Mass Effect: A Measure of Salvation

by Mal Cobb

With the Reapers closing in, Miranda Lawson understands well the magnitude of the threat. But as she breaks free from Cerberus and navigates the perils of a fracturing Systems Alliance, can she reconcile the operative she once was with the woman who's fallen for Commander Shepard? Rated M for graphic violence, language, and strong sexual situations.

23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Earth – Vancouver, Systems Alliance Homeworld Defense Command, North American Headquarters

Shepard stared out the window at the Vancouver skyline and felt utterly alone.

The loneliness that enveloped him was nothing new. He'd been dealing with it for the majority of the time he'd been kept confined on Earth, cut off from the people he cared for.

But in recent days, the sensation of loss, and the absence of purpose that came with it, had become suffocating. Eventually, and not long after his last, ugly encounter with Ashley, that lack of purpose morphed into a kind of numb despair.

The immensity of his failure to keep Miranda safe had long since gutted him to the core. Ashley's heated words had only been the latest reminder of that failure.

But there was something else haunting him now.

He wasn't sleeping more than an hour or two each night, the persistent unease he felt growing each day, saturating every fiber of his being. It was like a vaguely uncomfortable electrical current running through his body, irritating his skin. It was a feeling of foreboding that settled deep down in his soul.

They're coming.

Catching movement from across the way, he spotted the young boy playing in the nearby rooftop park.

He'd seen the boy several times before in recent days, always playing alone in that lonely little park, his grey hoody zipped high to brace against the chill of the Vancouver air. But unlike Shepard, the kid never looked troubled by his solitude as he flew his model starfighter, bobbing and weaving with the best the Alliance Navy had to offer.

Shepard figured the kid was the son of someone working on base.

The residential towers bordering the Alliance complex provided living quarters for thousands of soldiers and staffers stationed at Homeworld Defense Command. They were utilitarian, plain units, but still far and away more comfortable than the bleak Chicago megatropolis public housing complex he'd grown up in.

Still, part of him wondered if the boy felt like a prisoner too, bound to the same small, restricted area of Vancouver real-estate.

A flight of four Kodiak drop shuttles screaming overhead, skimming the rooftops, tore Shepard's attention from the kid. He watched with interest as the shuttles rocketed low over the city, staying in tight formation, until they disappeared out beyond the distant skyscrapers.

Then, as the low rumble of the Kodiaks' engines faded, the chime to his unit's door sounded.

"Come on in, James," he called out, keeping his gaze locked on the point where the shuttles had disappeared a moment before.

He heard the door swoosh open followed immediately by the familiar sound of Vega's heavy footfalls. But then he cocked his head slightly to the side, detecting a second set of boots striking the floor.

"Uh, Commander, you've got a visitor," Vega said.

Shepard turned slowly away from the window and looked back over his shoulder to see Admiral David Anderson, decked out in full class-A uniform, standing near the younger Lieutenant Vega.

Shepard stared over at the tall man for a long moment, offering no reaction. It'd been months since he'd last seen Anderson face to face on the Citadel. Back then, the Admiral had still been humanity's representative on the council and the Commander had been a free man. But that was before Bahak, and Kenson, and Major Richter—and before he'd lost her.

He knew Anderson had been on Earth for nearly the entire time he'd been there himself. Ashley and James were at least able to relay that much. And he understood that he had been working on his behalf, shielding him as best he could from the threat of a full court-martial. Still, Shepard couldn't quite shake the feeling he'd been hung out to dry, left twisting in the wind, by the man he'd once thought of as his mentor.

A strained silence settled in the room as the two Alliance officers gazed at each other. Vega, sensing the sudden tension that had descended, wisely stepped back a few paces and out the door, leaving the other two men alone.

"You're looking a little grim, Anderson," Shepard finally said. "Don't worry, I'm not sore you missed my birthday."

Anderson cracked a thin smile. "I'm glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humor," he said, looking at Shepard appraisingly. "You're looking good. Well, maybe a little soft around the edges, but I hear Vega and Williams have been keeping you active during your extended R&R."

Shepard snorted a laugh. "Right… It's been very relaxing. Practically a vacation. But I haven't seen Williams for a few days now."

"I sent her up to Yeager Station a few days ago. She's been there ever since."

Shepard nodded slowly but didn't press the subject of Ashley Williams's whereabouts any further. He'd become all too used to his questions being left unanswered while in Alliance custody and didn't much care to waste his breath on useless efforts.

Anderson then walked over and joined Shepard near the window, staring outside into the slowly failing light of the late afternoon. "I'm sorry I couldn't come by earlier, Shepard. I know this has been… difficult for you, being kept in the dark for so long."

Shepard made a noncommittal sound and returned to gazing blankly out the window. "Doesn't matter," he said, sounding disinterested.

Anderson turned his head slowly and raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't matter? That's it? I expected to be bombarded with questions about all the activity over the last few months."

"Guess I've lost interest with it all. Or, maybe I just don't care anymore," Shepard said and turned to look Anderson in the eye. "Do you ever just not care, Admiral?"

"I don't believe that, Commander. You're not a man that has the fight kicked out of him by a bunch of paper pushers or politicians."

Shepard let out a harsh, joyless laugh. "There's that word again. Commander. Tell me, Anderson, just what the fuck am I the commander of these days?"

Anderson studied the younger man for a long moment, searching his eyes for a glimmer of the John Shepard he'd known before, looking for the soldier that refused to back down from any challenge thrown in his path. But instead, he found only pain and bitterness. "Listen, Shepard. I know you feel like you've been thrown to the wolves and left to rot. And yes, you got served the short end. I won't argue that for a second. But you need to understand this hasn't all been for nothing." He faced Shepard more squarely and fixed him with a stern look. "You stepped in some serious shit out there. And though I know you were only doing what had to be done, that doesn't change the fact that there was always going to be a fall guy. There were always going to be consequences."

Anderson drew in a long breath before continuing. "But that's of little importance to men like us. You and I, we're wired differently. Let the politicians and the bureaucrats assign blame or debate the morality of what we do on the battlefield. That doesn't change the fact that we've sworn an oath to serve. And believe me, Shepard; I bleed over this, just like you. But goddamnit, we're N7 for a reason. We push past obstacles that most people would find beyond insurmountable. We face down horrors that would paralyze an average citizen."

"You can spare me the speech about honor and duty, Admiral. I told you I don't care."

"Just shut the hell up and listen, Shepard. I'm not asking you to fall in and start chanting the Alliance party line. And I don't much care that you've refused to give the naval investigative team anything substantial about Cerberus or Bahak or any of it. It's irrelevant to me."

Shepard narrowed his gaze on the older man, looking a little more interested, but remained silent.

"You think you're the only Marine that's ever been served a raw deal? You think Ihaven't seen my share of injustice or had to suffer bureaucrats that were more concerned over their poll numbers than the wellbeing of the people they were meant to serve? Hell, I've made a career of suffering such fools." Anderson folded his arms in front of him and drew himself up to his full height. "I didn't come here to stroke your ego or agree with how badly you've been wronged. I have no patience for it."

"Why are you here, sir?"

Anderson remained silent for a few seconds, staring back at his old friend, and then finally pulled a small box from the inside of his coat. "To remind you that the reason we do what we do is for the man or woman standing beside us. It's as simple as that. And I'm standing next to you now, son," he said and handed the box over to Shepard.

Shepard gazed back at the Admiral for another moment before finally taking the box, flipping it open and finding the old familiar silver oak leaf of his rank insignia. He almost grimaced at the sight of it and then glanced back up at Anderson.

"You've been fully reinstated to active duty and returned to your former rank," he said and nodded. "Welcome back to the Alliance, Commander." Anderson then activated his Omni-tool and keyed in a series of rapid commands. "I'm reinitializing your Omni-tool and transferring all current level five security codes."

Shepard raised his left arm as the holo interface sprung to life. He quickly input his handshake credentials and briefly scanned the lines of data coming across before disengaging the interface and looking back at Anderson. "What's happened?"

"Khar'shan went dark four days ago," Anderson said. "Complete blackout. All comm buoys in batarian home space started dropping off the network soon after. There's no news coming out of the region at all now." He pulled a data tablet from another pocket of his coat and handed it over to Shepard. "A batarian fleet stationed at Camala panicked, figuring we'd hit them, and moved against us at Terra Nova. We handed them their asses, but it was a mess."

"Now we've got batarian colonials flooding into the Exodus Cluster, mostly civilian and commercial craft, running from whatever's happened in Harsa. They haven't made any overt aggressive action against Terra Nova or Eden Prime, but their presence is tying up our resources." Anderson exhaled. "Word's filtering in from the refugees that Khar'shan was his hit by some unknown hostile species by way of the Vular system. The 56th Scout Flotilla's now on station near Harsa, trying to acquire more intel, but every stealth probe we've sent through the relay has gone dark before any telemetry's come back."

Shepard studied the information on the tablet for a moment and then glanced back up at Anderson. "They're here."

Anderson frowned. "We don't know anything for sure, Shepard. This could be some major Cerberus action. They've surprised us before with their resources and capabilities."

