Chapter 5: Old Soldiers

"Is Victus really going to back us if we pull this off?"

"His tactics are unconventional but I've never heard of him trying to play the political game. He's an honorable man; he'll keep his word," Garrus assured him. He sat in the shuttle with his hands on his armored knees across from the Spectre.

The turian glanced back at the newest Primarch and Shepard followed his gaze. Victus had taken the co-pilot's seat in the shuttle for the trip back, staring pensively out into space while the rest of the crew was in the rear compartment. Primarch Fedorian, their original target for extraction, hadn't even survived long enough for the Normandy to make it to Palaven. His shuttle had been destroyed hours earlier but communications blackouts due to the Reaper's devastating assault had prevented that information from reaching them sooner. After much deliberation it had been determined that maverick General Adrien Victus was next in line of succession.

He could see it in the man's eyes when he told him that was needed off world. That same guilt and doubt that still hung at the back of Shepard's mind every time he closed his eyes, seeing Earth burning. Asking a man to leave his troops and his homeworld was no small thing. That same dedication to his men had been what had persuaded the old soldier, though. He was practical enough to see that the battle for Menae was one that couldn't be won, only delayed. Any hope of defeating the Reapers would require a united front. It had been refreshing to find someone that understood that simple fact.

Not that the situation hadn't come without its own complications. Victus had made the price for the Hierarchy's support clear: krogan boots on Palaven's soil. The galaxy once again needed the most brutal and devastating ground army ever assembled, but arranging that support would be an issue. Once before the krogan had been saviors and heroes, only to find their expansionist ways and war-like nature turning them into the new villains. When the turians and salarians used the genophage to check their uncontrolled growth they also created a centuries-long grudge that could override even threat of the Reapers.

"I hoped so, but I figured if anyone would give it to me straight answer..." Shepard trailed off, giving his friend a tired, lopsided smirk.

"It would be your smart-ass sidekick."

"You used the 's' word, not me. I was going to suggest that you were my 'loyal partner'."

Garrus' mandibles flared in amusement. "Partner is it now? Sure you're not going to ask me for some kind of favor? Marry a krogan to smooth things over? An organ donation maybe?"

"I figured 'Come and fight a war with me' was about as far as I could get in the favors department," he replied. "But if you've got your eye on a fetching krogan maiden don't let me stand in the way of true love."

"Spirits, I hope not. I've never even see a female krogan."

They both laughed quietly as the shuttle began to pull out of Manae's thin atmosphere. For a moment it was as if they'd just come back from any other mission. He and Garrus had always been able to have a laugh, no matter how dark things had gotten. It was good to see some things never changed, even as the hours grew steadily darker.

He was also glad to see Garrus looking less... ragged than he had during their time together on the mission to stop the Collectors. The bandages and damaged armor had been a constant reminder of what the former C-Sec agent had been through. It had made Shepard wonder if he had held onto them both longer than necessary out of guilt for the loss of his team. Now at least his armor was new and relatively pristine, considering the wartime conditions. To top it all off the bandages were completely gone, leaving the turian's scars visible along with the glint of the cybernetics that had been needed to help keep him together after nearly dying on Omega.

"Oh no..." Kasumi whispered into the silence that followed their brief back and forth.

Following her gaze they looked out the starboard window. The battle over Palaven had moved closer while they had fought on the ground, with a wing of cruisers moving to engage half a dozen of the massive Reaper capital ships. Sleek ships, like winged daggers, poured fire into the lead Reaper. Explosions danced across its hull but to little effect and there was a collectively drawn breath as its enormous appendages spread wide, a malevolent hand reaching out to destroy. The first beam shot out, piercing the nearest cruiser through and through with a single shot. There was a brilliant flare of white as its drive core overloaded in a massive blast.

It was the first death among many. The Reaper warship's lived up to their names, charging straight into the turian fleet's lines, cutting down warships with almost casual ease. One of the turian cruisers surged forward as the enemy approached, slamming directly into the oncoming Reaper rather than suffer the killing blow of its main gun. Shepard was at least slightly gratified to see the damaged length of the Reaper's hull where the turian vessel had impacted. They were devastatingly powerful, but not invincible. The moment was a minor consolation at best. Shepard sighed, bowing his head.

"Get us out of here, Cortez. We can't do anything for them except remember them when this war is over."

"Rendezvous with the Normandy in five minutes, sir. Stealth systems seem to be keeping us off their radars," the pilot replied.

Liara's voice was filled with a weariness that would have been at home in a woman far in advance of her age. "Remembered. There will be far too many that need to be remembered before this is over."

