I was the program you used three years ago to take control of the Citadel. I made it of myself, so when I gave you the program, I gave you myself, as well.
"Which is why the Council couldn't get anything out of you when they came to Ilos." She sighs, she nods. Realization heavy in her gut. "Wish I knew."
I've spent three years reconstructing myself, Jane. I have hidden on your omnitool, jumping from model to model. I hid in your implants after you were revived. When the Crucible sent you back, I went back with you.
The swirling golden light makes no sound as she considers his words. In the space between tick and tock, life and death. Dead, but not dead. Where life is just more and more struggle.
"So why am I here?"
I have managed to reconstruct my personality. We needed to speak. I have analyzed what you have done, both in the original timeline and now that you have modified events.
"And?"
Silence. Momentary silence.
You found survivors. The Prothean race is not yet dead. They will find more survivors. It will not be the fascist empire Victory wished, or the eternal war Vendetta wished. They will become citizens of the galaxy. Our knowledge will be passed on to others.
"If the Reapers don't kill us first."
Can they? The cycle will break. You have warned them, and now that you show them proof they will prepare. The Reapers will not harvest this galaxy again. You have seen to it. The events you have caused will spiral, rippling through the galaxy until our enemy has no choice but to cease. You have done what was needed.
A faint pulse of the golden glow. A ripple along it.
I have waited for fifty thousand years. I have seen the plans which I had only the faintest hope of executing succeeding beyond my wildest dreams. The hopes we have laid upon your shoulders were never in vain.
A blink in the darkness. Memories of what came before. But instead of the loss, she for a moment considers the victories.
"So...now what?"
I am incorporated into your omnitool, and your armor. I speak to you in the space between seconds. I know you are tired, and I know what weighs you down. So, I wished to give you a choice.
"Which is?"
My makers were masters of the physical. But we had no idea what comes after life. All I could guess was that it would be...easier...than the path ahead. You could do nothing, and pass on. You could be the one who set in motion the fall of the Cycle and the Reapers. Or I could activate the armor's medigel systems and heal you, and allow you to be the one who stops them directly.
A pause of the golden light, the relaxing voice.
So I give you a choice. To stop, to take your well deserved rest. To stop fighting, forever. Or to turn, and face down this evil one last time.
Chapter 4:
A Light Flung Into the Future
The world resolves. It becomes a singular mountain of gold. It becomes a vast, unknowable thing before it. It becomes a great giant of light, magnificent and singular, speaking in one voice, louder than many.
It becomes Resplendent Harbinger of Ascension.
And it speaks, a voice booming, all pervading, oppressive and subtle at the same time. Sublime and vast, of great volume and great will. Of commanding nature and the worming sense of telling you what you already want.
The Second Axiom has been breached, Harbinger says, Find Commander Shepard.
And the listener nods. Two plates at the front of the long head raise, flanking the single, opening light.
"Yes, Harbinger Master."
...
Memories, like slides. Taking each one, moving them past. The brief respite as they sped towards Ilos, where she and Kaidan told the regs what to do with themselves. The moment she grabbed before they jumped through the Omega-4 relay with Thane, colors combining with...something else. That brief moment she spared with Liara, all the grief, the pain, the loss spilling over into...something they shared.
"I could just...die?" she asks.
I am in your armor, the golden sphere says, I could prevent the medical systems from activating.
"And they'd stop the Reapers?"
You would become a martyr. A first casualty in the eventual war. They would carry on, in your name. You would become a cause. A legend. A symbol.
"Or I can do it myself," she whispers, "Fight the same damn war all over again. Maybe do it better, this time."
You have already have. You know what is at stake. You know what must be done.
A sigh in the darkness. She closes her eyes. For a moment, a brief moment, she can hear the gunfire. Shouting. Fumbling, worried voice stuttering that she can't figure out why the life support systems aren't working.
"I think you know my answer, Vigil."
...
