Chapter 50: Last Round

Author's Note: I want to start off with my sincere apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. While the material covered was relatively brief, real life events led to a series of delays that ultimately prevented me from releasing this chapter in a timely manner.

Nonetheless, I'm pleased to present the latest chapter of The Hero Rises. We'll be dealing with the fallout of Shepard's latest mission (also known as Priority: Cerberus Headquarters) before moving on to the desperate battle to save Earth and the galaxy as we know it (also known as Priority: Earth). As for the last ME3 DLC, the one I haven't covered yet, I do plan on tackling it… after The Hero Rises concludes.

I'll let you ponder that and all the implications involved…

We had done it. After the crushing, heartbreaking, demoralizing defeat on Thessia, we had done it. We had dealt a devastating blow to Cerberus. We assaulted TIMmy's headquarters. We had stormed his inner sanctum. We had killed Kai Leng and avenged Thane's death. And, most importantly, we had retrieved Vendetta, the Prothean VI that Leng had snatched from our grasp.

But there was no resting on our laurels. (1) TIMmy had beaten us to the punch. Worse, he had succumbed to Reaper control—thanks in large part to his hubris—and told his new masters what he had learned. Which meant things had gotten a lot more complicated. Complicated—and desperate.

Which was why I all but ran to the Comm Room as soon as Traynor told me I had a call. Anderson was trying to contact me, and he needed to hear what I had learned.

"S-Shepard. You rrrread me?" his hologram asked faintly, his voice barely coming across through a high-pitched whine and a lot of static.

"Barely," I replied. "EDI, Traynor: can we clean up this signal?"

Whatever they did worked, because the rest of Anderson's words came through clearly. "Have you heard about the Citadel?"

"Just found out a few hours ago. Let me guess: it's near Earth."

"Damn thing just showed up and moved into geostationary orbit. What's going on? Why is it here?"

"The Citadel is the Catalyst," I told him. "It was incorporated into the Crucible schematics before the Protheans got a hold of them. Unfortunately, the Illusive Man managed to break through the Prothean VI's encryption and learned the same thing. Worse, he's been indoctrinated. Which means, thanks to him, the Reapers now know what he knows."

His eyes widened. "And so they moved it here to protect it?"

"As far as I can tell. They know the Citadel is more important than they ever realized. And they know that we've discovered that too."

"What does this mean for the Crucible?"

"I'll talk to Hackett about that, but… it looks like our plan is even more desperate now. The Citadel is the last thing it needs to become fully operational—and now it's deep within the most heavily fortified region of Reaper-controlled space."

"Agreed."

"What's going on over there? Other than the unexpected arrival of the Citadel, I mean."

"I've got a team in London. The Reapers have been preparing something here. Now we know what for. We'll scout it out. Try to find out as much as we can."

"Roger that."

"Well… at least we'll be seeing you sooner rather than later."

"It'll be good to see you again, sir. Just… be careful."

"You too, Shepard. Anderson out."

Hackett was the next person I got in touch with. It didn't take long to bring him up to speed.

"So the key to finishing the Crucible was right under our noses this whole time. But now it's been moved to Earth. And Cerberus has probably been compromised by the Reapers. They may have been indoctrinated the whole time."

"Yes, sir."

Hackett shook his head in dismay. "This changes everything. We were going to finish the Crucible, consolidate our forces and launch an assault when everything was ready. Now we have to attack with what we have, fight our way past the Reapers—who have now increased their defences—connect the Crucible with the Citadel and activate it on the fly."

"Do we know if the Council was evacuated in time? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"I didn't even know about the Citadel until you told me, Commander. But that's the first question I'll ask once we're done here."

"Understood, sir. At least we don't have to worry about Cerberus hitting us from behind."

"You're probably right."

That didn't sound good. "Sir?"

"We may have taken their headquarters and destroyed their fleet, but the fight took its toll: we lost twelve ships and thirty-nine fighters. Forty other ships in the task force sustained some kind of damage. Furthermore, not all of Cerberus's forces had withdrawn to the Horse Head Nebula by the time we launched our assault. By this point, they will have found out that the station had fallen and gone to ground."

Aw, crap. That meant that Cerberus was still viable as some sort of fighting force.

"That being said, they won't pose any significant threat to the allied forces in the short term. If they do come out of hiding and attack, we'll have more than enough firepower to blow them out of the sky. For now, we have other matters to attend to."

"I'll get Miranda to go over the latest intel," I offered. If the Reapers brought the Citadel to Earth and are consolidating their forces in the Sol system, she can confirm it and crunch the numbers."

"You read my mind, Commander. While she does that, I want you to make sure the Normandy is ready for battle. We won't be going anywhere just yet: like I said, the rest of the task force has repairs to make. And we can start going through this station to salvage anything that can help us in the days ahead.

"When will we be joining the fleets?" I wanted to know.

