he immediately spotted a nice batch of lives to end. These had once been people, and now he would put them out of their misery. Put their corpses to rest long after their minds had already been gone. End their corrupted, horrible existence.

True to form, a group of several dozen husks moved lazily down the street, as they had been for several hours now. Unless the Reapers demanded action of them or directed them personally, the husks just ran in circles and attacked whenever they found something that wasn't tainted by Reaper corruption.

He had even watched as one husk had startled a dog before proceeding to send it running into a pack of its buddies, all of them proceeding to tear the flesh from its bones, leaving nothing but a bloody skeleton when they were finished. They were animals, useful for nothing but killing. It was terrible.

He lowered his scope over the skull of the nearest husk and pulled the trigger, taking a shaky breath. His rifle jerked and a clean hole drilled right through the husk's eyes, sending its body flying backwards and lying twisted on the ground. He sighed, pulling back the slot and pushing it back again, before finding another target and repeating the action, leaving another husk dead. Or rather, destroyed. The person was already gone. You can't kill something that isn't alive.

Again and again, his rifle jerked against his shoulder, and again and again, a husk fell, their blood, if you could call it that, splattered across Winschester road.

He scanned across the road, and found another type of husk; a marauder. The creature seemed to be scanning the road, phaeston assault rifle baring down range and attempting to find the source of its cohorts' deaths. It gave a screech, as if angered by its inability to locate its target. Coats finished that when he lowered his crosshair over the turian husk's head; he depressed the trigger once, banging against shields. Twice, shields fizzled and died. Thrice, and the marauder's head blew apart, spreading bits of perverted brain matter across the surface of the abandoned Mako behind it.

His weapon hissed angrily as he removed the spent thermal clip, slapping in a fresh one before lowering his rifle once more with a fresh amount of fourteen shots. He found a husk, ready to blow its head wide open.

Then a distant roar, and he got just enough time to slide back into cover before an Oculi flew by, so close that he felt the wind whip at him as it went past. He heard a few more speed past before he dared to pop his head up again, finding the skies finally clear. That had been a very close call. Another one like that, and I don't think I'll be able to duck in time.

He took aim with his rifle again, preparing to fire at a brute crawling across the street. He noticed that a dozen others had joined it, along with what looked to be hundreds of marauders, cannibals, husks, abominations, scions and praetorians down the street. He widened his eyes at it, deciding that aggravating a force like that would probably rouse unwanted attention; plus, those praetorians could fly, and he'd seen alot of 'witty' snipers get mauled to death by the creatures. He wasn't taking any chances.

Besides, it wasn't unusual to see such large forces prowling the streets. Hundreds of thousands of fresh troops deployed on Earth everyday, and for every husk they killed, forty replaced it, or a hundred. The Reapers had an almost non-stop supply of fresh troops to call upon, and London was pretty much overrun. The surface just wasn't safe anymore; the resistance lived in the sewers and areas that the Reapers hadn't discovered, or levelled, yet.

He instead let his scope follow their path, which lead of the Thames river. The river was a horrible sight to look at now; what had once been prestine water flowing in a tight stream was now littered with dead bodies, wreckage and rubble, cluttering it to the point of almost blockading some sections. The bridge had been left intact, and he watched as the enemy troops crawled across, a brute grabbing and tossing away a skycar that had been in its way.

Then, out of nowhere, a pulsating bang, and a blinding blue flash whitewashed his scope but for a moment, before dimming down again.

He frowned, looking up at the source; coming from over the Thames river, but on the horizon. And his eyes were quick to find the source.

It was subtle at first, a tinge of blue on the cityscape. But then it glowed brighter, and flashed brilliantly again, seemingly piercing the skies and enveloping the entire city before breaking again, returning everything to normal. And this time, it was able to see it before it fully died down; a ball of brilliant blue eminating from from what appeared to be only a few kilometers away. Frowning, he put his weapon down, leaning against the crate he had found and hauled up here to hold his supplies, quickly grabbing the binoculars strapped to his waist and bringing them up to his eyes, bringing it to the highest zoom he could get.

He got what he wanted, and the origin hadn't exactly been what he expected. Hyde Park, one of the largest, if not the largest, park out of the eight Royal Parks in London, was almost located smack bang in the center of the city, and was essentially London's polar opposite of Central Park in NYC, UNAS. It was an almost perfect rectangular shape, with two lakes, one being larger than the other, and the rest almost like a forest. By itself it was a solid 625 acres large, combined with its associate area, the Kensington Gardens, which had been absorbed into the parks after the secession of Scotland from the United Kingdom almost a hundred years ago.

So it was weird when he zoomed in to find what looked to be three Reaper Destroyers stalking through the area, one knocking aside a building carelessly as it set up what looked to be a defensive perimeter, not that they needed one. The other two seemed to be examining the area, sizing it up for something...but for what?

What importance did Hyde Park hold to a force like the Reapers? It was an open area and held no tactical advantage for the resistance, and the Reapers were monoliths; they could cause a bushfire with one shot and Hyde Park would be ended, right there and then. Or they could just raze it. So why place so much importance on it? And just what was that blue flashing?

It flashed again, almost blinding him this time. Blinking rapidly, he was able to recover in time to watch the clouds around the blast part, as if disturbed by something. Okay, now he was really curious, the man pulling away his binoculars as he let out a low breath.

And then the loudest boom he had ever heard in his life echoed throughout the city, shaking the ground like an earthquake. The sound rang in his eardrums even after it was finished; he had heard many Reaper airhorns, but none had been that loud. Only one had ever been that loud, and his fears were confirmed when he watched the clouds part once more, the hand of God reaching down to smite the Earth.

The six kilometer tall behemoth smacked into the Earth with such ferocious force that the Scots and Irish likely felt it kilometers away in their own countries. Its legs cramped as it served as shock absorber from the landing, straightening until the unbelievably tall super-dreadnought almost touching the clouds with its intense height.

