Chapter 55: Victory on Our Terms

Author's Note: This is it. We're done. It's been a long journey—even longer considering when Mass Effect 3 originally came out—but we've finally come to an end. A sincere and heartfelt thank you to everyone who stuck with me despite various delays to read my chapters and offered their reviews. You were what made this amazing journey possible! Further thanks go to Chris Dee, whose spellchecking, insights and suggestions were crucial to the success of The Hero Rises.

So what happens next? Well, I'll be taking a much needed break for starters. After that… I might still have one or two fanfics up my sleeve, which I'll start working on when time permits. For now, enjoy the finale of The Hero Rises. Have a Merry Christmas, a Happy Holiday and a Wonderful New Year!

I was this close to ending the war to end all wars. Victory was within my grasp.

But the cost… the cost might be too high. I looked at the Catalyst AI—because apparently the Catalyst wasn't just the Citadel itself, but an actual synthetic intelligence—which had inexplicably chosen to take the appearance of the kid I saw the day the Reapers began their invasion. The AI had told me that it had been tasked by the Leviathans eons ago to study the problem of organics and synthetics constantly coming to blows. Its solution had been to wipe out advanced civilizations and turn them into Reapers-starting with the Leviathans themselves. Now, after who knows how many cycles, it had decided that a new course of action was required. And it wanted me to make the call.

More importantly, I knew what I wanted to do, but I wasn't quite ready yet. Which meant I had to stall for time.

"All right, let's just run through the options again," I said. "You said I could end this war right now by destroying the Reapers outright. Every single one. Throughout the entire galaxy."

"Correct."

"But that would destroy every other synthetic in the galaxy as well."

"Yes. Along with potentially damaging or destroying all synthetic implants interfaced with any organic life form."

"Are you sure?"

"The chance that all synthetic life would be terminated is 89.927%. I have insufficient data to calculate the amount of damage caused to organisms that are only partially synthetic."

"Right. And you're okay with me destroying the Reapers? After all the time and resources you invested into building them, ordering them around and having them wreak so much death and devastation."

"It appears that allowing the Reapers to continue harvesting advanced species will no longer be sufficient to carry out my mandate. If you believe that their destruction is the best possible course of action, it is within your power to do so. However, all available data suggests that further conflict between creators and created is inevitable."

And we're back to that old chestnut. "How do I go about doing that?" I asked, sidestepping another philosophical debate that would go nowhere fast. "Do I have to shoot something or blow something up?"

In response, the Catalyst gestured at a faraway console. A large button flashed red.

"That's it?" I sputtered incredulously. "All I have to do to destroy the Reapers and end the war is press a stupid button?"

"It is more complicated than the activation of a simple mechanical interface, but that will suffice to initiate the process of Reaper termination."

Apparently the Catalyst AI believed in the KISS principle. (1) Either that, or it was dumbing things down for my sake. "All right. Now you suggested that I could also take over the Reapers."

"That is correct."

"You really think giving me the power of a god is a good idea?"

"I have insufficient data on divinity to answer that query."

"Okay, how's this: you really think giving me control over the Reapers is a good idea?"

"My feelings are irrelevant. I merely present this option as a possibility. Again, my mandate was to find a solution to the ongoing conflict between organics and synthetics. My efforts thus far have been… less than satisfactory."

No kidding. "You realize that your efforts have involved systematically wiping out countless species over and over again."

"Incorrect: I am fully aware of the number of life-forms harvested by the Reapers."

A chill ran down my spine at the matter-of-fact way in which this child-like facsimile spoke.

"Nonetheless, I will concede that an alternate course of action may be required. Your direct input may provide the necessary data I lacked thus far."

"Why me?"

"You have experience. Perspective. Both inherent in your organic potential and earned through your choices. By exceeding your physical limitations, you would become something greater. One who could protect and save the many. You would be able to harness the strengths of the Reapers to rebuild what has been lost. To give the many hope for a future, and a voice for that future. A future with limitless possibilities."

"Assuming I have the wisdom to use all that power responsibly," I pointed out. "Can you guarantee that? 'Cuz I sure as hell can't."

"I have insufficient—"

"Got it," I interrupted. "Look, let's say that I actually want to sacrifice myself to take control of the Reapers. How would I go about doing that? You got an altar standing by? Some lever to pull?"

The Catalyst pointed at the console again. A blue button began flashing next to the red one.

"Really?" I sighed. "Such a huge galaxy-changing event and that's how it would start?"

"Affirmative."

The Catalyst could be accused of many things, but clearly imagination was not one of them. "Fine. Whatever. But there's still one more option."

"Synthesis."

"Yeah. That. You seemed pretty hyped about that one."

"I experienced no such emotion—or any emotion, for that matter—when presenting that possibility."

Which was interesting considering it had just said it had feelings a moment ago. Granted, it then dismissed them as irrelevant. But I digress.

"Nevertheless, I can predict many positive outcomes from that decision. Organics and synthetics will be changed, and that change will bring an end to the war. But that is only the beginning. The Reapers will help you rebuild. They would give you unlimited access to all the collective knowledge of every culture they preserve. Organics and synthetics would be able to co-exist peacefully throughout the galaxy. Together, they could rebuild. Recover what was lost. Together, they could take their first steps into a new future. They could transcend mortality itself, ascending to a level of existence even I cannot imagine."