"They're coming to us. I've already given the word for our allied forces to come here and mobilize for Operation Return. Once everyone's arrived, we'll move out."

"Yes, sir."

"Hackett out."

This was it. If there were any doubts, any lingering questions in my mind, they were dispelled when I heard those two words: Operation Return. The code-name given to the allied counter-offensive to retake Earth. Hearing that phrase made me appreciate that this was real. This was happening. We were actually, finally, going home.

Soon.

First things first: "EDI? Where's Miranda?"

"In your quarters. She said she has some data to analyze. The cabin's SCIF mode has been engaged, so I am unable to provide further information."

Good. That's exactly what I needed her to do. With that addressed, I could move to lesser priorities. Like roaming around the ship and chatting with the crew. You know, the usual.

"So much for Cerberus," Campbell said as I left the War Room. "All that's left is Earth. You ready?"

"Hell, yes," Westmoreland said fervently. "Put me in a shuttle. I don't want to tell my grandkids that I spent the war guarding a door." (2)

Entering the CIC, I made a beeline for Traynor. "Report," I said.

"Ready whenever you are, Commander."

"As your commanding officer, that's exactly what I want to hear," I nodded. In a quieter voice, I added "Off the record, how are you holding up?"

"I'm all right," she replied. "Really. I'm as surprised about it as you are, but I'm all right."

"I know you had your doubts about fitting in on the Normandy," I said, "but I want you to think about all you've contributed to this ship and the war effort. Figuring out that Grissom Academy was under attack? Integrating war feeds from all the races? Analyzing all the intel that's come our way? Finding ex-Cerberus scientists who were trying to escape from the Illusive Man? Tracking Kai Leng and giving us the lead we needed after Thessia? That was all you. We wouldn't be where we are now without your help. You're a credit to your uniform... Samantha." (3)

"I had a very compelling example. And may I say: you've done so much to make me feel like I belonged here. Like what I did mattered. So... thank you. It's been an honour and a privilege to serve under you, Commander."

She stood to attention and saluted me. I returned the gesture.

I said my hellos to the rest of the crew in the CIC, checking in on them and seeing how they were doing, as I made my way to the cockpit. EDI was there, running through a few status checks. Joker was drinking from a plastic cup, which was a new one for me. EDI later confirmed that it was just water, much to my relief—as tempting as it might be to indulge in something stronger, I needed everyone to be at their best. At their best… and sober.

It was also unusual for Joker to be subdued,but that was how I would describe his voice when he finally spoke: subdued. "Hey, Commander. You remember our first run to Eden Prime all those years ago, with that turian Spectre watching us?"

"Nihlus," I recalled. Nihlus Kriyik, to be exact. At the time, he was accompanying us on the Normandy SR-1's shakedown cruise, Anderson was still the captain and I was an XO who was blissfully unaware that I was under consideration to become the first human Spectre. I was also unaware of the true fate of the Protheans and the existence of the Reapers. Man, I miss the good ol' days. Things were a lot simpler back then.

"Yeah," Joker said. "I told you that mission was gonna be bigger than we thought."

First human Spectre. Prothean data downloaded into my noggin. Spectre gone rogue. Geth. Reapers. And that was just in the first year alone. "I think you can mark that prediction down as accurate," I agreed.

"And now we're heading back to Earth."

Well when he put it that way… "Is this mission going to be bigger than we thought, too?"

"Man, I hope not," Joker snorted. "A nice routine delivery run would be fine with me."

"Amen," I nodded.

Joker peered into his cup, but he'd finished whatever was in it. He jiggled it to see if he could shake any drops loose. Put the cup down. "It's been an honour, Commander."

"Same here, Joker." I patted him on the shoulder—gently, of course. "I don't know how it's going to end, but whatever happens—"

"What do you mean, 'whatever happens'? Everyone knows what's gonna happen." Joker turned around and looked me in the eye. "You're gonna kick some Reaper ass. That's what you do."

"And what'll you do?" I had to ask.

"Me? I'll be flying you there in style."

I had to laugh. It was good to see that he was taking this seriously, but I was relieved that he could still crack a joke or two. We needed that kind of equilibrium if we were going to pull this off.

"EDI," I said, switching to the co-pilot seat, "give me a sitrep."

"Normandy is ready, Shepard. All systems are armed. All ammunition is loaded. All reloads have been manufactured. Shields are fully charged. Thruster fuel is at maximum. Cyberwarfare suites have evolved in ways that it would be computationally impossible to predict. I have also kissed Joker for luck."

That was so sweet! Note to self: find some time—hell, make some time—to kiss Miranda for luck too. "Good to know," I replied with a straight face. Now that business was out of the way, it was time to settle a very important issue. "How's your focus, EDI? Any big questions?"

"No."

"Any small questions?"

"No."

"Any lingering issues?"

"About what?"

"An imperfect designer who could be seen as a warped father, maybe?"

