40 Udina's Folly

--> We’ve hit a Cerberus research base. They’re studying Reaper tech in earnest. Despite playing into the Reaper’s hands at almost every opportunity, despite captured intel on “integration” of their personnel, it appears that Cerberus is not directly allied with or under the control of the Reapers. It’s still possible that the Reapers are influencing them without their knowledge.

Besides detailed diagnostics on volatile Reaper tech, the base's databanks also held, among other things, significant intel on the nature, composition, and dispersal of Reaper forces. This information should prove quite valuable.

Admiral Hackett has a certain cruel pragmatism to him. Due to the advantages of Reaper technology and the hazards entailed in studying it, Hackett ordered us to leave the research base intact, bugging the systems rather than blow everything up. Cerberus will continue studying Reaper technology, and we will learn everything they do with none the associated risk. Clever plan. Brutal, but clever.

Now that we've a small breathing space, I can spare Councillor Valern his requested time to look into Udina's dirty laundry. Bloody waste of time.

At least this gives me the opportunity to visit Ashley. She should be almost back to normal now, and if I know her, chaffing at the bit to get back in action. There's Reapers out there that need killing, and she's been stuck on the Citadel with nothing to shoot at but targets in a gun range.

--> Emergency. The Citadel is under attack by Cerberus forces. There’s no signs of ship combat, only infantry. They completely bypassed perimeter defences. Both their purpose and means of entry are unknown. C-Sec is in disarray and the Council uncounted for.

All official channels are scrambled, but we’ve got radio contact with Thane. The terminally ill Drell is out and fighting Cerberus. He lost sight of Ashley; she eluded his care and ran off to protect the Council.

Thane Krios, the best assassin in the Galaxy, lost Ashley. She’s good.

The team's ready. We’re going in.

--> Situation secure: the Citadel is cleansed of Cerberus infestation and the Council is safe; minus one half-witted numbskull of an idiot. Turns out Valern was right to be concerned about that gormless skunk Udina: he was the one responsible for smuggling Cerberus in. Without him, Cerberus would never have gotten past the patrol fleet. I’d have far rather taken him alive, but he panicked when confronted, and moved to shoot the Asari Councillor; a fatal mistake.

And here I’d thought Valern was making mountains out of molehills about Udina’s back-room dealings. It seems fairly obvious in hindsight what he was doing this for: he'd appealed for aid to retake Earth, and been overruled by the rest of the Council. So, to save Humanity, Udina sought to use Cerberus as means to stage a coup. With the Citadel under his control, he’d have launched an immediate joint-species attack on the Reaper forces occupying Earth.

This demonstrates not only foolish desperation, but complete disregard for the decided strategy of Alliance military. If we were to move on Earth sooner rather than later, the time has long passed. All large-scale resistance on Earth has been wiped out; all that’s left is a mobile network of commandos under Anderson’s command carrying out guerilla style hit-and-run strikes against the Reapers, doing as much damage as they can to local reaper detachments before scrambling to evade the retaliatory Reaper bombardment. To retake Earth now will require us to finish the Crucible, and attack with the combined power of all fleets at once. Even with a successful coup, Udina would not have control of all fleets. He would have spent the bulk of our forces prematurely in an almost certainly disastrous attack that would only deplete our strength and all but guarantee our eventual defeat.

I strongly suspect that, had he succeeded in the attempted coup, Udina would have found himself just as quickly thrown aside, having been but an unwitting and convenient puppet for Cerberus (assuming they even let him live). I don’t think Udina meant for things to get out of hand as they did. I suspect his idea was to capture and take the other Councillors prisoner, secretly if possible, or to be killed if necessary. It seems highly unlikely that flooding the streets of the Citadel with Cerberus assault troopers, shooting civilians and C-Sec alike, was actually part of his plan: he was clearly not in control of the situation as he’d thought. Deal with the Devil, pay the price.

More people than Udina paid a price today. A lot of civilians died at Cerberus' hands, and a not-inconsiderable portion of C-Sec died trying to defend them. Thane too is now numbered among the dead.

He was stabbed while defending the Salarian Councillor from a Cerberus assassin. The doctors did what they could for him, but the blood loss combined with his illness rendered all treatments moot. Thane died in peace, his son at his side. He died a hero’s death, having spent his life to save another. His passing was soon to come anyway, and the Cerberus attack afforded him the opportunity to die nobly.

