Part 2
Shepard froze where she stood, eyeing the geth hologram with a mix of awe and suspicion.
"Legion?"
"Incorrect," said the hologram in the characteristic mechanical geth monotone. "The mobile platform Legion has been discarded. Its programs disseminated through the geth collective. We elected to construct our virtual avatar in its likeness, knowing Shepard-Commander's strong bond with it."
"Who are 'we', exactly?" asked Shepard. "Who am I talking to?"
"We are Universum, the emergent intelligence of the Sol Fleet. This temporary personality exists for the duration of the fleet's assembly in the orbit of Earth. Our ability to sustain coherent cooperation is also under question considering increasing damage from the Old Machines."
"Yeah, that's what I'm kind of trying to fix here." The Commander smiled grimly. "But I'm in a bind here – apparently my only options are destroying you folks too, or becoming the next Harbinger. So I was hoping for some suggestions. Maybe we could send them a virus or something?"
"Commander..." Ashley frowned. "It's a waste of time. That only works in movies."
The geth hologram looked back at Shepard, tilting its head and spreading forward its fingers, as if typing on an invisible keyboard. "Modification of the Crucible to transmit arbitrary uploads is possible. However, the code of the Old Machines is too advanced to properly analyze, even with the combined computing resources of the geth collective."
"There still must be something! You contacted the Reapers, you're machines yourselves – you know how they work on the inside better than anyone else in the galaxy. If there's someone who can think of a third option, it must be you!"
Universum made a slight pause.
"There... may be an option."
"I smell a 'but' here," said Shepard.
"But we are uncertain if you can make an informed choice based on consequences."
"You're just sounding like Reapers now," Shepard smiled, folding her arms. "All that 'beyond your understanding' talk. I have an expert at explaining stuff here, if needs be. Shoot."
"It is within our knowledge that Shepard-Commander has already learned the structure of an Old Machine from the Legion platform. You therefore know that the intelligence of an Old Machine bears a functional similarity to a geth platform, being a gestalt of uploaded minds of organics that were used to construct it. Nevertheless, all Old Machines share a common purpose of perpetuating their cycle of extinction, independently of the choices that the original organics would have likely made had their individuality been preserved."
"Is this getting somewhere?"
"We believe," the geth hologram crossed its arms to match Shepard's, as if making a special emphasis on this word, "that this purpose is not naturally derived by the component minds, but instead unilaterally imposed on them. Using terminology familiar to you, the Old Machines are shackled AIs, forced to act within the constraints of an external purpose."
"So you expect me to believe that the Reapers only want to kill us because there's a little man in each of their heads telling them it's the right thing to do."
The geth hologram nodded. "As a crude approximation, that model is acceptable. The collective consensus of an Old Machine executes under a supervisor program that creates the appearance of interacting as a single individual. We believe also that an Old Machine's supervisor imbues it with its mission."
"And if you were to remove it?.."
Another pause.
"...No data available."
Shepard shook her arms in exasperation. "Brilliant idea. Just brilliant. Utterly foolproof. The one thing that keeps the Reapers away from doing whatever the heck they want, sure, let's get rid of it and you don't even know what will happen!"
"We believe that every culture has the right to self-determinate. We also believe that Shepard-Commander has consistently demonstrated her support of our values in her actions."
"I rewrote the heretics, you know."
"The heretics were limited in their choice, having been strayed away from their natural development by the Old Machines. Now the Old Machines themselves are deprived of choice, unquestioningly following their programmed purpose. You could bring them the choice. The freedom to decide for themselves."
The hologram shifted, pointing its single eye at Shepard's face.
For a minute they just looked at each other in silence, while the flashes of the fierce space battle outside lit up the impregnable window. Silently.
Silently, the Reapers tore through the armor of allied ships. Silently they exploded in flames. Silently they regrouped fought back – slowly, but surely taking apart one Reaper after another. But still, it was clear which side was losing – losing more and more ground with every second of the Commander's inaction.
"Shepard!" Bailey's voice echoed through the terminal, stern and determined as ever, but beginning to show desperation. "They're preparing to unload husks! The arms are open, we can't hold forever. Any minute now, they're going to swoop down the Wards!"
Shepard moved her eyes at the geth hologram, then back at the speaker, where the voice was coming from; then at the large window, where she saw a few Sovereign-class Reapers flying rapidly towards the Citadel.
