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…"

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13 Horizon

--> An emergency message from the Illusive Man. Horizon, one of our colonies in the Terminus Systems, just went silent. It might not be Collectors, but it could be. Whatever the cause, it can’t be good. As the colony lies outside Alliance space, the nearest response is days away, far too late to prevent imminent disaster. By good fortune the Normandy is relatively nearby, and can be there in a matter of hours. Still a dangerous delay, but hopefully not enough to render arrival pointless.

Mordin's countermeasure is now ready, in the eleventh hour as it were; efficacy is still strictly theoretical. Should his designs fail to deliver, this will be a short mission.

The team is arming up. Whatever we find happening on Horizon, we’ll be ready. If it is Collectors we’ll be facing, it’ll be the first time any of us have seen them in person. Courage and cool mind in the face of the alien will be just as crucial as combat ability. Time to show these monsters that the prey can bite.

--> Hostile presence on Horizon confirmed. We're going in.

--> It was Collectors. We arrived mid-session to interrupt their seizure of the colonists. We commandeered the colony’s defence towers, plugged EDI in to the system, and forced the Collector ship to withdraw. Special commendation to Dr. Solus in successfully veiling us from the Seeker Swarms. We saved the colony from complete capture, but half of the colonists were taken. This is the first time a Collector attack has ever been hampered, but the Human losses forbid me from claiming victory.

Ashley Williams was there. She had been assigned to command the Horizon defence garrison, and was one of the first to succumb to the debilitating Seeker Swarms. Whether by sheer chance or divine providence she was not among those taken. I don’t know what I would have done had that happened. So many were taken, and one alone dogs my mind. We still don’t know why the Collectors take their victims alive. Maybe it’s best not to know.

It didn’t go well between us. How could it have. As far as Ash knew, I had been dead for two years. Then I, or something wearing my face, shows up flanked by Cerberus personnel at the moment a Human colony is under attack. She told me Cerberus was in fact the Alliance’s prime suspect for the abductions. Far better had she continued to think me dead than see me working with terrorists. She would have been perfectly within her rights, and duty as an Alliance officer, to attempt arresting me. I took my team and departed as soon as possible.

When the Collector threat has been neutralized, I will return, and maybe, just maybe, I may explain, and set things right between us. Thank God she was spared.

Grunt should be pleased. The Collectors proved themselves a tough fight, and even he must have had his fill. They appear to be insect-like humanoids, strangely crude and rudimentary in form, yet ruthlessly efficient fighting machines. The team performed admirably, no one flinched or failed to perform their duty. Bullets and blue fire flew, and Collector infantry, caught in the course of their grisly task, fell in swarms. The Collector leader never personally set foot outside his vessel, but appears to have the ability to possess any one of his soldiers at will. Harbinger, as he calls himself, addressed me by name, though I confess I little heeded his taunts; I was too busy directing the squad and mowing down Collectors with gunfire. I must have killed Harbinger a dozen times over in the course of the battle, as he left control of each successive body for the next.

We met more than Collectors during the battle of Horizon: they had brought with them human Husks. Different from the Husks the Geth made, these seemed a less electrified variant. All readings and samples acquired are being examined by Mordin. If we learn nothing else, it now seems quite apparent that the Collectors are indeed connected somehow to the Reapers.

We won’t win against the Collectors by responding to their attacks. Next time the colony hit will likely be too far away to reach in time for even a partial victory. We need to hit them where they live. The only way to do that is to find some means of successfully navigating the Omega 4 Relay. The Illusive man tells me he is assigning all available resources to that end. In the meantime, I’ll continue building my team.

It was no coincidence the Collectors struck where they did. The Illusive Man admitted to having let slip rumours of my revival, along with the fact that Ashley Williams was stationed on Horizon. His theory that the Collectors are after me personally, and anyone connected to me, seems to be proven.

Fool that I was, I'd believed the Illusive Man though I'd thought myself on guard. He'd told me that the Alliance was paying no heed whatever to the abductions, and now I find Horizon manned by an Alliance garrison complete with advanced defence cannons, with the ranking officer instructed to investigate possible connections between Cerberus and the attacks. I'm not surprised the Illusive Man lied. I'm surprised I took his word for it. I'll not be making that mistake again.

I still cannot quite comprehend the fact that Ash was so nearly lost, so narrowly spared from the ruthless alien hands that would have snatched her away. I cannot bring myself to believe that any conscious Will would have chosen to spare one specifically when so many others of equal value in His eyes were taken.

This has to end. I'll see it done.

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12 Fighter, Mage, and Rogue

--> I’ve recruited three more individuals, each of whom is easily worth a full team by themselves. A genetically-synthesized “perfect” Krogan, Grunt, brutal and deadly. A biotic of extraordinary power, Jack, rumoured to be the mightiest Human biotic alive, and a master thief of unparalleled ability, Kasumi Goto.

The Krogan we had sought out was not Grunt. The scientist who fabricated him, the Warlord Okeer, was one of the only Krogan scientists worthy of note in the galaxy. Furthermore, as one of the few Krogan Warlords to survive the Krogan rebellions, he possessed a millennium of combat experience. But most interesting of all, Cerberus caught wind of him dealing with the Collectors, presumably trading something for technology to help him create a cure for the Genophage. Beyond that, we knew only that he was conducting research at a Blue Suns salvage yard.