Christ...Coats exclaimed, feeling even tinier upon seeing it. He had seen Sovereign-Class capital ships that were two kilometers long, and they dwarfed Big Ben, as tall as it was. But this monstrosity was totalitarian; a true leviathan. Every footfall thundered across the ground, and he imagined it had firepower beyond that of any of its brethren; possibly even stronger kinetic barriers. He had never seen anything like it in his life; never even dreamed he would. It was the stuff of nightmares.

And unlike its fellow Reapers, this thing had eyes. Four, fiery golden irises that lingered upon its main body, looking as if they glowed with intense heat. He had heard reports of this titan, but he had never thought he'd see the thing face to face. It really ever landed on Earth ever since the Raze of Vancouver, prefering to remain in the space around Jump Zero; which, oddly enough, the Reapers hadn't even destroyed. They'd kept it around, for some nefarious purpose, he imagined.

Harbinger. That's what the reports called him; whether the Reapers called it that was unknown. But there was no doubting it; the rumors were real. The Leader of the Reapers was at Earth, and that meant trouble.

But if he was at Hyde Park, then there was something Coats didn't know. That noone knew about. And that meant trouble for humanity and their planet. Whatever the Reapers were planning over there, it wasn't good.

He was reenergized. The resistance needed to know about this. They needed to get the word out; the English, Scottish and Irish resistance couldn't work alone. They needed the help of the entire worldwide resistance; only then could they hope to make a difference. And they had to hook up with those Israelis; those tough nuts had taken out a destroyer; with a nuclear payload of course, but they had downed one, nonetheless. That counted for something.

So he collected his stuff. Took another swig, took a bite of one of his MREs, and then headed down the steps to head down to the bottom. He couldn't stay in London anymore; Earth needed to unite, globally. He needed to find a way out of England, to warn people of what was happening here. Because the Reapers were up to something, and if it involved Harbinger, then the word needed to be spread, and quickly. He would leave England, gather allies in Ireland and Scotland, and then leave for Europe; there he would gather allies abroad; Ukraine, Sweden, Finland, Romania, Germany, France, Switzerland, Luxembourg. He would find allies in all the countries all over the continents; Africa, India, China, Japan, Russia, Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand, Tasmania, Israel, Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Saudi Arabia; far and abroad he would go. And only when the resistance was united under one network would they return to his homeland, to England.

And by then, he hoped Shepard would return with the full might of an armada at his back.

Shit was going down on Earth.

{Loading...}

June 26, 2186

0956 hours.

Third Bayt Ha'mik Dash (The Third Temple), Old Jerusalem, State of Israel/Middle Eastern Confederacy, Earth.

The Reaper War, Occupation of Earth.

Rear Admiral David Edward Anderson, General Joshua David.

For a planet under siege, Jerusalem was relatively left untouched by the Reaper occupation.

It was funny, really. The whole world was burning; entire cities had fallen, entire nations crumbled, and their powerful leaders either indoctrinated, huskified or murdered. Any militaries had been annihilated, their nuclear capability stolen from them (at least most of it) and any help cut off. Anderson didn't know about the rest of the galaxy, but he knew this; Earth was on its own. Noone would be coming to help for awhile. At least not until Shepard brought the reinforcements and formed the armada.

But as untouched as Jerusalem was by the fighting, it wasn't totally ignorant of it. Explosions could be heard in the distance, and Reaper airhorns boomed through the air, clear as day. Thanix guns fired, missiles exploded, people shouted, mass acellerator fire echoed.

Israel, along with the rest of the world, had been overwhelmed. The Reapers had secured the Golan Heights first, and despite fierce resistance from the IDF, they couldn't hope to hold them off. It had been then that Joshua David, commander-in-chief of the Israeli Defense Force, had made the retreat to Tel Aviv, where the Israelis kept their secret stock of nuclear weapons; a violation of Alliance law, but in times like this, he didn't think anyone was around to give a shit.

Tel Aviv had fallen, but had been the birth of a miracle; a brave squad of Shayatet 13, Israeli special forces, had boarded a destroyer using a Krav Maga gunship, which was superior almost in every way to the galaxy-wide used and accepted A-67 Mantis Gunship, and then detonated a 42 kiloton nuclear payload within the abomination. The squad lost their lives, and Tel Aviv was almost entirely razed, but the destroyer had been destroyed, showing everyone on Earth that the Reapers weren't gods and weren't invincible; after that, there had been cheer over the comms in hebrew dialect.

But now only Jerusalem remained; possibly the last city on Earth left untouched.

That had confused him, but it hadn't surprised Israel. They were convinced that their God was watching over them, keeping the Reapers away. Others believed the Reapers were agents of God himself, sent to right the sins of humanity and punish the unbelievers. They didn't represent the majority opinion however.

As it was, Anderson and what resistance was left from his journey through Asia and Europe were pretty well accounted for. They had food, water and accomodations that were as good as they going to get. He thought of this as he took a swig of a water bottle he was given, and then sunk his teeth into the loaf he was given, enjoying the heavenly taste of it.

Jerusalem was a beautiful city, even in its state. Currently, there was the old and new cities. Old Jerusalem was a relic of hundreds of years, while New Jerusalem was a sign of economical and technological evolution. New Jerusalem was a jewel among the Alliance, even compared to colonies like Elysium, Bekenstein and Horizon. Gleaming skyscrapers that reached into the sky, the Star of David flapping in the wind, tall and proud; a symbolism of a people who had outlasted the best the world could throw at them. The Roman Empire, the Egyptian Kingdoms, the tribes of Canaan, the Babylonians, the British Empire, Nazi Germany, the Palestinians and all the other Arab nations, the persecution of the UN, the nuclear attack of Iran, and the United States Invasion of the West Bank. They had survived them all, bested them all. And they were still here. Anderson had to give it to them; he was agnostic himself, but these people, these Jews, were proud of who they were, loved their God, and continued despite the hate thrown at them.

He sat in Old Jerusalem, at the steps of the Third Temple, a fable among the people of Israel and a monument they would defend to the last breath; with the power of God, they'd have you believe. The first had been destroyed by Babylon, the second by General Titus of Rome. But now the Third Temple stood, built in the seven years following the nuclear annihilation of Iran in 2018, and it was a powerful symbol indeed. A true sign of Israeli ingenuity.

