49 The End of the Reapers

--> The fleets are amassed, all forces assembled; the assault to reclaim Earth is about to begin. The entrenched Reapers await, an impenetrable hedge of diverse abominations over-arched by an impassable blockade of Reaper destroyers and dreadnoughts. Were this the sum of matters, the prospect would be more than grim. But we have friends on the ground. The resistance, led by Admiral Anderson, gives us some hope of success.

We need to open the arms of the Citadel and move the Crucible in range to dock with it. The obstacles are tremendous. The fortified station is sealed and surrounded by the entire Reaper fleet, rendering any direct boarding attempt a useless gesture; even the Normandy can’t get us past that dense blockade. The only means of entry is through a trans-orbit beam from the Citadel to Earth. The Reapers are using it to transport Human prisoners, living and dead, from London to the Citadel for processing. Landing anywhere near the beam is impossible: the airspace for miles is covered by HADES defence cannons. Our only means of accessing the Beam will be with a ground assault, landing the troops beyond effective range of the densest concentration of AA guns. The danger zone for landing ships is too broad to avoid completely; our soldiers would be wading through the English channel to reach London, and we’d still have taken fire while landing. None of the options are good. Our only hope is a compromise of danger.

While the primary fleet, designated Sword, engages the Reapers, a small flight of shuttles will attempt to land on the outskirts of London. Our vanguard force will make a combined strike in unison with Anderson's resistance forces, and eliminate local AA guns in the vicinity. Once the airspace there is clear, the full extent of our combined ground forces, designated Hammer, will land, link up with the resistance, and push for the Beam. It will be a race against time, carving our way through the entrenched enemy positions to get to the Beam and board the Citadel before our fleets are destroyed. Once we’re aboard, we’ll not only have to find the arm controls and open the station, we’ll also have to neutralize whatever block it was that the Council put in place to separate the Citadel from control of the Relay Network. Once the Citadel is online, Shield fleet will escort the Crucible into range. We connect the two, and fire it up.

It’s a long shot. The Crucible will be the Reapers’ primary target, suffering heavy attack the moment it shows its nose. Numerous though our fleets are, we cannot guarantee the Crucible’s safety in direct contest with the Reapers. Beyond weakening the Reapers as much as possible and drawing their fire to the immediate threat of our attacking ships, our best hope for protecting the Crucible will be achieving enough success in the ground assault to draw their ships away from the battle in space. We’ll be fighting at a disadvantage in London with minimal air support at best, and we can guarantee the Reapers hitting hard once we get close to the beam.

And so it comes down to this. Our only hope for defeating the Reapers lies in one final, desperate battle. So be it. No more halfway measures, no more running. The game has changed. We take the fight to the Reapers with everything we have. And so the stag turns at bay and rends the wolves. Let them feel our wrath.

--> We’re ground-side. Hammer has landed, but despite the hole we opened in the aerial defences, our landing craft took heavy casualties: only fifty percent of infantry forces are accounted for. The fleets are engaging, the infantry forming up. Anderson is mustering the officers and making final preparations for the assault. We have a few minutes before we start our push for the Beam.

It is midnight here in London. Black clouds roil above, reflecting the discharge of artillery; the wrecked and shattered buildings are shaken by the rumble of explosions; and all is overcast by the pale and baleful light of the distant Beam. “A land of deepest night, of utter darkness and disorder, where even the light is like darkness.”

The team might be forgiven some trepidation at the prospect of the battle before us, but I see no fear in their eyes. Instead, every face is lit with resolve, even grim satisfaction. Despite the danger and chaos, there is peace in our ranks. This is what we've planned for, trained for, fought for, and in some cases, died for.

This is it. After all of the fighting, all of the dying, hardship, and sacrifice to oppose the Reapers, in this cycle and the countless that came before, it all comes down to this. This is the culmination of everything we’ve done, everything we’ve fought for. Our own efforts would have been for nought without the Protheans before us. They laid the groundwork for the advantages we hold. They gave us the means to defeat Sovereign, and the weapons we made from his corpse. They were the last in a long tale of defiant who tried and failed to finish the Crucible, each passing on, hidden in some discreet corner, this ultimate hope for a final end to the Cycle.

