“What?”
“Sorry – I thought you said something.”
Nauseous and ridden with vertigo, Shepard orchestrated a rally that refused to sound like anything else but a goodbye with her massed squad mates. Her speech was pressured and unnatural. It was hot…but she was so cold. In her armor – was she still alive? One last push…one more step…
~
War…do I remember anything else? Do I remember the sun on my skin? No matter…I don’t feel any more. I don’t hear, I don’t see. Welcome the shellshock – bring it to me. The Crucible…the Catalyst…nothing else matters. Focus.
Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh…
Destruction under a wash of blue. Heat and smoke cloud my vision…my senses. My skin is torn off, chunks of Earth reign down on me, the trees, all of us. Ears ringing, stumbling…only know to go forward. A silver light on the Citadel. They won’t let me leave…so much pain, so many voices. I don’t understand. There is only one objective – there was only ever one objective. Destroy them.
Why me? Why do I have to be the one to choose? ‘Had to be me. Someone else might’ve got it wrong.’ So be it.
You exist because we allow it. You will end – because we demand it.
Chapter One
/Uplink initiated/
….. ……. ..Prime11a2298-634#recon-salvage operations request consensus ……. …… ..
>>Acknowledged. Welcome.>Negative. Primary objective of munitions salvage overrides increased search area.human designation not yet received>Negative. Denied. Retain original coordinates and mission parameters. Probability of survivors within primary blast zone is 5.678%. Salvage of ammunition deemed of greater importance in Sector 14. With uncertainty of Old Machines current strategy, Allied forces cannot proceed with formation of contingency plans until sufficient resources have been pooled. >Negative. Denied. Consensus determines that…….>Salvage of ammunition and supplies in excess of mission parameters confirmed. Booting secondary objective. Scanning… … … deep thermal scan initiated. Estimated mission time remaining: 1hr 37minutes. Insufficient beam penetration – re-routing remaining runtime to increase potency. Scanning quadrant 4B. Negative. Scanning quadrant 6A. Negative. Scanning quadrant 11C. Negative. Scanning quadrant 3X. Confirmed. Existence of viable organic life detected in quadrant 3X. Investigating.>Shepard-Commander.>Negative.>Estimated expiration in 48 seconds. Commencing emergency intravenous application of epinephrine.>Pulse rate…atypical for species. Ventricular fibrillation. Clear.>Clear.>Shepard-Commander. Ambulation is inadvisable. Please cease movement.>Shepard-Commander – it is inadvisable to recommence higher organic functions at this time. Please cease…>Pulse rate exceeding safe levels…decompensation in progress. Administering sedative.>….. ……. ..Prime11a2298-634………..unable to acc…ess…..esignation…..sh…..return from……blast zone with surviv……require emergen……45 minutes….…>Broadcasting on…alternative frequency. Geth detachment code unavailable……comms down across area. Prime11a2298-634 is requesting emergency access to human Operations Base with survivor from beam locale……unit has subject >Shepard-CommanderFurther elaboration risks subject’s welfare…….estimated expiration…..42 minutes without species-centric emergency triage. Consensus determine expiration of >Shepard-Commander< to be……unacceptable.>….. ……. ..Prime11a2298-634 would advise against further delay….subject >Shepard-Commander< will expire in…35…inutes>Shepard-Commander. Prime11a2298-634 requires the Prothean dataset from Dr. T’Soni.>Prime11a2298-634 requires the dataset….>Consensus determines that assimilation of data by Prime11a2298-634 carries a 50.642% probability of decryption succeeding. Geth carry additional software which could possibly aid in deciphering the Prothean communication…..>Affirmative.>Dataset requiring additional runtime and memory…re-routing localized power.> Prime11a2298-634 has completed the requested process. Decryption complete.>Subject Ishnavaya carried by Prothean researchers from Ilos to the Citadel before complete extermination of Prothean civilization. Primary purpose of Prothean research base on Ilos was to construct the Ishnavaya program and transport it to the Citadel in order for future cycles to discover, hopefully in conjunction with a successful construct of the Crucible. Prothean researchers assigned the Ishnavaya program the pseudonym ‘Catalyst’.>Protheans were unable to pool sufficient resources to complete a build of the device known as the Crucible. They transported the Ishnavaya dataset to the Citadel with the last of their kind to await the next cycle. Subject Ishnavaya is…a virus.”
