The sound of sombre male voices could be heard carrying through the base building as Shepard made her way through its bleak, rubbled halls, passing through a set of doors into what appeared to be some sort of respite. Crude, hammock-like cots lined the walls of the room, several of which already held sleeping or relaxing soldiers, while a handful of large weapons racks had been pushed up against the back wall, holding the majority of what she guessed was the soldiers' firepower. Garrus stood beside one of these weapons racks, seeming to not even notice her presence as he ran a well-worn rag over the length of his sniper rifle, cleaning it lovingly while he conversed with a soldier sitting upright on one of the nearby cots. "It's a shame to see another planet get hit like this," the soldier commented, letting out a deep, weary sigh.
"It'll be the last one if I have anything to say about it," Garrus returned, checking the scope of his rifle, making sure it was properly configured. "This nightmare finally ends today."
"You really think the Reapers can be defeated?" the soldier asked, looking up at Garrus from where he sat, raising his brows, expectantly.
Garrus gave a soft huff, checking the heat sink in his rifle to make sure it was fresh, before popping it back in and collapsing the weapon, returning it securely to the maglock at his back. "I know they can," he answered, determinedly. "That whole Sovereign business a few years ago? He was the first to die. Now all his friends will, too." Then, looking up from the conversation, he watched as Shepard moved towards him across the war-torn pavilion, his plated brows raising faintly as a small, familiar smile lit up his sharply-cut features at the sight of her. "Shepard," he greeted her, turning to give her his full attention. "Long time no s—" But he did not even have time to finish his teasing statement before she grabbed him by the front of his armoured cowl, pulling him down towards her and pressing her lips to his mouth, cutting him off short. Garrus faltered, thrown off balance for an instant, but he did not resist, instead allowing her to kiss him, and kissing her back just as tenderly. Then, finished kissing him to her satisfaction, Shepard relaxed her grip, allowing him to stand up straight again, watching as he stared back at her, still a bit dazed, unable to keep the telling, crooked smirk from his face at the unforeseen show of affection.
"Well," he finally commented, letting out an amused, satisfied huff. "That was… unexpected. Good to see you too, Shepard."
"Sorry," Shepard grinned, embarrassed, reaching up to wipe at the side of her mouth, hoping to hide the light pink blush rising to her cheeks. "I got a little carried away. I'm just glad to see you, is all."
"I can tell," Garrus agreed, letting out a deep, fond chuckle. "I guess it's true what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Suddenly, he paused, his plated brow furrowing a bit as he turned his attention down towards her armour, apparently noticing it for the first time. "Is that… men's armour?" he finally asked, trying not to sound too confused.
Shepard faltered, looking down at the armour she wore, holding her hands out to her sides, before looking back up at Garrus again, expectantly. "Yes," she answered, trying to sound as casual as possible at having been called out. "Or, well – the chestplate and abdominal guard are. My other armour broke. This was all I had left over."
"Men's armour, though?" Garrus repeated, tilting his head to one side, observing the getup, curiously. "You didn't have any women's armour you could use? One of Liara's suits, or Miranda's?"
"They're both shorter than me," Shepard countered, shaking her head. "Especially Liara. Plus Miranda's suits are built to fit her…" She paused, holding up her hands, half-heartedly indicating an exaggeratedly full bust, before letting them fall quickly back down to her sides again. "Shape," she said, awkwardly.
"Hm," Garrus grunted, righting his head to look at her straight on again. "You say that like you haven't got one of those, yourself." He paused, considering her, before taking a slow, thoughtful breath and raising his plated brows, his gaze fixed on her flat breastplate. "Though, I have to admit, your… shape, is a lot nicer than it used to be," he told her, speaking slowly, almost musingly. "Or, maybe I just never really noticed it before. I'm still learning, after all. It's not a bad process."
"Yeah, well," Shepard huffed, running a hand back through her bangs to linger awkwardly at the base of her ponytail. "I'm kind of starting to wish I didn't have one. This thing is pushing up against everything in there." Letting her hand fall back to her side again, she let out a short, sharp exhale, glancing over her shoulder, her brow furrowing as she tried to shift her armour more comfortably to one side, to little avail. There was no real way to tell him that the only reason her breasts were getting larger was because of her pregnancy, and that afterward they would likely return to the size they had been before. That was an issue for another time – the bigger issue she had to face now was the fact that her armour was pressing her breasts uncomfortably up against her chest, causing them to send shocks of pain through her ribcage every time she tried to move more than a little bit at a time. "Listen, Garrus," she suddenly spoke up again, causing him to look down at her once more, expectantly. Clasping her hands in front of her, she wrung them once, anxiously, before letting them drop back to her sides again and taking a deep, readying breath. "You've been with me longer than almost anybody else on my crew," she told him. "You believed in me when nobody else did. I just wanted to tell you… thanks. For that. For… everything you've done for me."
Garrus paused, seeming surprised by this show of sincere emotion. Then, offering a soft, fond chuckle, he shrugged his plated shoulders, folding his arms over his broad, armoured chest. "Well," he told her, teasingly. "You did give me some incentive." Having said this, he paused, pensive, before turning his gaze towards the ground again and letting out a soft sigh, allowing the conversation to lapse into momentary, almost melancholy silence. Then, looking up towards Shepard again, he took a short, sharp breath, getting her attention, causing her to raise her brows as she looked up at him again, waiting for him to speak. "It's kind of amazing how everything's come full circle," he told her, speaking thoughtfully. "The Citadel's been the centre of galactic civilization, a Reaper trap… and my source of employment for a long time. And now it's our salvation for any chance at winning this war. This place, your home…" Turning to look out the broken window, he frowned faintly, letting out another short, soft, solemn breath. "Earth," he added, the name sounding almost finalistic as he spoke it. "It will either be remembered as the place we beat the Reapers… or it'll be a smoking ruin for the next cycle to wonder about."
He paused again, thinking this over, his expression unmoving as his mandibles tapped quietly against the sides of his chin. Then, looking back at Shepard again, he gave a soft grunt, fixing her with a knowing expression. "So I guess this is…"
"…Just like old times?" Shepard asked, finishing his sentence for him.
