Another artificial day had risen on the Citadel, and Falare’s boots clicked on the floor as she walked beneath the projected sky of the Presidium Ring. Behind her, walking in formation and in unison, were the white fillies and colts that she had almost come to think of as her own children. At her side walked Rarity.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly,” said Rarity, introspectively looking back at Livela, the eldest of the small Pegasi and the leader of the formation, “you see them as ponies, like me?”

“Yes,” said Falare. “I don’t know why I would not.”

“But…the color.”

“Is that how you differentiate them? What of Pegasi born naturally with those colors?”

“That is remarkably rare but…” Rarity frowned. “I suppose that could cause some difficulties. I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“And as for their color, they are white. So are you.”

“Yes, I am, but- -I’m a unicorn! It’s different!”

Falare stopped. Her formation stopped behind her, and she turned around. She considered for a moment, and then reached down and picked up the smallest of the colts, Dulven. He did not resist, but rather looked up at Falare with wide eyes and a smile on his face.

“Look,” said Falare, holding the colt in front of Rarity. “Does he not look like a pony child?”

“But the red eyes- -”

“Ignoring that. Pretend you don’t know where he came from. Judging him- -judging them- -from what they are now, not where they came from. What would you say?”

Rarity considered for a moment.

“Hello Lady Rarity,” said Dulven. “I hope you are having a wonderful day! I currently being adorable, and nopony can stop me!”

“Aww,” said Rarity. “They’re so cute when they’re little.” She paused while Falare returned Dulven to the company of his siblings. “But…I suppose if I try, I can see it your way. I don’t know if you’re right, but…if you are, I’m a terrible pony, aren’t I?”

“If you can realize that possibility, then no. No you aren’t.”

They stopped at a large window and looked out until they were approached from behind.

“Falare?” said a familiar voice. Falare turned to see Garrus. He looked tired and disheveled, no doubt having slept in his office for several nights in a row.

“Hello, Garrus,” said Falare.

“You look…amazing.”

“I look how I always look.” Despite her chilly response, though, Falare knew what he meant. One of her hands brushed the front collar of her dress. She had always worn the same clothes, an artifact of her days locked away in a convent- -but for the first time since she had been a girl, she actually felt pretty. Like a real asari. “But…Rarity was kind enough to make me this dress and the jewelry.”

“It’s amazing work,” said Garrus, trying to compliment Rarity. She just turned away from him, pointing her nose into the air.

“Hmf!” she said, loudly.

“Ambassador?”

“Excuse me if I am not prepared to converse with the man who made an adulteress out of me,” she said, coldly.

“Adulteress? What are you- -” Garrus cringed. “Look, Rarity, Falare, I’m sorry, I know I screwed up. Hard. But- -”

Falare took him by the shoulder. “Livela? Stay with Ms. Rarity. I need to speak with Councilor Vakarian. Alone.”

“Yes, Ms. Falare,” replied Livela. The small formation of Pegasi fluttered out of her way as she led Garrus away.

“Falare, I’m sorry,” said Garrus. “I’m an idiot, and I wasn’t thinking.”

“No. You were thinking. But you are an idiot.” Falare stopped dragging him and sighed. “But I’m not entirely blameless. It was wrong of me to assert possession over you. I don’t own you. You are your own man, and you can make whatever choices you want. Regardless of how moronic and hurtful they are.”

“So…forgiveness?”

“NO. Not at all. Possibly not ever. Not for what you did, both to me and Rarity. That was wrong, and you know it.”

Garrus sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

“And I can’t overlook that. But I can see beyond it. And look to the future, and to the remainder of your actions and personality.”

“So…you’re giving me a second chance?”

“More than that. But before I continue, I need to preface my further statements.” Falare paused, and looked nervous. Garrus had never seen her like that. “I had a blood test performed this morning. The results are inconclusive, but…there is a very high probability that I am pregnant.”

Garrus’s numerous jaw appendages dropped open. “Preg…but…how…what? WHAT?”

Falare nodded. “By…her.” She looked over her shoulder at Rarity, who was interacting extremely awkwardly with the breeder Pegasi surrounding her.

“You- -what- -how- -you Kirked the pony!” Garrus continued to sputter. “But- -she’s still alive!”

“I know. I believe this is what the humans would refer to as a miracle.”

“And does she know?”

“Not yet. I don’t think she needs to, not immediately. But you need to.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you need to know. To preface my proposal.”

“Proposal? Of what?”

Falare raised one eyebrow. “Proposal. As in MY proposal. To you.”

“To me? Falare, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are that thick, aren’t you? Garrus, here.” Falare reached into a fold in her dress and produced a small box. She flicked it open, revealing a silvery ring inside with a large deep blue gemstone.”

Garrus looked at it stupidly. “Um…” Then his eyes widened, and looked at Falare. “You mean- -Oh, THAT kind of proposal.” She chuckled, but then became deathly serious as he realized the implications. “THAT kind of proposal…”

Falare managed to smile through her nervousness. “Yes.”

Garrus looked at the ring, and then back at Falare. “But the Council- -”

“I’ve already written my resignation letter. I intend to tender it after the Equestrian negations terminate.”

“But your position- -”

“Never really was for me. I want to return to activism. For the Ardat-Yakshi. Rarity has spent a considerable amount of time explaining what Equestria has to offer. Their knowledge of biotics is centuries- -no, millennia ahead of even what the asari know. I think, with their help, we might even be able to find a cure.”

“A cure? You mean…”

“I can’t promise anything,” said Falare. “You need to know that. Even if a cure is possible, it might not be available for several of your lifetimes. But…”

Garrus took her hand. “I don’t care. I’ll give it a shot.”

“Is…is that a yes?”

Garrus smiled, and then leaned forward and kissed her. When they were finished, Falare knew the answer- -and looked back to see Rarity blotting her eyes with a tissue as she and the smaller ponies watched on.

Something felt wrong, though. Falare winced as a strange sensation passed through her head. It was like a buzzing- -or a voice. She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her fingers to the space between her eyes.

“Falare?” said Garrus, sounding genuinely concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Garrus, I just…” Falare opened her eyes and trailed off. They were no longer alone. Standing beside Garrus was a pulsating blue mass, particles rendering themselves into a humanoid shape. Even incomplete, Falare immediately knew who she was seeing. Despite the changes, he was the same as he had been that day on Lesuss so long ago.

“Benefactor,” she said in awe.

“Benefactor? What?”

Falare was confused. “But- -”

“He can’t see me, Falare,” said the Benefactor, his voice echoing upon itself in her mind. “I am communicating with you through your Reaper implants. Please tell Garrus that. He might not get it otherwise.”

“It’s the Benefactor…I can see him.”

“Where?” Garrus’s tone had changed. Falare had always been somewhat impressed with the Benefactor, but from the shift in Garrus’s voice, it was apparent that he felt differently. He sounded the way he did when something very bad was about to happen. “Can he hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” said Falare.

“You would show up right now. What is it?”

“There has been a problem. I dispatched my fleet to the Crystal Galaxy but encountered…resistance.”

“Something has gone wrong,” relayed Falare.

“I lost several ships.”

“Several ships were destroyed.”

“No. Not destroyed. They are no longer in my possession.”

“Not in your possession- -how is that even possible?”

“Their core programming was overwritten. By Reaper technology.”

“But you are the Reapers. How could- -”

“Falare,” groaned Garrus. “I can’t hear his part of the conversation. What is going on?”