~
Nothing was static anymore. The camp erupted with the sound of a thousand whispered conversations, theories. Hackett’s video link was nothing more than a constant stream of bodies moving in and out of its viewpoint flailing datapads and reams of paper between them. Anderson sat with his broken limbs, the old soldier slowly absorbing everything that was unfolding.
The geth prime’s dissemination of the data from Vigil had cast ripples throughout the camp and beyond. It had complied with Hackett’s immediate request to transmit the decrypted files to Fifth Fleet and the FOB’s mainframe, and now stood to the side, silent. The dawning day had brought a heavy dew, and the damp combined with exhaustion had forced many of the gathered troops to retire for some much-needed sleep. It was as if the existence of a hope – albeit a vague one – gave them the security they needed to admit their own weariness. Throughout the following morning, personnel came and went as they found rest wherever they could. For some, however, the renewed feeling of hope had brought nothing but the incessant need to drive forward.
Shepard watched as EDI booted the decrypted filed from the prime onto the overhead holographic display. An intricate web of Prothean data appeared, and the AI shook her head in wry surety.
“It is the most audacious piece of programming language that I have ever seen, Shepard.”
Hackett had reinstated his watch over them after forty minutes of shut-eye, his salarian comrade still hovering in the wings of the video projection.
“So what do we have here, Shepard? We need some way of knowing what this all means before we can continue forming plans…”
Shepard, EDI, Joker, and rest of the Normandy crew still remained huddled at the forward table. Further out from them, a core of dedicated individuals had formed – faces old and new from their pasts. Whereas before there had been a myriad of hushed and distant conversations – now there was only concentration. Focus. EDI manipulated the decoded data at lightning speed, her visor glittering with the river of data it streamed.
“Admiral Hackett, sir – this is incredible. It is as if the last twenty years of Prothean civilization had been dedicated to nothing but the formation of this virus. It would take our top researchers decades to even begin the framework of something so complicated.”
She pointed out several key pieces of code within the larger pattern on the display,
“This virus has been ‘written’…if you can call it that…to exploit the Reapers’ mass effect fields. Exploit them in a way that we never thought possible. It will enter the Reapers’ mainframes through a faster-than-light transfer provided by a burst stream much like the manipulation of energy when a mass relay is used. It will literally saturate them with dark matter, and the resulting disruption of the fields would prove…catastrophic. The Reapers would literally tear themselves apart.”
Shepard shook her head as she absorbed the unraveling information, her pulse quickening.
“And the transmitting device?”
She had a feeling, as the words left her mouth, that it was a question to which she – and the extended group around her – already knew the answer. The hyperactive salarian scientist aboard Fifth Fleet broke the silence.
“The Crucible.”
Eyes scanned data, arms folded, some started pacing with the urgent need to do something.
“Are we sure about this?” Hackett asked of his colleague. The salari
an scientist was one of the top lead researchers of the Crucible project. He nodded as he stood with hands meshed in deep thoughts.
“We’re entirelysure, sir yes. Resonance testing on the Crucible at early stages of development showed an extraordinary capacity for reflection and transmission through dark matter acceleration. Given the complexity of the Prothean Defiance virus, it is entirely probable that it has been designed to be transmitted across space. The Crucible is – in effect – a massive antenna.”
James snorted, the first input he had had in more than a day of painful waiting and listening.
“So…..what? We’ve built ourselves a giant fucking radio?!”
The Fifth Fleet scientist regarded James with an expression somewhere between insignificance and contempt.
“If you wish to use such crude analogies – yes.”
