A/N: Sorry about the delays, as I needed to get feedback from several people regarding this chapter, none of who agreed on it. Some argued it should be scrapped entirely and others suggested it was perfect. I have made a handful of small modifications to fit the feedback. I've had a lot of thoughts about this chapter, as bits of it were originally from as far back as chapter of what it originally contained (more details about SA fleet politics, a clearer explanation of exactly what was refitted, an expansion on SA technology and asari interaction with it) was removed as it didn't advance the story.
That being said, the whole point of the ATTWN arc isn't to advance the story so much as explain what happened and why. For those of you who wanted a bit more context, and who suggested at least one more non-Shepard focused chapter, here it is. It will undoubtedly generate additional questions, but that's why it is written.
The next chapter ends Shepard's training, and then there is a transition piece from Pinnacle to Arcturus. The chapter after that ends Arc I. Those of wishing for !ACTION! will have it, those of you dissapointed in the loss of fluff will have to endure :)
As always, if you have questions about some of what is referenced here, leave a review or PM and I will answer as fast as I can. :)
'Politics? Shit. That's when a person with two good eyes and perfectly good hearing manages not to fucking see or hear anything they disagree with.'
– Matriarch Aethyta Vasir, 'Oh, Now You Want to Hear My Wisdom?'
DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 117
Manifest dump 84570-core alpha, unclassified
This is an official Systems Alliance data capture dump, replication or rebroadcast is restricted.
Transcript begins, identifiers J: al-Jilani C: Saracino R: Sandemar
Keywords: Citadel, geth, Systems Alliance, Shepard, Branson, Cerberus
BEGIN:
"Westerlund news! All the news, fit or unfit to print, 24/7!"
J: Good afternoon. I'm Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News Network. Today we are interviewing two very special members of our government : Minister of the Interior Charles Saracino, and the leader of the Blue Stars No More political party, Rachel Sandemar. Welcome to the show!
C: Delighted.
R: [nods]
J: Minister Saracino, let me start with you, although this may be something Ms. Sandemar wishes to express her opinion on as well. There's been a great deal of upset and speculation recently over the promotions offered to two of humanity's greatest warriors, Rear Admiral Branson and Major-Commander Shepard. Quite a few people don't feel they are warranted, what is your opinion?
C: In the case of our new High Admiral, I think he is quite fitted to the position. I've never been sold on the military insistence that the person best suited to lead the Admiralty should be someone who hasn't been on the front lines in fifteen years. Rear Admiral Branson has demonstrated he has the leadership and vision to guide our fleet, and a lack of rank merely means he's closer in perspective to our brave service-people.
C: [Pauses, then shrugs] As for Major-Commander Shepard, I think and have always thought the woman is a disgrace. We'll leave aside her sordid past, the fact that she gets most of her men killed in her commands, and the fact that she spends the majority of her time consorting with aliens. My biggest problem with the Butcher is that she's being promoted out of a role she is finally good at – killing the enemies of humanity – and into something she has no skills in. Why would you do that...except as a quid pro quo. Shepard knows something, or found out something, and the SA is trying to keep her quiet! That's why all this hullaboo.
J: A curious point, to be sure. There are more than a few who have suggested that Shepard is hardly suited for large-scale command, given her past history and lack of command training. Others are highly offended she has been raised to the ranks of the nobility. Do you have any thoughts on these issues?
C: [scratches chin] Let's take the second part first, shall we? I'm not real big on nobility. They do have a useful function in our governance, but the less involved they are the better things are going. The fact that they made the Butcher a noble is a good laugh. She has no background in it, she is completely uneducated, and to top it all off, rumor says she's sterile. To me, it's a bribe mixed with a backhanded joke. They know she can't really do anything with the position, but they can make happy noises about how the common man can rise.
This at the same time the cost to move to class II citizen has jumped another six percent.
As far as her command? Like I said, it's nonsense. The woman knows about as much in regards to commanding that kind of force as I do. We're not being told something, and I hate it when my taxpayer credits get up and go without telling me why they got up and went.
J: [laughter] Very apt points. Ms. Sandemar, do you have any thoughts on these issues?
R: Yes, thank you. I don't want to be disrespectful to anyone, but I am not happy with either of these two being rewarded for anything. Shepard is a failure. She was on Eden Prime and didn't stop the deaths of our colonists and servicemen. She was on Feros and didn't stop the destruction of our colony and a corporate enclave. She went to Noveria and the place became a bloodbath, and her actions at the Citadel – ordering Admiral Hackett to save the Council Fleet – cost us thousands of human lives. No one has explained why they are giving her a battle-group, much less when she will be held accountable for the all the lives she's ruined or ended.