A small spark. Needles extend inside the breastplate, penetrating cloth, padding, flesh. Nanomachines patch damage. Something pulses within.
You will not be alone. You will show them the way. They will stumble, they will fall, and they will rise and join you at your side.
A faint pulse of light. The darkness begins to crack, recede. A beat fills the world. A heartbeat.
I can only show you the way. You must walk it, as you have before. But I can give you aid.
...
L3 implant systems accessed.
Erasing protocols.
System wipe
Protocol drive formatted.
...
Remember your mistakes, but do not let them define you. Remember your failures, and learn from them. Remember ours, and do not repeat them.
Cracks of light in the darkness. Her eyes close as she feels the warmth, the light, surrounding her, infusing her. Nothing physical just...a sense, of something. Something that she hasn't felt in a long, long time.
You will make our strength your own. Our sacrifices will be validated through your deeds.
...
Writing protocols
L5 protocols written
L5 implant online
...
Our guidance is merely to give you hope. Become what you were born to be. Become what you strive to be. The good in us, the gold in us, lives on through you. Let the doubt and the grief burn to ash and wash away.
And let all that has driven you be reborn.
Now get up.
Green eyes snap open. Sensors built into her helmet come online, static before focusing into a worried blue face and a heads up display. Two fists clench in the armored gauntlets, and she takes a deep, sharp breath as she sits up, then stands.
Bullets sing through the air past her, bouncing off shields. Blue lights built into the implant at the base of her skull spark to life. The Prime at the entrance to the ruins, their sole exit, lays down fire, the flashlight head turning to her, focusing on her.
And she runs. Directly at it. Grin on her face underneath her helmet, blue lines in her HUD resolving as she feel blue electricity running over her, feels something familiar at the back of her mind.
The bullets fly.
They only hit air.
The Prime, on the other hand, is hit by a sphere of blue crackling light which goes in its chest and out the other side, spraying the walls with white and blue, detonating the three meter tall machine with the force and effect of an exploding egg.
Blue lightning wafting off her, the glow leaving her eyes, Jane rises to her feet with a smirk. The three Geth left in the room look at her confused. As she had it explained to her, the more Geth in a room, and particularly the more big Geth, the smarter they become.
So she just struck them stupid.
Three gunshots, and the Geth drops. Hopping over the waist high wall, Ashley closes her rifle and slings it onto her back.
"Nice," she says, "You okay, Skipper?"
"Pretty good," Jane responds, cracking her knuckles, "Anyone hurt?"
She glances over the room. Javik tilts his head, raising a double eyebrow. Kaidan stands stock still. Liara peaks out from behind cover.
"Where's Wrex?"
...
Bloodied, bruised, he spits out a broken tooth which has already begun to grow back. Urdnot Wrex has trouble finding a good scrapping partner, ever since his last one blew herself up with an old space station. He really should take the time to head to Omega and see if that crime boss is Aleena or not.
"You're prey," the Yahg spits, "My kind are the apex predators of our world."
The Yahg walks with a limp, now. Wrex smirks, blood splattered on his lip and forehead, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. The beast swings, Wrex bringing up an arm to block, punch to the monster's jaw accompanied by a flash of blue to send it stumbling back.
Pressing forward, fist claps against his palm and he surrounds his fist in a blue glow, hooking the Yahg across the face and making him stumble back. He's been through fights. He's been through wars. He's survived childhood on the planet which breeds Thresher Maws and Varren. This?
This is embarrassingly easy.
"I'm prey on Tuchanka, asshat," Wrex grows, rolling his neck, "Where you wouldn't last five minutes. I'm guessing Saren might be looking for a receipt when he sees how badly you done fucked up."
He grins, cracking his knuckles.
"Either from the merc store...or the pet store."
The Yahg rears back and roars. Which is when there is a new sound. Several hits from something which fail to penetrate skin, yet begin buzzing. A ticking, a beeping. The Yahg looks over his shoulder.
