"The work of the individual still remains the spark that moves mankind ahead even more than teamwork." - Igor I. Sikorsky

Epilogue: Post Scriptum

"With all due respect, Sir, but this is a farce and, quite frankly, an insult."

"You are right, Corporal. At the same time, this came from the top. Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams were given the same choice. Both of them signed."

I must have looked positively ready to murder someone. The way I gripped that datapad made my knuckles appear white. If we hadn't been in the base commander's office - whom Anderson had temporarily gotten rid of without much fanfare - I would have seriously considered destroying something.

"So, Shepard's corpse isn't even cold yet," the venom came from my mouth on its own, "And Alliance High Command already thinks about silencing everyone involved. Brilliant, brilliant thinking. What happens if I don't sign? Is there a fucking wetwork team waiting for me outside those doors already?"

"Corporal Raven-" he began, but I wasn't quite done.

"Does anyone up the chain realize what this -" I waved the datapad with the non-disclosure 'agreement' on it at him for emphasis " - will do? Every Alliance soldier and their bloody mothers know about the 'Reapers' now! Everyone has seen the recruitment ads with Shepard's face on them! Cerberus only needs to tell everyone that they're doing the good work now - people can and will see that Alliance and Council are doing fuck-all about the actual threat! The Illusive Man will have a field day with that one! It -"

"Corporal Raven! Lower your voice!"

When Anderson was angry, his voice sounded closer to a wrathful god than a veteran soldier and Councillor-elect. I shut my mouth immediately, but anger hadn't vanished in the slightest.

"I can continue for you." He said. His weathered face matched the distaste in his eyes. "It will look for a significant portion of the Alliance like the Alliance leadership is trying everything to crawl up the Council's ass to secure that Council seat. You don't need to tell me what effect retouching recruitment ads will do. You are right."

He sighed and rolled his shoulders. "But the Alliance cannot afford to antagonize our new Council allies. Humanity may appear like the heroes of the day, but neither our military, nor our economic capacities are anywhere close to justifying our position on the Council. I am not telling you to like this. I don't like this either. I'm just telling what the Admiralty is likely thinking."

"Plus, it's so much more convenient for everyone if nobody knows that doomsday may be just around the corner." I spat. Anderson looked at me sharpy - but did not reply.

It had been two and a half weeks. Aside from a few thin bandages, my arm was as good as new - and the bandages were only really there to help the still 'fresh' bones and muscles to carry the weight of my rifle.

My refresher courses went well. I trained mostly on my own, but occasionally a few young recruits were on the range and at the gym as well. I didn't like the way they looked at me - it may be arrogance speaking, but the corporal stripes and the stripes on my fatigues indicating the Alliance Purple Heart and the Alliance Bronze Star probably left them awestruck, nor at the very least impressed. None of them were older than 18. I was only three years older - but felt like I was lifetimes ahead. And annoyed by the whole ordeal.

I had received both awards and the Citadel Commendation for Valour in a small, private ceremony. Frankly, while my temporary CO, the commander of Alliance HQ, made quite the fuss about it - for me, it was an afterthought. The 'Bronze Star' had been awarded for the NORMANDY's exceptional participation in the Eden Prime War and the Battle of the Citadel, the Citadel Commendation, dito. So, technically, none of them were really mine. The only one I carried with even a hint of pride was the Purple Heart - awarded for 'severe injuries in the line of duty'.

My promotion was finally confirmed as well. After six months in frequent combat, wearing armor, weapons and equipment for the first time after weeks was a strange feeling - but, in the end, I got used to it fairly quickly. Not a surprise there.

As October turned into November, one day, Captain Anderson showed up on the base, requesting to talk to me. Expecting the worst, I was fortunately disappointed. But still angered. I had known this was inevitable - but I had not expected Alliance and Council to be a bit more subtle or slow to sweep it all under the rug.

This NDA was basically an attempt at legal blackmail. If I didn't agree to 'forget' about the hunt for Saren - and everything that we had unearthed during our chase - I would face a level of repercussions that wasn't too far away from the Williams family curse. And there was little to nothing I could do about it. It was still unacceptable. Only the knowledge that it wouldn't concern me for much longer kept me from screaming out in frustration.

