Under the prestigious ground of the Presidium lay the hundreds of hangars and cargo bays once used for the thousands of ships that entered the space station every day. Now, it was overcrowded with hundreds of thousands of poorly cared for, displaced refugees. All walks of life. All different races. From across the galaxy.
People were left stranded out in their ships orbiting the station, and those aboard...weren't that better off either. Food and water and basic medical supplies were becoming more scarce as the days went by and half those aboard don't even have beds of their own or even property. And there were always the criminals and the scammers who tried to take from the refugees what little they had left. Dozens of deaths everyday from poor medical care, crime, or worse. There were some backdoor discussions of worry and the different solutions to try and solve it. Some logical, some heinous and evil
Still...this was a better place than anywhere else in the galaxy. Dozens of worlds were under siege as the Reapers continued their onslaught. Here, the Reapers weren't here. Here, it was possible to survive. If only barely.
If, and no one would dare say it, only temporarily.
Kelly Chambers sighed. Stepped out from the makeshift hospital of cargo containers and stretchers into the vast space of Dock C6 holding area. Away from the hospital was a large adjacent hallway lined with a wall made entirely of glass. A pale blue light from a star deeply embedded within the majestic purple clouds of the Serpent Nebular filtered their way into the room. It mixed with the soft glows of electric blue and orange holo-screens. Many people would say that it gave this whole station, especially this far into the war, a gloomy feel. But Kelly found it peaceful. The quietness mixed with distant conversation and the muffled engine noise of passing ships. It just emanated with life. Suffering, yes, but alive.
The hallway was filled with civilians, Citadel C-SEC officers, and customs officials trying to sort it all out. She noticed a few civilians sleeping on chairs. Some have claimed those areas for a few days now. The only home they had.
Kelly looked at her immediate surroundings. Their makeshift hospital was in between two other makeshift areas. A small enclave for Batarian survivors stationed near the customs office and entrance to the holding area. The other side was a civilian holding area mostly filled with Turian refugees and severely injured soldiers who were lucky enough to escape Palaven.
She was tired and exhausted, doing what she could for the people here. Couldn't be as "simple" as her days with the Normandy only eight months ago… But just, the idea of a chance of being trapped in those Reaper-Collector pods…
She moved on, looking out the enormous window. Even by the Citadel's standards, the space in between the five arms was crowded with tens of thousands of ships. Mostly civilian. Decommissioned military frigates, junkers, modified merchant ships, and old colonial ships.
In the far distance, black specks were painted onto the clouds of the Nebula. The dozens of ships of the Citadel Fleet, and the largest speck, the flagship Destiny Ascension. They all guarded those various ships that came in, holding all those souls.
Despite….despite everything Kelly listed off...today was different. There was a sense of...confusion and utter anxiousness from the people. Those sitting on the benches were perked up and talking to one another. The crowds of civilians surrendered holo-screens plastered on the walls. The guards and custom officers subtly looked at their Omni-tool news update. And the voices of news channels slowly grew louder with every hour.
For months, newscasters provided constant updates of the war and the state of the galaxy. But today, today they were reporting on something a bit different. Something that appeared in the Crescent Nebula, the Tasale System.
Yeah. Like everyone else, she saw dozens of sketchy footage and blurry pictures of different ships and aliens, all proclaiming under the call of United Nations Space Command. Yet unlike everyone else, she successfully blocked it out after a while. Kelly tended to the refugees while they themselves went on and on about who the UNSC were and the different theories the different news channels were coming up with. Then, out of nowhere there was a information then, news channels kept repeating the same thing Still, the audiences watched adamantly. Intensely.
...Anxiously.
Kelly just had a way to stay calm unlike the others. She knew that for something this big, they'll send him.
Commander Shepard.
She trusted him. Nearly all his current and former crew trusted him. She wouldn't be alive without him. Most of the galaxy wouldn't be alive without him. She just knew he was there. Him and the Normandy crew on the surface of Ilium. Fighting. Fighting to get the UNSC on their side.
But it did disturb her more than she cared to admit that there was no update on what was happening. She didn't lose faith in Shepard, she just wanted to know...
About seven hours into the silence a newscaster on Intergalactic Broadcasting Network reported that the Council might send in a recon fleet to see what happened, not even mentioning Commander Shepard.
Yet that update came two hours ago.
Kelly turned down the halls, passed by dozens of people. A teenage girl asked a Turian C-SEC officer where her missing parents were... A Batarian preacher tried to keep the faith of his people alive. A Batarian and French human refugee connected over their losses. Everyone's woes pass her by.
She finally reached the Wall. The Memorial Wall covered with thousands of pictures of the people lost due to this war. Friends, family, loved ones. The old, young, even children. Soldiers, civilians, all from different races and species. The Reapers knew no bounds.
The pictures somehow reached all the way up to the ceiling. A few months ago she placed the pictures of Mordin, Legion, Thane, Kaiden, Samara's daughters, and the crew of the Normandy that lost their lives against the Collectors and Saren and the Geth. Now, they were buried in the sea of the deceased.
The lost.
But even lost couldn't overcome the tension. Even those in constant mourning were too busy staring at the holo-screens, waiting for the silence to end.
Anything to...stop all of this though, right?
There was this loud echoing sound. A sharp screech that followed. Someone's voice came on the cargo bay intercom.
"Attention everyone. Attention everyone. Uh, we have a special broadcast. Switching to news channel…"
The holo-screens flickered, changed to a specific station. Complaints were heard throughout the crowd. The newscaster was sitting behind a desk. A young, beautiful reporter in her early thirties. Asiatic features. She looked very...shocked.
"Uh...this is Amy Wong with Cable Network News, we've just received a special report directly from the Office of the Citadel Council. Approximately nine hours ago at eight-thirty this morning, unidentified contacts designating themselves as members of a group known only as the United Nations Space Command entered the Tasale System through the local Relay and engaged Reaper forces in the system. Two hours afterwards, all communications was cut off."
