Chapter 1 — Prologue
"Hm!"
Wrex's grunt of amusement elongated itself into startling, constant rasp that went on so long that the assembled company tried not to shift in their seats or look too worried about him. Shepard had made discreet enquiries of Grunt and some of his other friends in Clan Urdnot, and knew that it was the krogan equivalent of a long, wet, hacking cough. Even if he hadn't, there was no mistaking the sounds of respiratory distress for anyone in the room, and the old warrior… didn't look so good. When the fit subsided, and he stood there in repose, there was nothing definite you could put your finger on, but he had lost his old air of indestructibility. "When we go, we go fast. No sense lingering on, using up food that should go to those that can still fight", Wrex had once told him: Shepard knew he'd be losing another friend before too long. All the more reason to get together when we can, he thought.
"What is this, Shepard? A dress rehearsal for the Council meeting?"
It sort of was, so all Shepard could do was shake his head ruefully at Wrex's bluntness. He waved to Grunt, who was entering the room behind Wrex and trying not to earn himself a headbutt by being too solicitous of his clan father's well-being, and did his best to deny it:
"I need a reason to catch up with old friends?"
Wrex was hindered from replying as he was rushed by his god-daughters. These reunions were always banner days for Terri and Nezzy — Terri was getting old enough to pretend they were no big deal, but that just meant she was better matched to Wrex's pretended gruffness.
"Come off it, Shepard." Garrus took up the tale from his old comrade. "You didn't move the date up by a week 'cause you were desperate for company. We all know you're used to being lonely anyway. What's that human saying? It's lonely at the top?"
"Ha!" Shepard barked mirthlessly. "You think I'm at the top just 'cause I'm on the Council? Try telling that to the Alliance." They exchanged a meaning look. "But you're right," Shepard admitted. "I do want to talk it over. Hell, you remember what I said: all that really matters to me is" — he paused and swept an arm around to take in everyone in the room — "you guys. Plus I want intel from people I trust."
A little of the old magic made itself felt: the old friends and comrades were all by now powerful and respected figures in their own right, but when their old commander said 'I do want to talk', they broke off their conversations and pulled their chairs into a circle. As Shepard sat down, the years fell away, and it was almost as though they were back on the Normandy, planning their next desperate strike in the war. Almost.
The main difference, of course, was that Wrex wasn't the only one who was visibly wearing the extra years: Shepard and Ashley, being in their eighties, were now apt to be described as "middle-aged" — literally accurate given the average human lifespan with modern medical support — or subjected to those awful youthful means of damning with faint praise: "spry" or "well-preserved." Shepard smiled faintly to himself as he imagined Ashley's reaction to hearing such language from her trainees at N-school. No doubt they wouldn't make that — or any other — mistake twice.
Garrus was likely showing similar signs to the turian, or otherwise trained eye, but for Shepard the most visible signs of the march of years were the shadows they'd left in his friends eyes. Grunt's forehead plate had come in completely years before, and he showed some signs of getting a sense of perspective: so many krogan never saw beyond the next fight, but if anyone had learned better and was in a position to teach it to his people, it was Wrex.
These brief meditations brought Shepard immediately to those in the room who hadn't changed. Liara was smiling her thanks at Samara as the justicar gathered up her god-daughters and ushered them out of the room, and Shepard's own lips quirked, partly sympathetically, and partly because even after fifty years, seeing his wife smile still made him feel giddy. She caught the look on his face and smiled even wider as she came to join him on the couch, their arms winding in long-established habit around one another's waists.
