Jeff Moreau. Joker.
I continued working my hands to the limit of my abilities, whispering to myself:
"Come on, baby, come on!"
It's very easy to be a clown, but right now, in the epicenter of the battle, the survival of the crew depends on these fingers. A battle of colossal proportions—the Reaper armada against the races of Citadel space. Well, "battle" is a strong word; it's more like anomalously durable, black, colossal, squid-like machines against the Asari, Turians, the Human fleet, the Migrant Fleet, the Geth, the Volus, and the rest.
Except the Reapers have a "one shot, one destroyed ship" logic. And a Reaper capital ship—a two-kilometer squid—can withstand the concentrated fire of multiple vessels. Yes, we dealt the Reapers damage, decent damage. But then they closed into a clinch with our fleets. And now we are buying time for Shepard and the Crucible with our lives. And it isn't easy, even if you are the thrice-best pilot in the Alliance, sitting in a chair next to your AI girlfriend, ready for heroics on all fronts.
Ally fire, Reaper machine fire—it all wants to crack our hull. But I'm making it work. Shepard up there on the Citadel is too. First, the sealing system opened, and the Citadel returned to the same form it had before. Five horizontal petals attached to a ring. But that wasn't the end of it; when the cylinder with the sphere on the end—the Crucible—docked, the Citadel's petals spread horizontally, and the Citadel itself began to rotate.
"She's aiming at the relay, Jeff. It's time."
I exhaled.
"Yeah, I'm on it."
Not just us, but other ships—mostly the dreadnoughts in the rear—started turning and heading for the relay. Everyone can see the energy surge and secondary explosions. Something is happening there, with the Citadel. The station is being pumped full of green energy, showing readings far beyond the normal range. And Shepard is still on it. No signal, nothing—it's impossible to pick him up.
"We have to go, Jeff."
Looking at EDI's artificial body, I nodded.
"We have to get everyone out. If we meet John on the other side, he'll definitely be unhappy."
The AI nodded.
"My robot army needs healthy slaves."
Smirking, I returned to the controls. After a difficult fight, the little Normandy isn't feeling its best. The ship is only staying in one piece because of all those upgrades John crammed into it during the Collector operation. No, the Alliance fixed a few things once they got the ship. But John did the main work. I hope you're doing all right, man. Survive up there. It's hard to smile at a moment like this.
"Approaching the relay. It's a bit crowded here, so get ready for a bumpy ride!"
The dreadnoughts of other races' fleets, having received the signal to withdraw, are in a hurry to retreat, which is not easy with so many ships. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that the explosions on the petals of the opened Citadel clearly hint: it's going to blow so hard that no one will be left standing. And we have to get the crew through the relay while there's still a chance. While there's still time.
"Compensation system is failing. Evacuating engineering," EDI reported.
Damn! A few more seconds. Come on! A bolt of lightning passed through the Normandy's hull, connected to the relay. Everything is off the charts, but there is no choice!
"I see it! We're almost at the relay! Three! Two! One! Everyone hold on!"
The Normandy's jump coincided with a green beam hitting the relay from the Citadel. Whether it was good or bad, the device managed to work as intended, giving the ship the necessary acceleration. We didn't see what happened behind us anymore. Space collapsed into blue, then white, and then black, leaving nothing but total, impenetrable darkness outside. Unusual—normally there's a bluish glow during a transit. Plus, we didn't exit at a secondary relay. Crap.
"Any idea what happened?"
It's impossible to say for sure; the equipment is fried. Say it, EDI. I don't know what happened, and it's scary.
"I don't know, Jeff. Perhaps the beam fed too much energy into the equipment, leading to this effect. I have no records of such incidents. We can only watch."
And hope that another relay intercepts us and provides braking. That is the only thing that can help us. And we watched the blackness, the readings of ship systems failing from overload. I continued trying to hold on to whatever I could. We'll still need the little Normandy, wherever we get spat out. And it's not all bad, actually. Repairs are possible, provided we don't crash. I need to warn the crew.
"Attention everyone, this is Joker. We've accelerated to anomalously high speeds. Everyone secure yourselves; I don't know how we'll handle the deceleration. I'll do what I can."
And it's true. Some weird crap is happening that the relay wasn't designed for, let alone our ship. All we can do is wait. We had to wait for another twenty minutes, which is actually quite fast. We were caught by a primary relay, and exactly on schedule, the energy discharge occurred. I don't know about the others, but this relay is still working. We were spat out near the structure with a violent jolt; the compensator handled the task. That's the good news. But there is no one else around who went through the structure with us. I exhaled; I hope they survived. To survive a battle with the Reapers and die from a malfunctioning relay would be just plain unfair. In any case, we're alive. I let myself laugh.
"We're alive, damn it!" EDI just sat there calmly, looking at me. Well, yeah, she's an AI and took the fact of our survival calmly.
"We made it, Jeff. Но we will be staying in this system. The core is nearly dead; without repairs, we won't get far," EDI said, sitting in the co-pilot's chair.
That's bad news. The Normandy is our only chance to get anywhere. All we can do is hope for repairs. Or luck.
"Any idea where we are?"
EDI leaned forward; the sensors were probably fried too. She looked out the front viewport, leaning up slightly. And then she pointed her artificial body's finger ahead:
"The Widow Nebula, Jeff. There's the Citadel ahead. For some reason."