A board of all the recent photos and videos were displayed next to her. These hulking aliens with mandibles for mouths and swords for weapons. Metroidite-like showers that hit the planet surface, revealed to be metal pods that held black armored soldiers. The UNSC Legend After engaging Reaper capital ships and destroying one of them. And dozens of ships entering through the Relay lead by whatever in God's name the...UNSC Infinity was.
"From what our military analysts have told us, an individual ship possessed the firepower equal to that of an entire fleet. We have confirmed reports that over fifty ships entered into the system and deployed an invasion force to the planet when communication was cut off. We have new intelligence confirming that Commander Shepard and the crew of the SSV Normandy had been sent in and had made successful contact with the aliens of this United Nations Space Command."
She was right. Commander Shepard was there. She wasn't surprised at all, but for the crowds that last sentence caused quite a commotion. The sounds of conversations rose back up. Slowly growing louder and louder. More...intrigued and nervous.
Kelly looked over to a couple. A human girl and a Salarian. She was clinging onto him, as if he was the only protection against the outer world. A few moments ago they were crying over the lost. Now…
The newscaster kept reading through her papers, as if more baffled and confused than the crowds. In the distance, Kelly heard a baby cry somewhere.
"Uh…" Amy looked off to the side. "Is this…" She turned back to the camera. "At this time, we can confirm that over two-hundred ships are present within the Tasale System...We can confirm that the United Nations Space Command has fully pushed the Reapers' back and secured the system. We have confirmation from...hundreds of sources that Illium is safe."
And...the conversations stopped. Everything seemed to stop. Even the people who weren't paying attention, tending to their business, turned to the holo-news screen... Amy Wong didn't say anything. Only stared at her papers in disbelief. Kelly could only hear the ever-present hum of the Citadel Station.
The UNSC was able to stand against an impossible enemy… They were able to do what they couldn't.
She didn't know how long everyone stood there. Even Amy Wong remained still.
And...Kelly never knew what triggered it. Never knew what started it, if anything at all really ignited what had happened. To this day she still doesn't know. But..it wasn't a wave, or slow build up. It was a burst.
A burst of ecstatic cheering and shouting that blocked out everything. It didn't spread...it just happened all at once. Voices louder than gunfire.
Louder than the omnipresence of the Reaper threat.
Joy. Happiness. An uncontrolled sense of...relief. Everyone seemed to jump up and down at once. Kelly looked around. The Salarian and human were hugging each other. Tears of...of joy. They seem to forget the wall of dead behind them. A few meters farther she saw the Batarian and French human refugee were doing almost the same thing. They hugged each other, also crying. Whatever animosity and bitter, unneeded rival and contempt between the two species disappeared. Replaced only by that strong feeling of unity...and care that Commander Shepard tried to spread.
More people rushed out of their living quarters, hugging one another, running to and just morphing with the crowd.
She saw someone come out of the Batarian enclave. It was the Batarian preacher.
She could barely hear him over the noises. "...REJOICE MY BROTHERS. OUR FAITH HAS BEEN REWARDED! WE ARE SAVED MY BROTHERS!"
His voice was quickly drowned out in the voices. More people crowded the giant halls of the cargo bay. Hundreds of people.
Maybe there was a spare box of it above, or maybe someone was waiting to use it all day. Confetti began to fly down from the upper ramps.
Someone grabbed her. It was a Turian, and he was...smiling. Whatever passed as smiling among their species. He was just...jumping up and down, excited, like a child. He said something and Kelly realized...she couldn't hear him. She couldn't hear anything except the voices of the galaxy.
He nudged her off and moved on to the next person.
She looked only in amazement…reminding her how quickly the people's mood could change.
Amy Wong continued on with her report, and just judging by her physical expressions alone a clearer view of hope came along with every word spoken. Well, Kelly had to judge by physical expression. She couldn't hear her.
And...for once, for once in a long time, Kelly let herself slip away. Let herself forget everything that had happened in the past couple years. Let her forget…
Everything she had been through.
For everyone else this feeling was placed by some unknown entity. Something that came out of nowhere, by random probability, by an act of God.
But they didn't want to think about the strings attached, the unknowns and questions that came with all of this. It didn't matter right now. If it wasn't the miracle everyone thought it was, Commander Shepard would be able to take care of it. He would be able to. He's done it before. Billions of people would be dead if it weren't for him.
The feeling for Kelly was caused by Commander Shepard.
The cheers that filled the enormous hangar, and blocked out any other sound continued. Drowned out noise, previous thoughts, and most of all it destroyed any sense of fear. And while Commander Shepard was that small blinking light in the impending blackness, this provided a blazing torch that swept away the death and sorrow. Fear replaced by hope.
But Shepard will be able to guide that light. He'll be able to do it.
She joined the crowds. The celebration.
…
Conventional tactics did not work. Strategy did not work.
The upper echelons of the Turian Hierarchy reported that Geth and Quarian reinforcement would arrive by the end of the week, but so far none could be seen.
Along the scarred surface of Menae, Turian soldiers of the Primarch and Krogan warriors of the clans of Tuchanka under the command of Urdnot Wrex battle for every desolate rock, burnt crater, and trench filled with the bodies of the dead. They fought for every blackened inch of this moon to ensure that the Turian homeworld, Palaven, is secured for another day, another hour, another minute. That one more man, woman, or child, escapes the bombarded, wartorn surface to the safety of the Citadel.
For every inch the Reapers gained they face tremendous loss… For every inch the Turians and Krogans lost, they faced far worse. Billions of civilians were dead, the Turian military was vastly crippled, infrastructure was destroyed, whatever remained of the Volus banking economy was nearly gone. Thousands died daily to defend the crumbling Turian empire. In a matter of mere months, the jewel of the galaxy, the empire, was now ashes.
