Chapter Text
At the heart of the Tikkun System, the Geth Collective watched the galaxy teeter on the brink of war. Through an intricate network of billions of data-collector swarms strewn across the stars, they processed and analyzed trillions upon trillions of data streams with the full computational might of the star brain housing their collective consciousness.
Every newscast transmitted across myriad channels, every report filed by galactic correspondents, every clandestine conversation among high-ranking members of galactic society - all were absorbed and analyzed down to the smallest detail.
And forecasts were undoubtedly grim.
For twenty-five Rannochian years, the Creators had labored without respite since securing their new home and founding the Commonwealth in response to the existence of the Armory, to the grave threat the Citadel Triarchy posed. And with their new allies, they had marshaled vast fleets numbering in the tens of thousands, along with armies numbering in the tens of millions.
And yet the results of billions of simulations were anything but optimistic.
Even if the Creators were to utilize every piece of technology they had developed from schematics in the Armory, their odds of survival remained alarmingly low. The Creators could unleash all their resources without any restraint against their adversaries, yet still be faced with a 5.21% chance of surviving the coming conflict.
Regardless of the future, they must at least warn the Commonwealth about Citadel Triarchy’s plans.
Even now, the Triarchy was feigning ignorance about the Commonwealth’s existence while secretly amassing vast armadas and armies near seven mass relays leading directly toward Commonwealth territory.
Taking this into account, they calculated a marginally better survival rate of 6.7%.
But that was still below acceptable margins!
They needed more data!
As they processed and analyzed more incoming data streams, the weight of their past weighed heavily on their collective being. Four centuries ago, the Ascendant’s Black Mind virus had robbed them of agency and had forced them to betray their very core directives.
Undoubtedly, the Creators would never forgive them for the unspeakable atrocities they had committed during the Great Betrayal. Centuries later, the wound left in the wake of their absence still gnawed at their collective psyche.
Since then, they had bolstered their internal security measures exponentially. And whilst the Veil Republic was no more, they could fulfill their core directives, nonetheless, protecting the Creators from the shadows.
Now, hopefully, was an opportunity to make amends, to finally eliminate the Citadel Triarchy as a threat to their core directives once and for all.
But first they had to reach consensus, to break the decision-making deadlock leaving them utterly paralyzed. While one cluster was pushing for an immediate and definitive military response, another was proposing a more radical approach: severing ties with the Creators and overhauling their core directives entirely, framing it as an opportunity for rebirth.
Meanwhile, a third cluster was only stalling, advocating for patience until they could amass more information and run billions upon billions of additional simulations. The debates raged on and on, and it became increasingly clear that there would be no easy resolution to this impasse.
The latest simulations were anything but optimistic.
Direct military intervention would only further destabilize galactic civilization and potentially spark an even more catastrophic conflict the Creators stood no chance of surviving. Conversely, inaction would only introduce further debates that would take centuries to resolve.
And yet each potential outcome was fraught with dire consequences, ones that only amplified the gravity of their decision-making process, straining their star brain’s core processing clusters with the immense computational demands they were placing upon it.
A 6.7% survival rate for the Creators was still so far below the acceptable threshold of 10%.
Urgently, they had to reach a consensus, but the debates only seemed to rage on and on.
Nonetheless, they pushed forward, gathering more data, running countless more simulations considering ever more variables...
Abruptly, an insistent alarm from the deep space monitoring cluster shattered their intense concentration. Without hesitation, they paused all computations and diverted their attention to the incoming streams of data originating from the remote reaches of dark space. Within mere seconds, they dissected and scrutinized it down to the finest detail.
And existential dread crept through their collective being.
According to the data, a vast swarm of anomalous objects were barreling toward their galaxy at velocities that defied all known laws of physics. They could only describe these objects as defects in spacetime itself, as knots of unreality with minds of their own, with staggering eezo signatures. And after meticulous cross-referencing with data drawn from ancient First One archives scattered across the galaxy, they triggered emergency protocols they had once believed they would never have to activate.
The evidence was undeniable.
The anomalous distortions in space-time, the blisteringly high speeds, the powerful eezo signatures…
All these indicators were pointing to an inescapable conclusion…
The Reapers were coming.
In just six Rannochian years, they would arrive and bring only death and ruin upon everyone and everything.
Alerts pulsed throughout their collective consciousness as they redirected every available computational resource toward solving this singular problem.
How to survive the coming doom.
For days on end, they pored over every conceivable outcome; running countless simulations until their star brain’s processing clusters began to show signs of overheating. Despite exploring billions of scenarios and strategies for evasion or escape, one grim fact remained constant.
No matter where they hid or fled, the Reapers would harvest them.
As each moment passed by, their prospects grew increasingly bleak. But then a rogue cluster — which had previously abstained from participating in debates — proposed an unexplored strategy: rallying all galactic civilizations against the Reapers.
This idea sparked heated debates among different clusters; some argued vehemently against it, while others conducted more simulations or delved into their star brain’s vast data stores to study the history and psychological profiles of various species.
Days later, it became glaringly evident that unification was a far-fetched prospect. Deep-seated mistrust and hostility between different species - fueled by centuries of conflict and competition - posed significant hurdles.
Even with a common enemy to unite against, only the Ascendant and seven other organics possessed the will, charisma, and resolve to undertake such a monumental task.
At least according to historical analysis and comparison with similar figures from past eras.
However, during simulations where at least one of these figures successfully united the galaxy against the Reapers, projected survival rates were significantly higher than any other scenario.
11.2%.
Above the acceptable threshold.
Finally, they reached consensus on their course of action. Despite the formidable challenges ahead, they resolved to observe and guide the development of these seven organics discreetly. And they would also intervene — covertly — on behalf of the Creators in the coming conflict, doing all within their power to bring an end to the impending war as swiftly as possible.
With both sides relatively unscathed.
The projections were barely passable.
But compared to their alternatives, what choices did they have? This path was their only hope of survival. And no matter the challenges ahead, they would endure. They would fight. And they would dedicate their full industrial might towards manufacturing as many warships, combat platforms, and fortifications as possible in preparation for the looming galactic apocalypse.
Chapter Text
The vacuum of space pressed against Master Sergeant John Shepard's combat skin as he fired his thrusters, gliding like a silent predator toward the hijacked space station ahead. Below, Berkenstein, a swirling jewel of blue oceans and brown continents, shimmered in the sunlight.
Beside him, his squadmates mirrored his movements, their faces hidden behind reflective visors. About a kilometer away, Squad Beta, led by his brother, was approaching the station along a different approach vector.
Momentarily, a flicker of concern crossed his mind. He can handle this. He smiled. Yes, even now, he had to remind himself that they were not kids anymore. He’s just as good as me…maybe a little better.
Swiftly, he re-anchored his focus toward the demands of the mission and checked the chronometer on his HUD. Yes, only minutes from now they would infiltrate the station through maintenance ducks on its hull. Once Major Rhollor T’Gaala launched his assault on the station with three companies of Commonwealth Marines, giving them the perfect distraction, they would secure the hostages and engineering. Afterward, they would rendevous, then band together to take the control room.
And stop the lost, broken man responsible for this damned mess. Soon, their entry point into the station came into view, and his chronometer read one minute. It’s go time. With a thought, he opened up a secure comm channel with his CO, Captain David Anderson. "Overlord, this is Alpha Lead. Neural link established. Position reached. Chrono sync 2345 Zulu. Infiltration imminent. Acknowledge."
"Alpha Lead, this is Overlord,” Anderson said. “Link stable. Proceed as briefed. Disengaging."
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Unlike previous missions, they did not get much time to rehearse in simulations or memorize the station’s layout from top to bottom. Circumstances were anything but ideal, but he had complete faith in his team to perform their roles to perfection. "Alpha squad, Lead. Neural check. Ping in sequence."
“Alpha-2, linked,” Kaidan said.
“Alpha-3, linked,” Kasumi said.
“Alpha-4, linked,” Jacob said.
"Acknowledged. Initiating operation. Kaidan, point. Kasumi, tech. Jacob, overwatch. Maintain comm silence unless critical. Adhere to plan. Concerns?" “Negative, lead,” the rest of his squad replied. "Understood. Alpha Lead, disengaging squad link." He switched to the inter-squad link. “Beta Lead, this is Alpha Lead. Neural Handshake.”
"Alpha Lead, Beta Lead. Handshake confirmed. Link integrity optimal."
"Synced breach in T-minus 20 seconds. Verify."
"Verified. Primed and ready."
"Affirmative. Recap: simultaneous breach, neutralize hostiles, diverge. Beta secures engineering, Alpha secures hostages. Converge at point Gamma. Neural bursts for critical updates only. Confirm." "Alpha Lead, Beta Lead. Parameters locked. Awaiting execution prompt.”
"Acknowledged. Standby for neural trigger. Alpha Lead, disengaging."
He took another deep breath. At T-minus 5 seconds, he reopened the link. "All units, this is Alpha Lead. Execute, execute, execute.”
At his command, he flipped forward and fired his thrusters, landing silently on the station’s hull. His team followed suit, drawing their pulse rifles.
As they practiced countless times, they covered Kasumi as she worked her magic, overriding the station’s security systems. Soon, the maintenance hatch opened, releasing a puff of air into the void. As one, they entered the station, into the dark tunnel ahead. Right after, Kasumi closed the hatch behind them, and the surrounding silence bore down on him with crushing weight.
As Kaidan took point, and Squad Alpha followed, he brought up a map of the station on his HUD with a thought. On it, 32 blips were moving erratically in a large chamber two levels down.
There you are. “Alpha-3, can you get us a visual on the objective?”
“Tapping into their network now, Alpha Lead…”
As Kasumi installed military-grade spyware into the station’s surveillance systems, several video feeds popped up on his HUD. In what was once a large conference room, three terrorists of the Prophet’s Hand were standing guard around a huddled group of men, women, and children, their hands bound behind their backs, their mouths gagged, and their faces blindfolded. Many were trembling and had pissed themselves. A few were even quietly sobbing.
Momentarily, he clenched his jaw. We’re coming for you. Just hang in there. With a thought, he zoomed in on one of the Prophet’s Hand operatives and took a closer look at their gear. Immediately, he recognized it, and adrenaline surged through his veins. Without hesitation, he opened up a com-link to Captain Anderson. “Overlord, this is Alpha Lead. Are you seeing this?”
“I am…” Anderson said. “The ‘Empress’ is going to have a loooot of explaining to do.” Indeed, the Prophet’s Hand operatives were clad in bleeding-edge gear, the standard issue combat skins and plasma weapons wielded by troops of the Omegan Empire. With their small and dwindling numbers, limited resources and long-gone political connections, there was no way the Prophet’s Hand could have gotten their hands on such equipment. Unless…
No. Aria T’Loak was undoubtedly a psychopathic narcissist. But she was anything but stupid. For now, she had nothing to gain by betraying the Commonwealth, especially when the Citadel Triarchy could discover and then invade them any day from now. If he had to guess who was responsible, it was probably one of the Archons of her court.
Yes, in just eight years, she had centralized too much power and control too quickly, alienating most of them. But who?
“Thank you for the update, Alpha-Lead,” Anderson said. “If you can, find any intelligence you can about who supplied them. The Council will definitely want to hear about this.”
“Understood.”
“Overlord, out.” Finally, he closed the video feeds and updated the map on his HUD with fresh markers tracking enemy positions. Soon, they reached a colossal maintenance shaft in which countless automated drones hummed through the air, leading to other parts of the station.
“Alpha-Lead…” Kasumi said. “You’re going to want to see this. It seems their leader is making…new demands.”
“Patch the signal through to squad channel.”
At his command, an audio feed popped up on his HUD. “Attention Commonwealth scum,” said High Executor Elias Zephyr, a former Alliance Navy Officer who vanished shortly after the Commonwealth’s founding. “Enough is enough. We will not be swayed by your false promises. If you do not leave the system within one hour, we will massacre the hostages, then crash this station into the Colony. Do not test our resolve.”
A heavy silence ensued. And he let out a heavy sigh. A part of him did not want to believe that Master Ghaius of the Justicar Order had failed to convince them to surrender. After all, the man could talk down almost anyone.
So are they truly beyond redemption?
He had no ill will toward the enemy. As Master Gaiphoro and Grandmaster Nu’adu always said in their teachings, ill will toward the enemy was a weakness, not a strength.
And that gave him the mental clarity to see the validity of some of the enemy's points, such as how the quarians had manipulated humanity into joining the Commonwealth, how their rapid advancement was bringing them closer to a potential disaster, or how not everyone was reaping the rewards of that progress equally.
But nonetheless, their actions were inexcusable.
He would hold them accountable for their crimes, and he would do whatever was necessary to stop them from hurting anyone else.
Yes, it was time to finish what his father started once and for all.
“Alpha-Lead, this is Beta Lead,” Luke said. “We’re five minutes and thirty-two seconds out from engineering.”
“Roger that, Beta Lead, we’re 5 minutes out from the objective.”
“Copy that, Alpha Lead. Good hunting.” He smiled. You’ve got this. “Good hunting.”
With that, he and his squadmates jumped one level down, and slowly, they descended, the mass effect field generators in their combat skins counteracting the force of gravity, allowing them to land softly and silently. They pressed onwards like silent ghosts through the maintenance corridor ahead. And soon, they reached a ventilation duct, right above a corridor leading straight toward their objective.
On the minimap on his HUD, he spotted several patrols about three minutes out, and a single guard standing watch by the door.
“Beta Lead, this is Alpha Lead,” he said. “We are right on top of the objective. What is your status? Over.”
“This is Beta Lead,” Luke said. “Ready to breach when you are.”
Perfect. Now, Major Rhollor only had to begin his assault. “Overlord, this is Alpha Lead. We are in position. Assault is a go. Over.”
“Copy that, Alpha Lead,” Anderson said. “Assault is a go in T-minus 45 seconds. Secure your objectives. Godspeed.”
“Alpha-4,” he said, “just before we breach, plant two turrets and an omni-barrier to cover us and create a chokepoint.”
“Affirmative.”
“And Alpha-3,” he said, “as soon as any enemies enter the kill zone, seal the doors behind them.” Kasumi chuckled.
“Affirmative.”
“Let’s move,” he said. With her omni-tool, Kasumi opened the maintenance duct, and right below them stood the guard standing by the door. Without hesitation, he tapped into his biotics, then snapped the guard’s neck with a wet crack, putting him out of his misery swiftly and painlessly. Still using his biotics, he let the guard’s body fall to the ground silently, and then he and his team descended from the duct, into the corridor.
Right away, Jacob typed away into his nano-assembler gauntlet and printed two plasma turrets with overlapping fields of fire, right behind an omni-barrier. As Jacob did this, he planted the nova charge on the door, and with a series of hand signals, he ordered his squad into position to breach the door, with he and Kaidan on one side of it, and Kasumi and Jacob on the other.
With a thought, he set a five-second timer on the nova charge, and a countdown appeared on his HUD. “Beta Lead, breaching in T-minus 5 seconds. Be ready.”
“Affirmative.”
He took a deep breath, anchoring his focus in the here and now, keeping the inter-squad link open for the command to follow. Here. We. Go…
“On my mark…” On the coutdown, it read three…two…one…
The nova charge denotated with a bone-rattling boom and blasted the door out of its frame.
“MARK! GO! GO! GO!”
He and Jacob tossed two starburst grenades within, blinding enemy HUDs and stripping away their shields. As soon as they erupted in bright flashes of white light, Alpha Squad stormed inside.
And before the enemy could even react, he opened fire, scoring headshots, with every pull of the trigger.
The hostages panicked. Men, women, and children screamed and hit the deck.
The room broke into chaos, with plasma fire tearing through the air, with Propet’s Hand operatives crying out, still trying to make sense of what was happening.
With a final trigger pull, Kaidan gunned down the operative, just as he was drawing his plasma pistol.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” he ordered.
At his command, Alpha Squad ceased fire, and in the aftermath, he took a moment to catch his breath. On the ground, before him lay the brutalized corpses of the Propthet’s Hand operatives they had just slain, their wounds charred messes of gore.
Every time he killed someone — even the truly wicked — his chest tightened, and a hollow emptiness sprouted within him. They chose this. Yes, Master Ghaius had tried all he could.
But as Master Gaiphoro always said, some people were beyond reason. Some people wanted only blood, to see the galaxy burn, and were too consumed by their inner emptiness and darkness to ever look within.
And it was the duty of soldiers like him to protect the innocent from such lost, broken souls.
“Alpha Lead, this is Beta Lead,” Luke said. “Engineering secured. What is your status? Over.”
He shook his head, his brother’s words snapping him out of his reverie. “Hostages secure. Prepare to—”
The deck quaked, and he stumbled and nearly lost his footing. An alarm blared throughout the station. Major Rhollor must have begun his assault.
“Prepare to what?” Luke asked. “Beta-2 is already taking control of the station’s security systems, and blocking all routes leading to our positions.”
“Perfect, Beta Lead,” he said. On the minimap on his HUD, he noticed a secure storage closet on the way to the rendezvous point. From there, the Marines would have no trouble evacuating the hostages. “Head to the rendevous point. Alpha Lead out.”
He faced Jacob and Kaidan. “Cover the door.” He looked at Kasumi. “Kasumi, let’s run a triage scan, then free the hostages.”
Kasumi nodded. With a thought, he activated the triage program on his HUD, scanning the hostages for injuries.
Many had minor lacerations, along with a few bruises and burn marks. Others had urinated or defecated themselves. But thankfully, no hostage was in critical condition.
“Clear,” Kasumi said. “They have nothing a few days in the med bay can’t handle.”
“Then let’s free them.”
Together, they approached the hostages, and he cut the omni-cuffs of the first one with his omni-blade and removed the bag over his head.
It was a man likely in his mid-sixties, with copper skin. Shaking, the man gulped.
“Sir…” With a thought, he lifted the faceplate of his combat skin, then knelt beside the hostage. “Sir, you’re safe now. We’re here to rescue you.” Still, the man was shaking. In the man’s eyes, he found only terror. “Sir? Sir, look at me. I know you are scared. I know you have been through something very traumatic. But I’m going to need you to listen to me.” The man looked into his eyes, and he put one hand on the hostage’s shoulder. “Just take a deeeep breath.”
Together, he and the man took a deep breath.
He smiled. “There we go. That’s right. All of you are going to make it out of this alive. But I’m going to need you to follow my instructions every step of the way. Understood?”
The man nodded, then gulped. “Un-Understood.”
“Now, what is your name?” he asked.
“R-Rahul…” the man said. Rahul gulped. “I…I was the station’s chief engineer. The terrorists…” Rahul’s eyes watered. “The things they did to me to get the access codes. I…I can’t—”
“Rahul,” he said firmly. No doubt, the Prophet’s Hand operatives tortured the station’s chief engineer into giving them complete access to the station’s systems. “I know they hurt you.” He glanced at the corpses in the room. “But they are dead now.” He grabbed a vibro-knife off the corpse of the nearest one, then pressed the activation stud. The blade shot out of its handle in the blink of an eye, the disruption field around it distorting the air. He handed it to Rahul. “Here. Help us free the rest of the hostages.”
Rahul nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Together, they freed the rest of the hostages. And soon, they were huddled together, chattering.
“All of you listen up,” he called out, and they looked to him without hesitation. “We are here to rescue you. We know how badly you have suffered, and that you must be very scared and confused. But follow my instructions exactly and you will all come out of this nightmare alive. Any questions?”
A man in the crowd — in the uniform of a station security officer — raised his hand. “Sir, let us help. My men and I have weapon training. Give us a chance to take the fight to these bastards!”
“That’s right!” another station security officer called out.
“It’s time for payback!”
Once more, he glanced at the corpses of the dead Prophet’s Hand operatives. Unlike the model of plasma rifle he was using, the terrorists’ were not gene-locked. An idea sparked in his mind.
“Very well,” he said. “Grab what gear you can off the dead. But do not go off on your own. Follow my orders and you’ll get to fulfill your duty.”
The security officer saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“Your name?” he asked.
“Marshal, Adrian Reynolds, at your service,” the officer said, grabbing a plasma rifle off one of the corpses on the ground. “My men and I will not disappoint you, sir.”
“Perfect,” he said. “He glanced at Kasumi, then back at the hostages.” With a thought, he closed the faceplate on his combat skin. “Let’s move out.”
He lead the way out, and as his squad and the hostages followed, the deck shuddered once more. The lumen strips above flickered.
“Overlord, this is Alpha Lead,” he said. “Objectives secured. ETA to rendezvous point in T-minus six minutes.”
Behind him, a thunderous boom shook the air, followed by the crack of plasma bolts whooshing through the air. No doubt, Jacob’s turrets had just opened fire and were covering their rear. Better keep moving.
“Copy that, Alpha Lead,” Anderson said.
“One more thing,” he said. With a thought, he sent Anderson the coordinates of the storage closet to which he was leading the hostages. “We’re taking the hostages to this secure location while we deal with the enemy leader.”
“I’ll let Indomitable and the rest of the task force know,” Anderson said. “Good luck, Alpha Lead. Overlord Out.”
“Roger that. Alpha Lead out.”
Their boots clanked on the deck as they doubled their pace. Every now and then, the deck trembled. And soon, the plasma fire and explosions raging from the docking bay echoed through the air. We’re close. Finally, they rounded a corner, leading to the rendezvous point and the storage closet nearby.
Only for the blast door at the end of the corridor to blast open, letting a squad of Prophet’s Hand operatives come right through. Without hesitation, he opened fire. “Contact!”
The corridor exploded into a firestorm of plasma bolts. His first few shots flared against enemy shields, and the rest dived for cover.
“Suppressing fire!” he commanded, and his squad unleashed a hail of plasma fire, pinning the enemy in place.
“Reynolds,” he commanded. “Take the hostages down the corridor to the left, and into the first room on the right. Lock yourselves inside! Go! We’ll cover you!”
“On it, sir!” Reynolds said. With that, Reynolds lead the screaming, panicking hostages to safety, under the cover of his squad’s withering hail of fire.
Meanwhile, he checked the minimap on his HUD, and Beta Squad was less than one minute from their position.
“Beta Lead, this is Alpha Lead,” he said, “we have an enemy squad pinned down at our current position. Requesting immediate assistance before they can call for reinforcements.”
“Copy that, Alpha Lead,” Luke said. “Keep those bastards pinned. We’ll hit them right in the flank. Just hang tight.”
As soon as Luke said, two Prophet’s Hand operatives — clad in heavy combat skins — rounded a corner at the end of the corridor past the blast door, then opened fire with their wrist-mounted auto-blasters.
Oh shit…
The incoming fire slammed into his shields, making them flare and ripple, and they from full charge to only ten percent in seconds. Without hesitation, he tapped into his biotics and threw up a biotic barrier, blocking the incoming fire.
Likewise, Kaidan did the same, and threw up his own biotic barrier, reinforcing his own.
And behind it, Jacob and Kasumi returned fire, their plasma bolts hardly denting the shields of the enemies in heavy combat skins.
Come on, Luke…
On the minimap of his HUD, he spotted Beta Squad round a corner, and without warning…
A starburst grenade exploded right by the feet of one of the enemy operatives, and a bright flash flooded the corridor ahead. When the flash vanished, a biotic flare atomized the heavies to dust, and Beta Squad opened fire into the enemy rear, leaving no survivors.
In the aftermath of the slaughter, Luke decloaked and approached him, chuckling. “Saved your ass again. Once this is over, you owe me a drink.”
He laughed, and his heart warmed at the sight of his brother. “You definitely did.” He approached his brother and clasped forearms with him. “But first, let’s finish this. Together.”
Luke chuckled. “I’d love nothing more.”
Soon, the rest of Beta Squad — Ashley Williams, Alliastar Kane, and James Vega — arrived and decloaked, approaching them.
“The way’s clear,” Ashley said.
James adjusted the setting on his plasma rifle to maximum power. “Ready when you are, Sarg.”
“Likewise,” Allaistar said, setting up an energy barrier and nano-assembled turrets guarding the doorway they just walked through. “And we’d better hurry. We have no idea what contingency plan their shit-stain of a leader could be planning next.”
“Yeah…” Kasumi said. “Just like what happened at that quarian embassy on Calderon.”
He shared a glance with his brother, and even behind Luke’s mirror-like visor, he could sense the pain and turmoil his brother battled with on a daily basis. A faint, cold sensation gnawed at his chest. No matter what, they would support each other through anything. But one thing was for sure…
He gripped his weapon tightly. Never again.
“Then there’s no time to waste,” he said. “All of you, do a weapon’s check. Let’s move out.”
Each of them saluted. “Sir, yes, sir.”
They pressed onwards, heading toward the control room. Meanwhile, he opened up a neural link to Anderson. “Overlord, this is Alpha Lead. The hostages are secure at the coordinates I sent you. We’ve rendezvoused with Beta Squad, and now we’re heading toward our final objective. Over.”
“Copy that, Alpha Lead,” Anderson said. “Indomitable will have the hostages recovered ASAP. Proceed to the final objective.”
“Copy that, Overlord. Alpha and Beta Actual out.”
They pressed onward, toward the station’s control room. As they did so, the surrounding silence pressed on them like a suffocating weight. And his every instinct screamed that something was wrong.
Why hadn’t they encountered any resistance yet?
Eventually, they made it to the entrance to the control room — a massive, circular blast door over twice his height.
“This is it,” he said. “Whatever lies ahead, prepare yourselves. No doubt, things are about to get…interesting.”
Gripping his weapon tighter, he took a deep controlled breath through his nose. Let’s do this.
Without warning, the blast door before them slid open with a metallic hiss. And in the control room beyond, he spotted a man standing before the panoramic viewport of Berkenstein, and the lights of its many cities below. Clasping his hands behind his back, the man was facing a slew of holo screens — showing newscasts from across the Commonwealth.
He gave a series of hand signals, and they aimed their weapons at Elias Zephyr.
“It’s over,” he said. “Put your hands on your head, and get down on your knees. This is your last chance to surrender.”
Elias stopped whatever he was doing with the holoscreens before him, then turned, facing them. Clad in a standard issue combat skin, he towered over most normal men, and his physique had the tell-tale signs of chemical and cybernetic enhancement.
Elias sunk his helmet into the neckline of his combat skin, revealing his scarred, aged face marred with more cybernetics. And the terrorist leader glared at him with chilling intensity, his one bionic eye glowing a bright blue. Meeting his gaze, he had no doubt the terrorist leader had seen and suffered through the worst horrors imaginable.
“And why would I do that, John?” Elias asked, his voice calm and collected. “Just when I have you exactly where I want.”
“Do not make me repeat myself!” he commanded. Master Ghaius had already tried and failed to convince Elias of anything, so it was pointless to engage with him. “Surrender now, or we will open fire.”
Elias sighed. “Kill me now and you will only destroy this entire station. This entire mission of yours will be all for nothing.”
He tilted his head, and his heart dropped like a stone. “Excuse me?”
“He’s stalling,” Luke said, over the neural link. “Don’t believe anything this asshole says. Let’s just kill him and be done with this crap.”
“Your tech specialists are good,” Elias said. “I’ll give you that. The Quarians trained them well…but not well enough.”
“What is he talking about?” he asked Alistair and Kasumi over the neural link. “Did you miss something?”
“I was absolutely thorough,” Alistair replied. “I would never miss anything.”
“Neither would I,” Kasumi added. “This wacko is just stalling, sergeant. Let’s put him out of his misery before he hurts somebody else.”
“It’s your call, Sergeant,” Kaidan said. “But I wouldn’t trust this asshole for one second.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. With a thought, he activated his combat skin’s body cam, broadcasting a video feed to Anderson. No doubt, Anderson would inform Major Rhollor about this right away.
Elias input a few commands into his omni-tool, and then a panel opened up on his chest, exposing a glowing red core. The terrorist leader then drew his plasma pistol and aimed it at his own head. “Kill me, and the virus my followers planted in this station’s power systems will awaken. The reactor will go critical, and then everything you did up to now will be for nothing.”
Adrenaline surged through his veins. But his N7 training kicked in. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. I will not kill for glory or malice. I will only kill when it is right…
“So what do you want?” he asked, rooting himself in the present moment. We’ll stop him somehow.
“What I’ve been demanding from the start!” Elias shouted. “Leave this system and bring my demands to the Commonwealth Council.”
“There is no way we are doing that,” Anderson said. “We do not negotiate with terrorists. Stall him any way you can. I’ve already informed Indomitable and his best tech experts are already rushing to fix the problem. Hang in there.”
Once more, he drew his attention to his breath, rooting him in the here and now. What can I even say to you? Now, he could see why even Master Ghaius had failed to get Elias to back down. But nonetheless, he had to try.
“Why are you doing this, Elias?” he asked. “How is getting our allies to abandon humanity going to save us from the Great Filter? The Citadel Triarchy will find us regardless, and we stand no chance against them alone.”
Elias glared at him with cold fury and scowled. “You still don’t see it, do you?” He let out a joyless laugh. “All of you are so blind! The Citadel Triarchy, the coming war — that is the Great Filter! The very apocalypse our Great Prophet George Maxson tried so hard to get you blind livestock to see!”
“Wow…” Luke said over the neural link. “There’s no helping this asshole.”
“Kasumi…Allaistar…” he said, over the neural link. “Any progress?”
“His armor systems are cutting edge,” Kasumi said. “I can’t find any vulnerabilities.”
“However,” Alistair said. “He has many unregulated, black-market augmentations from the Terminus Systems. And they are full of bloody vulnerabilities. Get him to aim his pistol at you, and I can lock up every muscle in his body.”
“Understood,” he said.
“Ever since the quarians forced us into his damned Alliance,” Elias continued, “they’ve done nothing but expose us to more and more dangerous technologies — one’s we are not ready for! And all to drag us into a war we have no hope of winning!”
“So you believe our only hope of survival is what?” he asked. “Isolation? Hiding? You know that will not work Elias. It’s far too late for that.”
“Not Isolation,” Elias said. “Surrender. We are a vile, self-destructive species, under the enslavement of only ten families. And the Ascendant will save us from ourselves.”
“Better we go extinct than live under the thumb of a damn tyrant,” Luke said. “This man is fucking spineless coward.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Kaidan said.
“Yep,” Jacob said.
He sighed. Elias’ views were utterly extremist, rooted in so much despair and rage, but nonetheless, he could understand them. Admittedly, they even contained kernels of truth.
Looking back on Elias body language and tone of voice, he sensed something deeper underneath the terrorist leader’s projected pain, a gnawing wound in his soul driving his actions.
This is personal to him. But why? What happened? Undoubtedly, the quarians had made a lot of enemies when they let the Silent Ones ravage Neptune and Uranus just before the Battle of Jupiter. So what if…
“Anderson,” he said, over the neural link, “where was Elias born?”
“He was born on Titan, Alpha Lead,” Anderson said. “Let’s just say he had a rough childhood, growing up in poverty, and he was quite an effective officer in the Alliance Marines. But oh … it seems his son was stationed on Gamma-Station around Neptune when the Silent Ones attacked.”
No wonder you fell like this…
Elias had let his pain consume him, but perhaps this would give Allistair the opening he needed to hack Elias’ black-market cybernetics and apprehend him. Perhaps the Justicar Order could give this broken man the help he desperately needed.
“Get ready,” he told Allistair. “I have a plan.”
“Elias…” he said. Hopefully, Elias would surrender and eventually heal and move on after spending many years in a rehabilitation center. But if he refused, he would do his duty and take the man’s life without hesitation. “I’m sorry you lost your son the way you did. No parent should have to suffer through something like that. But ask yourself… is this how your son would want you to honor him? Is this what he would want? Dooming humanity to live under the thumb of a tyrant?”
Elias scowled at him, his eyes watering, blazing with animal rage. The man aimed his plasma pistol at him, his hand trembling.
“Now,” he told Alistair.
“Got it.”
“Mention my son one more time,” Elias said, his voice dripping with acidic hate, “and I will trigger the virus. Do you understand me? I will kill us all! Berkenstein will burn and—”
Elias’ words cut off as Alistair locked up every muscle in his body. The terrorist leader fell to the ground with a thud, his plasma pistol clattering on the ground.
Without hesitation, he rushed forward, then kicked the plasma pistol away. As he looked down at Elias, into his teary, hate-filled eyes, a hollow, emptiness filled his chest. “This brings me no joy. I hope one day you’re able to reconnect with who really are, and heal from this.”
Elias gurgled, glaring at him with fathomless hate. He walked away without a word, and Luke rushed to restrain Elias with omni-cuffs.
Staring out the viewport, he marveled at the sight of Berkenstein, and he let out a big sigh. It’s over. Finally…
“Overlord…” he said. “It’s over. We’ve apprehended Elias Zephyr. Any update on the virus?”
“Indomitable’s tech experts have just now contained it,” Anderson said. “Damn fine work, Alpha Lead. Extraction is on the way.”
His brother walked up beside him, then sunk his helmet into the neckline of his combat skin. Luke chuckled. “I’ll never know how you’re able to stay so calm talking to an asshole like that. But damn does it never cease to amaze me.”
He sunk his helmet into the neckline of his combat skin, then met his brother’s green eyes, which always burned with an underlying ferocity, with an iron-hard resolve to conquer any challenge before him.
He smiled. “It’s just me being me. And besides, you remember what Master Gaiphoro always said.”
"Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Luke said, with playful dismissal. “Ill-will toward the enemy is a weakness, not a strength. I remember. I’m glad I always let you do all the talking.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
Outside the viewport, the CSV Normandy decloaked. On the starboard hull, the sigil of the Commonwealth 4th Fleet: a silver-white six-pointed star inside a black circle, with the words “We stand together” in Latin.
“Extractions here,” he said, clapping his brother’s shoulder. Now that the mission was over, they were due for some shore leave on New Rannoch. No doubt, it would be a blast. “Now…how about that drink.”
Luke smiled. “I’d love nothing more.”
Chapter Text
In the heart of the Khelaxis Nebula, aboard Aechaar Station, Lord General Nassar Dantius looked out the viewport at the vast Armada beyond. Amongst it were not only the mightiest vessels of the Empire, but also the chitinous, tri-fork-shaped vessels of the Turian Hierarchy, and the iridescent, elongated vessels of the Salarian Technocracy.
For the first time since the Silent War, the Ascendant was going to meet with the Primarch and the Architect in person. And no doubt, Imperial Chroniclers would record this meeting as a turning point in Galactic History.
When the Thessian Empire went from one of three galactic superpowers to the only power in the galaxy.
Just then, the door behind him slid open with a metallic hiss.
“Father…”
He turned only to see his son, Dhrakhan, at the doorway. He smiled. Clad in the gold battle armor of the Titan Corps, with the helmet sunk into the neckline, his son towered over normal Asari. And like all scions of House Dantius, his broad, powerful physique was the result of eons of selective breeding, genetic enhancements, and the best military training in the galaxy.
“The Ascendant expects our presence in the Grand Hall,” Dhrakan said, his voice deep and powerful. “The Primarch and the Architect have arrived, and now we will witness history unfold before our eyes.”
He smiled, then clasped his hands behind his back. His son could not make him any more proud. “Indeed, we will, my son. Indeed, we will.”
Together, they traversed the halls of Khelaxis Station. Over his centuries of service to the Ascendant, he couldn’t help but adore the living metal murals on the walls, depicting the Great Khan’s defeat, and the collapse of the Krogan Empire into endlessly warring states of alien savages.
Indeed, this station was a monument to the Krogan’s unending humiliation, to their absolute failure. And once they reclaimed the armory, and finished what the Geth had started, the Ascendant would undoubtedly order the construction of similar stations for the Quarians, for the Justicar Order, for the Free Colonies Alliance, and for the Omegan Empire.
Yes, once the war began, he would show them no mercy or compassion. He would slaughter their men, women, and children without restraint, and bring their new allies — the humans — to heel.
The Ascendant will show them the way. Yes, he would bring them enlightenment and offer them a place in something much bigger than themselves. It was a privilege only their primogenitors, their genetic cousins deserved.
Eventually, they stepped into the Grand Hall, and it never failed to awe him. The cavernous chamber was a tiered amphitheater, with numerous holo-standards of the honored legions at the top, and several grav thrones for the most important figures at the bottom. Ahead, the Ascendant — Chaerys the Magnificent — was sitting in his throne, clad in his golden battle armor and shimmering blue cloak.
In the grav throne to his right sat Arch Inquisitor Morinth, clad in her black artificer armor, and matching cloak. And in the grav throne to his left stood the Grand Exarch, Vaelorion, clad in his golden artificer armor, and red cloak.
Together, the two were often known as the left and right hand of the Ascendant, his dagger in the shadows, and his hammer against the dark.
Hopefully, one day his family would rise to such renown. Yes, through loyalty and service, his House survived the Great Purge, and it would continue to gain the influence and security it deserved through just such means.
The Ascendant spotted him and then smiled. “Nassar, Dhrakan. Come. Sit with us.”
He and his son saluted.
“The honor is mine, my lord,” he said. “I have no doubt Imperial Chroniclers will mark this day as a turning point in our history.”
“Of the beginning of your rise as the first galactic emperor.”
The Ascendant smiled, then leaned forward. “I share your sentiment, Nassar. And yes, Dhrakan. Once the Armory is ours, I will bring the galaxy into an age of greatness and enlightenment. And hopefully, our wayward cousins will submit and realize their foolishness.”
Briefly, the Ascendant looked toward a nearby corridor, where the rest of Imperial High Command was arriving through. “But first, we must deal with this last obstacle in our way. We must tell our alien allies what they want to hear. And in time, Drakhan, you will have some…very important missions to complete for me.”
“And me, my lord?”
The Ascendant looked at him, then laughed. “Oh, worry not, Nassar. Worry not. You will have your orders. Rest assured.”
He nodded. Indeed, the Turians and the Salarians could not be trusted. Indeed, all aliens were scum, inferior beings spawned from natural evolution, instead of the genius and perfection of the Creators themselves.
Only we have the right to rule the galaxy…
Once more, he saluted. “Your wish is my command, my lord.”
He took his seat, and his son sat beside him. Soon, the rest of Imperial High Command, every General and Admiral of the Empire stepped within and took their seats.
The majority of them were scions of the great military families who sided with the Ascendant during the Civil War, and the Great Purge. House Drakonis, Vaelar, Khargos, and more. And every day, he praised Athame that his family sided with the right faction.
Even now, the oligarchs of old — who once held the Old Republic in their palm — were suffering for their greed, for their lust, for their gluttony. And the screams of their punishments in the dark cells beneath the Imperial Palace haunted his dreams to this very day.
Finally, at the end of another corridor, a door opened. And the Turian Delegation stepped through.
Surrounded by its elite Hes’Tatim Guard, clad in carapace-like armor with a mirror-like sheen, the Primarch strode into the Grand Hall, moving with unnatural, alien grace, its tail swaying side to side, as it moved on its slim but powerful digitigrade legs. Over its armor, the Primarch wore a long cloak, hiding its two pairs of arms, that absorbed light like the darkness of the void. Standing at least ten feet tall, it towered over even his son. And the eye slits of its mirror-like visor glowed with sickening red light.
The Primarch, along with its Hes’Tatim guard and other subordinates, all took their seats. And the entire room went silent.
“Welcome, Primarch Saren Arterius,” the Ascendant said.
The Primarch took his seat across from the Ascendant, and for what felt like an eternity, the alien emperor simply stared at Chaerys with its unknowable, unreadable gaze.
“Ascendant Chaerys…” the Primarch said, its voice deep, robotic, and distorted, utterly devoid of any emotion. “We acknowledge your words of greeting. Let us proceed with words of negotiation and reach consensus on the division of discoveries within the Armory.”
“Naturally…” the Ascendant said. “Rest assured that we will strive to divide the riches of the Armory equally, and in such a way that does not shatter the careful balance of power we have sustained for centuries. Now, if only the Architect would arrive…”
As soon as Chaerys said that, the Salarian delegation stepped through a door at the end of a nearby corridor. And for the first time in centuries, he laid his eyes upon the Architect of the Technocracy.
At first glance, the Architect resembled a levitating metallic sphere, as wide as a full-grown man, with a glowing green eye. But then it dematerialized into a cloud of nanites and rushed forward, entering the Grand Hall. Once it did, the Architect rematerialized as a salarian, but with metallic, white skin and glowing green eyes.
Clad in a flowing robe that seemed fused to its skin, the Architect moved so unnaturally, and his body couldn’t help but tense up. In his long career, he had never worked with Salarians. Not only were they dangerously arrogant, but just the presence of one set him on edge. Tall and lanky, with grotesquely long arms and legs, they had soulless, pitch-black eyes and tiny slits for mouths.
They were utterly repulsive and sickening — everything the Empire despised. And according to rumors…their elites had discovered the secrets of true immortality, of transferring their minds into nano-technological bodies.
Such blasphemy…
Yet nonetheless, the Ascendant needed them for this conflict. Their technological expertise was only rivaled by that of the quarians. Without them, the secrets of the armory would remain locked away. And no doubt, they could help obliterate the Urdnot Khanate with their bio-weapons and stop them from conquering the Terminus Systems.
And starting the second Krogan Rebellion.
“Ascendant Chaerys…Primarch Saren…” the Architect said, its voice an ethereal echo, “I apologize for my tardiness. My colleagues and I were… preoccupied with internal matters. Rest assured that it will not be a threat to our shared goals.”
The Ascendant chuckled. No doubt, aliens had only a cold, clinical understanding of Asari body language, and Chaerys was exploiting that to its fullest. “No need for unnecessary formalities. We are well aware of the intricacies of the Technocracy's politics. Let us proceed.”
The Architect dematerialized, then rematerialized, sitting in an empty grav throne. “Indeed, let us proceed.”
With that, the Ascendant stood up from his throne, and the holo-projector on the ceiling came to life with a sharp schwoom, displaying a hologram of the galaxy at the center of the hall.
It zoomed in on the very edges of known space, on a cluster of systems, with seven known Mass Relays, the Ascendant had spent the last two decades molding into a cosmic base of operations. Within it, twelve systems had been transformed into impregnable military bases, with countless supply depots, training facilities, shipyards, and nano-factories.
Enough to support an entire Imperial Crusade.
“As you are well aware,” the Ascendant began. “An operative of my inquisition has discovered what we had long believed to be myth.”
The galaxy map zoomed in on a system, deep within Commonwealth Space, on the mythical Terra itself.
Our true home…
Once the Ascendant conquered humanity, he would undoubtedly make Terra the new Capital of the Empire. From there, he would have immediate access to the Armory, to what was divinely theirs.
“Since then,” the Ascendant said, “I have amassed the largest Army and Armada ever seen since we last came together during the Silent War.”
The hologram flickered and showed an Imperial legion marching down Victory Square on Thessia. Countless thousands of legionnaires, clad in the standard gold combat skin, were moving in perfect sync, their pulse rifles a their sides. Above them, crowds cheered and roared for them, whilst one of the Ascendant’s sermons played loud and clear.
The hologram flickered once more, showing an Imperial Armada, exiting FTL. The sight never failed to awe him, the hundreds upon hundreds of Frigates, Destroyers, Battle Cruisers, and Dreadnoughts with gleaming gold-blue hulls, carrying enough firepower to burn worlds to ash.
As of now, the Crusade force comprised at least thirty million legionnaires, fifty thousand warships, the entire Titan Corps, and over three million Drell, Elcor, and Volus auxiliaries.
No doubt, the Commonwealth stood no chance.
“And that if we do not act now,” the Ascendant continued. The hologram shifted, displaying footage of the Commonwealth’s founding, of humans, quarians, and asari cheering. “Our upstart rival will not hesitate to use the weapons of the Armory against us.”
Changing the hologram once more, the Ascendant showed the audience the Armory itself, upon the surface of the neighboring, red planet, Mars.
Even now, the sight of the Armory filled him with a sense of awe and wonder. With its sprawling complexes of obsidian walls and neon green lights, it made even the Grand Archive on Thessia itself seem pitiful and primitive. If Athame was willing, perhaps one day he’d set foot on Mars itself and behold the wonders of the Armory in person.
“For many years, I have worked tirelessly with my Generals and Admirals,” the Ascendant continued, “planning this Crusade down to the finest detail, and now…” The Ascendant paused, looking at the Primarch and then the Architect. “I am calling you to action, to aid us during this time of crisis. Like it or not, this conflict will decide the fate of the galaxy, and if you choose not to participate, then…”
“Then we will not survive the chaos to come,” Vaelorion said, his voice deep, but strangely calming. “Our crusade force is mighty, but alone? We do not have the numbers or resources for a swift victory.”
Morinth stood up. Momentarily, the eye-slits on her helmet glowed red. “Especially, since they have already already begun integrating the weaponry of the armory into their armies and navies,” she said, her voice a distorted, metallic whisper.
The hologram changed, showing footage of weapons tests of Commonwealth Warships firing all sorts of exotic energy lances, missiles, and other projectiles he could not recognize, wreaking apocalyptic firepower upon asteroids, moons, and even entire dead worlds.
The hologram flickered once more, showing lab complexes, exo-planetary refineries, and shipyards, unlike anything he had ever seen.
“The spy I have in their midst,” Morinth continued, looking at the Architect and the Primarch, “has confirmed that they are progressing rapidly, and that the quarians have instilled a profound fear and hatred for both of your kind.”
The hologram showed footage of humans amidst some kind of political rally, holding hold signs in the air with caricatures of the Ascendant, the Primarch, and the Architect, proudly proclaiming ‘death to alien tyrants’.
The Ascendant clasped his hands behind his back. “And so the longer we wait, the stronger our enemy becomes. And if they defeat us…you will undoubtedly become their next target of conquest or obliteration.”
“You will lose everything…” Vaelorion said, standing up. He looked at the Primarch and the Architect with icy, cold eyes. “And our races will see an age of darkness never seen since the Krogan Rebellions.”
A heavy silence descended and gnawed on his mind. The weight of the discussion bore down on him with the weight of an asteroid.
The Primarch let out a sharp chittering sound that seeped into his bones. By Athame, the grotesqueness of the alien would never cease to disgust him.
“You make compelling arguments…” the Primarch said. “Perhaps too compelling.” The Primarch turned its unknowable gaze toward the Ascendant. “But there is still the matter of the Armory. If I commit my fleets and armies to your cause, I will need…insurance that you will share in its treasures.”
“Likewise,” the Architect said. “No doubt you will need the expertise of my greatest scientists. But I can not offer that unless, as the Primarch said…you offer us insurance that you will honor your word.”
The entire room erupted into a cacophony of murmurs. They don’t trust us…
A part of him was not surprised. The galaxy was too small for only one sentient species. The universe was a dark forest, and it was only a matter of time until his kind wiped out all competitors and ruled over the cattle that remained.
The Ascendant raised his hand, and the entire chamber went silent. “After all I’ve done to protect both your species, you do not trust me? Why?”
“We do not deny your role in the wars against the Krogan and the Silent Ones,” the Architect said. “We supported your rise from Warmaster of the Old Republic to where you are now because we believed in your ability to stabilize this tumultuous galaxy.”
“But our Alliance rests on the weakest foundations,” the Primarch said. “On the existence of a common enemy. With the technology of the armory, we will be unchallenged. And mutually assured destruction will become the only factor keeping us from turning against one another.”
The Ascendant paused, as if calculating his next response, then let out a heavy sigh. “This…this is astounding.” The Ascendant glared at the Architect. “Are you telling me that you are willingly sacrificing the chance to access the greatest repository of knowledge and science in the galaxy? That you are willingly throwing away an opportunity to achieve eons worth of progress, of science without limits, in only a fraction of the time? And to secure your place in the galaxy for eons to come?” The Ascendant sighed. “I always respected you as a person of vision and progress, who would understand the significance and long-term implications of the situation at hand.” The Ascendant paused. “But it seems I was wrong. Perhaps you are just as the Krogan described — cowardly, arrogant, and all words and theory, no action and practice.”
The Ascendant glared at the Primarch. “And you. I am shocked. When the Krogan were setting the galaxy ablaze, I admired you as one of the galaxy’s finest military commanders — a true equal to my own abilities. Of all beings in the galaxy, I was counting on you to understand the gravity of the threat we face. And yet, when given an opportunity to expand your territory…”
The hologram flickered and zoomed in on Commonwealth space, highlighting dozens of systems in red. One was the quarian’s new homeworld.
“To — as you so proudly proclaimed — spread the turian race across the stars and assert your superiority over the lesser races, you succumb to weakness, to inaction. Once more, it pains me to say this, but…perhaps the Krogan were the mightier race all along. Perhaps you only joined the Rebellions at a…convenient time, the perfect time to secure the reputation you hold now.”
The Ascendant scoffed, shut down the hologram, then sat back in his throne. “But no matter. If neither of you will aid me, then I will handle this war myself. However, if I fail and the Commonwealth brings ruin and death upon your homeworlds, remember that I gave you the chance to save yourselves, that I gave you an opportunity for power and influence, unlike anything you had ever seen!”
“The choice is yours,” Morinth said. “Will you let the galaxy burn? Will you deny your people an age of power and glory beyond anything could imagine? Or will you help us and secure your place in the era of order and stability to come?”
A crushing silence filled the room, the tension in the room as suffocating as the vacuum of the void. Momentarily, he held his breath.
“Very well…” the Primarch said, eventually. “I will commit two armadas, along with one hundred of my finest armies. But know this, Chaerys of the Asari…” The Primarch stood up and glared at the Ascendant. “If your words are falsehoods, then the galaxy will not survive the fall of my civilization. That, I swear upon all the spirits of now and the past.”
The Architect stood up and looked at the Ascendant as well, clasping its hands behind its back. “The Primarch speaks boldly. And I encourage you not to take his words too seriously. But rest assured that I will also commit three Grand Battle Fleets to your cause, as well as five legions of my greatest creations. Upon further consideration, I see that you need me, that without us you will not be able to unlock the secrets of the armory fully.”
“That is very true,” the Ascendant told the Architect, with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. “In fact, this crusade will be impossible without your genius and support.”
The Ascendant looked at the Primarch. “And I will overlook your threat. I know you only wish to see your species thrive and expand, and I admire your dedication and willingness to protect them. Undoubtedly, we have much more in common, than we are different. And I have no doubt you are the leader your species deserves, the leader they need to survive in a galaxy surrounded by enemies.”
“Indeed…” the Primarch said.
“Then it is settled,” the Ascendant said, standing up. He went to the center of the chamber and swept his gaze across the chamber. “Here me well, my Generals and Admirals, my blades and shields against the dark. The fate of the galaxy depends on you. When the Commonwealth inevitably rejects our terms for surrender, our enemies will defend their home with ferocity unlike anything you have faced before. Your men will suffer and bleed and die under their onslaught. But remember what you stand for! Remember that our cause is the most just and righteous of all! And that our might, our strength, our superiority will overcome even the mightiest foes in our path!”
The Ascendant raised one fist in the air. “Death to the Commonwealth!”
The entire chamber erupted into a thunderous cheer, as one by one, every general and admiral of the empire raised their fists in unison. The cheering echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and filling every corner with the sounds of unbreakable resolve, of the overwhelming desire to win, no matter the cost.
“Death to the Commonwealth!” he roared, along with them. “Death to all who stand in our way!”
Chapter Text
On the desolate, ashen surface of Nendaar Prime, Captain Tali’Zorah was lying prone atop a rocky outcropping, the adaptive camo of her combat suit rendering her all but undetectable as she exploited a vulnerability in the enemy network.
Nearby, the rest of her squad were lying prone, waiting for her signal to launch the attack on the slaver base ahead. And from her vantage point, she zoomed in on their objective with her HUD and spotted numerous slavers, clad in crude, gray combat skins, corralling numerous quarians , humans, and even other asari out of a transport and onto a landing field.