Thane spent the last years of his life trying to wipe out the red in his ledger, to counterbalance the sins of his past as an indiscriminate killer for hire. I trust his efforts to achieve redemption were not in vain, that whatever gods he worshipped, the God of mercy will smile kindly upon his contrite soul.

The assassin who spearheaded the attack, the one who killed Thane, is well known to Anderson. Kai Leng, ex Alliance, achieved N7 designation, top performance record, evaded disciplinary action for theft on account of excellence of service, eventually was dishonourably discharged and imprisoned for murder. Cerberus broke him out of prison, and he became an augmented agent of the Illusive Man. Anderson thought he’d killed Leng on one occasion, only for him to return with cybernetic implants. This is one tough bastard, and likely only failed to kill the Councillors through miscalculation born of hubris. We haven’t seen the last of him.

Things were tense, to say the least, when we cornered Udina. With C-Sec in disarray and scrambling to remember up from down, Ashley had swooped in, effectively neutering Udina’s immediate plans by whisking him and the Turian and Asari Councillors out of immediate danger and rushing them to a shuttle. But the shuttle was disabled, and my team found them grounded and cornered.

I admit it looked pretty suspicious. Cerberus attacking the Citadel, clearly with inside aid, and me, the soldier who had worked with Cerberus, pointing a gun at a Citadel Councillor.

My mind stayed low, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Ashley and I were one twitchy finger away from killing each other. Udina loudly insisted that that I was the traitor working with Cerberus, then immediately [without meaning to] defended me by declaring that my accusations of him being the traitor were outrageous and without proof, as always. I couldn’t have said it better myself. For years, I issued warnings that our superiors ignored, and Ashley had been right by my side through most of that.

Ashley took a risk and chose to trust me, then turned to arrest Udina. That’s when he panicked and got himself shot.

Despite the narrow cliff edge we passed, I’m glad the issue of Cerberus, the mountain of doubt between me and Ashley, came to a head. Until it had been truly tested, that matter, even if shelved and suspended, would always have been an unspoken wall between us. The worst that could occur was made an immediate possibility; everything hung in the balance. When it came down to it, when everyone's life hung on her decision, Ashley chose to believe in me, and her trust was proven justified. It is a debt I will always owe her.

Cerberus really shot themselves in the foot with this attack. They bungled their seizure of the Citadel, and instead accidentally did the Alliance a favour. Such a sudden and dangerous attack upon their impregnable fortress, so nearly successful, has shaken the Council. The Asari have begun sending scientists to assist in the Crucible, and have promised us their fleets when we launch it, including the Destiny Ascension. A powerful symbol, that beautiful ship. Despite its heavy armaments, its effect on morale may be even greater than its tactical impact.

Ashley has been medically cleared for duty. She has officially, and unofficially, requested reassignment aboard the Normandy. Ashley's been missed, and not just by me. I don't think there's a single member of the crew, from Garrus and Liara to Adams and Chakwas, that won't be happy to see Lieutenant Commander Williams back in action with us.

It means more than I can say to once more have her by my side, without doubt, without complications. The air is clear now. We are free.

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28 They're Here

--> It’s happened. I knew this day was coming. I told my superiors, but no one believed me. Now they’re here. And we’re not ready.

But could we ever be ready, really? Could we ever prepare enough to match the Galaxy-ending force that has maintained a cycle of genocide for countless billions of years? Could we ever be ready for the sight of our fleets cut to ribbons and our streets swarming with enemies?

Maybe not. But we could have done more, should have prepared more. The Reapers should have been met when they came by a single, unified force drawn from all corners of the Galaxy to repel the common foe. But instead the Reapers have before them a Galaxy still fractured by mistrust and self-interest, politicians who refused to believe the existence of the threat when they had time, and who refuse to work together now that time is up.

The Reapers hit the Batarians first. I don’t know if there’s any of them left. That gave Earth some margin of warning, but not enough. First we lost contact with two deep space outposts, then communication with all colonies and outposts outside the Sol System. And before we knew it, the Moon had gone silent, and Reapers were landing.

