Aboard the Imperial Valor – Venator Mk II-class Star Destroyer
Private Observation Deck, Anchorage over Illium
The stars burned quietly beyond the viewport, indifferent to the clash of empires erupting below. Inside the observation deck, the hum of the ship's systems was a steady, muted backdrop, like the distant breathing of some great sleeping beast.
Alan Spacer—no longer simply the knight, but the hidden architect of it all—reached up and with a slow, almost reverent motion, unlatched the magnetic seals of his Knight's helm. The hiss of the pressure seal releasing seemed unnaturally loud in the solitude.
The helmet came free, revealing a young face, noble and unnervingly calm. Perfectly ordered black hair framed a pale, elegant visage; and those eyes—unnatural, impossible eyes—were pools of hypnotic violet, within which burned a faint sigil of blue flame, shifting like a living tattoo inside the iris.
Lelouch.
The God-Emperor of the Empire.
He exhaled slowly, the breath almost seeming to mist before him, despite the warmth of the room. There was no ceremony, no audience. Only the hidden master of the Empire, alone... and not alone.
A ripple in the fabric of unreality slithered into the room—a subtle shifting of presence rather than a sound or sight. From the shadow of nothingness, a voice emerged, resonant with amusement and wisdom beyond understanding.
Tzeentch.
"What troubles you, my little architect?"
Lelouch's gaze remained fixed out into the endless void, watching the fleet maneuver, thousands of ships like glittering steel droplets caught in a frozen tide. His voice was soft, almost curious rather than angry.
"By how much have we missed our mark?" he asked.
Tzeentch, that swirling mass of fates and futures barely perceptible even to Lelouch's piercing sight, shifted lazily—like a great cat toying with its prey.
"Anywhere from a heartbeat… to thousands of your years. Perhaps more..."
"And that's merely the 'when'."
"The where?"
"Far more precise, though not entirely on. The weave still pulls, thin but certain. The fate leads back to its course in time, whether by trickle or by flood."
Lelouch's fingers drummed lightly against the viewport frame. His mind already turned the possibilities over, reshaping the plan with a cool and merciless precision. The miss was unfortunate—but it was not a defeat. It was merely... an adjustment.
"The pulse is weaker than expected," Lelouch murmured, half to himself. "Either we landed in a recurring echo... or we undershot the jump."
Tzeentch's laughter—a cascade of whispers and chimes—slithered along the room's edges.
"Either way, Emperor of Man, this was always meant to be your sandbox."
"A forge not merely for your legions... but for yourself."
"No true triumph without trial. No empire worthy of the name without the tempering of its soul."
The words settled like falling ash around Lelouch. He closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself, feeling the vast machinery of his will stretching across this new, unknown galaxy.
In the end, the details changed nothing. The Empire would expand. The enemies would fall. And while he continued contemplating his changes in his Empire, this small incursion had done wonders to sate not only his boredom, but perhaps reveal further heights to be reached.
Lelouch smiled faintly, a hint of predatory grace.
"So be it," he whispered.
========================
Illium – Administrative Sector
Liara T'Soni POV
The sky was burning.
Liara staggered back from the window of her apartment, her breath catching in her throat. What had once been a serene skyline of polished towers and neon lights was now a cauldron of fire and chaos. She had thought—prayed—there would be more time. But in less than 15 minutes, the Illium Defense Fleet had been obliterated.
No backup.
No escape routes.
Her information networks—her lifelines—were cut off.
The comm unit on her wrist sputtered with static, her primary and secondary relays both down. Every satellite link she tried to access gave her the same dead signal. Whatever was descending from orbit had seized total control.
A shriek broke her concentration—the thin, desperate whine of Illium's garrison fighters engaging the invaders. She rushed to the balcony again, just in time to see the dogfight erupt above the city.
It was horrifying.
The sleek Illium fighters darted like minnows around the descending storm of enemy fighters—thousands of them, flying in eerie, perfect formation. They came in waves, overwhelming the defenders. Bright blue energy bolts lanced out from the swarming drones, shredding Illium's aircraft mid-maneuver. Explosions bloomed like morbid fireworks across the skyline.
Down below, the ground-based AA emplacements fought back valiantly, their mass accelerator rounds roaring skyward—but they were systematically bombed to rubble by precision strikes from enemy bombers.
Within minutes, the once-mighty shield of Illium's skies had been swept away.
And then they landed.
Massive troop transports, terrifyingly efficient, broke through the remaining defenses and deployed straight into the heart of the city. Gigantic constructs of war, dropping legions of metal monstrosities directly onto the polished streets—skipping the usual slow grind of a siege.