R: [folds arms] As for Branson, until he pulls our military back from gross adventuring and focuses on demilitarizing the Systems Alliance, he's not any better.
J: [arches an eyebrow] Given that if we had a smaller military, the geth would have destroyed everything on Terra Nova, how can you justify the position of Blue Stars No More?
R: We wouldn't have had any losses if we didn't have our fleet scattered all over creation. If people don't love the SA, and if they decide to run out to colonies to get away from it, then they should be left to fend for themselves. Our position hasn't changed – if we disengage from the Citadel and pull back to our core colonies, then there is no reason for anyone to bother us and force our soldiers to die. We'd have more than enough ships already to protect what we have.
C: With all due respect, that is simply not feasible. While Terra Firma agrees that useless expansionism and the size of our fleet are both out of control, the answer isn't to let the aliens dominate the galaxy. Letting the aliens surround us just makes us vulnerable. Since we've been shanghaied into having a place on the Council, we should have their military safeguard our outlying colonies while we clean up our own forces.
R: The problem with that answer, Mr. Saracino, is that the militarist thugs are going to use it for their own ends. I know you're opposed to anything that weakens humanity – but us throwing money and lives at this issue isn't going to magically stop the alien domination of the galaxy – they already do! We need to rethink and retrench, and stop getting our service-people killed.
J: There are those who suggest the geth threat is not over – turian forces fought a fierce battle yesterday near the border of their space with a large force of geth. Given that both TF and BSNM are pushing for military draw downs and reductions, how do you respond to the criticism leveled by the NDP, namely that without a stronger military we would be at risk from batarian aggression?
R: I don't believe that. Again, if we simply pull back from the Traverse and the Verge, which we can't protect anyway, we will have far fewer military deaths and losses. I don't really care about the stupid wildcatters – they don't contribute to the SA
C: I'd like to point out that when Cerberus was active, it was doing a fine job of protecting those colonies, letting our military focus on other issues. I think the NDP is fishing for trouble, using the scare tactics of batarian slavers to frighten people, but let's be honest. Batarian technology is barely on par with our own, and much of it is crumbling due to the embargo.
J: And in regards to Cerberus, there remains a great deal of controversy over that group. Most shockingly, the fall of the Northstar party, which was revealed to mostly be a Cerberus front. You alone have not changed your position on Cerberus, Minister – why is that?
C: To a point I have. I remain unconvinced by Shepard's video 'evidence' of atrocities – by the time independent media got to the site, it was swarmed by both AIS and aliens, who could have planted any sorts of atrocity onto Cerberus. And I find it really curious that if they were such a threat, neither the AIS or the Commissars ever managed to shut them down.
C: [Folds arms] I'd be a lot more swayed – or concerned – if the other species weren't doing equally reprehensible acts.
J: The main question on everyone's mind right now is exactly what will happen in the upcoming March primaries for the Senate, since those elections only happen once a decade. The Court of Lords will be assembling to put together the slates next week, and it's difficult to determine what the outcome will be. Rumor suggests, however, that they are more alien-friendly than they were ten years ago. How will this make things difficult for the current administration?
C: [smiles] Since the Senate is more occupied with diplomacy than the House is, I would surmise that they will have to deal with reality, no matter how 'alien-friendly' their membership may be. I don't think it will affect things very much.
J: There is also anticipation from our asari citizens about the possibility of an asari Senator...
C: [nods] Yes, that's probably going to happen. Terra Firma has always said Humanity First, and that certainly hasn't changed. But TF has also taken a good hard look at the asari citizenship. Unlike the other aliens who live in our space, the asari are at least trying to fit into human norms and values, instead of that godless whore culture they come from. Most of them are not welcome back home, and they don't have anywhere else to go.
C: [rubs chin] I'm not wild about the idea, I won't lie. But I'm not going to try to block it, and neither is TF. We're not bigots, and we're more than happy to wait and see.
J: Ms. Sandemar?
R: I don't have any problems with them, since most of them take the long view that violence and militarism is bad.
J: Both of your parties have come under sharp fire in recent days. In particular, a large number of military people, both enlisted and officers, were on the ANN recently blaming both TF and BSNM for defense cuts that resulted in many SA casualties at Terra Nova. And the recent demonstrations and counter-pickets of BSNM rallies has been rapidly increasing in the past few weeks. Ms. Sandemar, could you comment on this?
R: [grimaces] There will always be someone too blind to face reality, Ms. Al-Jilani. We're not going to compromise what we believe simply because others disagree.