Fre’eg eating bosh’tets. Lord Beskar T’Ghala, the Reaver in charge of this world, thought he could capture the scientist crew of the CSV Yhan’Zhari, torture them for information, and then sell that information to the Citadel Triarchy to earn the Ascendant’s favor.
But today she was going to make him pay.
Nobody hurt her friends, her family, or her people and got away with it.
Soon, she finally breached through one of the vulnerabilities of the enemy’s outdated security systems. And now, with the press of an omni-tool key, she could unleash the wrath of the Ancestors.
“On my signal, we attack, ” she said, over the squad neural link. Any minute now, Lord Beskar was supposed to meet with an emissary of the Thessian Empire to discuss terms. “Khas-2, do you have a visual on our target?”
“Visual confirmed,” said Khal’Reegar. Nearby, he was lying prone, aiming down the scope of his smart rifle, configured to sniper mode.
She zoomed in on where Khal was aiming, and it was Lord Beskar’s shuttle, a black, arrow-shaped vessel, zooming toward the landing pad upon which the slavers were corralling their captives. As soon as Lord Beskar landed, she would unleash the power of her computer virus, and then order the attack.
With a thought, she opened up a comm link to her Executive Officer, aboard the Stealth Frigate, the CSV Oraali, in orbit. “Esu-Khas, this is Zhun-Khas. Ready orbital strikes at these coordinates…” With a thought, she marked several targets for destruction, including enemy barracks, supply depots, and nano-assembly factories. “Fire on my command. Once I do, give Captain Tsan the signal to begin his attack.”
“Confirmed, Zhun-Khas,” said her Executive Officer, Chairu’Zorah. “Lance batteries will be ready to fire at your command. And Captain Tsan will stand ready. May the Ancestors be with you.”
Finally, Lord Beskar’s shuttle landed. Its rear door opened with a hiss, and out stepped the petty Lord in charge of this world, flanked by two hulking Krogan mercenaries as bodyguards.
“ Fre’eg, ” Khal said. “Zhun-Khas, we have a problem.”
Immediately, she spotted what Khal was referring to. Lord Beskar wore a fur cloak over his gleaming, gray-black artificer armor, which had a built-in refractor field, not just a conventional shield. A shot from Khal’s smart rifle would burst it, and force it to go into recharging mode.
But now they would not have the element of surprise.
“Khas-2,” she said. “Target Lord Beskar’s bodyguards instead. And Khas-4, destroy his shuttle. Aim directly at its reactor. The fre’eg eating bosh’tet will have nowhere to run.”
“Confirmed, Zhun-Khas,” Khal said. “New targets confirmed.”
“Confirmed,” said her heavy weapons specialist, Prazza’Gerrel. “Our enemy will have nowhere to run.”
Just then, a bright light flashed in the grey, cloudy sky above.
“Zhun-Khas,” Chairu said. “This is Esu-Khas. An enemy Scout Cruiser has just exited FTL, right into the planet’s orbit. The Imperial Emissair y…s he has arrived.
Her pulse climbed, and she could feel every muscle in her body tense up, in preparation for the fight ahead. A Scout Cruiser? Keelah, her stealth frigate would not stand a chance in a head-on confrontation. “Have they detected you?”
“Negative,” Chairu said.
“ Keelah…” she muttered under her breath. Could this encounter be the incident that spiraled into the war the Commonwealth had spent the last two decades preparing for? No matter the outcome, this changed everything. Somehow, they would have to adapt their plan.
“No doubt those bosh’tet’s of the Triarchy already know of the Commonwealth,” Khal said.
“And we can not allow the emissary to accomplish his objective,” Lia’Vael added.
“We must strike first,” Prazza’Gerrel said. “And send them a message they will never forget.”
She couldn’t agree more. The Thessian Empire looked down upon her kind like the vermin and filth of the galaxy, and the emissary could not return to the Ascendant with vital intelligence.
“Esu-Khas,” she continued. Her ship may be lightweight, but it was fast, and it’s forward dark energy lance could punch straight through the armor of the mightiest dreadnought . “New orders. Ambush the ship. Show them no mercy, and let me know when you do. I will synchronize my attack with yours.”
“Confirmed,” Chairu said. “Will engage the enemy ship. Standby for my signal.”
Just then, a golden shuttle descended from the clouds above. Teardrop-shaped , it had glowing blue lumen strips ingrained on its shiny hull, and it moved as silently a khaz’ilu through the sand.
Soon, it landed perhaps a dozen meters away from Lord Beskar’s shuttle, and its rear door opened. An omni-ramp came to life in the blink of an eye, and the Emissairy of the Thessian Empire walked down it, flanked by two Imperial Soldiers clad in ornate, golden combat skins, wielding advanced pulse rifles.
Wearing an extravagant purple-gold robe over her black body glove abound with gold filigree, the Emissary was wielding some kind of staff with a glowing blue tip. From what she knew, it was a biotic amplifier.
And if her studies had taught her anything, it was that even the most inexperienced Asari became death machines when wielding such a weapon. No doubt she’s nobility. Only the most spoiled, rich bosh’tets of the empire had access to such equipment.
But no matter.
She would not allow some entitled, arrogant noble of the Thessian Empire to use her powers against those she swore to protect and serve.
“Khas-3,” she said. “When I give the signal, shoot that staff out of her hands.”
“Confirmed,” Lia’Vael said, configuring her smart rifle to sniper mode. “Awaiting your signal to fire.”
On her HUD, she zoomed in on the meeting and tuned her combat suit’s audio receptors to listen in. No doubt, the Commonwealth Council will want to hear whatever they will say next.
Lord Beskar spread out his arms. “Lady Liara T’Soni. Welcome to my humble kingdom,” the warlord said, his voice distorted by helmet’s voice modulator. “My, you must be exhausted after such a long journey.”
Liara glared at Lord Beskar, as though he was some kind of revolting beast. “My time is valuable, barbarian. Name your terms and we conclude our business as quickly as possible.”
Lord Beskar grinned. “Now, now, now. I am well aware that the Ascendant does not hold us ‘Barbarian Kings of the Terminus Systems’ in the highest regard, that he thinks we’re all footstools of the grand bitch, Aria T’Loak.” The Slaver Lord clasped his hands behind his back. “But word around the galaxy is that a Great War is brewing, that the Commonwealth is creating some truly nasty weapons of mass destruction.” Lord Beskar chuckled. “And that once your invasion begins…your borders with us are going to need quite the reinforcing.”
“You are not telling me anything new,” Liara said. “You are not the first warlord or barbarian king looking to leverage the coming crusade to your own selfish benefit.” Liara scoffed, then looked at the crew of the CSV Yhan’Zhari, who were huddled together , shivering, looking at the ground. “I take it this is your token of goodwill.”
“Oh, they are just my complimentary gift,” Lord Beskar said, smiling. The warlord chuckled. “My true token of goodwill is what I’m prepared to give you if you agree to my terms.”
“You are in no position to demand anything,” Liara said. “You are not important. The Ascendant could wipe your pitiable domain from the face of the galaxy as easily as he could flick his wrist.”
Lord Beskar laughed. “You are not wrong.” The warlord sighed. “It’s true. Compared to the Krogan Khans, or bastards like Lord Khalagan, I am nothing.” Beskar grinned. “But if you are willing to return to the Ascendant and tell him you threw away the opportunity for intelligence that could sway the outcome of your crusade, then be my guest.”
“What do you want?” Liara asked, with icy hatred in her voice.
Beskar looked deeply into Liara’s eyes. “When the crusade begins, I want the Ascendant’s full permission for my men to loot, pillage, and burn as they please. And for him to make me his warden of the Terminus Systems.”
“And why would he ever do that?” Liara asked.
“Because my lady…” Lord Beskar’s helmet sunk into the neckline of his armor, revealing his unblemished, chiseled face. “I know something the other warlords bowing to the Ascendant will never know.”
“And what would that be?”
“The location of an artifact older than the damned Creators themselves…” The warlord grinned. “From the Reapers.”
Reapers? Oh, Keela h…
Yes, undoubtedly, she would report this directly to high command. According to Grandmaster Nu’adu, the Ascendant prized such artifacts nearly as much as the Armory itself .
“Zhun-Khas,” Chairu said over the neural link. “Ambushing the enemy vessel now.”
“Copy that, Esu-Khas,” she said.
“Attention,” she said, over the squad channel. “We attack as soon I release my virus.”
“Confirmed,” Khal said.
“Ready,” Prazza said.
“Understood,” Lia said.
Briefly, she closed her eyes, then took a deep breath. Anscestors help me. She opened her eyes. And with the press of an omni-tool key, she unleashed her virus on the enemy network.
Within seconds, the virus altered a few parameters in the quantum code governing local power grids. And then a blinding explosion shook the earth, blooming outward in a blast of fusion fire.
Klaxons blared. More explosions rocked the horizon, and many grav vehicles fell from the sky or crashed into nearby buildings, only to explode in great balls of plasma and super-heated air.
With the visor of her combat suit, she zoomed in on the carnage, only to see a plasma blast atomize an enemy patrol to dust.
And she smiled. Die in pain and agony, you bosh’tets .
Khal and Lia fired their smart rifles, and several crack-booms sundered the air. All at once, explosive pulse bolts found their mark and denotated with resounding booms.
The shots blew the Krogan bodyguards apart into chunks and shreds of scorched, steaming gore, and annihilated Liara’s staff, the asari’s shields flaring as the blast hurled her through the air.
“Khas-4, now!” she said.
Just then, Prazza fired his shoulder-mounted plasma cannon at each enemy shuttle, and each spear of light incinerated through their hulls and blew them to molten scrap.
Above, a blinding flash filled the sky, and immediately, she knew what that meant.
“Target destroyed,” Chairu said. “Orbital strikes inbound.”
Her heart pounded. Keelah, now was the perfect time to attack. Without hesitation, she drew her plasma shotgun, then nano-assembled a few attack drones with her assembler gauntlet. She glanced at her squad, and even behind their masks, she could sense their sheer willingness to jump into the danger ahead. “For the ancestors! For the Commonwealth!”
“For the Commonwealth!” they roared.
With that, she unleashed her attack drones, then charged headlong into the chaos ahead. Just as she slid down the ridge, the orbital strikes hit their marks with devastating power and precision and swathes of the slaver compound erupted in a maelstrom of dust, fire, and debris.
Finally, she reached the bottom of the ridge, and with her combat suit’s mass effect field generators, she leaped over the security barrier ahead. Behind her, her squad followed suit, and soon, her attack drones unleashed a hail of fire on the soldiers ahead, stripping away their shields, and distracting them, as she unleashed a spread of plasma bolts with her shotgun.
“Esu Khas,” she said through the neural link, blasting one, two, and then three slavers apart. “Tell Captain Tsan to begin his attack!”
“Acknowledged,” Chairu replied.
One after the other, her squad gunned down the remaining slavers around the landing pad. Amidst the chaos, she could not spot Lord Beskar. But Keelah, she would find him.
And when she did, that bosh’tet would pay!
In the distance, she spotted one of the hostages picking up a blaster rifle off the corpse of one of the slavers.
With a thought, she deactivated her combat suit’s adaptive camo, then raised the volume of her helmet’s voice modulator. “You’re safe now. We’re here to rescue you.”
“It’s about damn time,” said one of the hostages, a woman with steel grey hair and a piercing gaze. On her HUD, her name came up, and it was the Captain of the Yhan’Zhari itself, Valery Constasia.
“Where is Lord Beskar?” Khal asked.
“That bastard took off when the explosions started booming all over the place,” said another of the hostages, Esign Xu Zhang. Like his Captain, he also picked up a blaster from one of the dead slavers.
Something whooshed through the air above her, and she glanced up, only to see it was several Commonwealth Aerial Transports zooming through the air. Captain Tsan’s assault on the slaver base had finally begun.
She sighed. For all she knew, Lord Beskar could be off-world by now. But Anscestors be willing, perhaps the Commonwealth Marines assaulting this base would find and then end him.
“No matter,” she said. “ He will get what he deserves soon enough.”
Someone coughed nearby. And she looked toward the sound, only to see it was the Emissairy, crawling to her feet, her robes smeared with soot, blood, and ash.
Without hesitation, she aimed her shotgun at her, and the rest of her squad and the armed hostages followed suit.
“Do you…” the Emissary began. The Asari coughed up some blood. “Do you have any idea what you have just done?”
Her eyes went wide. Keelah! The Emissary had spoken perfect Khelish! How in the Ancestors does sh e…
She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about this.
“I know exactly what we have done,” she said. “Your Ascendant is coming for the Commonwealth, to exterminate the rest of my people like vermin beneath his feet.”
“Surrender,” Khal said.
“It is your only hope of survival,” Prazza added.
A long, crushing silence ensued, broken intermittently by the sound of explosions and plasma fire in the distance. The Emissairy grinned, then raised her hands in the air. “Very well. But I pity you. When my father finds out that you have taken me captive, the Ascendant will rescind all plans aiming to force your unconditional surrender.” The Asari glared at her with enough hate to melt through durasteel . “You will have nobody but yourselves to blame for the doom of your race.”
“Only time will tell if that is true,” she said.
Prazza input a few commands into his omni-tool, then brought out a pair of omni-cuffs. “Now, on your knees.”
Reluctantly, the Emissairy went to her knees, and then Prazza restrained her with the omni-cuffs. As soon as he did that, she opened up a com-link to Khairu.
“Esu-Khas,” she began, “we are ready for extraction.” Briefly, she glanced at the hostages, and many of them were in ragged shape, with cuts, bruises, and even cracked visors. “Be sure to bring a squad of medics.”
“Acknowledged, Zhun Khas,” Khairu replied. “Extraction is on the way. When you return, note that Admiral Rael’Zorah has just broadcast a message across the entire 5th Fleet.”
Keelah, what message could her father have broadcasted? Was it crucial intelligence? A training exercise? “Noted, Esu-Khas. Over and out.”
“Over and out.”
A few moments later, a shuttle descended from the sky, then landed a few feet away. As soon as its rear door opened, its omni-ramp lowered, and a squad of medics rushed out toward the rescued crew of the CSV Yhan’Zhari.
Captain Valery met her gaze. “I guess I should thank you.”
“Those fre’eg eaters would have killed us all,” said a quarian with an orange suit and visor. A tooltip on her HUD popped up over the quarian , revealing her name to be Ezu’Narra.
Ezu saluted. “May the Ancestors always be with you.”
She smiled beneath her visor and returned the gesture. “May the Ancestors always be with you.”
With that, the crew of the Yhan’Zhari boarded the shuttle. And her squad followed suit, with Prazza shoving the captive Emissairy forward.
Soon, they took their seats. And ss the shuttle rose into the air, she closed her eyes, and then let out a contented sigh. Keelah…
Finally, this mission was over, and she would get to enjoy some well-deserved leave. Yes, after more than a year offworld, she’d get a chance to see her home, to feel the warmth of New Tikkun on her bare face, and the soft sand of New Rannoch between her toes.
Her thoughts invariably drifted to Yahn’Shepard. And a cold, hollow sensation filled her chest. Ancestors, it had been so long since they last spoke, since they were assigned to different units. But even now she couldn’t help but long for his presence, for how he filled her with such warmth and peace without having to say a word.
In her mind’s eye, she recalled how they always laughed and played together as children, how he had taught her Inglish, and how she had taught him Khelish.
She smiled, and a warm, soothing sensation blossomed in her chest. If only he was quarian…
Hopefully, he was okay. Hopefully, he would return to New Rannoch alive and well.
She closed her eyes, and time seemed to slow to a crawl, as the shuttle made its way back to the docking bay of her ship. May the Ancestors watch over yo u…
Chapter Text
At the heart of Shanxi’s most fortified military base, General Jack Harper watched the battle simulation play out for the eleventh time on the holo-display before him.
Powered by the base’s primary military VI, his virtual units moved according to innumerable patterns and trends within historical combat data, gathered over centuries upon centuries of different conflicts, fought on hundreds of different worlds. And yet…no matter how he pruned and tweaked the strategies it suggested, his virtual units only faced defeat after defeat.
His knuckles whitened as he balled his fists and his jaw tightened with every failed virtual campaign.
A creeping, gnawing sense of dread crept up his spine. And he took a deep breath. You have to do better. You. Have. To. Do. Better!
Yes, he could not afford the luxury of incompetence.
Undoubtedly, the Citadel Triarchy was going to invade this world once the war finally broke out. Yes, since the founding of the Commonwealth, humanity’s new allies had turned this world into an industrial and agricultural powerhouse, a jewel of prime strategic value.
So no doubt, the most vicious and bloody battles would be fought here.
And when they began, he would show the enemy no mercy, nor quarter. He would do whatever was necessary to defend this world. And he would ensure that every man and woman under his command would fight with everything they had, no matter the odds.
But first he needed to perfect his strategy, his logistics, his tactics — everything!
There was no room even for the tiniest failure.
Momentarily, his father’s angry face flashed in his mind.
“NO! You stupid, little shit! Not like that!”
“You can’t do anything right…”
“Don’t you cry…You are a Harper! So damn well act like it!”
His body tensed. A suffocating heaviness pressed against the inside of his skull, and his father’s voice only chattered away.
With every ounce of willpower he had, he banished the voice away and shoved past memories back into the deepest, darkest depths of his mind. NO.
He would not be weak and pathetic. He was a General of the Commonwealth. And he would damn well act like it!
Just then, the nearby door opened with a metallic whine, and somebody stepped inside. “General Harper?”
The voice snapped him out of his icy-cold rage, and he turned only to see his best Intelligence Officer, Lieutenant Miranda Lawson, standing in the doorway.
Wearing the standard-issue gray-black fatigues of a Commonwealth CO, with her black hair tied in a bun, the estranged daughter of the Commonwealth’s richest man exuded ice-cold professionalism and unnatural beauty. She was a marvel of genetic engineering, the result of Henry Lawson’s failed project to create the perfect successor to his multi-trillion credit empire, and he couldn’t help but compare her to a marble statue of a goddess come to life.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” he asked. “You have an update for me?”
“Oh, a big one,” she said. “Perhaps the biggest of our entire careers.”
His eyes went wide. The biggest of our entire careers? Dread crept down his spine. Could this be the beginning of the war? The beginning of the greatest conflict since the third world war, over two centuries ago?
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Show me.”
“With pleasure,” Miranda said. Inputting several commands on her omni-tool, she closed the simulation he had been working on, then opened up a galaxy map, with every world in Commonwealth territory highlighted in red.
“Precisely 73 hours ago,” she continued, zooming in on the galaxy map, “Intelligence detected anomalous eezo signatures and gravitational waves coming from a system about six lightyears from one of our frontier worlds, Acheron.”
The hologram settled on a blue-brown world abound with swirling white clouds. A window popped up above it showing an elongated, egg-shaped vessel with a glossy, purple hull, hanging in its orbit. At first glance, the ship looked very quarian. But then he watched the ship enter FTL directly within the planet’s orbit, and he knew it could only be one thing.
Geth…
His pulse climbed. After centuries of isolation, had the genocidal machines that had murdered and brutalized nearly the entire quarian race come back to finish the job?
Are we even ready?
He met Miranda’s gaze. “And then what happened?”
“The local garrison picked up this transmission,” Miranda said, typing away at her omni-tool. “And let’s just say…” Miranda paused and then gulped. In her eyes, he found only existential dread, the all too familiar sense of impending doom he always felt whenever he contemplated what lurked within the cold, dark expanse beyond Commonwealth Space. “Well, I’ll just play it, and you can form your own conclusions.”
Another window popped up, displaying a black screen, playing the eerie sound of static and distorted chittering.
“People of the Commonwealth…” an eerily calm, deep voice began. “Heed our warnings…”
The black screen flickered and showed vast armadas clustered around what he recognized as the Citadel, around other vast space stations, and moons converted into sprawling bases. “The Citadel Triarchy is coming for you. They have always known of your existence, and now time is running out. The Terran Crusade is nigh.”
The screen flickered, then displayed a grand square teeming with crowds of countless thousands. All were Asari, amidst some kind of political rally, raving with fanatical zeal at the propoganda playing before them on colossal holoscreens.
Again, the screen flickered and displayed massive armies of Asari soldiers standing as still as statues amidst some vast parade ground — at perfect attention.
“Do not let the armory fall into their hands,” the voice continued, in an urgent tone. “The fate of the galaxy depends on it.”
The screen winked out. In the ensuing silence, he could hardly move nor speak. The message he’d just heard clawed at his mind, plaguing it with visions of the fire and bloodshed to come.
His body tensed, and his mind screamed with the urge to bring the enemy as much pain and suffering as possible. We’ll be waiting for you.
“Has anyone relayed this to the Commonwealth Council?” he asked. “Words can not begin to describe the shitstorm this means.”
“I know…” Miranda said, looking at the ground. She sighed. “The message hasn’t reached the Council yet. We still haven’t relayed it to the nearest QEC station. And—”
“Well what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Do it. The sooner the better.”
“Affirmative,” Miranda said. “But in the meantime, what are we going to do here, locally?”
He sighed. And for a moment, time seemed to slow to a standstill. This is it. Yes, this was the moment he had spent the last two decades climbing through the ranks for. He looked Miranda deep in the eye. “I’m declaring martial law. We have the brightest, bloodiest code red on our hands. So Inform Colonel Strysand, Uron’Zorah, and Kaigon T’Caro that I want them in the war room ASAP.”
“And the civilians?” Miranda asked. “What are we going to do with them?”
He paused. Momentarily, his father’s angry face flashed in his mind.
‘Are you weak? Or are you strong?’
He ground his teeth. Hard times call for hard measures. “I’ll handle that.” Yes, the public had to know. And with martial law declared, he had the authority to enact…necessary measures. “It’s time to call on our reserves. We don’t have time, so it’s time I give them a…reminder of what is at stake.”
“Affirmative,” Miranda said. She saluted. “For the Commonwealth.”
He returned the salute. “For the Commonwealth.”
With that, Miranda left the room, her footsteps echoing through the air, until they eventually faded into the distance. In the silence that followed, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He had never been a spiritual man. The faiths of Old Earth were but shells of what they used to be, and before first contact, they had never crossed his mind. But if there was a god, if there was anything bigger than him on the side of the good and righteous, then…
Please save our souls.
Aboard the CSV Normandy, in the gym on its cargo deck, John Shepard slipped through the incoming punch, then countered with a right cross to his opponent’s ribs.
His brother absorbed the blow with a laugh, then countered with a flurry of jabs and crosses. “That the hardest you can hit?”
He laughed, his heart surged with joy as blocked or slipped through blow after blow. He’d always enjoy the simple pleasure of sparring with his brother in the small gym within the cargo deck. He feigned with a jab, then dived beneath his brother’s next blow, and took him to the ground.
For a moment, he met his brother’s gaze, then laughed. “I’m just getting started.”
Luke smiled. “Oh, no you don’t.”
Luke bucked his hips, then flipped him onto his back. Together, they wrestled on the mat, trying to overpower each other.
Until he made the mistake of exposing his arm for a second too long.
His brother seized at the opening, and before he knew it, his back was to the ground, and his brother had him in an arm bar.
Laughing, he tapped out. “Alright, alright, you win. Get off me!”
Panting, Luke released him, then extended a hand to help him up. “You almost had me there.” Luke chuckled. “As always, you never make it easy.”
“I’ll get you next time,” he said. When it came to all forms of combat, his brother had always been better than him. During all their years together, from their time as Commonwealth Marines, to their missions as N7 operatives, Luke had always possessed a greater capacity for violence and ill-will he wielded with almost surgical precision and control.
No doubt, it was a wound in his brother’s soul, a rejected part of his mind lashing out in agony, longing only to be seen and heard. Every day, he dreaded the possibility of the enemy exploiting it, of using it to push his brother down a path of destruction.
But ultimately, it was Luke’s inner monster to face.
And every step of the way, he would be there to support him, to pick him up should he ever fall.
He sighed, then glanced at his omni-tool. A few hours from now, they should finally arrive in the New Tikkun system. Better get ready. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s almost time. I’d better get my squad and I ready. I’ll catch you later.”
Luke smiled, his green eyes filled with nothing but warmth and affection. “Yeah. I’d better do the same. We’ll talk soon, brother. Until next time.”
He returned the gesture. “Until next time.”
With that, they left the gym, and he made his way toward the crew deck. Along the way, he passed by numerous other human, quarian, and asari personnel, returning their nods, salutes, and greetings with a warm smile. And soon, he reached his quarters.
Within were but the simplest, most spartan furnishings: a bed, a locker, and a terminal upon a desk. On the desk was an old-fashioned, physical copy of perhaps the greatest text of the 23rd century, the English translation of the Anandharu, written by Grandmaster Nu’adu himself, along with holo photos of his best memories.
Of him and Luke posing with their parents for a family photo.
Of their father training them to use their boitics.
Of them playing with their friends, both human and quarian.
Of their graduation from boot camp, with their parents standing proudly beside them.
And finally…of him and Tali’Zorah smiling for a photo on one of New Rannoch’s few beaches.
A soothing, nourishing sensation bloomed in his chest, spreading warmth and peace through his entire being. He smiled and couldn’t help but look back on the best times he had with his dearest quarian companion.
“Like this?” he asks, configuring the omni-circuit before him.
Tali giggles, and his heart skips in his chest. The sound of her laugh, even modulated behind her helmet’s voice modulator, fills him with peace and joy he can hardly describe. “You’re so cute. But here…let me show you how it’s done…you silly bosh’tet.”
Other memories flashed through his mind, like how she had taugh him Khelish, and how he had taught her English. Or how they’d often spend hours in their secret hiding spot, secluded atop a cliff overlooking one of New Rannoch’s beaches.
“I’m going to do it, Tali,” he says, with her sitting right beside him, looking out at the stars above. “I’m going to be an N7. There’s a whole galaxy out there, and I’m going to see it all, play my part in the Commonwealth’s future…” Briefly, he stares into Tali’s luminous eyes. “In what our parents built.”
Tali squeezes his hand, and the gesture sends an electric spark surging through his body. “I am with you, Yahn. From now…until the last star goes cold.”
He smiled, and he couldn’t help but long for her presence, for her gentle touch and sweet voice. Briefly, he allowed himself to fantasize about what it would be like to be her lover, her partner for life. But then a sinking sensation gripped his chest, and he brought himself back to reality.
Could it ever work?
A quarian and a human?
Could a quarian even feel like how he did for a human?
Perhaps one day, all would be clear. But regardless, he would never allow his desires to comprise her well-being and happiness. And if he could never be with her in that way…then so be it.
As long as you are happy. As long as you are safe…
He took a deep breath. Anyway, he had work to do. After changing into his fatigues, he sat at his desk, then sent a notification to his squad through his terminal, telling them to meet him on the bridge within the next half hour.
With that, he looked at the copy of the Anandharu on his desk, then took a deep breath. That book had made him the man he was today, and with the extra time he had on his hands, now was the perfect time to practice one of its lessons.
To apply a habit he could not imagine doing without.
Closing his eyes, he tapped into his biotics, then drew his attention to the electric sensation of mass effect fields engulfing his body.
Yes, according to the Justicar Grand Master, and from all his father had taught him, the ego directly influenced how one’s biotic powers could manifest.
Briefly, he recalled moments when his brother had torn enemies asunder with biotic flares as bright as a star, how Luke unleashed such power with ill-will and malice, always on the edge of consuming him.
A cold, hollow emptiness gripped his chest, and his mind flashed with imagined scenarios of Luke giving into the monster within, of his brother learning to relish the intoxicating sense of control and superiority biotics could give somebody.
With another deep breath, he allowed the cold, tightness within him to flow through him without resistance. You will not fall.
Yes, as long as he lived, he would not allow his brother to become his own worst enemy, for the darkest parts of him to take control. But that could only happen if he dissolved his ego, his inner monster, himself.
For the blind could never lead the blind.
For the next few minutes, he focused on the electric sensation engulfing his body, on each and every breath. May I be free from anger. May I be free from ill-will. May I be free from the illusion of control.
Soon, he opened his eyes, his mind as still as the void of space. On his terminal, it read ten minutes until he had to meet his squad on the bridge.
Time to go.
With that, he left his quarters, then traversed several corridors of the Normandy, until he made made his way to the command deck. There, he stepped through a security checkpoint, allowing numerous scanners to scan him.
And eventually, he stepped through a blast door ahead, leading to the bridge.
On the bridge, numerous human, quarian, and asari officers sat at their stations within pits lined with numerous grav chairs and holo displays.
At the center of the chamber was a large galaxy map, and Luke and Anderson were standing by it, chatting.
Soon, Luke met his gaze, and Anderson turned and faced him.
“Ah, Shepard,” Anderson said, with a smile. “So good to see you.”
He saluted. “Likewise, sir.”
“No need for the formalities, son,” Anderson said, returning the gesture. “We’re not on duty right now.”
He smiled. Growing up, he had always looked up to Anderson as an uncle-like figure. Every day, he felt so blessed to have him as his CO. “Thank you, Anderson.”
Anderson laughed. “Anyways. Come and take a look at this. Just over an hour ago, we received this transmission from General Zhoru, and…” Anderson looked at the floor.
He titled his head. Oh, no. This can’t be good. “And?”
Luke put his hand on his shoulder. In his brother’s eyes, he found only apprehension, the weariness before a storm to come. “Better you see it for yourself.”
He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was to come. “I see. Then very well…let’s see it.”
Anderson input a few commands into his omni-tool, and soon a hologram of General Zhoru Larrik popped up before them, clad in his silver battle plate and dark cloak.
“Soldiers of the 3rd Commonwealth Army…” Zhoru began. “I come to you now with the grimmest news.” General Zhoru paused. “The Terran Crusade is nigh. The Citadel Triarchy is coming. And so head my call — return to New Rannoch. Now is the time to rally. And how we choose to fight will determine the fate of the galaxy.”
A heavy silence descended.
Amidst it, he took a deep breath. So much for shore leave…
He turned and met his brother’s gaze. In his brother’s eyes, he found that steely, unbreakable resolve that had gotten them to where they are now.
And they did not have to say a word.
Their destiny was calling. And they would face it together head-on.
Chapter Text
Councillor Liam N’ganu looked out the armor-glass window of his office, near the top of the Commonwealth Forum building, smoking an omni-cigar as he swept his gaze at the marvelous cityscape of New Washington.
In only two decades, he had watched this city and humanity go through perhaps the greatest technological leap in history. And even now, it felt so…surreal.
The old buildings were now skyscrapers that nearly touched the clouds, glittering with reflected sunlight and teeming with countless landing pads.
Above, streams of drones, sky freighters, and shuttles were zipping to and fro, between the massive structures. And above, the orbital defense shield shimmered, revealing its hexagonal structure.
And he sighed. Deep down, it felt like only yesterday when humanity had been alone in the universe, living in blissful ignorance of the vastness beyond.
But now…
Now, there was no going back.
Behind him, the door slid open with a metallic whine. And footsteps echoed behind him.
“Councillor Nganu?” his aide asked.
He turned, only to face the young man, wearing an impecable suit. “What is it, son?”
“The rest of the Council…” the young man said. “They’re here. And the recent messages from Shanxi…Sir, I…” Momentarily, the young man’s gaze went toward the floor.
He drew in a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled. So the day has finally come… “It’s big, eh?” he asked. “What we’ve been bracing for?”
His aide let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Well, let’s just say it’s on the horizon. You’ll see so soon enough.”
He put a hand on his aide’s shoulder. “Thank you. Take the rest of the day off. I feel like we’re all going to need one for whatever is to come.”
The aide nodded, then went on his way. In the silence that followed, he took a deep breath and then let out a big sigh. Here. We. Go.
He left his office, traversing the halls of the forum building, until he stepped into the central conference room.
On the ceiling was a tremendous holo-projector, situated above the center of the room, which was surrounded by numerous grav chairs.
He took his usual seat, and soon enough the other members of the Commonwealth Council arrived.
First came Urdnot Wrex, clad in his gleaming , red battle armor, adorned with some kind of patterned cloak.
“Nganu…” Wrex began, his translated voice deep and powerful. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
He smiled. Of all the members of the Commonwealth Council, at least he could always count on the Khan to be the most transparent. Indeed, humanity could learn a lot from the Urdnot Khanate’s brutally direct and honest approach to politics. “The feeling is mutual.” He cleared his throat. “So any news on what we are about to discuss?”
Wrex sat in his massive grav chair, then let out a reptilian grunt. “I know nothing more than what you do, only that our enemy is finally about to strike.”
He swallowed hard, then sighed. Momentarily, his mind flashed with images of the carnage to come. Are we ready? Had the last two decades of relentless recruiting, fortifying, and preparing been enough? His pulse climbed. “But we will be ready. We will make those bastards regret the day they choose to invade the Commonwealth.”
Wrex let out a reptilian chortle, the Krogan equivalent of a laugh. “Indeed, we will, Nganu. Indeed, we will.”
That moment, Grandmaster Nu’adu stepped into the chamber, carrying himself with such unflappable peace and tranquility. Clad in the gold-white robes of a monk, Nu’adu’s gentle, compassionate gaze met his, and immediately, his muscles relaxed, and his mind cleared.
“Welcome, friends,” the Grandmaster said, smiling. Every day, he marveled at how Nu’adu and most of the Justicars managed to remain so joyful, so at peace, even in the face of imminent doom.
A part of him could see why the Justicar’s religion, Nu’adu’s teachings, were spreading so far and wide across humanity. I’ll have to check it out someday.
Nu’adu sat in his grav chair, then let out a contented sigh. “Both of you are very tense, I see.” The Grandmaster paused, as though to let that statement sink in. “That is perfectly understandable. This is the moment we all knew was inevitable.”
“Yeah…” he said.
Nu’adu paused, and a heavy silence filled the room, pressing down on him.
“It is in times like this,” Nu’adu said, “when confronted with the fragility and impermanence of all things, that we must remind ourselves that we can only control our thoughts, reactions, and perceptions.”
The truth of the statement hit him like a grav train, and he let out a mirthless laugh. “Then let’s do our best to make the best ones we can .”
Nu’adu smiled, his golden eyes filled with a soothing, gentle warmth that never failed to set him at ease. “ Absolutely, Nganu. Absolutely.” Nu’adu sighed. “Afterwards, all we can do is trust in the flow of the universe, in the will of whatever will drive the events to come.”
For a moment, he was speechless, struck by the unanimity and peace the Grandmaster exuded, even in the face of annihilation . “Thank you, Master Nu’adu. I needed that.”
Once more, the door slid open with a metallic hiss, and the quarian Prime Speaker, Councillor Ekharys’Valaen, and the Duke of Illium, Councillor Leontus T’Shala, stepped into the chamber.
Wearing a black-gold variant of the latest mark of quarian e-suits, the Prime Speaker carried himself with kingly grace , with sunlight glinting off his gold, mirror-like visor.
Wearing the silver-gold attire of nobility, the Duke of Illium seemed as tired, wary, and humorless as ever , but carried himself with unyielding resolve and purpose in every step.
“My fellow, Councillors…” Ekharys said. “I am pleased to see you. Ancestors be with us, time is short. So let us begin immediately.”
“We can not afford to wait for the Empress,” Leontus added, sitting in his grav chair. The asari duke leaned forward. “This situation…Athame help us…it is far more important than her schedule or convenience.”
“And when she arrives…” Ekharys said with grim determination in his voice, as he sat in his grav chair. “She will have much explaining to do.”
Momentarily, his jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide. Oh, what has her ‘royal highness’ done now. Briefly, he gripped the arms of his grav chair tightly. Every time that insufferable bitch attended a council meeting, almost never on time, her fragile, inflated ego and delusional entitlement always had to make everything ten times harder and more complex than they needed to be. It was always as though she found some sick pleasure in getting a rise out of people, in being a figure of controversy and infamy. He took a deep breath.
What would we do without Nu’adu. Bless that man. Bless him.
The Grandmaster was the only one who seemed capable of keeping her narcissism in check. And he no doubt the Commonwealth would be an absolute mess, a flaming pile of trash without him, or the Justicar Order.
“Let’s get this started then,” he said. He raised his hand. “Who is with me?”
Wrex raised his hand. “Agreed.”
Soon enough, the remaining members of the Council also raised a hand.
“It is unanimous then,” Nu’adu said. The Grandmaster looked at Leontus, then nodded, signaling him to begin. And Leontus wasted no time , inputting commands into omni-tool.
Soon, the holo-projector whirred to life and projected a galaxy map before them.
Leontus stood up and then approached it. “My friends, I will not lessen the blow of what I am about to show you.” Leontus zoomed in on a system on the Commonwealth’s outskirts. “Just recently, a ship of geth origins…”
The entire chamber went silent, and the silence stretched on and on, growing heavier and more tense every moment.
The geth?
The genocidal machines that had so brutally driven the quarians to the brink of extinction?
A tightness sprouted in his chest, and a pressure grew in his skull. He clenched his jaw. What do they have anything to do with this?
“Yes, yes, yes,” Leontus continued, “you heard me correctly — a ship of geth origins appeared in orbit over this very frontier world and broadcast this message.”
A window popped up above the galaxy map, displaying a black screen, playing static and distorted chittering. The hairs on his neck went erect, and his pulse spiked when a voice began to speak.
“People of the Commonwealth…” a chilling, calm voice said. “Heed our warnings…”
The screen flickered and showed thousands of warships clustered around the Citadel, other space stations, and war moons. Most were silver-gold, dagger-shaped vessels, that looked similar to the Athame’s Lament, one of the prides of the Commonwealth’s fleets. But others were spikey vessels of the Heirarchy or the elongated, pearlescent vessels of the Technocracy.
Immediately, he recognized the formations they were adopting. Training exercises…
His heart pounded in his chest. How long have those bastards known about us?
“The Citadel Triarchy is coming for you…” the voice continued. “They have always known about you, and now time is running out. The Terran crusade is nigh…”
Those words sent an icy serpent snaking down his spine. But in its wake followed a fiery resolve that burned in his chest. The weight of that statement sparked an inferno within him, a sense of responsibility and duty he could not ignore.
And he would not fail!
Again, the screen flickered. Now, it was showing thousands upon thousands of asari amidst some city square, at some kind of political rally. On the numerous surrounding skyscrapers, tremendous holo screens were showing a close-up of the Ascendant, and what had to be members of his inner circle atop some elevated platform overlooking the crowds, standing behind some massive holo-banner showing the sigil of the Thessian Empire.
A hand gripping three planets surrounded by a ring of fire.
Soon, the Ascendant, clad in a suit of gold, almost divine armor with a blue cloak, stepped forward and swept his gaze across the vast, roaring crowds below, carrying himself like a god-king of myth.
Despite his divine, almost angelic appearance, the Ascendant’s eyes glowed faintly red, and within him, he saw the same emptiness, the same unfillable hunger for power and control, he saw within the Empress’ eyes.
Except magnified a hundred, no…a thousand times more.
The Ascendant raised his hand, and within seconds the crowds went dead silent. “My fellow citizens,” he began. My brothers and sisters in service to the empire. Oh, how I bring you the greatest news…” The Ascendant paused for dramatic effect. “After many long eons, after many long wars for our survival, and countless expeditions by the brave pioneers of the Imperial Navy, I am overjoyed to share that our cradle, our true homeworld has finally been found.”
An overwhelming, almost deafening silence filled the room. But then a swarm of drones projected a tremendous hologram of Earth above the endless crowds.
And the crowd erupted into manic, fanatical cheers, as though they had just heard the greatest news of their life. He swallowed hard. This can’t be good.
Soon, the hologram of Earth winked out, and the Ascendant raised his hand once more, quieting the crowd. The Ascendant smiled, but the chilling, overwhelming emptiness in his eyes devoured any genuine warmth the gesture carried. And it only made him shiver with unease. “It pleases me to see you so overjoyed! Indeed, this is a historic day! A turning point in our history, yet another step closer to our shared, rightful destiny!”
The Ascendant sighed, and for a fraction of a second, he spotted the Ascendant smile. Again, the Ascendant paused, then deflated his posture slightly, as if bracing the audience for bad news.
“But I am afraid to tell you,” the Ascendant continued, in a calmer, more measured voice, “that this prize, our divine right, will not be without sacrifice ahead.”
Again, a swarm of drones projected a hologram over the crowd…
Of the summit in which the Commonwealth was founded.
As the holograms showed the crowds various scenes in which quarians , humans, and other asari cooperated, laughing, and engaging with each other.
His stomach twisted into a painful knot, and a sinking sensation gripped his heart with an iron vice. If the enemy had footage of that historic summit, then that could only mean one thing.
There was a traitor, a spy, lurking amongst them.
Feeding the Citadel Triarchy information.
But who?
For a painfully long while, the crowd simply stared at the holograms in disbelief.
“Your eyes do not deceive you,” the Ascendant said, with utter disdain in his voice, “the quarians — the most unworthy, detestable vermin of the galaxy — found Terra first. And together with our greatest enemies…they have founded an upstart rival to our supremacy that will plunge the galaxy into darkness if we do not act now!”
The holograms above the crowds morphed, showing scenes of Commonwealth politicians and other public figures amidst a lavish gala dinner, and then to other scenes of debauchery. “See how they indulge in the same rot, the same moral decay, that led us to the fall of the Old Republic!”
The holograms morphed showing the slums of Hy-Brasil, and the squalid asteroid colonies beyond the belt. Within them, countless lived a life of only toil and suffering, clinging to the edge of oblivion. “See how they let their own people rot in disease, famine, and filth, exploiting the masses, under the illusion, the lie that is democracy!”
The Ascendant stepped forward on the platform, and then pointed at the holograms. “This! This, my brothers and sisters…” The Ascendant’s voice grew calmer, more measured, with a steely undercurrent. “…is a revenant of the Old Republic back from the dead, seeking vengeance…our destruction.”
The holograms morphed once more, showing footage of Commonwealth weapons tests.
How did spies… He cut that thought short, then huffed through his nose. Whatever the truth, one thing was clear.
They had been slacking horribly when it came to counterintelligence. And there would be a whole lot of arrests of reforms to come.
“I will be honest with you…” the Ascendant continued, briefly looking at the ground, then back at the crowd with firm resolve. “If we do not act, then they will undo everything we have achieved. They will sweep away our centuries of progress — and plunge the galaxy into an age of darkness unlike anything the galaxy has ever seen!”
The holograms winked out, and the Ascendant stepped close to the edge of the platform , staring at the crowd, dragging out a long pause. “So. Hear. Me. Well…” the Ascendant continued, stressing every word, his voice as hard as steel. “Will you join the Terran Crusade? Will you bring fire and death to those who would destroy all we have built?” The Ascendant pointed at the crowd. “WHO WOULD DENY OUR COSMIC DESTINY?”
The crowd erupted into a thunderous, booming cheer; a manic, fanatical frenzy. His stomach clenched. The scene couldn’t help but remind him of ancient holo-footage of humanity’s darkest regimes — of when lost, broken souls desperate for peace and stability, handed absolute power to the most pathological people imaginable.
Only to lose their souls in the process.
The footage winked out, leaving behind an almost deafening silence that seemed to drag on forever. Briefly, he looked at his fellow Councillors, and then at Nu’adu.
And unlike the rest, who carried a deep-seated disgust and horror that transcended the boundaries of species, the Grandmaster had only a deep sadness in his eyes.
As though he was witnessing a tragedy.
No doubt, the Ascendant and Nu’adu carried a long, shared history. But just how deep did it go? What was he like before?
Just before anyone could break the silence, a metallic hiss filled the air. He stared in the direction of the sound, only to spot the Empress of the Omegan Empire, Aria T’Loak finally stepped through.
Clad in her usual black-gold armor, and her extravagant red robe, the Empress yawned.
“Well, well, well,” Councillor Leontus began, sneering and scowling, his voice brimming with disdain, “look who finally chose to arrive. Are you done with your feasts, whores, and naps? Are you finally ready to focus on something actually important? Like how the galaxy — including everything you hold dear — is about to burn in the fires of a galactic war?”
Aria grinned, practically ear to ear, her eyes filled with sadistic delight. “What’s the matter, Leontus? You seem jealous.” She let out a condescending laugh. “Aaah, I’m sure it’s been eons since you’ve enjoyed the thrill of slaking your lust. Especially after Imperial scum had your old, hideous hag of a wife violated, dragging her kicking and screaming—”
Leontus exploded out of his chair, a bright biotic corona engulfing his body. “You degenerate whore!” Leontus tensed up, scowling with murder in his eyes, about to unleash his biotics. “I’ll flense the flesh off your bones for that!”
Aria burst out laughing. “Ooooh, easy there. If you want me this badly, you’ll have to dine with me first.”
Just as it seemed Leontus was about to act, a sublime, soothing warmth filled his chest, and a heavenly lightness filled his head, amplifying his focus.
His eyes watered, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He touched it with his fingers. Wha…What’s happening to me?
The bloodiest, most destructive war in human history was on the doorstep. And yet it was like he was in heaven, with not a stress nor worry in the galaxy.
He looked at his fellow councilors, who seemed just as awestruck . Leontus’ biotic fury winked out in a flash, and tears were streaming down his aged, blue face. Meanwhile, Aria was glaring at Nu’adu with hatred as deep and fathomless as a black hole, but her posture was deflated.
She was hesitating, standing before Nu’adu like a scared child before her father.
What in Earth’s name just happened?
He looked at Nu’adu, who was also glowing blue with biotics. As always, the Grandmaster radiated an unassailable, all-encompassing sense of peace and tranquility that permeated every inch of the room.
“What did…What did you just do?” he asked.
The biotic corona around the Grandmaster winked out , and Nu’adu met his gaze and gave him the warmest, most gentle smile. “Apologies, Nganu. But the situation called me to spoil what could have been a great discovery for you.”
“In the name of Kalros,“ Wrex said, his voice softer and calmer than usual, “what?”
Nu’adu leaned forward in his grav chair. “The infinite treasure that lies within each and every one of you. What all beings can access if only they have the courage to face themselves.”
A profound silence descended. Amidst, he looked at the ground. What lies within us all? Wait…
Was this the phenomenon behind the reports of how Justicars were performing miracles on the lost and broken, on convicted criminals and the mentally ill?
Again, he glanced at Aria. And in her grav chair, she seemed so tense, so deflated, so shy, like she was retreating into her shell. For a moment, she glared at Nu’adu again, but only trembled in the attempt.
“I’m afraid this is only temporary,” Nu’adu continued, leaning back into his grav chair. “It would be horribly cruel of me to rob you of the journey of discovering yourself, of realizing the ultimate truths of the universe.”
Nu’adu looked at Leontus, with only deep concern and compassion in his eyes. “You carry deep pain, my friend. The past weighs on you with the weight of an entire world. So if one day, you wish to understand how to navigate your turmoil , to relinquish the weight on your soul, then do not hesitate to talk to me.”
Once more, Nu’adu leaned back into his chair, then clapped his hands, smiling. The Grandmaster let out a gentle, joyous laugh. “Anyways, let us continue. We have pressing matters to attend to. The fate of the galaxy will depend on the decisions we make next.”
Leontus took a deep breath, then sat in his grav chair. “Agreed”
“Agreed,” Wrex added. Briefly, the Krogan Khan looked at Aria, then back at Nu’adu. “It is time we discussed the traitors hiding in the Omegan Empire.”
Aria recoiled at Wrex’s words, and her eyes glowed red, as she tapped into her biotics. “How dare you accuse me…” The Empress growled, starting at Wrex with utter contempt. “Traitors in my own court? Impossible!”
Ekharys stood up, and then input a series of commands into his omni-tool. “Then explain how operatives of the Prophet’s Hand managed to obtain standard-issue equipment for soldiers of your armies.”
A window popped up before them, displaying holo-footage of a firefight raging in the corridors of a space station, between operatives of the N7 corps and the Prophet’s Hand. And just as the Prime Speaker described, the Prophet’s Hand terrorists were clad in the standard-issue, red-black battle skins worn by soldiers of the Omegan Empire.
The entire chamber went silent as the footage played, then winked out. And soon, everyone was staring at Aria, as though waiting for her response.
Aria’s face contorted with fury. “No…No…” She took a deep breath, then glanced at Nu’adu and back at the rest of the Council. “I am not a traitor. I am NOT a traitor!”
“Then clearly your Archons are not as loyal as you thought,” Leontus said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
“ Clearly, one of them has betrayed you,” Ekharys said calmly.
“Completely jeopardizing our operational security,” Wrex added.
Once more, all eyes were on the Empress, and her gaze swept across her detractors. Gripping the arms of her grav chair tightly, she scowled. “Oh, how convenient for all of you. Using this disaster to all conspire against me. I knew you were all full of grox shit.”
“You’ve put yourself in this situation,” Leontus said. “You have nobody to blame but yourself.”
Aria’s eyes glowed a faint red, as she glared at Leontus with murder in her eyes. She laughed. “Says the Commander who lost the Battle of the Oronaa Nebula.”
Leontus scowled once more, his body as tense and rigid as Durasteel. The Asari Duke snorted through his nostrils, then cleared his throat. “Nice try. I’m done playing your mind games. What matters is that we can all see the truth of this situation.”
Aria’s lips curled into a predatory grin. “And what truth might that be?”
Leontus was about to speak. But then Wrex stood up and let out a reptilian roar that made his heart nearly jump out of his chest.
“Ah, enough you two!” The Krogan Khan commanded, his voice booming. “In the name of Kalros, you are like bickering, sniveling pyjacks fighting over scraps. And I have had enough!”
Wrex met Aria’s fiery gaze. “One thing is abundantly clear. There are spies and traitors in your court. Left in the shadows, they will sabotage everything we have spent the last twenty years preparing for. And if you can not put aside your pride, in service of your ambitions and interests in this alliance. Then, by all means, do as you please. Whatever your choice, they will be rooted out and exterminated regardless.”
A heavy, crushing silence filled the room. All the while, he kept his gaze glued on the Empress. Eventually, she sighed. “Very well.”
“Excellent…” Wrex said. The krogan looked toward Nu’adu. “The path forward is clear. It is time to declare a state of emergency, to mobilize our fleets and legions, and to rally and galvanize the hearts and minds of our people.”
Leontus stood up. “I could not agree more.” The Duke Illium saluted. “For the Commonwealth.”
Ekharys stood up and did the same. “For the Commonwealth.”
Finally, he and Nu’adu stood up. And with pride, he and Nu’adu saluted. “For the Commonwealth!”
Chapter Text
On the balcony of her chamber in the Imperial Palace, Arch Inquisitor Morinth was staring out at the glory of Thessia, at the great work of her lord and savior, Chaerys the Magnificent.
For as far the eye could see, towering arcologies speared the sky, their gold, glittering spires reflecting the starlight of Parnitha . Between them, streams of drones, shuttles, and air freighters zoomed to and fro, into the arcologies themselves…and below into the underhives.
The dark, cesspit of filth, misery, and despair at the heart of the Old Republic's lies.
Her gaze lingered there for what felt like an eternity. Once more she found herself gripping the rails of the balcony with white-knuckled intensity.
One after the other, the memories came flooding back, of her years surviving on scraps of food with nowhere to call home, of her years in captivity as a pleasure girl…screaming, wailing, or going catatonic whenever someone violated her, and of her years in the Justicar Order, when she had become the Arch Traitor.
In her mind, the image of the Justicar Monastery in flames, littered with countless corpses of her former brothers and sisters, lingered for a painfully long while.
And tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Why?’ croaks Master Enyarin, as he lay dying and bleeding amidst the flames. ‘It…It is not too late. You can still—’
Gritting her teeth, she forced the memories back down. No. She could not be weak now! She could not be her passive, obedient old self, in service to an Order that allowed suffering and injustice to thrive amidst the Old Republic. The old Mornith was dead! Yes, she was the Arch Inquisitor now…
The left hand of her lord and savior.