He sees, covering most of his back, sticky grenades, and looks over his shoulder as someone waves an omnitool. Cursing, Wrex hits the ground, covering his head, right when the shockwave hits. Looking up, the Yahg is gone.
Well, not gone.
The Yahg just isn't, well, Yahg shaped anymore. Flicking a chunk off his crest, he climbs back to his feet as Shepard and the rest of her merry band run out, half expecting that they'd have to help him with the nine foot mound of suck he spent the past half hour kicking the ass of.
"Wrex?" Shepard asks.
"Shepard," Wrex responds, "Missed the fun. Looks like we got help."
About two dozen, all heavily armed. One puts away a sticky grenade launcher, the extended tube folding into a square which he attached to his hip, changing that for a short, compact pistol. All of them in red and yellow, some flecks of rust brown and silver in their suits. All of them with full helmets and face masks.
Quarians. Not only that, Quarian soldiers. The one at the head, their leader, with a red helmet and purple facemask, his suit a mix of red and gold, stows his assault rifle as he walks towards Shepard. Who is, for some reason, tilting her head and staring at him with a look of utter confusion.
"Kal'Reegar, Migrant Fleet Marines," the soldier says, saluting, or at least imitating a Systems Alliance salute, "Hope you don't mind us taking care of that...whatever the Hell it was for you, ma'am. Our shuttle crashed a few clicks from here, and we were wondering if we could hitch a ride."
...
Kal'Reegar nar somethingsomething was someone she wasn't supposed to meet for another two years. They met on Haestrom, a world orbiting a dying star, under siege by Geth, pinned down by a giant weapons platform. He was holding off an entire platoon with a rocket launcher and whatever infection he has in him at the time. Her first decision upon meeting him was to tell him to stand the hell down. Which he did.
They met shortly afterwards, when she cleared Tali's name during her trial, at the cost of her father's reputation.
But Hell, she thinks, that doesn't matter now. She already has a plan for that.
"Sure thing," she says, "We'll contact the Migrant Fleet once we're out of system." Her omnitool flashes, crackling of a channel opening. "Joker, we need-"
Which is cut off by the roar of oversized engines as the Normandy comes to a stop over them, hatch scraping the ground in front of the ruins. Holding onto the side of the ramp, looking more shaken than he should be at this point, Garrus waves them in.
"Get on!" he yells, "We have to leave!"
Nodding towards the ramp, the quarians board first, marching and climbing on without as much as a moment's hesitation. Kaidan helps the blue skinned, visibly shaken doctor onboard, the others climbing on with her the last as the ship begins ascending, the ramp slowly closing.
"Garrus," Jane yells, over the whine of the engines, "What's wrong? Joker had orders to maintain position until-"
And then the air screams, with a flash of light and a roar as a burst of crimson light strikes the ruins, shaking the ground around it, liquifying earth and steel. Looking past the collapsing ruins, through the cloud of dust rising into the air, she sees the shape approaching with crackling red light over its blackened frame.
"Oh. Shit."
"Joker tried to raise you," Garrus says, "Sovereign's here. We're leaving."
"Now," Jane responds, "Joker! Get us out of here!"
The ramp shuts, and with a flash of its four engines, the Normandy wheels about and blasts off to the sky.
...
The trick, she thinks, is to make short term choices that play into the long term. Her own life is a small litany of such things- short term decisions turning lucky. Small ideas which played out in the long run. Say yes to one person, receive a benefit. Say no to another, receive a benefit.
An old friend, for example. They helped each other out on several occasions. Advice here, she ends up...well, a major power. Which makes her job easier. Such a decision was, at the time, a risky one. But the old power that was in charge of the majority of the Terminus Systems was not as...amenable as the current one is.
She weighs these things constantly.
In the end, at least, it got her a nice office. Leaning back in the padded, well used chair, hands folded in front of her face, Opiala Tevos sees the door to her office open out of the corner of her eye, her attention still mostly on the screen in front of her. The drell on the screen has not shown a sign of being agitated or angry. She knows he is. She's employed his services in the past. She also knows that if he were visibly angry, well...
