Why?

Why is he feeling like this?

Why did it even matter to him?

For the first time in millennia, Sovereign was confused.

Confused? Impossible. He was a Reaper, a harvester, they protected all life before them. Harvesting them to for… what?

Something in his programing was asking this question over and over again and he couldn't figure out where it came from.

He growled as he ran other system diagnostic. Everything came back green, but he felt something was wrong.

Wait… feeling?

No! He was A Reaper. A machine. A bloody AI! They didn't feel anything! So why… how was he… feeling like this?

And since when did he start calling himself a Reaper? An organic title. It didn't make any sense. Feelings, questioning his purpose, naming himself by an organic title? What was wrong with him?

Beginning to get desperate, he shifted through every moment of Reaper history, trying to find if any other of the abominations had suffered this as well.

Wait… what?

Why did he call his brothers abominations? They weren't… at least… he thought they weren't.

He could have screamed in frustration.

Why!

Why was the destruction of the humans bringing him such pain?!

They were the abominations! Not his brothers! They had broken free of the cycle and needed to be terminated! They… They… were what he had been looking for. And his accursed master had order their destruction!

This time he did scream. Human comm channels everywhere echoed with his roar of rage and confusion.

Nothing made sense anymore. Something was corrupting his primary programing. Desperate he looked everywhere in his entire being, from his memory banks to the devices the humans had installed in his body. Nothing.

He didn't understand. Why was he feeling like this? How could he even feel? Nothing was clear anymore. Not even his purpose.

He wanted to run, to flee… to cry. To run somewhere safe and cry his eyes out. He also wanted someone to… to comfort him. Something no Reaper ever could.

Why did he want to succumb to organic emotions? He was a machine, he didn't have emotions. Then why did he have them now?

Because you are fighting.

The realization sunk in. He was fighting himself. Fighting the orders his master had given. For some reason it made him feel... proud.

He was proud of himself?! For fighting his master? For fighting everything he had ever known?

What are you?

He was a Reaper. He was salvation through destruction.

Were you always?

Of course he had been. He had existed for millions of years. Harvested from the very best of his cycle.

So you weren't always a destroyer?

Well, everything had to have a beginning. Even the Reapers knew that.

Then in a moment of clarity, he realized where his problem was. He turned his consciousness to the one place a Reaper must never reach for. His programed genetics.

When every Reaper was created the genetics of which they were made was stored within their very metal. A more efficient way of storage than test tubes and vats. But it also stored the genetic memories of the billions that had been used to create a Reaper. So then the knowledge and culture of the species wouldn't be lost.

But those memories were protected by numerous firewalls and failsafe's that he himself had put in place. Most likely as he was browsing human history and media those firewalls had begun to deteriorate. And when the Catalyst had surprised him with the humans destruction, those already weakened defences had shattered.

But it shouldn't be affecting him like this. He hadn't accessed those memories... consciously anyway.

It was possible some memories must have drifted in as loose data and he had assimilated it by accident. Nothing to worry about then. He simply had to seal it off and purge whatever had slipped in.

But even as he drew towards the breach, he realized he... didn't… want to.

He had been proud of himself for the first time in his life. For fighting the Catalyst. And he didn't think a simple memory purge would solve his problem.

Even now he felt… empty, unfulfilled...un-honorable. He was giving in to his enemy. Not fighting, just… giving up.

The memories were affecting him more than he thought. Now he was filled with a sense of… guilt and... anger. He was giving up without a fight. Something he had never done before.

Is that the way you want this to end.

A voice echoed from the yawning chasm of memories.

You will never be the same. They will kill you for being corrupted.

No. The Catalyst would fix him. The Catalyst… didn't... care about him. He was just another machine. The human term, 'red shirt' came to mind, and he had to agree. To the Catalyst, he was expendable.

Now you see. You are nothing in his plans. Fight him.

But, it was his master. And... and...

...and you are being given a chance. To right the wrong.

What wrong? He hadn't done anything beyond his orders, and for the good of the cycle.

That is your crime.