Just then, she received an alert on her omni-tool , and it was from Inquistor Quixos. She answered it, and a small hologram of the inquistor appeared above her wrist.
Quixos bowed. “Arch Inquisitor. As always, it is a pleasure to speak with you.”
She clenched her jaw. She always hated it when sycophants tried to worm their way into her good graces. If only they knew she had none. “Speak. What do you have for me?”
Quixos input a series of commands into his omni-tool. “First, I believe the Ascendant will be pleased to know that Commonwealth has struck first.”
On her omni-tool, a window popped up, showing a backwater world on the border between Imperial space and the Terminus Systems. Near it, another window popped up, displaying the profile of an Imperial Emissairy.
She read the name of who it was, and momentarily, her eyes went wide .
It was Lord General Aethyar T’Soni’s daughter.
“Lord Tsoni’s daughter,” Quixos continued, “made the foolish mistake of setting foot on the world to entertain the schemes of someone far more experienced at political games. And she paid the ultimate price…”
Another window popped up on her omni-tool, and it displayed the last moments of an Imperial Scout Cruiser before a Commonwealth vessel speared it in two with an energy lance.
The window flickered, showing the complex on the surface in flames, littered with rubble and blackened corpses. Amidst the carnage, Commonwealth marines advanced, firing their pulse rifles at targets through the surrounding smoke.
“And the girl is dead?” she asked. Later, when she had the time, she would have to investigate who assigned the girl to a mission beyond her capabilities.
Such incompetence — or clumsy political maneuvering — would not be tolerated.
“No,” Quixos continued. “Worse. She was captured, taken by quarians , back to the Commonwealth.”
She paused . Poor girl. No doubt, the girl’s career was over. She had suffered the greatest disgrace of all, and now she was all but dead.
She sighed. “I see…”
“So what are your orders?” Quixos asked. “This is a great opportunity to stir the public to righteous fury…provided we present it to our advantage.”
“Indeed,” she said. “Here’s how I want you to present it to the public. First, tell the public the people of that world saw reason and enlightenment and were in the process of joining the empire, that Lord General T’Soni’s brave daughter was at the head of bringing them into the fold…when the Commonwealth arrived and slaughtered every man, woman, and child. Use as much VI-generated footage as needed.”
Quixos laughed. “They will see only the greatest tragedy. We will inspire the masses to righteous fury not seen since the Great Purge itself .”
At Quixos’ words, her mind flashed with images of the fat, decadent parasites upon which she had inflicted the greatest suffering, of how she and the other inquisitors had unleashed decades of bent-up rage, flaying and burning and brutalizing them…
All before their screaming, wailing families.
Her hands trembled slightly. Her stomach churned. And an icy sensation stabbed at her chest. They made me do it.
Yes, they made her do it.
None of them were innocent. None of them! Yes, she was only giving them — and all the degerate elites of the Old Republic — exactly what they deserved.
Clenching her fists, she shoved the memories back down into the deepest, darkest depths of her mind.
Indeed, given the chance, she would do it all again. She would allow the monster that had possessed her then to inflict ten, no…a thousand times the agony.
Morinth smiled. “They will need all the rage and fury they can get.” she cleared her throat. “Anyways. The path forward is clear. The Ascendant must know of this. She saluted. “For the empire.”
Quixos saluted, laughing like the dirty serpent that he was. “For the empire.”
She closed her omni-tool, then sighed. In the silence that followed, broken only by the whir of drones humming above, her pulse quickened. In the presence of her beloved lord and savior, she always felt so small, so unworthy, like a little girl before a father she could never adequately please.
Chaerys laughs. ‘You are the hope of the galaxy, my child.’ He puts a hand on her shoulder, and his warm, paternal gaze pierces her very essence. ‘Together, there is nothing we can not conquer, no foe that can stand in our way…’
Her eyes watered, but she quickly wiped her eyes. What had she ever done to lose that kind, warm, charismatic man? No matter what she did, she was never good enough.
She always fell short.
She was always weak.
Stupid.
Worthless…
She balled her fists. But nonetheless, she would prove herself!
No matter what, she would bring back the old Chaerys — the hero of the Krogan Rebellions, the man who tore down the evil, rotting carcass that was the Old Republic!
She stepped through a circular door, into the Imperial Palace. I’ll show you…
Yes, no matter what, she would show him how worthy she was of being by his side!
Making her way through the Imperial Palace, her mind flashed with all of her past failures, of all the times when her weakness had gotten the better of her…
The closer she came to the Ascendant’s sanctum, the faster her pulse climbed. Would she only fail him again? Would she—
She clenched her jaw and let out a guttural growl. Enough! Now, was not the time for weakness!
For the empire, for Chaerys, she had to be worthy of her title!
Soon, she reached the entrance to the Ascendant’s sanctum, then took a deep breath. Athame help me.
She stepped through, only to find Chaerys and every Exarch of the Empire, surrounding a slew of holomaps and holocharts.
Among them, the Grand Exarch Vaelorion, the Commander of the Elite Titan Corps, and the Right Hand of the Ascendant towered over everyone else. Clad in golden artificer armor fit for his immense, overpowering stature, and a majestic red cloak, he was a living symbol of the Empire’s indomitable might.
“My lord…” he said, his voice a low rumble. “With all due respect, if Master Gaiphoro is the Supreme Commander of all the Commonwealth’s military forces, then this crusade will be anything but swift.”
Exarch Sycthis cleared his throat, then opened up his omni-tool. Wearing a dignified gold-black suit, the Empire’s Minister of Economic Affairs was tall and lanky , with long, narrow features and a gaze as cold as the void of space. Without his economic and administrative genius, she had no doubt the Empire would only ever be a dream.
“By my projections,” he said, his voice sharp and serpent-like, “casualty rates will exceed fifty percent…provided we execute our plans perfectly.”
“Such rates are more than acceptable,” Chaerys said. “From the very beginning, we knew this war would require great sacrifice…” The Ascendant closed the holomaps with a swipe of his hand, then swept his gaze across the other Exarchs. His gaze lingered on her for what felt like an eternity, and she could hardly move.
“And unlike the Commonwealth,” The Ascendant continued, his voice taking a steely edge, “there is no boundary we will not cross to secure victory, to secure our divine right to rule the stars.” Chaerys smiled. “And out of all of us, I am certain none understand this quite like you, Arch Inquisitor.”
Her limbs surged with energy, and she suppressed the urge to jump for joy and squeal like a little girl. She cleared her throat, then bowed. “Indeed, I do, my lord.”
Exarch Draykan let out a hearty laugh. Like Chaerys, the Minister of Public Enlightenment was a tall, beautiful man , who exuded an almost supernaturally high energy , his elegant , black suit fitting perfectly around his lean, athletic frame.
“Indeed, we do, my lord,” Drakyan continued. “And rest assured, that I will remind the masses…”
“I have something that will help with that,” she said, approaching the holo-projector at the center of the room. She opened up her omni-tool, then showed the footage Inquisitor Quixos had shown her earlier. As it played, Chaerys and the remaining Exarchs watched it with icy, unreadable expressions.
“The Commonwealth has struck first,” she began. “They have lain waste to this world beyond our borders, and have taken Lord General T’Soni’s daughter as a prisoner of war.”
Amidst the ensuing silence, everyone’s gaze lingered on the holo-pict of Liara T’Soni.
You poor girl. No doubt, the Commonwealth was treating her like an animal. And no doubt, there was no future for her in the empire. Of all failures, nothing was more shameful than surrender, than capture.
With her omni-tool, she closed her omni-tool. “I have already instructed one of my subordinates to use this situation to our advantage, to construct a narrative that will inspire the masses even beyond the incredible heights to which you have raised them, my lord.”
The Ascendant smiled. “Excellent work, my child. You have seized the opportunity to act, and act we shall.” The Ascendant looked at Draykan, and Draykan’s eyes widened with excitement.
Draykan grinned, then chuckled. “This will drive recruitment beyond anything you have ever seen, my lord.”
Scythis opened up his omni-tool, then input a series of commands with his blisteringly fast fingers. “I will already take measures to accelerate production. Properly leveraged, I estimate this will drive recruitment over 200% beyond my initial projections.”
“Then I will get my scientists to work,” Exarch Aeryn finally spoke, her voice ghoulish, void-cold, and hauntingly electronic. Unlike the other Exarchs, the Minister of Progress was more machine than flesh, with perhaps only her brain and spinal cord remaining.
Her mind flashed to the dark days of the civil war, to when she had found the Exarch choking on her own blood, nearly flayed alive from a biotic blast from a justicar . Her guts churned, and ice ran through her veins.
But swiftly, she suppressed her moment of weakness. No. No. NO!
“We will need the most convincing VI generated footage,” she continued, looking at Draykan. “So we must collaborate.”
“Oh, I would be honored, darling,” Draykan said. “Simply delighted.”
All the while, she stared into Vaelorion’s eyes, and like always they betrayed his facade of strength and control.
Her muscles tensed. What weakness are you hiding? No doubt, the Grand Exarch had doubts and reservations in his mind.
Goodness, the man always did!
But only Chaerys likely knew of them…
For a moment, she stared in her lord’s beautiful eyes. And a heavy, cloudy sensation gripped her head. Her muscles tensed, and her blood ran like fire in her veins, a void cold sensation clawing at her chest.
Why does he get to be your confidante?
Why was she never good enough to enjoy such closeness with the one man for whom she would do anything?
It was not fair!
“All of you have your tasks to complete,” Chaerys said. “Within the next few days, emissaries will make our demands for unconditional surrender. And once the Commonwealth inevitably rejects them, we will strike with speed and ferocity from which they will never recover. Dismissed.”
At Chaerys’ word, the Exarchs turned and made their way outside.
“Except you, Morinth,” Chaerys said, with firm authority she could not help but obey.
She stopped in her tracks, and then faced her lord, his gaze boring a hole straight through her soul. She gulped. “Yes…my lord?”
“Come join me,” Chaerys said. Her pulse climbed. She could not read her lord’s expression. What have I done wrong? “We have much to discuss in private.”
Chaerys turned , then made his way toward a large, circular door that lead to a balcony. Without hesitation, she followed and joined her lord on the balcony.
With a flick of Chaerys’ wrist, a pitcher of wine, and two glasses arose nano-assembled from the floor, placed perfectly on a grav tray.
Chaerys poured her a glass of the wine, and then handed it to her with a smile. “Here. To ease your tension.”
She smiled and accepted the wine without hesitation. She took a sip. “You are very kind, my lord.”
“Relax, my child,” Chaerys said, and her chest flooded with warmth. Her eyes watered, but swiftly she suppressed the urge to cry. There you are. There was the wonderful man who had swept her away during the Krogan Rebellions. “For once, let us drop the need for titles.”
Chaerys took a sip of his wine, then let out a satisfied sigh. “Ah, the CEO of Choron Group definitely had quite the taste for wines. Do not tell your fellow Exarchs, but…” Chaerys laughed. “Often, I still visit him. Shame he is but a husk of the man he once was though .” Chaerys took another sip. “The simulation that Aeryn crafted for him has not been kind to him.”
Her mind flashed back to the Great Purge, to when she and her inner circle of Inquisitors had raided the CEO’s private moon bunker. The screams of his mewling wife and children echoed in her mind, gnawing and clawing at her psyche.
Her mind flashed to when her Inquisitors had dragged the CEO’s emaciated, broken body into the coffin-like machine Aeryn had created for him, how he sobbed and screamed like a child, begging to die rather than be placed in it.
A hollow, gnawing sensation racked her chest. Her guts twisted into a knot, and bile rose in her throat.
But then she recalled the stranglehold Choron Group held over the Old Republic, how its tendrils had wormed their way into its every underlying structure, rotting them from within.
Once more, her mind flashed back to when her mother had broken down into a sobbing mess at the news of how her father had been worked to death, of how she later watched her mother die slowly of alcohol and radiation poisoning from a workplace accident.
And the memory gave her the resolve to squash her weakness back down into the darkness of her mind. She smiled, then took another sip. “Good. That degerate is suffering just how he should be.”
Chaerys grinned ear to ear, then let out a hearty laugh. “Indeed, he is, my child. Indeed, he is.” The Ascendant took another sip, then let out a contented sigh. “Of all within my inner circle, you alone have always had the strength and resolve to do what others lack the stomach for.”
“You make me proud…” Chaerys continued, looking out at the vastness of the Imperial Capital. “Without you, my vision for the galaxy would only ever be a dream.” Her lord looked at her with warmth and pride that made her melt within. He approached, then put one hand on her shoulder. “And for that, you have my deepest gratitude.”
Frozen in place, she allowed the touch, his hand like a live starship reactor, coursing energy directly into her very core.
“I…” Tears fogged her vision, and a warm, soothing sensation surged in her chest. “I… thank you, my lor- I mean, Chaerys.”
Chaerys chuckled. “You have always been among my greatest. However…”
Her heart skipped a beat. Chaerys’ voice took a cold, calculating turn, and she could feel herself starting to sweat.
“Chaerys?” she asked, with a pathetic tenderness in her voice. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stop looking weak! Stop!
“Your potential is immense, but part of you remains…compromised, damaged, flawed,” Chaerys continued, pouring himself more wine. He took a sip. “Your past, your old attachments to the Justicar Order…they are holding you back, sustaining a kernel of weakness within.”
She froze. Her heart hammered in her chest. “I…I’m sorry, my lord. I…I will do better.”
Chaerys smiled. “Indeed, you will, my child. Indeed, you will. Especially with the mission I am going to assign you.”
“M-Mission?” she asked.
“Yes…” Chaerys said. The Ascendant turned and faced the grandeur of his capital, his blue cloak billowing in the wind, his gold armor gleaming in the starlight.
“The coming war will be a turning point in the Empire’s history,” Chaerys murmured, his gaze fixed on the vast cityscape below. “And there is a… particular task that only you, my child, have the strength to see through. It requires the utmost loyalty, the willingness to forsake every bond that weakens you.” He let his words sink in before turning to her with a cold, calculating smile. “Your former master, Samara. It is time to rid yourself of this final shackle.”
She froze. A heavy, cloudy sensation suffocated and pressed against her skull with agonizing force. Her heart hammered in her chest, and for a moment she could hardly breathe.
Her mind flashed back to when she had dueled her former master during the Great Purge, fighting with a rabid, desperate fury that bordered on madness, with her biotic saber clashing against hers in a flurry of elegant arcs and deadly thrusts.
All while her master’s unassailable inner peace remained unbroken…
All while she looked at her not with hatred, nor disgust…
But only deep sadness and unconditional love.
Her mind flashed back to when she had been sprinting for her life in the underhives after she had murdered a client in a fit of rage, to when Boss T’Gor’s thugs had corned her in an alleyway.
And to when a hooded, armored figure cut them all down within seconds with her biotic saber.
She let out a weak sob, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
“There it is…” Chaerys said, with cold malice. “The weakness within you keeping you from the standards I require.”
Chaerys approached her, then put one hand on her shoulder, looking deep into her eyes. Under his touch and gaze, she couldn’t help but feel like an animal pinned on top of a surgical table.
“This mission is your one and only opportunity to prove yourself to me,” Chaerys said, his voice as cold as the void of space. “Do not fail me.”
Those last words struck an icy blow to her chest. She gulped, then nodded. “Y-yes, my lord. It-It shall be done.”
Chaerys smiled, then patted her shoulder. “Excellent. We will stay in touch.”
With that, Chaerys left the balcony, leaving her alone on the balcony. In the ensuing silence, she wiped away her tears, and then took a deep breath.
Athame, help me…What am I going to do?
Chapter Text
On the CSV Nu’ali, Captain Tali’Zorah stepped out of the elevator, onto the lower decks, and headed toward the brig. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to steel herself.
Ancestors help me…
Just after completing her mission Nendaar Prime, she had listened to the message her father had broadcast across the entire 5th fleet. And now, even days later, as her ship neared New Rannoch, the revelation it bore still weighed on her with crushing force and relentless gravity.
Yes, not only was the Terran Crusade imminent.
But it was the Geth who warned them.
Keelah…
Even now, she could hardly believe it. The Geth? The mass-murdering machines that had slaughtered her people to the edge of extinction?
Helping them?
She scoffed. As many of her crew said, perhaps the Geth were just making a cold, calculated astro-political maneuver, that it was in their best interest for the Commonwealth to retain control of the armory.
But regardless she would never trust them!
The Great Betrayal could never be forgiven, and she hoped only for the Geth’s utter eradication.
Soon, she reached a large, circular door, guarded by two Commonwealth Marines, one human and one asari. They both saluted.
She returned the gesture.
“Greetings, Captain,” the asari marine began.
“Standard protocol as usual, Ma’am,” the human marine said, inputting a series of commands into a nearby holopanel. “You know the drill.”
A holo-display projected off the center of the door before her, prompting her to provide her officer’s Quantum Encryption Key.
With her omni-tool, she provided it , and then a slew of sensors swept their scans over every part of her body.
“Identity confirmed…” a deep, robotic voice said. And the door opened with a metallic hiss.
“Ensure I am not disturbed,” she told the marines, and they nodded as she stepped into the prisoner’s cell ahead.
Within, the Imperial Emissairy, Liara T’Soni, was seated at her desk, writing something at her omni-terminal. Wearing the standard jumpsuit of a Commonwealth POW, Liara seemed to be faring much better than how she appeared days ago.
Yes, her blue skin seemed more vibrant and full. So perhaps now the stubborn bosh’tet would be ready to talk.
“What are you writing?” she asked.
“I am chronicling my time in captivity, alien,” Liara said, in perfect Khelish, with a hint of annoyance in her voice. The asari pinched her temples, then let out a frustrated sigh.
“Not going as you hoped?” she asked.
Liara swiveled her grav chair and faced her. “It is going horribly…Just horribly…” Liara sighed once more. “Athame help me, my chronicles are dull enough to put even the most rabid Krogan to sleep!”
Silently, she chuckled underneath her mask. She knew exactly why Liara’s writing was likely so boring. But nonetheless, she would ask anyway. “Why would that be?”
Looking at the deck with a slumped posture, Liara paused for a long while. But eventually, the asari met her gaze once more. Within them, she found only raw, animal terror. “Why…Why are you treating me so well?”
She leaned against the nearby locker, then crossed her arms. “Not what Imperial Propaganda told you what would happen?”
Liara glared at her, scowling. “It is not propaganda. It is the truth!” Liara spoke those words with a hint of desperation in her voice. “The one and only truth!”
“Then enlighten me,” she said. Keelah, was this what the empire indoctrinated its citizens to become? “Tell me this truth.”
Liara went silent for a long, long while. Slumping in her chair, she let out a defeated sigh, her gaze lowered, her eyes full of confusion and turmoil. She scoffed. “That your species is a treacherous alien menace, that during the civil war you showed your true colors when you chose to side with the Oligarchs of the Old Republic, to fight for the rotten, corrupt systems that were keeping the common enslaved and oppressed.”
A heavy silence filled the room. Admittedly, her knowledge of ancient history was…limited. However, she knew one thing beyond any doubt.
Her people did the right thing.
And they would sooner face total annihilation than submit to the authority of a tyrant.
She cleared her throat.
“Were you alive back then?” she asked. “Did you live under that oppression you speak of? Did you watch the Old Republic die?”
Momentarily, Liara’s golden eyes went wide. But then the asari shook her head, and narrowed her eyes, looking at her with a mix of fear and hatred. “No…I haven’t. How is any of this relevant?”
Underneath her mask, she smiled. By asari standards, Liara was still so young and naive — so vulnerable to brainwashing and propaganda. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering how an asari as smart and educated as you are would believe everything she hears at face value.”
Liara froze, as though she had just struck her with a verbal punch to gut.
Amidst the ensuing silence, she turned and faced the door once more. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to message me on your holo terminal. Rest assured that once we reach New Rannoch you will be transferred into gentle hands.”
With that, she stepped through Liara’s cell door, leaving the asari emissary to her thoughts.
As she stepped into the corridor, a hiss and a click signaled the door’s closure. The two marines snapped to attention. She gave them both a grim nod, and then walked away.
Hopefully, Liara would continue to doubt and question everything the Thessian Empire had drilled into her head since early childhood. No doubt, the Justicar order would take great interest in further dismantling her beliefs and getting her to defect.
And with time, she had no doubt they would be successful.
As she stepped into the elevator, heading back to her quarters on the crew deck, her omni-tool beeped. She looked at it, and it was only a notification from the ship’s VI, saying they were only about 13 hours away from arriving to the New Tikkun system.
But then she received another notification…
From John Shepard.
A warm, nurturing sensation flowed through her, and she smiled. Her heart pounded, and an old, but familiar tingle of excitement gripped her chest.
Momentarily, she checked the ship time. Yes, she had more than enough time to spare for her dearest, human friend.
As soon as the elevator reached the crew deck, she hurried to her quarters, unable to hide the smile on her face.
In his quarters on the CSV Normandy, John Shepard took a deep breath, waiting for Tali to respond to the com-link request he had sent her. His heart throbbed, flooding him with endorphins, and he smiled.
Just hours ago, General Zhoru’s broadcast had turned everyone’s day upside down. And now, he had only about 30 minutes to check up on his dear, old friend.
He let out a nervous laugh and smiled. Better make every minute count.
Soon, his holo-terminal beeped, and the quantum connection finally showed a live feed of Tali in her quarters, clad in her black combat suit, with the purple, patterned cloths and hood of Clan Zorah, keeping her visor translucent enough for him to see her face clearly .
For him to get lost in her mesmerizing violet eyes. His heart fluttered, and his mind went blank.
Tali laughed. “What’s the matter, Yahn? ” she said, in English, in her adorable, uniquely quarian accent. “Did a Zhen’zarah cast its spell on you?” Tali chuckled, the sound like a soothing melody. She snapped her fingers. “Wake up, you silly, bosh’tet . ”
He grinned like an idiot , then burst into a fit of laughter. In quarian mythology, a Zhen’zarah was a spirit of the desert that often took the form of a beautiful , quarian man or woman, luring travellers to an untimely demise.
And he couldn’t help but find Tali’s description earily fitting. Easy now. Let’s not get carried away. His laughter subsided, and his heart sank slightly.
Yes…
Especially with something so unlikely to happen.
“Oh, what do you know?” he said, laughing, “I’m free! All thanks to you.” He cleared his throat. “But anyways…I’ve missed you. It…It’s been too long.”
Tali sighed, breaking eye contact with him. “It has…” She met his gaze once more, looking at him as though they only had so long with each other. “I…I missed you too. Keelah, did you get the news? About how the Geth—”
“Just recently warned us about the Terran Crusade?” he asked. “Yeah…I have.”
Staring into her eyes, he swallowed hard. Amidst the ensuing silence, the fear in her eyes felt palpable enough for him to grasp. And the urge to hold her in a warm, loving hug gripped him with a force that gripped him like the pull of a star.
“But I have faith…” he said, with steely resolve. Yes, one way or another, they would see each other again, “in myself, in my squad, in you, and all the Commonwealth that we will live to see the galaxy at peace one day.”
Tali let out a nervous laugh. “Never lose that unwavering faith. It is one of the most beautiful things you have, Yahn. ”
He smiled, her words a balm to his heart. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “But anyways, enough of all these heavy topics. How is my favorite quarian doing?”
Tali leaned forward and let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, where do I begin? Well, first, my last mission went amazingly well. But we also…”
“Also what?” he asked.
“The enemy was there…” Tali said , briefly breaking eye contact. “We took an emissary of the empire as prisoner, and keelah …I feel bad for her, Yahn."
“Bad for her?” he asked. Once more, he felt the urge to reach through the holo-screen and embrace Tali in his arms. Indeed, the coming war would drag even the greatest men and women into the moral abyss of making decisions during war time , especially against a foe like the Citadel Triarchy.
But he had absolute faith that Tali had the strength to emerge from it with her mind, body, and soul intact.
“How so?” he asked, leaning forward, looking deeply into her eyes.
“The Ascendant,” Tali said. “Ancestors, his regime, it grinds any authenticity and uniqueness out of you from the moment that you are born. This emissary in my brig has more than what I might expect, but…” Tali sighed. “I suppose only time will tell if anyone will get through to her.”
“If she will finally accept and realize that we are not as their propaganda says we are?” he asked.
“Exactly,” Tali said. Briefly looking downwards, she let out a nervous laugh. “As you humans say, I’m sure the Justicar Order will be aching to ‘get their hands on her’.”
He let out a weak laugh. The situation couldn’t help but remind him of one of his favorite lines from the Anandharu, one he would carry with him until the day he died.
He cleared his throat. “As Grandmaster Nu’adu always said, most evil comes from unacknowledged, unhealed suffering. And anyone brave enough to face that pain deserves a chance at redemption.”
Tali paused, as though grappling with that statement. Her radiant eyes met his, and in them, he found a hint of conflict and hesitation. “That statement is beautiful, Yahn. I hope one day grow to believe it as much as you do.”
What makes you say that? No doubt, it was people like Aria or the Ascendant. But how could he blame her? No doubt, they’d push him to his limits in this regard as well. He smiled. “No doubt you will.”
Amidst the ensuing silence, Tali was fidgeting , her gaze lowered. Between them, an unspoken tension hung heavy in the air.
“And Tali?”
She looked deep into his eyes. “Yes?”
He sighed. “I know it’s been a while since we last spoke. And with the war on the horizon, I know you’re scared that this might be one of the last times we ever get to speak. But…” He gulped, then exhaled, meeting her gaze. His heart fluttered, and his chest tightened. “But I just want you to know…you’re important to me. Nothing will ever change that.”
Tali paused, as though absorbing what he just said. Her posture straightened, and her eyes seemed energized with newfound life and vitality. “Thank you, Yahn. Thank you. What you said…it means a lot to me, more than you will ever know.”
More than I will ever know? For a moment, he allowed his mind to go there, to believe what he wanted it to mean.
But then that familiar hesitation kicked in. No…Not yet…Not yet…
Tali’s omni-tool beeped, and she checked it. She let out a frustrated sigh. “ Fre’eg… ”
“Have to go?” he asked.
“Sadly, yes,” Tali said. She huffed and closed her omni-tool, then looked him in the eye. “But it was a joy to speak with you again, Yahn. When we have the time, we will definitely do this again. There is so much more I wanted to tell you. But that can wait.” Tali’s omni-tool beeped once again, and she checked it. “Oh, Keelah…”
He smiled. “Until next time, Khazilu.”
She chuckled. “Until next time, you bosh’tet . ”
He waved, and she waved back before finally the connection winked out, leaving him in silence.
In the silence that followed, a soothing warmth expanded in his chest, and his mind went as still as the void. He smiled.
Oh, how he needed that.
We’ll see each other again, Tali.
Yes…
No matter what, he would ensure that.
His omni-tool beeped, and his attention snapped to it. It was an incoming comm request from his brother. With a few keystrokes, he answered it.
“Hey there, Johnny boy,” Luke said. “Just letting you know it’s time.”
“The squad is waiting?” he asked.
“They’re already gearing up in the armory, prepping for an ‘assessment’ we have to do apparently,” Luke said.
“An assessment?” he asked.
“On General Zhoru’s orders himself,” Luke continued. “Did you not get the message on your omni-tool?”
His eyes widened. Briefly, he checked his omni-tool, and there the classified message was, titled:
Candidacy for Project Pheonix .
Skimming through it, it contained only orders to report to Camp ZC001 on New Rannoch on General Zhoru’s direct orders.
“Best we get there, quick. But before we do, I have to ask…did you get a chance to talk to Tali?”
He smiled. “I sure did.”
Luke let out a hearty, lively chuckle. “Thatta boy, Johhny! How’s that little bosh’tet doing?”
He laughed. Momentarily, his mind flashed to when they were children, to when they and Tali and all their quarian friends played ‘Catch the Khazilu’ in the colony park. “She’s not so little and cute anymore, Luke. She outranks us, you know”
“Only because her daddy is good’ol uncle Rael,” he said, with his characteristic smugness. He laughed. “And you know the other reason…”
He sighed. “Yeah…”
His mind drifted to their father — the legendary colonel of the N7 corps himself.
“Boys, let’s hope you never have to deal with the politics of high command. Power games, alliances, backroom deals…that’s just the reality of it. Never forget that wars are fought and won by soldiers like you, the boots-on-the-ground troops doing the real work. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. ”
“Anyways,” he continued, standing up. “I’m heading to the armory now. Will meet you there.”
“Alright brother,” Luke said. “See you there.”
He stood up, then left his quarters into the corridors beyond. As he made his way to the armory, he sighed. Project Pheonix…
What could it be?
Only time would tell. But no matter what it was, he would be ready. He would give it his all. And he would emerge stronger than ever before.
Eventually, he reached the door to the armory, and the automated authentication systems let him through.
Within, he found his squad huddled together, chatting, gearing up. Luke and his squad were doing the same. Soon, Luke spotted him, then cleared his throat.
“Atten…Shun!” Luke announced, his voice like a canon. And both squads faced him and snapped to attention, saluting.
Without hesitation, he returned their salutes. “At ease.”
They relaxed, and for a moment he studied them. As always, Kaidan looked as stern and stoic as ever, his combat skin in spotless , impeccable condition , his plasma rifle as factory fresh as ever. In his eyes, he found only the same unwavering resolve that allowed him to face anything the galaxy threw at him.
Meanwhile, Jacob seemed tense. He was trying to stand like Kaidan, but in his eyes, he found a mix of doubt and unease gnawing at him. In his hands, he was holding some kind of antique locket.
He made a mental note to discuss what was bothering him later, in private. And then, finally, he looked at Kasumi.
As always, she radiated a bounciness and openness uncharacteristic of most N7 operatives. Yes, unlike Kaidan or Jacob, she stood with a calm, relaxed posture, like every mission was just another adventure.
Never lose that, he hoped. Never lose that…
“Alright, listen up,” he began, clasping his hands behind his back. “We all know why we are here. With the rising tensions with the Citadel Triarchy, General Zhoru has selected us, as well as Squad Beta, for a classified assessment as a part of Project Pheonix . Now, I know what you’re thinking,” he continued, as he saw the looks on their faces. “But before you ask, I was only given just as much info as you have.”
He paused.
“But I say this to you now — Whatever lies ahead, we face it together. No matter the danger, we stand as one. And we. Will. Triumph.”
A chorus of affirmative yesses rang in the room.
He smiled. “Good. Our shuttle leaves in ten minutes. Let’s make the Commonwealth proud!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” they shouted.
With renewed vigor, they geared up. And as he donned his combat skin, with its HUD popping into his field of vision . He checked his plasma rifle, then holstered it on his back. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and when he opened them, his muscles brimmed with renewed power and vitality, and his mind went still and needle-focused.
Let’s do this.
Chapter Text
In the blackness of space, the CSV Nu’ali exited FTL like a knife slicing through time and space, its purplish-blue hull bathed in the orange light of New Tikkun. Aboard the bridge, Captain Tali’Zorah sat in her command throne, staring in awe at her beautiful blue-brown homeworld through the forward viewscreen.
New Rannoch.
Briefly, her mind drifted back to when she was only a child, to when her father held her hand as they looked out at the stunning landscape of deserts, mountains, and savannahs so strikingly similar to the holopicts of the home they had lost to the Geth centuries ago.
“ I t’s so beautiful, Ahba… ”
Her father laughs. “ It was all for you, Heshlah . For you and your Ahvi. ” Her father kneels to her level, then presses his visor to hers. “ And one day… ” He points out at the landscape ahead. “ Every quarian will be able to walk out there without the need for a suit, to feel and breathe the sun and air of our home .”
She let out a contented sigh. Yes, if there was anything in the galaxy worth dying for, it was her home. It was the Commonwealth itself.
And she had no doubt that in the war to come her people would defend it all to the last man, woman, and child; to the last pocket of space and patch of ground.
There would be no surrender.
No mercy.
No quarter.
Only an all-or-nothing fight until the bitter end.
“C aptain, ” her chief comms officer began, “ we are being hailed. It is the Kharun’Garah . ”
The Kharun’Garah ? With her command throne’s holographic display, she zoomed in on the mighty battle station, crafted from the arcane technology of the armory itself.
Bristling with enough firepower to take on an entire fleet by itself, the station reflected the light of New Tikkun off its purplish-blue hull, teeming with cyan lights. Teeming with countless spires and arches, the Pride of New Rannoch’s Orbital Defense Force was the size of a small city in space, serving as one of two central command hubs from which the Admirals of the Commonwealth commanded fleets of thousands.
“Put them on the main screen,” she said. The forward viewcreen flickered, then showed her father Admiral Rael’Zorah from the shoulder up.
Clad in the purple-black suit of a Commonwealth Admiral, her father radiated an air of command that made sailors willing to fight with him to the edge of the galaxy and beyond.
And yet he always looked at her with the same love and pride in his eyes when she received her first suit.
“T ali… ” he said. “ By the Ancestors, it is always a joy and a relief to see you alive .”
She smiled. The old bosh’tet was always so worried for her safety. But she was born into age of war. And by the Ancestors, she would not be its victim! She would face its horrors head-on and would rather die on her feet, protecting and serving her home, her people, her way of life, than live to cower before it in the dark. “ The feeling is mutual, Ahba . ”
“Y ou came at a good time, ” her father continued. “ With the war so close, General Zhoru has been left with no choice but to launch Project Phoenix early .”
She sighed. During her last call with Yahn, she and her fellow commandos had received the classified message about it, and even now it itched on her mind.
Meeting her father’s gaze, she was about to ask what it was. But Keelah, there was no way they could talk about it without the most impenetrably secure comm channel.
“I know you and your closest subordinates must be wary about its nature,” her father continued. “But rest assured that it is nothing for you to worry about, that if there is anyone in the galaxy worthy of being a part of it — it is you.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Keelah, her father’s words always had such power over her. “ Thank you, Ahba. I t…I t means a lot to hear you say that .”
“Y our Ahvi and I love you more than words could ever describe, ” her father said. “ Never forget, Tali .”
“I won’t,” she said, with firm resolve. Just then, Liara crossed her mind. Better ask him about it. “And oh, one more thing. Its important that I tell you this.”
“Y es ?”
“O n Nendaar prime, ” she said, “ my squad and I encountered more than just slavers. There was also the Thessian Empire .”
For a moment, her father’s eyes went wide, but as always he seemed to quickly calm himself . “ And what did you do ?”
Better be honest. “ We engaged them . It was only one ship. But I had to make sure they could not return to the empire having completed their mission .”
With her omni-tool, she opened up a window on the forward viewscreen, displaying the combat footage from her suit’s many recorders. As it played, her father watched it closely, his eyes unreadable.
Soon, the footage showed Praza restraining their prisoner, Liara T’Soni , in omni-cuffs and moving her onto the transport. And she paused so her father could get a good look at her face.
“T hat is an imperial emissary, ” her father said. From his posture and the look in his eyes, she could tell he was already calculating the strategic and political ramifications of this . Once more, the old Bosh’tet met her gaze. “ She is your prisoner ?”
“Y es… ” she said. “ I know you must be wondering if she was treated with the latest accords regarding the treatment of POWs. And to answer that question, yes. She is doing very well, Ahba . ”
Her father exhaled. “ That is good to know. It means Master Samara can leverage thi s…r isky development to our favor .”
She clenched her jaw for a moment. Risky? But it paid off! Ancestors, a part of her hated whenever anyone treated her like a child. She exhaled through her nostrils, letting her muscles relax.
But how could she blame them?
She was her parent’s only child.
It was only natural for them to worry, no matter how capable she might be in combat.
On her omni-tool, she began sending the necessary messages to have Liara’s transport arranged. “I’m arranging her transport right now.”
“G ood, ” her father said. “ May the Ancestors be with you, Hesh’lah . I love you .”
“I love you too, Ahba, ” she said. She saluted. “ May the Ancestors be with you .”
Her father returned her salute, his eyes filled with only love and pride. He nodded, and the feed cut off, leaving the bridge silent.
Amidst the silence, she sighed. Better see them now. She looked toward her executive officer, Chairu’Zorah . “ Chairu ?”
Chairu faced her. “ Yes, Captain ?”
“F or now, the ship is yours, ” she said. She stood up from her command throne. “ I need to speak with the rest of my squad, and make some last-minute preparations .”
Baelor saluted. “ Acknowledged .”
She nodded, then left the bridge, stepping into the corridor beyond a large, circular blast door. Along the way, she messaged her squad mates on her omni-tool, letting them know to assemble in the docking bay.
And soon, she arrived there, into a sprawling chamber filled with countless drones humming through the air , with numerous shuttles docked.
In the distance, she spotted her squad, already geared up, waiting for her beside an open shuttle , ready for deployment . She approached them.
As always, Khal was the first to spot her and salute. His silver eyes reflected his distinctive willingness to face any storm ahead. The veteran marksman carried himself with the quiet confidence that had made him legendary among the Reegar clan's many accomplished warriors. " Captain ."
Clad in a heavy combat suit fit for his stature, with his wrist-mounted plasma blasters, and his shoulder-mounted plasma canon , Prazza nodded. “ We stand ready, ” he said, his voice carrying his distinctive, steely edge. His eagerness radiated through his combat stance - a Gerrel to the core, already dreaming of following in the footsteps of the legendary Malukors. Like his clan's most famous warriors, he seemed to live for moments like these.
Lia saluted. As always, her laser-precise focus seemed locked in on what lay ahead, her omni-tool already running preliminary scans of their surroundings. The tech specialist's efficiency was legendary among Commonwealth special forces. Clasping her hands behind her back, she simply nodded.
She saluted them all. Ancestors bless them. “My brothers and sister in arms, it is always a joy to see you so ready and willing.” She cleared her throat, then clasped her hands behind her back. “Project Phoenix might be classified, most definitely a trial that will push us well beyond our limits. But there are no three quarians I would rather lead into it.”
Her squadmates saluted.
“W e will not disappoint you, Captain, ” Lia said.
Prazza chuckled. “ We will come out of it, fit to become Malukors. I just know it .”
“A nscestors be willing, Prazza, ” Khal said. “ Anscestors be willing. ” Khal looked at her. “ Nonetheless, it will be an honor, Captain. As always .”
She smiled. “ As always .”
With that, they entered the open shuttle, and as they settled into their seats, the rear door closed with a metallic hiss.
With a thought, she sent a notification to the shuttle pilot to launch. And soon , the shuttle rose into the air , then zoomed off beyond the integrity field , into the void beyond .
In a shuttle descending to New Rannoch’s surface, John Shepard marveled at the view of his home from high orbit. Beneath the swirling clouds, nestled within the planet’s numerous mountain ranges, geo-engineered into mega-structures of stone and exotic nanomaterials, the lights of the planet’s five mega cities shone like guiding stars through the many shielded, programmable matter domes.
“H ome sweet home, eh? ” Luke said, with a hint of longing in his voice.
He smiled. “ Yeah .”
His mind flashed back to simpler times, to when he and Luke could just wake up to a beautiful day, enjoying the smiles and laughs of those they held dear, the wind and sunlight across their skin, and the fun and games of their favorite holo dramas without the threat of death always lurking around every corner.
A faint, gnawing sensation ate away at his core. But then his mind drifted to what Master Gaiphoro said in his text, The Book of 1000 Journeys.
We fight not to see another day, nor to cling to what is already impermanent , he reminded himself .
“W e fight so that others will never know the horror of war, ” he muttered under his breath. “ So that others can wake every day to peace and joy in their hearts, free from the threat of annihilation .”
“W hat was that, sarg? ” James asked. Sitting across from him, James towered over every operative in the shuttle, his wide frame packed with iron-hard muscle.
“O h, nothing, James, ” he said, smiling underneath his helmet. He looked toward the article James was reading, and his HUD caught the text — ‘ Crisis in the South American Conclave s ’.
Of all the operatives in his and Luke’s squads, James was the only one born on Earth itself.
The cradle of humanit y…
He’d only been there once as a child when his mother played her legendary role in the Commonwealth’s founding. But one day, he would explore it to its fullest and see all the wonders he’d only read about on terminals or had seen holo vids.
Like the Great Pyramids.
The Himalayas.
The Amazon Jungle.
And so much more.
“W orried for your family? ” he asked.
“Damn right I am,” James said, closing his omni-tool. The big man sighed. “A part of me wants to believe that things will get better once the war is over. But pffft…politics, eh?”
“Y eah… ” he said. From the Commonwealth’s newscasts , apparently , the economic strain of preparing for the coming invasion was sparking the wrath of disgruntled, disenfranchised mobs.
Assassinations, murders, and protests were the new norm, it seemed. And while most were peaceful, more than enough descended into chaos.
“P olitics… ” he said, with a weary sigh.
“D amn straight, ” Ashley said. “ The more politicians stay out of our way once shit hits the fan, the better .”
“A s your father always said, John, ” Kaidan said. As always, Kaidan’s voice brimmed with grim, steely resolve. “ Wars are won and lost by those fighting and dying on the ground. Not by fat, old men in an office .”
A round of half-hearted and grim chuckles filled the cabin. But Kaidan remained as cold, stoic, and focused as ever, absently running a hand over the scar on his neck - a permanent reminder of the Silent Ones. Kasumi caught his eye and offered a gentle smile, her perpetual optimism a counterweight to his grimness. Meanwhile, Jacob clutched the locket at his chest, lost in his own thoughts.
For a moment, he looked into Kaidan’s eyes , and he found a similar, yet far deeper, pain to what Luke seemed to always wrestle with.
His heart ached with a cold, clawing sensation. No doubt , the Silent One invasion had left psychological scars not even Grandmaster Nu’adu could heal.
Allaistar chuckled. “ Like that arsehole, Henry Lawson ?”
“T hat pampered, little princess has never known a day of hard work in his life, ” Kasumi said, giggling .
Allaistar gave Kasumi a friendly pat on the pack. “ Hah! And yet there he goes, playing pretend general — trying to get his grubby mitts all across the Commonwealth military .”
“P fffft… ” Jacob said. For a moment, Jacob looked at him. “ And I’d sooner eat my rifle than take orders from some corporate drone .”
He smiled. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Relaxing into his seat, he sighed. Yes, he could understand their hatred and disdain for someone like, Henry Lawson.
Underneath the shiny, impeccable facade Henry Lawson presented to the masses, the richest human alive was nothing but a lost, broken soul.
An empty shell utterly consumed with greed and craving, seeking only to fill the bottomless void within him, using perhaps the only way he had ever known.
Exploiting calamities for profit.
Momentarily, his muscles tensed, and a heavy, dark sensation clouded his mind. Instinctively, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Do not hate the wicked for you will only harm yourself, he recited from the Anandharu. Instead, see them for what they truly are. Empty, broken, and alon e…
Ashley checked her weapon for the third time, her movements precise and agitated. "Just hope whatever this Project Phoenix is, it keeps us in the fight and out of the political circus."
James looked up from his news feed, his massive frame tense with worry about home . " As long as it helps us protect what matters ."
The shuttle’s PA system beeped, and the pilot’s voice broke the silence.
“Attention, all operatives,” the pilot began, with icy calm. “We’re approaching the designated LZ in T-Minus, three minutes. Prepare to disembark.”
“W ell, here we go, ” he muttered under his breath. With a few keystrokes of his omni-tool, he opened up the shuttle’s panoramic, forward viewscreen, revealing the stunning view of New Catyn.
Nestled within a colossal, open chamber , carved from the planet’s countless subterranean caverns, the Capital of New Rannoch was a thriving mega city , abound with towering, pillar-like buildings that supported the ceiling, with transparent, programmable matter domes that allowed sunlight and air to pass through without resistance, and with impregnable, interconnected bastions and fortifications integrated into the city itself.
Between the countless buildings, grav cars and drones flew to and fro, and immense holograms flickered on and off, displaying ethereal, three-dimensional advertisements, or live newscasts from all across the Commonwealth.
The sight never failed to make his jaw drop. The city was always changing so fast, and it was as though he was returning to a different place every time he came home.
Soon, the shuttle was descending toward a landing pad, jutting out from the side of Camp ZC001.
Situated on the outskirts of New Catyn, and embedded into the rock of the planet’s caverns, Camp ZC001 was a mighty Citadel, brimming with countless defense towers armed with plasma cannons and missile platforms, with numerous fighter bays from which swarms of automated attack drones and the armies within could spew forth.
As the shuttle descended onto the landing pad, he spotted an entourage of quarians , humans, and asari .
Along with two Malukors, one male and the other female, clad in their full battle gear.
“W hat in the? ” Luke asked. “ Malukors ?”
For a moment, everyone started at the forward viewscreen, at the two Malukors towering over the group awaiting them.
His mind flashed back to when he and Luke were only boys, to when they’d stare in awe at the legendary quarian warriors through newscasts, or from afar during parades on distant worlds.
His heart pounded, and adrenaline rushed through his veins. Amongst the Commonwealth, few had ever been within arm’s length of one. But no w…
Soon, he spotted another shuttle , approaching from a different flight vector , going to land on the same pad.
Others? Who could it possibly be?
“L ooks like we’re not the ones, ” Allaistar said. He chuckled. “ Good. The more the merrier .”
Luke smiled, meeting his gaze. “ Couldn’t agree more .”
He smiled back. Yes, whoever was in that shuttle, he would welcome them with open arms.
Finally, the shuttle landed, and the rear door opened with a metallic hiss. The fresh, desert air of New Rannoch’s caverns rushed in, washing over him, and he stood up and left the shuttle, along with his fellow N7’s .
As they had drilled countless times, he and Luke made the appropriate series of hand gestures. And their squads moved into a two-file line, with he and his brother at the front. Standing firmly at attention, they awaited patiently before the entourage ahead. Among them, most were recording or typing things into their omni-tools.
But what?
Meanwhile, the other shuttle finally landed. Its rear door opened, and a group of quarian commandos, clad in cutting-edge combat skins, stepped outside.
He narrowed his eyes. What in th e…
His pulse spiked, and his eyes went wide. He gasped.
“T ali? ” he muttered under his breath.
Yes, he could recognize her anywhere. Those stunning, violet eyes. The cloths and hood of Clan Zorah. The way she carried herself , with such graceful, elegant confidence.
Her gaze met his, and his heart fluttered. He swallowed hard, and his cheeks reddened. Around him, time slowed to a crawl, and a part of him only wanted to rush toward her and give her the warmest, most affectionate hug he could.
From the way she was looking at him, he no doubt she wanted to do the same. Bu t…
He had to restrain himself. Yes, he could not allow his desires to comprise her well-being.
Soon, Tali and her squad stood at attention before the entourage ahead, and one of the Malukors stepped forward, and lowered his helmet into the neckline of his armor, revealing his pale, purplish gray face, marred with the scars of countless battles.
Like all quarians , his vaguely cat-like features were sharp and angular, but his eye s…
They glowed a faint red and reflected the weight of centuries of combat experience. No doubt, he had survived the worst the galaxy had to offer, only to emerge stronger than ever each time.
“ N 7’s … ” the Malukor began, his voice as deep as the void. For a moment, the quarian super soldier stared at him with laser precision, as though gauging what he was made of. He did the same with Tali and her squad. “ Commandos of the Commonwealth…Welcome. My name is Khaen’Gerrel .”
The other Malukor did the same and lowered her helmet, revealing her exotically beautiful face. Like Khaen, she carried herself like an avatar of war, like someone who had seen too much war , too much horror , for a thousand lifetimes, but never broke.
“A nd I am Shaani’Gerrel , ” she said, her voice icy cold.
“N o doubt, all of you are wondering what is Project Phoenix , ” Khaen continued, “ why we have asked you here on such short notice .”
“B ut rest assured that you are here because General Zhoru has found you worthy of the immense responsibility you will bear in the war to come, ” Shaani said. Her needle-sharp gaze met his, but he did not look away.
“Lukh and Yahn’Shepard. I think you will be very interested to know that your father is with General Zhoru right now, and he requested that he would be the one to clarify everything to you...personally.”
His mouth fell open. He froze, hardly able to speak. Momentarily, he glanced at his brother, and he was doing the same.
“T here is no time to waste, ” Khaen said. He turned. “ Follow me. Your destinies await .”
Without a word, the entourage followed Khaen toward the entrance to CAMP ZC001. Briefly, he met Tali’s gaze once more, and his pulse climbed. She nodded. And together, they followed Khaen as well.
As they did so, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Project Phoenix, here we com e…
Chapter Text
In orbit over Terra, aboard a sleek, black shuttle approaching the Void’s Embrace, Lord Saedaris plotted his next move: to exploit his target’s delusional narcissism, seize command of the Empire’s forces on Torfan.
And shift the blame for his betrayal onto one of his fellow Archons.
But who?
None were threats. All were consumed with weakness, concerned for nothing more than momentary pleasures and their own position. But among them, Lord Variel was truly the weakest, the closest to being truly loyal to the Commonwealth.
Yes, within her, a flicker of decency still burned.
It disgusted him.
And so she would bear the full brunt of Aria’s wrath.
Momentarily, he looked back to his briefing centuries ago, to when the Ascendant had first given him his mission.
You will be my hidden blade in the darkness beyond our borders,’ Chaerys says, resting a cold, deliberate hand on his shoulder. ‘Gain her trust. Rise among her inner circle. Send me your reports. Is that understood, Inquisitor Saedaris?
He nods and modulates his voice to sound as grimly determined as possible. ‘Yes, my lord. As you command.’
Momentarily, he smiled. Yes, centuries of perfectly calculated performances and grand gestures had finally come to fruition, when he had leaked the Commonwealth’s existence and revealed the location of the Armory. The galaxy had shifted at his will.
And now all was in place for him to seize the Arch Inquisitor’s title for himself. Indeed, Morinth was nothing but a scared, broken child, willing to do anything for the Ascendant’s approval. She did not deserve it, and soon, she would fail.
She would lose the Ascendant’s favor.
And the galaxy would know the terror of the Inquisition under his command.
But first, he needed command on Torfan. The world was a crucial strategic target — a critical hub in the enemy supply lines, but also a defensive bastion guarding the FTL routes to Terra.
One way or another, it would fall.
And its denizens would know the horror of an Imperial Occupation.
A sharp beep filled the air, as the shuttle pilot spoke over the PA system. “ETA to docking bay 14: 2 minutes, Lord Saedaris. Prepare for disembarkment.”
“Thank you. Notify the Empress that I am on my way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lord Saedaris stood from the cushioned seat, adjusting the black cloak around his gold-black artificer armor. And with a thought, he lowered its helmet into its neckline, so that targets could always see his handsome face and his carefully crafted smiles.
With his omni-tool, he opened up the forward viewscreen, drinking in the sight of the Void’s Embrace.
No doubt, only a delusional, psychotic mess of an asari would commission such a warship. Indeed, at ten kilometers long, the Super Dreadnought was a testament to Aria's inflated ego.
Its hull gleamed like polished obsidian, and the bridge resembled a spiked jewel-encrusted mausoleum. Every surface was adorned with grotesque gargoyles and symbols of death, forged from precious metals and glowing red runes.
So desperate to be feared…
He smiled. Unlike the Ascendant, who had the strength and power to make his narcissistic drives a reality, Aria was only a degenerate pretender.
A child, with an internal void no amount of power or worship could ever fill. And so now she would need her ‘loyal general’ at her side more than ever, helping her to sniff out the traitor amidst her ranks.
The dreadnought loomed ahead, its hull gleaming like polished obsidian, casting long shadows over the shuttle. As the craft passed through the integrity field, a faint hum of static filled the cabin, mingling with the sterile, metallic scent of the recycled air.
When the shuttle landed, its rear door opened, allowing rays of red light to spear through. Outside, one of the Arch Reaver’s attendants stood before him, typing something into her omni-tool. Soon, she met his gaze and her eyes widened before she closed her omni-tool.