Shepard nearly sighed out loud as he looked up and saw two empty chairs. They'd been occupied by the girls, of course, but they came as too apt a symbol of who wasn't there: Mordin, of course, had outlived his natural span and died in bed decades ago, but for the purpose of this particular discussion his absence left a crucial void. A salarian voice, and that of a bioscientist to boot, would have been invaluable, but…
And Tali. Sweet, smart, deadly adorable Tali: Shepard's mind still revolted at the idea that she was dead. Your people need you, Admiral Zorah… I need you. For a moment Shepard actually waited to see if anything would happen: if any force in the universe was strong enough to conquer death, it would be Tali'Zorah vas Normandy's sense of duty… Shepard stepped on a feeling, trying to squelch it before it could rise, but then thought: Why bother? Garrus knows; Liara knows, and in the confines of my own mind I may as well admit it. I loved her.
Samara returned, looking to Shepard's eyes pretty well exactly as she had looked the day they met. Shepard smiled his own thanks to her as she took one of the vacant seats: there was no doubt in his mind that his daughters had been settled down and would stay out of mischief for the rest of the evening. He returned his thoughts to present matters. This is what everyone is thinking now: they're counting their dead and thinking about ageless asari.
"All right, people. The floor is open," he began without preamble. "How do we prevent another war?"
The old friends looked at one another. The word had been spoken. Their fears — in most cases — had been confirmed.
Ashley — impervious as always to any attempt by officers to disconcert her — asked "Do you know what's going to happen at the Council meeting, skipper?"
"Of course," Shepard replied, then reined himself in: it wasn't Ash he was frustrated with, after all. "Councillor Kinarn will announce that 'it has come to the attention' of the salarian government that the longevity of the asari is not a product of the normal evolutionary process; that the asari government is in possession of research data on a germ-line genetic therapy that could extend the lifespan of any levo-protein species, and potentially that of every sapient species in the galaxy. Maybe even the krogan" — he nodded to Wrex and Grunt — "We don't know. And that's the point: Kinarn will formally request that the data be turned over to the Council for further research and analysis by every member race.
"Councillor Tevos is going to have to respond that sharing information about anti-agathics would violate asari law. I hope she'll mention that the law could change, but she's refused to give me any hints. Have you found anything else, love?"
Liara shook her head. "My contacts are not talking either. I think… I hope this is because no-one is really sure what to do." Everyone nodded at that.
"Well, regardless," Shepard continued, "the other Council species will almost certainly all vote for the salarians' motion" — he smiled mirthlessly — "I know I've been instructed to. The question is: who is going to speak? Turians being dextro-protein, maybe Tharrik will want to wait and see, but then again…" He looked a question at Garrus.
"You've got to love turian conformity," said Shepard's maverick turian friend. "Basically everyone on Palaven is furious. If Tharrik does speak — and he may have to — it won't be pretty."
"Well, maybe after that the elcor and hanar Councillors will calm things down," Shepard joked sourly. "Unfortunately, I know for a fact that the quarian, volus and drell ambassadors have all asked to be heard as well." He paused to sigh. "And, of course, I know a thing or two about pressure of public opinion back home to speak." He turned to Ashley, seated on his immediate left. "How bad is it, Ash?"
She gave him a quizzical look for a moment. "It's bad, skipper. The asari have always been the ones pushing for compromise, saying we should all work together for the 'greater galactic community,' and now we find out they've been lying to us all the while? A lot of people are real angry, and — no offence, Liara — I'm one of them."
Liara looked briefly at Samara, who remained impassive as always, before replying. "Believe it or not, sergeant-major, I am as well. So are a lot of asari."
Ash paused to take that in for a moment, then grinned: "Liara, it's been fifty years. You can call me Ash."
"Ashley," Liara acknowledged.
"OK. That'll do."
When everyone was done chuckling Shepard pursued the point, still facing towards Ash but addressing his questions to the room at large. "Is that something people realise? Most asari were as surprised by the news as anyone; and any asari who's ever watched the father of her children die, or who barely remembers her own father, will be just as angry at the matriarchs as anyone."
"Some people know it," Ashley told him. "Those that don't, aren't interested in being told."
"Even though it means the law may change? The data may be released after all."