J: The attacks on Eden Prime and Feros, and the devastation at Terra Nova, would seem to be more than 'disagreement',
R: And? The bottom line doesn't change. BSNM doesn't care about anything but stopping our families from being murdered by the poor decision making of our government and the military. Because that is more important than profits, or the whim of the nobles, or the desires of the corporations. What happened on Eden Prime and Feros wouldn't have changed even if we had three times as many ships. But the people who died there will be used as excuse for the SA to spend more money on wild militaristic adventuring.
J: That's all the time we have for now, but stay tuned for our contact segment, where we take live chat from the extranet and questions for Minister Saracino.
O-ATTWN-O
Okeer awoke to pain, an unusual sensation for him to experience. He found himself still clothed, but his partial armor had been stripped, and his wounds only hastily patched with what felt like cheap medigel.
He glanced around, finding himself laying on a hard metal floor, in what was obviously some kind of containment cell. Three stark metallic walls contained him, each thickly armored. A kinetic barrier sealed the open side of the cell, and beyond it lay a krogan-sized stasis pod of white metal, cracked open.
He quickly checked himself for weapons, finding his holdouts and omnitool removed. That was of lesser concern than the fact that his labs were smashed and all of his research lost. He could of course begin again, but the loss of notes, samples and most of all the genetic data accumulated over centuries was a serious setback.
He had backed up some of his data in various caches, but with the CDEM in the hands of the damnable Eclipse, he'd not stayed on Tuchanka, instead heading for what he believed to be the safety of Saren's tiny colony of indoctrinated turians. There, he'd expected to be undisturbed for at least the few weeks it would have taken to finalize his research.
He'd had no reason to prepare for a full out assault.
The fact that he had recognized the force coming for him had left him little time to attempt to salvage anything, and he had not bothered, instead hoping to leave clues to his fate. He'd been able to leave only two such clues: a hasty message to Ylana he'd hurled behind his desk to conceal it, and the spilled blood of the giant, heavy cybernetically adjusted salarian who'd actually beaten him down like a child in close combat.
Given the Shadow Broker's well known penchant for careful attention to detail, he doubted either bit of evidence had survived. Ylana was expecting him to come to her location; it would be some time before she sent a force to see if he was alive. By then, the Hierarchy might have already moved in. Even if she did find it, he had no real clues as to the size of her forces, and assaulting the Shadow Broker was simply impossible in any case. His only real hope was that Ylana would attempt to negotiate his release.
Given the very long life he'd had, the idea of it suddenly ending was less frightening than he expected.
He gingerly stood, shaking off the nausea and weakness of long-term stasis, and glanced around again at his location. He could see very little of the corridor beyond, only the bulk of the stasis pod and the black-paneled corridors that lead off to the right.
Given that his cell was of a size to contain krogan, he doubted he would be able to beat down the kinetic barrier manually. Even as he contemplated the chances, however, he heard slow, heavy footfalls, punctuated by a hard tapping noise.
A black-cloaked figure came into view, leaning on an equally dark cane. Clearly turian, it was occluded in plates of black armor where the cloak gaped open, and the hood was lit dimly from within by a single glowing red cybernetic eye, illuminating a faint tracery of red facial paint and horrible scars.
The figure came to a slow halt in front of the cell, and Okeer could literally hear the machinery inside the turian clicking and humming along, the slow rasp of artificial lungs and pumps. The turian stood silently, as if waiting for something, then merely tapped the cane once more, as if to attract attention with the hollow booming noise it made against the floor.
Okeer suppressed a sigh. Turian melodrama.
The turian's voice was a low, baritone rasp, whispery and cold. "Ganar Okeer, eldest of the krogan. We require some information that you possess."
Okeer gave a contemptuous exhalation. "And you must be Tetrimus, the so-called Mouth of the Shadow Broker. I do not care for what you or your master wish, turian. You have ruined my work, and for that I would rather die than cooperate with you."
Tetrimus sighed. "We do not have time for your intransigence, Doctor. We wish to speak with the Collectors, and you have a connection to them. You will divulge this."
Okeer gave a guffaw of amused, cultured laughter. "I see. And who exactly told you that I could get in contact with the Collectors, mm?"
Tetrimus shook his head. "I am asking the questions. Comply and we may spare you."
Okeer sighed. "Turian, you were never accounted as stupid in the stories I have heard of you, so I am surprised at this turn of events. First, whoever told you such a thing is a fool and a liar. The only communication I was able to make with the Collectors was through the aegis of Benezia's people, with whom I had a mutually beneficial deal. In fact, if not for your assault upon my works, I would have already departed to form my first connection with them – something that is impossible now."