Garrus chuckled in response, letting out a soft, drawn-out huff of breath, followed by another, and then a thoughtful grunt, the weak laughter dying out as quickly as it had started. "Might be the last chance we get to say that," he admitted, regretfully.
Shepard frowned, glancing over her shoulder, before taking a step in towards him, leaning in to him to speak more privately. "What, you think we're gonna lose?" she asked, speaking in barely above a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear her.
At this, Garrus faltered, surprised, before quickly shaking his head. "No," he assured her, frankly. "I think we're about to kick the Reapers back into whatever black hole they crawled out of. Then we're going to retire somewhere warm and tropical and live off the royalties from the vids." Letting out another soft, slightly wearier chuckle, Garrus paused, looking down at the ground, the smile fading faintly from his face, as if he were having a harder time convincing himself than her that this might be an actual possibility for the both of them. "James told me there's an old saying, here on Earth…" he suddenly spoke up again, taking a deep breath in, before looking up at her again, his blue gaze sharp. "May you be in heaven half an hour before the Devil knows you're dead. Not sure if turian heaven is the same as yours, but if this thing goes sideways and we both end up there…" He smirked, the same puckish light flickering back into his eyes. "Meet me at the bar," he told her, determinedly. "I'm buying."
"We're a team, Garrus," Shepard reminded him, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest, resolutely. "There's no Shepard without Vakarian. So you better remember to duck."
Garrus huffed, letting out a deep, amenable chuckle, before taking a step back and holding out a hand, tilting his head to one side, amused. "Sorry," he answered, smarmily. "Turians don't know how. But I'll improvise. And, Shepard…" Moving forward again, he closed the short distance between them, reaching down to take both of her hands in his and pulling them up dotingly close to his chest. "Forgive the insubordination," he told her, speaking quieter now, barely loud enough for her to hear him. "But your boyfriend has an order for you: come back alive. It'd be an awfully empty galaxy without you." Then, having said his piece, he leaned in towards her, pressing his mouth against her lips in another gentle, tender kiss. Shepard kissed him back just as softly, gradually letting go of his hands to slide her own hands across his neck, feeling his hands move around her waist, pulling her in towards him. She kissed him again, more fervently this time, not wanting to let go of the moment, pressing her body against him, wanting him, needing his touch all over her.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the moment of passion ended, with Shepard pulling away from him, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as she inwardly cursed her own mortal weakness. "Sorry," she told him, quietly. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
"I do," Garrus answered, knowingly, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of her neck. "We haven't had sex in weeks." Then, relenting his playful torment of her, he offered her another soft chuckle, this one warmer and more encouraging than the last, before taking a deep breath in and tilting his head to one side again, curious. "By the way," he told her, causing her to look up at him again, attentive. "You were going to tell me something down in the gun battery after you got back from Cronos Station, but things… got in the way. Did you still have something you wanted to tell me, or am I too late to know now?"
Shepard faltered, taken aback, blinking a few times in surprise as she stared up at him, unsure what to say now that she was in the moment. She had had her entire speech completely mapped out, but now that she was here, now that he was asking to hear it, she found herself completely unprepared. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself, the toes of her heavy boots digging into the rocky soil as she allowed the breath to fill every inch of her, her shoulders rising a bit with the motion as she readied herself to tell him the truth. "I want to get married," she told him, resolutely, the words falling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "After this war is over… I want to settle down. Grow old together. I want to have a family. I want all of that… with you." Letting out the rest of her breath in a sharp, stunned huff, she hesitated, completely surprised with herself. Then, looking up at Garrus again, she realized that he looked just as surprised as she did by her unexpected announcement, though admittedly not unpleasantly so. He blinked a few times, taken aback, his mandibles hovering by his chin, quivering, as if expecting the other shoe to drop and for all of this to have been some kind of bizarre, leading joke, but Shepard shook her head, holding up her hands to keep him from speaking, letting her continue.
"I know this sounds totally… totally unlike me," she told him.
"Yes," Garrus admitted, frowning a bit.
"Because it is," Shepard answered, truthfully, letting her hands drop back to her sides again. "I've never been this kind of person, never. All my life, none of that… love, marriage, happily ever after nonsense… none of it ever appealed to me. But that was before I met you." She breathed heavily, her own honest enthusiasm wearing her out, but she hardly seemed to notice as she wet her lips, looking up at him earnestly and indicating herself with both hands. "Before I met you, I hated the idea of having someone love me," she told him, frankly. "It was scary. It was responsibility I wasn't ready to take on. But I was wrong, I was so wrong, and you showed me what having someone love you can actually be like." Dropping her hands from her breastplate, she let them hover awkwardly at her sides, barely able to keep her focus on him as her mind raced, her thoughts fighting to come forward, rushing to her lips faster than she could figure out how to say them. "It doesn't have to be all love songs and sappy… crap," she added, shaking her head, unable to keep a small, revealing smile from her face. "Sometimes it's just someone who's there when you need them to be. Your best friend. Sometimes that's all love has to be."
She could feel herself physically vibrating with adrenaline now, her heart pumping loudly in her ears as she reached up a hand, running it back through her hair, not even sure what she was doing with herself anymore. "I hate this war," she told him, resolutely. "I hate what it's turned us into. Machines, we're like—machines. I don't want that. I don't want this to become my life. I don't want to be stuck here forever, stuck in this same… endless loop, over and over, war after war after war."
"Are you okay, Shepard?" Garrus asked, reaching out a worrying hand to rest on her shoulder, steadying her. "You're sounding a bit… manic."
"I'm not manic," Shepard told him, firmly, taking his hand from her shoulder to hold it between her own two hands, looking up determinedly into his face, meeting his gaze. "I'm perfectly fine. I just finally know what I want." Pulling his hand forward, she pressed it flat to her chest, holding it in place with both of her hands, embracing it, holding it close. "I want to marry you, Garrus Vakarian," she told him, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a dizzying rush of breath. "That's what I want. I want to be sickeningly domestic, doing nothing all day in a house on a beach somewhere, just like you said. Away from it all with too many dogs and a tank full of fish neither of us ever seems to remember to feed…" Running out of breath, she stopped, breathing heavily, staring at him for another long moment, before finally clearing her throat, regaining her composure, and taking another deep inhale, allowing her mind to catch up with her own enthusiasm. "I just want to be with you when it's all over, Garrus," she told him, quieter now, having all but worn herself out. "I want to be your wife. I want to have your baby. I want all of that, all the… stupid, ridiculous, wishy-washy crap we promised ourselves we'd never do. I want to do it all. With you."