Shepard had risen to her feet, and now regarded the display of the Defiance virus with detached coolness. Her mind – although reeling from lack of sleep and the horrors of war – was beginning its organizational processes. She spoke directly to the salarian on Hackett’s vid-com as he looked on.
“This is it, isn’t it? This is the missing piece of data that will take us from blind optimism to planned execution.”
He nodded in quick confirmation as Shepard continued, picking up pace.
“The arms remain closed. We know we have to bring the Crucible to dock with the Citadel. Now we know why. Where would the virus be? And what would it be contained on?”
Hackett scratched his temples, frowning deeply. Liara was wracking her brains through all of the accumulated knowledge of the Protheans she held in her, but the answer came from a newcomer.
“A memory shard.”
The last surviving Prothean approached the Normandy crew’s forward table with the deliberate steps of one whose footfalls had first been heard 50,000 years ago. As he approached, Shepard regarded Javik with a respectful silence. Liara rose from her seat.
“Javik…how…how are you?”
The Prothean settled all four eyes on Liara, his expression ever cool and detached.
“I am…….better, asari. No thanks to your ‘joining’.”
Liara shrunk away from him, crestfallen. Javik stopped at the head of the table, it appeared he had been watching the proceedings for some time.
“My people did not rely on the storing of ‘data’ as you do in these primitive times. We instead utilized memory shards as a means of imprinting the fabric of our conscience onto a physical device.”
He turned to Shepard abruptly, his yellow eyes piercing in the daylight.
“I believe that is the answer to your question, commander?”
She nodded gratefully.
“Yes, it does. Thank you Javik.”
The Prothean did not acknowledge her thanks. Turning away, he left the gathering, his contribution made. Shepard continued unabated.
“Alright. We know what. We know the Ilos researchers took it onto the Citadel Where?”
The group was silent once more as minds worked in unison – memories stretching back into history and shared experiences. Shepard imagined the last, desperate journey the Prothean researchers had made to the grotesquely transformed Citadel in their times. Had the arms been closed then, also? Had they faced death by the hands of swarms of Reapers forces once inside?.....
“Well, I do know that our arrival through the conduit on Ilos to the Citadel wasn’t exactly….smooth.”
Garrus recalled. He had been with Shepard all those years ago, had accompanied her to Ilos, where they had used the conduit to transport themselves onto the massive station. His words stirred Shepard’s memory.
“No, it wasn’t. We damn near ended our mission by flipping the Mako into one of the Presidium’s lakes.”
Garrus nodded slowly, his intense gaze holding hers.
“I doubt, Shepard, that the Protheans found their arrival much better.”
She was lost in the memories of the day Sovereign had attacked the Citadel.
“The conduit…the Presidium…” She murmured quietly.
Liara’s soft voice added, “That would be most probable, Shepard. The researchers had brilliant minds. They were more than likely able to extrapolate that another species in a future cycle may utilize the conduit in the same manner. There’s a reason it is located in the Presidium – it’s the proverbial heart of the Citadel.”
The asari looked into the distance, after Javik.
“It is possible that Javik may prove vital in locating the memory shard with the virus, Shepard. He is the last surviving Prothean – the last member of a race that used memories as a way to store their history. He may be able to narrow our search for it…once we get there.”
This last gave rise to a thunderous laugh from Wrex, who had drawn closer to Shepard’s table.
“Hah! Once we get there? The arms are still closed…”
Shepard regarded the schematic of the Citadel with grim resignation. The arms remained sealed shut, Reapers clustered around it like hive workers.
Hackett’s voice was tired, monotone. “The last piece of the puzzle, Shepard. And it’s gonna be the most stubborn, too…”
~
Shepard’s ears picked up on the whispers and downtrodden exclamations of those gathered around them.
‘It can’t be done, how are we supposed to do that?, there’s no way.’
Casting a sharp look out at them, she was relived to see it was mostly the soldiers she didn’t recognize. Her voice came out tainted with ice as she prowled the perimeter of the groups gathered close to her.