"I can see why Kaidan and Ashley would sign it, Captain." I said, forcing myself to speak evenly. "Those two are career soldiers, after all. They have something to lose. It's quite the dirty move, though. Please, Captain, tell me in earnest - why on Earth should I sign this NDA?"

"Because you are not an Alliance career soldier, Corporal. Because your discharge is just around the corner - and because where you are going next, the additional financial benefits of your awards and your promotion, your pension, will be worth having to swallow your pride for a few weeks."

I looked up in shock. Anderson looked… amused?

"I have been doing this job for decades, son. Shepard sent me monthly updates on her squad, your psychological profile included. It was very clear that you wore the uniform mostly to fit in - and now that you cannot return to the NORMANDY, there is no reason for you to keep it. I also know that you want to keep fighting. I've been told that you declined an offer to be transferred to Wolcott's 908th. That leaves only one option: You will leave the Alliance behind - and probably leave Citadel space too. I'm just curious where you will be."

I paused for a moment, thinking. How could I get the message across…? Should he know? Should he not?

"You are correct, Captain. I already set everything in motion, including my formal request to be discharged - now that the state of war has officially been lifted, my 'conscription' is due to end, too."

I looked him dead in the eye and, subconsciously, put as much weight in my voice as I could. I knew I was being weighed.

"This fight must continue, and if I read the last message I received, then my new 'job application' is, at the least, being considered. I'm not gonna lie, it's a tall order and a tough task that I've set for myself." I smiled. "But if my time with Shepard has taught me anything, then it's that one person with the right motivation, in the right place, can move the galaxy. This may sound arrogant, Sir, I am aware of it - but I have faith in myself. And even if I do not succeed fully, if I play it right, then I can be a massive help still."

"I'm aware. Shepard was quite thorough on you. You impressed her - and that's not easy." He folded his hands behind his back. "I know I may be asking for a lot here. But she also reported on your tendency to write your thought processes and brainstorms down. I must admit… I am curious what's next in store for you. Would you mind sharing your plans? Maybe I can still help you."

I hesitated - but only for a brief moment. I knew that Anderson was trustworthy. And it was true - I could use any help that I could get. Having the future Councillor on my side, or being in his good graces at least, could only help. Or so I thought.

"As you wish, Sir." I said and dropped the datapad unceremoniously on the ground to activate my omnitool. I flipped the image around - then projected it in front of him.

My thought process had been rather straightforward, this time around. There weren't too many variables to consider. Nothing could give away that I knew more than I'd let on - Shepard reading my notes had taught me.

"I'm a rifleman now, and I should put the skills I've learned to use." I said as the silence started to last for what felt like ages. "A faction that is not a mercenary band, because I fight for a cause - not for money. I need an environment that I trust or can predict, at the very least, and is in itself, cohesive. An organized military." I said, searching for his eyes as he studied my writing. "An environment that is neither Alliance, nor Cerberus, both for obvious reasons. Outside Citadel space, too, so I cannot easily be distracted with politics that are, essentially, meaningless to me. And that cannot be easily influenced in its decision making by the political power of the Council either - no offense, Sir."

He waved it off without saying a word. His eyes had grown slightly wider, drinking in my writing. I could see how the gears turned. Nervously, I continued, shortening the rest. "An environment where I can grow, maybe as a person, definitely as a fighter. An environment where I already know someone who trusts me - and whom I trust - in a relatively high position and with good connections. An environment in which the one thing that matters the most are: Results."

He was done. Looking up, locking eyes with me.

"You may think I'm insane, Sir. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is the best option, either. But, as Shepard probably told you - once I put my mind into something, I can work quite hard to make it happen. I do not know what the results may look like. But most importantly: I am excited about the opportunity, if it is indeed granted to me. It's a lot of hard work, sacrifice and uncertainty, risk involved - but now, I am certain. I can do this."

He didn't react how I expected. That stare I got was on the same level as Shepard's x-ray vision. He turned his back to me and seemed deep in thought.