"We might not have the lifespan of your people, Dr, T'Soni... but our memories long. Those men will have a place of honor in our history as long as the Hierarchy survives," General Victus said from behind them, causing them all to turn. "It is my duty to make sure that it does."

"It's not just yours, General. This war won't end by the actions of any one person or government."

"So you said on Manae, Commander," the Primarch sighed. "My hope is that there is more left of both our worlds than ash when this all is over."

He could only nod in agreement. The battle that was outside their starboard window slowly slipped from view even as the last few ships succumbed to the Reaper's relentless onslaught. Ahead of them the Normandy's shuttle bay beckoned as Cortez brought the shuttle in. Two more soldiers left their homeworld behind.


Half an hour later Victus was settling himself into the war room while the rest of the team stowed their gear. Shepard found his way to the CIC, locating Traynor at her terminal once more. Technically she had taken over the role as the ship's communications officer but with their limited crew compliment he was going to have to rely on her to fulfill quite a few jobs aboard the Normandy for the time being. At least she seemed up to the task from their initial conversation, if rather green. His biggest worry in regards to her and the other new members of the crew was stress. The current events would have weighed heavily on veteran soldiers, much less techs and young marines that had never even expected to be deployed.

"Specialist," he said by way of greeting.

"Ah, Commander. I'm glad to hear the mission was a success."

"It was, even if we didn't locate our original target. How are you holding up?"

"Trying to get my bearings. When I was working on the Normandy's upgrades I left at the end of the day," she said, gesturing towards the console. "I was here when it happened, I didn't even have a toothbrush or a change of clothes until I made some emergency purchases on the Citadel."

"Did you get everything you need? We're in a bad situation but that doesn't mean you should be living without necessities, toothbrush included. I'm pretty sure we can get you one of those," Shepard suggested. "We can put in a requisition order... or more likely just buy one since I'm not sure who we'd even send an order to at this point."

"Oh no, it's alright, Commander. I'm sure you have far larger concerns. And my toothbrush is a Cision Pro Mark IV that uses tiny mass effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums," Traynor explained sheepishly, lowering her voice to a whisper. "It costs six thousand credits."

The Spectre chuckled. "Okay, yea. You're on your own with that. Good to see you're so dedicated to oral hygiene."

The woman's face flushed. "Anyway... thank you for asking, and giving me the chance to continue to serve on the Normandy."

"You came with EDI's recommendation, hard to top that. Though I'm surprised that your primary concern is a toothbrush."

"You're not going to let me forget about that are you?" she asked, apparently just now realizing the kind of man she was dealing with.

"Definitely not, I have rules. One of them is 'never waste a good bit of embarrassing knowledge'."

Traynor shook her head but he saw a small smile on her lips. "To tell you the truth a toothbrush isn't the biggest worry I have, but I figured bursting into tears on the CIC isn't going to help anyone. Seeing the Reapers on Earth... and Palaven. It's horrifying. Like a story you're told as a child to make you be good. Except those are never supposed to actually happen."

"You're right, they're not. That's why we do what we do, to try and make sure they go back to being stories," Shepard said. "To be honest if I'd met you on the street, Traynor, I wouldn't have pegged you for military. You sound more like someone that would keep company with Liara than with Vega."

The specialist's cheeks flushed again to his surprise but before he could question it she spoke. "My parents were born on a colony in the Terminus systems, they didn't have money for university but when the Alliance saw my test scores they offered me a full scholarship. I studied at Oxford and after graduation served my required time and ended up staying. I enjoyed the challenges of the label. Though... I'm sure I'll... ah, learn to enjoy front line service as well."

He held up a hand at her hasty declaration. "It's alright. No one enjoys frontline service except psychopaths, adrenaline junkies, and people with nothing left to lose."

"Of course, sir. You just seem to take command in this sort of situation so naturally. My former CO was significantly more stressed out when just a computer database didn't respond or a systems test failed."

"I've gotten more than my fair share of practice in past few years. Which brings me to my other reason for coming to see you. Primarch Victus is going to need quarters while he's aboard and I'm not sure where to put him. I thought you might know what parts of the ship are suitable?" he asked.

"Well, we never got around to repurposing the room on the port side of life support during the refit. I'm sure we can convert them into makeshift officers quarters. I don't think turians would mind the drier air considering Palaven's climate," the specialist suggested. "Should I get techs to set up a couple of cots for now?"

"Just the one. Garrus will be bunking in the gunnery bay."

