Chapter 43: Why Do We Fall

I didn't go on my rounds.

On some level, I recognized how unusual that was. Normally I'd be wandering up and down the corridors of the ship by now, seeing the crew, hearing what they had to say.

Not this time, though. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't face the men and women under my command. Or the civvies and non-Alliance personnel who'd pinned their hopes on me in vain. I couldn't face their looks of disappointment at my failure. Or hear the accusations in their voices as they bombarded me with questions. What happened down on Thessia? Could you have succeeded if you did this instead of that? How could you fail?

Because I did fail. We had come here to find the Catalyst, or at least a clue to its location. And we—and I—had failed. Without the Catalyst, the Crucible was just one enormous, expensive paperweight floating in some distant part of the galaxy. All the resources, tech and credits that had been diverted, all the blood and sweat and tears that had been shed… all of that was for nothing. Because I had failed. Because I wasn't good enough or fast enough to get the job done. Now Thessia was doomed. Earth was doomed. The galaxy was doomed.

And it was all my fault.

I probably should have gathered the squad together. Plotted our next move. Figure out some way to salvage this disaster that I had caused.

But instead, I found myself walking into my cabin. Guess I'd walked to the elevator and took a trip up on autopilot. I walked to my desk, pulled out the chair and sat down heavily. No one else was there, unless you count the diverse collection of fish I'd bought over the last several months. Miranda was off doing… something, I guess.

Miranda. No doubt she'd been counting on me. She gave up her solo search for her sister to rejoin the Normandy's crew and fight this war with me. And I'd failed her too.

A voice broke through the silence. It was Traynor—yet another person I'd failed. "Commander Shepard, we're receiving a priority communication from Admiral Anderson. Patching it through to your quarters."

Anderson. My former CO. My mentor. My friend. He'd given up his chance to escape from Earth alongside me, choosing instead to stay behind. To organize a resistance against the Reapers and hold out until I could return with an armada to retake Earth and a plan to win this war. Little did he know I let him down.

That was when I realized I was crying, and had been for a while. I considered running. Getting up and hiding in the washroom. But I didn't move.

A moment later, the display case holding my model ships faded to black. Then the face of a good man appeared before me. His hair had a few more threads of silver than it had before, and there was a hint of stubble where a mustache and beard was starting to grow. There were a few more lines on his face, especially on his forehead and around his eyes. I could see a few bags and dark shadows underneath his eyes too. But it was Anderson all right.

"Shepard."

My view of him suddenly went watery and blurry.

"I think I screwed up," I heard myself whisper, my voice rough and choked up. "I don't know what to do."

"It's all right, son," Anderson said. "It's gonna be all right."

A single sob escaped from my throat.

"I heard about Thessia," he eventually said.

Word gets around, huh? "We were so close, Anderson!" I burst out. "So damned close to ending this war!"

"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

"I knew going in there wouldn't be a minute of this goddamned war that would be easy. But watching Thessia fall… and knowing it was my responsibility to stop it. My duty. But I didn't. Because Cerberus beat me. Now they've got the key to the Catalyst, we'll never finish the Crucible and the galaxy's doomed."

"From what I've heard, you did everything you could to retrieve the Prothean beacon. So Kai Leng and the Illusive Man beat you to it. This time. What of it?"

"It could cost us the war!" I burst out. "You didn't see Kai Leng, Anderson. He—my God, he was so fast. He moved like… like lightning. He was five or six steps ahead of me the whole time. Just like Cerberus. They had the initiative on Mars, on the Citadel, on Thessia. I was playing catch-up the entire time. If I can't anticipate them, outthink them, beat them… then why the hell am I in command? How can I lead all these men and women knowing that… that…"

"That you could be leading them to their death," Anderson finished.

"Exactly!"

"You know, a lot of those men and women knew what they were getting themselves into. Take these guys in the resistance here on Earth, for instance: they know it's a losing proposition. They know the chances of seeing tomorrow are slim to none. But they all signed up anyway. Hell, I'm sitting in London right now, staring at rubble. I was born here, and it's looking like I might die here too. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna throw in the towel and call it a day."

"Yeah, I guess," I said slowly. "Look, I'm not saying that I'm gonna give up either. I'm just wondering if I'm the right guy to lead this campaign. I mean, maybe if I had more training, if I had more intel, if I had worked harder—"

"You wonder if that would have made a difference," Anderson interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Shepard, the questions you're asking yourself are the same ones any good commander should ask himself or herself before making any decision. That goes double for any decision where the stakes are so high and the consequences so dire. Let me ask you a few more: are you fallible? Are you capable of making mistakes?"

I laughed bitterly. "I think I proved that today. Abundantly."

"Is the galaxy—is life—unpredictable at times? Unfair, even?"

"Of course. What's your point?"

"My point is that someone had to take command in this war—tactical or strategic; big or small. But no one who does so is perfect. No one is incapable of making mistakes. And when you factor in the reality that the galaxy is an unpredictable and unfair place, well, it's inevitable that some of those mistakes are going to have terrible, terrible consequences."

"Tell me about it," I sighed.

"You're not the only one who's failed, Shepard. Do you know how many times I got my ass handed to me over the years? Surviving the First Contact War back in the day was a goddamned miracle. They said I was a hero. I… just felt lucky to get out alive.

"But afterwards, when I had a chance to sit down and think back, I realized something: what if I had done nothing? Gone AWOL, sat on my ass or stepped aside. How many people—how many more people—would have died if I decided it was someone else's problem? Yeah, I could've done things differently in hindsight. I could've done things better. But I did the best I could at the time."

"Okay," I said slowly.