The krogan folded his arms. "Second, I know full well how the Broker operates. You do not use such force as you unleashed upon me unless pressed or reacting to betrayal, and you leave no one alive to tell tales in any event. So, please, spare me your idiot threats. I have no chance of leaving this cell alive, regardless of my cooperation with you, and it amuses me to instead deny you whatever it is that you wish."
Tetrimus said nothing, merely gazing at the krogan for long seconds, before turning away without another word. Okeer watched him go, rubbing his muzzle in thought, listening to his retreating footfalls and the tap of the cane.
At least the turian wasn't stupid enough to try torture. His mind turned instead to how he'd gotten in this predicament in the first place.
The only people who would have known about Okeer's intentions in meeting with the Collectors directly were Benezia's people – and possibly the Shifter. But it made little sense for the Broker and the Shifter to save his life on the Citadel and aid him in getting away, only to double cross him later. And he doubted Ylana had sold him out, as there was no benefit to her in such an act.
That implied a third party, someone with deep knowledge of Saren and Benezia's plans, but who was not allied with them. Possibly the Broker had captured geth, or maybe Cerberus operatives,who were for some reason aware of his activities. He was not sure how loosely Saren had held his association with him, and it was likely that the cunning Spectre had laid plans in case Okeer had turned on him.
In the long view, who had sold him out was irrelevant. The only things left for Okeer to determine was exactly how to get out of this mess. He spent the next hour contemplating his plans, assuming that he somehow got out of what looked like certain death, before the turian returned. This time the turian was accompanied by a floating omni-sphere, which illuminated the area in golden light as it bobbed alongside the turian biotic.
Once again, Tetrimus came to a stop, tapping the drone once. "He is here, sir, the krogan."
The voice that issued from the drone was clearly modulated, but there was a growling power behind the voice, and the words, one that immediately caught Okeer's attention.
"I rarely conduct business myself, but this situation requires a more direct approach. I am the Shadow Broker."
Okeer's eyes narrowed. "I was under the general impression that you did not communicate directly with your … clients."
"You are not a client. At best, you are a possible asset – at worst, a loose end. It will be up to you and what you tell me to determine which of these two paths I send you down."
Okeer sneered. "I have little trust in your words, Broker. You are not known for leaving loose ends, as you just referred to me as."
The voice rumbled. "Perhaps. But I see things that others do not, from a perspective that is unique. It is vital that we speak with or establish communication with the Collectors. The only possible conduit to such seems to be through you, and from you to whichever of Benezia's subordinates has contact with them. Should that require leaving you alive, then as long as you accede to my desires, your life will not be threatened."
Okeer folded his arms, glaring at the drone. "Your desires mean nothing to me. The actions you undertook to capture me destroyed the very research the Collectors were interested in, leaving them no reason to bother contacting me."
The voice grew agitated. "Explain."
Okeer's muzzle twisted. "I have nothing better to do, and perhaps you will execute your incompetent minions once you learn the tale. I provided Saren with krogan for experimentation, in return for certain genetic samples. These samples were used to attempt to modify the genophage's secondary effects."
The drone hovered. "I fail to see the connection to the Collectors. My time is valuable."
Okeer laughed. "It is related. The research was lengthy and meticulous. Towards the end of the saga of Saren, he and Benezia promised me access to certain materials that would aid my goals, materials provided by the Collectors. While on the Citadel when Benezia attacked, I actually met briefly with two of them, who provided me with scans of a modified krogan."
He folded his arms. "After the Citadel was reclaimed, I fled to continue my work. Benezia's aide, Ylana, reached out to me, hoping to continue her mistress' work. I agreed to help her if she could contact the Collectors for more data or a meeting."
Okeer exhaled, grimacing. "Ylana informed me that they would agree to meet if I had something of value to offer in trade, so I gathered together several infertile females and began the process to bypass the genophage. I figured that would get their interest."
At this, Tetrimus started. "You can do that?"
Okeer sneered, his voice dismissive. "Salarian design of the genophage was based on the krogan I gave to them, and updated periodically. As a result, I am fully aware of how the genophage works. I discovered long ago how to use certain enzymatic reactions to create a secondary protein shell over the malformed progression sites the genophage uses to induce miscarriages. It is how I have kept the Ganar clan in numbers."
The voice of the Broker was almost soft. "And yet you have never shared such with the krogan."
Okeer's sneer widened. "The krogan are too stupid to understand the salarians saved them. Krogan breeding rates would have led to us to conflict, and the salarians were trying to come up with a genetic alteration to genocide the krogan. My answer gave them an alternative, reducing birth rates to what they would have been on Tuchanka without modern medicine."