"Get married?" Garrus repeated, an awkward, surprised half-breath catching in his throat as he said it. "Have my baby? Shepard, I… that's…" He stopped, trailing off, his free hand curling into an awkward ball as he pressed it to the side of his armoured leg, unsure what he wanted to say. Then, his posture relaxing a bit, he let out a heavy sigh of exasperated surrender. "I was trying to think of something romantic to say," he admitted, sheepishly. "But really all I wanted to tell you was that I want all of that, too. Everything you mentioned, all of those things. It all sounds… really nice, to me."
Smiling up at him, Shepard pulled his hand away from her breastplate, pressed it gently to the side of her face instead and nestling her cheek into his palm. "Good," she told him, evenly. "Then we're in agreement."
"Absolutely," Garrus answered, smiling in return. "And maybe, once we're married… we can even find out what a turian-human baby looks like." Chuckling fondly at his own impossible joke, he leaned in towards her, nuzzling her nose with his and purring gently, seeming to completely miss the look of pained, stifled discomfort on her face at the ill-timed quip. Then, bringing her hand up to his mouth, he kissed it, before letting it drop back down again and drawing his rifle from the maglock at his back, indicating to the soldier in the cot with his gun. "Come on," he told him. "We should head out soon or Hammer's gonna leave without us." Then, turning his attention back to Shepard, he reached out a hand, giving her ponytail a fond flick, before pulling her in towards him and giving her a gentle kiss on the head. "Be careful out there, Shepard," he told her, quietly.
"I will," Shepard assured him, nodding in return, trying not to look as disconcerted as she felt. "And… you too, Garrus. Come back safe." Taking a step back, she allowed the soldier from the cot to pass by her, watching as the two began towards the door at the far end of the room. Then, letting out a heavy sigh, she shook her head, turning on her heel, and started back towards the main FOB.
The final meeting to decide the plan of attack against the Reapers was a much smaller gathering than Shepard had anticipated, with barely twenty people in attendance, including herself and Anderson. Though most of the military personnel were people she did not recognize, she was glad to see Zabaleta in attendance, hovering near Anderson's elbow, watching the meeting unfold with rapt attention. Only a few of Shepard's crew had been called in to attend – at the far end of the table, EDI stood meditatively over a small, blue hologram of an orb, presumably a rough diagram of Earth, while Tali stood just behind Shepard to her right, peering over the Commander's shoulder, ready to give quarian fleet input if needed. A crude holo-map of the surrounding area had been spread out in front of the gathered party on a low, broad table, the blue peaks and valleys illuminating their faces as they bent over it, their expressions solemn, lips drawn into hard, pensive lines.
"We fought hard to get here, but now the toughest part of our mission begins," Anderson began, looking around at the gathered faces, taking stock of his audience. "We've got to drive right through the heart of Reaper-controlled territory, break past their defences, and get to that beam."
"What kind of defences?" Shepard asked, quickly.
"The entire area is crawling with Reaper forces," Anderson told her, his frown deepening as he began to scroll the diagram to one side, showing a long stretch of coverless ground in front of the main beam. "But our biggest concern is the Destroyer protecting the beam, itself." As he said this, a bright-red construct of the Reaper Destroyer popped up on the map, flickering a few times before solidifying in place, causing several of the gathered soldiers to frown at the sight of it.
"Can we bring in air support to deal with it?" Zabaleta asked then, causing both Anderson and Shepard to look his way.
"Negative," Anderson answered, shaking his head, before returning his attention to the diagram of the battlefield. "Some kind of interference… we'll have to take it out from the ground." Passing a hand over the diagram again, he dragged the landscape until it stopped on a crude representation of the area around their base. "Now, they've cut a swath of no-man's land through the city," he went on, pointing to the rugged wasteland denoted by the bare-bones hologram. "We'll have to cross that first. There'll be some limited shelter on the other side but expect heavy ground resistance." Scrolling the map forward again, he stopped on a spot just across the shelterless battleground from where they knew the Destroyer to be. "We need to get our tanks to here," he told them, tapping the map. "If we can get in close enough, we've got a shot at taking that thing out."
"How much of a shot?" Zabaleta asked, warily.
Anderson sighed, taking a step back from the hologram, before looking up at Zabaleta and raising his bushy brows, solemn. "They know we're coming," he told him, frankly. "This will be a one-way trip for many of us. But there can be no retreat, no stepping back. We move forward at all costs. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir," Shepard answered, ardently, offering him a reverent, militaristic salute.
Anderson nodded, bolstered by the show of enthusiasm. "Johnson, Coates," he instructed, shortly, looking up at the nearest attentive soldiers. "You two will coordinate the artillery units. Shepard, Zabaleta… I'm sending you right up the gut where the resistance is heaviest. Support the tanks the best you can, but stay alive. I need you for the final push to the beam." Zabaleta nodded, understanding, before turning and starting towards the weapons cache along with the rest of the gathered attendants, leaving Shepard and Anderson standing alone in front of the holo-map. Anderson took a deep breath in, solemn and weary, before moving around the edge of the table to stand beside Shepard, looking out over the FOB. "I'll give you a minute with your squad," he told her, speaking in a low voice, making sure only she could hear him. "Pick your team well." Then, turning to look at her again, he offered her an encouraging slap on the back, smiling down at her, fondly, before giving one last, assuring nod and turning to join Coates and Johnson at the forefront near the heavy weaponry.
Watching him walk away, Shepard frowned, warily, making sure he was not looking back towards her before shifting her breastplate back into place from where it had been knocked askew. Then, turning away from the table with the holo-map, she started back through the FOB, indicating for EDI to follow along with her. "Send out a message to the Normandy crew," she told her, her fingers tapping anxiously against the butt of her Carnifex as she passed through an open doorway into a wide, open room. "Tell them to meet me here. I want to talk to everyone. Tell them it's important."
