A/N: Midterms and laziness delayed this, so here's an extra long chapter for your enjoyment.

Chapter 7: Disparate Hopes

Shepard stumbled through the War Room, his mind entirely focused on placing one foot in front of the other as he made his way towards the Normandy's QEC. His body ached all over from his exertions on Tuchanka, and if Chakwas knew that he was still trying to work rather than going down and seeing her, she would be dragging him down into the medbay himself. Still, one did not just simply ignore a message from a Councilor, no matter how sore and tired they were, and he still had to talk to Wrex about the funeral for Mordin.

Mordin. That thought sent a jolt of pain through him that was worse than anything that had been inflicted upon him by the Reapers. They had won a great victory today, but at a terrible cost. He had known that a lot of people were going to die when the Reapers inevitably showed up, but somehow he had convinced himself that the people that he had come to call his friends would come through without a scratch. Mordin's death had shown him just how foolish he had been to think that, and that many more would likely die before all of this was over.

Shepard blinked, realizing that he had reached the QEC while he had been distracted with his thoughts. Accepting the incoming call, he was greeted with the blue form of Councilor Valern.

"Councilor," he said tonelessly.

"Shepard. My agents in the STG are telling me that you managed to successfully cure the genophage, and that Urdnot Wrex has agreed to help the Turians on Palaven," said the Salarian Councilor in a careful tone. Clearly even the Councilor had to step carefully around the volatile issue that was the genophage cure.

"I couldn't have done it without Mordin's help," Shepard said with a hint of reproach in his voice, reminding the Councilor that it had been one of his colleagues rather than the Salarian government as a whole that had helped him change history.

"You're right, of course," Valern sighed, his image momentarily distorting as he did. "However, that's not why I called you."

"Oh?"

"I just received your report about Benning, and the people that you met there. About these 'Space Marines.' An interesting read, if I may say so."

"In all honesty, I'm not quite sure what to make of them myself Councilor," Shepard confessed. "They were more than willing to help us, and they took Benning back from Cerberus in less than a day, but…"

"But?" Valern prompted, clearly intrigued by Shepard's unspoken reservations.

"But they're fanatics, simply put Councilor," Shepard said. "They treat their technology as if it were given to them by some god, and I could tell from the way that they reacted to my team that they're intensely xenophobic. It's like someone took Terra Firma and gave them unbelievable pieces of tech."

Valern hummed thoughtfully at that. "But do you think they would be useful against the Reapers despite all that?" he asked after nearly a minute of silent contemplation.

"Absolutely," Shepard said immediately, no hesitation darkening his mind as he responded. "Despite their peculiarities, they're still an extremely powerful force."

"I see," Valern said as he continued to stare at Shepard with eyes that belied the keen political mind that lurked behind them. "My fellow Councilors and I wish to speak to them, secure a public declaration of support. Combined with the vids that are already starting to flood the extranet, we believe it'll be a power boost to public morale."

"Let me guess, you want me to talk to them?"

"Yes. Given how you described them, we feel that you would be best suited to passing on our invitation for them to come to the Citadel for more formal negotiations."

"I can do that," Shepard assured him, masking his own doubts about the feasibility of such talks. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes, there is a matter concerning Udina, but that is something that will have to wait until your arrival. I assume you intend to remain for the funeral for Mordin that the Krogan are planning?"

"I was Councilor," he confirmed.

"Very well, that gives us time to work on this matter with these Space Marines, and then we can discuss this other issue in private. Valern out." With that, the QEC flickered off, leaving Shepard alone in the dark as he contemplated how he would have to word this to the power armor-clad giants.

"EDI," he said as he left the QEC room and began to hurriedly make his way towards the cockpit.

"Yes Shepard?" came the voice of the Normandy's omnipotent AI.

"Can you tell me if the Marines are back on their ship?"

"Yes Shepard. The last of their transports just docked with their ship. Would you like me to establish a connection?"

"Yes, tell them that I wish to speak to their Captain," he said as he bypassed a pair of crewmen who were preoccupied with a recording of Kalros fighting the Reaper at the Shroud. He had a sneaking suspicion that he would be hearing about that for a long time to come.