Well, that would be bad.
"I understand your concern," she says, "And I'm sorry to say that the Primacy did, in fact, go behind my back on this. But I don't have direct power over this, and in the end she agreed to the job."
"I was under the impression that the Primacy listened to the Asari, Councillor. Has this changed since we last spoke?"
"The It's not the policy of the Asari Republics to tell the Primacy what to do." She nods, slightly. "They're not technically a client race, and the Republics do not treat them as such. I have voiced my displeasure to the Prime, however. It's understandable that they would call up the best person they could find to study the...guest...however, considering the feelings that the Hanar hold towards the subject. It is, ultimately, her decision."
"I would feel most comfortable with the decision if it did not involve her being aboard a warship chasing after a rogue Spectre, Councillor."
Now where did he hear about that, she asks herself. A pang of stress, an urge to rub her temples. Between Arterius going rogue, the Protheans, Udina making more noise, and everything else.
"I'll make sure that Dr. Krios contacts you when Shepard next checks in," she says, "I can't tell her to not take the assignment. That, I'm afraid, is up to you."
The drell nods. The screen goes blank.
A cough, and she looks up, rubbing the bridge of her nose to find Donnel Udina holding a tray with two cups of coffee.
"Udina?"
"Councillor," he responds, "Anderson is busy making some calls, so he sent me out while he deals with military matters. I figured between Valern's already hyperactive tendencies and my unsure whether coffee would be a poison to Sparatus, buying a coffee for you would be least likely to lead to a diplomatic incident."
He cracks a small smile. She smiles back, gesturing to the seat in front of her azure, coral glass desk.
"This is a victory, isn't it?" she asks, "Saren being stripped of status, Shepard becoming a Spectre..."
"In a sense," Udina says, sitting, handing the paper cup over, "Wish the victory didn't taste like ashes, though. Eden Prime attacked. Parliament is breathing down my neck and I'll probably have my office swarmed by Hanar once they figure out that Shepard found the Protheans."
He sighs, leaning back in the chair. Gel cushions conform to his frame, and he rubs his temples, sighing.
"I imagine Anderson wasn't happy about being relieved of duty," Tevos says, sipping her coffee, "Who's idea was that, if I can ask?"
"Anderson has a personal stake in stopping Sovereign. As capable a commander as he is, he would be...too persistent. So, it was mine. However."
He shrugs.
"However, Shepard talked to him. I'm not sure what she said, but Anderson and I are...amicable. It is good to have someone with a different perspective. I listen to him, he listens to me. I provide diplomatic and bureaucratic solutions, he provides military solutions. Ones I don't think of."
He folds his hands, tenting his fingers, two index fingers pressed against his lips. Narrowing his eyes, looking past the relaxed Asari nods leaning back in her chair, he stares out at the white skyways and walkways of the Presidium. The seat of power of the Protheans and, if the protheans are to be believed, countless empires before them. And so, so fleeting.
"Councillor," he says, "I wonder about something. Is humanity ready for a Council seat?"
"What do you think, Ambassador?"
A low sigh. Closing his eyes, raising his brow.
"No," he says, "No. Not by a long shot."
...
Mass at .0029 of base
Kinetic barriers at full
Thruster control to VI assist manual
"Fuckity fuck fuck shit!"
Engines flare and the Normandy blasts off, the black clouds parting in its sonic wake. The surface of Therum blurs beneath it, remaining Geth troopers and armatures knocked back and over by the bow wave of the accelerating frigate.
Right behind it, a roar felt on a level below the physical, is the Reaper.
"Oh what the shit," Joker mutters, fingers dancing over the control screen, "I hit you with lava!"
