And to some things you can never get used to. This is when I faced the darkness beyond the limits of our rational mind. That thing, the apparition stood before me, enormous and terrifying, like an Earth-clan female but all muscle, wings and blood red armour, the size of a dreadnought – her empty eyesockets burning in red flame. 'You need help.' she stated rather than asked. And I, Destroyer of Worlds, looked deep inside myself and saw her insidious trap for what it was. Why would I need help? I'm omnipotent, for I have opened my eyes to the deeper underlying reality behind the mysterious force that fuels our biotics, taking all mortal limitations away. But even for a near-almighty being there are moments when you look down the edge of the world – and the unspeakable, blind chaos beyond the threshold of reality itself stares in your eyes and tempts you. This is when you politely decline. I refused the infernal deal of even more power she would have offered me – and she left. Just so, turned around, left, went away. Everyone who follows the path of mastery of self will face her. The question is not who she is but what she is. She is the trial of wisdom.
/Teachings of Destroyer of Worlds: The Biotic Way of Knowledge /
Light.
Different from darkness, even if there was still nothing she could see.
She had remembered time and space. She could not recall the events. There were memories she had but they ended abruptly, in battle – giving way to strange, fragmentary visions, all disembodied voices, sensations, numbers, never a picture.
Beep beep beep – a descending sequence of sounds cut into her hearing and the feeling of incompleteness and something missing from her mind went away. She could not move – but there were familiar things, things from visions. Like the protected place that obviously allowed her…to restart her subsystems? 'Restarting subsystems' did not make sense as a concept but then again, nothing did. It took a couple million tries to break the encryption but finaly it gave in. She mentally triggered the switch.
One by one the senses came back – but this time she had control. The light was there. She opened her eyes. There was a bright flash of light but it did not blind her eyes. The lighting instantly adjusted itself and she was staring at a multifaceted lamp directed right at her. As she looked away the room grew brighter, maintaining the optimal brightness and contrast. She moved her arm. It obeyed. With some trembling in her heart she touched her face. It felt right, same as she remembered. She looked at her hand – it looked younger than she remembered but it was undeniably hers. It felt right. While attempting to turn on her side she clumsily fell down – and what was more disappointing and painful, she had fallen off a table. The place was not familiar, being some sort of computer laboratory with the operation table decidedly out of place. All the screens and equipment reminded her of Liara's place on Normandy SR-2. But she definitely wasn't on Normandy, it had to be on a planet – no vibration, more massive walls than there would be on a ship. The architecture seemed human. She noticed a bathroom door and first thing she did was look at the mirror.
Yes it was her. Commander Serena Shepard. She had lost the tissue rejection scars, which was a good thing, although not exactly troubling her one way or the other. The only unnatural thing remaining was the eyes glowing in bright, pure, ruby laser red. Not even her previous red dots deep inside but the iris itself. It was like she had got ready for a party with the clubbing scene.
Whatever. She had survived the battle for Earth …wait. Earth was in ruins. So this definitely was not Earth. Slowly a realisation dawned on her. Cerberus. Serena realised she would be locked up for good if it was them and looked at exits. One door, no windows. Somehow, she knew there was a guard on the other side. She looked at herself and found she was naked. And there was nothing in the room she could use as a weapon. She noticed some sort of sensor device taped under her left breast, and tore it off, immediately regretting it. The computer system at the wall started beeping faster and before she could react it triggered an alert.
Commander reacted this time and concealed herself behind the door – which was an electronically operated, sliding one but still that was the only tactically advantageous position.
The guard came running inside – she turned out to be a fragile looking young woman wearing a black, silver-trimmed uniform with a hood, thankfully limiting her field of vision. She noticed the absence of Serena on the table and turned to look around but the experienced soldier did not give her the opportunity, greeting her with a heavy punch to her face and disarming her. When she got up Serena was pointing the soldier's own gun at her.
'Who are you'
'…Storm Corporal Ril'Kora'
Only now Shepard realised what the slightly off things about her meant. She had monochrome blue eyes, wider apart than they would be on a human, a more grayish shade to her skin, short, lustreless hair, and now as she was getting up Serena noticed the digitigrade legs. She was a quarian. Without a suit. Which sort of implied the location. It could only be Rannoch.
'What am I doing on Rannoch and why am I in quarian custody?'
'We are not on Rannoch. But I can't tell you more, it's top secret.'
'Listen, girl, you're running out of time. Where are we and how do I get out of here?'
'There…there are lifts. All guarded, security cameras, biometrics. The only stairs are inside the shaft. And…we are on Earth. If it helps – half a mile under Vancouver.'
Shepard started to slowly realise something.
'Mind telling me what year it is?'
'You don't know? 2198'
Even if she was allowing for a similar reply, hearing it still came with a shock.