"Very well Shepard. Your message has been relayed, and the Shipmaster of the Duty's Shadow has agreed to inform him."

"Good, let me know when he's ready," he said as he came to a halt within the cockpit, mentally rehearsing how he wanted to phrase his request.

"Captain, the commander of the Normandy says he wishes to speak with you," came the monotone voice of Kemril from behind Nemros.

"Did he say what he wanted?" the Captain said as he continued to stare out into space, looking at the dirty brown ball that floated in front of the Duty's Shadow. It took all of his effort not to simply order Kemril to destroy the traitor ship and enact Exterminatus upon the xeno homeworld that taunted him with its slow rotation.

"No Captain."

"Very well," Nemros said as he turned away from the viewport and towards the bank of cogitators used for ship-to-ship communications. Murmuring a prayer to the machine spirits nestled within, he depressed the flashing activation rune and stood back.

"Captain?" came the low tones of the traitor leader, Shepard. Nemros forced back a gobbet of acid that his Betcher's Gland automatically produced in response to his revulsion. He would never forgive the man for forcing him to betray his oath to the Emperor as he had. It was one thing to save mankind using desperate means. It was another thing entirely to save a xeno species, even if they were that desperate means.

"What is it you seek?" he asked, keeping his voice even as he did.

"I've just been contacted by the Council, and they've asked me to pass on their wish for you and your men to meet with them formally on the Citadel."

This time, Nemros did not bother holding back. "You wish for me to prostrate myself and Brothers before xenos?" he snarled, disgust lacing every syllable. "To do their bidding like a faithless renegade?"

There was a moment of long silence on the other end of the comm. When Shepard spoke again, his voice was filled with hesitation and tinted with a hint of confusion. "They wish for you to make a formal declaration of your support for the war effort. They feel that it'll be good for morale," he explained, as if being at the beck and call of an alien was only natural for him. It probably was.

"Be silent, traitor," Nemros spat. This was absolutely unthinkable! How could they even expect for him to fall so far from the Emperor's grace?

Yet Nemros was a Space Marine, not one of the blind fanatics of the Ecclesiarchy. He knew that this was necessary, despite him finding new and unexplored depths of hatred for the word in that moment. He sighed raggedly after a few minutes of silence, forcing himself to accept this new course of action. He would need to atone for this heresy as soon as he could.

"Very well," he grudgingly bit out. "Have your crew send the coordinates to the Duty's Shipmaster. Nemros out," he said before deactivating the cogitators before Shepard could respond. Anymore conversation with the man and he would probably end up ramming Defiance through the array.

"Kemril," he said as he walked towards the ship's command throne and the man embedded upon it, "The Normandy will be contacting us. Make the ship ready for departure."

"Our destination?" Davriel asked even as the command deck began to buzz with activity at Nemros' words.

Nemros took a moment to glance towards the xenos homeworld that remained unmolested beneath the Duty's mighty guns before looking back towards the aging man. "Further away from the Emperor's light, I fear Shipmaster."

"What was all that about Shepard?" Joker asked from where he sat in the pilot's chair next to him.

Shepard stared at the massive bulk that constituted the Space Marine ship even as gargantuan engines flared to life and propelled it away from Tuchanka's orbit and towards the system's edge. "I don't know Joker," he confessed as the other ship became progressively smaller and smaller, "But I hope they don't start a war with their actions."

"Yeah, here's hoping."

Caecilius leaned back into the stiff metal chair, his back grumbling in protest as he did. Idly he glanced at the chronometer on his station, wondering when in the name of the spirits Domitius would be arriving to relieve him. The long shifts in the Citadel Defense Fleet were boring, mindless, and thankless duties, but they were what he had been assigned to, and Caecilius was nothing if not dutiful.

"Anything?" asked Balbus from the station next to him. The two of them had the job of running endless scans of empty space in order to ensure that no enemy could sneak in and launch a surprise assault upon the Citadel.

"Nothing, just like last time. And the time before that, and the time before that…" he said, barely even looking at his instruments as he responded.