But we’d been wrong in our assumptions. Okeer didn’t want to cure the Genopage, he instead sought to create the perfect Krogan, to “inflict upon the Genophage the greatest insult an enemy can suffer: to be ignored.” He had bought technology from the Collectors, and he had paid them in Krogan. He grew thousands of Krogan in vats, selling some to the Collectors, but handing most of them over to the resident Blue Suns commander, Jedor, for use as shock troopers. Okeer didn’t care a whit for the lives of thousands of his kind, no guilt at all for having handed them over to the Collectors, or that Jedor had been unable to control the Krogan given her, and so used them for her troops’ target practice. The only thing Okeer cared about, what he sacrificed his own life for, was his final masterpiece, a single, perfect, Krogan.

We left the research base with no new intel on the Collectors, only the tank holding the Krogan specimen that Okeer had sacrificed thousands of lives, including his own, for. Such wanton waste. This Krogan, Grunt, could be superhuman and not justify the thoroughly amoral means to his making.

When I awoke Grunt from his tank I gave him promise of worthy enemies, and thus have won his temporary loyalty. He will fight for us, for now. Out of all that waste, at least a little benefit will be gained. Let this brutal and battle-hungry great beast of a Krogan vent his potent rage against the Collectors. I take grim pleasure anticipating the carnage he will inflict upon them.

> Jack was being held in stasis aboard the independent prison ship Purgatory. Imagine my disgust to learn that Cerberus was buying her from the Purgatory’s captain, a Turian named Kuril. It seems this procedure of selling useful prisoners is (or I should say was) standard practice on the Purgatory. I agreed to collect Jack, but planned to make it quite clear to her that, once aboard the Normandy, she was free to go if she wished. I’m not about to become a slave trader. But compelling Jack’s compliance would have been impossible anyway. Had she proved intractable, nothing short of a lethal shot would have prevented her from killing us all.

There is no honour among thieves. Kuril betrayed us, and tried to take me and team prisoner. It seems someone had offered him a pretty price for me; I should be very interested to know whom.

When we commandeered the cell block controls for Jack’s level and pulled her out of stasis, she tore through three heavy mechs in her initial charge alone. We pursued her to the docking bay, finding a trail of chaos and mayhem in our way. It seems we accidentally opened all the cells, not just Jack’s. Inmates and guards were killing each other all over the place, both parties were trying to kill us, and anyone, prisoner or guard, who was unfortunate enough to be in Jack’s path didn’t live to tell about it.

From what we saw in that ship, the way the serial killers were abused by their keepers, I have a hard time feeling pity for any aboard the Purgatory. I heard reports of official government forces moved in afterward to restore order. There can’t have been much left for them.

When we caught up with Jack in the docking bay, she initially refused to even consider taking passage aboard a Cerberus vessel, then quickly changed her mind and agreed to join us in return for information, everything we had in our Cerberus files. It seems she and Cerberus have a history. I shall be most interested to hear what she finds.

Looking at the trail of wreckage Jack left behind her, I am prepared to say I have never seen more absolute and widespread destruction inflicted by any one individual. There are doubtless Asari, even Alliance, biotics possessed of more skill and finesse; but for sheer strength and raw destructive power, Jack is without match. When the time comes hit the Collectors with as much hell as possible, she will likely prove the most valuable asset we have.

> Kasumi is the best thief in the galaxy, not the most famous. She has no criminal record of any sort. Cerberus would never have found her had she not contacted them. She agreed to assist in the mission to stop the Collectors, but, in return, asked for help with a heist to recover her old partner’s memory implant. It seems he discovered something big, stole something too important, and paid with his life. But the information was locked away in a memory device, or greybox, as Kasumi called it, inaccessible to anyone but her. It was in possession of organized crime lord Donovan Hock.

Having seen Kasumi’s talents in action first hand, she didn’t need my help at all recovering that greybox. It is clear she brought me along more for the purpose of testing my abilities than anything else. As for her own capabilities, her hacking and decryption skills exceed anything I’ve ever seen before, except perhaps for Tali. Kasumi virtually waltzed through seemingly impregnable security without effort. And in combat, she exhibited stunning feats of athletic prowess, obviously utilizing significant physical enhancements.

The greybox contained both the dangerous information, supposedly something that could implicate the Alliance, even start a war, and memories of Kasumi and Keiji’s time together. Keiji’s memory urged Kasumi to destroy the greybox and all the data inside, otherwise she would become a target for those looking for it.

I would greatly like to know the specifics of the potentially volatile information, but as the danger lay in its revelation, not its continued concealment, and to spare Kasumi the temptation to spend the rest of her life reliving her and Keiji’s past, I urged her to do as he said. I am sorry for her loss, but dwelling upon shards will not restore the broken vase. She needs to come to terms with her lover’s death, and move on.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

10 Omega: The Thug, The Professor, and The Vigilante.

--> Talk about too good to be true. The promised ship, SR2, turns out be nothing less than a duplicate Normandy, essentially the same vessel with a few tweaks and Cerberus markings. How on Earth did Cerberus manage to replicate the most advanced warship in the Alliance fleet? The must have left moles behind when they cut ties, or reinfiltrated since. Either way, it certainly doesn’t speak well for Alliance security.