"It's the Reapers, Anderson," Shepard said forcefully. "They were only a matter of days away from Bahak when the Alpha Relay blew and obliterated the system. It makes perfect sense that they simply course corrected and made for the next closest populated system. It's the best explanation. It's the only explanation."

The Admiral sighed. "I'm inclined to agree with you, Commander," he said, sounding pained to admit the horrible truth of the matter. "But there are still too many unknowns at this point. We have to account for every possibility."

"What's our readiness situation?"

"We've just pulled the First Fleet back from Arcturus. They're on station near the Charon Relay, waiting to intercept anything that comes through. The Fourth is assembled near Jupiter and the newly formed Ninth is in high Earth orbit now. But the Home Fleet is really only half the number of our frontline forces. Still, we've got some real teeth on those ships."

"So we're turtling up? Waiting for them to come at us and fight them on our home turf? I'm not so sure I like that idea much, Admiral."

"We're protecting the homeworld, Shepard—and our most critical colonial holdings. The Sixth and Seventh are covering Terra Nova and Eden Prime. Until the scope of the threat becomes clear, we've got to ensure the safety of major populations. The fleets at Arcturus are ready to deploy to any potential hot zone."

Shepard looked unconvinced that any of the numerous assets the Admiral had counted off would be sufficient to blunt a full-scale Reaper offensive, but he held his tongue. Besides, what was the alternative? Their backs were firmly against the wall and they certainly weren't going to run from this fight.

"The alert level's been raised across the board and we've recalled all active duty personnel from leave," Anderson said. "This morning we began calling up the reserves and coordinating with civil defense units across the globe."

"Sounds like we're scrambling to get on a war footing in a matter of days?"

Anderson shrugged. "Only superficially. Hackett and I have been working toward this eventuality for some time. You'll find it all detailed there," he said, nodding toward the tablet in Shepard's hand.

Shepard exhaled heavily. "Alright, Admiral. Where you need me?"

"I told you. Right at my side, Commander. We need to get the Home Fleet and the local Sol defenses squared away. But first, we're due at the Homeworld Defense Committee session."

"The Defense Committee? Why the hell does the HDC want to talk to me?"

"Because they're nervous and looking for answers. Once deep space outposts started dropping out of contact near Harsa and Hackett ordered the fleets mobilized, they started thinking maybe your intel on the Reapers wasn't so far-fetched after all." He gave Shepard s wry smile. "And they think you're some kind of damn expert. We just need to make an appearance and offer up some sage advice."

Shepard groaned. "Wonderful."

---

Yeager Advanced Naval Weapons Station, Earth Orbit

Ashley Williams marched through the narrow corridors of Yeager Station, shouldering her way past the ever-growing crowds of Alliance personnel as she made the long hike back to where the Normandy was berthed. Over the last several weeks, there'd been a constant stream of people and material moving through all the major orbital platforms around Earth and the Advanced Naval Weapons Station had been no different.

Unlike the much larger, hulking structure of Olympia Station, with its huge shipyard and logistical facilities, Yeager was devoted to testing and outfitting the Alliance Navy's most highly advanced warships and cutting edge weaponry. And with the closely guarded secrecy around the Normandy's integration into the Alliance fleet, the frigate had been sent straight to the Yeager Skunk Works once she'd made her transition back from Arcturus.

And now, in addition to the Normandy and the dozen other frigates and cruisers at anchor, the massive carrier, SSV Enterprise, was docked at the other end of the station, receiving new experimental load-outs for her ship-to-ship batteries and taking on the latest batch of F-17 Tomahawk fighters. The presence of the Big E meant the station was practically bursting at the rivets as crews scrambled to get her outfitted and ready for the action.

With the rumor of war in the air, there was an undeniable urgency and tension within the big station. But most of the Alliance sailors and marines didn't have a clear idea of exactly what they were hastily prepping for. Some thought the batarians had finally committed to an all-out offensive into humanity's galactic territory. A few figured they were going to be facing more geth or maybe even an emboldened Cerberus fleet. There were even a few rumors of a resurgent group of Collectors active along the outer reaches of Council space.

Ashley had a much better idea about the truth of the matter. Still, that didn't make it any easier for her to wrap her head around the scope of the threat they might be facing soon. So, instead, she focused on the task at hand: Ensuring the Normandy was ready for action at the earliest possible moment.

Finally reaching her destination, she paused at the armored viewing windows that looked out onto her ship, attached close the station's outer ring. Outside, she could see the massive arms of automated loaders securing the last of the Javelin missiles into the external launchers slung under the big frigate's wings, close to the hull.

Ashley eyed the activity out in the hard vacuum of space for several minutes, intermittently looking down at the data tablet in her hand, triple checking the day's itinerary, before continuing off farther along the cargo and weapons staging area.

She passed stacks of deployment crates queued up by a big trundling loader, waiting to be transitioned over to the Normandy's cargo bay, as well as heavy munitions boxes bound for the ship's armory. A few meters beyond, she saw the thirty-six Harpoon hyper velocity missiles that had earlier caught her attention when she'd reviewed the day's manifest.

Walking over to the set of polymetallic pallets that that the new HVMs were stacked upon, she noted the missiles looked surprisingly small compared to the more standard Javelins. But Ashley had seen the reports on these new, experimental weapons and knew their size was no indication of the tremendous damage they were capable of inflicting. The exact composition and capabilities of the new missiles was so highly classified that two fully armored Marines were standing guard near the pallets, gazing about the activity along the dock with loaded assault rifles and humorless expressions.

All in all, it was a rush job to get the ship combat ready, but at least she didn't have to worry about any red tape or requisition delays. Admiral Anderson had fast-tracked the entire project, ensuring the Normandy was first in line for the most critical materials and armaments. And she wasn't shy about throwing his name around when she needed. She got her fair share of disgruntled looks from the ordnance chiefs and the technical crew leads, but she just brushed it off. She had a job to do and she wasn't interested in making friends just now.

In fact, she'd been working almost non-stop the last seventy-two hours, trying desperately to get the Normandy squared away and ready for action. But one obstacle after another seemed to be cropping up, adding to the frustration of an already demandingly tight schedule.

Giving the Harpoons one final critical look and offering a quick nod to the Marine guards, Ashley felt a fresh wave of fatigue wash over her. She'd been working herself to the bone the last few days, struggling to keep pace with all that needed to be accomplished by the deadline given to her. But there was little choice in the matter. Like nearly everyone else on the station, she felt the same urgency and vague sense of menace. Somehow, she knew they were running out of time.

Glancing back down at the day's itinerary, she shook her head at the dozens of tasks needing to be wrapped up today, all noted in sickening detail on the tablet in her hand.

Damn, I better get some coffee…

The chirp of her Omni-tool alerted her to an incoming message from the flight control networking team working onboard the Normandy. "Commander, we're having some trouble initializing the flight mechanics and bridge systems," the voice said over her comm. "I think you better come up here."

Blowing out a breath and lamenting the fact that an hour didn't seem to go by without some new kind of problem sprouting up, she abandoned her plans to seek out caffeine and strode over to the primary airlock.

Ashley stormed up the boarding tunnel to the Normandy and in through the air lock. Taking an immediately left, she found the technician that had called her up and fixed the man with an impatient glare. "Well?"

The man hesitated for a moment, shrinking a fraction from Ashley's stare. "Uh… The VI's reporting it can't fully initialize helm and navigation systems without the personalized codes of the last helmsman, Flight Lieutenant Moreau. There's a hard lock in place. I've tried every workaround in the book but it's completely locking me out from all the relevant subroutines."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ashley blurted out and then immediately regretted the outburst, seeing the hapless man cringe. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to recover her cool and temper her frustration. She needed to act like a proper XO, after all. "Alight. The VI's obviously malfunctioning. Just shut the damn thing down and rewrite the protocols."

"Uh… I'm sorry, ma'am. The VI's too extensively integrated into the ship's subsystems and network backbone for that. The team back on Arcturus had considered a full redesign of the Cerberus-built system, but then tossed the plan when they weren't granted the necessary project time."

Ashley cursed again—this time silently to herself. "Fine. I'll take care of it." She then walked off down the ship's fore-and-aft corridor, toward the CIC. Stopping in front of the large central navigational and galaxy map station, she accessed her priority Alliance network comm. "Olympia Command, I have a prisoner transfer request I need processed immediately," she said, typing in the relevant information into her Omni-tool and listening to the response come over through her comm's ear bud. "That's right. I need him here within the hour. Check my clearance. You'll find my authorization comes straight from Admiral Anderson's office." She nodded a few times, satisfied with what she was hearing. "Copy. Normandy, out."

Leaning back against a bank of workstations bordering the galaxy map, she sighed and stared back along the length of the ship's neck, off toward the bridge.

Joker, huh? She thought to herself, cracking a tired smile. Now I definitely need some coffee.

---

Earth - Systems Alliance Homeworld Defense Command, North American Headquarters, Vancouver

"While we support the Admiralty's decision to reinstate you to active duty, we'd like to remind you that there are still many outstanding questions around your service to Cerberus and the Bahak relay incident that we intend to continue pursuing. We would also like to warn you, Commander, that you are still subject to a full court-martial if we deem it necessary."