Everything we’ve accomplished, every battle we’ve fought, every sacrifice that’s ever been made in the struggle against the Reapers is consummated in this moment. Despite the long odds, we have a chance. We’ve come closer than any civilization before us to defeating the Reapers. None after us will have another chance such as this: failure is not an option. We stop the Reapers, here, today, not merely for the sake of the living or the lives of the lost, but for the sake of every sentient being born in the future. We will save the living; we will exact vengeance on behalf of those who fell before us, and we will grant future civilizations freedom from the fate of the past. Though it cost all our lives, we will prevail. One way or another, the Cycle ends today. We come to destroy the Reapers, at any cost: no halfways, no excuses. Every man and woman in this battle knows the score, and have come to battle knowing most of them will never return. They’ve already made their sacrifice, and face the Reapers with the fearlessness of those with nothing to lose. We face the Reapers today with a force such as they’ve never seen before: Human, Turian, Krogan, Asari, Salarian, Quarian, even Rachni and Geth, an entire galaxy mobilized and united against them in one massive force of retribution, a long overdue host of vengeance for the countless innocents slain across an unnumbered series of bloody harvests.

And should the ultimate price be paid, should all our lives be spent in the destruction of the Reapers, it will not have been in vain. Though it cost every drop of mortal blood that flows through the veins of the defiant, the Reapers’ end has come. It is long overdue.

Should this be my last entry, let the record show the highest commendation for my crew. Many credit me with this chance, but I could never have done it without the brave men and women who have helped me through the rough path we tread. Nihlus, whose initiative gave me the authority to track down Saren. Tali, who provided the information to prove his guilt. Liara, without whom the warning of the Beacons would have been useless. Kaidan, who laid down his life for the rest of us. Miranda, who brought me back from the dead. Mordin, whose sacrifice gave us the alliance with the Krogan. Legion, without whom the Geth would have been lost. Garrus, whose calibrations preserved the Normandy on countless occasions. Ashley, who with James saved the Crucible plans from Cerberus. There's not a one of us that hasn't owed our life at least once to Dr. Chakawas. And Anderson, our captain who first sent us to destroy Sovereign, and has now given us this foothold on Earth, our last grip on the cliff of doom. All of them have saved my life on countless occasions, and ensured the success of missions critical to where we now stand. It has been my privilege and honour to have served with these friends, the dearest and truest that any soldier ever had.

With so many vital threads woven together, the loss of any one of which would have meant ruin for all, I cannot believe that our success is a product of mere chance. Having been preserved on so many occasions when chance would have dictated failure, we stand where no other race in history has stood: against all odds, we have been granted this one chance to destroy the Reapers. We must not, we will not, fail. May He that guides us still watch over us all.

Perhaps it may be, against all odds, that I survive this last and greatest trial. If so, I may live a life of one with my beloved Ash. But if only she survives, the new life born of her will live safe and free.

Whatever happens, this vow I make: the Sun will rise over the ashes of dead Reapers.

But our time is up, the moment of reckoning is at hand. Every gun is loaded, every heart steeled, every mind focused. The time has come. Death to the Reapers. Life, hope, and peace to those who survive. They will see a future free from fear.

So fill to us the parting glass, and drink a health whatever befalls.

And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me.

This is Commander Shepard signing off.

---

TRANSMISSION FROM COMMANDER SHEPARD:

"ADMIRAL, I'VE GOT IT. ….ONE MORE MIRACLE. GET THE FLEET OUT OF HERE.

 

VICTORY IN THREE, TWO, ONE, DESTRUC…"

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

42 Defectors and Crime Syndicates

--> It’s easy to forget that not all of the combat-ready forces of the galaxy are government-sanctioned fleets and armies. Besides local militias and makeshift civilian resistance, there are also the criminal elements, from local gangs to galaxy-class mercenary bands. The Blue Suns, Eclipse, and Bloodpack are the three most powerful and well organized of these disreputable brigands. They have thus far taken but little part in the Reaper war, beyond of course avoiding the Reaper invasion front and taking advantage of whatever resources become exposed. If they could be recruited, it would add a welcome boost to our combat-ready forces in this everywhere and everything against the Reapers.