"Your chances might be better than you are thinking.", he said. "Word is that there has been a schism, severe discontent. A breakaway faction, a hundred thousand, is reported to have left or is due to leave. The resulting manpower shortages work in your favour. In addition… You wouldn't even be the first human there."

I must have looked quite stunned.

"It may look to the uninitiated like the Alliance is a lapdog to the Council, Raven." He said in earnest. "But we've taken the initiative as well - some initiatives to make sure that our political options are not too limited. We have two ambassadors there. Or, I should say - had there. Now that we are aligned more closely with the Council, we had to recall them - they were known to the diplomats of other species, and keeping even semi-official diplomatic relations to the pariahs of this galaxy was too risky, from a political and diplomatic standpoint."

He suddenly grinned.

"But I am not Udina. And I would like to keep a connection to the Migrant Fleet. Shepard's opinion of you was very high, as I said. Maybe, I can arrange something to keep you in the loop, without putting you through any of the political bullshit. How would it sound to work directly for me - unofficially, of course?"

I thought I couldn't be any more stunned. I was mistaken. The options and possibilities crashed down on me. I needed to have a think. This was awesome. This was just what I needed.
This could change the galaxy - if I didn't fuck it up.

"Do not rush a decision," Anderson warned me. "I will need to make some preparations myself. And you have been granted two days to think on whether or not you'll sign that document." A bit ashamed of my brashness, I picked up the datapad from the floor. Anderson nodded.

"I will be in touch, shortly. I'm granting you permission to mention the possibility in your next message to them. That would be all, Corporal. Unless you have any questions, you are dismissed."

I had none. Or rather, too many - but I needed to sort myself out first. I stood at attention and, for the first time in forever, gave a proper Alliance salute before turning on my heels and moving to leave.

"One last thing, Raven."

I stopped and turned. Leaning heavily on the massive wooden desk that dominated the room - the base commander had decent taste - Anderson looked at me, eyes hard to decipher.

"The ceremony will be held in a few days. Would you like to attend? I can ask your CO to free you from your schedule and grant you a leave of absence."

I felt a layer of ice on my heart - and shook my head firmly.

"I will not attend the funeral, Captain. There is no corpse anyway." I replied coldly. "I'll spend that time working on a way to make progress in the fight against the Reapers, rather than listening to some half-assed lies about her. I'll do her more of a service that way."

Anderson looked at me with the same gaze that Shepard had once given me, all the way back when she determined whether or not I could serve in a combat role. I wasn't sure which picture was more fitting - The disciple following her master, or like father, like daughter

He nodded grimly.

"I had the same fire burning inside me when I was younger, Raven. Make sure it doesn't burn you out from the inside."

I understood. "I thank you for your advice, Sir. And I'm convinced that you will be the best Councillor Humanity could ask for in these times."

He nodded in gratitude, but knew that I hadn't finished my statement.

"But this one isn't over, my mission - our mission - isn't done yet. I don't know what the future will bring - but I'll be damned if Jane Shepard has died in vain. I can only hope that, as human Councillor, you'll do the same. Now that we are on the same page, I'm quite confident that you will."

Anderson nodded again. "Be assured - I am not going to forget about the real threat. And the Alliance' brass won't either. I'll do what I can to make sure about it."

He suddenly smiled - in a fatherly way, as I realized flabbergasted. "You're a good soldier, Raven. I'm glad that Shepard was right about you. And I am looking forward to working with you - assuming that you agree, of course."

"Thank you, Sir." I walked over to his door and cast him one last look. The man looked tired, yet fit. Heavily burdened, but ready for one more weight. He'd be a good Councillor. And I did not envy him for that job.

"You haven't seen the last of me, rest assured. I'm awaiting your message. Good day, Councillor Anderson."

And with that, I was out.

The Citadel was a mess. Neither the few times I had left Huerta Memorial or Alliance Citadel HQ down in the wards, nor the transfer flight by skycar had been enough to paint me a clear enough picture. Rubble, smoke, ruins and other damage dominated the landscape. Even a month hadn't been enough to at least clean everything up; and from what I remembered Captain Bailey saying in ME2, Tayseri Wards wouldn't even be fully repaired in two years.