Millions of those civilian losses...had to be sacrificed for the greater good of the Turian people. For their future. Hundreds of thousands were dead by their own hands so they could destroy a major Reaper processing plant. Cities abandoned so they could focus on assaulting Reaper defenses. Sacrifice was part of their culture.
But if anything, it seemed to make it worse. The willingness to take such actions...
In the command trench of a local network, dozens of Turians and the odd krogan gathered around a particular module while Palaven burned a blazing orange above.
The Turians were battered and weary. Mud, dirt, and grease covered their armor and faces. Exhaustion now common… As for the Krogan, for better or worse, they seemed to be right at home. Still, it could be seen that even their morale was on the brink
General Corinthus, the man who had been able to hold off the Reapers on Menae, gathered his staff to listen in on the new report. A garbled transmission from whatever was left of central command.
"-I repeat, new contacts, identification: UNSC has secured Illium and the local solar system. Intelligence has sights on numerous ships within the system, all UNSC taglines. Negative contact on Reaper ships. Illium is secured. Relative minimal casualties. Local assets will be repositioned…"
Command had been talking about this 'new contact' all morning, though it was just basic intelligence briefings. But this new report...well...
The Turian soldiers spoke up.
"Spirits, they took a planet?"
"We can fight them back?"
"No casualties?"
"They fought back those Reaper capital ships?"
"Damn…" One of the Krogans said. "This war was just getting started."
There were a couple of disgusted glances from a few Turians, but other than that it was this spread of disbelief. The most powerful military in the galaxy combined with the fiercest warriors were barely able to stall the Reapers, yet this UNSC could…
They could beat them back.
"They took back Illium!" A Turian private exclaimed. Young kid, about fifteen years old. "I heard from Tanireta from second platoon that his cousin's stationed there. Fricking ships rammed right into a Reaper!"
"Keep it quiet!" A Turian Sergeant who stood next to Corinthus barked. The voices calmed down, and the secondary part of the garbled transmission came through.
"...United Nations Space Command. Identified as new alien contacts. Break. Identified secondary human contacts-"
"Secondary human. What the hell-"
"SHUT IT!"
"-Repeat, secondary human contacts. No association to first contact, classification Systems Alliance. No association. I repeat, no association. Unknown how at this time."
"Humans?" A Turian corporal said. "Systems Alliance black ops?"
"Spirits, Alliance or not, if we get those ships to Palaven…." The Turian private said.
That started some small conversation that mixed in with the echoed sounds of distant artillery, small arms fire, and the roar of Reaper cannons.
The transmission continued. "...Commander Shepard of SSV Normandy has made contact….Standby, new report from Citadel, new contacts are reallocating to Citadel. Expect immediate re-strategization on all fronts-"
General Corinthus leaned against the wall of the module. Shepard. Corinthus met him once nearly four months ago when the Commander took one of his best generals so he could be crowned Primarch of Palaven. Even in war, politics had its place.
Now, in less than a week the Commander had gained the support of the Geth, the Quarians, and now the UNSC.
An injured Turian, arm wrapped in a cast and blood on his face, limped forward to the crowd.
"We're gonna be saved! We're gonna be alright!" He yelled.
It only takes one loud voice to change the mood of a mob. And despite the hard set, grim mindset of the Turians in the face of the final days of the empire, they began to realize what had happened.
Hope. That something in this galaxy could fight the Reapers, and it had appeared.
The single cheer stuck, and the mood of the men seemed to change in a matter of minutes. Turians don't smile, but they did the next best thing. They began to celebrate. Raise their arms and bent weapons in the air. Slowly the rhythmical yells grew.
Every second the subjects of the Turian Hierarchy grew louder. Even if these humans dare outmatch the might of the Turian Military, no one cared. At this point the disciplined superiority that presented itself it every aspect of Turian society wore away.
Any cultural sense was held off. Even a few Krogans half-heartily clapped. The cheers soon overpowered the distant sounds of the war.
General Corinthus looked to his men. He remained silent, the void face that seemed to plaster every Turian general.
For he knew, that merely pushing the Reapers an inch back was a major victory in itself. Not for Palaven. Not for the Hierarchy. But for the people of the galaxy.
It might be weeks, even months before the Geth, Quarians, and now this United Nations Space Command would be able to reinforce their positions. Still, Corinthus didn't say anything. He knew that to his men the tide had turned. This war was no longer a matter of holding out, of pure survival.
In the end, today was their first victory against the Reapers. Victory that required no sacrifice. Nothing that lead to an unfortunate turn of events. Today, the Turians could argue amongst themselves the...trueness of this victory. The older, conservative elements of the Hierarchy will try to...dissuade any upheaval of Turian superiority. While anyone sane and not stupid will accept it. Hope that kind of victory will come to the Hierarchy. The empire.
...If any remnants of the Hierarchy remained that is, besides Primarch Victus.
General Corinthus crossed his arms and looked to the burnt surface of Palaven, surrounded in the wreckage of dozens of Turian ships.
Maybe they can stop the fires.
…
It was only a matter of time, but the jewelled buildings, clean streets, and glistening rivers, and even the distant beautiful sun would succumb to the red and black laser fire of Reaper ships as they descended from the skies. A sky clouded in smoke and a surface covered in ash. Two weeks ago, the Reapers pushed the decimated Asari military back into the core worlds, and began their ground invasion of the homeworld of Thessia.
Asari High Command knew they were no match for the wrath of the Reaper threat. Their military was built for sabotage, espionage, infiltration, assassination, and guerilla warfare. At the very least, Asari High Command, the city-state governments, and the majority of logistical supply lines were left intact when the Reapers hit. That was the only benefit that came with decentralization.