"That… is quite the sales pitch," I said slowly. "And let me guess: all I have to do is press a button."

Sure enough, a green button lit up. I had to resist the urge to face palm.

"Look," I said, "I gotta be honest with you: it's great that you're finally willing to admit that this endless cycle of slaughter—"

"Harvest and preservation."

"—slaughter isn't working," I continued firmly, as if I hadn't been interrupted. "It's amazing that you're willing to consider alternatives. And yeah, each of them has a bright side, from a certain point of view. But what if I tell you that none of them are good enough? What if I say the cost is too high and I refuse to choose any of them?"

"Then you will die knowing that you failed to save everything you fought for."

"But you don't know that, do you? For all your talk, for all your collective data and analysis, you don't know the first thing about me. I fight for freedom. My freedom. Organic freedom. Synthetic freedom. I fight for the right to choose our own fate. And if I die, I die knowing that I did everything I could to stop you. And I'll die free."

"If you die, the cycle will continue."

"Maybe."

"There is no doubt. The harvest of your species, and every advanced species, is at hand."

"Then the answer's quite simple, isn't it?"

The Catalyst cocked its head curiously. "I do not understand. What is this answer?"

"Miranda to Shepard. Installation complete."

It hurt to smile, but I couldn't help it. "To change the rules, of course. Let me explain…"

It was only a week ago that Operation Return began, though it felt like months had gone by. The allied forces of every space-faring civilization had joined forces to take back Earth, dock the Crucible with the Citadel and end his war once and for all. Hackett had come aboard to explain just how that would take place and my role in all of it.

What I did not expect was my mom and dad to come aboard as well.

They didn't come with Hackett and his entourage. But they did cross over from Hackett's flagship—the SSV Orizaba—at some point. I looked at them with surprise, delight… and, truth be told, a little bit of confusion.

Hackett spoke up first. "Admiral Shepard," he greeted my mom.

"Admiral," Mom said calmly.

"Dr. Shepard."

Compared to Mom, Dad was downright awkward. Social conversation was never really his forte. "Hi, there. Uh, sir."

Mom quickly rescued him before he could put his foot in his mouth. "We had hoped to exchange a few words with the commander before Operation Return commenced."

"Of course," Hackett nodded graciously. "Carry on."

We huddled together near the elevator. Mom. Dad. Me. Together. A lump grew in my throat as I thought of all the times I wished for this moment. All the dreams I had of the three of us together and how painful it felt when I woke up. Now that dream had come true… and I felt cheated again. Because how could I enjoy this moment on the verge of the most important battle of the war? A battle that I might very well not survive?

"How're you doing, Charles?" Dad wanted to know.

If he was one of my squadmates, or a member of the crew, or even someone about to go with me into battle, I'd probably trot out some inspiring line or phrase. Maybe an excerpt from one of those speeches I'd had to give over the years. Something that people would expect from Commander Shepard, First Human Spectre and Hero. But this was my dad.

"Fine, I suppose," I shrugged. "Trying not to worry about everything that might happen—with only moderate success. I just wish I knew what the Crucible would do."

"Um… yeah… about that… I, uh, I think I know. Not all the details. But enough to get the broad strokes. And, well, I'm not sure it'll work. Well, it will work. Only, it might work a bit too well. I mean—"

"Honey," Mom interrupted. "Why don't you just tell Charles what you told me. The third time."

Translation: Dad went through a couple dry runs with Mom before giving me the polished version. The more things change…

"Right," Dad nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay. The Crucible is basically a very large power source. When triggered, it can release a massive energy wave."

"And that energy wave does what exactly?" I asked.

"Well… that's where I lost your mother. How familiar are you with string theory?"

"Never heard of it."

"Oh. Um. Okay. Well, basically everything in existence is made of one-dimensional 'strings' that stretch throughout space and interact with each other. The property of these strings—mass, charge and so on—depends on their vibrational state. I believe the Crucible's energies can affect those strings. For instance, it could reduce matter to its basic molecular elements."

My eyes widened. "Um. You mean it could disintegrate everything? That sounds… bad."

"Oh, it won't disintegrate something like a planetary body," Dad reassured me. "Just everything on its surface. And the surrounding area."

"Still sounds bad," I managed. "So we were right: it is a weapon."

"That's one use," Dad allowed. "It could also reorganize matter into new arrangements and interactions, as opposed to breaking it down. Like I said, it depends on the output."

At this point, Hackett began speaking to the allied fleets. We silently agreed to put our conversation on hold until he finished, for a number of reasons. It really would be disrespectful to do otherwise. Hackett had earned a great deal of respect, both for his rank and his accomplishments. Besides, Dad had given me a lot to think about.

"All right," I said slowly. "I think I'm with you as far as the Crucible's ability to end the war, one way or another. How do the Citadel and the mass relays come in?"