And this was just the tip of the iceberg.

Even the view from the Lower Market's large windows was ruined. Wrecks, from Council forces and Geth alike littered the battlefield all seemingly centered around the largest chunks that SOVEREIGNs gigantic corpse… gravitating towards it, together with all the debris and parts that had been lost during combat.

Twice, I am certain that I spotted a few corpses as well. Frozen in vacuum, ghosts that aimlessly drifted around the place of their demise - either to be picked up and given a proper burial, or to fall into the Widow's fiery embrace… marked as MIA forever.

A stupid thought, if I am being honest. Any body of a fallen soldier still being able to be recovered would've been able to be recovered at this point. I merely imagined things. Or… did I?

I don't know what would've been worse.

I was so deeply lost in thought that I almost didn't hear someone rather heavy approaching me. Only when I recognized the signature sound of heavy armor, did I turn my head. And almost dropped my cigarette - some habits die hard - in the process.

The eyes in which I looked seemed to have aged a decade. Yet it had been only a few days since the two of us had last spoken.

"Glad that you could make it - Recruit." I said.

"Thanks." He replied, lips twitching. "Got accepted two days ago and immediately assigned to a group that's been ordered to clean up the mess you guys left. Recruit work. When cleaning up latrines ain't an option.."

The Mark-II Mantis Heavy Armor, painted in the dark blue and silver Alliance colour scheme, fit him quite well. He had his pistol on his hip; but where usually, the heavier weapons would be stored, the armor held multiple sturdy tools. Including an honest-to-god folding spade.

"I'd say sorry, but it was sort of out of our control." I replied, but my grin didn't quite reach my eyes. I sighed. "That's it." I stated, flatly. "I've just received word. They're picking me up in three hours, once they've collected the last pilgrims left on the Citadel."

Crow nodded in response. "Okay." he simply replied. And then, shortly after: "I'll try to do what I can to be ready when the call comes."

"I'm counting on you." I glanced at his armor. "Do you already know what you're goin' to do now? Two years is some time, but not an awful lot."

"Our job at the embassy seems to have impressed some people. Anderson's word carries a lot of weight and if what I heard is correct, I will be sent to Earth in a few days. Apparently, I'm supposed to undergo infantry training with the Bundeswehr, later to be put into the Division Schnelle Kräfte (Rapid Forces Division)."

I raised my eyebrow at that. "Why exactly would he send you to Earth, when there's a lot of stuff to be done here?"

"Apparently, he wants me to train in relative peace. And he seems to know the current KSK commander, General Weißhaupt. And, if rumors can be trusted, Germany will send a lot of soldiers and material to reinforce the main Alliance forces. If we really are going to step up as a Council species in a few days, the Alliance will need a lot of new strength - and the Geth aren't fully defeated either. Reports have come in that they've entrenched themselves on multiple worlds in the Traverse. Will be a hell of a job to dig 'em out."

"You've got that." I assured him. Not that he needed it. "The Alliance will take good care of you, and with what you know already, and the training you've already done, you'll be on my level in no time. By the way - you're welcome for me mentioning your name to Anderson in the first place."

I felt nothing but joy at the way he rolled his eyes, but still grinned. We shared a few more bits and pieces of small talk, but knew that our time had come to an end. Once more. The beeping from Crow's omnitool confirmed it.

He only looked at it, and sighed. Sounded almost like Shepard. "Breaktime's over. I need to get back to my unit." We looked each other in the eyes. Then firmly shook each others hand.

"Don't get yourself killed." I said, solemnly. "The Reapers' have given us a short breather. But not much more. Let's put it to good use. The SR-2 is waiting for us."

"Same to you. Stay vigilant. You're playing with high stakes; again. If it's getting too hot, get outta there and wait up until it's time to get back in the game."

I nodded. "I will contact you as soon as I can. If we need to… adjust. If you don't hear from me in six months…"

"...I'm going to take over. But, it's useless to even think about it. You've survived Virmire, you've survived Ilos and you've survived the goddamned Citadel. I'll see you later. No doubt."