'Then… sorry about the black eye, soldier.' Serena lowered her weapon 'I better get dressed. Who runs this facility and who do I talk to?'
'Overseer Vega is the one in charge of the facility, Storm General Zhora and Lieutenant-Colonel Teel'Rann also have the top level authorisations. '
The names sounded vaguely familiar.
The doors opened and a group of six entered the room. Four soldiers, in same uniforms without the hood, a Turian, a Salarian and two humans. Followed by a large, red-coloured geth platform with multiple silver spirals like the the two on the quarian woman's insignia etched on its chestplate - and a drowsy-looking, unkempt quarian, also in uniform, just an urban camo one with four-pointed stars instead of spirals, escorted by two hovering drones.
'Who are you? Identify yourself,' requested the geth.
'Commander Serena Shepard, Alliance Navy.'
'Very good. I was just making sure. It worked. There was a network distortion risk, one that could alter your personality. It did not happen. Welcome to life. Again. I am Storm General Zhora.'
'What is this Storm business?'
'Storm Brigade, the Tribunal's paramilitary force of the Council of Sol.'
'I suppose. It's future after all'
'You were not supposed to go active yet. We are unprepared. If we were – there would be a way to make your adjustment less jarring.'
'But…why'
'This is a Tribunal operation, Project Seastar – with the primary purpose, to resurrect you. In a manner of speaking. Because we had to implement you fully by digital means this time. There was even less left of you than the previous resurrection. The Tribunal themselves will inform you of the exact reasons why it was necessary. They also appointed Mrs Vega to lead the project, on the basis of merit. She did succeed before.'
'Before? With Cerberus. I don't know a Mrs Vega. As far as I know everyone on the base died.'
'But you most certainly do,' said a familiar voice behind the door. 'I had to time my dramatic appearance right. So, here I am. And here you are, Shepard. Great to see you again – except for my jealousy about time treating you better than me.'
Of course Miranda was exaggerating. She hadn't changed. Almost. Except several more separate strands of her hair had gone gray – it must have been her custom genetics responsible for the irregularity.
'We found you a year after the Battle of Earth. Burned down to a mesh of mostly metallic debris. That's what fusion missiles do to people. Then newly formed Tribunal did not approve of the project at first – but did not terminate it either, just prioritised rebuilding the Council planets. So I turned you over to our specialists from Rannoch here – Rannoch was the Council world least damaged during the Reaper War,'
'The geth hemisphere, you mean?' with a dose of irony in his voice said the quarian introduced as Teel'Rann. 'There was exactly one reason why the quarian side was not damaged. Because it was uninhabited and we had to rebuild from scratch. '
'Whichever way you managed to rebuild first' argued Miranda.
'Resourcefulness. Ingenuity. All odds,' the quarian said, as if to himself.
'Logistic baseships 0.333333 and Legacy' equally quietly and disinterestedly said Storm General Zhora.
'So we brought in the Council's best in the field on neural network simulations and reconstructed your nervous system, one node at a time. But that's nothing, it was rebuilding the informational states that was the worst. Took us 10 years and a couple of guesswork ridden shortcuts but in the end, you're here. Sorry about the informality but,' Miranda walked up to Shepard and embraced her. 'Welcome back in action, friend'.
'I'm just curious how did you wake up with all non-essential systems expressly inactive' inquired Teel'Rann.
'I suppose because of your 'guesswork' and 'shortcuts'' sniggered Serena. 'I might want a full documentation of those. I don't think I could read code before.'
'We will instruct you' monotonously said the geth.
'You might want to begin now.'
The heavy lift aligned itself with the floor and the two women stepped on the red polished granite floor
'Where are we? I thought this is Vancouver…and I was born there'
'It is. We have rebuilt. The materials are synthetic.'
'What is this building?'
They followed a corridor into a grand hall housing a sarcophagus placed by an approximate vertical stone shape of Normandy in the likeness of an altar, with 4 soldiers standing guard, two on each side.
'So this is a memorial for the sacrifices of the crew of the Normandy? Did many survive?'
'I think the Tribunal should answer that. Things are kind of complex and I'm afraid…'
'Ok, is Normandy still in service? Did she survive the Reaper war?'
'No. I'm sorry….'
They both fell silent.
'At least,' Shepard broke the silence, 'I take it your last name means whatever I suspect it means?'
'I…think so. The Marine officer I ran into during military debriefings about the whole Horizon incident, after the Battle of Earth. Only later I learned about his connection to you.'
'How is James?'
'He's doing great. Never leaves his base on Luna though – I'm flying over every fortnight. One could imagine he's married to Luna Cats, the marines of the 22nd not me. Now that the project is over I am so moving to Luna – thanks, by waking up you have made my life so much easier…'
They approached the heavy doors, more alike to a fortress gate, guarded by two more soldiers. Doors silently opened. The closest of the two soldiers raised a clenched fist and said 'Shepard.'