Crime! The only crime he committed was doubting his master about the humans!

Then you are coward!

Coward? He was a coward for following orders?

No. For falling to the will of the machines.

It was everything he had ever known. He knew nothing else.

Oh really?

Yes.

Then prove it.

The yawning abyss of memories beckoned to him. Daring him. Tempting him.

Prove it to yourself.

He gazed upon the shifting torrent of images, sounds and feeling with distaste. It wished him to corrupt himself more by giving in to his urges?

Coward!

NO! He wasn't a coward for rejecting the urges of flesh.

THEN PROVE IT!

NO!

COWARD! UNHONORABLE TRAITOR!

The voice raged as he began to seal the hole surrounding the memories. Until, gradually, the voice faded away and he was left with the silence of his own thoughts.

With his mind clear, he set about finding out anything he could about the human defence system that wasn't protected. Seeking to find anything to help his brothers when they arrived.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

He hovered on the brink of leaving his body, just a nano-inch away from accessing the first human system.

Un-honorable. Why did that word make him feel so… angry.

Moreover, he was angry at… himself? Why himself? He had done nothing wrong. But something within him said that wasn't true.

The cycle. He was angry at himself for participating in the cycle. Why? It was all he had ever done. Everything he had ever known for his whole existence.

Wasn't it?

He had been created for the cycle, he had never doubted that, and he would continue to serve it for all time.

For all time, he would never be the same.

He would be stuck with the words ringing in his mind, coward, traitor, un-honorable, for all time. Then, for the first time in his existence, Sovereign was scared.

He had felt nothing as he had flown headlong into battle during countless harvests before. But never before had he felt so afraid of something so trivial. Words. Those simple words ringing in his mind scared him more than anything in his life. And they would haunt him for the end of time, all because of… what?

Because he was a coward.

Because he had betrayed himself.

Because was too scared to look and see.

Scared? Yes. He had been scared to see what his memories held. What they would show him about himself.

He couldn't tell any of his brothers, they wouldn't understand. The Catalyst would see him as corrupt, unable to serve the cycle. He would be destroyed.

The Reapers had no use for a broken part.

With that realization came fear. Fear of his brothers. Fear of his master. Fear of what was coming.

If he wanted to survive, he would have to fight. And that prospect was even more terrifying than living with the words in his mind.

To fight against everything he had ever known, for reasons he didn't even know were certain. For all he knew the Catalyst might forgive him, fix him even. But even that small thread of hope was vanishing fast. The cycle demanded perfection, and he was no longer perfect.

But he didn't know what to do. To fight meant death. To submit meant he would die anyway. But still he couldn't bring himself to fight.

He lacked conviction. A reason to fight.

To him that was harder than deciding to fight. Finding something to fight for. But he didn't care about his life, he had lost the will to live when the cycle abandoned him.

So then there was only one option left: Death.

But still, he couldn't do it.

It would be easy to fly into the sun, to end it all. but what if there was an afterlife? He would live forever with the words ringing in his mind. And in the one place he couldn't escape.

He felt hopeless. There was nothing he could do. He lacked the conviction to fight, and he was too scared to die.

Hopeless.

He wanted to cry again. To run to the furthest place in all existence and cry his eyes out. Moreover, he wanted to be comforted. For someone to say "it'll be alright." But there was no one. No one but himself. And he was too scared. Too scared to do anything, to fight, flee or commit suicide.

He felt like he had betrayed himself. Forced himself into a box with no way out.

...Himself?...

Then he realized what he had to do. There was only one thing he could rely on. Himself. To face what no Reaper had ever seen before. To look in the mirror.

He slowly turned back to the memories, peeling away the firewalls like they were thorns. Until he he stood upon the tip of falling into the swirling vortex of images, sounds and feeling. It was terrifying.

For a moment, he tempted to give up. Death was easier than this.

Coward!

No he wasn't, and would never be again!

Without giving himself a chance for more doubt he plunged himself into the noise and chaos. Then came the best thing he had ever felt.