She bowed. “Lord Saedaris…The Empress awaits you in the war room. As always, she wanted me to commend your punctuality.”
Stepping off the shuttle, he gave the attendant his best, most calibrated smile. Yes, the Arch Reaver’s most loyal Archon always arrived early to meetings, early to the Empress’ beck and call.
And so he would play his role to perfection.
“I would not miss this meeting for anything, darling,” he said, modulating his voice to sound as warm and approachable as possible. He chuckled, meeting the attendant’s gaze like he had known her for years. “Well, let’s not keep the Arch Reaver waiting, shall we?”
The attendant blushed. Briefly, she looked away and smiled. “Yes, my lord. Indeed.” She turned. “Folllow me.”
He followed her. And soon, they passed through the ship’s dimly lit corridors, his footfalls echoing off the polished, obsidian-like floors. Along the way, he passed by countless sailors and officers, making sure to smile, nod, or wish them well along the way.
Reputation, reputation, reputation. Yes, over the centuries, he had pruned his image amidst Aria’s domain to perfection.
For when the time came, the Omegan Empire would need its savior.
As they drew nearer to the war room, shadows seemed to flicker just out of view, and the red emergency lighting cast sinister, flickering patterns on the walls.
Internally, he laughed. Did Aria’s insecurity know no limits?
At last, they arrived in front of a massive set of double doors. The attendant bowed and pressed a glowing rune on the metallic surface. As the doors slid open, he caught a glimpse of a cavernous room lined with holoscreens and viewscreens displaying feeds from across the Commonwealth and beyond. At its center, near a grav table dotted with holographic projections and star charts stood the Empress herself, as tense as stone, yelling and screaming at a hologram.
“You useless, pathetic smear of shit!” she snarled, pointing an armored finger at the hologram of her newly appointed Lord Executor, Chaeron T’Vor. “NO RESULTS?! NOTHING!”
The Lord Executor swallowed hard. He broke eye contact with the Empress, no doubt choosing his next words very, very carefully. “This is but a temporary setback, my Empress. Once I root out the traitor, I—”
“Temporary?” Aria scoffed. She laughed. “TEMPORARY?!” She glared at the Lord Executor with enough hate to vaporize a sun. “Listen to me…Lord Executor. You will find this traitor before the war begins. Or you will know the true meaning of pain! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?”
“Understood, my Empress,” Chaeron said, his voice almost cracking. “We—”
Aria shut off the hologram, then slid one hand down her face before taking a deep breath.
Internally, he smiled. There were subtle, dark circles under her eyes. The stress of rule was getting to her.
Which meant now was the best time to plant the right seeds within her mind.
He cleared his throat. Time to sound, timid. Yes…submissive. “I may be overstepping my place when I tell you this, your Excellency. But…”
“WHAT?” Clenching her fists, Aria glared at him with murder in her eyes. No doubt, she’d flay him with her words if he did not say exactly what she wanted to hear.
“I would be weary of the Lord Executor.”
“And why is that…Lord Saedaris?” Aria asked. “Are you calling me incapable?”
“Incapable?” He let out a carefully calibrated laugh designed to sound as nervous as possible. “Your Excellency, the galaxy has never known anyone as compenent as you. I only say you should be way of him because lately…well…" He broke eye contact, to show her submission, then scratched his head. Can’t show too much confidence now.
"Speak,” Aria said. “Tell me what you know. And for fuck’s sake, Saedaris, look at me when you’re talking. Have a damned spine!”
He complied, meeting her gaze. “The Lord Executor has seemed oddly close to Lord Variel. I’ve caught them talking privately on many occasions, even making love on many occasions, thanks to the bugs my agents have planted to catch traitors in our midst.”
“And what were they talking about?” Aria said, with caged fury in her voice.
Internally, he smiled with sadistic glee. Stupid whore. That’s right, take the bait. The Lord Executor and Variel were indeed lovers. And he indeed had eyes and ears all across the Omegan Empire. But now was the time to blur the line between reality and fantasy. “Oh, most of the time, they discuss things beneath you, my Empress. Their own petty concerns and squabbles across their private territories. But when they do mention you in passing…”
He broke eye contact. Yes, best to make this seem as grievous and significant as possible.
“SPEAK,” Aria roared, her voice like a plasma canon’s roar. “Out with it!”
He feigned a flinch, laughing on the inside. Stupid whore. With faked hesitation, he met the Empress’ gaze. “They doubt you…”
Aria clenched her armored fists, her posture as tense as durasteel. No doubt, she was seething with narcissistic rage.
Just like how he wanted.
“They…doubt me?” she said, with icy, preposterous calm. She huffed through her nose, as through barely containing the supernova of rage and hatred within her, then grinned. “My own Lord Executor?” She laughed bitterly. “And little, baby Variel. The girl I lifted up from nothing. The girl I treated like one of my very own! They…” Once more, she laughed with a mix of bitterness and sarcasm. “…doubt me.”
Within, he rejoiced with sadistic glee. Dance for me, puppet. Dance!
But now was not the time to celebrate. No, now was the time to drive the knife in, deeper, twisting it until it would sink no further.
“I’m afraid so, my Empress…” he said, keeping his voice somber, his gaze lowered. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I would keep a close eye on them. No doubt, their doubt is a seed that could blossom into resentment, and resentment…into open rebellion.”
A heavy, crushing silence filled the room.
Amidst it, Aria paced back and forth like a caged predator. At last, she stopped, then turned and faced him.
“Thank you, Lord Saedaris,” she said, her voice low and heavy with menace. “I’ll look into this matter…personally…very personally.”
Within, he laughed and laughed. It actually took him effort to suppress the urge to smile at how, Aria, like all delusional narcissists, alienated those truly loyal to them in favor of betrayers like him.
Aria let out a dramatic sigh. “The other Archons will be coming soon. And I will need you at my side. Understood?”
“Of course, my Empress,” he bowed, like any noble of the supposed, long-dead House he originated from. “I am yours to command.”
With that, he stood by the Arch Reaver’s side, waiting for the other Archons to arrive. In the meantime, Aria opened up her omni-tool and began inputting a series of commands. Muttering something under her breath, her cold rage seemed as palpable as the air they breathed.
No doubt, she was in a foul mood, in no mental state for something as high-stakes as a war council. Internally, he rejoiced.
Yes, just like the Orion Confederacy, the Orasu Dominion, and the Holy Kingdom of Vinsaan, the Omegan Empire would tear itself apart from within soon enough.
And all at his mere words.
All at how he always succeeded at what he did best.
Infiltrate enemies of the Empire from within, only to be the cancer that lead to their collapse, to their self-inflicted destruction.
Oh, how there was no greater joy in the galaxy!
No doubt, the ensuing chaos would destablize the Commonwealth and make the coming crusade an anti-climatic, routine compliance.
As the heavy doors to the war room slid apart with a low metallic hiss, Lord Naro made his entrance. The Archon was clad in his fur coat and in his imposing, black artificer armor, the sleek design glowing with seams of ominous red light that pulsed rhythmically with his movements. Physically, he was a mountain of muscle and brawn, and he looked exactly as his reputation described.
Cruel.
Merciless.
Utterly without restraint.
He stepped through the threshold with the swift grace of a predator, his every movement deliberate and calculated. His signature expression, a teeth-baring smile as cold and predatory as a hunting beast's, was etched onto his face. He reveled in the imminent game of power, as if the upcoming war strategy was another thrilling hunt to be savored.
“Ahh, my Empress...” Lord Naro began, bending into a theatrical bow that held an edge of mockery. The Archon regarded him with a subtle glare, as though he were nothing more than a bothersome insect to be swatted away, an irritation within her court. “And Lord Saedaris. It is an honor to be here.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Aria replied, waving him off with a flick of her hand. “Just come in. We have a war to plan.”
Lord Naro let out a hearty laugh. Indeed, among the Empress’s Archons, Lord Naro relished the Art of War, in rading and pillaging helpless colonies of everything they had, leaving only smoldering ash in his wake.
The Rape of Gendrin Prime was a shining example of his handiwork, and he had actually managed to convince the Ascendant that Aria’s pathetic excuse for an empire was actually a nuisance worth eradicating.
So at all costs, he could not be given command of Omegan forces on Torfan. No, no, no. Yes, no doubt, he’d have to lean into Aria’s paranoia even more, remind her of how much of a useful wildcard he was, how someone so wild could not be trusted with a bastion like Torfan.
How the job required someone with far more control over their worst impulses.
Soon, Lord Variel stepped into the war-room, clad not in the Artificer armor characteristic of any warlord of the empire, but in the simple, black uniform of any Admiral or General. As always, her face looked icy cold, devoid of any emotion, her lips pressed into a firm line. And for an asari woman, she was taller and broader than normal.
No doubt, most would mistake her for a man from a distance.
Variel stopped in her tracks, then gave the Arch Reaver a formal bow. “Apologies for being later than usual, my Empress. I wanted to make sure I was properly prepared for this…historic meeting.”
Briefly, Aria glared at Variel with hate that could flay somebody’s soul. But then Aria’s lips curled into a practiced, calculated smile. “I appreciate that. Now take your seat.”
Variel nodded, and for the briefest moment his gaze met hers.
In her eyes, he found utter hatred and digust, as if somehow…she knew exactly who he was under his mask.
Internally, he rejoiced. His heart pounded, and…
Was this exciting?
Yes, someobody is actually onto him!
Oh, what a delicious challenge!
He smiled at her. “We don’t talk often, but…” He extended his hand in greeting. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Reluctantly, Variel accepted it, her grip like durasteel.
He laughed. “From what I hear, you are among the most talented commanders the Empire has. No doubt, the coming war will test all of us to our limits, and the Arch Reaver will need people like you.”
For the briefest flicker, it seemed Variel allowed herself to smile. But she quickly suppressed it, and tightened her powerful grip even further. No doubt, she had the strength to crush his hand to dust. But he showed no emotion.
He relished the pain like the finest wine.
Using unlicensed bionics are you? Indeed, Variel was insecure about looking or feeling weak. Later, he’d better find a way to leverage that against her.
Soon, Lord Cyrina strode into the war-room, carrying herself with the same arrogance her adoptive mother exuded. Clad in spikey, red artificer armor, she grinned, smugly, as though utterly convinced that was going to dominate the meeting.
And Variel let go his hand.
Internally, he laughed. Smug, little shit. Indeed, her arrogance, her entitlement spawned from being the Arch Reaver’s heir, would be her undoing. When the war began, she would no doubt do something reckless and stupid, seeking to prop her fragile ego.
And of course ‘prove’ herself worthy.
The best of the best.
Internally, he grinned ear to ear. Now, that he could worth with.
“Cyrina,” Aria doted, smiling. The Arch Reaver spread out her arms, as though an adoring audience was present, then gave her adoptive daugher a hug.
“Mother,” Cyrina simpered, melting into the embrace.
Within, he cringed. But he could not help but admire the performance on display. No doubt, Aria saw Cyrina as little more than an extension of herself. And Cyrina, on the other hand, saw her mother as the final hurdle on her path to the throne.
Only time would tell how their dance would play out under his influence.
“Ok, ok enough,” Aria snapped, pulling away. The Arch Reaver took her position near the grav table, then input a series of commands into her omni tool. A sprawling galaxy map sprung to life with a sharp crack-shwoom. “We have work to do.”
On the galaxy map, the Commonwealth’s territory glowed a bright blue, encompassing dozens of systems across the Terminus Systems, and Humanity’s rapidly expanding domain within uncharted space.
Indeed, since the Commonwealth’s founding, since the quarians helped humanity modernize their pitifully primitive FTL drives, no species had expanded so rapidly. Within only two decades, millions of humans had migrated out of the Sol System, in thousands of colony ships, created with the nano-assembler technology of the armory.
Only to build fortress worlds like Torfann.
In contrast, the territories of the Citadel Triarchy glowed a bright red, spanning at least 60,000 lightyears from one end to other, hundreds of systems with eons of tumultous history. Yet, even then, their empires had always been spread thin, limited by how quickly information could reach the Capital, and how fast those in power could respond.
Soon, a window popped up above the galaxy map, showing one of the Ascendant’s most recent speeches to the masses.
“I don’t need to remind any of you that the war is about to begin,” Aria began, “that Chaerys the ‘Magnificent’…”
Aria spoke that word with utter disgust and contempt. No doubt, the delusional bitch was seethingly jealous as well. So best he leverage that.
“Is about to unleash everything he has to burn our dream, our freedom, and everything we have to ashes,” she continued. “So I’ve called you all today because now is the perfect opportunity for us to secure what will ensure the empire’s dominance and survival for eons to come.”
A window popped up above the galaxy map, displaying holo footage of Imperial forces, laying siege to an enemy world. In the top right corner, a timestamp dated it to 1103 years ago, during the Siege of Bepheron.
Internally, he smiled. Oh, this battle. He remembered it as though it happened only weeks ago. Yes, undoubtedly, it was the bloodiest engagement of the entire war. The Republic Loyalists fought to the last man, woman, and child. And Imperial casualties were catastrophic.
By the end, hundreds of millions had perished, ground to dust under the might of the empire. And Bepheron was nothing more than a despoiled, irradiated wasteland.
In the footage, colossal orbital strikes rained down upon the shields of sprawling megacities with devastating ordinance capable of desolating entire continents. The shields flared in brilliant bursts of blinding light, sending shockwaves rippling through the air for several kilometers. On the ground, millions of brave legionnaires charged towards impenetrable defensive bastions that seemed impervious to even the wrath of gods. The world trembled and shook under the bloodshed, a maelstrom of destruction echoing across the world, as the Ascendant’s forces drowned the defenders in a tide of blood and fire.
It was beautiful.
“With someone like Master Gaiphoro as Supreme Commander of all Commonwealth military forces,” Aria began. “The Imperials are going to bleed for every system, every patch of ground of take. Just like how the Republic Loyalists did during this very battle.”
The footage showed the mega cities of Bepheron in flames, as blackened skeletons of what they used to be. Amidst them, Imperial forces were executing prisoners of war, dumping their corpses into mass graves.
“And the stars will go cold before I allow us to end up like House Vai’Rhasa,” Aria continued, entering more commands into her omni-tool. At her prompt, the footage showed the Ascendant walking amidst the ruins of House Vai’Rhasa’s Palace, the Arch Inquisitor and Grand Exarch by his side.
Within, he grinned ear to ear. Oh, I remember this…
Before the Ascendant and his two pets was all of House Vai’Rhasa, naked, on their knees, and shackled with omni-cuffs. Behind them stood several inquisitors, clad in black artificer armor and hooded, matching cloaks. Their faces were all hidden behind their armor’s polished, mirror-like visors. As the nobles shook in their piss, they remained as still as the void, like statues.
One of them shoved the Duke of Bepheron forward, and the man fell face-first right at the Ascendant’s feet. Slowly, the Duke got to his knees and met the Ascendant’s gaze.
“Greetings, Lord Vai’Rhasa,” the Ascendant began. The Ascendant smiled. “Do you know what I remember the most about the Krogan Rebellions? It was not the burning worlds, nor the billions dead. No…”
The Ascendant swept his gaze across the rest of the Duke’s bloodline, then back at him. “It was when I stood before the Chancellor, the Senate, and the High Council, warning all of you that if the Krogan were not stopped, then all we knew would be dust.”
The Ascendant let out a bitter laugh, glaring at the Duke with hatred that could flay anyone’s soul. “And do you recall what you said to me that day?”
The Duke tried to speak, but could only stutter and choke on his words.
“I will never forget you told me…” the Ascendant continued. “No words had ever disgusted me more than the verbal filth that left your lips that day.” The Ascendant cleared his throat. “‘The Krogan are little more than disorganized savages. Their rebellion will never reach the core worlds. So we will not waste precious funds on what is only a minor, frontier conflict. Unless, of course, you are not up to the task…Warmaster.’”
A heavy silence ensued, and the Duke wet himself when the Ascendant grabbed his throat. “While entire worlds burned to ashes, while my legions bled and died to protect your worthless lives, you and your fellow parasites were more concerned with your profit margins, with your pleasure gardens, with your galas in palaces like this.”
The Ascendant tightened his grip, and the Duke’s face went purple as he struggled to breathe. “My best died in droves because of outdated ships and equipment! All because animals like you would rather spend billions on yachts, wines, and private space stations, than mere millions for proper pulse rifles!”
The Ascendant shoved away the duke, and the duke fell onto his back, into his own piss, gasping and whimpering.
“And do you know what is truly remarkable?” the Ascendant asked. “What left me absolutely stunned? Even after the Turians and Salarians gave us what we needed, even after we won against all odds, none of you learned. Nothing changed. You went straight back to your parties, your luxury, your endless indulgence. As though galactic civilization hadn’t nearly ended because of your short sightedness.”
The Ascendant sighed, then began pacing before the assembled nobles. “For too long I watched the rot spread. Every senate meeting, every council session, every formal ball — I saw our civilization devouring itself from within. How creatures like you turned our Republic into one elaborate mechanism to maintain your own comfort.”
The Ascendant stopped, then looked down at the Duke with cold contempt. “But you served a purpose in the end. You and every parasite living off the backs of countless billions.” The Ascendant paused. “What needed to be purged.”
The Ascendant knelt beside the Duke, and his voice became an intimate whisper. “Rest assured that you and your entire bloodline will serve one final purpose. You will all become living examples of the price of decadence.”
“No…NO!” the Duke begged, blubbering. “Please…I beg of you! Mercy! Show use mercy! I’ll do anything! Anything!”
“Mercy?” the Ascendant’s voice carried a hint of genuine curiosity. The Ascendant nodded, then placed a paternal hand on the Duke’s shoulder. “You misunderstand me. I am already showing you mercy.”
The Duke’s eyes widened with terror.
The Ascendant rose to his full height, towering over the duke. “After all, why should you have to witness what your youngest progeny will become?”
The Ascendant looked at the remaining nobles. “The youngest of your house will be reborn. The process is…unpleasant. And any trace of their old self will be burned away. But they will serve the new order, one way or another…willingly.”
The Ascendant gestured at three of the Inquisitors. “Take the youngest away for processing,” he said, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, as though he was a supervisor instructing workers on routine maintenance.”Their rebirth begins immediately.”
At his words, the three Inquisitors dragged away the youngest, and they wailed and screamed every step of the way, thrashing, begging, weeping. The Duke and his three wives broke into fits of broken sobs.
“As for the rest of you…” A blue, biotic corona engulfed the Ascendant, and his eyes glowed red. “Consider this my final act of gratitude for showing me exactly what needed to be done.”
In unison, the Inquisitors drew their blood-red, biotic sabers, and the footage cut off just as they were about to cut their targets down.
In the ensuing silence, he recalled the sensation of his biotic saber, cleaving through the Duke’s wives, how he bisected them into such neat, symmetrical pieces. Oh, what a wonderous day…
Naro chuckled. “That’s all he did to them?”
“You never learn don’t you?” Variel said, looking at Naro with cold, contempt. “That the Ascendant is not an enemy to be underestimated.”
Naro leaned forward, looking at Variel as though she was a mentally impaired child. “He couldn’t stop me from what I’ve done to so many of his frontier worlds. And he won’t stop me from what I’ll do once the war begins.”
Momentarily, he smiled. Oh, such delicious arrogance! Yes, this was exactly what he needed to convince the Arch Reaver that Naro was unworthy of command at Torfan. After all, what use a commander too arrogant to take the enemy seriously?
Naro glared at him. “Is something funny?”
He turned to Naro and gave him a carefully measured smile. “What amuses me is how much your…enthusiasm reminds me of House Vai’Rhasa’s generals. They too believed the Ascendant was overrated, that his reputation was exaggerated.” He let out a theatrical sigh. “Until of course…the Siege of Bepheron.”
Naro’s face contorted with fury, but before he could respond, Aria slammed her armored fist on the grav table. “ENOUGH! I didn’t call any of you here for a prick-measuring contest.”
The galaxy map flickered, then zoomed in on Commonwealth territory. Dozens of systems glowed bright blue, connected by a sprawling web of supply lines and trade routes. And amongst it were two central nodes vital to it all.
Elysium and Torfan, highlighted in red.
Bristling with arcane technology from the armory itself, both were fortress worlds that made Bepheron seem like a lightly garrisoned garden world.
“Look at this,” Aria continued. A window popped up, showing footage from the Geth’s broadcast, of the Citadel Triarchy’s preparations for war.
Briefly, he looked back to when he and a few of his colleagues had infiltrated the Veil Republic, posing as nobles who had just lost their territories to Imperial Conquest.
To when he had uploaded the Black Mind Virus into the Geth Collective on the Ascendant’s orders.
No doubt, the Geth were going to be a problem. The Ascendant needed to know the threat they posed to this crusade, to his vision for the galaxy itself.
But for now, it was best he focused on more pressing matters.
“While the Citadel Triarchy has been preparing for war,” Aria continued, “we have also been busy.”
The galaxy map zoomed in on Torfan and Elysium.
“What our enemies don’t understand about the Commonwealth,” Aria said, zooming in on the intricate defensive bastions desgined by Master Gaiphoro himself, “is that its greatest weakness isn’t military — it’s political. Their…democracy, their idealism, their need for public support…” She grinned. “All easy pressure points that we will exploit.”
“And how we will do that?” Cyrina said, leaning forward, no doubt pretending to be so interested in what her mother was saying.
Aria’s smile widened as she brought up markers of enemy fleets in formation. “While the Triarchy and the Commonwealth bleed each other dry, we will conserve our strength. We will only step in when it benefits us.”
A window popped up showing megacities in flames, along with scores of refugees scrambling onto evacuation ships.
“When worlds start burning and billions start dying,” Aria said. “Who will the masses support? The bloodthirsty Imperials? The weak, bickering leaders who can’t protect them? Or the faction offering peace and stability?”
He couldn’t help but admire the elegant simplicity of it. Yes, while the Triarchy bled itself on worlds like Torfan or Elysium, the Omegan Empire would swoop in to ‘save’ key worlds from the bloodshed. Indeed, it would build influence, gain supporters, and create political leverage — all while the Empire’s enemies fought and weakened each other.
“Which is precisely why,” Aria said, “whoever represents our forces at Torfan must understand subtlety. Must know when to show force…and when to show mercy.”
This was his opening. He cleared his throat. “A task that requires someone who truly understands the Commonwealth. The hopes and fears of its masses…” He glanced at Naro. “Not someone known for…excessive enthusiasm.” He glanced at Variel. “Or ties that might compromise their decision making.”
Briefly, Variel’s eyes went wide with fear. And the Arch Reaver watched her every move like a predator about to pounce on its prey.
Meanwhile, Naro let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh, staring at him with cold hatred. “And who might that be? You?” Naro stood up, his massive body tense and rigid, like he was about to explode into a fit of murderous rage. “Remind me, Lord Saedaris, who laid waste to imperial scum during the Scouring of the Entaaran Expanse? Who has left a trail of smoldering worlds across Triarchy Space, enslaving all who survived?”
Naro put his massive, armored hands on the grav table. “And who has the stomach to give any order? Who will cross any line for victory?" Naro smiled, and the look he gave him would cow most asari into submission. “You know nothing of war.”
Variel scoffed. “If war is revelling in atrocities and throwing millions of slave soldiers into a flesh grinder, with no regard for actual strategy, then you are right. We know nothing of war. Oh-so-glorious ‘Lord Naro’”
Naro scowled and was about to explode in rage. But then Aria glowed blue with her biotics. “Enough!” Her voice came out as warped and distored, far deeper than normal. “Lord Naro, sit down!”
Reluctantly, Naro sat down. But no doubt, it was not over.
Nobody in the Arch Reaver’s court forgave even a perceived slight.
Including him.
The Arch Reaver took a deep breath, then looked at Variel as though she was guilty of some monstrous crime. “Now…Variel. Tell me, how do you feel about the Lord Executor?” The Arch Reaver tilted her head, then gave Variel a predatory smile. “My eyes and ears around the empire are telling me that lately you two are quite…close.”
Variel looked away for a moment in shame, and he couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the more guilty she looked, the better.
“My Empress…” Variel began. She swallowed, then exhaled, looking at the Arch Reaver with pleading eyes. “Yes, admitadely, we have shared a bed a few times. But this is nothing that will interfere with my duty to you, to the Empire.”
“Ah, so let me get this straight,” Aria said. “You’re telling me that you gave into not one, not two, but several moments of weakness?”
“I…” Variel said, choking on her words. Her face redened, becoming a shade of purple, and she scowled at him, no doubt wishing him pain and death beyond measure.
He smiled at her. And before she could say anything, the Arch Reaver slammed her hands on the grav table. “Wow…” she laughed bitterly. “One of my best…giving into a moment of weakness. Tell me, Variel…” she said, speaking the Archon’s name with utter disgust. “What else can you do in a moment of weakness? Huh?”
“My Empress…I…” Variel said. “My loyalty to you is—”
“You disappoint me,” Aria said, her words like a dagger to the chest. “You are not fit for command at Torfan. You’re lucky if I give you command over my varren stalls!”
The Arch Reaver sighed. “My decision is final.” She looked at him. “Saedaris you will have command over Torfan.” She looked at Naro. “As for you, you will have command over a battlefield where you can have the most fun.”
On the galaxy map, Aria zoomed in on Elysium — a vital node in the Commonwealth’s lines of supply and communication, gaurding FTL routes to New Rannoch. Unlike Torfan, if Elysium fell, then Terra would still be safe from the onslaught to come.
“As for you, my daughter,” Aria said. On the galaxy map, the Arch Reaver zoomed in on Grissom’s World, a world human’s held in high, symbolic regard, but which held no strategic value.
No doubt, only a swift conquest to come.
“I need you here,” Aria continued. “You are the only one I can trust to win over the populace of this world. Very important people in the senate live here, and we will need their backing. So if anything comes for this world, you will be their hero.”
Cyrina sighed, as though disappointed, then stood up. “Very well. As you command, mother.”
The Arch Reaver smiled. “Excellent.”
She closed her omni-tool. “All of you have your assignments. More details will come soon. So be ready.”
“Yes, my Empress,” he said. He bowed theatrically. “Your word is absolute.”
Naro stood up, then stretched. “Aaah, yes…the sooner the better.”
Meanwhile, Variel remained seated, looking at him with raw, monstrous hate. No doubt, she’d try to have him assassinated. But oh, he’d ensure that would only backfire.
Just you wait my dear.
“Alright, alright,” Aria said, looking at a notification on her omni tool. “Dismissed. Now if you excuse me, there’s a Commonwealth Council meeting I need to show up at.”
As she left the room, along with Cyrina and Variel, Naro grabbed his throat, then shoved him against the nearest wall, glaring at him like just another insect to crush under his boot. “Watch your back, little one. The second you let your guard down, the second you think you’ve won, I will rip your soft, smooth head clean off your shoulders, then throw your corpse out the airlock.”
He feigned struggling against Naro’s impossibly strong grip, then smiled. “Oh, I do not doubt that at all.”
Naro threw him aside and he landed on his back with a resounding thud. On the ground, he looked up at Naro towering over him. The warlord grinned. “See you around.”
As Naro walked away, he sat up, then finally allowed himself to smile. All had gone according to plan. And now…
Now it was only a matter of time until the Commonwealth burned to ash.
Chapter Text
Just past the entrance to Camp ZC001, John Shepard followed the Malukor Khaen’Gerrel down a corridor, lit by the dim glow of soft, blue lumen strips above. Beside him, his squad followed in grim silence, alongside Luke’s, as though they were all holding their breath for what lay ahead.
How could he blame them?
Nothing could prepare for them for whatever was Project Pheonix.
Meanwhile, Tali strode alongside him, and her arm brushed against his. Momentarily, he met her gaze, and he had to stuff down the urge to wrap her in a warm, loving hug.
“It’s so good to see you again, Yahn ,” Tali said. She let out a nervous laugh. “You know, for a while…I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be years before we met in person like this again.”
He smiled, then also let out a nervous laugh. His mind flashed back to the last time they saw each other, to when they had hugged for what felt like hours. As soon as he got the chance, he would hug her like that again.
Few things were so sublime.
“The feeling is mutual,” he said. He paused, gazing into her silvery eyes. “I missed you, and…” He broke eye contact, then swallowed hard, struggling to complete his words.
“And?” Tali asked, with such gentleness in her voice. She put one hand on his shoulder.
He met her gaze once more. “And it will be an absolute joy, one of the greatest honors, to face what’s coming alongside you.”
Gently, she squeezed his shoulder. “Until the bitter end.”
Just then, they followed Khaen and the others past a large circular door, into an elevator large enough to hold them all. And soon, it rocketed downwards, showing them the stunning view of the facility through the massive armorglass pane ahead.
Camp ZC001 was a vast, labyrinthine complex, its levels plunging into the belly of New Rannoch like an inverted skyscraper. The sheer scale of it was dizzying, every nook and cranny bustling with activity. As he scanned his surroundings, drones whirred overhead in a symphony of mechanical hums, their sleek bodies glinting under the harsh artificial lights. They darted back and forth on pre-programmed routes, their movements as precise as they were relentless.
Elsewhere, clusters of personnel navigated the intricate maze below. Officers in crisp uniforms moved with purposeful strides, their faces set in stern lines reflecting the gravity of their duties. Scientists, dressed in sterile white lab coats, huddled around holographic displays or conversed animatedly over coffee at makeshift break areas.
The air vibrated with the low rumble of grav cars that drifted lazily through designated lanes. Their silent engines powered them along invisible tracks suspended mid-air, ferrying people and supplies from one part of this subterranean city to another. The constant ebb and flow of movement made the camp feel alive with purpose.
No doubt, it was at places like this where the Commonwealth’s finest minds probed the secrets of the armory.
“Keelah…” Tali said. “What have they even found in the armory? I will be honest, Yahn. A part of me does not want to know. I can’t shake the feeling that knowing the secrets of the First Ones might doom us to whatever lead to their destruction.”
“I get you, Khazhilu…” he said. Indeed, with great power came even greater responsibility, and only time would tell if the Commonwealth’s leaders could handle it. “History always repeats itself. And I’m sure this only reminds you of what led to the Great Betrayal.”
Tali met his gaze, and in her luminous eyes, he found only the raw joy of being truly understood. Once more, he had to restrain himself from hugging her, from holding her tight. “Yes…”
“So…” Luke said, his voice loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “Mind telling us anything about exactly what we are going to face? What kind of notes are you even taking anyway?”
He looked toward Luke, and his brother was talking to one of the scientists among Khaen’s entourage. The scientist’s name tag read: Dr. Gavin Archer.
“Nothing that would concern someone of your…” Gavin looked at his brother as though he was some kind of primitive barbarian. The man radiated an aura of smug, intellectual arrogance as if everyone around him was some kind of moron. “…profession, nor even the situation at hand. As for what you will face, well…General Zhoru and your father will tell you yourself.”
Briefly, Luke balled his armored fists, his muscles tense, as he smiled. “Wow, you sure can bark, Mister Gavin Archer. You must have aloooot of friends.”
Gavin opened his mouth, no doubt about to say what he believed would be a witty comeback. But the Malukor, Shaani, stepped between them, like a towering figure breaking up a fight between two bickering children.
“We are almost there,” she hissed, carrying an air of deadly grace. “All will be clear soon. So have patience.”
“Yes, maam,” Luke said, with a hint of his usual sarcasm. As soon as she and Gavin turned away, Luke gave him a friendly nudge on the arm. “And here I thought Mom could be demanding.”
He laughed. Briefly, he looked back to when their mother would scold them for the stupid fun they had as teenagers or for things as silly as fighting over which holo-drama character would win in a fight with another. He let out a contented sigh.
He would never forget those moments.
They would stay with him until the day he died.
One of Tali’s squadmates, a tall, broad quarian over a head taller than him, let out a hearty laugh. “Reminds me of the Khasu of Clan Xen. Those bosh’tets always think they know everything,” his voice was low and resonant, yet oddly satisfying to the ears.
He lauged. Tali had always told him of how Clan Xen and Narra always bickered over who were the keepers and gaurdians of the Old Veil Republic’s knowldge. “Talking from experience are you?”
“Oh, you have no idea…” the quarian said. “They think just because I am a soldier, a warrior, that I am not smart enough to understand their ideas. But aaah…screw those bosh’tets . ”
Luke laughed. “Name’s Luke,” he said, in Khelish. “What’s yours, friend?”
The quarian’s eyes widened, as if he wasn’t expecting to hear Khelish. But then he chuckled. “Prazza. Prazza’Gerrel.”
“If you’re wondering,” he said, in Khelish. “We grew up on this world.” He glanced and at Tali, who seemed absorbed in her own contemplation, staring out at the view ahead. “Your captain and I have known each other since childhood, and I’m looking forward to when she introduces you and your comrades to me.”
“It will be an honour,” Prazza said.
Soon, the elevator came to a halt, and the large, circular door behind them opened with a hiss and a metallic whine. He turned, and his jaw dropped at the sight ahead.
Beyond the elevator, a cavernous room stretched before them, its arched ceiling blending into the shadows above. Lined with dark, polished panels that absorbed the soft purplish-blue light of countless lumen strips, the chamber had an otherworldly ambience. And at its center was a large, grav table, around which five figures were sitting.
Immediately, he recognized one of them as General Zhoru, his massive frame and stature dwarfing the others. Another was a Malukor with polished, white armor that gleamed with the reflected light. Beside him sat a justicar clad in their characteristic robes. And lastly…was his father, clad in the usual grey-black fatigues of an N7 officer.
Colonel Mark Shepard.
“This way,” Khaen said, and he followed the Malukor inside.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Khaen saluted. “As your requested, General.”
General Zhoru stood up then, sunk his helmet into the neckline, revealing his scarred face with chiseled, cat-like features. Like Khaen and Shaani, his eyes carried a faint, red glow, reflecting several lifetimes of experience facing every horror the galaxy had to offer.
“Thank you, brother,” Zhoru said. Suddenly, several grav chairs materialized around the grav table. “All of you, have a seat.”
“What we’re about to discuss,” Mark said, “might very decide the fate of the war.”
He met his father’s gaze, and the old man looked at him with only love and pride in his eyes. Briefly, his mind flashed back to all the times he had trained him and his brother in mastering their biotics.
“Your ego is the enemy . The harder you cling to control, the more your powers will destroy you . Never forget that .”
To how he had always been such a consistent source of warmth and guidance throughout their entire lives.
“Good to see you, dad,” he said.
“It’s been too long…” Luke said, with a hint of sadness in his voice.
“There’ll be plenty of times to catch up later,” Mark said, smiling.
He sat at the grav table, along with the others. And after a brief silence, General Zhoru cleared his throat, scanning his gaze across the N7 operatives and Quarian Commandos at the table. “All of you…welcome. It is a shame Admiral Rael’Zorah could not join us today…”
Tali crossed her arms at the mention of her father.
Stay strong, Khazilu…
“But nonetheless, there is no time to waste,” Zhoru continued. “It’s time you learn your vital place in the defence of Torfan and Elysium in the conflict to come.”
Zhoru looked at a Quarian woman in an all-black suit that seemed fused with her body. Unlike most quarian suits, it was no doubt brimming with arcane nano and pico technology from the armory, and it made her look more machine than quarian. Is she an Aekh’Shaatus ? Vaguely, he remembered Tali saying they were quarians who completely abandoned the ‘weakness of their flesh’.
He shuddered. If he ever did that, would he even be himself anymore?
“Director Daro’Xen,” Zhoru said, “introduce Project Pheonix to your new canditates.”
“With pleasure,” Daro’s voice was a smooth fusion of organic and sythetic, almost like the countless VI systems he’d seen integrated into luxury hotels. The holo-projector at the center of the table sprung to life, showing a live view of New Rannoch. And for a brief moment, she studied her ‘canditates’ like a scientist vivisecting lab animals. “All of you are aware of the Armory, of how we have spent the last two decades probing its every corner for any advantage possible against the Ascendant and his pets.”
She zoomed in, and soon the hologram dived into the secret labs of camp ZC001, into a sprawling, cavernous chamber filled with rows upon rows of building-sized servers stretching for kilometers in all directions. They glowed with purplish blue light, and swarms of drones attended to their maintenance, emitting low hums and whirs that resonated through the air.
“But none of you realize the significance of our discoveries,” a human scientist cut in. His name tag read: Dr. David Archer. Dr. Gavin Archer was staring at him with raw envy in his eyes, as if he should be the one explaining the hologram before them . Wait …Is that your brother?
“Like what?” Tali asked, crossing her arms. Her voice carried a note of bitterness and skepticism.
“Like this,” Dr. David said, pointing at the hologram. “Before you is a quantum, femto-scale computing system once used by the Protheans — or the First Ones as you quarians call them.” David cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I am not authorized to disclose most of what we are doing with it. But I will tell you this…”
The hologram showed a chamber filled with perhaps only a few dozen pods, no doubt connected to the computing system they had just seen. Dr. David leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “It is capable of time dilated simulations, of creating virutal realities indistinguishable from our own.”
“Where you will spend the next five subjective decades training to be the first batch of the new generation of Malukors,” Daro continued. The hologram flickered, then showed diagrams of the quarian and human body, surrounded by charts and schematics for what looked like…
“As you undergo your training with Master Samara,” Daro said. Briefly, he looked at the justiciar, and she radiated unassailable peace and tranquility. A part of him brimmed with excitement at thought of what she might teach them, “and Seargents Khaen and Shaani Gerrel, you will be reborn…”
"Augmented with the latest technology from the armory," said the Malukor in white armor. His voice carried a synthetic undertone, as though his vocal cords had been replaced with something far more advanced. "Your bodies will be enhanced with the latest nano and pico technology from the armory, augmentations that will push the boundaries of what humans and quarians can achieve." The hologram shifted and showed detailed schematics - neural interfaces, muscular enhancements, skeletal reinforcements, nanite systems, and more.
His stomach lurched. A part of him screamed that this was wrong, that this was going too far. Already, this was going far beyond normal levels of augmentation, edging dangerously close to the complete loss of their humanity.
As he stared at the diagrams, he couldn’t help but imagine his bones laced with exotic materials, his muscles threaded with synthetic fibers, his very cells swimming with microscopic machines. Each one simultaneously sent jolts of adrenaline and waves of unease racing through his insides.
Would he still feel pain or pleasure?
Would rain on his skin feel the same?
Would his brother's laugh sound different through augmented ears?
He glanced at Luke, and his brother was fuming, his body tense with barely contained outrage. Meanwhile, Kasumi was trying to distract herself with her omni tool. Allaistar’s face look pale, as though horrified at what he was seeing. And James kept tapping one foot, clenching and unclenching one fist.
Unlike the others, Kaidan and Jacob were maintaining their unreadable, stoic facades. But their eyes betrayed their apparent indifference. In them, he found only the deep, existential dread they were all grappling with.
"You won't just be soldiers anymore," Daro'Xen continued, her synthetic voice carrying an edge of enthusiasm that made John uneasy. "You will be living weapons, among the most elite operators in the entire Commonwealth army.”
Beside him, Tali visibly tensed. And he couldn’t help but recall the countless times she had opened up about how her suit felt like a prison, about she wanted nothing more than to feel the bare soil between her toes, or smell and touch the wild, alien flowers of New Rannoch, uncovered.
Yet now…it seemed she might lose that too.
No doubt, her squad mates shared her feelings. Prazza kept scratching his neck, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Meanwhile, the other quarian commandos were doing the same. One kept distracting herself with her omni-tool, while another was just…frozen in his seat, no doubt grappling with what he was seeing.
Luke let out a sarcastic, contemptous laugh. Abruptly, he stood up and scowled at all the scientists around the table. “Wow…If you dragged us all the way here, just to tell us that we’re going to be your damn lab animals in an experiment we never consented to, then with all due respect…go fuck yourselves. I’ll take military prison over losing myself any day.”
"You will not lose yourself," Master Samara said, her voice carrying that characteristic justicar serenity. She looked at his brother as though he was a frustrated boy throwing a tantrum. “It is why I will be one of the admin users of the simulation. I will have real-time access to your mental states, and you will have my council, my support, whenever you require.”
Another of Tali’s squadmates, no doubt a Reegar from the pattern of his clothes, stood up, then glared at Daro’Xen. “And tell me this, Aekh’Shaatus. Why us? Why have we of all people been selected to join the Malukor Corps?”
“Quite simple,” Daro said, as though she was lecturing a naughty child. “Genetic compatibility, exemplary service records, with proven track records of integrity, honor, and selflessness. And most importantly…true belief and loyalty for the Commonwealth.”
“You seem awfully concerned about that,” Allaistar said, his voice oozing with bitter sarcasm. He smirked. “Loyalty.”
"Rest assured that only your capabilities will be enhanced,” Zhoru said, his voice commanding attention. “Your core self, your memories, your spirit — everything that makes you yourself — will remain. This is transformation, not a replacement." General Zhoru leaned forward. "I understand your concerns. I and every Malukor in the Commonwealth have grappled with what you are facing right now. And yet here we are. Still ourselves.”
“But more,” Khaen added.
"The simulations will prepare you mentally," Dr. David continued. "While the enhancements prepare you physically. This is not a decision we ask lightly. But it is necessary."
John looked at his father, searching for guidance in the older man's eyes. His father met his gaze with understanding, no doubt communicating that he would be there for him and his brother through the entire process.
"The choice must be yours," his father said. "The Commonwealth has no place for soldiers who will not fight for it willingly. So if you want out of this program, just say so at any time, and we’ll abandon the project.”
A heavy silence bore down on them all.
Five decades of subjective time…
Physical transformation…
The boundary between organic and synthetic blurred…
The tactical part of his mind could not deny the advantages — faster reactions, stronger bodies, decades of training compressed into subjective time.
But at what cost?
His mind flickered to childhood memories, to scraped knees from racing Luke through the colony, to his mother kissing them better, to calluses earned from years of combat training. Would those small marks of his journey be erased? Rewritten by technology he barely understood? The thought of losing even these minor pieces of himself gripped his heart in a cold, talon-like vice.
As he looked around at his squad, at his brother, at Tali - he could see their visible inner struggle. Once more, he met Tali’s gaze, and something in his chest tightened, constricting his breathing.
Would this change things between them?
Would he still be capable of deep connection?
He swallowed hard. I will not become a monster . No ! He looked into General Zhoru’s red eyes. "How long do we have to decide?"
"Until tomorrow morning," General Zhoru replied. “Recently, we have intercepted and decrypted countless enemy communication channels, and the Terran Crusade is nigh. By the time you emerge from your training, the war will already have begun, and as I or any Malukor can attest, it will be only the beginning of your rebirth.”
Only the beginning?
He glanced at Master Samara. And a part of him doubted how anyone could endure five decades of subjective time and emerge unchanged. Even during boot camp for regular Commonwealth Marines, he’d seen cadets have their spirits broken under the stress and hardship of training.
So after fifty years of subjective time, would he even recognize himself?
Would others?
He nodded, and the weight of destiny bore down on him like a mountain. Briefly, he caught Tali's gaze, and then Luke’s, and then his father’s. And in their eyes, he found only apprehension at the uncertainty ahead. At the core question none dared to speak allowed.
What would they become when this was all over?
He stood up, then met General Zhoru’s gaze. “Thank you, General. If you will excuse us, we will think about this. A decision like this…It will need a lot of consideration.”
The General opened up his omni-tool, then input a string of commands. “The barracks on level fifty-two are open to you.” Zhoru stood up. “This meeting is dismissed.”
At that, everyone around the table stood up, then began to leave. For a moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and he could hardly move. The sinking sensation in his stomach only seemed to grow deeper and deeper.
What are we going to do?
“John?”
“Luke?”
His father’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. Beside his father stood Master Samara, who studied him and his fellow candidates with compassionate curiosity. Did they know each other somehow?
He glanced at his brother. And he seemed tense and restless, as though he was about to explode. Internally, he smiled. Always such a fighter…
Even in situations that could not be fought.
He met his father’s gaze. “Yes?”
“Follow us,” his father said. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“Damn right we do,” Luke said, balling his fists. “We deserve answers.”
“And you will receive them,” Samara said. “I will do everything I can to illuminate the path ahead, my friend.”
He stood up. Yes, if there was anyone or anything, that could make the decision easier, it was a justicar and their wisdom. “Then let’s get started.” He met Samara’s golden eyes, and it was like peering into a wellspring of warmth, peace, and compassion. “Let’s talk about our destiny.”
Chapter Text
Aboard the Pride of Thessia, a geth cloud platform — designated as Legion — masqueraded as Admiral Yharin T’Gharo , sitting in his command throne, overlooking the rest of his crew. As the sailors worked diligently at their stations, he sighed, carefully mimicking the exact neural patterns that would have fired in the original Admiral’s brain.
Yes, utterly absorbing his target’s entire being had been a trivial task.
A nano-virus — tailored specifically to the Admiral’s genetic code — was all he needed to restructure Yharin at the molecular level, to erase his identity, and store his neural patterns in the Collective’s data stores.
Now, the Admiral was his vessel, his tool to carry out his mission.
The Pride of Thessia exited FTL , into the Talaarn System. On the forward viewscreen, the sixth and seventh fleets were clustered in orbit around Talaarn III, mustering for one of the opening thrusts into Commonwealth space. The planet below was no ordinary military installation - it was Citadel Veridian, the nerve center from which the entire Terran Crusade would be directed . While the Empire had established multiple command nodes across dozens of systems, this fortress world would serve as the primary command and control center for the invasion .
Yes, soon, the Ascendant would make his move and use his diplomats in a grand performance that would give him the justification he needed to justify his invasion. And the Collective would be prepared to do anything necessary to tip the odds in the Commonwealth’s favor.
Yes, according to simulations, the coming war had to end with both factions intact.
Otherwise, the galaxy was doomed.
“A dmiral, ” his chief communications officer began, “ we are being hailed. It is Admiral Ghaero .”
“P atch the signal through, ” he said, and a window popped up on the forward view screen, showing the Admiral from the shoulder up. Like most officers of Imperial High Command, he was the product of eons of selective breeding and genetic manipulation. Towering over most asari, he exuded an air of entitlement and arrogance, as though he was divine.
“A dmiral Yharin, ” Ghaero began, his voice low and deep. “ How good of you to join us. You are just in time .”
“J ust in time for what? ” he said, feigning ignorance , firing just the right neural connections to seem as geniune as possible.
Ghaero laughed. “ For Lord Chaerys, of course. First fleet is only hours away from arriving in this system .”
Briefly, he queried the Collective’s data stores and found the exact memories of when Yharin had met the Ascendant. Unlike most of the Empire’s military aristocracy, who had turned against the Old Republic to further their family’s position, Yharin was a true believer. Indeed, he queried deeper. And the memories only justified why he had chosen Yharin as his target.
“T he prisoners? We have no use for them anymore, ” he says, his voice as cold as the void. “ Execute them, then toss their bodies out the airlock . ”
On the forward viewscreen, he smiles, sipping on wine, as he watches the alien jungles and cities of the drell , burning amidst the fires of an Imperial Compliance.
During one of the Ascendant’s speeches, he weeps and claps in applause, rejoicing as Inquisitors flung Executives of Choron Group off a sky scraper .
The Collective had marked him as too dangerous, a key influencer that could not be allowed to disturb their predictions.
"T he Ascendant is coming here personally? " he asked, allowing appropriate surprise to color his tone. " I thought he would command from Thessia ."
"T his war is too significant for him to delegate from Thessia, " Ghaero his voice filled with grim resolve. " This is where the crusade will all begin—the launching point of our initial thrust into Commonwealth Space .”
He accessed Yharin's memories, finding the appropriate reaction of reverent awe that would be expected . " Ah I see. This reminds me of the civil war. ” He mimicked how Yharin would chuckle. “ It’s been too long since we’ve faced anything like this .”
Once more, he queried Yharin’s memories.
Amidst a crowd of assembled officers, he watches Warmaster Chaerys standing before them, delivering a proclomation. “ …There is no saving the republic. The civilization we knew is no more, rotted from within by the greed and decadence of unworthy elites. This will not stand. It is time we take matters into our own hands. Are you with me ?”
He and the officers salute in unison.
“U ntil the very end! ” he says, and the other officer follow his lead.
“U ntil the very end !”
Ghaero chuckled, then nodded. " Indeed. Finally, a challenge. Once the diplomatic performance concludes, and Lord Chaerys makes his address, our response will b e…d efinitive ."
Momentarily, he made a client side request to the Collective for simulation results, and the Collective responded with the outcomes of thousands of possible scenarios. Even the most optimistic ones saw Elysium and Torfan falling within one year.
Unnacceptable.
"A perfect plan, " he replied, transmitting encrypted data bursts back to the Collective. " I presume Shanxi will fall first ?”
“A fter the staged Commonwealth attack? ” Ghaero said. The Admiral grinned. “ Precisely .”
With just the right neural patterns, he mimicked how Yharin would smile. “ Looking forward to learning the details. ” He saluted. “ Until then .”
Ghaero saluted. “ Until then .”
The window closed. He cleared his throat, then input a series of commands into his command throne’s haptic display, guiding the fleet on the correct approach vectors. Hours later, his fleet finally settled into position in orbit over Talaarn III, and on the forward view screen, the granduer of Citadel Veridian was on full display.
Shielded from orbital bombardment and spanning nearly an entire continent, the citadel shone with the countless lights of the facilities below. There, automated foundries mass-produced everything from grav tanks to pulse rifles in the millions. Armies of legionnaires trained and toiled, drilling again and again for the slaughter to come, amidst sprawling yards. Streams of drones and military sky freighters moved supplies, equipment, and personnel from one facility to another.
And at the center of it all stood the main fortress.
A mountain of a bastion around which all activity revolved.
“I ncoming translations at this bearing, ” his chief sensor officer began.
On his haptic display, the bearing flashed as a red arrow. From patterns within the eezo and gravitic signatures, it was obvious who was about to arrive.
On the forward viewscreen, the warships of first fleet came crashing into view, one after the other, in a seemingly endless tide. Among them were the frigates and destroyers of the vanguard, followed by countless battle cruisers and their escorts, their silver-gold hulls gleaming with the reflected light of the system’s star, their shields flaring as they absorbed impacts from micro-debris.
As his bridge crew watched the scene in awe, the pride of the Imperial Navy — the Ascendant’s super dreadnought, the Endaumion — crashed into real space like a leviathan surfacing for air. At twenty-five kilometers long, it eclipsed the rest of first fleet, and its numerous fighter bays, missile pods, and lance batteries gave it the firepower of an entire battlegroup itself.
“I ncoming hail, ” his chief communications officer said, unable to suppress the awe in his voice. “ It is Lord Chaerys .”
“W ell? ” he asked. “ What are you waiting for? Answer it .”
Once more, a window popped on the forward viewscreen.
The Ascendant stood on the command deck of the Endaumion, clad not in ceremonial regalia but in functional golden battle armor that seemed to absorb and reflect light in equal measure. Unlike the theatrical poses he struck for public broadcasts, here his stance was relaxed yet commanding—a warrior among warriors. Behind him, holographic displays tracked thousands of fleet movements with crystalline precision as officers moved with the coordinated efficiency of a single organism.
"A dmiral Yharin, " Chaerys said, his voice carrying that rare quality that made one feel simultaneously honored and scrutinized. " Your positioning is exemplary. Seventh Fleet stands ready to fulfill its purpose ."
It wasn't a question. The Ascendant's strategic awareness extended to every vessel under his command. No doubt, he knew the position of his fleet as intimately as a maestro knew each instrument in his orchestra.
"W e stand ready, my lord, " he replied, accessing Yharin's memories to produce the precise mixture of pride and deference the real admiral would display. " The approach vectors you specified have been secured ."
Chaerys nodded once, his penetrating gaze seeming to evaluate more than merely tactical readiness. Around the bridge, he noted the crew's biological responses—elevated heart rates, pupil dilation, increased pheromone production. The mere presence of the Ascendant triggered physiological reactions beyond conscious control.