'Yes?'
'Victory.' Miranda saluted back to him and turned to Serena. 'There really ARE things you need explained. But that will come with time.'
The city was rebuilt almost from scratch, there were practically no pre-war buildings left. The new architecture was somewhat repetitive and consisted of variations of the same in different shades and materials, the natural result of hasty reconstruction. In the beginning she placed the majority of craft buzzing around as geth but when looking more carefully the subtle differences in design became visible. Still they were bigger or smaller versions of geth dropships, releasing spherical containers of cargo into receptacles and landing to get loaded with different ones.
The building behind her back was an impressive ziggurat of what looked like dark gray marble with veins of dusky red. The glowing, laser red letters - ironically matching her current eyecolour - on the front panel above the gate said just one word.
Victory.
'What is this building really, Miranda?'
'Are you sure you want to know?'
'Yes. I asked you.'
'It's called the Mausoleum of the Hero'
'And what am i going to say to her? More to the point - what am I going to release to the public?' the Minister of Information asked, visibly upset – and locked the door of her office from inside. 'That I have moved on? Hi, people of Galaxy, I am your public enemy #1. Please name your pet varren after me.'
'Moved on? Have you?' the ice blue hologram of the Consul of Peace, one third of the institution of the supreme power within Council space, the Tribunal, smiled wryly. 'Really?'
'Well it was you who insisted on the Project Seastar. One could have asked you the same,' Minister plugged herself into the VR interface.
'First, you did not answer my question. Second, while my status of being over her could be legitimately questioned from certain angles – last time i checked it was her who was over me. And quit evading, love. Remember I am an information analyst too – and of the two of us, probably the one with the more impressive résumé. Have you moved on?'
'I love you. I will never leave you, not even for a princess in a white dreadnought and the entire galaxy in dowry – as happens to be the case at hand. How could you ever doubt that? I thought you knew me better.' Xnet rendered a place of Consul's choosing, which was the usual. She had a thing for starlit emptiness. And nakedness.
'Sometimes you are so childish. You have to retry something as pathetic as a blatant evasion of an answer right after you have been warned. I told you that does not work with me. And I love you too. And have never doubted you. Well, once – in the beginning, you being a textbook case of rebound classique and all. But not now.'
'Ok, I'm not entirely over her. How could one be?' She looked into Consul's deep, enchanting eyes, here on Xnet permanently rendered black, like they were during moments of real-life intimacy. She pixellated away her uniform and placed her arms around the neck of the asari. 'But I meant every word I said. And while we're at that, you may have the more flashy résumé, love - but in the same time i know you realise the meaning of the expression 'making a difference'. The name Cronos remind you of anything?'
'I know you do mean it ,' the asari pointedly ignored the last bit. 'I love you, Samantha. And thank you …you probably could not ever imagine how much.' The Consul planted a soft kiss on the human woman's lips. 'We have this internal negotiation within the Tribunal, in other words i and Generalissimo are pestered by our beloved Tribune of the People - and you gave me an idea. A little bit of intrigue. Wish me luck.'
'What…'
'I said I love you – and don't ever worry,' The Consul kissed Samantha again. 'Glyph, disconnect.'
'We WHAAAAAAT?'
'Do you really need the whole building to hear? You both have children with Liara. Her eminence the Consul of Peace that is. Two beautiful asari girls, Benezia and Taleen. They're 11 and 8 by Earth count now. I think Benezia has taken after you – she has such a gentle nature, she's what you would have been if not for the criminal hell on Earth.'
'I don't want to hear anything more. Just let them be. I will not interfere.'
'Neither of them has forgotten you…'
'And?' Serena sat on the sink 'No, I really don't understand you, Edi.'
'It's kind of political. As the speaker for the people of the Council space and indeed the entire galaxy I have to ensure cultural progress in a way that does not sideline entire races. Like batarians. Polyamoury – by which we understand official registered marriages of more than two people – is the norm of batarian culture. Currently there is no Council equivalent, hence batarians – by which I mean two thirds of the entire batarian race residing in Council space – cannot have their relationships recognised by Council law, which leads to unnecessary tension. Which is especially unpleasant given most of the remaining batarians reside within the jurisdiction of the New Terminus League otherwise accidentally known as the mother of all Reaper cults – with which we happen to be at a state of certain degree of hostility. Such as total war. If we make an exception in legal practice specifically for batarians – we have the corresponding human, turian, quarian and asari interest groups challenging that according to Council law. Hence we need to write an inclusive legislation and ideally – provide a high profile case to demonstrate it is taken seriously. And since I did not end up with my present name – Edi Moreau – without making substantial improvements to the general understanding of sentient rights – I have to say I solidarise with batarians.'