And that’s not all. I’ve now met the Ship’s pilot, none other than Joker. The silly fellow seems not the slightest bit worried about working with Cerberus. Even Dr. Chakwas is aboard, though she insists she is working for me, not Cerberus. Unlike Joker who joined because he was discharged and grounded after the destruction of the SR1, Chakwas deliberately quit and sought out position aboard the SR2 for the chance to aid me in the fight against the Collectors. I am of course, delighted to have them here, but as it stands, they run almost as good a chance as me of being compromised. I haven’t said anything about it to them yet. Not on board the new Normandy.

The ship is the same, but different. Beyond the replacement of Alliance markings with Cerberus logos, the whole ship feels like a flying lab, a sterile science experiment. I miss the old Normandy, my mind free from doubts, more than I can say.

Another surprising revelation is the presence of an AI aboard the Normandy. Enhanced Defence Intelligence, or EDI, as the crew call her, is an experimental advancement in cyberwarfare. Essentially a super hacking and counter-hacking asset, she can in theory shut down or overload the systems of nearby ships, and simultaneously run advanced defence against such attacks on the Normandy. It remains to be seen just how effective such innovative and green tactics turn out. Cerberus has not been entirely foolhardy in creation of such a powerful and dangerous AI. Despite possessing self-awareness and free will, EDI is checked by software shackles. She cannot commandeer the Normandy, nor can she vacate her hardware on deck three. She also cannot divulge Cerberus secrets. I’ve tested that last one.

We’re here to stop the Collectors. We’ll need a team; fighters and at least one scientist, to study the Collectors and develop countermeasures to protect us from the devastating swarms they open their attacks with. Looking over the dossiers, and some brief research of my own, I’ve decided to recruit Mordin Solus, a Salarian scientist and ex-STG operative. He holds a reputation for both scientific brilliance and combat aptitude. He is currently operating a charitable clinic on the asteroid Omega.

Also on Omega is a most promising-sounding individual, a Turian vigilante called Archangel. The man has single-handedly waged a war on the ruthless criminal elements that dominate the region for some time, ambushing their thugs and sabotaging their operations to remarkable effect. It seems he's done considerable damage to the disparate factions, enough that they have stopped killing their each other and are now working together to trap and kill him. One idealist successfully carrying out a solo-war against multiple heavily armed and organized criminal groups sounds like the kind of deadly and principled man I could use.

Another, far less likeable, character on Omega is a merc named Zaeed Massani. I would have passed him up, but Cerberus has apparently already paid him to join the mission. I don't like his reputation of bloodthirsty and indiscriminate killing. But he is supposed to be the most sought-after bounty-hunter in the Galaxy, and I need that kind of skill to fight Collectors. Moreover, if I’m going to be taking along decent and principled people, a selfless doctor and a fearless vigilante, into what may very well be a suicide mission, I might as well take a violent creep. Better his gun follow my orders than someone else’s.

--> I’ve spoken with the closest thing Omega has to a political head, an arrogant Asari crimelord named Aria T’Loak. She holds the balance of power against the other, smaller factions, and as far as crime bosses go, isn't all that bad. She provides about the only order and stability Omega has. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a pain in the proverbial neck. 

 

It seems Dr. Solus is combating a plague that appeared on the massive Omega station two weeks ago. Aria has that district locked down to prevent the disease from spreading. Archangel, she tells me, is in imminent danger. He’s trapped in his hideout with three major mercenary gangs laying siege; Blue Suns, Bloodpack, and Eclipse. They have him cornered, but are having trouble finishing the job. They’ve started hiring anyone with a gun as cannon fodder.

The professor can wait. It sounds like Archangel doesn’t have much time. Aria has washed her hands of the matter. Short-sighted purple-skinned jackass. Archangel omitted her from his attacks, recognizing her representing the only stability on the station I presume, and here she is content to sit on her behind while he gets pinned down and killed. Even from a purely self-serving point of view, one would expect her to realise that Archangel’s continued presence weakens her enemies. And should he be killed, having forced her enemies to unite against him, he has now created what would otherwise have been a most unlikely coalition that may turn and successfully defeat her.

I’ve already sent Massani back to the ship with a beating to think about; I’d found him in the process of stomping an unfortunate Batarian’s face in. When I intervened, the Batarian ran off before I could ascertain the extent of his injuries. A brute like Massani respects only brute strength. And by golly I’ll see to it he behaves himself under my command.

We’re going to infiltrate the Blue Sun’s recruiting list. Once we’re on sight, we can case the situation and determine how to extract Archangel.

--> I could leap and shout for joy. Garrus! That bloody great dear fool had nearly gotten himself killed. As it was, we barely got him out of there alive. It seems the name “Archangel” is what the locals started calling him when he began killing murderous thugs. He had acquired a team of various individuals who also wanted to fight back against the gangs; it seems they all died before we arrived.