The Admiral was staring down at Shepard, her critical gaze settling on him with the typical pretentiousness of a career politician. The members of the Systems Alliance Homeworld Defense Committee were all Alliance military, but he knew most of them had taken a very different path to their current stations than either he or Admiral Anderson had. Most had come up through the diplomatic and political corps, spending the bulk of their time rubbing elbows with senators and ambassadors rather than commanding fighting men and women. Their role was to form the bridge between the Terran-based populations and the Systems Alliance that shielded the planet from threats beyond the Sol System.

Shepard understood the need for their existence, but at the moment, he resented the judgmental stares being cast down on him and the precious time they were wasting deliberating the proper response to a threat beyond any of their abilities to comprehend.

"I understand all that, Admiral," Shepard said, struggling to contain his impatience. "So I think we ought to just get on with why you've called me here today so that Admiral Anderson and I can provide some relevant guidance on how you ought to proceed."

The chairwoman raised an eyebrow at the Commander's directness and glanced down at screen in front of her. "Very well," she said stiffly. "As you now know, Commander Shepard, we have a crisis developing within the batarian home system that is threatening the security of our major colonial worlds." She squinted down at the display in front of her, apparently searching for some specific piece of information. "Now, with long-range outposts and minor colonies near the region dropping out of contact, seemingly without warning, we're willing to hear more about the threats you've detailed in Alliance Naval summary reports J23-2110 and K67-1211, submitted on—"

Shepard was gaping is disbelief when he cut the woman off. "Admiral, I don't think you're grasping the urgency of the situation, so how 'bout we stop tip toeing around the subject. You've brought me in here to confirm what you already know—the Reapers are here."

She blinked and glanced up from the screen she'd been studying. Shepard expected a contemptuous glare in response but instead saw the shadow of fear cross over her features at the mention of the word Reapers.

"Uh… yes, we are, prepared to discuss the hypothetical threat classified as 'Reapers' and that these, uh, life forms, may indeed be active in the region of space in question." She looked around nervously before continuing. "I assume you're going to tell us we have another Citadel incident on our hands."

Shepard glanced around at the faces of the other committee members and realized they were all frightened out of their wits and still clinging to the false hope that the incursion into the Milky Way was just another probing attack, like the Collectors or Sovereign. He shook his head, realizing just how unprepared humanity really was for what was coming.

"No, ma'am," he said quietly. "What we're facing is much, much worse than what occurred in 2183. The batarian navy is a shadow of its former self. But even in their present state, they'd be too much for one Sovereign class Reaper to handle. Khar'shan going dark means they've come in force. I'd only be guessing at the numbers without access to any actionable intel, but what I can tell you is that the data my teams collected over the past year suggests they're capable of deploying a significant fleet against us."

"And you don't believe, at our current military strength, we can be successful in countering this Reaper incursion?"

"Admiral, Sovereign was just one Reaper capital ship and it took the combined efforts of the Alliance and Citadel Fleet to take it out. If they hit any of our major systems with even just a dozen of those things, we're in serious trouble," he said. "And since they've taken their time moving out from Harsa, they're likely solidifying their position and lining up resources to strike out in force. Given what we know about their methods, they're likely busy harvesting the local population, through coercion or genetic manipulation."

The Admiral was beginning to look truly disturbed now. "Yes, I've read your reports that claim the enigmatic Collector species is, in fact, the remnants of ancient Protheans, manipulated by the Reapers. You're suggesting that that same process is being inflicted upon the batarians?"

"First off, Admiral, you're well aware that it's not a claim," Shepard said firmly. "I freely provided all the hard data my team gathered during our campaign against the Collectors. And yes, I believe that's exactly what's happening in batarian space. The human husks the Alliance Marines encountered as far back as Eden Prime illustrate what the Reapers are capable of. They corrupt and control the local populations, leverage their resources, and turn the people against their own kind." He paused and drew in a long breath. "My guess, once the Reapers spill out of Harsa, they'll be bringing with them about half a billion batarian thralls, hell-bent on laying waste to the rest of the galaxy."

The committee members arrayed around the tall desk looked around at each other, exchanging looks that Shepard would classify as mildly horrified. Then another of the Admirals peered down at him. "If their power is as overwhelming as you suggest, Commander, can there be any hope of negotiation?" he asked. "There must be something they want, some agreement that can be made."

John grimaced and looked down at the floor. "Can the ant negotiate with the boot?" he asked but didn't wait for an answer. "Sir, these things want one thing and one thing only—our complete and total annihilation. We don't know why or if someone else is holding the leash, but it's a cycle that's repeated itself for literally millions of years. There's no reasoning with them and no compromise that can be reached. They possess superior intelligence and technology. They see us as inferior to them in every way and fully intend to purge us from the galaxy along with any other organic species they deem necessary."

"Then what do you propose we do, Commander?" the second Admiral asked, a pleading note in his voice.

Shepard nodded slowly, deep in thought. What do we do? That's a damn good question, he thought to himself. But the answer wouldn't come. They just didn't know enough about the Reapers or why they were compelled to set the galaxy ablaze every fifty thousand years. It was the question that had been eating away at him ever since he'd woken up on Lazarus Station all those months ago.

But he knew one thing for certain. If the Reapers wanted Earth, they'd take it. During the walk over to the committee chambers, he'd quickly studied Anderson's data tablet and reviewed the fleet statuses and new weapons upgrades. He had to admit that there had been some impressive advances made in the last few months, but it was all too obvious they were still woefully understrength when considering the sheer numbers the Reapers were likely capable of deploying.

No, there just wasn't enough time and there were too many lives at stake.

He finally looked back up and met the expectant stares the committee members were casting down on him. "Begin evacuating Earth. Right now."

There was a long moment of stunned silence in the chambers before a ripple of outraged shock erupted among the committee. Shepard felt Anderson's gaze upon him, the older man having snapped his head toward his direction at the shocking proposal, but he didn't object along with the other Admirals.

"You're suggesting we evacuate more than eleven billion people from the planet?" one of the other Admirals scoffed. "Are you mad?"

Shepard stifled a dour smile and nearly laughed out loud. "According to most of you, yes, Admiral, I'm completely mad," he said. "But whatever you believed about my state of mind, you still wanted my advice." He paused and directed a steady gaze toward the Defense Committee. "Look. I intend to fight until my dying breath and I know you can expect nothing less from the other men and women of our militaries. But this is about survival. It's about saving lives. We obviously don't have the time or resources to move more than a small fraction of the population. But what you've got right now is a planet full of civilians clustered around massive urban areas just waiting for a Reaper to drop on their heads and raise hell. You need to get civilians disbursed and mobile so we can defend them. And we need to get as many people off-planet as quickly as possible."

The committee members were looking at each other again, a sense of dismay permeating the chambers, when Shepard heard the door open at the back of the room and the sound of urgent footsteps approaching.

Both Shepard and Anderson turned to see a female ensign rushing toward them. "Admiral Anderson!" the young woman said, her voice taut with fear. "Priority burst from Arcturus. They're under attack."

Another flurry of tense murmurs surged through the committee as Anderson and Shepard exchanged a quick, knowing look before turning on their heels and hustling toward the door.

"Admiral!" a committee member called out. "Admiral! We're not finished here."

Anderson stopped just shy of the door and turned to face the woman, a stern expression etched in his weathered features. "Yes we are. As of now, the Systems Alliance has entered into a state of war. My tactical command over local Sol assets supersedes your authority here on Earth. I suggest you follow the Commander's recommendation and begin preparations to evacuate as many civilians as possible. I'll have my staff keep you apprised of fleet activities."

He didn't wait for them to object further before placing a hand on Shepard's shoulder and rushing out the door.

---

SSV Normandy - Yeager Advanced Naval Weapons Station, Earth Orbit

Ashley stood just inside the Normandy's primary airlock as Jeff "Joker" Moreau ambled in through the hatchway, flanked by two female Marines that presumably comprised his security detail.

Seeing Ashley, Joker smiled broadly and let out a long, slow whistle. "Damn, Williams. Those oak leafs look good on you."

Ashley smirked, shaking her head. "Show some respect, Flight Lieutenant."

"Oh, right," he said and then drew himself more upright and shot her a casual salute. "Lieutenant Moreau Reporting as ordered, Lieutenant Commander."

She rolled her eyes but then smiled a little easier before returning his pathetic salute. She then glanced between the two Marine privates. "I'll take it from here. You're dismissed."

"Apologies, ma'am," one of the privates said. "Our orders are to remain onsite with the Lieutenant at all times."

Joker laughed. "These two can't get enough of me, Ashley," he said and then leaned in a little closer toward her and lowered his voice melodramatically. "Seriously. I they're a little obsessed."

Ashley closed her eyes for a second before fixing the Marines with the sternest look she could muster. "Fine. But I need you to stay out of our hair. Feel free to grab yourselves some coffee down in the mess. We're going to be a while."

