"So... You get your own flotilla and task force, right?" Jane rises on her toes, trying to get a good look over dad's shoulder to see what he's hunching over for. He sidesteps to block her with a chuckle. "C'mon dad, don't be like that. You brought me here to tease the Alliance's sweet set up, for what? Lemme see. Are you reading their reports? Strategizing where to place them?"

"That's classif-"

Jane blows a raspberry.

"I see you've not changed at all since you were a child," dad teases, and laughs when she gives him a good shove of the shoulder. He snaps up into standing and steps aside as he shuts his datapad off, activating a hologram that lights her up and has her grinning madly. Her hand reaches out to play, only for dad to be a killjoy and ward her away, navigating the hologram as he selects different districts of the colony to show her. "I am tasked with assessing security of multiple colonies, yes. Elysium is only the first stop. After my assessment, I will file my reports and recommendations to the Vice Admiral. From there, I will be assigned a flotilla or task force, yes. Perhaps multiple."

Why is he so stoic about this? All of it sounds like a dream come true, the very thing he's dedicated the majority of his life to, to accomplish. Now it's here, right literally by his fingertips.

How much does all this technology even fucking cost? This is some crazy top of the line shit. Who wouldn't be excited about getting to play with this?

Dad is off. There's something up with him that she doesn't think she'll be able to wrench out, whether if she confronts directly or tries to wrangle it out in a more lighthearted way. She comes up beside him to study the districts, to deduce why some buildings have certain highlighted colors, glancing over to see that dad has been scribbling away a legend in his assessment of what would be priority targets. She frowns with confusion as her gaze swivels to the only red highlighted building.

"Why would a broadcast station be the highest priority? What's a news or radio station going to do in a battle?"

"Well, in the event a colony is attacked and comm-buoys are destroyed in space, then at least there is still a chance to call for reinforcements by utilizing the radio tower. Without reinforcements, any battle at any colony would be lost. There is no military security at any of the colonies—hence my reports and recommendations to still be able to mobilize something to at least deter any attacks. Police and militia can only accomplish so much." Dad reaches out to another building, highlighted yellow. "Elysium's structure is old and outdated, where many citizens utilize the subways as a means of transit between districts. If this building is destroyed and the rails are shut down, then you isolate the districts into fending for themselves. All it takes is for one to fall before there would be a domino effect. No reinforcements from the Alliance, and no reinforcements from civilian security, between districts."

"So... Why not just ask the Alliance to keep a military contingent here? Reinforce those buildings."

"In an ideal world, of course. But resources are limited. You cannot possibly assign an equal amount of security at every single colony. Sometimes passive defensive maneuvers are not the best action. Your mother has told me of some of the assignments you have been on as of recent. What would you say would be the most effective strategy?"

"Strike them when they're disorganized and unaware. Easier than trying to predict everything and plan for that."

"Exactly. They've taught you formations in school, correct? Have you been learning from your assignments, how your officers place you?"

Jane stares.

Dad stares.

She cracks a thin smile and he groans. He beckons with a wave as he lights up his datapad. "Small unit tactics are most effective when used in the grand scheme of things—think guerilla warfare. You can harass a larger force, but a small force will not win through heroics and tenacity alone." He begins to scribble circles on his datapad, with arrows swiveling about, and it's making Jane's head spin from the ease and speed of which he simulates an entire made-up battle.

"It's like football or something," Jane mumbles.

"A square formation is most effective when comprised of sentinels, if you need a defensive unit to draw the enemy's attention and buy time for other units to get into position to flank. Here, perhaps it will be more useful if I can make this lesson more relevant to you." Dad glances over at her and she stiffens at attention, trying to make sense of his plan before he explains it. She shrinks even more at his next question. "Have you decided on your designation yet?"

"N..no." Jane nibbles on the flesh of her cheek. "I don't have any biotics so that's an easy no, but... I don't know. I haven't really had any exemplary moments on my missions. Nothing I can point to and say 'ah hah!' at. I've been grinding away to get my accuracy scores up and have been learning how to hack but... I don't really feel like I'm smart enough to qualify for an engineer position. I struggled with that shit just on the aptitude tests alone." She fixates her gaze on the hologram when she can just feel dad staring at the insignia on her shoulders, hunching in as she sighs. "I'm sorry, dad. I'm trying hard and I'm always grinding, I really am. I swear I'll make you and mom proud someday."