"Shall I inform them of what you wish to talk about, Shepard?" EDI asked, tucking her hands dutifully behind her back as she came to stand in front of a desk at the front of the room, watching as Shepard moved around it, leaning tiredly against the sleek metal and giving her feet a moment's rest.
"I think they'll be able to figure it out," Shepard told her, honestly. "Just tell them to meet me here as soon as possible. I don't want any of them heading out into the fight before I've had a chance to talk to them."
"Understood," EDI acknowledged, before turning away from Shepard, beginning to relay the silent message.
It took barely fifteen minutes for every present crewmember to respond to the request for assembly, and Shepard could barely keep herself from swelling with pride as she looked out over her gathered party. Her gaze moved slowly from one end of the room to the other, surveying all of her gathered crew, her attention moving lovingly over each teammate in turn, meeting their eyes, reassuring them. She lingered a moment longer on Garrus, before moving on to Liara, lingering there as well, and then to Javik, who stared back evenly, his four yellow eyes fixed on her, unblinking. Taking a deep breath, Shepard stood straight from the desk, squaring her posture, preparing to address her gathered companions. "This war has brought us pain and suffering… and loss," she began, her speech halting a bit, not quite sure where she wanted to go with her address just yet. "But it's also brought us together. As soldiers, allies… friends." She paused, feeling the weight of the room seem to lift a bit from her shoulders at the word, as if the reassurance that they were more than just fellow men in arms had brought out a collective, inaudible sigh of relief from the party. The edges of her lips curved up a bit at the sensation, her hand curling into a determined fist against the side of her leg as she took a step out from behind her table, starting to hesitantly pace in front of her crew, feeling their eager eyes on her, awaiting her next reassuring words.
"This bond that ties us together is something the Reapers will never understand," she went on, more assuredly this time. "It's more powerful than any weapon. Stronger than any ship. It can't be taken or destroyed." Looking over towards Tali, she observed the quarian for a moment, watching as she tucked her hands comfortably across her ribcage, offering Shepard an assuring nod. Shepard smiled, nodding in return, before turning away from her again, starting to pace more enthusiastically. "The next few hours will decide the fate of everyone in the galaxy," she went on, her words ringing solemn and unwavering through the rubbled halls of the FOB. "Every mother, every son… every unborn child." At this, she paused, her words trailing off sharply, feeling a knot moving up to her throat, choking her, making it difficult to continue. She could feel every pair of eyes trained on her, knowingly, Javik, Liara, Miranda, Kasumi, EDI, Zaeed, all of them holding their breath, waiting for her to say something, to blow everything she had worked so hard to keep secret all these months leading up to this.
Wiping her stinging eyes with the palm of her armoured hand, Shepard inhaled, sharply, clearing her throat, her brow furrowing in resolve as she lifted her chin, proudly, determinedly, preparing to go on. "They're trusting you," she told them, trying her hardest to keep her voice from shaking. "Depending on you to win them their future. A future free from the threat of the Reapers." Glancing over towards Liara, she watched as her painted brow furrowed in concern, her arms crossing over her chest as she stood at rapt, worried attention, holding onto Shepard's every word. "But take heart," Shepard went on, indomitably, turning her attention away from Liara again. "Look around you. You're not in this fight alone. We face our enemy together. And together, we will defeat them." Then, having finished her rousing speech, she turned to face her team head-on, standing at firm, unwavering attention and letting out the rest of her anxious breath in a deep, relieved exhale.
A moment of silence followed this speech, as if everyone expected Shepard to continue on for another few minutes, the quietude ringing, taut and decisive, so razor-thin she felt she could have heard a pin drop over the muffled sounds of the tanks outside. Then, almost all at once, the Normandy team erupted in a bevy of overlapping noises, happy, enthused, and determined voices, all applauding their stalwart leader and cheering their projected victory. Shepard smiled at the sound, unable to help herself, feeling her face light up warm and hopeful as her entire team cheered for their own endurance. Then, looking up, the smile faded from her face a bit as she spotted Anderson standing at the back of the room, his arms crossed thoughtfully over his ribcage, his brow furrowed faintly as he listened to her speak, his expression difficult to read, somewhere between admiration and solemnity. Breaking away from the rest of the group, she started to move towards him, but paused when she reached the edge of the gathered party, still a few yards from where he stood. Anderson uncrossed his arms as he saw her approaching, instead bowing his head, warily, and beckoning for her to come in closer.
"Shepard," he called her, his voice low, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Come here. I need to talk to you about something." Shepard frowned, now concerned, but quickly did as she was told, making her way over to where he stood. Glancing once over his shoulder, Anderson took a deep breath, before leaning in towards her, speaking just loud enough for her to hear him. "Shepard, there's been a change of plans," he told her, his voice solemn. "You're not going to be going in with the ground teams after all. I've become privy to some… new information, thanks to one of the members of your squad. They think it would be beneficial for you to hold back from attacking the Reaper ground forces with the support units… or, ideally, at all."
At this news, Shepard blanched, feeling a sickening, hot and cold chill run the length of her body at the thought of who might have told Anderson on her as she tried her hardest to stay impassive, keeping her expression blank, her posture fixed. "Who gave you this new information, Sir?" she asked, speaking in a low voice, faking calm.
"It's not important," Anderson told her, shaking his head. "What is important is that you'll now be going in with a small specialized team. I'm still going to be participating in the initial ground push, but I'll try to join you if I can once we reach the beam." Activating his omni-tool, he pulled up a small, crude hologram map showing a basic outline of the battlefield, taking a step closer to her so she could see. "The new plan is for us to cut a path through the Reapers, and for you and this team to come in after us in a small, armoured unit," he explained, tracing the path between the FOB and the tractor beam with his finger, causing the trail to light up bright white-yellow. "That way we don't have to risk losing our best soldiers in the initial push. Once we get you close enough to the beam, you'll activate the missiles and take out the Destroyer. From there you'll have to continue on foot, since the beam won't support a vehicle as heavy as one of our tanks… but if we can clean enough of a path, it shouldn't be too hard to make the last stretch without additional cover."