"Yes, ma'am!" the privates cried out in unison and snapped off a pair of crisp salutes before turning on their heels and walking back along the fore-to-aft corridor, toward the elevator.

"Bye, you two! I'll miss you," Joker called after them. He then turned back to face Ashley, his expression immediately growing more serious. "What the hell is going on? Olympia was a freaking madhouse and this place doesn't look much better."

"We're in some serious shit, Joker. I'll get you filled in as soon as I can, but right now I need you to get this bird ready to fly."

Joker eyed his old friend with interest and nodded. "Okay… What's the problem? What do you need me for? I've been on the Alliance Navy shit list for months."

"It's something to do with the ship's VI. The techs say it's refusing to fully initialize the flight and nav systems without your codes and input."

"The VI?..." he said, looking puzzled. "Oh!... Right."

Ashley gave him a suspicious look. "What do you mean, oh right?"

"Nothing. Nothing…" he said, shaking his head. "Don't worry. I'll get it all sorted out."

"Good," she said and gestured over toward the pilot's seat. "It's all yours. I'll be back in few minutes. I've got to get down to the CIC and see how the tactical and comm networks are coming along."

"Copy that, Commander," Joker said and winked.

Ashley rolled her eyes again and then marched off toward the CIC. She'd known Moreau for a long time and knew he didn't need to be baby sat while he worked his magic. And he certainly wasn't a risk to make a run for it. The guards the Alliance had sent with him were just for show and she planned to get rid of them at the earliest opportunity. In fact, she was already busy making the case in her head to have Joker reinstated to his former rank and brought onboard as the permanent lead helmsman. There was no better pilot in the whole of the Alliance Navy and she wasn't about to settle for anything but the very best on her first Executive Officer posting.

Stepping down into the CIC, she cast her eyes around the large, open deck and took in the hectic activity of more than a half dozen techs and specialists, frantically working to bring the big frigate's systems up to their optimal levels. Her gaze settled on a young dark-haired woman, furiously typing away at the haptic interface near the comm station and cursing softly to herself in an unmistakable English accent.

"Problems, Specialist?" Ashely asked, walking over to the comm station.

The young woman nearly jumped out of her boots, startled by the XO's sudden appearance next to her. "Oh, uh… No, Commander. Comms are all squared away and we're syncing with Alliance Command without any issue." She gave Ashley a sheepish look as she glanced at the floor. "I was just trying to access some of the VI's protected files, looking for more information on the sensor array. You see, the Quantum Entanglement Comm array is operational, but sourcing the corresponding extrapolated data that comes across the channel is immensely challenging when interfacing with the tactical networks and having to account for the time-lagged aspects. I was hoping to leverage the processing power of the VI to construct a more user friendly and coherent situational GUI."

Ashley frowned, her expression almost horrified. "Ugh, that just made my headache worse, Specialist," she said. "Just don't complicate the VI issues too much more before we've got all the basic systems up and running. I've got enough trouble with that damn computer as it is."

"Right… Of course, Commander. I'll ensure I run another series of comprehensive diagnostics before spending any additional time on the QEC optimization."

"Good. What's the status of our pending permanent crew assignments?"

"We're still down sixteen, Commander, including medical staff, the Marine special operators, and, of course, your proper Comms Officer. I located them all on Olympia Station and have a shuttle transfer request queued up for their transition over."

"What are they doing on Olympia? They were supposed to report here two hours ago."

"Uh… mix up with duty roster assignments, ma'am. Apparently most of them were originally slated for duty on the Buenos Aires and their orders weren't updated properly all the way up through the chain." She gave Ashley another awkward look and shrugged. "Things are really quite chaotic in the fleet right now."

"Tell me about it," Ashley said, rubbing her temples while trying to remain poised. What I would give for a simple rifle and a foxhole down on Earth right now, she thought to herself. That, at least, would be simple and familiar. The business of running a ship under these conditions was beyond demanding. "Okay. Let's get them on that shuttle A-Sap and don't be shy about throwing Admiral Anderson's name around if they give you any grief."

"Understood, Commander," Traynor said and gave a curt nod. "By the way, I took the liberty of re-routing several of the new Hawkeye drones for deliver to the Normandy. They weren't on the manifest, but after reviewing mission records from the previous Normandy SR-1, I felt the inclusion of the stealth surveillance drones would be useful."

Ashley gave the younger woman an impressed look. "Nicely done, Specialist. That's about the only good news I've had all day. Keep up the good work," she said and turned to head toward the ship's elevator. "Oh, and if you're going to go back to cussing out the VI, tell it to go fuck itself for me."

Traynor looked mortified. "Yes, ma'am."

Ashley gave a thin smile and nodded before deciding she'd make her next stop the cargo bay to see how the ship's armory and ordnance loads were coming along. But then a rapid, pulsing chirp from the Comm Station stopped her in her tracks.

Traynor narrowed her gaze on her station's display and then glanced over at Williams. "Commander, I have a priority message from Fleet Command, tagged for immediate review by all commanding officers."

"I'll take it here, Specialist," Ashley said, gesturing to the terminal at the opposite side of the galaxy map dais as she walked over and logged in.

"Aye, ma'am. It's there now."

The priority burst message was short, but Ashley re-read it three times before looking up from the terminal, feeling her heart catch in her throat and the blood drain from her face. "Oh shit."

---

Earth – Systems Alliance Homeworld Defense Command, North American Headquarters, Vancouver

Leaving a stunned Homeworld Defense Committee behind, Anderson and Shepard stormed through the big building's foyer and off down another long corridor, Lieutenant Vega quickly latching on and marching a quick pace behind the other two officers.

Shepard looked over his shoulder at the Admiral, keeping a brisk pace beside the older man. "They're not really getting what's happening, are they?"

"How could they? Reading the reports of distant, far off actions is a helluva lot different than having the facts slap you in the face. This is beyond what they're capable of imagining. Hell, I can barely wrap my head around it."

"I have a feeling no one's going to have to imagine it much longer. Striking Arcturus can only mean one thing: They're heading for Earth."

Anderson nodded grimly as they strode down the busy hallway, his mind racing as he tried to take in the implications of such a bold action against the heart of Alliance military power. "What do we know so far, ensign?" he asked, glancing back toward the young woman hurrying to keep up.

"Just an initial tightbeam burst message indicating hostile vessels emerging from the Arcturus relay, Admiral," she said. "Some additional encrypted transmissions were beginning to come through when we lost contact. We were attempting to reestablish a stable connection when Commander Hiller sent me to get you."

Anderson nodded as they came to a door flanked by two Alliance Marines in light battle kit at the end of the long hallway. Seeing the Admiral and his entourage approach, one of the men snapped to attention and keyed in an access code before offering a crisp, textbook salute.

The heavy steel door opened with a rapid swoosh and the four Alliance Navy officers swept into the Command and Control Center, finding the place buzzing as dozens of staff members hurried about the large, semi-circular room.

"What's the situation, Commander Hiller?" Anderson asked as he strode over to the watch officer.

Commander Hiller looked up from the console he'd been stooped over and quickly walked over to meet the Admiral. "Sir, tightbeam burst from Arcturus advised of massive activity observed through the relay. Four minutes later, another burst confirmed hostile ships of unknown class and composition had engaged our fleets and the station defenses." He gestured over to the large command table at the center of the room where multiple floating holographic displays were relaying the streams of data pouring in through the military networks. "And just a few seconds ago, this partially corrupted data packet from Admiral Hackett's command on the Orizaba came through. They indicated the fleets were fully involved with the enemy." He paused for a moment and swallowed. "Sir, the last word we received indicated that Arcturus Station had sustained catastrophic damage and was breaking up."

Anderson starred at the man for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning his attention to the displays projected over the tactical information management and command table.

Shepard glanced between the two other officers and then approached the nearest console. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he cycled through the comm and telemetry data streaming in before locating an embedded vid file received from Arcturus. With a flick of the wrist, he sent the file up to the large, central holo display and executed a series of visual enhancement filters. The images were digitized and dark, but the silhouettes of several Sovereign class Reaper vessels were unmistakable.

"Well, that settles any doubt about what we're up against," Shepard said dryly.

The Admiral gazed up at the image for a few seconds, nodding slowly, before looking back at Hiller. "Any detailed tactical assessments from Hackett's forces?"

"No, sir. As I said, this last record was badly corrupted when it came through. The network went down right after we received the last data burst. We haven't been able to raise them since."

"They're taking out the comm buoys," Shepard said. "Cutting us off from our allies as they approach."

Anderson looked over at Shepard for a moment before barking out orders. "Get a link up with the Citadel and Turian Military Command. Send them everything we know so far." He glanced around and found the ensign that had followed them in. "I want to talk to the turian, asari and salarian embassies right away. And get me Admiral Caine on the Tai Shan."

"Yes, sir!" Hiller and the ensign responded in near unison before rushing off in opposite directions to carry out the Admiral's instructions.

Anderson gave a satisfied nod and turned his attention back to the tactical command table, studying the limited intel Arcturus had managed to get through to them. "Nearly a third of our total naval power is at Arcturus," he said, shaking his head. "If they can't hold back the tide, we're in for some pain."