And with a few more choice words and heartfelt gestures, we parted ways. He waved at me as he left the Lower Market, and was gone.

I breathed deeply, feeling a sense of loss. If I had my way, we would've spent at least a few weeks together, telling each other about our incredible achievements - greatly exaggerating, of course - and properly worked out everything for the future, to the smallest of detail.

But I had to pull myself together. There simply was no room for personal attachments. Crow had said this himself - and neither one of us was still the same after this whole mess. Maybe, two years of actually getting used to our new lives would prove useful.

Two years.

It still felt ridiculous to think about that span of time. Granted, our hunt for Saren had taken half a year as well. But the entire time seemed to have passed in a flash, the wonders of coming into this 'world' and universe, adapting and fighting in more than just the literal sense had made sure that I didn't really notice how time had passed. Only in those last week that I had been condemned to rest, had my mind caught up with everything.

It showed.

I would have to search far in my past to remember a moment where I had felt rested, refreshed, alert, awake and fit as I was now. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was ready for the task ahead.

That would change. I knew. The task ahead of me seemed monumental - but it was equally exciting. The possibilities seemed endless, the stars were the limit - assuming that I was ready for the endless amounts of work, blood and sweat that were coming my way.

I was not afraid.

Putting myself against stupefying odds seemed like the right sort of punishment for letting Shepard die.

And for her - and for my whole crew, as scattered into the winds as it was - I would succeed.

The idea had formed for a long time, ghosting in the back of my head for months, slowly gaining momentum, slowly solidifying in my head. Doubts remained - but for once, I let my heart win over my mind and the doubts that clouded it.

It was the right call.

If it all failed - then I could maybe activate a plan B. But even Liara had things to do herself now. Shepard to save. Her mother's legacy to manage. That would take time. Then, maybe, I could see what to do with her.

I slowly exhaled my cigarettes smoke, then tossed the stub into a small mountain of rubble. And lit up another one.

I hadn't heard from any of my former, and future, teammates in quite a while. Not since the destruction of our ship. It all fell apart too quickly for my liking.

But I wasn't too fussed about it.

Two years are a long time to reconnect. I had to give everyone time first.

The moment would come.

After eight, almost nine, weeks - it was time to return into the fray.

This realization came crashing into my mind when I saw the five soldiers I had been told to expect approaching me. I grinned. It was November 11th, 2183. German time, I had just turned 22.

I stood in full gear, Mattock and backpack strapped on, pistol on my hip, and two gigantic duffel bags with my other possessions to my left and right.

I had removed all markings - all Alliance markings, that is - from my armor and opted to wear neither balaclava nor Recon Hood and had coated the whole thing with a matte-black paintjob. Only my personal embellishments stayed, and a white hand-drawn and somewhat crude X on the left shoulder, replacing the Alliance insignia, and as such marking my lack of allegiance.

X and 0. No Faction, No unit number.

I watched them approach, surprised at my own calm. Four of them were bodyguards to one man in crimson red. They kept me firmly in their line of sight, holding assault rifles in their hands and yet seemed not too comfortable amidst the rubble.

I thought it best to be forthcoming right from the start and, when they were ten meters away, spoke up.

"Lieutenant Reegar vas Neema, I assume?"

The marine in crimson red stopped, and so did his men.

"I am." he confirmed. "And you must be Corporal Jess Raven of the Alliance."

"Just 'Raven' will do, Lieutenant." I replied. "And I do no longer hold any rank in the Alliance Navy, or Marine Corps. I was honorably discharged as per my request, roughly a day ago. As per your superior's request, I no longer hold any formal allegiance with any other faction."

"Good to hear." The quarian bobbed his head. "I would like to continue this conversation in private. In all honesty, my superiors are on the edge about you."

I couldn't help myself. I just had to chuckle.

"I would be surprised if they weren't, Sir." I replied. "I am aware that my request is… unconventional, to say the least. But I've heard about a few… precedents. Soldiers have signed up for foreign armies for similar reasons throughout human history."

