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…"

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

47 The Fall of Thessia

--> A priority message from the Citadel. The Asari Councillor has asked to meet me in private, saying she has information too sensitive for transmission, even over an encrypted channel.

The Asari have thus far been spared the horrors of a direct invasion, but Reapers are amassing on their borders with the obvious intent of a full-scale assault. There's no question about whether the Asari can repel the enemy. The only question is how long can they withstand the onslaught before their defences buckle. The Asari have some of the deadliest commandos in existence, and their ships are possibly the most advanced of any fleet in the galaxy, but neither their nature nor their military structure are suited to drawn-out fights of grinding attrition.

While the Asari did indeed send scientists to assist in the construction of the Crucible, and promised us their fleets to defend it when launched, they have volunteered surprisingly little in the way of professional advice in the field where their expertise is unparalleled, that being the knowledge of Prothean history and technology. This secretive transmission from the Asari Councilor could mean that their reticence is at last shaken. Pity it took the prospect of imminent destruction.

We’ve nearly completed the Crucible, and lack only the Catalyst. If the Asari know something, we need it now. Our fleets won’t last forever. Garrus tells me he just advised the Primarch to cease all offensive operations, to preserve Turian fleets for the deployment of the Crucible. If we hope to win this war, it needs to be done sooner rather than later.

Citadel in sight. Shore leave denied. Whatever the Asari Councillor has to say, I don't want any delay in acting on it. Things are coming to a head, the dice are all in the air. We can't afford any mistakes.

--> The Asari have an artefact long hidden on their planet, known only to a few scientists and high-ranking government officials. It’s been a source of information for Asari advancements for centuries. With luck, it can provide us with a lead on the Crucible.

The Asari have many virtues, but at a time such as this, I would they were endowed with a nature less meditative and more spontaneous. This could be the key to everything, and they’ve kept silent about it until the Reapers are breathing down their necks. We need to move fast.

I've ordered the ship to Thessia, flank speed. The invasion of Thessia could begin at any moment. Pray we arrive there before the Reapers do.

--> Thessia is under attack. Their defence fleet is still engaging, but it won’t last for long. Reaper forces have already breached orbital defences and touched down on multiple points, their heaviest concentration being the Asari capital. That's the location of our artefact, in the Asari temple of Athame. Asari forces hold the position for now, but their casualties are mounting. I’ve ordered the Normandy to run what interference it can for the Asari fleet. Deploying in the shuttle.

--> We failed. We lost. The data is gone. Asari defences, weakened by Reaper attack, had nothing left to respond with when gunships attacked the temple; Cerberus forces led by Kai Leng had slipped through the crumbling perimeter. My team pinned down by heavy fire, Leng took the contents of the artefact, a Prothean VI, and left.

We were so close to the key; we had it in our grasp, and it is snatched away. I stood helplessly watching as Lang’s gunship flew away, taking with it our hopes of victory while Reapers crushed the beautiful Asari underfoot. Thessia, the heart of the most advanced and beautiful race in the Galaxy, now a broken flower, crushed under the tread of the unstoppable demons.

Poor Liara is crushed. She nearly came to blows with Javik for scoffing at the defeat of the Asari. Her composure recovered, she's buried herself in her data consoles, helping orchestrate the retreat and provide what evacuations lie within our power to effect. There is little I can do for her, and little she or I can do for her people. Never before, not even at Vancouver, have I felt so keenly the futility of my own puny strength against the awful might of these juggernauts of death.

Cerberus has done it. They’ve achieved the impossible, making themselves a subject of priority exceeding even the Reapers themselves. For months, we’ve fought Cerberus over our shoulder, fending of their attacks while focusing on the Reapers. That changes now. Cerberus stole the knowledge of the Catalyst, and it’s time to take it back. The Illusive Man has given me cause for anger before, but now, he has made me desperate. He might not be glad that he did.

EDI and Specialist Traynor tracked Lang’s shuttle, and charted its projected course through the Thessia Relay. It stops in the Ierra system. Ierra, home to the planet Horizon, the location of a widely-publicized sanctuary for refugees. All transmissions from that area are blocked. I have a bad feeling about this.