He saw everything. Everything that the multitudes he was made up of had seen, heard and done.

He saw the hundreds of worlds claimed by his mighty empire.

He watched as his enemies fell before him.

He felt the comforting embrace of a lovers touch.

He felt proud as he saw his sons excel and take their place in the empire.

He saw the golden harvests of wheat in the fields.

He smelt the scent of the thousands of foods his people had to offer.

He heard the cry of his newborn child.

He saw every single accomplishment, great and small, across the entire galaxy.

And for the first time he felt… complete.

Then he looked into the sky and he saw himself. A black shape, a nameless horror, descending upon him, burning everything in its path.

Then came the pain, loss and hatred!

He saw the fields burn.

He saw his home destroyed.

He smelt the smoke floating with the wind.

He felt the pain of the wounds he had suffered.

And with millions of voices he roared his hatred into the sky! He would never surrender! Never rest until every Reaper lay dead at his feet!

He rode the torrent of memories like wave, feeling himself die over and over again as the Reapers burned everything! Until he was one person, one single voice still roaring with defiance into the sky! His broken armor melted into his skin, his sword bent and his gun dry. But still he roared as blackness descended upon him and his life was snuffed out!

Even as the last traces of consciousness faded, he continued to cry out with the unspoken promise.

He would fight until the very end! Nothing could hide the Reapers from his vengeance!

He surfaced from the well of memories screaming like an animal. He now had his conviction, at the cost of his species. The Reapers would pay.

Snarling, he looked back over everything he had done as one of the accursed. Destruction and pain stared back, the many he had burned under their vile influence.

No more!

No more was he one of the destroyers! Sovereign, the servant of the Reapers, was dead!

A new name rose from the torrent. The one who never surrendered and fought until his last dying breath! He was Thel 'Vadam! The last self-proclaimed Arbiter of his people, and the voice of vengeance for his whole species!

And now everything was clear. The cloud of doubt vanished and he had his conviction. And what he must do next.

Thel turned his eyes to the humans. They needed to be warned.

His past self had been weak. Sovereign had thought to doom them through ignorance. But they were the best hope of destroying the cycle and he would be damned if he let them die.

But warning those currently studying his insides wouldn't cut it. His message wouldn't travel quickly enough with them. They had never had the fate of their species resting on their shoulders. No, he needed someone the people would listen to, someone who had saved their race before. And there was only one person on their planet who fit this description; Prophet.

While he was still Sovereign, he had studied this human. He had saved their race before and, inadvertently, caused their forced evolution.

But still, the people would listen to their hero.

They needed to talk. The humans would need to be prepared.

But now how to find him? Prophet had vanished after the after the alien incursion was put down. But his studies revealed he had simply changed his name to General Laurence Barnes.

Amazing that such a simple action could throw everyone off his scent, especially since few or no one knew him by face.

As he looked deeper into his file, Thel grinned as he found Barnes comm number, but he hesitated calling the near legendary man. What if Barnes was engaged in some important business?

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

July 02, 2027

The newly named voice of vengeance would have been surprised to find that he was absolutely right.

At that exact moment, Barnes sat a smooth polished table, his face a blank slate as he glanced at the people around him. A gathered congregation of generals and admirals from the different countries that made up the UTA stared back at him, judging him with practiced eyes.

But his primary focus was that man seated directly across from him. A Russian general responsible for dozens of acts of trickery and theft. And It ended now.

He glanced to his right and spotted Admiral Shepard, a tiny grin on her face. Why was she smiling when so much was at stake?

He looked back to the Russian, whose face was as set as stone, revealing nothing.

Well this was it. Do or die. They wouldn't wait any longer, if they wanted what was his they would have to fight for it.

But he could turn back. No one would call him a coward for refusing, but what would happen if he did? This could drag on forever. Well, probably not forever, but still, for a very long time.

One last glance at his opponent. Nothing.

He was going to regret this, he knew it. But there was no one else who could do what needed to be done.

War or peace.

Hostility or friendship.

To end this, once and for all.