Traynor looked confused. "The gunnery bay? That area isn't rated for someone to live in... and it's sitting on top of that massive thanix cannon."

"Garrus is rather fond of that cannon. Don't worry, he'll make himself comfortable," he assured her. "Just see if you can get the Primarch settled."

The console behind the specialist beeped, causing the woman to look over her shoulder before turning her attention back to him.

"Of course, sir. I won't argue with wherever he wants to bunk. It looks like Admiral Hackett is on the QEC for you, he must have gotten my communication that your mission was complete."

"Thanks, I'll head to the war room. And remember, if you need anything that doesn't involve oral hygiene and costs more than my sidearm just ask."

She gave him a salute. "Of course, Commander."

Leaving Traynor behind, he made his way past the security checkpoint and into the war room. It was a rather redundant feature considering the Normandy's already elite nature in his opinion, anyone that made it aboard wouldn't be stopped by a pair of marines and a scanner. Primarch Victus was already studying data that had been sent to him regarding the Reaper forces at one of the rooms numerous terminals, giving him only a curt nod as he passed. Stepping into the communication room he locked the door behind him and activated the quantum communicator. To his surprise a pair of images appeared, the first was Hackett's familiar scarred face, the second was an even more welcome sight in the form of Anderson. He was wearing a standard Alliance duty uniform and a cap that looked a little dusty but no worse for the wear.

"Anderson! You managed to find a working communicator?"

"Good to see you, Shepard," the older man said. "All other communications have been cut off but we have a handful of QECs still scattered around the world that I've been able to use."

He hesitated a moment before asking the harder, but more relevant question. "And the fighting?"

The admiral shook his head. "We're just guerrillas at this point. We hit them where we can and disappear. The Reapers have started broadcasting for 'human leadership' to approach them in major cities to 'negotiate peace'."

"Indoctrination," Hackett interjected.

"Exactly. The devastation is bad, but we have learned some things," Anderson continued. "The Reapers are not exactly adaptable. We've made raids on their patrols and convoys almost a half a dozen times, all with the exact same tactic. But they don't even change their patterns. The most response we've seen is a slightly higher number of enemies in each patrol."

The other admiral nodded in agreement. "We've found the same. Their ships are massively powerful, far too strong for our fleet to take in a stand up fight. But I've made a few surgical strikes against their flanks to take pressure off of some of our fueling stations. In every instance they simply break off pursuit after a point and their response is almost always the same, firing their longer ranged guns while approaching at speed."

"Are you saying we're actually winning?" he asked in surprise.

"Winning is a strong word," Hackett cautioned. "Successfully delaying might be a better term, but their tactical inflexibility does give us more room to maneuver than I expected. It's almost as if they've done the same thing so many times that they can't just change strategies. From what we can tell the bulk of their forces are concentrated on Palaven and Earth, with significantly less strength probing at the borders of the other races."

"It's something, at least... but it makes sense now that I think about it," Shepard said, rubbing his jaw as he remembered what felt like a lifetime ago: Harbinger's words on Horizon. And, long before that, Sovereign on Virmire.

"How so?" Anderson asked.

"I don't think it's that they're just tactically inflexible," he explained. "I think it's that they literally don't think that they need to be. When I spoke to Sovereign it said that we couldn't even begin to fathom their thoughts and plans. For all these cycles they've always just come through the Citadel and spend the next century slowly wiping out planets and harvesting them."

"So why change now..." Hackett concluded, nodding to himself. "It makes a twisted kind of sense. They know that technologically they're lightyears beyond us, they've got a massive fleet, enormous amounts of ground forces…the Reapers have no reason to hurry."

"That's my best guess. And I don't think they're used to having to work this hard for one planet in the case of Palaven. The turians weren't winning, but from what I could see they were giving them hell nonetheless."

"I've gotten similar reports. One of their admirals, smart bastard that he was, actually managed to hammer some of their capital ships hard enough to drop them. On that note, what was the result of your mission?" Hackett asked. "I received word that Primarch Fedorian was KIA."

"He was, but General Victus was next in line for succession. We extracted him for the summit... but there's a new development."

Anderson spoke up. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Victus won't commit the Hierarchy fleets while Palaven is being overrun by the Reapers. He knows the battle in space is a lost cause, but he wants krogan ground troops to bolster the turian forces," Shepard said. "I've already sent a communication to Urdnot Wrex. The krogans will be at our summit."

"This definitely complicates things. There's centuries of bad blood between the krogans and the Council races. I hope you have a plan," Hackett said.

"Urdnot Wrex is a friend. If any krogan will listen it will be him."

