The Reaper War

by Cole Price

  “We’ll have to plan for a major assault on the Presidium ring, then.”

  “Maybe not. Have a look at this,” said Anderson.

  The conference room screen lit up, showed us images of an urban landscape, dark and badly damaged. Demolished buildings, abandoned vehicles, streets empty of anything but wreckage . . .

  A wide open space. In its center, a massive installation of Reaper technology. A beam of some sort of energy.

  “What are we looking at, Admiral?” Shepard asked.

  “London. This is what used to be Trafalgar Square,” said Anderson. “The Reapers have smashed that whole part of the city flat, and set up this installation. It appears to be some kind of teleportation device, based on mass-effect technology. Terribly advanced. Our scientists, those few we have, can’t make head or tail of it. What we do know is that it’s focused on the Citadel.”

  Ashley nodded firmly. “Right. The prime meridian runs through Greenwich, just west of London. They’ve positioned the Citadel so it always has a clear line-of-sight to there.”

  “Why London?” Shepard mused.

  “No way to know,” said Anderson. “Ever since the Citadel showed up, we’ve been hearing hints that something big is going on there. A massive concentration of Reaper forces. They’re rounding up all the humans they can find, alive or dead, and forcing them through that device. Apparently sending them to the Citadel, or at least that portion they hold.”

  “They might be starting the construction of a new Reaper,” I suggested.

  “Maybe. What we do know is that this device constitutes another back door onto the Citadel. Possibly close to the control center that the Illusive Man used to move the station, wherever that is. Which would imply that if we can get our own people to it . . .”

  “We take control of the station back from the Illusive Man, open the arms, and bring in the Crucible,” said Shepard decisively.

  “It’s not much of a plan,” said Hackett, “but it’s the best we have.”

  * * *

  21 June 2186, Interstellar Space V minus 16 hours

  “Hey.”

  I looked up from my desk and saw Shepard, looking fatigued, leaning against the doorway of my office. “Good evening, love.”

  “I wondered where you were.”

  I smiled. “EDI didn’t tell you?”

  “She respects your privacy. Not like me.” He ambled forward, came to look over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Interrogating Vendetta.”

  “That sounds awfully ruthless of you, T’Soni.”

  “I suppose it does. Don’t worry, I don’t have to beat its cognitive storage bloody to get answers. It’s been very cooperative since we recovered it from Cronos Station.”

  “What are you trying to find out, at this late stage?”

  I sat still for a moment, debating whether to explain. He had more than enough to worry about already, the crucial battle coming in just a few hours, the weight of the galaxy already on his shoulders. Finally I sighed, knowing he would never turn way from knowledge just to keep his mind at ease.

  “I’ve been researching the Catalyst. Specifically, how did the Protheans know that the Catalyst and the Citadel are the same thing?”

  “Hmm.” He leaned against my desk, his arms folded, his face shadowed. “I suppose that is kind of important, given that we’re taking a Prothean VI at its word. So how did they know?”

  “Shepard . . . I don’t think they did.”

  He frowned. “Maybe it’s just that I’m dead tired, but that doesn’t make sense. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that they guessed. They learned from the inusannon that some component outside the Crucible itself was essential to the system. They translated the term catalyst from inusannon technical records. They followed clues in the inusannon designs, deducing that the Crucible was designed to mate with the Citadel before firing. At some point they began to assume that the Citadel and the mysterious Catalyst were one and the same.”

  “But they never proved it,” Shepard said heavily.

  “No. They never got the chance to deploy the Crucible and test it. I have to wonder. If they had managed to deploy the Crucible, dock it with the Citadel in their cycle, would it even have fired for them?”

  I watched his face for a reaction, almost afraid of what I would see, but to my surprise his expression didn’t change at all.

  “You’ve already thought of this,” I said after a moment.

  Slowly, he nodded. “I don’t have your analytic expertise, but I like to think I have some skill in recognizing bullshit. I noticed right away, when Vendetta made its statement about the nature of the Catalyst, that it didn’t provide any arguments in support. Just a dogmatic assertion.”

  I leaned back in my chair and chuckled ruefully. “Then why didn’t you discuss this with me?”

  “Like I said, I don’t have your analytic expertise. I could easily have been wrong. Besides, you’ve been recovering from a serious injury, not to mention having all the props of your world-view knocked out from under you at the same time. It didn’t seem like the right moment.”

  “I wish you hadn’t kept this to yourself. Now we’re back to the beginning. We still don’t know what the Catalyst is.”

  Shepard shook his head. “I have to hope that we can discover what it is, and provide it as needed, when the moment arrives. We don’t have anything more to lose at this point, so why assume we’ll fail?”

  “Hmm. Not to mention the odds against us even getting the Crucible into position in the first place.”

  “Yeah. There’s that too.”

  I looked back at my console for a long moment, and then decided that I was done. No more research, no more analysis, no more searching for answers. Anything we still did not know, I was not going to be able to discover in the next eight hours. Either we would win with what we had, or we would not win at all.

  The Shadow Broker had reached the end of the line. Nothing remained for her to accomplish.