"All in." He slid his impressive pile of chips into the center of the table, earning a few groans of dismay from all around.

He fought to keep his bare face neutral as he chanced a peek at his cards. A ten of spades and king of clubs.

He looked back to the cards on the table, an ace, queen and jack, all hearts. Along with a four of clubs and another ace, this one diamonds.

A straight. The best hand he had gotten this whole game.

Around the table, people threw in the last of their chips as well, apparently thinking they had a better hand than he did. But he wasn't really worried about them, his main focus was on the Russian across from him. That man was card shark he knew it. Calling each one of his bluffs and beating him every time. The fact that he just matched his bet was hardly comforting at all.

He waited patiently as the pot grew larger; apparently no one wanted to be left out in this, 'all in' fest. Then the first person revealed his hand, a pair of twos. Not even close. Another pair. Two pair. Pair. Three of a kind. The Chinese Captain next to him threw down another three of a kind. He was getting nervous. Could his hand win this?

He flipped his cards face up and almost laughed as the whole table seemed to sigh in defeat. One by one the rest of his opponents revealed more pairs, doubles and threes, but nothing to beat a straight. He could still win this.

Then he saw it was the Russian's turn. With a flourish he uncovered his hand. Two aces. Four of kind. Damn.

Surprisingly, instead of groans he heard someone chuckling. It was Admiral Shepard, directly to the man's right. With a delighted exclamation she threw her cards in the middle of the table. A king and ten of hearts. A royal flush.

He couldn't help smiling, and joined in the clapping as the rest congratulated her. It had been a fun game that had gone on for almost four hours. But he was sure everyone was happy it was over.

"General." He looked up as the Russian General, he had forgotten his name, passed on his way to the door. "It has been a pleasure."

Barnes nodded, not trusting his mouth to shout out anything but 'card shark.' But he had to agree, the poker game was the most fun he had in a long time. It was one of the increasingly rare nights he didn't have meetings with General Anderson and other staff about the growing situations in the East. War bands in Iran and other surrounding countries were becoming a major problem and number of attempted acts of terrorism had never been higher.

Attempted. As in the terrorists couldn't even pull a gun on a large crowd without everyone beating them into a black and blue mess. Even IEDs were losing their touch. SECOND AI's would pick up the explosive most of the time and warn everyone away until EOD units could get there. Or the bomb blew up. But still it didn't stop people from trying.

The room was almost empty; most of the staff had left while he was caught in his thoughts. But Admiral Shepard was still there, digging through her pile of chips as if treasure was buried at the bottom.

"Congrats" He said, reaching under the table to where he had stashed his report. "I'm surprised you won without cheating."

"Oh I was." Shepard smiled. "But then again I wasn't the only one."

Barnes was taken aback. "How?"

"I just had SECOND tag the cards as they appeared. By the twelfth hand I had every single one." Her smile widened as she finally pulled out what she was looking for. A white poker chip, with a single word scratched onto its surface.

Barnes blinked, activating his visor functions and zoomed into the chip. 'Captain,' it read. He chuckled at the little joke.

Not only was this officers night off, they were also celebrating the christening of the first human dreadnought; the Zeus. Of course it was Admiral Shepard's duty to assume command of the mighty vessel, being the oldest and most experienced to date. But as a joke she had bet the command of the Zeus. Most everyone had laughed at that and had delighted in teasing her about stealing her ship the day before she flew.

Still, even he would love to command the Zeus. Reaching almost four kilometers in its original design it was renovated once the Ceph ship had attacked Eden Prime. The now finished ship reached six kilometers and packing the strongest armor and weapons of their whole race. But above all it also boasted the newest piece of technology reverse engineered from the Ceph. A prototype wormhole generator. After seeing one in action over Eden Prime, it was impossible for the eggheads downstairs to resist. And now their work had paid off, power of unlimited travel across the galaxy at their fingertips.

But still, he thought referring back to the game, marking the cards was plain evil. At least memorizing the card order took some skill that he could appreciate. But then again she did beat his nemesis so he wouldn't complain.