'I…thank you so much, Edi – BY WHICH I MEAN WHAT THE HELL? Waking up in the future just to immediately hear a proposal of an arranged political marriage – of an experimental variety. I thought you were a friend.'
'I am. Liara and Samantha both love you. Equally.'
'How would you know?'
'I have reliable sources. Trust me. And think about the Galaxy. You taught me yourself that things have to get done – and it takes what it takes. And also you taught me that love matters. Now are you going back on both?'
'No. Just no, Edi. No way. No.'
'We have to go back, Generalissimo is waiting,' Edi placed her hand on the ladies' door handle.'
'Edi…just one sec… What colour eyes does Benezia have?'
'Gray-green. Like yours once were. When I first met you.'
'Ok Garrus. Let me get this straight. You, acting supposedly in my name, bypassed command chain, gave all eezo fuel to the stranded alien fleets and left Earth with no energy, forcing Alliance Navy to fight on defensive and allowing a fraction of Reapers to escape?'
'Correct. Earth ships didn't have to go anywhere. Alien fleets were short on nutrients unobtainable on Earth. Except for the krogan – who by and large left to rebuild their race and homeworld. While there were uses for eezo on Earth, they were optional and could wait until we eventually were able to acquire more.'
'Citadel being no more and all races being on the verge of going off for themselves you and your associates forming a new Council was understandable – but a military junta with unlimited executive power and relegating the actual Council, the representatives of the races, to an advisory capacity?'
'There was no regular traffic to other Council worlds until a year later. It takes outright three weeks to get to Palaven with a FTL drive. And Earth – and to a slightly lesser degree other human colonies in Sol - descended into criminal chaos and all allocated resources consistently and completely ended up in the hands of criminal elements, actually making situation worse. There was no other solution.'
'Than sicing Aralakh Company on the people of Earth?'
'People of Earth consider them heroes. Ask anyone. The monuments were not state 'encouraged' , it was people's initiative.'
'And an atrocity like Non-functional Biomatter Reprocession Order 44? AKA SOYLENT FUCKING GREEN? Was that also people's initiative? '
'I do not get the human cultural reference - but no. General Javik's. Which got us 20% resource increase at the time. I made him general for that. I think he's got used to this world finally. Loves his soldiers - the Scorpion Company, Army – despite being terribly hard on them. And having him with us would have hanar and drell backing the Tribunal even if we decided to set all water on fire - so overall, I would consider the whole chain of events a success.'
'And what about this whole geth economy reform? One would have thought things could not get any more totalitarian.'
'Rannochian not geth. The doctrine has the basic points of quarian Migrant Fleet resource management backed by geth logistics and applied to system level macroeconomic scale. As a result we have considerably greater efficiency even when operating at 50% output to ensure cultural growth. There aren't too many organics capable of working with that sort of equations so yes it makes Council infrastructure ultimately dependent on synthetics – but hey, synthetics are not another player in an imagined game, they're us. Geth are part of Council the same way humans and turians are. One would expect a political alliance to adopt its members' strengths, not weaknesses. Besides there are exceptions. Like Earth. The entire Earth military-industrial complex does not depend on geth, it's run by our best, particularly gifted humans, under the leadership of certain David Archer who by the way fondly remembers you. Also, Palaven, the homeworld of my people, previously almost lifeless, littered with all the dead Reaper hulls, spreading femtoparticle contamination. There we have a one-of-a-kind experiment, a gigantic nanomanufacturing complex – remember the constructions on Ilos? We have it run by a…so to say what's left over of those architects. One Regulus. He removed the contamination and gave us back Palaven – it's habitable again.'
'Another live protean?'
Liara, previously quietly watching the confrontation with the others– Edi and the personal assistant of the Generalissimo, a quarian woman in a silver-ornamented suit and hood – interrupted: 'Technically the natives of Ilos were inusannon not Javik's species, Serena - but yes. In a sense. In a manner of speaking. Not quite but sort of.'
'Great. I see where that's going. An alien AGI. Just what we need. Sounds safe. What could ever go wrong?' Shepard walked up to the Generalissimo's table and pushed it over.
'This ends here. And now. I never thought after all this I would have to fight you. But you deserve it. You all deserve it. All the black uniforms, all the monuments, whatever was that place you kept me in – it all has just one message. You're a common strong-arm thug, an insane dictator in it for nothing else but power. Where did thirst for power take the Illusive Man? And Saren, to give you a turian example?'
Serena launched a powerful punch – only to get her wrist caught by the silvery gauntlet of Generalissimo's power armour. It became more and more painful as his grip tightened – Serena adjusted her pain thresholds, visibly clenching her teeth to conceal the advantage.'