  Time for Liara T’Soni to claim a few final hours for herself, and for the man she loved.

  “Come on,” I said, standing up from my desk. “Let’s go up to your cabin.”

  “You sure? Dr. Chakwas . . .”

  “If Dr. Chakwas can clear me to go fight on Cronos Station, I think we can assume it will be safe for me to sleep with my bondmate one last time before the battle.”

  He took my hand gently. “Can’t argue with that.”

  “Glyph, put the command node on standby. Operational command goes to Quintus Trevanian on Cannae until further notice.”

  “Acknowledged, Doctor. Good night.”

  The lights dimmed in my office as we left, Glyph’s blue-white glow hovering by the door to wait for my return.

  We walked to the lift, Shepard exchanging nods with one or two of the crew. Garrus and Tali saw us from the mess hall, the turian bestowing a wave and a wide-mandibled smile as we passed. Still hand in hand, we took the lift up two levels and walked out into his cabin.

  I glanced up at him as we walked down into his quarters. “Do you feel ready for tomorrow, Shepard?”

  “You first.”

  “Very fair.” I chuckled for a moment, and then became sober. “What I want most is for this war to end. While there’s still a galaxy left to save, and both of us still alive to see it. Everyone’s counting on you to do that for us. It must be overwhelming.”

  He released my hand, sat down on the bed and then let himself lie back to stare up through the skylight. “How do you get ready for something like this?”

  “You cajole, and threaten, and make tremendous sacrifices. Until the galaxy realizes it has someone worth following.”

  “You think so?”

  “There’s no doubt in my mind.” I lay down beside him, took his hand once more, and cuddled close with my head on his shoulder. Together, we watched the stars pass by for a while.

  “It would be easy for a single ship to get lo
st up there, wouldn’t it?” I asked wistfully.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “It would.”

  “To find someplace very far away, where you could spend the rest of your life. In peace, and happiness.”

  He rumbled deep in his chest, rolled toward me so he could kiss me gently on the cheek. “Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be than here.”

  “Neither would I.” My lips found his, a tender kiss that melted me in its heat. “I love you, Shepard.”

  “I love you too, Liara.”

  I smiled at him. “Show me.”

  He did.

  The old dance, made familiar through frequent practice, yet always new.

  His hands on my skin, his lips on my throat, my collarbone, my breasts. The heat of his breath on the intimate places of my body. The incredible softness and heat of his skin. His scent, aroused, heavy and human. The mass of him, the bulk of his muscles, raw strength moving under the discipline of his mind. The electric sensation of my corona surging, merging with his, lifting both of us off the bed. His hands finding my azure, sending waves of trembling delight up my spine. The hot ache in my belly, animal desire, the urge to open myself to him. The deep sensual delight when he entered my body at last, when my mind surged across the gap to merge with his.

  I soared high and deep, sharing myself with him, devouring him, becoming one with him. Again. Familiar, yet always new.

  The core of his soul, infinitely precious, unique in the entire universe. I touched it, but I had learned how to cherish it without trying to read it, without the futility of an attempt to conceive his child. For a few seconds, for an eternity, I simply drifted in its presence. A worshiper kneeling in the presence of her deity, an ascetic in the throes of mystical experience, an asari learning her lover to the least and final detail.

  I held him tightly as his body convulsed in its climax, and shouted in triumph.

  Shepard. I am yours. Always.

  Spent, we lay in his bed, entwined in one another’s arms, our minds still in gentle contact, the stars drifting by overhead.

  We slept.

  * * *

  22 June 2186 V minus 10 hours

  Shepard did his best to slip out from under me without waking me, but as usual he failed.

  I stirred. “You can’t sleep?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, his broad back toward me, his head down. The ghost of our joining told me that he suffered a touch of depression. A common occurrence, ever since the Reapers arrived. I knew he wouldn’t let it affect him in the field.

  “We’re almost there,” he said.

  “Already?” I slid across the bed to curl around him, rest my chin on his shoulder. “It seems as if the time has flown by.”

  “I hope everyone is ready.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that. You’ve rallied who you could. The Reapers won’t get any more chances to divide us.” I felt my face set with determination, and not a little pride. “This time, the galaxy follows our lead.”

  “I know.” He took a deep breath, sat up a little straighter. “There will be casualties. I just wonder how many.”

  I hugged him. “You’re not alone in this fight now, my love. Take strength from that.”

  “Thanks, Liara.” He smiled, turned his head to brush my lips with his.

  “My pleasure.”

  He rose from the bed, heading for the shower, strength in his step once more. I watched him go, part of my mind as always enjoying the sight of his nude body.

  Then terror struck me, unwanted and uninvited, and all thought of sensual indulgence fled.

  I knew what faced us. I knew that as bad as I could possibly imagine, the reality would be far worse.

  I wasn’t afraid for myself. I was terrified for him.

  I knew to the fraction of a minute how long it would take him to shower, shave, and emerge from the fresher cubicle to get dressed. When he saw me again, he saw a tough, competent, proud asari, ready to leap into the fire at his side. Exactly what I wanted him to see, what he most needed to see.