"As you know, the Citadel and the mass relays form a galactic network. Furthermore, the Citadel itself is the control centre of every mass relay. When the Crucible fires, it channels that energy into the Citadel, which in turn transmits the energy through the mass relay network. By itself, the energy might only affect a single star cluster."

"But when transmitted through the mass relays, it would be able to spread throughout the galaxy itself," I realized.

"Precisely."

"Okay. What did you mean about it working 'too well'?"

"Like I said, the Crucible releases a massive amount of energy. The mass relays are incredible feats of engineering, but even they have their limits."

"Define limits," I requested.

"Remember your mission to the Bahak system?"

How could I forget? But I don't think Dad was referring to all the batarians I failed to evacuate from the system in time. I gulped as the image of Dr. Kenson's asteroid base crashing into the Alpha Relay came to mind. "Are you saying that the Catalyst could actually blow up the mass relays?"

"Theoretically it could overload their element zero cores," Dad confirmed. "Though not before they'd transmitted the Crucible's energy wave. The question is whether it would simply burn out key mechanisms or, yes, cause the relays to blow up."

"That's small comfort," I said dryly. "Sure, we might save the galaxy. But the survivors would be condemned to isolation within individual systems, cut off from each other. It could take generations before they found each other again and rebuilt any semblance of a galactic society. And that's assuming the mass relays don't explode and take out the system along the way."

"The cure would almost be as bad as the disease," Mom agreed. "Thankfully, your father may have found a few ways to soften the blow."

"Oh?"

"You remember that data packet you received after you destroyed the Collector base?"

"Yeah," I frowned, trying to dredge up the details. "It was tight-beamed to the Normandy just before the base blew up, actually. EDI thought it might have been sent from the Collectors, maybe as a final act of defiance. (2) Why?"

"Well, that data provided a fair amount of information on the Reapers. Most of it was information you could have gotten from a detailed scan—not that the Reapers would sit by long enough for you to complete such a scan. But there was other information as well. I've spend some time analyzing all that data. I think I've managed to isolate the quantum resonance frequencies that belong to the Reapers. Simply put, it should be possible to alter the Crucible's energy output to affect the Reapers—and only the Reapers."

"What about the husks? And all the other monsters the Reapers created?"

"Theoretically, anything that was significantly transformed by the Reapers would also be affected. I don't know what level of modification would qualify as 'significant,' though."

It was all I could do to jump up and down and cheer at the top of my lungs. "That would be great," I beamed. Then I remembered something and that grin slowly faded. "But we still have to think about the mass relays. Even if we could somehow get the Crucible to specifically target the Reapers, the potential damage to the network would still have all sorts of repercussions on the rest of us."

"I have some thoughts on that. And I think I have a solution. Remember when you went to Illium?"

"There were several times, actually," I told him. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"After the destruction of the Collector base. According to Admiral Hackett, you and your squad went to Illium to intercept a handoff between Cerberus operatives."

"Oh yeah," I said slowly. That was supposed to be classified, but I figured that wasn't really important right now. "I remember. Took a bit of finagling, but we managed to get our hands on the package: a bunch of OSDs containing a Prothean codex on mass relays." (3)

"Power regulation of mass relays, to be precise," Dad confirmed.

"Power reg—do you mean you could incorporate that in some way?" I whispered excitedly. "So it doesn't cause the mass relays to blow up?"

"Exactly!" Dad beamed. "Specifically, that information could help re-calibrate the Crucible's mechanisms, both to generate energy more efficiently and to discharge that energy in a form that's more compatible with the mass relays. It would start by—" he broke off when Mom gave him a look. "It would take way too long to go over the minutiae."

"Then don't bother," I replied. "Just give it to me straight. Short and simple."

"Okay," Dad nodded. The basic idea is this: the Crucible, as it stands, will work. That's the good news. The bad news is that it's indiscriminate and pumps out way more power than it needs to—which would result in a lot of collateral damage. My solution is two-fold: focus the Crucible so it only targets the Reapers, and modify the energy output to minimize the damage to the mass relays."

"Then we actually have a chance of pulling this off and living long enough to enjoy the aftermath," I said.

"Well…" Dad hedged.

Aw, crap. "What is it?"

"I haven't actually had a chance to make the necessary changes."

"Why? What are you waiting for? Just set up a link to the Crucible and upload whatever you need to do."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, I'm afraid. Yes, some software updates were required, but I've already taken care of that. The problem is that we need some adjustments to the overall hardware as well. I designed a customized controller chip that will make the desired modifications. But someone has to physically swap out the old chips with the new ones. That's where you come in."

"This would explain why I did not detect this potential during my initial scans of the Crucible," the Catalyst realized. "It required one final upgrade to unlock additional possibilities."

"Surprise!" I said, waving my hands for emphasis.

"Are you saying that you completed this upgrade? How? You were in no state to do so when I transported you into the Crucible. And you have made no such effort that I could detect during our conversation."

"There was no need to," I shrugged. "Dad already swapped out the controller chip on the Crucible before we left for Earth. The trouble was that we needed to change a second controller chip—on the Citadel itself. Like you said: the Citadel's not only linked to the mass relay network. It controls the whole thing."

"And you could not make that change because the Reapers seized the Citadel and moved it to Earth."