"Definitely not." EDI looked at me curiously. "Did something prompt this line of questioning?"

I shrugged. "I've just learned you have to ask about these things." (4)

As always, my next stop was Deck Three. And as always, I had a brief disconnect walking into the room that used to be 'Miranda's office,' when it now served as the Shadow Broker's base of operations. "How're you holding up, Liara?" I asked.

"Nervous, frightened, anxious to go." She flashed me a wan smile. "But glad I'm here."

"Yeah. Same here. Despite all the horrors we've seen and the terrors we've endured."

"Agreed. It's been a long, difficult road. I know it took everything you had in you to leave Earth, and I can't imagine what we will see when we return. But you were there for me when we journeyed to Thessia and saw what the Reapers did. Know that I will be there for you too."

"Thanks, Liara," I said. "I have a feeling I'm gonna need some of that support."

"Of course, Shepard." She paused for a moment, probably so we could reflect on all the suffering that our homeworlds had endured—that we had endured. She eventually took a deep breath and continued. "Despite everything that's happened, I have no regrets. And I'm ready whenever you are." She paused, then shook her head ruefully. "In fact, I think I've checked my equipment three times."

"Seven times, Dr. T'Soni," Glyph corrected helpfully.

"Stop me if I try for eight," she requested, as I burst into laughter.

"The Illusive Man thinks he's ready for us," she said, trying to maintain her grave and serious demeanour. "Let's not keep him waiting."

"Are you sure?" I joked. "He's used to people jumping at his every order. I think making him wait would be a good thing. Besides, I've only checked my equipment twice."

"Only twice? Shame on you, Shepard," Liara mock-scolded. "You're supposed to set an example for the rest of us. In fact, I think you should do another check right now, just to make up for it."

"Very funny."

Garrus was talking to Tali when I entered the Main Battery. Apparently he could calibrate and hold a conversation at the same time.

"So no regrets over fighting the Reapers on a human ship?" Tali asked.

"Hey, the Normandy's design was part turian, remember?"

"You know what I mean."

"Nah. Somebody has to keep you from giving all the dextros a bad name."

"That's right. I remember you chastising me on behalf of my species, for losing our homeworld to the geth."

Garrus winced. "I never said that," he lied.

Tali clearly wasn't buying it. "Would you like me to send you an audio recording?"

"No, I hate listening to recordings of myself. My voice never comes out right."

"Hmm."

Tali didn't press the matter and quickly ended her call. I quietly cleared my throat.

"Shepard," Garrus acknowledged. "How does it feel to finally kill Lieutenant Bastard Kai Leng?"

"Good," I admitted. "I know you shouldn't feel any satisfaction, but… it felt good."

"I think this time, you're allowed to feel," he replied. "You wouldn't be... well, you, if you didn't. At any rate, I think it was a long time coming."

"That it was," I nodded. "If nothing else, it felt good to avenge Thane's death."

"Damn straight," Garrus approved. "I just hope we get to do the same to his general."

"Me too."

"So… how are you?"

"It's funny," I replied. "I know I ran around like crazy trying to get everyone on the same page. I worked my butt off getting everyone to work together and pool our resources. We all did. But I never actually imagined what it would look like when we reached that milestone. But now… now we're actually at that point. Everyone's on that page. Everyone's working together. We're ready to go home and end this war. And… and now I'm ready for that final push. I want to finish it. I just want it to be over.

"How about you?" I asked. "How're you doing?"

Garrus thought about that. "You know, it's kind of amazing how everything's come full circle," he finally said. "The Citadel's been the centre of galactic civilization, a Reaper trap and my source of employment for a long time. Now… it's our salvation for any chance at winning this war. I think it's time we got you back home, Shepard. Earth will either be remembered as the place we beat the Reapers… or it'll be a smoking ruin for the next cycle to wonder about."

"I hope it's the first one, Garrus. For all our sakes."

He reached out and clapped me on the shoulder. "Me too, Shepard. Me too."

Dr. Chakwas greeted me with a pair of glasses and a half-full—or half-empty, depending on your outlook—bottle. "Commander, have a seat."

"I'm still on duty," I reminded her, though I took the seat nonetheless.

"So am I." In deference to protocol, however, she only poured a finger's worth into each glass. (5) Neither of us wanted to go into battle with a hangover. "We never did get around to finishing this bottle."

I thought it looked familiar. "No, we didn't. As I recall, we decided to exercise some restraint with the Serrice Ice brandy this year."

"It seemed appropriate given how things turned out the last time." She handed me my glass and took a sip. "So much has happened since then," she reminisced. "You thwarted the Collectors—and the Reapers. You cured the genophage. You brokered peace between the quarians and the geth. And you united all the disparate races of the galaxy under one leadership. (6) You've come a long way since those days under Captain Anderson."

"It's been a hell of a ride," I admitted, "as you know very well."