There is a definite alteration in the mood of the crew. With the list of allies growing ever stronger, with the Crucible so near completion, I believe all had begun to hope that victory was near, that no more worlds would perish. Or at the least, there had been hope that Thessia, the flower of the milky way, would be spared. Now suppressed hope is replaced by grim countenance and foreboding silence.

If Thessia cannot be protected, it will be avenged. The Reapers will pay for all their sins in due course; but first, Cerberus. When I see the steely glint in Ashley's eyes, the ominous precision with which Garrus readies his weapon, the unusually sinister glower of the last Prothean, and the grave composure of Liara, I see the quiet before the storm.

I almost feel sorry for Cerberus.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

41 Asari Distress

--> Ashley has settled in aboard the Normandy, and despite an involuntary twitch of the gun hand, she refrained from shooting EDI on sight. Even with prior warning that the same cerberus robot which nearly killed her is now occupied by our ship's AI, it was plainly no easy matter for Ashley to abide its presence upon meeting, and I don't foresee the two of them having tea together any time soon. Had I been so foolish as to bring EDI with me to reclaim the Citadel, things would have gone far, far worse.

The Reapers have conquered and occupied a lot of territory, but their alarming rate of expansion is beginning to ebb. Numerous and awingly powerful as they are, even they cannot defend all points at once. The Alliance Navy cannot reclaim lost ground, but we've begun putting severe dents in Reaper occupation forces left to subdue captured worlds. Forced to begin covering their proverbial tails and intermittently back-tracking, the Reapers cannot sustain their hitherto headlong rate of expansion. Instead of wasting our forces in futile defence against overwhelming odds, Hackett has preserved our fleets at the cost of ground, focusing on counter-attacks whenever and wherever the Reapers leave themselves vulnerable.

The inevitable long-term result of this conflict is still a foregone conclusion, but their advance is in abatement. We can hold them for a long time yet.

Liara has informed me of an Asari distress call in the Nimbus Cluster. Asari High Command sent in commandos. Those soldiers have failed to report back.

They aren’t the hardiest race the Galaxy, but Asari commandos, lithe and powerful biotics, some with centuries of experience, are among the most cunning and lethal hunters in the Galaxy. If a team of them were somehow outmatched, the danger must be great indeed. Liara tells me that out of all the threats Asari face at this time, they’ve asked for my aid in this matter. They haven't said why, only giving us the coordinates for a habitation on the planet Lesuss.

This sounds important. Especially as there is no intel available; both the planet the commandos were sent to and their mission there are conspicuously lacking in details. An Asari colony in the Mesana System, Lesuss has no disclosed population or industry, its environment is barely habitable; dark, barren, inhospitable, and cold. A grim place.

Setting course for Lesuss.

--> O horrors. I’ve seen many grim things in the course of my service, the Reapers have been cause of all the worst. But for all the atrocities and twisted abominations that I’ve seen, what we found on Lesuss chills me to the bone.

We found the outer grounds of the monastery vacant, filled only with the bleak light of a cold and distant sun, dominated overall by an absolute silence. The pale and cheerless light of the grounds left behind for the pitch-dark halls of the interior, our torches almost seemed weaker than they ought: the clinging darkness receded grudgingly before our advance, only to close in again behind us like some grim curtain that crept and closed round our small circle of light. And over all hung the same constant of deathly silence.

We searched through that place, room after room revealing no living thing; neither friend nor foe was to be found in all the upper levels. And so we searched deeper, creeping further and further down into the depths of that lifeless edifice, hands gripping weapons and trigger-fingers twitching at the sound of our own footsteps, we strained to penetrate what seemed an iron curtain of almost tangible dread surrounded by a mute and hollow blackness. I swear I could hear the sound of Ashley's heartbeat behind me; Liara's sharp intake of breath at the clatter of something brushed off a table as we passed, Garrus' rasping hiss of anticipation at the turn of a corner, seemed loud and dangerous.

The noises came slowly at first. Faint whispers. Our own movements had become so loud in our ears as we slipped through those still and noiseless halls, with no living thing to be found, our hearing was keyed to the highest pitch. We stopped stock still, trying to tell from whence the whispers came. Had there ever been such a thing as a mouse in some hidden corner of that place, the noise that broke suddenly upon our ears like a knife in the dark would have struck it dead with fear: for the whispers of menace that seemed first near then far were suddenly consummated by such a scream as no natural thing can make.