Dad sucks in a sharp breath. A weathered hand gently cups her chin to force her head up, and there's a stupid insufferably playful bout that suddenly takes dad as he bounces into her vision every time she forces her eyes elsewhere. She sighs when he frames her jaw and comes up to rest his forehead against hers, forcing her to look straight at him.

"Your mother and I are already so proud of you, Jane. Forget history. Forget others that have come before us, in this family, and whatever they have achieved. What matters most is finding that meaning for yourself—what does it mean to you to serve the people? I am not just talking about the Alliance. Forget humanity's rhetoric. This galaxy... It's so much bigger than only our species. We are of the lucky few that get to play an important part in serving the universe itself. So what do you want to achieve in your life? Do you find more meaning in the medals and recognition from the Alliance?" He pulls back a little with a half-assed smile then. "Because I am sorry to say, you will be left wanting. Sometimes that recognition only comes through politics, and hoping you're lucky enough to not be at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

"Heh, yeah... Like my first assignment with the research patrol. I'll be hard-pressed to ever get off the shitlist. Need a miracle, at this point."

"Exactly. So don't count on the military to give you meaning." He releases her as he playfully jabs a finger over her heart. "You have to find that yourself, kiddo, just like anyone, anywhere, in their life. I bet even your Doctor T'Soni has had such a moment in her life and career. Maybe you could ask her? It might help you define your meaning."

"Yeah," Jane nods, her mind already drifting with curiosities. "Yeah... That's a good idea. I will. Hey, how about you, dad? What's kept you going through all these years? What's your meaning?"

Melancholy strikes. She regrets asking, because it seems that it's something dad only regrets. His lips purse in a thin smile and he rakes a hand through his graying hair, turning back to his hologram as he dives back into work. He gives a small defeated shrug.

"I don't have a happy answer, kiddo. After I felt like I'd lost your mother, I threw myself into work to try and at least make it worth losing her. But it never has been. I wish..." His head bows, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the table. His voice quivers. "I wish I could turn back the clock. I'd do it all differently. I wish I was more involved in your life, to witness you growing up, instead of hearing about it. I've... My meaning in how I serve is to make up for failing you and your mother. I can only hope that someday, I'll do enough good to make up for it."

"Dad..." Jane's brow furrows, her heart dropping. She comes up with a hand on his back, faltering when he tenses, struggling to come up with words that would just blast this all away. She wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders, resting her head against the back of his. "Don't beat yourself up, dad. You don't have to turn back the clock. You don't have to 'make up' for anything. If you're feelin' that bad that you haven't been in my life, well... Well we've got this. You're here now."

"That's only because you made that possible and came here to me," he argues softly, sighing. "I hope one day I can actually be the father you see, to make you proud too."

"I already am. I've looked up to you my whole life—you'll always be my hero, dad." Jane blows a raspberry in his nape, grinning when he wriggles to try and break free from her embrace. "Liara's been havin' a blast learning where I've gotten all my quirks from. Like father, like daughter, yeah? Oh, right. That reminds me. She wants a picture of us together."

"What? But-"

"No buts, c'mon. I want a picture of us too. It's been ages since we've taken one last. Let's use the datapad and prop it up on something so we get your fancy table too."

"Jane, the hologram's specifications are classified, we can't-"

"It's personal use, dad, we're not sending this picture to the world. I promise I'll load it up with encryptions before I share it with Liara, or show her through a vid-call if you don't want her to have a copy of the file. Come on, come on." She releases him and zips around the lounge, marveling at how sweet of a set up the Alliance has hooked dad up. Pays to climb the ranks for sure. He's got his own bed and doesn't have to hot rack with ten other marines. She ignores his protests and cheekily carries over one of the night stands, then sets a kitchen stool on it. She sniggers when dad reluctantly offers some books to help prop up the datapad, and she enables camera mode, connecting her omni-tool so that the picture is sent to her.

It's time for revenge.

After she's satisfied with the camera angle, she jogs over and drags him by his forearm before he tries to use the hologram as an excuse to keep working. She runs back to the datapad to start the countdown timer, her blood burning as she struggles to suppress her mischief so that it doesn't ooze through her damn eyeballs.

"Hey, let's salute for this picture too."

"Wha-?"