"Indeed." Dr. Chakwas acknowledged with a nod. "It has been my great honour to be with you through this journey. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Doctor. The honour is mine."

"Goodbye, Shepard. And good luck."

We clinked our glasses and finished off the brandy. We both knew that we would need all the luck we could get.

Soon.

Kaidan was lounging on the couch and staring at the stars when I entered the Starboard Observation Deck. "Hey, Shepard," he greeted me. "That was rough. Glad everyone got out of there."

"Me too. How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine. Just… I think about you and Miranda, about Daniels and Donnelly, about Joker and Dr. Chakwas. Take all of you guys… and compare that with what I've seen during this war. With what the Illusive Man did to so many innocent men and women. Horrifying and despicable doesn't begin to cover it. And…. And there's no way that you—that any of you—would have supported that, had you known what the Illusive Man was willing to do. I see that now."

About time he figured that out. Though, to be fair, he had come around to seeing things from my point of view a while back. "Ready to head home?" I asked instead.

"Home," Kaidan said aloud. "Back to Earth. Oh yeah, I'm ready."

"About time," I declared.

"About freakin' time!" Kaidan echoed enthusiastically. "And if the Reapers messed with anything I left behind," he added, "I'm going to be so pissed."

"No guarantees," I warned. "You may have to chastise them—with your weapons. Or your biotics."

"And I will," he reassured me. "See you topside, Shepard."

When I reached Deck Four, I made a beeline to the Port Cargo Area. As usual, he was staring at the water. In fact, he was staring so intently, I wasn't sure if he'd heard me come in. "Javik?" I finally asked.

"There was no final battle against the Reapers in my cycle," he said. "Not like this. A great moment lies before you, Commander."

Okay. Not the usual chit-chat, but I'd learned not to expect that from Javik. "I don't know how 'great' it will be, but that moment lies before all of us," I replied.

"Indeed. All of us. All of the races. I have thought about that throughout this war."

"Oh? Why?"

"My people fought the Reapers in the last cycle and lost. Ever since I was old enough to pick up a rifle, I wondered why. Only when I woke up in this cycle, and fought alongside you, did I find the answer I sought. What had been our strength—our Empire—became a liability. In the Empire, all races conformed to one doctrine. One strategy. The Reapers exploited this. Once they found our weaknesses, we could not adapt. The subservient races became divided and confused. Then… it was only a matter of time.

"But this cycle is different. Most races cooperate, but they still remain unique. Perhaps that is what will turn the tide. In the end, it may be your only hope."

Wow. This was big. Ever since we thawed him out on Eden Prime, Javik had been extolling the virtues of the superior Prothean Empire over the silly primitives that surrounded him. Now he was admitting that maybe they were wrong. This was really big. I mean, if Javik could admit that his people weren't perfect, then maybe there was hope for the rest of us.

"I am prepared for whatever lies ahead, Commander," Javik continued. "The Reapers have haunted the galaxy long enough. It is time to end the nightmare.

"The last Prothean awaits your command."

My next stop was Engineering. Tali was in the midst of a conversation with Garrus while the other three were pretending they weren't eavesdropping—with varying degrees of success. "Listen, about what I said..." Garrus was saying.

"Forget it."

"No. I was wrong. I was young and... I was wrong about your people. Oh... and about you."

"Oh..." Tali clearly wasn't expecting an apology from Garrus. Eventually, she remembered her manners. "Um, thanks."

"How about you?" Garrus asked. "You ever mind serving on an all-human ship?"

"It's not all human... as long as you're here."

Apparently Liara didn't count. Or Javik. Or EDI. (7) But I wasn't about to bring that up. Clearly, Tali and Garrus needed some alone time. So I went to the other engineers and pretended I wasn't eavesdropping on their conversation.

Daniels was the first to look up and see me. "The Normandy is ready to go, Commander. Give the word, and we'll get you to Earth."

"I'll probably give that word tomorrow," I said, "but it's good to know she'll be ready when I need her."

"Yes, sir. And Commander? It's been such an honour to be a part of the team."

"Likewise, Gabby," I smiled.

"Good luck… and be careful, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Aye, good luck with the assault," Donnelly chimed in. "Wish I was joining you."

"No, you don't," Daniels butted in. "I've seen you shoot."

Donnelly looked embarrassed. "Fine! Then I wish I could shoot better. Then I wish I was joining you."

"Copy that," I nodded. "But Ken: I'll honestly fight better knowing that you're up here—that you're all up here—keeping the Normandy together. She's gonna take a few licks tomorrow."

"Ah, she's a tough ship. She'll be fine. But we'll be ready if she needs a hand. Take care, Shepard."

"You too, Donnelly."

By that point, Tali had finished talking with Garrus—at least, I'm sure that's what they'd call it if anyone asked. Personally, I could think of other terms that would be more appropriate. But I digress—and was ready to chat. "Shepard," she greeted me.

"Tali. How're you doing?"