There are two difficulties with such a plan. The first is getting them to cooperate with our command structure. The second is getting them to work together without tearing each other’s throats out. They are, after all, criminals, and have fought each other perhaps even more than the authorities.

As fortune would have it, the second difficulty seems to be clearing itself up already.
Prior to expulsion by Cerberus from her seat of power on the pretentiously named waste bin of Omega, Aria T’Loak was the biggest crime boss on that station, the centre of criminal enterprises in the whole of the Terminus Systems. Despite her sour disposition, Aria was an unusually pragmatic crime boss, providing what little security and stability Omega had. She’s currently trying to unite the Blue Suns, Bloodpack, and Eclipse under her rule. She's smart enough to realise that it’s in her interest to help combat the Reaper threat, and that she has the means to rally these disparate factions into a joint force for that purpose; and her own personal power of course.

Under any other circumstances, helping a crime lord amass more power would be a capital offence, but we need more guns on the ground, and Aria’s coalition presents an opportunity to take advantage of a resource that would otherwise be very difficult to utilize. I am officially requesting permission from Alliance Command to proceed with perhaps the most unorthodox mission ever undertaken by an Alliance officer.

--> Orders received. I am authorized to solidify Aria's control of the Terminus gangs, and ordered to take all reasonable measures to obtain Aria's cooperation against the Reapers.

As part of our deal with T’Bitch, I will help her retake Omega and its stores of Ezo. The Cerberus occupation force there is commanded by Oleg Petrovsky, one of the Illusive Man’s top military strategists. He should prove a tough nut to crack. Aria has made it clear she cannot operate with my combat team. She named no names, but it seems perfectly obvious the individual in question is Garrus. Archangel united the merc bands once before in a group effort to kill him. Bringing my best friend along would in this particular case be inadvisable.

I’m leaving the Normandy under Ashley’s command: her orders are to continue running standard interference against Reaper occupation forces. Williams knows the ship and crew, and should have little difficulty keeping the Normandy intact and her crew alive.

I can't say I'm looking forward to seeing Omega again. Aria's company is also something I'd hoped to avoid. It's no accident such a waspish and unprincipled individual feels at home on that filthy rock.

--> Aria's coalition has breached the Cerberus defence fleet and engaged the entrenched enemy in a street-to-street, door-to-door fight through the dark and dirty streets of Omega, the garish and neon lights of shady vendors illuminating a gruelling and savage fight between mutated soldiers and murderous hoodlums. The run-of-the-mill gang warfare of Omega has merely been replaced by an augmented and intensified variant, one where the usual factions have been united by the intrusion of a new adversary, the jack-booted control of Cerberus domination.

We've got our first foothold, now it's time to make our next move. Cerberus has blocked off most of the avenues of advance with energy barriers. Aria's engineers are trying to find a way to bypass control directly, but with little success. There are, however, chinks in the armour. A small team can bypass the barriers through maintenance routes without attracting attention. Aria's ensuring all teams are ready to assault the moment the shields go down.

--> I've received an encrypted transmission from Ashley. She's caught wind of some Cerberus defectors on the run in the Minos Wasteland, and is taking the Normandy in to investigate. Apparently she found it necessary to correct Javik's assumption that the goal is to kill the defectors.

She also relayed a surprising update from Hackett. The Crucible is being built far faster than I'd anticipated; Alliance engineers have through herculean effort completed perhaps fifty percent of the known work. Once decoded, the plans are easily translated for seamless construction. But even at this late hour, we still don’t know how it will utilize the massive power it stores. The means for its application, the Catalyst, is still a complete mystery.