"I'm taking this end of the table." She salutes with gusto, as promised. Her hand perfectly lines up with her eyelid. "Hurry up, we only got a few seconds!" She watches from the corner of her eyes. Her discipline cracks and she beams the largest grin when dad groans as he salutes, and the datapad bleeps to confirm it's taken a picture. There's a suspicious look cast over her then, and she laughs when dad is the first to retrieve the datapad.

He turns pale as a ghost.

Glorious.

"Alright, alright, I'll be serious this time," Jane sniggers. "Don't worry, dad. I don't think the Alliance would've let me get this far if I couldn't even salute."

"Jane." His eyes narrow, his gaze snapping up—but he seems to be looking over her.

Her fingers buzz subtly to indicate the picture has been transferred to her omni-tool, and her eagerness overtakes her as she rushes to open it up to gauge just how bad the damage is for dad to react like this. He scrambles, then, her reaction far more delayed as she freezes in her spot. Her heart shoots up to her throat, a dizzying rush sweeping over her brain. She looks over her shoulder in disbelief, where dad is running for the balcony, a pistol already ready in his hand.

"Dad... What the fuck is that?"

There are a horde of dropships flying down.

And none of them are Alliance marked.

Today is a fantastic day.

Liara's outdone herself with her breakfast this time, finally confident that she's doing a human recipe justice. She's had a wonderful meeting with Serrice's Prothean Museum curator where her theory has actually been entertained rather than mocked, thanks to the latest artifact she's sent for their collections. A nice sum of credits has been transferred, and she's been granted access to study their other artifacts to see if there's any evidence she can yield from them to further support her extinction event theory.

To top it all off, she feels ready that her next paper is almost done. She settles down on her couch with her draft in one hand and a perfectly warm cup of tea in the other, turning on her television for some background noise to drown out Armali's buzzing traffic outside. A human-centric game show channel has usually been her go to, turning off her translator implants in order to test out some of the words that she's learned when she hears it sound off. It's remarkable just how many game shows humans have concocted, compared to educational material.

Certainly, their science and own archaeological findings have been riveting, but she always finds herself drawn to the charisma and the mischief of the game shows. Her imagination always has a bit of fun in thinking what Jane would be like on such shows, and how perfectly she would fit in with her ease of exaggerations and theatrical actress tendencies.

Her read through the draft is surprisingly easy and smooth, relieved that she doesn't have to fix too many mistakes or insert sources she's missed. She drowns out the ads and commercials, sipping her tea, until it's sent flying up in the air when a loud bang startles her. Her eyes swivel up to the television, distraught, and she's paralyzed in an instant. Her heart shoots up to her throat, a dizzying rush sweeping over her brain.

"W-what... Is this?"

Breaking news. Thick red bars and hasty white letters in the human's alphabet zip by, an anchorwoman talking in her language. The footage she's presented is shaky, unprofessional, almost seems as though as the one filming it is hiding and only daring to peek their arm out for their omni-tool to record what's happening.

Buildings are up in smoke. Gunfire is heard, though the forces on the bottom are hard to tell as to what is happening—other than a massacre. Screams and sobs shriek. Civilians of all kinds of species are rushing for cover, hiding, the human recording with their omni-tool switching the perspective to himself as he seems to be responding to the anchorwoman. Liara doesn't understand anything. She rushes for the remote, hastily flicking through the channels until she finds an asari galaxy news channel, too distraught to think to just turn her implants back on.

Goddess, but she feels wretched, praying that whatever colony under attack is not Elysium. As soon as she settles on a channel, she waits, and soon she's watching the same footage echoed, supplemented with a translator talking over the human male.

Pirates. Criminals. Slavers. Batarians. They're attacking Elysium.

They're attacking where Jane is.

This is a nightmare. It has to be, right? Liara stands directly in front of her set, hugging herself, watching in horror as the human male sneaks back to where he was. He's hiding in some tall office building, it seems, with many cohorts. A broadcast station. He crawls on his stomach to try and get up close to the windows, to show the battle going on below.

All the bodies are still so tiny, it's hard to make out any detail.

"The Systems Alliance are mobilizing their forces and are en route with reinforcements," the news anchor reports, providing some measure of relief.

But how long until they are there?

Liara jumps again, the human man yelping with fright when there's another loud bang. One of the other nearby skyscrapers catches on fire. Liara's hand slips over her mouth in shock as she watches bodies falling out of windows. On the rooftop of another, there are fireworks being set off. There seems to be confusion, the witness falling silent, despite the news anchor pressing for answers as to what that is. He tries to zoom in.