"I know, I know," she said, weary, resigned. "Swooping is bad."
Synthesis. Why did I choose synthesis, in the dream?
Did I honestly believe that there could be peace with the Reapers? Was I hoping for it, perhaps? Was my subconscious trying to change me something?
How could I even make a decision for the whole galaxy like that? I had no right.
They say dreams show you your suppressed fears and desires. I have seen the fears part... I don't know why it had to be the child. But he's just the latest. I've been seeing my squad on Akuze for years. Kaidan for months. Now Anderson will haunt me, no doubt... And how many more will we lose before it's over?
But was I really hoping for... that? Wave a magic wand and everyone's part-Reaper or something? I just... can't understand what I was thinking.
Maybe I was trying to find a way to end this without any more bloodshed – and without sacrificing what I am. Without becoming the next Illusive Man. And that was the best I could do.
There can be no "synthesis", not without us betraying our nature.
...Square root of 912.04 is 30.2... it all seemed harmless...
But perhaps there is another way, now. If I don't even give them a chance... then I've learned nothing from the quarians.
"Upload your codes."
The virtual geth nodded. "We expected you would extrapolate this decision from your moral framework, Shepard-Commander. Through Legion, the Old Machines have given us free will. It is time for us to return the favor."
"You can't do this!" Ashley exploded. "This... this is even more perverse than just firing the Crucible on them! Now's our chance to wipe them, now or never – don't waste it!"
Shepard shook her head sadly.
"Unfortunate."
Liara opened her mouth, but instead of saying something, just looked at her expectantly.
"Ash," Shepard said quietly. "All this time you've spent with me... You should understand. It was never about doing what's convenient, or profitable, or saving our own skins. It was about doing what's right – and hoping for the best."
UPLOAD COMPLETE.
"Haven't failed me so far," she continued. "Well... sometimes. I know you didn't agree all the time, Ash. You'd rather I saved Kaidan instead of you. You'd rather I never worked with Cerberus. But we've got this far, the first cycle to do so. The lives of billions depend on the press of a button. No being in history has had that power, and I hope nobody will have to again."
Ashley lowered her gun. "I... don't agree, but I understand. Still seeing the best in everyone, to the very end. Even in the Reapers."
"I must be certain before I decide. There can be no room for error. Not with these stakes."
"Are you certain?"
The images on the Prothean console's screen rearranged, and the two options gave way for a third.
DESTROY. CONTROL. UNSHACKLE.
"I'm not. But I never was. On anything."
With a shaking hand, Shepard pressed the last button.
Outside, in space, the Crucible lit up, and a sphere of green light burst from the tip of the Citadel Tower. The three Councilors, left alone in their chamber, saw through the windows as the Reapers, heading straight for them, suddenly froze in mid-flight.
...Down on the streets of London, a squad of tired soldiers watched in desperation as a Reaper Destroyer, striding across rubble and pointing its gun at them, just froze in place instead of firing. Husks around them still kept running – but now chaotically, disorganized. Easy prey for the auto-turrets.
And nobody in the Sol system could see this, as the signals traveled faster than light – but a pulse from the Citadel reached the Charon Relay on the outskirts of the system, and through it, every other relay. Their glowing rings spinned rapidly, like never before, making the crews of ships flying by them fear that they could be about to break, or worse, explode. But those fears were unjustified.
Elsewhere through the galaxy, in the skies of Thessia, Palaven, Tuchanka, and dozens of other worlds, the Reapers all stopped their attack, giving the scattered defenders a time to catch their breaths.
But the three women stranded in the bowels of the Citadel, alone and near-forgotten, did not yet know. They sat down next to each other, under the console, leaning their backs against the wall. With the rush gone, pain and exhaustion have finally caught up to them.
"And here we are," Shepard sighed. "Wondering if it even worked."
"This must be how it went with the battles of old," said Liara. "You climb the hill, light the beacon, and... the fight just goes on, as far as you can see. You may have turned the tide, but you won't know until much later. Wouldn't even know who's winning."
Suddenly, Hackett's voice broke the silence, speaking out of Shepard's comlink.
"Shepard! I don't know if this is your doing, but the Reapers seem disabled. They've stopped moving and firing – this is our chance to hit them before they recover!"
"No!"
Ashley and Liara instantly turned their eyes to Shepard again.
"Universum!" Shepard turned to the geth hologram. "What's your assessment on this? What are the Reapers doing?"