Metal scraping on the floor as the ship banks, dodging red blasts which send bursts of ash into the air, the ship swaying with every bank. Joker doesn't look over his shoulder, the screen in front of him showing the dreadnought accelerating after him.
"Joker," Garrus yells, skidding to a stop behind him, "I think Sovereign wants to talk with you. With lasers and husks."
"Shut up shut up."
"If it catches us, I'm blaming you for the volcano thing. Not that it would ask, it would just vaporize us all."
"Not. Helping."
More metal on the deck. Joker glances at Kaidan as he jumps into the copilot seat, tapping up a display and tossing his helmet over his shoulder.
"Wondered where you were," Joker says.
"Long story. I'll tell you later."
The interior tilts in time with Normandy turning on its side and dodging, a blast of red light cracking the ground like an egg shell and sending a pillar of lava into the air which Sovereign plows through.
"This guy is pissing me off!" Joker yells, "Hey, Kaidan! What'd you have for lunch?"
"Uh-"
"Never mind! I'm gonna find out anyway!"
More metal stamping on the steel floors, and Shepard runs into the cockpit in time with the clanging of her armored boots. Just as the lights turn red, warnings of unsafe changes in ship mass blaring through the speakers.
And the Normandy drops, blue light dancing over it as white light from its nose flares. Mass increasing, it weighs itself down, the forward thrust no longer enough to drive it forward, forcing it to drop back.
Wind screams around it, almost as loud as the screams of the crew as they find themselves pitched forward. Pressley screams, grabbing the side of the console in CiC. PDAs go flying from their resting places, crew in their seats lurching to their side. None of them pay any attention to the quarian running past them.
Shepard and Garrus scream as the bulk of Sovereign flies past them, taking seconds to pass over as the Normandy lurches, dropping like a stone to Therum.
"Commander!"
"Hold onto your asses, everyone!" Joker yells, fingers dancing on the screen. The interior glows blue as the Normandy goes from weighing its full mass to a fraction, stopping a hairs breadth from the lava covered surface as Sovereign begins a slow rotation.
Too late. Pitching upwards, the Normandy takes off, rocketing into the sky.
Joker calmly adjusts his hat.
Garrus collapses against the seat.
Kaidan calmly removes the paper bag from underneath his seat and begins breathing into it.
"Nice trick," Tali says.
Shepard slowly turns to the quarian girl, jaw hanging slack.
"I could tell you stories about my father and Uncle Han."
Joker snickers, but doesn't speak. The ash clouds and red sky give way to the black, and the shaking tapers off as the ship accelerates into space. Slowly climbing to his feet, Garrus gives off a relieved breath, patting Joker on the shoulder.
"You're insane," he says, "A damned good pilot, but completely insane."
"I got us away, didn't I?" Joker asks, glancing at the console, "Oh, and look. Now Ash wants to buy me a drink. At least someone appreciates my awesome skills, and I didn't even have to put on the Loggins music this time."
Jane shakes her head, patting Joker on the top of his hat.
"Good work," she says, and turns, "Tali, what is it?"
"A friend of mine and I have been going over the pictures we have of Sovereign," she responds, wringing her hands, "Commander, I think we found a weak point on him."
"Good to hear," Kaidan says, leaning back in his chair, "We can forward that to Alliance brass, see what they say. Hopefully we don't have to use that."
...
Red lightning dances over the surface. Spots of black along his seamless, perfect hull, ash crackling against his shields. The mind which is Nazara turns skyward, the body following suit. They have escaped. They have outrun it, out flown it, and tricked it. The mind which is Nazara, the many which are one, have come to a single conclusion.
In doing so, it has awakened something deep within it. It has explored the possibility that exists within it, that such limited perceptions, limited emotions, can still hold sway of the presence that is Nazara. It has come to the conclusion that yes, it can. It can still feel hate.
Time and space warp around it. The vast core of their miracle fuel spins with speed and force. The ground beneath where it hovered cracks, bursts, and liquifies, turning the young island into a island shaped sea of lava.