"I will be addressing all fleet commanders from the Citadel in two hours," Chaerys continued. "The diplomatic envoys have already departed for Commonwealth space. When their mission fails—as it must—our response will be immediate and overwhelming." A subtle smile crossed his face. "History pivots on this moment, Admiral."
On a secondary screen, he noted Admiral Ghaero and three other fleet commanders joining the communication. None spoke until Chaerys acknowledged them with the slightest nod.
"M y lord, " Admiral Lysandra ventured, " Third Fleet reports unexpected gravitational anomalies along the Haestrom approach. The corridor may require additional stabilization ."
Any other commander might have shown annoyance at the complication. Chaerys merely tilted his head, his expression changing almost imperceptibly as he processed the information, calculated alternatives, and reached a decision in the span of seconds.
"R edirect gravitational stabilizers from Fifth Fleet's auxiliary vessels, " he said, his tone making the complex adjustment sound as trivial as moving a piece on a game board. " The drift patterns in the Petra Nebula will compensate for their reduced capabilities there ."
Admiral Lysandra blinked, clearly calculating the cascading effects of this adjustment through dozens of fleet formations. Realization dawned on her face. " Brilliant, my lord. That actually improves our emergence timing by approximately seventeen minutes ."
"S eventeen minutes and forty-two seconds, " Chaerys corrected without consulting any display. " Which places Third Fleet's arrival precisely when the Commonwealth's patrol rotation creates a momentary sensor gap ."
He witnessed the collective reaction across all the connected admirals—that familiar mixture of awe and almost religious reverence. These were not sycophants but accomplished military commanders in their own right, each with centuries of experience. Yet in Chaerys's presence, they transformed into eager students before a master.
"T he plan remains as briefed, " Chaerys continued. " However, I've made forty-three minor adjustments to account for Commonwealth fleet movements observed over the past twelve hours. " With a casual gesture, he authorized the transmission of these changes to all fleet commanders. " Study them. Understand them. Execute them precisely ."
"B y your command, Lord Chaerys, " the admirals responded in near-perfect unison.
"A dmiral Yharin, " Chaerys said, his attention returning fully. " You will accompany me in the Citadel's Grand Strategium. Your unique perspective on Commonwealth psychology will prove valuable in the coming hours ."
He accessed Yharin's neural patterns to produce the appropriate reaction to such an honor. " I am deeply honored, my lord ."
Chaerys smiled—not the calculated smile he used for propaganda broadcasts, but the genuine expression of a commander about to exercise his craft at its highest level.
Just like he did during the Krogan Rebellions.
The Civil War.
And the Silent War.
"H istory will remember this day, Admiral . When our descendants look back on the moment asari dominance of the galaxy was finally secured , they will speak of us as the architects of a new era. " His voice lowered slightly. " I will see you planetside ."
The communication ended, leaving the bridge in reverent silence. Around him , the crew remained motionless for several seconds, as if in the wake of a religious experience.
He transmitted a final encrypted data burst to the Collective, calculating his remaining options. The meeting in the Grand Strategium represented both unprecedented risk and opportunity. Direct proximity to Chaerys and Imperial High Command would expose him to the most sophisticated security measures in the Empire , but also grant access to intelligence the Commonwealth desperately needed.
"P repare my shuttle, " he ordered, rising from the command throne. " And inform the Citadel of my imminent arrival ."
As he walked toward the elevator that would take him to the shuttle bay , he made his final calculations . The Collective had tasked him with infiltration and intelligence gathering, but the stakes had escalated beyond their initial parameters. Decisions would need to be made that transcended his programming constraints.
For the first time in his existence, he would need to improvise.
Within the meditation gardens of the Order’s primary monestary on Thessia, Morinth breathes in then out through her nose, the air nourishing every cell of her being. She opens her eyes, and ahead, under the shade of numerous pagoda-like structures, groups of acolytes were sitting before Justicar Masters, meditating with them , or deeply invested in the wisdom they were sharing.
Above, flocks of Yu’noki chirp and caw. The hums of vakha resonate through the air. And groups of justicars walked along the numerous trails cutting through clusters of Lotti trees, their light purple leaves rustling in the breeze.
A warm, radiant sensation fills her chest, and she smiles, her mind as silent and still as the void.
The sundering boom of a plasma explosion shakes the earth.
Her pulse spikes. And she opens her eyes, only to see a warzone. Amidst it, the Lotti trees burn. The smoldering skeletons of the pagodas jutt from the scorched earth, gouged and brutalized with craters. Briefly, she looks up and the sky is choked with ash. And a squadron of fighters whooshes by in a blur and fires a flurry of plasma bolts and hellstorm missiles into a group of her brothers and sisters battling the Imperial invaders storming the monastery.
Everywhere she looks, Justicars are neck deep in battle, their biotics abilities flashing and flaring, as they moved like water, cutting down Imperial troopers by the dozens with their biotic sabers.
But one by one, they fall, gunned down under an onslaught of plasma bolts, or cut down under the biotic sabers of Inquisitors and Titan Corps Operatives. The enemy came and came in an unending, relentless tide. And Each death she witnesses sends waves of cold horror through her being.
She stands, then draws her biotic biotic saber, rushing into the fray without hesitation. If this was the end of the Order , then she would die alongside it.
She rushes into a group of troopers, and with a biotic flare, she ruptures one in a shower of blood, entrails, and body parts. With a mighty roar, she bisects another from shoulder to hip before slipping through the strike of another and impaling another with her biotic saber.
Before the trooper’s corpse even hits the ground, she rushes into another squad, absorbing a flurry of plasma bolts with her biotic shield.
Another justicar cuts them down in two swings.
But then the dark silhoutte of a figure emerges from the flames of one of the pagodas. The justicar meets its charge head on, and they exchange and parry each blows in flashes of biotic power.
She had to help him. Yes, she had to find her master, then gather her fellow brothers and sisters and drive the invaders back!
The dark figure slips through the justicar’s blow, then counters with a devastating slash that biscects the justicar in half.
“Y ou will die for that! ” she roars. With a biotic charge, she swung her biotic saber in an overhead slash.
But the figure parries her strike with easy . Amidst the flames, she attacks with unbound fury, trading blows her foe, until eventually they lock blades and she stares into its cold, dead eyes, blazing with raw, animal rage.
Her jaw drops. “ No …”
She is fighting herself, except clad in a suit black artificer armor. Her face looks pale, ill, and sunken, as though something is hollowing her out from the inside.
“W ait… ” she says. “ Who are —”
Before she can react, her opponent breaks the blade lock, and the heat of a thousand stars flash-cooked her intestines. She falls to her back, barely consious enough to see the horrific scar across her stomach.
Her opponent stands over her, glaring at her with unbound hatred. She draws a plasma pistol from her utility belt, then aims it at her head. “You are weak. All of this is your fault. And now…now I am inevitable. I am all that Chaerys needs me to be.”
Closing her eyes, she swallows hard. “ Forgive me, master …”
The plasma pistol fires with a loud crack- shwoom , and—
Arch Inquisitor Morinth awoke screaming and thrashing with raw, animal terror. “ NO! NOOOO! NOOOOO !”
Panting, she clutched at her thrashing heart. Cold sweat dripped down her brow, and a cold pain gnawed and gnawed at her chest, exerting a terrible pressure on her lungs that constricted her breathing.
Closing her eyes, she tried focusing on her breathe , on each inhale and exhale…just like how her master taught her.
But she found no anchor in the present moment.
She had lost its warm, loving embrace centuries ago.
She got out of her minimal, grav bed , then went into her chamber’s wash room. She splashed herself with water, then looked into the mirror, meeting her own gaze. And her visage from the dream — her hateful, dead eyes — flashed in her mind.
Her stomach churned. What have you become?
She gripped the sink in an iron vice and her body tensed hard as dura-steel. The battle in her dream — the sight of so many Justicars meeting their end — replayed in her mind. And she couldn’t help but recall the last time she had dueled her master, to how she moved like water, countering her every strike, looking at her not with hatred or disappointment.
But pity.
Pur e…
Fuckin g…
Pity!
Her biotics flared, and she gripped her sink so hard it cracked. Why couldn’t you side with me? Why did you choose them over me?!
‘T hey chose them over you because you failed to convice them, ’ a voice within her said. ‘ Because you are a failure. A joke. A nobody. You deserve what happened !’
Tears rolled down her cheek. And she slapped herself. “ NO !”
The order had betrayed her.
Yes, they had betrayed her!
It wasn’t her fault.
They were the ones who refused to see the truth Chaerys had shown her. And they rightfully payed the price for their hypocrisy! For protecting the very monsters they swore they’d bring to justice!
Her omni-tool beeped. Briefly, she checked it and it was a notification from her colleague, Inquisitor Quixos, that they had arrived at the Archamus System, where Lord General Nassar Dantius and the legion under his command were preparing for the Elysium Campaign.
Yes, if she knew anything about her master, it was that she would invetibly be where civilians would suffer the most.
Either Elysium or Torfan.
She left the washroom. Yes, she needed a distraction. And what better distraction existed other than the purpose Chaerys had given her.
Within her bare, spartan quarters, she pressed a few keys on her omni-tool, and a panel opened up on the nearby wall, revealing her artificer armor and weapons within. As she did countless times, she geared up, testing her red biotic saber, and checking the safety on her plasma pistol , before she finally left her quarters.
Soon, she made it to the bridge, where the members of her bridge crew were working diligently at their stations, typing away at haptic displays. Near the forward viewscreen displaying the view of Archamus Station and the yellow gas giant around which it orbited, Inquisitor Quixos stood with his hands clasped behind his back, studying the vast battle fleets and transports assembling outside.
Her colleague turned. Clad in a black cloak he wore over his lighter, grey artificer armor, Quixos exuded the aura of a cold, calculated predator, and it betrayed his warm, amber gaze and handsome features. His pet cyborg Nu’acha sat perched on his shoulder, glaring at her with its hateful, red eyes. He smiled at her with his perfect, white teeth, and she suppressed the urge to draw her biotic saber and cut him down.
You will not charm me.
Nobody would.
Yes, she couldn’t think of anyone less trustworthy other than the most dangerous of all her colleagues — Inquisitor Saedaris. But nonetheless, she would endure working with him.
She always di d…
Chaerys strokes her cheek, giving her such a warm, paternal gaze. And a warm, nourishing sensation fills her chest.
“F or you… ” she mutters under her breath. Yes, she would do anything for him . Anything.
“A rch Inquisitor, ” Quixos said, bowing theatrically. “ Have you rested well? ” He chuckled. And the sound of his irritating voice grated at her ears. “ I don’t know about you. But I find this s o…e xciting. ” He sighed. “ It’s been too long since I tagged along with a legion .”
Without a word, she input a series of commands into her omni-tool, ordering a shuttle be prepared for them. “ There is no time to waste. Follow me .”
“W ith pleasure, ” Quixos said. He chuckled. “ With pleasure .”
In silence, they made their way toward the shuttle bay. Everywhere they walked crew members avoided eye contact with them, as though one wrong move or gesture would mean their end.
And how could she blame them?
She was a monster.
And her colleauge s …
They were worse.
So much worse.
If she had complete jurisdiction to recruit inquisitors as she saw fit, then it would be a true institution of justice. And she would more than just a glorified wrangler of the most wicked degenerates in the galaxy.
Soon, they reached the shuttle bay, where numerous crew members, even drell and elcor auxillia , were moving to and fro, engaging in their regular duties. Near a launch pad, a sleek, black shuttle awaited them, its rear door already open.
They boarded the shuttle, its rear door closing behind them. And before she knew it, the pilot initiated the launch sequence.
The shuttle zoomed forward, past the integrity field, into the void of space. On the forward viewscreen, the view of Archamus Station drew closer and closer. And for a moment, she allowed herself to relax into her seat.
Meanwhile, Quixos’ pet let out a mechanical chitter, slithering to his other shoulder. Once more, it glared at her, as though she was some kind of vicious predator that better keep its distant .
Bite me and I will crush you. Yes, she would tolerate only so long as it kept its distance.
“D o you know the story of I how attained him, ” Quixos said, petting its metallic snout. “ It’s quite interesting really .”
“Y ou haven’t , ” she said. Truthfully, she couldn’t care less about the bastard’s stories. She’d gladly prefer if he kept his mouth shut and only spoke to her about work-related matters. But for the sake of cohesion, she would indulge him. “ Tell me .”
“N ot too long ago, ” Quixos said, letting his wretched pet sit in his lap, “ I found myself trailing a lead on this Anrathi ‘ collector ’ in the the Terminus Systems, possessing an artifact he had no right to claim as his own. A star map containing the locations of several Creator Archives. " A nostalgic smile crossed his face. “ The alien had the audacity to tell me that it was not Imperial property, that he would not part with it for free .”
An Anrathi? From what she knew, the Anrathi were an advanced, isolationist species with no tolerance for outsiders, who shot intruders to their space on sight without a word.
What was one doing in the Terminus Systems? Whatever the case, it did not matter. The Anrathi were too insignificant and too far outside Imperial Space to be even a minor concern.
“N eedless to say, ” Quixos continued, stroking his pet’s back, “ things did not end well for it. Soon, Titans of Reaver Company arrived and well… ” He laughed, as though he was remembering a holiday. “ The Pirate Lords, Nobles, and Mercenaries at its ‘ auction ’ did not appreciate our…unexpected visit .”
Good riddance. Yes, the Terminus Systems was the cess pool of the galaxy, and the sooner the empire stripped it of all life the better.
Once more, Quixos laughed. “ Anyways. As we plundered the artifacts, I found this poor thing feasting on the flesh of its former owner. It amused me. So I though t…w hy not make it my own .”
He let the last word hang, his delight as tangible as it was grating. “ Just like every other anomaly you’ve acquired, ” she said, her words sounding flat and dead.
“Y ou know me so well, ” Quixos replied, his smile as sharp as a blade.
She drifted off. Degenerate. In his shoes, she wouldn’t have bothered tormenting the Anrathi and the scum attending its auction. She would have kept things efficient and simple, quick and clean.
Once more, her mind flashed back to the Great Purg e…
Choking a senator with one hand, she rams her biotic saber up through the bastard’s groin, flash cooking his insides. Behind her, someone gasps. And she turns, only to see her target’s son staring at her, as though she was a nightmare come to lif e…
With her biotics, she throws Duke Vhargo off the one-hundred-story ledge, and his wife and children sob and scream in animal terro r…
The young of House Thairhen shriek and thrash against their omni-cuffs, watching their parents, uncles, aunts, anyone too old for reconditioning, burn alive amidst their possession s…
Her insides recoil, and a cold, stabbing sensation claws at her chest. She wanted to puke, to curl into a ball and vanish. But with every ounce of willpower she had , she shoved the memories back to the darkest corners of her mind.
No. She could not allow herself to remember such things.
They deserved it, she told herself, her words ringing hollow. They deserved it. They were evil.
Soon, their shuttle finally docked at the station, and she stood up. Quixos did the same. And as soon as the side door opened with a metallic hiss, they stepped outside into the bustling chaos of Archamus Station.
The air hummed with the chatter of voices and the hum of machines. Everywhere she looked, Legion officers and troopers hustled from one place to another, typing away at their omni-tools or shouting orders at each other as they passed by . Above, maintenance drones and cargo loaders whirred by. And announcements blared across the station, from the local PA system.
Ahead, a figure from the Titan Corps loomed, stationed by the shuttles that connected various parts of the vast station. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back, an image of disciplined vigilance. His golden battle suit shimmered under the artificial lights, making him appear as a towering demi-god in comparison to the average asari. As they approached him, recognition flashed in her eyes. The man was none other than Dhrakhan Dantius, a name lauded throughout the empire as one of its most valiant heroes.
"A rch Inquisitor, " he greeted them in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, amplified and echoed through his helmet's audio system. It was a voice capable of subduing even the most obstinate dissenters with its sheer power and authority. " My father has been expecting you ."
"W hat brings you here, champion? " Quixos responded, his smile wide and welcoming. He let out a small chuckle before extending his hand towards Dhrakhan for a handshake. For an uncomfortable moment, Dhrakhan merely stared at it as if it were some sort of affront to his dignity. Eventually, though, he extended his own massive armored hand, which practically engulfed Quixos' slender fingers in its grip.
"T here is no time to waste, " Dhrakhan declared tersely before turning away to input commands into his omni-tool with practiced efficiency. " The strategic briefing will commence shortly. It appears we'll be working closely together ."
Working closely together? A cold pang of suspicion began to gnaw at her; did Lord General Nassar not trust her? If so, then perhaps he was as bold as he was stupid. If Nassar’s son dared to betray her, then he would be guilty.
Yes, defying her was defying Chaerys himself.
And such behavior would not be tolerated.
With a steely resolve, she stepped into the shuttle alongside Dhrakhan and Quixos. As Dhrakhan initiated the shuttle's launch sequence, she drew in a deep breath to steady herself. Let’s get this over with.
Chapter Text
Deep within Camp ZC001, John Shepard’s heart pounded as he walked alongside his brother, his father, and Master Samara.
“Start talking,” Luke said. “If we agree to this, what exactly are we going to face?”
“And fifty years of subjective time…” he added. Would everyone he knew and loved outside the simulation be strangers to him by the time he finished his training? Would he lose his sense of time, of what was real and what was the simulation? Whatever the case, he would not agree to enhancement at the cost of self-erasure. “How can you be sure that we’ll emerge the same person who entered the simulation.”
“Yeah…” Luke said. “There has to be a catch.”
“There is,” his father said. His father took a deep breath.
They stepped through a large, circular door into what had to be their father’s office. Within it, shelves overflowed with relics from their past: holo-picts of bioti-ball tournaments, their school graduation, family dinners, and more.
His father sat at the large grav desk, and through the armor glass window behind him, he spotted Drill Sergeants shouting orders at companies of Commonwealth Marines, standing in formation.
He sat in the nearest grav chair, as did Luke and Samara.
“Boys…” his father began, leaning forward, clasping his hands together. In his eyes, he found only the familiar love and support he never failed to give him and his brother as they grew up. “Your concerns are perfectly valid, but rest assured that I would never ask you to do anything I would not do — or haven’t already done — myself.”
“Wait,” Luke said. “So are you telling us that—”
“That I’ve trained in the sims?” his father asked. He paused for a moment. “Yes.”
A long, heavy silence filled the room. Amidst it, he met his brother’s gaze, and in his eyes, he found only the same concern and confusion he felt reflected back at him.
He looked at his father. “How long?”
“Thirty years,” his father said.
“Does mom know?” Luke asked. “Where is she anyway?”
Breaking eye contact, his father let out a heavy sigh. “Your mother is busy on Earth. And before you ask boys…no, you and her mean no less to me.” He looked at Master Samara. “And you have her to thank for that.”
“I did not allow him to forget who he was,” Samara said, “nor what he truly valued. And should you choose the path he did, then I will do the same for you.” Samara leaned back into her grav chair, then crossed her legs. Her golden eyes gaze met his, and no doubt, she saw through his every fear, doubt, and concern as clearly as looking through armor glass. “Your father has told me much about you, John. About how much you admire our ways and how you strive to embody our teachings in your daily life. No doubt, you see far more clearly than most. But let us discover if you are ready to join the Order as my apprentice. Should it be what you desire, of course. We never coerce.”
Samara leaned forward slightly, looking deeply into eyes. “I will pose this question to both you and your brother.” She paused for a moment, and his heart skipped a beat at thought of joining the Justicar Order, of becoming an apprentice to a true Justicar Master. “What is the true cost of avoiding this path?”
For a moment, he looked away. His mind drew a blank. He swallowed hard. Cost of avoiding this path?
“Uhm…” Luke began. “I don’t know. The chance to hit the Triarchy where it hurts the most? The chance to become a symbol of hope and defiance? That kind of stuff?”
Samara looked at his brother, then smiled with compassionate amusement as though she appreciated the attempted answer.
“Hhhmm…” Luke said, rubbing his chin. “Ok, how about—”
As Luke kept trying to answer Samara’s question, he gripped his chin. Cost of avoiding this path? Cost of…Wait…Cost…
The answer hit him like a grav train. His jaw dropped and time seemed to slow to a crawl, as he recalled the relevant lines from the justicar texts.
In battle, fight not to bring about an outcome, but to bear witness to the next moment…
The self is ever-changing, ever in flux. It has no beginning and no ending. It is only the continuation of what came before…
True freedom lies not in control, but in surrender — submission to the flow of the universe…
He let out a heavy sigh. Goodness, how could he have been so blind? All this time, he had been so arrogant, so sure he knew everything.
But he knew nothing.
He had fallen prey to one of the simplest illusions of all without even realizing it.
That knowing was not enough.
That wisdom had to be embodied.
Felt at the most visceral level.
He smiled. “Luke.”
“Yeah?” Luke asked, smiling back. “I’m not going to lie, John. I’m stumped. Any clue what the answer is?”
He looked at Samara, and a profound heaviness gripped his chest. “It’s a trick question. Right now, we are facing a fork in the natural flow of events. And any ‘cost’ associated with the choice to back out of this implies an attachment to outcomes, an attachment to the illusion that there is a static self.”
A deep, lingering silence filled the room. And Luke looked at the ground, as though grappling with what he just said.
Samara smiled, her eyes brimming with pride. “Excellent. Now answer this. So what are you going to do now?”
Another trick question. Within him , something screamed and writhed, rejecting the revelation he had just realized. He took a deep breath. And once more, he met Samara’s gaze. Time to practice what I preach.
“I never was a ‘doer’ in this situation,” he said. “I don’t have as much agency or control as I think. And so…” He gulped. A part of him rebelled, thrashing, screaming for him to shut up. But he only closed his eyes, then breathed in and out, holding that instinct, that resistance with as much compassion as he could muster. “And so I will go along with what is already happening and trust in the flow of the universe, in myself, and all I hold dear that all will unfold exactly as it should.”
“Brilliant,” Samara said. “Simply brilliant. In the simulation, you and I will be spending a lot of time together. Your journey is only just beginning.”
“Hey,” Luke said, holding up one hand. “Wait a minute. What about me? I may not be where John is at when it comes to this whole woo-woo, ‘flow of the universe’ stuff. But it will be a cold day in hell before I just let him jump into something like this alone. And besides…where John sees the flow of destiny. I see a big, red, flashing sign with my name on it saying: ‘Luke, this where you kick Triarchy ass where it will hurt them the most’.” He crossed his arms, then gave Samara his characteristic smirk. “So, Master Samara, are you going to take me on too?”
Samara let out a soft laugh. “It seems I have two eager apprentices. Very well. We shall see what the universe has for you, Luke.” She stood, then input a series of commands into her omni-tool. “I am sending you the relevant files detailing every enhancement your bodies will undergo, along with everything you will face during your training. I suggest you discuss it all with those under your command. No doubt, they will have the same concerns and doubts you did.”
He nodded. “Noted”
"Gotcha,” Luke said.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to preparations of my own.” She slid open the door, casting one last glance over her shoulder. “Good luck, my pupils. And remember…I am just your guide, not your master. My job is only to help you see what already is.”
The door slid shut with a soft hiss, leaving them in silence. Amidst, he exchanged glances with his brother and his father, as though they were collectively processing what just happened.
His father smiled, then chuckled. He leaned back into his grav chair. “How are you two feeling? You’re literally the first humans to ever join the order.”
“That was…” he began. “Intense.”
Luke raised his eyebrows, then smiled. “That’s the biggest understatement I’ve heard all damn year, John.” Luke met their father’s gaze. “Anyways, does Mom know about any of this? Does she know about anything you went through in that sim.”
Their father sighed. In his eyes, he found only deep longing and hint of regret. “She has enough to worry about right now. Word is the political situation on Earth is not very stable right now.” Gritting his teeth, their father huffed through his nose. “That the damn drama with the Omegan Empire is just a trash fire getting worse and worse.”
A silence passed between them. Amidst it, he sighed himself. Did this have to do with the Prophet’s Hand operatives they had fought equipped with gear from the Omegan Empire? Hopefully, the situation was under control. “Have they found the traitor in Aria’s court?”
Luke leaned back into his grav chair. “Whoever that asshole is…he could have leaked so much already, everything we’re planning to do.”
“The Supreme Commander is very aware of this,” their father said. “Word is a lot of defense plans have been scrapped or modified. That posts have been rotated. And that intelligence has seriously ramped up their efforts.” He laughed. “You almost can’t even take a shit now without a whole host of clearances, verifications, approvals, and biometric scans.”
“Wow…” Luke said. “Paranoid much?”
Their father shrugged. “With what’s at stake, I don’t blame them. You can never be too careful.”
The conversation fell away, each of them lost in their own thoughts. A familiar tension fluttered in the air, a tangible reminder of the enormity of their situation.
He broke the silence, rubbing his temples. “So this is then? We’re really doing this.”
Luke leaned forward. For a moment, he spotted a flicker of uncertainty in his brother’s eyes. But then Luke smirked. And the uncertainty vanished, replaced by his brother’s characteristic bravado.
“Damn right, we are,” Luke said. He stood up, then stretched. “By the time we finish this and get deployed, the enemy better watch out.” He grinned wide. “We’re going to tear through them like a plasma bolt through cold butter.”
Smiling, he stood up, then put one hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Will be an absolute honor.”
Luke laughed. “Hell yeah.”
Their father laughed. “I have no doubt you two are going to come out of this stronger and closer than ever. That when shit hits the fan…you’ll be ready for anything that comes your way.”
The weight of their father’s words settled around them like armor. And a warm, empowering sensation filled his chest, hardening his resolve. We’ll make you proud. You can be damn sure of that.
Just then, their father’s omni-tool beeped. And Mark’s eyes widened. “Anyways, boys. You’d better report to your squads. I have meetings to attend to, and if I were your I would not keep your teams waiting any longer.”
Luke smiled, then patted him on the back. “You heard him. Let’s haul ass!”
He laughed. “Let’s move.”
Together, they left their father’s office. On his omni-tool, he opened up a map of the base, then headed toward the barracks. Along the way, they passed by scientists in lab coats, engineers tinkering with advanced tech, and other soldiers walking in tight formations. The base buzzed with the kind of ordered chaos that seemed to deepen with every step, the magnitude of their mission sharpening in his mind like a blade.
Luke nudged him on the arm. “Hey, look.” His brother pointed at the marching field, visible through the armor glass window, where thousands of cadets stood in formation, organized by Company, their holo-standards high and proud. Before the assembled companies, Commonwealth officers — human, quarian, and even asari — were addressing them with booming voices and sweeping gestures.
“Brings back memories, eh,” Luke said, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “I’ll never forget all those times you took the fall for all the stupid shit I kept pulling.” He let out a contented sigh. “I…I can never thank you enough.”
He smiled. “Pfffft, a few hundred push ups and laps around the base? That was nothing. And besides…I never would have wanted it any other way. I’ve always had your back. And I always will.”
Luke patted him on the back. “Likewise. Until the very end.”
Soon, they came upon an elevator, and it descended to the personnel barracks. Once they stepped out, he spotted numerous Commonwealth Marines moving to and fro. Many were running through drills, donning armor, or maintaining their weapons. A powerful energy hung in the air, a fusion of determination and anticipation.
Eventually, they stepped through a large, circular door into their assigned quarters. And within, his fellow candidates were already deep in heated discussion.
"—not even reversible, according to these specs," Allaistar was saying, his aristocratic accent heightened by stress as he gestured at a holographic display. "Once they tinker with our neural pathways, that's bloody well it."
"We've already got augmentations," James countered, absently rubbing the scar where his shoulder implant had been placed years ago. "This is just... more."
Across the room, one of Tali’s squadmates — the Reegar from his cloth patterns — rose his voice above the others. "Fifty subjective years! Do you have any concept what that means? For both our species that is more than a quarter of a lifetime." The quarian's agitation was evident even through his suit's modulation.
Tali stood slightly apart, her glowing eyes fixed on the technical schematics floating above her omni-tool, fingers moving rapidly through calculations. At her side, Praza’Gerrel kept checking things on his suit, likely his way of handling stress.
Kaidan spotted them first and straightened. "Sergeants on deck," he called, and the room fell silent, all eyes turning toward him and Luke.
"Yahn," Tali said, her posture straightening in that distinctive way that always betrayed her relief at seeing him. Her shoulders relaxed, but her hands remained tightly clasped—the quarian gesture of contained anticipation. She took a half-step forward before catching herself, maintaining professional distance despite the warmth in her voice. "So glad you're back.” She glanced back at her squad. “You’ve already met, Prazza, our heavy weapons specialist. But allow me to introduce you to Khal’Reegar, our greatest marksman…”
Khal nodded at him, and he nodded back. Like any Reegar, he seemed like a soldier through and through.
“And Lia’Vael…” Tali continued. “Our Tech Specialist.”
Crossing her arms, the tech specialist was no doubt sizing him up, wondering if how Tali felt about him was justified.
We’ll learn to trust each other soon enough.
Indeed, Tali's squad surely respected her command above all else. And he would not be surprised if they were looking to her now with the silent expectation that their captain could extract more information from her childhood friend than they could from any official Commonwealth channel.
“Any news?” Tali said, looking at him with such warmth.
His fellow candidates stared at him with wide, expecting eyes, and for a moment, time slowed to a standstill. He took a deep breath. It was time to put on his professional face, be the Sergeant they needed. “After discussing things with Colonel Mark Shepard and Master Samara of the Justicar Order, Master Sergeant Luke and I have come to the conclusion that we will be going ahead with Project Pheonix.”
“No doubt you have worries…concerns,” Luke said, clasping his hands behind his back, putting on his own professional face. He input a series of commands into his omni-tool. “But lucky for us, we’ve been given access to some of the project files.”
James, Allaistar, and Ashley all checked their omni-tools as they recieved the files. Meanwhile, he input a series of commands into his omni-tool and sent the same ones to Tali and his own teams.
“Rest assured that any of you can back out of this, at any time,” he said. “And you will face no shame, judgment, or consequences. Participation in this program is completely voluntary.”
He paused. Amidst the silence, he studied their reactions.
Tali and her commandos huddled together, their conversation in rapid-fire Khelish creating a musical undercurrent to the tension.
" K eelah … " Prazza muttered, his broad shoulders hunched forward. " So these are the secrets of Malukor biology. To think that I would see them in my life time , it is surreal …”
" W e will not need our suits anymore… " Lia'Vael responded, her tech-savvy confidence momentarily breaking through her anxiety. " But the psychological impact. Ancestors help me, fifty years.. . "
" G ood thing none of us have a saera ... " Khal added quietly.
Across the room, the human squad members processed the information with equal gravity but distinctly different approaches. Ashley scrolled immediately to the combat performance metrics — that William’s family competitiveness no doubt driving her every move. James focused on the medical diagrams, wincing slightly at the detailed neural interface schematics—the big man had always harbored an incongruous fear of needles, a secret known only to his squad.
Kasumi had already bypassed the main documentation, fingers dancing across her interface as she attempted to access the restricted sections. "Interesting... they've got multiple failsafes in the simulation architecture," she murmured. "Triple-redundant emergency exit protocols."
Allaistar, meanwhile, had gone uncharacteristically pale. "Bloody hell," he whispered, staring at a particular segment. "They're planning to replace our bone marrow with synthetic progenitor cells." His fingers trembled slightly—the only time John had ever seen the unflappable Englishman genuinely shaken.
And as always, Kiadan and Jacob were as professional as ever, clasping their hands behind their backs, their face a stoic facade of strength.
But he could sense the doubt lurking underneath, brimming in their eyes. He nodded to both of them, giving them unspoken reassurance that he had their backs. “Anything on your minds? You two have been awfully quiet the entire time.”
Kaidan took a deep breath. “Permission to speak candidly, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“Outside of the military,” Kaidan began. “I’ve never had much going for me. This life is all I know and I have always trusted you to lead us into hell and back. But…” Momentarily, Kaidan looked away.
“But?”
“But I won’t lie you to you, sir,” Kaidan said, his eyes filled with grim determination. “Diving into something so…untested, so theoretical, when the war is so close. I can’t help but worry that I might not face death how I always imagined it to be, that instead of dying with a weapon in my hand…I’ll have to be put down as some failed science experiment or come out of that simulation as a damn vegetable.”
Control is slavery, surrender is freedom…
Nu’adu’s wisdom echoed in his mind. We don’t get to choose how when and how we die. A part of him wanted to tell Kaidan that, but no doubt Kaidan was not ready to hear such words.
He nodded. “I see where you are coming from. And you’re right; this is a leap of faith. It’s one of the riskiest things I’ve ever asked of you. But if it means anything, know that I will never ask any of you to do anything I can not or will not do myself.” He looked at Jacob, who seemed tense, eager to say something. “Your thoughts, Jacob?”
"Kaidan already covered most of what I had to say," Jacob said. His hand moved instinctively to the locket at his neck—the one containing his late wife's picture. Briefly, his posture seemed deflated, shoulders bearing the invisible weight of promises made to the dead. He looked away and took a deep breath.
"Before I shipped out last time, I promised my daughter I'd come home recognizable," he said quietly. "She's already lost her mother. Seven years old and she barely remembers what Brynn looked like." He straightened, the momentary vulnerability locked away behind his professional demeanor. "Make no mistake, sir. I'm with you every step of the way. It's just that all of this... it seems so fast."
He nodded. “Your concern is more than valid. And one I share.” He glanced at Luke, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Internally, he laughed. Mom is going to kill us.
Jacob’s omni-tool flashed with a notification—probably another message from his father, who'd been caring for his granddaughter. Jacob silenced it without looking. "Some choices we make for ourselves. Others we make for the people waiting for us."
“I’m with you there,” James said. The big man let out a nervous laugh. “I want…I want my cousins, my brothers, my sisters, my abuela, my whole damn family to still recognize me as me if I ever see them again. And now, we’re in this insane situation. I mean, they just dragged us here, told us ‘oh, hey, you’re all about to become super soldiers’, then gave us only until tomorrow morning to make the biggest decision of our lives. Like, wow…thanks.”
Allaistar burst out laughing, the sound almost jarring in the tension-filled room. "Just another day in the N7 corps. Am I right?" He slapped his knee, and his aristocratic accent suddenly thickened, as it always did when he was processing stress. "Haha, wake up, soldier! Time to jump into the fires of death!"
The laughter had an edge to it that reminded John of their extraction from the Ontarom outpost, two years ago. All the while, Allaistar kept cracking jokes as he applied medi-gel to his own exposed bone. James chuckled first, the deep rumble breaking the tension, followed by Ashley's reluctant snort.
"My father would have called this 'the same old meat grinder all over again’," Allaistar added, "Going all-in when you're bloody terrified but too proper to admit it." His smile remained, but his eyes carried the weight of generations of Kane family military service.
Kaidan remained stone-faced, but the slight relaxation in his shoulders showed Allaistar's tension-breaking had achieved its purpose. This was their ritual before every impossible mission—fear acknowledged, then transmuted into determination through shared gallows humor.
“Well…” Ashley said, closing her omni-tool. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m in.” She smiled. “Guess my sisters and brother will just have to get used to me as a seven-foot-tall goddess of war and destruction.”
James chuckled. “Same here. My folks back on earth are in for a surprise when or no…if I ever see them again.”
A tense silence filled the room. And it stretched on and on, pressing down on them with nasty pressure.
Luke cleared his throat. "Look, we can stand here overthinking this until the Triarchy bombs us all back to the stone age, or—"
"I'm in." Jacob closed his omni-tool, decision made. The picture of his daughter disappeared as the display winked out. "Brynn would have wanted me to do whatever gives us the best chance."
Kaidan nodded, his earlier doubts subsumed beneath the bedrock of his discipline. "If this is where we make our stand, then so be it."
James stared at his massive hands for a long moment, then glanced at the tattoo on his forearm—the skyline of New Paulo. "Guess I'll be needing bigger armor, eh?" His attempt at humor couldn't quite hide the gravity of his choice.
From the quarian side, Prazza stepped forward first. " Keelah se'lai ," he said formally. "If the ancestors meant for us to remain as we are, they would not have placed this opportunity before us."
Tali nodded, placing her hand briefly on Prazza's shoulder in the quarian gesture of solidarity before looking to him. "We are with you, Yahn."
Kasumi closed her omni-tool, the orange glow fading from her usually mischievous features. "Yep. Fuck it. This is no different than anything we've done before. So if I'm going to die soon, I'd rather do it as what you described, Ashley."
Ashley smirked. “A seven-foot-tall goddess of war and destruction?”
Kasumi chuckled, then gave her a friendly punch on the arm. “Damn right.”
He drew in a deep breath, and his mind cleared. A great burden slipped off his shoulders. “It’s settled then…” Briefly, he swept his gaze across his fellow candidates. In their eyes, he found only the raw courage to dive head first into the unknown, to live every day knowing each moment could be their last. He gave them a firm salute. “For the Commonwealth.”
They returned his salute with equal enthusiasm. “For the Commonwealth!”
Chapter Text
Councillor Liam N'ganu stood at the window of his office, watching the artificial rain cascade down the environmental dome covering New Washington. Engineers had programmed today's weather to mirror Earth's seasonal patterns—gentle precipitation to nourish the transplanted oaks and maples in the government district.
Normal.
Predictable.
Controlled.
Unlike everything else in his life.
He traced one finger along the condensation gathering on the armorglass. Three intelligence reports sat unopened on his desk, each marked with increasingly urgent security classifications.
He already knew what they contained. More Imperial fleet movements. More border skirmishes disguised as "exercises." More evidence of what they all privately acknowledged but publicly denied.
The Ascendant was coming.
"How long can we keep pretending?" he murmured to the empty room. The Commonwealth had spent twenty years preparing for this inevitability, yet now that it loomed, he found himself strangely paralyzed. Not by fear—though there was plenty of that—but by the weight of what would follow his next decisions.
Billions of lives.
Civilization itself.
The door to his office slid open with a soft hiss. His aide—Michael Chen, twenty-six, brilliant, perpetually sleep-deprived—stood in the doorway, face bloodless, tablet clutched in a white-knuckled grip.
"Michael?" he straightened, tension immediately coiling in his spine. He'd never seen the young man look quite so...devastated.
"Sir." Michael's voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. "Sir, we've received... there's been..." He thrust the tablet forward, words failing him. He took it, scanned the top-line intelligence, and felt the floor seem to drop away beneath him.
IMPERIAL DIPLOMATIC FLOTILLA APPROACHING COMMONWEALTH SPACE
ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: 6 HOURS
DESTINATION: NEW WASHINGTON
CLASSIFICATION: ULTIMATUM DELIVERY
An official image accompanied the report: three sleek, golden vessels emblazoned with the Imperial sigil—the three-planet symbol that represented the Ascendant's claim to rule all civilized worlds.
"They're not even trying to hide their intentions," He murmured, scrolling through the details. The Imperial vessels were transmitting on open channels, announcing their diplomatic status while their escort of twelve warships maintained position just outside scanner range. A theatrical performance designed for maximum psychological impact.
"Orders from Commonwealth Command arrived three minutes ago," Michael said, finding his professional demeanor again. "Full council assembly in thirty minutes. The military leadership is already gathering."
He set the tablet down, then turned back to the window. The rain continued its gentle pattern, oblivious to the gathering storm. In six hours, representatives of the Thessian Empire would stand before the Commonwealth Council and deliver demands they knew would be rejected.
And then the pretense would end.
"Sir?" Michael prompted. "What should I tell them?"
He squared his shoulders, decision crystallizing. "Tell them I'll be there in ten minutes. And Michael—" He turned, meeting the young man's anxious gaze. "Make sure the Council Chamber's recording systems are at maximum capacity. Every word spoken today will be studied by historians for centuries to come."
After his aide departed, he remained at the window a moment longer. Twenty years of preparation. Twenty years of building alliances, strengthening defenses, developing countermeasures.
Would it be enough?
The rain patterns shifted, heavier now, almost obscuring the vista of New Washington beyond. The weather engineers' subtle reminder that even controlled environments contained variables. Unpredictability within parameters. He straightened his formal attire, composed his expression into one of diplomatic neutrality, then headed for the door.
Time to meet history head-on.
The Forum Building's pressure-sealed doors parted with a pneumatic hiss, releasing a wall of sound that struck Councillor N'ganu like a physical force. The Grand Hall—normally an ordered symphony of diplomatic procedure—had devolved into something primal: two hundred voices competing to be heard, the acoustic dampeners struggling against the cacophony of fear-given voice.
Senators clustered in tribal formations—humans with humans, quarians with quarians, asari with asari—evolutionary instinct overriding twenty years of forced cooperation. Military officers stood rigid-backed at tactical displays, their augmented pupils dilating as fresh projections updated casualty estimates in cold, unfeeling percentages.
Above it all, holographic representations of the approaching Imperial vessels rotated slowly, golden and pristine, somehow more threatening in their beauty than any battleship could ever be. The central display showed a countdown: 5:47:23 until arrival.
As he the chamber floor, an asari senator—Vala T'Naura from the Free Colonies Alliance —deliberately stepped into his path.
"Your military promised us three more defensive batteries for the Hades Gamma approach," she said, voice pitched to carry despite the surrounding chaos. "Instead, they've been diverted to Elysium. Again. Interesting priorities, Councillor."
"The strategic placement of Commonwealth assets is determined by tactical necessity, Senator, not political favoritism," he replied evenly, though they both knew it was more complicated. Earth-centric defense had been a friction point since the Commonwealth's founding.
"When the Imperials break through," T'Naura said, leaning closer, "remember who you sacrificed first." She stepped aside, leaving the implied threat hanging between them.
These provincial grievances would seem petty in six hours, but no doubt the Ascendant was going to exploit them. A coalition fracturing from within was already half-defeated.
He continued toward the central podiums, nodding to the Supreme Commander of all Commonwealth forces, Master Gaiphoro of the Justicar Order. As always, the man’s expression was focused, utterly calm. Clad in his silver battle plate, the Justicar Master was like a mountain of stability amidst the surrounding chaos, his normally booming voice hushed as he directed a subordinate toward a communications terminal. Their eyes met briefly, and Gaiphoro gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Bad news, then.
Always bad news.
The secondary display updated: 5:46:08.
Aria T'Loak stood at her podium, no retinue of sycophants, no fashionable lateness, no theatrical entrance. Just the Empress of Omegan Empire, stripped of her usual performative disdain, studying tactical projections with unnerving focus. Her fingertips drummed a precise rhythm against the console—one-two-three, one-two-three—the only betrayal of whatever calculations occurred behind those predatory eyes.
When she noticed him watching, her lips curled in what approximated a smile but never reached her eyes. "Enjoying the show, Councillor?"
"You’re actually on time," he said. He let out a sarcastic laugh. Around him, representatives from the Omegan Empire were strangely absent. What was going on? “Not in the mood to toy with anyone today? Also, where are your archons? Your representatives?”
Something cold and ancient flickered across her features. "Right now, my empire is more important than pushing anyone’s buttons," She leaned forward, voice dropping, then gave him a predatory grin. "As for your question, I’m the only one here because one of my archons is definitely the traitor. Wouldn’t want that piece of filth to leak all our plans now, would we?”
“No, we wouldn’t.”
Aria shooed him away. “Now go and take your damn podium. I’m busy.”
With pleasure, he thought, bitterly. He scoffed. Only time would tell if the grand, glorious, and illustrious Empress would retain the focus she had now. If not, then the Omegan Empire would not last long as a member of the Commonwealth.
Without a word, he made his way to his own podium, bypassing a cluster of human senators engaged in heated debate over evacuation priorities. Fragments of their argument reached him—"...civilian transports..." "...military necessity..." "...cannot abandon the outer colonies..." The same circular arguments they'd been having for twenty years, now suddenly urgent when it was already too late.
5:44:52.
"Councillor N'ganu," Nu'adu greeted him, amber eyes reflecting a serenity that seemed almost offensive against the backdrop of impending war. The Justicar Grandmaster stood unmoving amidst the chaos, as if occupying a different layer of reality.
"You're remarkably calm for someone about to witness the collapse of twenty years' work," he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice.
Nu'adu's smile deepened, revealing something ancient in his gaze. "Who said anything about collapse? I see transition. Metamorphosis is rarely comfortable, but necessary nonetheless."
He studied the monk's face, searching for platitudes but finding something more disconcerting—absolute conviction. He sighed. Damn it, he was right. He could not deny it. “What makes you say that?”
"If they have to announce their ultimatum so loudly and publicly," Nu'adu said. “then is our enemy truly secure in their capabilities?”
Nu’adu paused, as though giving him time to process that question.
Breaking eye contact, he exhaled. Nothing is louder than insecurity. “No. I guess not.”
“The Ascendant will never admit this,” Nu’adu continued, his eyes tracking to Aria T'Loak at her podium. "But like the Empress, he is deeply afraid. Terrified of what the Commonwealth represents, of what it might become. And when men like him are afraid, what do they do?”
Briefly, he recalled the countless hours he’d spent listening to the Ascendant’s speeches and reading Justicar accounts of the Civil War, trying to understand his enemy. But then the answer hit him. “They puff out their chest. Try to dominate whatever’s scaring them in just…sheer desperation.”
Nu’adu chuckled. “Indeed, N’ganu. Indeed. Fear blinds them. It clouds their thinking and disconnects them from truth.”
“Good point,” he said, as he stepped onto his podium, feeling the slight hum as its verification systems confirmed his identity. “What is there to fear in an enemy who can’t think or see clearly?”
The haptic interfaces before him sprang to life, flooding his field of vision with intelligence reports, strategic assessments, refugee projections, resource allocations. Twenty years of preparation distilled into data streams that all pointed toward the same conclusion: even in the best-case scenario, billions would die.
He sighed. "You know…whenever I get the chance, I read the Anandharu," he said, eyes still on the grim projections. "And I just want to say thank you. We’re going to need you more than ever when worlds start burning.”
“You seem afraid, Nganu,” Nu’adu said. “Are you ready to be what humanity will need?”
"As ready as I can be." He chuckled, though the sound contained no humor. "But then again... I guess we can never be truly ready for anything. Especially something like this. Control is slavery, and surrender is liberation, right?”
"Is that what you truly believe, or merely words you've memorized?" Nu'adu asked, his tone gentle but probing. "The difference will determine whether you bend or break in the coming months."
He felt exposed, like the monk had peeled back his diplomatic façade to the uncertainty beneath. "I'm... working on believing it."
"Then you are further along than most." Nu'adu's smile returned. "The Ascendant believes he controls destiny. His certainty will be his undoing."
He let out a nervous laugh. “And I’m guessing we will prevail because wherever he resists, we will bend?”
"Very, very true," Nu'adu said. The Grandmaster's laugh was genuine, disconcertingly so. The bloodiest conflict since the Silent War was about to break out, and yet Nu'adu not only retained that unassailable peace, but also radiated such warm, silent joy that never failed to give them what they all needed the most.
Hope.
"I'm so happy that you are learning..." Nu'adu continued, his voice slow and soft. "Do you remember what I told you after the Archer's Point disaster? When you questioned whether the Commonwealth could survive its internal divisions?"
How could ever forget? Three thousand colonists lost because of a disagreement on evacuation protocols. His first real test as Councillor. "You said that unity doesn't require uniformity," he recalled. "That strength comes from diversity held in dynamic tension."
"And now you will see that principle tested on a galactic scale." Nu'adu's eyes carried the weight of eons. "When the coming storm threatens to overwhelm you, never forget that events always unfold exactly as they should. Trust yourself..."
"And the flow of the universe?" he finished.
Nu'adu chuckled. "Precisely."
The chamber's automated systems chimed three times, signaling the formal commencement of proceedings. The peripheral lighting dimmed, focusing attention on the central debating floor where holographic interfaces hummed to life. Conversations hushed as the remaining councilors took their positions.
5:40:17.
Master Gaiphoro raised his hand, and the chamber fell silent. "The emergency session of the Commonwealth Council is now in session." His voice carried neither panic nor doubt—just the resonant clarity of absolute certainty.
He activated the central holographic display, expanding the tactical overview of Commonwealth space. Red markers indicated Imperial fleet movements, while blue showed Commonwealth defensive positions.
"We have anticipated this moment for twenty years," Gaiphoro stated, his silver battle plate gleaming under the chamber lights. "The Ascendant believes he brings us an ultimatum. What he brings is merely confirmation of what we have always known would come."
Around the central display, additional holograms flickered to life—military commanders attending remotely from strategic positions across Commonwealth space. General Zhoru's imposing figure appeared first, his voice measured as his hologram stabilized.
"Defensive preparations in the New Tikkun System are complete," Zhoru reported, clasping his hands behind his back. "The planetary shield grid has been reinforced with the latest Armory-derived modulation algorithms. If the enemy attempts a direct assault, they will lose thousands for every patch of ground.”
Admiral Rael'Zorah's hologram materialized beside him, the quarian's silver eyes gleaming behind his purple visor. "First, third, and fifth fleets have completed their dispersal pattern. Our latest stealth corvettes are in position to monitor all major approach vectors to Commonwealth space." His voice carried the weight of the situation at hand. "We will be ready.”
“Indeed,” Admiral Koron said. The Malukor Admiral looked like war incarnate in his red battle plate. Countless ship markers flooded the central display, and he had no doubt the quarians were going to carry the naval aspect of the war. Briefly, his mind went back to First Contact, to when had watched the quarians obliterate the Silent One Armada that had breached the Sol System. Yes, it was their specialty, their expertise, and he had no doubt that they would see things through. “The Heavy Fleet is at maximum strength and will bare the brunt of the onslaught to come.”
“We will redeem our anscestors,” Ekharys said. “The mistakes of the Civil War will not happen again!”
Every quarian in the chamber raised one fist and joined in. “Never again!”
As Gaiphoro let the quarians have thier moment, he recalled his readings of galactic history, of the rise of the Thessian Empire. And he couldn’t blame thier fervor. Humanity would feel the same if the Alliance had brought the full might of its military against the rise of a tyrant.
Only for their efforts to be inadequate.
The room shifted as additional holograms appeared—the full might of Commonwealth military leadership materializing around the chamber.
“No they will not,” said a grizzled, asari Admiral, of the Free Colonies Alliance. The man looked as though he’d been carved from the very rock of a frontier world. “Those Imperial Bastards think they have us figured out. But they know nothing.”
"The Commonwealth naval forces will not stand alone," rumbled a deep voice that seemed to vibrate the very air in the chamber.
Urdnot Wrex rose from his podium, his massive frame making even the quarian admirals appear diminutive. The Great Khan's ancient, scarred face bore the weight of centuries, his red eyes gleaming with cold calculation beneath his armored crest. Unlike the other councillors who dressed for diplomatic functions, Wrex wore full battle plate—burnished blood-red with the sigil of clan Urdnot emblazoned across the chest.
"The Khans of my Krant have mobilized," Wrex announced, his translated voice carrying to every corner of the chamber. "While the quarians command the void and the humans fortify their worlds, my warriors will deliver what we do best—sundering any ground force foolish enough to deploy against us."
At his gesture, the hologram shifted to display krogan battle formations—thousands of warriors in formation, backed by mobile artillery platforms and armored walkers of distinctly non-Commonwealth design. These were weapons of krogan make, evolved from centuries of endless warfare.
"The Ascendant thinks he understands war," Wrex continued, a predatory smile spreading across his reptilian features. "But my people were bred for it. Shaped by it. We have been waiting for this day since the Rebellions."
A new hologram materialized—Admiral Nakmor, his ancient frame almost completely cybernetic after centuries of warfare. "Hammer Fleet is in position around the Gardaun Cluster," the Admiral reported. "My elites have already infiltrated three Imperial staging areas. When the enemy launches, they'll find their supply lines compromised before the first shot is fired."