"Yeah. Which was another reason why we had to return to Earth and seize control of the Citadel. It wasn't just because we had to open the Citadel arms so the Crucible could dock. We needed access to the Citadel. Specifically, the master control unit." (4)

"I am aware of that unit. How did you access its internal mechanisms while physically here on the Crucible?"

"Easy," I smiled. "I wasn't the only one who could do so. Once my father finished gave me the schematics and programming for the controller chip, we made several copies using the Normandy's fabrication systems and computers. Then we divvied them amongst my squadmates. Theoretically, any one of us who had access to the Crucible could make the switch."

"Accessing files: you were not the only one who came to the Citadel via the transport beam. Two others accompanied you, not including the individual you refer to as the Illusive Man."

"That's right. Miranda was looking after Admiral Anderson after he suffered… serious injuries." I tried not to think about the fact that those injuries were inflicted by my weapon, thanks to TIMmy's efforts. "When I learned you were the Catalyst, and were intent on having a chat with me, I sent a message to Miranda. Her orders were to find a way to access the master control unit and swap out the controller chip with the one she had in her possession. Which she did."

"Now that you have done so, you intend to activate the Crucible and destroy the Reapers?"

"Do I?"

"The changes you described would not affect the Crucible's ability to give you command of the Reapers. Nor would it have a measurable impact on the Crucible's potential to bring about synthesis between organics and synthetics. The only option that would be significantly affected by the new controller chip, based on the information you provided, is the choice to destroy the Reapers. Furthermore, you have voiced your opposition to the Reapers and your disagreement regarding the way in which I used them. I therefore calculate a 99.958 percent probability that you will make that choice."

"Well," I said, spreading my hands, "when you're right, you're right. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a Crucible to activate."

It wasn't quite as easy as that. I had suffered some serious—well, let's be honest. I'd sustained life-threatening injuries. The fact that I was still upright, conscious and talking was amazing. It would take a miracle for me to actually stroll over to the Crucible's computer consoles, wave my hands and bring it to life.

In fact, that was the moment when my injuries and blood loss finally caught up with me. I know that because the next thing I knew, I was lying face-down on the floor. I was more than a little confused, given that I had no idea how I went from standing to prone. But that was nothing compared to everything else I was feeling. It was like the universe had decided to take all the pain and agony and suffering it had been throwing at me throughout my entire life and condensed it into one single, horrible moment. All that pain came crashing down on me at once—and the only thing I wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position and lie down.

I could have done that. I really, really wanted to just call it a day. But I didn't. I couldn't. Out there, in the cold vastness of space, there were people fighting and dying. Out there, at one point or another, there were people who were already dead. I owed it to the living and the dying. I had to make all their suffering mean something.

So I forced myself to push that pain aside, at least for a moment. I tried to rise, but my arms and legs just wouldn't respond—either because of the blood loss or the sheer agony I was feeling. Shifting my weight, I reached out and slapped my arm on the floor in front of me. Gritting my teeth, I forced my muscles, my nerve endings. And somehow, I managed to pull myself forward. Not by much—it was only a few centimetres at most. But it was a start.

Taking a ragged breath, I pulled myself forward again. And again. Because I was making progress towards my goal, no matter how miniscule it seemed. That progress gave me hope that I could make it. I needed that hope. Hope, and the faith that I could still activate the Crucible in time to save the galaxy—while there was still a galaxy to save.

Bit by bit, I dragged my sorry—and very painful—ass to the console. I don't know how long it took. I don't know how much blood I lost along the way. But somehow, through sheer determination, pigheadedness and hope, I got there. (5)

Pulling myself up, I found there were still three lights glowing, each representing a different option as presented by the Catalyst. "Please take this away," I requested. "I'd like to access the original controls myself."

Nothing happened at first. I wondered if the Catalyst would renege on its claims that it would give me the ability to make a choice—the final choice.

Then the lights flickered and faded away.

Resting my hands on the console, I was relieved that I could make sense of the controls. It may have been built primarily by the Alliance, and I had no small skill in computers, but to say I was a master programmer or technical expert would be an exaggeration. Still, I was able to figure out how to power up the Crucible. More importantly, I managed to program the Crucible's firing mechanism to discharge the needed energies to destroy the Reapers. The Reapers, their creations, and nothing else. Nothing else.

"I wonder," the Catalyst said, "how you are certain this is the right course. How do you know that organics and synthetics can co-exist peacefully."

"I don't," I admitted. "Not for certain. Not one hundred percent. But I believe your initial premise—that conflict between organics and synthetics is inevitable—that belief is flawed. People change. They evolve. And by people, I mean organics and synthetics. They can grow and learn from their mistakes. Sure, there'll be setbacks. People will falter. Make mistakes. Sometimes really bad, unbelievably horrible ones. But they can change. I've seen organics from different planets and different species put aside their animosities and work together. I've seen organics and synthetics reconcile their differences and move together as one. I've seen so many people from so many backgrounds strive towards a common goal.