"Agreed," Shepard said, a sharp look of concern crossing his features. "Our backs are against the wall here, Admiral."

Anderson exhaled as he continued to process the situation. Shepard was right. Facing an enemy on their home turf was far from ideal and the threat to civilian populations was unthinkable. But there was nowhere to hide. If the Reapers had Arcturus they knew damn well how to make the next jump to Earth.

"Sir, unscheduled local relay activation detected!" a nearby ensign called out. "I've got a huge signature emerging. Sending data to the table now."

Anderson and Shepard leaned in closer over the command table as the long-range sensors began tagging more than a hundred new contacts materializing out of transition from the Charon Relay. There were so many vessels pouring through the relay at the same time, the surveillance platforms surrounding it were having trouble differentiating all the contacts into unique starship signatures. But one thing was certain—the fleet that had just arrived within the Sol System was massive.

"Shit," Anderson said under his breath so only Shepard could hear. "That was fast."

"Admiral, First Fleet reports they're moving into position to engage hostile contacts emerging from the relay!" Commander Hiller called out from across the room. "And I have Admiral Caine for you, sir."

Several tense minutes ticked by while Anderson issued fleet orders and both he and Shepard monitored the rapidly developing crisis taking shape at the edge of the solar system. All around them, the staff of the Command and Control Center had stiffened noticeably as they went about their work with a renewed urgency. Then the plots on the long range tactical display representing the inbound Reapers began to blink out.

"What happened to my data?" Anderson demanded.

"We've lost contact with the comm and spy platforms near Charon, sir," a Comm Specialist from across the room spoke up. "They're taking out the surveillance drones. I'm re-routing and patching into First Fleet networks now."

"Sir!" Hiller called out. "I have the Kilimanjaro on comms, Admiral Lindholm."

"Send it here," Anderson said.

The image of the First Fleet's commanding officer appeared a moment later within a new digitally projected window above the tactical command table.

Tall and slender, the sixty-three year old Admiral Ines Lindholm was often described as statuesque. Career Navy, her reputation as one of the most highly respected fleet officers in the Systems Alliance transcended well beyond military circles. But on this day, her typically stoic and regal demeanor was struggling to conceal the strain of combat.

"Admiral, we've sustained heavy losses," Lindholm said, a grave note to her voice. "We're down to sixty percent combat effectiveness. We tracked more than a hundred and fifty hostile vessels through the relay, including some seventy capital ships. Most of that force has already gone to FTL and are en route to Earth. We're dealing with only a fraction of their total force and are being hard pressed."

"Understood, Admiral," Anderson said. "I'm routing Admiral Caine and part of his Fourth Fleet to your location now. We have to secure that relay."

She nodded curtly just as she was shook in her command chair, gripping the arm rests, as the massive dreadnought was rocked by some unseen impact. "Copy that. We'll hold out as long as we can." Lindholm then leaned in a little closer to the camera and fixed Anderson with a penetrating gaze. "David, the power of their weapons is monstrous. It's like nothing I've ever seen. We tracked the force heading for Earth as long as possible, but they're moving at incredible speed. They'll be on you in well under an hour."

David Anderson's expression darkened at Admiral Lindholm's assessment. He knew she was the last person in the solar system that would exaggerate the threat they were dealing with. "I Understood, Admiral. Do what you can. Help is on the way. Godspeed."

"Godspeed, Admiral. Kilimanjaro out."

Anderson braced himself on the table, peering at the crisis playing out on the command table screens. Glancing up at Shepard, he shook his head in disbelief. "Seventy Sovereign class Reapers," he said quietly. The extent of the news wasn't lost on those in the room that had been near enough to overhear Lindholm's report. All around him, the men and women of the Command and Control room were sharing his same state of barely controlled terror. "We can't hold off a force like that."

"No, sir, we can not," Shepard said, a stern edge to his voice. "But we can buy some time to get as many people clear as possible, screen for whatever evac operations we can accomplish in the time we've got left. If what we saw at the Collector's base was any indication, they'll look to harvest as much of the population as they need and turn the rest to husks… or worse. We've got to get civilians out of the concentrated metro areas where they're easy targets."

Anderson stared at Shepard for a long moment. "I'm not so sure I care to have my final act of service be the abandonment of Earth, Shepard."

"We're not abandoning Earth, sir. But, you said it yourself; we can't hold back this force. Not alone. And that, sure as hell, will not be your final act of service."

The Admiral blew out a long breath and nodded slowly toward the most resilient Marine he'd ever known. "Alright, Shepard," he said. "I'll direct as many assets as we can spare to evac duties and coordinate with the civvies. You're right. We've got to save as many lives as we can."

"FTL bow wakes detected!" a specialist across the room called out. "Accelerating along the orbital plane, just passing Saturn. ETA to Earth outer orbit, twenty-two minutes."

"Well, here they come," Anderson said grimly and glanced over at Commander Hiller. "Any response back from the Citadel or the turians?"

"No sir. Our burst transmissions got out, but the comm buoys are going dark all along the outer rim. Communications outside the system are gone."

"Damn."

Shepard stepped closer to Anderson. "Admiral, I'm not much help to you here. Put me to work."

Anderson pulled his focus away from the tactical display and looked up at the Commander. "Right," he said and gave a curt nod. "Head over to the SOCOM outpost and link up with Major Chan's outfit. I'll let them know you're coming and advise that you have tactical command on the ground."

"Got it."

"And Shepard, take Vega with you," he said, glancing over at the jumpy-looking Marine standing against the wall. "That boy looks like his head will explode if we don't get him something to shoot soon."

Shepard snorted a grim laugh and nodded. "Don't think he'll have to wait much longer for the opportunity, sir. Stay in touch, Anderson." He then spun around and marched away, slapping Vega on the shoulder as he passed the younger man.

The doors hissed open and closed, and the two Marines were gone. Anderson gazed for another moment at the point where they'd rushed out of the Command Center, part of him longing for the cold simplicity of a rifle in his hands and comrades at his side. But his place was here. And like Shepard and Vega, there was work to be done and lives to save.

He turned his attention back to tactical screens and the alarming situation unfolding. Every few seconds new data was coming in, updating Reaper trajectories. Before long, the long range scanners were lousy with angry red "presumed hostile" plots while the cool blue "Alliance" icons out along the system's edge began to blink out, one by one.

---

SSV John Grissom

Captain Adrianna Navarro sat rigid in her command chair, surveying the activity in the CIC of the SSV John Grissom, her eyes periodically flicking to the personal display to her right.

Word of the Arcturus incursion had torn through the secure military networks like a bolt of lightning, launching the fleets arrayed within Sol into action. Upon receiving the priority message, Navarro had immediately ordered her battle group away from Olympia Station and out past the Moon's orbit.

Now, Alliance Naval Command and Control at Vancouver was syncing all available data on the rapidly developing situation and what she was seeing wasn't good. In fact, it was disastrous.

Admiral Lindholm's First fleet was being swamped by the enemy force that had swept through the Charon Relay. The Tai Shan had just arrived on station with half of Admiral Caine's Fourth Fleet, but by all accounts, they were being ripped to shreds as well. And they we dealing with only a fraction of the much larger force approaching Earth!

Being privy to the most ultra-classified information the Alliance Navy had gathered over the years on the Reaper threat, Navarro knew a force consisting of dozens of Sovereign class capital ships wasn't just a nightmare. It was the end.

She tried to calm her nerves with the knowledge that she was commanding the most powerful warship ever conceived of by humankind. The massive dreadnought was only marginally larger than the Kilimanjaro class vessels but possessed numerous highly advanced defensive enhancements, including multicore shielding, cyclonic barrier technology, and third gen reflective armor plating that was on par with the very best asari-developed Silaris variations. Figuring in the more than one hundred laser and kinetic point-defense cannons that made up the big ship's advanced defense network, the John Grissom was built to absorb the kind of punishment that might reduce a small moon into a smoldering heap of slag.

But as impressive as the dreadnought's defensive capabilities were, its singular purpose was to deal out pain on a truly epic scale. The enormous forward mass accelerator batteries and their smaller, broadside-mounted counterparts packed the biggest punch in terms of raw kinetic energy and formed the backbone of the Grissom's arsenal. But the long guns were unwieldy when dealing with enemies any closer than five light seconds away. The real teeth of Navarro's ship—and its two sister ships that she hoped were still intact at Arcturus—were the Mark II Thanix cannons. Mounted on nine enormous turrets, the eighteen guns of the Thanix system could cover the entire field of fire around the ship and engage at much closer distances, even to within the effective range of the Javelin missile systems.

All in all, with the John Grissom forming the point of the spear, the Home Fleet battle group was nothing to be trifled with. The massive carrier, SSV Pegasus, was matching their course and speed, just a few hundred kilometers off her port side, and the Everest class dreadnought, Fuji, shadowed them closely from astern. Four heavy cruisers bracketed the big ships while another six swift frigates buzzed about, waiting to pounce on the nearest target of opportunity.