I was in Vancouver when they hit, a nightmare coming down out of the clear sky, hellish blasphemies against the daylight that revealed their monstrous forms. Then the deaths started: soldiers and civilians, men, women, and children, innocents crushed beneath horrible feet of iron or burned to ash, individually or en masse, entire blocks leveled in an instant, whichever suited the humour of the merciless and implacable Reapers.

If the Reapers wished to simply destroy Earth outright, they could do it. We are hopelessly out-gunned, and there is nothing we could do to prevent them using their full firepower to reduce our planet's entire surface to ash and dust. But their purpose here is far more grim than that; the gruesome infantry the Reapers are deploying tell all too clearly their intentions for Earth. They’re not here to destroy us: they’re here to repurpose us. If they continue unchecked, if we can’t find a way to stop them, every Human that doesn’t fall in battle will instead serve as either raw material for building new Reapers, or worse, transformed into Husks, and set loose upon Earth as the Reapers mindless slaves to capture and kill more Humans. This is the fate that faces not just Earth, but every planet in the Galaxy.

The only reason we have any fleets left is because not all were directly in the Reapers path. Our technology had improved, thanks to salvage from Sovereign, but it’s still not enough. I saw a Dreadnought weather three direct hits from a Reaper before being destroyed. That’s a vast change in odds since our battle against the first Reaper three years ago, where its weapons carved through our ships like a knife through butter. But it’s not enough. The Reapers are still too strong, too many, and our ships cannot stop them.

I am sent by Anderson to persuade the Council to lend us aid. It should be him. He’s an Admiral, I a Commander. But he’s staying on Earth to lead the resistance. While I flee the scene of danger. It’s true that I’m a Council Spectre, but Admiral Anderson was for a time Councillor Anderson. He turned in his robes for his old uniform, seeking to do what he could in person to prepare for the Reapers, having faced only intransigence and willful ignorance on the Citadel. Now those same fools I must persuade to help us.

Perhaps Anderson sends me for the same reason that everyone else expects me to have a plan for stopping the Reapers; I was the one who warned everyone, first about Sovereign, then about the rest of the Reapers. I am inexplicably and absurdly credited with having killed Sovereign. I am the symbol of the resistance, known across the Galaxy as the one who warned and was not listened to, the one who killed a Reaper. If Earth falls, I must survive as a banner for the Galaxy to rally round. Anderson stays to fight, perhaps to die, so that hope can live.

I never wanted this. I’m a soldier, not an icon. My job is to kill the enemy and save lives through direct action, not look good for an audience of billions.

Admiral Hackett has ordered me to meet Dr. T’Soni at the Mars Archives before leaving the Sol System. The transmission was garbled, but he said something about “only way to stop the Reapers.” Is it possible that Liara dug up some Prothean information on a superweapon capable of turning the tide? It seems unlikely. If they had such information and lost, what more good will it do us? We’re scrambling to catch up late in the game, caught with our proverbial powder wet and flat-footed.

The Normandy is airborne, pulled out of retrofit by Lieutenant Commander Williams with but a skeleton crew. We are en route to Mars, leaving behind us our home to be crushed and burned.

I should be back on Earth. There's a lot of people dying there, and live or die, my place is with them. The world is going down in flames.

But I cannot, must not, will not, despair.

Never.

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15 Opportunity Strikes

--> Priority message from The Illusive Man. A Turian distress signal was intercepted by Cerberus. The message indicates encounter with a Collector vessel. The Turian ship was destroyed, but purportedly managed to disable the Collector ship. This is an unparalleled opportunity to case a Collector vessel for intel, most crucially on how to navigate the Omega 4 Relay.

The Normandy SR1 was torn apart by a Collector ship without even the chance to return fire. Turian military scientists could have developed secret technology capable of disabling a Collector Ship. Theoretically.

The Normandy is en route. We can get there, search the ship, and get out before Turian rescue arrives.

--> Situation confirmed. The rubble of a Turian frigate is drifting near an apparently lifeless Collector ship. The enemy vessel is adrift and devoid of energy signatures. The hull seems oddly undamaged. Could the Turians have used electronic warfare? I don’t know. Something smells fishy here.

There could still be Collectors alive inside the ship, if so they’ll be making repairs as fast as they can. I’m going in with only a small team, Garrus and Grunt. We’ll slip in, link EDI in to the Collectors’ computers, mine for data, get out, and blow the Collector ship to rubble.