Liara's heart pounded in her chest. Too close. They're landing too close!
Her quarters rattled as one of the transports settled nearby with a low, ground-shaking boom. Dust and fractured ceiling panels rained down around her.
No choice. She had to move.
She grabbed her pistol, checked the energy cell, and drew on her biotics, feeling the familiar, pulsing warmth fill her limbs. Every instinct screamed at her to run—but she forced herself to move methodically, sticking to the shadows.
She barely made it two floors down before she heard the clatter of metal feet.
'Droids. Could they be some new type of Reaper foot soldiers? They certainly don't look Geth.'
Small detachments, fast-moving, armed with blasters crackling with deadly energy. Their glowing optical sensors flickered as they swept corridors with mechanical precision.
"Priority target detected: New Specimen. Proceeding to capture alive."
Liara gritted her teeth. She wasn't about to be captured.
A squad of skeletal, humanoid-ish machines spotted her. One with different markings barked orders with a surprisingly whiny voice:
"Advance! Suppress the target!"
Blue energy bolts screamed past her head as she dove into cover. She thrust her hand forward, slamming one of the droids into the wall with a biotic throw. Its frame crumpled with a screech of stressed metal. Another charged—and she launched a swirling biotic singularity, tearing it apart mid-stride.
"Target possesses anomalous powers similar to Jedi. Adjusting tactics and requesting reinforcements."
She panted, sweat trickling down her temples. One floor at a time. Keep moving.
But every time she thought she had an opening, more transports landed. The pounding of mechanical boots echoed through the building's frame. Above, the whine and tremors signaled that droids were being deployed onto the rooftop as well. And they were getting smarter, as gass canisters clinked accros the floors.
She was being surrounded.
Office Level – Two Minutes Later
Liara kicked open a maintenance hatch and stumbled into a half-collapsed office space. Shattered desks and broken holopanels littered the floor. She crouched behind an overturned table, struggling to catch her breath.
A metallic thump echoed from the ceiling vent. She glanced up, eyes wide.
Droids were cutting through.
From the stairwell behind her, more canister clinked as they touched on the surface. They were coming from every direction.
"Contact confirmed. Target contained. Commencing final approach." A droid reported as he entered the room slowly filling with gas.
"Not if I can help it!" she snarled, biotic energy flaring around her hands and she hurled the droid to pieces through a wall.
The metal cover above her crashed down, 4 droids dropping around her—and a droideka rolled into the room with a mechanical hiss, not slowing down as it crushed into her, throwing Liara into the wall as she instinctively let off a bionic pulse to push it off, succeeding as the droideka was pushed backwards deploying as its legs screeched and scraped the floor.
"Of course there are more types," Liara muttered grimly.
The droideka's blasters roared to life, spewing a barrage of bolts. She threw up a biotic barrier just in time, the impacts slamming into her shield like hammer blows.
Liara gritted her teeth, focused, and launched a concentrated Warp at the droideka. The shimmering barrier flickered violently—overloaded by the kinetic and biotic force—and collapsed with a flash.
"Got you—!"
She attempted to hurl a vicious biotic push toward the exposed droid.
- but before she could press the advantage, the droids around her leveled their weapons once the droideka was clear and spat blue-hued stun bolts.
Liara barely had time to scream before another stun bolt from the bigger weapon of the droideka fired and the impact flung her bodily into the wall behind her.
Pain exploded across her spine and skull.
The world tilted.
"Target subdued."
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the droideka's optics flashing a soft green in acknowledgment—and the cold, clicking march of droid feet advancing toward her crumpled form.
========================
Illium – Outer Commercial District
Samara's POV
The city was collapsing.
Samara, Justicar of the ancient Asari code, stood at the crossroads of two burning avenues, her crimson and silver armor marred by soot and fresh battle damage.
The skies—so often calm and filled with sleek merchant vessels—now roared with the oppressive presence of enemy war machines. The black silhouette of a massive hovering Lucrehulk eclipsed much of the skyline, casting long, cold shadows over the burning streets.
Samara's eyes were steely, unwavering. Her oath forbade fear. Her duty demanded action.
Around her, a ragged group of Illium security forces had gathered—young, terrified officers, some clutching bloodied arms or limping, but alive. Accompanied by a few security LOKI mech. They had no leader left.
She could use them.
"You are not alone," Samara said, voice calm as the eye of a storm. "We hold this ground. No matter what comes."
The officers, bolstered by her sheer presence, steeled themselves. One of them—a human, barely out of adolescence—nodded and firmed his grip on his rifle.