She cracked a dark smile at that last thought. Considering the initial numbers Lindholm had relayed back to Earth, a lack of available targets wasn't going to be an issue.

"Bow wakes detected, Captain! Multiple contacts emerging from FTL."

"Send it to my display, Lieutenant."

"Aye, ma'am."

She stared down at the data coming through her station and felt a shiver run down her spine. The enemy fleet was enormous—in terms of both sheer numbers and the actual mass of many of the ships comprising it. The VI assisted computers were still sorting through all the data, but it was clear there were well over a hundred contacts flooding into the effective field of their long-range sensors.

"Signal general quarters and run us up to full combat power, Lieutenant," Navarro called. "Range to approaching vessels?"

"Leading edge, ma'am? Just under two and a half million kilometers."

"Active sensors! I want target solutions on the closest hostile contacts. And share that targeting data with the Fuji and the rest of the task group. We've got a target rich environment here, ladies and gentlemen. No need to waste munitions."

"Aye, Captain!"

"Signal to Fleet Command we're moving to intercept."

"Captain, several ships are peeling off from the main group and heading for Luna Base."

"Understood," she said, studying the plots on her tactical display. "Track them but keep our guns locked on the primary group of hostiles approaching Earth. The rest of the Fourth will have to deal with the others. Send to Captain Horford on the Istanbul that I need his squadron to run interference and engage the ships heading for the moon."

"Aye, aye, Captain," the Comms Station specialist acknowledged.

"We have targeting solutions ready and updated, ma'am," the lieutenant at the Tactical Station called out.

"Very good, Anders. Fire at will."

A moment later, Navarro leaned slightly forward in her chair as the massive main guns of the John Grissom roared, sending a shudder through the length of the mighty dreadnought.

---

SSV Normandy, Yeager Advanced Naval Weapons Station, Earth Orbit

"Get that thing stowed and shut that damn ramp!" Ashley was shouting orders as crews loaded the new Dragonfly assault shuttle into the Normandy's cavernous cargo bay along with the final batch of deployment crates and ordnance stores. Along with the other two Kodiak shuttles, things were beginning to get cramped. "And get those crates strapped down and secure. We're pushing off in ten minutes."

"Yes, ma'am!" the Yeager Station Dockmaster shouted back over the din of heavy equipment. "We'll have you buttoned up in just a few minutes, Commander."

"Commander!" Another man was trotting up to Ashley from across the deck. She recognized him as a member of the retrofit team, remembering he had the unique skillsets of both a pilot and armorer. He stopped and quickly fired off a smart salute. "Lieutenant Steve Cortez," he announced and pointed over to the Dragonfly close air support drop shuttle the Yeager Station crews were hauling into the ship. "That bird's still missing critical guidance equipment. It's not airworthy until we receive the components, which are due on the next flight up from Earth."

"There's not going to be another supply run from Earth, Lieutenant. And I don't care whether if that thing can fly or not. I just need it out of the way so I can close that ramp and get the hell out of here."

Cortez looked at her for a moment, a searching look in his eye. "What's going on, Commander?"

"Are you kidding? We've got hostile ships flooding into the system. We've been ordered to link up with Captain Navarro's battle group and prep for full ship-to-ship combat operations."

"Shit. I've been stuck down here for hours. I knew we'd gone into a heightened alert but didn't know it was that imminent."

Ashley nodded distractedly as she cast her eyes around cargo hold, trying to quickly take stock of the state of the deck. "Hey," she said, suddenly turning her attention back to the stoutly-built man. "What's your duty assignment? Are you attached to another ship yet?"

"No, ma'am. I haven't received orders for my next post after the refit assignment here on the Normandy."

"Good. I need you to stick with us a little longer. We're missing half our crew complement and I need someone to secure this deck when we shove off."

Cortez nodded eagerly. "You got it. I'll take care of it, Commander."

Ashley gave another quick nod and then dashed back the length of the deck toward the elevator. "We're leaving in ten minutes, Lieutenant!" she called back over her shoulder. "Get this place locked down A-sap!"

A few moments later, Williams emerged from the elevator back into the CIC. The skeleton crew that had been manning the various duty stations were mostly scrambling around now, urgently finalizing the last preparations before the big frigate set out from the space station.

She dashed forward toward the primary tactical station but was intercepted by Specialist Traynor.

"Commander Williams," Traynor said, her voice taut with stress and fear. "I need to get off this ship now. I'm not a part of the Normandy's permanent crew."

"You're not going anywhere, Specialist. My Comm Officer is on a shuttle halfway around the planet and I don't have anyone else to stand in for him. You're it."

"But… but…" Traynor stammered. "I belong in the lab here on Yeager. I'm not qualified for combat duty!"

Ashley stopped what she was doing and looked at the woman a little more critically, realizing she was just a few notches south of hysterical. She frowned sympathetically and placed a bracing hand on Traynor's shoulder. "Listen, I know you're scared. But you're Alliance Navy and I need you to do your job. Besides, you're going to be a hell of a lot safer on the Normandy than sitting on this station. Yeager's a damn sitting duck out here."

Traynor swallowed, not looking entirely convinced, but nodded an affirmative nonetheless. "Aye, Commander," she said shakily and returned to her station.

Ashley watched the Comm Specialist move apprehensively back to her station. She empathized with the young woman, knowing what the stress and fear of her own first combat experience had felt like. But there was no time to coddle her now. She needed every competent sailor she could scrounge up to get the ship combat effective.

Then a low end whine, barely audible, sounded in the CIC and the primary lighting, along with every active terminal, flickered and went dark. A moment later, the systems surged back to life as a chorus of surprised voices echoed through the deck as crewmen frantically assessed their stations.

"What the hell was that?" Ashley asked, not directing the inquiry to anyone in particular.

"Full internal network and tactical system reboot, Commander," A nearby ensign called back. "Looks like it was initiated by the VI… I don't know why, ma'am."

Ashley stared over at the man, opening her mouth to shout a new order, when a violent jolt shook the ship and caused her to stumble. She grabbed hold of the nearby rail bordering the galaxy map dais and shot a look over to the Tactical Station. "Report!"

"The station took a hit from some kind of energy weapon, Commander!" the woman shouted back. "I'm reading major damage to the lower sections and several decks depressurizing. Multiple hostile contacts closing. The Enterprise is powering up and pushing out now."

Damn it. They got close fast. "Detach the docking collars!" Ashley ordered, steadying herself near the Command Station. "And tell Lieutenant Cortez to shut that loading ramp. We're out of time."

"Already in progress, ma'am. External doors closing now. Full seals in place in twenty seconds."

Ashley nodded and keyed the comm. "Engineering, CIC. Chief Adams, I need full combat power right now. We are leaving!"

"Aye, Commander," the Chief's steady voice came back through her earpiece. "Thrusters at a hundred percent and the Tantalus Drive Core is spinning up. All boards are green."

"Excellent. Route all available reserves to the shielding and barrier systems, Chief. We've got company on the way."

"Understood, Commander. Engineering out."

"Bridge, CIC. Joker, get us clear and plot a course to link up with the Grissom battle group."

Even with the dampening properties of the mass effect field, Ashley felt the ship lurch hard to port as the maneuvering thrusters fired and pushed them away from the dying space station. A second later the vid display next to her flashed and Joker's image came into focus. "We're clear of the station, but, uh… EDI's got other ideas about our course and destination, Commander."

"What?! What the hell are you talking about? We have orders to fall in with Captain Navarro and the Ninth. I don't care what the damn VI wants to do. Engage that intercept course—now!"

To her left, EDI's blue, spherical hologram appeared. Ashley looked over at it and scowled. She never liked the idea of having a three dimensional visual representation for the ship's VI. It reminded her too much of those creepy Avina terminals on the Citadel.

"I apologize, Commander Williams, but I am unable to comply. Spartacus Protocol is active. Initiating atmospheric reentry procedures."

Ashley stared at EDI, utterly baffled and her mouth agape. When her eyes darted back to Moreau's image on the vid display, she saw that he looked just as puzzled as she did, but he also seemed to have a knowing gleam in his eye. "What the hell is Spartacus Protocol?!" she cried in exasperation.

"Contingency orders based on Operative Lawson's directive and authorization," EDI said without any further explanation.

"Miranda?" Joker said, full understanding dawning on him.

Ashley's expression was quickly shifting from puzzled to all-out fury. "Miranda Lawson?! What the fuck is going on?! Belay that, EDI, and release helm control!"

"Negative. Primary directive is the extraction of Commander John Shepard. Course plotted, evasive pattern Jericho queued."

The Normandy banked so hard and fast Ashley had to quickly brace herself against the CIC railing again. "Fuck me," she muttered, shaking her head. She looked down at her terminal and began to furiously type away at the interface, searching for some way around the rogue VI. But it was no use. She was completely locked out of the helm and navigational systems.

Inhaling deeply, Ashley's expression hardened as she resolved herself to the situation. "Alright. If we're going in, we're going in hot," she said and keyed the comm. "Engineering, CIC. Chief, I need you to get whoever you can spare over to the forward batteries. Spin up the Javelins launchers and charge the Thanix systems. We're heading for Earth."