And Liara engages her omni-tool to call Jane, when she swears she sees red hair whipping about.

"Give me all the fucking sparklers you've got!" Jane growls as she thrusts her hand out towards one of the civilians, snapping when he remains frozen in his spot. "Hey! Snap out of it and give me them now! If we don't pull them away, those people are fucked down there!"

"Are you crazy?! The batarians will come here to kill us then!" The man yells back, flattening himself against the door leading back into the building. "Fuck me, man, if this is how the Alliance fights, we're all fucked!"

"Fuck you," Jane seethes, storming up to grab him by his collar. "I'm on fucking shore leave, asshole. I don't have my gear. Get inside and bring me anything that makes noise."

With haste, the man scrambles back into the stairwell. She rushes back to the edge of the rooftop, searching through firework shells as she lights one after another, throwing it as far out as she can into the bulk of batarians swarming the streets. She grits her teeth as she drops down on her stomach, engaging her omni-tool when she feels a buzz. She groans when she sees Liara's name pop up instead of dad's.

"Come on, dad... Hurry the fuck up."

She fires off quick nonchalant messages to Liara, to belay any worries of the fucking foxhole they're all fucking fucked in right now. She's losing her cool.

She's losing faith in dad's plan.

The man that followed after her, clinging to her as if her fucking uniform will save their asses, doesn't return. She scrambles to take cover when the door slams open, grabbing a few firework shells in case if she needs to light them and throw it at close range. Fucking self-defense with fireworks. What a god damn joke.

"Jane!" Dad calls out. "Are you still up here?!"

"Yeah, tell me you've got weapons!" Precious rattling is music to her ears. She peeks out her corner and groans at the heavenly sight of bags on each of dad's shoulders. "Halleluja!"

Also: fucking scary that dad's personal storage is more like a goddamn armory itself.

"Take this bag, set yourself up in that corner there," dad commands. "Keep up with the distractions. We need to draw their forces towards us and keep the radio tower safe. If they take that building down, we won't be able to retain communications with the Alliance."

"Are they on their way?"

"Yes. We'll need to hold out for a few hours, though. They reported ships out in space too."

"Fucking hell... What the fuck are the batarians attacking us for?" Jane rips into one of the bags, taking out the first sniper rifle she sees. She sets up the tripod and looks over, scowling when dad starts to leave the rooftop again. "Hey! Where are you going?!"

"I'm going back down on the ground. There are other marines on shore leave here, so I'm going to go rendezvous with them. We need to evacuate the civilians to a safe location."

"You're leaving me here by myself?" Jane blurts in disbelief, and dad comes rushing back towards her to grab her by the shoulders. He gives a brief hug before he's running back for the exit. Whatever he says is swallowed by the white noise ringing in her ears. She's frozen, vomit churning in her stomach, a fear snaking in to grip her by her soul. She's been abandoned, abandoned to hold a damned position, to make batarians come to her in order to give others a chance to flee. She looks down at the sniper rifle in her hands.

She's never even had any practice with them, apart from basic training. Her missions have been firefights on cluttered pirate ships. She peers over the edge, forcing herself back into the corner soon after as she shuts her eyes. The fireworks haven't been working. The batarian forces are slaughtering civilians in the streets, starting fires to destroy buildings and vehicles alike.

It's pure mayhem. Prisoners aren't being taken. Those surrendered are still mercilessly executed. The fear grows and nestles in her, and she slaps her hands over her ears to block out the screaming. She squeezes her eyes shut. This is a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. There's no way they can survive this. Marines on shore leave, comprising their only defense. Is this some sick fucking joke? Did dad orchestrate this somehow, to teach her a lesson about formations and strategies?

Another buzz of her omni-tool. She sets her rifle down beside her as she engages it, hoping dad has more orders. Nothing. Still Liara—who's demanding a vid-call now.

"Not the fucking time, love, trust me..." Jane stretches her neck to look over again, shame filling her when she hides over the gruesome sight of people falling out of buildings to escape fires. She covers her ears, chanting. "This is a dream. This is just a fucking dream. I'll wake up soon."