"Okay, okay, I get the message," Balbus said, arms raised in mock surrender. "Not like I really expected anything else anyways."

Caecilius simply grunted in response. Routine was grinding him down. Perhaps he should ask his superior for a leave of absence, maybe some leave on Ilium, before the Reapers turned it into a floating ball of slag.

"Hey," Balbus said suddenly, sitting straight up in his chair as he stared at his board.

"What?" he asked in response. It was probably just another piece of debris floating endlessly in the depths of the void. It always turned out to be debris.

"I'm getting some weird readings. Stuff I've never seen before."

"Huh," he said, leaning over to inspect his own instruments. Sure enough, they were going haywire as well.

"None of this matches up with any known comm frequencies or eezo emissions," Balbus said worriedly as he began to flip switches and turn dials in the hopes of the whole matter being nothing more than a simple technical error. When Caecilius saw that none of these efforts made any difference, he began to worry as well.

"Call this in," he said as reached for the intercom, intending to alert Commander Vitus of this new development when a gaping hole was torn open in space, allowing impossible and nigh-incomprehensible colors to spew forth. The sight of the swirling miasma made his head ache as it tried in vain to take in the view, and he averted his eyes as the pain rapidly swelled to the point where he thought his head would burst if he looked any longer, though before he did so he thought he saw an impossibly long object come roaring out, riding the swirling currents.

Out of the very edge of his peripheral vision, he saw the rift snap closed just as rapidly as it had opened. Returning his gaze to where the gash in reality had been, he saw that he had not imagined the object. Where madness had reigned mere seconds ago now sailed a massive dreadnought that was orders of magnitudes larger than even the Destiny Ascension, flagship of the Citadel Defense Fleet that patrolled nearby.

"Balbus," he breathed as his eyes took in the sight of the enormous ship that his mind told him was scientifically impossible, "Forget calling this in to our superiors. Get the damn Council on the line, spirits take protocol."

As Balbus moved to inform the leaders of the known galaxy of the intruders that hung at the edge of the nebula, Caecilius knew deep down that everything that he had ever known and accepted as fact was about to change.

In the shadows cast by a pair of ruined buildings, mute testaments to the Geth attack that had taken place nearly three years earlier, a solitary figure looked away from the massive bulk that was slowly making its way towards the arms of the Citadel. Moving past a shattered shopfront window and through a pried-open automatic door that had lost all power soon after the assault, he made his way through a winding maze of collapsed hallways and broken staircases until he reached a room that had been left untouched since the Battle of the Citadel.

Inside was a humming and glowing terminal that stood in stark contrast to the dirt, dust, and scattered remnants of better times that lay littered around it. Picking his way across the room, he bent over and input a complex string of letters and numbers, accessing a network that was virtually undetectable through any technology available to those that worked in C-Sec's cyberwarfare branch.

"Sir," he said after a light flashed, indicating that he had connection, "They've arrived."

"Good news Operative," came a garbled voice in reply. "Send the code word to our contact, let him know."

"Understood sir," the figure said before breaking the link. Quickly sending the appropriate word to the man that his organization had cultivated for years, he proceeded to set the terminal to catastrophic overload before making his way out of the building and towards a waiting and unmarked shuttle.

"It's them?" Sparatus asked while functionaries scurried through the small waiting room that adjoined the Council chambers, frantically trying to ensure that all was ready for the sudden new arrivals.

"A massive unknown ship tore open a hole in space, bypassing nearly all our defenses in the process, and is making its way here as we speak, refusing all hails as it does so," Valern said dryly as he tapped away at a datapad. "I would assume so Sparatus."

Sparatus felt his mandibles flare in frustration at the answer before checking the facial tic, reassuming the neutral face that his position as Councilor demanded of him. He and his colleagues had figured on having a few more days, based on the average amount of time it took to travel the relays from Tuchanka to the Citadel, to prepare for their new allies. Apparently, however, these strange new soldiers had felt a need to upset all their plans.