“I did not anticipate this,” said the Benefactor. “I messed up. Badly.”

“I don’t- -”

The Benefactor turned his head sharply, sending particles drifting throughout the immediate area before they swirled back to his body. “It’s too late. The mass relay has been activated. I can’t- -I can’t stop them.” He turned back to Falare and his features resolved into those of the human he had once been. “Falare, they’re coming. Get Garrus to safety. Evacuate the Citadel. I’m sending help, but I need time to reverse the dormancy cycle.”

“Falare?” demanded Garrus. “I need to know!”

Falare blinked, and the Benefactor was gone. As if to punctuate her point, something struck the Citadel. There was no vibration, at first. Just a distant thud, the slightest vibration through the layers and layers of metal. Then the floor rocked as something hit closer.

“What the- -”

Falare grabbed Garrus by the shoulder, steadying him. “Garrus, we’re under attack.”

“Attack? By- -” Garrus’s omnitool sprung open, displaying data from throughout the Citadel. A static-filled voice echoed through it. In the background was the sound of screams and weaponsfire.

“Councilor, this is Vlox of C-sec! We’ve got incursion- -and the ships, outside…by the gods…its’ the Reapers…”

“Reapers? This is Vakarian, C-sec, clarify, did you say Reapers?”

The only response was a sound of metal slashing through something organic, and a gurgling sound before the communication dropped out.

“Damn it!” cried Garrus. “That bastard- -”

“It isn’t him,” said Falare. “He was warning us. An external force has taken control of them.” She twirled around, crossing the room quickly to Rarity’s side. The pony looked afraid, and so did the young Pegasi. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rarity’s mercenary hanar approach, simultaneously drawing an assault rifle, a shotgun, and a pistol.

“Honorable Madame Rarity,” he said. “This one’s information indicates that the Citadel is currently under attack.”

“Attack- -by- -by what?” cried Rarity, sounding on the verge of panic.

“Unknown. And irrelevant. This one’s only task now is to get you to a safe place.” The optics of his armor focused past Rarity at Falare and Garrus. “Councilors. This one supposes it will also attempt to defend you as well.”

“Right,” said Garrus, pulling an pistol out of his clothing and activating his shield. “I’ll take the lead.”

“This one is quite honored to fight alongside the honorable hero Garrus Vakarian,” admitted Si’y.

One of the young Pegasi tugged at Falare’s robes. “Ms. Falare? Is something happening?”

“Yes, it is,” said Falare, picking up the frightened filly. “Don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.”

Rarity’s eyes suddenly widened. “But my sister- -Oh Celestia, what about Sweetie Belle?”

Far away on the Citadel, Sweetie Belle groggily awoke to a commotion.

“What?” she said, trying to bend her pillow over her head. “What the buck, it’s not even noon yet…”

Despite her best attempts at willing the sound to go away, she could not manage to go back to sleep. She groaned loudly and then threw the sheets off her bed. Halfway down the mattress, Jade Wing stirred, wincing at the cold and tightening his body into an even tighter ball of crystal.

“Oh, come on,” said Sweetie Belle, kicking him lightly. “How can you sleep through that?”

“I managed to sleep with you next to me,” he muttered. “I think I can sleep through just about anything at this point. Or so I thought.” He stood up and stretched on the bed as Sweetie Belle jumped off.

“Just when I barely got to sleep…” she yawned.

“You’ve been asleep for close to ten hours. You snore.”

“And you don’t have genitals.”

“So? I’m a crystal pony. That’s normal. And what the hay does that have to do with anything?”

Sweetie Belle just grumbled, and was about to produce a creative retort when something loud thumped outside the door. It stopped, and then thumped again more loudly.

“Buck,” said Sweetie Belle. “Whatever they are doing out there- -of course, Rarity would get assigned the WORST room. Probably because the drapes match the carpet or something stupid like that.”

She stomped over to the door, and she was about to throw it open when it was suddenly knocked inward. Sweetie Belle barely managed to dodge the collapsing metal as a krogan was thrown into the room, locked in combat with some kind of horrifying creature.

“You think that hurt?” cried the krogan, laughing. The creature reared up and slammed one of its scythe-like front limbs at the krogan, not seeming to realize that the blade had been broken off. The krogan, meanwhile, reached into his boot and removed a long serrated knife which he promptly plunged into the creature’s neck again and again. Black fluid poured out onto the floor, and the creature took a step back in shock. This gave the krogan the chance he needed. He stood up and slammed his head into the creature’s, disorienting it long enough for him to get his arms around its neck and twist its head around. The creature convulsed and collapsed.

By this point, the krogan was somewhat out of breath. “Wow. Out of shape. Too many donuts.” At about that time he noticed the two ponies staring up at him. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry about the door.” He produced a holographic badge. “I’m with C-sec.”

“What the HAY WAS THAT?” squealed Sweetie Belle.

The krogan looked down at the creature, which was now trying to pull itself awkwardly toward the door, its dislocated head lolling on one side. The krogan drew an enormous pistol and unloaded an entire thermal clip into it. “Don’t know,” he said, ejecting the burning clip and replacing it. “Don’t care. But they’re damn everywhere. The Citadel’s been invaded.”

“Invaded?” squeaked Wing.

“Did I stutter? Come on.”

“Come on?” cried Sweetie Belle. “What do you mean ‘come on’? Out there? What if there’s more of them?”

“Not if. There are. And my orders are to evacuate this block. And, guess what? You’re the only survivors.” He looked toward the door. “But we’re gonna have to hurry. There’s a contingent of drell holding the exits, but they’re not going to last long. Drell look tough, but they’re damn squishy on the inside.” The krogan kicked the still moving corpse of the creature out of his way. “Or stay. But you’ll be missing out. This is gonna be a goooooood fight.”

Sweetie Belle and Wing looked at each other- -and they found themselves following the krogan into the hall outside the room.

“Oh buck,” said Wing, looking around them.

The floor was littered with the bodies of the creatures- -and other ones, too. The walls were pitted with bullet holes and char marks. From the distance, a sound was approaching. Sweetie Belle could not place it at first, but as it drew closer, she realized that it was the sound produced by something clicking against the floor. Not one thing, either. It sounded like there were a great many.

“Damn,” said the krogan. “This is about to get hairier than a human female. The pretty ones, at least.” He reached down into the corpses and wrestled a pistol from the hands of a dead salarian. “Here,” he said, throwing it to Sweetie Belle. “You’re probably going to need this.”

Sweetie Belle caught the pistol in her magic. “How am I supposed to use this thing? I can’t use this!” She threw it to Wing. He did not even move to catch it; it instead rebounded off his side.

He looked at the weapon, and then at her. “I don’t have magic. Or fingers. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’re supposed to be some kind of soldier, aren’t you?! Soldier!”

“I’m a PILOT. I fly ships! I’m not cleared for groundfighting- -and even then, without my suit, I don’t have any weapons!”

“Well then what good are you?”

“We’re about to find out,” said the krogan as a formation of the pale, diseased looking creatures burst around the hallway, their silvery dead eyes suddenly focusing on the ponies and lizard thing waiting for them.

“My quad feels tickly,” said the krogan. “Just wanted to point that out.” He then pointed at the creatures. “We’re going that way. See if you can keep up, little horses.”

Up until that point, Sweetie Belle had lived a relatively privileged life. As an all-white unicorn, she was given special precedence in Equestrian society. In addition, her sister was a wealthy dressmaking tycoon and ambassador. Sweetie Belle had never fought in a battle, or even experienced any real violence or crime.