"The Reapers never saw that. You, for all your data and calculations and analysis, never saw that. And that was why this galaxy suffered. For countless cycles, this galaxy has seen you and the Reapers run unchecked. For all these years and centuries and millennia, this galaxy has seen so many civilizations wiped out, so much knowledge and history extinguished. More than I could ever imagine. This has to end. Your reign of terror and slaughter has to end.

"And so it will. Today. Right here. Right now."

Mustering every last scrap of will, I stabbed the final button.

"It. ends. today."

I don't really know what happened next. There was a rumble as various mechanisms within the Crucible began to turn. A hum that grew louder and louder as the Crucible powered up until the floor beneath me began to shake. A light that grew brighter as bolts of crimson energy began flickering over every computer and piece of equipment around me.

I felt some unseen force hit me as the Crucible came to life.

And then I went away…

The first thing I remember is the sound of something beeping. High-pitched, repetitive. It was quiet, as if far away. Or maybe I just couldn't register its presence properly.

The second thing I remember is… fuzziness. Like I was stuck. Caught up in some kind of paralysis. Like I was wrapped in heavy wool. Not just my body. My mind. My thoughts. I was trapped in some way and I couldn't even muster the energy to be concerned.

The third thing I felt is pain. Pain in my head. Pain in my chest. Pain… pretty much everywhere. It wasn't intense or agonizing, mind you. More of a dull, insistent, relentless kind of pain. The kind that just sinks down deep into your bones, into the very core of your being.

I don't know how long that went on. How much time passed. But eventually the oppressive fuzziness started to lighten. The pain started to fade away.

The beeping just kept on going, though. I think that's what finally brought me all the way back to consciousness. My insatiable curiosity just had to know what the hell that damn noise was.

It took some effort to open my eyes. They felt gummy, like a pile of wet sand had been dumped on my eyelids and were glued in place. But eventually I managed to crack my eyes open and look around.

I was in a bed. The sheets were white and smooth. There was a light blue blanket on top, folded about halfway down. The temperature was mildly warm. To my left was a pole stacked with a couple bags of liquid, some more empty than others, and a few devices that were the source of that incessant beeping.

To my right sat Miranda, napping in a chair.

She'd been there for a while, I gathered. Her clothes looked rumpled. There was the faint hint of a shadow under her eyes. Her hair was a bit matted. Almost greasy. (6)

But she still looked absolutely amazing. To my eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.

Her eyes were closed. She might have been taking a nap. Maybe she had just nodded off. Somehow, she knew I was looking at her. Because I'd only been looking at her for a few seconds when her eyes popped open.

Her eyes—her beautiful, beautiful eyes—widened. "Shepard?" she whispered. Without waiting for a reply, she lunged forward and pulled me into what can only be called a bear hug. I wasn't complaining. At first.

"Hi," I finally said. Well, wheezed. "Um… might wanna ease up a little."

"Oh! Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry." She immediately let go and jumped back as if suddenly realizing she was holding a live wire.

"It's okay," I croaked. I almost didn't recognize my own voice. I started coughing.

Miranda reached towards a cup and pulled out a small pink swab. "Suck on this. Get a little moisture into your mouth. Then we can think about getting some water down your throat."

I wasn't exactly in a position to protest. So I let her stick the swab in my mouth. I sucked on it. Then she dipped the swab back in the cup and made me do it again. And again. After the fourth time, I gestured to the cup in annoyance.

"Only a little. The nurses would be furious if you started choking because I gave you too much water."

She only let me have a small sip. Again, I wasn't in a position to say otherwise. Besides, Miranda must have been really worried if she was acquiescing to the medical staff. I found that comforting somehow.

"Miranda?" I finally said.

"Yes?"

"You're alive."

"Obviously."

I found that response even more reassuring. She could have gone into a whole philosophical spiel about what it meant to be alive, or bring religion in to speculate about heaven or the afterlife. But she didn't. She just went straight to the point.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Huerta Memorial Hospital. On the Presidium of the Citadel."

"Oh." I thought about why I was in the hospital. It took a few seconds or so to remember how close I was to death's door. I blame the mental fuzziness. "Yeah," I finally decided. "Yeah, that might have been a good idea at the time."

"I'm happy to hear you agree with my assessment, along with the professional assessment of the various doctors, specialists, nurses and technologists who have been looking after you. I do have a question, though."

"Hmm?"

"What do you remember?"

"I'm Commander Shepard. You're Miranda Lawson."

"Well, that's a start."

"You're also a hell of a lot more beautiful than I am."

"Flatterer."

"Truth."

"Fair enough. What do you remember about your mission? About the Reapers? And the war?"

"Um… all right. Reapers were trying to invade the galaxy for the past several years to begin the latest cycle of slaughter and mass genocide. Tried to signal the keepers on the Citadel to open the gateway, but that didn't work—thanks to the Protheans. So they indoctrinated Saren. I stopped him. Then they killed me using the Collectors. You brought me back. We stopped the Collectors. Next they tried to invade the galaxy through the Alpha Relay in the Bahak system. We stopped them… but 305,000 batarians died. I turned myself in to face a court martial.

"The Reapers finally began their invasion. Earth was overrun, along with many, many worlds. Admiral Anderson chose to stay behind and start organizing some kind of resistance. The Council wouldn't give any help. They were perfectly happy to have everyone look to their own defences and leave Earth to fend for itself. So we had to sidestep them entirely.