Okeer shook his head. "Curing my race of this mercy is stupid and unworkable, and has never been my goal. A cure does nothing for the krogan, and until shared suffering and misery breaks their spirit, will never be offered. What I want is to change the fundamental nature of the krogan...and that is why I needed the Collectors."
The Broker's voice sounded again. "And so you made your deal with this Ylana..."
Okeer glared. "Yes. And I was attempting to work with the idea the Collectors gave me, in order to pique their interest, when your servants attacked, killing my only subordinate who understood my work, wrecking my research and destroying my gift. It will take unknown years to get back to where I was."
The Broker's drone was silent for long seconds, then spoke. "And where is this Ylana?"
Okeer laughed. "I have no idea. I was supposed to meet with her at a system of her choosing, but given that the system in question has no habitable planets, I doubt it is her actual base of operations. Ylana did not entirely trust me, after all."
The drone whirled in place for a second. "Something does not fit."
Tetrimus shrugged. "From what little we know, the Collectors have been monitoring genetic drift in the species of the galaxy for more than five thousand years. Given their technology level, prior to that it would have been simple for them to perform direct abductions to the same ends."
The voice from the drone growled. "Which fails to explain what they want with a krogan geneticist." The drone bobbed in the air. "Tetrimus, have our guest fed while we consider our next course of action." The drone flew down the corridor, and Tetrimus sighed.
Okeer was baffled by the short conversation, and more by the Broker's questions. As he watched the turian slowly hobble away, tapping something on his omnitool, he began to wonder exactly why the Broker wanted to contact the Collectors so badly.
O-ATTWN-O
The smooth, cold stone arches of the Temple of Athame Everlasting gleamed softly in the moonlight, the ancient carvings of moon, star, and sun over the great doorway as sharp and precise as they were tens of thousands of years ago.
Matriarch Aethyta had not been to a formal meeting of the Council of Matriarchs in over a century, although she had talked to them informally several times. Having to appear in person was either an insult or a compliment, and she was too wave-damned tired to figure out which it might be.
As usual, the place was locked down hard – commandos everywhere, gunships in patrol patterns, and weapons emplacements and snipers dug in just out of sight. The four commandos escorting her were the Temple's own force, the Sisterhood of the Sun, the personal guard of the High Solarch. There was a message there too, but Aethyta didn't care for it.
The doors to the Temple, gigantic planks of ancient agnar wood stiffened with kinetic barriers and nano-infused carbon steel, swung open silently, moved by two acolytes with their biotics. The huge cathedral beyond was the usual – a giant dome, with niches off to the side set with strange and arcane artifacts, and the giant statue of Athame, her features so heavy stylized that her crests were one solid mass, staring down. The veil over her features and the heavy armor and robes of the statue gave it a militant, expectant mien.
Heavy pillars, carved with thousands of tiny inscriptions of faith, formed a wide circle around the center of the Temple, given over to the Altar of the Sun, the ritual resting place for the Sword and Shield of Athame. The center of the chamber – normally where the High Priestess of the Sun preached from – had been cleared, with thirty chairs set into a wide semicircle and a small standing platform in their midst.
Aethyta adjusted her shawl and robes, and firming her jaw, marched directly to the platform, stepping atop it and folding her arms defiantly.
Thirty ancient faces stared back at her, a bewildering array of facial markings and colors from the blue of the sea-coast to the purples of the mountains. The shapes on the shawls decried their houses – the shantha, the sword, the boat, the yul hawk, the relli snake. A dazzling array of colors decorated each matriarch, hands resting casually on warp swords or fixed in gestures of siari patience and expectation.
In the background, the pacing forms of barely-clothed war priestesses could be seen, each one trailed by a tech-commando searching out listening devices or other technological trickery. As she stood upon the platform, four more such priestesses raised their hands, erecting a bubble of kinetic energy over the group, the barrier field nullifying vibrations and sounds outside of its radius.
The Council of Matriarchs was in session.
She glanced at her sister, Uthana, now the Matriarch of the Vasir, who gave her a single arch nod, and then over to her oldest friend, Matriarch Jenta Vabo, who shot her a sour grin. With a huff, she straightened and fixed her gaze dead into that of the center of the assembly.
Queen Matriarch Thana T'Armal.
Aethyta waited several seconds before speaking. "Well, I'm here. I doubt you wanted to see me any more than I wanted to see you, so let's get this over with."
There were several exasperated huffs and offended sneers, but more than one snicker or smirk. Matriarch Thana glanced around the circle, silencing them, then spoke.
"You have been called forth to explain the actions of your daughter, and the … missive … you have brought of her changed allegiances."