That had all changed suddenly, and Sweetie Belle found herself surrounded by automatic weaponsfire and dying aliens, trudging and sprinting through gore and remnants of things that she increasingly came to see as a variety of pony.

Of all the aliens to be protected by, though, the krogan was as close to ideal as possible. Of course, on some level Sweetie Belle would have preferred Si’y, largely out of familiarity, but even then the hanar seemed squishy and lacking in durability. The krogan were quite the opposite, to the point where the vigor with which this particular alien engaged his enemies moved well beyond beneficially practical and well into the territory of terrifying. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing, taking pleasure in blowing holes in the oncoming creatures with a variety of heavy-looking weapons or skewering them on bayonets. Watching him kill, Sweetie Belle felt safe- -but with every death could feel herself becoming increasingly traumatized.

The fighting cleared relatively quickly, though. It did not seem like there were all that many enemies, and they moved unpredictably and in waves. There were still the sounds, though. Distant explosions, the thumps of weaponsfire, and occasionally shouts or screams.

Sweetie Belle tried to block these sounds out as she followed the krogan. They had progressed several levels lower in the Citadel, and Sweetie Belle found herself amongst the shops she had spent so much time in just days earlier. Where they had once been thriving, they were now silent. No one was present in the street, and the stores were abandoned. Some of their wears were strewn through the street, and in a few places, Sweetie Belle thought she saw various liquids that might have been alien blood slowly flowing across the floor.

“I don’t like this,” said Wing.

“If you did like this, you would be insane.”

“I like this,” said the krogan. “It’s real fun. Not nearly as fun as pulping those Cerberus bastards back in the War, though. I liked that a lot more.”

As they passed a store, the unnerving stillness of the empty promenade was suddenly broken. The air in front of one of the stores flickered and distorted with orange light, and a figure appeared. Sweetie Belle ducked, covering her head, and the krogan raised his weapon, only to lower it again.

“Damn it,” he said.

The hologram looked around, and then focused on the group. He smiled, and Sweetie Belle saw the image was a representation of a type of alien that she had not seen before.

It spoke. “I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my FAVORITE store on the Citadel!”

“I don’t have time for this,” said the krogan, passing through the hologram.

“But we’re having a sale,” it said, turning to face him. “Fifty percent off our entire stock of ocean bacon.”

The krogan stopped suddenly, and Sweetie Belle could have sworn she saw him shaking. If he really was, though, he stopped almost immediately and slowly turned toward the hologram.

“Are…are you okay?” asked Sweetie Belle. She felt herself taking a step back, because she instinctively knew that something was wrong. His face seemed to have gone completely blank.

“Yes,” muttered the krogan.

“And this will be our final sale,” said the hologram.

“Right,” said the krogan. “Right…”

He just stood still for a long moment, and then Wing spoke. “I have an idea,” he said.

“Is it a good idea?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“All my ideas are good ideas. I’ve done some scouting, and this area isn’t far from where they’re keeping my ship.”

“Your ship? I thought I was your ship.”

“Not that kind of ship. MY ship.”

“You mean the one that got completely shattered when you crashed it into the Citadel?”

Wing frowned at her. “Yes. That one.”

“Do you think it will fly?”

“Fly? No, of course not. I crashed it. Without the central computer it would be impossible to fly anyway. But I don’t think the communication resonator is damaged.”

“You want to call for help.”

“No. I want to call for an emergency tactical teleport.”

“Teleport? At this range? Is that even possible?”

“It would be difficult but not beyond the Living Goddess’s capabilities, should she choose to take pity on us.”

“Wait- -so the choice comes down to CADENCE? The Dark Lord of the Crystal Galaxy, the Architect of Death herself?”

“Yes. Of course. She’s the one doing the teleportation.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“I’m not. This sector is largely safe because it only has five main outlets- -but it only has five main outlets. I have no tactical support, no scanning equipment, I have no idea what’s going on- -but I know that there’s going to be a lot of those things waiting for us on the other side.”

“I’ll take you there,” muttered the krogan, distantly. He turned around, and started walking.

“Huh,” said Wing. “I guess I’m more charismatic than I thought.”

His self-adulation was interrupted by a sound of something large being moved ahead of them. Sweetie Belle looked up to see a large overturned piece of vending equiptment being picked up and moved by a magical field. From behind it, a heavily armored unicorn approached.

Sweetie Belle smiled, and took a step forward- -until she saw the expression on that mare’s face, and the fact that she was followed by a horde of the sewn creatures. The unicorn mare’s blank looking eyes scanned the area, and then narrowed on Sweetie Belle.

“Heretics,” she spat. “All those who deny the divinity of Lady Sunset will perish! We will- -”

There was a snap as her head was knocked backward, and she crumpled into a heap. Sweetie Belle turned sharply to where the sound had come from, and saw the krogan standing, his weapon raised- -and face devoid of any expression whatsoever. No remorse, no regret, not even the joy at a perfect kill.

“She- -she was a PONY!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “How could you- -”

“I will take you there,” he repeated, advancing on the creatures and opening fire. “I will…take you there…”

Garrus had seen a lot of things in his nearly sixty years of life. Never in all that time- -even during the greatest conflict in galactic memory, perhaps the greatest conflict since there had even been turians- -had he seen a militarily competent hanar. That was supposed to be a joke, an ironic parody- -like the action hero Blasto. Hanar were supposed to be a bunch of stodgy poets with a weird drell fetish. Si’y was not one of those hanar.

For a moment, Garrus felt like he was back in his glory days. The sound of weapons firing, the feel of the recoil in his hands, the thrill of combat- -they were all things he remembered, and things that came back to him so easily. The only difference was that this time, instead of following Shepard’s lead, he WAS the lead.

Si’y was an obvious soldier, and provided the cover fire Garrus needed to push forward. Falare maintained the rear, protecting Rarity and the smaller ponies with her. This did not leave her much of a chance to join in on the combat, but that was acceptable. Despite her level of biotic power, Falare was not a soldier. She never had been. She could serve a much more important function by keeping Rarity- -who was on the verge of hysterics- -from spooking and bolting down a random corridor in a panic.

“On your left!”

Si’y turned and unloaded his shotgun into an attacking creature’s chest. At the same time, he fired several pistol rounds into its head. Garrus fired several shots into the creature behind it, dropping it as it tried to crawl over the remnants of its comrade.

“I have some extra clips,” said Garrus. “You need to reload.”

“No. This one does not.” Si’y directed his rifled down the long corridor and mowed down several of the creatures along with a pair of enemy Pegasi. “This one holds a strong preference toward recooled weapons.”

“Recoolers? Nobody’s used those in decades- -I didn’t think they still made them. In this one’s opinion, the develop of thermal clips sent weapons design backward by at least a century.” Without breaking the calm tone of his hanar voice, Si’y charged forward and grabbed a struggling creature, holding it long enough for Garrus to put a polonium round between its eyes.

Garrus flicked the reload switch on his pistol and the smoking thermal clip ejected. He put in a new one, and then reached down to the ground, picking up an assault rifle from the remains of a C-sec officer who had not been as fortunate as they now were. “Hey,” he said to the hanar beside him. “Have you ever considered applying for a position as a Spectre?”

“A Spectre? This one has always been in awe of the position, and it has never considered itself worthy.”

“You are rescuing two Citadel Councilors, an ambassador, and a group of children,” said Falare from behind them. “That is not an unimpressive feat.”