Collapsing his omni-tool again, he turned to look at her, his expression solemn. "Be careful out there, Shepard," he told her. "Even with this added protection, there's no guarantee something won't go wrong. We've never faced this kind of enemy before. Stay vigilant. Don't let your guard down."
"Yes, Sir," Shepard consented, offering him an assuring salute. Anderson nodded, satisfied with her answer, before turning away again and starting off in the direction of the waiting tanks. Letting her hand drop back to her side, Shepard frowned, still a bit confused, before turning to glance back towards her party, trying to figure out which one of them might have come to Anderson requesting she be pulled from the heat of the initial push. Her first thought was that it was likely Miranda, or if not Miranda, Liara, but neither seemed to be paying any attention to her, instead conversing in low voices with other members of the crew, trying to figure out which ones of them would be assigned to which units where they could do the most good. The only crewmember who did not seem preoccupied with plans for the upcoming battle was Javik, who stood apart from the rest of the group, his weapon in hand, staring thoughtfully out one of the broken windows into the war-torn street beyond. Moving to stand beside him at the window, Shepard stared into the street as well, crossing her arms over her chest and taking in a deep breath, before letting it out in a long, knowing sigh.
"Thank you," she told him, quietly, causing him to glance down towards her, fleetingly, before returning his attention to the ravaged street outside, watching as a heavy tank rolled by the window, broken glass crunching beneath its reinforced tires.
"Do not thank me," Javik informed her, shaking his head. "All I did was inform the Admiral that his battle plan was flawed. I do not wish to die in this fight against the Reapers. It would do my peoples' legacy a great disservice."
"But you didn't tell him I was…?" Shepard asked, glancing up towards him, warily. She hesitated, wavering a bit, before turning her attention towards the window again. "You know."
Javik paused, frowning a bit, his fingers tightening around his weapon as he drew in a deep, thin breath at the question. "No," he finally answered, frankly. "I told him it was foolish to risk his best soldiers in a bid for traction. If he wanted the best results, he would put his ground teams out first, and allow the specialized units to pass through unhindered. That way they could be allowed to perform their duties unimpeded when they reached the real threat." Letting out a soft, unimpressed snort then, his stalwart frown deepened, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the line of his gun as he stared out towards the war-torn wasteland. "Wasting the potential of elite combatants on grunt work is foolish," he added, matter-of-factly. "It has nothing to do with you, Commander."
Shepard paused, taken aback, surprised by this show of compassion, however cold and stoic he was pretending to be to cover it. Then, reaching forward towards him, she took hold of his armoured cowl, moving up onto her toes as she pulled him down to press a quick kiss on his cheek. Javik stiffened, his yellow eyes growing wide, his greenish skin turning instantly black-red with a rush of blood as he turned to look at her, startled, but Shepard only smiled in response, folding her arms over her chest as she offered a short, knowing chuckle. "You're a good guy, Javik," she told him, fondly.
"I am a good soldier," Javik corrected, shaking his head again as he strove to regain some semblance of his original composure. "Nothing more."
The armoured tank hummed as it rumbled across the barren, war-torn landscape, its heavy tracks crunching over fallen Reaper troop corpses as it bumped along the no man's land towards the waiting Citadel beam. The cramped, solemn, stifled silence that had fallen over the specialized unit made the ride in the tank feel almost like a packed, sweaty submarine, with the only thing breaking the uncomfortable stillness the occasional sound of one of the soldiers clearing their throats or coughing. Shepard dug her fingers past the skin-tight neck of her undersuit, sliding them across her clammy skin, hoping to promote some airflow in the stuffiness of the crowded tank, but, finding no cool air to relieve her, she sighed, anxious, dropping her hand back to her lap and turning her attention instead towards the rudimentary digital area map stationed near the front of the tank. Zabaleta looked up at her at the sound, staring intently at her from across the cramped carriage, pressing his knees together to give hers a bit more room as he fiddled surreptitiously with the little silver '2' still hanging from his belt.
"Nervous, Commander?" he asked her, quietly, causing her to look up at him, surprised.
Shepard sighed again at the earnest question, shrugging one armoured shoulder as her hand came to rest on the butt of the Carnifex at her belt. "Antsy, more like it," she answered, honestly. "I just can't help the sinking feeling that something bad is going to happen."
"Isn't that always the way it is?" Zabaleta joked, raising one shaggy brow. No sooner had the words left his mouth when the sound of their in-ear radios crackled into life, causing him to look away from her as frantic, muffled gunfire began to filter in over the comm. The sound of heavy breathing could be heard from the other end as whoever was trying to contact them panted loudly in their ears, trying to catch her breath enough to speak.
"They're coming in behind us!" the voice of an asari commando suddenly shouted over the connection, frantic. "They're coming from everywhere! They're going for the tanks!"
"Protect the tanks at all cost!" Zabaleta insisted, jamming his fingers into his in-ear comm. "Without Shepard and the missiles we've got no chance!" Then, looking up at Shepard again, he frowned, intent, letting out a heavy huff as he reached back to his maglock, pulling out his Marauder and holding it at the ready. "So much for nothing going wrong," he told her, solemnly. "No matter what happens, you need to stay with these missiles, Commander. Even if we lose everyone else, we need you and the missiles to stay safe."
"Hopefully it doesn't come to that," Shepard returned, frowning back, worried.
"All units, open fire!" the asari commando suddenly shouted over the comm, causing Shepard to flinch at the sharp sound in her ear. No sooner had the command reached them when a loud explosion rocked the tank from outside, rattling the inside crew around and causing them reach for the nearest handle to steady themselves. The ground rumbled under the sturdy tracks, the sound of massive footfalls Shepard had to assume belonged to the Destroyer thundering in the near distance, coming closer. "Where's our fire support?!" the asari commando insisted, her voice breaking up over the radio connection. "We need reinforcements on the—" But the connection fizzled out before the rest of her message could come through, followed almost immediately by the loud, whining sound of the Destroyer's targeting laser firing up. The ground shook again as the laser struck a nearby building, the tank vibrating beneath them as the beam pushed forward across the war-torn ground, decimating everything in its wake and kicking up rocks and debris the size of small shuttlecars.