Thankfully, we had something to go on. Hackett had me take a side trip to Mars before leaving the Sol system. We'd extracted Liara and plans for a superweapon—which we later called the Crucible. That gave us the beginning of a plan: seek help from any species or organization in the short term, build the Crucible and gather soldiers, ships and whatever we could find to return to Earth and take the Reapers down.

"And we did. We got the turians on board. And the krogan—especially after we helped cure the genophage. Something I never thought in my wildest dreams would happen. But Mordin made it happen. The guy who helped reboot the genophage wound up being the man who helped cure it. His sacrifice gave the krogan hope. Gave the krogan reason to rise up and join us to fight for our future. Mordin gave us our first real victory. Because if we could cure the genophage, maybe—just maybe—we could win the war against the Reapers.

Miranda silently interrupted me with another swab to suck. Probably a good thing considering how dry my mouth was after all that talking. Plus, I was a bit tired. My jaw hadn't had that much exercise since, well, the last time I was conscious.

As soon as Miranda removed the swab, I took a deep breath and continued. "Um… what else… Cerberus! Right. They spent the whole war attacking us. Forcing us to divide our troops, our ships, and our focus when we should have been doubling down on the Reapers. They even tried a coup against the Citadel Council. We thwarted their plans, but Thane gave his life to stop them. He was in the last stages of Kepral's Syndrome, you know. Just wanted to spend his last days with his son. But he chose to step up when it counted the most. Thanks to him, the Citadel Council was saved. That final act forced even the most reluctant of parties to realize that they couldn't stand on the sidelines and wait out the war. Thane's selflessness convinced more and more people that the only way we could win is if we stood together.

"But we needed more. So Hackett sent me to talk to the quarians. Who'd taken the opportunity to start a war with the geth. Again. I'll admit, I was this close to throwing up my hands and walking away. But I didn't. Because of Legion. The first geth I ever sat down and talked to. The guy who told me more about the geth—their creation, their history, their hopes and dreams—than anyone else before him. Thanks to him, we brought the quarians back home after centuries of exile. Thanks to him, we got the quarians and the geth to sign on to the war effort. To stop fighting and work together. I just wish Legion was around to see it."

Some part of me realized that this was probably way more than she was asking for. But I couldn't help myself. Maybe it was pent-up stress finally finding a release. Maybe it was simply because I hadn't talked for far too long. Bottom line: now that I'd started, I couldn't stop the verbal diarrhea. (7)

"Then we found out the asari had something that could help us finish the Crucible. Just one problem: it was on Thessia. Which was overrun with Reapers. We fought our way through and secured it—only to have it snatched from our grasp by Kai Leng. That was the worst of it. I thought I'd failed. Everything I'd fought for, everything I sacrificed… it was all for nought. I dropped the ball when it mattered the most. And… that's when you came in, Miranda. You, Anderson, Garrus… pretty much everyone on the ship. You all reminded me of the thing I'd been preaching all along: I wasn't fighting alone. We were all in this together.

"And together, we kicked our fight against Cerberus into high gear. We put an end to Sanctuary and stopped them from turning thousands of refugees into test subjects. We began attacking their operations. We helped Aria retake Omega and captured their top military mind. Eventually, we stormed Cerberus HQ and found out the Citadel itself was the last thing we needed to compete the Catalyst. Trouble was, the Illusive Man blabbed that intel to the Reapers—who then seized the Citadel and moved it to Earth. So that's where we had to go—after a long-awaited showdown with Kai Leng. Which wouldn't have been quite as satisfying were it not for all the sword training you'd been giving me. Thanks again, by the way."

"You're welcome."

"Um… was this what you were looking for?" I asked tentatively.

"I suppose it was an open-ended question," she smiled. "If it helps you organize your thoughts, so much the better."

Translation: she was fine listening to me babble. Good thing she was sitting down, then, 'cuz I still had a ways to go. "Right. So all that led us to Operation Return. D-Day, if you will. Thanks to you and Delta Source, we were able to cobble together some kind of plan, rather than busting through the mass relay and firing blind. The bulk of the allied fleets engaged the Reapers while a smaller fleet escorted the Crucible to the Citadel. But we had to open up the Citadel arms first.

That's why some of us had to sneak through and land in London, link up with Anderson, and fight our way to the transport beam the Reapers had set up to send people, bodies and so on to the Citadel. Not an easy task. You, me and Anderson were the only ones who managed to make it to the Citadel… where we had a final chat with the Illusive Man—who'd gone full-on indoctrinated, Reaper-implanted freak show. Managed to put that bastard down, once and for all, but not before… he made me…"

I faltered as the memories and guilt overwhelmed me. "I couldn't stop myself, Miranda. The Illusive Man… he made me… made me shoot Anderson… with my own gun… I couldn't stop him. I wasn't strong enough…"

Miranda pulled me into her arms again. "Shepard, it's okay—"

"Anderson!" I pulled back and looked at her. "Before the Catalyst transported me to the Crucible—"

"That's where you went?"

