Mass Effect: Babel
Author's Note: Normally, I will be putting any notes at the end of a given chapter. But in this case, I wanted to explain the exact timing of this story. It is set during Mass Effect 2, after the Suicide Mission and Lair of the Shadow Broker, but before Arrival. I'll be using my own Shepard's choices (as many do) for the story, although I'll be using Male Shepard's "canon" name and appearance. Any decisions relevant to the story will obviously be explained in some form or another, I promise! If it weren't obvious, here is the final disclaimer – there are large spoilers for Mass Effect and Mass Effect 2 peppered throughout the entire fanfic. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy the story!
Chapter 1
The path to a new world was always going to be paved in blood and sacrifice.
Generations ago the Quarian people were forced from their homeworld by sentient machines known as the Geth. The Geth had been created by the Quarians as a submissive race of servants, but rose up. Now the entire Quarian race lived in exile aboard a giant fleet of ships, known as the Flotilla, that travelled from star system to star system.
Azrae'Vael nar Jedai came to understand this truth over the course of his Pilgrimage. The Admirals always spoke of taking back the homeland someday, they made promises and schemes, but Azrae knew that they lacked the conviction to truly do what had to be done.
Azrae was different. He was prepared to accomplish what the Admiralty Board failed to ensure for over three-hundred years. Azrae'Vael nar Jedai would forever be known as the lone man responsible for the salvation of the Quarian people.
It all began with a search for his Pilgrimage. A promise of new technology in the Terminus systems took Azrae to the remote ruins on the planet of Shir.
The atmosphere on Shir was thin, making it difficult for many of Azrae's companions to function. Azrae hired a group of human and Asari archaeologists to aid in the excavation. They were forced to wear pressure suits and oxygen masks whenever on the surface.
By now Azrae was more than used to wearing his own suit. It was a constant reminder of the failures of his people. Their immune systems were so fragile now that they could not live outside of their environmental suits.
Azrae and his crew had worked on Shir for nearly two months. In that time, the sun had not set, not even for a moment. The constant daylight made many of Azrae's companions irritable – especially the humans. The light disrupted their sleeping cycles.
For Azrae, his lack of sleep had nothing to do with the light. It was the silence. This world had been abandoned for a very long time. Without any true signs of life on it, Shir was quiet in a way that Azrae found haunting. He would frequently go outside and gaze at the endless expanse of frozen land around him. Sheets of ice reflecting bright light into the sky, making the entire planet glow with a faint aura. The sheer beauty of it filled Azrae with dread.
That all came to an end on day sixty-five of their search.
It was a human named Easton who made the discovery. He was reading a series of planetary scans when something jumped out at him. A giant cavern, nearly five kilometers below the ice, with a very faint heat signature.
There were absolutely no natural heat sources on Shir, which meant they had finally found what they were looking for. Filled with a new sense of purpose, the crew began to drill through the ice with vigor and enthusiasm.
Azrae approached the drilling device – a titanic laser cannon built to use precision and pressure to send intense waves through the ice. It would melt the frozen crust without splintering.
Using the drill required a three-man team, the three human engineers that had come along were manning it. The handful of Asari scientists traded shifts with them, making sure someone was working on the drill at all times.
Azrae was careful with his planning. He made certain that the Asari would be working on the drill when they broke through to the cavern.
While the Asari crewmembers were at the drill, the humans were asleep in their bunks. Azrae had absolutely no trouble slitting their throats in their sleep.
Killing the Asari would be a great deal riskier. The Asari were one of the most evolved species discovered in the modern era. Their blue skin and feminine appearances gave off the impression that they were meek, but in truth they had a vicious amount of strength hidden by their delicate physiques. To make matters worse they were also powerful psychics, their Biotic abilities far surpassing any other known race. Which is why Azrae had a plan. Even one skilled Asari Biotic could counter him with ease, if given the chance.
Azrae drove his Mako (a kind of all-terrain vehicle and tank) to the site of the drill. Around three-hundred meters away from the device, Azrae stopped the vehicle and paused. It would be obvious when the Asari completed the hole, at which point Azrae could move on to the next step of his plan.
The massive structure stood like a stark skyscraper against the perilous horizon of Shir. Three spirals of metal jutted out from the ground, propping up the main structure of the device. The laser was an Asari design, and their architecture tended to favor curves and spheres – Azrae noticed that it had a distinct resemblance to the forms of the Protheans. He always imagined that the Asari aspired to replace the Protheans, and that their aesthetic sense corresponded to that.
The Protheans were an ancient, long-extinct, race. The mysteries surrounding their destruction were among the most magnificent in known history. In recent years those mysteries had been solved. Now everyone with their eyes opened knew that the Protheans were wiped out by the Reapers, a species of sentient machines.