A banshee had found us.

The Reapers have harvested and warped many races; Human, Batarian, Rachni, Prothean, Turian, even fusing Turian and Krogan together into one powerful monstrosity. Hitherto, the Asari have had but little contact with the Reapers, and none have been turned. That changed on Lesuss. The beautiful and serene Asari were being taken and changed.

The results of the Reapers’ diabolical machinations are always gruesome and horrifying, an unliving blasphemy against the life and beauty of the original. But the Asari; the difference was even more acute. Nothing could be further from those fair, gentle blue nymphs than the menacing aberrations they were transformed into. Dark, towering mockeries of feminine form, those monsters emit a shriek that curdles the blood: it is as though the all-consuming hatred of the Reapers were mingled with the voice of a woman’s last cry in all-surpassing fear and pain.

They are very hard to kill.

Lesuss was home to an Ardat Yakshi monastery. Unlike Morinth who chose to indulge her mortal appetite and feed upon the minds of an endless sequence of lovers, these Ardat Yakshi chose to live a life of seclusion. Born with defects beyond their will or control, they made the only choice they could in remaining there on Lesuss, a lonely and celibate company of mutual isolation living out the many long years of their Asari lifespan on this cold and lonesome rock, a place where even the sun at its height fails to warm the stone or lighten the sky.

Samara was there. We found her fighting the Reapers in the depths of the monastery. Of her three daughters, one she has killed for murder, with my help: Morinth was the reason why Samara had become a Justicar, and now she had returned here to save her two remaining daughters.

Three daughters, all of them Ardat Yakshi. It is no great wonder that Samara chose to bind herself to a code of absolute justice, or that her mate, an Asari whose name I never learned, ended her own life.

But only one of Samara’s daughters could be saved. Falere, who tried so hard to save her sister Rila, is the only survivor from that grim harvest of Lesuss. Rila, too far gone to be saved, regained control of her own will long enough to detonate the bomb that the now dead commandos had brought with them. She died in cleansing inferno amidst those that sought to claim her. The reapers thralls were purged from Lesuss. Rila’s bravery is to be commended.

It is uncertain what Samara’s original intentions had been when she came to the monastery; perhaps even she herself did not know. But Rila’s strength and resolve even as the shades of blackness were falling across her eyes rendered once more firm in Samara’s mind the duty of the Justicar code. It forbids any Ardat Yakshi to live outside of a monastery, on pain of death. In what she saw as her only way to avoid breaking her code, Samara drew her weapon, and nearly took her own life rather than kill her last daughter. With my intervention, and Falere’s voluntary promise to abide in the ruins of the monastery rather than leave, Samara was spared from her own adherence to a code that brooked no compromise.

It will be difficult for Falere to survive here in this barren and desolate landscape, but she may well outlive the rest of us. With the monastery and all who were within destroyed, this out-of the-way planet no longer holds anything of value to the Reapers. Were we to fail, it is possible Falere would eke out a meagre existence on this rock, and in the end die a natural death here on Lesuss, long after the rest of the Galaxy had been consumed.

The Normandy has provided Falere with enough supplies to last for some months, long enough to for the war to be decided, one way or another. Clean-up for whichever side wins could take decades even centuries, but within a few months we will have completed and deployed the Crucible, and determined the fate of the Galaxy.

We're all soldiers. Even Liara, sweet and harmless though she may seem, is battle-hardened; there's not a soul aboard this ship that hasn't seen Reapers and their abominations before, but even they seemed shaken by what we found on Lesuss. We'd all known, sooner or later, Asari too would be seized by the Reapers. That knowledge fails to mitigate the horror we witnessed. Even the snide and arrogant Javik was quiet after seeing what the Reapers had wrought upon the fair Asari. The monastery isn't all. There'll be more of them.

Should Samara survive the war, she will return to her daughter. Sentiment; sweet it may be in peace, but in war its bitterness arises at the loss of those that are loved. So much death. Those two are the sole survivors of a family fraught with pain and loss. Most women would not bear it with strength as they do. Perhaps in times like these, even the weak are granted strength beyond their nature.