The muffled sound of heavy fire could still be heard coming from outside the tank, the turrets shelling off round after round, but the assault continued for barely five minutes before the deluge of gunfire suddenly stopped. Through the eerie, agitated silence, the creaking, mechanical sound of the Destroyer could be heard continuing to move forward towards them, its footfalls resonating ominously through the reinforced walls of the tank. "Commander, we tried to hold them off as best we could," the asari commando's voice suddenly sounded in Shepard's ear again, panicked, out of breath. "But they destroyed our trucks, overwhelmed our position… your left flank is gone. They're headed your way. I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Hang in there, soldier," Shepard assured her, pressing her fingers to her in-ear comm. Then, turning to face the rest of the wide-eyed crew, she indicated towards the digital map at the front of the tank, where a series of red dots could be seen closing in on the blue representation of the vehicle. "Head's up, we got more incoming," she informed them, curtly. "There's nothing covering our left flank, so our choices are either we get out and fight, or open missile fire on the Destroyer and pray."
"I've never been much of a religious man, myself," Zabaleta returned, letting out a low, gruff chuckle, before jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the battlefield. "Me and the boys will hold your flank, Shepard. You just focus on taking out that Destroyer and getting to the beam." No sooner had the words left his mouth when the sound of the Destroyer foghorn reached their ears, causing the ground to rumble beneath the wheels of the tank as they reached for their ears, trying to keep their teeth from vibrating inside their heads at the thunderous noise. Shepard's in-ear radio crackled, the transmission garbled by the disruption, until she quickly pressed her fingers to her ear, steadying the receiver to allow the message to come through.
"Commander, the Reaper is still too close to the beam for missiles to have any effect," EDI warned over the connection, causing Shepard to look up sharply, as if she might be able to see the Destroyer through the walls of the tank. "While it remains in close contact with the beam, there is interference surrounding it which I cannot override, even with the assistance of the Normandy's targeting systems."
"And we only have two missiles," Shepard conceded, frowning back over at the tracking screen.
"You will need to allow the Reaper to move out of the beam's influence," EDI instructed, straightforwardly. "Only then will you be able to get a clear shot."
Looking up at Shepard again at this stark directive, Zabaleta huffed, sniffing, bringing up his free hand to wipe at the trickle of blood that had begun to seep from his nose with the back of his armoured wrist. "Just focus on keeping the missiles safe, Commander," he told her, determinedly. "We'll try to draw the Reaper out of the influence of the beam so you can take that shot. These two missiles are our Hail Mary… if we screw this up, we're dead."
"I thought you said you weren't religious, Zabaleta," Shepard told him, looking up at him with a wary smirk.
Zabaleta hesitated, a bit surprised, before offering a thin, forced chuckle in return. "Yeah, well," he answered, pushing the heat sink into his Marauder, causing the weapon to whine in his lap as it began to heat up. "If we make it through this alive, I might just have to start going to church."
The fight against the Destroyer had been nothing like Anderson had predicted. His course of action had called for a quick, clean cut, a swift and brutal path fought through the Reaper forces to deliver one final calculated, killing stroke to the Destroyer guard dog, but, as with most things involving the Reapers, nothing had gone the way they had expected it to go. Shepard knew full well that Reapers could not be predicted, and that even the best-laid plans were bound to go wrong in one way or another, but even so she could not help but feel disheartened by the sheer number of casualties laid to the wayside in the push to get close enough to the Destroyer to even be able to use the missiles. The first missile had done almost nothing, meandering off-course around one side of the Reaper to explode against its tough metal casing, staggering it momentarily before the giant quickly regained its footing and started moving forward again. The ground shook ominously under the tank as the Destroyer sent out a beam of destruction, obliterating everything in its wake, but Shepard kept her aim steady, her expression set, as she lined up the final missile, input the launch codes, and took the shot.
The second missile stayed true to its course, striking a crippling blow as it collided directly with the Destroyer's targeting eye, causing the creature to stumble to one side, thrown completely off-guard. Realizing it had been injured, the Destroyer had made an attempt to close its shell around the missile in an effort to shield itself from some measure of the blast, but that had only managed to make the damage that much worse. After the initial impact, it had been simply a show of force to take the Destroyer down the rest of the way, with every available unit firing on the now-blind Reaper, until they finally managed to send it crashing heavily to the ground, the nearest city blocks trembling under its enormous, conquered weight.
The dust had still not yet settled by the time a bevy of large artillery tanks came rolling over the crest of the rubble-ridden hill, causing Shepard to look up from where she leaned against the missile courier tank, watching as they rumbled to a stop several yards from where she stood. The first men out of the tank were infantry, soldiers carrying guns like hers, but they were quickly followed by a number of familiar faces, including some she recognized from aboard the Normandy. Anderson was the last to exit, heaving himself up and over the lip of the tank before dropping heavily over the ladder on the side, seeming almost out of breath as he began to move towards the specialized troops across the war-torn tundra. "Shepard!" he called, raising a hand to get her attention. "Over here!" Pushing herself unsteadily to her feet, Shepard quickly gained her balance against the edge of the tank before starting towards Anderson over the rubble. In return, Anderson picked up his pace a bit, jogging over until he came to stand in front of her, giving her a quick, inclusive once-over. "Thank god you made it," he told her, out of breath. "I was starting to worry for a while there."
In response, Shepard shrugged, making a face. "It didn't look good," she admitted, frankly, glancing quickly back towards the tank she had just come from before returning her attention to Anderson again.
Anderson nodded, understanding, reaching out a hand to clasp her shoulder reassuringly. Then, moving past her, he took a few steps towards the site of the wreckage, looking up at the towering pile of twisted metal that had once been the Destroyer. "It gets worse," he told her, regretfully, his brow furrowing into a hard line.
Shepard frowned at this assertion, letting out a sigh in return, crossing her arms wearily across her chest as she joined him in looking over the carnage. "Of course it does," she answered, darkly.
Anderson heaved a heavy breath, his scuffed medals glinting in the wan light coming from the beam, before turning his attention away from the Destroyer again and regarding Shepard with hard, furrowed brows. "Hackett just reported in," he informed her, solemnly. "Several Sovereign-class Reapers, including Harbinger, have broken off from the battle with Sword. They're headed here."