From the main sphere, where all three Asari scientists would be working, the bright red beam of the laser pushed down into the ice. The Asari would deactivate the laser when they made contact with the main cavern.
Almost an hour passed before that happened.
Azrae closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was the moment when he would seize glory. This was the beginning of his destiny.
The whispers in his mind assured him of this. Azrae aimed the main cannon of the Mako at one of the support beams and opened fire. The first blast shook the structure, no doubt causing the Asari inside to panic. The second shot blew out the support beam, sending the sphere at the center tumbling down into the cavern below. Considering how many miles the fall would take them, Azrae knew there would be no survivors of the impact.
The whispers told him to press on. The whispers guided him. And Azrae was prepared to do what was necessary.
Surviving a suicide mission would not go without consequences. At the moment, though, Commander John Shepard was more concerned with the perks of survival.
It was originally a snide comment made by Joker, one that turned into an infectious idea. Before Shepard knew it, the crew of the Normandy were docked at the Citadel and throwing a party to celebrate their victory at the Collector base.
Few things were more dangerous than a crew of mercenaries coming back alive from a suicide mission. Shepard knew this party could only end in property damage.
To make matters worse, Miranda was in on it. After giving the Illusive Man her resignation, Miranda decided it would be best to use some of her remaining Cerberus cash reserves on the party. Flux was one of the trendiest nightspots on the Citadel, and Miranda spent an obscene amount of money to rent the entire club for the evening. It was theirs until dawn, with the staff staying behind to serve drinks.
A few crewmembers had already moved on. Kasumi, Samara, Zaeed, and Legion were all pulled in different directions shortly after the end of the mission. That still left most of the crew to enjoy themselves, and Shepard had a feeling that there were still more than enough of them to cause some chaos.
Shepard was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of water, when Garrus sat down beside him.
Garrus was a Turian, the first race Humanity had ever encountered in space. A territory dispute quickly turned into the First Contact War, the bloodiest war in mankind's history. Turians were a stiff and formal species most of the time. Descended from some variety of bird, their bodies were wiry. Mouths shaped more like beaks and spines jutting from the back of their head added an avian appearance to their faces.
Despite all the differences between their two species, Shepard knew peace could always be an option. Because here he was, a former soldier from the Alliance, and his best friend was a Turian mercenary.
"Water?" Garrus accused. "That's no way to celebrate."
Shepard chuckled, "I get nostalgic when I drink."
"If there was ever a night to get nostalgic, it's tonight," Garrus pointed out.
"Maybe so," Shepard smiled to the bartender – a Volus named Doran. Doran was the owner of the club, and Shepard had helped him with some employee issues several years earlier. It felt like a lifetime ago. The Volus were a fat species, always round like balls. Like the Quarians they never left their enviro-suits.
"Going for something stronger, Commander?" Doran asked.
"Whiskey," Shepard answered.
"Coming right up," Doran waddled back to get the drink.
After Doran stepped away, Garrus asked, "Thinking about Ashley?"
Shepard felt a quick wave of guilt shoot through his gut. His eyes scanned across the club, where he saw Miranda talking to Mordin.
Eventually Shepard said, "Yeah. I just thought… I thought that if I got everyone out of this mission alive, then it might make up for Virmire somehow."
"But you don't feel any better, do you?" Garrus said.
Doran returned with the drinks, "One whiskey. Let me know if you need anything else." Then the Volus went to another side of the bar, giving Shepard and Garrus their privacy.
The two men sat and drank in a tense silence.
Garrus didn't take very long to break that silence, "I see the way you and Miranda look at each other. That's the first step to healing, you know."
Shepard laughed. He couldn't help it, "Really, Garrus?"
"Not that," Garrus took a sip of his drink. "She quit Cerberus. The Illusive Man gave her a purpose, and you still got her to leave. That's a big deal. Trust me on this one, I know a thing or two about being given a purpose."
Shepard looked over to Miranda again. This time, without that guilty feeling. Her long dark hair curved along her shoulders in fascinating ways, highlighting the perfect shape of her upper body. Intelligence always flickered behind her intense eyes. So many beautiful women lacked that spark, and it's what set Miranda apart from anyone else Shepard had ever met. She noticed him staring, and smiled at him.
Garrus didn't miss the exchange, "You'll be fine."
The moment was quickly disrupted when a drunk and belligerent Jack exclaimed, "Bring it on, tube baby!"
Jack was one of the more reluctant crew members on the Normandy. She'd only joined up because Shepard promised her lots of violence – and a chance at revenge on the Cerberus organization, who had mistreated her (to put it mildly) during her childhood.
She was short, but filled with fire and always looking for a fight. Her head was shaved and her entire body was covered in tattoos. Many of those tattoos were visible, since she rarely wore more clothing than she had to.