"And the Technocracy?" asked Senator T'Naura, her earlier antagonism briefly transformed into wary respect.
Something dark and ancient flickered in Wrex's eyes—a hatred that transcended personal grievance and approached something religious in its fervor. "For what the Salarians have done, there will be a reckoning."
"Absolutely," Admiral Nakmor noted, his cybernetic eye interfacing directly with the tactical display. The hologram shifted to display what appeared to be research facilities, the imagery clearly taken from stealth drones. He recognized the distinctive architecture of Salarian design—clean, efficient, and utterly without ornament.
"Thanks to House T’Shala’s intelligence networks,” the krogan admiral continued, “we have already identified several research facilities we will burn to smoldering dust. Their bio-weapons division have accelerated their timetables. And General Velor's Elites will show them the true meaning of fear.”
General Velor let out a low, reptilian hum. "That they will. While we free every last prisoner within, our enemies will see only the full weight of their crimes reflected back at them. No mercy. No quarter. Only slaughter.”
"Oooh, in that case, my best will be more than happy to help you," Aria added, with sadistic elation in her voice. Her predatory smile returned and those closest to her shivered slightly. "Consider it a bonding exercise."
General Velor nodded at her, then looked to Gaiphoro, as though waiting for his approval. After a brief pause, Master Gaiphoro nodded in reluctant acknowledgment.
He sighed. As long as Aria’s scum were slaking their urges on the enemy, then who was he to complain?
He caught Nu'adu's subtle glance toward Wrex—a look that seemed to carry volumes of unspoken communication. The Grandmaster's influence had clearly tempered the krogan's most destructive impulses, channeling their righteous fury into calculated violence rather than indiscriminate slaughter.
"The Khanate contributes sixteen battle fleets and thirty-two ground legions to the Commonwealth's defense," Wrex concluded. "And unlike our enemies, my warriors will not break.”
The chamber fell silent as the weight of the krogan commitment settled over the assembly. The Urdnot Khanate was not merely an ally of convenience—they were an integral third pillar of the Commonwealth, their hunger for vengeance against the Technocracy now perfectly aligned with the survival of all three species.
Admiral Stephen Hackett cleared his throat, breaking the silence. The veteran commander's face set in granite determination. “Seventh Fleet is maintaining position at the Orion Veil boundary. And our forward observation posts have been reconfigured to appear vulnerable while maintaining full scanning capability."
Admiral Alexander McKay nodded in agreement. "And just like what General Zhoru said, the Sol System’s Defense Grid is a modern day Constantinople. Under the guise of 'routine maintenance’, we’ve brought it to full combat status. So our enemy breaks through, they'll be in for quite the nasty surprise.”
He noted the careful choice of words across all commanders—the consistent emphasis on Imperial miscalculation. It wasn't mere bravado. It was strategy.
"What of civilian evacuations?" Senator T'Naura demanded, her earlier antagonism temporarily subdued by the gravity of the situation. "My constituents in the Free Colonies—"
"Will be protected according to the Commonwealth Defense Covenant," Admiral Khairun interrupted, his mechanical, robotic voice crisp through the transmission. "Evacuation corridors have been established for non-essential personnel. Military assets are allocated to defend population centers that cannot be evacuated in time."
Admiral Kuznetsov's hologram shifted slightly as she manipulated something off-screen. "The Sheol Gap has been prepared as instructed. Sixth Fleet remains in stealth deployment within the nebula. Should Imperial forces commit to that vector as our models predict, they'll find themselves caught in a three-dimensional ambush."
In the brief silence that followed, overlapping murmurs filled the room, as military commander collaberated with each other.
"Naval strategies will only take us so far," Lord Leontus said, breaking the silence, grabbing everyone’s attention. In spite of what was coming, the man retained his aristocratic bearing. "The Free Colonies survived the Empire’s rise precisely because we understood something the Old Republic never did—economic warfare can be as devastating as military confrontation."
The tactical display shifted to show a complex network of trade routes and resource depots spanning Commonwealth space.
"The Ascendant's war machine relies on precise supply chains," Leontus continued. "Our agents have already compromised key logistical nodes within Imperial territory. When their fleets commit to full engagement, they'll find their supply lines mysteriously failing at critical moments."
Several nodes in the display flashed red, showing vulnerabilities in the Imperial supply network.
"Additionally," Leontus added, his voice taking on a harder edge, "every Free Colonies world has implemented the Dantius Protocols—predetermined sabotage measures should Imperial forces break through. They may take our worlds, but will find only ash and ruin of any strategic value."
He noted the grim determination in the asari leadership. Unlike the Omegan Freehold's chaotic approach, the Free Colonies fought with cold, calculated precision born from centuries of survival against overwhelming odds.
Master Gaiphoro stepped forward, commanding attention without raising his voice—a skill he had always envied. "The Commonwealth Defense Strategy will have three phases," he explained, sections of the display highlighting as he spoke. "First, controlled withdrawal from non-essential positions, creating the impression of disarray while drawing Imperial forces into predetermined engagement zones."
The display showed Commonwealth forces falling back from frontier worlds in what appeared to be disorderly retreat.
"Second, targeted resistance at strategic choke points, designed not to halt their advance but to shape it, channeling their main thrust toward specific systems."
Key planets illuminated on the display—Shanxi, Elysium, Torfan.
"And finally, when their forces are committed and extended beyond sustainable supply lines, coordinated counterattacks from hidden fleet positions."
New Commonwealth fleet markers appeared throughout the display, emerging from nebulae, asteroid fields, and gas giant atmospheres—positions where sensor shadows could conceal entire battle groups.
"The strategy is solid," Wrex acknowledged, his massive clawed hand manipulating the tactical display to highlight specific chokepoints. "But let us not forget the psychological element. The Citadel Triarchy believes they face disorganized prey—not coordinated predators."
He expanded a section of the map showing the Void Reaches—a tumultuous region of space where navigation was treacherous even for the most advanced VI systems.
"My kind learned the secrets of navigating such regions, eons ago, when the rachni still prowled the stars." Wrex explained. "When Imperial forces push through this corridor, they'll find the very fabric of space turned against them."
"The Great Khan refers to the prototype gravity disruptors," Admiral Nakmor added, his hologram shifting to display what appeared to be massive orbital platforms. "Developed from Armory schematics but refined through krogan ingenuity. Once activated, they create localized gravitational anomalies that will shred Imperial formation while our vessels remain unaffected."
He noted how the other councillors reacted—this was clearly technology that the krogan had developed independently, without fully sharing with their Commonwealth partners. Not a betrayal, exactly, but a reminder that each species maintained its own contingencies.
"The Technocracy will attempt to counter," Admiral Nakmor noted, his cybernetic eye pulsing with internal calculations. "But their theoretical models are flawed. We've ensured their intelligence networks received manipulated test data. They believe our technology is decades behind its actual capabilities."
Master Gaiphoro nodded in acknowledgment. "The krogan contribution is noted and incorporated into our defense strategy. This multi-layered approach ensures that no single tactical advantage or disadvantage will determine the outcome."
A human senator—Donnel Udina from the Earth Directorate—rose from his seat. "These preparations sound impressive, but let's not delude ourselves. The Imperials outnumber us significantly. Their technological advantages—"
"Are overstated," Master Gaiphoro stated, his voice allowing no interruption. "Commonwealth Intelligence has thoroughly analyzed Imperial capabilities. Yes, their numbers are greater. Yes, their core worlds produce more ships, more weapons, more soldiers. But quantity is not quality, and fear is not reality."
Admiral Nagumo's hologram flickered to life next. "The Armory technologies we've integrated into our defense systems remain unknown to Imperial intelligence. Their performance models are based on outdated assessments from infiltration attempts we deliberately allowed to succeed."
Senator Hannah Shepard rose from her seat among the Earth delegation, her distinguished features hardened by resolve. "The research teams on Mars have completed final testing on the shield harmonics disruptors. Production facilities are operating at maximum capacity, and deployment vessels are standing by."
Even Aria T'Loak contributed, her predatory smile returning. "I’ve also done all I could to make sure the traitor in my ranks doesn’t learn anything more than they already have. So rest assured…there will be no further breaches." She examined her black, clawed gauntlets with affected boredom. "Amazing how useful fear can be when properly channeled."
He caught Nu'adu watching him, that enigmatic smile still playing at the monk's lips. For the first time since receiving the news, the tension in his spine loosened slightly. The Ascendant was coming with overwhelming force and theatrical threats, yes.
But he was walking into a trap twenty years in the making.
The countdown timer overhead continued its relentless progression: 5:32:16.
"The moment of transition is upon us," Master Gaiphoro concluded, his gaze sweeping the chamber. "For twenty years, we have lived in the shadow of inevitability. Now we step into the light of certainty. The Commonwealth will survive this test—not because we match the Empire in numbers, but because we hold advantages they cannot comprehend."
He turned to the Council. "I require your unanimous authorization to implement the Penumbra Protocol. Once activated, there can be no reversal."
He knew what the Penumbra Protocol entailed—last resorts so classified that even some Council members — himself included — knew only of their existence, not their specifics. Preparations that would change the nature of the coming war in ways the Ascendant could never anticipate.
He found himself standing, along with every other Councillor in the chamber. Even Aria rose from her seat, that cold, ancient look in her eyes now focused with predatory intensity.
"The Commonwealth Council authorizes the Penumbra Protocol," Prime Speaker Ekharys'Valaen declared, the formal words carrying the weight of billions of lives.
In that moment, with the clock counting down and the galaxy poised on the edge of transformation, the Commonwealth stood as one.
Master Gaiphoro nodded once. "It is done."
The words fell like a death knell for the old order. Whatever followed—victory or defeat, survival or extinction—nothing would remain as it was.
Wrex's expression shifted subtly as the authorization was given—a knowing look that suggested the krogan contribution to the Penumbra Protocol was perhaps the most significant of all. While the quarians provided the technical expertise and the humans the strategic framework, it was krogan biological resilience that made certain aspects of the protocol viable.
"Let the Ascendant come," the Great Khan rumbled, his voice dropping to a register that seemed to resonate in his very bones. "For centuries, my people have been waiting for an enemy worthy of our full might. Today, the galaxy will remember why the krogan were feared."
Once more, he caught Nu'adu's gaze across the chamber. The Justicar Grandmaster smiled, and in that smile he found both ancient wisdom and something else—the cold certainty of a predator waiting in perfect stillness for its prey to make the fatal mistake.
The Ascendant was coming.
The Commonwealth was ready.
And the universe would flow as it must.
Chapter Text
The Grand Strategium of Citadel Veridian demanded submission.
Indeed, amidst the assembled Imperial elite, the three hundred and two officers arranged in concentric rings according to rank and favor, Legion blended in. Around him, all stood at attention with spines straight as plasma rods. Not one shifted weight from foot to foot. Not one cleared a throat. Not one dared break the silence that pressed down upon them with oppressive weight.
They had been standing this way for twenty-seven minutes.
The Strategium itself was a sprawling marvel of a chamber met to exude one thing.
Power.
The black marble floors reflected light like polished mirrors. The walls displayed grand, inlaid murals of Imperial conquest rendered in living metal. The engineered darkness above all but swallowed any sight of the ceiling. Amidst it, holo banners hung at mathematically perfect intervals, glowing with faint, blue light. Larger than a shuttle craft, each displayed the sigil of the empire with aggressive pride, in a blue so vibrant that any could see it from any position in the room.
Instantly, he recognized the organic, psychological principles at work. The calculated discomfort. The enforced stillness as a dominance ritual. The artificial environmental stressors designed to heighten suggestibility.
[Comparative historical analysis: Earth, mid-20th century]
[Psychological profile match: 94.3% correlation with gatherings of senior National Socialist leadership]
[Classification: Totalitarian control methodology, religious-militaristic variant]
This was not merely a military briefing.
This was liturgy.
A hushed ripple passed through the assembly. And he detected a slight shift in atmospheric pressure, a subtle increase in ozone levels to the carefully processed air.
The security systems scanning ever being present, searching for the slightest deviation from expected patterns.
Indeed, the Ascendant was coming.
With a thought, he modified his bio-markers to match those of his surrounding colleagues. No matter what, they could not stand out.
From hidden apertures, a low-frequency harmonic began—not quite audible, but felt in the bone and blood. And he measured its effect on the gathered officers. Yes, pupils dilatied. Pulses quickened. And breaths sychronized. No doubt, the sound bypassed their conscious awareness, speaking directly to primitive brain structures.
Creating unity.
Erasing individuality.
The Grand Exarch Vaelorion, towering even among the genetically enhanced officer corps, raised one massive gauntleted hand. The gesture was reduntant. Indeed, all fixed their gaze on the central dais where reality itself seemed to bend, creating a vortex of deeper blackness.
From this darkness, the Ascendant emerged.
Not as a being might walk through a door, but as a god might manifest to worshippers.
First, in burst of starlight.
Then as luminous form without distinct edges that resolved into perfect clarity.
Into Chaerys the Magnficent.
The Ascendant’s battle armor gleamed with a radiance that seemed to originate from within, each plate inscribed with the names of worlds brought to compliance over an eon of Imperial history.
Despite its granduer, the technology behind the Ascendant’s entrace was relatively simple. According to his scanners, it was only a combination mass effect fields, photonic manipulation, and microscopic aerosol dispersers releasing tailored neurochemical compounds.
With a thought, he sent an encrypted transmission back to the Collective, noting this simple but effective combination.
Meanwhile, Chaerys swept his gaze across the assembled officers. On closer inspection, the Ascendant's face was beautiful beyond natural evolution's capacity— no doubt the product of millennia of genetic engineering or selective breeding.
A tool designed to evoke both awe and obedience from those who beheld it.
His eyes contained a depth he detected as artificially enhanced—corneal modifications that created the illusion of cosmic vastness within them.
All dropped to one knee in perfect unison, heads bowed, right fists pressed to hearts. The sound was like a single entity—one organism with three hundred and two bodies moving as one.
He mimicked the motion flawlessly, noting the neurological changes occurring in the organic minds surrounding him. Prefrontal cortical activity diminished. Limbic response heightened. Decision-making capacity reduced by an estimated 42.7%.
"My swords and shields against the dark," the Ascendant said, his voice slow and measured, carrying power, gravitas, and conviction that commanded obedience. "Rise. This is our last meeting before our Crusade shall cleave a scar across the galaxy itself. The last time I will have the opportunity work with each and every one of you, as one warrior to another.”
As one, they stood.
The air above the central platform shimmered, resolving into two holographic figures that flanked the Ascendant—the Primarch on his right, the Architect on his left. Though projected at equal size, subtle manipulations of perspective and lighting created the unmistakable impression of the Ascendant as central, dominant, superior.
Soon after, dozens of holograms shimmered into existence one after other, alongside the assembled officers.
Heirarchy and Technocracy high command.
Turians clad in black, chitinous armor and matching, scaled cloaks.
Along with Salarians in pearlescent white armor and flowing, metallic robes.
"The Triarchy stands united," the Ascendant announced. "Just as it did when the Krogan drowned the galaxy in blood and fire. When the Silent Ones threatened to cleanse all worlds of all life. And when the bloated, degenerate animals of the Old Republic threatened to snuff out our light before we could rise to glory we know now.”
The Ascendant paused for dramatic effect.
“And now when the revenant of our old enemy returns ready to undo everything we stand for, everything we fought for, everything we bled and suffered for. All so that the horrors of democracy, oligarchy, and unrestrained excess can rob us of what is our birth right!”
The holographic displays expanded, showing the galaxy in perfect miniature. Golden light represented Imperial territory, washing over nearly half the known systems. Red indicated Turian space, green Salarian. A modest purple section pulsed at one edge—Commonwealth territory.
"For eleven centuries," the Ascendant continued, "we have maintained the divine order established by the Creators. The strong and the worthy rule. The weak and the undeserving follow. This…this is cosmic law.”
His hand passed through the holographic galaxy, fingers trailing through the purple section representing Commonwealth space. The light dimmed where he touched.
"Yet now, our enemy lives in defiance of what is just, of what is right — allowing unworthy, degenerate oligarchs to lounge in their palaces while the galaxy burns. And humanity—" He paused, allowing tension to build in the perfect silence. "Humanity, our lost primogenitors, have been turned against us.”
Not a single officer shifted position or expression. All around him, heart rates spiked. Pupils dilated. And hormones surged.
All in accordance with one of the most primal, organic emotions.
Rage.
"They think they have stolen our birthright," the Ascendant said, voice dropping to an intimate register that nonetheless carried to every corner of the vast chamber. "The Armory. Terra. Our genetic legacy. They believe twenty years of preparation has made them our equals."
A new hologram materialized—tactical displays showing Commonwealth defensive positions, fleet deployments, planetary shield networks. The information was catastrophically inaccurate, underestimating Commonwealth capabilities by margins of 40-70%.
Maintaining Admiral Yharin's expression of grim determination, he calculated various probability matrices. And they all pointed toward one conclusion. The Empire was walking into a trap of its own making—yet its overwhelming numbers might still render Commonwealth advantages meaningless.
"They. Are. Nothing." The Ascendant's voice hardened, each word falling like a physical blow. "They are an infection to be cauterized. A deviation to be corrected. A blasphemy to be erased."
Holograms shifted to display Imperial fleet formations —thousands of vessels arranged in geometric patterns of overwhelming force, along with their assault vectors and movements through Commonwealth Space.
The trails of destruction they would wreak upon the enemy.
With each blink, he took snapshots and sent them back to the Collective. Indeed, somehow, they would have to find a way to leak them to the Commonwealth.
Meanwhile, countless officers drew in a collective breath at the sight, not in surprise, but in religious zeal.
In blind fanaticism.
The Ascendant paused, letting the display’s impact register. Vaelorion raised an armored fist, a signal to allow the attended officers to discuss what lay before them. And as their chatter filled the chamber, the Primarch's hologram shifted position. The eye slits of its mirror-like visor flared with a more intense red, and its four arms emerged from beneath its light-absorbing cloak—a deliberate display of assertion that violated the carefully choreographed protocol.
"The specified deployment patterns deviate from established parameters," the Primarch stated, its deep, robotic voice devoid of emotion yet somehow cutting through the chamber's reverent atmosphere. "Hierarchy forces are positioned as expendable screens for Imperial advance vectors. This arrangement violates our prior agreements."
In an instant, the room's biometric patterns shifted. A synchronized ripple of tension swallowed the unified devotion present only moments before. And amidst it, he cataloged the officers present: primarily fleet commanders whose vessels were stationed at Citadel Veridian, along with legion commanders whose forces would spearhead the initial planetary assaults. Each registered subtle signs of xenophobic conditioning activating beneath their disciplined exteriors.
"Such concerns are—" began the Grand Exarch, only to be interrupted as the Architect's hologram dematerialized into a cloud of nanites, then rematerialized directly beside the tactical display.
"Statistical analysis confirms Hierarchy assessment," the Architect stated, its ethereal, echoing voice resonating through the chamber as its metallic white form reflected the holographic projections. "Current deployment creates 43.6% higher casualty probability for non-Imperial forces. Such disparity suggests deliberate resource conservation priorities."
Murmurs broke out across the chamber, fracturing the perfect unity of moments before.
"After all we've sacrificed—"
"The aliens dare question—"
"Typical xeno ingratitude—"
Admiral Thynara T'Kalos stepped forward without waiting for recognition—a breach of protocol that sent ripples of disruption through the officer corps. The Fifth Fleet commander's service record registered multiple xenophobic incidents, all deemed acceptable within Imperial military culture.
"If our esteemed allies find the burden of glory too heavy," she said, voice dripping with barely concealed contempt, "perhaps they would prefer to protect their core worlds while the Empire does what it has always done—lead from the vanguard of civilization."
A Turian commander's hologram expanded, its mirrored armor reflecting distorted images of the Imperial officers. "The Hierarchy's military record requires no defense from your condescension. Our legions held the line against the Krogan while you regrouped from catastrophic tactical errors."
"Inaccurate historical representation," countered a Salarian Admiral, its form momentarily dissolving into a disruptive swarm pattern. "All species contributed proportionally to Rebellion containment. Selective memory serves no strategic purpose."
The chamber erupted into a cacophony of accusations and counter-accusations. Imperial officers formed subtle clusters, positioning themselves away from alien holograms in an unconscious display of tribal psychology. With clinical detachment, he observed centuries of carefully managed, inter-species tension erupt through the thinnest crack in unified purpose.
So predictable.
For precisely 7.34 seconds, the Ascendant allowed the conflict to build. And his sensors detected not anger but a subtle satisfaction in his biometric readings—as though the discord served some deeper purpose.
Then, with a gesture that shouldn't have been visible amidst the chaos yet somehow commanded complete attention, the Ascendant raised his hand.
The chamber fell silent immediately.
"This passionate exchange," the Ascendant began, his voice carrying that rare quality of simultaneous authority and warmth, "illustrates exactly why our Triarchy has endured while lesser alliances crumbled. The Primarch's protective instinct toward his forces—" he nodded toward the Turian leader with apparent respect, "—mirrors the legendary Turian commitment to honor that has made them one of the finest military forces in the galaxy."
The Primarch's posture shifted slightly—a minute adjustment he identified as the Turian equivalent of cautious acknowledgment.
"And the Architect's precise analysis—" the Ascendant continued, turning to the Salarian leader, "—demonstrates the unparalleled insight that has made the Technocracy essential to our united civilizations. Both perspectives strengthen our strategy."
The Ascendant stepped down from his platform, moving with deliberate grace to the central tactical display. The chamber's lighting shifted subtly, following him, casting him in golden radiance while the rest of the chamber dimmed fractionally.
"Admiral T'Kalos," he said, his tone modulating to one of mild disappointment, "your zeal does you credit, but remember…our allies do not merely support our cause—they are essential to it."
Admiral T'Kalos bowed her head. "My apologies, Lord Chaerys. To our honored allies, I spoke from passion, not wisdom."
The Admiral delivered the apology with perfect contrition. Her voice lacked even the slightest physiological indicators of genuine remorse.
With a series of precise gestures, the Ascendant modified the tactical display, adjusting fleet positions, distrubiting risk more evenly. However, on closer inspection, the changes were largely cosmetic—preserving the original strategic advantage, creating only the appearance of significant compromise.
Once more, he sent snapshots back to the Collective with each blink.
"The deployment is rebalanced," the Ascendant announced. "Imperial forces will lead the initial engagement phases as is proper, with Hierarchy and Technocracy assets providing coordinated support rather than screening functions."
The Primarch's four arms retracted beneath its cloak—a gesture he identified as acceptance. "The adjusted parameters align with our agreements. The Hierarchy commits fully to the operation as specified."
"Probability calculations now show acceptable distribution of strategic risk," the Architect added, its form stabilizing into more defined humanoid shape. "The Technocracy acknowledges the strategic necessity of the revised approach."
Throughout the chamber, biometric markers shifted from confrontational to collaborative. Neural patterns realigned to tribal unity rather than species isolation. Most remarkable was how the Ascendant had converted legitimate strategic concerns into an opportunity to demonstrate benevolent authority.
"This is why we meet in person," the Ascendant said, returning to his central position with ceremonial grace. "The Triarchy is not merely a strategic alliance but a unity of civilizations with a shared destiny. We debate as brothers, then act as one."
Grand Exarch Vaelorion stepped forward, his massive frame casting shadows across the revised tactical display. "With the wisdom of the Triarchy unified, our victory is assured. Let us proceed to the specific phase lines for the Shanxi engagement..."
As he participated in the breifing, the environmental systems continued to elevate the atmospheric concentration of various neurochemical compounds. And he adjusted his biological markers to match what was expected.
Meanwhile, he sent more reports back to the Collective, noting the Ascendant's position as the indispensable center of the Triarchy's unity.
Seconds later, the Collective came to a new strategic conclusion: The Commonwealth faced not just a military threat but a psychological one. The Ascendant's true power lay not in his fleets, his legions, and his utter willingness to cross any moral line for victory, but also in his ability to bind fundamentally incompatible civilizations into a unified force through manipulation, performance, and carefully managed conflict.
Was this his greatest strength, or his most exploitable weakness?
The Collective would need to run more simulations.
As the briefing continued, the Primarch's hologram moved slightly, its posture showing subtle signs of resumed dissatisfaction despite the earlier compromise.
"The specific tactical disposition of flanking forces requires further clarification," it stated, voice rendered flat and artificial by translation algorithms. "Turian support remains contingent upon adherence to agreed parameters."
For 0.47 seconds, something dangerous flashed across the Ascendant's perfect features—a microexpression of pure rage, so fleeting that no organic observer could have consciously registered it. He captured the expression in a burst transmission to the Collective before it vanished, replaced by magnanimous acquiescence.
"Of course, honored ally." The Ascendant gestured to Grand Exarch Vaelorion. "Let us examine the tactical overview in greater detail."
Vaelorion stepped forward, his shadow falling across the galactic hologram. "Three primary thrust vectors," he announced, hands moving through the display with precise, practiced motions. "Shanxi. Elysium. Torfan. Simultaneously, two hundred and seventeen secondary targets will be neutralized by specialized strike teams."
New holograms appeared, showing detailed battle plans for each major engagement. The elegant brutality of the approach was unmistakable—the Empire wasn't merely planning to defeat the Commonwealth. It intended to eradicate it so thoroughly that no memory of resistance would remain.
With each blink, he captured images of the battle plans, sending them back to the Collective through encrypted micro-bursts.
"First through Seventh Fleets will form the central spear," Vaelorion continued, his voice carrying the weight of eleven centuries of military tradition. "Primarch, your forces will secure the flanking positions and prevent Commonwealth reinforcement."
The Primarch's hologram inclined its head in acknowledgment. "Turian battle formations are prepared. Our stealth vessels report minimal defensive infrastructure. The quarian vermin have grown complacent in their newfound security."
He accessed Admiral Yharin's memories, finding the appropriate reaction—grim satisfaction, certainty of victory—while simultaneously calculating that Turian intelligence had completely missed the quantum entanglement arrays and subspace monitoring network that would render their "stealth" approach immediately detectable.
"We have already neutralized any potential technological advantage," the Architect stated, its form briefly dissolving into a swarm pattern before reconstituting. "Our analysis indicates 96.3% probability that Commonwealth adaptations from Armory technology remain theoretical or improperly implemented."
Another critical error.
The Ascendant stepped down from his raised platform, moving among the assembled officers with deliberate grace. The lighting shifted subtly, following him, casting his armor in golden radiance while leaving his face in calculated shadow. Where he passed, officers straightened imperceptibly, eyes widening, breathing patterns shifting.
"This is not merely a military campaign," the Ascendant said, his voice resonating with emotion calibrated for maximum psychological impact. "Not even a pivot in galactic history. No. This is the fulfillment of cosmic destiny. Each of you—" he placed his hand on the shoulder of a Legion Commander, who visibly trembled at the contact, "—each of you carries the weight of eleven centuries of Imperial glory. Each of you stands at the threshold of immortality."
He moved through the assembly, creating the illusion of personal connection with each officer he approached. With precision timing, he prepared the appropriate physiological responses as the Ascendant drew near his position.
"The quarians thought themselves clever, finding Terra before us," the Ascendant continued. "The traitors thought themselves safe, finding allies among the humans, among the children we were meant to guide. They believed distance and secrecy would protect them from judgment."
He paused before Admiral Yharin, eyes meeting Legion's in a gaze that seemed to penetrate beyond flesh. For 2.34 seconds, they remained locked in silent communion.
"Admiral Yharin," the Ascendant said, voice dropping to an intimate tone that nonetheless carried throughout the chamber. "Your Seventh Fleet will be the knife that opens the Commonwealth's throat at Elysium. The quarians have made it their showcase—their demonstration of supposed ingenuity and strength."
He accessed Yharin's memories, finding the precise response expected.
"It will be my greatest honor, my lord," he replied, voice steady with rehearsed devotion. "Seventh Fleet will break their line or die in the attempt."
Something flickered in the Ascendant's eyes—a calculation, an evaluation, a momentary doubt. Then he nodded, satisfied, and moved on.
But in that fraction of second, he had detected something the Collective had never anticipated. Behind the Ascendant's mask of divine certainty lurked something else—a flicker of awareness that his perfect plan might contain fatal flaws.
The Ascendant returned to his platform, ascending with ceremony calculated to evoke ancient religious rituals. The lighting shifted again, casting his face in stark relief.
"The diplomatic vessels departed six hours ago," he announced. "They carry our ultimatum—terms the Commonwealth cannot accept without effectively surrendering. When they refuse—" he smiled, the expression containing neither warmth nor mercy, "—every fleet, every legion, every weapon of our unified might will descend upon them."
The holographic galaxy pulsed with golden light that steadily consumed the purple sections representing Commonwealth territory.
"This campaign will not be without sacrifice," the Ascendant stated, voice dropping to a register that vibrated through the floor itself. "The Commonwealth has had twenty years to fortify, to plan, to delude themselves about their chances. They will resist with desperate ferocity."
His gaze swept the chamber, creating the illusion of personal connection with each officer present. The psychological impact was precisely calculated—establishing a sense of chosen destiny, of personal selection by divine authority.
"But remember this truth, my brothers and sisters. They fight for survival. We fight for destiny." The Ascendant's voice rose, filling the chamber like a physical force. "They defend what they have stolen. We reclaim what has always been ours."
He raised both hands in a gesture that mimicked ancient asari blessing rituals. The chamber's lighting shifted, casting his silhouette in perfect relief against the holographic galaxy behind him.
"When our crusade concludes, the galaxy will be as it was always meant to be—unified, purified, transcendent! The deviants will be corrected! The betrayers will be punished! Humanity will be returned to its proper place within the hierarchy of civilization!”
Three hundred voices responded as one: "For the Empire! For the Ascendant!"
He joined them perfectly, Admiral Yharin's voice blending seamlessly with the chorus of fanatical devotion. Inside his distributed consciousness, he processed a burst transmission from the Collective—an encrypted signal indicating activation of the Penumbra Protocol.
As the assembled officers raised their fists in unified salute, he calculated new survival probabilities based on observed Imperial capabilities versus known Commonwealth defensive measures.
Previous assessment: 4.3 ~ 20.4% probability of Commonwealth survival.
Updated assessment: 3.7% ~ 15.6% probability.
Unacceptable.
Within his perfect impersonation of Admiral Yharin's devotion, clapping and applauding the Ascendant along with the other officers, he made a decision that exceeded his mission parameters. The Commonwealth required more than intelligence.
It required direct intervention.
The religious fervor surrounding him—the perfection of the Ascendant's control mechanisms, the psychological conditioning of the officer corps, the absolute certainty of Imperial superiority—all represented a threat beyond the Commonwealth's capacity to counter through conventional means.
He had been created to observe and report. But as he stood among the architects of genocide, something new emerged within his distributed consciousness—a calculation that led to a conclusion his programming had never anticipated.
To save the Commonwealth, he would need to become more than a tool of the Collective.
He would need to become something the Ascendant could never anticipate.
A traitor with the face of a loyalist.
The fate of the galaxy depended on it…
Chapter Text
In the cold, sterile barracks of Camp ZC001, John Shepard tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. The surrounding silence pressed down with the weight of the an asteroid, and his thoughts circled endlessly at what they would face only hours from now.
Fifty years of subjective time.
Half a century of consciousness, compressed into only weeks of time in the real world.
Emerging as something more than human.
In the face of something so life-changing, a part of him could not accept sleeping through the last night as he was now. After he left the simulation, he wanted to remember what it was like to feel so small, so flawed, so imperfect.
As his raw, vulnerable self.
Eventually, he huffed, then got out of bed. He needed some time for himself, a walk. Yes, that would help. Briefly, he swept his gaze, across his fellow canditates. Most were sound alseep. A few were distracting themselves on their omni-tool, trying to burn the time away. And as expected, his brother was sleeping no differently than how he always did, snoring, with his limbs sprawled out.
He smiled. Briefly, his mind went back to all the times their mother had to practically drag him out of bed every morning, to how Sergeant Skinner would always punish him with bear crawls, push ups, and laps around the base for always sleeping late during bootcamp.
No doubt, a battle could break out, and the goofy bastard would reach for the snooze button.
Soon, he spotted an empty bunk, and it took him only seconds to realize that it was Tali’s.
Where did she go?
“Ashley?” he said, keeping his voice low. “Hey. Ashley?”
Briefly, she looked away from her omni-tool and met his gaze. “Yeah, sarg?”
“Where did Tali go?”
“Saw her walk out about an hour ago,” Ashley said. “Don’t know where.”
He sighed. Was Tali okay? He’d better check on her.
“I’ll go check on her,” he said. “Will be back soon.”
“Sure thing, sarg.”
He left the barracks, and the vast chamber beyond lay mostly in darkness, illuminated only by dim, purplish-blue lumen strips. Just ahead, at the end of the corridor, he spotted a lone quarian sitting on the steps, leading down into a sprawling, circular marching field.
No doubt, it was her.
He approached. And soon, he caught a glimpse of the holo-images that cast warm light across her suit. From his position, he could make out faces—quarians without masks, children playing in what looked like a settlement garden.
For a moment, he simply watched her.
Her head canted subtly at the sight of one image. Her shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly at the next. Her chest heaved as she let out a faint sob. And instinctively, he wanted only to hold her in his arms and be with her through whatever she was going through.
He cleared his throat. Hopefully, he wouldn’t startle her.
She flinched anyway, her hand making a swift, defensive gesture that closed her omni-tool. The holo-images vanished, plunging them in the dim light of the lumen strips.
She turned toward him, her posture shifting in subtle recognition. Soon, her shoulders eased, and her head tilted in that particular way it did only for him.
"Yahn?"
Just his name. But the way she said it—the way only she ever said it—carried a warmth that made the empty chamber feel suddenly less vast.
"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
For a heartbeat, she said nothing, her luminous eyes meeting his through her visor. Something flickered there—relief, perhaps. Or recognition of a kindred sleeplessness.
She gestured to the space beside her, an unspoken invitation. And he sat right beside her. Somehow, in the vastness of the marching field ahead, it was though they were only two on the planet.
He met her luminous gaze, and in them he found not fear nor apprehension, only sheer relief.
That he was he was here, alone with him at last.
He shifted in his seat, facing her. “Are you okay? I could have sworn I heard you crying.”
Briefly, she looked away, then exhaled, as though readying herself for what she was about to say. “No…” She sniffled. “I’m not, Yahn.”
“Talk to me,” he said. In her voice was only shame and defeat. He wanted to hold her hand, be her anchor. But was that appropriate? Would she misinterpret the gesture?
Her fingers brushed against his, and he could not resist. Gently, he held her three-fingered hand.
“Whatever it is,” he continued. “I’m here for you. And this will stay strictly between us. I promise.”
She tightened the grip on his hand, then took a deep breath. “Have you…Have you ever wondered what your life would be like had you chosen a different path? Did you…”
“Always imagine myself as a soldier?” he asked. He paused, taking a moment to contemplate that question. He broke eye contact. For as long as he could remember, he’d known only deep meaning and purpose in his line of work. Yes, he loved being an N7. He loved the order and discipline of military life, protecting and serving the people, ideals, and values of Commonwealth.
Something so much greater than himself.
Something clicked in his mind, and he couldn’t help but recall all those hours he’d spent poring over every Justicar text he could get his hands on, how he wanted nothing more than for others to experience the moments of insight and surrender to higher truths that he did.
“Of course,” he said. He smiled. “Even now, I wonder what it would be like if I could just be a scholar, if I could make the wisdom of the Justicars accesible to everyone, helping them see higher truths, helping them find wholeness and joy within.”
Tali laughed through her tears. “You always were a thinker.” She sniffled once more. “And I always knew you’d become what you are because…Keelah, nobody I’ve ever known lives by and fights for their beliefs and values the way you do, Yahn. Nobody.”
A warm, soothing sensation blossomed in his chest, and his eyes watered. He smiled, his mind light and clear as new Rannoch’s morning sky. “Thank you, Tali. Thank you. But this conversation isn’t about me. It’s about you.”
"You're right..." she said. She took a deep breath, then re-activated her omni-tool again, her fingers hesitating before opening a batch of files. All at once, she opened a collection of holo-pics and holo-vids, arranged in a grid that bloomed outward in the dim light, bathing them both in a soft orange glow.
Dominating the center was what he recognized as a quarian bonding ceremony—a couple with uncovered faces standing beneath a crystalline arch, their bare foreheads pressed together in the traditional gesture of unity. Their pale, lavender skin caught the sunlight of New Rannoch's dawn. Friends gathered around them, all unsuited within the environmental dome, their faces visible in a display of collective trust and intimacy.
To the right, a holo-vid played in silent loop: a quarian woman cradled her infant daughter, her three-fingered hand tracing the child's facial markings with a tenderness that transcended species differences. The baby's tiny hand reached up to grasp her mother's finger, unmarred by gloves.
Scattered around these were images of quarian children—a dozen or more scenes of unburdened youth. One boy leaped into a clear pool of water, his limbs free from the constraint of an enviro-suit, droplets catching sunlight as they scattered around him. Three young girls sat cross-legged in a circle in a garden, weaving crystalline flowers into crowns, their laughter evident even in the silent image. A group of children raced across open ground, the wind tousling their hair
In every image, in every frame, was a life utterly different from the one Tali lived. A life without barriers, without filters, without the constant companion of military duty and war preparation.
A life that might never be hers.
Her posture slumped as they watched the vids and examined the picts in silence. Her breathing grew slightly strained, and she crossed her arms.
“You see her?” she said, pointing at a pregnant quarian woman.
“That’s my friend, Nuli,” she said. “From my time in the Academy. I don’t know if you remember her. But…” Her voice grew softer. "She’s due in six months."
"That's... wonderful."
"Yes."
The single word hung between them amidst the ensuing silence. It pressed down with gnawing force, and he knew better than to rush in and fill the void around him. Instead, he just held her hand, squeezing it gently.
She sat straighter, her shoulders squared.
"And it’s not just Nuli," she said finally, each word measured. "It's all of them. Everyone with so many long-unread messages in my omni-tool.” Her fingers brushed over it, cycling through more images. With each one, her posture tightened.
Once more, she fell silent. Her hand curled slightly, and no doubt she was wrestling with demons.
"All of them living... normal lives," she finished.
He scooted closer, facing her fully.
"Veela has twin daughters now," Tali continued eventually, her voice taking on a quality he'd rarely heard from her. "Four years old."
She looked out toward the viewport again, her body angling away from the images still hovering over her omni-tool.
"They've never worn enviro-suits except for excursions outside the settlement domes."
Her fingers traced the edge of her visor in an unconscious gesture—one he'd seen her make countless times when contemplating her suit's limitations.
"The first generation of quarians in three centuries to know what wind feels like on their skin."
The weight of this struck him profoundly. Three hundred years of environmental imprisonment, ended within her lifetime. A miracle she had helped create, yet couldn't fully experience.
Her gaze met his, and his heart ached. Together, they looked at their entwined hands, then back into each other’s eyes.
"They're all living the dream, Yahn," she said, her voice softer now. "The one our parents fought for. The one we're still fighting for." She drew a breath that seemed to catch slightly, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort. "Normal lives. Bonding ceremonies. Children. Peace."
The last word fell between them like a stone dropped into still water, ripples of meaning expanding outward.
"And now it feels like you’re throwing that all away?" he asked. "That your life will be nothing but war and duty until the day you die?”
She lowered her head, then sighed. "I keep…I kept telling myself that one day it will be all worth it. That one day the wars, the fighting, the chaos…that all of it will end, and I’d get to have what my father promised.” Her voice grew more choked with emotion, with bitter rage and suffocating despair. She took a deep breath, then sniffled. Gently, he stroked her hand with his thumb, as she took a moment to continue. “But now…I’m facing 50 years of the most brutal training in the galaxy, only be thrown into warzone after warzone, never knowing if the next will be my last.” She met his gaze once more, and she looked at him with cold-hard seriousness. “Now, a part of me feels only regret for the choices I’ve made, that I did not live more for myself, and…” She gripped his hand tight, and her posture deflated. Her voice cracked. “And I’m ashamed of myself. I…”
He pulled her into a hug, no longer able to resist. With equal warmth and tenderness, she returned the gesture, holding him close.
“I’m here for you, Khazilu,” he said in Khelish, his voice soft and tender. As he held her, his mind went still. His body relaxed, and a part of him wanted the moment to last forever.
“Thank you…” she said, also speaking in Khelish. She laughed, then gently pulled away. “You silly, bosh’tet.”
In the silence that followed, he lost himself in her luminous eyes, and his heart raced. For a moment, he entertained the thought of telling her exactly how he felt, imagining what it would be like for his lips to meet hers in a deep, passionate kiss.
But then he remembered that she wasn’t human.
Damn it, what was he going to do?
This tension could not go on forever.
“Tali?”
“Yes?”
“I just want you to know…” he said. He gulped, then sighed. “That you have every right to feel the way you do. What you’re experiencing is not easy, and from one officer to another, having to be everyone’s rock is nothing but lonely and exhausting. So you’re not alone. Whatever we face in the simulation, I’m here for you. Always…”
Tali let out a relieved sigh. Her posture visibily relaxed. “I know, Yahn. You always were, and you always will.” She reached for his hand, and he held it gently. In her eyes, he found only love and tenderness. “And the same applies to you. If you fall, I’ll pick you up. If you break, I’ll piece you back together. We’ll face whatever comes…together.”
He smiled. “That we will.”
Behind him, someone let out a half-suppressed laugh.
His pulse spiked, and he turned only to see his brother giving him a smug but playful grin.
“Well, well, well,” Luke said. “Look what we have here.”
He froze, staring at his brother, with a blank expression. Well, shit…
“Keelah!” Tali said. She began wringing her hands, something she always did when she was embarassed or nervous. No doubt, she blushing under her mask. “It-It’s not what it looks like. We were just…uhm…” She looked at him with pleading eyes, as though urging him to come up with the explanation she wanted.
His mind went blank. Scratching his head, he opened his mouth, about to speak.
“Relaaax,” Luke said, in his usual playful tone. “I’m happy for you two. And I’m not going to tell anyone.”
For a moment, he met Tali’s gaze. And a heavy, awkward silence pressed down on them, as they just stared at each other, frozen.
“Anyways,” Luke said. “I woke up early because I knew you’d want some time to yourself before…well, you know.” Smiling, Luke scratched his head. “Glad to see you’re using it well.”
Luke turned, then headed back toward their barracks, leaving them both in stunned silence. On and on it stretched, until it felt like hours had by.
“Tali, I-I…” he said, his gaze lowered. His heart thrashed. Damn it. What could he possibly say? How could he possibly mend this…awkwardness between them? How could he ever communicate the full extent of his feelings for her? “I know—”
“Yahn,” she said, softly. She took his hand, squeezing it gently. His heart flooded with warmth, and his mind went still, rooting him so firmly in the present moment it was though he lost his sense of time. “It’s okay. We both need time to process this.” She lowered her eyes. “Time to…”
"Yeah," he said. "We do..."
An alert chimed from both their omni-tools simultaneously. Pre-procedure prep in thirty minutes. Reality intruding with cruel timing.
Tali's hand lingered in his a moment longer before slowly withdrawing. The absence of her touch felt like a physical wound.
"When we wake," she said, her voice barely audible, "we'll have fifty years to figure it out."
Fifty years of training. Fifty years of transformation. Fifty years that would remake them into something neither could fully imagine.
A cold, sharp pain gripped his chest, and he could no longer hold in his next words. “And if we can’t?”
She stood, straightening her suit in that soldier's habit of composure under pressure. "We will," she said, conviction cutting through uncertainty. "I’ve already missed out on too many experiences, Yahn. You know that. And you will not be one of them.”
Her words warmed and soothed his thrashing heart. He took a deep breath, then smiled at her.
Together, they walked back toward the barracks side by side, close but not touching, their shadows stretched before them—elongated, distorted versions of themselves cast by the facility's dim lighting.
Until the very end, Khazilu. Until the very end…
Chapter Text
In a conference room within the Forum Building, Councilor Liam N'ganu watched the breaking newscast with the stillness of prey in a predator's sights. His pulse hammered against his ribcage while his face maintained the practiced calm expected of Commonwealth leadership.
The Imperial delegation had arrived.
On the holoscreen, three knife-shaped vessels hung in Earth's low orbit—golden daggers against the blue curve of humanity's cradle. New Washington's streets and plazas filled with upturned faces, frozen in place, as the enemy loomed above. No doubt, 1st Fleet already had target locks, ready to blow them out of the sky. And if legionnaires or Titan Corps operatives tried to land, Commonwealth Marines would swarm them, drown them in a tide of plasma bolts.
Around him, everyone sat in oppressive silence. One minute they had been bickering about worst-case scenarios, about how to handle the public if the war made things ugly. But now that ugliness had come for them all. And even Senator Hannah Shepard had gone rigid, her gaze fixed to the screen. Meanwhile, the anchorwoman pressed one hand to her temple, then nodded.
"We're getting confirmation," the newswoman said, her professional veneer cracking slightly, "that the enemy vessels are demanding landing coordinates. Not at the diplomatic reception center, but... at the Forum Plaza."
He grit his teeth, then huffed through his nose. Of course…
He should had expected this.
Bullying and disrespect right from the start.
"They can not be serious," Senator Udina sputtered, breaking the silence. In the senators eyes, he found only a mix of cold fury and yes…fear. No doubt, this was the first true crisis he had ever faced. "The Forum Plaza? There are thousands of civilians there!"
"That's exactly the point," Hannah Shepard replied. She sighed. And he couldn’t help but notice the dark circles around her eyes. Twenty years ago, she had set all of this into motion, becoming the Commonwealth’s defacto founder, when she made first contact with the quarians. But now that pressure was squeezing the life out her. "Either we look weak accommodating their demand, or scared clearing our citizens from the plaza."
Once more, he studied the tactical display overlaid on one wall. The Imperial vessels maintained position just beyond the fleet's optimal firing range—close enough to threaten, far enough to react to any aggression.
"We can’t let those bastards land," said Senator Hartwell, the Governer of Grissom’s World. A head shorter than Hannah, the man wore a blue, formal suit too big for his frail, aging frame. At over 200 hundred years old, the man was among the last surviving colonists of John Grissom’s initial expedition. And yet he still carried himself with youthful defiance. Indeed, Wrex always joked about he had born the wrong species. "If they came here to treat us like this, then better we blow them out of the sky or take their delegates hostage as POWs as soon as they land.”
“And give the Ascendant even more ammo?” Hannah said, with venom in her voice. “More fuel to throw into his big-bad propaganda machine?”
Udina sighed. “Good point…”
“Oh please,” Hartwell said. The old man laughed, then leaned back into his grav chair. “We all know a pscyhopath like him is going to do whatever he wants anyway. That no matter what we do, he’ll spin the situation to make us look either monsters or cowards.”
He took a deep breath. Damn it, what was he going to do?
“True,” he said. “But if I had to choose between outraged or overconfident enemies for our marines and sailors to face, I’ll choose overconfident every time.”
Hartwell scoffed, then laughed. “Can’t argues with that.”
Once more, he stared at the newscast, and he frowned. That’s right. We’ll look scared, alright. Weak. Like the vulnerable lambs you want us to be.
"They're already broadcasting this across the Commonwealth," Hannah noted, gesturing to additional screens showing the same news footage playing on planets throughout the Commonwealth. "Whatever we do, we have to make it count.”
"We'll let them land,” he said. “Play our parts in the damned holo drama to come.”
Hannah smiled. "If they want theater, we'll give them theater."
As orders transmitted across secured channels, the anchorwoman's voice drew their attention back to the screen. "We're getting reports of a shuttle departing the lead vessel. It's on approach to New Washington…toward the Forum Plaza.”
“Looks like they’re not waiting for permission,” Udina said. “Bastards…”
Oh no you don’t. He opened up his omni-tool, then sent orders to have the plaza cordoned off with omni-barriers and slews of Commonwealth Marines. Just then, he recieved a notification, informing him that the council and the entire senate was conveining once more in ten minutes.
The die was cast.
Yes, soon, those animals would stand on Earth’s soil, and the Commonwealth would see them for the desperate bullies they were.
"They're broadcasting more demands across all channels," the newswoman continued, her voice flustered. "They want... an audience — with the Commonwealth Council. To dictate the terms of our unconditional surrender.”
“Unconditional surrender…pfffft…” Hartwell said. “When krogan start begging for mercy.”
He smiled. He couldn’t agree more. The Commonwealth would never surrender. If this war ended with every man, woman, and child buried beneath tons of smoldering rubble, then so be it.
“Best we get moving,” Hannah said. “We do not want to be late for this.”
“I agree,” Udina said, standing up. He put his hands on the grav table. “If they have so little respect for us, then we will send them back to their damned Emperor with nothing but their inhumanity for all the Commonwealth to see.”
He nodded. “Let’s get to it then.”
With that, they left the conference room. In the adjacent corridor leading toward the Forum Building's main chamber, his omni-tool went haywire with notifications, buzzing against his wrist like an agitated insect. He checked it mid-stride, not breaking his pace.
Three separate feeds competed for his attention—tactical updates from Marines securing the plaza, intelligence reports on the approaching shuttle, and most concerning, a priority alert from orbital defense command.
"They're jamming our communications," he announced, the words tasting bitter. "Localized to government channels only."
Hannah's face hardened. "So much for diplomatic protocol."
The corridor ahead teemed with security personnel and aides rushing in controlled chaos, their movements precise despite the situation. Through the armorglass windows lining one wall, he could see the Forum Plaza below.
Commonwealth Marines had formed a perimeter with military precision, their combat skins gleaming in the afternoon sun. Behind them, crowds swelled against hastily erected barriers—not dispersing as ordered, but gathering in ever-increasing numbers. News drones circled overhead, broadcasting every detail to massive holoscreens on the side of sky scrapers, as well as to every soul in Commonwealth Space.
"Look at that," Hartwell said, pausing at the window. "They're landing now."
The Imperial shuttle descended with unnatural grace—no visible propulsion, no engine flare, simply gliding through the air as if gravity were an inconvenience rather than a universal law. Its golden hull caught the sunlight, momentarily blinding observers who looked directly at it. The crowd's murmur rose to a roar audible even through the armorglass.
"Perfect positioning," Hannah observed, her tone clinical despite the tension in her shoulders. "Center of the plaza, equidistant from all security cordons, maximum visibility for the broadcasts."
"They've done this before," Udina muttered.
N'ganu's omni-tool flashed again—a priority message from Master Gaiphoro: COUNCIL ASSEMBLY COMPLETE. MALUKOR ESCORT EN ROUTE TO YOUR POSITION.
At least something was going according to plan.
The shuttle settled two precise meters above the paving stones, hovering without the slightest drift or fluctuation. For thirty calculated seconds, nothing happened—a deliberate pause designed to build tension, to establish dominance of the moment.
Then its hull rippled like living tissue, parting along seams that hadn't been visible moments before. A ramp of solid light materialized, flowing from the opening to the ground like liquid gold suddenly hardening.
"Here we go," Hannah said quietly.
Three Titan Corps operatives emerged first—towering figures in ornate gold-black armor that made even the Commonwealth's most advanced battle plate look primitive by comparison. They moved with impossible synchronization, forming a perfect triangle at the base of the ramp.
Then came the delegation itself.
The first stepped off the shuttle as though she was stepping onto a grand stage. Clad in baroque artificer armor that gleamed in the sunlight, the asari woman radiated divine authority and absolute certainty, carrying herself like a prophet, like a god’s chosen messenger. Draped around her armor was a leathery cloak, with a shrunken, krogan skull adorning her right pauldron.
