"So, then, the Confluence was destroyed."
"The Voices remained, freed from the tyrannical Intelligence. All the connection between them severed. Unable to cope with being alone in their own minds, they scattered to the four winds." Shepherd gestured with one hand and marveled at the sensation of air gliding through the small hairs on the back of it. "The fleets blew up what remained of the Citadel and started to put the galaxy back into some semblance of order."
The eager asari leaned forward in her chair, her eyes huge in her unlined face. So young. But then, so did he appear, now. She said, "Is it true there are still Reapers out there?"
"If you mean, are there still those who used to be among the Confluence that still believe in their 'one true purpose?' Yes, though the awakened Voices and I spent many decades after hunting the most dangerous ones down. Thus did those two terms come most heavily into play: Reapers and Voices. Two separate ideals. Once freed, many came to see the error of the Intelligence's logic." Shepherd sighed. "There will always be war and strife, but within that, there must be hope. Hope for something better. Hope for change. The Reapers were wrong because while they would force a physical change, they took away hope of a spiritual one. The cycle of synthetics destroying all organics never changed because they never gave it a chance to. And hope. Hope is one of those things that can defy logic, that can sometimes upend the world if given leave to flourish."
Right then, hope shone out of her eyes like the ancient lighthouses of old, warning mariners away from the rocks. He wondered if she knew it. But then again, it is there. It doesn't need to be known to be there. As long as it is.
She smiled. "So, why did you then choose to reverse the process that turned you into one of them?"
"It was not difficult. Cloning new bodies from the DNA profiles stored within my matrices and downloading minds into the cybernetic brains within them. And it is not a true reversal or your cycle would suddenly have a surplus of a hundred billion homeless humans on hand. No. I am still a Voice. They are all still here. Every one of them." Shepherd tapped his temple. "We made a new choice. One made in hope, not surrender."
"And that is?" she baited, stylus to datapad.
"Not to be shared with the galaxy at large just yet." Shepherd gave her a secretive smile. "And now, if you'll forgive me, I must take my leave of you. This new body hates to be still for long."
"Of course." She looked at her chronometer and stood with haste, a blush purpling her cheeks. "I'm so sorry I took up so much of your time."
"It is no great thing. My time, that is. No more or less important than yours." Shepherd also stood and took her hand, relishing the soft texture of skin sliding on skin. "What is your name, asari?"
"Liara. Liara T'soni. I won't hold it against you if you don't remember it. I'm not much of anybody really." The asari looked down in chagrin. "Just a historian."
"Nobody is 'just a' anything, Liara. Now, you've told me your name, you've become part of the tale of me. As I have become a minor player in yours." Shepherd hummed in amusement as he took in her pleased surprise. He continued, "You are a story. A book full of tomorrow's blank pages. What deeds will be writ upon them? What wonders will you do? And who will come to read it in time? And hope to learn from it?"
"I-I never thought of it that way. Thank you for indulging my curiosity, um-"
"Shepherd. Call me Shepherd."
She said, shy as can be, " . . . Shepherd."
"Good evening, Miss T'soni."
Liara left clutching that datapad so tight it surprised Shepherd that it did not crack. He smiled again as he moved back into the domicile leased to him by the generous peoples of the united galaxy. Once the dust settled after the Reaper War, a blanket amnesty for all the newly awoken Voices that proved to be no threat to the galaxy took effect. Most of the awakened, full of shame and regret, did all they could to put things to right.
"Did she leave satisfied?" came a familiar and most welcome voice.
"Saren. I did not hear you arrive." Shepherd gestured to the seating in his common room.
"Regretting giving me the passkey to your apartment?" The turian strode in, full of confidence and vigor, despite his now eighty-plus years. His ashen mandibles flexed into a grin as he plopped onto a sofa. "Besides, you summoned me here."
"I didn't expect you so soon. I only sent the message this morning." He, too, sat, and sighed as the material conformed to his body. So many new/old sensations to relearn.
"Well, I happened to be planet-side. It's busy work being a diplomat to the awakened."
"A voice for the Voices, and an irony to be sure." Shepherd chuckled.
Saren crossed an ankle over a knee, lounging. "I never thought to enjoy it. But . . . I find I do. It's fulfilling."
"Then it can only bring great things. I tell you, Saren," began the Shepherd of the Awakening. "It is good to see you whole once more."
"Sanity took a long time to reclaim, even after the Confluence was destroyed." The turian shrugged, his glowing eyes sparkling in good humor. "Sooo, pray tell what brings me here."
"A thing a long, long time in coming."
Saren sat bolt upright and leaned forward. "You don't mean-?"
Shepherd laughed. "I hope you have some time to stay. It is time I told you everything. From the very beginning. The full story of humankind. How we rose . . .."
He paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "And how we ended."
The turian clasped his hands between his knees and, though betrayed by his eagerness, he teased, "You're right. That will probably take some time."
"Why do you think I made myself so young, only just middle-aged? I was an old, old man before humanity ascended. I fully expect this telling to take the rest of my lifetime."
"Then I will sit and listen for as long as I can, John. And return often to hear more." Saren reached out and grasped Shepherd's forearm.
"Gratitude, brother."
The strands weaken. The tether that binds the spirit to the shell stretches thin . . . and snaps!
Freed at long last, the being of mighty radiance leapt out and up. Ever up! Into the great Joining that lay on the other side of this veil of tears. A true uplifting that mocks what the transient flesh believes of immortality.
It ceased to matter that the memory of its kind would fade into nothing over the next billion years. It never mattered.
For they once lived.
And they'd lived gloriously.
A/N: Well, I hope this is received in the spirit with which it was made. An exploration into possibility. A look at a Shep that is the thing he, as a human, hates. A thing so "un-Shepard." The Reapers have an interesting point of view, a skewed perspective of the universe. They couldn't be merely that kid with the magnifying glass burning ants. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and if the mood should take you, please leave a review. I do so love them.