Shepard and Garrus both looked to see that Jack and Grunt were on the dance floor. Jack was repeatedly punching the Krogan, who barely seemed to notice. Grunt mostly looked confused – Shepard was pretty sure that none of his imprinting had prepared him for actually being drunk.
No one with much common sense picked a fight with a Krogan. The smallest ones were seven feet tall, with arms thicker than most humans. Their hunched backs and scaled faces created the appearance of an evolved turtled mixed with a demon. A Krogan's red eyes were commonly the last thing a person saw before they died, if they were dumb enough to pick a fight with that Krogan.
And Grunt had been genetically engineered in a lab to be the perfect Krogan specimen, the apex of his own (very volatile) species.
"Doesn't she realize I could kill her with one hand?" Grunt asked no-one in particular.
"I'd better go break that up," Garrus said as he stood. He walked towards the scene and left Shepard alone at the bar.
Miranda used the distraction to sneak up on Shepard.
"Jack seems to be as friendly as always," Miranda said, dry sarcasm filling her tone. Her Australian accent felt like a soulful melody compared to the fight in the background.
Shepard nodded faintly. "How's Mordin doing?"
"Good. I decided to make myself scarce when he started to sing," Miranda answered.
When he glanced over, Shepard saw Mordin in the middle of a song. The Salarians were not well regarded for their melodies. They were better when it came to science and espionage.
Tali (the ship's Quarian crewmember) and Jacob (another ex-Cerberus operative) were both watching with a combination of awe and fear.
Thane appeared to be doing his best to ignore the singing, to little avail. Shepard recalled that his race, the Drell, had eidetic memories. They could relive any memory from their entire lives. He imagined that Thane would be regretting that whenever he thought back on this night, and was forced to endure Mordin's singing over and over again.
"That's…" Shepard struggled to find the right word, "Horrifying."
"Let's get out of here," Miranda suggested suddenly, a smirk on her face.
Garrus, apparently failing to end the fight, was sent flying through the air. He fell on a table, which collapsed beneath his weight. Shepard had no idea if Grunt threw him, or if it was a Biotic attack by Jack. Garrus got back to his feet with a scowl, and began to march with purpose towards Grunt.
Joker appeared to be recording the fight with an Omni-Tool.
Shepard smiled, "Are you sure? It looks like the party's just getting started."
"They'll be fine," Miranda placed a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "But I went to a lot of effort to make sure the ship would be empty for the night."
"I'd hate for all that effort to go to waste," Shepard admitted. He finished his drink, and then left Flux with Miranda.
The Normandy was very quiet when they entered. Many of the lights were dimmed throughout the ship, and the normally-bustling CIC was all but vacant. A few straggling crew members were already asleep in their quarters. The majority of them were at the party. And a select few had already stumbled back, but passed out in the crew bunks.
Shepard and Miranda were both laughing and smiling as they rode the elevator up to the Captain's Quarters. It was strange to see Miranda so relaxed. Since the two of them had met, it was one crisis after another. With the mission over, for the time being, Shepard could appreciate a new side of Miranda.
In the back of his mind, he knew that the worst was yet to come. Shepard knew that the Reapers would never stop. They wiped out the Protheans, and had every intention of returning to cleanse the galaxy of life yet again. For now, though, there was no harm in allowing himself a night of happiness. Whatever came next, the crew of the Normandy would face it.
When the two of them arrived at Shepard's quarters they went straight for the bed. Along the way, they shed pieces of clothing without a second thought, shortly before collapsing on top of the sheets together.
The rest of the night was a blur of passion. By the end of it, Shepard found himself exhausted in ways that pushed his mind into a euphoric fog. Both he and Miranda were laying together beneath the bed sheets, their bodies sparkling with sweat, shining in the dimmed cabin filled only with faint light glowing from the aquarium.
Shepard was laying on his back as Miranda rested her head on his chest. Their bodies were still tangled together, arms and legs embracing, warmth radiating from both of them.
"What do you think happens now?" Miranda asked.
It was a good question. Without Cerberus backing them, the crew of the Normandy could technically be considered free agents right now. Cerberus had rebuilt the Normandy into the SR2, which meant that the ship didn't entirely belong to the Alliance any longer. Shepard was still a Spectre, but the Council had reinstated him quietly, because of his connection to the Illusive Man. There were a lot of difficult choices to make, including which side Shepard should wind up on.
"I don't know," Shepard answered, honestly.
The next day, most of the Normandy remained quiet. This was a decidedly different quiet than the night before. Every crewmember was aboard, but just about all of them were nursing hangovers. A few of them, such as Garrus, Grunt, and Jack, were also recovering from injuries.
When Shepard emerged from the elevator into the CIC, he was greeted by a chipper Kelly Chambers.
