We are each a nation, independent, free of all weakness.

Holy shit. That sounded ominous.

You cannot even begin to fathom our existence.

No, I can actually. You exist due to a programming error in an artificial intelligence created by the first race of extra-solar intelligences. These idiots were getting slaughtered by their own synthetic creations, so what did they do? They created a special synthetic to stop the other synthetics. And look what happened, that synthetic created more synthetics to wipe out the organics and the bad synthetics, and the same damn thing happens every fifty thousand years. You guys are hyper-intelligent—you don’t see the gaping hole in your circular logic there?

Humanity and all the species under its wing shall fall to the coming storm.

Or I guess you could just blame it on shitty writing and EA rushing the game to meet a deadline. Although, if this is simply the future of reality and not some kind of alternate universe, I guess they were just writing what happened. Or will happen. Either way, someone fucked up pretty bad. I was sixteen when I saw the ending of ME3 for the first time and even then I knew someone idiotic had been put in a position of influence they had no business being put in.

In the end, you will be nothing but dust and embers.

I gasped and bolted upright in my military bed, sucking at air like a cheap vacuum that had just swallowed a quarter. I’d been dreaming, naturally, but a dream with no imagery attached. Only darkness, a few chilling quotes from Sovereign and Harbinger, and my own countering thoughts. That last one, though . . . that hadn’t been from the game. That was something else entirely. The only time I ever truly feel fear is when I come across something unexpected, and being as cynical as I was, there wasn’t much that could take me off-guard.

So why couldn’t I shake this feeling? I guess it wasn’t fear, exactly. Confusion, perhaps, laced with the lingering question of why such a wayward thought had crossed my mind when I should have been in total control of it. For most people sleep is a way to relinquish all efforts of retaining the illusion of control; to simply fall out of touch with the rest of the world for a few hours and live in sweet ignorance. For those of us who have learned to remain slightly active even during this unconscious state, it’s a way to play God by creating events of our own making. Nothing should have occurred in my dreams that I didn’t want to happen. Certainly not a Reaper threatening me specifically.

And that was perhaps the worst part. It didn’t even feel like a dream. It didn’t feel like my subconscious mind living out its fantasies or replaying memories. Rather it felt like I had almost entered someone else’s, or they had entered my mind forcefully. Twenty-one years of experience with controlling my brain in its most vulnerable state and I’d never felt anything even close to that before.

The new shirt Daniels had given me was drenched in sweat. Shit, I really had been troubled by the whole thing.

Troy was sleeping peacefully on a bunk at the other end of the room. When they said it was a barracks, they meant it. Four triple-bunk beds lined the three walls that weren’t obstructed by the door, with only a couple tables and chairs crammed into what little space was left. Dim lighting, just light enough to let you see but dark enough not to wake anyone who was asleep.

Damn. This was really my life now. I think that was the moment it actually set in, that no matter how many times I closed my eyes and wished it away, I would always open them to this. The realization that I was stuck here, most likely forever and with no hope of getting back to my old life, hit me like a pebble being dropped into a pond. A slow but inevitable cascade.

I breathed in deeply and exhaled, attempting to set my nerves at ease. Throughout the course of my life I’ve been through a myriad of events that left me broken and hollow more than once. You always hear people talking about hitting rock bottom, but what they fail to mention is that you can do so more than once. Life isn’t like movies or stories; you don’t just come out invincible because you’ve been through some rough shit. You pick yourself back up, dust yourself off, press on for a time, and fall again. At least, in some cases. Perhaps there are others who simply have their lives in a much neater fashion than mine, I can’t really speak for them. What I know is that after falling to the depths so many times and repeatedly correcting your faults, you grow numb to the effects of emotion. You’ve been through it all—the absolute bottom and the most glorious top—so many times that nothing in between even fazes you anymore. Hell, even the extremes of joy and depression become a bit repetitive. My hope is that if you understand this, you’ll also understand how disturbing it was that a simple dream could set me so on edge.

Then again, I had literally just broken the laws of time and space by being transported into the Mass Effect storyline. Maybe a few other rules went out the window, as well.

I kicked my feet over the side of the bunk and rested them on the stinging cold floor beneath. I’ve slept in full clothing plenty of times before—alcohol or a few more illicit catalysts usually being the cause of such a thing—but I can never fall asleep wearing shoes or socks. Many of my quirks revolve around my sleeping habits. Normally I can’t sleep with light of any kind or without a constant source of air, but on rare occasions such as these my body makes exceptions. If only my mind could work in the same fashion.

It’s real. It’s happening. Whether or not it’ll last or you’ll find a way home, who knows. You just have to make the most of it and press on.

Yes, I know it’s odd and borderline crazy to converse with myself in my head, but that’s how I’ve learned to work through my problems. By pretending that I was essentially two different halves of myself, one half representing my agreement on a particular topic and the other being the opposite, I could objectively look at every predicament in my life and find a reasonable course of action. Or at least, as reasonable as the moment warranted.

Reason and logic. I love them both, yet fate or God loves throwing me into a position where both are constantly questioned.

The door to my left slid open unexpectedly, and though I was decent it still took me off-guard. I hate when people invade a space of solace, especially one where I’m expected to drift into that most vulnerable of states called unconsciousness.

Well, at least it wasn’t a random crewman. Even though all I could see was a silhouette against the white-blue light behind her, I knew it was Daniels. Shepard’s hair was shorter, and no other woman aboard would walk into the men’s quarters where only Troy and I were attempting to find a reprieve.