"Any word from Tevos?" he asked instead, intent on steering the conversation away from the upcoming confrontation. The Asari Councilor had recently taken to spending a lot of time on Thessia, in endless discussions with the ruling matriarchs, although for the life of him Sparatus had been unable to find out what it was that they were discussing.

"She sent word. She said she'll be here," Valern said absentmindedly, still engrossed as he was in his datapad.

Sparatus snarled in frustration at the Salarian's continued inattentiveness, calm façade breaking. "What is that?" he asked, gesturing towards the object that had so masterfully captured Valern's concentration.

"A report from Udina," the other Councilor said as he turned the datapad off and placed it within his robes. "He says that Alliance scouts are reporting increased Reaper activity, and he's sent the CDF closer to the relay as a precaution."

Sparatus did not miss the faint note of wariness that lay submerged beneath Valern's calm professionalism. "You don't believe him?" he asked.

"I'm a Salarian, Sparatus. As you're so fond of saying, we don't trust anyone."

Before he could retort, the automatic door behind them hissed, heralding the arrival of the Asari Councilor, Tevos. Clad in a regal crimson dress that was more fit for meeting a head of state rather than a group of soldiers, Tevos swept across the room in a hurried pace that still seemed to remain calm.

"Are they here?" she asked, slightly out of breath.

"Almost," Sparatus replied as he motioned towards a vid screen that dominated the wall in front of them. On it was displayed the image of a large, bulky, black and gray transport touching down at the designated landing space, with a large number of C-Sec lined up and waiting for the newcomers to step out.

Another hiss from behind them indicated the arrival of Udina, and in the back of his mind, Sparatus remotely thought that the human Councilor was unusually late before the rest of his mind pushed the thought aside, thoroughly engrossed at the sight of the seven enormous figures that were descending down the lowered frontal ramp of the transport.

They easily dwarfed even the tallest of the Turian C-Sec guards, their leering helmets declining to impassively take in the sight of the rows of blue-clad individuals arrayed before them, hands gripping their weapons tightly. Were it not for the satellite footage from Tuchanka that Valern had shown him, Sparatus would have scoffed at the sight of their armaments. The one he guessed to be their leader, based on the heraldry that adorned his armor, carried a sword of all things, something the majority of the species in the galaxy had not used for millennia, while another carried a long staff that was topped with the image of a skull. Yet he knew that the last thing that those long pieces of metal were, were ceremonial.

The C-Sec Executor waved his hand in the direction of the Citadel Tower before motioning for the soldiers to follow. Two of the soldiers remained where they were, guarding their transport, while the rest tromped off after the Executor and his escort.

"We should get in position," Sparatus said as the vid screen continued to follow their progress. Large numbers of civilians were lining up to gawk at the procession that was snaking its way through the Presidium. Many had their omni-tools out, either recording or taking pictures. Sparatus figured that the extranet had to be blowing up right about now.

"Agreed," said Udina, though he continued to watch the screen. None of them wanted to tear their eyes away from the sight of the giants.

Finally, it was Sparatus who reluctantly broke away when the screen showed the procession reaching the base of the Citadel Tower, slowly followed by the others. Filing out into the Council Chambers, they took up their stations at their podiums, eagerly awaiting the figures that sped upwards in the elevator towards them. In an effort to hide his growing nervousness, Sparatus flicked through the war reports that had been forwarded to him by his own request.

Little had changed since the last reports had been sent to him a few hours ago, but all of those changes had been for the worse. The first report told of another task force that had bravely sought to cover the desperate funneling of reinforcements onto Menae, only to be encircled and shattered by a group of Reapers, resulting in the deaths of nearly ten thousand servicemen and servicewomen. The second reported the fall of yet another city on Palaven to the implacable Reaper onslaught, adding one more division to the list of those that had been lost in the fighting on the Turian homeworld. Sparatus deactivated the podium before it could display the third. He had seen enough. Glancing upwards in time to see the doors to the Chambers open, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to convince these newcomers to fight alongside them, so that their sacrifices would not be in vain.