May that strength that comes from above be with us all.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

38 The Battle of the Shroud

--> A Reaper has landed on Tuchanka.

Thankfully it’s one of the smaller destroyer-class monsters, not a Sovereign-class megalith. Nonetheless, a sentient and deadly-cunning hunk of metal one hundred sixty metres tall is a matter of grave concern. Not to mention the army of Husks, Marauders, Cannibals, and Brutes clustering around its feet that have commandeered the Shroud and are using it to disperse poison into the atmosphere of Tuchanka.

Available resources are limited. Despite the associated stakes, this showdown on Tuchanka is but a backstage skirmish compared to the ensuing battles of the Alliance and Turian fleets against the Reapers.

The Normandy can’t join this fight on account of Cerberus occupying, repairing, and arming an old Krogan planetary defence cannon in range of the airspace over the Shroud. We can’t spare the time to disable the gun, not while the Shroud is actively pumping toxins into the air. Without time to neutralize that cannon, we'll be marching on the Shroud without even the chance to attempt meaningful air superiority.

The presence of the Primarch aboard the Normandy makes it all the more impossible that we expose the ship to the direct view of that heavy gun, to say nothing of the Reaper. One or the other the Normandy might stand some chance against. But against both combined the outcome would be certain defeat.

We need a way to take down that Reaper, but despite the ferocity of the Krogan footsoldiers, they possess little in the way of advanced military hardware, certainly nothing to match a mountain of prehistoric alien metal. The best they can bring to bear against the monster is a few detachments of small-scale mobilized artillery, largely outdated.

The most that Palaven can spare us at this time is one fighter squadron, craft too small for the Cerberus gun to threaten. This, with Krogan artillery vehicles, will have to suffice for fighting the Reaper. They may or may not manage to bring it down, but they should at least be able to distract it and draw it away from the Shroud.

Here's the plan. The Krogan artillery will in concert with the Turian fighters engage, and if possible destroy, the Reaper. The bulk of the Krogan infantry, spearheaded by clan Urdnot and their redoubtable chieftain Wrex, will engage the Reaper footsoldiers while I take a small insertion team to the Shroud. Hopefully we can get Mordin and Eve there without exposing them to the attention of the entire Reaper defence force.

It is uncertain if Eve will survive the process. I hope so. She’s proven herself capable of impressive leadership skills in rallying the dubious Krogan. Should both she and Wrex live, they will make an excellent match.

--> The Salarian Dalatrass has just covertly made contact. She says that the STG sabotaged the Shroud years ago to prevent just such an attempt as we are about to make. Mordin will likely detect the malfunction and repair it. Otherwise the cure will be rendered inert, and no one the wiser. She all but told me to murder Mordin, promising me in return full Salarian support.

I’m insulted. To think I’d kill a trusted friend for political leverage. Besides, I would never betray the Krogan like that. Of course there’s a chance the Krogan will start a war. Wars happen. There is no nation, no treaty, no mortal provision of any kind perfect enough to guarantee lasting peace. All such constructs are innately flawed because they are made and held by flawed creatures. History is one long account of disaster and renaissance, treachery and virtue, triumph and defeat, peace and war, civilization constantly pulling itself out of the rubble to rise and fall again in endless struggle against mortal failings. We cannot guarantee the future. All we can do is our best to make peace in our time. This cure for the Genophage, and the leadership of Wrex, constitute the best possible chance for lasting peace between the Krogan and the rest of the Galaxy, and there is no more certain way to guarantee their undying enmity than to betray them now. I will not for fear of war lend my hand to ensure it. The Dalatrass can go to hell. But that’s none of my business.

--> We’re groundside. Turian wing Artimec is inbound to the Reaper. Krogan tanks will rendezvous with them at the Shroud in one hour, infantry moving to engage.

This will be bloody, and it looks like the Krogan are up for it. It's been centuries since the Krogan have fought a proper war, and the soldiers I see before me are chaffing at the bit to spill some Reaper blood. Despite the very real threat posed by this Reaper on Tuchanka, despite the possibility that it could prevent us from successfully curing the Genophage, this fight for the Shroud gives us a perhaps essential opportunity to motivate the Krogan. When asked to go fight alongside Turians, the average Krogan will find but little motivation to risk his neck for his hereditary enemies. But when a new enemy arrives in presumptive arrogance to directly threaten their own homeworld of Tuchanka, every Krogan will immediately reach for his shotgun; and once committed to their own war against the Reapers, deployment to Palaven is a mere extension of that reprisal.