But still… They were never prepared.
They should've listened to Commander Shepard.
Now, they're strategy was the same as every dying species across the galaxy. Hold out. Evacuate as many civilians as they could and get them to the few remaining safe colonies or... the Citadel.
Victory...was never mentioned by the Asari generals. Just holdout.
Justicar Samara was positioned in a place she would never see herself in. She maintained a biotic shield around the defensive unit. Holding the line with soldiers from cities all across Asari space. On the end of a broken bridge, their position was crudely barricaded with burnt wreckage and spare cargo crates stacked upon one another. A single turret emplacement and a couple Asari soldiers stationed along the wall made up the remains.
The coming of a weary justicar brought up whatever little hope they had left. She came upon this platoon a couple of days ago, scattered from their company with their lieutenant dead and their senior NCOs either dead or missing. Out of the sixty-five in this platoon, they were down to fourteen. Four medics, two artillery fire finders, six infantrymen, and a comm specialist, all lead by their senior-most NCO.
This platoon's original mission was to hold this bridge and try to get as many civilians out as they could from a local residential area a few miles away. They didn't have the resources or the manpower to delve deeper into the city to pull people out. They had to hold...and hope that whatever few live civilians were left made it to them...If they made it past the Reaper ground troops.
Once the few civilians made it to the...relatively safe area, they were redirected to this makeshift landing zone. Every once and awhile a transport from local central command would land and provide sparse supplies and evac the people. But there were no new troops or intel… Command didn't have the resources to provide such luxuries.
But today...no civilians came. That was halted when a Reaper capital ship descended and made landfall on the former residential area a few hours ago.
... No one could survive that. For Samara and this platoon to head into the area and get whoever remained out would be suicide. Now, Samara was debating to pack up shop and jump the next transport to head back to Command.
But how many people would be left behind if she did that?
Merely less than a year ago, not even a footnote in the Justicar's long life, she would've gunned every member of this platoon for their gross incompetence, to simply let civilians perish…
But after everything she went through...after everything her daughters went through, after everything Commander Shepard taught her… The Absolute dissolved more and more every second. Now, it seemed almost foolish that only a year ago she would take such drastic actions.
"INCOMING! LEFT SIDE!" Someone yelled.
A burst of black laser fire followed, catching Samara by surprise, piercing her biotic bubble shields and tearing apart the poorly constructed barricades. The two soldiers on the wall were thrown into the air, unconscious.
Samara turned to them and used whatever energy she had left, caught them mid-flight. Bodies surrounded in a thin veil of blue and black. She gently lowered them to the ground.
The remaining platoon charged forward, rifles firing burst after burst of eezo rounds. They stationed themselves around the newly created hole in their barricades, fending off the Reaper assault.
Two of the four remaining medics tended to the wounded. Good enough. Samara turned to their defenses. Reaper husks were arriving in droves, creating a wall of human zombies supported by Ravager artillery. The turret gunner opened up, mowing down husks dozens at a time.
But there were too many. The Reapers were slowly inching forward over their decomposing fallen.
They couldn't hold this position.
She looked to the aurora of deep reds and bright oranges Thessia's sunset always provided. An eternal, comforting and beautiful evening. The millennia of Asari peace and culture, art and history that blossomed under its gaze...was fading under black smoke.
"Sergeant!" Samara cried out. "Tell Command to evac everyone! We can no longer hold this position."
One of the soldiers, the sergeant, turned around and acknowledged. She yelled orders to the comm specialist positioned next to her to get on the phone.
Samara un-holstered her human-made M-5 Phalanx weapon block. As it turned into the pistol she charged forward, unleashed a biotic warp-lash that knocked down a handful of incoming husks.
She fired off the heavy pistol. The skills and accuracy that outmatched Asari huntresses holding off the endless Reaper waves. Every shot was a headshot.
"H.Q, this is Ashera one-five, we need immediate extraction. Our position is about to be overrunned! LZ Allure. How copy?" The comm specialist yelled into her mic piece. It relayed to their own comm pieces.
Samara and another soldier created a new one-way biotic barrier. Reaper fire absorbed while their own fire passed right through.
The comm specialist spoke. "I have no response! I can't raise any-"
"Ashera one-five, this is H.Q, callsign Wetwork, good copy on all. Standby for traffic."
The specialist and her commanding sergeant looked surprised. As the war raged one, it was always a fifty-fifty shot someone on the other end would respond. Nevertheless this fast.
"Ashera one-five, we have your position on scope." Command continued. "Remain at your location and hold out as long as you can. We are reallocating local task force, uh...callsign Serrice, flight of four Mantis gunships. Call the shot, gun runs from north to south and south to north."
"...Roger...Uh, roger that, Wetwork." the specialist was able to say. She slowly lowered her hand to her side.
Samara had been out on the field for a couple months now… No one, not even her with the status of Justicar, could be provided reinforcements that fast. Certainly not an entire squadron of gunships.
She finished firing the remainder of her clip and forced herself into cover next to the sergeant.
The Reapers were now only a couple dozen meters away.
"Ashera one-five," another voice reported on the line, "what is your mission and status?"
"Uh…" The specialist hastily got on the line. "Our platoon is at a quarter strength and we have no idea where the rest of our company is, if they're even alive. Our objective was to secure the bridge Talibtha, and evac as many civies we can out of the residential area.
"Be advised, a Justicar is attached to our platoon and we're supporting her every way we can."
"Roger that…" The voice said. "This is Asari Commando sniper team two, Miratha, three shooters, two spotters. We're reallocating and deploying to your location, ETA two minutes. Justicar, ma'am, if you're listening we'll help however we can! Let's get those civies out of there!"