I looked him straight in the eyes, glowing brightly behind the mask. "I'm not asking you, or anyone else to trust me, out of nowhere. All I am asking for, is a chance. And now, with what has happened… I have no loyalty to the Alliance left, Sir. Loyalty is earned. And the Alliance, quite simply, has failed me."

I said this last bit, matter-of-factly, and left the following conclusions to him. A brief moment of silence followed. The quarians exchanged gazes amongst themselves, probably communicated using body language too subtle for me to notice. I was afraid I'd laid it on a bit too thick. My feelings were genuine - but that only made it easier to emphasize them too much.

"I'm ready to get to work for a cause I actually believe in, Lieutenant. Pardon me if that sounds arrogant."

Finally, Reegar spoke up, having come to a decision.

"You will be given a chance to demonstrate your intent to our people." Suddenly, he offered me his hand. "Off the record: If only half of what Tali'Zorah has told me about you is true, then you will prove yourself in time. She was right about your honesty, and that's a good start. Welcome aboard, Raven."

I shook his hand firmly. "Looking forward to it, Sir." I smiled thinly out of relief. Until this moment, a small part of me had still thought it all impossible. "I should say that Tali told me that it would give me bonus points with you, but: Keelah Se'lai, Lieutenant."

He chuckled. "She's a smart woman. Our ship is docked at the loading bays in the Lower Markets. Follow me, soldier. Let's leave this place."

I grinned, nodded and put on my recon hood. "Right behind you, Sir."

I ignored the undoubtedly testing, probing gazes of the other four marines. I couldn't win everyone over in a single moment. I had a monumental task ahead of me.

But I wouldn't fail.

As we went into motion, my gaze fell once more unto my gear. Yes, I thought, worried, excited, anxious and joyous at the same time. Let's do this. And gave my right pauldron another testing gaze - and a gentle rub.

I had spent quite some time embellishing it. For me, it was a sign that one chapter had closed - another began. And that I was willing to do whatever it was in my power to make sure that Jane Shepard's agonizing last breath would not be wasted. No matter my own survival, no matter myself. It was a debt I could never repay - but damn, I would try.

The insignia of a black and red raven on a black shield. Proudly displaying its wings. Ready to challenge. Ready to take flight.

Below that, in red paint, a slogan.

"Victorus Aut Mortis."

Victory or Death.

END OF PART ONE.

A/N: I have a feeling that you will have questions - but I won't answer them. Not now, anyway.

Yes, Raven joining the Migrant Fleet is a tall ask, a tough task. Yes, you may cry out in disbelief, have I completely lost my mind? What kind of Mary Sue BS is this?

Yes and no. But this is only the Epilogue of Mass Effect 1 - not Mass Effect 2. And those of you that have played it know that the span between those two games, the two years that Shepard spent being dead, are very much one of the driving factors of that whole game.

In my honest opinion, it's simply not the purpose of an epilogue - especially between different books of a series - to clarify everything. But to throw up as many questions as possible.

Draw your conclusions as you wish. But I have a good feeling about this. And a plan. Now, it's all about executing that plan. And I have a good feeling about that, too.

I have received several mails/PMs/Review over the last few days asking me how I plan on releasing ME 2. To be honest, I do not know just yet. What I do know however is that I *will* upload at least one more chapter to this story, even if I decide to publish ME 2 as a new story, to notify y'all when CH I of ME 2 will be released. So, make sure to (stay) followed!

I can't promise that you'll hear from me soon. Preparing for ME 2 is a bit of work, and if I want to follow the plans that I have outlined in CH XX, then I will need time. That being said, I'm currently aiming for the second half of 2021 - and then a release every second month. Let's see if I'm gonna have to eat my words this time around. But, one way or the other - as you all are probably tired of hearing - I said I will see this story concluded. And I intend to keep it that way - as ME 1, hopefully, proved.

I wish you all, every single one of you, a wonderful Christmas' Eve - even if you don't celebrate it. And a happy new year, too. 2020 was a shitshow, let's be honest. I have reason to believe that 2021 will be a year of recovery, of reclaiming our lives as they were before. And a better year overall.

Let's get to it, Ladies and Gentlemen.

Yours truly,

J. "RedRaven" E.