She saw me sitting up in bed and leaned against the door frame, her slender figure accentuated in the darkness. I apologize to all the female readers who take offense, but I am a guy and we do notice those kinds of things every time a woman enters our fields of vision.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Didn’t want to wake Troy, I suppose.

I found my socks just a few inches away from my feet and began slipping them on. It was too much of a hassle to stretch out my Converse shoes and lace them up, so I decided to leave them for the time being.

“That wonderful gift of insomnia,” I breathed. I knew my voice felt deep and menacing, but at the moment I didn’t feel like pretending to be anything else. When I wake up, whether it’s after a few minute’s nap or twelve hours of decent rest, I simply don’t have the energy to be anything but my most basic self.

“Shepard wants to speak with you.”

Really? Now that was interesting.

I stood to my feet, satisfied that the socks were on well enough even though they felt crooked on my feet, and walked past Daniels slowly so my footfalls didn’t wake my cousin. When we were both outside in the hallway I turned to face her and the door behind her slid shut once more.

“I’m guessing the mission to Mars went well.”

“In a way. Apparently they ran into some trouble over there. Lieutenant Alenko had a pretty close run-in with a Cerberus AI.”

Pretty close. So at least it wasn’t as bad as the game.

“You want to tell me how you knew about that?” Her voice wasn’t chiding or disapproving, but rather genuinely curious. Perhaps a bit concerned. She was wondering how in the hell an average civilian (at least to her knowledge) could know anything about Cerberus being on Mars, let alone that Shepard and her team were going to be there at all.

It may be prudent of me to mention that I studied psychology in college. Wasn’t much—I barely lasted two semesters before dropping out, and from a community college, at that—but a healthy mind and a desire to learn go a long way. I’ve always been fascinated by psychology, morality, and spirituality; even more so in understanding how the three work in unison. So when it comes to reading people, at least in simple matters like these, I get by.

“I’d rather tell Shepard,” I said. No disrespect intended to Daniels, but Shep was the one I needed to convince.

“What, don’t trust me?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, no. Not yet. I just met you three hours ago.”

“And I saved your life. In more ways than one, if you think about it.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful,” I replied, trying my best to appear sincere. I’ve learned that even if I am sincere, my jerkish nature sometimes gets the better of me, so I often have to go out of my way to show what I’m feeling. “But this is something bigger than both of us. Once I’ve talked to Shepard, I promise, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

She looked at me deeply, never moving her eyes from mine. Trying to decide if she could trust me.

“She told me you asked EDI to go offline when you and your cousin were talking in the medbay.”

I nodded.

Another long look on Daniels’ part. Here stood this woman whose first name I didn’t even know, and she was analyzing me more thoroughly than anyone had ever bothered my entire life. I understood, of course. We were in the middle of the largest assault earth had ever faced and suddenly Troy and I show up looking for Shepard with knowledge we had no business knowing. I just never had anyone try so hard to understand me.

“And what did you tell her?” I asked.

Daniels shrugged. Still not breaking eye contact. I would say she didn’t even blink, but in hindsight that sounds foolish. Everyone blinks.

“She asked me what I thought about you.” She nodded her head in the direction of the barracks. “Both of you. Wanted to know what she’s dealing with.”

Understandable. “And?”

“I suppose that depends on what happens after you talk to the Commander.”

Well played. Well fucking played. I couldn’t help being amused in that moment and offered a light smirk. Generally when people toy with me they get nothing but a snide remark or a fist to the face depending on how annoyed I am, but Daniels did it so well I hadn’t even seen it coming. That deserved no small amount of kudos.

I took that as my cue to get my ass over to Shepard and began walking to the elevator. “Her cabin or the conference room?”

I also gleaned a little satisfaction in stumping Daniels even further. In her mind, I had no business knowing anything about the Normandy, certainly not where Shepard would want to hold such a serious conversation. I could almost feel the daggers she was glaring at the back of my skull.

“Conference room,” she replied flatly. I didn’t need to see her face to know our next chat would be a difficult one.

I stepped into the lift and the door sealed behind me. EDI knew where I was going so there was no reason for me to voice any command. The lift started up immediately, and with the few moments I had to myself my mind raced with possibilities. Despite being so nonchalant with Daniels, I really had no clue how I was going to handle this talk with Shepard.

Troy and I had agreed to tell her we knew things, although we’d yet to come up with a realistic story explaining how we obtained that knowledge. Claiming that we were highly classified government officials was one option, but I threw that one out the window due to lack of realism. No one would believe that coming from two guys in their twenties. Telling her we were hacker-geniuses was another, and that we’d gleaned all this information from the Catalyst. Of course, we would then have to tell her what the Catalyst was, and she’d no doubt throw us in the loony bin. Breaking the ice slowly and with one revelation at a time was the only way this was going to be believable.

So, that left me with option three. Painting myself as an information gatherer, similar to the Shadow Broker. Probably just as unrealistic as the others, but it was the best way to reveal that I had a ton of information without also revealing secrets that would lose Shepard’s trust entirely. The real problem would be Liara. As the new Shadow Broker she would have a hard time believing (and rightfully so) that there was another entity out there who had not only eluded her notice, but also gathered a wealth of information she could only speculate about. It was a risk, but the best idea I’d come up with so far. If it didn’t work, I’d just need to come up with a Plan D.