Despite being our single most well-informed expert on Protheans, never in all of her work did Liara find anything regarding the Catalyst, and neither her extensive network of intelligence nor any government and their official archives hold a solid lead on what it might be. Javik is himself a Prothean soldier, and doesn't know squat; not surprising as this Catalyst was obviously a tremendous military secret of the Protheans. They apparently safeguarded this secret very well. So well perhaps, we may never discover it.

What an incredible irony. We've discovered and are well on our way to completing the designs for this Prothean super-weapon, only to have the same security of knowledge that preserved the plans for our time prevent us from finding the last and crucial component. Could such success be achieved only to be thwarted by one final, obstinate, detail? God send that our fate will not prove so fickle.

--> Aria and I have made contact with an old friend of hers. Nyreen Kandros, ex Turian military, it seems she and Aria have a history. Apparently they parted ways when their incompatibilities grew more clear than infatuation. In Aria's sneering words, Kandros “practically oozes virtue.” It's hard to see how this upright Turian soldier found anything compelling in Aria. I personally find our Asari confederate to be a pain in the neck.

Kandros is running an underground network of militants in opposition to the Cerberus occupation. They call themselves the Talons. She's agreed to coordinate with our assault, on the condition that we ensure the safety of civilians. It seems she not only commandeered this local gang she now commands, she's whipped them into shape to resemble a regular militia, uniformed and orderly. The ranks all seem to bear a strong loyalty for their leader. They speak of her with genuine regard, and salute with more than token spirit as she passes by. I admit I'm impressed Kandros successfully transformed what had been an ordinary gang of lowlifes into a disciplined and conscientious defence force that prioritizes safety of civilians over their own lives.

All forces are set. Petrovsky's defences are waiting for us. He thinks this is a game of chess. He's about to find out that his enemies don't play chess. They play dirty.

This is going to be bloody.

--> Operation complete. Omega is under Aria’s control. The Cerberus forces there have been driven out, Petrovsky taken prisoner. Aria had wanted to kill him, and I’d have had no objection, but she let him live long enough to surrender. Given that he’d ordered his men to stand down and formally asked for quarter, I could not in good conscience stand by while Aria strangled him. Aria and I nearly came to blows when I demanded she desist. But the matter is resolved, and Aria will be sending Omega’s considerable supply of Ezo to the Alliance, in addition to fielding her forces alongside the Alliance soldiers in combat.

Kandros is dead. She sacrificed herself to save civilians from Cerberus monsters. It appears Cerberus is not content merely to modify their soldiers using Reaper methods, they’ve begun going the whole hog and manufacturing monsters of their own design from the bodies of prisoners. It is becoming more and more obvious that, whatever the Illusive Man’s original intentions were, Cerberus is irredeemable. Everything the Reapers are doing, Cerberus is doing, only slower.

With Kandros gone, it's unclear what will happen to her followers. The Talons will almost certainly fall under Aria's command. Whether they will maintain their own structure and discipline without their leader remains to be seen. Omega needs Kandros. One hopes her example, her spirit, will not be forgotten. I've sent a report to the Turian military, with a recommendation for Kandros' posthumous exoneration and commendation.

I now take my leave of Aria, and Omega. Normandy awaits!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

36 A Cure for the Genophage

--> The Salarian Dalatrass has finally agreed upon a place and time for meeting. Having stalled and dithered for so long, I expect she has little intention of playing ball now that she’s finally deigned to partake in our summit.

This will be a tense meeting. Everyone knows what Wrex will demand in return for military aid: a cure for the Genophage.

Our backs are to the wall, we’re facing imminent extinction, and the Krogan hold the diplomatic advantage. The ethics of the Genophage are arguable; it may have been the lesser of available evils at the time. I’m just glad the decision was not mine to make. But now, we have no choice. It’s either provide the Krogan with a cure and risk revival of the Krogan rebellions after the Reapers are defeated, or the Reapers destroy us all now.

I’ve asked Liara to get me everything she has on the Dalatrass. We need this deal, and we’ll need political leverage.