And then they came.
The first wave of enemies surged from the side streets, cold and mechanical, moving with perfect, remorseless synchronization. B1-series battle droids, hundreds of them, their blasters blazing without pause.
"Target acquisition in progress."
"Priority: Subdue enemy forces."
Samara moved like a storm incarnate.
Her biotics flared in brilliant blue arcs as she lifted two droids simultaneously, crushing their frames midair. With her free hand, she unleashed pinpoint pistol shots into advancing enemy lines, felling another trio of machines.
Behind her, the Illium guards opened fire—wild, desperate volleys trying to stave off the tide.
For a moment, they held.
For a moment, hope flickered.
Until the droidekas rolled in.
One from the left alley, another from the right, shields flashing into existence as they unfolded into their spidery attack stance. Without hesitation, they opened fire—streams of red energy bolts scything across the ruined square.
"Contact. Initiating suppression pattern."
"Spread formation. Encircle target."
Samara dove forward, biotic fields deflecting the worst of the incoming shots, but even she couldn't protect everyone. She heard screams—short, sharp cries—as the shielded droids cut down two of the security officers behind her.
The Justicar turned, unleashing a shockwave that threw back an entire line of advancing droids. But they kept coming.
And now, the air above them screeched as a low-flying droid gunship swooped overhead. Twin-linked blasters ripped into the ground around her position, forcing Samara and the remaining guards to scatter for cover.
The gunship passed directly above her—and two dark, agile forms dropped from its hull.
BX-series commando droids.
"Priority target identified."
"Extermination in progress."
The BX droids moved with lethal precision, twin vibroblades flashing in the light of the burning skyline. Samara barely dodged the first strike, parrying the second with a biotic barrier mid-swing. She lashed out with a brutal biotic slam, sending one crashing into a ruined aircar.
But the second BX was already on her—blades stabbing and slashing with terrifying speed.
Samara fought with the grace and ruthlessness that had defined her centuries of service.
Yet she was tiring.
The BX droid pivoted in a blur, and even as she dispatched it with a biotic throw, a glancing red bolt from the gunship's cannons clipped her shoulder armor, sending a jolt of pain through her arm.
She staggered, barely regaining balance.
The droidekas took their chance.
More shots rained down as they advanced, faster now. Samara deflected, dodged—but she was one woman against an unending storm.
Another bolt grazed her thigh armor. Another scorched across her backplate.
And then—one found its mark.
A sharp, burning pain seared through her right leg as a blaster bolt punched clean through her thigh armor, flesh and bone beneath. She stumbled forward with a strangled gasp, collapsing onto one knee, sending a bionic warp that crushed a droideka, before she panted as her vision grew hazy.
Around her, the remaining Illium guards were cut down in brutal, methodical order, some stunned while others shot through as if they had no armor to speak of.
"Target critical. Close perimeter."
Samara gritted her teeth, struggling to rise even as her body screamed in protest. She summoned what little biotic energy she could, swearing she would not be taken alive.
That's when she heard it—a voice, clear and almost normal, breaking through the cold mechanical drone of the droids.
"... to capture alive as many outstanding specimens as possible. She's significantly stronger... ....more experienced than earlier acquisitions. Proceed with caution."
The droids immediately adjusted their formation, raising their weapons—but not firing yet.
Samara tried to locate the speaker among the endless tide of metal, her vision swimming.
'An enemy commander...?'
She didn't get the chance.
One of the droidekas shifted, its blaster locking onto her exposed back—and fired.
A blue stun bolt struck her square between the shoulder blades. Her entire body seized up, nerves spasming violently.
She collapsed forward, her bloodied hand scraping uselessly against the shattered street.
===================
Meanhwile, near the Shadow Sea Mass Relay.
Aboard the Normandy SR-2, Command Deck - Private Comms Room.
Shepard looked at her "sponsor" with suspicion as he spoke.
"Shepard good work on Horizon. Hopefully the collectors will think twice before attacking another Colony." She nearly scoffed at that.
"it's not a victory. We interrupted the collectors but they still abducted half the colony."
"That's better than an entire colony and more than we've accomplished since the abductions began. The collectors will be more careful now, but I think we can find another way to lure them in."
"Ash said the alliance got a tip about me and Cerberus, was that you?" She asked as a glint passed her eyes.
"I may have let it slip that you were alive... and with Cerberus." The Illusive Man replied calmly.
"You risked the lives of my friend, my crew and that entire Colony just to lure the collectors there."
