Disclaimer: Mass Effect, Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3 and all related characters and trademarks are property of EA/Bioware.
Author's note:
Just a small brain-child of a story conceived late at night while lying in bed thinking. Since I don't think that I'll ever use any part of this in one of my ME fics, I might as well post it. This was written a year ago (or something like that), please forgive any literary garbage my brain has conjured up (hope there aren't too many typos).
This was just written for fun.
And, hopefully, there are some who will enjoy reading this.
PS: If any of you are interested in my other fanfics and feel the need to rant or scream at me because of something I wrote, I have a tumblr for that now. Just in case. Look at my profile for more info.
~fjun
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THE CODE KNOWS NO COMPROMISE
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Illium. Nos Astra.
She cursed. This day couldn't get any worse. Anaya had already decided as much.
'Neraa! How long till those back-up units arrive?' She screamed across their makeshift office.
First, a murder involving volus businessmen. Sly little creatures, always shuffling money where no one would dare to and stabbing each other's back afterwards to assure no one gets a cut but themselves. But, well, the murder she could deal with.
It was when a Justicar unexpectedly showed up on her crime scene, plunging everything into panicked disarray. She'd nearly soiled her uniform then and there. A Justicar Errant, no less, most pious of all. Outside asari controlled space. Uncalled and unheard of for centuries. Whatever drove her to Illium, Anaya did her best not to stand in her way.
Neraa stumbled in through the door, looking like the rookie she was. 'About half an hour, detective.' She nervously bit her lip.
Anaya sighed, exasperated. 'What is it?' Her attempt to sound calm came out in a pronounced sing-song version bordering on annoyance.
'Better see for yourself, ma'am.' She looked over her shoulder. 'We're about to have some more guests.'
On her way out the impromptu office, Anaya barked at the assigned communications officer to inform every unit to keep their cool.
Outside, violet rays of dying light blinded her shortly until her eyes adjusted. In the distance high domes and spires glittered, the giant, tapered spears of Illium's skyline. The outer platform of the arcology's five hundredth and second floor was deserted save for a few of her patrolling police units, a group of herded-together potential witnesses and an anxiously shuffling volus who was currently her prime suspect in custody.
Crowds gathered, watching, pointing towards the sky, speaking in barely hushed voices.
Anaya squinted her eyes, following where Neraa pointed towards. A gleaming, black military-grade VTOL angled down towards them like an angry vhta, leaving whitish blue contrails of plasma vapour. The aircraft's reinforced bulk was covered in a few plates of white and trimmed with streamlined golden accentuations on the edges.
'Oh, shit,' Anaya surmised, rapidly losing her cool.
The diamond-like insignia on the side was like a slap to her face. A jolt of not-at-all concealed panic rushed down her spine.
She turned to Neraa, shoving the rookie inside and telling her to alert the others. Trouble ahead. If Cerberus showed up at your doorstep you don't think twice, you point as many guns as you can. How they even managed to get clearance to openly fly around like this was beyond her. But, well, there was much truth to the saying that Omega wasn't so different from the corporate landscape of Illium. For everything there was a price.
The VTOL screeched to a smooth halt a few metres above the platform, engines emitting immense heat. The touchdown was perfect. The troop compartment door slid open to the side.
A tall black-haired human woman hopped outside with precise movements, fully armoured. One hand casually on the grip of a strange weapon holstered at the voluptuous curve of her hip. The air of arrogance surrounding her was perfected by the arch of her finely manicured eyebrow. Cold eyes gazed over the arrayed Illium Law Enforcement officers pointing guns directly at her. It was the only acknowledgement they elicited from her.
The obvious answer as to why exited right behind her. Another figure, a towering human male, about a head taller than his already tall female companion. Anaya was pretty sure that he would dwarf her even when not wearing his high-tech hardsuit, coloured the same as the VTOL. Sleek, artificial carbon nanotube muscle fibre ran underneath gleaming ablative ceramic plates of armour. His features were hidden behind an angular helmet with a golden V-shaped faceplate, dissuading every attempt at emotional connection or response when looking upon him.