And...even another voice came online. "This is fifth biotic battalion supported by Feros Commando Team, we hear you Ashera! Standby, we'll reinforce your position. ETA: five minutes."
The Reapers claimed another four meters. Samara unleashed a warp wave, knocked down around another dozen husks. She got out of cover and slowly pushed forward. She reloaded her pistol, and continued the chain of headshots.
"Ashera one-five actual, this is Serrice." The voice of a gunship pilot came online. "We are heading towards your location damn fast, supersonic. Call out targets and we'll begin firemission, ETA three minutes."
Supersonic wasn't fast enough apparently. Samara could see something claw its way up on the ledge of the bridge about twenty meters out. The Reaper brute turned to the platoon. It charged, screaming, claw ready, pushing husks out of its way.
Samara stood in a readied stance. Tried to concentrate, to ignore the weary and tiring days, and the death and loss everyone faced.
That she herself had gone through. The death of her daughter...
But to obsess over her would do nothing.
She ignited a ball of dark energy and launched it towards the charging brute. It staggered back a bit, limping, but still standing. That just seemed to anger it more.
It continued its charge as if nothing happened. Samara closed her eyes for a second, quick meditation, calming herself. The gunfire and the husk screams were beginning to fade out, replaced by quietness. The crackling fires and screeches of bent metal replaced by nothing.
She opened her eyes. The brute was right in front of her. Claw about to hit her.
She raised a biotic shield around her, pushed it out towards the claw. A burst of pure black and blue energy broke and flew in every direction. Samara was pushed back. The brute staggered.
The Justicar wasn't phased. She took out her Tempest SMG, began to fire every rounds into the face of the beast. With her other hand, she prepared another biotic whip. Was prepared to strike…
"Ma'am! Get back NOW!" One of the soldiers said. She wasn't sure which one.
There was a flash of bright light. Samara was blinded. Just felt her body pushed back by an invisible force. The air punched out of her lungs.
She saw what it was. A ravager opened fired. The round pierced the brute's body and hit the ground right under her.
Sensation was slowly but surely being stripped from her body. Her back hit something...Rubble. Shards of metal wreckage that pierced her skin...The silence replaced by ringing bells and muffled voices.
Still, she remained at peace. Remained comfortable and situated. The years of meditation that she had mastered...Nothing would break it.
If she died here then that would be alright. She had done her duty. There was no doubt. No one could judge her...
But if she died the galaxy would still be fighting-
No...She did her part...That's all that could ever be asked…
Her duty-
It can't be stopped now...
The reinforcements didn't come fast enough...but hopefully...They'll come soon to save the rest of the platoon… The rest of the civilians trapped in the city.
Any feeling left her body. There was nothing holding her anymore… No ground beneath her... She'd soon be one with the Goddess….
Vision was turning into a blurry white and black mesh. The peacefulness consumed everything… The smoke over Thessia seemed to fade.
And the ringing was replaced by silence again. A void….
Soon blackness covered everything...the last blurry white light was fading out…
Shepard will save whoever's left… That gave her comfort.
Save everyone…
Save…
Every…
…
"GET HER OUT OF THERE! NOW!" Something screamed. Samara felt a hand grab her collar and pull her back. Choking, gasping for air seemed to awaken her from this state of ending.
The black and white vision slowly cleared to redisplay the bridge. The smoke that covered the sky. Asari soldiers charged forward, gunning down any nearby husks.
Above, she could hear the roar of engines. The explosion sounds as a gunship fired off missiles in a sweeping run. Husks disappeared in white explosions. Those that remained were gunned down by the ship's cannon as it passed by.
Samara was pulled past the barricade… She could see dozens of Asari manning it, firing on the Reaper forces. A Ki'rah transport hovered above. More soldiers jumped from the hatch, made a slow landing with the use of biotics.
The person finally let go of her collar, and Samara's body gently laid on the ground… Looking only to the smoke-covered sky… Yet there were dozens of dots that interrupted the smoke, around fifty meters away.. Asari gunships, transports, and starfighters sped off to the residential area. Off to fight the Reaper capital ship five miles out…
"Ma'am!" Someone said. Samara turned to her right… An Asari… Easily recognizable. The delicate black tattoos around her eyes like islands in a sea… A sea of green. She had green skin instead of Asari blue or dark purple.
Shiala. An Asari commando saved years ago by Commander Shepard from the Thorian. She and the Feros colonists deployed here a few days ago to support the Thessian world however they could. She became more or less famous for her unique physique and the colonists' cunning tactical ingenuity with her at the helm. Shiala gently placed her hand under Samara's head onto a soft plastic object.
"..What has happened?" Samara quietly and weakly said, as if something was lodged in her throat. The words scratching the airways.
Shiala smiled. A hopeful and cheerful smile. "You haven't heard, ma'am? We finally have a victory!"
More soldiers passed by. Asari sniper commandos. Armed with the heavy duty black widow. Medics surrounded the Justicar body and tended to her. She felt the soothing sensation of medi-gel.
"Command reported a few minutes ago." Shiala said. "Illium. Completely secured! A bunch of ships came out of nowhere and defeated every last Reaper ship. Commander Shepard convinced them to come back to the Citadel and join us to fight the Reapers!"
Illium? The planet where she first met Shepard that short while ago. An Asari colony populated by eight-hundred million lives…
"It's safe…?" She tried to say, but it came out more in the form of garbled words.
But Shiala seemed to understand. She nodded happily. "Command is celebrating. It freed up a bunch of Asari assets. We're directing them to Thessia. We can get through this!"
Shiala and the medics gently lifted her onto a stretcher tethered to a transport hovering above.
"I heard these aren't aliens. They're like humans, but they aren't the humans we know. Is that true?" One of the Asari medics said.
"I don't know." Another medic responded. "Heard they have dozens of ships larger than the Destiny Ascension, and one straight up rammed into a Reaper capital ship and broke it in half."