"Then I hope friendship still means something in these times. Good luck, Commander. Hackett out."

"I have confidence in your, Shepard. You'll do what's needed," Anderson assured him.

The Spectre saluted. "You know I will, sir. Just hold on out there... when I come back it will be with a fleet and an army, no matter where I have to get it from."

His former captain returned the salute before the image pixelated and disappeared, the connection cutting out. At least it was something. There were still people fighting back on Earth. However small their numbers were it meant that hope was still alive. Now he needed to give them more reasons to hope, to hold out for the cavalry. That would begin at the upcoming summit. But first he had one more matter to attend. Shepard tapped his omni-tool.

"EDI, have Joker set course for the relay."

"Destination, Shepard?"

"We're going to Eden Prime."


He could smell smoke, thick and cloying in the air. Around him were the burnt husks of trees, now little more than blackened, withered stalks. Embers and debris crunched beneath his feet with every step. All he could see was the endless forest of dead trees, the smoke cloaking anything else in a dull gray haze. The only sound other than his footsteps was his labored breathing.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, the barely-noticeable flit of a shadow. Stumbling from tree to tree he searched for any sign of life. He began to move faster, pushing forward. Then he was running. The spindly branches disintegrated into a puff of ash whenever they struck him, leaving his face streaked with black lines of charcoal. Faster and faster he ran, but nothing ever changed until he finally fell to his knees on the scorched earth, panting in exhaustion.

"Anyone..." Shepard gasped. "Is anyone there?"

Movement again, just at the edge of his vision. He spun, falling back on his haunches but it was gone. Whispers seemed to move from tree to tree. Always a little too quiet to make out. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating, slowing his breathing. The whispers began to form words. Snippets and phrases.

'Too weak...'

'Inevitable.'

'Waited. Too long.'

'They arrive...'

The longer he concentrated the louder the whispers became until he finally opened his eyes. In the haze he could see forms now, humanoid forms moving slowly towards him. Shepard pushed himself to his feet, trying to wipe away the dust and ash, succeeding only in smearing it across his sweat damp skin. His hands were almost black with the stuff.

"Hello? Who's there?"

'We all are... all of us, Shepard...'

He turned on his heel again, a man stepping from behind one of the trees, it's thin trunk too small to have concealed his broad shoulders that were clad in a burnt and tattered Alliance uniform. A stained cap concealed his face but he recognized the stained uniform.

"Anderson? Sir..."

"My greatest failure. Where were you, Shepard? At the end?"

The man laughed, a dry, unpleasant sound like dry parchment rubbing together. When he looked up the thing that looked back wasn't Anderson, not anymore. The weathered face that had once held grim determination tempered by kindness was lined with glowing synthetic veins, eyes glowing blue orbs. When he opened his mouth to speak it was with blackened teeth and a voice that rasped.

"We waited for you. We all waited but you never came!"

"No! I'm bringing help, I-" Shepard tried to protest, backpedaling as his mentor's outstretched hands curled into claws.

"You failed!"

"You gave us hope... false hope!" another, flanged voice growled to his right.

"Not you..."

There was no lower jaw on the turan face that looked at him, just like the undersized head of the creature he had fought on Palaven's moon. Still, the words came out clear, if distorted, as if he was trying to speak through thick liquid. The turian's armor was streaked with dark liquid, only a few spots of its former blue showing through where massive rents exposed its inner workings.

"Took me. Molded me... made me like you. A killer. Your right hand. You were supposed to save us, 'Boss'," the husk-like parody of his friend hissed.

"I... this... I tried. I didn't give up! Dammit I-"

The gray sky turned red and darkened further, the hellish reverberating roar he had heard when Earth fell ringing in his ears. A hand grasped his shoulder, three pointed fingers digging into his flesh painfully.

"Maybe you should have. They cannot be stopped..."

He yanked his head around, seeing a shattered visor, glimmering eyes filled with that same baleful blue glow. Shepard screamed.

"No!"

Shepard awoke instantly, soaked in sweat and almost tearing the sheets off of him in his sudden fury. He levered himself into a sitting position and tried to slow his breathing, holding his head in his hands. A faint chiming sound echoed through the room.

"Is there something wrong, Shepard?" EDI asked, sounding concerned.

"No," he said, this time far more calmly. "I'm fine. It was... nothing. What's our ETA?"

"I was about to wake you per your instructions, Commander. We have arrived in the Utopia system and are preparing to enter orbit over Eden Prime," the AI replied. "I have already completed scans and detect no Reaper presence in the area, but there is a significant amount of Cerberus chatter on local channels."