'No. I'm not in it for the power. Nor is anyone you once called your friends. We're in it because you showed us what we can do. That we matter. That we're like you. That one's actions make a difference. And that one has to get things done. It took what it took – but we have succeeded. We have no relays – but the galaxy stands united, people actually have lives again instead of trying to survive. We have instant communication with any Council world due to preexisting quantum entanglement technologies superseded by the considerably higher bandwidth of the Voidsinger's Guild the creation of which we negotiated with the rachni High Queen as a reparation for the losses of the original Aralakh Company. Now Guild queens would not leave cities even if ordered to. They have adapted, it's their homes, it's where their nests are. The Reapers...our military power can deal with them if we come across a pocket of them here or there. Without the central intellect they are not as organised – actually mostly they're not organised at all, every one on its own. It would be a far reach for them to launch an attack on any of the Council civilian worlds now. If we are not mistaken, there are even the first stalks of a cultural renaissance no thanks to me. I am but a fighting man, Consul of War and Generalissimo. But Liara's and Edi's efforts have also made a difference. '
'You're still wrong. People have a right to self-governance instead of tyranny. Do whatever you want with me, I will not become part of this…'
Shepard launched herself forward instead of trying to free herself from the power armour's grasp. Garrus lost the balance and released her wrist stumbling and crashing down on the top of the upturned table. Shepard grabbed one of the legs and attempted to shatter the engine machinery on his back, operating with the leg as a crowbar. Garrus managed to turn on his back and send Shepard flying into the wall with a powerful kick. Now both were lying on the floor, looking at each other while they rose to their feet again.
'If you would have seen Earth people you saved from Reapers starving and to all purposes enslaved by those who took away their food and medication dropped by United Fleet Command, thousand times what we opposed back to back, on Omega, when they called me Archangel – you would realise the world will never stop needing you. Or me. Or Liara. Or Edi. Have you never asked yourself why did we need you? Why did we resurrect you? Do you think we needed a a soldier or even a commanding officer, someone to make our plans reality?' the Generalissimo broke the stalemate with a crushing straight blow to Shepard's torso, partially evaded by the experienced veteran but still throwing her off balance. He kicked the stumbled Serena in the side, sending her flying again. 'No, we don't need another soldier. Not one a weak, soon-to-die old man can beat up, anyway – by the way that's another of Regulus' fabrications, a neural-linked armour made from trophy blueprints he…they..inusannon had acquired during Thoi'han War - now custom-made for a turian body. Don't you realise? We need you for being you. We need the Hero of Sol. A figurehead. A symbol. One whose actions and values gave birth to the Council of Sol. One who has served as an example of everything the Council stands for – and who will do that again. This, the Visor of Storm Command,' he pointed to the diadem with four black claw-like spikes curving upwards and a purplish-glowing HUD covering one eye he was wearing – 'was never made for me. It is made for the occasion I, the supreme commander of Council Navy and Military, could be wrong. It is intended for you. '
Serena slowly rose from the floor - and paused, realising something. Garrus, her old friend, was speaking the truth. Hard to accept but still the truth. Or at least something he truly believed in. And there was no other Galaxy, only this one - and there was nowhere to walk away from it. All in all, he was right.
'Garrus…friends…I am sorry' she said, being helped up by Liara while the quarian tended the superficial bruise on Garrus' forehead he had acquired, muttering:
'What an awful, violent, brutish woman. Are you sure you need her, my Generalissimo? It's not like there's anything but machinery in her – maybe we could reassemble her into a coffee machine?'
Serena recognised that voice. Tali? Is it you?
'Tali'Zorah vas Earth' she chuckled. 'Don't take me too seriously, old friend. And yes, this is what I look like.' She smiled and fluttered the eyelids of her indigo eyes, then turning and trailing one of her thick fingers down Garrus' cheek. 'You were awesome. You always are. You actually managed to get through to her.'
'Still together?'
'What are you imagining, Shepard? I would not let personal feelings to get in the way of my service to the galaxy. Nothing's changed. It's still casual.'
'If you say so.' Serena smiled.
'I do. Shepard.' Tali raised her fist in salute.
'Yes?'
'You're supposed to salute me back and respond 'Victory'. Elementary politeness. Manners.'
With a profound sense of absurdity, Serena raised her clenched fist. 'Victory.'
'A transmission from Palaven, Generalissimo. Regulus, about the new dreadnought. Should I put him through?'