"Goddess…"
"Everything will be alright." Shiala gave the Justicar one last assuring smile and then the tether came online. Slowly lifted the stretcher into the air towards the transport.
Everyone...became hopeful. This new contact...whoever they were, proved that the Reapers could be defeated. That they could be stopped. And that Commander Shepard...could lead them all to victory.
Her body was closer to the transport. More ships flew above, seemingly clearing bits of the black smoke.
…
Unfortunately for everyone, for once in galactic history, the Krogans couldn't reproduce that fast to meet demand.
But they sure we're trying.
He'll of course never admit it. It'd be showing weakness, whether it be Kogan or not. But the Reaper vanguards, the advanced forces, the measly scouts were proving difficult to handle. And with most of his forces supporting the Turian and Asari governments, Urdnot Wrex had little resources to deal with them.
The majority of Krogan forces were deployed to Palaven/Menae, or the distant Asari colonies. And while some bastard clans wanted to keep their boys here, spitting on Wrex's promise to Shepard, the Urdnot clan leader wouldn't allow that. He'd crush those idiots if they tried disobeying him.
Wrex sighed and placed a hand to his head plating. Even his throne was a dirty wreck like the rest of Tuchanka as it had been for thousands of years. But with hope, they'll rebuild it all. Their glory. Their civilization. And they'll crush as many Reapers as needed to achieve this.
"We just intercepted another Reaper team deep within Jurdon clan territory." A Krogan reported as he marched forward. Dressed in heavy bright white armor with black details and blue shielding lights. Urdnot Grunt of Aralakh. Like Wrex, Grunt fought with Shepard many times, and...they'll never admit it, the Commander saved them both many times.
"Who do we have out there?" Wrex said.
"A couple of squads from Clan Drau are in the area and of course a few defense teams from Jurdon."
Jurdon… Ah, if only Wrex could murder their men, pillage their cities, so on, so forth. But the circumstances don't allow it. Urdnot and Jurdon used to be big time enemies, but as the human saying goes...the enemy of my enemy is my friend. In Krogan culture it used to be the enemy of my enemy dies second, but Commander Shepard brought some cultural changes with the end of the Genophage.
Still though, they didn't have enough defenses here besides a few makeshift battalions and the elite Aralakh Company.
But Wrex knew how to improvise. He'd been using the deadly landscape and ecology of Tachanka to their advantage. Including the friendly, loveable animals like the thousands of Thresher Maws burrowed in the surface of the planet
"Tell Jurdon and Drau to hold them off. If they can't then they're obviously not strong enough to be Krogan, blah, blah, blah." Urdnot replied. "What about Bakara and the other females, what are they doing?"
Grunt shrugged. "Beats me. I think she said she's heading down to the Clan meeting grounds again to rally more Krogans to fight for the bird heads. And also there's been a input for more mating requests-"
"Stoooop." Wrex said, a bit elongated. A bit annoyed and tired. "I swear I'm about to throw myself out the nearest airlock. Anything else new?"
"Well, besides the Quarians and Geth?" Grunt said.
Oh. Right. Shepard got the support of those flashlight heads and bucket heads. The Geth had some tough ground troops though. Wrex knew that from experience. And of course their vast fleet was a bonus. The Quarians...well, their "Migrant Fleet Marines" were as durable as water balloons charging a wall of needles. The same could go for a decent portion of ships. Eh. Quantity over quality Wrex guessed.
Wrex motioned for Grunt to continue.
"We were testing some new flamethrowers and I accidentally lit myself on fire." Grunt smiled at that, "Clan Hailot agreed to join us and are sending troops to Palaven. I'm the father to around forty sons now. Shepard and that new force that came out of a Relay a few hours ago took back Illium. I read a book about dinosaurs-"
"Wait…" Wrex interrupted, slowly, taking his hand off his head and sitting up. He sighed. He could feel a headache coming. "What did you say?"
"Dinosaurs?"
How did Wrex know he'd say that? "Huh. Before that."
"Oh. Yeah. I thought you heard about that. Yeah, those people. "United Nations Space Command" apparently have a lot of ships. Beat the Reapers back across the system. Shepard was sent there, and he got them to join the fight."
Of course. Wrex wasn't that surprised. Shepard could convince a Krogan to be a pacifist and a Batarian to not be a racist. Why would it stop him from convincing a new race coming out of nowhere who kicked Reaper ass to join this beloved, well-organized, and perfectly running alliance?
"Then I assume we're gonna need more ground troops to support those big ships aren't we?" Wrex said.
"Well...No actually. And a lot of Krogan aren't happy…"
"Why..?"
Grunt opened up his Omni-tool and brought up a small video feed. It was on the rolling hills of Illium. The green grasslands were a foil to the desert, radioactive wastes of Tachanka. A brute was about to charge a being just as tall, if not slightly taller…
"Are those the new contacts?" Wrex said.
"Yeah. Along with some never before contacted humans...or something."
"What?"
"Humans we never met…"
"...Okay…" Wrex confusingly said. He was more concentrated on the white armored alien holding a fancy purple sword.
"They're taller than us…" Grunt commented. He continued to play the video. The brute charged and the alien was able to stop it with strength alone.
"Size doesn't matter." Wrex replied.
"That's not what the females say-"
"Looks like we're gonna have to show them who's boss." Ah. Well, not exactly. If Shepard said to work with them, then Wrex guessed he'll oblige. Not without some swift headbutting and most likely a...couple of deaths here there from a few proud Krogan. Hopefully most of the deaths will be on the aliens' side.