Cowardice has her sinking into a ball. Dad isn't sending any more messages or orders for her anymore. This distraction thing... It's just a joke, isn't it? There's gunfire down at the streets, and it sounds like it's getting farther and farther away every time it bursts. She creeps on her knees and steals glances, spotting a small unit rushing down the alleyway as they weave in and out of combat with the batarians, isolating them from the bulk of the force. The invaders are disorganized, even if there are so many of them.

Are they not military?

Shakily, she grabs hold of the sniper rifle, using the scope to zoom in on the small unit. She sees dad leading them. They're causing a distraction, taunting and goading the batarians after them.

Dad... Left her here to protect her, didn't he? She was never meant to be a part of the strategy, to help make a difference.

Fuck.

That.

By the time reinforcements get here, there will be nothing left to reinforce—but to hell with stuffing herself in a corner and waiting it out for rescue. There's nowhere to hide. She looks over at the radio tower. The Alliance already knows there's an attack underway. Reporting to them what a shitshow there is down here is going to change what, exactly? The building isn't that high of a priority anymore.

Make some noise, yeah. She will.

She slings the sniper rifle over her back and hoists the bag of weapons on her shoulder, taking out a pistol. She rushes over to collect the bucket of firework shells and sets off to run down the building, the thundering in her ears almost muting the distant screams and cries of fright. She has to stay focused. If she stops, she breaks. She can do this. She's going to make a difference, or fucking hell...

She will die trying.

There's a voice lurking in the back of her mind, whispering and encouraging her to call Liara. Say goodbye. Say I love you, for one last time. She ignores that voice—if she listens, she breaks.

She can do this. She is going to make a difference.

Just before she reaches the bottom floor, she looks out the windows to gauge how far the invader forces have come. They haven't made it too far up the street, but leaving out the front door will be a death sentence to anyone with a rifle who spots her. She shoots out one of the windows and jumps down onto a storage container, using her omni-tool to slice off the lock in hopes it's excess product. She grins when it's filled to the brim with fireworks. She abandons her bucket of shells and stuffs some kind of special edition case of fireworks under her armpit, grabbing a box of some 'crazy cracklers' that better live up to their fucking name. She clears a corner and checks the alleyway before she takes off sprinting, the bag jostling painfully against her back. The screaming in her legs go ignored.

Adrenaline is the only thing helping her not break down, right now. Another buzz of her omni-tool. She checks who it is—still Liara. There's a dreadful suspicion snaking around Jane's gut. Liara's never been this insistent before, figuring out when it's radio silence just after two ignored messages. The marine has always made it a point to answer somehow otherwise, even if it's just a single rushed letter.

She knows, somehow, doesn't she? But how?

Coming up to the radio tower, Jane doubts herself and her decision. Dad said this building is high priority. Keep the enemy away from it at any cost. Her plan is to bring the enemy to it. Are they communicating with the galaxy about what's happening here, right now?

What the hell is that going to do? It's not going to make Alliance ships fly here any faster.

Save as many civilians, that's her plan. Bring the enemy here, to her.

This station will be the perfect operating point to broadcast to all districts, try to demoralize the enemy. She heads inside and starts to rush up through the stairwell, racing through random rooms and assessing them. She hears quivering sobs trying to be stifled every now and then, trying not to hear them, but... But she needs help. She needs help to figure out how to even enact her hare-brained plan. Her heart cries out with empathy as she follows the source of one muffled sobbing, coming up to a cubicle with a frightened woman hiding under her desk.

"Hey... It's alright, I'm a marine. I'm here to help." Jane carefully sets the fireworks on the table and hides her pistol behind her back as she kneels, reaching cautiously as she cups the woman's shoulder. "But I need help too. Do you know how to start a broadcast to all districts? Or know someone who does?"

Too terrified to speak, the woman shakily nods, her eyes glossing brightly with tears.

"Okay. Good, that's good. Do you think you can stand? Lead the way? The invaders are far away from here. This building is safe." She holds out her hand, waiting, burning, coaching herself to keep composure so that she doesn't snap at the urgency of it all. This is a civilian. Civilians aren't trained in anything besides maybe basic first aid, if their company asks them to. A broadcast station probably wouldn't. This woman has probably been slaving away at this desk job, wondering about her own life choices, searching for her meaning amidst it all too.

It takes time. Jane can't help but push a little bit as her hand falls back on the shoulder, squeezing firmly as she gives a gentle nudge. "Please, I need your help. It will make a difference in this battle. I promise you." Is that something she can really promise? "I need to broadcast to all districts."

