by Cole Price
“Why? Because you had a perfectly natural reaction to discovering an atrocity?”
“No.”
“Because you were in a terrible fight and almost got killed?”
“No!”
“Then what is it?” I demanded.
“Because I can’t be to you what Shepard already is!”
I held her gaze, cobalt blue against smoky silver, and said nothing.
“It’s not jealousy. It’s not. I don’t begrudge the love you share with him. I just . . . I envy him.” She looked away, suddenly unable to meet my gaze. “I wish I could be like him. I know why you love him. How could you not? How could you not love such strength, courage, intelligence, areté? I think I’m half in love with him myself.”
I snorted. “That seems to happen around him. He attracts admiration and devotion like few people I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to measure up.” She shook her head, still staring at the floor. “Goddess, I was so unfair to him yesterday.”
“Hmm. Yes, you were. I will grant that taking such a small team down to Thessia was a mistake. But then, I never claimed Shepard was perfect. He makes mistakes, as much as any of us.”
“You were still right to be angry at me. Watching him today . . .”
I smiled ruefully. “He didn’t let Sanctuary stop him, did he?”
“No.”
“He put himself at risk for the sake of the mission, for the sake of his team. He saved your life.”
“Yes.”
“Vara.” I reached over, put two fingers under her chin, pulled her face gently around to me. “Do you think I feel as if I’m his equal?”
She stared at me in silence.
“I never have. Vara, that man has taught me more, has inspired me to do more, than I would have ever believed possible four years ago. I would still be an obscure little archaeologist without him. Possibly dead as well, and who knows where any of us would be now? Shepard is unique. None of us are his match, not if we live to be a thousand.”
“How do you live with that?”
“How do I live with not being the most remarkable individual in the galaxy?” I said, throwing some ironic humor into my voice.
It worked. Despite herself, she snorted in amusement.
“Vara, I’ve failed him more than once. I’ve often thought myself unworthy of him. It never ceases to amaze me that he continues to love me. So I keep moving forward. I help him. I keep myself sharp and alert for him. I love him as much as I am able, and I hope that someday soon, we can all stop fighting this war. Get back to an existence in which we don’t all have to be larger than life, every moment of every day.”
“That simple?”
“There is nothing simple about it, but yes.”
“I’m not sure that will work for me.”
“Why not?” An idea struck me. “Vara, it’s very late and I need to get some rest. I did have a sword jammed through my left lung yesterday, you will recall.”
She shuddered. “How can I forget?”
“I’m going to bed down in my office for the night. Why don’t you go talk to Shepard for an hour or two?”
“Me?” Vara took a deep breath. “No. No, I couldn’t.”
“Why not? I know you’ve never taken the chance to just sit down and converse with him. Go do that. Ask him how he gets through days like this. I assure you, he’s had far worse experiences than Sanctuary. Ask him about Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Ask him about the Battle of Bahak. Get to know him. Let him teach you some of what he has taught me.”
“After what I said to him yesterday?”
“I think you’ll find he has already forgiven you for that. He understands how you feel.” I leaned forward, gave her a chaste kiss on one cheek. “Go. Let him be your friend. There may not be much time left for that.”
She struggled with her feelings for a minute, but then she nodded in agreement. “All right. If you think it will help.”
It did. The next day, while Normandy began the long journey to Anadius, she seemed much better. More like the Vara T’Rathis I had come to know, even if a shadow hovered behind the confidence in her face, visible only in her most unguarded moments.
With Shepard at the helm, Normandy flew toward its rendezvous with the Alliance fleet, and what we hoped would be our final reckoning with Cerberus.
Chapter 51 : Retribution
19 June 2186, Anadius System Space
The Alliance’s Fifth Fleet dropped into normal geometry, a few thousand kilometers from the enormous station where Cerberus laired. Fighters deployed at once and began to engage Cerberus forces. Cruisers and capital ships sought out their counterparts and began to lay down heavy fire.