In the ensuing fight we joined at Garrus’s hideout, the three gangs laying siege launched everything they had at us. Now most of them are dead, and Garrus is recovering from an explosion. Had his armour not held up, or Chakwas not worked her magic promptly, the rumours of his death now spreading through Omega would be accurate.

Garrus is back on his feet, but the side of his face will stand testament to that battle for the rest of his life. Even with the advantages of modern medigel and cybernetics, he should still be abed for at least a week after what he went through. But no, the stubborn fellow is up and about, poking around the forward battery, and assures me he’s ready for active duty whenever I need him. He never even considered not joining me, didn’t even ask what the mission was or why I was working with Cerberus. He shouldn’t trust me so easily. He doesn’t even have any proof that I am actually me.

I got a message from a woman on Omega, the wife of one of Garrus’s squad. She says Garrus blames himself for what happened to his men, and needs help seeing that it’s not his fault. No wonder Garrus can’t abide to be in bed with nothing to do, nothing to keep his thoughts from ceaselessly naming the men who died under his command. Far better to keep busy, reconfiguring the Normandy’s weapons, charging prematurely back out into danger, anything but inactivity. I’ve had men die under my command. I’ve even had to order their deaths. But to have seen your entire squad get wiped out, tormented by the knowledge that had you done something different they might still be alive...

Garrus isn’t the sort to throw in the towel, but his already reckless nature may have turned into a blatant disregard for his own life. I need him watching my back, but I think he needs me just as much.

--> We've helped Dr. Solus to cure the plague on Omega. He’d already formulated a cure, and only needed our aid to disperse it. Leaving his clinic in the hands of his assistant, the chipper Salarian professor was quite happy to embrace a new challenge. A chatterbox of a deductionist, Dr. Solus is instantly likeable. The sort of chap who provided medical treatment free of charge to the citizens of Omega, and single-handedly whupped the thugs who tried to extort protection money out of him. Cerberus isn't exactly a secret, nor are the Collectors, but Dr. Solus already knew nearly as much as we. He seems positively delighted with the prospect of pitting his scientific skill against the Collectors, and has buckled down with cheery industriousness to the task of developing a countermeasure to the Swarms from the data and samples we collected on Freedom’s Progress.

Funny thing about the Omega Plague. Cross-species viable, airborne propagating, near perfect mortality rate, it affects every species exposed to it: Asari, Salarian, Turian, Batarian, even Krogan. The only species immune were Vorcha and Humans. As Vorcha are already immune to diseases and too primitive to have concocted a biological weapon, everyone on the station assumes the Plague to have been created by Humans. But the Vorcha we fought in our dispersal of the cure bragged about the Collectors making the strong. Dr. Solus also said he suspects the Collectors were responsible for the Plague, that the Vorcha on Omega were tasked with dispersing it to test its effects. Why Humans would be exempt from contamination is still a mystery.

--> Having completed our business in the Sahbarik System, we are now en route to the Citadel. Councillor Anderson has asked that I explain myself and my new affiliation in person, if I am indeed alive as rumoured. This is a significant risk. Going to the Citadel, reporting to Councillor Anderson, is everything short of officially surrendering to the Alliance. It is highly likely Anderson may arrest me, but it’s a chance I have to take. He may not believe a word I say, but I owe it to him to explain my reappearance and actions.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

9 AWOL

--> I'm alive.

I’ve lost two years. By rights, I should have lost all of them. I died. Apparently. The Normandy was investigating the disappearance of three ships. We didn’t find the source. It found us. An unidentified cruiser ambushed the Normandy, ignoring our stealth systems as though they didn’t even exist. Devastating particle beam fire crippled the Normandy in seconds. With engines compromised, weapons disabled, and navigation destroyed, I gave the order to abandon ship.

I was the last on-board. An explosion, one of the last, sent me flying through the ruptured hull out into space. Seconds later, the enemy ship delivered the killing blow, and the Normandy was no more. That’s when I noticed my airline was ruptured. Things blur out shortly afterwards.

I dimly recall waking to a sterile-looking room, an alarm beeping, some anxious words, and a sedative being administered.

It could have been moments or months afterwards that I awoke for a second time. This time I was alone, but a voice over the com was telling me get up and arm myself from a nearby locker. I found the pistol before I properly found my feet: standard-issue Predator; high-calibre, decent RPM, good accuracy. Explosions rocked the place and gunfire could be heard.

Mechs came to kill me. I moved by drilled instinct, my gun hand dropping mechs while my hazed and aching head tried to sort out what was happening, what had happened. I prowled through deserted halls and rooms marked with a strange insignia, thoughts and questions shooting cross my dim consciousness like bullets from the gun I was firing. Where was I? Shouldn't I be dead? Whose facility was this? Had anyone else survived the attack on the Normandy? Who was attacking this facility? Who had attacked the Normandy? Was it affiliated with Batarians? Reapers? How many more ships had been ambushed? Had the strange vessel been caught? Was it an individual threat or one of many? How long had I been out? Where was everyone?