"Harbinger?" Shepard repeated, turning to look at him, the name poisonous on her tongue.
Anderson nodded in return, all but ignoring her reaction to the mention of her old nemesis. "It's an opportunity for Hackett to get the Crucible in place," he added, rationally. "But we have to get a team on board the Citadel to open those arms now."
"We still don't even know what we'll find when we get to the Citadel," Zabaleta put in, realistically, coming to stand behind them at the wreckage, causing both Shepard and Anderson to look his way. Half his face was enflamed and bloody, one of his eyes so bruised it had swollen shut, and when he spoke Shepard could see that one of his teeth had been chipped in half, but he hardly even seemed to notice.
Turning her attention back towards Anderson again, Shepard's frown deepened, her hand moving to rest subconsciously against the butt of the Carnifex at her belt. "Then that's our job," she told Zabaleta, not bothering to look towards him as she spoke. "Find out what we're up against."
"All right," Anderson agreed, sounding less than enthused about the idea. "Saddle up, everybody." Then, turning away from the two of them, he began back towards the larger tank he had arrived in, picking his way over the blackened rubble as he approached one of the soldiers standing guard next to the vehicle. "Get me Admiral Hackett," Anderson instructed, and in return the young man nodded, turning back towards the tank and scaling the ladder built into the side before dropping down into the driver's hub. Moving around to the open door at the side of the tank, Anderson stepped up into it, sliding across to the furthest seat down on the bench built into the side before waving a hand to indicate for Shepard, Zabaleta, and what was left of their small specialized crew to climb in behind him. The fit was difficult, but they managed to close the door securely behind them, leaving only Vega with nowhere to sit as the vehicle rumbled into life again, rattling and bouncing along the ground as it headed towards its final destination.
"It's now or never, Admiral," Anderson reported into his in-ear comm, causing Shepard to turn to look up at him, attentive. "We're going in."
"Acknowledged," Hackett returned, the response coming in over all of their headsets. "I'll send the word." A pause followed, taut and restless, broken only by the rumbling of the tank as it climbed over a tall pile of rubble, causing all its passengers to reach for the first available outcropping, steadying themselves as they waited for Hackett to go on. "All ships, this is Admiral Hackett," Hackett's stern drawl finally sounded over their in-ear comms again. "The Crucible is on the move. I repeat, the Crucible is on the move. Protect it at all costs." Another bump in the rocky terrain caused Shepard to instinctively cover her stomach, but she quickly corrected herself with a soft cough, instead shifting in her seat to get a better grip of a handle built into the side of the tank. No one seemed to notice, as they were all staring at the floor of the tank, listening intently to their in-ear radios. "Everyone, this is it," Hackett's voice continued, firmer this time. "Any available squadrons, delay those Reapers leaving the battle. We've got to give Hammer more time."
Anderson's brow furrowed as he listened to Hackett's instructions, folding his hands intently in front of him and wringing them gently for a moment until the transmission finally ended. Then, sitting straight again, he took a deep breath, his hands moving to rest instead on either of his knees as he turned to address his gathered team. "From here on in it's a straight shot to the beam," he told them, his voice frank and solemn.
"A straight shot with Reapers trying to crush us along the way," Zabaleta pointed out, attempting a bit of humour, but Anderson did not laugh at the weak joke, instead turning to look at him, his expression stern.
"We just need to get a handful of troops through," Anderson told him, resolutely.
"That all?" Zabaleta returned, his crooked smile thin.
Anderson sighed, weary, before turning to look away from him again. "We knew this was going to be a gamble at best," he admitted, turning his dark gaze up towards Shepard then.
Shepard nodded in response, offering him a solemn, reassuring expression. "Can't think of anyone else I'd rather do this with," she answered, before turning to look over the rest of the crew, spreading the sentiment to the rest of them as well. From across the carriage, Ashley nodded, appreciative, before getting up from her seat to take hold of one of the overhead handlebars, preparing to move out at the first indication.
"I'm honoured to be part of your team, Ma'am," Ashley told her, offering her a warm, grateful smile.
No sooner had these words passed her lips when Zabaleta suddenly frowned, getting their attention, his stern gaze dropping to the floor as he reached up to press two fingers into his in-ear comm. He paused, listening to the report from the other end, before nodding and turning his attention up towards the gathered group in the tank once more. "We're in sight of the target," he reported, getting to his feet, his fingers curling anxiously around the edge of his gun.
Anderson sucked in a deep, sharp breath at the news, his tired posture straightening as he stood with the rest of the specialized crew, his bushy brow furrowing in anticipation as his dark eyes moved over each combatant in turn. "All right, everyone," he told them, solemnly. "This is it. This—" But before he could finish, the tank gave a violent jolt, a loud bang and the angry shriek of metal on metal reaching their ears as the tracks rocked forcibly off the uneven ground. The impact of the tank against whatever it had collided with sent the inhabitants of the carriage flying, and before any of them could right themselves, the damage alarm began to blare loudly, the door mechanism giving a sharp hiss as the egress began to crack weakly open. The door had barely lifted halfway up before the mechanism suddenly caught, the electronic hinges whirring loudly as they attempted to open the exit wider, causing the door to let off a stream of angry grey smoke as the gears ground uselessly against one another.
Sliding down between the edge of the tank and the bottom of the door, Shepard managed to squeeze out of the confined space, quickly righting herself before taking a second to catch her breath and surveying the damage done. She could feel the heat of a fire coming from somewhere nearby, and when she turned, she realized that the thing that was burning was the engine of the tank, itself. The entire front end of the vehicle had been decimated, buried by a pile of rubble and rock, with a deep, blackened gouge-mark marring the front half of the transport, welding the driver's hub almost completely shut. She could hear the struggling driver banging frantically against the walls of his confinement, and she clenched her hand frustratedly at her side, swearing quietly to herself as she realized that someone would have to save the driver, and that it would likely have to be her. Climbing carefully up the still-hot footholds on the side of the tank, she reached the top, grabbing hold of the half-melted wheel, and began to turn it with all her might, letting out a shout of pained effort as it groaned and creaked under her influence. Even with the additional strength of her rebuild, it took almost everything she had to get the wheel to start to turn, and by the time it had loosened enough for the driver to push it from the other side, she could barely feel her hands and arms.