Finally, the woman manages to croak through her fear.

"B-but... But if you broadcast anything... They will find out. They'll come here to stop it."

That's the plan. Jane can't say that, though. She purses her lips and struggles with how to answer, knowing she's been damned as soon as the woman looks up at her, her eyes thick with tears now racing down her cheeks. She shakes her head and cowers deeper under her table. Jane sighs as she stands up, collecting her things to set off for another floor.

There has to be someone here willing to help her.

But... Floor, after floor, terrified civilian after civilian, she's turned down. She can't ask to broadcast but also say it won't attract attention—it would be the most contradictory logic just from the action alone. She watches the battle below as she climbs higher, sometimes standing and staring numbly at the windows, hopelessness gripping her as she sees bodies tossed in piles, while the invading forces continue to raid, unchecked.

Her body tenses as she hears tentative footsteps behind her, but pretends she doesn't. Her finger is ready on the trigger. There's another buzz of her omni-tool again, and she checks.

Still Liara.

"A-are you Alliance?" A low voice whispers. "Are you here to evacuate us?"

Jane glances over her shoulder and spots a man hiding in his cubicle, her brow furrowing with confusion at the sight of his omni-tool engaged. Wary of this man's role, she simply nods. Could the invaders have an insider aiding them? Foolish. What would somebody under a desk even aid with? She decides to sink her fangs into him, just like the others, her desperation unraveling slowly.

"I need help to broadcast to all districts," she announces with a sense of finality, dropping her things by the window before she approaches him. She doesn't mince words. Doesn't hide the details—what for? Everybody figures it out anyways. "I need you to teach me how, then this building needs to be evacuated. But I have to stay here. You'll all have to run on your own."

Evacuated, where? She's sending out all these civilians to go out running into the streets where the bodies are fucking piling.

"Wh-what? But then you'll bring-"

"The enemy here. Yes. That's my plan." She tiredly massages her forehead, sighing in frustration. She glances over her shoulder. "The enemy is going to make their way here to occupy this building, eventually, anyways. But if I can make this building a priority to them... Then maybe it will give others a chance to run and hide, buy enough time for the Alliance to rescue them."

"So the reinforcements aren't here yet... But they are coming, right?" The man pipes up with hope. "How long?"

"We have to hold out for a few hours. That's all I know." Jane looks back at his omni-tool, jerking her chin towards it. "What are you doing with that?"

"I... I'm connected with our news agency off-world."

Blood electrifies ice-cold. Jane freezes. The air almost kicks out of her chest in a gasp. "You're live right now?"

"Yes. I can patch you throu-"

She shakes her head sternly. Now she knows why her omni-tool's been buzzing, Liara's messages collecting. This entire shitshow is on the fucking news.

"Ahh... Fuck," Jane hisses, her hand finding itself in her hair as she musses it all up, shaking it free from her bun. She shoots up into standing and marches back for the windows, grumbling. "Sorry, love."

The man blusters. "What?" A beat, a muted voice coming from his feed. "Uh... Marine... Ma'am... Would you be able to answer more questions?"

More screams, in the distance. Desperate people rush out the front doors of buildings. A death sentence. From here, she witnesses the spread of the invader forces as they split off into branches. A small unit led by a secret criminal overlord continues to engage and disengage from the web of alleyways, but there's only one unit. They need more if they have any hope of disorganizing the bulk of the force. There's no point to distracting only one small select group if the rest of it can run amok. Is it hopeless? Is all she can do just stand here and watch? The fireworks before didn't even annoy the batarians. She isn't confident in her aim making a difference from this distance. Her 'plan' is just like everything else she's ever force fed other people.

It's all tough talk.

Jane reluctantly engages her omni-tool, her heart wrenching with guilt now as she catches up on all the messages Liara's left her. Each of them are urgent, fearful, demanding if she's okay, demanding what she's doing. Now she knows she's being watched on a televised screen blasted to who knows how many news channels right now. The galaxy is watching. She doesn't even know what to say back to Liara anymore.

Her eyes grow sheen and burn when a new message comes in.

X-05 T'Soni: I believe in you.

Jane's fingers race on without her mind, glaring at the stupid impersonal format of this messaging system at the same time. She doesn't give a fuck about rank anymore.

0-3 Lieutenant Shepard: I'm going to come home.