--> “It’s a trap!” The distress signal was a fake. The Collectors had destroyed the Turian ship and forged the signal to lure us in. As soon as we linked EDI in to the Collector servers, a virus attempted to cripple the Normandy and the Collector ship began powering up. Swarms of Collectors and Husks closed in on the squad. Had it not been for EDI opening doors for us we would have never survived. Had she not been managing the Normandy’s software defence, we would have had no getaway option. We got out of there just in time, and the second Normandy very nearly suffered the fate of her predecessor.

Turian transmissions use redundant encryption. EDI detected their absence using the same Cerberus protocols The Illusive Man would have when his agents first found the signal. He knew it was a trap and sent us in blind.

I don’t mind walking into a trap to deliberately spring it under the enemy’s nose. I do object to being lied to. I did of course already know The Illusive Man couldn’t be trusted, but I didn’t expect him to deliberately and needlessly endanger a major investment. I am reminded of that old entertainment series Star Trek, when the supremely logical Starfleet officer makes the mistake of assuming his enemies are also logical. If The Illusive Man’s judgement is as compromised as his scruples, the future of Cerberus is not a rosy one.

The interior of the Collector Ship didn’t look like a ship at all; more akin to some form of dark and twisted hive. Pods for holding prisoners lined the ceilings and littered the floors. We found no surviving victims, only their discarded bodies thrown carelessly aside in heaps. Thank goodness that at least their suffering is over. There was room in that ship to hold every Human in the Terminus Systems. The capacity’s implied intent must not, will not, be fulfilled.

A fascinating and horrific discovery was made. The Collectors are not an original species. Segments of their DNA strand matches patterns found in the cryogenic chambers on Ilos; the Collectors are what’s left of the Protheans. The Reapers didn’t even have the decency to outright destroy them. Instead they kept the last Protheans in a twisted and warped form with no semblance of free will, empty husks with no purpose but to serve as the slaves of their own doom. This is the fate that awaits Humans and every other race in the Galaxy should the Reapers succeed again. A clean death and oblivion would be a preferable fate.

This Collector ship was the same one that destroyed the original Normandy. A man would have to be more than blind not to see a pattern here. Could it be purely revenge that motivates the Reaper’s slaves (if that word even has meaning for them) to target me specifically, or could there be more to it? The Illusive Man wanted me alive and free as a symbol. Perhaps the Reapers want to take me alive for much the same reasons, to turn me into a living symbol of their power by taking the one credited with Sovereign’s death and turning him into their slave for all the Galaxy to see. That is not going to happen.

The virus attack and narrow escape notwithstanding, EDI got the information we need. The Omega 4 Relay leads directly into the bull’s-eye centre of the Galaxy. The only possible explanation must be that a small safe zone is carved out in the midst of black holes and exploding suns therein, a pocket in space likely smaller than the standard drift range of most ships, which exit light-speed with a margin of several thousand kilometres. The Collector ships use a form of IFF signal to ensure the Relay places them within the safe zone. Bitter irony that we now know the tool we need was on the ship we just left.

Fortunately the Illusive Man has another bright idea. His scientists have been studying a top secret find hidden in the periphery of a brown dwarf, a derelict Reaper corpse. The team went silent a few months ago, and The Illusive Man hasn’t sent an investigation yet. Given the connection between the Collectors and the Reapers, it is almost certain that the Reaper will have the requisite IFF to navigate the Reaper-forged Relay.

The Illusive Man has made it quite clear he’s willing to endanger our operations by providing faulty information. If he knows anything more about the situation of this dead Reaper and the risks entailed in boarding it, he hasn’t seen fit to tell us. Boarding a Collector ship is one thing, a Reaper is quite another. Sovereign warped people’s will by its sheer presence. Within days, weeks at best, anyone in its vicinity lost themselves to Indoctrination. It is quite possible that The Illusive Man’s survey team suffered the same fate. If the scientists are still alive, it is in a state that precludes even the possibility of rescue. We have no idea who killed this Reaper, only that its death pre-dates the Protheans. If it’s stayed dead this long, hopefully it will stay dead a little bit longer.