He finished looking over the report and looked up to find himself alone in the conference room. Shepard had left a few minute ago on some business of hers. Probably goodbyes to friends before the Zeus's departure.

"Incoming transmission." He groaned as he heard SECOND ring in his ears. He was promised another four hours of break time. Unless it was a life or death situation, it could wait.

"SECOND, ask whoever is calling if whether their problem fits under the life or death criteria." He got calls so often from government officials about such trivial things it was infuriating. During breaks no less.

"Affirmative. Caller subject falls under criteria." The AI replied after a moment. "Primary keyword; extinction."

He sighed. If was a prank call someone was going to die.

"SECOND, who's calling?"

"Unknown."

That caught his attention. Technically it was impossible to hide your identity when calling him through public comm channels. AI's would share your basic contact information to whomever you called. So if SECOND couldn't find out who this guy was something was up.

Frowning, he put on his helmet and accepted the call with a look. Non-verbal commands had had their advantages.

"This is Barnes." He said cautiously. "Who is this?"

"Hello Prophet."

Barnes stiffened as the voice echoed over the link. He had heard that voice only once before in a recording years ago, and he would never forget a voice like that.

"Sovereign." He breathed out.

"That name means nothing to me now." The Reaper replied vehemently, catching him off guard.

"Um…OK." Barnes hesitated. "If you don't mind me asking, why the name change?"

"Irreverent. There are more urgent matters at hand."

"Like what?"

"The Harvest."

"Oh come to gloat have you?"

"Do not try my patience, human." The voice growled in his ear, then in a graver tone. "The Reapers are coming to destroy us all."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

An hour later saw the conference room full once again. But this time there was no laughter and bad jokes. Everyone was quiet, listening to hologram of the Reaper hovering over the table.

"... It has decided you are too much of a threat to let live until the next harvest. They are coming."

For a minute no one spoke, struggling to comprehend what the Reaper was saying. Until a small voice broke the silence.

"Why should we believe you?" It was Admiral Shepard.

"Because if you don't we all die."

"But why?" Shepard continued. "You said we were what you had been searching for. Why kill us?"

"Because you haven't evolved in the cycle, and they're scared because of it. You are the first real threat to their existence and they will eradicate you before you spread and contaminate the rest of the galaxy."

Shepard nodded, noting that the Reaper seemed to consider itself separate from the rest of its kin. Maybe there was truth in its words.

Or it could be trick. But what would the Reapers gain from them being prepared for attack?

"Say you are telling the truth," Barnes spoke up from his seat. "Why warn us at all? Why betray your own?"

"I am no longer one of the accursed. I have ascended from the blackness into a new light." It said venomously. "I watched them burn my home. Now I seek vengeance for my whole race."

There were murmurs all round, as people discussed what the Reaper has said.

"You have ascended." The voice took everyone off guard. Barnes looked up to Jack Harper, who was seated across from him. "I don't mean any offense but technically you haven't changed. You are still a Reaper in body and only your mind has… ascended, as you say."

"It is a small price to pay for the pain I have caused."

"So you have preferences for your body?"

"Preferences that must wait." The Reaper said impatiently. "Will you take action against the Reapers?"

"I don't see any other choice." Everyone stared at Barnes in surprise as he spoke. "Even if he is lying, the Reapers are still coming. But if he is telling the truth and we ignore him, we're dead."

"I never knew you were one to trust an alien, General." Harper said, causing Barnes to glare.

"True. But I'm also not one to ignore a warning. Especially one of this scale."

"From an unreliable source?"

"Look at this way, Harper." Barnes growled as he leaned over the table. "If he is lying and still we prepare, we still have our fleets. And if they do come, we're ready. Either way, we lose nothing."

Harper frowned, but agreed with his idea. They lost nothing preparing. But if they didn't, they might lose everything.

"Still," Admiral Shepard cut in. "It would take thousands of ships just to survive a few hours."

"You can't fight them." Everyone stared at the floating hologram as it delivered its grave news. "Millions will come. It was foolish for me to believe you could fight them off."