I think we all know if you have to consider more than three plans, none of the ones following that will work. Plan C was my only hope, barring the one where I just lose it and spill everything in a mad stream of incoherent thoughts. That one I was saving for the psychiatrists.

The lift stopped abruptly and I had to grab the handrail to steady myself. Corrected though the speed of the elevators had been, their comfort had taken a bit of an arrow to the knee.

Oh, whoops. Wrong video game universe.

The door slid open and my breath caught in my throat. It seemed I’d never get used to being taken aback by the sights from the games literally coming to life. The CIC was exactly as it had been in the games, just as everything else had, but seeing it with my own two eyes—not displayed on a 55-inch television screen—was almost majestic. The galaxy map alone had my jaw on the floor for a solid minute before I realized the crewmen were staring at me.

I took one last look at the room and veered to my right. It had been some time since I’d played the games, but I’d done so at least two dozen times and as such most of the details were imprinted on my brain. The Marine standing at attention at the entrance to the war room gave me a curious glance, but let me through nonetheless. Everyone aboard the ship likely knew by now that something was out of the ordinary concerning their two civilian guests.

More awkward looks from the security personnel inside the room with the clearance scanner. I’d always wondered what the hell it was in the game; basically, it was a holographic grid that scanned any aspiring entrant for weapons, chemicals, and the necessary clearance to be in the war room. Not sure why they’d scan for weapons considering everyone on this ship was armed, but I guess it made sense if they were expecting visitors aboard. Even then, there wasn’t a lot of sensitive data past that barrier.

Then the conference room. Not much to behold there, just an empty room of glass walls and a window that . . .

Oh, damn. The window. I suppose it wouldn’t have been much different than looking at the stars from earth, but we seemed to be travelling pretty fast. Must’ve hit the relay and been travelling at FTL speeds. Though the stars were so distant, I could still see a bit of displacement with each second. The ones really far away didn’t move hardly at all, whereas the closest stars clipped by at a pretty good rate.

Not the most beautiful sight I’d seen since being here, but it held sentimental value. During the hardest times in my life I would go outside at night and lay on the hood of my car staring up at the star-dotted sky. Knowing that I was now in space surrounded by and able to travel to those same stars was . . . comforting, in a way. Strange, I know, but it was almost like being at home. And seeing as home is where the heart is, I was almost beginning to feel welcome in this world.

I shook off the feeling with a diagonal nod—years of practice at not giving a damn about much does that—and continued down the curving corridor to the next door. The green holographic display spun for a moment, presumably doing one final scan to make sure I was allowed access, and then vanished with the hiss of the door sliding open.

The war room wasn’t much to behold. Really the only noteworthy quality was the large display table in the center of the room currently showing a static feed of earth from several miles out in space. Shepard, Kaidan, and Liara all stood on the opposite end of the table from me, staring intently at the hologram. When the door behind me sealed shut, their eyes turned almost simultaneously to mine.

The sight of Liara standing next to Shepard was a bit disconcerting given that she was the first alien I saw with my own two eyes, but in the last few hours I’d witnessed the Reaper invasion of earth and seen the majority of the Normandy firsthand. Though my breath caught in my lungs for a moment and I stared far longer than politeness usually dictates, I was becoming more and more accustomed to this futuristic reality. Playing the games for so many hours of my life probably helped absorb the initial shock, as well.

There were a few seconds of awkward silence where I assumed the trio was giving me the once-over. Or more likely the twice-over. No doubt I’d come across as simply another civilian in the war-torn chaos that had been my encounter with Normandy’s crew on earth, but now that I’d tipped my hand, so to speak, there must have been a new level of curiosity and concern.

Well, at least Kaidan’s okay. There’s a plus.

Since there was little doubt in my mind that I was going to be doing most of the talking, I figured I might as well get the initial unpleasantness over with. I just had to remember two things: don’t overdo it, and show a willingness for cooperation.

“So I trust the mission went okay.” Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! This isn’t some friendly meet-and-greet!

Shepard’s face was dead. No emotion whatsoever. That usually means one of two things: the person is completely uninterested in what’s being said, or they’re so goddamn angry they have to deadpan because that’s the only way for them not to lose it. She was a rather good-looking woman despite having blonde hair too short for my tastes (I know, I’m part of the minority that generally isn’t attracted to blondes) but the cold glare she was giving me destroyed any thoughts of attraction. Forget being thrown in an asylum; I’d be lucky just to leave this room alive.

“Cerberus was waiting for us before we even landed,” Shepard said, her voice just as flat and expressionless as her face. “We ran into trouble with a mobile AI that stole what we were after and damn near killed us.”

I nodded, not sure which emotions I should be displaying right now, if any. “Daniels told me as much.”

“So you can understand why I’m questioning how you knew that AI would be at the Martian Archives.”

Another nod. “I can.” Then, whether it was dramatic timing or me simply taking so long to clear my throat, I continued. “Commander, I know this is going to seem really coincidental, but I’ll do my best to explain.”

“I’m all ears.”

Shit. Here goes everything.

“My cousin and I are . . . well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what we are. What matters is what we know and how we know it. We’ve followed your career extensively, especially the last three years involving your attempts to mobilize the galaxy against the Reapers, and it sparked a long and tedious process that I can’t even fully explain. I’ve seen things in this universe that I dare to say even Dr. T’Soni remains clueless of.”

