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Shepard was called in to join the leadership, and Garrus accompanied her to the makeshift War Table in the remnants of what had once been a fairly nice-looking building, if its ruins were any indication of its former glory. An overzealous Alliance marine at the door tried to keep Garrus out, but Shepard ignored him, blithely sweeping in with Garrus at her side. Not that he had been about to let anyone keep him from her. From this moment until the end of the Reaper war, however it happened, Garrus intended to be with Zia. No matter what.

Admiral Hackett was present in the meeting virtually, his form wavering as the signal did. He greeted Shepard as she came in. "Are you ready to bring the might of the galaxy to bear on the Reapers, Commander?"

"More than ready, sir. This has been a very long time coming."

"You're not kidding," Anderson said, lifting his cap to rub his face wearily. He replaced the cap, stretching, and returned to his map, and the stream of representatives from various troops who were coming in for orders.

"Are the fleets ready?" Shepard asked.

"Ready as they'll ever be."

"And the Crucible?"

Hackett actually smiled. "She's looking forward to getting her revenge."

Garrus wasn't clear on whether the Rachni Queen would be destroyed by joining with the Crucible or not. He hoped arrangements had been made in case she didn't survive it. Of course, he could hope the same for every one of the millions of people on Earth and on board the ships, as well. No doubt many had said their goodbyes, put their affairs in order, and made peace with their fate, whatever it was to be … and many hadn't. He had spoken briefly to his sister, pretending everything was going to be fine, and to his father, who understood the odds and had expressed a gruff and surprising pride in his son's accomplishments. Garrus was bemused by this—after spending so much of his life desperately looking for signs of approval from his father, to have it now, when it mattered less than it ever had before, seemed anticlimactic. He hadn't shared this feeling with his father, however, having hopefully learned a few things as he had bounced around the galaxy with Shepard. His father understood that whatever assets might survive if Garrus didn't were to be given to Solana to start a new life. Shepard's arrangements hadn't been discussed between them—Garrus had no intention of outliving her, ever again, and who else she chose to benefit had been her business, he felt. He knew she had spoken with her mother, and they had both said their goodbyes aboard the Normandy to their friends. They were as prepared to meet their fate as Garrus could imagine being.

"Everyone's here," Shepard said quietly to him. "Grunt, Wrex, Miranda, Kasumi, Tali, Vega, Cortez … the entire crew of the Normandy. If we lose today ..."

"Hey." He squeezed her shoulder. "If we lose today, every one of those people will be proud to have been part of this battle regardless, and will know that they gave their all to the cause. A person can't ask for more than that."

"They can ask to win."

"Yes. They can ask. But all you can promise is to do your best—you can't force life to go your way."

Shepard smiled. "You are such a turian."

"And you are very human. Part of your many charms." He chuckled. "When I met you, I had no clue what humans were about. I thought they were soft and a little ridiculous."

"And now?"

"Soft, definitely," he said, dropping his voice to a deeper, more intimate register. He raised it back to normal as he went on, "But in softness there can also be strength. I never knew that before. You taught me that."

"You really have come a long way. When we met, you would never have admitted anyone else could teach you anything."

"Well, where shooting is concerned—"

Shepard bumped her head against his carapace affectionately. "You taught me everything you knew. … And then I filled in the gaps."

"I'll get you for that later."

"I'll look forward to it."

"Anderson," Hackett was saying as Garrus and Shepard turned their attention back to the rest of the room, "if you're ready to get started, patch me through. I'd like to address the troops."

"Patching you through … now." Anderson gave Hackett a brief nod.

Hackett cleared his throat. "We stand on the brink of the greatest battle any of us has ever known. Never before have so many come together—from all quarters of the galaxy. Never before have we faced an enemy such as this. The Reapers will show us no mercy. We must give them no quarter. We mustn't rest, we mustn't pause, we mustn't stop. We must each give the last ounce of strength. They will terrorize our populations as they have been doing since they first attacked. We must stand fast in the face of that terror. We must be the strength our loved ones need to see. If not checked, they will advance and advance until our last city falls, but we must not falter. We must stand and face them as long as even one of us has the strength to keep standing."

Garrus thought of Javik, out there with the turian troops. He still stood, proving that the Protheans had not been entirely defeated. The last of them still faced the Reapers in battle today. Could this cycle do any less? No.

Hackett's image drew itself up, tall and strong. "We will prevail." He paused, then repeated the sentence. "We will prevail. We must. Each of us will be defined by our actions in the coming battle. Stand fast. Stand strong. Stand together. That is how we will win." He stood looking at all of them for a moment, then said firmly, "Hackett out," and was gone.

It had begun. Even now, Anderson was barking orders, and Shepard was leading the way out of the room toward the battle. There was no more time to waste, or wonder, or worry. Today would decide—everything.