What? In total shock, I looked for myself, then zoomed in and looked again. That is the mother-loving Citadel. And it is mother-loving whole and closed. What the hell is going on here??? Am I hallucinating? Right, it's a hallucination! Shepard and I won and were celebrating at his apartment. Oh, that was before the battle. Then what? Thoughts are racing, feverishly seeking a plausible explanation for what kind of heresy is happening here. If only someone would tell me. But the Commander isn't here; we'll have to figure it out ourselves. I looked again at the approaching Citadel. So whole. So calm. A good hallucination, if that's what it is.
"What? Why is it here? Why does it look like that? What's happening? EDI, any thoughts? I don't get it. The Reapers moved it to Earth's orbit; we just came from there"—or we're in the future, where the Council races learned to move the Citadel. Or… No, that's impossible! No-no-no-no! But I have to say it, "Unless… we aren't in the past, are we? EDI? We aren't in the past?"
EDI thought for a moment.
"Theoretically, very theoretically, accelerating to superluminal speeds can lead to relativistic time distortion. Но it was assumed to be time dilation..."
"And not being sent into the past?" I asked hopefully. "I mean, what other options are there? Deathbed hallucinations, maybe. Or I drank way too much, but then tell me with whom and for what occasion, okay? The Citadel just shouldn't be here! And the traffic! And the patrol ships too! Pinch me, okay? Ow! That hurt!"
I want to laugh, cry, and I don't know what else. What is happening here, huh? EDI? Say no, please! I've had enough nerves for today. The battle with the Reapers in Earth's orbit, the explosion that probably killed everyone. And now the past too. I don't want to, please! EDI, with some measure of sympathy, as much as possible, shook her head.
"I am sorry, Jeff. What I am seeing confirms the theory. The Citadel is intact, located at its previous coordinates. A Hierarchy patrol ship is approaching us. There are no signs of combat readiness, a battle, or Reapers. We are in the past, Jeff. Or this is a very good illusion and the entire crew has been indoctrinated. Or I do not know the answer."
Great. Past, future, indoctrination, and hallucinations. Or magic, but I don't believe in magic. And Shepard stayed somewhere back there. I sighed. EDI spread her hands. Well, yeah, what can you do. And Shepard isn't here; we'll have to manage ourselves. Somehow.
"I was hoping that was the last bit of news like that for today," and switching to the shipwide comms, I said, "Folks. I'm being dead serious right now. We seem to have ended up in the past. I don't know how and I'm not sure my eyes aren't deceiving me. No, really. I know it sounds like a shitty joke, but we're flying toward an intact Citadel. And I'd really like to know how."
A few seconds later, there was a clatter and thumping, and all the members of the ground team who survived the day tumbled onto the bridge. Liara, Tali, Garrus, Ashley, Jacob, and Javik. And several other crew members, making the cockpit suddenly very crowded. And everyone started staring at the Citadel together, reacting in the most vivid way. Which made the bridge not only crowded but loud. Tali and Javik ended up closest to me; the others were simply drowned out by the din of conversation. But I understand them completely; this is far beyond the bounds of normal.
"Keelah," Tali exhaled, "you're joking."
I just spread my hands.
"Not joking."
"A second chance," Javik murmured, "we have been given another chance at victory, humans." And he stomped his foot loudly, his armor clanking against the second plate.
Everyone went silent, but Javik started staring at the white mass of the Citadel again. Just like everyone else behind him. It really is very beautiful when it's like this. In silence, peace, and quiet. Stunning. Our silence in the attempt to accept reality was broken by EDI's comment.
"We are being hailed."
Well, let's see what they have to say. Especially since no one has left the bridge; everyone is listening in silence. Not that I don't understand them.
"Unknown vessel, this is Citadel Customs. Identify yourself."
So far, all standard.
"This is the Normandy, Alliance Navy. Transmitting codes"—the other side went silent—"Is everything all right?"
From the other side came a surprised question.
"Alliance Navy? What is that organization? Clarify your data. Who are you? Prepare for boarding."
Liara stepped forward and asked:
"This is Doctor T'Soni. Please, state the current year."
I looked at the Asari in surprise. She continued to wait. For almost a minute—they must have been conferring.
"2145 standard year. Did that help? I am still waiting for data clarification. Prepare to receive a boarding party. Acknowledge?"
Okaaaaay. Really the past? It was my theory, truly. But now it's been confirmed, and I just don't know. I don't want to believe it. This is… why, most of the crew wasn't even in school yet, if they were even born. This isn't years. This is literally decades.
"Acknowledge, waiting," I said in even greater shock.
2145, when was that? Before the First Contact War, right? EDI, seeing my struggle, explained:
"If we are in the past, humanity will first discover Element Zero on Mars in two years. In ten years you will be born, Jeff. In twelve years the First Contact War will occur. Liara T'Soni is currently 72 years old. A significant portion of the crew has either not been born yet or is in early childhood."
We all looked at her, then at each other. This is even harsher than the war with the Reapers. Just no words. Just, this is it.
"I don't believe it," Garrus said quietly, "do you think we can convince the Council that we aren't crazy?"
Liara thought for a moment:
"Well, we have the human crew of the Normandy. If there are no humans in Citadel space right now, that could be proof. Hopefully."