She nodded as Adams's reply came through her ear piece and then activated the ship-wide comm. "Battle stations! All personnel secure for full combat descent."

Alright, Shepard. We're coming.

---

SSV John Grissom

In the CIC of the John Grissom, Captain Navarro was growing increasingly alarmed by the situation unfolding on her tactical displays. The enemy swarm had gotten in among them much quicker than their initial projections had indicated likely. Now, the leading edge of the enemy was nearly within knife range and the scene in Earth's outer obit was quickly evolving into something straight out of hell.

The big guns of the dreadnoughts and heavy cruisers had proved largely ineffective against the huge, two kilometer long enemy capital ships. They'd managed quite a few direct hits on the approaching Reapers, but overall, their guns had caused only superficial damage to the massive vessels.

Conversely, the enemy ships were capable of attacking with frightening accuracy and from much greater distances than their Terran counterparts. The command crew aboard the John Grissom had already witnessed half a dozen cruisers and several frigates go up like matchbooks after the Reaper main guns had struck them. Their systems were still trying to fully catalog the extent of the energy output and the exact composition of the particle beams being leveled against the Alliance Navy.

But the power of those weapons was nothing short of horrifying. The Munich was gutted from stem to stern, just a few hundred kilometers off their port side, when several Reaper volleys laced through their formation. The heavy cruiser went down with all hands.

Meanwhile, the Reaper leading ships were now in range of the orbital defense grid ringing the human homeworld. Dozens of weaponized micro satellites that had been patiently tracking the incoming hostiles suddenly jumped into action and began unleashing their lethal payloads into the fray as hundreds of hyper velocity missiles streaked out into space to meet the enemy.

In response, smaller Reaper assault ships, which their systems had classified as Destroyers, were moving forward to target the defense network, communication satellites, and other orbital platforms. Some of the bigger stations, like Yeager and Olympia, were well armed and had brought their defensive weapons to bear on the approaching enemy. But whereas the Alliance warships could maneuver and evade, the huge space stations proved to be easy, slow targets.

Navarro's ship had been lucky thus far. They'd suffered a glancing blow from a capital ship's main gun and their armor had held—but only just. They were now busy maneuvering into a new firing position, trying to stay clear of the heaviest elements of the approaching enemy while remaining close enough to offer cover for the more vulnerable Alliance vessels engaged in the fight.

"Yeager's sustained another hit, ma'am," Lieutenant Anders said. "The station's breaking up."

Navarro blinked and felt the stone in her gut tighten. They'd witnessed the first of several Reaper strikes the Advanced Naval Weapons Station had sustained and were actively monitoring the remaining ships still at anchor. "Did the Enterprise get clear?"

"Yes, Captain. They're pulling hard out toward Luna. But the Jutland wasn't so lucky. It's gone."

Damn. Another frigate lost—and one of the few ships in the system with the latest Thanix upgrades. The action taking place beyond Earth's orbit wasn't so much a naval engagement as it was an all-out slaughter. "And the Normandy?"

"They made it clear too… But they're skirting around toward low orbit," Anders reported and then craned his neck around from his console to gaze over at his captain. "I think they're lining up reentry. Should we hail them?"

Navarro frowned, glancing down at the plots on her personal display. "Yes… No, belay that! We don't have time. I don't know what they're doing but we've got our hands full as it is."

"Captain, three bandits closing on the Pegasus and accelerating. The Fuji's moving to screen, but she's sustained heavy damage and venting atmosphere."

Captain Navarro glanced up at the tactical readout, eyeing the telemetry feeds, and made a few quick calculations in her head. "Helm, new orders," she said evenly.

"Aye, ma'am, standing by."

"Make our course niner-five-niner-mark-three."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Coming about to new heading, niner-five-niner-mark-three."

"Charge Thanix cannons and stand by the HVM launchers."

"Aye, Captain!"

"Active scans, Lieutenant. Let's ping them and see if we can draw their attention away from the carrier."

"Yes, ma'am. Active scans initiated. We have solid locks on all three ships."

"Target the closest to the Pegasus and send data to the Fuji. I want a coordinated strike, broad spectrum weapons systems."

The Grissom's Tactical Officer obeyed, relaying his captain's orders with a cool efficiency that revealed none of the extraordinary stress he was under. A moment later he looked up from his console and gave a curt nod. "Fuji acknowledges order. Weapons systems are green."

"Fire at will!"

The whine of discharging capacitors sounded deep within the mighty dreadnought as the Thanix cannons unleased their superheated molten metal payloads, the bright blue beams lancing across the void at a significant fraction of the speed of light. Simultaneously, a dozen HVM batteries spat out their guided munitions in rapid fire bursts, streaking out toward their target. More than a thousand kilometers away, the Fuji turned her broadside toward the massive Reaper and emptied her huge mass accelerator guns in a matter of seconds.

The flashes of the Alliance warships' munitions erupted like small suns as the deadly projectiles found their mark and detonated against the enemy capital ship, illuminating the other two Reapers' ghastly silhouettes in the process.

"Multiple hits! Major damage to the lead vessel. They're limping off."

"Let them go. Continue tracking the other two," Navarro commanded. "How long until our Thanix cannons are recharged?"

"Ninety seconds, Captain. That last volley took nearly all our available energy output."

"Understood. Bring the port long guns online and show them our broadside. Reload HVM launchers."

"Enemy particle beams!"

"Evasive maneuvers!" Navarro barked. "Hard to starboard!"

"Starboard, aye, ma'am!"

The John Grissom groaned as the big ship listed in space, firing maneuvering thrusters, as the first Reaper energy beams punched through her barriers and scorched her port side and keel, igniting and melting the advanced reflective armor in the process.

"Glancing blow, Captain! Air pressure loss in decks six and seven, F section."

"Dispatch damage control teams and alert Medical we may have casualties. Helm, put some distance between those bandits and us. Full thrust."

"Aye, Captain!"

"Captain, the Fuji took a direct hit. She's been sheared clean in half…" The ensign at the primary Sensor Station called out. "I'm reading escape pod launches, but not a lot. Distress transponders coming in on the emergency band."

Navarro's expression fell noticeably at the news. The Fuji was crewed by hundreds of Alliance sailors and represented a full quarter of her battle group's remaining firepower. The loss of life was horrifying but it was only the latest disaster the crew of the John Grissom had observed in the last twenty minutes. The space beyond Earth's orbit was rapidly becoming a graveyard for the Alliance warships, space stations, and thousands of men and women that had fallen in the face of the Reapers' horrifying onslaught.

But the worst part is that this is only the beginning, Navarro thought grimly. This isn't a battle so much as a massacre.

"Ensign Lincoln, advise search and rescue crews to standby for immediate deployment. Let's get as many of our people back as we can," Navarro said and then scrutinized the tactical display again. "And tell the pilots to make for the Pegasus after they make their pickups. We have too many bandits in the vicinity to risk retrieving them now."

"Aye, Captain."

The Tactical Officer spun around. "Captain! I have what looks like a planetary assault squadron descending through high Earth orbit, multiple approach vectors," Anders said. "Also tracking a significant number of the smaller destroyers and even some of the larger capital ships lining up entry trajectories."

She eyed the telemetry coming across her screen, her eyes gleaming with stress and adrenaline. My god. Those enormous ships can land on planets? "Signal to Pegasus and authorize carrier operations," she ordered. "Time to put those new fighters in play and intercept what we can. And alert Vancouver Command, let them know what's coming."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Status of weapons systems?"

"Ninety-three percent charge on Thanix guns, ma'am. HVM launchers are reloaded and hot." The Lieutenant responded. "Remaining two bandits are turning from the Pegasus, maneuvering fast and chasing."

"Very good, Anders," Navarro nodded. "Target the closest hostile. Weapons free. Fire at will!"

---

Vancouver – Systems Alliance Homeworld Defense Command Compound, Special Operations Staging Area

Situated just off one of the primary military air fields, the semi-enclosed complex of the Alliance Marine Spec Ops Command Post was serving as a hastily organized staging area for soldiers from half a dozen service branches. All around, troops were scrambling to get ready, helping each other into their battle armor and collecting weapons, before receiving final orders and dashing out again to their assigned stations.

Most of the troops streaming in and out of the outpost were N6 special operators, Territorial Defense Army, or other highly trained soldiers posted to base garrison details. However, given the looming invasion scenario Earth was facing, a number of less experienced men and women assigned to naval staffs and military police were being pressed into service. There was no joking or levity typically present before a mission and everyone seemed tense and anxious.

Standing amid the barely controlled chaos of the staging area, Shepard knew there was plenty reason for these men and women to be nervous. Calmly securing the last few latches of the N7-rated battle armor he'd pulled from the on-site Marine ordnance locker, he glanced up to observe the activity swirling around him.

Major Chan was standing off to one side, hunched over a holo-table, studying a layout of the Vancouver region with several other officers. Looking up from time to time, he'd point to a handful of troops, bark out orders, and send them out for fast deployment via one of the many Kodiak shuttles idling on the nearby tarmac.