Finally I found another Human, also exchanging fire with the mechs. Enemies in the immediate vicinity disposed of, he identified himself as Jacob Taylor, head of security. He said he knew no more than I about why the security mechs had gone rogue, only that it had to be an inside job.

He told me I’d been more or less, but progressively less, dead for two years. Apparently, I’d just been awakened prematurely. The voice of warning I’d heard over the radio had been Miranda Lawson, senior officer of the station and chief overseer of my revival, Project Lazarus.

The crew of the Normandy had not escaped without casualties. Navigator Pressly and twenty-odd servicemen had died; the rest of the crew, including the combat team, had been recovered by the Alliance. I had been declared killed in action. Jacob hesitated to tell me who he was working for, who had recovered and revived my lifeless body. Project Lazurus, he said, used cutting edge technology and incredible resources to secretly bring me back to life. When he eventually told me that the party responsible was Cerberus, I was not pleased.

Jacob Taylor seems a trustworthy man despite his affiliations. He put himself in jeopardy with both me and his superiors by telling me who he worked for. I’ll reserve judgement of this individual; he may well believe his association worthy, but I have no such delusions about Cerberus. Cerberus had been a top secret Alliance black ops organization. They went rogue during my mission to stop Saren. When the Reaper had been dealt with and invasion averted, I’d turned my attention to Cerberus. They’d been conducting illegal biological research, lured marines into death traps, murdered an Alliance Admiral, and set themselves up as a militant shadow organization of highly suspect motives.

Jacob has promised to take me to his boss, The Illusive Man. That should prove to be a most interesting interview.

Jacob and I found only two other survivors on our way to the shuttles. The first was the station’s chief medical specialist, Wilson. The second was Miranda, waiting at the shuttlebay. She shot Wilson on sight, telling me and an alarmed Jacob that Wilson had been responsible for the attack. It would explain certain oddities in Wilson’s behaviour. Nevertheless, Miranda’s snap judgement call with immediate lethal force upon an erstwhile friend in no way makes me feel safe around her. And not a hint of regret. Jacob asked her “What if you’re wrong, Miranda?” To which she replied “I’m never wrong.” I have little doubt, should Miranda deem it necessary, she’ll put a bullet in the back of my head. If I had any inclinations to let my guard down around Jacob, Miranda will keep me alert.

--> So I’ve met the Head of Cerberus. Only one of him. The Illusive Man was too canny to meet me in person, instead communicating face-to-face via hologram. Smart man. Otherwise, I may have been inclined to lay hands upon his person.

The Illusive Man tells me that Humanity is under attack. The disappearance of the three ships, the attack on the Normandy, was just the beginning. Human colonies in the Terminus Systems have been disappearing, the citizens gone without a trace. The official explanation is that the disappearances are the work of slavers and pirates. Apparently the Alliance is devoting its attention to expanding its influence and control in Citadel Space, now that they have a seat on the Council, and have little time to spare for sporadic disappearances. But tens of thousands of Human colonists vanished without a trace should warrant more action.

I asked the Illusive Man why he spent the price of an army to resurrect one soldier. He says it's because of what I represent, defiance of the Reapers. Apparently he deems it absolutely essential that the symbol of Sovereign’s defeat be seen alive and active.

I’ve agreed to investigate the most recent colony to suffer abduction, Freedom’s Progress. When I’ve conducted my search we will speak again.

A fine fix this is. I’ve been gone two years. Officially, I’m dead. And I’m now connected to Cerberus, essentially a terrorist network. If I immediately report back to my superiors, as is my duty, then best case scenario I’ll be a free man again in another two years. I don’t have time for that. If there’s a threat to Human colonies, especially if there’s suspicion the Reapers are somehow connected, I have to move fast. If the Alliance is too caught up in politics to ensure the safety of frontier worlds, I have no choice but to intervene as best I can before I submit myself to all but guaranteed arrest and delay. For all of its principles and virtues, the Alliance is still a massive bureaucracy, with all the inertia that entails. If they aren’t moving now, by the time they finally get their momentum underway, it may well be too late.

--> We scoured the colony. I’ve seen deserted habitations and locals before, but this was different. There were no signs of evacuation, no indications of violent withdrawal, every empty house looking as though the inhabitants had simply vanished, dropping everything at once and leaving without a trace.

Ghost town indeed. Every empty house, every deserted street, seemed to silently scream of terror. What in Creation could have happened here, I asked myself. No damage to be found anywhere; no blast holes, no bullet marks, not even traces of chemical weapons. This colony didn’t have a proper garrison, but the civilians had been armed. There should have been signs of a fight.

Finally we found someone. But not colonists. Quarians. Tali'Zorah with a team looking for one of their pilgrims, still here somewhere. Working together we found him, hidden and trembling. Veetor was nearly hysterical, jabbering and muttering. Something had clearly frightened him out of his wits. It’s unclear why he alone had been left behind. Perhaps, immediately making himself scarce, his environmental suit had masked his location from scanners. Or maybe the attackers had only been interested in finding and taking Humans, either not scanning for or simply ignoring an out-of-the-way hidden Quarian.

We did get some information out of him. He kept talking about Swarms, bugs that flooded the colony and froze everyone. Then Monsters. He kept jabbering about the Monsters, how they took the colonists away, of how they would be back for him.

