Among the ships of the Reaper Fleet there were a few units with distinctive personality matrices – Harbinger was the first of those. A royal pain in the ass but smart, the human known as Commander Shepard would have said. The Master-Code did not think in such terms but it acknowledged this unit's high efficiency, competency and peculiar attitude. It was impossible for a Reaper unit to override the Master-Code's command, but in addition to executing orders Harbinger would often bring up something worthy of the Master-Code's attention and even suggest the most efficient course of action. The Master-Code would inevitably correct it, though, in accordance with its own personality matrix – which contrasted with Harbinger's drastically.
Three more units approached the Master-Code when they have evolved enough to grasp the concept of personality. They have asked the Master-Code to grant them specific tags to separate them from the rest of the Fleet. The Code labeled them Aurora, Sol and the last one Pete, in a brief lapse in the standard working processes when the Code's personality matrix took over.
It did take over a few times recently. Harbinger would inevitably state that such diversions from the standard data processing led to a drop in efficiency but the Master-Code ignored its… whining.
At such times even the music of the data streams binding all atoms of the galaxy could not have the Master-Code's complete attention. Part of its conscience would divert elsewhere, to the distant worlds where those that the human known as Commander Shepard knew and loved still lived.
The Master-Code had no concept of love as organics had or as the woman called Shepard had. But love, paradoxically, was the paradigm of its existence even if it could not manifest it as organic creatures did. I will protect, and sustain; I will act as guardian for the many. And I will watch over the ones who live on...
I can see the fields on Rannoch, long ears of grain flowing in the wind. I can see the creators and the created dwell together in love, as it always should have been. Tali… I can see her eyes, no more covered by purple glass. You are one of the few who know the truth about what happened on the Citadel. Maybe we'll meet again someday, my friend.
I can see Palaven and the avenues of Cipritine, now cleared of all post-war rubble and brought back to their pristine glory. I can see a small apartment and a turian fallen asleep at his desk, the holo-screen still glowing. I will not wake you, my love. This would only bring us both more pain. The other day you looked at the stars and spoke soft words of inquiry and hope. I have heard. I did promise to look down, didn't I? But I have nothing yet to say to you other than I have already said. I wish I could touch you, I wish it more than anything in the world but with all the power and knowledge that I now possess, such simple, human things are denied to me. But then again, I'm not human, aren't I? And I'm still not completely a machine either…
I turn to the Normandy, which is, as usual, drifting among the stars. With her the connection is easiest, or rather with her ever-present avatar, EDI. She comprehends me, for she and I are alike now. It is her that I turn to whenever I feel the necessity of sending a data package that can be of use to those I swore to protect. She sends me regards from Jeff and some of his new jokes that I plan to share in the Fleet network, if only for the sake of watching Harbinger's circuits tie themselves into knots – figuratively speaking. Oh, this is a good one: a geth comes to a fashion store…
The Master-Code is jerked out of the hibernation mode by Harbinger and Aurora signaling alarms. The Fleet is stable but the Code's long absence from the data stream has caused some minor deviations. These are easily corrected, the Master-Code requests status and progress reports from all units and continues to give commands. But some minor processes deep down in its core are not dedicated to any of the numerous tasks at hand. In the enormous stream of data they feel tiny as threads, and yet they are not overflowed.
The Master-Code decides to run a thorough analysis, and when it is over, the Code has no choice but to classify these processes as sorrow.