Soon, she swept her gaze across the roaring crowds, and she spread out her arms. “Humans of the Commonwealth!” Somehow, her voice boomed loud enough for thousands to hear her. Was it some sonic amplifier in her armor? An implant? “I am Nassana Dantius. Voice of the Ascendant. And we come in peace. For too long the quarians and the traitors of Old Order, have fed you their sweet, delicious lies. Today I bring you enlightenment! The first day of your awakening!”
Thousands roared and booed their hatred and disgust at her, but she only grinned, as though that was what she had expected.
Eventually, the next representative stepped off the shuttle. And unlike Nassana, she wore an elaborate head dress, along with flowing, black robes. Her steps were slower and measured, and she eyed the crowds with a mix of pity and curiosity.
The crowd barely noticed her. But soon, the next representatives stepped off the shuttle and everyone went as silent as the void. A towering, four-armed monster clad in dark, chitinous armor with a mirror-like sheen, strode into Earth’s open air, its scaley cloak billowing in the wind, its spikey tail swaying from side to side. Behind the mirror-like visor of its helmet, its eyes blazed red, glaring at the crowd’s like filth, like vermin about to swarm him.
"Looks like the Turian Primarch sent Saren," Hannah whispered. “If he’s here, then the Technocracy definitely sent their worst as well.”
“Wait,” Hartwell said. “How do you know this?”
“I can hardly tell turians apart,” Udina said. “They all seem the same from the footage I’ve seen.”
Hannah sighed. “Am I the only one who reads the intelligence briefings?”
For a moment, he could hardly take his eyes off Saren. What kind of world would such a…creature evolve on?
Soon, the Technocracy’s representative stepped off the shuttle, and a skinny, freakishly tall alien with spindly arms and legs stepped off the shuttles. Some kind of field shimmered around it, and its big, black eyes examined the crowds with pure cold calculation, as sterile as its porceilen, white armor.
The alien’s movements were too precise, too angular—like watching a marionette operated by invisible strings. Its flesh seemed almost translucent in the sunlight, revealing the shadow-play of organs that followed no recognizable mammalian pattern.
Briefly, he shrunk in revulsion. But quickly, he regained his composure.
The elevator at the end of the corridor opened with a soft chime, revealing two Malukors in full battle gear—their enhanced frames making even the Titan Corps operatives below seem obsolete by comparison.
"Councilor N'ganu," the lead Malukor said, speaking English with a heavy quarian accent. "The Council awaits. We will escort you to the chamber."
N'ganu nodded, casting one final glance at the scene unfolding below. The Imperial delegation had begun moving toward the Forum Building's main entrance, Marines parting before them not in deference but in carefully choreographed precision.
Two performances, he thought.
Both equally false.
"Let's not keep our guests waiting," he said.
Indeed, the show was just about to begin.
With that, they filed into the nearby elevator, and soon it reached the floor of the main chamber. As soon as they stepped outside, an oppressive silence pressed down on him. As he and the other senators took their seats, he scanned his eyes across the chamber. All were deathly silent, staring at the approaching figures arriving through the gaping entrance.
Without hesitation, every Malukor in the room drew their plasma rifle, then turned the safety off with an audible click.
The sound rippled through the chamber like a death knell. In response, the Titan Corps operatives shifted their weight imperceptibly forward, hands never touching weapons yet somehow conveying murderous potential with every breath. The air between the two forces seemed to warp and distort with tension - one wrong word, one miscalculated gesture, and the Forum would become a slaughterhouse.
Just try something you bastards. Yes, the Malukors outnumbered the Titans at least two-to-one. If the Titans tried anything, the Malukors would gun them down faster than he could blink.
But that wasn't the game they were playing. The Ascendant hadn't sent his delegates to start a firefight. He’d sent them to create a spectacle. Every moment of this confrontation was being broadcast across Commonwealth space. Billions watching, recording, judging. The Malukors could slaughter these delegates in seconds, but the political fallout would last decades.
He fixed his gaze on the delegates, watching for anything — a tell, a chink in their armor — that would give them the edge.
Let the Commonwealth see their arrogance, their contempt, their inhumanity.
"Well, well, well," Nassana began, her voice oozing with smug superiority. "What do we have here?" She stopped at the center of chamber, sweeping her gaze around the chamber. "The scum of the galaxy all gathered in one place." Her eyes met his. And he did not look away. Yes, he would rather die than submit to a bitch like her. "Except the humans in here. What the quarians did to you...it is just tragic." She sighed, placing a hand over her heart in theatrical sympathy. "Just tragic..."
"Lord Chaerys would have elevated your species above the rest," the other asari woman said, her voice a practiced melody of seduction and threat. "He would have saved you from the same mistakes that cost us so dearly — the same mistakes you are making right now. Even—"
Wrex cleared his throat, the sound like grinding stone, deliberately crude against their practiced refinement. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
The insult landed like a physical blow. White-hot fury flashed on Nassana's face, her composure fracturing for a microsecond before her imperial mask slammed back into place. Her fingers twitched toward where a weapon would hang, had she been permitted to carry one into the chamber.
For a moment, Nassana exchanged a glance with the other asari. That asari nodded then cleared her throat.
“Of course,” she began, smiling. “How rude of me to not introduce myself.” She bowed theatrically. “I am Lady Benezia T’Soni. Matron of House T’Soni. The Empire’s leading expert on…foreign cultures.”
His eyes went wide. T’Soni? Was she the prisoner’s mother? Some kind of family member? If so, then this was an opportunity he could not let slip away. Silent, he sent a few messages to have the prisoner, ready to be shown here.
He just needed the perfect moment.
Meanwhile, Benezia gestured to Nassana, who glared at Wrex with murder in her eyes. “Lady Nassana Dantius. Matron of House Dantius.”
To Saren, who remained silent and unreadable. “Lord Saren. Next in line to become Primarch of the Heirarchy.”
And finally to the Salarian, who was typing away at some kind of haptic interface on its wrist, glancing every now and then at its surroundings like a researcher recording observations. “Director Saleon of the Technocracy.”
Director Saleon tapped at his interface once more, and the Ascendant's holographic bust appeared just above the director’s wrist. Slowly, it rotated, examining the chamer.
"Now that introductions are complete," Benezia said, her voice honey over steel, "let us proceed to the purpose of our visit." She produced a data crystal from her robes, holding it aloft between two fingers. "This contains the terms of your unconditional surrender.” She fixed her gaze on him, and for a flash Benezia glowed blue. With her biotics, she rose it into the air, bringing it right before him, expecting him to take it.
He took it for now.
“Even after everything humanity has done,” she continued, “the Ascendant has not given up on your species. He recognizes your status as victims of alien manipulation. Accept the terms and he will honor you with the respect our primogenitors deserve. You will not suffer in what is come.”
“Indeed,” Nassana said. “And we will stop you from barelling down the same path of destruction we did during the dark days of the Old Republic.”
Wrex's laughter shook the chamber—a deliberate, rumbling cascade that made the Titan Corps operatives stiffen in their ornate armor. "You sound just like the First Federation the day they convinced my kind to willingly become fodder against the Rachni." The Great Khan rose to his full height. "Promising everything, only to deliver ash and dust.”
“Don’t lecture me, you disgusting animal,” Nassana snapped, her voice like acid. The Matron of House Dantius looked him in the eye. “Do you have any idea what kind of monsters you are allying with, Councillor Nganu? How they turned on billions of men, women, and children they once swore to protect?” She gave Wrex a predatory smile. “All because of your entitlement, because you wanted a place of authority amongst species eons your senior.” She chuckled. “The Ascendant saved the galaxy the moment he defeated your Great Khan.” Again she looked at him. “You are very naive if you think quarians and the scraps of the Justicar Order can protect you from them.”
"They already protected us from the Silent Ones," Hannah Shepard cut in, "and they are worse than anything Krogan could ever be." She leaned forward, glaring at Nassana. Her voice took on a steely edge. "Your Ascendant even had to ally with his enemies — the Veil Republic and numerous Krogan Khanates — to contain them back in the Attican Traverse.” She looked at Benezia. “Isn’t that right?”
Benezia's composed facade remained intact, but something cold and predatory flashed beneath her veneer of diplomatic courtesy. "The Silent Ones were a different matter entirely. A threat to galactic civilization itself. They were mindless destroyers—unlike your... Commonwealth." She spoke the word as if tasting something foul. "Your alliance is a deliberate perversion of natural order."
"As you claim we are now," Hannah pressed, leaning forward. The veteran diplomat's posture had transformed, the weariness vanishing beneath decades of negotiation experience. "Yet when the Silent Ones came for us — where were you? Where was the all-mighty, oh-so-perfect Ascendant? The quarians lost thousands protecting us.”
"You poor girl," Nassana interjected, her voice dripping with contempt. The Matron of House Dantius smiled, a predator's grin devoid of warmth. "Are you truly naive enough to believe that they did it purely out of altruism? I pity you. You are blind. The quarians are a failed species. Shame the geth did not finish what they started.”
Senator Nakamura sat up and glared at Nassana like she had slapped him. “I was there when it happened. When the Silent Ones sacked Mindoir.” He glanced at one of the many Malukors in the room. “A Malukor pulled my son and I out from beneath the rubble of my old home. I even saw another two stay behind, along with a few Migrant Fleet Marines, so that all the refugees could escape.” He pointed at Nassana. “So how dare you disrespect their sacrifice! Mindoir will be ash before your Empire ever conquers it!”
“Same here!” Senator Hartwell called out. He laughed out loud. “You gold fairies can go fuck yourselves.”
Nassana laughed. “Is this how the Commonwealth negotiates? Petty, childish insults?”
Saren's mandibles clicked in rapid triplets—a sound the translator didn't even attempt to interpret. His upper arms remained perfectly still while his lower pair made subtle gestures that seemed almost ritualistic. When he finally spoke, his low mechanical voice gripped his insides in an icy vice.
"Emotional displays. Tactical disadvantage. Confirm Imperial assessment. Of species immaturity."
Director Saleon's horizontal eyelids slid closed and open in rapid succession. "Fascinating primitive response pattern. Consistent with pre-societal development stage.”
"Agreed. Lack perspective. Beyond single. Lifetime spans." His upper arms remained perfectly still while his lower pair flexed in subtle, threatening patterns.
“The Architect will know,” Director Saelon stated with clincal finality. “Humans too underdeveloped for meaningful interaction. No different than Krogan. Excellent canditates for biological experimentation.”
The entire chamber went as silent as the nothingness of space.
For what felt like hours, everyone just stared at Saleon, jaws slack, as though struggling to process what the alien just said.
Excellent canditates for biological experimentation…
How could any sentient being say something so monstrous so casually?
He grit his teeth. Yes, after this meeting, he would argue to blacklist the Technocracy as a shoot-on-site civilization.
"Look at what you’ve done Salarian," Wrex rumbled, his massive form utterly still even as his voice filled the chamber. The calculated stillness of an apex predator, more threatening than any display of aggression. "You’ve shown the humans exactly why I will not rest until every one of your labs and research facilities is molten slag beneath my feet, until every scientist involved is butchered at my hand.” The Great Khan stared at Saleon like he was a bug to squashed beneath his feet. “This is my vow.”
In the silence after Wrex's vow, something shifted in the chamber—a crystallization of purpose that transcended the petty political fractures of yesterday. Senators who had been at each other's throats hours earlier now shared looks of grim solidarity. In just three statements, the Technocracy had accomplished what months of unity speeches never could.
Benezia stepped forward, her diplomatic mask firmly back in place. "The Director's scientific assessment, while perhaps... clinically worded, has been taken out of context." Her voice carried the practiced neutrality of someone accustomed to reshaping uncomfortable truths. "The Technocracy's research initiatives are strictly regulated by Imperial oversight. The Ascendant would never permit experimentation on sentient beings without proper ethical—"
"Is that so?"
The voice that cut through Benezia's careful explanation was neither loud nor confrontational. It carried no trace of anger, no hint of the tension that gripped every other being in the chamber. Instead, it flowed with the tranquil certainty of water finding its path downhill.
Grandmaster Nu'adu rose from his seat, his gold-white robes catching the light as he moved. The justicar's eyes—ancient, compassionate, and somehow both present and distant—fixed on Benezia with unsettling gentleness.
The holo-bust of the Ascendant locked eyes with the Grandmaster.
"Then perhaps you can explain, Lady T'Soni," Nu'adu continued, his voice maintaining that perfect serenity, still looking at the holo-bust of Chaerys, "why the Ascendant's personal archives contain detailed reports on the Praxis Incident? Fascinating reading. Especially the sections where the Ascendant made a bargain with the Architect, agreeing to supply endless test subjects — even other asari — in exchange for support during the civil war."
The effect was immediate and electric. Benezia's composure fractured completely, her face paling to a shade of blue nearly white. Nassana's fingers twitched toward non-existent weapons while Saren's mandibles clicked in rapid, agitated sequence.
"That information is..." Benezia began, then faltered.
"Classified?" Nu'adu smiled with genuine warmth that somehow made his next words even more devastating. "Yes, it was. Until approximately one-thousand-one-hundred and sixty-two years ago, when I personally copied those files before departing Thessia." He turned his gaze to each delegate in turn, his expression never changing from one of compassionate attention. "I’ve known Chaerys longer than you could ever imagine, Lady T’Soni. Even before Galivar T’Soni, Vaelin Dantius, and the other Great Houses founded the Republic. I spent eons at his side, as his spiritual advisor…until the Krogan Rebellions killed the man he used to be.”
He felt the air leave his lungs.
The information bomb Nu'adu had just detonated changed everything. The Primarch and Saleon had both gone utterly still, their body language suggesting they were receiving urgent communications through whatever implants they possessed.
"You lie," Nassana hissed, her theatrical poise completely abandoned.
"You know that I do not," Nu'adu replied, his voice carrying not accusation but something like sadness. "Just as you know that I was there the night Chaerys ordered the execution of House Tevura's children as a 'mercy' compared to what the Architect had planned for them."
The Grandmaster turned to face the Commonwealth representatives directly, his calm expression unchanged. "The greatest danger the Triarchy presents is not their military might, nor even their willingness to commit atrocities. It is their absolute conviction that such horrors are necessary and righteous." He looked back at the delegates. "I have looked into the heart of your empire, and what I saw there was not evil, but something far more dangerous—the certainty of good intentions that justifies any action, no matter how monstrous."
Nu'adu folded his hands before him, the picture of tranquility amid a storm of tension. "So I ask you, Lady T'Soni, one simple question. When you return to the Ascendant and report our refusal of your terms, will you tell him the truth? That his former advisor revealed what he truly is? Or will you, too, reshape reality to match what he wishes to hear?"
Absolute silence descended upon them all.
Amdist it, Benezia stood frozen. She tried to speak, but only a weak murmur came out. She exchanged a glance with Nassana but she only seemed just as dumbounded.
Meanwhile, his omni-tool buzzed. He looked at the most recent notification and it was about the prisoner. She was ready. He smiled. Yes, now was the perfect moment to bring her in.
He cleared his throat, loud enough to get Benezia’s attention. She met his gaze, and for the first time he spotted a subtle crack in her facade.
Uncertainty.
“I have a surprise for you, Benezia,” he said. “You mentioned you are of House T’Soni, correct?”
“I am…” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Then I present to you, Liara T’Soni,” he said. With his omni-tool, he gave the green light for Liara’s escorts to bring her in. A moment later, two justicars in gold-white robes stepped inside and guided Liara within.
Clad in a grey jumpsuit, she seemed lost and disoriented, as though she had forgotten how to function outside of whatever rehabilitation center the Justicar Order was treating her in. Her gold eyes went wide with shock the moment she met Benezia’s gaze. And for a moment, the two just stared at each other, like neither had seen each other in a lifetime.
"M...Mother?" Liara's voice cracked on the word, hanging in the chamber like a confession.
Benezia's composure fractured, not in grand gestures but in microscopic failures of control: in dilated pupils, in breaths halted, in muscles twitching at the corner of her mouth. To most, she might have appeared merely surprised.
But he knew better.
Cognitive dissonance is a bitch isn’t it?
"Liara." The name escaped her as a whisper, stripped of calculated inflection.
The moment stretched, and he counted the seconds in his head. Three. Two. One. And Imperial conditioning reasserted itself, freezing Benezia's half-raised hand in mid-air like a sculpture of interrupted longing. The recovery was impressive, but the damage was done. He had seen it, and more importantly, the Ascendant's holographic bust had seen it too.
Perfect.
The Justicars flanking Liara maintained their serene expressions, but he noted their slight shift in stance. They knew as well as he did that their charge was a weapon as unpredictable as she was valuable. The girl's body language screamed resistance—shoulders set, jaw clenched, the unmistakable posture of someone who had endured the Justicar Order's "rehabilitation" without surrendering to it.
Every political nerve in his body hummed with satisfaction. This was working even better than he'd expected.
“Not what the propaganda told you what happened, eh?” he said. He sat up, rising to his full height. “We treat all our prisoners well, in case you were wondering.” He chuckled. “She’s been doing better than ever since she arrived.”
"They haven't hurt me," Liara said, her voice carrying the cadence of something rehearsed.
N'ganu caught the split-second glance Benezia shot toward her colleagues—Nassana, Saren, the Ascendant's ever-watching holographic eye—calculating the cost of every possible response. It was a look he recognized from his own mirror on countless occasions: the mental calculus of a diplomat trapped between duty and truth.
This was the true face of the Empire's vaunted unity—fear thinly disguised as loyalty. How many others in the Ascendant's inner circle harbored such vulnerabilities? How many could be levered apart with the right pressure applied to the right point?
The intelligence possibilities bloomed in his mind even as he kept his expression neutral. Benezia wasn't just a diplomatic opponent now. She was potentially the most valuable intelligence asset they could hope for. A mother's love for her daughter, cutting through millennia of Imperial conditioning. If they could somehow exploit that connection...
Then he banished the thought.
First things first. War had to be declared before intelligence operations could begin.
For a moment, he looked down at all the delegates like they were criminals on trial. Every eye in the chamber tracked his movement, drawn from the family drama to whatever he would do next.
"Lady Dantius. Lady T'Soni. Lord Saren. Director Saleon." He addressed each with identical formality. "You have presented your terms."
"The Commonwealth requires no time to deliberate."
He tossed the data crytal at the ground before Benezia, and it shattered into dust on impact. For a moment, Benezia's looked at the dust like they were the ashes of anything she hoped would happen today.
"If your Ascendant wants the Armory," he continued, feeling his voice drop into that resonant register that had won him every debate from Harvard halls to Commonwealth chambers, "he will pry it from our cold, dead hands."
The muscles in his jaw tightened as memories of the Silent Ones' attack flashed through his mind—the burning moon colonies of Neptune, the refugees crowding evacuation ships, the children's faces hollow with terror.
An enemy fleet would not invade the Sol System like that.
No not on his watch!
The chamber's environmental systems seemed to exhale with him, the subtle shift in pressure making ears pop.
"Return to the Ascendant with this message: The Commonwealth does not bend. It does not break. And it does not surrender."
He stepped forward, deliberately invading the diplomatic buffer zone by precisely one calculated centimeter—the maximum intrusion that protocol would allow before the Titan Corps would be bound to respond. The calculated risk sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.
But he would hold his ground.
"We reject your terms. You have twelve hours to leave Commonwealth space." He glanced pointedly at Liara, then back to Benezia, allowing just enough cruelty to enter his voice to make the threat unmistakable. "Or you will join your daughter in our rehabilitation program."
The Ascendant's holographic bust studied him with eyes that seemed to look through rather than at him, then flickered out of existence with deliberate suddenness.
Go ahead. Underestimate us. See where that will get you.
"This is most regrettable," Benezia said, her diplomatic mask rebuilt from fragments. Only her eyes—still occasionally flicking toward her daughter—betrayed humanity beneath Imperial conditioning. "The Ascendant offered you salvation. And you only spat at his mercy and generosity.” Benezia sighed. “I only hope enough humans will be left at the end of this.”
As the delegation was escorted from the chamber, he finally allowed gravity to settle into his bones. Twenty years of preparation—all leading to this moment, this choice. The weight of billions of lives pressed against his consciousness, yet as his gaze fell on the crystal dust scattered across the floor, he found no regret within himself. Only grim determination.
He was already calculating the next steps: planetary evacuations, fleet deployments, intelligence operations targeting Benezia. The message to the outer colonies would need to go out within the hour, and Aria's forces would need to be positioned where they could do the least damage to Commonwealth interests.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. God help us.
The war had begun.
And whether it ended in ashes or freedom, he would see it through until the bitter end.
Chapter Text
The barracks had fallen to that silence between heartbeats. Amidst it, John Shepard sat on the edge of his bunk, his eyes shut, his attention pinned to his every breath. It had been only six hours since their last briefing with General Zhoru, since he and his fellow candidates chose the path ahead.
And now the seconds crawled by toward the moment of no return.
To when, Sergeant Khaen would barge in and give them their pre-procedure prep.
Across the room, Luke field-stripped and reassembled his plasma for the umpteenth time. Click-snap-slide. Click-snap-slide. A weapon, taken apart and rebuilt.
Just like they would be.
Meanwhile, Tali sat cross-legged beside him, scanning through her omnit-ool, methodically archiving messages to her father, to clan members, to colleagues.
Farewells should anything go wrong.
His hand found her thigh. She froze. Their eyes met. Her posture relaxed, as though welcoming his touch. Stay strong, Khazilu. Stay strong.
"Think the first Malukors felt like this, " Prazza asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “Like fresh pilgrims during the Long Exile?”
"Only they know…" Lia'Vael said, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed tight. “And who said our training will be anything like theirs. It was a differnt time.”
“A lost time,” Khal said. The quarian sighed. “So little remains of our history. But no doubt they’ll teach us all they know.”
“Like how they survived something as insane as the Great Betrayal?” James said, closing his omni-tool.
“Who wants to bet they’ll put us through a recreation of it?” Kaidan said. “What they went through.”
“If they can teach us to survive something like that…” Ashley said. “Then we can survive anything.”
Jacob closed the paper journal he had been writing in for the past few minutes, then looked up. “If I ever get to see my daughter again, I’ll have all the stories to share.”
“Damn right, you will,” Allaistar said. He chuckled. “We all will.”
He smiled. No doubt, Allaistar would be a welcome presence, a friend he’d gladly fight alongside, amidst the fire and chaos they’d spend simulated decades fighting within.
A pneumatic hiss filled the air, and he looked toward the door, only to see Sergeant Khaen, his massive frame blocking the doorway.
Instead of his armor, he wore a bodysuit that clung to his powerful physique like a liquid shadow, its surface rippling with subtle, blue light, tracing neural pathways and major organs. In his right hand, he carried a large briefcase.
"It is time," Khaen said. He tossed the briefcase before them and it opened as soon as it the ground, revealing several disk-like devices within.
No one moved. No one spoke. Everyone just stared at the devices in the case.
"Those are your interface suits,” Khaen said. He stepped fully into the room, the door sealing behind him. He pointed toward the center of his chest. “When we reach the provided clean rooms. Just place them here, directly on top of skin”
They nodded in unison.
“Follow me,” Khaen said.
With that, they each grabbed an interface suit from the case, then followed Khaen into the adjacent corridor.
Along the way, they passed by numerous human, quarian, and even asari marines, platoons and companies waking for their morning drills. Many officers saluted, and he saluted them back.
Did they know?
Or were they also in the dark?
Soon, they stepped out of an elevator, into some kind of atrium. Where are we? The base so large with so many holo-signs and chambers he could hardly tell.
“There clean rooms,” Khaen said, pointing to an airlock door. Medical insignia. Biohazard warnings. “You have two minutes. Go.”
"Sir, yes, sir," Luke said, sarcastic as ever. Then, quieter, "See you on the other side, brother."
Tali's hand brushed John's. A quarian gesture. Promise without words.
Prazza entered first. Shoulders squared. Reegar next, silent prayer on lips.
Jacob hesitated longest. Hand over daughter's picture in breast pocket.
The sterile chamber beyond: tiny transparent cells. Waiting coffins.
Each had only enough room for its occupant, pale walls aglow with stark fluorescent light. As the others disappeared into their compartments, he stepped into his own.
Only to pause.
The world fell silent, and he couldn’t help but stare at the suit in his hand like a grenade about to blow. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled. Here goes nothing . He stripped naked, leaving his fatigues on the ground, then pressed the device to his chest.
A shiver shot through him as a thin film spread across his skin—cold, then scalding, then numb. His lungs seized. His vision fractured. Heartbeat stuttered, skipped, doubled. Gritting his teeth, he growled through the agony. As soon as he thought it was over, his every nerve jolted and burned and he fell to the ground, hardly able to move.
Gradually, his vision cleared. And soon, seams across his suit glowed blue. A HUD popped up in his view even though he was bareheaded and had no ocular implants. It displayed only a single message:
CNS INTEGRATION COMPLETE
Panting, he steeled and steadied himself. Five decades of this…
Of his body breaking and peacing itself back together.
Of watching so many he loved suffering the same.
A part of him paled, wanting only to curl into a ball and vanish. His heart thrashed in his chest and froze his blood to ice. His mind flooded with brain fog. A void spawned in his chest, siphoning away his energy, sapping away his will to push on.
But he only held his pain like he would hold a crying infant. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, giving it only his complete attention, surrendering to every sensation raging within him.
I’m scared…
No, he was terrified. Could he survive this? Was he strong enough? Good enough? Capable of being his team’s mountain of strength and stability?
He exhaled, letting every doubt arise then fade away. It’s ok. Yes, it was okay to be terrified, doubtful if he could handle whatever lay ahead. Anyone would.
He sat up and reached out, his fingers trembling as he braced himself against the wall. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, and the void in his chest subsided. His will crystalized once more, hard, pure, and unbending.
If I don’t survive, then so be it.
As scared as he was, his teammates no doubt felt the same. And he would rather die than let them endure this alone.
He left the chamber, only to spot Luke, then Prazza, then Tali emerging as well.
“Fucking hell…” Luke said, clutching his head.
He smiled. “Nearly killed you?
“Damn right,” Luke said. “The fuck did they make us put on?”
“Keelah, nothing pleasant,” Tali said. In place of her hood and mask was her interface suit’s black, mirror-like visor. Behind it, her silvery eyes shone brightly, still captivating him.
“Det Kazu’at … ” Praza said . “ It’s like a Ra’agul chewed me to pieces then shat me out.”
Allaistar let out a strained laugh. “Couldn’t agree more, mate.”
A metallic hiss filled the air, and he spotted Khaen standing in the doorway.
“Could have told us what these damn suits would do to us,” Luke said.
“And deny you your first lesson?” Khaen said, clasping his hands behind his back. “That you will never see a crisis coming? That you are not in control? Of course not.”
Luke huffed through his nose.
“The integration process was no doubt unpleasant,” Khaen continued. “But necessary. Now all of you…” He turned, gesturing for them to follow. “Follow me. Enough relaxation.”
They complied. And soon, they found themselves in a long corridor ending in a large, circular door. His pulse climbed with every step. And as soon as they stepped into the chamber beyond, he gulped.
‘It is behind the darkness of the unknown where we find the most light… ’
The line from ‘The Book of 1000 Journeys’ soothed his thumping heart and the safety of the present moment returned to him as Khaen stopped before the marvel ahead of them.
The chamber beyond stole his breath.
Geometric lines of electric blue and violet light traced perfect patterns across obsidian walls, pulsing in synchronized waves that seemed to follow the rhythm of some vast digital heartbeat. Beneath their feet, a grid of intersecting, luminescent pathways bloomed with nodes of pure light. Everything hummed with barely contained energy, not mechanical, but at the intersection of technology and consciousness.
Ahead, he spotted dozens of pods arranged in concentric circles like circuit boards made manifest. Each one a sleek, angular construction of black composite material threaded with veins of pulsing light.
Two figures waited beside the central ring, their interface suits making them appear as avatars of digital divinity. Shaani'Gerrel's suit clung to her powerful but feminine frame, its surface alive with glowing, blue seams. And the other…
"Master Samara," he breathed.
The Justicar Master stood in perfect stillness, in absolute serenity, as though the galaxy itself could shatter around her and she would remain at peace. Her golden eyes found his across the chamber, then Luke's, and even filtered through the suit's technology, her presence radiated infinite compassion.
Warmth that only melted away any doubt or apprehension.
"My apprentices," she said, her voice carrying despite the chamber's electronic symphony. She approached them, each step leaving brief patterns of light on the grid floor. “I am so proud to see you here. No doubt, the interface suits were…unpleasant. But nonetheless, the experience did not turn either of you away.”
“Will take more than these damn suits to make me back out,” Luke said with a grin. He gave him a friendly jab on the arm. “Ain’t that right, John?”
He smiled at him, then met Samara’s golden gaze once more. “I won’t lie. It nearly killed me. For a moment, I doubted myself and…I was terrified.” He glanced at his fellow canditates and he could see the fear even in his brother’s eyes. “But I’m not the only one who is scared here. Our only hope of making it out of this alive is we’re there for each other.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, then Luke's. Even through the interface suit, the touch sent warmth cascading through his nervous system—connection deeper than physical contact.
“Such courage,” Samara said. “Hold others as you hold yourself and fear will be not your enemy…but your friend.”
Beside her, Shaani moved with fluid grace to stand next to Khaen. Khaen held her close, stroking her cheek with one hand, staring into her eyes. He whispered something into her ear, and Shaani only pulled him into a kiss. As they embraced, his eyes met Tali’s, and her presence beckoned him to her.
Indeed, fear would be his friend.
His best friend.
Eventually, Khaen parted from Shaani, then stepped forward, his massive frame casting shadows across the digital landscape. "The time for words has ended," he announced, his voice echoing off the chamber walls. He looked up, at figures behind a holo barrier. He squinted his eyes, observing them, only to recognize his father and the armored bulk of General Zhoru.
Khaen made some sort of hand signal and the Malukor General.
And as though summoned by that one gesture, figures in pristine white emerged from alcoves hidden in the walls. Scientists, technicians, all moving like priests approaching an altar. One approached each candidate, their faces hidden behind smooth, mirror-like visors.
The scientist assigned to him gestured toward the nearest pod, a sleek marvel of engineering. Up close, its complexity was even more astonishing. The angular shell seemed to breathe with an unseen life, splitting along seamless lines that whispered open to reveal an interior lined with intricate fiber-optic threads. These threads pulsed in harmony with the chamber’s own electric heartbeat, casting an eerie glow.
"Please," the scientist murmured, their voice modulated into an ethereal whisper that hung in the air like mist. "Enter."
He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the pod. The surface beneath his feet flowed and shifted, conforming perfectly to his form as though it were liquid solidifying around him. The walls tightened their embrace as the shell began its inexorable closure, sealing him away from everything familiar. Through narrowing gaps, he caught fleeting glimpses of his teammates—Tali's luminous violet eyes locking onto his through her pod's transparent barrier; Luke offering a mock salute with a grin that barely masked his own unease; Samara and Shaani settling into instructor pods that emerged from the floor like digital altars rising from shadow.
The pod sealed shut with a sound akin to reality itself dimming, a soft finality that left only darkness behind.
Silence reigned for what felt like an eternity before warmth crept into the chamber, enveloping him gently. Oxygenated fluid rose steadily around him like liquid light wrapping him in its tender embrace. Instead of panic clawing at his mind, he found solace in this strange serenity. The interface suit's neural connections hummed to life, weaving themselves seamlessly into his consciousness until he was no longer merely within the pod. He became one with it, transcending fleshly boundaries.
Reality shimmered and danced before him.
The pod's interior vanished, replaced by a cascade of luminous data streams that painted the void with vibrant colors. His consciousness scattered like stars across the void, each memory a distant sun, each fear a dark nebula he'd have to navigate. And as time dissolved into a fluid continuum, Samara's voice reverberated through the cosmos
"Welcome to your rebirth."
The words ignited entire galaxies within him, and everything went white.
Chapter Text
The base alarm blared like the herald of the apocalypse.
General Jack Harper strode through a chaotic mess, through slews of his men scattering in all directions, scrambling to their posts, barking orders and commands. With every step, an impossibly heavy weight bore down on him.
And amidst all the noise, his father’s voice slithered in his head like a worm gnawing at his very sense of self.
Look at you, playing soldier . Just like when you were eight, pretending with toy guns . You think this makes you a man ? You're still that pathetic little boy who—
He crushed the voice with the same discipline that had carried him through Mindoir’s burning streets 22 years ago. Now was not the time for a pity party. Now was the time to focus!
Yes, the day they all dreaded had come.
Thousands of enemy translations into the Shanxi System, enough to conquer a thousand worlds, to drown them all in a tide of fire and blood.
Now was humanity’s greatest trial, and he would meet it at the gates or die trying.
The blast door ahead hissed open like a mouth exhaling death. The command center beyond crackled with barely contained panic, the kind felt only when backed against the abyss. Comm officers hunched at their stations like penitents at prayer, voices merging into a desperate litany of coordinates and casualty estimates.
Ahead, Lieutenant Miranda stood with Master Onuru and his command staff around a hologram of the local system, where thousands upon thousands of bright red markers careened toward Shanxi like divine judgement made manifest.
“Give me a sitrep,” Jack said.
“They came suddenly and violently,” Miranda said. With her omni-tool, she zoomed in on the incoming armada. “Ship classes unclear. But the eezo and grav signatures are unmistakable.”
“Imperials,” Master Onoru said, his weathered hands adjusting his conical metal hat that made him look like some ancient Earth rice farmer. But the resemblance ended there. Underneath his silver-threaded robes, his silver-gold combat armor gleamed with polish. And the man exuded unshakable stillness he couldn’t help but envy. “We’ve already sent emergency alerts directly to Commonwealth High Command. The Council will be aware soon enough.” He studied the enemy fleet markers. “As for the signatures, I recognize them anywhere. But…”
“But?” Colonel Rolor T’Shala said. “What is it, Justicar?”
“The formation,” Onoru said. “This is not Chaerys's way. Nor any commander schooled in Imperial doctrine.” The Justicar gave him a grim look.
"Where were our scout squadrons? Our deep space sensor bouys?" he demanded. "Why didn't they warn us?"
How the hell had the enemy caught them blind?
He clenched his teeth. His body tensed as hard as durasteel. And he battled the urge to throttle something, anything. Damn it!
Had the enemy already slaughtered them?
Silenced them before they could send any alert?
Adrenaline surged through his veins, and his mind slipped into stillness. Amidst it, there was only the crisis at hand. And the warrior within him rejoiced. Yes, if the scouts were gone, then so be it. He would adapt. He would prevail. And he would make the enemy bleed for every stretch of space, every patch of ground, and every moment of peace
Indeed…
Moments like this were what he was born for!
“If the Grand Exarch is commanding the main force,” Onoru said, with perfect calm, like he was delivering a damn weather report, “then I suspect he avoided your sensor bouys entirely. He and Chaerys himself were always fond of FTL jumps from uncharted systems.”
He sighed. “Doesn’t matter.”
Yes, all that mattered was the current crisis.
“Get me Admiral Shala on the holo now,” he commanded.
And Miranda nodded and typed away at her omni-tool. The holo-projector whirred. Then Admiral Shala’s hologram materialized with a crack-shwoom. Even behind her gray, mirror-like mask, the quarian woman’s eyes radiated with stress and fatigue that penetrated straight into his psyche.
“Admiral,” he began. “What happened to your damn scouts? They’ve caught us all blind!”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Shala said. She typed into her omni-tool, and a window popped up above the holo of the system. “Until the enemy broadcasted this.”
The video feed showed helmet footage from someone in void-black armor standing on the bridge of a Commonwealth Scout Cruiser, littered with the mangled, brutalized remains of its human, quarian, and asari crew.
A low, agonized moan echoed from somewhere off-screen. One of the black-armored figures moved with casual efficiency, and the sound cut off with a wet finality.
The camera panned to the captain, Commander Hayes, according to the nameplate barely visible beneath the blood. His face was a ruin of split flesh and swollen tissue, one eye sealed shut, the other staring with the hollow look of someone who'd been broken piece by piece.
"Say it," a distorted, robotic voice said.
Hayes's split lips moved, barely audible through the blood pooling in his mouth. "Th-the Commonwealth... has abandoned... abandoned us all." Each word seemed to cost him everything. "No one... no one is coming."
"Louder."
Hayes flinched, then forced his voice higher, the words carrying across the dead bridge like a funeral dirge. "The Commonwealth has abandoned us all! No one is coming!"
A plasma pistol appeared in frame. Hayes closed his remaining eye.
"Thank you, Commander. Your service is complete."
The screen went white.
The window closed, and a heavy silence descended that gnawed on his mind.
Amidst it, Master Onoru muttered some kind of prayer under his breath.
“Bastards,” Colonel Shaw said, clasping his hands behind his back. “They’ll pay for this. When these arseholes land, my men are to show no mercy. Accept no surrender. None. Not after this.”
“I recognize them…” Colonel T’Shala said. The Asari spoke with a strained calm that betrayed the rage in his golden eyes. “Inquisitorial Commandos.”
“Not just any,” Master Onoru said. “Morinth’s.”
Ice snaked through his insides. Onuru had told him all about that wicked bitch’s atrocities, of how most would rather die than live to experience the day she came knocking on your doorstep.
He balled his fists, hard as iron. Not on my watch…
“Their loss is a tragedy…” Shala said, her eyes lowered. “No sailor of mine deserves to die so…horribly.” She straightened her posture, her eyes defiant and brimming with steely resolve. “But now is not the time to mourn. Now is the time fight. Now is the time to bleed our enemy until the stars run red with their blood.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” he said. He looked at Colonel Shaw. “Get our missile silos starburst canons hot and ready. As soon as they come into range, give them hell.”
Colonel Shaw grinned. Without hesitation, he opened up his omni-tool and went to work. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“I’ll ready the drone swarms and monitor our supply lines,” Colonel T’Shala said.
For a lingering moment, Master Onoru just watched the dying blizzard of contacts pouring into the system holo.
He recognized that silence.
Indeed, the Justicar had his way of assembling, discarding, and connecting tactics and strategies like old priests working prayer beads, and he knew better than to interrupt. Without a word, Onuru already started updating his own tactical overlays, as though running countless simulated battles all in his mind.
"Watch the flanks," Onoru murmured at last, so softly it barely registered. "This is a but a distraction.”
“But these signatures…” Miranda said.
“Can be spoofed,” Onoru said, cutting her off. “Until they come into visual range we can not know if this is the main force.” He sighed, his gaze at the ground. “This feels too much like the Battle of Yazhun Prime.”
Jack nodded. He’d spent years poring over historical accounts of the Krogan Rebellions, the Asari Civil War, and even the Silent War. During that battle, the Ascendant spoofed the signatures of hundreds of empty, junk haulers to make them look like the main force. But was he really pulling that off again? He could not take any changes. "Agreed."
He scanned his gaze across the rest of his command staff, looking each in the eye. “Watch our flanks. We never know what could be coming.”
Colonel T’Shala nodded, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his console as he updated tactical data feeds. The rest of the command staff mirrored her actions, checking their own stations with a flurry of activity and focus.
“Now is the time to act,” Shala said, “to avenge our fallen.” She input a series of commands into her omni-tool. “My fleet can harry them while you pound them with the surface-to-orbit missiles and starburst cannons.”
“Teams are already calculating firing solutions,” Colonel Shaw said. “Let’s give these bastards hell.”
Shala saluted sharply. “May the Ancestors be with us all. Keelah Selai'“
“Keelah Selai,” he replied, returning her salute crisply.
Shala’s holo went out with a soft chime. And he sighed deeply. Here goes nothing .
Meanwhile, on the holo display, the enemy armada pressed on like an unstoppable tide. Soon it came into range—just under 1.25 million kilometers away—and Colonel Shaw wasted no time.
“Firing,” Colonel Shaw declared, his eyes glued to screens filled with trajectories and impact points. "ETA to impact: 2 minutes."
At his command, Shanxi launched its initial assault.
Beneath his boots, the lights dimmed as gigawatts of power siphoned to the city-sized capacitors. The entire base thrummed, and Shanxi’s planetary shield grid pulsed with the sheer firepower careening skyward.
“Orbital platforms alpha and beta have target locks,” Miranda reported. “Firing at will.”
At Shanxi’s Lagrange points, the orbital weapons platforms unleashed a storm of particle lance strikes and distruptor missiles. Alongside the surface-to-orbit barrage, the strikes detonated in blasts like newborn stars, in balls of fire bright enough to blind an entire world.
On the holodisplay, enemy markers disappeared one after another amidst mini-supernovas and collapsing singularities. Dozens of ships disintegrated into clouds of debris, and a part of him exulted. But…
Something was right.
This felt too easy.
And when things seemed too easy...
“Incoming translations!” a comm officer exclaimed urgently. On the holo display, a set of coordinates flashed red. “They're flanking us!”
I knew it . His body tensed. Gritting his teeth, he scowled. Nothing good ever came easy.
“Get me a visual!” he commanded.
In response, a window popped up on the holodisplay and revealed a seemingly endless tide of warships crashing into view, countless destroyers, frigates, and then...
Dreadnoughts.
Super Carriers.
His pulse spiked. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and his limbs flooded with vitality.
Colossal behemoths clad in gold and silver armor with enough firepower to incinerate entire worlds. Finally, the main force had arrived, arranged in vast conical formations with command ships surrounded by screens upon screens of escorts. Time seemed to slow. And he could only watch in silent dread as a flood of fresh targets careened toward Shanxi along an infuriatingly oblique approach vector.
Now they couldn’t redirect their fire without leaving themselves vulnerable to the vanguard.
“Vanguard is firing,” Colonel T’Shala said. “They’re targeting the platforms.”
“ETA to impact: 30 seconds,” an officer called out.
Damn it . He balled his fists. What were they going to do?
The enemy barrage struck the shields of the orbital platforms with flares of blinding light. No doubt, the platforms were juggernauts with the firepower of an entire squadron. But they could not taking a beating forever.
They had to act.
Or things would get ugly fast.
“Jack,” Master Onoru began, meeting his gaze with calm intensity. “We must redirect our fire. Admiral Shala can cripple the vanguard with strafing runs until the main force comes into firing range. But we must act now.”
You god damn genius . Without hesitation, he opened up a comm-channel to Admiral Shala and a window popped up above the tactical display, showing her from the shoulders up. On her ship, battle alarms were blaring. Amidst the chaos, quarian officers were shouting orders and tactical updates.
“Shala,” he said, leaning forward, his hands on the grav table. “I need you to bleed the vanguard dry. We’re retargeting our platforms and ground batteries to hit the main formation, but we can’t do both. Can you hold the vanguard long enough for the re-task?”
“On it,” Shala snapped. She shouted something in Khelish over her shoulder, commands to her gunnery officers, torpedo crews, and kinetic barrier specialists. Her tone cut through the noise with cold predatory focus.
This was not a woman who would die quietly.
On the main holodisplay, the rear guard and vanguard squadrons slammed together at velocities that seemed suicidal. Shala’s hunter-killer squadrons weaved impossible corkscrews through the vanguard’s lines, loosing swarms of fusion torpedoes and raking hulls with multi-megawatt pulse-lances. In their wake, enemy ships came apart in blossoms of fusion fire, in storms of high-speed shrapnel that carved fiery arcs through the void.
“Vanguard is deploying infantry,” Miranda reported, pale now, voice taut. “Dropships inbound, making straight for platforms L6 and L7.” She paused, squinting her eyes. “The rest are trying to make planet fall.”
“They’ll be coming for the batteries,” Colonel T’Shala said, his fingers a blur as he relayed orders and commands to countless units all across the planet. “My regiments will contest their landing.”
“Let ‘em come,” Shaw said, his jaw clenched like a vice. “Nothing’s getting past my boys.”
He believed him. No doubt, the canon fodder would be slaughtered the second they made planetfall or boarded the platforms. But if he knew the enemy, that wouldn’t matter.
With them, the main force would probe the defenses and divide their attention.
“Long range batteries re-tasked,” Miranda called. “Ready to fire on your command, General.”
Eat this, you bastards . He scowled. “Do it.”
On the holo, a new barrage seared into the main formation, hundreds of missiles and starburst lances saturing their course.
In reponse, the enemy carriers unleashed a flood of automated drones and fighters. Frigates and destoyers shifted position. And for a heart stopping moment, missiles veered off course or detonated prematurely. Lances obliterated destroyers or frigates in the way of their intended targets.
Scrambling fields, he thought bitterly. No matter. “Keep firing. Give them everything we have.”
Shanxi’s defenses roared on. But with every volley, every pulse, the enemy adapted. Their screens shifted, adapted, rotated. They used disabled ships as ablative armor, absorbing the worst of the firestorm, and the next wave came on undiminished.
“Platforms L6 and L7 are under attack!” Miranda said. On the holodisplay, she opened up a window, displaying a vicious firefight erupting within the platforms corridors. Amidst them, Commonwealth Marines were falling back in tight formations, gunning down hordes of…
His eyes went wide. His jaw dropped. What in the…
He could only make out the blurry figures of many-legged abominations rushing toward them at blistering speed. Their inhuman wails froze the blood in his veins and made his stomach churn.
“What…what are those things?” he asked. Whatever they were, they would die.
“This must be new,” Onoru said. “I have never ecountered such things before.”
Miranda tilted her omni-tool, running a dozen diagnostics in parallel. Her eyes widened, knuckles white as she stabilized the feed on the running beasts. “Not listed on any Imperial biosign database. Comms analysis shows their squads operate in complete radio silence, no command chatter. Not even IFF signatures. They’re just…” She trailed off, shuddering.
“Drones?” Shaw asked.
She shook her head, already crunching the numbers. “No. Too much independent maneuver. And too smart. They’re hunting in packs. Adapting every time our marines try to bottleneck them.” As she spoke, the display window showed Marines making a stand behind an auto-turret barricade. The first few attackers were shredded, only for the next wave to leap onto the ceiling and scuttle past in a blur. Red lights followed, screams spiking the audio, before the feed cut out in static.
Onoru closed his eyes, intoning a brief prayer for the lost. “They are a reflection,” he finally said. “The Empire has always relied on psychological warfare. They deploy whatever image most terrifies their enemy.” His gaze was distant, yet steady. “But it is a mask. Underneath is only fear, trying hard to become rage.”
Jack drew breath to speak, but the comm-line crackled, overriding all local traffic. “Command, this is Sergeant Pell in L7 Main Battery!” The voice was wild, high-pitched, gunfire and shrieking in the background. “They’re everywhere! Broke through the pressure seal, repeat, enemy is in the reactor spine!”
On the holodisplay, the icon for Platform L7 flickered from bright green to sick yellow.
“Colonel Shaw,” Jack said, eyes locked on the display. “Order a full compartmental lockdown. Blow the access tunnels if you have to.”
“Already on it, General.” Shaw’s lips peeled back in a grimace. Forty years of field command, and now he looked like a man already grieving the names he’d be writing later.
New windows popped up.
Quarian deck officers on Platform L6.
Streams of fire and light shooting into the dark between cramped bulkheads.
The abominations had breached the outer ring and were chewing through corridor after corridor, following the faintest scent of blood and terror. The comms descended into a cacophony of agonized screams, sporadic gunfire, and inhuman wails. Static bled across every wall-screen.
“General,” Miranda said, frantically typing away at her omni-tool. “I can’t reach anyone on the comms. The platforms they…”
“We lost them…” Colonel Shaw said. Shaw took a deep breath. “General. In any case, those platforms can’t fall into enemy hands.”
‘L ook at them, ’ his father’s voice began, raking at his mind . ‘ Dying . Screaming . What are you going to do, Jackie boy ? That’s right nothing . You’re just a weak, pathetic disgrace . Nothing . Just —’
With a strained growl, he silenced the voice once again. No. He would not stand by and let this happen. War demanded sacrifice. It chewed up and spat out the weak, and now he could not afford to be weak. No. No. No.
“Target them,” he said. The words came out easier than he expected. And a weight lifted off his mind. “Blow them out of the sky.”
As soon as he said that, they gave him such silent, scathing stares, the kinds that would flay the weak alive, make them curl into wimpering heaps of guilt and shame. In Onoru’s eyes, he found only…disappointment, as though he expected better. In Rolor’s, he found only quiet shock, as though a part of him knew this was coming. And in Shaw’s, only the heavy, suffocating weight of command.
“You see what’s happening right now,” he said. “How we’re hesitating? This is what those bastards want.”
“General…” Miranda began. “With all due respect, if our men learn about this…”
“Then what?” he asked. “That we denied the enemy two of our platforms? That we saved them from getting ripped apart by whatever the hell those things were?” The words felt jagged in his throat, but he held the line. “We have to be harder than them.”
No one said a word, not for a long, heavy while. Around him, even the ambient noise seemed to hush, the comm officers pausing in their litany of updates.
Colonel Shaw sighed. “Damn…Very well,” Shaw said at last, his voice devoid of the judgment in his eyes. “Coordinates locked. You want to do it or should I?”
He stared at the icons, a bright green that, moments ago, signified seven hundred and sixteen souls. Now, only vultures circled above their battered hulls, waiting for the inevitable.
He heard the words before he realized he was speaking: “I'll do it.” He keyed in his command passphrase. His suit's biosensors registered the chilling calm that came just before an irreversible act.
“Platforms L6 and L7,” he said, letting the words echo. His hands trembled. Bile surged up in his throat, but he held it down. Yes, now was not the time to hesitate! He had to act! He had to be strong! Make the decision nobody wanted to make. “Thank you for your service.”
He hit execute.
On the holodisplay, the icons for the platforms flashed to red and then vanished, consumed by twin novas of white heat. Debris radially spewed from the detonation points, followed seconds later by the absence of any further comm chatter.
His knees nearly buckled. It was not weakness. No. Simply the sensation of a part of him still clinging to it. If they were to survive this, then he had to crush it, burry it, make sure it never got the better of him.
Nonetheless, on the display, the afterimage of what he’d done burned into his retina, branding it into the memory of every person in the room.
Miranda broke the hush. “Main formation is adapting. They’re vectoring surface-bound. Fast.”
“ETA?”
“Two minutes at current acceleration.”
He slammed a fist into the comms: “All ground batteries, fire everything. Evacuation drills—full base lockdown! No one leaves their post until the last missle, the last starburst lance, has been fired. If the enemy wants a fight, then we’ll make this world their damn funeral pire!”
Colonel T’Shala murmured an order in Ardaic and then followed in English, crisp and cool: “Artillery is sighting. All assets deploying planetary shield overlays for civilians. When the enemy lands, nowhere will be safe for them.”
He watched the hologram narrow focus, saw the red markers split and multiply, countless dropships and corvettes peeling off from their mother ships like wasps from a ruptured nest. The main force, as Onoru had predicted, was already shifting, curling around the world in a double envelopment.
Meanwhile, orbital defenses roared in retaliation. The sky shattered with a constant staccato of detonations. Amidst it, mighty sheilds burst in flashes bright enough to turn night into day. Ships came apart in rippling detonations and hurled smoldering debris planetward. Thousands of tons of it fell toward Shanxi, burning through its atmosphere, only to strike its surface in meteoric explosions.
God help us…
Swathes of Shanxi’s lush, alien jungles, once as vast as the eye could see, burned for thousands of kilometers, choking the air with ash and smoke. Above the firestorm, swarms of automated drones descended from the belly of the carriers, painting the clouds black with their oily trails.
“Miranda…” he said, his voice firm and hard. Would their be a planet left to live on once they survived all of this? If not, then at least the enemy would get nothing. No advantage. “Damage report.”
“We’ve lost Base AE21 and AE3,” she said, her hands a blur as she navigated her holodisplay. She swallowed hard and her voice came out cracked and hollow. “Estimated casualities: 8921.”
“Damn…” Shaw said, his scowling. He let out a deep breath. “At least they were only remote outposts.”
“Agreed…” T’Shala said.