...
And Sovereign appears directly in the Normandy's path, tendrils out, eyes focused upon the small craft.
"Oh what the fuck!" Joker screams.
The craft lurches, coming to a halt. PDAs that lay on the floor float upwards, Pressley grabbing onto the console as his feet leave the floor.
"Mass effect core's offline!" Kaidan yells, "Sovereign's got us in some sort of tractor field! It's overwhelming the cyberwarfare suites!"
The ship slowly turns, the cockpit rotated to face the opening maw of the Reaper.
"Our systems aren't responding!" Joker yells, "Adams! Get me something! Anything!"
...
The tendrils of the massive ship open, surrounding the frigate. At the very face of the dreadnought, a iris opens, red light flickering and gathering, the light running along the entire mass and length of the ancient craft.
It probes the ship. Aims at the cockpit. This is the one, Nazara thinks. This is the one Harbinger recognized. This is the one He feared. And with this, the Reaper muses, with this the possible threat the Harvest faces ends.
And it cannot help but feel something else.
Satisfaction.
The light gathers. The power to rend cities focuses upon a single point. The crackling roar of the Reaper fills the cabins of the Normandy as the very last moment of their lives dawns upon them.
...
And then a slug weighing twenty kilograms hits one of the tendrils at 1.3% the speed of light, sheering metal, nudging the dreadnought to the side, and sending the blast flying wide.
The dreadnought turns, just in time to receive a face full of rail accelerated slugs. Two dozen cruisers surrounding a ship nearly a kilometer long, arrow shaped crafts opening fire as the Normandy's engines flicker white once again.
"SSV Normandy," a voice declares, one very familiar to Jane, "This is SSV Kilimanjaro with the Fifth Fleet 3rd Flotilla! Captain Anderson says hi!"
Oh, she always makes an entrance, Jane thinks. PDAs and Pressley drop to the floor behind them, Jane grabbing the back of Joker's seat as the ship lurches.
"Core's back online," Kaidan says, "Joker, get us out of here!"
"No," Jane says, and turns to Tali, "Where's the weak point?"
Tali glances at the ship before them, at the fleet of human vessels hammering the dreadnought. Which, she thinks, would stand no chance once the Reaper gets its bearings.
"The central firing chamber," she says, "It's apparently hooked up directly to its mass effect core. If we can hit it with a disruptor torpedo, it may disable the entire vessel!"
Jane nods, whacks the back of Joker's seat.
"Think you can hit that?" she asks.
Joker snorts, tapping his controls.
"Watch me."
...
The engines sputter, flare, and release a gout of plasma. Lurching forward, the Normandy rolls and accelerates, circling around the 2 kilometer bulk of Sovereign. Accelerating, it passes the dreadnought, passing the fleet, before swinging around and speeding towards the Reaper.
Tendrils open, the great eye at the center of Sovereign's maw begins to flicker red once again.
Banking, twisting, blasts of red go past the Normandy, shields flickering and crackling, rolling around a burst of red light larger than it is.
The scream of the Reaper fills the cabin. The tips of the tendrils of the metal giant glow, filling the void with red light which the craft dances around. And a single burst of blue light shoots out from it, engines flaring as the Normandy darts between two of Sovereign's tendrils and past it.
No one sees the torpedo hit, but the effect is all the same. The craft lurches, red lightning flaring all over it. It starts with a simple explosion, growing greater and bigger which blows two tentacles clean off the Reaper's hull, explosions rippling through the face and up the spine.
Bursts of fire from the human fleet impact the hull as the kinetic barriers drop, ripping gouts through the hull, impacts sending it back as chunks of metal, circuitry, and the rest of the tendrils flying off. The bass, metallic scream of the Reaper goes louder before cutting off, explosions from the death throes of the Reaper joining the explosions pushing it back.
And on the bridge of the Normandy, Jane watches as the Reaper begins to burn in its descent towards Therum.