“Consider it a job offer,” said Garrus. “If we live through this, think it over.”

Si’y paused, his optics turned toward Garrus in disbelief. “The device that converts this one’s bioluminescence into audible speech is not capable of more than a polite monotone, but under this armor, I am squealing with joy like a stuck asari. With no offense intended to the honorable and extremely ravishing asari Councilor.”

“Can…can this wait?” said Rarity. “Can we just get out of here?”

“Out where?” said Garrus. They were quickly passing a window, and even he took pause at the sight outside. “Look.”

Outside, the entire sky had become a battlefield. Every ship in the Citadel’s defense entourage was pouring weaponsfire into a group of ships, and more were arriving every second from every part of the galaxy. Their enemies, of course, were all-too familiar to Garrus: black ships, highlighted with orange-violet light, their hulls more like insects or crustaceans than any sane ship design.

“Twenty five years ago, it took every ship we had to barely slow Sovereign down,” said Garrus. “And he was just ONE Reaper.”

“But twenty five years have passed,” said Si’y. “Our weapons have come so far.”

“And that is the only reason why we’re still alive.”

“But then…then where are we going to go?” cried Rarity. “If we can’t- -if we can’t go through that- -”

Garrus did not answer, at least not at first. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m going to keep you safe. I’m going to keep us all safe.”

That promise quickly came into question, though, as the group was forced to move through what had up until that point functioned as a large park. Now, it had become a battlefield. All around, soldiers were rushing across the field, dodging and falling behind cover. Biotic blasts were erupting on all sides, both from the enemy and from the few asari who had taken up the fight. It also appeared that the enemy was adapting. From the few that Garrus could see slowly crawling across the walls or through the remains of the formerly beautiful trees, they now had weapons.

The creatures and ponies immediately concentrated fire on Garrus. His sheild absorbed the first few hits, but just before it failed, Falare stepped forward. She raised one of her hands, projecting a biotic barrier.

“Cover,” she said. “Now.”

Garrus ducked, as did the others, hiding behind rocks and the remnants of a fallen statue. Falare moved much more calmly, deflecting all incoming projectiles until she could join Garrus behind the base of the statue. Rarity, the Pegasi, and Si’y remained near its broken torso- -with Si’y seamlessly continuing to unload his unlimited supply of bullets at random in the enemy’s general direction.

Where Garrus had taken cover, there were two turians currently engaged with the enemy. One was a C-Sec officer, while the other appeared to be a member of the turian military.

“Councilor!” said the nearest of them. “What- -what are you doing here?”

“The situation,” demanded Garrus.

“We’re losing. Badly. But we have to hold this position. This is the last barrier between them and the sector evacuation corridor- -if we fail here, they’ll take the civilians- -”

“You need to get to that evacuation channel,” said the other turian, who was firing from around the statue base. Garrus noticed that he was bleeding heavily from a wound in his shoulder. “If we lose you- -”

“Falare, can you cover Rarity and get her to the escape route?”

“I can,” she said. “But if I’m blocking, I can’t attack. And…I don’t think this position is going to hold.”

“At this rate, no,” said one of the turian soldiers. “We’ll give you as much time as we can, though.”

“Damn,” said Garrus, opening his omnitool and beginning to enter information. “I never thought I would have to use this damn thing. I hope it works…”

“Garrus? What are you doing?”

“If we’re getting pushed, we push back. HARD.”

“With what? All our forces are engaged.”

“Not all of them,” sighed Garrus. He finished the code and closed his omnitool.

“What did you just do?”

“You know vas’Geth?”

“Locutus? The former quarian? What does she have to do with this?”

“The geth helped design the Citadel’s new defenses. She left us a present.”

A small explosion ricocheted off the statue base, sending fragments of Thessian marble flying in every direction. Garrus heart Rarity cry out in terror. Garrus looked around the statue base, and saw the creatures advancing. A new force had arrived. The new versions were much larger, with horns emerging from their heads and projecting spheres of fiery orange energy to defend their advancing brethren. The ordinary small-arms of the defending soldires were no longer adequate in the slightest.

“COUNCILORS!” cried the turian soldier beside Garrus. “You need to get out of here! NOW!”

Before Garrus could argue, the battle suddenly slowed. The creatures stepped back, seemingly confused. They were sensing something that Citadel forces could not- -until it got closer. The ground shook, but not with the violence of an explosion. There was not just one sudden surge of sound- -instead, the deck of the Citadel shook repeatedly every few seconds.

“Garrus,” said Falare, “you didn’t…”

“I did.”

There was a sudden crunching sound as the remnants of the nearest trees were pulled from their roots by an enormous metal claw. Garrus suddenly found himself staring up at a fifteen-meter high geth prime tearing its way through the park.

“Oh wow,” he said. “I didn’t realize that it was THAT big.”

The geth turned its single, glowing eye toward the alien creatures below it.

“Engaging tactical assessment,” it boomed. “Quarian threat detected. Initiating directive 7395: destroy all quarians!”

Its central eye suddenly ignited with light, and then erupted with a particle beam. Garrus covered his face, but he could still feel the heat as the beam shot across the expanse of the park. There was a popping sound as the enemy’s shields collapsed. Once the beam had stopped, Garrus looked over his damaged cover and saw the land in ruins, charred to the now molten deck below. Surrounding it were the singed skeletons of the enemy forces, as well as anyone who had happened to be too close.

The geth prime began to walk forward. “Galactic democracy is non-negotiable. Quarian tyranny will fall!”

The turian soldiers looked up wide-eyed as the immense geth stepped over them, continuing to engage the few remaining enemies below.

“Don’t just stand there!” shouted Garrus. “Follow Geth Prime! He’s going to cut us a path out of here!”

“Ri..right.” The turians stood up, and began chasing after the enormous geth as it continued to rain down destruction on perceived “quarians”.

“You just had to wake him up, didn’t you,” muttered Falare.

“Oh come on, when else was I going to get to use the giant robot?”

Falare sighed and shook her head. “Well…I guess we had better keep going.”

From what Sweetie Belle could tell, Wing’s ship had been stored in the basement of the Citadel. It was probably not a real basement, she realized, but it certainly felt like one. It was dark, and the corridors were tight and smelled funny. Even stranger was how empty it was: there were no signs of fighting this far away from civilization.

They approached a door, and Sweetie Belle hesitated when she saw a large, insect-like creature working at an open access panel. At first she thought it was one of the pony-like creatures that were attacking them, but she quickly realized that it was some kind of alien. That did not make her feel any better. She hated bugs.

“A keeper,” explained Wing. “I’ve seen tons of them around.”

“It’s so gross!”

“Yes. And they apparently will try to carry you off in your sleep.”

“Don’t say that!”

The krogan approached the door near the keeper, and the keeper ignored it completely. He raised his hand, and an orange projection formed around it. He pressed this against the control panel for the door, and the door seemed to respond.

“C-sec access codes, recognized,” said a female voice from the door itself. “Access…granted.” There was a mechanical sound from within the door. “Have a nice day, officer.”

The krogan seemed to stare into the blackness of the open door for a moment, as though he had not realized it had opened. Then, slowly, he stepped in.

“I don’t like this,” said Sweetie Belle. “Something isn’t right- -hey! Why aren’t you listening to me?!”

Wing was already entering the hanger. Sweetie Belle followed him, largely just to yell at him. That was when she saw the glimmering pile of crystal stacked in the center of the room.