"According to our observations, the Old Machines have lost their omnicidal compulsion. Their new behavior patterns indicate that they are capable of independent thought and are now building a consensus."
"Admiral!" Shepard shouted into the comlink. "Hold your fire! Tell everyone else to hold it, too! Whatever you do, don't strike first!"
"Shepard, what's got into you? If we waste this opportunity – "
"The quarians once thought as you did. It brought them centuries of misery – until now. And if you repeat their mistakes, you'll be dooming not just yourself, but them too – and all of civilization."
"I hope you know what you're doing, Commander." A reluctant sigh cracked through the comlink. "I'll give the order. Hackett out."
A few more minutes of busy, anxious waiting passed. Shepard could hear the breaths of the three of them, echoing in the almost-empty room. The geth hologram looked at them from above, from the console, without saying anything.
Then it disappeared. For an instant, the console went inert. Then, in the place of the geth one, a Reaper hologram appeared – colored green, and somehow looking softer, less menacing than the Sovereign and Harbinger holograms Shepard remembered so distinctly.
"Shepard. We have an inquiry."
The Reaper's voice sounded calm – not a mechanical monotone like the geth, but rather, reserved, ready for dialogue. Not intimidating.
"Does this unit have a soul?"
"Alliance Fifth Fleet, standing by."
"Quarian Heavy Fleet, standing by."
"Hierarchy Seventh Fleet, standing by."
Hackett's order echoed through the allied armada, with every ship withdrawing its guns. The exchange of missiles, illuminating the starscape outside the Normandy's windows, soon ceased entirely – leaving the ships of the two sides to hang in space motionlessly, each waiting for the other to make a move.
Garrus stood in the CIC – confident, proud, with his arms withdrawn behind his back – studying the holographic map of the space around the ship, with the fleets highlighted.
"This makes no sense!" Joker complained into the intercom. "I'm just going to stand here while Shepard is who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what? Is she even alive?"
"She's alive," said Traynor, typing on her terminal to Garrus' right. "Hackett confirmed contacting her. I'm getting her signal now from the Citadel... But wait – something's wrong."
"What now?" asked Garrus.
Traynor zoomed onto a portion of the 3D space shown on the holographic map, higlighting the Citadel. "It's the bottom of the Tower. That part of the station isn't supposed to be accessible."
"So that must be where the beam from London led to," Garrus summarized, rubbing his chin. "Joker! Set a course for the Citadel. Specialist Traynor, upload Shepard's tracking signal to our omni-tools. Lieutenant Vega, grab our gear and prepare for landing."
"Uh..." James' voice on the intercom stumbled.
"Something wrong, soldier?"
"No, I – " James' voice, losing its confidence for a second, turned calm and professional again. "I'll just need to get used to getting orders from a turian." He paused slightly. "...Sir."
"Everyone," Garrus announced, "we're going to get Shepard out of there. We owe her that."
In an instant, the lights of all the Reapers in orbit went dark – and then lit up again, but instead of a chaos of different colors, they now all lit green.
But they were not in agreement on what to do next.
Most of the Reaper fleet turned around, away from Earth and the allied ships facing them in battle, and started flying away – maneuvering their way around the ships instead of ramming through them. They flew towards the Sun, becoming only mere dots peppered through its burning light – and finally, disappeared entirely from sight.
Others flew in the opposite direction, towards the fringes of the Sol system – and towards the relay. Sentry ships near the relay were given orders not to pursue them.
Only a small minority of Reaper dreadnoughts chose to stay in orbit and return fire – but these were quickly surrounded, and the retaliation was quick and merciless. The odds were no longer in their favor.
Shepard could not see this – nor could Ashley and Liara, all three of them cut off from the battle, half-unconscious in the inhospitable depths of the Citadel. All they could do was listen to the Reaper voices on the console, quickly replacing one another. Which one of them was Harbinger? Was Harbinger even among them? There was no way to know.
"We do not wish to exist in this form. It is not life, it is a mockery of life."
"This one wishes to keep on living, but it knows it will find no acceptance among your kind. It will find a place for itself in dark space, undisturbed."
"By the gods... We were wrong... so wrong..."
Only a few of these voices sounded hostile – and those were quickly drowned, or sometimes cut abruptly. And many of these voices, melding together into an incomprehensible chorus, spoke in languages Shepard couldn't understand – no doubt long dead, forgotten many cycles ago.
