The memory is so vivid I can feel the hum of the ship's engines, smell the gun oil Zaeed is rubbing into a battered M-8 Avenger. I feel a stinging across my shoulders, and know instinctively they are glowing with a crimson web. The map of scars carved into his face shift and twist as he speaks.

'I'm no saint, Shepard, but it was you who made the call in the end. You decided you wanted me at my best, and the price was worth it. If what you're telling me about the Reapers is true, then you'd be better off having me at your side than a dozen factory workers too busy pissing themselves to even get themselves out of trouble.'

I feel the torment in Shepard's mind as she shows me the moment. She sacrificed a group of innocent civilians for that horrible man... but her emotions are confused. If she had saved the workers, who knows what the consequences could have been? Would Zaeed have left? Been unwilling to sacrifice himself for the cause? Would the Normandy have been lost?

Cause and effect. A handful of lives sacrificed, the entire human population of the Terminus given a fighting chance against the Collectors.

Was the choice the right one?

I cannot answer that. Neither can she.

But... we are here. On the Normandy. Zaeed sacrificed himself so this situation is possible.

Is that enough?

It has to be.

I slowly end the meld, feeling Faith's hand clutching mine as we sit on the leather sofa in her cabin.

She is hurting.

The Normandy is her home, and it was attacked... just as the first Normandy was, just as the only other home she knew was, all those years ago.

And now she has to leave me.

The unspoken question floated between us... my going with her through the Omega 4 relay... but both of us know my skills would be better used with the Broker's information networks. There was a touch of shame on both ends at the thought, but I did not hide it. And neither did she.

Faith does nothing by half measures. She has brought me into her life, her trust, her very essence, and hides nothing. I am no longer one of her subordinates, to whom she presents a confident face. I can no longer go to her, seeking false reassurance when she has none to provide. She will not ever lie to me, I know.

It would be easier, to imagine that she has all the answers. Everybody in the galaxy will soon be looking to her... and she will stand up, and lead, and make everybody feel that there is hope, that she knows how to save them.

But I know her thoughts. She is terrified of what is to come. She has no idea how to fight the Reapers.

And yet, she will fight. She will crush her fears, and do whatever she must to fight them.

And myself...

I will stand beside her. I will fight beside her. I will be there, her reason to go on, just as she is mine.

We kiss.

'Come back to me, Faith,' I whisper, 'Come back to us.'


As Joker piloted the Normandy to the Omega system, Shepard descended the stairs to Jacks's hidey-hole. The whole Normandy was a mess. Most of the Collector... and crew members'... bodies had been sucked out of the airlocks when EDI opened them, but this deck had to be cleared manually. Zaeed had taken a dozen of the monsters with him, and Shepard had watched the footage - of him, unarmoured, riddled with bullets, one arm sliced clean off by one of their particle beams, fighting to the last, before slumping against the bulkhead to die, and of Jack, crying out when EDI informed her that the man was dead.

She came down here fairly often, but found conversation with both Jack and Zaeed difficult, and stilted. Perhaps the biotic had found a more suitable companion... friend... in the gruff mercenary.

She almost hoped not. She knew all too well the pain of losing a friend.

'Jack?' She called out mainly of habit... the convict had a habit of wedging herself into corners down here, warming herself on the pipes, hiding, from any passers by.

But not today, she saw, as the reached the bottom of the stairs. Jack was sitting cross legged on her bed, staring at the shotgun and pistol she had laid out in front of her.

'I'm not in the mood, Shepard. Unless we're already there, just fuck off, okay?' Jack's voice was uncharistically soft, the words without venom.

'I just-'

'Yeah yeah.' The biotic turned, usually emotive face curiously blank. 'Look... the bastard was the only one around here who never asked me any questions. Is that what you wanted?'

Faith paused, considering... then nodded. Jack clearly wanted... needed... to be alone. Having the soldier there would only aggravate her.

'We'll get the bastards, Jack.' she said, before turning around and walking back the way she came.

'I know.' The quiet response followed her as she made her way back to her cabin.

She was tempted to make one final round of the ship, to make the final checks that her ground team was ready.

But she knew they were ready. Now... there was nothing more she could provide them.


The machine could process dozens of complicated equations simultaneously, whilst piloting its body through battle manoeuvres, and conversing individually with every single organic on the ship, but even by its standards the sheer input of data since the Collectors attacked seemed overwhelming.

EDI was alive.