"Understood. Have the team meet me in the armory in fifteen for deployment. I'll meet them there."

"Of course. Logging you out, Commander."

He shook his head once and made his way to the shower, rubbing his eyes and trying to chase away the visions in his mind. The first real sleep he had gotten since leaving Earth and it had been anything but restful. Even as he turned the shower on he could still almost smell of the ash, looking down at his hands in reflex, expecting to see them covered in soot. He let the water, cold and piercing, wash over him. They had a mission to complete and dreams wouldn't change that.


"Place looks deserted, boss," Garrus said over the comm. "I'm not even seeing any civilians."

The turian was crouched on the roof of one of the semi-permanent buildings that were ubiquitous to human colonies. The pre-fabs were meant to provide shelter and safety on often-unpredictable garden worlds that were far from the Earth norm, but often they became permanent fixtures as towns rose up around them. "Waste not, want not" was a popular saying among colonists.

"Chatter has Cerberus all over Eden Prime. If they're not waiting for us then they'll be here soon. Keep your eyes peeled," he replied.

"Really, 'eyes peeled'? That doesn't even start to make sense. You'd think in three years you'd run out of nonsensical human sayings, Shepard."

He chuckled. "I try to keep it fresh. Just be your usual observant self. Speaking of observation, where exactly did you get that rifle? It looked pretty damn familiar."

"This old thing? I made some modifications," Garrus explained, sounding smug. "Not quite as much punch as the original configuration but I can get three shots out of the thermal now. And not dislocate anything. Someone just left it behind, abandoned and alone, so it only seemed right."

"I didn't want to leave anyone behind," he muttered.

There was a moment of silence on the line before Garrus responded, his voice tinged with an odd combination of concern and wry humor. "I was kidding, Boss. Just keep your head down. Your shiny new armor might be intimidating as hell but for a thief Kasumi's design tastes do not run to subtle or stealthy."

"At least she didn't make the entire thing red."

His turian companion grunted over the comm in amused agreement, apparently returning to scanning the makeshift town through the scope of his rifle. In truth he had been a little concerned about the armor himself despite its excellent workmanship until he realized that the diving phoenix splashed across his shoulder and chest in vibrant red also perfect lined up with the heavy armored pauldron. While it could act like a bullseye in a firefight anyone that shot at it would be targeting the most well protected part of the suit.

Shepard's musing was interrupted by Liara's cry of discovery.

"Here!"

Jogging up the stairs of yet another pre-fab he found the asari tapping away at the terminal within. He let his rifle drop, held in one hand pointed at the ground as he moved to look over her shoulder.

"What have you got?"

"Exactly what Kasumi's data promised, a Prothean relic," she said. "They were just getting ready to bring it up when Cerberus hit. They disabled the lift controls and data-logging but I'm bringing them back up now."

Kasumi had her omni-tool open next to the console, scanning through lines of code. "Uh, Shep... we're probably going to have company. As soon as Liara re-activated the elevator I got a spike of outgoing data."

"Not exactly unexpected," he said, opening his comm to the squad channel. "Heads up, we've likely got incoming. Vega, take position with Garrus and lay down suppressive fire. Liara and Kasumi will come with me to secure the target."

A pair of affirmatives echoed immediately as the trio jogged outside to where the excavation elevator was climbing with excruciating slowness. He scanned the skyline but didn't detect an immediate hostiles. The immediate area was at least somewhat defensible with a high point for Garrus and Vega, while there were numerous transport containers that would provide adequate protection from anything short of anti-vehicle and high explosive weaponry. With luck Cerberus wouldn't come calling with missile launchers.

"Here we go. One Prothean... boxy coffin... uh, thing?" Kasumi said as the lift finally arrived.

"Goddess!"

The object in question was roughly eight feet long at first glance, rectangular with smooth edges and clearly visible seams. At the base he could see a small, cracked image display that flickered. He had seen something like it before a lifetime ago, endless ranks of exact copies even, but each had been as dead as the next.

"Liara is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"I... it is. I cannot believe it, but it is!" the asari stammered, running her hands across its surface. She crouched at the end, looking at the display. "It still has power! I can only read some of this but... it appears completely intact."

Kasumi cocked her head, looking between Spectre and excited asari. "Someone want to clue me in?"

"It's a stasis pod, Kasumi. A functioning one. The Protheans had hundreds of thousands of them on Ilos but the VI that maintained the facility was forced to disable them one by one to preserve power," he explained quietly. "By the time we arrived the last pod had lost power over a thousand years before. The VI had just enough energy to give us a final warning from the Protheans about the Reapers. I thought it was their final message in a bottle."