It's mere seconds before she gets a reply, and her breaths shudder as she exhales.

X-05 T'Soni: I know you will.

I love you. Goodbye. Say it.

Say it just in case if she doesn't get the chance to, anymore.

Just stop with the tough talk for one fucking second and be real for once... But instead her pistol's in her hand and her feet are snapping back to the man, her resolve firming with each step. She pushes his forearm down for a moment, so that it's not recorded for the entire galaxy to see what her omni-tool frequency is, as she shows him.

"Connect this frequency to all of Elysium's districts. I want everybody to hear me—the civilians." She grins ferociously. "And the fucking enemy." She turns and aims her pistol at the window, firing it out. A collection of yelps resounds on the floor as the glasses shatters, a chill rushing in to beat out the toasty heat. "I'm about to yell at them, real loud, yeah." She marches to her arsenal, taking out the sniper rifle as she begins to set up the tripod and lay on the ground. "If there's time, write down somewhere what I need to do to maintain broadcast, then get the hell out of here. Take anyone you find with you and run as far away from here as you can."

Sniping basics. What were the basics? She fiddles with the scope, the range finder, flicking through settings to calibrate it. She aims at a lamp post the force is about to come up to in order to zero in on that range, ignoring the gasps behind her as she squeezes the trigger to watch the projectile drop over the distance. She braces the stock against her shoulder and aims a little higher, firing again and again until the heat collects against her skin, allowing the rifle to cool. Her confidence is shaken over not being able to even shoot a light out.

How is she supposed to make herself a threat?

Shaky breaths creep up and she glances over her shoulder, where the man kneels with a quivering voice. "I'm ready to connect you at any time."

This is it. Jane looks out to try and find her dad's unit in the alleyways. What will he think when he hears her voice? She half-expects a barrage of messages or even calls to get her to stop. If he thinks she's just going to sit quietly in a corner until the Alliance arrives, he's dead wrong. They are the Alliance.

"Every citizen is about to feel what it means to be the Alliance," Jane realizes, perking up as she pushes herself up into kneeling. She looks over at the man and reaches to give him a firm squeeze of the shoulder. She engages her omni-tool then. "Can you navigate it and connect me via my omni-tool? I'll be able to speak into it better than leaning over to you. You should stay connected with your agency to keep reporting whenever you're safe—that information can help turn the tide of battle."

With warbling fingers, the man dutifully complies, finding a brave footing over time even in such a maddening plan. She observes what he does and makes mental notes in what she may need to do, grabbing his wrist before he hits the connect button. His gaze snaps up to hers in confusion and she grins.

"Thank you for this, I know what I'm asking for isn't easy. I'll take over from here. I promise I'll make them pay. You—all of you," she raises her voice for anybody hiding in here to hear. "You should evacuate this building now. I'm about to go live." She hoists her sniper rifle on her shoulder as she stands, steeling and hardening herself as she watches the slaughter down below. She closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath to try and stop this earthquake inside of her, listening to footsteps thunder out of here in panic.

There's still a presence lingering in the room.

Jane looks over in confusion, laughing in disbelief when the man is instead going through her fireworks and dragging to tip tables over on their sides, by the window edge. The fireworks are propped against the front of the tables. Who the hell knows if they'll even shoot far enough forward, but the noise blasted on broadcast should piss off the batarians. She gives him a hearty slap on the back as she rushes over to help him.

"I like the way you think, my man. I'm Jane, by the way. What's your name?"

"T-Tony, ma'am."

"No ma'am here, we're war buddies now. Thanks for having my back." She looks over at her omni-tool and leans her rifle against the table. "Are you ready, Tony?"

A deep shaky breath. "Yes."

At least someone is.

"I'll hurl as soon as you connect, but I'm ready," Tony laughs weakly. He has his omni-tool up. "I'm still live, Jane."

"Good. Everybody watching back home... We all need your support too." She hits the connect button, and for a moment, she's completely speechless. Not a single word in her brain. She watches distant displays of skyscrapers flicker and show the face her omni-tool records. Dad is seeing this too—or will, soon. She forces something out of her mouth to at least get the ball rolling. "Citizens of Elysium, this is Lieutenant Jane Shepard of the Alliance Navy speaking."

She's blank again. A message flits up on her screen, a message from dad. She ignores his flurry of requests demanding her to disconnect. She smiles when another one from Liara comes in.