He blinked as the figures shuffled into the room, the entrance clearly displaying that it had not been designed for individuals their size. The vid screen had not done them the slightest bit of justice. Black and gray armor clacked and whirred as the soldiers pounded their way across the room and ascended the stairs, the metal steps groaning in protest at the sudden load they were made to bear. Two of them remained at the base as guards, while the other three came to a halt at the petitioner's podium.

Tevos proceeded to call the meeting to order and began introductions, but to Sparatus her voice was little more than background noise as he focused his attention solely upon the unknowns. The one on the left wore armor that was solely black with skull decals on the knee, shoulder plate, and chest. His helmet also took the form of a skull, though this one boasted bulging red eye slits that seemed to stare within the very depths of his soul and caused him to flinch away slightly from their hateful glare.

The one on the right, on the other hand, wore armor that only barely resembled those of his fellows, being a deep shade of blue with a gray pauldron. Green eye slits placed deep within his helmet seemed to crackle and writhe invisibly with vast, unknowable power. Strips of paper, actual, real paper Sparatus noticed, littered his armor, held in place by red pieces of wax that were stamped with the likeness of skulls. Looking at this one caused his heart to beat slightly faster and incoherent whispers to dance through his mind, the thoughts formless and slipping away effortlessly whenever he reached out to grasp them.

But it was the one in the middle that truly grabbed his attention. Though Sparatus judged him to be the same height as the others, he exuded an air of bloody nobility that made him seem larger than life. A rich cape of bloody crimson trimmed with black the shade of the void draped across his shoulders and back until it reached down to touch the floor, mirroring the crest that sprouted from his helmet, which alternated between red and black. A sword hung from his waist, giving the warrior an appearance of a conqueror of old, and unlike the boxy, toothed affairs that Sparatus had seen dangling from the waists of some of the other soldiers, this one was an ornate and detailed piece of master craftsmanship. Clearly this one was the leader of the group, and the one that he and his colleagues would be appealing to.

With a start, he realized that all were looking at him, waiting for him to introduce himself. "Councilor Sparatus, one of the leaders of the Turian Hierarchy," he said, trying his hardest not to sound like he had just been caught staring.

With a nod, Tevos turned and looked back at the giants. "Perhaps our guests," she suggested, emphasizing 'guests' to a subtle degree, "Would like to announce themselves now?"

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the gentle thrumming that emanated from the armor worn by the soldiers, as the strangers simply stared back at them, the request seemingly having been incomprehensible to them. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the moment was broken by the one in the middle stirring and speaking in a grating tone that was no doubt mutilated by the helmet he wore. "Brother-Captain Nemros, of the Iron Sentinels Space Marine Chapter," he said in a deep voice.

"Epistolary Vargus," intoned the one in blue.

"Chaplain Xeras," said the last, the one adorned with death.

"Then allow me to be the first to officially welcome you to the Citadel, the beating heart of galactic civilization itself, Nemros, Vargus, and Xeras," Tevos said, a smile plastered on her face. Sparatus had seen that smile before, and knew there was no warmth or sincerity in it, only a desire to manipulate the individual on the receiving into her political schemes. He quietly shuddered at the gesture. Even though he was a politician himself, he liked to think he had a few lines that he refused to cross. Tevos, on the other hand, had absolutely no problem doing whatever it took to get what she wanted.

However, when he turned back to look at the giants, it was clear to him that Tevos was making absolutely no headway. While their faces were still concealed by their helmets, Sparatus had the impression that the Asari Councilor's gesture had all the impact of a pistol against a Reaper. None of them had relaxed their tense stances, and hands held tightly onto weapons, ready to be unleashed in a moment's notice.

"Perhaps we've started off on the wrong foot," Valern suggested from next to him, clearly having noted the same thing as he had. "Maybe you would like to remove your helmets? I assure you that there is no need for them here."

"You called us here to speak, xeno. Do so," the one that had named himself Nemros said curtly, making no move to act on the Salarian Councilor's suggestion.

Sparatus was taken aback by the sheer audacity it took to order the Citadel Council around, but was less outraged than he would have been had he not read Shepard's report prior to the meeting. Regardless, to be confronted with such blatant xenophobia was still a shock to him given the rather progressive galaxy that they inhabited.