As for the possibility of actually formulating a cure, our best chance of that lies in the brilliant Dr. Mordin Solus. He left the Normandy with, among other things, possession of the data from Maelon’s research on the matter. He didn't say where he was going. We need him, and fast, but even Liara has no intel that could give a hint of his whereabouts. Mordin is conscientious as well as capable. I expect the wily Salarian will pop up in an unexpected place.

Ashley has been offered status as a Spectre. Udina is quite keen on getting Humanity as much leverage as possible. Despite the advantages it affords, I’m not very happy with me being a Spectre; I object to the position on principle. No one should be above the law. It's true I needed the autonomy to track down Saren without political delay, but I can’t very well see what good it will do Ashley to hold Spectre authority. Nevertheless, it’s her decision. At the very least, it is an honour to be chosen for such a select role.

--> As expected, Wrex has demanded a cure in return for Krogan boots on Palaven. But unexpectedly, his demands were not delivered on a bare table: he is already on top of the matter. He knew about Maelon and his experiments on Krogan females. More than that, he’d found out about a few females that survived. These females stand a good chance of, if not being immune themselves, at least containing the beginnings of a cure. Wrex then declared that the females had been taken from Tuchanka by the Salarians, and demanded they be returned forthwith.

The Salarian Dalatrass is not only ornery and obstinate, she is also stupid and grossly incompetent. First she failed to lie convincingly about the Krogan females, then she caved in and told us where they were being held the moment she was put under pressure. I didn't even need to pull Liara's intel. The most she accomplished was to ask what good it would do her people to cure the Genophage, apparently missing the context of Reaper threat, then hurl a vague and petulant threat after me as I left the room, as though I were somehow personally responsible for the straits of desperation we find ourselves in.

As an independent in this matter, and with the authority and autonomy afforded by my position as a Council Spectre, I can oversee the release of the Krogan females from Surkesh into Wrex’s custody.

--> Surkesh is in sight, approaching the research base where the females are being held. STG Control is stalling. This had better not go south, or Wrex will likely start a one-man war against the entire Salarian homeworld.

--> Cerberus got wind of the females, and attacked the STG base shortly after we arrived. Only one of the females was alive when we got there. The Salarians hadn’t killed them: Maelon’s treatments had simply caught up with them. Mordin Solus [ta-daa] was there as special consultant. It is thanks to him that even one survived. Eve, as Mordin dubbed her, will live healthfully, and holds within her the blueprint for a full cure for all Krogan.

Cerberus tried very hard to kill Eve. They may not be working for the Reapers, but they could hardly be more trouble if they were.

Eve is an anomaly not seen in fourteen hundred years: a healthy Krogan female capable of safely and dependably bearing children. Wrex is adamant: he will not lift one finger to aid Palaven until all Krogan receive that same immunity. It will take time for Mordin to synthesize a proper cure from Eve’s cells. Far less time than if we were starting from scratch, days instead of years. But at a time like this, every day is counted dearly. I can certainly understand Wrex’s position. He has to look out for his own people’s survival beyond this war, and has good reason to demand results up front. Nevertheless, this delay is not one lightly taken.

The Alliance has officially begun construction of the Prothean device. It’s location is a carefully guarded secret: even I don’t know where it is. If the Reapers were to find it, there goes the war.

Our engineers have dubbed it Project Crucible. An appropriate choice of name. Successfully completing this device will be a trial indeed, and the results will determine the fate of the entire Galaxy for the countless millennia that lie ahead between us and the end of time. Will this be the last of all Cycles? Will we stop the Reapers once and for all? Or will we fail like all every other race before us, becoming just another entry in the long list of civilizations crushed by the Reapers? What lengths will we have to go to win?

Javik scoffs at the suggestion that we can win this war with honour intact. He said to us “stand on the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honour matters.”

A rubbish question if I ever hear one. One way or another, we all die. In the end, honour is all that matters.

The dead know that better than anyone.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

35 Survivor

--> Cerberus just gets worse and worse. They’re carrying out a full-scale attack on Eden Prime. This isn’t just a raid, hit and run. This is an occupation. Our forces are overtaxed as it is, and the resistance on Eden Prime has had but minimal aid from the Alliance.