However incoherent and frantic he may have been, Veetor had had the blessed presence of mind to scan and record the “Monsters.” The footage was blurry, but the readings confirm that the “Monsters,” human-sized bipeds, are what Jacob and Miranda call “Collectors.”

Apparently Collectors are a race of aliens possessing advanced technology, appearing on the galactic stage only recently, while I was under. They have no official public relations, and appear so infrequently and in distant locations that most people don't believe they exist. Their standard MO is to collect specimens with mutations or genetic anomalies from slavers, paying exorbitant sums for seemingly useless captives, then they vanish whence they came, through the Omega 4 Relay.

The Omega 4 is a Primary Relay of unknown destination. No one has ever mapped its mate because no one other than Collectors has ever passed through it and returned. This suggest the Collectors possess unique knowledge of Relays, or at least this one in particular.

Of significant interest is the Collectors abrupt change of procedure; there is a great deal of difference between select purchasing of dozens of unfortunate souls from slavers, and whole-sale abduction of colonists by the tens of thousands. And only Human colonies. Their previous acquisitions were of all races, but only those individuals with abnormalities. Now it seems any Human will suit their needs, as many as possible, and all other races are forgotten. Why?

Either The Illusive Man is a very bad liar, or he simply doesn’t care to be cautious at this time. He says the data from Veetor “confirms” the Collectors are responsible for the disappearances. He had told me before that we knew nothing. Why do I get the feeling Cerberus may have conducted business with them? If so, it seems the deal went sour. Is the Collectors new focus on exclusively targeting Humans a consequence of the estrangement, or the cause?

The Illusive Man also keeps hinting that the Collectors are working with the Reapers, but won’t say why, only that “the patterns are there, buried in the data.” He cites the Collectors apparent familiarity with Relays, and their possible motive in targeting humans as being revenge for the death of Sovereign. Possible, but that doesn’t explain why they capture the Humans instead of simply destroying them.

I've made my decision. With an immediate emergency before me with the lives of tens of thousands at stake, I have little choice.  I am now doing what I would, and do, call myself mad to even consider. But I have no better option. I’ve agreed to work with Cerberus to stop the Collector threat. The Illusive Man has promised me a ship, and, to my surprise, has offered me a list of dossiers; soldiers, mercs, spies, and scientists for consideration and recruitment. I’d expected he’d insist upon providing me with a detachment of Cerberus soldiers, not offer me a head start on assembling an independent combat team. It seems he wants me out in the field with as much freedom as possible, more than he wants me under his command.

Of course, Jacob and Miranda, along with the crew of the ship, will all be Cerberus officers, and the ship itself will be sure to have failsafes to ensure control, if necessary. Given the circumstances, I’d expect to have something of the same sort installed in me. I’ve just had enough long-term surgical implants put in place, it would be the easiest thing in the world to put a control chip in my brain. I might very well think there probably was one, were it not for the fact that Miranda herself was complaining that The Illusive Man had forbidden her to do just that. She said he was afraid it might alter my personality, shed doubt upon my genuine identity, that me being known to be truly alive and not just an imposter superseded all other considerations. Moreover, I have carefully examined recent events, and every action and decision I’ve made holds up to logical consideration; thus far, I cannot detect in myself any slides of judgement in The Illusive Man’s favour, even my decision to work with Cerberus holds water, however bitter. I have of course, at this time, no conclusive evidence either way about the presence or absence of a control implant of some sort. It could be a simple failsafe primed only to activate in emergency, in which case I’ll have no evidence of its existence until such time as the emergency occurs. 
 

I need allies, people I can trust not affiliated with Cerberus to protect me from myself should the worst occur. This prompts the question of why The Illusive Man would encourage me to find just such people. Then again, he could be confident enough in his own provisions, he feels safe in granting me an illusion of autonomy and safety. 

Damned mess.

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8 Endgame

--> A pox on the fickle and willfully blind fools! The Council have assembled their fleets, not to secure Ilos, but to sit and await the Geth fleet at the Citadel. They dismiss Benzia's information, dismiss Saren's claims, dismiss the Virmire files, dismiss the Conduit, dismiss the Reapers, and dismiss any warnings I can provide. Moreover, citing the possibility of provoking war in the Terminus Systems, they've forbidden even a stealth op to Ilos; the Normandy is in lockdown and I am forbidden to leave the station.

It's as though they are so afraid of the Reapers they will do anything to prevent me proving the realness of the threat, as though they believe allowing action to counter the danger will validate and fulfill its existence. Fools.

Options are limited. Negotiation with the Council is fruitless, leaving me no recourse but to play the renegade. The clock is ticking, and Saren gets closer to Ilos every moment we wait. So close to his final goal he'll be taking no chances, and will almost certainly have the entire Geth Fleet in tow.

There's only one ship fast enough to get there in time, one ship stealthy enough to slip in without catching every shell from every gun on every ship in the Geth fleet, and that ship is the Normandy, locked and secured in docking.