Liara's brows raised at that—or at least, the muscles in her face did, seeing as asari don’t have eyebrows—a mixture of confusion and concern. That volatile cocktail seemed to be going around quite a bit.

“I know about the Shadow Broker,” I said, “as well as a dozen other items of interest very few people in the galaxy know. If you run my identity or my cousin’s you won’t find a trace of us in any database, not even among your underground associates, Doctor.”

Liara’s face went from confused to suspicious in a moment’s notice, even more than it had been when I’d walked in the door. “How do you know about the Shadow Broker?”

“As I said, I’ve devoted a rather sizeable portion of my life to obtaining knowledge, the same as you.” Granted it was only a few days’ worth of gameplay, but I was quite happy to let them believe it was more like years of research. “But knowledge only gets you so far. Simply knowing about the protheans and the Reapers wasn’t enough. I began looking for more, specifically how to stop them and what they were after. As you can imagine, if one can reveal mysteries such as those, it becomes a trifle to dig up secrets in our own galaxy. You have knowledge of what happened to the protheans through the beacons, and knowledge of the Reapers through Shepard’s experiences with them. I have accounts from damn near every source in the galaxy that contain knowledge bases extending beyond our own cycle’s.”

I gave them a second to digest that, but Shepard was quick on her feet. The games never did justice to how intelligent she was.

“You’re saying there are more objects out there like the beacons?”

“Impossible,” Liara refuted. “I have spent nearly sixty years chasing down every scrap of information I could find on the protheans. It is impossible that a human as young as you has put in the amount of research necessary to achieve the knowledge you claim to have.”

Heh. I had that one covered.

“Should I put that knowledge on exhibit then?” I asked rhetorically. No one stopped me, so fuck it. “Doctor Liara T’Soni, daughter of Matriarch Benezia, who passed away two years ago after being indoctrinated by Sovereign. She joined former Spectre Agent Saren Arterius in an effort to stop his lunacy, but was subverted by the Reaper’s mind-altering effects. You, on the other hand, led a life of mediocre academic achievement studying the protheans until Shepard found you, at which point you began to realize the threat of the Reapers.”

“That only proves that you can wade through the extranet,” Liara said calmly. Being the Broker had certainly grounded her to reality more than being a shy archaeologist on the fringes of civilized space.

“That’s not even the tip of the iceberg, Doctor. I have information on everyone that’s been involved in Shepard’s attempts to stop the Reapers, some of it mundane, some of it incredibly useful. I could tell you Major Alenko’s deep secrets as well, if you’d like, but I’d rather not do so without his permission.”

Kaidan’s face lightened a shade. In all honesty, all I knew about him was that he’d been one of the first human biotics to be properly trained at Jump Zero. A few fuzzy pieces about his family back on earth, but all the inconsequential details came and went as they pleased. I really needed to get a pen and write everything down.

“I dunno Commander,” Kaidan said, his low, raspy voice filling the room with skepticism. “This smells like a Cerberus trick to me.”

“I’ve been in Cerberus,” I falsely admitted, playing into their image of me. “I’ve also been in the Alliance. Hell, I’ve had a hand in the turian and asari political and military machines, as well as those of half a dozen other species. I’ve been to Thessia, Palaven, Sur’Kesh, Tuchanka. Name a place of power in the galaxy and I’ve probably been there knee-deep in a shitstorm of interstellar activity.”

“Let’s say it’s true, then,” Shepard said, looking me straight in the eyes. “You obviously have knowledge only a few people in the galaxy have. I only have two questions going through my mind. First, can I trust you, or are you an agent of the Reapers or Cerberus? Second, why did you seek me out back on earth? What do you intend to do with all this information?”

There was the kicker. I couldn’t really say, 'I just want to help you win the war against the Reapers.' It wouldn’t make sense for me to have had that knowledge for so long and only then revealed it when the Reapers were on our doorstep. Or more accurately, tearing the house down. Although . . . holy shit! Brilliance hit me in the face like a splash of cool water on a summer day, and I knew even without giving it much thought that I had to roll with what my mind had just shown me.

“Commander, do you remember how you were treated before you and your team took down the Collectors? With every discovery on your end, the Council summarily shot it down as fantasies or Saren attempting to pull the wool over your eyes. The beacon on Eden Prime was lost, as was the Ilos VI, Vigil, so there was no way for anyone else to corroborate your story. If the first human Spectre and savior of the galaxy couldn’t mobilize the galaxy to act, what chance would two then-teenage humans have? We sat on our information because, like you, we had nothing to substantiate it with. We knew the only way anyone would believe us was if we approached someone like you and laid it all out. I’m telling you this now because I believe there is a way to stop the Reapers that doesn’t draw this war out to the point where trillions of lives are being lost. And I know that you are the only person who can convince the rest of the galaxy that this is the course of action we need to take.”

I really do hate monologues, especially when they’re coming from me, but the situation warranted it and by the looks on everyone’s faces they were thinking the same thing. Maybe it was one of those instances where it sounded so insane it actually made sense in a way, or maybe Shepard actually identified with what I said about the Council not paying attention to her. In that moment all my psychology training had been erased from my mind; I was just clinging to the desperate hope that some small part of her would trust me.

No one spoke for several long seconds. Felt as if no one even breathed. The air was thick with the weight of everything that had just flown from my mouth, and it took no small amount of time for even me to let it sink in. Kaidan’s face was lined with thoughtful wrinkles and Liara had begun pacing at Shepard’s side, one hand propping her chin up and the other supporting her elbow. Shepard, however, still stared me straight in the eyes.