“The matter isn’t open for debate. I don’t care about the odds we face, I don’t care about the number of Reapers between us and the Citadel, and I sure as hell don’t care about being careful. The time for all that has passed. Not one person will stand here and tell me it can’t be done. We have to get onto the Citadel. How do we do that?”
Nervous hands toyed with datapads and schematics as Shepard’s statement-question echoed in their heads. A grey shroud of water vapor had slid between the sun and them – toning down the color of armors and skins and weapons. She clenched and unclenched her jaw as a ringing started in her ears. Jack cleared her throat lazily as she draped her body across a chair.
“None of you will stand up and admit that the only link between us and the Citadel is the harvesting beam. It’s staring us in the face but nobody wants to own up to it…it’s the only way…”
Shepard cast a hard look at Jack, and was about to rebut with harder words when a quiet voice came from amidst a nondescript group of civil soldiers and engineers.
“Eh…well, technically that’s not true.”
Shepard peered into the mass of gray-uniformed soldiers as the average-framed man extricated himself from the throng. Her tone was incredulously happy.
“Bailey?!?”
The displaced Citadel Security Commander shook Shepard’s whole arm warmly as she guided him towards the crew of the Normandy at the front of the clearing. He still limped from the gunshot wound he had suffered at the hands of Cerberus during their attempted coup on the Citadel, but he seemed energetic compared to most present. As he positioned himself at the forward display table, he stopped briefly, and clumsily accepted a stoic salute from Garrus. A former C-Sec officer himself, the turian went about as far back with Bailey as Shepard did. Bailey cleared his throat again,
“I…uh, I’m sorry, Shepard. I wasn’t part of all this until a few hours ago. Since I’m basically off-duty now…”
He gestured up into the sky at the Citadel,
“…I’ve been doing some searching for my family.”
Shepard nodded in sudden, muted understanding.
“How the hell did you get here, Bailey?”
The C-Sec commander sighed, his blue eyes darkening slightly.
“Well – it was rough, I can tell you that. But when it became more than clear to eve
ryone that the Reapers were coming full-throttle for the Citadel, they initiated a mass evacuation of the station. It was something we had planned for, talked through for years…but never attempted. It went…fairly well…I guess. I was on the second-to-last shuttle before the Reapers begun closing the arms.”
He shuddered, then, recalling that last crazed flight from the Citadel.
“For every shuttle that made it through the swarms of Reapers, five didn’t. I saw them…..saw them go down…”
He looked down suddenly, becoming agitated and shuffling his feet in the dirt. Shepard could see the reflectivity of his eyes grow as they moistened. She felt emotion and sorrow welling inside her – sorrow for Bailey’s suffering – and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“It must’ve been absolutely horrifying. I’m…I’m so sorry, Bailey.”
Sniffing thunderously, he looked up with gratitude, nodding.
Yeah…I know Shepard. I know.”
His face creased with a wavering smile. So much lost. So much to fight for. He looked into Shepard’s eyes and saw his own story mirrored a thousand times. But there was something else there – something he hadn’t seen in so long. A brow creased with determination, eyes on fire in their depths with an unstoppable hunger for vengeance.
“Help us. Help us beat them.”
Chapter Five
Half a mug of strong, military coffee inside him, Bailey uploaded yet more data to the holographic display at the forward table. Still sniffing, his pale blue eyes watched as unfamiliar schematics of the Citadel blazed above him. Every single person present had gathered closer – pointing, querying as they saw a map take place. Bailey pointed lasers at the schematics and the image of the Citadel closed its arms. It was now an identical rendition of their predicament. Entering a few more values from his omni-tool, Bailey enlarged the lower-left quadrant of the huge space station, and a small, red thread glowed on the diagram. Shepard craned her neck.
“What…is that?”
Bailey drew a deep breath as more detailed levels of data superimposed themselves onto the display.
“You remember when Saren attacked the Citadel, Shepard? When they closed the arms?”
She nodded quickly.