“Wow,” she said, her eyes widening. “It’s so pretty!”

“It’s so broken,” said Wing. He sighed, and then pointed to a metal rack that was supporting his armor. “At least that’s mostly intact. The Archgeneral is probably going to put my head on a plate for this…and she would do it, too. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

The krogan ignored what was going on, and instead walked over to a large computer terminal on one side of the room and began entering data. Sweetie Belle did not read alien, and guessed that it was probably in code, so ignored him like he was ignoring her. Instead, she walked carefully to the fragmented piles of crystal. They seemed to have been stacked by size, and the presence of alien tools and equpitment indicated that the aliens had been studying it.

“It looks like they’ve been trying to reverse engineer it,” said Wing, picking through the crystal around the front and then attempting to pull open the cockpit. “I don’t know why. Their technology is so primitive, they might as well be banging rocks togather. I don’t even think they’ve even figured out how to use magic properly yet, let alone build an actual ship.”

“They have ships,” said Sweetie Belle, eyeing a long piece of crystal that shimmered quite brightly in the light. “I’ve seen them.”

“They have hunks of metal that they’ve strapped primitive explosives into and call an engine. It’s so…unsubtle. And inelegant.”

“Speaking of elegant…” Sweetie Belle picked up a shiny pink and green component that sparkled in exposure to her magic. “It’s scrap, right? So you wouldn’t mind if I…maybe…took some?”

Wing looked at her with mild contempt, but upon seeing what she was holding, took a wide step back. “Yeah, sure. If you like massive doses of radiation. That’s a control peg off the main reactor. I’d put that down. Very, VERY carefully.”

Sweetie Belle looked at the crystal, and then at Wing. She slowly put the crystal down. Wing seemed to accept this, and returned to his rummaging.

As he did, though, Sweetie Belle heard something. It was distant, but she immediately recognized it. Somepony was whistling.

“Wing…” Sweetie Belle looked at him, and then up at the krogan. The krogan was now typing extremely fast, and for a brief moment Sweetie Belle thought she saw a symbol fly by on his screen, a kind of white hexagon- -but what mattered was that he was not whistling either.

“Herrrrratics,” called a stallion’s voice from the hallway outside, speaking with an ominous singsong tone. “I can smellllll you…”

Sweetie Belle felt her blood run cold, and suddenly realized that the krogan had not closed the door behind them.

“Wing!” she squeaked. “I don’t mean to rush you, but you need to HURRY UP RIGHT NOW!”

“I’m trying!” he cried back, also on the verge of panic. “I- -I need time to repair it!”

“How much time!”

“Well- - um- -at this level of damage, factoring in the- -”

“HOW LONG?!”

“Six hours at least!”

An armored stallion poked his head through the open door and smiled. “I found you, little heretics,” he said, bursting into laughter as the silent creatures around him began to crawl into the room, pulling themselves across its walls and ceiling.

“You have about six seconds!” cried Sweetie Belle.

Wing started sobbing. “Oh Cadence, why have you forsaken me?”

The creatures advanced. Their first target was, apparently, the krogan. They attacked him, tearing into him with their claws. Sweetie Belle expected him to do at least something- -but he barely moved. He took the blow, suffering massive injury, and was knocked to the side, only to right himself and redouble his efforts at the computer. Another creature struck him, and a third sunk its teeth into his neck. All the while, he never called out in pain. The expression on his face never changed. He just kept working, even as they impaled him again and again.

One of the creature seemed to notice Sweetie Belle. It turned, slowly, and then sprinted. Sweetie Belle cried out in terror and was pretty sure she felt urine flowing down her rear legs. She projected a shield spell, and the creature reared up and struck the field with its claws. The field shattered, and Sweetie Belle was thrown backward. Crystal rods and fragments went rolling throughout the room, and Sweetie Belle hit something hard.

Suddenly, whatever Sweetie Belle had struck reacted to her presence, closing in around her. She looked up to see Wing’s armor closing around her body, and she screamed, trying to escape. Resisting was useless, though, and within seconds her body was covered in crystal.

“SCREEEE!” she wailed. “Get it off get it off get it off! Wing it- -OOOIII! It’s vibrating! No! Not there!”

“New user detected,” said a voice in Sweetie Belle’s mind. “Filly body type identified. Recalibrating.”

“Recalibrating, what does that- -NO! NO! Don’t recalibrate THOSE, that’s- -oh, buck, that feels so WEIRD!”

As she danced around, trying to get the crystal armor off of herself, the creature that had attacked her pounced. Sweetie Belle screamed as she was knocked over, and she felt its blades strike her again and again, each time rebounding off the crystal that covered her.

“Get OFF!” she screamed, pointing her hoof at it. She felt the crystal shift, drawing an immense amount of magic from her body, and then the creature exploded into a plume of black fluid and blue sparks.

“Groundforce combat recognized,” said the armor. “Diverting emergency power. Linking to basis starship…damage assessment at ninety-two percent. Engating remote reactivation.”

The ship behind Sweetie Belle began to hum, and Wing jumped out of it. “Sweetie Belle, what did you- -MY ARMOR!”

“Diverting auxiliary power,” said the suit. “Weapons systems active at five percent capacity.”

“What?” said Sweetie Belle. “I don’t- -” Another creature leapt at her, and it- -and everything behind it- -was suddenly incinerated by a blast of energy from the ship behind her.

“The weapons- -how did you- -Sweetie Belle, you can’t be in that armor, it isn’t optimized for organics!”

“Tell that to the armor!”

Sweetie Belle fired several more bolts of energy, disintegrating the creatures as they approached. She hesitated when it came to their leader, though, and he seemed to notice this. He spread his wings and raced across the room. Sweetie Belle dodged, addling herself in the process by her unfamiliarity with how much faster the power-assisted suit moved, but she had never been his target. He instead tackled wing.

“Dirty heretic!” cried the stallion. “How dare you? You would stand against our eternal Queen?! TREASON!” He turned Wing over and lifted his tail. “And do you know what happens to TRAITORS?”

“No, wait, I don’t even- -you wouldn’t- -no!”

Sweetie Belle pulled him off by one of his wings and punched him in the face. There was a crack as his jaw shattered, and his eyes glazed as he lost consciousness.

“Are you okay?” she said, picking Wing up. Wing looked up at her with his wide, crystalline eyes, and blushed. “I take it back. You can keep the armor on.”

“Can you salvage the teleport?”

“No. I can’t.”

“Then we need to get out of here. Just follow me.”

Sweetie Belle ran toward the door, but paused at the krogan. He was still weakly typing into the keyboard, even as he slumped to one side, holding his chest but having no effect on the copious amount of yellow-orange fluid that was pouring from his body. Before Sweetie Belle could even offer to help him, he collapsed, clearly dead.

On the screen, Sweetie Belle suddenly realized that a face was looking back at her. An alien with pale skin, blue eyes, and long, blonde hair. He looked at her for a moment, and then the screen went black. The computer promptly sparked, and then burst into flames.

“We need to go,” said Wing. “We can’t do anything for him.”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle. “I know. I know.”

She could not help but feel, though, that she should have been able to do at least something and had somehow failed in acting on that responsibility.

The damage to the Citadel was increasing exponentially. Garrus was keeping a running tab of it, and it was growing increasingly catastrophic. The still unidentified aliens and their pony allies were rampaging throughout the ship, causing mass casualties and damage to nearly everything they encountered. As far as Garrus could tell, though, there were not that many of them. There seemed like a lot because they attacked in groups, but he had a gut feeling that they were only seeing waves, with no mass of soldiers behind them.