He shot a look at the Israeli soldiers standing infront of them. They wore armor built by the long lasting Rafael Industries; state-of-the-art, heat-resistant, medium strength Samson combat armor, outfitted with light-weight plating and reinforced welding, allowing the user to move quickly across a long distance whilst being adequately protected. The star of David, as always, was prominent on their armor's left breast, and their helmet was sealed, olfactory filters switched on to filter out any deadly contaminants. They carried old model Shalom VII marksman rifle; they fired high-velocity depleted uranium rounds that melted through the armor on tanks and unleashed hell on husks. They were obselete compared to the current Shalom X marksman rifles, which used a combination of eezo and polonium, but still pretty damn effective.

A single Mako was parked on the road, and he listened and watched as a Merkava Mark XII drove by, medium sized turret rotating on a large body as it escorted a convoy of grizzly tanks, driving with the speed of a Hammerhead, but with the stability of a Mako. However, considering its rifled barrel and artillery like performance, that didn't constitute for much.

It had been a long journey to this part of the world. The Reaper presence had been heavier in the countryside than they had expected, and they had been forced to land on Japan's southeast coast and take smaller ships to the mainland due to a battlegroup of a dozen or so Raven-Class Swipers, which had been swiping through the ocean with methodical precision; they knew of humanity's affinity of submarines and water-based ships, and had prepared accordingly, apparently. They were even swiping the coast; Anderson had watched the distance as the swipers found their beached fleet and completely destroyed it, decimating what was left of the UNAS navy.

Reaching Manchuria hadn't been as difficult. Getting through China was a pain, as the entire country had urbanized quite a bit over the past century, and ever since the end of the 21st Century, Hong Kong has transformed into a mega city, with Beijing developing into one of the biggest population centers in human history, with a whopping one billion residents. Now, it was likely one billion husks.

Still, despite this, they had cut through southern China and into the Indian Protectorate, which had absorbed Pakistan in 2061 after the Third Indian-Pakistani War, and then moved along the coast until they entered the Middle East. After crossing the borders of No Man's Land; the remnants of Iran, they had met their problems, which came in the form of an ambush by indoctrinated Syrian troops, who had proceeded to kill the man he had come to know as a friend; Sheriff Yanus Barnes. However, they eventually escaped, and afterwards, managed to find their way to Jerusalem, and hence his current predicament.

He felt an itch around his forehead and promptly removed his Admiral's cap, dusting it off as he dropped it unceremoniously into his lap, which was just as dirty. His uniform had seen alot of wear and tear, and he knew when this was over, he'd probably have to decomission it. It certainly wasn't fit for duty any longer.

He heard footsteps echo down the temple steps, and he had to twist in the spot to see who it was. The familiar face of Joshua David appeared, grizzled face covered in scars and dust, with a short, but gruff, beard, heavy, sulken eyes and a cipper splayed across his scalp. He removed it, folding it and placing it in his left pocket before retrieving his helmet and snapping it into place over his head, his voice like sandpaper as he spoke, "Troopers, Baruch Hashem, may Hashem watch over us and protect us all in his light. Amen. Shabbut Shalom."

"Shabbut Shalom," the soldiers replied in unison, snapping crisp salutes. Anderson knew enough about the Sabbath to know that this day, this Saturday, was the holiest of all holy days on the Israeli calender; a day of relaxation. The Reapers had violated that sanctity, and to most Israelis, that was enough to enrage them.

He nodded, turning to Anderson, "I trust your accomodations are not too bad, Admiral? We don't get many Alliance brass down in Israel, so you'll have to excuse us for not being more...formal."

He snorted, dusting himself off as he came to stand, "I don't think my comfort matters much, General. Not in times such as this."

"Do you believe in God, Admiral?" the general asked, taking Anderson off guard. That was a very irrelevant question, but one he chose to answer was a courtesy.

"I am not," Anderson replied, "Although, I am very open to the idea."

"That is good. Forgive my bluntness Admiral, but I must be blunt," he slapped his back, and he swore he saw the man's eyes sparkle with mirth, "But only a fool, deep down in his heart, does not believe in God."

Anderson wasn't satisfied by that remark, as it was quite...arrogant, in a certain context, but he chose not to ponder on it. They had larger concerns, "How goes the defense of the city?"

"That is a good question," the general replied, quickly keying his helmet comm, "Wall, how goes the defense? Has there been any change?"

The man's response seemed to satisfy the commander, as he simply nodded with a long winded sigh, "Copy Wall, keep watch," he turned back to Anderson and shrugged, "Unchanged. Our artillery and Merkavas are hitting them with everything they have, but they refuse to engage us. They don't send any troops, they don't return fire, and they make no moves to breach our walls. They always keep a distance of exactly 2.6 kilometers and no closer. They raze everything else, but leave us totally alone. I'd narrow it down to siege tactics, but these bastards have firepower capable of levelling cities in an hour. They could steamroll us if they wanted to; but they don't. And they don't seem to mind when we make supply runs for food and water. They just shrug off our attacks, and they haven't sent troops to breach the walls. I'm starting to think they're just playing with us."

Anderson creased his lips; this had been the story for the past two days. All of Israel was Reaper occupied territory, but when it came to Jerusalem, they seemed completely uninterested in attacking the city. It was odd, out of place for Reaper strategy. Their method of operation was to attack anything and everything in sight that isn't Reaper, regardless of identity, origin or affiliation. Even their indoctrinated agents got the right end of the stick when they fullfilled their purpose. But when it came to this one city, they just stopped. What was it that made them stop?

Joshua spoke again, bringing him from his thoughts, "Where is the prime minister? Are the rabbis safe?"

"They are currently gathered in the Knesset, sir," the soldier replied. Anderson knew they were all speaking in hebrew, but once again, the miracles of translation software really did help matters, "They're in session, last I checked. Something about a worldwide resistance."

"Sounds like a fool's agenda," the general scoffed, moving down the steps as several troopers followed behind him, all wearing uniforms with the Mossad Intelligence Agency insignia plastered on their back, "What do we hope to achieve? Our militaries are scattered to the wind, and the Reapers own almost every scrap of land we have. The Final War of Gog and Magog is upon us; our species has finally found a war that is tactically unwinnable," he sighed as he reached the Mako, Anderson and his men following behind him, "Only God can save us now."