Vega was a few feet away, cradling one of the new M-66 Valkyrie assault rifles in his arms, looking relieved to be in full combat kit and loaded for bear. The prospect of an alien invasion of Earth seemed to have struck the young Marine particularly hard and he was clearly spoiling for a fight. Still, the Lieutenant was a disciplined, experienced professional and went about the business of preparing for action with the same calm efficiency as the Commander.

Toward the west, past the Kodiak drop shuttles rumbling on the tarmac, Shepard briefly watched the sun retreat under the horizon, casting an eerily red hue against the distant cloudbanks as the light reflected off the water. A superstitious man would have seen the blood-red sunset as a bad omen. But Shepard was neither superstitious nor in need of omens. He knew just how bad things were about to get for Earth.

Both Shepard and Vega were linked into the Alliance Fleet Command tactical network and comms, periodically listening in on the chatter detailing the battle raging beyond Earth's orbit. It was clear things were rapidly slipping out of control as the sheer number of incoming Reaper forces overwhelmed the fleets and orbital defense grid.

But there was nothing he could do about that right now. Without a ship to command, he was left to do what he could on terra firma.

Finishing with his armor, Shepard walked over to the nearby munitions stores and pulled an Avenger assault rifle from the rack along with a clutch of thermal clips, several field mods, and a handful of thermal fragmentation grenades. Securing the equipment on his armor and harness, he paused a moment to glance around at the men and women lingering in the staging area. Most looked capable enough, but many clearly lacked a certain toughness that couldn't easily be taught in Sol. The Marines that had seen action along the outer reaches and bled defending distant colony worlds possessed an edge and aura of lethality that simply couldn't be replicated by simulations or hundred kilometer marches. But most of those resilient, hardened troops were off-world and too far away to help Earth now.

The clattering of metal on the floor nearby caused Shepard to jerk his gaze over to the source of the sudden racket. A private had just fumbled a satchel of thermal clips and fragmentation grenades, dumping the hardware unceremoniously to the deck. A few of the other raw troops around who were already on edge jumped at the sudden noise while a few of the more experienced men and women shot the nervous kid a judgmental sneer. But they all looked equally afraid.

Shepard exchanged a quick glance with Vega before collapsing and securing his rifle on the back of his armor and then walked over toward the young soldier.

"What's your name, son?" he asked, crouching down to help him gather up the scattered clips and grenades.

The young man looked up to meet Shepard's eyes, his hands shaking as he grasped several thermal clips. "Uh… Van Buren, Commander. Private First Class, sir."

"This your first live action, Private?"

Van Buren nodded shakily. "Y-Yes, sir."

Standing up, Shepard gave a reassuring smile. "First time I leveled my service weapon on a tango in real combat, I clicked down on an empty chamber," he said and shook his head. "Completely failed to properly seat the thermal clip."

The Private gave a nervous laugh. "Really, sir?"

Shepard shrugged and then noticed they'd started to draw a crowd as several other jumpy looking men and women eyed him expectantly. He paused a moment, getting the measure of them before he spoke again. "Listen," he started, raising his voice. "I won't lie to you. What's coming down on our heads is a nightmare. But you didn't join the military for easy Sunday afternoons at the beach. You committed yourselves to something bigger, something tougher. You're here to fight for your families, your children, your friends, and anyone else on this planet that needs protecting. You're here to save this world." He paused and looked around at the group around him, taking in a steeling breath. "The Navy's up there, throwing themselves at these things, but soon it'll be time for us to do our part. Trust your training and watch each other's backs. We do this together."

Major Chan, who'd looked up from the command table when he heard the Commander begin to speak, shot Shepard an appreciative nod and then barked out new orders. "Alright you lot, shuttles are prepped and ready to deliver you to your assigned zones! We're setting up a civilian evac point at New Brighton Park. You're the security detail. Let's move!"

Shepard watched as the men and women filed out of the staging area, shooting them a few reassuring nods and slaps on the armor as they went past. He put on a good face, but he also knew most of them would likely be dead within the hour.

Lieutenant Vega then sidled up closer to him. "Sir," he said. "I don't care how green you might have been at one time. We both know you, never in million years, would have forgotten to properly load your rifle."

Shepard made a noncommittal noise. "They need to know it's okay to be afraid. But they can't let the fear own them."

Chan then walked over closer to Shepard. "Sir, I've got a ride waiting for you and the Lieutenant too. It'll deploy you and a few of my best men to any hot zone in need of fast response. I've got your suit IFFs linked into the Tac-Net and have transferred all secure codes and comm frequencies."

"Copy that, Major. Thank you."

A wailing air raid alarm then pierced the air, echoing throughout the compound, prompting the three officers to jog out from under the overhang and cast their eyes up toward the darkening, early evening sky. Far up in the heavens, what looked like hundreds of meteors were streaking down toward the surface, trailing billowing, fiery contrails as sonic booms sounded in thunderous, rapid fire.

An instant later, base Air Command and Control crackled across their comms. "Raid warning, raid warning! Tracking incoming projectiles, descending rapidly through upper atmo. Multiple projected impact sites across the city."

"What the hell is this?" Chan asked. "Those bastards taking us out from orbit?"

"No," Shepard said, slowly shaking his head as he eyed the incoming meteorites. "This is something else. I think we're looking at Reaper drop capsules. They're landing troops."

On the perimeter of the airfield, guns and missile emplacements began to rumble into action, their automated aiming scanners suddenly teeming with targets.

The surface-to-air missiles roared out first, streaking up through the sky at hypersonic speeds, tracking their targets with deadly precision. Then the high-atmo auto cannons jumped into action, spitting out more than a million hyper velocity rounds a minute as they began reducing descending Reaper troop pods into spectacular fireballs.

But it was clear they would need a great deal more guns and missiles to put a dent in the hail of Reaper projectiles raining down on the city. For every capsule the defenses destroyed, twenty more reached terminal velocity and struck the Earth with incredible force.

Then, high above the incoming ballistic Reaper pods, the heavens seemed to explode into a gigantic ball of fire and a series of immense thunderclaps boomed, shaking the ground the Marines stood upon. Through the parting clouds, Shepard watched as three appallingly familiar silhouettes emerged from the upper atmosphere and descended to the Earth, extending their immense legs as they approached the surface.

An earsplitting, low-pitched horn sounded as the massive Reaper ships struck the ground kilometers away, hitting with the force of a magnitude seven earthquake. All around, high-tempered glass exploded out from the skyscrapers and rained down on the ground. A moment later, the blazing hot particle beams of the Reaper main guns began incinerating whole buildings as the immense creatures started their lumbering advance across the city.

Shepard stared up as the nightmare vision that had haunted him for months turned to reality. Briefly closing his eyes, he allowed the extent of the disaster he was witnessing to sink in and pushed aside any remaining doubt or fear.

He then glanced over at Vega and saw that he appeared transfixed with shock, his eyes widened in terror, as he gazed up at the inconceivable enemy. Shepard reached out and took hold of the harness on the front of Vega's armor and shook him. "Hey! Keep it together. We're going to work."

Vega flinched but then met the Commander's eyes, his expression hardening before returning a determined nod.

Quickly grabbing the last of their gear, Shepard and Vega were immediately joined by four other Marines as they dashed across the tarmac to one of the last waiting Kodiaks. As they piled into the squad compartment, the pilot didn't waist a second before lifting the big shuttle off the ground, gunning the engines, and rocketing away toward one of the many Reaper impact zones.

Seizing one of the overhead grips as they thundered along low over the rooftops, Shepard leaned out the shuttle's open troop door and gazed at a scene straight out of hell.

Several huge buildings had been set ablaze and a few skyscrapers, likely containing thousands of people, were collapsing in on themselves, spewing up big columns of smoke, dust and debris.

The early evening sky was lit up by the light of thousands of tracer rounds, reaching skyward to meet the seemingly endless stream of invaders. Trident fighters shrieked by, climbing high to get closer to the onslaught from orbit, while Mantis gunships hung closer to the ground, unleashing a hail of fire down upon the Reaper ground troops that were already advancing through the city.

And in the distance, the two kilometer tall Reapers loomed over it all, obliterating anything standing in their way.

All around, as far as he could see, the world was burning.

---

Author's note:

As promised, I'm expanding the story around the Fall of Earth considerably. There are a lot of frustrating contradictions and annoying vagueness with the different codex entries about the fleet actions around Earth and Arcturus, but I've tried to keep most of known canon elements in place.

I never much cared for the Reapers just suddenly "poof" showing up in Earth orbit. It makes for a dramatic prologue to the game, but I find it unrealistic. They still have to come through the relay and get to Earth via FTL (albeit, very fast FTL speeds). And the Alliance is certainly going to have highly advanced monitoring and surveillance network in place.

And for those of you wondering if I'll ever get back to some of the romance aspects of the story, don't worry, it's coming. I'll get those crazy kids back together soon. But I don't plan for Shep and Miri to simply play house on the Normandy. She's her own woman and has a role to play in this war. But that doesn't mean they won't have plenty of time together in future chapters.