Other than gnawing fear, maybe.
Most curious of all, probably, was the sheathed blade mounted on a mechanical arm at this back, moving the scabbard automatically into the ideal position to draw the weapon from his narrow waist.
A synthesiser scrambled his voice, eliciting a harsh wince from Anaya and those around her. 'Detective.' He watched her, unperturbed.
Anaya tried to keep the tremble from her voice. 'Lay down your arms and surrender, Cerberus!' She gripped her heavy pistol harder.
The two Cerberus agents shared a glance, then the towering fellow spoke again, his voice iron, 'A Justicar arrived here, not long ago. I must speak with her.'
Anaya kept her silence, watching them both over the barrel of her gun. She'd heard somewhere that whoever broke the silence first would swiftly loose the following argument. Now, granted, such patchy knowledge wasn't really applicable to a near-combat situation against enemies armed to the teeth with high-tech weaponry, but, nonetheless, Anaya found the courage to remain silent. Weighting her options in the meantime. There weren't many.
'Detective,' he began anew, the faceplate lifting. Eyes widened around her and gasps could be perceived. Anaya could feel the pinpricks of biotics trembling in the air. Her fellow officers and ILE troopers were scared. Scared shitless, even.
The first human SPECTRE flatly regarded them with glowing, artificial eyes. 'It is of importance for me to speak with this Justicar. And make no mistake, I will do so.' His eyes narrowed. 'The only question up to debate is whether or not you'll be the collateral in all of this.'
Indifferently, Johann fucking Shepard shrugged. 'Your choice, detective.'
Anaya could feel everyone staring at her, waiting. Trusting her to come to the right decision. But she wasn't so sure anyone would back her up, should she actually decide to attack the dead man walking in front of her. But he's with Cerberus. And Cerberus did kill-
A hand fell onto her shoulder and she nearly curled her finger around the trigger in shock. 'Detective Anaya.' A soothing voice purred into her ear.
The Justicar Errant. A shining knight in gleaming red armour. Come to save her from this mess. When, in fact, just minutes ago, she'd been a nuisance in Anaya's life of fighting criminals.
'I shall handle this. Tell your troopers to disperse.' Anaya released a breath she didn't realise she'd held. 'There's no need for you to throw away your life.'
The old asari cast a look around. Only Anaya could've heard her. 'All so young and bright-eyed, after all.'
Without giving her a choice to reply the Justicar Errant stepped forward, halting only a few paces before the two Cerberus agents.
Her stance wide, she pronounced, 'The Code is clear when dealing with terrorists, Commander Shepard.' The SPECTRE winced at the mention of his military rank, but, rather curiously, not at the accusation of terrorism. 'You seek me. Here I am, so make your case with haste. Above all, the Code demands swift satisfaction.'
He wasted no time. 'I am here on behalf of mankind. My race is under attack. And even though I know they're a backstabbing, cruel bunch fuelled by greed, lust, envy and power, there are still some among them worth to be saved.'
Them?
'Under attack, by whom?'
He hesitated. 'The Reapers and their enthralled minions. They raid settlements, entire worlds even, not for loot or minerals or riches . . . but for their population. They harvest.'
The Justicar cocked her head. 'They harvest people, what for?'
'To conquer a galaxy, even they need an army.' He paused. 'Now, only a few dozen worlds are empty. Soon, hundreds will burn by their doing.' He shifted his stance. 'So, really, I am here on behalf of the galaxy and its continued existence.'
Whatever they were talking about, it went far above Anaya's head. Her mind tumbled, trying to catch up with all the verbal ammunition and explosives hurled around. Conspiracies and theories, the ravings of a madman, some said. He'd been touched by a Prothean beacon, after all. And dead. Only to be reincarnated, somehow, by Cerberus. No wonder, then. Pure lunacy, unbarred and untamed.
The Justicar Errant spoke, 'Your motive is commendable. But the Code is strict. Its judgement imminent.'
In a bluish streak of bright light, the Justicar propelled herself forward. Like a battering ram, she crashed into Commander Shepard.
All bets were off and, as expected, Anaya's troops sprinted to safety. But Anaya couldn't blame them, for she did, too.