"Final War of Gog and Magog?" one of Anderson's men asked, frowning as he holstered his predator sidearm, "What is that? I've never heard of it."

"Armageddon, trooper," Joshua replied with what seemed to be smug indifference, as if you should know about it, the hatch for the mobile tank opening before him as his troops moved inside, "The final war of humanity as said in the Torah. Gog and Magog will engage in a final battle that will choose the fate of nations. Magog, the hostile nations, shall launch a simultaneous assault upon the Jewish people in a final attempt to annhilate them. And in that one moment, Hashem shall show himself, annihilate the armies of Magog in flashes of bright light, and show the people unity and prosperity. All shall know Hashem, and all war shall end. Swords will become shovels, shields shall become plows.' This is that war, but in a different form. The Reapers will attack us, and only after God has annihilated them with his might, will we know peace."

Anderson had to admit that was deep, but it seemed nonsensical to assume that the Reapers were Magog.

They all piled into the Mako, the vehicle driving down the road as it moved towards the Knesset building; the seat of Israeli parliament and theocracy, and the capital of the Middle Eastern Confederacy. Israel was essentially the defacto capital of the united middle eastern nations, as were provided in the Damascus-Jerusalem Treaty of 2047 after the end of the Third World War, which made all the countries answer to Israel, and could not initiate any actions without ultimate consent of the Knesset. It would also the first time Israel announced its economical independence of the United States, developing a swift and powerful economy of its own, and assuming control of the Middle East's oil reserves; something that would become irrelevant a century later when NASA discovered the Mars Archives.

The Knesset building was impressive by itself; a huge skyscraper flanked by four others, all linked by sky bridges. It was an impressive piece of Israeli engineering, and effectively towered over the UAE's (which was now dissolved as per the Damascus-Jerusalem Treaty and split into four countries, all of which was owned by the countries around it) Burj Khalifa skyscraper, which had been the tallest tower in the world before hand. It was gigantic.

They all had separate functions; the middle tower was the Knesset building itself and all its departments. The first tower belonged to the embassies housing all the subjugated Arab nations, from the saudis to Syria. The second tower was for military leadership and contained the Israeli High Command, FleetCom, both sea and space. The third tower belonged to the Systems Alliance Israeli HQ, as the MEC was part of the Alliance. And the fourth tower was recent, still under construction, and had been planned to be the headquarters of the ICMA (Israeli Colonial Management Administration), which was a new development after Israeli authorities laid claim to the abandoned Freedom's Progress colony and, instead of following protocol and claiming it in the name of the Systems Alliance, claimed it in the name of the MEC. This started a new wave of Israeli space colonization; something that had seriously pissed off Alliance parliament before its destruction.

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he turned to the General, who sat in the co-pilot seat, "You wouldn't happen to have anyway of communicating with the outside would you?"

"Indeed we do," he replied curtly. Seeing as Anderson was not satisfied with that answer he growled, spinning to face the man with an irritated face, "You think Cerberus was the first to develop quantum entanglement? Refael's communications division's been working on that for at least a full year and a half. Ours wasn't as perfected, but we had it before those bastards did. Now we've perfected it. Its our only form of communications now; we want to talk with the White House or Kremlin, we send a message through QEC. Why? You need it?"

The Normandy has quantum entanglement. And Hackett. Maybe I can find out what's going on out there. He shifted forward, grunting, "I need access to one of those QECs to make contact with Admiral Hackett. You heard of Shepard?"

"The Hero of the Citadel? Of course I know him. He's one of us," Joshua grinned at that, "Why? Do you?"

"Yes," he replied bluntly, "I need a QEC to make contact. His ship's outfitted with one, and I just happen to know the frequency."

"Guess it wouldn't help to know what's going on out there," the general nodded, conceding as he turned to the man behind him, "Trooper, once we're inside, get him to a QEC as soon as possible."

Joshua had been true to his word. Anderson had hardly gotten any time to explore or examine the building before he was introduced to a dark room, the soldier standing crisply at the doorway as he addressed the chief tech, who had been bent over the console and examining it. He looked surprised by the Alliance officer present, but seemed to relent when the soldier told him why he was here. He activated it, the familiar blue hum of the device lighting up the room dimly as it became charged. And after that, both men left, leaving him alone.

Without hesitation, he moved up to the control console, imputting the frequency needed to access the Normandy's QEC. Once imputted, he stepped onto the device, watching it glow and spark as a line of energy moved up his body, coating him in holographic pixels. By the time it was finished, he found himself, or at least thought he found himself, in the Normandy's QEC center.

He examined the dark room to find the control console, with a dark-skinned woman he recognized crouched over and typing into it. She didn't seem to notice him.

"Specialist Traynor," his voice caused her to almost jump back, eyes shooting up as she met his own, "Hard at work, I see."

"Admiral Anderson, sir!" she shot up, snapping a salute as quickly as she could, almost stumbling over herself as she did,

He returned the salute, waving hers down, "At ease, specialist. Is the Normandy docked?"

"We're under repairs, but that's a long story, sir," Samantha replied, dropping her hand as she braced against her console, "May I ask how you got access to a QEC sir?"

"I'm in Israel. They happen to have alot," Anderson replied, grinning slightly. But then the urgency returned, and he cleared his throat, eager to continue, "Specialist, I need you to get the comm-the captain." He had to remember that he had given the man a promotion before he left, so he wasn't really a commander anymore.

A familiar voice entered the room, laced with surprise, "I'm right here, Anderson."

His head turned to face the man, and he was shocked by what he saw. Anderson must have looked in perfect shape by his standards; the man's uniform was ruffled, like he had been sleeping in it, he moved around sluggishly, and he seemed to brace against the wall like it was the only thing helping him stand. It was quite the shock.

"Specialist, leave us," to his credit, Shepard's voice was as strong and commanding as it always was, and Samantha hastily left, the door closing behind them. Marcus sighed in that moment, moving over as he crossed his arms, standing straighter, "Anderson. Its...good to see you. How goes the resistance?"