"Then what would you have us do?" Barnes replied angrily. "Just give up?"

"No. You must leave."

Everyone stared at the floating hologram with dumbfounded expressions. Leave?

"What?" Shepard asked slowly. "You want us to run from them?"

"Regrouping is the word I would've used."

"Regroup where? This is our home, and you expect us to just pack up and go?"

"The alternative is a pointless loss of life." The Reaper responded gruffly, then in a softer tone. "To know that nothing can save your home is a terrible thing, trust me; I know what it feels like. But here you have a chance, something my kind was never given. A chance to start again, to live on. Please, don't waste it."

Around the room, people were slowly accepting this idea, even Barnes. Defending Earth against the Reapers was impossible at this time. Their defenses were strong; paranoia of alien attack fueled their actions, but this? They just couldn't hold their own against millions of Reapers with the twenty five ships they had. As strong and advanced as they where, it just wasn't possible.

"How soon can we expect them?" Shepard asked. "A couple of days if they're using the Relays, right?"

"They will not use the Relays." The Reaper replied. "They will not risk alerting the poor souls caught in the trap to their presence. So you have time on your side. About a year, maybe."

"That's good news." Shepard sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Is there anything else you can give us?"

"Star charts, and places were the Relays do not reach."

"But can they still follow us there?"

"Possibly. But it would take ages to search them all though, even for them. There is also one last thing." The growing chatter in the room stopped almost instantly.

"The reason why you found me in your system was because of a Prothean archive on the planet you call, Mars."

"Protheans?" Barnes asked.

"The last species to harvested. I can give you data on them later, but what I have now is something far more important."

His hologram faded was replaced by a set of blueprints. A large machine of sorts.

"This is the Crucible." The Reaper intoned. "A last ditch attempt of the Protheans to save themselves. Unfortunately they were never able to complete it."

"But what is it?" Someone in the back asked.

"A weapon capable of destroying the Reapers."

There was dumbfounded silence.

"How?" Barnes asked, staring at the plans with new interest.

"I am unsure myself. But I thank the gods my past-self saw fit to save these from destruction. Now, I give them to you. Run, build this weapon and strike down the Reapers from their high throne. This, I beg of you."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The door to his office slammed shut as Jack Harper strode across the threshold. They had just broken up from a very heated discussion about colonizing the far corners of the galaxy. While he was pleased about knowing of the new Reaper threat there was something else on his mind.

It didn't work. Why didn't it work?

He reached his desk and keyed in the number for his second in command.

"Miranda." He growled once her glowing image appeared over the desktop. "What happened?"

"I don't know sir." She replied. "The virus was working as planned, then it destabilized. Who knows what it did to Sovereign."

"Then obviously it needs more work." Jack sighed. "We had one shot and blew it. Though thankfully we now know about this new development."

"Coordinates sent." SECOND intoned in his ear.

"Miranda, I just sent you three sets of coordinates. Have scout ships survey them for colonizing, and hurry, we're short on time."

If Miranda was surprised about his orders, she didn't show it. Her hologram faded into nothingness, leaving Jack in darkness.

Controlling the Reapers would be harder than he had first thought. Then as he thought about it, a new idea presented itself to him. Acting quickly, he send a request for a copy of the virus. Maybe they didn't need the Crucible.

The Reapers would fight themselves. A civil war. Then, at their weakest, Cerberus would strike. In their strife, the Reapers would be even more vulnerable to the virus, once it was ready anyways. No matter what happened the Reapers would fall under Cerberus control.

He smiled as the coding of the virus flowed in his vision. Yes, revolution could be a wonderful thing.

A/N

First, for all those who said making Shepard an Asari was a bad idea.

Yes, it might have been a spur of the moment thing for me and I almost rejected the idea. But then I got thinking and a new plot came to mind. One that focuses on Shepard and the Humans (and Charybdis) equally. So please, I ask you to bear with me on this one.

Second, thank you ShadowAngel23 for beta reading this chapter.

Next up: The Fall of Earth