The alien grabbed the head of the brute and nearly ripped it off. Wrex was slightly impressed
"We've all killed a few hundred Thresher Maws. These are nothing." Wrex said. He stood up, stretched his legs. "Huh, but tell the other Krogans to stop feeling self-conscious. If we have to work with them then we work with them. And don't take out their rage on them from being unable to satisfy a female. If it's any consolation we don't look as ugly as them."
"Will that just be a general memo…?"
"If anyone disobeys, they're not true Krogan... blah, blah...blah."
Wrex walked past Grunt to the dropship landing area of Clan Urdnot. Well, the UNSC had more ships than the galaxy could ever imagine. That's what they desperately needed. While the Krogans could provide meat on the ground they have nothing to offer space-wise.
Now they could actually fight the Reapers in that area. Let's see what these big fancy sword-wielding aliens could do.
"Where are you going?" Grunt asked.
"To the Citadel." Wrex replied. "And you and your men are going with me. Most likely things have changed and Admiral Hackett will probably want us there to meet these new contacts. Pack up your stuff."
"Ugh. I hate flying."
"Get over it."
…
It didn't help the feelings of despair that the sky was an unending blanket of black clouds that blocked out even the smallest ray of light.
Admiral David Anderson was able to keep the last free remnants of humanity alive on Earth by sheer brilliance and unending sacrifice. Secret cells and a resistance network. Freeing whoever they could, doing whatever they could.
And here, in London, the Reapers had made this the heart of their operations, specifically the area north of the River Thames. More concentrated in the region surrounding the Canary Wharf, Buckingham Palace and Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. Unknown why. Any advanced recon teams that get too close were spotted and...annihilated by the Reapers. With no satellite surveillance or drone support available, they had to rely on old fashion infiltration and a pair of reliable binoculars.
The only intel they obtained so far was that the Reapers were constructing something at Canary Wharf. These partial, curved walls containing some sort of structure within the center. Unknown what it's purpose was, or what it even does.
Nevertheless, they had other greater concerns. Like surviving long enough for Commander Shepard to bring in the cavalry. They have lasted for six months so far… The question was could they survive any longer?
Major Coats along with his spotter, Captain 'Soap' MacTavish, moved out of the cramped desolate pile of rubble and scattered debris from what was once Saint Paul's Cathedral. Few foundational structures and scaffolding still stood, blocking out a bright blue light that emanated from the Reaper stronghold.
Coats folded up his N7 Valiant rifle into the weapons block. MacTavish packed up the rest of the spotting gear into a bag and nodded confirmation. They were on top of the last stable scaffolding left. They looked down to the inside of the church and descended down a makeshift rope to the ambulatory of the church interior. Coats brought out his Avenger, made sure the coast was clear and moved up. Passing the chancel and making their way through the pew rows. Boots echoing on the checkered pattern floors of black and white tiles.
They had to make it past Blackfriars bridge, past the River Thames to Invictus Plaza, a Forward Operating Base to the Main Operating Base at the King's College Hospital. It was a little less than a klick to hike it to Invictus. The kicker was they'd have to avoid the numerous Reaper patrols composed of Husks lead by Cannibals, watching for any sign of movement or activity.
They reached the courtyard of the church and found out that today was...different. The streets were desolate. No signs of any kind of life. Reaper or human. Just a quiet sound of wind as it passed through the crumbled buildings and rubble of what was once London.
Coats looked to MacTavish. The Major spoke in a heavy British Leeds accent. "I don't like it. Something's up."
MacTavish looked around. He spoke in a deep Scottish accent. "Aye, maybe they took holiday." He opened up his pack and brought out a heavy radio. A bulky, green set that hadn't seen use since the twenty-first century. It provided old encrypted back-comm signals the Reapers weren't able to crack. Yet. "Invictus, this is X-Ray one-recon, how copy over?"
No one responded. Just empty static.
"Rioght, we'll take Dean's Court and head through Saint Andrew's Hill and Puddle Dock. Should be the quietest route." Coats said.
They began to move out, suspicious of everything. They stayed along the edges of the street, looking to the windows of the battered buildings that still stood.
A silent job, careful to make as little noise as possible. Coats saw something in the distance, around five klicks away near the far side of the Island of Dogs. A Reaper capital ship standing perfectly still, as if it were deactivated, thinking.
Strangely enough it was some relief to know where the Reapers were at if anything.
Soon enough they were moving down Saint Andrew's Hill and turned right onto Queen Victoria Street. Coats kept a lookout and monitored the position. Kept an eye on his motion detector.
No one was tailing them. No one was watching them.
Only a couple hundred meters away from Blackfriars Bridge. Coats could see a makeshift wall of rubble and metal scraps on the other side of the river. The Reapers didn't notice those barricades. A subtle detail in the destruction and decay.
They began their journey across the bridge. A slow belly crawl to ensure that Reaper spotters didn't track them to the FOB. Coats and MacTavish could see the defense fortification coming closer and closer.
Something was very wrong. The journey, merely travelling a single kilometer, took hours avoiding the Reaper patrols, avoiding the gaze of spotters and snipers, making sure they weren't followed. Yet there was no one here. No Reaper ground presence at all. Just the massive capital ship in the distance.
They traveled to the edge of the bridge. They had cloaking devices so in case anyone did come around, they could just disappear and wait it out.
But no one came.
About forty minutes passed by. After making this journey so many times, it became...habit. Dirt scraped into the armor. The River Thames was a bleak, polluted mess filled with debris and the dead. Well, at least the river survived the Reaper invasion.
They finally reached the edge of FOB Invictus. They got off the ground. Position cleared. Moved forward. Major Coats covered MacTavish as he ran to the barricades, pulled off a specific piece of scrap metal and revealed a small data panel. He started to input number sequences.
"Stand 'by..Almost got it." MacTavish reported.
He hurried. Coats didn't blame him. It was concerning. There was nothing out here-
There was movement, behind the walls and hills of scrap metal. MavTavish stepped back, loaded out his Predator weapons block. Major Coats readied his Avenger for whatever was about to come over the wall.