He shook his head, rubbing his temples as he took his cap off once more, "Shoddy, at best. Nothing organized yet, and I'm currently stuck in Jerusalem. Reapers seem to be leaving it well enough alone, and Israel's military is strong enough to put up a decent fight. I'll bunker down here for now, but there's been word of a worldwide resistance. Hopefully its something fruitful. Otherwise, its looking very bleak."

"Not much better up here, I'm afraid," Marcus replied, "In addition to Earth, the turian primarch has just been forced to retreat from Palaven. Illium, Noveria and Feros has fallen, Omega is under Cerberus control, and the Citadel just survived an attempted siege by Cerberus forces. Happened about four days ago."

"Cerberus?" he frowned, surprised by that information. Omega? A siege of the Citadel? Where did Cerberus get that kind of power? "How the hell did they manage that?"

The man shrugged, "I was just as surprised. Apparently, in the six months I've been locked up, Cerberus has been militarizing. They've got their own navy and army, and they've been pestering us for the majority of the war. They were on Noveria before it fell, they had taken Eden Prime before I helped liberate it, they've taken Omega thanks to a former Alliance general, and apparently they've developed their own Normandy rip-off. Hence why the Normandy is under repairs; had a run in with it."

He whistled, shaking his head as his hands clasped behind his back, "The Illusive Man has certainly been busy. Not too much trouble, I hope?"

"Not much. We've defeated them in almost every situation so far, and we've achieved quite a bit," he seemed to cheer up at this, coming to stand straighter, "The armada, Anderson? We call it the United Galactic Confederacy, or UGC for short. I've acquired the support of what's left of the batarians, the hanar, elcor and the volus, as well as Aria T'Loak, which means I have all the mercenary groups, including the Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack. It took curing the genophage to get the krogan's support, but we got it and, along with it, we got the turian hierarchy on our side. And now, just recently, I've got the support of the salarians and there's a decision pending with the Republics on whether the asari will add to that. Overall, its looking pretty damn good."

Curing the genophage? Anderson thought, feeling his jaw almost drop. But he kept his mouth in a firm line of professionalism, resisting the urge to grin. Never the one for simple things; always got to change history along the way. Next, he'll tell me he's retaken Rannoch and gotten the quarians and geth to work together. He nodded, "Good job, Shepard. But we need the whole galaxy united, not just a few disparate groups," he frowned, gulping, "You didn't mention the quarians or the geth. How about them?"

Marcus sighed, nodding, "That'll be the next thing on the agenda. No idea what's up with the quarians, but I'll try to make contact with the geth; secure them Rannoch, if possible. Getting both of them on our side will be a bonus for all of us. They have more ships than all the Council races combined, not to mention the firepower. The geth don't have an economy or budget holding them back, and they don't have civilians."

"Indeed," he replied appropriately, liking where this was going, "Once they're on our side, we might be good to go."

"There's something else Anderson," Marcus began, clearing his throat as braced against the console, "We found schematics for a prothean superweapon in the Mars Archives called the Crucible. The protheans, apparently, had found blueprints for a weapon the Inusannon constructed capable of wiping out the Reapers. Its been under construction for quite awhile, and while its only halfway towards completion, it could be our path to victory. We need to find something called the catalyst first however; it apparently helps the weapon differentiate between everything else and the Reapers. Once we have it however...we can use it to wipe out the Reapers. We might not even need the fleets, but its better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it, I guess."

His eyes widened at this revelation, amazed by the sheer progress made, but this Crucible peaked his interests the most by far. A weapon that could annihilate the Reapers and end the cycle once and for all? Seems a bit lucky, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Better to take every possibility of victory we can.

Then came the real nutcracker. The war itself. Anderson knew Marcus was no stranger to losing friends and soldiers, but he had grown especially close to his particular cohort. He had been present at the man's wedding and met almost all of them; Marcus saw them as extended family.

"The war must have taken its toll," he stated, hoping Marcus picked up on what he meant.

"It..." the man began, choking up before he could finish. After a minute, he picked up again, sighing, "The war is nowhere close to over, and I've already lost too many friends, Anderson. Jacob Taylor, Mordin Solus, and, recently, Thane Krios."

Anderson knew all three of them, especially Jacob Taylor. He had offered the man time as an alliance marine, but he had politely refused, stating he was loyal to Shepard and wanted to build his own path. He couldn't believe the man was dead, "What happened?"

"Mordin died curing the genophage. He was the one to formulate it afterall. He died a hero to the krogan," upon finishing his sentence, Anderson noticed the man's hands tighten on the rail in anger, "Lost Jacob on Noveria. It came under attack from Cerberus, and we were almost done evacuating when this cowardly piece of shit killed him. He goes by the name Kai Leng. He killed Thane too during the Citadel Siege, but only after Thane had kicked his ass and stopped him from assassinating Councilor Valern. And that brings me to what I think you're going to want to hear the most," his eyes met Anderson's, fully of shock and anger, "Udina's dead. He was working for Cerberus."

Anderson couldn't help widening his eyes this time. What!? I knew Udina was always a human centralist, but I never thought he'd go that far! Betraying us to Cerberus? Still, in the end, only one thing mattered: was the position filled? He shared no love for Udina, and he knew the feeling was mutual, and wasn't sad to see him go, especially after learning of his treachery, "I assume a new councilor has been elected."

Marcus nodded, "Dominic Osoba. You'd like him; very militaristic and quick on his feet. He'll be better than Udina."

He nodded, sighing. And it finally came down to this. Just how was the man fairing? He looked like shit, and that was no overstatement. He looked like he hadn't slept well in weeks, and his body looked tanned and pitifully looked after, more so than he was, "You haven't told me about you Marcus; how are you? You don't look too good."