To her right, the hard features of Matriarch Iasela T'Vaan twisted."She has decided to join the other outcasts in the Systems Alliance. Such is worrisome when the clanless do so, and irritating when a Clan member breaks their sacred trusts, but for a ranking member of the Thirty to do so is intolerable."
Aethyta sneered at her. "Who let you in here, Iasela? Isn't your trampy little niece Shaltha supposed to be taking over soon?"
Iasela glared. "She is not … mature enough for this meeting, but then again neither are you. Explain why your offspring embarrasses us all."
Aethyta's sneer deepened. "Fucking spare me. None of you wanted her around because Benezia and I had the poor taste to do in public what the rest of you clowns have done in private. Because she's a pure-blood, you would have never let her take her birthright. Now she's gone and you're still fucking complaining?"
Iasela folded her arms. "What is this pack of shatha droppings? Of course we can't have a wave-damned pureblood in charge of a House of the Thirty. We've kept the purebloods we have out of sight, letting them act in ways that don't attract attention! Your fool stunt ended up causing massive backlash from the clanless who wanted to experiment with the old ways. The Exodus can be laid at your feet."
Aethyta tapped a fingernail hard against the hilt of her warp sword in irritation. "You wanna blame me for the fact your goddess-damned social engineering fuckery didn't work? Because Benezia and I had a kid?"
Matriarch Uressa made a delicate and elaborate version of the sign of siari agreement. "Beloved Aethyta, you of all people must know others of the Thirty do not do such things with the accorded heir to the Houses. I believe that if you and our fallen friend Benezia had simply borne Liara, even as the firstborne, no one would have gainsaid your acts. But Benezia's decision to set Liara as the chatelaine, to shape her as the heir, and to openly announce both her status as pureblood and her state as heir was perhaps ...unwise."
The beautiful asari matriarch sighed almost woefully. "Sadly, the fact that she is still matria-desginate of House T'Soni is also concern. There is a troubling amount of unrest in the outer colonies already, and if she should return to lead House T'Soni, the Exodus might become more pronounced."
Matriarch Suliasa snorted. "Little Wing knew what she was doing as soon as she decided to go along with this plan Shepard cooked up. I tried to get the human to make sure Liara knew what she was giving up, but the bottom line is that I can't just hand her back the House if she shows up now. She's joined their military and sworn oaths. That's... tied my hands. Her ever leading our House now is not a thing that can happen unless she completely breaks ties with the humans, as sad as I am to say it."
Aethyta shrugged. "Like she wants to come back here anyway."
Suliasa scowled blackly at Aethyta. "She wasn't opposed to the idea earlier. Of course, Goddess knows what sort of lies and garbage you've filled her head with."
Matriarch Uthana Vasir hissed. "While my sister may or may not have made critical errors in her past that lead to her being removed as House Matriarch, that is no excuse to attack her. She was the only one of us with the bravery to face Benezia in person, aside from Liara. Matriarch Suliasa says the girl is gone for good, so what is the concern here?"
Matriarch Thana exhaled. "The concern is that the Error that lead to Trellani's … abandonment may be at work here. It makes little sense for Liara to cast aside her House and all the power of a Matria for a single human female."
Murmurs followed this statement. The ugly and dark truth about the outcast Matriarch Trellani had shaken them all. The insane asari was murdering members of the Thirty, selling off their secrets and plotting their downfall.
Aethyta shook her head. "No. I did a careful and searching link to Liara right after Benezia's death, while we were in the hospital. Her main reason for wanting to leave was to be with her bondmate, her secondary reason was that she felt outcast. Trellani is not even a name she knows save by distant rumor."
Matriarch Thesin Devir snorted. "She abandoned her birthright for a human woman?"
Aethyta snarled. "No, Devir. She abandoned a Family that treated her like garbage for a woman who valued and loved her. She abandoned a government that wanted her hounded by the Justicars and hung out to the tides for the mistakes of a brainwashed and dominated victim for one that sees her as valuable and heroic. Most of all she abandoned a people she never got! She didn't fit in. She wasn't any good at being one of us, maybe because of the way she grew up."
Aethyta folded her arms. "This entire fucking mess can be laid at my feet if you like. I'm a bad aithntar, a bad bondmate, and I was a shitty House Matriarch. But Liara isn't your concern anymore, unless you are literally willing to start a war over satisfying the baying of a pack of tide-damned clanless."
More murmuring broke out at that, subtle whispers and more than one quick joining of hands for a split-second meld-discussion. The only one to speak was the elderly Matriarch Yulsanis T'Purice, her voice almost rough with age.