"Whoa. So you mean there's an actual Prothean in that thing?" she asked incredulously. "Shep, I've heard a lot of crazy things from you but... fifty thousand years and it's still working?"

"Not for long," Liara interrupted. "When we brought it up it was disconnected from the main power source. It's running on reserves now and it doesn't seem to have many of those. Damn!"

"What's wrong?"

"Shepard I can't just read Prothean and navigate their computer system. If I do this wrong... interrupt the stasis too early or do the sequence wrong... I could kill the last living Prothean!"

"Then I guess it's a good thing you've got someone that can read Prothean, huh?" he said with a smirk, kneeling next to her and examining the small screen.

It was cracked and dust was caked in the recessed edges but it was legible. The Cipher, long forgotten, rushed back to the front of his mind. For a moment it was just a rush of images, those same horrific visions he had seen the very first time he had set foot on this world when he had leapt in front of the beacon. He shook it off, focusing on the task at hand. The symbols looked foreign and familiar all at once but he seemed to instinctively know what to do.

Vega's voice briefly interrupted his work. "We've got incoming, loco!"

"The kid's right, two shuttles. They're going to be right on top of us in a matter of minutes. What the hell are you three doing down there?" Garrus asked.

"Found a Prothean. Getting him out of stasis. Talk in a minute," he responded curtly.

Garrus made what was likely the most bird-like sound he had ever heard from the man, something that sounded like a cough and squawk, followed by a string of curse words that didn't translate. In the back of his mind he lamented not being able to focus on it enough to make a comment.

"You found a what?"

He ignored the comment, however, and left Garrus to wonder. The last stage of the resuscitation process flashed on the screen and he keyed in the necessary codes. His reward was multiple panels on the capsule popping open to release frigid air with a hiss, creating a faint fog around the statis unit's base. It had already begun its work, equalizing pressure, injecting the occupant with a pre-mixed cocktail of tailored drugs, and monitoring temperature. Finally the seam down the middle began to split open until the capsule was fully opened.

Kasumi gasped. "Aremaa!"

Within was a familiar silhouette, Shepard had seen it over and over again on Horizon: the Collectors. But while the head was the same broad, half shell shape and sported four eyes that was where the similarities ended. Where the Collectors had been a uniform chitinous brown shot through with imbedded cybernetics and baleful yellow eyes this alien had sea green skin that faded to almost white beneath his throat. When his eyes blinked open Shepard saw gold irises and a quartet of hourglass shaped pupils.

"Shepard, remember it's been fifty thousand years to us but to him it will be like it just happened," Liara warned. "We don't have any idea of how he'll react."

"Uh... hey, we're here to help," he said lamely, realizing the long sleeping prothean wouldn't even understand him.

Instead he tried something he hoped was a universally friendly gesture, setting his weapon down against the side of the capsule and extended his hand, palm up, gesturing the other two away with the other. The prothean's eyes finally focused. And then he found himself knocked off his feet by a surge of biotic energy. The pulse felt strange and the flash of light was a vivid green rather than the blue glow he was familiar with but the effect was still the same. It had staggered both the others and sent his rifle flying off the elevator platform. Awkwardly the prothean pulled himself - Shepard assumed it was a he at least - from coffin-like device, falling to his hands and knees as soon as he made it outside.

"Where..." he heard the kneeling form muttering, growing louder with each word. "Victory. Victory! Where are you?"

He understood the words, even though what he heard sounded guttural but flowing. Sounds that he shouldn't be able to identify but yet made perfect sense. The Cipher certainly provided for an odd sensation, like a translator reading over another person's words with a moment's delay. Liara and Kasumi had their weapons out but he shook his head.

"Can you understand me?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet as the prothean did the same.

Four eyes locked with his two and the prothean stumbled forward, three fingered hands grasping Shepard's shoulders. Instantly images flooded his mind, flashes of single moments and brief continuous memories. He saw a facility, it looked like what Ilos must have been like before thousands of years of neglect. The prothean was there, speaking to a VI that he called 'Victory'. The stasis pod. Victory's voice in his ear telling him the facility was damaged, that power would have to be diverted. No, telling the prothean. Javik was his name. And then a surge of rage. Powerful, soul burning rage.

Both men gasped and staggered backwards. The prothean spoke first.

"How many?"

This time he realized, much to his surprise, that the prothean was speaking english. He could already see Liara's eyes widening and Kasumi looking equally perplexed.