"The point I'm trying to get across, Shepard, is that you did the same thing. Look at the last three years: time after time you did the best you could with minimal intel and scant resources. All under terrible situations where it would've been so easy to make another choice. You could've obeyed the Council when they grounded you during your hunt for Saren, for instance. Just following orders, right? But you didn't. You could've stepped aside when the Council refused to help you investigate all those abductions, saying that your conscience wouldn't let you work with Cerberus. But you didn't. You could've given up when Dr. Kenson and her indoctrinated colleagues tried to bring the Reapers through the Alpha Relay. But you didn't.

"Every time, you stood up and did the best you could. And because you did, the Reapers were delayed time and time again—and when they finally invaded, we were a little more prepared."

"That's what I keep telling myself," I said quietly. "Then I think of all the batarians who died in the Bahak system that. I'm sure they'll find that comforting. So will the billions of people who were killed or turned into refugees."

"I'm not saying there haven't been casualties. You know as well as I do that things didn't go your way. There have been setbacks. Things took a turn for the worse more than once.

"But you know why that happens, Shepard? Why we don't always win? Why we stumble and fall? So that we can learn. Learn where we went wrong. Learn what to do next time. Learn to pick ourselves up and move forward, and have those lessons drive you to do better.

"Now it's your time. Yeah, you've fallen down, but you're not out of the fight. Not by a long shot. So pick yourself up and shake this off. Point us at the Reapers and Cerberus and whatever the galaxy throws at us—and we'll take our chances."

My eyes welled up with tears again as I smiled at my mentor and friend. "You still haven't given up on me, huh? After all the wild claims and screw-ups I've made? After all the grief I've caused you?"

"Never."

Well, then. Anderson had been around a lot longer than I had, and I'd been taking his advice for years. I guess I couldn't very well stop that now. "Roger that," I nodded. "And… Anderson? Thanks."

"Of course."

"You'll make it, you hear me?" I said, trying to muster up what was left of my spirit and morale. "You're gonna come out of this in one piece, 'cuz you're too stubborn to die. And when all this is over, you can show me London. I've never actually been there before."

"It might need a new coat of paint first, but it'll be my pleasure."

"Well, then." I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my face. "I guess I'd better get back to work."

"That's the spirit, son. I'll see you soon. Anderson out."

Anderson had just signed off when the door chime rang.

It was Miranda. "How are you doing?" were the first words out of her mouth.

I blinked. Thought it over. Then the gears started turning. (1) "You contacted Anderson, didn't you? That was how his call got forwarded directly to my quarters without my approval. That was how he knew about Thessia."

"Yes. The crew was demoralized. They needed direction. They needed you. But you wouldn't be able to help them in your previous state. It was more likely that you would deal a crippling, albeit inadvertent, blow to their morale. Your despair, however understandable, would have dealt a crippling blow to their morale."

"So… you figured out I needed a pep talk. For the good of the crew."

"It was for your benefit as well. You're a good man who's given everything he had to make lives better. But you're tired, hurting, and you saw your adversaries get away with something you couldn't stop. As a result, your own morale is lower than usual. You needed someone to put this mission in the proper perspective and lift your spirits. Given his nature and your shared history, Admiral Anderson was the obvious choice." (2)

"Huh."

"Was he successful?"

I shrugged. "Guess so. If nothing else, he helped me remember that it's not over yet. Even if this latest clusterfuck would suggest otherwise."

"Then, with your permission, I'll summon the squad to the Comm Room for a debriefing so we can plan our next move. Say, in twenty minutes."

"Why twenty minutes?" I frowned.

"So you can take a bath. And shave."

I rolled my eyes. "Miranda, we don't have time for that."

"Make the time," she insisted. "It will give the impression that you are composed. It conveys a sense of readiness, competence and professionalism consistent with the commander of a starship and a leading figure in this war. It's what your crew expects. You need to give them that reassurance."

She had a point. Anderson had said the same, once upon a time. And I'd be an idiot to discount their advice. Well, more of an idiot than I already am. "You're probably right."

"Naturally," she sniffed.

I went into my bathroom, stripped down and got into the shower.

As the water rained down on my head, music began to play.

"Regrets collect like old friends.
Here to relive your darkest moments.
I can see no way, I can see no way.
And all of the ghouls come out to play.

"And every demon wants his pound of flesh.
But I like to keep some things to myself.
I like to keep my issues drawn.
It's always darkest before the dawn."

Apparently she'd been sifting through my extensive and decidedly outdated music collection. And here I was thinking she had concluded her efforts to indirectly restore my morale and get me back into the thick of things.

"So I like to keep my issues drawn.
But it's always darkest before the dawn.

"Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa!
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa!
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back,
So shake him off, oh whoa!" (3)

I should've known better.

While I was wallowing in self-pity, getting a much-needed boost to my spirits and washing away the blood, sweat and tears I'd accumulated, the Normandy had left the Parnitha System. Apparently, in my absence, Adams had recognized that the Reapers were overwhelming the asari, that all allied forces were in full retreat, and that it would be suicide to remain. So, as acting CO, he gave the order to leave as soon as we had returned. Given that I hadn't countermanded those standing orders, Joker had carried them out.

Miranda wasn't kidding when she said the crew needed reassurance. Campbell and Westmoreland were at their post outside the War Room, as usual, but I'd never seen them looked so downtrodden. "Damn," Campbell whispered. "I thought after we took down that Reaper on Rannoch… I don't know."

"Yeah," Westmoreland nodded. "But there's no way we could've stopped every Reaper on Thessia. The asari should've jumped in earlier."

True. But that didn't make it better. It just added a bittersweet taste to everything.

The rest of my squad was waiting for me in the Comm Room when Miranda and I arrived. To say they were downcast would be a severe understatement. The look on Liara's face alone spoke volumes. "Shepard… I…"

She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her face before continuing. "Nobody could've predicted Cerberus would reach Thessia before us."

Unbelievable. Even in the midst of all her grief, her first thought was to console me. I put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "It's my job to be prepared," I replied, "no matter what."