Shroud is in sight, Reaper in the way. The rumble of our tank-treads is matched by the growl of occupants eager to tear and rend. Now let the Krogan do what they do best.

--> The cure is deployed, the Reaper destroyed. The Krogan emerge victorious.

The Krogan soldiers tore through the Reaper thralls like a fire through dry grass. The Krogan may have been largely disarmed by the Turians, but they've not lost that brutal ferocity that earned them the fear of the entire galaxy. Now that Krogan have gained a taste for Reaper blood, they hardly need asking to march against the Reapers on Palaven.

Despite the Krogan's easy victory against the Reaper footsoldiers, the Reaper itself proved a far harder nut to crack: available forces proved insufficient to defeat the monster, and Wrex resorted to the summoning of Kalross, the Mother of All Thresher Maws. It was quite a sight to see, two behemoths, one metal the other flesh, grappling under the fierce Tuchanka sun and laying waste to the terrain around them. The Reaper disappeared underground in the grip of the Thresher Maw, and now appears completely inert to orbital readings. Kalross’ status is unconfirmed. Liara has issued strict warning to the Krogan to avoid approaching the Reaper corpse. The last thing we need now is for the Krogan to become Indoctrinated.

The Shroud was razed to the ground in the ensuing carnage, and Mordin sacrificed his life braving explosions therein to ensure the successful launch of the cure. The Salarian who died to save the Krogan will live as an example of goodwill to strengthen the bonds of peace between the races. 
 

Mordin was a good friend, and comported himself with all the selfless courage that may be expected of the bravest soldier. At the end, he insisted that he could not have done otherwise: “Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.”

And he was likely right. Due in no small part to his caring expertise, Eve survived, and will be rallying the Krogan at home while her husband leads them into battle.
 

Wrex is much pleased, and with good reason; the Krogan united, invaders smited, the Genophage cured, and peace made with the Turians? Not bad for a bloody merc who three years ago had nothing to his name but his armour and a gun. I'd known when I first met him there was more to Wrex than most Krogan, but what he has accomplished surpasses all possible expectation. He's done well by his people, and they've made him proud this day.

Wrex is as good as his word. Now that the Cure is delivered, there will be no more delays, and his soldiers will begin deploying to Palaven immediately. Even better, they’ve revealed massive stockpiles of nuclear weapons, carefully hidden from Turian eyes till now. The Turians will now welcome those weapons as the Krogan bring them to the defence of Palaven. Logistics must be seen to. We'll need troopships and supplies, rations and shipping to get the Krogan to Palaven and keep them sustained once they arrive. Keeping our vicious and voracious friends nourished throughout this war will be no light consideration. Krogan can sustain tremendous injury, but that entails a monstrous appetite.

It remains to be proven how the Krogan will live once the war is over, but with this Cure we have good reason to hope for peace. Friendship is born of shared adversity, and the strongest bonds are those forged in war.

With the Krogan and Turians fighting side by side, we just might live long enough to see that peace.

Even the Reapers have to be worried by that alliance.

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34 The Means of Resistance

--> There’s something not quite right here. A vague doubt has been growing in the back of my mind for several weeks, with precious little time to spare for examination; only now that I turn to address it do I comprehend the astounding weight of its implications.

To the best of our knowledge, a certain pattern has remained an absolute constant in the execution of every Reaper invasion: across all previous cycles, the Reapers commenced their invasion by signalling the Citadel Keepers to open the station, actually a large mass relay, to where the Reapers hid in dark space. The Reapers would then surge through and capture the Citadel, and through it, control of the entire Mass Relay network. All movement, all communication, between star clusters instantly shut down, each star system isolated and vulnerable, each fleet and world a hanging fruit for the Reapers to pluck at their leisure. So it was for the Protheans before us.