I wouldn’t say I’m much of a look-you-in-the-eyes kind of guy. Someone had once told me that all they saw was pain when they looked in mine, and seeing as that was something I did my best to hide from others, I can usually only meet someone’s eyes for a few seconds at a time. But something was different about Shepard, about the way she looked at me. Much like Daniels, she had been digging deeper, past the surface of pain that everyone saw, but for more than just information. She was looking for character, for recognition of my soul. If she could find something admirable deep within those hazel-green spheres I might stand a fighting chance. The very fact that she was capable of digging so deep would have unnerved me in any other circumstance or with any other person, but I only held respect for her with this show of ability. It revealed a fair amount of wisdom on her part, and she was smart to go looking for nobility rather than trustworthiness. The most noble men and women I’ve ever known had their faults just like everyone else.

Have you ever experienced an event that lasted only for seconds, yet it felt so much longer? I could lay claim to a few hours’ worth of memories that seemed to last for days, but never until that moment had I experienced such a weighted exchange in such a short amount of time. This must have been one of the awe-inspiring side-effects of being in proximity to Shepard.

After what seemed like years she finally broke eye contact and I subconsciously let out a bottled breath. Intense doesn’t even begin to describe it.

“You have to understand how this looks from my side,” Shepard said, now pacing around the circular projection table to my side of the room. “Like you said, I’ve been warning the galaxy of this for years and haven’t been able to put a dent in the galactic community’s doubts. And now that the Reapers show up, I’ve got two civilians banging on my door with more information about our enemies than anyone. To top it off, you’re apparently not just any average civilians, but ones that have been trained in warfare and want to offer help. Best case scenario, you’re an unknown that could potentially undo everything we’re working toward. Worst case, you’re infiltrators for Cerberus or the Reapers. Same result.”

“You’re forgetting that even though we have the potential to create a catastrophe, we also have the potential to help the galaxy avoid it.”

“No, I’m not forgetting that part. I’m just weighing the risks and benefits.”

Damn was she good. Years of appealing to diplomats and fighting wars had made her an exemplar of both politics and combat.

“Commander,” I said, “I can’t force you to accept my help, and I can’t make you believe that I’m telling the truth in a single conversation. I despise Cerberus just as much as you, and I have no reason to ally with them or the Reapers. I’m not as blind as Saren; I have no illusions about what will happen if we submit instead of fight. You can probe me to see if I’m indoctrinated. We all know the effects aren’t quite so . . . well, effective, without constant intervention from a Reaper handler. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to prove I’m sincere.”

Shepard thought about it for a moment, as did the others. I’ve never been much of an orator, but when put in the spotlight and given some conviction, I do my best to scrape by.

“And if we give you that chance?” Kaidan asked. I had the feeling if he hadn’t, Shepard would have. “It’s just as easy to stab us in the back as it is to help us at this point.”

Jesus Christ these guys were cynical. I understand it, of course, being a major cynic myself, but it’s not until you run into someone just as annoying as you are that you realize exactly how shitty cynicism can be when you’re on the receiving end.

“Like I said, it’s your choice. You don’t have to do it. But honestly, with the Reapers invading earth and well on their way toward the heart of Citadel space, there are going to be a lot of risks involved. Shepard,” I said, and she met my gaze. “You’ve saved the galaxy half a dozen times already by taking risks, making difficult choices. I know there’s absolutely no reason to take my word on this, but I’m telling you, I will not let you down.”

Shepard’s brows furrowed, a look that I myself wear all the time when I’m having a hard time believing something, and she considered everything I’d said with tremendous insight. As she’d mentioned, there was a pretty huge risk just in choosing to entertain this ridiculous story, but the potential benefits balanced the scales quite evenly. I was simply glad I wasn’t the one who had to make the choice.

She sighed rather forcefully, the only real display of emotion that I’d seen in her, and leaned back on the table behind her. Did that mean she was starting to trust me? At the very least, she had to think about the possibility. I was proposing nothing less than what could end up being the most help she had ever received from anyone; Alliance, Cerberus, or the Council. Wise as she was for being wary of the entire encounter, it would’ve been foolish to flat-out refuse.

“Do you know why we went to the archives on Mars?” Shepard asked, taking me a bit off-guard. The answer was a pretty obvious yes, but I was still figuring out the boundaries of safety for revealing everything I knew. Certainly there was little harm in telling her the truth, but a few of the more precise details may not be necessary.

“Yes,” I replied. “Doctor T’Soni has been working with the Alliance teams there to unlock a few of the more well-hidden secrets in the prothean data banks. Their largest discovery was that of a device the protheans were working on that they believed would solve the Reaper problem, but they don’t know the exact specifications. You’ve sent the data to Admiral Hackett, I guess?” I received a slow, deliberate nod. “If he hasn’t already, he’ll soon learn that it’s a weapon.”

“What kind of weapon?” Kaidan asked.

Well, shit. I couldn’t very well explain that without explaining the Catalyst, because in the game they really don’t figure it out until the very end. And if I explained the Catalyst so early on without knowing exactly where on the Citadel to access it, that could cause a little problem.