Admiral Hackett intended to destroy Cerberus as a military force. Our specific mission was different, a matter of infiltration. So for once, despite Shepard’s natural inclinations, Normandy waited in the back of the Alliance formation, and did not hurl herself at once into the hottest part of the engagement.
Seven of us waited in the shuttle, checking our weapons and gear for the last time. Shepard led us as usual, with Ashley and Javik as his heavy fire-team. EDI’s platform and Miranda wore light combat gear, coming along to help break Cerberus security protocols and defenses. Vara and I rounded out the squad. As soon as we won a foothold on Cronos Station, the second shuttle would come in with James, the rest of the Marines, and my other two acolytes, tasked to hold the beachhead and secure our line of escape.
Shepard had three objectives, ranked in a very specific order.
Recover the Prothean data, including anything it could tell us about the Catalyst.
Capture the Illusive Man.
Kill Kai Leng.
All of us agreed in full to the objective set. Especially the third item, lowest on the priority list though it might be.
“Fifth Fleet’s cut through their line,” came Joker’s voice from the bridge. “Cerberus is falling back to regroup. Now’s as good a time as any.”
“Roger that,” said Shepard. “Steve, take us in.”
The shuttle hurled itself away from Normandy, out into the largest space battle I had yet seen. In the harsh light of Anadius, hundreds of ships moved around us, smaller with greater distance, out to where the eye could no longer pick them out. Fighters soared and dove, strafing the enemy, dog-fighting with their opposite numbers. Large ships hammered at their targets with cannon fire. An occasional eye-searing explosion appeared, marking the grave of a starship as its mass-effect core breached.
Up ahead, I could see our destination. A tall, narrow construction hung in deep space, partially silhouetted against the limb of Anadius. It grew with astonishing speed, as Cortez dashed across open space. In the last moments, I glimpsed the fighter bay Shepard had picked out as our target.
Cortez swooped down like a predatory avian on its prey. A flash of blue light, and we were through, the shuttle slamming down on its belly and sliding into the pressurized part of the bay.
The hatch slammed open, and we sprang out into a maelstrom of gunfire.
It reminded me of Menae, our landing in the middle of an army of husks, except that the husks hadn’t carried rifles or fired back.
For the first time in my life, I really appreciated what little military training I had. Hours practicing close-quarters combat, weapons fire, biotics, small-unit tactics. Imprinting the patterns on your subconscious mind, your nerves and muscles, so when the day comes that you don’t have time to think, your body will know what to do anyway.
Crouch behind cover. Emerge, trusting that Vara is at your side, covering your left. A glimpse of white-and-gold armor to the right, singularity on the way, lay down gunfire to discourage the enemy, warp to detonate the singularity, boom, run forward to new cover. That sudden pull at your mind, telling you Shepard has just flash-charged into the middle of an enemy fire-team somewhere off to the left. Don’t fear for him. Don’t fear for yourself. No time for any of that. Fire, control
gesture to hurl telekinetic force, run, fire, take cover when it gets a little too hot, but only to pop up once more the instant your barriers have recovered.
The noise. The constant, terrible, deafening noise.
I tried not to think about the fact that I had less formal combat training than anyone else on our team. Well, aside from EDI, but being a sentient supercomputer had to count for something.
“Atlas, ten o’clock,” came Shepard’s voice over our comm, maddeningly calm.
I peeked out and saw the giant mech, emerging from behind a cloud of dense smoke. I also saw something else, something that made my heart skip a beat
“Phantom, under cover, two o’clock,” I called in. Then I blinked, and she had vanished.
“Understood. You and Vara get the ninja, the rest of us will handle the Atlas.”
Easier said than done, given that I can’t see her now.
Vara crouched beside me, anxiously scanning the field, while a thunderous crescendo of weapons fire and biotics enveloped the mech.
She was over by that console. How fast can a Phantom move?
Guess fast. That way if you’re surprised, you’re more likely to survive.