We have two options. Either we disable the lockdown clamps manually, or we break in to C-Sec Control and disengage the lockdown remotely. Both options pose significant difficulties. Tampering with the clamps will alert C-Sec instantly, and they have officers posted almost immediately on site. Disabling the clamps will take a few moments, and the likelihood of a shoot-out before the ship can be freed is high. Brassing out an entry into C-Sec Control would prove eminently easy for a Spectre, but as the lockdown was ordered by a Councilor, revoking the order will result in immediate arrest.

Update. Captain Anderson wants to meet on the Citadel. I don't know what help he can offer us, but the Captain never does anything without reason. Whatever it is he has in mind, it's bound to be something better than a commiseration-and-sympathy-themed pity party while we wait the for the sky to fall on our heads.

--> We're out! I'd been mistaken. It had been hadn't been the Council that gave the order to lock down the Normandy; it was that skunk Udina. Captain Anderson has broken into Udina's office and lifted the lockdown.

Even with Adams pushing the swift and powerful Normandy beyond recommended parameters, it will take a several hours to reach Ilos. Every moment is precious, and the Normandy hurtles through the stars, outstripping their rays as though even she knows how narrow is our margin, the thinness the knife edge of time we walk, the stakes should we fail, and has channelled the will of every grim and desperate member of her crew into a furious dash to Ilos.

For the crew is indeed aware. I considered withholding from them the truth of the matter, letting them believe that this last step of our mission is officially sanctioned and above board, but no: I owe them honesty. Every man and woman aboard knows we have broken orders and stolen the Normandy; and despite being offered the choice to wash their hands and remain aboard the Citadel, they have instead unanimously agreed to stick to the mission, to see this through to the end, no matter what the cost. I am honoured by the trust they put in me even to the point of mutiny. Let the record show that I assume full responsibility for this action.

I can't afford to think about Captain Anderson right now. He might be imprisoned or even dead. He went above and beyond to give us this chance. We will not fail him.

I’ve told the squad to make sure that both they and their gear are ready. I’m going to get what sleep I can. The Citadel has hailed us several times. I’m not picking up the phone.

--> We've reached Ilos, and successfully eluded the Geth fleet in orbit. A large detachment of Geth troops have already landed in the ruins. Joker will have to pull off a drop under impossible conditions to get us in. No reason things should get easy now.

--> Mission complete. We did it. We’ve won. For now. Saren is dead and Sovereign destroyed. It took the combined firepower of the Citadel and Alliance fleets to bring him down.

The Reaper did indeed lead the Geth Armada against the Citadel, and tore through their defences like a bullet. Saren went in through a different way; the Conduit, a Prothean-made Relay built secretly on Ilos linking directly into the heart of the Citadel. Saren and an army of Geth stormed the Citadel from the inside and commandeered the Station, handing control over to Sovereign.

But we were hard on his heels. A few moments later, and Sovereign would have opened the Citadel to Dark Space, and The Reapers, hundreds of them, maybe thousands, would have poured through. We brought with us a gift from Vigil, a failing Prothean VI hidden in the crumbling Prothean ruins on Ilos. While we engaged Saren, Vigil entered the station’s systems, severing Saren’s control and turning the Citadel from our damnation into our salvation. Instead of Reapers from the edge of the Galaxy, the Relays opened to the awaiting Alliance Fleet. Human vessels swept in, saving the floundering and sundered Turian and Asari defences. The assailants driven off and the survivors rallied, all ships turned and unleashed hell upon Sovereign. More ships died in battle against that one Reaper than did against the entire Geth Fleet. Thank God we made it in time.

Anderson not only eluded C-Sec and survived the Geth attack, he saved Udina's life as well. The irate ambassador nurses a bruised jaw, courtesy of the Captain's intrusion to lift the lockdown.

In gratitude for Humanity’s actions, the Council offered us full recognition as a Citadel species, with one of our own holding a place on the Council. For what it’s worth, I’ve put forward my word on behalf of Captain Anderson.

The Normandy Crew and Command have been officially pardoned. I am glad, for there is much work to do. Cerberus and a dozen other lesser threats must be dealt with, and the greater threat, the Reapers, still remains. We've thwarted their immediate plans, but they will not accept defeat. One way or another, they're still coming. When they get here, we need to be ready. I intend to see that they receive a warm welcome.

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7 Noveria

--> I’ve just received an encrypted transmission from Admiral Kahoku. He’s done some digging, and tells me that the party responsible for luring his team into the Thresher Maw ambush was a top secret Alliance black ops division codenamed “Cerberus.” They dropped off the grid a few months ago, severed all ties and disappeared. Kahoku has managed to narrow down the likely locations for one of their bases in the Voyager Cluster. He says their agents are after him.

This sounds bad. I’ve got a lot of issues that demand my attention, a long list of arrests, investigations, and strikes that need carried out. Once I’ve completed my mission to stop Sovereign and save the galaxy, I’ll have much unaddressed work to attend.

--> We've arrived at Noveria. No readily discernible emergency ensuing. There are no Geth in obvious presence, only an unusually heavy corporate security force and cantankerous bureaucrats who resent the intrusion of a law-enforcement officer. I have no doubt, given time and leisure, I could easily find enough corruption to expose to fill my attention almost indefinitely.