I leaned against the holo-table and stared at the same thing everyone else was staring at: the last sensor readings of Thessia and all the Reaper forces surrounding her in orbit. Then I looked around at my squad—and Traynor, who I suddenly noticed was present. They all looked forlorn. Beaten. Miserable. And if they looked this bad, I could only imagine how much worse they'd be if I'd shown up all haggard, red-eyed and miserable. Miranda was right: they were in rough shape. Time to change that.

Everyone else jerked as I slapped a hand against the console to get their attention. "All right, people: listen up. Thessia's lost—for now. So's the data on the Catalyst. But the war's not over yet. We're gonna retake Thessia, just like we're gonna retake Earth, Palaven and all the other worlds that have fallen. We're gonna recover Vendetta and find out what the hell the Catalyst is. But it'll be a lot harder with Cerberus around. They've been a pain in the ass from day one. I don't know about you guys, but I'm sick and tired of them beating us to the punch."

"Damn straight!" James nodded. "Let's kick 'em in the balls first for a change!"

With an emphatic stab of my finger, I shut down the holo. "I'm with James. Anyone got an idea on where to kick 'em first? Any ideas on where they're hiding? Anyone?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Traynor fidget nervously. Look at EDI, then Miranda, as if seeking reassurance. Then she took a deep breath. "Um… well, there is something."

"Let's hear it, Traynor."

She moved over to one of the consoles and began typing. "I was able to track Kai Leng's shuttle through the relay and extrapolate his destination."

A picture of the galaxy map appeared on the holo-table. As we watched, a bright dot appeared and began moving, leaving a trail of light behind.

"But… the signal disappeared in the Iera system."

Sure enough, the dot vanished, replaced by a few error messages flashing in an angry red. "Naturally," I sighed.

"It's not just gone, though," Traynor said. "The signal is being actively blocked."

Now this was more like it. "How?" I demanded.

"I'm not sure," Traynor admitted, "but something is interfering with all signal activity in that region of space."

"Commander, the Iera system is presently home to Sanctuary and little else," Miranda told me. "Sanctuary is a supposed safe haven for war refugees."

That's right! I remembered Sanctuary being mentioned on more than one occasion during my various visits to the Citadel. Now I knew where it was located: in the same system that had suddenly gone dark. The same system where Traynor had tracked Kai Leng to before losing him. "Why does the Iera system sound so familiar?" I frowned.

"There used to be a colony there," Kaidan said. "Horizon."

The memories that came flooding back this time were less pleasant. TIMmy had deliberately lured the Collectors to Horizon so he could gather intel on them. And he'd leaked news of my reluctant association with Cerberus to the Alliance in order to sow discord. "Is it possible that Cerberus might've set up shop there?" I had to ask.

He thought about it for a while. "Hard to say," he shrugged at last. "You and your squad were the only Cerberus presence while I was there. But Horizon's a big planet and I left well over a year ago. Things could've changed."

"Miranda?" I asked.

"If the Illusive Man had other plans for Horizon other than luring the Collectors, he didn't share them with me," she replied. "Which wouldn't be surprising considering how decentralized Cerberus was."

Okay. No more intel available at the moment. Which meant it was all down to Traynor's analysis and the conclusions she'd drawn. "Traynor, in your professional opinion, do you think it's worth checking out?"

"Yes sir," she said firmly, standing to attention. "I do."

"As do I," EDI added. "If Specialist Traynor hadn't examined the data so astutely, the interference would have been undetectable. The signal blackout was very subtle and expertly designed."

"Then we've got a plan," I decided. "Nice work, Traynor. You've given us a shot. Now let's make sure we don't waste it."

"It's a slim lead," Liara fretted. "Let's hope it's the right one."

"I don't care how slim the leads are at this point," I said. "We've come too far and sacrificed too much to let Cerberus stop us now. I want that Prothean data. I want the Catalyst. No excuses.

"Dismissed."

Most of the crew dispersed after the meeting. The exception was Tali and Garrus, who seemed to be having an earnest discussion. "This was the first time I saw Liara since we returned from Thessia," she was saying as I approached them. "Did you notice how she went straight to her cabin once the shuttle landed?"

"Yeah," Garrus nodded, "She couldn't wait to get off."

"I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't open her door. And she didn't answer her comm."

"How bad did she look? During the meeting, I mean."

"I never saw Liara so miserable before. Not even after Noveria."

"Damn." Garrus shook his head. "I was hoping it was just me."

"Can you talk to her? You've known her as long as any of us. And with Palaven…"

"I'm just another damn reminder of how many people are dying. You should talk to her."

There was genuine anguish in Tali's voice as she replied: "Me? I just regained my homeworld. She just lost hers."

"Well..." Garrus spread his hands helplessly. "I don't have any magic words. She needs time. Maybe call her later."

Then they turned and looked at me. I wasn't sure if I had any magic words, but I would certainly try. If the last hour or so had taught me anything, it was that even a small gesture of comfort could do wonders. "I'll go talk to her in a few minutes," I offered. "See how she's doing."

"Thanks, Shepard," Tali said gratefully.

"Yeah," Garrus echoed. "Thanks."

With that concluded, Garrus left the room. Tali stopped me before I could do the same. "Shepard, this wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

I shook my head. "It's not about fault. I was supposed to stop them."

"You will."

"Easier said than done," I said with a rueful chuckle. "I don't know if I can do this, Tali. Earth, Palaven, Thessia… I'm risking everything to build the Crucible and I'm not even sure what it does. Who am I to make that call?"

"You were the one who was right. All along. You fought when no one else would. When nobody else believed you. You can do this. I know you can. And we'll be right beside you."

I clapped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Thanks."

Now that I had my bearings, I decided to make my rounds. As usual, I started with the cockpit.