My head snapped to the right. I saw just a flicker of movement, a distortion in the air.
My biotics surged from nothing to maximum capacity in about a second. I produced, not a finely controlled warp, but a blast of raw telekinetic force that blinded me for a moment and sent debris flying in a great cone.
We heard an oddly mechanical screech. The assassin’s tactical cloak went down for a moment, and she became visible.
Then Vara had her rifle on target, scything the Phantom down with a barrage. I followed suit with my Shuriken, then a more conventional warp that killed the assassin at last.
“What was that, despoina?”
I shook my head. “I’m not quite sure. Maybe I’m learning techniques from Shepard.”
She snorted in amusement. Then she bent down, examining the dead Phantom. When she rose again, she had the assassin’s sword, placing it on an attachment point on her own back.
“What?” she demanded when she saw my quizzical stare. “Why should Cerberus have all the fun of bringing back swordsmanship?”
I shrugged and gave her a tolerant smile.
BOOM. The Atlas mech went up in fire and smoke.
We had the initiative from that point. Shepard continued to advance up the center, and since Vara and I had already moved to the right, we decided to carry out a two-asari flanking movement. Cerberus troopers facing the bulk of our squad found it very disconcerting when we appeared in their rear.
“Eulalalia!” shouted Vara, gracefully flinging one trooper aside with a biotic throw while she snapped another’s neck with a flying high-kick.
I followed, fighting in grim silence.
At least she seems to have gotten over her breakdown after Sanctuary.
Hopefully she won’t realize that these Cerberus soldiers probably began as victims of that place.
Before long I realized that the fighter bay had almost fallen silent. Vara and I reached Shepard in the middle of the empty space, all of us looking around for more foes and finding none.
“That was just a little too easy,” observed Ashley.
“We are still locked in this chamber,” said Javik. “Vermin in a trap. Not yet to be taken seriously.”
“Yeah,” agreed Shepard. “EDI, what is Cerberus up to?”
“One moment. I have access to station communications.” The mech stood absolutely still for a moment, then turned to him with alarm. “Commander, they have initiated something called Achilles Protocol. They intend to vent this hangar bay to space.”
I looked around. Most of us were not in pressure-sealed armor.
“Can you stop it?”
“I need an active console,” said EDI. “Perhaps on the upper level?”
Shepard glanced around, spotted a ladder nearby. “This way.”
We climbed, Shepard in the lead, EDI just behind, the rest of us following as best we could. By the time I reached the top, EDI had already found a console, keying into Cerberus command systems. “Hangar vent systems disabled,” she reported.
“Can you open the hangar?”
“No.” EDI worked for another moment, and then glanced at Shepard. “However, I can access the fighter launch controls.”
Shepard made a truly vicious grin. I didn’t understand at first, but then I opened my mind to his for a moment, catching his surface thoughts.
My eyes went wide with surprise.
“Do it,” he ordered, and EDI complied.
Down below us, a single fighter craft rose on its elevator, and then locked into place, ready for launch.
“Commander, Cerberus is aware that I am in control of hangar systems. Reinforcements are inbound.”
“Good,” said Javik, bringing his rifle to the ready. “Let them come.”
This time the fight seemed less desperate, more orderly, if that word can be applied to anything in warfare. Cerberus forces came at us one squad at a time, down the narrow balcony around the outside of the hanger bay, the close quarters constraining their approach. Shepard assigned us numbers and we advanced by odds-and-evens, each leap forward presaged by a hail of grenades and biotic explosions. A small phalanx of shield-carrying Guardians slowed us down for a few moments, but Shepard, Vara, and I could all telekinetically pry their shields out of their grasp. Without those, they became easy meat for our gunfire.
A few moments, and we reached another useful console. EDI tapped at the controls. I heard a whine of machinery, and saw the fighter craft down on the hangar floor turn full about, pointing itself at the locked bay doors.
“Perfect,” said Shepard with satisfaction. “Let’s get back down there.”