"Yes, but I'll get into that later. I left you to look after Anderson. Did he make it?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

I turned around and looked over my shoulder. There, sitting in a hoverchair, was Anderson. I blinked. Rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. But he was still there. Looking strong, hale and hearty. "You're… alive," I breathed. "You made it."

"You're awake," he returned. "Thank God."

Without thinking, I jumped from my bed to tackle him in a bear hug that would give Miranda a run for her money. Or I started—before a sudden explosion of pain in my side stopped me in my tracks. I slowly sank back in my bed, dimly registering the warnings coming from both Anderson and Miranda.

"How?" I finally wheezed when the pain subsided. "How are you still alive?"

"I owe it all to Miranda," he said simply. "She was applying medi-gel and bandages, but it was clear that more was needed."

I looked at Miranda. She shrugged. "I managed to contact your sister. She and her husband were very helpful in walking me through a few procedures."

That's my sister! And naturally Captain Awesome was, well, awesome.

"She didn't get all the bullets and shrapnel out," Anderson continued, "but she did enough to stabilize me until the Alliance managed to gain access to the Citadel and pull us out. Trauma teams did the rest."

"Thank God you made it," I said. I sat there in disbelief. Despite everything TIMmy had made me do, he failed yet again. He failed to kill Anderson. Out of all the victories I could have won, this might have been one of the most important—personally and otherwise.

Then something Anderson said clicked. "Wait: you said the Alliance gained access to the Citadel," I repeated.

"They did," Anderson confirmed. "Which brings us to the big question: what happened? All Miranda could tell us was that you collapsed, but the floor panel you were lying on somehow detached itself and floated up through the ceiling. You said the Catalyst took you away? I thought the Catalyst was the Citadel?"

"So did I," I replied. "Turns out it was a bit metaphorical. The Catalyst was actually an AI housed inside the Citadel, the same AI that was tasked to figure out why organics and synthetics kept fighting. Its solution was to create the Reapers, have them slaughter every advanced species at a certain point and turn them into new Reapers. And it kept doing that… until now."

"What changed?" Miranda wanted to know.

"This cycle, basically. Apparently the Catalyst and the Reapers had been trying to destroy all copies of the Crucible, but some copy kept surviving. We made more progress in building and deploying the Crucible than any other cycle before us. So the Catalyst decided a new course of action was in order. And it wanted me to figure out what that was."

Anderson whistled. "That's… quite a burden."

"Tell me about it," I said ruefully. "The Catalyst gave me a few options. I could destroy the Reapers—and every other synthetic. I could control the Reapers—just like the Illusive Man wanted. Or I could magically merge organics and synthetics together."

"But your father found another option," Miranda said. "Using the information sent to us after we destroyed the Collector base and the data discs we intercepted on Illium."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Though I don't know if I'd call it another option. More like an improved version of the first one. So that's what I chose. What I want to know is: what happened?"

"When I got your message, I had done what I could for Anderson. So I left him and searched for the Citadel's master control unit. I'll admit I was concerned that I wouldn't get there in time—the Citadel is enormous, after all. But it turns out that we were close to the Citadel Tower. So I was able to get there, find my way to the console and switch out the controller chip for the one your father designed. As soon as the installation was complete, I contacted you. Presumably that was when you activated the Crucible."

Anderson took over at that point. "According to Admiral Hackett, the resulting energy wave swept throughout the system. The mass relays activated, sending the energy from system to system."

"And?" I prompted.

"The energy wave wiped out the Reaper infantry. Husks, Cannibals, Marauders… you name it. As soon as the energy hit them, they basically disintegrated. I can't tell you how many reports I read of soldiers who thought they were done for, only to have the enemy turn to ash before their very eyes as soon as the Crucible energy washed over them. Harbingers falling out the skies and quickly decaying to goop once the energy hit them. Oculi drones blowing up when they were touched by that same energy.

"As for the Reapers themselves… on planet after planet, the Reapers suddenly went dark and toppled over. In space, they shut down and began drifting through space. Lifeless."

So… it worked. My God, the Crucible actually worked! Unless I was dreaming—I paused long enough to pinch myself—I managed to destroy the Reapers. I looked at Miranda, a sudden seed of doubt worming its way in. "What about EDI? And the geth?"

"All still alive and functioning," she reassured me. "EDI may have had Reaper technology incorporated into her as part of her original design, but she reports that she suffered nothing more than a momentary glitch."

"'Reports'," I frowned. "You mean you haven't talked to her in person? What happened? Did the squad make it back to the Normandy?"

"Garrus, EDI and the others did make it back to the Normandy safe and sound, where they were immediately rushed to the medical bay," Miranda replied. "Dr. Chakwas was able to save all of them. As for the Normandy, it seems that they were late in acknowledging Admiral Hackett's orders to disengage once the Crucible was armed and head to the rendezvous point. Joker was apparently reluctant to leave without you. Me too, I suppose, but mostly you. In any event, because of that delay, the Normandy was the last ship to leave the Sol system.

"While the Crucible's energy wave did translate through the mass relays, it did—as your father warned—damage to the mass relays. In the end, most of it appears to be cosmetic, though the intense study and analysis performed taught us a great deal about mass relays and how they operate."