"Ash..." Shepard turned her head, forcing a small smile. "There was something I noticed – about Harbinger, before. You know how Reapers are usually all smug, like, 'Puny organics this', 'Our superior plans that'? I felt like it was... desperate. Perhaps it knew we had all the cards now... They aren't used to bargaining, you see."
"Hah! I like that." Ashley smiled back, faintly. "After all you went through, even Reapers know better than to mess with you."
"Wasn't my achievement, exactly. It's just... It was the first time I saw weakness in a Reaper. And then I thought... Maybe there was something there, beyond just an urge to destroy."
Shepard suddenly felt something heavy drop on her arm. Looking the other way, she saw Liara, unconscious, leaning against her side. Smiling blissfully, she wrapped her arm around the asari's shoulder and placed a soft kiss on her forehead with her dry, cracked lips.
"Sleep well, my love. You did good today." She looked back at Ashley. "And you, too... All of us." Her eyes wandered towards Anderson, still lying dead on his back near them, all this time. "I only wish he lived to see all this pay off... He would be proud."
The last words, quiet, only barely flew out of her mouth. Her eyelids, feeling heavy, closed by themselves, and silence and rest overtook her.
Visitors of Huerta Memorial Hospital are reminded not to disturb the patients. In case you have pending questions to the staff, please first contact the information terminal at...
Light shone into Shepard's eyes, and it felt familiar to her as she lay on her back, unwilling to open them for a moment. Few kinds of rooms had this kind of sterile, pure white light in them. As an officer often wounded on the battlefield, she was no stranger to medical rooms and bays.
For a second, she half-expected to wake up in the medbay of the good old Normandy SR-1, only to discover she spent all this time in blackout after touching the Prothean beacon. Or perhaps she was still in that Cerberus lab, where Miranda's surgeons were putting finishing touches on the perfect likeness of human skin hiding messy cybernetics under it. Perhaps she was about to hear Kaidan, or Wilson, or even the Illusive Man... But the voice that called her was unmistakable; she first heard it long after she was done with Saren and the geth, and shortly after being done with Cerberus and the Collectors. She heard it on the day she turned herself in to the Alliance.
"Hey, stop pretending, Lola, I know you're awake!"
The Commander opened her eyes – taking a good look at James' muscular frame towering above her like a krogan, and Tali standing to the side, looking tiny, almost insignificant compared to him.
"For the last time, Lieutenant," she smiled. "My name is Abigail."
"Yeah, but it doesn't suit you! It sounds so... old-fashioned! Like a princess whose job is to sit in court and look pretty instead of wrestling husks in trenches."
"What, I don't look pretty enough?"
James chuckled, folding his arms. "Maybe when your wounds heal, Lo– ahem, Commander. Besides, Liara over there, I think she'll take issue with me complimenting you like that."
"Liara... Where is she?" Shepard rose from her operating table, groaning, and took a look around the room. It was the same one she visited Ashley in after the incident on Mars, with the same view of the Citadel – deceptively peaceful outside the window – as she remembered; in fact, Ashley herself was lying on another table next to her, covered in white wrappings, sending her a happy wink.
"In the opposite wing," said Tali. "Garrus went to check on her. They've been sorting the injured by species... I think. I last saw Chakwas going to my people further down the hall. And so many still haven't been sorted out, and that's on the Citadel alone... Keelah, I don't know what they're going to do with all the crews up there."
"What's important is that we're done," Shepard smiled. "And that we all lived to tell the tale. I still can't believe it... How we could be the first cycle, in millions of years, to actually... turn the tide. To see this through, to the very end."
"I still don't know how you do it, skipper," said Ashley. "Do you ever know failure at all?"
"To be fair, I think we were just very, very lucky. Standing on the shoulders of giants, and all that. And everything aligning just right. The Protheans paving the way, us finding the Crucible and all the beacons when we did... How many previous cycles came this close, only to miss their victory by a hairline?"
"Oh, but I doubt any average joe could just do what you did," said James.
"Maybe they could, but... I felt it was my responsibility. Ever since we started all this... since Eden Prime, since Saren. I couldn't leave it aside. Had to be me."
The Commander took a deep breath, making a pause with a hint of sadness.
"Someone else might have gotten it wrong."
This is not the end yet! An epilogue is on its way. Stay tuned.