On the other hand, if mentioning the Catalyst sparked an interest to go looking for it, and that in turn led to finding it, the Council would have no reason not to support the Alliance’s attempts to build the Crucible. With the Council races fully supported to the project, it might take considerably less time to build the damn thing, thus saving a few billion lives.

But then, there was so fucking much to do in the games that I was racking my brain trying to figure out the exact timeline. If I sped up a certain event here, say finding the Catalyst and building the Crucible, what impact would that have on events further down the line? When you think about it, Shepard has a lot of shit on her plate throughout the war and the slow development of the Crucible gave her the time to go off on loads of other important missions. Even if we did manage to build the Crucible in half the time it takes in the games, there were still problems spread throughout the galaxy that needed solving. The turian/salarian/krogan situation, the geth and quarians, Horizon, Thessia, the assault on the Citadel; not to mention the dozen odd smaller assignments Shepard receives along the way. And it’s the resolution of those conflicts that unites the alien races and essentially saves the galaxy. Could we really hold off on all that to dive headlong into the Crucible project?

Fuck time-travel. It’s so goddamn complicated. All I really knew was that I was there to make a difference. To change things, because the way the game ends is just too shitty and I wanted not only to save a few billion lives (including Shepard’s) but to fix a completely broken story. I know, that’s the writer in me getting way too involved in reality, but the fact stands.

So yeah. 'Fuck it' had worked pretty well for me in the past, and I’d already changed the course of history for the better with Kaidan. On to attempting something a bit more grandiose.

“I don’t know the technical aspects of it,” I said, mind fully committed even if one half didn’t agree with the other. “It’s not just a prothean design; it was conceived hundreds of thousands of years ago and each cycle managed to pass on the blueprints to the next, adding to it in the hopes that eventually someone would finish it. The way it’s designed now, it is capable of stopping the Reapers.”

“By destroying them?” Liara asked.

I nodded and shook my head in the same motion. “Potentially. Its exact function depends on the user. Like I said, I’m not familiar with the technical aspects of it, but when triggered it sends some kind of power surge through the mass relays, capable of destroying the Reapers, or dominating them.”

“Dominate?” Kaidan asked skeptically. “You’re telling me we can control the Reapers?”

“That’s exactly what the Illusive Man said on Mars,” Shepard added. Great, way to appear even more suspicious.

“The Illusive Man doesn’t do anything without a damn good reason,” I said. “He doesn’t know what the device is capable of yet, he just has a gut feeling.”

“What you’re saying is impossible,” Liara piped up. About time she rejoined the conversation—I was beginning to fear I’d scared her off with that bit about her mother. “The mass relays utilize a highly advanced mass effect generator to send any object with a similar generator to FTL speeds. They are not capable of transporting raw energy, let alone enough to do what you claim.”

Yeah I really don’t know a thing about the relays lady, I just know what I saw in the game.

But that definitely wouldn’t be good enough. They needed solid proof, and they needed it from someone (or something) that could explain it a hell of a lot better than I was doing.

They needed the Catalyst.

“Doctor, you know as well as I do that the relays—like the Citadel—were created by the Reapers. We’re not completely sure what they’re capable of, especially when foreign technology is introduced. The only reason the relays work as we know them to work is because we’ve followed the path of technological advancement the Reapers left for us. If we begin to think outside the box, there’s a lot more we’re capable of.”

“And I suppose you have a way to back all this up?” Shepard asked.

“I do. In analyzing the Crucible designs you’ll eventually find that in order to properly fire, it requires a power source called the Catalyst. It’s . . . well, to be honest I don’t really know how to describe it, only that it’s located deep within the heart of the Citadel.”

I damn near asked, “Do you remember Vigil telling you about the master control unit in the Citadel’s core?” but realized that would imply I had an almost firsthand knowledge of that conversation. More low-key was the goal.

“When you activated the beacon on Eden Prime or spoke with Vigil on Ilos, did you happen across any mention of the Citadel’s master control unit?”

Shepard only nodded. I couldn’t even imagine how strange it must have been for her to have someone come out of the woodworks with details she’d thought were made privy only to her.

“That’s actually the Catalyst,” I continued. “It’s some kind of highly advanced AI system that controls the Citadel and the relays. Usually it remains uninvolved in galactic affairs and allows the citizens of the Citadel to use its technology as they desire. However, if you can locate it—and assuming the Crucible is functional and docked with the Citadel—it has the ability to destroy the Reapers or subvert them to your will by using the Citadel and the relays as a delivery system.”

Liara stood rooted to her spot, mouth agape. Kaidan looked as though he’d just been told the Reapers had mysteriously retreated from earth and self-detonated. Shepard, however, remained mostly unfazed even by this revelation. For all I knew she could be reeling with the ramifications of everything I’d just told her, but she kept her cool and looked at me with determination to get to the heart of the matter. Whether I was a raving lunatic or not, she knew there was at least some merit to what I was saying and if it was true, it could be a game changer.

We stood there for several long moments. Oddly enough it was only then that I realized I’d left my shoes down in the barracks; what an idiot I must have looked like standing there in my 21st-century jeans, an Alliance T-shirt, and ankle-length black socks. Hopefully my feet were the least of their concerns.

“How is it you know all this?” Shepard asked. Well, time to divulge a major secret. The beacon on Thessia was a drop in the pond compared to what I’d just revealed about the Crucible and the Catalyst.

“There’s a prothean beacon hidden in the Temple of Athame on Thessia,” I replied. “Unlike the ones you found on Eden Prime and Virmire, this one has a working VI similar to Vigil that can tell you exactly what I did. The Catalyst is in fact the Citadel.”