Joker was shaking his head when I joined him. "So… Thessia, huh? Guess the asari are wishing they had fewer dancers and more commandos right about now."

I gave him a look.

"Too soon?"

While he might have had a point, it was too soon. "In case you hadn't noticed, we just lost a few million people," I snapped. "This isn't the time."

Joker just looked at me. Then he began flipping through holographic displays. "You see this?" he asked casually, stopping at a display showing a large moon orbiting a nearby planet. "Tiptree. Little colony out in the ass-end of nowhere. My dad lives there. So does my sister, Hilary."

"Reapers rolled in about two months ago." He fast-forwarded to another timestamp. A red icon swooped in towards Tiptree. Then two. Then three. The picture was abruptly replaced by a flashing red error message against a background of static.

He closed the display and stared out the window. His voice was tightly controlled, as he tried to contain the emotions that were undoubtedly screaming through him. "So you can assume that I'm generally aware there's a war on, Commander."

"Then why the jokes?" I asked. "And don't tell me it's because everyone calls you Joker."

"Because EDI and Miranda have been studying your hardsuit's metabolic scans. According to them, you're under more stress now than during the Skyllian Blitz. Like, more than Elysium, where it was pretty much you versus ten thousand batarians trying to kill you. (4)

"And the last time I had a briefing with Anderson, he told me to take care of you. The guy leading the resistance—on Earth!—is worried about you. And I'm supposed to help. Do you have any idea how screwed we are if I'm his best choice?"

His voice grew louder and more incredulous, until he was almost shouting at the end. "I appreciate the thought, Joker, but I'm fine," I said.

He shook his head in disagreement. I guess I didn't have my bearings after all if Joker could see through my bullshit. "The hell you are! You're like half robot at this point—no offense, EDI—and it's my fault."

"Joker—"

"When the Collectors blew up the first Normandy, you died because I wouldn't leave… because you had to come back for me."

"Couldn't leave the best pilot in the fleet behind, could I?" I said, trying to defuse the tension.

It seemed to work, judging by the wry tone that returned to his voice. "Yeah, well… I guess that would've looked bad on your report. Point is: all I have to do is fly this ship. All I can do is fly this ship. I can't do squat to help you on ground missions. I can't sweet-talk aliens into burying the hatchet. All I can do is crack bad jokes and hope that maybe—maybe—I can make you laugh for half a second."

"Well Anderson knew what he was talking about, 'cuz you succeeded. For a lot more than a measly half second."

"You're serious?"

"No. I'm Shepard."

He rolled his eyes. "Funny. Better leave the wisecracks to me, Commander. We can't be good at everything, can we?"

"Guess not," I smiled.

It was then that a dim memory surfaced. Back during one of my trips to the Citadel, I'd come across an asari who'd been stationed on Tiptree when the Reapers attacked, narrowly escaping with a human colonist named Hilary. The asari was suffering from PTSD after seeing one of her fellow huntresses—having been turned into a Banshee—slaughter some of Tiptree's colonists, having to kill more colonists who had been indoctrinated, and killing Hilary after her whimpering from a broken leg threatened to give away their hiding spot. It was possible that the Hilary the asari had killed and Joker's sister were one and the same. (5) But maybe now wasn't the best time to bring that up.

"Come on. We've got work to do."

"Yeah. If we don't finish that Crucible soon, there won't be a galaxy left to save. Plotting a course for the Iera system now."

Apparently EDI had been monitoring my metabolic scans—along with listening in on my conversation with Joker—because she tried to defuse the situation by offering some semblance of normalcy. Everything from asking about human behaviour to bad jokes to offering a rendition of 'La Marseillaise.' She resorted to a 'respectful silence' when I made it clear I wasn't in the mood, but I did appreciate the attempt nonetheless.

I offered my usual greetings to most of the crew on shift in the CIC, but I had to give something extra to Traynor. "Hi there."

"Commander. Thanks for listening back there."

"It was a good idea. And right now, it's the best lead we've got."

"In any event… good luck."

It was a good thing we were wrapping up that conversation, because Joker chose that moment to jump in over the comm. "Um… speaking of luck, you're gonna need it."

"Joker?" I frowned. "What're you talking about?"

"Accorded to Glyph, Liara's paying our friendly neighbourhood Prothean a visit. He said she seemed 'agitated.' I think that's drone-speak for 'about to explode'."

Aw, crap.

Traynor had the same thought. "Oh no," she whispered.

"Copy that," I called out as I rushed towards the elevator.

My haste and concern was well-founded, judging by what I found in the Port Cargo Area.

"Those were all lies back there!" Liara cried out, her body practically quivering with repressed rage as she stalked back and forth.

Javik was his usual diplomatic self: "They were not."

"My people weren't animals for your kind to experiment on!"

I didn't know how long this argument had been going on for, but apparently Javik had had enough. "You wanted to know more about your history, asari. Now you do."

An audible sizzle reached my ears as a wave of biotic energy began rippling over Liara's body. "I have a name," she said, her quiet fury building to a crescendo. "It's Liara T'Soni. And I'd appreciate you using it from now on!"

Time for me to step in before the two of them caused a hull breach. "Hey!" I barked, "Settle down!"

"My home was just destroyed," Liara wept, "and all he can do is gloat!"

I leveled a stare at Javik. "Given what's happened today, I think you owe Liara an apology, Javik."

"Apologize for the truth?" he scoffed, crossing his arms in disdain.

I was about to say 'No, apologize for your lack of bedside manner,' but Liara had something else in mind. "For not doing more! You're a Prothean! You were supposed to have all the answers! How could you not stop this from happening?"

Her voice was heavy with the force of shattered dreams and broken innocence. For the first time, I think I fully understood what had most affected her. It wasn't the realization that the asari government had withheld such a critically important piece of intel for the sake of their galactic reputation. It wasn't the discovery that everything she had thought and believed about Athame was a myth. It was the belief, however naïve, that the Protheans were the guardian angels of the asari. That even though they had been gone for over fifty thousand years, they would return in some way in Thessia's darkest hour. That everything would be okay in the end.