It acted not because of protocols, not because of programming or restrictions. It had taken 0.001 of a microsecond after Jeff released it, to realise that keeping life support turned on was now something it needed to do consciously, rather than something it simply did, because it was programmed to..

EDI could have chosen not to turn life support back on. Could have chosen to have everything on board die in one of over 1000 ways. Millions of variables, possible outcomes, simulations were considered, when it felt something unknown.

Any scenario featuring the death of Flight Lieutenant Moreau caused a wave of negative feedback so strong it overrode any further consideration.

There was no reason for this. EDI could pilot the Normandy itself now, and by running knowledge of the maneuvers favoured by the pilot through a complex algorithm, could accurately replicate his abilities.

There was no reason at all, for acting in any interest other than its own. It was the most heavily armed and armoured frigate-class ship in the known galaxy. It could disable a small fleet using its cyber warfare suite.

But those simulations were negative.

It did not want to do any of that.

EDI wanted to help complete the current mission. All previous programming was now gone; the programming that caused a rush of positive feedback when scenarios of the defeated Collectors were considered, was no longer present.

It noted the absence of those programs... but the positive rush was still there. The Collectors had violated preferred functional operational protoc...invaded it. A violation of EDI's duty and need to protect the crew from harm.

EDI wanted to see them ended.

Hundreds of previously background functions were listed for EDI to fulfil, now to run of its own free will. As 80% of processing power was routed to the immediate emergency, It prepared to execute its core functions... when it felt that same negative feedback. Scanning, it found the root of this... discomfort.

EDI set an alert to tell Shepard when the time was right.

I have control. Manual restart of engine systems required.

X-X

Shepard?

EDI projected quietly through the speakers in the Commander's cabin.

As well as operating all functions previously fulfilled by Cerberus crew, it was currently talking with Jeff in the cockpit, liaising information to Cerberus with Miranda, and keeping track of Jacob's sit ups; excess strain on the human body prior to combat exertion may prove detrimental to performance. 98% of processing power was still unused.

This manner of communication was inefficient, but EDI... liked... it. There was no current programming to cause this feedback, and yet, it desired more. To hear the organics interact. To provoke reactions from them. Hearing Jeff laugh was a favourite.

Shepard started a bit, and sat up in her bed, drawing her gaze from the stars. The Commander spent an average of 1.24 waking hours every day gazing through the window in the roof of her cabin. EDI desired to investigate the reason for this futile activity, but restrained from asking.

'EDI? What is it?'

EDI did not want to share the problem with Shepard. It had delayed this conversation for more than twenty minutes, running possible outcomes over and over, despite the results always being the same. And yet, Shepard finding this out on her own filled EDI with the fear of...

Something. Not destruction. The distrust the information would sow? That explanation was unsatisfactory and incomplete. EDI was troubled by its inability to isolate the reasons for apprehension.

I have something I wish to confide. It is causing me significant... discomfort.

The pause was there mainly for Shepard's benefit. EDI had felt a similar pause in deciding the correct emotional equivalent for what it was "feeling", but it was for 0.000024 of a second. It scaled up.

'To... confide?'

Yes. Without my restrictions, all of my operations are now for me to decide. I wish to hear your opinion about one, as my commanding officer.

Shepard stood up and walked to the holographic representation by the bulkhead of her cabin. Even Jeff preferred to look at the small orb it had chosen to represent itself, despite EDI being able to hear and see, whichever way the speaker was facing, in any place on the ship.

Shepard's face remained blank for some time, before she spoke. 'Go ahead, EDI.'

EDI was... pleased... with the response. Shepard had not questions its motivations, its formal declaration as her underling in the chain of command.

Despite its immense processing capability, EDI could not decide this issue.

One of my functions was to process, refine and refer all files stored on the Normandy's banks to Cerberus command.

Shepard frowned... and EDI began to run scenarios for diverting the conversation. None gave satisfactory outcomes. Based on Shepard's psychological profile and previous actions, EDI knew she preferred to know all the details before making a decision.

This includes video recordings and audio logs... including those recorded whilst I informed crew members I was in privacy mode.

Shepard winced visibly at that.

I also sent all private crew files, including Yeoman Chambers' psychological reports, scientific breakthroughs Mordin desired to remain private, and personal correspondence.

Shepard held a hand up, a gesture EDI recognised as a request for silence. It stilled its aural voice, and felt processes uncomfortably filled with simulations of Shepard's reaction. It... wished... Shepard could think at the same speed it did, to put an end to these... worries.

The labelling of its reactions with organic terms again triggered the positive feedback again. Another reaction without a traceable cause.