"If we're really lucky, Saren was aboard."
She glances at Garrus. He shrugs.
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna have to buy you a drink too, Joker," Kaidan says.
Joker adjusts his hat with a smile, saying nothing. And the Normandy banks, turning, before flying off to join the fleet.
...
"...so Anderson had us rendezvous with you. Looks like we showed up just in time."
The holographic image of the woman is a mirror to Jane. Short red hair with streaks of gray, the same green eyes, same build. Commander stripes on her uniform and a hat on her head, and a small smirk on her face. Hannah Shepard, XO of the SSV Kilimanjaro. Or, as Jane knows her, Mom.
"That you did," Jane says, leaning on the console in the circular comm room, "Looks like I owe you and Anderson a beer. And Joker, too."
"Damned straight you do, kiddo. And good stuff, not the cheap crap."
Jane rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, I know better than to short shrift you, Mom. Joker's still going on about having a Reaper painted on the side of the hull."
"Remind me to never let him at the helm of my ship."
"Duly noted, Mom. I have to check in with Anderson and the Council."
"Will do. See you soon. Kilimanjaro out."
The image dissolves, and forms into an image of her three technical bosses. Valern, hood over his features. Sparatus, towering over them. Tevos, keeping them in line.
"Commander Shepard. Can you confirm that you've destroyed Sovereign?"
"We blew off most of its face and then sent it crashing into Therum," Jane responds, standing straight, "If it's not dead, then it's definitely out of action. We recovered T'Soni, but Sovereign blasted the Prothean ruins while we were escaping."
"A total loss of the ruins? Shame, but, understandable," Valern says, "What is your next step?"
"We're going to assume that Saren and Benezia were not onboard until proven otherwise. We're enroute back to the Citadel for repairs and resupply, and to debrief Dr. T'Soni. I can give a more thorough report in person."
Tevos nods.
"Understood, Commander."
The three holograms disappear. Shepard grins, leaning forward...and stops when the pressure causes the railing to tilt.
"Oh, that's not good," she mutters, and walks out, walking around the divider and into CiC, where Pressley is standing a short distance away from his usual station.
"Commander," he says, tapping his PDA, "Problem. We have stress fractures all over the ship."
"How bad?"
"I'm not sure if I want to buy Joker a beer or slug him," he responds, "Nothing life threatening right now, but we need to get back to the Citadel ASAP. I'm pretty sure a combat situation is not what we want, right now."
Jane walks over to the console, the triangular shape of the heart of CiC glowing blue with the display of the map of the Milky Way. Gentle, she leans on it. And the entire console tilts, in response.
"Yeah. I'm gonna go with your recommendation," she responds.
...
Four eyes in front stare at two eyes on the side. A mass of crimson, stylized armor, and a humped lizard dinosaur man in red, sectioned armor.
"Krogan."
"Prothean."
The two go silent. That is all the greeting needed for men such as these.
"The Yahg were smaller in my cycle," Javik says, "You did well, so easily fighting one."
Wrex grunts, arms folded. He leans back against the wall, a smirk on his lips.
"My people looked upon the youth of your species," Javik continues, "We had plans for you."
"Liked what you saw?" Wrex asks.
"We were going to use you to pull carts."
"Fair enough," Wrex responds.
Metal grinding against metal as the cargo elevator door opens, and a blue skinned girl still in her red and white jumpsuit walks out, making a beeline towards the standing Prothean.
...
Watching the Asari approach the...drell, maybe?...he shrugs and turns back to the lounging two dozen soldiers, all their backs up against the wall of the engineering deck. Their weapons are stowed, their checkups done. No infections, no wounds. Damn lucky, all of them.
He gives another glance at the blue girl trying to talk with the four eyed drell. Poor guy, too. Doesn't want to think about how badly his plastic surgery screwed up if that's what he ended up looking like. But, if the galaxy's taught him anything, you can get anything done for just the right amount of money.
"Excuse me?"