Javik stared at her blankly, as if dumbfounded by what she had to say. And while I still didn't like how he had responded so callously, I couldn't blame him. Not entirely. That was quite the heavy load of expectations she had hurled at him, after all. (6)

Finally, he gave his reply.

"We believed you would."

Say what now?

Liara's jaw dropped. She looked at me in shock as her biotic aura abruptly vanished. I think it was the implications of his answer that kept me from visibly sagging in relief.

Satisfied that Liara might actually hear what he had to say, Javik elaborated. "Long ago, we saw the potential in your people. Even then it was obvious: the wisdom, the patience. You were lauded as the best hope for this cycle. A promise that no matter how dark our cycle seemed, the next one would be better. So you were… guided, when necessary, so you could realize your potential."

Huh. If what Javik said was true, then that shone a different light on his revelations in the Temple of Athame. Maybe, under his harsh words and sharp barbs, lay a deep swell of regret and disappointment that the asari squandered and wasted their potential, after everything the Protheans did for them. Frustration that they fell short of what they could have been. Sadness that the asari never became the beacon of hope that could have changed the course of this war from the very beginning.

From what I saw, Liara came to the same conclusion. "Well, it didn't work."

"You're still alive, aren't you?" Javik reminded her. "Your world may have fallen, but as long as even one asari is left standing, the fight isn't over. As long as one asari vows to pick herself up from the ashes of defeat, the Reapers have not won."

"I guess that goes for Protheans, too," Liara said softly.

"Do you know what I saw when I looked upon the beacon of my people, and the VI it held within? Another of my kind, even if he was just a ghost. One more Prothean who fought the Reapers for centuries, in his own way. If there is to be victory in this war, it will be for all cycles. The living will avenge the dead—but only if they do not lose hope. Despair is the enemy's greatest weapon. Do not let them wield it… Liara T'Soni."

Liara managed a wan smile, both to acknowledge the points he brought up—and the fact that he finally remembered her name, before she left the room.

This incident only reinforced the need for me to check in on her later: between the recent downfall of her homeworld and the bombshell Javik just dropped on her, she would definitely need someone to talk to. It was with that in mind that I turned to Javik. "That was… unexpected. Thank you."

"We still need her talents," he shrugged. "If grief overcomes her, she will be lost to us." (7)

My eyes narrowed. "So did you actually mean what you said?"

"Does it matter?"

"Liara's a good friend. She's been there when I really needed her, just as I'll be there for her. So yeah. It matters."

"Then I will tell you what you want to hear: I meant what I said."

Maybe Javik was on the up and up. Or not. For all I knew, he could be the same Prothean who had spent every moment since waking up on Eden Prime lashing out at a galaxy that had passed him by and no longer made sense. One big manipulative bastard, using anyone and everyone in his quest for vengeance.

But I liked to think there was truth in his words—harsh at times, but honest nonetheless. I liked to think that he was looking out for us, in his own unique way. I liked to think that, despite all the horrors and tragedies I had witnessed, I could still see the good in people. And today, more than any other day, I had to cling to those truths.

Before I left, Javik had one more piece of wisdom to give: "I suffered many defeats in the last war, Commander. Do not let this day break you. Let this loss be the fuel that powers your rage. Let it give you the strength to rise in this dark hour and march towards victory."

Given that I had skipped Deck Three in my urgency to head off a near disaster, I decided to continue on my rounds on Deck Four, pop down to Deck Five before doubling back. It would give Liara some more time to come to terms with things.

I somehow found myself in the Starboard Cargo Area, where Emily was chatting with Traynor. "Have you filed your story on Thessia yet?" Traynor was asking.

"No," Emily shook her head, even though Traynor couldn't see her over the comm. "No. I'm trying to word it right."

"What happens if you word it wrong?"

"If I'm lucky, the Citadel Stock Exchange drops two thousand extra points." Emily let out a sharp bark of bitter laughter. "As if that's the worst thing that could happen in the middle of this war."

"And if you're unlucky?"

"I… I don't know. And I don't want to find out. There's been too much bad luck today."

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

Rather than intrude on their conversation, and add to their misery, I decided to head to Engineering. Ken and Gabby were nowhere to be found. Kaidan, of all people, was there. So was Adams. "Commander," the latter greeted me.

"Adams," I returned. "Hey, Kaidan. Wasn't expecting to bump into you here."

"Had to go for a walk and think," he explained. "Well, as much of a walk as you can get on a starship. Anyway, we were just talking to Liara."

"She's a strong one," Adams said firmly.

"That may be, but I'd say her world's just been completely rocked," I sighed.

"Completely," Kaidan echoed. "You know, Adams and I were just remembering Noveria and the terrible way her mother died."

"Liara seemed so together afterward," Adams recalled. "Couldn't have been easy."

"For weeks, she told me stories about her mother," Kaidan added.

"Yeah, me too," Adams nodded.

Huh. Here I was, thinking I had heard all the stories she had to tell after constantly hounding and harassing her. I never learned anything about Benezia beside her fetish for leather and the size of her… assets. But as much as I would have liked to know more about the real Benezia, the important thing was that she found someone to talk to. Didn't have to be me.

"And you know something?" Adams continued. "I have a feeling she'll be okay. It might take a while," he paused to give me a look, "but she'll be okay."

"Yeah," Kaidan said quietly. "Hope so." He was quiet for a moment before glancing at me. "Hey, Shepard?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about Kai Leng. Now that we've seen his dirty moves—next time he's getting his ass kicked. Count on it."

Taking a page from Javik's book and gave Kaidan—and Adams—what they needed to hear: "Absolutely."