But unlike previous cycles, the Protheans successfully laid the groundwork for the survival of the next cycle. A team of Prothean scientists hidden in a top-secret research bunker on the planet Ilos survived the Reaper invasion, suspending themselves in stasis until the centuries-long harvesting of the galaxy was complete, and the Reapers withdrew back to dark space. The surviving scientists, no more than a dozen in number, completed their design on Ilos: a small-scale secondary-class Mass Relay, aimed right into the heart of the Citadel. A one-way trip, they went to the Citadel, and rewrote the Keepers’ reception protocols, rendering Reaper signals meaningless.

When the time for our Reaper invasion came, when Sovereign, the Reaper assigned to hide in the Galaxy and choose the time, signalled the Keepers to open the Citadel, they ignored him. So he sought another way into the Citadel, a Turian Spectre named Saren Arterius. With an army of Geth at his back, Saren boarded the Citadel through the Prothean relay, or Conduit as they called it. A fierce battle ensued in and around the Citadel, with the timely arrival of the Alliance fleets putting an end to the Reaper, driving off his Geth like so many jackals. The Reaper invasion had been thwarted. For a time.

The Reapers were denied their easy one-step trip back into the heart of the Galaxy, but they still had other means. They began the long trek on foot, so to speak, and arrived here after three years of FTL space travel. Their course took them through Batarian space first, but their primary goal was the homeworld of those minuscule insolents responsible for the death of Sovereign: Earth.

The Reapers are an arrogant breed, and resented in the extreme the temerity of primitive and puny Humans successfully thwarting them. But once Earth was taken, why not proceed with their established strategy? Once into the Relay network, they could reach the Citadel in less than twenty-four hours. Why on Earth are they instead crawling through the Galaxy in their gruesome conquest upon our people while still leaving us the means to manoeuvre? They could still seize the Citadel, and through it the Relays. But this time around, they have so far completely ignored the Citadel. It cannot be through idiocy; Reapers are cunning and adaptive, and would never abandon in entirety a tried-and-true strategy because the first step was compromised. It cannot be through hubris; the Reapers are taking losses only because our fleets can still mass, evade, and strike where they choose.

The only possible solution is that something has changed about the Citadel. This change must have occurred after the battle against Sovereign. I know for a fact that the Citadel’s control of the Relay network was in place at the time of that battle: Saren used it to lock out all Relay access to the Citadel to prevent both escape and reinforcement, and I used the same means to open the Relays again for the Alliance Fleet.

So what happened? Is that control blocked somehow? Could it be that, despite their denial, for all of their adamant insistence that Reapers were a myth and Sovereign an isolated threat, the Citadel Council actually did something about it? That they realised their greatest strength, the Citadel’s control of the Relays, was also their greatest weakness, that should any enemy accomplish what Saren so nearly achieved, all resistance across the Galaxy would be crippled and blind? Did the Council uncouple the Citadel from control of the Relays?  If so, then we owe our only means of resistance to the Citadel Council.

I have no conclusive evidence, but this hypothesis matches all of the available data, and explains an otherwise inexplicable mystery.

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32 The Ensuing War

--> Hackett has assigned us rescue of SSV Agincourt. Agincourt went missing behind enemy lines and is presumably damaged and unable to respond: last reported position was Farinata system.

--> Agincourt recovered, ship and crew accounted for and ready for action. Still missing are the SSV Nairobi, and SSV Leipzig, the first in the Ming system, the second in Pamyat. I've offered to take the Normandy in again, and been granted permission.

--> Nairobi and Leipzig recovered. Leipzig was the first Alliance vessel to field test the Normandy's Thanix Cannon. Nairobi completely missed the failed defence of the Sol System. Her captain is eager to amend the record.

--> Finding something as small as a ship in space is painstaking business, especially when that ship is doing its utmost to remain hidden from hostile forces. Weeks have passed, long enough for Ashley to get begin walking again, and still the war summit hasn’t happened. Primarch Victus is patient, but at this point he looks about ready to put his Turian head through a wall, and I don’t blame him. This is no time for posturing and petty politics. Every day that passes more people die. The time for action is now.

At least Normandy has not been idle. Over the past few weeks, we've not only recovered the three Alliance ships assigned, we’ve rescued several other smaller support craft and over a dozen isolated combat teams trapped in hiding behind enemy lines, besides conducting reconnaissance and covert strikes against vulnerable Reaper forces as opportunity permits. 