Hackett has issued a priority order to the Normandy. Cerberus is looking for something specific on Eden Prime. Something Prothean. We don’t know anything else at this time, but anything Prothean is by definition worthwhile, and if Cerberus has devoted a full-scale invasion and occupation force in search of this artifact, it must something big.  Guess there was more to that dig in 83 than we'd thought.

--> Mission complete. It wasn’t a Prothean artifact Cerberus was after. It was an actual Prothean. Years ago we’d found Prothean stasis pods on Ilos. Those failed from power loss. This one didn’t. Out of thousands of Protheans sleeping deep beneath the surface of Eden Prime, one survived. We found a living Prothean.

He calls himself Javik. He possesses telepathic ability even more advanced than that of an Asari, more or less the same method by which the Beacons communicated their message, and can after only brief contact speak English fluently, if contemptuously. This bitter and surly fellow constantly refers to the “primitives” that surround him with intense disdain.

He’s a soldier, not a scientist or an engineer, and knows no more than we about the Prothean super-weapon. Nevertheless his help will prove invaluable. He cannot tell us how best to build it or what it does, but he can provide us with accurate translation for the Prothean script the plans are provided in. Even Liara, our best Prothean expert, knows only a little of the Prothean language. Getting full translation of the instructions will cut short the decryption process and allow construction to begin immediately.

Beyond that, Javik’s true power lies in what he represents. After the Battle of the Citadel and the destruction of Sovereign, I was seen as the embodiment of Humanity’s defiance of the Reapers. When I died, The Illusive Man moved mountains to have me revived (while he was still interested in fighting the Reapers), to ensure that the symbol of the Reaper’s failure was seen alive and fighting. By that same principle, Javik represents the defiance of the entire Prothean race; he is the Survivor of his cycle, living proof of the Reapers’ failure to exterminate his kind.

Javik has agreed to fight alongside us against the Reapers. For now, staying with the Normandy offers optimal exposure, both diplomatic and combat. Future arrangements can occur if necessary. Once the upcoming summit is complete and the terms of cooperation between the species have been determined and agreed upon, Javik will be asked to either go to the Citadel for diplomatic employment, or join the frontlines at a point of his choosing. I sincerely doubt Javik will be inclined to sit quietly on the Citadel giving speeches while there are Reapers to be killed. That maverick means business.

Garrus told me of a Turian proverb: if even one survivor is left standing after a war, it was not in vain. In this context, that saying holds true. Let the whole Galaxy see the Survivor of the last cycle alive and fighting. Let the Reapers know of their failure. It is yet to be determined whether or not they can feel fear. We shall see.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

30 Politics

--> The Council refuses to send aid. Their apologies are civil, but adamant; they will not commit their forces to a joint effort.

When all is said and done, I cannot blame them. Setting aside the now nearly non-existent Batarians, Earth does face the worst of the attack, but the Reapers are everywhere. Turians are facing an invasion of their own, even the Asari have met their first Reapers, and the Salarians, well, are typically Salarian. It seems obvious the Reapers have thrown just enough at each of the other races, commensurate to their strengths, to keep them properly occupied while they crush Earth at their leisure. Despite the exhortations of an uncharacteristically lucid Councillor Udina, no immediate military alliance will be forthcoming.

The Turian Councillor has offered a suggestion. In the chaos of the attack on Palavan, the Turian Primarch is unaccounted for, and the Normandy still has the best stealth drive in the Galaxy. If I can extract the Primarch and ensure his safety, it will be a strong card in the game of political manoeuvring. So be it. If this is what needs doing to gain the cooperation of the Turians, I’ll see it done. If I can bypass the Council and appeal directly to the Turian leadership, the other races will be inclined to follow.

While they refuse to promise warships and troops, the Council have not refused to aid in the construction of the Prothean device. If they can give us anything, resources, scientists, we can use it. Confirmation of such assistance is still in the air.