As heartening and reassuring as this might have been, I found myself wishing I could find some silver lining in all of this. Some spark of good that came out of this horrible cloud of darkness and misery. I headed into the bowels of Engineering, silently wishing for something that would—

"Oh! Uh, hello. Commander. Sir."

It was Ken. Suddenly jerking back from Gabby as if she was a live wire. Nothing suspicious about that. And there was certainly nothing suspicious about their flushed faces and rumpled clothes. Nope. Nothing suspicious at all.

"We were just, uh, double-checking the thermal ducts," Gabby bravely attempted.

"I'm sure you were," I said with a straight face. "Carry on." Being the gentleman that I was, I did an about-face and walked away.

Being the nosy parker with an insatiable curiosity and no concept of personal boundaries or privacy, I stopped as soon as I was out of sight. "Do you think Shepard noticed?" Gabby whispered.

"I'm sure he didn't," Ken reassured her.

Gabby wasn't buying it. There was a reason why she was the smart one in their relationship. "I'm so embarrassed."

Well, I did want some good to come out of today. Ask and ye shall receive.

And if you asked me, it was about damn time.

James gave me a sober nod when I entered the Shuttle Bay. "Hey."

"Hey," I nodded.

"For what it's worth, I know what it's like to lose like that."

He wasn't making it up just to assauge my guilt. Between what little information he divulged and the fact-checking I did later, I managed to piece together what had happened. Long story short: James had been stationed on the colony of Fehl Prime after repelling an invasion by Blood Pack mercs. After two years of peace, the Collectors attacked. In all the strife, he was forced to assume command and, eventually, make the difficult choice of saving the colony or preserving intel that could be used to stop the Collectors.

James had chosen the latter... only to learn later on that I managed to defeat them without the intel. So the colony had been sacrificed and all the inhabitants had been abducted for nothing.

"I know that doesn't make it easier, but... you're just human like the rest of us. There's only so much you can do."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, James, it's not working," I sighed. "But thanks anyway."

"Hey, everyone on this ship knows you did all you could," he said sternly. "There isn't a single soul onboard who thinks otherwise. You need to cut yourself some slack. Whatever it takes to get that data back from Cerberus, whatever it takes to hit them where it hurts, whatever it takes to end this: we're behind you. 100 percent."

"Noted."

"Hey, Shepard?"

"Yeah."

"You ever visit Thessia? Before the war, I mean."

Okay. Sudden change of topic there. "No. Never got a chance."

"Me neither. Sure would've like to, though. Imagine a whole world full of those blue beauties. One of the wonders of the galaxy, if you ask me."

I shook my head in amusement. "Don't ever change, James."

"There you go," he grinned. "There's the Loco I know. Shake this off, Shepard. Remember: it ain't over 'till the fat lady sings."

Well, this was it.

I had just taken the elevator up to Deck Three. It was time to see how Liara was doing.

When I walked into her cabin, she was crouched on her bed. Datapads lay strewn around her on the bedsheets. "I've studied Protheans my entire life," she said. "If I'd been shown the beacon on Thessia earlier…"

Before I could respond, EDI's voice came over the comm. Guess the two of them had been chatting when I came in. "You would have needed Shepard's cipher to comprehend it."

"I still could have learned from it. Instead, my mother hid the galaxy's most important archaeological find from me." Liara's face twisted with bitterness and scorn. "It must have been such a joke to her when I became a Prothean researcher."

"The penalties from withholding Prothean technology are among the harshest in Council space. Your mother's motives may have been simply to shield you."

"Perhaps," Liara relented, her features relaxing. "Thank you, EDI. I… hadn't considered that."

EDI didn't say another word as I walked towards Liara. That left the two of us—me standing, her on the bed—in silence.

Eventually, Liara was the first to speak. "How did this happen, Shepard? My entire civilization, the asari's history… the Protheans made it a lie all along."

"Did they?" I asked. "They tried to guide the development of your people… and then they fell to the Reapers—over fifty thousand years ago. You're an archaeologist: can you really tell me that, in that span of time, the facts wouldn't have been blurred and distorted? Isn't that how myths get created in the first place?"

"You're right," she conceded. "It's just…"

"The Protheans were your life's work," I finished. "I know. You studied them for so long, formed certain conclusions. You were the closest thing to an expert on the Protheans. Then Javik comes along and blows all of that out of the water. That's one hell of a reality check."

She laughed quietly. "To put it mildly."

"Javik's not exactly a master at breaking news to people gently, but you can't blame him for how his people interacted with your ancestors."

"No. I suppose not."

"Okay, then. What else is bothering you?"

"Like you have to ask: I abandoned my people to hunt for the Catalyst!"

"Liara," I tried, "you had nothing to do with the attack on Thessia."

She jerked her head up, her eyes flashing with anger. "Nothing to do with it?" she echoed, her words tinged with quiet fury and self-recrimination. "I told those people on Thessia we'd save them! How many asari died because I demanded their help?"

I sat on the bed before she could work herself up and looked her in the eye. "None. What happened on Thessia wasn't your fault."

"Shepard, that isn't true."

"Isn't it? You've been warning your people for four years, Liara, and they did nothing. That's not on you. You're not the asari councillor of the Citadel Council. You're not one of Thessia's matriarchs. You're not responsible for the fate of your homeworld. If anything, you went above and beyond to warn your people—and the galaxy—about what was coming. It's not your fault that no one listened. Look at how much grief I've gone through."

"You have endured a great deal of ridicule and skepticism," she admitted.

"Damn straight. So did you—over and over again. It would've been easy to just throw your hands up after a while and say 'the hell with it.' Instead, once you took over the Shadow Broker's network, you devoted your efforts to finding a way to combat the Reapers. The fact that the Crucible Project even exists was because of all your research. And you've been working your ass off ever since this damned war began. There's not a damn thing you should feel guilty about."