Likewise, their goal seemed nebulous. They were not attacking at anything in particular; they were not attempting to take the armory, or docks, or anything like that. Every bit of territory they would take they would just as easily give up for no apparent reason, as if they just liked to prolong the battle. The only area they had actually held was the area they had taken the fastest: the central computer core. An area which, as far as Garrus could tell, they had not damaged in the slightest.

The Reapers outside were not helping. Garrus had largely lost contact with the fleet outside, but every time he passed a window, he saw more ships- -and from time to time, he would feel the Citadel shake as another artillery strike hit.

“Garrus!” shouted Falare as an especially close strike hit, sending Rarity into tears and knocking several of the group of soldiers that surrounded them to the floor. “We have to close the Citadel!”

“We can’t! If we do that, they’re trapped in here with us. We have to keep it open for the backup- -”

“And if backup never comes? If he was lying?”

“It will! I know it will!”

There was a sudden burst of gunfire as a group of enemies rushed forward toward them. The various troops and accumulated civilians took cover, hiding from their blasts of energy and bullets. Some were hit and wounded.

Geth Prime looked down at the approaching monstrosities. “Pro-geth casualties: unacceptable. Overkill protocols authorized.”

The atmosphere suddenly felt electric as his particle beam charged, and Garrus dropped down as the weapon fired, tearing through a city block and immediately vaporizing anything and everything in Geth Prime’s path.

“Democracy will never be defeated!” he proclaimed, not even slowing as he continued to engage the remainder of his opponents by stomping on them almost without noticing. “We will not fear the quarian menace!”

The Citadel shook, and this time not from artillery. The Reapers were not the only source of the massive structural damage that was plaguing it. Geth Prime was immensely destructive, and seemed to care little about what got in his way. Garrus was only happy that they had not needed to pass through an area near a nonpressurized zone; if they had, Geth Prime would no doubt have punctured it without even noticing the atmosphere venting.

The shaking grew more intense, and then suddenly Garrus felt a set of tentacles wrapping around him. “Councilor!” yelled Si’y, pulling Garrus back. “Look out!”

As Garrus was pulled back and thrown to the ground, he saw behind him that most of a building was collapsing. The group of Pegasi near Rarity cried out and huddled together as a large piece of building façade came plummeting toward them. Rarity, who was far enough away to dodge it, instead leapt forward, producing a shield with her magic.

The impact of the material cracked the shield, and it began to collapse, but it held. Rarity showed signs of severe strain and dropped to her knees.

“Go,” she said to the fillies and colts, giving them a chance to escape as the piece of debris continued to drop. They looked up at her, and she saw the terror in their eyes. Not the dumb, unknowing gaze of insentient cattle, but of actual ponies. They were shaking, and too afraid to move. “GO!” she cried as the piece of material dropped another inch.

As if to make matters worth, the unlit streets behind them suddenly seemed to shift- -and things started to move out of it.

“We’ve been flanked!” cried a nearby salarian, directing all the soldiers around him to direct their attention at the new attackers.

Suddenly, the piece of building became much lighter. Rarity, who was on the verge of collapse and sweating profusely, looked up to see a new shield replacing her own. Falare effortlessly moved the piece of debris, and stepped forward into enemy fire, blocking Rarity and the breeders from attack. The enemy bullets rebounded off the field that surrounded her, and she held the piece of building debris out in front of her. With a sickening crack, it suddenly imploded, and Rarity felt space distort as it collapsed from a piece of sandstone and metal nearly the size of her to a dark-colored mass the size of a marble.

Falare directed the point in space toward the oncoming horde and let it fly. It flashed across the intervening space and struck the center of their formation. The explosion was deafening, and Rarity leapt on the terrified fillies and colts beneath her to defend them from the resulting cloud of dust and metal fragments. It felt like the world was ending.

“Go,” said Falare, apparently showing no strain even after producing the rough equivalent of a small nuclear blast. She looked over her shoulder at Garrus. “Get the ambassador and the children to safety. I will defend this point until you are clear.”

“But- -”

Falare looked out at the few wounded creatures that had survived her material singularity, and they immediately lifted into the air, their bodies being pulled apart on a molecular level from a sea of fiery blue light that had suddenly surrounded them. “I have very well controlled anger issues. This will be mildly therapeutic. Do not worry. I will survive.” She focused on the next wave of enemies. “They won’t, though.”

Without bothering to pause, she walked slowly into the enemy. Every one of them near her did, indeed, die. Horribly.

“We can’t just leave her!” cried Rarity.

Garrus looked back at Geth Prime. He was already nearly a hundred meters down the path, and if they did not hurry, they would not be able to reach him again without risking the creatures filling the intervening space and cutting them off. “We have to.”

In the space surrounding the Citadel, the Reapers had yet to claim the Serpent Nebula mass relay. They had initially taken it, only to be forced back by the Destiny Ascension II and the combined forces of the krogan and asari fleets. Now, ships were pouring out from every sector of the galaxy, responding to the distress of the Citadel and the return of the Reapers.

Then, suddenly, the relay stopped. The sensor supervisors of every ship and satellite turned their collective attention to it, not knowing if this was another form of attack. Then the relay began to spin faster, its color changing as it forged a link across the galaxy to a very specific and distant relay.

Then the ships emerged. The largest of them nearly dwarfed the Destiny Ascension II, an abstract-looking ring of spiny metal surrounding a group of parallel forward pylons coated not in metallic armor but a brownish material more like rock than steel. Within seconds, ten Collector ships had arrived, much to the horror of everyone watching.

Instead of attacking the combined fleet, though, the Collectors turned their attention toward the nearest of the Reapers, opening fire with the particle cannons of their mid-sized destroyers. The remainder of them, meanwhile, advanced through the battle toward the Citadel.

Whatever crystal armor was made of- -aside from crystal- -it was hard. Wearing it changed Sweetie Belle’s entire perception of the world. Not only did it improve her senses and reaction time, but it filled her with the confidence that came from near indestructibility. The speed and power were a rush, and she suddenly found that she was beginning to enjoy the fight, for the first time understanding what their unnamed and now deceased krogan guide must have perceived.

The creatures themselves were not exactly easy to fight, but likewise, they did not seem to be adapted themselves to fighting. They were like ants. The majority of them were just workers. They looked threatening, but they had no range attacks and no real weapons. Then there were the large ones- -the unicorns, or the ones that looked like they had been earth ponies who had heavy weapons bolted into their backs.

The hardest part, though, were the ponies. Sweetie Belle did not understand why they were there. Of course, she did not understand who was attacking anyway. She had initially assumed that they were some sect of the Chaos wizards, but the more of them she saw, the more she doubted that. They were something else entirely, and something was very wrong with the ponies that stood alongside the creatures. Their eyes just looked wrong, as if they were barely even awake.

Wing was barely able to keep up. Being substantially smaller than Sweetie Belle, he had to run much faster just to maintain pace.

“Why are you so good at this?” he gasped as they came to an empty intersection.

“How are you winded? You’re made of crystal!”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t need to breathe! Oh…” he stopped gasping for air. “Yes it does. Sorry. But that doesn’t answer the question!”

“I don’t know. I guess I just am. I mean, it’s not that different from a power mecha.”

“Power- -when did you ever get to pilot a MECHA?”