The Normandy is proving uniquely suited to rescue work: with our superior speed and stealth, we can scout ahead and ensure a safe rout for a ship that didn’t dare show its nose for fear of being spotted. Failing such subtle methods, the Normandy can instead run loudly amok and play decoy, casting aside stealth and depending solely upon her fantastic speed to save herself. Joker seems to positively delight in zipping past Reapers and leading them on a wild goose chase. He’s even started taunting the Reapers at such times, singing at them a gleeful song of own devising: “Old fat reaper chasing after me, Can’t catch S-S-V Normandy. Harbinger, Harbinger, won’t you stop, stop your reaping and look for me.” If it helps him keep his nerve while evading certain death by a margin of a few hundred meters, then let him sing. Besides, I think it really does annoy them.

I asked Liara why she had chosen to operate her network as Shadow Broker from the Normandy when all links were tied in to her ship on Hagalaz. I was surprised when she told me her ship no longer existed. She’d taken what she could store in a shuttle with Feron, evacuated the crew, then rammed the ship into a Cerberus cruiser. The Shadow Broker’s ship had no long-range mobility, so being found by Cerberus had been inevitable. Cerberus was clearly not expecting Liara to so easily part with the vessel. But the loss was a nominal one; Liara still has all of her contacts and resources, and continues to utilize the monumental assets with a deft and caring hand.

--> Ashley has recovered sufficiently to begin physical therapy. The doctors say she’s past the danger of long-term cognitive impairment. Given time, she’ll make a full recovery. Thank goodness. So many people have died already, so many loved ones lost and so many more yet to die, and Ashley survives. This chance, so nearly lost, is more than she or I have the right to ask for. We’ve begun talking. There’s a lot to sort out between us. I begin to see once again the same light in her eyes that shone there before Cerberus.

Alliance intel has tentatively identified Harbinger as one of the Reapers to attack Earth. The exact numbers of the enemy, ranging across the Galaxy, are uncertain, but our most optimistic estimates peg them at about two hundred Sovereign class capital ships, with perhaps two to three times that number of smaller, destroyer class Reapers, with assorted troop transports and processing ships. Of course, their infantry increase proportionately as ours decreases.

When we fought and killed our first Reaper, Sovereign, it took the combined firepower of the entire Arcturus Fleet to bring it down. We’ve upgraded our ships offensive and defensive capabilities since then, due in large part to using tech from the dead Reaper. Now we can overpower a Reaper with far better odds, only four Dreadnoughts being needed to breach its shields. 

 Only four. Ha. Three years ago the Alliance Navy only fielded five Dreadnoughts, and they don’t exactly breed like rabbits. Our improvements have changed the playing field dramatically; instead of a curb stomp battle of a bear vs a hamster, we have a respectable losing proposition akin to a fight between a bear and house cat. The defining principle of Alliance military strategy, “meet strength with weakness and weakness with strength,” is as relevant now as ever, but for the foreseeable future we’ll be exercising the first part more than the second. Whatever that Prothean device is supposed to do, it had better be good.

In the short few weeks since the Reapers hit, we’ve lost Arcturus Station, the Hades Gamma Cluster, and the Sol system. Hackett sacrificed the entire Second Fleet to buy the Third and Fifth time to escape. Anderson and whatever is left of the ground resistance are on their own. Colonies are being lost faster than we can evacuate them. Palaven is still in the balance, but that could change at any time. We need to tip the balance of power in our favour; we need the Krogan. And if the Rachni intend to deliver on their promise, now is the time.

--> Emergency at Grissom Academy. They'd been ordered to evacuate before the Reapers finally send something their way, and their acknowledgement has been received: falsified.

Cerberus involvement is suspected, and the Normandy is en route at full speed. We've not been assigned, but I'll not wait for that: I've sent in the preliminary report, and will sort out the official details afterwards. The last thing I want to hear is that our young officers in training there have been abducted by Cerberus; I know their methods: those students would be better off dead.

As if we didn't have enough trouble on our hands. Damn the Illusive Man.

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28 They're Here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never.

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