"To be honest with you sir, I don't feel much of anything these days," he replied curtly, refusing to meet Anderson's gaze, "I've become...slightly impartial to all that's been happening. You never get used to it, but I'm numb to it. Its just how the Reapers work, and I'm just glad I don't have to stick around on a colony too long to see what they do to the populace. As selfish as it sounds, the Normandy feels safe. I know it isn't, but compared to everywhere else, it feels like a damn safehouse. And then you got the Illusive Man...I can't believe it, Anderson. I didn't want to, but I think TIM isn't just working with the Reapers, I think he's indoctrinated. All of Cerberus. I don't know how it happened or when, but it did, and now I feel like we're fighting a war on two fronts. One side you have Cerberus, and the other you have the Reapers. And there just doesn't seem to be an end to any of it."

"Everything has an end," the rear admiral sternly dictated, "You just need to ignore your sore ankles and get to it. You're a soldier, Marcus; you'll toughen up and stride on, because nobody else will. Besides, when this war is over, you can retire: I know you've earned it. Settle down, live with your pretty wife," he said with his nostalgic and sentimental longing, remembering his own past mistakes as his smile grew, not quite reaching his eyes, and he knew it, "Do what I should have done but never did. Don't forsake everything you have for the service, Marcus. When the war is over, its over. Just quit, take your wife, and live your life. The military isn't a career; don't make it one."

The soldier didn't seemed uplifted this, he actually seemed...sadder? Anderson couldn't quite tell, as the man refused to look him in the eye. His body simply sagged before nodding, "I'll keep that in mind, Anderson. Right now, I've got to go. There's...alot to do."

Anderson nodded, "Very well, I'll try to keep posted as much as possible. You have my frequency, so keep me updated of anything that happens. Earth is waiting patiently, Marcus."

"I haven't forgotten Earth, sir," he replied firmly, "Shepard out."

He was nodding even as the console dimmed and he stepped off the plate. That had been quite interesting, but Marcus' demeanour had been questionable. The very mention of the word 'wife' seemed to have made him sadder, and he couldn't understand why. He didn't mention her in the casualty report, so what's wrong, I wonder?

His thoughts didn't get time to process as the door behind him opened again, and he spun to see General David.

He nodded to the man, who just stared at him. He frowned, crossing his arms, "Is there something wro-?"

"We just got word from the resistance in Germany. They just joined up with the English, Irish and Scottish resistance," he stated, "And now they're uniting Europe. It seems that someone has finally decided to make an organized effort. And from what we got over the channels is that they plan on coming here and making this their headquarters."

Anderson's eyes widened at that, clearly having not expected that, "Already? Did they say who was forming this resistance?"

"Someone by the name of Major Coats. He said something about 'the time for action is now' and 'danger is building in London.' Whatever the hell that means," he sighed, squaring his shoulders, his helmet off and tucked under one arm as two of his soldiers flanked him, "What does it matter? What matters is that we've got probably every damn human left in the world willing to pick up a gun coming down here and the Knesset doesn't know what to do with them. We've got our own people to protect."

"We can't fight the Reapers alone, General. None of us can," he replied, moving closer until he was inches away, "But what did Coats mean 'danger is building in London'? Did he elaborate at all?"

He shrugged again, a common trait with this decorated commander, "He said something about a Harbinger, and how there seems to be massive Reaper activity in London, or something. Nothing we don't already know. Reaper activity is massive all over the damn planet. London isn't special."

Anderson felt his throat tighten at that. Harbinger is in London? This is serious indeed. Harbinger never landed on Earth unless it was important; in Vancouver, Shepard had been there. But in London? What was so important about that city that required its attention? Whatever it is, it can't spell good for us. "Helping that resistance might just be our top priority, General. If Harbinger is in London, then something big is going on and we need to find out what. Getting to London needs to be a top priority."

"Who the hell is Harbinger?" one trooper asked, garnering a glare from his superior officer. The soldier nodded, muttering silent apologies through a firm salute, before falling silent again.

"While I'll excuse his rash behaviour, his question is a good one. Who is this Harbinger and why do you say its name like its something we should fear above all else?"

"The Leader of the Reapers, General. The very core of their armada, and the deadliest, most powerful Reaper in existence," he stated firmly, "He is six kilometers in size, and has more thanix cannons on his form than a dreadnought has GARDIAN batteries. The bastard is the most chilling creature you'll ever encounter, and he rarely lands on Earth unless something big is about to happen," he moved in, eyes full of steel, "Right now, he is in London, and we're going to find out just why, because it could mean our extinction, General. Is that a good enough answer for you?"

He certainly hoped it would.

Because whatever was going on London could change the course of the war entirely.

Little did he know it, but Anderson was right. London would change the course of the war completely.

And the site of the biggest battle in history.

{Loading...}

July 3, 2186

1357 hours.

Main Bridge, Wyoming-Class Destroyer QMFV Machina, Migrant Fleet, In Orbit over Rannoch, Tikkun System, Perseus Veil Cluster.

Second Morning War, First Battle of Rannoch.

Admiral Tali'Shepard vas Machina, Commander Igra'Trasp vas Machina, Quartermaster Gunner Sama'Raan vas Machina.

It had all gone so well. Her fleet had taken the Far Rim Cluster, overwhelming the geth forces there and easily taking Haestrom, pushing the geth back to the Perseus Veil. From there, she had linked up with the rest of the Migrant Fleet and pushed deeper and deeper into the Veil, taking back more and more of their old territory, until eventually they had taken every system within, except the one that mattered the most; Tikkun, home system of the quarian species.

They had moved inside, taking world after world, until eventually they reached Rannoch. The homeworld was beautiful; a garden world comparable to Earth, but with 32 hour days, a drier, more arid climate, less oceans and more land, and slightly smaller, but only slightly. Overall, Rannoch was just what the ancestors had described it as. Her people were coming home. Their three hundred year exile was over.

And then they had made the final push, and everything had fallen apart.

They had the geth fleet completely surrounded; reinforcements were scattered across the cluster, but wouldn't reach them for several hours, so for now, they had the bulk of the geth navy situated over Rannoch; a mighty thirty thousand ships, with one thousand and ninety-seven capital ship weight, largely battleships and carriers, ten thousand cruiser weight, and the others being destroyers, frigates and many fighters. Usually, this would be more than enough to overwhelm the quarian fleet, but they had their secret weapons, and so Tali had sent their first wave forward; a picket of four hundred heavy cruisers, six hundred and twelve frigates and one thousand fighter wings, which was hoped would breach the geth lines with their scramblers, allowing second wave, which was the bulk of the heavy fleet and some of the patrol fleet mixed together as reserves, spearheaded by her flagship, to move in and decimate the geth line, allowing them the ability to FTL rabbit inside the enemy formation and cripple them from the inside and out. A turkey shoot, as Marcus would call it.