"As you wish," Tevos said, smile noticeably faltering for a brief moment before reappearing once more. "We wish to formally extend the offer of an alliance against the Reaper threat to you, in the hopes of preserving all life in the galaxy against this menace."

"Agreed," came the response from Nemros, the one word answer in stark contrast with Tevos' flowery language.

"Excellent," came the voice of Udina from the other side of Tevos. "I hope you understand, of course, that we will need to look over your ship. The things we could learn from it to use against the Reapers-"

"Absolutely not," said Nemros, cutting off Udina midsentence. "The holy technology within belongs only to mankind and mankind alone. It is not for the likes of traitors and aliens to lay their hands on."

"You're human then?" Sparatus asked, pretending not to see the deep, ruddy red that was spreading across Udina's face at an alarming pace. "Where are you from? A lost colony perhaps? And what do you mean by traitors?"

Nemros, however, completely ignored his questions, instead fixing him and his fellow Councilors with a glare. Sparatus shuddered slightly beneath it, the unanswered questions that had just previously raced through his mind forgotten as he could almost physically feel the waves of revulsion that Nemros' posture was radiating.

"Know this: we may be your 'allies'," Nemros said, spitting out the last word as if it were a grievous insult to him, "But we are not your friends. We were created by the Immortal Emperor to be His shield against the perversion of the xeno and the perfidy of the traitor, and I will not see my Brothers and I fall into damnation any more than we already have."

A long silence permeated the Council Chambers after that, only eventually broken by Valern. "Created, you say?" he asked, almost timidly, as if he did not wish to incite another outburst. "Do you mean genetic engineering?"

"Yes," came Nemros' impatient response, as if the answer were patently obvious.

"Genetic engineering is illegal within Council space," Tevos said reproachfully, some confidence regained by the opening to rebuke the one that had spoken to her so.

Nemros fixed her with a stare that somehow managed to perfectly convey an attitude of seething contempt for her words. "Then it is a good thing, xeno," he said, tone thick with disdain, "That we do not obey your crude system of laws."

"Perhaps we should continue this at a later time?" Sparatus suggested, desperately attempting to regain some control over the situation.

"Agreed," said Valern immediately.

"Then this session of the Council is adjourned," Tevos said, turning to file out of the Council Chambers.

As he moved to follow her and Valern out, he noticed Udina signaling towards Nemros. However, he paid the gesture little mind, his mind focused on the words that had just been spoken and their implications. This debrief would be an interesting one indeed. No one had ever humiliated the Council as these Space Marines just had.

There would be consequences. It simply remained a matter of what form they would take.

Udina slipped into his office, the pounding rhythm of footfalls behind him indicating that Nemros still followed him. He had his doubts about the possibility of success of this maneuver after the revelations in the Council Chambers, but he was too far committed to back out now. Fat beads of sweat coalesced on the back of his neck as his mind pondered the consequences of failure.

"You said you had something you wished to say to me," came the Captain's grating tone from behind him as he reached down into his desk and pulled out a small communicator with trembling hands.

"Not me specifically," he clarified. "Someone else has taken a very specific interest in you, however."

Without another word, he activated the communicator. Placing it on his desk, he stepped back as Nemros looked at it curiously.

"Captain Nemros," came a baritone voice out from the device's speakers. "It is a pity that I cannot meet with you in person, but I am certain that a man such as you understands that sometimes, precautions must be taken. For now, we must speak through the good Councilor, who helps me represent mankind's best interests."

"Who is this?" Nemros asked with a guarded snarl.

"My name has long since become irrelevant to the galaxy, but you may refer to me as the Illusive Man. I am the founder and leader of Cerberus."

"Cerberus," Nemros sneered in recognition, "What do the likes of traitors want?"

"Traitors, is it? Perhaps a clearer understanding is in order, Captain. Cerberus is traitors, yes, but not to the cause of humanity. Everything we do is in the name of the advancement of mankind, something that I have come to understand as a cause that you likewise champion."

"How do you know this?"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Captain," came the simple response.