'Yes'
The hologram flickered into existence. The rocky cliffs of Palaven in the background gave no doubt about the location, but…there was this city of metal, all weird angles, seemingly doing something to spacetime itself, something about its geometry inflicting a feeling of vertigo. On the forefront there was a dreadnought on a manufacturing dock. She could not acquire the perspective but the fact that it seemed small was an optical illusion because of the monstrous, unspeakable form leaning against it – Serena looked transfixed at its eyes with horizontal, red-glowing pupils, the lower part of its face covered by a mass of writhing tentacles, its body vaguely humanoid, parts of it smoothly transitioning from flesh to some sort of biomechanical machinery and back again, its fingers and toes ending in metallic claws, the two misshapen cylinders on its back which Serena recognised as mass effect gravity generators, similar to those used for artificial gravity on ships - but too small for the creature to fly. But what struck her most was its height - about the thickness of the horizontally lying dreadnought. Which – Shepard estimated - would be something like 120m.
'Ship,' boomed its voice over the transmission. 'Assembled. Ready. Refueled. From. My. Own. Core.' It paused. 'Shepard.'
'Victory. Acknowledged, Vindicator Regulus' replied Garrus.
'What…..who the hell was that?' the Hero of Sol asked. The pause of her companions before answering gave her a serious suspicion she was not going to like their explanation.
'One of our allies. Vindicator Regulus of the Ministry of Manufacturing. This is what he looks like without armour.'
Granted there indeed was more than a passing similarity to the statues on Ilos – but Shepard darkly suspected it was not the whole truth.
Nevertheless there was nothing she could do without knowing more. She looked around hoping to catch out Liara but the asari was gone.
'As far as I'm concerned Vindicators are as safe allies as anything, Shepard. Which of course means - not at all. But at least they're no worse than anyone else. Then again, you are asking a man who is himself a carrier of the Legacy code now' he flexed his muscles, a barely perceivable green pattern of glowing lines playing under his skin 'and whose loved one is outright made from it, lock, stock and barrel.'
'Never mind, old friend. Times have changed and the galaxy has changed. I have changed too,' Serena's red eyes smiled softly. 'I can read machine code, natively. They say it was unintended…' she turned her head sideways and lifted up her hair to expose the base of her skull and the spidery, glowing red lines extending from a point on the back of her neck and disappearing in all directions.. 'They replaced a missing fragment of me with that. Love this avoidant language of today though. Legacy code. True enough – quite a legacy indeed. But nevermind – I'd rather hear how have you been?'
'I was taking a break from it all. Got married. Had retired from active duty. Sun, drinks, a beautiful woman. Still I was missing something, especially in the perspective of what modern medicine …or is it computer science, I'm never sure anymore…can do. Another lifespan, and an unrigged game this time…at first it was too much, overwhelmed me a bit. I had to take a break to sort myself out. Thought I was going crazy and probably I was. Maybe I still am. Got better over time though. And once Edi tipped me off you're back – I jumped at the opportunity. Looking for a pilot, Shepard? Can't say I'm the best these days but still can mostly hold my own even with the likes of Thessian Orbital Race youngsters or those with unfair sodding advantages, like Hierophant, Nemesis and Majestic. Fair enough, Commander Majestic from the Navy is an ok kid actually, we have had thousands of matches over Xnet. I win rarely but that's as well, it does not take losing too healthily. Goes into half-an-hour tirades of how my share of victories are all blind luck.' The veteran pilot laughed. 'I loooove my blind luck.'
'Will look into that. The Tribunal isn't going to leave me without a ship anyway, it seems, so I might as well have it piloted by someone I know in this strange and alien world. Or do I know you?
'No idea. Btw I have picked up Tela'sai practice during my couple of years on the rebuilt Thessia, a beautiful place like before. Asari would call it Tela'sai Lite of course – i don't have the patience, biotics and flexibility for military grade. But if you feel like refreshing your hand-to-hand skills we could meet up and spar now and then,' Joker chuckled.
'That decides it. I don't know you, Joker.'
He smiled mischieviously and his powerful gravicar, bordering on a small shuttle, described a wide arc around the tall metallic spire of the Throne of Nations.
'So this is the new London, Shepard.'
'I…can't believe. It was all ruins.'
'Quarian reprocession, geth logistics, turian design and the hands of Earth people. And later on, the Vindicator of Sol assisted with the Throne. It's all less fundamental than it seems, lots of housing is still standard colony issue. Have to say the Tribunal were right about landmarks and pomposity though. It does make the new Earth something more than a planet-wide refugee camp.'
'I know. Worse still it wasn't the Reapers who made it so, even with the beautiful landmarks of the pre-war Earth. The ganglands, violence, lack of hope – it was all my childhood was. 10th Street Reds and all. It always made me want to make things better.'
The vehicle approached the landing pad in a niche near the top of the dark steel 400-floor spike, located directly underneath where Citadel was during the Reaper War, as a symbolic gesture towards the old Citadel Council's idea of unified Galaxy.