"A calculated risk. I suspected the collectors were looking for you or people connected to you... Now I know for certain. I told you I wouldn't sit and wait while the Reapers and collectors gather strength. Besides they would have hit another Colony eventually and without a way to predict which one, they would have abducted everyone." Sadly, she could see the cold logic behind that, as much as it bothered her.
"We have to make sure they don't abduct anyone else"
"I want the collector stopped for that very reason. That's why we're doing this Shepard. I'm devoting all resources to finding a way through the Omega 4 relay. We have to hit them where they live. Your team will need to be strong... as will their resolve. There's no looking back. The same goes for you. Can I assume you've put your past relationships behind you?"
"It was hard to see Ashley again." if not awkward as well.
"And now it's done. Best to leave those connections behind and focus on our mission Shepard. Once you find a way through the Omega 4 relay to the Collector home world there's no guarantee you'll return. To have any hope of surviving you and your entire team must be fully committed to this."
"Let me worry about them. You just find us a way to the Collector home world."
"I just want to be upfront about your odds you'll need everyone at their best. I'd forwarded three more dossiers... however recent events might have made two of them obsolete."
Now that got her attention. TIM might be many things, but sloppy was not one of them.
"How so?"
He exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the simulated air.
"Kane and Samara... were last spotted on Illium. As of the latest intelligence... Illium and, in fact, the entire Crescent Nebula sector, has fallen under the occupation of an unknown force."
Shepard's brows furrowed. "Fallen?" she echoed, voice low but sharp.
"Yes. From what little information we gathered before communications went dark, it's not pirates, mercenaries, or any known Council race. This force... outclasses anything the Council or Terminus systems can field. Technologically superior in weapons and armor, though the report does not mention shielding of any kind... again, it is an early report of the entire situation and perhaps they simply did not have a chance to witness them soon enough. That said, the Council currently holds the advantage in numbers..."
Liara was on Illium. A cold, prickling sensation spread through Shepard's chest. She forced herself to stay composed, to think, not react.
The Illusive Man continued, uncaring—or perhaps simply acknowledging the reality.
"We don't know who they are. We don't know what they want. Their fleet appeared, overwhelmed orbital defenses, and by the time a proper response could be organized... the entire sector went silent. Even the best relay traffic monitors have no readings past the Shadow Sea Mass Relay."
"The Council is... rattled, for lack of a better word. They're preparing a diplomatic delegation while simultaneously locking down the neighboring relays, heavily fortifying them to prevent any spillover. Standard protocol for first contact with a potential threat. Depending on how this... new power responds, it could go one of two ways."
"Either an amicable negotiation..."
"Or all-out war."
Shepard clenched her fists behind her back, nails biting into her gloves. Her mind raced—scenarios, possibilities—but outwardly, she remained a statue of focus.
The Illusive Man narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing the tension in the air between them.
"Normally, Shepard, I would insist you be present for first contact. Your... unique approach to diplomacy has, in the past, turned potential catastrophes into opportunities. But this?"
"It's simply too volatile. I won't send my best asset charging into a situation where a stray word or gesture could ignite a sector-wide, no, quite probably galaxy-wide conflict. Not when we have others ready to test the waters."
"However, if there's even a sliver of opportunity, if there's any sign these newcomers are capable of reason, negotiation... I want you ready to exploit it. Even if they are bloodthirsty maniacs, if there's any possibility of at least mutual understanding—I want you to be first through the door, before they follow into the steps of the Council and disregard your warnings. We'll have the chance, we both know how diplomacy can take time, especially with the Council at the helm."
Shepard's jaw tightened.
Liara... trapped behind enemy lines.
Samara and Kane, her hires were possibly prisoners or worse.
And an entire sector hanging on a knife's edge.
Yet there was opportunity here too. She forced herself to see it—the bigger picture.
If this new civilization was truly as powerful as the early reports suggested... and if they could be made to see the threat the Reapers posed...
One more ear that wouldn't dismiss her warnings out of hand.
She exhaled slowly, grounding herself.
"Understood. I'll keep building the team. And if the situation stabilizes..."
She allowed a faint, dangerous smile to touch her lips.
"I'll be ready to make contact."
The Illusive Man smiled thinly, tapping his ash into the unseen tray by his side.
"That's what I'm counting on."
The transmission ended, the hologram dissolving into static.
Shepard remained alone in the dim chamber, staring into the empty air where the Illusive Man had been. Her reflection ghosted faintly against the black surface of the room's monitors.
For a long moment, she stood there, breathing evenly, fists still clenched.
Then, turning sharply on her heel, she left the comms room, her footsteps heavy with purpose.
There was work to be done.