“That’s . . . you’re not . . .” Liara began. Poor . . . uh, alien. So many secrets had been kept from her despite her attempts to dig up the galaxy’s past, and by her own people, no less. “The asari would never . . . Citadel law requires all prothean technology to be shared with the rest of the galactic community—”

“No offense, Doctor T’Soni,” I said, “but you never wondered how it was that the asari managed to stay just ahead of the other races? To be frank, the salarians have more inventive prowess than your people, and the turians obviously have a greater aptitude for military affairs. Your diplomatic intellect and biotic abilities are still well beyond those of the other races, but how do you explain the leaps and bounds in other areas the asari have made over the years? Besides, if you don’t believe me you’re free to head to Thessia and see for yourself.”

“Only a handful of our wisest matriarchs have the authority to enter the Temple of Athame,” Liara stated. “I would not be allowed access even as Benezia’s daughter. How could a human such as yourself possibly know this?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Doctor. You’re the foremost expert on the protheans, the head of House T’Soni with Benezia’s passing, and the Shadow Broker to boot. That makes you one of the most powerful asari in the Republics, if I may say so. You have much more clearance than you think.”

I let the implications of my statement sink in. Technically I had been to Thessia, activated the beacon, and done so all with Liara’s assistance in the game. I loved being able to tell the truth without it really being the truth.

Still, I was hoping that would be enough. I’d essentially revealed two of the biggest mysteries in the game before the need for their discovery had even presented itself. There was already an almost certain guarantee that something would get horribly fucked up somewhere down the line. Going any further would both confuse the hell out of Shepard and increase the likelihood of fuck-ups.

And I was exhausted. Do you know how wearying it is to spout a stream of completely nonsensical truth only to be met with skepticism and distrust at every turn? The very fact of knowing the truth while no one else does is absolutely devastating. Trying to convince a room full of people who had devoted years of their lives to learning these things that I somehow knew it all was not easy. After all, when you’re studying something for years on end—say you’re in college or something—and then comes along this wonder kid who knows everything about the subject with absolute clarity, don’t you want to just punch him in the throat? You’ve spent years trying to grasp idea after idea, whereas this wiseass just magically has the answers to everything. It’s infuriating.

Now, try to imagine you are that wiseass preaching to the choir. It’s equally draining because they know the basics, but for the most part they don’t want to believe a word you say because it’s impossible. Impossible that someone could just come along with so little background in the subject and yet seem to know everything of consequence. Knowledge is power, and absolute power corrupts absolutely for those who wield it carelessly.

Damn. That’s way more philosophical than I’m usually capable of being. Kudos to whoever came up with the first part of that line. Kudos to myself for improvising the rest.

“So,” Shepard said, a tone of finality to her voice. The conversation was coming to a close, and I still had no idea which way the wind was blowing. “You’ve given us a lot of information to consider. Like you said though, it’ll take more than a few minutes of talking for any of this to seem plausible.”

“Of course,” I responded. “Which is why I told you about the Catalyst and the beacon on Thessia.”

“I understand. When we dock at the Citadel I’m going to bring this information to the Council, barring the part about the beacon. I’m sure Councilor Tevos will be more than willing to speak with me once she hears what I have to say. But there’s no guarantee they’ll believe any of it, and without their approval there’s no way for us to access the Citadel’s core. Which is why I’d like you to come with me.”

I damn near choked on my own breath. For a second it felt like I was about to hiccup and throw up at the same time, and I’m sure my face lightened a dozen shades. That’s saying something, considering how pale my skin is.

Me, on the Citadel? More importantly, in the presence of the Council? Talking to them?! No way, no way in hell I could pull that off. They were alien diplomats for Christ’s sake with years of experience destroying people in a single sentence! I wouldn’t stand a chance!

I nearly voiced my thoughts to Shepard, but knew that doing so would only undermine everything I’d just achieved—if, in fact, I’d achieved anything at all. I had to either go along with it and hope Shepard would do most of the talking or find a legitimate way to wriggle out of it.

“You want me to go speak to the Council with you?” I asked. “They’re barely willing to do anything for you, and that’s only because you saved their lives. Why the hell would they even listen to me?”

“You don’t need to talk to the Council,” Shepard said, setting a few of my nerves at ease. “Just Tevos.” Never mind. “If what you’ve said is true she’ll know about it, and she’ll be more inclined to listen to you rather than a secondhand source.”

Fuck. This was just not going my way. I’d never tried to play puppeteer before, so it was a bit irritating to find out that in learning how to pull the strings, you also have to learn how to keep your hands out of the audience’s view. But on the other hand, if that was necessary to gain Shepard’s trust—and if a brief showing of hands would allow me to then recede behind the curtain—so be it.

For a second I was a bit disgusted at the entire puppet analogy, but stomped out the feeling as soon as it surfaced. Whatever it takes to save the galaxy.

I nodded, shifting on my feet slightly but trying not to show too much discomfort with the plan. There was enough mistrust suffocating the room already; I didn’t need to add any more by being perceived as unwilling to put my plans into action personally. That was more the Illusive Man’s game, and God help me if I was going to end up like that douchebag.

“Okay,” I said. “If you think it’ll help, sure. But there’s one small problem. I won’t be able to get through the security screens on the Citadel. Living in anonymity and with no identity tends to do that.”