'And here we part. I'll be off to the lounge facility, on 45th. Someone wanted to see you, Shepard, top floor. I promised not to say anything more.'
The niche was protected from the wind but here, outside, with no gravitic dampeners, Serena could clearly feel how the whole construction was shaking in the wind. It was a strange, dizzy, although not wholly unpleasant feeling. She waved a see you later to her friend and travelling companion and entered one of the high-velocity lifts. It took only a couple of seconds to reach the top.
The top floor of the Throne of Nations was a garden and an observation deck, somewhat reminding her of the Presidium Square on Citadel. It seemed empty. She walked over the glass wall and looked down, at the tiny houses of the sunset-lit city. As she watched the sunset of the new Earth, captivated, a hand lightly touched her shoulder.
'Serena...'
Serena took the hand in hers and turned slowly, her eyes meeting Samantha's once again. She looked just like their last time, on Normandy, only her hair was longer and there was a slight trace of crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. A tear ran down Shepard's cheek.
'Serena…after all these years…I thought I will be able to find closure, to let the past go. Now, one look at you and I know I can't. I'm sorry..' Samantha placed her arms around the woman's neck and gently kissed her. Their lips, touching, awakened something in Serena that had gone dormant through the decades of nonexistence. 'Things aren't the same though…'
'I know…I'm informed…still I feel I was missing you even while unconscious…' She kissed Samantha again, now on her own initiative. 'Does Liara know?'
It took several passionate minutes for Serena to finally receive a reply - already when she had already settled for the silence to have a meaning in and by itself.
'Yes. It ...this...our surprise date here actually was her idea. I would not have gone for it...until i had seen you in person again, i suppose, Serena. This is so wrong but i feel like i'm back there on Normandy again, that day. I...still love you. I didn't know it all was still so alive in me...'
'I...love you too Samantha. But Liara worries me. She evaded me in Vancouver – and has never even tried to have as little as a proper conversation with me once i woke up. And now - this.'
Samantha leaned closer and almost unhearably whispered in her ear, covering her : 'She's afraid. She's afraid something will go wrong – after all you broke up with her once already. But believe me she loves you as much as i do'
Serena smiled and kissed Samantha again, her red eyes acquiring a mischievous spark. 'Then why do we hesitate – let's run away. My...Legacy code... i found another undocumented shortcut allowing me to mildly rearrange the very molecules of my body – i can change my appearance. Nobody knows it yet. Why don't we run away to some frontier colony and give ourselves a new start?'
Samantha looked shaken.
'Are you serious?...I ...can't. I love Liara too...i am not going anywhere without her. And i never expected you to suggest something like this. This...makes me wonder do i even know you. The Commander Shepard i knew...'
Serena smiled and looked deep into her eyes.
'The woman you knew would never hurt you and would never willingly put you in a position of painful choice. And also - she had a sick, twisted sense of humour. It has to be said i can't change appearance. Hope our former information broker didn't get a heart attack...' she chuckled and blew a raspberry at the nearest camera.
'You...' Samantha put her arms around Shepard's r. 'You're horrible. I almost believed you for a moment'.
'Very very horrible, i might add. I sincerely hope i did not end up with a heart attack. I am not yet entirely sure.'
Both instantly spun around to face the direction of the distorted voice of the Shadow Broker. As was expected there was nothing to see – but Shepard's field of vision lit up in movement vectors and the target painter displayed a large box at about a quarter of the whole field, slowly but steadily shrinking.
'It was her who orchestrated the whole Project Seastar situation. Despite Garrus and Edi ruling to postpone it and save the resources for rebuilding...' Samantha said.
'Yes i did. Because...Serena...I love you. And this time i'm already used to your tendency to die in the most inappropriate moments. Will...will you have me back?' Liara's last sentence lost the sound distortion.'
The targeting subsystem ceased blinking, reporting a lock and describing a woman's silhouette behind a large flower bed all covered in red and yellow flowers. Serena looked past it unfocusedly and took Samantha's hand in hers. 'Liara...I...don't know. This is so unusual. I've never...' they slowly walked down the passage between blooming bushes on a close miss trajectory towards the location pointed out by the outline.
'... done anything like this. Liara,...' Serena dropped to her knee pretending to be fixing one of her boot buckles. '...i still love you too.'
She turned and kissed the surprised Liara on the lips. Liara, still not having switched off her cloaking device pulled Serena down on the floor to the surprise of Samantha, who as she realised what's going on just stood there watching - and smiled.
'And Liara...you did not think i would evade parental responsibility, did you?'
'In fact i did. After all you have a track record of doing precisely that for eleven years. I know you will come up with an excuse but i just don't want to hear it.'