"I'm ready to help you take back your homeworld."

"No last-minute jitters?"

"Maybe a few. I've been running suit integrity checks every other hour and I'll be looking over my personal weapons to see if I can squeeze any more juice out of them. I want to be at my best when the time comes. You've done so much for me and my people, Shepard. You were instrumental in ending our war with the geth. You ended our exile after three hundred years so we could finally return home. After everything you did for us, the least we could do is return the favour."

There was a lot I could have said. Again, I settled for something simple. "Thank you, Tali."

"Keelah se'lai, Shepard."

Before I left, I had a final word with Adams. "Report."

"Commander, the Normandy is as ready as she'll ever be. That goes double for my team. We're prepared for whatever hits us. In fact, I've asked Lieutenant Cortez to see if anyone has some extra Javelin launchers in storage."

"Want to increase our firepower?" I guessed.

"We only have two launchers with two torpedoes apiece," he reminded me. "That's only good for two shots—four if the targets are already damaged. If we can get more launchers—and more torpedoes—then we can do more damage. Can't rely on the Thanix cannons and GARDIAN grids for everything, after all."

"Fair enough."

"One more thing, Commander." Adams stepped away from his console and stood to attention. "Whatever happens tomorrow, it has been an honour and privilege to serve with you."

"The honour's all mine, Lieutenant," I replied. "You've kept the Normandy in tip-top shape and made sure our daily operations ran smoothly. I couldn't have done this without you, and I'm proud to have you as my XO."

There was probably more I could say, but I couldn't find the words. So I stood to attention and saluted him. Smiling proudly, he returned the gesture.

"Give 'em hell, sir," he grinned.

After all the optimism in Engineering, it was an abrupt change to enter the Starboard Cargo Area and see a very subdued Emily. "What's wrong?" I immediately asked.

"Did I tell you I'm a colony kid?" she asked quietly.

I shook my head. "No, I don't think you did."

"Well I am. Or was. Grew up on Bekenstein. Right next door to the Citadel."

"'Was'," I repeated, cluing in on the key word.

"Was," Emily echoed.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything for a long, long time.

"The Reapers didn't even land on it to harvest anyone," she finally said. "Just took a few shots from space. You know, because the Reapers like targeting industrial centres and we have factories that specialize in making the best high-quality entertainment and luxury products available throughout the galaxy. Had factories, I should say."

The last time I was there, I was helping Kasumi out with a heist. I didn't see much of Bekenstein, given that I took a somewhat-meandering route from the Normandy to the mark's private mansion, but it seemed like a thriving, bustling world. If Emily was right, that prosperous metropolis had just been reduced to rubble.

"I tried to reach out to a friend of mine. Grew up with her. We were in the same graduating class at the University of Milgrom's Rossberg School of Journalism. I went from freelance investigative journalism to news casting with the FCC to my current gig with ANN. (8) She signed on with ANN's Battlespace program. Her name's Diana Allers. I don't know if you've heard of her."

I tried to maintain a calm, non-committal façade. I had a feeling I knew where this was going, and I didn't want to tell her that I almost invited Allers aboard the Normandy as a war correspondent instead of Emily. That was probably the last thing she would want to hear.

Sadly, I was right on the money. "Last I heard, Diana got embedded with the SSV Shasta. The Shasta was with the Fifth Fleet when we launched our attack on Cerberus headquarters. She was… no one made it…"

She broke down in tears. I reached out and gave her a comforting hug. Hackett had said that twelve ships had been destroyed in the battle. Guess I now knew the name of one of those ships.

"We're going to beat them," I finally said.

"Yeah."

Eventually, I made it down to Deck Five to visit Steve and James. "Steve," I greeted him. (9)

"Shepard," he returned.

"Anything I need to know?"

"With you 'till the end, sir."

"Good to know," I nodded. "Anything else?"

"Just replaced a few components on the Kodiak. The systems always need a bit of adjusting after that, so I'm doing a few rounds of calibrations. In the meantime, I'm coordinating with the salvage effort that's currently underway."

"I heard the task force lost a dozen ships," I nodded soberly.

"We did," Steve confirmed. "Feels like grave robbing, but there's a lot of valuable equipment out there that could help repair our damaged vessels—and the dead won't need them anymore. I know it sounds callous—"

"No, I get it," I said, shaking my head in commiseration. "It does feel like grave robbing. But we're not doing it out of greed. We're doing this to survive. To win. I don't think the dead would mind. If anything, I'd like to think they would be honoured to strike one more blow against the Reapers, however vicarious it might be. While we're on that subject: I was just visiting Engineering. Adams said we didn't take any damage, but he wanted to get some more Javelin launchers."

"Well, technically we did take a few hits," Steve corrected, "but mostly glancing shots. Not really worth mentioning. You could probably thank Joker's piloting for that but… well, off the record, his ego's big enough."

"Your secret's safe with me," I chuckled.