Looking down at her stinging hands, Shepard realized to her dismay that the reinforced weavework on her armoured gloves had melted with the lingering heat from whatever had soldered the driver's hub shut, and she quickly wiped them against her breastplate before lowering herself back down to the ground at the side of the vehicle. She had only a moment to gather her wits before she found her attention drawn back to the tank, watching as the first few soldiers crawled their way out of the gap between the door and the floor, and she quickly made her way over to the vehicle to help those still left inside. Anderson and Vega both required a bit of assistance to slip their way out of the sliver of door space, but eventually every member of the crew had found their way out of the tank and onto the solid battlefield, checking themselves over to make sure nothing had been left behind in the wreckage. Turning away from the carnage of the tank, Shepard quickly checked her waist, making sure none of her ammo belts had gotten caught on the edge of the door and fallen off while she had been escaping. Then, satisfied she had made it out of the tank in one piece, she looked up again towards the landscape ahead, barely able to help but feel some small, silent measure of ironic relief that she had not been one of the people who had needed assistance to get out of the tank.
Shepard barely noticed as Anderson came to stand beside her on the rocky crest of the war-torn hill, propping his burned and bloodied hands against his hips as he looked out over the valley below. "Shit," he swore, darkly, causing Shepard to glance over at him, surprised. Wiping his bloodied nose with the back of his forearm, Anderson sniffed, letting out a deep, leery breath, before turning his attention up towards the Citadel beam in the near distance, the beacon so close to where they stood that they could almost hear its low, pulsating hum. Just then, an enormous, ear-splitting rumbling sound began to vibrate the air around them, causing both Shepard and Anderson to reach up to cover their ears, and, as Shepard watched, a massive form began to descend out of the fog and smoke from just behind the Citadel beam. The white-blue light from the beacon glinted over its horrifically familiar face as its four yellow eyes blazed open, locking them angrily in its sights. Harbinger thrummed as it stared them down, self-satisfied, straightening to its full, colossal height before letting out a long, low foghorn sound, the noise so deafeningly loud that Shepard could feel her ribcage vibrating inside her chest.
"We gotta move!" Anderson insisted, taking one hand away from his ear to grab hold of the gun at his belt. Taking her hands from her head as well, Shepard followed Anderson's suit, pulling the Carnifex from her belt and dropping the hammer, listening as the gun began to whine into heated life.
"Come on!" Shepard called, turning back towards the rest of the specialized unit, her voice barely audible over the thrum of the Reaper as she beckoned them forward with a broad, sweeping gesture.
"Hammer squads, go, go, go!" Anderson instructed, signalling forward towards the beam. Then, reaching out towards Shepard again, he grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her back, causing to look over at him with wide-eyed surprise. "Not you, Shepard," he told her, still shouting to be heard over the noise of the Reaper. "You hold back and run in their shadows. If Harbinger takes anyone out, it'll be the people in front of you. That'll give you the best chance of reaching the beam alive." Shepard frowned, taken aback, opening her mouth to object, but Anderson quickly holstered his gun again, holding up his now-free hand to stop her, shaking his head before regarding her with a grave, frank expression. "They knew what they were signing up for when they agreed to do this suicide run," he told her, letting his hand drop back to his side. "Everyone knows the most important thing right now is getting someone to that beacon. As far as everyone is concerned, that someone should be you. This is the way it has to be, Shepard. The galaxy depends on it."
"I was never big on necessary sacrifice," Shepard informed him, grimly, her grip tightening on her weapon as she turned her attention towards the waiting battlefield.
"Neither was I," Anderson agreed, letting out a heavy, wary sigh. "But these are unprecedented circumstances. It's now or never, Shepard – let's go!" Then, drawing his Carnifex from his belt again, he turned, sprinting into the fray behind the tanks and heavily-armed cavalry and taking out a Husk that was attempting to run up on him from Hammer squad's left flank.
Taking a deep breath, Shepard pulled her weapon in towards her chest, watching Anderson for another moment longer before turning to make a quick sweep of the battlefield, determining the most secure route to the beacon. Deciding on a course of action, she slid down the rocky hillside towards the valley below, making a dash for cover behind the nearest live tank and watching as another blast from Harbinger struck the ground a few yards to her right, sending several soldiers flying. She could not help but notice how much louder the thrum of the Reaper was in the open ravine, the sloped sides of the chasm amplifying the deep bass hum, making the resulting cacophony almost deafening. Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard watched as Vega grabbed hold of Ashley, pulling her behind a large rock outcropping to shield them both from the path of Harbinger's destructive beam as it drove a deep cratered line through the solid battleground. Taking heart that her companions were still alive, Shepard dashed from the safety of one tank to the shadow of a group of soldiers, doing her best to remain at the back of the group as she looked for the next opportunity.
The Citadel beacon was barely yards away now, but Shepard could already feel herself starting to wane. The sound of Harbinger's Reaper drone had grown so loud in her ears that she could barely hear the rumbling of the tank directly behind her, and the smell of mud and carnage intermingled dizzyingly in her nose, causing her to feel almost lightheaded as she pressed further onward towards the beam. She could feel her stomach twist in knots as she watched another tank flipped with disturbing ease by the strength of Harbinger's blast, this one much closer to her than the last, and her grip on her weapon had grown so tight she could feel the tips of her fingers growing numb. Her legs felt weak and sore beneath her as she pushed herself even harder forward, her heart pounding in her chest, her lungs burning, wheezing, threatening to burst as she struggled to even keep up with the rest of the soldiers. She had lost track of Anderson and Zabaleta in the fray, but she hardly had time to think about that before the sound of the Reaper beam powering up again reached her ears, and when she looked up, she realized for a split second that Harbinger now had her directly in the sight of his targeting eye.
She did not even have time to react before a deafeningly loud noise reached her ears, followed by a blinding heat, an unnatural coldness, and then, finally, darkness.