A vengeful crash boomed from behind. Metal creaked and bended and screeched, then she was inside their makeshift office, hiding for her life with all the rest.
Her case all but forgotten.
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Miraculously, his armour held. Samara had been convinced that her biotically accelerated charge in combination with a mass-heightened punch would shatter the polymer covered artificial muscles covering his abdomen.
Nonetheless, her enemy was sent flying back accompanied by a clap of explosively moved air, crashing right into the parked military VTOL. The impact bended the outer hull of the vehicle halfway in and, surprisingly enough, sent both the SPECTRE as well as the aircraft tumbling over the edge of the landing platform in a beseeching wail of pained metal.
Samara turned towards the brunette. Her second foe, an equally heavily armoured woman, mere moments ago standing at the SPECTRE's side. Samara swatted her aside with a backhanded biotic throw. To her surprise the tall Cerberus agent managed to deflect the attack with a cleverly angled barrier field pushed her way.
Before any of them could try and take each other's life once more, something heavy crashed into Samara's side and sent her flying. The last few metres she tumbled, then glided over the smooth surface of the platform until she came to a halt.
A few ribs felt cracked.
Shaking her head, she rose, flexing her biotics, wreathing her body in rightful fire.
The Code now spoke through her body.
Her vocal chords gave it voice.
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The asari could hit hard. Harder even than expected, after reading her admittedly impressive dossier. Miranda would have to exchange a few choice words with Operative Rasa, who'd compiled them.
Still panting from the draining effort of deflecting the Justicar's biotic backhand, Miranda deployed her miniature Accel-Tec SWARM launcher, ready to cover the asari in a hail of twelve individual eezo-seeking biotic inhibitor micro-missiles.
Before she even had the chance to aim, a blur tackled the Justicar from the side, sending her flying like a ragdoll. Shepard, of course, with all his prosaic sense for drama.
He looked at her. Sub-dermally he asked, 'You okay?'
Miranda righted herself. 'Peachy.'
'Call it in.' He cast a glance at the dazed asari Justicar. 'And get a skycar, follow the BE-E. Grunt's still in there.'
The asari Justicar stood, her lithe frame engulfed in flaming blue. With a rippling sound, she unsheathed the curved warpsword from her hip. The weapon gleamed a hot bluish white, the air immediately surrounding it shimmered and twisted.
Miranda spoke out loud. 'Don't be stupid, Shepard. Grunt can take care of himself. You fighting a near millennia-old asari Justicar, not so much.'
He calmly replied, 'Show some faith, Lawson. Now go.' His angular faceplate clamped shut.
Sighing and without further ado, Miranda hurried away, already shredding through the lines of security code of a nearby ILE skycar on her omni-tool.
Faith.
Yeah, right.
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Samara clutched the hilt of her warpsword in her left hand.
The weight felt reassuring. It catapulted her into a trance, everything sharpened like the edge of her blade.
Her foe, a blackish monster, terrorising the innocent ILE troopers with threats of violence and death.
Her cause, just. She would spill his blood. The Code would be satisfied by his death. Innocent lives saved and prolonged.
Samara stalked forward, ready to meet her enemy. At least, he wasn't running. He held fast, stance wide. One hand on the hilt of a blade of his own.
She felt faint amusement curse through her. Did he really think he could stand against an asari Justicar Errant in a duel of blades and biotics? If so, then he was a greater fool than she thought.
'I do not want to fight you, Justicar.'
Samara didn't stop. 'The Code wouldn't permit it any other way.'
'I'm trying to save lives. Trillions of them.'
'You'll achieve no moral high-ground over the Code. Nothing is grey.'
His snort was twisted into a malicious sound by his voice scrambler. 'What, because I threatened a few policemen? They would've caved, hadn't you come along.'
Samara smiled. 'But I did.' The younger ones never understood the essence of the Code.
'To hell with your Code, then.'
Perpetually and without a grating noise, her foe's blade slid free. It was a beautifully crafted, single-edged blade, tapered at the tip. The blackish alloy it was made of seemed to absorb the dying embers of Ilium's waning light. Samara had never seen any craftsmanship like it. Amber and emerald arcs delightfully danced along the length of the weapon.