But when she sent first wave forward, she had sent them right into a trap.

She didn't know how they had done it, but when her ships had fired their scramblers, which should have stunned the geth ships like a flashbang grenade, the geth ships had continued forward, totally unaffected. Their weapons had opened fire, with greater accuracy and power than they had before, tearing into their lines. They FTL rabbitted right into the quarian formation, with frigates being torn to shreds and cruisers blowing apart as the geth ships mercilessly targetted and annihilated them. At first it had been frigates, but then geth cruisers moved in, and finally, the arrival of two geth battleships had forced her to order her ships to fall back and regroup while the reserves attempted direct interception.

Backed by fighter wings, her ships had managed to cripple a geth light cruiser attempting to retreat, while their combined firepower, with support from fighters, tackled and destroyed two more frigates before, yet again, their attacks were impeded, beginning the cycle again. The geth poured their ships through the holes made, beginning to lay waste to the quarian fleet.

What had been a rapid victory, was turning into rapid destruction for the quarian forces and the worst thing was...

...they had no idea how.

Our weapons were working just fine! She growled inwardly, flinching as her ship shook once more from a kinetic impact. Now all of a sudden they're totally immune! Tali had to wonder if this had been a geth trap all along; had they planned this? But if so, why even bother with the secrecy? Why not simply destroy the quarian ships? They were completely superior. No, something else had happened to make the geth so powerful. They were machines, yes, but they had never been so accurate as to be able to snipe a heavy cruiser from a distance several billion kilometers away. No ship in the galaxy, even the geth, had that sort of range capability. So where the hell had this sudden surge of power come from? Why was their victory being turned into a rout?

And that's what it was; entire ships were abandoning their formations and fleeing, entire squadrons of cruisers striking their colors and making best speed for the relay, only to be rallied by Koris' Civilian Fleet. One by one, they routed, fleeing before the might of the geth armada; an ironic repeat of the exile that had happened three hundred years prior.

And now Tali's ship was to be subjected to the full brunt of the enemy assault, her ship shaking almost constantly as shots impacted its kinetic barriers, her pilot doing her best to avoid the shots trying to hit them, but against the geth's insanely accurate weaponry, it was a moot point; even Joker couldn't dodge some of these shots.

"Bring the GARDIANs up and online and lock onto that frigate!" she ordered, gripping her seat in a painful grip as she spun to face her navigator, "Helm, bring us around so we're facing that bosh'tet on a broadside!"

"Ma'am, we'll be more vulnerable to those guns!" helm replied.

Sama was quick to shout her own alarm, "Geth frigate bearing weapons and charging! We have ten seconds before they open fire!"

"Those are your damn orders, so execute them!" Tali snarled, almost flying from her chair as a rocket slammed into the Machina's hull. Their kinetic barriers continued to hold, but that would change very soon if they didn't break this hold the geth had.

In the moment it took for their ship to come into broadside, Tali was given a full view of the monster of a ship that commanded the geth fleet; a super-dreadnought. Geth dreadnoughts were rare and few, yes, but none were as big or powerful as the monster seen before them. This super-dreadnought was the same size as a Sovereign-Class Reaper, if not slightly bigger, being 2.3 kilometers in length. It had infrared GARDIAN batteries, heavy plasma turrets and mortars lined along its hull. It even had fourteen thanix cannons; a lesson they had learnt when Gerrel attempted to send the Montgomery, a commandeered Cerberus warship from a year ago, to take out the ship, but had only been forced to watch as it was cut clean in half by a single red lance of energy. So ended the attempts by the Migrant Fleet to even attack the ship; they stayed well out of its range.

But its most fearsome feature was its titantic main gun; superior to the standard MAC in almost every way, this 'energy projector' as they called it was capable of channelling enormous amounts of plasma into a single shot. The results were devastating; she had watched five cruisers become vaporized by a single shot; just blinked out of existence. The weapon, luckily, could only fire every 60 seconds, but when it did...well, even a dreadnought couldn't stand up to its power. It was unbelievably powerful, easily outmatching anything the Reapers had by far. She doubted even Harbinger would be able to stand up to it; in the end, plasma beat thanix cannons.

Her attention was brought back to the battle before them as Sama announced they were opening fire, and their ship shuddered as it unleashed their payload. She watched the tactical screen on her chair, cursing in numerous khelish phrases her mother would scold her for as she noted that their barrage only depleted about half of the frigate's shields; normally, it would penetrate its shielding and then some, but with the geth's sudden upgraded capability, they seemed to be able to take alot more punishment. Where are they getting these damn upgrades from!?

She didn't hear helm's shout of warning as the geth salvo impacted, and this time, Tali was thrown from her chair. Her mask slammed into the ground, but thanks to the reinforced glass, not even a crack appeared. She watched a console explode, shrapnel embedding itself in the face of its quarian operator as he slumped back in his chair, red blood spurting from a ruptured mask. More consoles exploded, fires breaking out along the bridge as her crew tried to rein them in. It was complete chaos.

She struggled to get up, only for the ship to shake again, forcing her back to the ground. She growled, trying to push herself up. She needn't have bothered, as a slim hand slid under her arm and pulled her up, Tali finding herself looking into Igra's eyes.

"Are you alright, captain!?" she shouted, trying to get heard over the sounds of explosions rocking the ship.

"I'll be fine! Damage report!" she roared, moving to stand infront of her command chair, which had been yanked from its base and tossed across the room haphazardly. She stood over the corpse of her former navigation officer, Sama, who had been thrown from her console, a wreckage embedded in her chest.

"Fires in engineering and on Decks 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9!" her comms officer shouted, "Four GARDIAN batteries offline! MAC operational, but our point lasers are flaf deh'ca leet! We're running on bare minimal power; engineering says we can't manage military speed without overloading the drive core!"