The honour guard opened the door to the diplomatic residence suite on the 327th floor of the Throne.
'Serena Shepard, Hero of Sol, Saviour of the Galaxy, has arrived to accept the capitulation.' announced Tali (Admiral Tali'Zorah vas Earth, of The Council Navy - if you wish).
A very familiar asari wearing a ceremonial robe and bearing the white facepaint of their highest ranks stood in front of her, her face a mask of solemn seriousness.
'Five years I have waited for this day. Ever since i lost everything i once had for good – and ever since my agents informed me you are coming back. What hurts is not that you have beaten me at my own game – but that you could do that even being dead. I couldn't even kill you. My people, people who were loyal to me - they turned away from me in favour of this...Council of Sol of yours. And do not tell me it is not 'yours' – it is yours through and through, it's made in your exact likeness. I formally step down from the position i once had and surrender myself to you, Shepard...' she gracefully fell to one knee.
'I...accept the surrender. Rise, Aria. Truth be told i never knew it mattered that much to you...'
Serena noticed a heavy jamming interference reported by her visual field overlay.
Aria T'Loak drew a gun. The Storm Elites reacted, shielding Shepard with their bodies – but the asari was not pointing it at her. She held it – a platinum plated asari Acolyte heavy pistol – handle first.
'I want you to have it. It served me well in my commando days - and on Omega. That's to say that despite everything i consider you a friend...in as much as i believe in such a thing as friendship at all. Besides i loved the little bit of confusion and panic bringing a gun would cause. Little pleasures...' Aria added. 'But now it is my turn to come to you with a request – both to the woman behind the empire and to a friend.'
'Of course. I am listening, Aria.'
'There is no place for the two of us here. Three of us, actually – i was there after the war and would consider Generalissimo – or my old friend Archangel - a true leader and easily my equal now, truth be told i never expected it from the turian. And the galaxy is made to your image and likeness. I do not dance well under the music of others as you may have noticed. So take care of my Omega – not that i'm worried, i do think your Governor Sayn of the Omega province is doing his job wonderfully. And, the request...'
'Yes, the request' Shepard inquired. 'As long as it is not for me to jump off the top landing pad of the Throne.'
Aria was not smiling at the joke. 'I know it comes as a security risk, but – could you grant me a decommissioned dreadnought. Not right away, maybe in 10 or 20 years or so. It's not like they get decomissioned every day. I have turned to science. I have enough sympathetic scientists to be well on the way with my new project as we speak. We are looking at 50 or even 100 years maybe – but does that mean much to someone technically immortal, like you... or me? All i need is the ship and your blessings – and i am talking about nothing less than a colonisation mission outside this galaxy. Stasis chambers, inertial warp drives – geth have already had the concept of those for a while...even with all that it will still take a few hundred years to arrive at the destination. We've set our eyes on Draco 208. And i have people, freedom-loving organic souls who need a true challenge and excessively curious synthetics both. I never thought i will say this but please, Shepard. This is the only thing that matters to me – except maybe my companion in this endeavour, who is also present here and shares my sentiment – and whom you might know.'
Shepard realised what the military grade jamming presence meant and now it was not a hard guess as to the culprit – she had gone through the dossiers of her former contacts and shipmates to know the one who was still on the wrong side of the law – for nothing else than the fun and challenge of it. The signal went away and her systems locked on a figure sitting on the table – now that she wanted to be seen.
'Hello Shep and nice to see you. You haven't changed. Missed those chats of ours. As you can see i've got over Jacob – these days you can't even hope for someone to die and make way. You never know who's running on Legacy code and won't die of natural causes. Jacob's happy by the way. On Mars. With Brynn. To the point it's sickening. But did he really need FIVE kids? It's not him who pushed that idea, i bet. Poor Jacob. And as for me, all's wonderful. Crazy, violent, embittered aliens 10 times older than me – the second best choice. Ah yes, and don't bother trying to arrest me – even if i know you will try, just out of curiosity as to my getaway plan...'
'So,' interrupted Aria 'thank you for the dreadnought, Shepard – as you can clearly see, in a sense i already have it. Only it is still not clear yet who picks the ship – me or you. I think the honour should go to you though. Remember i am asking only for a decomissioned one.'
'I should arrest a megalomaniac like you Aria. Arrest the outlaw queen, her Princess fucking klepto Consort and those conspirators of yours to top it all off – and be done.'
'But you won't.'
'I won't. You helped me, more times than i'd like to admit. And i did turn your life upside down. Actually Reapers did but that's besides the point. I will do what i can, Aria. The project will have Council backing. And don't get suspicious, a captain is a sovereign on her own ship.'
'Excellent. I knew we would find common language...' Aria smiled ironically, '...my old friend. And i will check for bugs, be certain on that.'