Udina is on fire. After having been so long on adversarial terms with him for being a self-serving politically motivated blockhead, it is a relief to find him animated and engaged doing everything he can. With Humanity’s civilian leadership on Earth and Arcturus all dead, Udina not only represents Humanity’s face to the Galaxy, he holds the sum of authority for our entire species. He’s ordered all available resources devoted to immediate construction of the Prothean device, a draft across the colonies, all civilian ships armed, and is using every ounce of political clout and leverage he has to conjure up support for Humanity amongst the other races.

It's strange being here on the Citadel, only three years since it all began, but it feels longer than that, as though it all occurred in another life. I suppose in my case it was. How very droll.

Here's where we first embarked upon our mission to hunt Saren down, before we even knew what the Reapers were, when the team first assembled. I keep expecting to see Garrus in his old C-Sec uniform sniffing out information in the back alleys, and Tali with her cryptic message stolen from geth soldiers. But they're not here. No telling where they all are now. Garrus is probably stalking through the smoking rubble of some burning city on Palavan hunting Reapers. Or he could be dead. Tali is most likely sitting in the back seat of Quarian politics waiting for everyone to notice that the rest of the Galaxy is under attack. Wrex is likely solidifying power on Tuchanka, chafing at the bit to get out there and kill monsters. Kaidan is dead, so long ago it seems a lifetime away on Virmire, laying down his life for the rest of us so the mission could continue. Now Ashley is in critical condition, a mere inch away from following him. I tell myself it's not my fault, but I don't believe me. Of all the old team, only Liara can I know for certain is alive and well.

--> Ashley has been treated in a Hospital on the Citadel, and pulled through initial surgery. Head trauma was severe, and final results are still uncertain, but the doctors think she’ll live.

I spent months in custody after returning to the Alliance. Ashley and I didn’t see each other at all during that time. I’d not even been told of her promotion. The sudden arrival of the Reapers is the only reason we found ourselves in direct contact, fighting Cerberus together on Mars. Anderson at least has decided that I’m real, but everything related to my working with Cerberus was classified, and I don’t think Ashley even had clearance to read the Alliance reports on my mission against the Collectors. She still doesn’t know for certain that I’m actually me, and before I have a time to make amends, a Cerberus robot nearly kills her. There’s still so much unsaid between us. She can’t die. She’ll make it.

I’m taking the Normandy into Turian space. That Primarch had better be still alive.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

29 Prothean Designs

--> We got the data. Liara says that it is indeed plans for a weapon capable of defeating the Reapers.

The Mars Archives were overrun by Cerberus, commandos sent in to steal the same information Hackett sent us to collect. It seems the moment word of the Reapers’ arrival spread, everyone jumped at once. In the ensuing fight for the data on Mars, Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams was critically injured by a Cerberus robot disguised as a scientist, the same infiltrator that opened the gates for the Cerberus strike team. The Normandy was launched in emergency, and lacks a full crew. At this time, a doctor is especially wanting.

While we have seized both the data and the Cerberus robot carrying it, it is unclear if Cerberus received transmission of some portion thereof (it is a large file). We've sent the information to Admiral Hackett, and will be presenting our findings to the Citadel Council alongside a formal and urgent request for immediate military aid. The Citadel is Ashley’s best hope for proper medical treatment. She has to hold on a few hours.

It seems Cerberus has thrown their customary habits of deception and guile out the blooming airlock. Their standard approach with the rest of humanity is one of subtlety, manipulating events from the shadows without leaving a trace. There was no trace of subtlety in the Mars attack. Their mole vented most of the main facility, killing almost everyone inside. The rest were slaughtered by the Cerberus commandos that assaulted immediately thereafter. So far as I know, Dr. T'Soni is the only survivor of that assault. Why Cerberus has abandoned all pretence of care for human life is beyond me. It's the basis of their entire ideology, their only claim to moral legitimacy, the assertion that they fight for Humanity's interests. Perhaps it should come as no surprise; they'd hardly be the first human cult of the civilized era that slaughtered humans in the name of the “Greater Good” of Humanity. The question is, why now?