Tali saw the helplessness of their situation and growled, shouting as she gave the order, "Retreat! All ships, forego the regroup! Fall back to the heavy fleet! Order the Patrol Fleet to cover our withdrawal! All units, fall back to the relay!"

"Negative, Admiral!" her comm officer replied, turning to face her with what looked to be fear, "The geth have cut us off! Their reinforcements have arrived and have cut us off from the relay!"

Her eyes widened in panic, finding herself at a loss for what to do. No, my people can't go out like this. I promised Marcus, I promised...She tried to think of what to do, what he would do in a situation like this, but found herself empty-handed. Her people were trapped in a pincer movement with the geth closing from all sides. There would be no escape from this.

There was only one option. Only one way to save the quarian people, and it wouldn't be from within.

They needed help.

A fire filled her. I need you, Marcus.

"Ma'am!" her comms spoke again, Tali merely giving a nod as she watched the Machina, followed by the remnants of first and second wave, begin to fall back towards the Civilian Fleet, which was now repositioning so that the Heavy Fleet, Special Projects and Patrol Fleet could protect it from the flanking geth, "We've got the Admiralty Board on the comm!"

"Put them through!" Tali barked, hands clasping behind her back and straightening her posture, despite her ship's predicament.

"Admiral Shepard, this is Admiral Xen! I have found the source of the geth upgrades!" she growled, but Tali noted the shock in her voice, "Its that damn geth super-dreadnought! It seems to be transmitting a signal to the geth fleet that's giving them enhanced code...it makes them more intelligent, helps them think faster and...keelah...they're...they're..." she cut her surprise off, but Tali took note that Xen had sounded more than just shocked by whatever she saw, "Whatever it is, its what's giving the geth their edge! Judging by the code and what we've seen, its save to assume that the code...the code is Reaper!"

Her eyes widened, and her posture slackening from the words leaving her mouth. It all makes sense now. Her ship shook again from an impact, Igra stopping her from falling as a second hit, then a third, and fourth, and then it stopped. They were clearly being pursued. She should have known the Reapers would take advantage of a situation like this. The Reapers must have indoctrinated the geth and influenced them to destroy the quarians while they dealt with the rest of the galaxy. The perfect strategy; both would weaken themselves in war, and when it was over, the Reapers could move in and finish the job. They're...they're toying with us! Using the geth as a means to an end!

"Admirals, we cannot hope to win this battle! The geth are simply too powerful!" Tali declared, gulping as she considered the ramifications of what she was considering. But it had to be done; if the quarian people wanted to survive, they needed to call for help, "I recommend boarding the Depaxia, all four of you, and heading to the Far Rim Cluster. From there, you must send a distress call to the Citadel. Tell them we are in major need of assistance!"

The Depaxia was the second in the quarians' line of stealth ships, used as envoy ship. And now it could be the only hope they had of escaping the system. And Shala had her son with her; getting him out of this battle would save her alot of heartache. Losing her mother was one thing...losing her own son was another.

"The Citadel? They won't help us! They will never help the Migrant Fleet! They never have, and they never will!" Gerrel barked, "Besides, they have the Reapers to worry about!"

"Nevermind the Citadel! Its who'll pick up the transmission that matters!" Tali insisted, "Shepard is out there, my husband...is out there. The Council knows how much he cares about our people...they'll pass the message down to him and he'll send help immediately! He can help us! He is our only hope!"

Gerrel was still skeptical, damn him, "One human won't get us out of this muck, not even Shepard! You need-"

"What we need is his help!" Tali snapped, feeling a growl building in her throat as she clenched her fists, ignoring the tremor of the ship as it weathered more bombardment, "That man could very well be our last hope! Do you want to see Rannoch again? Then get Marcus Shepard over to the Far Rim and explain our predicament! I..." she gulped, closing her eyes as she willed herself to say the next few words, "...will stay behind to command the fleet in your absence. I just hope you get back here in time."

"We're risking alot by doing this, Admiral," Koris replied, "I hope you're right about Shepard."

"Believe me, Admirals," she replied. I wish I could go with them; I want to see Marcus so badly it hurts. But right now, he needs them more than he needs me. And I can't let my love for him get in the way of my duty. "He is the Avatar our people have been waiting for."

"We shall see," Gerrel replied, before his, Koris' and Xen's comm indicators winked out of existence. Soon, the Moreh, Neema, Qwib Qwib and Tonbay would dock with the Depaxia and leave for the Far Rim; leaving their fleet behind.

Shala remained, as per Tali's request, "Shala...please, take my son with you. I...I want him to be safe. And Marcus...he needs...he needs to be able to see his son. In case I...in case I don't..."

The admiral replied, cutting her off firmly, "I understand, Tali. Junior will be safe with me, and I shall make sure your husband knows he has a son who loves him...and a wife who loves him just as much. Keelah Se'lai, and ancestors be with you child." And with that, the Tonbay's indicator winked out. Tali was now left alone, solely just her, to lead 50,000 ships in a battle of survival against the geth.

She was afraid, terrified, and most of all enraptured in her duty. She missed Marcus so much, but her people needed her more. And she would never fail them. Never. She was the very definition of a patriot, and her devotion knew no bounds. At least her son would be safe.

She just hoped Marcus came quickly.

"Our reunion was close, but not close enough, if you ask me. It felt like an eternity until I saw you again."

- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.

"How do you think I felt? But...what was it I said before? Reunion forged in fire. Pretty badass stuff, eh?"

- Marcus Shepard.

"You're so full of yourself, Mark."

- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.

"You love me for it, though."

- Marcus Shepard.

"Relevance..."

- Reia'Inas pav Earth.

"Of course. Its funny, because events beforehand sort've made it convenient for what happened next."

- Marcus Shepard.

A/N:

One chapter left guys. The hype is real. The hype is VERY real.

Yes, I know Anderson's chapter was abit of an info dump, but I couldn't help it! I love establishing background story! And yes, I realize Tali's section was a bit rushed, but I honestly had no idea what to do with it, I just forced myself through it. I'll try to avoid that sort of laziness in further chapters.

Keelah Se'lai, troopers!