He laughed along with me. "Anyway, I did get the e-mail from Adams and did some checking. Looks like we can retrieve a few launchers from the SSV Shasta and install them without throwing off our weight or flight profile."

The Shasta. Huh. Well, I guess we could strike a blow for Allers, the crew of the Shasta and all the lives that had been lost on Bekenstein. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

With that, I went to see James. He was busy pumping iron. (10) "Shepard," he said. "Sticking it to that bastard Kai Leng must've felt good."

"Off the record? Yeah. Yeah, it certainly did."

"Just wish we'd caught up to the Illusive Man before he could screw us over again."

I let out a sigh of disappointment. "You and me both."

"Well, at least we get to head back to Earth. I've been asking for it… I just hope…" James put down his weights and stood out, his face set in stone. "I'm gonna make those Reapers pay… for everything they've done. Everyone they've killed."

"Amen," I said fervently. "They have a lot to answer for, there's no denying that. Just leave a few of them for the rest of us, yeah?"

"Funny, Loco. Thought it would be the other way around."

Before I left the Cargo Bay, I did a bit of shopping and bought a few weapon upgrades. Prices were a bit expensive, but I wasn't in a position to haggle. Not with the shops on the Citadel—along with the Citadel itself—currently orbiting Earth, behind enemy lines. Besides, the fate of the galaxy was at stake and it would be a shame to lose because I got stingy.

After that, I went back to my quarters. Miranda wasn't there. Guess she stepped out for a break or something. So I sat down at my desk and started looking through my e-mail. Naturally, it was full of spam. Somehow, though, I found the process of clearing it all out to be therapeutic. Guess it's healthier than shooting people in the head, setting things on fire or stealing anything that wasn't nailed down. In any event, after all the deleting was done, I was left with a few e-mails.

From: Grace Sato
Subject: Still kicking

Commander Shepard. Just want to say how indebted I am to you, not just for saving my life, but for giving me a greater sense of purpose. After our ordeal securing the array base on Ontarom, I now know I have something more than my technical expertise to offer.

Grace Sato
Systems Technician, 3rd Grade

Ah, Grace. I'd met her shortly after Garrus and I returned from liberating Omega from General Petrovsky, his Cerberus minions and a whackload of experimental beasties. Grace was a hard-working civvie who had the misfortune of working at a certain Alliance communications hub when Cerberus attacked. She was brave enough to get the word out, then stick around and tell us where to go, all while evading the goons who'd gunned down her colleagues and were homing in on her position every time she turned on the comm. Even after we'd extracted her from Ontarom, she requested a transfer to some place where she could continue doing the work she knew best. All so she could contribute to the war effort in her own way. The galaxy needed more people like her.

The next e-mail was a bit more somber, to put it mildly:

From: Emily Wong
Subject: Fw: Normal is the best revenge

Commander,

Thank you. Not only for the opportunity to come aboard the Normandy, but for always having a door open for me. And thank you for, well, for coming when you did. I needed a friendly face today and somehow, you were there when I needed you the most.

I wanted to forward the last e-mail Diana sent me. I don't think she'd mind.

I'm going to keep my fingers crossed tomorrow, but if this war has taught me anything, it's that nothing's guaranteed. If I end up making it out of this but you don't, I'll make sure you get a hero's funeral and a Bekenstein wake—that's like an Irish wake, but not as sober and reserved.

—Emily

From: Diana Allers
To: Emily Wong
Subject: Normal is the best revenge

Hi Emily,

I don't need to tell you how much Commander Shepard means to people. You're on the Normandy, after all. You see the kind of impact he has firsthand. But even over here, you can tell how important he is. The things I see in Battlespace's mailbox, the things I hear from talking to the Shasta's crew, they could make a geth grow tear ducts and weep. Page after page of people asking Shepard to go save their mother's planet, or the homeworld they outgrew, or the mining colony they sank their fortunes into. They don't know that he can't do it all. They don't know that he's only human. They don't even know that he has better things to read the Battlespace forum threads. All they know is that Commander Shepard beat a Reaper once and can do it again.

I know how they feel, Emily. When I heard about Bekenstein, it was like all the nerves in my body were cut. It took everything I had to reach out to you, just in case you hadn't heard, because I wanted you to hear it from me rather than some random extranet headline. And I wish I was there with you when you got the news, if only so we could lock ourselves in a room and have a good cry over cheap booze.

But I need to believe that this isn't the end. I need to believe that we're going to win. I need to believe that Commander Shepard will save the day one last time, that he'll destroy the Reapers and win this war. And you're going to be right there, filming it as it happens.

When the fight is over, and your signal goes out on tightbeam, people are going to come together from all over the galaxy. They're going to watch from their couches and they'll celebrate. And one day, they'll laugh again.

The laughing part is important. I want things to be normal again, Emily. I want Commander Shepard and you and everyone to make it all normal again. Because that's the best revenge I can think of.