“I’m sure between EDI and Liara we can work something out,” Shepard replied. “If you’re going to be a part of shaping the galaxy’s efforts in fighting the Reapers, you’re going to need an identity.”

I chuckled lightly at that. “You’re the hero, Commander, the one on the frontlines. I’m just the guy giving you advice on how best to take down the enemy.”

“From what I understand, you like to play hero yourself.” Ah. Another reference to the near-death frenzy that had me duking it out with Cannibals back on earth. I wondered briefly if I should ask Daniels or Sorola if I really had been of any help, but put the thought out of my head. That was hardly the most pressing matter at the moment.

“Only when I have to,” I said.

“If you stick around with us, you might find yourself in that position more often than you’d think,” Kaidan added. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

Wait, were they actually offering to keep me aboard and train me? If so that would imply that somewhere along the line I had made some kind of connection, that on some level they were actually going to trust me. Holy shit, I may have just done it.

The thought was cut short when Joker’s voice came over the onboard comm system. At first I could’ve sworn he was standing right next to me, but a brief glance to my left assured me that wasn’t the case. There was still so much to get used to in the future.

“Commander, we’ve just dropped out of FTL at the Citadel. Alliance Control’s asking for a situation report on earth and the Council’s representatives are asking for the same. I guess going on trial for treason doesn’t disbar you from the Spectres, huh?”

Damn it was good to hear his voice. In the midst of all the chaos, Joker remained the one voice of jovial lightheartedness. I’d need to introduce myself and see just how well two smartasses could get along in the future. Back in my time it had caused more than one incident between myself and whatever idiot I managed to insult.

“Take us into dock, Joker,” Shepard said, looking at the ceiling. Dunno why, it wasn’t like there was a monitor up there with Joker’s face. Just wiring and whatever the hell that polished metal was. “Tell the Council we’ll be there first thing, and have EDI send a message to Tevos’s assistant. We’ll be wanting a more private meeting afterwards.”

“Roger that. What about the Alliance? What do we tell them about Anderson?”

Damn, that was a depressing thing to consider. 'Sorry, the human Councilor won’t be attending because he’s back on earth fighting the Reapers like any good leader should be doing.'

“Tell them the truth. Anderson’s still on earth fighting. They’ll need to have someone fill in for him to represent humanity’s interests.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

A thought hit me then while I was wondering who the hell would fill in for Anderson, and I had to get it out quickly just to make sure.

“Shepard, is Udina still earth’s ambassador to the Citadel?”

A brow raised in surprise. “You’re a collector of information and you don’t know who our representative on the Citadel is?”

Well fuck.

“My cousin and I have been a bit busy the last couple years gathering all this information on the protheans and the Reapers,” I quickly said, dodging the question. “In hindsight we probably should’ve kept a closer eye on events occurring on our own door.”

Her gaze held, still a bit skeptical, but she was willing to let it go easily enough. “Udina took a step back from politics after serving as Anderson’s aide for a couple years.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Kaidan interjected. “He was starting to be seen as a bit of a fanatic by his colleagues, especially in the eyes of the other races. The Alliance diplomatic corps gently forced him to retire to a less strenuous position back on earth.”

Well, that could be a very good thing or a very bad one. On the plus side, he could no longer be used by the Illusive Man to stage the coup on the Citadel; on the down side, God only knew what the hell he was involved in with the war raging on earth. With Cerberus essentially under Reaper control, that meant Udina was a man in a position of relative power who could be easily influenced. Then again, hearing what Javik and the VI on Thessia said about their own political downfall—damn, why couldn’t I remember that VI’s name?—just about every politician on earth was potentially a timebomb for the civilians under their wing. I could distinctly remember stories about how indoctrinated prothean leaders strongly urged their people to undergo actions that ultimately made them even easier for the Reapers to harvest. Hopefully that wasn’t the case here.

Either way, I’d need to find a way to let Anderson know to be wary of any and all political maneuvering on earth while the Reapers were there. Add that to the list.

“Why do you want to know?” Shepard asked me. I’d nearly forgotten what we were talking about.

“Nothing,” I replied. “If he’s not in a position close to the Council he can’t do any harm. Last thing we need is a biased politician in the middle of this war. But I’m curious: who’s going to take over for Anderson?”

“I guess whoever’s highest up on the food chain. Most likely Admiral Hackett.”

Now that I could live with. As long as things hadn’t changed so much that Hackett was in danger of being killed or indoctrinated, we were in good hands there.

“We’re thirty seconds out, Commander,” Joker said over the comm. Immediately Liara and Kaidan headed for the door behind me and I stepped aside to let them pass.

“Come on,” Shepard said. “We need to get into that meeting. You can follow us up to the human embassy.”

She breezed past me and I turned to follow, suddenly realizing that I’d need to grab Troy and my shoes if I didn’t want to make a complete ass out of myself.

“And after that?” I asked.

“We meet with Tevos,” Shepard responded. “We tell her what we know and see if she can turn the other races to our side. Assuming we can manage to convince her, that is.”

“And if we can’t?”

“At the very least we should be able to get her interested enough to investigate your claims about the Catalyst. Then we just go from there.”

Roll with it. That was a plan I could get behind.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

“Get your cousin and meet us in depressurization when you’re ready. Then we’ll see just what kind of damage we can do together.”

Okay. Fuck yeah.

Time to see the Citadel.