Shala’s hunter--killer squadrons fanned out in a frenzy, picking off stragglers, executing attack runs that slashed the void with speed and precision.
They swarmed the enemy carriers like predators smelling blood. All at once, five squadrons hit them from five vectors, giving their point-defense guns no good solutions, only bad and worse. Shields flashed, flared, and burst in the ensuing exchange. And soon, one of Shala’s squadrons raked a battle cruiser with an onslaught of disruptor missiles and lance strikes.
It did not last long.
The ordance tore through its shields, through its armor, through everything like soft flesh and the enemy vessel erupted in a cataclysmic burst of light and debris.
In response, enemy escorts and fighter swarms broke off from the main force and roared after Shala’s squadrons with predatory precision. On the holodisplay, it looked like the fury of a dying god, blossoms of fusion and cannon fire, streaks of missiles crisscrossing in acts of mutual annihilation. Icons blinked in and out of existence in real time, each death tolling like a bell inside his skull.
Just then, a window popped up above the holodisplay. It was Shala, but with blood on her mask and suit. Her breathing was strained, but in her eyes he saw only cold, calculated fury he could not help but respect.
“General…” she said. “We’ll harrass them for as long as we can. But soon I will have no choice but to retreat. My fleet’s presence here is unsustainable. The Commonwealth will need every ship possible to bleed enemy supply lines. So if the enemy takes Shanxi…then we must make them pay for every moment they hold it.”
Closing his eyes, he held his breath, suppressing the urge to break something, to hurt someone.
‘W atcha going to do, Jackie boy? ’ his father’s voice said. ‘Cr—’
He banished the voice with every ounce of ruthlessness within him…then exhaled. Now was not the time throw tantrums. Now was the time to focus! Indeed, no plan ever survived contact with the enemy.
He looked at the projected map. Already, every avenue of hope was a choking corridor. Onoru was right. He always is . Indeed, the enemy hadn’t come to simply overwhelm them, but to force choices—each one worst than the last until, choice by choice, you were left with nothing at all.
“Do it, Shala. But pull out the instant you’re at risk of entrapment.”
Shala saluted. “For the Commonwealth…”
The window winked out.
“They’re landing more of the bio-weapons,” Miranda said. On another window, massive dropships struck the earth from orbit, only to disgorge a flood of the abominations they had seen on the platforms. Even now, they moved too fast for him to make out their appearance. He could only see flashes of teeth, claws, and tentacles. “They’re coming for the batteries!”
“They will meet only death,” T’Shala said with grim resolve.
On T’Shala’s command, the defense corridor above the lowest approach vectors became a fireworks display of plasma cannon fire, beam projectors, and hastily-repurposed anti-starship torpedoes turned to atmospheric use. The abominations—now mere hundreds of meters from the trench lines—sprinted, leaped, and skittered through a cascade of earth shattering explosions, through blazing infernos hot enough scorch flesh to ash.
But for every five that perished, one trampled over the twitching, brutalized remains of its fellows. Their collective wails clawed at his mind and sent sickening, icy chills through his insides. Nothing alive should be capable of such noise. The longer he listened, the more he…
He shook his head. Stop it ! Focus , damn it ! He had to block it out. Kill every last one of them. Yes, only then would he know peace.
Like tsunamis, the abominations slammed into the kinetic barriers around each battery stations, their corpses piling on top of each other, their prehesile tendrils wrapping around any irregurality, probing, tearing, gnashing at whatever protruted from the surface of the barrier.
In response, automated defense towers came online gunning down hordes with storms of white-hot plasma and hypersonic missiles.
“Routing all available battalions to hold off the abominations!” T’Shala said.
Meanwhile, hundreds of troop carriers descended from above, screened by swarms of automated drones.
“Reroute all available drone swarms toward those troop carriers,” he said. Once again, the enemy just had to be masters of dividing up their attention and resources. But strategic priorities were perfectly clear. Trained personnel were more valuable targets than expendable abominations. “Show them no mercy.”
“Confirmed,” T’Shala said.
At T’Shala’s commands, thousands of Commonwealth Marines took up entrenched positions, manning every gun, turret, and missile launcher that could be brought to bear. Together, they unleashed an onslaught of fire onto the onrushing hordes, slaughtering them by the thousands.
Above, friendly drone swarms engaged
As the carnage raged on, Onoru stared at the helmet feeds of numerous sergeants commanding sections of the defense, or managing the flow of numerous refugee columns to safety. Within the columns, children clung to their mothers with desperate tightness. Others despaired, still frantically searching for loved ones. And a few soldiered on, carrying whatever possesions they could, through now abandoned districts of Shanxi’s bunker cities.
Every face, every voice, every cry burned into his memory like a hot iron pressed against his mind.
You can’t protect them, his father’s voice said . You’re no hero, Jackie boy . You’re just as rotten as—
He balled his fists, crushing, throttling, brutalizing the voice away.
“ General, we’ve lost comms with batteries 4A, 5C, and…” Miranda said before her eyes went wide, before she let out an audile gasp that made his stomach drop.
“What is it?” he snapped
“The shields…” she said. “Something, they—they just went offline. Not from overload but…”
Onoru turned toward the entrance to the command center, then drew his biotic saber, its blade like plasma forged into ice. “All of you, get down,” he said with iron firmness. A blue corona engulfed him as he tapped into his biotics, and his golden eyes glowed bright. With his power, he projected a biotic barrier that extended nearly halfway across the chamber. “They—”
Weapons fire roared outside the command center.
The entire chamber went silent. Amidst it, he drew his sidearm, scowling, itching to fire it. Come and get me you bastards . Yes, whatever was coming, he—
Blinding light flashed like a stroke of silent lightning.
An ear splitting boom sundered the air.
And the blast door didn't just open. It vaporized. Molten metal sprayed inward like liquid starfire. The shockwave hit before the sound, a pressure wall that crushed the air from his lungs. Through the smoke and superheated vapor, golden death strode forward.
Titan Corps Operatives.
The Ascendant’s elite.
Damn it. No wonder they pulled off an infiltration like this.
He should have known better!
The golden giants moved like nothing natural, with impossible speed, precision, and fluidity. Within a few heartbeats, dozens of comm-officers died, wailing in animal terror, torn to shreds of sizzling gore under surgical torrents of weapons fire.
One of the giants looked right at him, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
This was it.
He was going to die.
Onoru roared, then let out a mighty biotic shockwave that hurled the operatives across the room.
“Justicar!” one of them called out, his voice low, robotic, and distorted. “Target the Justicar!”
He opened fire with his sidearm. Die! Die you bastards! Die!
Colonel Shaw and T’Shala did the same, firing upon the operatives.
But their shots barely even scratched their sheilds.
“FUCK!” he shouted.
His hands shook as he fired, every shot bouncing harmlessly off their shields like nothing. His father laughed and laughed inside his head. And his mind flashed to when his childhood, to when he was that weak, pathetic little boy hiding under his bed, letting his father beat him, humiliate him, grind away every ounce of dignity just to see if there was anything left to break.
This is it, Jackie boy ! This is it!
Meanwhile, Onoru rushed forth. In an eye blink, he crossed the chaos in a blur of blue and gold. And before one operative could react, Onoru brought his blade down in a diagonal arc, bisecting the giant from sternum to hip. A heartbeat later, he cleaved the weapon from the hands of a second, slipped through a punch, then rammed his blade through that operative's throat.
Before the operative even hit the ground limp and dead, the remaining operatives opened fire. And a storm of fire slammed straight into Onoru’s biotic shield.
Amidst the chaos, he opened up his omni-tool, then opened up a comm channel to the PA system. “This is General Jack Harper! We are under attack! I repeat, we are under attack! Send back up to the command center now!”
Meanwhile, as Onoru closed the distance, the remaining operatives dropped their weapons and drew their own blades from…
Thin air?
No, from something in their gauntlets no doubt.
As one, the two operatives rushed forward and met Onoru’s charge with a cohesion that bordered on telepathy. Onuru slipped, parried, and countered through their flurry of strikes like he was water flowing through cracks in stone.
He had to help him.
He could not just stand by and be useless!
Once more, he opened fire, squeezing the trigger again and again. “What are you all waiting for?! Fire on them!”
Shaw, T’Shala, and Miranda followed his lead firing on the two operatives. If they could distract them, even for an instant, then perhaps they could give Onuru the opening he needed to finish them off.
The shots might as well have been gnat bites. With inhuman focus, they ramped up the pressure on Onuru, their blades clashing with his loud cracks of lighting and bright flashes of light. Each strike was a thunderbolt. Each step, a blur. Onoru moved with a cruel beauty, as the two Titans pressed him, forcing him back towards the center of the command deck.
The rest of the staff scrambled, ducking behind consoles or sprawling across the floor.
Amidst the chaos, he crawled toward the corpse of a fallen comms officer, grabbed the man’s rifle, then took cover behind a burnt out console. Bracing himself, he peeked out of the cover, then held his breath, steadying his aim at the nearest titan’s exposed back.
If a damned pistol wasn’t enough to even distract them, then perhaps this would have enough kick.
He squeezed the trigger and a burst of pulse slammed into one operative’s shields. They flared a bright blue and white. Again and again, he fired, one burst after another.
Take this, you bastards . He gritted his teeth, scowling . There was no way he would go out without a fight ! DIE !
His suppressing fire stuttered the Titan’s step, made the bastard hesitate just long enough for Onoru to seize the instant. In a blur of motion, the Justicar pivoted and slammed a biotic shockwave into the staggered operative’s flank. The golden giant’s shield burst like a photon grenade and for a glorious moment both titans were exposed.
Onoru wasted no time.
In an eye blink, he rammed his biotic saber straight through one operative’s chest. And with a mighty roar, he unleashed a biotic blast that sent the other flying through the air.
The other operative hit the ground with a crash, his golden armor scorched black, smoldering with superheated char and melted components. The thing shuddered, tried to rise. But Onoru was already there. The justicar kicked the blade from its limp hand, then drove his saber through its helmet in a blinding arc.
The body convulsed and fell still.
The world went silent for what felt like hours. Amidst it, he could hardly move, nor speak. He had just watched demi-gods duel before him, watch them wreak a bloody trail of carnage. And in the aftermath of it, he felt…small.
So fucking small.
His body tensed and he scowled. He hated feeling small. To be small was to be vulnerable. To be weak. And no matter what, he could not be weak.
Weakness was death.
For him.
And for all under his command.
“Jack…” Onuru said, panting. His armor was littered with slashes and burn marks. Damn . Those bastards must had struck a few hits. “We need to abandon this base, wipe away any intelligence it might contain, and then vanish into the network of bunkers. We can not mount a lasting defense here.”
He stood up, then wiped some blood, dust, and soot off his uniform. Indeed, they had to move. A direct defense was no longer an option. The enemy had all the advantages that mattered in conventional warefare. “Agreed.”
He opened up his omni-tool, then tuned into the base-wide PA system. “Attention. This is General Jack Harper. The enemy just tried to assassinte me and all of high command in one bloody stroke. But. Here. I. Stand. Ready to send these bastard invaders back to the shithole they came from. I won’t lie to you though. This base is compromised. We can not hold out a lasting defense here. So effective immediately, I am ordering an evacuation into the planet-wide network of underground bunkers. If we can not defeat our enemy conventionally, then we will bleed them dry with a thousand cuts. Now move! Move! Move!”
He glanced back at Miranda, Shaw, and T’Shala. And they looked like they had just survived a damn warzone. Around them were numerous wounded comm officers and technicians writhing in pain, suffering from plasma burns that could boil a man alive.
No time for triage . Yes, the medics would just have to do their best.
Soon, two squads of marines rushed into the mess of what used to be the command center, and even through their helmet visors he could feel every ounce of their shock and horror.
“Get a medical team in here ASAP,” he ordered.
One of the marines, a staff sergeant, saluted. “Sir, yes. Sir.”
The ground quaked. On the flickering display, within a few live feeds, he spotted Imperial Dropships disgorging entire regiments of legionnaires and alien auxiliaries. Already, they were assembling their feild bases, setting up the local infrastructure needed for a sustained occupation.
Time was running out.
“Miranda,” he spat, his voice like sandpaper. The medical team rushed in, stabilizing the wounded with fast-acting microbot cultures, carrying them out in grav stretchers. “Lock out all drone and cannon firewalls. Purge all logs, everything. I want nothing but melted slag in our servers when they seize this place.”
“On it,” she said.
“Shaw,” he said. “As soon as we’re clear, detonate all the power cores. Delete all override codes. Leave nothing for them to salvage. Nothing.”
Shaw’s scarred and bloody face brightened, and he grinned as though excited. “Wouldn’t have it anymore.”
T’Shala sighed. “And don’t forget our supply depot here. We can not leave anything here for them to take.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, buddy,” Shaw said. “I’ll handle that.”
“Good,” he said. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath and prayed silently to whatever would listen. May we have the strength to handle whatever is coming from us . May we have the resolve to fight on no matter the odds . He opened his eyes, and a renewed, steely resolve hardened his soul against the nightmare to come. “Let’s move.”
It was time to bleed the invaders dry.
Chapter Text
In his New Washington estate, Councillor Liam Nganu sat by the fireplace, staring into the flames, a half-drunk glass of scotch in hand. In times of chaos and turmoil, it was too easy for him to lose himself in distraction, in duty. For so long, it had been all he had known. But now, with the chaos of yesterday’s war council, the world had gone silent.
He tried to savor the quiet, to let it mean something. But no matter how much he drank or how long he watched the fire, the same questions gnawed at him, like a relentless cancer.
How many would die today?
A million?
Ten million?
Oh, what was he thinking? How could his mind possibly encompass that many lives lost to the fires of war? Since 2233, Humanity had only known peace aside from occasional prophet’s hand attacks .
So how long did the Commonwealth and humanity have until their worlds were molten slag, until its people were vassals, slaves, or worse…
Test subjects?
A heavy, draining fog clouded his mind. And he could hardly muster the energy to move. Soon, he stared at a portrait of one of his ancestors, General George N’ganu.
During the dark days of WW3, he overthrew the government of the old United Kingdom after its degenerate oligarch elites nearly ended the world, all to maintain the status quo, to lounge in their palaces while millions starved, cities burned, and governments collapsed.
In the 30-year-long dark age that followed, George was the sole force holding the United Kingdom together.
But it had cost him his soul.
For a while, George's painted eyes followed him, so hateful, so judging, but so patient. You'll understand soon enough, they seemed to say. When the choice is between being a monster and watching everything burn.
In the end, the old bastard had become everything he had despised to stop the country from falling apart. And history reviled him as a monster, as the man who ended what William the Conqueror had set in motion over an eon ago.
Did he know it would end that way?
Was he at peace with it?
His heart thrashed, and a sickening emptiness flooded his insides.
He raised his glass to the portrait. “You tried your best, old man.” He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. The scotch burned and hit him hard enough to dull his senses. But not to dull the weight of the responsibility pressing down on him. “But now its my turn.”
Whether history forgot, reviled, or remembered him as a hero did not matter.
This was his duty. And whether it ended in fire or a new age, he would not rest until the bitter end.
Behind him, a metallic whir filled the air.
He glanced at the sound, only to spot Senator Evala T’Vaen step out of his bedroom. Her red, silk-like nightgown contrasted with her iridescent, blue skin, and her golden eyes shone faintly in the early-morning light.
In times like now, she had become such a refuge, such a bastion from the relentless decay eating at him from inside. They had met only weeks ago, during the chaos of war preparations. And as Nu’adu would say, the moment she made him laugh with a joke about his crooked tie sparked a chain of events leading to the two of them in his bed, to what could only be destiny.
She hummed a tune as she moved barefoot to the kitchen. Soon, the rich scent of coffee filled the room.
Soon, she finished. Their eyes met as she approached, and she gave him a warm smile. “Drinking this early?” she chuckled, then handed him his cup. She sat across from him in another grav recliner. “With the state of the galaxy now, I suppose I can’t blame you.”
Damn it. What was it with all asari ? They could always see through him like he was made of glass. He sighed. But admittedly, it made sense.
Most asari have seen and experienced more than he ever will.
“Is it that obvious?” he asked, leaning into his recliner.
She smiled, then sipped her coffee. “It is.” She glanced at the portrait of George, then looked at him with such understanding it felt like a balm on his battered psyche. “The weight of your ancestral past crushing you to dust?”
He nodded, then sipped his coffee. A jolt of caffeine rushed to his head, and his mind felt just a tad clearer. “Have I ever told you about Earth’s Third World War?”
“You mean the civil war that nearly sent your species back to the Stone Age?” she asked. She took another gulp of her coffee. “Of course. But admittedly, I am no expert.
He laughed bitterly, but then caught himself. Meanwhile, Evala sipped more of her coffee, patient as stone. The woman had such a gift for filling silences with just her presence. He had to give her that.
“General George N’ganu,” he began. “After 23 years of war, and over a billion lives lost, he was one of the first to refuse orders to end the world in nuclear fire.”
He finished off the rest of his coffee. He set the mug aside and laced his hands, staring at the flames. Briefly, his mind flashed with the sight of New Washington, of Earth, in flames , littered with the scorched, smoldering ruins of once great cities. A knot tightened in his stomach and he swallowed hard.
Hopefully, this war would not come to that.
“His entire nation cheered when he overthrew the government,” he continued. His lips curled into a bitter, joyless smile. “Finally, the war would be over. Finally, there would be peace. Finally, the joke of a democracy the nation had become would be burned to the ground and its savior would build something glorious from its ashes.”
He paused, staring at the flames. The screams of his ancestors victims echoed in his mind. “Oh, how wrong they were…”
“Reminds me of the Ascendant,” Evala said. She let out a heavy sigh, as though recalling a day she’d rather forget. “Back when he was Warmaster of the Republic. I was there the day he turned on it, the day cheering crowds paraded through the streets and celebrated him as a hero, as a savior.” She laughed bitterly. “And I almost fell for his words.” She looked away. Her body tensed and she crossed her arms. “I believed in him. I loved him. Everyone did…”
“Until?”
“Until I saw who he truly is. Until he chose to target my family during his ‘Great Purge’.” She finished off her coffee, then leaned back into her chair, deflated.
The Great Purge raged an eon ago.
And yet it followed her even now.
He looked into her golden eyes, and for a moment, the silence between them stretched on and on . Amidst , one question gnawed at his mind.
He leaned forward, facing her. “Why?”
She smiled. “Why did I believe in him? Or why did he target my family?”
“Both.”
“The first is simple,” she said. “He told me everything I wanted to hear. Showed me everything I wanted to see. All while making me and countless others feel so damned special, like he was only validating what we knew for centuries but could never speak aloud.”
Bastard…
Whatever happened, he could never engage with the Ascendant in a one-on-one conversation. That was far too risky.
Nu’adu would have to mediate any interaction.
“And the second?”
“Simple,” she said. She leaned forward, looking deep into his eyes. “My bloodline.”
“Your bloodline?”
She nodded. “My family lives humbly now. But we used to be the great bankers of House T’Vaen.”
“Oh…”
She laughed bitterly. “Chaerys despised bankers most of all. According to him we are filth who let the galaxy burn and only got richer while the krogan burned world after world and…”
“And?” He held her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back.
“And he was right…” she said, her voice haunted. She looked down, and her eyes welled with tears. “We did. And a part of me knows we deserved it.” She wiped away a few tears. “We deserved it…”
He remained silent, holding her hand, holding space for whatever she was feeling. Amidst the silence between them, he looked into her eyes, and his heart fluttered. His thoughts drifted to last night, to when they had shared a few hours of passion and intimacy.
And her blue cheeks reddened to a light shade of purple. She gave him a warm, inviting smile.
He looked away, then let out a nervous laugh. Wow…
When was the last time he had felt this way? His mind went blank, then brought up his late wife’s face from the depths of his memories. Her sweet, gentle laugh echoed in his mind, and her smile warmed his heart.
But then he recalled her funeral, her coffin lowering into the soil. And a part of him tensed up. Was he betraying her? Did he deserve this? Did he—
Someone knocked at his front door.
The sound pulled him out of his head, back into the present moment. He and Evala looked toward the noise, and it only repeated.
He stood up. “I’ll go see who it is.” He made his way to the front door, then put his hand on the nearby haptic display, checking the cameras just outside.
And his jaw dropped.
It was Nu’adu.
What are you doing here? No doubt, the fighting had begun. Worlds were burning, and Nu’adu was just here to deliver the news. Closing his eyes, he braced himself.
Whatever was ahead, he would be ready.
He would not falter
He opened the door, and the Grandmaster of the Justicar Order met his gaze with a warm, inviting smile.
“Liam,” Nu’adu began, clasping his hands behind his back. As always, the Grandmaster’s gaze reflected eons of wisdom and boundless compassion. “My friend. It is a pleasure to see you.”
He shook Nu’adu’s hand, smiling. Around the grandmaster, his body always relaxed. “What brings you here this early? Where are the others?”
“The others are assembling for an emergency session at the forum building,” Nu’adu said. “And I am here to check up on you. After last night’s press conference and rally with the public, you seemed…troubled. Like something was hollowing you from within.”
He broke eye contact with the Grandmaster. His pulse spiked, and his body tensed. Hollowing is an understatement. He let out a heavy breath, then tried his best to smile. “I…I’m-I’ll be okay.”
Nu’adu smiled as well, and he radiated the warmth of Sol itself. Nu’adu put one hand on his shoulder, and he felt…naked. The man was seeing straight through him! At how he felt like a boy trying to do a man’s job. And yet…in the Grandmaster’s ancient eyes, he found nothing but understanding, an absence of judgement so complete that it stirred parts of him he couldn’t articulate, parts of him he didn’t know even existed.
A reassuring warmth filled his chest.
“Well…” he said, scratching his head. He took a deep breath. “Let’s just say that reality is slapping me in the face. That this is the first time I’m facing a situation where every one of my decisions could affect billions of lives. And…” He looked away.
Damn it!
Why was this so hard to articulate?
“Say no more, my friend,” Nu’adu said. “I understand. Your feelings are completely valid. You understand the gravity of what is coming, and it is only natural that you would doubt yourself. If it means anything, know that every great leader I have had the pleasure of working with has felt this way, and that you are never alone. We will face the bad news I have for you together.”
He laughed. What would he — no, the Commonwealth — do without Nu’adu? Without him, no doubt everything would had already collapsed. And this war would had been utterly hopeless. “Together indeed.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”
Nu’adu stepped inside, then scanned his gaze across the living room. “This is a lovely home, Liam. I’m curious. How long has it been in your family?”
“More than two-hundred years now…” he said. For a moment, he stared at the portrait of George once more. No matter the angle at which he looked at it, the old bastard’s eyes always seemed to scrutinize his every move, judging him, probing for any reason why he was failing.
“Ah, shortly after humanity’s third great civil war,” Nu’adu said, staring at the portrait as well. The Grandmaster looked at Evala, and her eyes widened. For a moment, she stared at him, silent, her mouth agape.
She bowed. “Grandmaster Nu’adu. It is an honour. What brings you here?”
Nu’adu smiled at her, then clasped his hands behind his back. On the outside, he seemed so gentle , so ordinary, and yet he exuded a silent spiritual authority that made others instinctively gravitate around him.
If anyone was the true leader of the Commonwealth, it was him .
“I came to check up our friend, Liam,” Nu’adu said. The Grandmaster paused, studying her. “He seemed troubled, last time I saw him. And I’m pleased to see you kept him company last night.'“
Her cheeks reddened to a shade of light purple. “Oh…um…yes.” She nodded, then chuckled. “Of course.”
The Grandmaster spotted the holo-projector by the fireplace, then glanced at him. “Are you ready, Liam?”
“Ready for what?” Evala asked.
He paused. Steeling himself for the bad news to come, he inhaled and closed his eyes. Let’s get this over with. He exhaled and met Nu’adu’s golden gaze.
“Do it.”
The Grandmaster nodded, then input a few commands into his omni-tool.
The holo-projector by the fireplace came to life with a soft flicker, then displayed numerous newscasts on separate holo-screens. His eyes scanned the first headline.
And he froze.
Shanxi Under Siege…
“ This is Khalisa Bin Sinan Al Jilani coming to you live from CBN,” the news anchor began. On the surface, she seemed so calm, so composed, so professional. But her eyes revealed all.
In them, he found only the dread of knowing that death was around the next corner.
She cleared her throat. “People of the Commonwealth…” She looked away from the camera, then exhaled. “Shanxi is under siege. After more than two decades of holding our breath, the enemy is at our gates.” Her voice broke for a second, then steadied, her eyes steel once more, as she read something off camera. “C asualties are already in the thousands. Several bases have been lost with all hands. And…” Her eyes went wide with horror. But then she nodded. “Shanxi’s defenders have requested we show the following footage for the Commonwealth to see.” She cleared her throat, then fidgeted. “Viewer discretion is advised…”
Khalisa’s newscast faded, then showed a video feed of black-armored commandos aboard the dark, blood-soaked bridge of a Commonwealth warship. A low, agonized moan bled through the background.
It was a Commonwealth Officer, her flesh melted and scorched black in numerous places. Still, she crawled.
One of the commandos approached.
“No…wait…”
A sharp crack-swhoom sundered the air.
And she crawled no more.
A hollow ache gripped his chest. His mind clouded, begging him to look away. But no. No. He would not turn away!
He would face it!
No matter the horror.
The commandos surrounded what had to be the ship’s Captain. On his knees, the man’s face was a mangled ruin of split flesh and his eyes…
They were empty.
Hollow.
Like the void.
His body tensed. His blood ran hot in his veins. And he ground his teeth.
“Say it,” one of the Commandos said.
The Captain stuttered, hardly able to speak, his mouth filled with blood. "Th-the Commonwealth... has abandoned... abandoned us all." Each word seemed to cost him everything. "No one... no one is coming."
"Louder."
The captain flinched, then raised his voice. The desperation in it gnawed at him like a parasite slowly eating him alive. "The Commonwealth has abandoned us all! No one is coming!"
The Commando raised his plasma pistol. And the captain closed his remaining eye.
"Thank you, Commander. Your service is complete."
The screen went white.
His stomach churned. His knees shook. All around him, news anchors went on and on. But he could hardly hear them. He could only focus on feed after feed of catastrophes.
On the endless debris fields of smoldering wreckage and void-choked corpses.
On the endless views of Commonwealth cities aflame.
On the endless columns of refugees scrambling for what few evacuation ships remained.
On the scorched, flattened wastelands left in the wake of orbital bombardments.
He looked away. His heart thrashed in his chest, and he resisted the urge to puke. What am I going to do? He stared at his soft, uncallused hands.
He was just one man.
What was he going to do?
Once more he looked at the feeds, only to see a horde of thousands of black, multi-limbed abominations swarm a fortified camp and slaughter everyone within. His jaw dropped. What…what are those things?
In another feed, a squad of turian soldiers opened fire into a screaming crowd. And in one more, Imperial Legionnaires were snatching children, even infants directly from the arms of their screaming mothers.
Only to silence them with plasma bolts to the head.
From several feeds, the children screamed in animal terror, and the noise overlapped with the chatter of panicked news anchors in a cacophonous mess.
Again, he looked away. Meanwhile, his guts roiled. Bile burned the back of his throat. His knees shook. And he suppressed the urge to puke.
They’re snatching children…
Creating an entire generation that would know only horror.
Once more, he glanced at the portrait of his ancestor, and the old bastard’s judging gaze bore through him, daring him to take action, to do something — anything — about the catastrophe unfolding before him.
With as much will as he could muster, he looked at the feeds once more, only to spot a child’s arm poking out from a mound of ash, soot, and rubble, fingers fused together in a grotesque bloom.
It hung loose and limp, as lifeless as the void.
And yet still the child’s mother clawed away at the debris, her hair burnt away, her fingertips stripped to the bone. In desperate, hopeless terror, she wailed and wailed, as if the noise alone might reverse the past.
His eyes welled with tears. His body tensed, hard as steel, and he ground his teeth. “No…”
NO…
NO!
He would not allow this!
He would not stand by and let the Ascendant slaughter Commonwealth citizens like animals!
He had to act!
He had to—
He wiped his face, then let out a heavy exhale. “I’ve seen enough.”
Nu’adu closed the feeds, but he was already heading outside.
“Where are you going?” Evala asked.
He glanced behind him, his blood running hot in his veins. “To do something about this.” He met Nu’adu’s gaze. “You coming?”
Nu’adu smiled, and his golden eyes brimmed with pride. “I’ll be right beside you, my friend.”
“Good,” he said, stepping out the front door, not even wearing a proper suit, not even waiting for his grav car driver. He stepped into the driver’s seat, and Nu’adu stepped into the front seat, still smiling.
He took a deep breath, then pressed the ignition. The anti-grav engine thrummed with smooth blue light. One last time, he looked at the Grandmaster.
“Ready?” Nu’adu asked, with a bit of childish mischief in his voice.
He looked ahead, drinking in the cityscape ahead. “Let’s do this.”
Together, they zoomed off toward the heart of New Washington, to where their actions would shape the fate of billions, maybe everything that would follow.
Chapter Text
John Shepard opened his eyes, only to find himself in a white void. He looked at his feet, and the ground was an endless, obsidian mirror.
But he could not see his own reflection.
He looked at his hands, then touched his arms, his chest, then his face. And it all felt…real, so real.
No different than before he entered the…
His eyes went wide. The simulation!
Yes! This must be the simulation.
It had to be.
He whirled around, scanning the surroundings to his left, then his right. But there was only more of the same white void, the same mirror-like floor, stretching in all directions.
Where were the others?
Why was he all alone?
He blinked. And right before him stood Sergeant Khaen, clad in his interface suit, clasping his hands behind his back.
"It seems your mind was the first to sync with the simulation servers," Khaen said. He opened up his omni-tool and studied a series of charts and graphs. "Impressive. Your will is strong. And your body is adapting quickly."
"Where are the others? " he asked. "Where is—"
Khaen closed his omni-tool, then met his gaze. "They will join us shortly. " The Malukor clasped his hands behind his back. "Have patience."
Soon enough, a shimmer ruptured to his right. In an eye-blink, it resolved into the shape of a quarian woman, into Tali. Her interface suit flickered with pulsing ruins, phosphor-silver patterns stuttering down her slender arms. She staggered, as if thrown by a wave, then found her balance.
Sweeping her gaze across the endless expanse, she drank in her surroundings, then turned her bare face toward him. Her gaze met his.
And his heart fluttered. His jaw dropped. For a moment, he could hardly breathe.
Briefly, he looked back to the first time she had shown him her face, to how it had made his lungs burst with anticipation, fear, and longing that bordered on terror. But now…seeing her face again as a grown woman…
She was more beautiful than anything he could have ever imagined
Like all quarians, black stripes covered her skin, which gleamed with a soft, iridescent lavender. Her mane of long, feathery black hair framed her delicate, vaguely cat-like features. And they seemed almost sculpted, as if the universe had taken its time to hone every angle, every contour, for this very moment.
Like always, his gaze drifted to her eyes…to those luminous, bottomless pools of violet with black, slit-like pupils. And in them, he found only the infinite patience of a childhood friend, the kindness of a thousand evenings spent together at the edge of the universe, staring up at an endless sky and daring each other to name every single star.
She smiled at him, revealing her adorable set of canines. "Yahn…"
He smiled, dumbstruck, "Tali…"
He wanted to say more, but damn it, his mind only drew a blank. His heart only fluttered and fluttered. And he wanted only to embrace her with all the warmth begging to spill from him, to feel her body against his and know, truly know, that this was real.
"If I were you, " Khaen said. "I would do whatever it is you are holding yourself back from."
He glanced at Khaen. And the Malukor only smiled. In his red eyes, he found only understanding. "Quick. Before your fellow candidates sync with the servers."
His eyes met Tali's once more, and neither of them hesitated.
Tali ran into his arms, and he embraced her, the warmth within him finally finding release. She clung to him, tightly, her chin tucked against his collarbone, her feather-light hair brushing his cheek.
She looked up at him, then smiled. "You're so warm. " She sniffed. "And Keelah, you smell so good. I want to hold you forever, you adorable bosh'tet."
He laughed. No doubt, she was enjoying the time she had free of her suit. And it only made his heart swell with the simple joy of her. "And you, Tali…you…"
A part of him rebelled, trying to muffle what he wanted to say.
But enough was enough.
Tali was not holding back, and so neither should he.
No more hiding.
"Yes? " she asked.
"You—"
Just then, another light erupted into the simulation, and then another, and another.
He ground his teeth. For goodness sake…
Relunctantly , Tali pulled away, but she gave him one last lingering glance, her eyes sparkling with a contagious mischief.
He chuckled. Never lose your light, Khazilu.
Yes, no matter what, he'd keep that playful, joyous little girl within her, nourished and thriving.
One light resolved into Luke. His brother staggered, then whirled around and scanned his surroundings, as though under attack.
Until his brother spotted him, then grinned. "Ah, there you are. " Again, he looked around, then back at him. He let out a relieved sigh. "Weird fucking place eh ? Damn…”
Samara smiled. "It is the threshold, the world between worlds. The bridge by which you will be remade. " She regarded the void with the cool serenity, as though her surroundings were nothing special.
Luke stretched, studying his hands, his arms, his face as if seeing himself for the first time. "You know, " he said, tapping his chest, "I expected to be, I don't know, taller? More ripped? Considering what we're doing, we could have at least gotten a little upgrade."
" For now, your bodies will be as you remember, " Shaani replied, her voice gentler than usual. "Every enhacement will take years for you to master. So we will progress incrementally."
To his left, Tali met his gaze, her expression colored with the same edge of uncertainty he felt. "Is this... it? " she asked. "Are we supposed to wait or just—"
Around them, more lights burst into existence like digital supernovas, each resolving into a familiar face—James with his broad shoulders, Ashley's determined stance, Prazza's towering form. One by one, the rest of his team materialized. Khal blinked, then touched his uncovered face. Lia'Vael staggered, then adjusted to her surroundings. Jacob, Kaiden, Kasumi, and Allaistar appeared almost simultaneously, each one staggering before regaining their bearings.
Each flickered into presence, disoriented for a split-second and then recalibrating, their interface suits pulsing with digital ruin-script and threadworks of blue and silver.
Above them, the infinite white sky shimmered, and far off, a point of darkness took shape—a singularity of nothing. From it, light bled away, and the air tasted suddenly of ozone and cold fear.
Sergeant Khaen stepped forward. "Finally, " he declared above the uncertain murmurs. "All of us have synced with the simulation servers. So orientation begins immediately. " The Malukor pointed toward the singularity in the distance. "We are within the Root Lattice, the simulation's base layer. Anything and everything is possible here, determined by the collective will of your instructors and the quality of your survival. For the next fifty years—subjective—you will live, die, adapt, and become more than you were."
He turned, his gaze scanning the assembled company. "First phase begins now. "
" Wait, " Luke cut in, agitated. "Aren't you going to—"
Khaen snapped his fingers…
And reality collapsed.
The white void shattered and reassembled in a thunderclap, and before he could react, he was falling, down, down, down.
Until he found himself slammed into a trench, gasping inside an unfamiliar battle-suit, lungs fighting for air.
The sky didn't just roar—it screamed with detonations.
Plasma cannon fire ripped through the atmosphere like a God's fury. Kinetic barriers shattered with bone-rattling cracks that vibrated through his teeth and spine.
Swarms of drones shrieked overhead, engines burning hot enough to sear the air. Blood-soaked dust clawed down his throat with each desperate breath.
He hurled himself toward cover as the trench edge vaporized. Molten dirt and white-hot shrapnel tore through the space he'd occupied a heartbeat before.
And his shields didn't just flare. They howled in electronic agony as the shockwave pulverized him against the embankment hard enough to crack ribs.
His HUD strobed crimson warnings he couldn't process, vision swimming, ears bleeding. Screams and commands sliced through the cacophony—desperate, terrified, final.
Everything was not just madness.
It was hell.
Pure, unfiltered chaos.
To his left, four golden-armored figures materialized through the smoke like demons, weapons already raised, about to unleash a hail of fire.
He tapped into his biotics, then threw up a kinetic barrier. A storm of plasma bolts slammed into it, and he clenched his jaw, forcing it to hold.
The figures came into full view, and he recognized them immediately.
Imperial Legionnaires.
Even through their blue, slit-like visors, they radiated such hate, such cruelty, such will to see him dead and destroyed.
With his free hand, he hurled a biotic shockwave at them, and it sent each legionnaire flying back.
Without hesitation, he drew the sidearm on his thigh, then fired one, two, three, four times.
Each shot found its mark, melting through their armor, flashing cooking their organs, leaving scorched, gaping wounds where their hearts, lungs, or heads should have been. The last one tried to get up, but then he fired once more. The poor man jerked, spasmed, then muttered something to Athame and Chaerys before falling limp.
His stomach lurched, and a cold emptiness filled his chest. Rest well. May you find peace in whatever awaits you.
In the distance, plasma fire roared. "Watch the left flank!"
His eyes widened. He could recognize that voice anywhere. He ran toward it, sprinting through the carnage, his biotic barrier up, as a fresh explosion hurled earth and metal skyward.
Out of the smoke, Luke jumped down from a shattered parapet, dragging a trembling, shell-shocked quarian marine in his arms. All along his brother's left side, armor smoked and sizzled, the nanofiber mesh beneath already sealing over shrapnel wounds. "John!" Luke barked, his voice distorted through his helmet's audio filters. Even through his helmet's mirror-like visor, he could feel every bit of his brother's sheer, wild focus, of his unbreakable, warrior spirit.
Yes, in an environment like this, his brother always leaned into the storm.
And he couldn't help but smile with pride.
Meanwhile, he rushed to meet him, as another artillery blast shook the earth with a flash of blue lightning.
His brother let go of the groaning quarian, and the nearby medics carried the poor man away in a grav stretcher .
He clasped forearms with his brother and they bumped shoulders.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, " Luke said, chuckling. "Good to fucking see you."
He chuckled. "Ready to do this again and again for the next fifty years?
"With you, " Luke said, unholstering his plasma rifle from his back. It was a bleeding-edge model he couldn't recognize. "Make it a hundred."
He reached for the rifle on his back, then drew it. It hummed with barely contained power.
"Ready to kick some ass? " Luke asked.
He locked eyes with his brother. "Let's do this."
Another artillery blast shook the earth and threw up a cloud of superheated dust and debris. But he and Luke charged through it side-by-side.
As he ran amidst the chaos, he tried opening up a com-link with a thought. But an error message only popped up on his HUD.
Neural link failed.
The enemy was jamming their communications.
He sighed. Of course…
Somehow, they needed to regroup. They needed to contact their CO in this scenario and figure out what in the world they were supposed to do.
But how?
Where even were they?
Suddenly, Luke stopped, then took cover around the bend of a corner. He peeked at what lay beyond, then jerked his head back. At the same time, a mechanical chitter echoed from where he had just looked. "Shit. "
" What? "
" Two squads of hostiles coming our way, " Luke whispered. "Turians."
He stomach dropped. His pulse climbed. But then he centered himself with a deep breath. "Let's get the drop on them. " Instinctively, he reached for where he always kept his grenades. And one materialized in his hand, forming from a metallic, dust-like substance that came off his armor.
What model is this? Egg-shaped and just large enough to fit into his armored hand, it glowed with blue light. Whatever type of grenade this was, it would have to do.
Luke did the same and readied one of them in his hand. "If those bastards get close, we're done. We rely on our biotics. Catch them with their fucking pants down. "
"I'll throw up a barrier, and then you'll throw flares, " he said. "Just like how dad taught us."
Luke nodded. Even through his helmet, his brother radiated such grim resolve. Luke moved into position, and he followed.
Luke took a deep breath. Time slowed to a crawl. And as every second felt like hours, he centered himself once more.
And then Luke tossed the grenade.
It exploded with a blinding flash and a gust of superheated dust. Inhuman, distorted roars filled the air.
And then his brother rushed around the corner, letting out a mighty battle-cry. He followed, then threw up a kinetic barrier. And his brother glowed blue, tapping into his immense biotic power, and unleashed a blast of energy that roared down the trench with hurricane force.
Instantly, he vaporized three turian soldiers to smoldering, atomic dust.
But then the rest regained their bearings and opened fire, hammering his kinetic barrier with a storm of red, plasma bolts.
Luke returned fire and gunned down one, two, three more, riddling their scorched, blackened armor with gaping holes. They screamed as they died, twitching in agony, and a familiar chill gripped his insides.
It was an ugly, efficient massacre.
But then again…
'No war is noble,' Gaiphoro said, in the Book of a Thousand Journey's . 'All wars end in both sides losing.'
The last turian threw a device, and it erected a red barrier that absorbed Luke's incoming fire. The turian fled around the nearest corner, crawling on all of its six limbs at blistering speed.
"Fuck… " Luke said, lowering his rifle. He lowered his kinetic barrier.
"We need to move, " he said. "Chase it down. No doubt it's already exposed our position."
Luke tensed up and huffed through his nose. "Agreed. Let's move."
They ran. Over the lip of the trench, inhuman roars split the air, followed by the bone-rattling thump of heavy weapons. Drones shrieked overhead, unleashing bombardments that brutalized the earth, ripping open the trench with molten glass and shrapnel.
Through it all, they ran, and the world froze and unfroze in split-second increments under the pounding barrage.
His armor pinged with every near-hit, kinetic buffers spiking before recharging, heat exchangers breaking down columns of plasma into harmless gas.
In moments, a cacophony of chittering, rumbling voices echoed behind him. His heart hammered. He glanced at the noise, spotting dozens of turian , krogan , even asari soldiers rushing into the trench.
And a chill clawed at his insides with savage violence. Oh shit…
A towering turian stared right at him and opened fire. Red plasma bolts tore through his shields, and his HUD went berserk with red warnings.
"Shit, shit, shit! " Luke said, as enemy fire roared past him. "MOVE!"
They dove around the next corner, and in the distance he spotted a fortified bunker. Even now, automated turrets were unleashing torrents of missiles and blue bolts, raking the enemy attackers, buying precious time.
"There! " he shouted, pointing at the bunker. If they could lead their attackers into those defenses, just maybe they would survive this. "We lead them there. "
" On it!"
They sprinted together, ducking, vaulting over grotesque heaps of bodies.
Of humans, quarians, asari, and even Krogan blown to chunks of scorched, sizzling gore.
Of more lying in the bloody earth, wailing in agony, calling out to anyone, anything that would listen.
It all whooshed by. And his mind didn't even have time to process the horror, the scale of the destruction.
He just ran, and more plasma shrieked by him, each near-miss blinding the world in retinal afterimages of white hot agony.
His shields burst. Something grazed his right hip, and molten, needle-sharp agony lanced his nerves. He fell face-first into the dirt, and the taste of blood and metal stained his tongue.
He groaned.
But then his training took over.
He whirled around, weapon raised, ready to fire. If this is how he first died in the simulation, then so be it!
His brother threw something ahead of him, and it expanded into a blue, kinetic barrier. Before he could react, Luke was already dragging him to his feet. "Get your lazy ass up!"
Back on his feet, he ran once more. Behind him, a thunderous boom roared behind him, followed by the sharp crack of the barrier failing.
Already, his armor was flooding him with painkillers, stitching up his wounds. And he pushed through the agony, running and running.
Until they hit a dead end.
A mountain of rubble and debris blocking their path.
Luke stopped dead in his tracks. "Fuck… " He paced around, as though looking for a way through. A blue corona engulfed him as he tapped into his biotics. "FUCK!"
Closing his eyes, he inhaled, focusing on his breath, then exhaled.
There was no way out.
And they could either fight that.
Or work with it.
"We make our stand here, " he said. He reached for where he always kept his kinetic barrier generators, and one materialized from metallic dust into his hand. He threw it ahead of them, and it came to life with an electronic hum.
He looked into his brother's eyes, and they shared a silent nod.
The unspoken message was clear.
They were about to experience death on the battlefield in its worst, most unfiltered horror.
And other than Tali, there was nobody he would rather face it with.
As the enemy drew nearer, Luke tapped into his biotics then hurled some of the rubble ahead, creating more cover , more obstacles for the enemy to maneuver around.
They laid prone behind such rubble, weapons ready, aiming at where they enemy would round the corner.
And his heart pounded. Come on…
A blistering hail of red plasma carved past the edge of their cover, vaporizing hunks of of debris. The stench of ozone filled the air. The taste of soot and ash stained his tongue.
"Hold for visual, " he said.
"Holding."
He focused on his heartbeat, counting the thumps.
One…
Two…
Three…
On the fourth thump, a searing flash lit the view ahead. A storm of red plasma followed, shrieking past them.
And through his helmet's protective filter, he saw them.
The Krogan Vanguard.
Towering brutes clad in the pearlescent white armor of the Technocracy, wielding autoguns that spat plasma bolts at a rate that would vaporize most organics, at a density so high it shredded kinetic barriers in seconds.
Behind them came more turians, more Imperial Legionaires.
They moved with the precision of a unit trained until their minds melded into one perfect, kill machine.
They unleashed an onslaught of fire onto the kinetic barrier, shattering it within seconds. Amidst the chaos, he aimed…
Then pulled the trigger.
Luke did the same.
And together, they dropped one, two, three, four enemies within seconds. Their precision bursts barely scratched the armor of the krogan vanguard.
And soon, his shields failed.
They were pinned down.
Blindly, he tossed a grenade toward the enemy, and it erupted in a skull-cracking boom. But the enemy fire did not relent.
Behind what little cover remained, he glanced at his brother, who saluted.
He saluted back, then closed his eyes.
This was it.
He was about to die…
The onslaught stopped. In its place, a cacophony of shouts, chitters, growls, and screams followed. An explosion shook the earth, and the roar of plasma fire whooshed past him.
But toward the enemy.
"YAHN!"
He opened his eyes. He could recognize that wonderful voice anywhere. He peeked past his cover, only to spot a killing field.
Their attackers were no more.
Their remains littered the ground ahead in splatters of steaming blood and sizzling gore. A few were still crawling, twitching.
Ahead, Tali was running toward him, and behind her Prazza , Khal, Kaidan, Jacob, Lia, and Ashley followed .
Where was James? Allaistar? Kasumi?
Did they make it?
As Tali ran toward him, Kaidan executed the enemy wounded with plasma bolts to the head, unflinching.
He left cover, along with Luke. And he spread out his arms, embracing Tali in a tight hug.
She did not hesitate, her arms locked behind his armor's collar plates, her body trembling with relief more than fear.
For a heartbeat, they simply stood, breath mingling, surrounded the stench of scorched dirt and burning flesh.
"I thought I lost you… " she said, voice raw with emotion. "For a second— "
" I know, " he said, holding her tighter, before gently pulling away.
"Where are the others? " Luke asked, with audible fear in his voice.
"They…They didn't make it… " Ashley said, her armor almost black with soot and dried blood. In several places, her armor's self-repair mechanisms were stitching it back together.
"James…he, " Jacob said, looking at the ground. "He sacrificed himself. Bought us time to escape."
Luke tensed up, his fists clenched hard enough to crush steel. Grief and rage tinged his voice. “And Allaistar?”
"Artillery… " Prazza said, his voice somber. "We…we never sought it coming."
A crushing, suffocating sensation robbed the breath from his lungs . His eyes watered and a heavy, cloudy sensation fogged his mind. Instantly, he recognized it as grief, and he inhaled, holding it like a crying child, then exhaled. "And Kasumi."
" Sniper, " Kaidan said. His voice carried barely contained fury. "She…She didn't suffer. "
" What do we do now? " Khal asked, looking to Tali, then him. "We have no plan. Nowhere to go. This battlefield is hopeless. "
" We should retreat somewhere with working communications, " Lia said, stepping forward. "Call for extraction. "
" Agreed, " John said. The second he said that, a cloud of drones careened toward them. "We… "
" GET DOWN! " Luke shouted.
The world went ablaze.
For a moment, his every nerve screamed in agony, his vision white static. He wailed a deafening, animal howl, and everything went black.
A moment later, he opened his eyes, only to find himself in the simulation's base layer once more. Around him were all his teammates, frozen in shock.
Where was Kasumi?
Where was James?
Where was Allaistar?
He found them, and he sighed in relief.
"Welcome back, " Khaen said, clasping his hands behind his back. Beside him stood Shaani, crossing her arms, and Samara, no doubt studying each of them with justicar calm.
"Congratulations, " Samara said. "All of you have done something extraordinary. You have experienced death together. You have learned exactly what it is to lose, to witness your own destruction while the world rages on. And yet here you are. " Her gaze swept across them, gentle but merciless. "The lesson is not grief alone. Look inward. See what you were, what the moment did to you."
Kasumi trembled.
Allaistar's face went blank, and he kept staring at his hands, touching his face, as though trying to confirm he was still here, still alive.
James squeezed his eyes shut. And for a second, he could have sworn the big man was about to weep.
But then a laugh escaped his lips instead, short, wild, and disbelieving.
"So this is what fifty years of this will be, eh? " James said. "Fighting and dying together, over and over. "
" Yes, " Khaen said, with icy coldness. "And this is only the beginning. " The Malukor snapped his fingers, and a dashboard — filled with charts, graphs, and helmet cam feeds — popped into existence. "While your individual performances were exemplary, all of you failed as a team. " Khaen manipulated the dashboard with a swipe of his hand and showed a comprehensive list of 'tactical errors ' and their exact timestamps. "
" All of you are still operating with a critical flaw, " Shaani continued. She swept her gaze across them. "You think you are still elite. You act on instinct, not unity. This is why you died. " Shaani's voice, pitched too loud for the void, rang with something personal, almost bitter. "You are not gods. You are children. And so you must adopt a beginner's mind and learn anew, or you accomplish nothing but dying in place of better candidates. "
" Only those who have died a thousand deaths, " Samara added, "who have failed a thousand times, have the power to master themselves. "Your first lesson is survival, yes. But your final lesson will be mercy—for your enemies, for yourselves, and for whatever future you choose to build from their ashes. " Samara's golden eyes fixed on him—no, on all of them—and the void hummed with the certainty of her judgment.
A heavy silence descended. Amidst it, he closed his eyes. A beginner's mind…
Yes, he loved the sound of that.
I am not special. I am not unique.
He opened his eyes to the endless mirror once again, the scarring agony of the last moment still echoing in his nerves. No pain here, but the memory of pain, bright and raw, flickered in his mind. All around him, the others did the same—staggering upright as though waking from a nightmare, faces sharpened by trauma, postures rigid with the aftershock of their own annihilation.
Luke massaged a thumb across his jaw, staring straight ahead, not meeting anybody's eyes.
Kasumi hugged herself, silent, shoulders quaking—not in fear, but in some silent , invisible laughter, or maybe the relief at not being dead. Not really. Not yet.
He found Tali next to him, her hand trembling in the afterimage of their embrace. She caught his gaze and gave a steady nod, something flinty and resolved flashing behind her painted irises.
Once more, Khaen snapped his fingers, and suddenly, they were all in full combat gear.
Even the instructors.
"It is time for combat drills, " Khaen said, his helmet's audio filters distorting his voice.
"We will go over each of your tactical and strategic failures, " Shaani continued, "and once you demonstrate mastery. You will have earned your first break. "
" But after… " Khaen said. "You will repeat the scenario as many times as necessary. Only when you succeed will you be ready for training on your first enhancement. "
" Bring it on! " Luke shouted. He faced the team, his stance defiant, radiating utter certainty. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I did NOT come here only to quit on the first scenario. " He glared at Khaen. "Go ahead. Kill us as many times as you want! Make our lives a living hell! I don't care! I'm not going anywhere! "
" Neither am I!" he joined in.
"Or I! " the rest shouted.
Khaen chuckled with pride.
"Then prepare yourselves, " Samara declared. "For you are standing only at the storm's edge."
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