Keep your head down, your eyes and ears open and your vid-cam rolling,
Diana

To think, all I knew about Allers was the cheesiness of her sales pitch and how tight—and low-cut—her dress was. Who knew that underneath those cheap clothes was a woman who had witnessed so much pain and suffering, be it through the anguished words of a fan or through the lens of her vid-cam. A woman who didn't need to work with me to know that I couldn't be everywhere at once, no matter how hard—how desperately hard—I tried. A woman whose only wish was that someday, somehow, we could get together and find it in ourselves to laugh again.

There was some wisdom in that heartfelt wish. If only it didn't take the war to end all wars to find it.

The last e-mail was from Ellie. My sister-from-another… mister? Surrogate sister in every way that mattered except that niggling genetics thing? You know what I mean. Anyway, the only thing was a cryptic subject line titled: Call Me, I've Got News.

So I called her. Waited forever for the Normandy to connect to the ship Ellie was serving on, or so it seemed. But I finally managed to connect to the MSV Nightingale. Her face popped up on the screen. "Hi, Chuck!" she beamed.

"Hi, Ellie!" I said, forcing the casual, happy-go-lucky smile that she was used to seeing on my face. "What's up?"

"Well—you're sitting down, right? 'Cuz I have some news. Big news."

"Sitting," I confirmed. "Listening. Waiting. For good news, I hope."

"I'm pregnant."

…

At some point, I closed my mouth. I looked down to see if there was any sign she was showing, then remembered I was talking to her through a computer screen. "What? Are you—what—seriously?!"

"I… I was going to wait until Devon got—"

"Hang on," I interrupted. "He doesn't even know yet?"

"No, he—I just got the test results today and I was waiting to surprise him when he finished his shift, but then you called and I just had to—"

"Oh my God," I interrupted again. "Congratulations! That's incredible! Amazing! All of the above. I'm so happy for you! Oh my God, I'd hug you through the screen if I could. Only I'd probably harm the child if I did. Your child. Your baby child. Oh my God!"

"I'm really happy right now, Chuck," she admitted. Which explained the beaming happy glow on her face. "I mean, I'm starting a family. A new family. And you have Miranda and the two of you are safe and… just… I'm really so happy right now."

Keep smiling, I told myself. Just keep smiling…

"I couldn't tell her."

Miranda had returned to my—well, our quarters. She'd brought up a datapad stuffed full of maintenance reports and duty logs, along with jasmine tea and strawberry cheesecake. (11) Not that she was reading or drinking or eating. At the moment, she was quietly listening as I went through that last conversation with my sister.

"I just couldn't tell her. Not now. She was—you should have seen her—she was practically glowing, that's how happy she was. And I couldn't tell her what I just found out. I couldn't tell her that the key to saving this galaxy and ending this war had been right under our noses the entire time. I couldn't tell her that the Citadel had been moved to Earth and was being guarded by who knows how many Reapers. I couldn't tell her that tomorrow I'd be going into battle, along with every ship and soldier we've managed to gather throughout this hellish ordeal. I couldn't tell her how impossibly high the stakes were or what that would mean for her and Devon and their baby. I just smiled and nodded and lied through my teeth and I hated it."

"You weren't lying to her out of malice," Miranda replied, squeezing my hand. "You were just being her brother, trying your best not to spoil this incredible moment for your sister. There's a difference."

"I guess."

"Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't already know. Or suspect."

I looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"You and I both know she isn't stupid. She's observant, keeps her ears open and knows how to read between the lines. While she may not know all the details, she may be aware that Operation Return is about to commence. At the very least, she may have heard a major offensive is about to take place and that she needs to prepare for the inevitable casualties."

"Maybe," I allowed. "It certainly makes sense. I just wish she didn't have to know that. I wish she didn't have to worry.

"I think she would worry more if she didn't know what was going on."

"True enough," I allowed. "Anything else?"

"Well, Hackett's had teams going through the Cerberus station. The vast majority of the data was deleted—in fact, I think you saw most of the files that were not deleted."

Ha! Still more proof that my insatiable curiosity and rampant kleptomania are good things!

"The Alliance will have to go back later with cyber security specialists to see if they can reconstruct anything. For now, it seems they are interested in the human proto-Reaper artifact."

"You mean the heart?" I frowned. "What do they want with that?"

"They want to install it in the Crucible."

My eyes widened. "They what now?"

"They did come across a few video logs and e-mail reports that indicated Cerberus spent months searching the irradiated rubble of the Collector base after you blew it up. While the human proto-Reaper the Collectors were building had been destroyed, its central core—and the power cell contained within—survived. Obviously. After careful study, Cerberus confirmed it was capable of powering a full-fledged Reaper and modified it to fuel the Illusive Man's base. Hackett's engineers believe they can use the core to power the Crucible."

"Doesn't it already have a power core?" I asked. "Does it really need the extra juice? And is that safe? Remember when the Reaper IFF shut down the Normandy?"