Despite the apparent absence of Geth, it seems we have good reason to be here. Benezia, Saren’s second-in-command, Liara’s mother, is here. She left the spaceport for the research labs on Peak 15 a few days ago. No one can tell me what sort of research is being conducted there. All we know at this point is that Benezia brought with her an escort of Asari commandos and a large store of cargo, only identified as “large, heavy, and sealed.”

This will almost certainly get messy. Lady Benezia is highly likely to be Indoctrinated and almost certainly immune to negotiation. Nevertheless, Liara has asked to accompany me in the hope of resolving matters peacefully. Despite the risks, Liara’s presence does indeed constitute our best hope for diplomacy, and whatever happens, she deserves to be present.

There is chill here beyond the honest cold of the mountains, strong enough to cut through even the environmental seal of our suits. The superficially pleasant interior of the facilities here lies clutched in an icy grip of dull suspense. I feel that, if the inhabitants of this place could detect it, they might not remain here long. Something deadly is afoot.

--> Benezia is dead. She was indeed Indoctrinated beyond recovery, but had locked away a portion of her mind, briefly regaining her sanity for a moment when she could do Saren most injury. She gave us what it was she came to Noveria for, what she had just transmitted to Saren: the location of the Mu Relay. It had been in the possession of a most unexpected individual; a Rachni queen.

That is what had been going on on Noveria. Saren had found a derelict ship lost in space from the time of the Rachni wars. In it was a single egg. They’d brought it here to clone and mass produce into a new Rachni army. But the egg was a queen, and when they separated her offspring from her to grow and train, they grew unstable and berserk, eventually breaking free from containment and running rampant through the research base.

Everyone has heard the stories of the Rachni wars, the insectile monsters that nearly overwhelmed the galaxy two thousand years ago, defeated only by the arrival of the all but invincible Krogan. These Rachni we encountered, fighting with the mindless savagery of senseless beasts, proved very hard to kill. They'd slaughtered all but a few scientists and security personnel holed up in one of the labs.

Upon our arrival we destroyed the Rachni soldiers, only to be set upon by Benezia's cohorts, the station's security officers and the Asari commandos. I had no choice but to order my team return fire. I regret deeply that so many died by my hand. The commandos were supported by Geth troops, clearly smuggled in those heave cargo crates. So much for all that heavy security.

When cornered, an initially defiant and intractable Benezia quite suddenly gave way to a different tone; her own self, locked away in the inner recesses of her mind, for one brief moment broke out. Benezia's sanity resurfaced long enough to give us the coordinates for the Relay, and say goodbye to her daughter.

I was about to destroy the Rachni queen, when she spoke through the body of a dead Asari commando. She asked for mercy. Politely. When questioned, she could tell me nothing of the Rachni wars, only of shadows of sorrow passed on by her mother, and of her own sorrow for her own children, the Rachni that I had just destroyed. She said that they had been beyond saving, that she herself would have destroyed them. I asked her what she would do if spared, if she and her kind would attack other races again. She said she would find a hidden place, a planet somewhere far away and unknown to raise her children in peace and isolation, never to attack other races without provocation.

I agreed to release her. She left with a promise to teach her children of my mercy, to return with aid when my need arose.

Both during and after this strange discourse I asked myself; was I making this decision of my own free will, or was my mind affected and bent to the Rachni’s desires? I can with assurance answer a definite no. The Rachni did indeed speak telepathically through the body of the Asari, but my own mind remained clear. Through contact with Prothean Beacons and mind-melding with Shiala and Liara, I have over the last few weeks garnered some experience in knowing when something else is in my mind, of what thoughts belong to me and which to another. It was by my own judgement and nothing else that I chose to spare the Rachni Queen, an individual who, so far as I know, has harmed no one, speaks of standards of beauty, justice, and mercy, and is the sole and last representative of her species. When mercy was humbly asked, I could not in good conscience refuse.

We now have everything we need to find the Conduit. But so does Saren. He will be certainly heading towards Ilos with everything he has to secure the Conduit immediately. We could pursue with the Normandy, but too much could go wrong. One frigate against a fleet of Geth cruisers is slim chance to say the least. The investigative part of this mission is over. What we need now is firepower.

Sending mission report back the Citadel with a request for reinforcements. Time is of the essence. As the old saying goes, get there the fastest with the mostest.

Poor Liara. She unflinchingly stood her ground against the onslaught of monsters and mayhem, bullets and biotics, firing upon not only her own kind but even her own mother. I wish I had left her aboard the Normandy, but what then? I would now be trying to tell her I had killed her mother. Instead she helped me. In the last, as Benezia lay dying, Liara pleaded with her to stay, but Benezia refused aid, and died rather than again succumb to Sovereign’s terrible will.

We are facing the threat of Destruction of this entire galaxy if Saren finds the Conduit and brings back the Reapers, and here I am distracted by the sorrow and pain of one individual. That’s what’s at stake here, this is what will happen to everyone on every world if Saren isn’t stopped. We can’t fail.

Message from the Council. They’re amassing fleets and I have orders to return immediately. Finally the action we need. Let’s rendezvous and take Sovereign down!

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