The Reapers will come, sooner or later. When that happens, we need be ready for them. We need to improve our weapons and defences, we will need to unite all spacefaring species against the coming invasion. It won’t be easy. Authority figures are determined to disbelieve the Reapers even exist. If Anderson and I can’t find some way to persuade or circumvent the Citadel Council, the Galaxy will remain blind and fractured until it is too late.

One thing at a time. Anderson is doing what he can in official circles to counter the propaganda of safety. My job is to deal with the immediate threat of the Collectors. When we make our move through the Omega 4 Relay, there’s no telling what we’ll find. We’ll be one squad serving the purpose of an army. We have a good team, some of the best fighters in the Galaxy, but we could use more. We also need to make sure that everyone is at their best, no distractions or complications. We’ll need the best tech and upgrades Mordin can conjure up; standard issue weapons and armour won’t do. The Collectors can detect even the stealthy Normandy, and we can’t afford to be chased away like a scared and fangless rabbit again. We need to improve our ship’s armaments, and find some way to toughen up defences enough to survive open combat with a Collector ship. It’s a tall order, but we have no choice. I’ve put the question to the crew about how to best upgrade the Normandy. Garrus and Jacob say they have some ideas. When we put in to dock on Illlium, we can overhaul the Normandy and implement the designs Garrus and Jacob provide. The Illusive Man can take the bill.

I am told Liara is on Illium, working as an information broker. In direct contradiction of what The Illusive Man initially told me, she is hunting the Shadow Broker, not working for him. The Illusive Man seems to have no concern for even pretending to be trustworthy. He’s told me so many lies I’m starting to lose track. He told me the Alliance was ignoring the Collector threat. Ashley and the Horizon garrison were a direct contradiction of that. He told me the Collector ship was disabled. The question I ask myself is no longer “where is he lying” but “where is he telling the truth.”

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11 Councilor Anderson

-->  That went better than I could have possibly hoped for. Not only did Anderson lend me an open ear and let me go afterward, he even insisted the Council officially reinstate my Spectre status. The other Councillors complied on the condition that I maintain a low profile and don't stir things up.

Apparently, Sovereign has officially been declared a Geth Dreadnought, and the Reapers dismissed as a myth. The Council has exerted all their influence to quell as thoroughly as possible the rumours of Sovereign being only the first of many, and are afraid I’ll raise hue and cry and upset their peaceful delusions of security. Fools. We thwarted the Reapers first attempt, but they will come eventually, and when they do, we need to be ready for them. Plugging our ears and singing a song of denial will not save us.

Anderson listened to every word I said with studious attention. I told him everything. How Cerberus revived me, of my meeting with The Illusive Man, my findings on Freedom’s Progress, my plans to assemble an independent team to fight the Collectors, my doubts about my own freedom of thought, the recreation of the Normandy and suspicions of security leaks in the Alliance, and my intention to report back to Admiral Hackett as soon as the Collector threat had been dealt with. Anderson never said he disbelieved me, but neither did he commit to anything, divulged no classified information. I asked after Ashley before I could stop myself, but he declined to tell me anything, only that she is alive and well.

I cannot read my old Captain’s thoughts, but I assume he is consciously and deliberately suspending judgement. He has no conclusive proof one way or another about my authenticity or wholeness of mind. He has apparently decided to watch and wait, to give me a chance to prove myself one way or the other. That’s all I can ask, and more than I could have hoped for.

I can, at least, remove one gnawing doubt from my extensive list of cares and worries. I insisted, before I left, that C-Sec have me examined for suspicious implants. Despite my fears, suggesting the examination, even submitting to restraints, triggered no failsafe. The results confirm that I do have extensive implants to facilitate and augment my recovery, but, so far as the doctors can tell, neither I nor Garrus (who underwent emergency surgery in the Normandy) have any implants that could control our thoughts or actions, nor anything resembling a kill-switch. The Normandy is still suspect, and circumstance still shackles us to this course, but our own minds are clear and free. And if Cerberus didn’t chain either Garrus or me, chances are Joker and Chakwas are also safe.

This weight being lifted means more than I can say. I now feel twice as strong, as though the whole galaxy couldn’t stop me. Nearly giddy with relief, I’m now off for to assemble an army. The Collectors won't know what hit them.

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