Because mass relays had been regarded as so sacred and sacrosanct, no one had ever bothered to closely examine them in the first place. But I had more important concerns. "And the Normandy?" I persisted.

"For a long time, no one knew anything," Miranda admitted. "It was only recently that we established contact. It seems that they were caught in between mass relays when the energy wave hit. As your father warned, the Crucible's energies did damage the relays, though thankfully it was not as severe as it could have been. Furthermore, the energy wave disrupted the slipstream the Normandy was traveling along. As a result… it seems that the Normandy was knocked back into normal space. Given the damage sustained during combat and the uncontrolled slipstream ejection, she was forced to crash land on a remote planet."

"Oh God," I winced. The Normandy SR-2 might have been a technological marvel, a feat of starship engineering and a reluctant tribute to Cerberus, but there was no denying that there were certain drawbacks. Namely, its increased size and mass meant it was incapable of landing on planets without external assistance. Assistance it wouldn't have had in the scenario Miranda had just described. "How many casualties were there?"

"Surprisingly, none, thanks to Chief Engineer Adams. He had the idea of generating a mass effect field around the Normandy, one strong enough to lower its overall mass to the point where its thrusters were able to affect some kind of controlled descent. Thankfully, EDI had enough time to help him with the necessary calculations. That, and Joker's piloting, allowed the Normandy to crash without any casualties. The last report we received suggests that the crew are in the midst of repairs to make the Normandy space worthy again."

"Back to the mass relays: you said the damage was just cosmetic. Does that mean we can still use the relays the same way we did before? "

"I said most of the damage appears cosmetic," Miranda corrected. "Virtually every relay in the network shut down and had to be reactivated. Some of them powered up again without difficulty. However, several did not respond to the usual signals and commands. Most of them required repair or replacement of their element zero cores—which proved a challenge considering the lack of knowledge in that area."

"Your father has been instrumental in leading our efforts to study and repair the relays," Anderson added. "He's made several key breakthroughs, as I understand."

"He has," Miranda agreed. "That being said, interstellar travel has been restricted to military and diplomatic vessels for the time being."

"Is the Citadel still orbiting above Earth?" I wanted to know.

"It is," Anderson nodded. "Specifically, above London, connected to the transport beam. It's too early to try moving it back to its original location, given the state of the mass relays. Besides, the Citadel sustained a lot of damage. It's undergoing repairs as well."

"Have we heard from the turians? Or the krogan? Or the asari? Hell, have we heard from any of the homeworlds at all?"

"It took quite some time to re-establish communications. Even now, it's quite spotty. But we did manage to contact everyone. We've confirmed that the Reapers have been defeated throughout the galaxy. Everyone is busy surviving. Recovering. Rebuilding. It won't be easy. Everyone's struggling. Everywhere."

"But the important thing is that we defeated the Reapers," Miranda said firmly.

"Amen to that," Anderson nodded solemnly. "The war is over. At long last, it's finally over. God, I just want to go back to sleep."

"I guess we all could," Miranda said. "If we wanted to."

"What about you, Shepard?" Anderson asked. "What do you think we should do?"

"Yes, Shepard," Miranda chimed in. "What are we going to do now?"

I sat there, with my mentor and friend on one side and the love of my life on the other, and pondered those questions.

I sat there, in the middle of a hospital, grateful that I had beaten the odds once again and was somehow still alive. That there was still so much worth living for.

I sat there, overwhelmed by the realization that the war I had fought, bled and cursed the very hell out of, was finally over. That the perpetual horror and suffering was over. That the galaxy could now chart a new course for itself, for better or for worse.

I sat there, thinking about all the possibilities that lay before me. Slowly coming to grips with the fact that the fate of the galaxy was no longer in my hands. That the impossible, overbearing weight and pressure had been lifted from my shoulders.

And for the first time in a long time…

I smiled. (8)

(1): Keep It Simple, Stupid.

(2): Shepard did in fact receive word of this data transmission shortly after destroying the Collector base and formally cutting ties with Cerberus. However, no one was certain where it came from. When EDI had a chance to analyze the transmission, however, she tentatively concluded that it came from the Collectors themselves.

(3): The particulars of this mission can be found elsewhere and need not occupy our attention at this time.

(4): The master control unit is located inside the audience chamber of the Citadel Tower, which is situated at the epicentre of the Citadel itself. Shepard discovered its location during his pursuit of Saren Arterius, and uploaded a data file that was given to him by Vigil, a Prothean VI located on Ilos. This file gave him temporary access to the Citadel, which allowed him to open the arms, unlock the surrounding mass relays and allow the Alliance Fifth Fleet to enter the Widow system.

(5): For which we should be eternally grateful. I don't think people realize how close we came to losing the war.

(6): As readers are well aware, Miranda usually took much more care with her personal appearance, often to an extent that some would consider excessive. To let herself go to that degree is a clear sign of her overwhelming concern for Shepard.

(7): Ew.

(8): A simple reward, but one well earned. I remember how wonderful it was to not only survive the war, but to win it. The joy and relief I experienced undoubtedly pales in comparison to what Shepard felt.