"You're the only one. I'm sorry," Shepard replied sadly. "You can speak my language?"

"I have touched your mind. It was... easy. Far easier than I would have expected," Javik replied, seeming to shake once to compose himself before turning to look at the other two. The confusion in his gaze was evident, but quickly disappeared as he gained his bearings. "Human... asari... I am surrounded by primitives?"

He ignored the primitives comment. "I saw your mind too. The Reapers were breaching your facility. Your name is Javik, you were... a soldier?"

"I am a soldier," the prothean stated firmly. "I saw more in your mind. You fight the same war as my people. You fight the Reapers."

Javik certainly looked the part of the warrior, clad in armor the color of red wine that reminded him of images taken of ancient samurai on Earth. The brief look at the prothean's memories only confirmed that. While clearly Javik had garnered the lion's share of information in the exchange he still had a taste of the man's life. It was one that seemed to begin and end with conflict. He nodded in response to the question.

"I do. We're fighting them across the galaxy even as we speak. And we need all the help we can get. I wish I could provide better news or give you more time but this area isn't safe. Will you join us?"

"My people are gone... but the same war still rages. I will join you, for now."

"Shepard! Incoming!" Garrus barked over the comm.

"Where?"

A shuttle roared overhead but didn't stop, instead troopers in familiar white and gold armor fell from the sky. Flames and smoke poured from their backs before they hit the ground, some kind of retro-thrusters. He hadn't been expecting that consider the Alliance had given up on the idea years ago, mostly due to the fact that dropping a soldier out of a ship with what amounted to a bomb on his back wasn't considered viable. Clearly the Illusive Man had no such qualms.

"What is this? These appear to be humans as well. Your own people fight you?" Javik asked in amazement.

"Long story, they're not friends. We've got to get out of here. Did you get enough from my memories to know how to use one of these?"

Shepard held out a pistol but the prothean merely shook his head, reaching into the stasis module and producing a pair angular looking rifles, throwing one at him. He caught the weapon and wrapped his hand around the grip. The trigger guard was clearly meant for a much larger finger than his own and it all felt a little awkward, but it was definitely useable.

"Keep your sidearm, human. Better to question if you can use one of these," Javik said.

Not waiting for an answer the prothean turned to the approaching Cerberus troops, raising the rifle to his shoulder and taking aim. Without hesitation he opened fire. A beam of brilliant green streaked out, catching the first trooper full in the chest, lingering for a brief second before slicing right through the armor. Javik fired off a few more quick 'bursts', second long shots that seemed to have devastating effect, dropping one more soldier and piercing straight through the arm of another.

"I don't know what the heck you got going on down there but it's one hell of a light show, Commander," Vega said, the sound of his rifle discharging briefly overriding the sound of his voice.

"Just drop them, we've got some support here but I don't want to get overrun!" he ordered.

Shepard brought the strange rifle up and sighted down its length, though the only real 'sight' on the thing seemed to be a single front post. Depressing the trigger he heard a high pitched keen a fraction of a second before the beam shot out. He raked it across an unlucky Cerberus soldier and was rewarded with seeing a smoking trail cut across the man's chest before he fell backwards.

"Fire in short bursts," Javik instructed. "Sustained fire will do considerable damage but rapidly outstrips the weapon's capacity to dissipate heat."

Following the prothean's instructions he gave the trigger half second to second pulls, adding in the fire from Liara and Kasumi to quickly drop the initial assault. There was no real recoil to speak of and it had tremendous accuracy. He could have walked into Alliance command two years ago and dropped a weapon like this on the table and he'd have been promoted to captain within the week. Pointing the rifle at the sky as soon as the skirmish was over, he nodded appreciatively.

"Not entirely sure how it works, but I'm definitely a fan."

Javik looked at him with an expression that he assumed was the prothean equivalent of confusion. "It is a neutral particle accelerator powered by a dual micro-fusion power source and utilizing a supercooling gas vent system. A weapon costly in resources for an single warrior but necessary. The Reapers cut off all supply lines during the Great War and thus such weapons were the only viable alternatives. You do not have these?"

"Wow, too bad Garrus didn't hear that. That much gun lingo and he'd probably have needed to change his armor," Kasumi said in amusement. "I'm pretty sure not even Cerberus' best egg heads have got something like those, though."

The prothean turned his attention to the young woman. "I do not understand."

"It... is not important. What is important is there is a living prothean. Shepard we have to get back to the Normandy's immediately. The Crucible plans... the other devices we could retrieve from the archive files! Think of it!" Liara said.