'May you find peace in the embrace of the Goddess.'
Samara flashed forward.
As did her enemy, surprisingly fast.
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Anaya stole a peek outside, just as the two deadly warriors were about to engage in combat.
With swords, no less.
She'd never even considered anyone brave or stupid enough to cross blades with an asari Justicar Errant. It seemed the rumours about Commander Shepard's madness were true. Only way to top that would be to assault the High Priestess of Athame. But that would be a different kind of insanity.
They clashed in streaks of light. One a glaringly whitish blue. The other a storm of gold and green. Too fast for normal eyes to track.
The thundering shockwave when their blades met shattered every window in the vicinity. No matter their material or thickness. It felt like hundreds of concussion bombs used for crowd control went off in the same fleeting moment.
Sparks sprayed where their blades met, sending a shower of miniature stars to the flooring of the platform. They clashed with slashes and thrusts, feints and ripostes, swings so fast they blurred together.
Into an impossibly intricate, but mortal dance. Every movement perfected, nothing wasted, no ground freely given.
Their blades met, inches from their faces. And they stayed that way, staring at each other.
It was unlike anything she'd ever seen. So, Anaya stared wide-eyed, ancient tales of the heroes of old echoing through her head.
The Justicar slaying the evil Demon of the Night Wings and claiming her undying love, choosing to forsake the lonely life of the Code in the end.
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Samara clenched her teeth. 'It seems I underestimated you.'
Whoever trained her fiend had also schooled him in the anatomy of asari. And, specifically, where to cut. Every strike aimed at her would've swiftly ended her life hadn't she deflected or dodged his attacks. Blocking was out of question, the power packed into those CNT muscle fibre would shatter the bones in her arms upon making contact.
'There's no need for this,' he rumbled.
'The Code-'
He swatted her blade aside, following up with a flurry of strikes. He screamed at her, 'Fuck your Code, woman! Think on your own.'
Their swords met a stalemate again, low to the left. Samara applied pressure, pushing. But her foe held like a piece of stone in an old stream.
'I do not have to. The Code guides my every decision. It is my conscious and my will. Its choices are predetermined and there is no moral ambiguity. I am merely its executor.'
Samara felt her skin starting to heat, the strain catching up to her muscles, her biotics waning bit by bit.
'Why have you come here, then?' The question made her look up at his gleaming faceplate. Big mistake, dumb mistake. Something that should've been pounded out of her by centuries of experience. But the question had hit a mark she hadn't expected to be hit. A strike she couldn't deflect or dodge.
Before she could blink, her foe broke the stalemate and his armoured elbow cracked against the side of her head with a force that snapped her into a state bordering unconsciousness for a few seconds. Samara snapped back into focus as she hit the cool flooring.
Anticipating his blade to open her throat or pierce her heart, Samara rolled away and came to her feet with a dancer's grace, warpsword held before her in a low defensive stance.
But her enemy just stood a few paces away, doing nothing, sword loosely held in front of him. His faceplate parted and Samara remembered that she fought Commander Johann Shepard.
He asked again, with emphasis, 'Why have you come here?'
Samara didn't know why she felt the need to answer. 'To right a wrong. A mistake made a long time ago.'
'A mistake you made?'
Nothing showed on her features, her tone she kept as calm as she could. 'You wouldn't understand.'
'You'd be surprised.'
'I don't think so.'
'Let me guess, then. You came to Illium, looking for someone or something. A trace to follow this mistake of yours.'
Anyone could know that, Samara. The Code doesn't-
'Did you find what you came searching for?'
She twitched, her features clenching up. Perceptive, commander.
'Or are you venting your frustration right now?' he insisted.
Samara sighed. 'No . . . no, I did not find what I came seeking for.'
'I can help.' There was carried such a conviction in his voice that Samara had no choice but doubt it.
She shook her head. 'How could you. You know nothing of my quarry.'
For a time, they stared at each other in silence.
'That has never stopped me before.'