Shepard's Journey
All was silent. Shepard, for the first time in many months, found himself without company. Even then, he was not alone. He rubbed his back as the aching now was a stabbing pain. He was getting closer. He had seen the handiwork of those who had gone before him. Worlds he had known by name were now blasted rock. The work of the Reapers was efficient, quick. Such colonies had little hope against such a force.
A Reaper ship, left behind to harvest the dead and living, had even seen his tiny shuttle. He felt its "eyes" upon him, its attention. Then in a moment, it seemed to lose interest and focus on its task. In a single motion of a tentacle, it could have obliterated Shepard. Yet, nothing. Not even a movement towards his ship.
It would not be much longer now. He laid back and tried to rest, but sleep would not find him. The constant beating in his head, the sounds of war and malice, would not leave him. He felt sick, terrified, yet at the same time a growing sense that he was changing. This is what was allowing him passage. His transformation into one of them…they saw not a shuttle but a lost piece of their mind, coming to return to its rightful place. Or so they thought…
Shepard just hoped he had the strength to finish what he had begun.
Not long now.
The Quickening
It would have been a beautiful sight for a parade. This was no display of martial glory though, but a hastily drawn together force heading towards an unknown fate.
Aboard the Destiny Ascension, Anderson surveyed the scene before him. Ships as far as they eye could see. Dreadnoughts, cruisers, carriers, frigates, and drop ships with their insides full of warriors.
It was still not enough. On such short notice, many ships would not make it in time. Many troops could not be gathered quickly enough. He had a mere 50,000 men and few thousand land craft for combat. The ships, however glorious the mass of them might seem, could not even match the estimated number of Reapers that lay before them.
They were headed into Death. He only hoped it could be made to mean something.
He hit the communications button on the console before him. He was now linked to the entire fleet.
"There is no time for regret. No time for reflection. We must look forward, to Earth, to victory or to death, we go now to fight beside our allies, and for our salvation. The age is ending, and what will come in its place will be a time free of fear or our civilizations crashing down. I was not born into a Galaxy doomed to die, none of us were. We will find victory, on land and in the stars. We cannot fail, or falter, for to do so now would be to betray all those who have gone before us, whose light and life were snuffed out too soon and by the forces that array themselves against us.
For our families, or friends, our peoples, and all that value existence itself.
Enough talk, now for action. Set course for the Relay and all speed for Earth. "
He doubted his own words. But the hope of those assembled was hanging by a thin and fraying thread, and to not give them even a chance at success, to consign them to defeat before the battle began, would be the role of commander not worthy of leading.
Countless engines now sprung to life. Their journey had begun.