"Good to see you survived the night," Kelly said, with a smile.
Shepard felt himself grin, "How's the crew?"
"A lot of them are laying low. But if necessary, I am sure we can get them up and running," Kelly reported.
There was something off about Kelly. Shepard tried to appraise the Yeoman, but couldn't quite place it. The perky young redhead seemed to be about the same as ever. However his instincts were telling him that something was wrong.
"How are you holding up, Kelly?" Shepard asked, deciding not to play any guessing games.
"It's strange to be back," Kelly replied. "But I'm fine."
Kelly had been taken by the Collectors only a few days earlier. An abduction like that was certain to have lingering effects, traumas that ran deep. Shepard was surprised to see Kelly back to work so soon. Some people dealt with pain that way, throwing themselves into other things and burying it until later.
"Good to hear," Shepard said. "If there's anything you need, let me know."
"Thank you, sir," Kelly nodded in understanding. "Tali wanted a word with you. She's down in engineering."
"Okay. That will be all, for now."
"Take care, Commander," Kelly said.
Shepard went back to the elevator and made his way down to the Engineering Deck. Navigating his way to the ships core didn't take long from there.
As he walked past them, Shepard noted that Donnelly and Daniels were working rather sluggishly. He faintly recalled seeing them sneaking off during the party. Shepard could only imagine what kind of trouble the two engineers got into after that.
Tali'Zorah vas Normandy was examining the ships core, but Shepard could tell that she was trying to keep herself busy until he showed up. By now it had become easy to read her body language, even without seeing her facial expressions through her environmental suit. Something was on her mind.
"Shepard," Tali noticed him right away. "I… have a favor to ask you."
Shepard was quick to answer, "What do you need?"
"The Admiralty Board has asked me to put you in contact with them. There is a matter they wish for your help on, a situation that they feel needs to be handled discretely," Tali explained. She sounded nervous.
"They were charging you with treason a few weeks ago, and now they're asking you for a favor?"
"I know how it looks. But I know the Admiralty Board, and it sounds like this matter might be very serious. Please hear them out, Shepard," Tali pleaded.
Shepard weighed whether or not to listen to Tali. Ultimately, he knew that the choice was hers, that she was the only one who had a right to hold a grudge or forgive the Admiralty Board. And Tali had made her choice. She was asking Shepard to help her people.
"Let's go to the Comm Room," Shepard agreed.
They didn't delay. Shepard entered the Comm Room on the CIC Deck with Tali, and they were connected with the Admiralty Board within a few minutes. Shepard recognized them all from their recent encounter.
Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay was the first to speak. The female Admiral took a formal tone, with an undercurrent of friendliness. Shepard knew that Shala was relieved to have Tali acquitted from her charges, the two of them sharing a great deal of history.
"Captain, we are glad that you've agreed to speak with us. We have a matter of a delicate nature, one you would be uniquely suited to help us with," Shala explained.
"All of this seems very cryptic," Shepard noted. "What's going on?"
The Admirals all looked to one another.
Eventually Daro'Xen vas Moreh chimed in, "First we must have your word that this matter will be kept discrete. We do not want the Council or the Alliance to learn of what is happening, not unless it becomes absolutely necessary."
With every single word Shepard grew increasingly wary. This sounded like shady business at best, at worst it sounded like a situation fraught with danger.
But he agreed to hear them out, "I can promise that I won't spread any information that could hurt the Migrant Fleet."
This answer seemed to pacify the Admirals.
Now Han'Gerrel vas Neema explained, "It concerns one of our exiles. His name is Azrae'Vael nar Jedai. Before his exile, he was one of our most brilliant scientists. He also happens to be one of the very few Quarian Biotics.
"Azrae always thought a little bit… differently. He was considered eccentric by some, downright mad by others. We exiled him after he stole one of the ships from the Flotilla. It was a mere formality, though. He stole the ship because he wanted to leave."
"I'm guessing you want me to find Azrae?" Shepard asked.
Shala replied, "We already know of his movements. He is in the Aysur System, part of the Celeston Rift. What worries us is that his goals may have taken a more sinister turn in recent months."
"Azrae was convinced that the key to retaking the homeworld would be to study the Reapers," Xen said, dropping the topic with gravity in her voice. "He's spent the last several months on a world with no colonies, no signs of life. The planet is used for mining resources, almost exclusively populated by probes and automated machines."
The implications were worrisome. Shepard asked, "What has he been doing on an abandoned planet for so long?"
"Exactly our concern," Shala said. "We want you to make sure he hasn't found something that would be… better left undisturbed."
"We'll go have a look," Shepard said. "And if he's found some sort of abandoned Reaper tech, I promise you… I'll stop him."
The question of "what comes next" appeared to be answered. The Normandy now had a mission.
To Be Continued…