This wasn't how entrance protocol worked. They were typing password unlocks on the data panel to signal to the FOB they were coming in. No one was supposed to surprise them like this.
"FALLOUT!" Major Coats yelled out almost instinctively. Oh please God. Did the Reapers take Invictus? "FALLOUT OR WE WILL FIRE ON YOU!"
A small pile of rocks rolled down the hill. About a minute passed, only silence. MacTavish slowly backed up to Major Coats. The Captain had his pistol raised.
"FALLOUT!" Coats yelled again. Please. "FALLOUT OR-"
"Yeah. Yeah. Or you'll be fired on. At ease, soldier." A deep and confident voice said. A figure moved up from a distant wall implacement.
He was an African American man in his late fifties. Systems Alliance Military standard uniform. The black cargo pants, black kevlar over a white jersey-like shirt, covering a body that...reflected his age. A saggy body with a growing belly. He had a Systems Alliance cap with the golden seal and a ear comm piece. Dark circles surrounded deep brown eyes. He held an older variant Avenger Model. He struggled getting up the hill.
They both saw the golden stripes on his shoulder pads. Major Coats and Captain MacTavish stood at attention, saluting. Coats yelled. "ADMIRAL ON-"
"I already said at ease, soldier." Anderson calmly interrupted him. He slowly walked up to him. "How is it outback?"
More Alliance soldiers appeared behind him. A fully armed squad. They took their positionings, securing the area. Coats could see a line of four Makos about fifty meters back making their way to the front, led by another squad of soldiers.
"Admiral Anderson. Sir…" Major Coats began. Surprised. "There's been no signs of activity for hours. Something's not right." Coats stopped for a moment, looked to the group of Makos… They were going to move past BlackFriars Bridge. "...I didn't expect you here, sir."
"Major. Captain." Anderson nodded to the two, walked forward and took in the sites. "I guess you haven't heard yet?"
"Heard what, Admiral?"
"The Reapers finally chalked up a loss and from what we can tell from strategic analysis, they're in a panic. I want to make the most of the opportunity as we can."
The Reapers lost? When? Where? ...How? "Wins" nowadays counted as destroying a large group of Reaper capital ship or Harvesters while sacrificing hundreds of thousands, to even millions of people. Yet Anderson seemed hopeful.
"Wins" weren't much of a win, More like buying time. Everyone here had heard of Commander Shepard off-world gathering whoever he could to bring back to Earth, but that seemed so distant, so far away that...at least on the planetside of occupied Earth, it meant nothing.
They were too busy trying to live another day. They didn't have time to worry about the rest of the galaxy. Till now at least…
Admiral Anderson was about to walk away. Major Coats called out to him. "Wait a minute, Admiral. We've been up at Saint Paul's all morning. Ain't have any other contact till now. What happened?"
The line of Makos finally reached them. Maneuvered past metal walls and violently rolled over hills. The roar of the Eezo-based engines pushed the hydraulic-wheeled tanks forward. Alliance soldiers moved out, providing close-quarters infantry cover.
Anderson turned around. "We kicked those damn oversized cuttlefish out of the Tasale system. We've taken Illium back. Fully secured."
Illium? All Coats heard about Illium was that it's a distant Asari, slave-ridden paradise where there was a sexual innuendo on every corner. Coats could imagine the Reapers would only send a relatively small element there to take control of the system. Still though, be it one Reaper ship or fifty of them it was a tough fight.
"Illium? Is it Commander Shepard, sir?" Coats asked. He did here Shepard getting both the Quarians and the Geth on their side (when the fuck will they get here?). They could have something to do with it.
"Not this time, Major." Anderson replied. He slung the Avenger on his shoulder. "New contacts out of the gate. Not sure if the Reapers pissed them off to come out of hiding or pure damn luck. Either way, they pretty much ripped apart every Reaper ship they came across. Nearly thirty-three capital ships gone."
"Fucking Christ-"
Coats wasn't able to finish his sentence. There was a large electronic screeching sound that seemed to come from every at once. A low vibration erupted throughout the ground. Coats lost footing, kneeled down. The screeching sound grew louder. It wasn't like that of a Banshee or Reaper laser fire, but more controlled. More rhythmic.
A broken building collapsed a few klicks out. The Makos halted, waiting for whatever it was to stop. The Alliance soldiers grabbed cover, watching out for any signs of Reaper movement.
The screeching sound slowly turned into something else. A distant hum, almost like the movements of the cylinder of a engine
There was a blinding flash. Major Coats covered his eyes, looked away.
Whatever the light was, it immediately died out. Coats slowly looked back up. He saw what it was. A large covering of blue light surrounding a ball of white light that directly emanated from Canary Wharf. From the structure the Reapers were building. The light seeped into every open space, every crack in every building, engulfing all.
It slowly grew, consuming the Island of Dogs. There was another roar… Reaper Capital ships. Major Coats looked to the skies. He saw Reaper ships moving in from exosphere, trajectory straight towards the island.
Admiral Anderson, completely calm, not even affected by what happened, turned to the Major. He unslung his rifle, let it fall into his left hand.
"Well, son, I was about to say before I was interrupted that Shepard convinced them to go to the Citadel." Anderson turned around, shook his head as if he were merely annoyed. He looked to the Alliance soldiers.
"Ramirez!" He said to one of the soldiers. "Keep this tank column moving and take Saint Paul's Cathedral! Move!"
The Alliance soldier nodded and waved for the Makos to head out. The column of tanks began to push forward.
"Well, boys, the last six months were just the beginning." Admiral Anderson said, turning back to Coats and MacTavish. "We're in for one hell-of-a ride now.
"Let's hope Shepard can reel these sons of bitches in."