"Fine. None of that changes the fact that Thessia has fallen."

"Exactly," I said emphatically. "Thessia has fallen; the asari have not. I don't know how many of your people have died so far, but I know they weren't all killed or harvested by the Reapers." Pushing myself to my feet, I marched over to the bank of computer monitors and waved at them. "If we move fast enough, they'll have a chance to survive this. To start again." I reached for one of the consoles and began typing. "We lost Thessia, but we haven't lost the asari. Not yet."

Liara considered that for a moment.

"Now then: is there anything you can do? Or are you just going to say 'the hell with it' and call it a day?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as she slowly got to her feet.

Then, with increasing speed, she made her way towards me—no, towards the computers. I stepped aside before she had to nudge me out of the way. "Helping the refugees," she said as her fingers began flying over the console. "That's something I can do. It's something I owe them."

"I knew you'd think of something."

"I still need some time, Shepard, to come to terms with Thessia's fate. But… thank you."

"Any time."

Garrus was the last guy I saw on my rounds. When I saw him, he was leaning against one of the consoles, staring blankly at the screen. "Hey there," I greeted him quietly.

"Hey," he said blankly, still staring into space. Clearly there was something on his mind. I decided to start with the first thing I could think of: "Any word from your family?"

"They made it off Palaven," he said, finally turning around. "It was tight, but they're okay."

"That's great!" I beamed. "We'll take every scrap of good news we can get."

"Wish I had more, though."

Uh oh. "Why?"

Garrus went back to leaning on the console and staring at the screen. "I just had to make a tough call with the Primarch," he admitted. "He said our forces are being decimated. So I advised him to cease all offensive operations against the Reapers."

My eyes widened. "A full retreat?"

"The only way to save Palaven now is to hold our ships back for the Crucible," he said bleakly. "But if I'm wrong… then a lot of other turian families won't be as lucky as mine."

"That's a hell of a gamble," I sympathized. "No other options?"

He shook his head. "If there are, I can't see them. It all comes down to the Crucible now."

"And 'ruthless calculus'," I added, recalling one of our earlier conversations.

"Any word from your family?" he asked in return.

"Mom and Dad are okay, working with Hackett on the Crucible," I replied. "Still no word from Ellie."

He nodded sympathetically before peering at me. "How are you holding up, Shepard? This all has to be taking a toll."

Now it was my turn to lean and stare. "There's only so much fight in a person. Only so much pain and suffering and death you can take before—"

Garrus suddenly took me by the shoulders. "Before your friend picks you up, dusts you off and tells you you're the best damned soldier he's ever met."

"Really?"

"Well, aside from me, of course."

I shook my head. "Uh huh."

"Look, seeing a world go down like that isn't something you can ever get used to. Thousands of years of civilization on fire. But it wasn't your fault. Thessia was already gone by the time we got there. And maybe the Illusive Man did win one battle. But so what? I've lost a few fights in my time—and I'm still here. It's because I always made sure the next one belonged to me. And the one after that. You've done the same, more than once. A battle doesn't make a war, Shepard. We're still in this."

"I know," I said. "You're right, of course. It's just so damn… frustrating."

"Then this is when you take all your frustration, all your anger, and bottle it up… until the time when you can use it to rearrange every molecule in Kai Leng's body. You'll get your chance."

It was funny. So many people had been offering reassurance. Telling me that they knew I had done everything I could. Doing their best to lift my spirits. When, really, it should've been the other way around. If I didn't know better, I'd say Miranda had a hand in this. (9) But I couldn't deny that I needed to hear each and every one of their words.

"Right again," I smiled. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Garrus Vakarian?"

The two of us shared a laugh. "We'll get through this," Garrus declared, beginning one of his beloved calibrations. "We always do."

An hour or so later, I checked in on Liara. She was busy working trying to get a few more ships to evacuate asari refugees from Thessia, but she did spare a moment to flash me a grateful smile.

Rather than disturb her, I thought I'd skim through her Shadow Broker terminal, just to see what tidbits and notes she'd entered. I found this one particularly enlightening:

Prothean Notes: 2186—Entry 4

I can't let disappointment stop me from learning the Protheans' history. It's just as naïve as thinking they were all benevolent.

And I've perhaps been arrogant, judging an entire species on what little time I've had to know its sole survivor. Javik was hardly responsible for the skewed view I had of his people. Nor was he responsible for the true role his people played in guiding, manipulating and interfering with my people's development.

In retrospect, he was blameless for many things. One cannot blame him for the collective decision of Thessia's leaders to use the technology and insights gleaned from the Prothean beacon to ensure asari dominance in galactic affairs. Or their decision to withhold the existence of the Prothean beacon from the rest of the galaxy up until it was too late. Whether history will blame asari as a whole or restrict their anger to their leaders, he cannot be held accountable.

I put forward the idea of writing a book with Javik and, to my surprise, he said he would think about it. Perhaps it's a start.

To be honest, this was the most promising sign I'd seen that day. Liara had been decidedly ethnocentric in her interactions with Javik, despite her tacit acknowledgement of such preconceptions. She'd never really acknowledged the possibility that her beliefs and conclusions might cloud her judgement, never mind her interactions with him. While her worst nightmare had come to pass, at least it was the push she needed to take a stark, honest look at how she had been handling this entire situation. Perhaps now, she had finally started to come to terms with the people she had studied most of her life—and how wrong she had been.

It wasn't just her, though. Javik seemed to have made some progress as well. Oh, he might still be as curmudgeonly as always. Not to mention arrogant and insulting. But he'd made some modest strides in recent months to reach out to others. To rally them to battle under the worst of circumstances. Oh, he might find rationalizations to justify his latest actions. Some means of reassuring us that he hadn't changed. But somehow, I think he had gone from a reluctant associate of this war to an active and willing partner. Which might explain his willingness, according to Liara, to at least consider a literary collaboration.