"It is well and good to say that this girl-child is no more a threat. But the results are worse. The Exodus will see her as one of the Thirty who has turned from the wisdom of the Council of Matriarchs just as they have, and flock to her for leadership. The humans have, after all, made this Shepard person one of their own nobles – are we to believe this isn't in reaction to their bonding? The humans will use her to lead the Exodus asari in their own space, and their thinking cannot be allowed back into the Republic."
Aethyta saw where this was headed, and bit her tongue. The Exodus was certainly a mess, the backlash of millions of asari who didn't fit in with the greater culture, who didn't want to be paired with turians or salarians or hanar. They wanted humans, who looked like them and who seemed by divine design to be partners, or more likely wanted to bond and have children with other asari.
Unfortunately, the asari were learning that certain aspects of human culture clashed very hard with asari culture. The human drive for independence, individuality, and aggressive competition disrupted asari communal values, and threatened the absolute control over the asari that the Thirty had maintained for years. The original answer to this problem was to ship the asari affected by such off to the Systems Alliance.
That had backfired spectacularly – what was supposed to be perhaps ten or fifteen thousand outcasts had swelled to nineteen million, with millions more seeking to apply for SA citizenship. The problem wasn't the actual numbers, per se. Given the asari population, the result wasn't even a percent of the population.
Nor was the problem merely contact with humans. Tens of millions of asari had melded or linked with humans with no ill effects.
The problem was bonds, as many asari bonded to humans … changed. They became less willing to endure the social maneuvering, less willing to engage in free-for-all sexual exchanges, less understanding of the viewpoints of others. Not all asari fell to this, but enough did that the Thirty feared such viewpoints – and the trouble they caused – becoming widespread.
With no other choices, the Thirty had begun to seal off the flow of such asari, while taking strong lines with the SA to ensure their asari citizens never came back into asari space. That had only been partially successful, and the Exodus had grown in size.
But so far it was mostly clanless, with a tiny handful of Clan members participating. Only a few Lesser house members had taken citizenships in the SA, and most of those were noble marriages. No member of the Thirty had ever done such.
Aethyta finally sighed and shrugged. "Liara may well end up being a figure they expect leadership from, but they won't get it. She doesn't connect very well with them, and she hates the idea of being forced into some kind of role by circumstances. I'll let her know that getting involved with them is not a good idea, if that will help."
The murmurs continued, until a hand motion from Matriarch Thana silenced the Hall.
"If you assure us that Liara has not fallen to the ideals of Trellani nor the Exodus, then there is little we can do to halt this … rebellion of your daughter. But make her aware that she will not be granted the right of return. By avoiding the traditional methods, by turning aside the Question, and by taking a stand with her human bondmate, she has effectively removed herself from the placement as chatelaine of House T'Soni."
Matriarch Suliasa folded her arms, sighing unhappily. "I will agree...but with protest. She is young and without her mother, Matriarch Thana. In a century she could deeply regret this act."
Matriarch Iasela sneered. "In a century she will still be a pureblood, Matriarch Suliasa."
Aethyta made a disgusted nod. "Fine, not like she will give a damn. Are you clowns going to rein in the Justicars now?"
Matriarch Thana leaned back in her seat. "Mistress Layana has already been informed. For now, the issue is … resolved. The official word given out to the media has been that Benezia was led astray, that she may have been mentally and emotionally compromised, and that her daughter avenged her crimes upon her body. The recording from the Citadel was edited before it was displayed for public viewing, and stops at Liara overpowering Benezia and sending her to the ground."
Aethyta nodded. "If that's all, I have to get moving in order to make it back to human space with a few guests."
Matriarch Thana gave a sign to the four war priestesses, who let the kinetic bubble fall. "Then our business is completed. Aethyta, a moment, if you will."
The other matriarchs rose gracefully and departed, while Aethyta stepped up to stand in front of the T'Armal leader. "Yeah?"
Thana sighed. "I dislike the direction your daughter moves in. Many will simply not believe the tale of the wayward daughter."
Aethyta shrugged. "They don't have to believe it. I'm sure it's hard to get through your crest that someone is actually, honestly not interested in this relli-nest of backstabbing and gossip, but there you go."
The asari queen made a throwing away motion with her hands. "Not many outside of an echas novel would throw way a fortune and a life of luxury to take up service with an alien military."
Aethyta gave a slow smirk. "You remember your first really hard meld, where you just couldn't stop flaring?"
Matriarch Thana nodded. "Of course, I would think every asari does."
Aethyta nodded in return. "Liara's first was Shepard, and she hadn't linked or melded with anyone else. And they didn't just bond, they pretty much soulforged the first time."