"That's the point," said Garrus. "After all. Anyone who's lost someone is going to be tempted to blame the asari… no offence." His tone was light as he concluded, dividing a look between Liara, who smiled gently at him, and Samara, but Shepard knew the pain he was hiding. Tali had died comparatively young, for a quarian, and the consensus was that the exposure to more than one alien pathogen over a busy galactic life had made her vulnerable to one of the few truly inimical micro-organisms on Rannoch, but who could tell? Maybe anti-agathics could have saved her, and Garrus would still be joking about being "an admiral's wife" and "First Gentleman of Rannoch" instead.
"OK," Shepard summed up. "It really is as bad as I thought. You've all done your usual awful job of cheering me up. I knew I could count on you."
He waited for the laughter — mostly polite, he was sure — to subside, then went on in a serious tone. "Ash, how much noise are people making about humanity actually withdrawing from the Council?"
"Terra Firma have gotten brave enough to actually include it in their platform. A lot of people seem to like the idea right now. How many will after the shock wears off…" She gave an eloquent shrug. Shepard nodded.
"All right. Fortunately I don't have to take official notice of the opposition's opinions. So, worst case scenario: I'm the only one at the very public Council meeting saying anything remotely conciliatory. And, of course, no-one will take me seriously speaking up for the asari because, you know…" He turned to look at his wife. And stayed that way: looking at Liara had always been one of his favourite hobbies, after all. After a beat, she turned to him, and they stared into one another's eyes, Shepard's lips moving inexorably towards a goofy grin until finally Wrex murmured "Get a room!" just loud enough to be audible. Shepard, Liara and Ashley laughed together at Wrex's unexpected grasp of human idiom, then settled back down.
"I don't understand," Grunt groused. "You'll talk and you'll talk, and everybody's angry. Where's the war?" Wrex, who knew full well where the war was, frowned.
"There's the batarians, for one thing," Shepard told him. "Suppose the asari do release the data but only to the other Council races?"
"The squints can't take on the asari!"
Shepard sighed. "No, but suppose they tried and none of the other Council races lifted a finger to help? Look, even without the non-Council races, this debate is going to be political napalm." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Everyone knows the Council races spy on one another, but this will be the first time one of them has as good as admitted it in a public Council meeting. And Tevos has to say no, the asari will not share data on anti-agathics, even though every other council race will vote to ask them to.
"If she doesn't hold out any hope, the salarian STG will almost certainly be tasked to steal the data. And of course, since the data is no use if it's not made public, the asari will know it's been stolen. How will the asari react to that? I don't think anybody knows for sure, but remember: the salarians know they can't take on the asari in open war as well as anyone does, and they love their pre-emptive strikes. So what if the STG steals the data, plants a few charges on the way out, kills a few million innocent asari and… oh Goddess, I've only just thought of this: refuses to share the data themselves?"
Everyone's face registered its own version of horror for a moment, then Liara spoke: "I can't believe it. You're talking about the two oldest allies in the Council."
"I know," Shepard told her. "And I'm not saying it will happen. I'm saying scenarios like it are sickeningly easy to imagine. I mean, I've assumed there that humanity will do nothing. Suppose we introduce conscription and start a radical fleet build-up… No, enough. I feel like everything's unravelling and there's nothing I can do, but I can't… I won't let that happen."
The group paused, feeling the extent of Shepard's passion, then, quietly, Ash spoke:
"We're with you, skipper. It's not my kind of fight, but… Whatever you need."
"I know it, Ash." He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, gripping it tightly. "Back during the war I decided that all I cared about was making the galaxy a safe place for… you guys." They all knew or could take a shrewd guess that originally he'd been thinking of just Liara, but like a good captain he'd remembered his crew as well. Eventually. "I may be on the Council now, and sure, I represent all of humanity, but when it comes down to it, when I choose what's right and what's wrong, that's what I'm thinking of. You guys…" his voice softened, "…and the girls."