“I got into a lot of trouble when I was younger. Blame Applebloom.” Sweetie Belle raised a hoof and blasted an oncoming formation of creatures into dust. As she did, she suddenly felt dizzy. “Whoa…I don’t feel so good.”

“I tried to warn you. It’s not designed for your biology!”

“I think…oh, I think I’m going to throw up…”

“You had better not!”

“Here,” said Sweetie Belle. “You take the suit. How do I- -”

“NO!” squeaked Wing. “It’s integrated into you. You can’t just take it off!”

“I WHAT? And you didn’t think to tell me that before I put it on?!”

“I TRIED to tell you, you didn’t listen. With the amount of magic you’ve expended so far, taking it off would kill you. There is a procedure, but it will take me time to complete it.”

“Time? How much- -wait a minute. Are you just saying that because you want to undress me?”

“Please. You’re much hotter in the crystal. I’m saying it because that suit isn’t indestructible. It’s not made for combat like this. Look.” Wing pointed at the chest of the armor, which was already starting to crack. “If the suit breaks, it fails. You go into withdrawal. And you don’t have the energy of the Living Goddess to pull you back out of it.”

“Again, you didn’t tell me this BEFORE?”

“We just need to get out of here.”

“Out of here? Where?”

“Where- -I thought I was following you!”

“I don’t know where I’m going!”

“You don’t- -oh crap, behind you!”

Sweetie Belle turned around to see a creature lung at her. She punched it, knocking it back, and immediately felt more sick than she had even moments before.

“Warning,” said the voice in her head. “Host body is approaching depletion.”

“And now it tells me,” said Sweetie Belle. She gritted her teeth and fired another beam of energy into the creature. Its chest blew open, but it barely seemed to notice.

“Oh buck,” said Sweetie Belle, realizing that her weapons power was dropping too. “Oh buck oh buck- -”

The creature leapt on her, digging its claws into her armor. Instead of clawing randomly, though, its silvery eyes shot toward the cracks in her armor. It began to strike them, prying at it, trying to open it to get at the soft and largely unmuscular pony inside.

“Get off her!” cried Wing. He leapt on the creature, biting at its ears. Due to the extended length of the creature’s arms, it could not reach its own neck, and it jumped back, trying to buck Wing off. He screamed, holding on literally for his life.

“Hold on! Just keep it from moving, I’ll shoot it!”

“How in the name of sexy alicorn wings am I supposed to do THAT?!”

Sweetie Belle raised her hoof, but the creature was moving too fast. It dropped out of range, and another pony stepped into her path. Not a creature- -a stately earth-pony mare, dressed in armor marked with a gold and red sun insignia.

“Get out of my way!” said Sweetie Belle. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You may not,” she said. “But I want to hurt you. Lady Sunset demands it.”

With a mad cry, the earth pony leapt on Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle tried to throw her off, but just doing so nearly made her pass out. Unarmed ponies were not optimized for fighting, and without magic or any special martial arts experience, they could barely damage each other. This pony, though, was immensely strong, her strength only modified by her blind rage and desire to kill Sweetie Belle. Like the monster who proceeded her, she targeted her attacks on the cracks that were beginning to form in the crystal armor.

“Why are you doing this?” cried Sweetie Belle, pushing her but not knocking her off. “We don’t have to fight!”

“Because I want to!” screamed the mare. “Because I have ALWAYS wanted to! My only desire since the day I was born was to serve Lady Sunset! To be at her side, to- -”

Something hard struck her in the chest, and her torso tore open, splattering Sweetie Belle with blood. Sweetie Belle stared agape as the earth pony’s eyes cleared, and she looked around, confused and terrified. “Where…where am I? Why does…” she looked down at the gaping hole in her chest and her exposed ribs. “Oh Cadence…”

She promptly collapsed, and Sweetie Belle screamed as the corpse fell onto her. She struggled to lift it off her, and then stood back. As she did, several glowing particle beams erupted past her, one slicing the creature that Wing was clinging to in half.

Sweetie Belle turned around, expecting to see more C-sec officers. Instead, she found herself facing an entirely different kind of alien. A formation of brown, insect-like creatures were marching down the hallway, fanning out as they clicked and chirped in communication to each other. Their multiple luminescent eyes seemed to linger on her for a moment, and then back to the creatures that they were killing. One, however, stopped and stood over Sweetie Belle.

“Heavily biotic unidentified quadruped with demicybernetic armor of composition unknown,” it stated in a barely discernible, buzzing voice. It seemed to be addressing her, but only partially. It was either doing that or muttering to itself. It was impossible for Sweetie Belle to tell. It did not have an apparent mouth.

“Eew eew eew eew!” she cried, skittering away from it. “Big bug! BIG BUG!”

“It does not need to be concerned,” said the bipedal insect. “The Council has proven itself unable to defend the Citadel. We have been dispatched to defend. We do not intend it harm. It will come with us to safety.”

“I don’t see how it could possibly go wrong if we trust them,” said Wing, standing up and rubbing his head. “They seem like nice- -oop.” Two of them had picked him up by his shoulders and were carrying him off as innumerably more filed down the hall. “I guess I’m going this way now.”

“Put him down!”

“Negative,” said the one who had spoken to her. It’s head suddenly tilted, and it chirped loudly. It then departed the conversation, joining its identical brethren as it raised its weapon and proceeded down the corridor. Sweetie Belle did not know what else to do, so she followed them.

Being an Ardat-Yakshi had its advantages. They were few, and they were heavily outweighed by the horrific costs of the genetic condition. Falare had always seen her nature as a profound curse. Her eldest sister, though, had always maintained the opposite. Morinth had claimed that they were the future of the asari race, a new breed of exponentially more powerful demigods destined to rule Thessia. Falare had never had any understanding of what she had meant, but now it was becoming increasingly clear.

In all her life, Falare had never truly been a fighter. Her mother was a Justicar, the pinnacle of asari warriors, but Falare had never even gotten into a fistfight as a child. Her more subdued nature, she supposed, was a way of rebelling against Samara. Despite never having fought, though, she knew what asari were supposed to be capable of. She had seen sporting events, demonstrations, and ceremonies before she had been sent away, and evening seclusion, she had read in many books of the great feats of ancient warriors and priestesses.

What those asari- -those of legend, as well as those who had been training in the use of their biotics for hundreds of years- -did should have been out of the realm of possibility for an asari with no formal biotic training who virtually never used that particular set of abilities. What Falare quickly found, though, was that she could not only exceed those amounts of power- -she could do so with incredible ease.

It was absolutely terrifying. There was so much power at her disposal that it frightened her beyond anything she had ever felt. Just glancing at an enemy alone was enough to tear it apart, and the shell of energy around her deflected blasts that she knew should have been instantly lethal. She felt like a living goddess- -and aside from understanding what Morinth had meant, she also finally understood why the asari were terrified of her.

Despite her power and the ease with which she used it, though, Falare found that she was quickly tiring. A normal asari would have fallen long ago, but the enemies were great in number, and some of them had powerful biotics of their own that rivaled her own. Her training had been to contain herself, not to use her powers efficiently. Uncontained, she felt her energy leaving her and her body growing increasingly weak. She did not know how to use just enough power to attack or defend; everything she did was tremendous overkill, and she could feel herself flailing about nearly randomly with her power.

That worked- -at first. The creatures she was fighting, though, were not entirely mindless. They were adapting their tactics. Instead of attacking singly, they had begun to group, sacrificing the weakened or injured members on the outer shell to allow the stronger central creatures to get close enough to force Falare to engage them directly. She would often barely manage to get to them in time, and doing so would open channels for others to breach her defensive perimeter.