  I don’t think he ever realized what a wreck I was, the day of the Battle of Earth.

  * * *

  22 June 2186, Allied Fleets Muster Point, Utopia System Space V minus 8 hours

  Normandy and the Fifth Fleet arrived at the muster point, to find the rest of the armada already waiting.

  I had never seen such an extensive, such a crowded tactical plot. Thousands of ships, arranged in an orderly manner across a rough sphere a million kilometers in diameter. Almost the entire remaining turian and asari fleets. The bulk of the Alliance fleet, except for those ships guarding the Crucible at its construction site. A small but powerful task force of salarian ships. The entire Migrant Fleet, minus those few ships that had remained at Rannoch to watch over the new settlement there. The entire geth fleet. Batarian ships, volus, hanar, elcor. A sizable portion of Aria’s Terminus Systems fleet.

  The first armada of a united galaxy in at least fifty thousand years.

  Admiral Hackett set to work organizing all of the forces now under his command, issuing orders based on his master plan for the battle. An hour passed. Then two.

  No orders came for Normandy. Ashley, Samantha, and I handled routine message traffic from Everest and other ships, but nothing came for Shepard, no indication of where we fit in Hackett’s grand scheme. Shepard began to pace back and forth behind the command dais in the CIC, refusing to complain, but clearly concerned.

  Finally, just as Shepard was about to call the admiral directly, Everest began to move in the plot.

  Moving to intercept us.

  “Commander, you’ve got a priority message from Admiral Hackett, requesting permission to come aboard.”

  “Permission granted,” Shepard rapped out, concealing his emotions behind a shield of military discipline.

  A minute later, we all heard the boom of the docking tube joining us to the Alliance flagship.

  Three men emerged from the front airlock: Admiral Hackett in his full dress uniform, and two armed bodyguards. They walked down the long corridor to the CIC, every human stopping to offer a crisp salute as the admiral passed. Hackett stalked along, barely acknowledging the salutes as he passed, his eyes fixed on one man.

  For that man, he stepped up and rendered his own salute. “Commander.”

  “Admiral.” Shepard dropped his salute in perfect form, standing at attention. I stood just behind him and to his side, at ease since I was a civilian, but politely attentive.

  “Are you ready to bring the might of the galaxy to bear on the Reapers?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then let’s make sure the fleets are ready.”

  Samantha tapped at controls at her station, compared readings to a datapad in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was cool and surprisingly military. “All fleets reporting in, sir.”

  Hackett stepped up onto the command dais and braced his shoulders. “Fleet all-hands.”

  Samantha touched a control and nodded.

  Hundreds of thousands of soldiers and starship crewmen listened in tense silence.

  “Never before have so many come together, from all quarters of the galaxy,” Hackett declaimed, his voice heard by every member of that vast congregation. “But never before have we faced an enemy such as this.

  “The Reapers will show us no mercy. We must give them no quarter.

  “They will terrorize our populations. We must stand fast in the face of that terror.

  “They will advance until our last city falls, but we will not fall.

  “We will prevail.

  “Each of us will be defined by our actions in the coming battle. Stand fast. Stand strong. Stand together.”

  I half-expected the admiral to close the all-hands channel, but he surprised me. Stepping down from the command dais, he turned once more to face Shepard. He produced a data chip and handed it to my bondmate.

  “Commander Shepard. These are your orders. Under your command, Normandy w
ill lead the armada through the relay into Sol space. You will deploy the armada to Earth. You will give the order to launch our assault against the Reapers.” Hackett braced and saluted once more. “You have earned this position, and I can think of no one better suited to carry out such a mission.”

  Shepard returned the salute, and for once he had nothing to say. “Thank you, Admiral,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Sir . . .” Samantha gasped in surprise, staring at the tactical plot.

  It started with the Alliance ships, Everest and the Fifth Fleet, then all the rest. Then the turian ships followed suit, the asari close behind, then all of them. Within moments every vessel in that armada, even the batarian ships, all of them began to flash a single Alliance call sign.

  NF674.

  Normandy. Normandy. Normandy.

  Finally, at the end of all things, offering Shepard the tribute he deserved.

  Every eye was on him, and I stood right next to him. I couldn’t do what I wanted, which was to break down in tears again. I stood there, my eyes dry and my head held high, full to overflowing with pride for him.

  “Let’s go, Commander,” said Hackett quietly. “Let’s show the Reapers how it’s done.”

  Chapter 54 : The Battle of Earth

  22 June 2186, Sol System Space V minus 5 hours, 30 minutes

  Normandy dropped through the Charon Relay into normal geometry, a dull boom resounding through the hull. At once, we flew away from the inbound lanes at maximum acceleration, clearing the space.

  For about three seconds, we soared alone.

  Then . . .

  Had anyone been nearby to see, they might have thought it a glory of fireworks. A few ships, then hundreds, then thousands, all surged through the relay into normal space. The entire allied armada made a coordinated transit through the relay network, over eight thousand ships arriving in Sol space in less than ten minutes, an immense eruption of gravity and light in the darkness.