We saw no more resistance as we climbed back down to the hangar floor. All of us took cover as EDI reached a final console.
“Launching fighter,” she announced.
With a roar, the fighter’s engines came up to full power, plasma spilling out toward the hangar opening behind us. Then the clamps let go, and the fighter hurled itself forward. The hangar bay doors put up almost no resistance, folding up like so much tinfoil. The fighter vanished, far inside the guts of the station, leaving behind a trail of wreckage and smashed compartments.
“Impressive,” I murmured.
“The central lab facility is located somewhere behind this hangar,” said EDI. “I suggest we follow the fighter’s path. Organized resistance is less likely.”
“Noted,” said Shepard. “Let’s move.”
We found a few Cerberus troops behind the hangar doors, stunned, some of them injured. They tried to fight us anyway. It didn’t work out for them.
Shepard took one look at the wreckage the fighter had left behind, and vetoed the thought of moving directly in its path. Too many fires and electrical discharges, too many razor-sharp metal edges. We would have taken hours to thread our way through the maze. Instead, we found a corridor that ran parallel to the fighter’s path, apparently leading toward the central labs. EDI got to work on the door lock.
“Incursion team, this is Hackett. Status.”
Shepard answered. “Admiral, we are on track. We’ve secured the hangar bay and are preparing to enter the main body of the station. No serious casualties thus far.”
“Normally I wouldn’t want to jog your elbow, but I’ve just received a rather surprising piece of news, and I want your take on it. Is Dr. T’Soni with you?”
I activated my comm. “Yes, Admiral, I’m here.”
“Good. I won’t waste words. The Citadel is gone.”
I blinked, stared at Shepard for a moment. He wore the same bewildered expression I’m sure I did.
“Admiral, come again?”
“I repeat, the Citadel is gone. Communications from there went silent about twenty minutes ago. Primarch Victus has routed a patrol through Widow space. They’ve just reported the entire station mis
sing. No debris, no survival pods in space, no sign of a fight. Just ten mass relays hanging in a ring in space, and nothing at all at the center.”
“Were there no patrol squadrons on duty?” I asked.
“Apparently not. The last ships got called away to respond to a Reaper surge out of Parnitha system, about two hours ago. We haven’t heard from them. I suspect we have to assume the worst.”
“Sounds as if the Reapers finally decided to attack the Citadel,” said Shepard. “I’ve been wondering why they’ve left the place alone so far.”
I shook my head, thinking hard. “That doesn’t ring true, Shepard. How could the Reapers get to the Citadel without being seen as they moved through the mass relay network? Even if they managed that, the turians would have found some sign of a battle. Not even the Reapers could simply destroy the Citadel, so quickly and without leaving a single trace.”
“They could have moved it,” said Javik.
“Is that even possible?” asked Hackett.
“I cannot be certain. Not even our Unity ever fully understood the Citadel and all of its systems. One thing I do know. During our cycle, we also used the Citadel as a center for galactic government. At that time, it did not orbit that planetless white star you call Widow.”
All of us, except EDI, turned to stare at the Prothean.
When I could find my voice, I demanded, “Javik, why did you never mention this to me?”
“Rrrh. You did not ask, and I did not think it important until now. None of us can move the Citadel. If the Reapers move it once again, after this cycle is over and all of us are dead, what does that matter?”
“There’s a hole in your logic, Javik, big enough to drive a Mako through.” Shepard shook his head. “Never mind. Where was the Citadel during your cycle?”
“Perhaps halfway around the galaxy, in the cluster you call the Pangaea Expanse.”
“Near Ilos!” I nodded in excitement. “That would make sense.”
“I don’t follow,” said Shepard.
“Don’t you think it’s interesting that in our cycle, the Citadel is so centrally located for many of the species making up our civilization? Thessia, Sur’Kesh, Palaven, Tuchanka, even Dekuuna, all on the same side of the galaxy and no more than one jump away through the relay network.”