Nemros simply grunted in reply. "So what is it you seek from my Brothers and I?" he asked, guarded curiosity filling his voice.

"It's simple, Captain. I seek to place mankind at its rightful place in the stars, and I need your help to do this."

"How?"

"You are aware of the Reapers?" the Illusive Man asked.

"Abominable Intelligences that seek to destroy humanity. We shall destroy them just as we destroyed countless other foes of mankind," Nemros said matter-of-factly.

"But you see, that is where you're wrong Captain. Where you see a threat, I see an opportunity."

"Explain," Nemros demanded. Udina leaned in surreptitiously, curious as to what the Illusive Man was truly planning, or at least what he claimed to be planning. He had long since learned not to try and match wits with the shadowy leader of Cerberus.

"The Reapers represent an opportunity to advance our technology by controlling them, rather than simply destroying them. By utilizing the Reapers and with your technology, mankind would be unchallenged in its supremacy over the galaxy and all within it."

The next few moments seemed to stretch on for eternity for Udina, as Nemros continued to stare at the communicator. He could feel fate balancing on a razor-thin edge, and this handful of seconds could, and would, change the course of the galaxy.

Finally, Nemros spoke, his tone increasingly angry as he did. "You seek to use us and arts forbidden by the Emperor over ten thousand years ago in a bid for domination over mankind?" he asked, voice thundering as he finished.

Udina felt a flare of panic rage within his stomach. Everything had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, and for the life of him, he could not figure out how.

"Captain, please, you're being irrational here-" Whatever plea the Illusive Man had in mind to regain control of the situation was lost as Nemros continued on, heedless.

"There have been many who have thought that they could use the Emperor's Finest for their own ends, traitor. Ends that were much more subtle than yours. They failed then just as you have here."

"So you would rather leave humanity at the mercy of the alien, Captain?" the Illusive Man asked in return.

"Make no mistake coward," Nemros said, "Mankind will rise. But it will not do so in a manner that results in it losing its very soul. We will fight these Abominable Intelligences, and we will fight the xeno after them as well, but we shall do so with our own strength, not with blasphemous machines and twisted sciences."

"Is that your final decision Captain?" the Illusive Man asked coldly.

"Yes," Nemros said. Before Udina could even so much as blink, he found himself tumbling over backwards as the sword that had previously rested at the Captain's waist lashed out and pierced his heart. Darkness overtook his sight as death rushed in to claim his bleeding body, but before he drew his last breath he heard Nemros speak one more time.

"We are no one's puppet."

CONNECTION LOST.

These two words stared unflinchingly back at him from their place on the Illusive Man's vid screen, taunting him with the missed opportunity that they represented.

CONNECTION LOST.

How had he failed? It had seemed like such a simple matter. These so-called Space Marines were ripe for recruitment by his organization. They both wanted what was best for humanity after all, so why had they refused, and so violently at that?

CONNECTION LOST.

Perhaps even worse than the rejection, the Illusive Man had seen Nemros slaughter the human Councilor before his link to Udina's room had been cut. Years upon years of careful manipulation and blackmail, combined with huge fortunes in bribes, all lost within a heartbeat. His most well-placed political mole eradicated, and now he had to adjust countless plans to match this new reality.

CONNECTION LOST.

With a near-feral growl, he swiped at the screen, sending the two hateful words into the digital void. Bringing up another display, he contacted the Captain in charge of his contingency plan.

"Yes sir?" came the reply seconds after he initiated to connection.

"There has been a change of plans Captain. Commence the operation, and proceed with extreme prejudice," he said.

"Understood."

With that, the link went dead and the Illusive Man sat back down into his chair. This plan had to work, or the likelihood of Cerberus obtaining this new technology would be reduced to near-nonexistence.

Within the void of space, engines flared as mass effect cores sprung to life. Ships previously hidden from sensor sweeps began angling themselves towards the massive space station that lay ahead of them. Aboard them, command decks buzzed with activity and troopers sprinted to prepare themselves for the upcoming combat that they would soon find themselves embroiled in.

They had their target, and they could not afford to fail.