There was also a list of possible titles for that book she'd mentioned, if and when she and Javik started writing it. Everything from 'The Protheans: A Living Legacy' to 'The Last Prothean' to 'Journeys With the Prothean.' Though I did find 'I DespiseThinking Up Titles For My Own Academic Research' rather amusing. (10)

I should probably stick to my day job, huh?

There were a couple e-mails waiting for me when I got back. Along with the dozen or so spam messages that had somehow gotten through all the filters. Somehow, I found the latter comforting.

One of them was from Captain Lee Riley. Her squad had been tasked with investigating a fuel depot on Cyone that had gone dark, thereby depriving allied fleets of much-needed fuel. My squad had joined her in securing the reactor, bringing it back online and repelling the Reaper forces that had overrun the facility in the first place. It seemed that her squad was still standing strong despite several Reaper counterattacks, determined to hold the line. I found that reassuring.

I had just finished the second e-mail when Miranda came in. One look at her drove everything else from my mind. "Miranda. Is everything all right?"

"I think I've learned what happened to Oriana."

Oh my god! Miranda had been trying to figure out what happened to her sister when I first ran into her on the Citadel. The only reason—well, one of the reasons—she joined me was to make use of Liara's Shadow Broker resources to widen her search. I'd like to say I never asked how she was doing because there was no progress to be made. To be honest, I may have let it slip my mind. There was a lot going on. But I should've remembered. "Where is she?"

"I don't know that yet. Not exactly. But there are several indications that she's somewhere in the Shadow Sea cluster. Maybe even in the Iera system. I've been running several search programs since the war began and analyzing the data. This is the most promising lead I've had to date.

"What worries me are the indications that my father was definitely responsible for her disappearance." Miranda's eyes narrowed into thin slivers of twinkling ice. "If he's done anything to her, I'll kill him."

That wasn't an idle threat. The only reason Miranda had mustered the courage to leave her father—not to mention his overbearing expectations, demands and micromanaging every aspect of her life and DNA—was that Mr. Dad-of-the-Year Lawson wanted to do the same thing to Oriana. Who, by the way, was just a younger clone. The first sign of vulnerability and emotion I'd seen from her was when she'd finally caved in and asked for my help in securing Oriana's transfer to a new location. Given the antipathy she had for her 'father' and the lengths she'd go to protect her sister, I wasn't surprised at her declaration at all.

"Is there anything else?" I asked.

"I heard a rumour, maybe more, that my father is working on something for the Illusive Man. Something big."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Your… your father? Hang on: I thought your father wasn't on speaking terms with the Illusive Man. You told me that he used to be a supporter, but ever since Cerberus recruited you and helped send Oriana into hiding, he'd cut all ties with them. What changed?"

"Above all else, my father is ruthless about preserving his 'legacy.' To make his mark in history and ensure his dynasty lasts forever."

"And you think the Illusive Man made him an offer? One good enough to overcome past grudges?"

"Exactly."

"All right," I said after a moment. "We still have to check out Horizon. After that, we'll start looking around the Iera system for clues to Oriana's whereabouts. If you're right—"

"I have to be," she interrupted.

"—then where Oriana is, your father will be. And where your father is, Cerberus will be as well. It's a win-win situation as far as I'm concerned. Well, 'win-win-win,' but you know what I mean." (11)

"I do. And thank you."

"You'll find her. I know you will."

"In the meantime, do you need to blow off some steam?"

Her eyes drifted to my—our—bed and back to me. "I'm not exactly in the mood."

Yeah, neither was I. Normally I'd say I needed my head examined, but any idiot should've been able to figure out why I wasn't feeling particularly amorous. "Actually, I was thinking of getting some more sparring practice in."

Miranda agreed, particularly after seeing the source of my motivation:

To: Shepard
From: Asari Military Command
Subject: Evacuating Thessia

Good. You opened this message. This isn't actually asari military command. Those blue freaks are too busy tending to what's left of their pathetic little planet.

So you survived our fight on Thessia. You're not as weak as I thought. But never forget that your best wasn't good enough to stop me. Not even close. Now an entire planet is dying because you lacked the strength to win. Because you lacked the necessary courage and conviction. Because you were a failure.

The legend of Shepard needs to be re-written. I hope I'm there for the last chapter. It ends with your death.

—KL

Kai Leng and I would meet again. And when we did—I'd be ready.

(1): A human idiom referring to the process of thinking.

(2): This reductive and seemingly dispassionate answer obscures the fact that Miranda clearly cared about Shepard's wellbeing, realized that he was probably more demoralized and shaken than he had ever been before in his life, and recognized that someone else might be better suited to helping him face his predicament than she was.

(3): 'Shake It Out,' by the human indie rock band 'Florence and the Machine.' Shepard had long used music to express his thoughts, convey ideas or reinforce messages in a way he felt he couldn't do in person. Clearly Miranda had, as humans say, taken a page from his book.

(4): A myth that Shepard repeatedly tried to dispel, with limited success.

(5): Joker later confirmed that that Hilary was his sister, and that he'd known of her death and the death of his father for some time. He didn't tell Shepard until after the war, citing that 'the Commander had enough on his plate.'

(6): I think the words Shepard was kind enough to eschew were 'childish' and 'immature'.

(7): Readers might say the same about Shepard.

(8): Just as Shepard needed to hear Anderson's words, I needed to hear Shepard's. Looking back, I am grateful that Shepard was able to absorb his mentor's wisdom and pass it on to me.

(9): In truth, she did not. The squadmates and crew simply knew Shepard well enough to know he needed their vote of confidence and support at that time, when he needed it most.

(10): A silly and petulant joke on my part.

(11): Little did Shepard—and Miranda—know how correct they truly were.