Worse, the composition of the horde was changing. The smaller ones had begun to avoid her, leaving the largest of them to advance. Those had their own powers, and often coated themselves and their compatriots in powerful shields. It took a concerted effort for Falare to bring enough of her uncontrolled power toward a single target, and every time she was forced to do it her mind weakened slightly.

They showed no sign of relenting. In fact, they only increased their numbers. The quantity seemed to be limitless. Then came the unicorns. Those were far worse. It was, in part, because their command of their biotics was so great. They were not generally anywhere near as powerful as Falare, but their control and dexterity was incredible. While Falare just poured immense power at her opponents, they attacked with skill, needling and parrying with their biotics and sometimes managing to actually injure her.

Even worse, though, was their eyes. Falare had seen eyes like that before, and she knew how to recognize Reaper indoctrination. The ponies were not fighting by their own free will, they were being forced to. They were no different from Rarity, or from Falare’s pony children, and she more than anything wanted to help them. There was no choice, though. Her heart broke as she was forced to defend herself, attacking them uncontrollably and leaving them maimed or worse.

In time, though, Falare’s weakness began to overtake her. Her energy started to flicker out, and she was forced to close her field tighter to her, limiting her attacks to just enough to keep them from advancing. She was still exceeding the biotic output of an entire army of asari, but she knew she could not last long.

She dropped to her knees, bracing herself for what she was quickly realizing could become her last stand. That thought did not frighten her, but it made her impossibly sad. Her only consolation was that her sacrifice had allowed the others to escape- -and that, if the Ardat-Yakshi were granted an afterlife, she might have a chance to rejoin her sisters in it.

Fate, though, had different plans in store for her. Just as she was beginning to falter, a sound of automatic weapons arose from the back of the attacking formation. The creatures turned, almost confused at how they had managed to be flanked. Falare smiled, glad that she might be granted a reprieve- -until she saw the oncoming soldiers.

They were not the Benefactor’s warriors. They were humanoid in shape, but the outermost of the group were far taller than any species Falare was familiar with. Their armor was all identical, cast in stark black and white- -with an orange hexagon emblazoned on each of their chests. They were Cerberus.

They pushed through the horde from behind, using their Alliance-made weapons for shooting as much as they used them for bayoneting or bashing. The creatures broke apart like paper, and their attacks seemed to do little to nothing against the tall soldiers.

The leader of the soldiers pushed forward the fastest. She was shorter and probably only slightly taller than Falare. Unlike the others, she wore no helmet, meaning that Falare could see her face. She was human, with nearly white skin and blonde hair tied into a tight bun. She was attractive in a classical sense, but the expression on her face- -one of intense disgust paired with a strange bemusement- -made her seem instantly deplorable.

At the time, a unicorn had been attacking Falare. The Cerberus leader stepped up behind it, and it turned, charging its horn to attack. She drew her hand back and backhand slapped it. The blow should have been comical- -but instead, the pony’s eyes bulged as her body splattered inside her armor, her remains slamming into a wall with a sickening liquid squelch as she burst apart. Her soldiers quickly and mercilessly cleared the remainder.

“Cocentra eight cleared,” she said into a small headpiece. “Organics eliminated. We have successfully recovered the asari Counselor.”

Falare looked up at the human woman, glaring. She was out of breath, and though they had saved her, they had waited until she had exhausted almost all of her energy. She could still summon an attack, if she needed to, but if she did, the effect to her body would be severe.

“So,” she said. “I suppose you intend to take me prisoner?”

“No,” said the woman, simply. She lowered her weapon and reached out a hand. “Cerberus is not your enemy. We never have been. We responded to your distress call. We’re here to help.”

Falare, confused, looked up at the woman. Her eyes were not sincere, because they were not real. Up close, Falare could tell that she was not human at all. It occurred to her that the soldiers that accompanied her were not either.

“You are a synth,” she said. “You all are.”

The woman smiled. “I know. Consider our respect for your bigoted laws a gesture of good-will.”

Falare was not sure what to think, but she found herself taking the robotic woman’s hand and being lifted into a standing position. Of all the things that had happened to her in the last seventy two hours, she had thought she had seen everything. She had, she realized, been quite wrong.

The Citadel’s primary server core was the size of a small city. This was where Sunset Shimmer’s forces had closed themselves, fortifying their position with specialized drones placed around the border whose sole purpose was to project an impenetrable field to prevent interference. This was the only place that they remained stationary, and the only place they even bothered to fortify.

It was also the ultimate destination of Geth Prime. The giant walked through rows of building-like computer servers, its single eye directed primarily on where it perceived the center of resistance to be located. Soldiers swarmed around his feet, but hesitated at the sight of the orange shield. Some even wondered why Geth Prime was not stopping.

“Obstruction detected,” he bellowed, slowing slightly as he approached the border. “Composition: colloidal superperiotic gas energized by biotic field barrier. Probability of mission hinderance…” he raised one enormous geth fist, pulling it backward. “…zero percent!”

He struck it full force, and the impact was not only enough to shatter it but to cause the mages producing it to detonate from the biotic feedback, with their heads and bones liquefying from the instantaneous surge.

Geth Prime was too large to enter the computer core, and unlike the rest of the Citadel he seemed to understand that damaging it was a bad thing. Instead, the soldiers at his feet- -a combination of C-sec officers, turian guards, drell mercenaries, any soldiers who happened to be on the Citadel, a swarm of Collectors, and krogan civilians who had either picked up weapons or grabbed whatever could be used as a beating stick- -as well as one hanar- -charged into the computer core instead.

Inside the core itself, several drones were interfaced with the computer array, their bodies still as their minds linked to the computational matrix through the cables in their backs.

“Hurry!” said the pony in charge of the operation. “The shield has been breached- -we don’t have much time!”

The drones did not respond. They never responded. They never spoke. They simply worked, without care of weather they lived or died. The overseer mare considered this strange, and somehow profoundly sad- -but she did not know why.

A voice suddenly spoke to her. She stood at attention.

“I have received the schematic,” it said, and the mare basked in the attention of her goddess.

“Have I done well?” she asked. “Are you proud of me, Lady Sunset?”

“You are no longer necessary.”

The mare’s expression changed from a smile to crushed, wide-eyed stare. “But, Lady Sunset, no don’t- -” She cried out as the buzzing in her head slowed. “Don’t leave me! I need you!”

Then, all at once, it cleared. She blinked, confused, and looked around, terrified. She remembered everything she had done, all the horrible things she had seen- -but it all seemed like a blur. She was in a dark room, surrounded by alien equipment and equally alien abominations that now all suddenly seemed to be staring at her with pleading silver eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked. “Where…where are my children? Blaze, Valley Song, where- -”

Her inquiry was cut short by a bullet punching through her head. Around her, the drones looked to the intruders, but did not respond. There was no need to. They allowed themselves to be killed. Without Sunset Shimmer forcing them to continue, they were finally granted a chance to end their agony.

Throughout the Citadel, Sunset Shimmer’s forces were already being overcome. In the battle in space, her badly damaged Reapers continued to fight for their survival, but the combined forces of the Citadel fleet and the Collector fighters had damaged many of them beyond repair. They listed, and instead of dying peacefully rammed themselves into the Citadel, taking out huge swaths of populate areas as they fell and exploded.

Victory, it seems, had come at a price, but it had indeed come- -or so it appeared.