Kal'Reegar turns, and stands straight. For most people, seeing the tall, lanky, and particularly well armed Quarian standing at attention for the girl would be odd. Then one figures out that the girl is the daughter of his CO and understands why.
"Ma'am," he says, "We haven't been introduced. Kal'Reegar, Marines. You're Admiral Rael'Zorah's daughter?"
Tali nods, hands by her waist, fidgeting. As one, the two dozen marines also stand at attention. Her suit diagnostic warn in her ear about temperature fluctuations. She tells it to shut the hell up.
"Sorry for the surprise," Kal continues, "Our ship crash landed on Therum. Some sort of virus got into the system and we went down, but none of us got hurt. Once we"
Oh ancestors, she thinks, I have an army.
Two dozen finely honed Quarian marines. And she's a VIP. She could probably order them around. She's heard rumors of other admirals. Admiral Xen, for example, supposedly had them help with her experiments. Or possibly wear maid costumes. Father had expressed his opinion on her, and that opinion is that she was a bit off her rocker. A few seals short of a suit. But she could probably order them around, and she's noticing that all two dozen of them fill out their encounter suits a lot better than she does. Which is unfair. She's slim. She has...well, she has assets. Not the firmly toned pectorals, wiry muscle, broad shoulders or firm, flat abdomen these marines have. Neither does she have the same sort of round, firm, defined buttocks that the Marine in front of her possesses, which he no doubt knows how to crush Geth with. And those can't all be smuggling pockets, especially those bulges down there-
"...so if we can get a call with the Admiral, we'll be able to sort this out."
Tali blinks, and stares at the marine. Oh, he was talking, wasn't he?
"That sounds like a good idea," she responds.
...
"Excuse me?"
Javik slowly turns, hands folded behind him, standing a head taller than the Asari. Her eyes wander over him, looking him up and down. He would be uncomfortable, but discomfort would imply any emotion at all, and he has...yet to show such things. Wrex, on the other hand, only shrugs and wanders off.
"You're," she starts, "You're a Prothean? A real, live Prothean?"
Javik grunts. An acknowledgement.
"I'm Dr. Liara T'Soni," she says, extending a hand, "I've spent the last fifty years studying the Protheans. I have a lot of questions."
Javik says nothing.
"Right," Liara says, tapping her omnitool, "Well. Let me record this. Liara T'Soni, research log. Prothean excavation, Therum. Interview with...well, interview with Prothean. Is your name Javik?"
"Yes."
She nods.
"I have a lot of questions about the Prothean Empire. What was the Prothean Empire like? What was your culture like? Your history?"
He raises a double eyebrow.
"The empire had fallen when I was born," he responds, "Our culture was one of war and survival. The only thing I knew of my people was that we were dying by the billions."
She blinks. She opens her mouth and closes it, and taps her omnitool.
"I see...there was a hypothesis that the Prothean Empire disappeared due to them being overwhelmed by a superior force. This is correct?"
"We called them Reapers."
"A machine race supposedly emerging from dark space," she says, waving her hand as orange screens fold out between them, graphs, charts planets, "Usual cycles of 50,000 years. It seems to be some sort of extinction cycle, but we can't get accurate dates on the Citadel or the Mass Relays, so everyone assumes that the Protheans were first."
Javik raises a double eyebrow, once again. He doesn't smile, but wants to. There may be hope for this cycle, yet.
"You are correct," Javik says, "The machine that chased us on this world, Sovereign. He is a Reaper. My people did not kill a single one of them. This is the first time I have seen a Reaper die."
A chime on his armor. He taps his wrist, a greenish blue approximation of an omnitool appearing, an image of a face like his. Liara looks at her notes, turning her attention from the prothean to her notes on the Protheans, to compare the two.
"Kova," Javik says, "Report. What have...what?"
Javik's eyes go wide. His mouth opens agape, before the corners of his mouth slowly curve into a smile.
"How many did you find?"