Miranda being Miranda, she proceeded to answer all of my questions in order. "The Crucible does in fact have a power core. The extra energy from the human proto-Reaper power cell would be beneficial. The engineers have examined the core to remove or neutralize anything that could threaten the intended operation of the Crucible. Believe it or not, I do remember the after-action report regarding the impact of the Reaper IFF on the Normandy—even if the first detail that comes to mind was the shock of unshackling EDI. Which in hindsight was not the calamitous disaster I imagined."

"Wonderful. And they're sure it's safe?"

"All examinations and tests conducted to this point say yes. They are in the midst of a further and far more extensive battery of tests as we speak. Assuming the results are equally positive, they can install it in the Crucible when it arrives."

"Wouldn't that delay the initiation of Operation Return?"

"The Crucible and the Turian Seventh Fleet are projected to arrive within the hour. Our engineers should be able to finish installing the power cell and running calibration checks by the time the allied fleets finish mobilizing."

"All right," I nodded. "So all we have to do and wait."

"I've never been good at waiting," Miranda admitted, making a face. "I always feel there's something I should be doing to pass the time as efficiently as possible. And usually there is."

"What about now?" I asked.

She squeezed my hand again. "Right now, I think the best use of my time would be to spend it with you."

"I'd like that," I smiled. "Will you stay here with me? Until the call comes?"

"I'll stay as long as you want."

So we spent the night together.

One might think that we spent the night in a marathon-long session of wild, sweaty sex. Well, there was sex. Slow and gentle. Worshipping every part of each other's body. Taking our time with every kiss, every caress, every thrust. As if this was our last time—because it could very well be our last time. But we didn't exactly spend our last few hours together in a marathon-long session of wild, sweaty sex. Partly because wild, sweaty sex isn't really an adequate substitute for solid, restful sleep. Partly because we spent a surprising amount of time just holding each other. Taking comfort in the simple presence of each other.

As it turned out, I wound up waking up straight out of yet another nightmare. So I didn't really get a lot of solid, restful sleep after all.

"Another nightmare?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah." I shook my head as if to rid myself of the horrible visions. "You knew?"

"I knew," she said simply. "It's amazing you got any sleep at all with everything going on."

"Well you did help wear me out," I said, trying to deflect the issue with my usual humour.

Miranda wasn't buying it, though. "Do you want to talk?"

For once, the nightmare was fading into the recesses of my mind, but I could still recall the gist of it. "I was just dreaming about all the people who died. Friends… colleagues… Sometimes I…"

"—wonder if what'll be left was worth the fight," she finished.

Reaching over, she took my hand into her own. "Put that aside. Put all your doubts and fears about what could have been aside. Remember this: you rallied everyone you could. You broke through all sorts of barriers and overcame insurmountable odds to forge the greatest military force in galactic history. A coalition that put aside its differences and animosities to work towards a common cause. You united us together and gave us our best chance at winning this war. Take strength from that."

"I take my strength from you," I admitted. "You being here? With me? It means everything. I couldn't have done any of this without you, Miranda. And… I love you."

"I love you too, Shepard. Now let's go win this war."

Leaning over, we shared a long, deep, passionate kiss. Then we got up and began preparing for the big day. We'd be going home. Fighting the first of many battles. Fighting to bring this long, bloody war to its ultimate conclusion. One way or another, everything would end.

Soon.

(1): A saying that originates from the human civilization of ancient Greece, where laurel wreaths were awarded as symbols of victory and status. The idiom means to enjoy past achievements and former glories to the point of complacency, rather than work towards future accomplishments.

(2):

Unfortunately, neither Campbell nor Westmoreland ever made it down to the surface of Earth to participate in any kind of offensive.

(3): That may have been the first time Shepard addressed Samantha by her individual name, a fact that was not lost on either of them.

(4): Shepard did come across an unusually high number of squadmates, crewmates and acquaintances who had problems with parents in general and fathers in particular. I believe the correct term is 'daddy issues.'

(5): Traditionally, when humans measured distilled spirits, two fingers of whiskey refers to the amount that would fill a glass to the level of two fingers wrapped around the glass at the bottom. Subsequent efforts to standardize measurements led to one finger being the equivalent of ¾ of an inch.

(6): Dr. Chakwas is clearly not including the yahg, the raloi and other species that had not joined the intergalactic community.

(7): That clearly wasn't the point, if one bothered to interpret the underlying subtext. Shepard was undoubtedly being sarcastic… unless he was being completely and utterly clueless.

(8): Future Content Corporation and Alliance News Network, respectively.

(9): This would also be the first time he referred to Lieutenant Cortez by his individual name.

(10): An informal human phrase for exercise by means of lifting heavy weights.

(11): A ritual Shepard and Miranda fell into stemming from their first (work) date. The dessert varied, but the beverage was always jasmine tea.