X-05 T'Soni: You can do it. Year from now? Tell that story.

Year from now, they'll forget this. They'll be the ones laughing in the end. But nobody will ever forget this, not even her. What she sees is forever engraved in her mind—in her heart. But a year from now, she's going to be talking about how she's stood her ground, and never backed down.

And she isn't going to be the only one talking about that.

"I know you're scared," she blurts to continue broadcasting something rather than silence and screams in the distance. "But we have to fight back. We will. What you'll hear soon is my rifle, and every time you do, that means a batarian is dead. Don't surrender." The next part comes rough, her heart twisting on itself from what she'd witnessed. "They aren't taking prisoners and are executing everybody. To you fuckers who thought it was a good idea to attack us, you better start praying you're going to wake up from your nightmare." She elects to turn off video feed and keeps the audio open, taking her rifle as she lays down to squeeze the barrel in between the crevice of the tables. She glances over and nods to Tony, her gaze flicking up to the fireworks. She takes aim down at the bulk of the force below, where there's no indication that they're diverting for her.

Not yet.

She's determined to make good on her lies and make them real.

Calibrating her scope to the range, she squeezes the trigger, hearing it broadcast loudly in the city. There's a glorious moment where some of the invaders stop and panic, looking around; even though she's vastly missed her mark, she whoops in celebration. "First one down!"

Jane resets her posture, stabilizes the rifle, and works to control her breathing to learn from her mistakes of where she sees her shots veer off. The recoil becomes more familiar to manage each time she fires, hailing cheers and curses. She hears the fireworks set off and looks off-side her scope as she watches the myriad of colors shoot forward, grinning when some batarian units orientate and switch directions to come towards the broadcast building. Some become completely disorganized and panicked, showcasing a total lack of discipline—of which are soon identified and eliminated by dad's unit.

These batarians definitely aren't military.

Some objects are thrown out of windows—computers and chairs, and Jane prioritizes sniping any batarian that tries to retaliate as they aim their weapons at the buildings to fire at the civilians. She hollers with pride when she can finally tell the truth for once.

"Kill confirmed!"

When she's too late, it feeds the fire burning inside of her. It becomes a struggle to keep her breathing just as stabilized as her rifle, but it's getting harder and harder to stay calm every single time her failure to react sooner is witnessed through the zoom of the scope; a front row seat to the massacre. Some of her shots miss outright, without enough time to readjust and stop the batarian from killing another.

More and more are heading towards the broadcast building and she's forced to prioritize them, the ease of scope calibrations coming quicker with fewer mistakes, over time.

"H-how do I turn the safety off of this?" Tony asks, and she glances over. Her heart sinks to her stomach as she watches the reporter take out one of the assault rifles from her bag, his face pale and pouring with sweat. He's unsteady, walking about, and she quickly pushes herself up as she strides for him, catching him just before his head collides with the corner of a desk, when his knees give out. She takes the rifle away from him and drags him over to sit in a chair, then gives her pistol. She demonstrates first as she raises it eye level, taking aim at a lamp, thumbing at the sight.

"See this, here? Use these dots. Support your wrist like so, lift the gun eye level, line your target up between these dots. Easy." She fires the pistol again and ignores his startled jump, talking into her omni-tool as she fabricates another story. "Bullseye! Nice shot, Tony, you got this. Make every batarian regret walking through that door." She stuffs the pistol in his hand and runs back to take her position by her rifle, a wave of relief washing over her when she hears the familiar sounds of the avenger rifles firing off closer to the building. She can't see dad's unit right now, but she bets he's made his way back.

Hopefully he's reinforcing her rather than storming up in here to stop her. Or maybe he has a better plan, now, to flank the batarians coming to rush her building.

All she can do now is wait, and keep squeezing the trigger. She witnesses more and more civilians—humans, asari, turians, salarians—fighting below as she continues to broadcast her own version of the latest news. It never gets any easier watching innocent and frightened people die, and doubt creeps back in when she wonders if rallying them to fight is the right choice. Everything she's doing right now is going against dad in every single way. She's supposed to be buying time for the Alliance to rescue them, not speed up the rate of which there's nothing left to rescue.

Her omni-tool buzzes and she quickly looks over to see what message sparks on her screen, dread paralyzing her.

0-7 Rear Admiral Shepard: RETREAT. THEY'VE BREACHED YOUR BUILDING.