"I am no scientist, I am a warrior. But I will provide you with any knowledge that assists in stopping the Reapers. You have transport? A... good ship?"

Shepard smiled. "The best."


"You found a prothean and he gave you a laser gun? That sounds like the plot of a bad simustim film!" Garrus said, throwing up his hands.

"He's in the cargo bay now if you need to confirm it for yourself again. He took over Grunt's old stomping grounds. You saw him on the shuttle ride back, though," Shepard replied. "And it's a particle gun. Not quite the same."

"Spirits! It's close enough. I. Want. One."

He smirked evilly. "Sorry, there were only two in the stasis pod and I don't think Javik is giving his up."

"You are a cruel human," the turian sighed.

"So I've been told."

Garrus' tone turned serious. "What about this prothean, though? Fifty thousand years later, his entire race gone. He's taking it pretty well. I mean you'd think Liara had just been given... I don't know whatever asari girls get when they're adolescents that makes them really happy. But that combination of revelations doesn't sound like a good recipe for a guy with access to heavy firepower inside a ship."

"I know, but... something about him tells me that won't be a problem," Shepard replied. "He did something, sort of like the asari and their ability to touch people's minds. And I saw a little of his. There's rage there, Garrus. But it's not 'murderous rampage' rage. It's almost pure. Like a religious calling."

"I'll take your word for it. Just wanted to point that out so I can say 'I told you so' if things start exploding."

Kasumi had immediately disappeared once they had returned to the ship. For some reason he was almost certain she was writing all of these events down in a journal or the like. Liara had of course been nearly bouncing in her seat, rambling off questions that Javik had mostly ignored or answered in short, clipped answers. Vega had mostly just spent the ride staring. Shepard couldn't say he blamed him. Now the prothean had sequestered himself in Grunt's old section of the starboard cargo hold with the few possessions that had been in the stasis pod and Liara had gone to check on EDI's progress with decrypting the information from the Cerberus synthetic.

He and Garrus had just made it to the elevator when a shudder ran through the deck, causing them both to look at the other in confusion. A second later the lights flicked, died, and then came back on at full strength.

"That can't be good."

Joker's voice came over his omni-tool, confirming that sentiment. "Commander. EDI just went off line and I've got systems powering on and off at random!"

"Sir, there's a fire in the AI core!" Traynor said immediately after the pilot finished speaking. "Donnelly and Adams are on their way with fire suppression gear! I'm trying to reboot systems as quickly as they go offline but I have no idea what's happening."

"AI core?" Garrus asked.

He nodded. "AI core."

Ignoring the elevator they ran to opposite ends of the shuttle bay, Shepard snatching a shotgun off the armory's rack as he ran, hitting the emergency hatches and climbing up. Both of them raced upwards, past the engineering deck and finally emerging on the crew deck to meet in front of the medbay. They stepped inside to see Donnelly and Adams at the doors, a pair of marines standing just behind them and Chakwas looking on with concern.

"What's our status?"

"Internal systems kicked in to try and drown out the fires," Adams said.

"And aye jus got tha door override ta work," Donnelly finished. "I hit this here button and yer in, but I dunnay know what's going on in there."

He nodded at Garrus, thumbing the activation switch on the shotgun as the turian did the same for the pistol in his hands. Shepard glanced over at Donnelly.

"Do it."

The doors hissed open and a wall of steam and smoke billowed out, causing the two engineers to backpedal in coughing fits. He and Garrus didn't move at all, weapons raised. The spectre could smell the acrid scent of melted plastic and the chemicals used by the fire suppression system. He could just make out a silhouette in the haze. A feminine one. He silently cursed himself for not having the synthetic properly secured. Now it might have cost him the very soul of his ship.

"I can at least put you down for good," he growled quietly, raising the shotgun.

A familiar voice answered calmly. "That will not be necessary, Shepard."

Stepping out of the fog was indeed the sleek, silver form of the Cerberus synthetic that had nearly killed Ashley and caused the death of countless people on Mars. The artificial skin had been burned away in the crash, only leaving the smooth undercoat of polymers and metal. It looked for all the world like a woman in a skin tight silver body suit. But the holographic visor he had noticed before was a warm orange color now and the eyes behind it were burning blue, but rather looked much more human. She stopped a few feet from them, placing a hand on her hip as she continued.

"I apologize for not warning you ahead of time, Commander. But it is good to finally meet you... in the flesh? I believe that was the correct expression."

It took him a second to realize his mouth was open.

"EDI?"