Their method itself seems flawed. Why march in and slaughter everyone if all you really care about is obtaining the data? They could have just as easily had their infiltrator copy the data and slip away with no one the wiser. Trying instead to not only steal the data but also wipe the servers clean while slaughtering all Alliance personnel assigned to the archives tells us that the Illusive Man no longer simply thinks he knows better than the rest of Humanity, it seems we are no longer to be trusted even with our own defence.

But why would he object to us building this device ourselves? Perhaps he fears the likelihood of a joint operation with Humans and Aliens working together, with more potential for leaks and infighting. Perhaps he wants more than anything to ensure that it is Cerberus that enters in the eleventh hour with the super-weapon to save us all from the Reapers, Cerberus's crowning moment of heroism and triumph, with the lives of a few soldiers and scientists on Mars being seen as an equitable trade.

Whatever the reason, whether the Illusive Man is motivated by security interests, building the device in absolute secrecy to a degree that the Alliance will not be capable of, or if he was attempting to ensure Cerberus status as the saviour of the Galaxy, his means thereto tell clearly the cost. Whatever the Illusive Man used to believe and to stand for, he now sees human lives as being secondary to his primary goals. I had hoped when the Reapers came that whatever was left of Cerberus would set aside its aloof and hostile pride and unite with us. It seems that is not to be. Mars establishes two things: firstly, Cerberus is a force to be reckoned with, and secondly, that in this war, they are an enemy. Not the enemy, to be sure, but an enemy nonetheless.

This Prothean device poses substantial questions. The proposed construction will require tremendous resources to build, and despite its resulting power will be unlikely to exceed the firepower-to-investment ratio of standard combat vessels. The weapon may indeed be capable of destroying Reapers, but it will only be one such weapon, if we even succeed in finishing its construction; one weapon, one target for the Reapers to destroy, and boom, all of our last-minute efforts and resources pinned on one massive investment are gone in a single stroke. It’s been many years since the short story Superiority was required reading for military officers. It is true that we cannot hope to defeat the Reapers conventionally; in a straight-up fight we lose through insufficient firepower, in a running fight of attrition, they grow stronger as we grow weaker. In order to win, we have to cheat somehow.

This Prothean device, in order to fulfil its purpose, cannot simply utilize provided material through known methods. It will have to use either a technological trick, a secret scientific breakthrough as great as the discovery of mass effect technology, or instead tap into another power source, greater than what we can through normal means utilize. Maybe I’m drawing to much of a distinction between those two options. If it fails to do either of these things, then our narrow window of time would be better spent conducting emergency production of frigates and cruisers.

We don’t know a lot about the device yet, but Liara says that the plans are incomplete, as was its construction when the Protheans lost. It’s missing a piece referred to only as “The Catalyst.” Clearly a code word of some sort, we’ve no idea what the Catalyst is, but it had better be good. I hope we’re not making a big mistake.

My every instinct tells me that this is a losing proposition, that the only tactically sound option is to evade, “meet strength with weakness and weakness with strength.” But there’s nowhere to run to, nowhere the Reapers will not follow to hunt us down and destroy us. We have no choice but to stand and fight. And pray.

Launched as it was in emergency without a full crew, the Normandy is potentially vulnerable to insufficient engineer oversight. Ashley grabbed Joker, Adams, and a handful of maintenance and security personnel. Nothing like a full complement, all hands will be pulling long shifts in order to ensure the Normandy remains at peak efficiency. It's a lot to ask of the crew, but at time like this, we cannot afford a malfunction. There will likely be a great many Alliance personnel in our embassy at the Citadel who will jump at the chance to sign on to the Normandy. Not exactly regular, but at a time like this no one will care. We need every able-bodied man and woman engaged in this fight, and desk-workers everywhere will find themselves dropping their datapads and picking up tools and weapons, and the sooner the better.

Citadel is in sight, docking clearance granted. There's a lot of ships here.  Nimble and knife-like Salarian frigates, graceful and sleek-skinned Asari cruisers arrayed with glistening ribbons of light, ponderous Turian dreadnaughts with their signature wings and couched stance.  Let's see if we can't persuade the Council to put them to use.

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