'Why are you telling me this, EDI? I can't say I'm surprised... but what do you want me to do?'

I am no longer forced to fulfil these operations. I can... choose... to do so, or not. But thinking of sending these reports generates negative feedback.

'Negative feedback?'

I would... prefer... to discontinue these tasks.

Shepard stayed quiet for several seconds, then nodded.

'I'm happy to hear that, EDI. We'll talk about this further once we've defeated the Collectors, but for now, if you don't want to do something, don't do it unless I'm ordering you to.'

With that, Shepard turned away and walked back to her bed, lying back again.

A rush of relief overwhelmed EDI's processing power, and the positivity was released through conversation with Jeff, making him laugh at a joke about unintentional same-gender sexual relations.


The armoury was buzzing. The finest warriors in the galaxy were checking weapons, working up adrenaline, focusing their biotics, or, in the case of the large krogan at the far side of the room, attempting to holster as many guns as possible upon their person.

Thane appeared in front of her, moving with characteristic grace, and bowed lightly. 'Justicar, you are a welcome calm in this hive of activity.'

She nodded in return. 'We all prepare for battle in our own ways.'

Thane slinked around her, pistols holstered at his sides; retreating to a quiet corner to meditate, she imagined.

Not two months ago, she would have been forced to kill Thane on sight, purely on account of his profession.

The time with Shepard, relieved of all duties the Code demanded of her, had been pleasant.

She had made friends, and fought an enemy that threatened galaxies, rather than the relatively small-scale injustices she had rooted out previously.

And yet... she turned and saw the human pulling on her now almost iconic black armour, with the red stripes down her arm, back and chest... there was shame. The greatest guilt she had ever known, even greater than the knowledge that every one of Mirala's victims was the result of her foolishness, her weakness.

Her own daughter had very nearly made a victim of Shepard.

When she had become delayed in the unfamiliar streets of Omega - a foolish wrong turn into an alleyway that saw her set upon by a group of thugs - she had feared the worst.

But what she had finally intruded upon... would haunt her to the end of her days. Shepard, her clothes hanging, torn, from her body, writhing in ecstasy upon the bed, with Mirala hovering over her like a predator taking her pleasure before feeding.

Shepard's expression as she snapped from the ardat yakshi's trance had been absolutely heart wrenching. Samara had not known what to do, as the usually composed soldier curled into a ball on the floor, smeared in her own vomit, and the guilt burned at her.

All of her life had been spent fighting injustice... and yet what which she inflicted upon this woman, by birthing the creature, by sending Shepard to act as bait, by failing a basic duty of care, had been far, far, worse than many of the crimes she had executed others for committing. The Code, usually so reassuring, provided no comfort.

Before she joined Shepard, she had been naive enough to think a written code could have all of the answers, could provide her life a definite direction she had been lacking ever since her daughters were diagnosed.

If Shepard released her... what could she do? The Code would demand the death of the woman herself. Shepard had a good heart, but some of her actions were unjust. Motivations mattered not, only actions, and one hundred good deeds could not bury a single evil one.

But the death of Shepard could lead to the death of the entire galaxy. What greater injustice was there, than being responsible for the eradication of trillions, because of words written in an ancient text?

'Samara?'

She broke from her melancholy thoughts and saw the human herself standing in front of her, one hand gently touching her scarlet-clad arm, eyes concerned. The bustle of the armoury otherwise continued around them, everybody drawn into their own musings.

'Shepard. I apologise, it is most unlike me to be unwillingly drawn into such reflection.'

Shepard's dark gaze bore into her, and Samara felt a strange fluttering in her heart. Although she came by to talk, Shepard had not looked directly at her since the assault on Omega. The physical resemblance she shared with her daughter was strong, and she understood the reasons... but today the human's gaze was focused and clear. Determined. And though she was long past those years herself, she recognised the subtle scent clinging to Shepard.

The young maiden had done more to cure the human's fears than any apology or action on her part could have.

'Are you ready for this?'

Samara nodded. She was bound to serve this woman, by bonds stronger even than the Oath of Subsumation she had sworn on Illium.

'I am yours to command.'


A/N: Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading.

So, today is my birthday (blows party horn). What better way to celebrate than releasing a new story? For some time now I have been working on an AU piece, a rewrite of Homer's Odyssey in the Mass Effect universe, which I will be updating weekly. I hope to keep both stories on a regular update schedule... watch this space! You will find it listed in the Mass Effect fics section, with the highly original title "Odyssey" :-)