The other matriarch took a sharp indrawn breath. "That is incredibly stupid and risky for a maiden barely a century old."
Aethyta shrugged. "I agree, but what's done is done. Liara's not even going to think of coming back until Shepard's dead and buried, and if she can survive fucking all the shit already thrown at her, that's likely to be a while. By that time, the Exodus will either be a done deal, or you'll have more important things to think about."
The T'Armal matriarch gave a sour nod to this. "As you say, what's done is indeed done. Grant her my best wishes on a happy and long-lived bonding, and impress on her the need for circumspection."
Aethyta rolled her eyes. "Coming from me, that should be a hoot. You sending someone to observe the ceremony?"
Thana made a motion of siari negation. "Manifestly not. It would send the wrong message. I have no idea why Uressa is going, but one member of the House of Storms should be enough honor for such an event."
Aethyta straightened her shawl. "Fine, then." She turned to leave, and Thana smiled.
"One more thing, Matriarch Aethyta. Given your strained relationship with House Vasir, your duties in watching my daughter on Omega can be … set aside for now. Monitor Liara on behalf of the Council of Matriarchs." Her voice hardened. "And while I pray to Athame that it should never come to pass, should Liara turn to the ways of Benezia, or Trellani, you will have to handle the situation."
Aethyta gave the other asari an icy, hateful look before giving a single stiff nod. "That will never fucking happen, but I'll do it, if only so you stupid fools can pay my expenses on Arcturus or wherever she ends up."
Thana rose from her seat, regal and cool. "And we will be happy to pay such a pittance for security and caution. Go with the grace of our Goddess, and fair and pleasant travels, Aethyta."
Aethyta suppressed yet another derisive snort in favor of simply departing. Thana watched her, and after a moment the graceful form of Uressa T'Shora emerged from the shadows, her features saddened.
She carefully touched Thana's shoulder, offering a small and gentle smile. "This anger is unlike you, Sea Lily. Liara's choices are her own, and she is not Aleena."
Thana's jaw tightened, and she exhaled. "I know that, Uressa. That doesn't make her acts any more easy to explain, or tolerable. And it doesn't help that you are going to participate in this farce."
The beautiful asari matriarch's smile faltered only slightly. "I am not going to ostracize her simply to accede to the wishes and beliefs of others when she has done nothing wrong. Liara is brave, she is likely hurt badly by the loss of her mother, and she will feel alone and unwanted by her own people. None of us deserve that, when they have committed no crime save that of being the person they are."
Thana made a gesture of siari separation in jerky, angry movements. "And the impression it gives others? Is that of no importance?"
Uressa leaned against her, giving her a gentle, sisterly kiss of affection, and shook her head. "I will not darken myself with anger and pain, lovely Thana. We are each given only a few spans of time to find our heart's ease. I will not poison Liara's one day of grace and love with political maneuvering and hateful words."
A note of steel entered the beautiful asari's voice. "Nor will I stand aside and let others suffer when I can stop it, any more than I would let the humans continue to suffer at turian claws. I have held my tongue on the evil we have let the quarians suffer, and the krogan, and the drell – I can only close my eyes so many times to that which brings only pain before wishing to say 'no more'".
Thana slumped, turning away. "You are a better follower of Athame than I, then."
Uressa's blue eyes sought out the face of the Goddess, before shrugging. "I miss Ynnal T'Vaan. We are unbalanced without her wisdom. She warned us years ago Benezia was … off, and we did not listen."
Uressa turned to leave, trailing fingers along Thana's arm before breaking contact. As she walked into the dark shadows of the Temple, Thana was left all alone, silhouetted by the shifting luminance of the Temple, lost in thought.
O-ATTWN-O
Tali coughed weakly. She felt as if someone had struck her in the head with a mallet, even though she knew that was just her system compensating for her taking off her suit a few hours earlier. The office she sat in felt stuffy and tight, and every once in a while she felt nauseated, although thankfully she hadn't yet vomited.
She was really hoping that wouldn't happen.
She sighed, trying to concentrate on the manual on the desk in her office, before her vision blurred and swam and she coughed again. Pushing the book away in disgust, she triggered yet another dose of anti-nausea drugs and sat back, trying to get her head to stop spinning.
The past few hours had been a blurred mess of emotions and reactions. Taking Kiala's advice to heart, she'd decided she needed to get used to the idea of not being in the suit, in a safe clean environment, before she could do anything else. According to Kiala, just doing so would make her feel sick, since the suit isolated her body for so long that even the low-level pathogens found in a sterilized clean room would affect her. Getting used to such low-level pathogens was the very first step she had to overcome.
She'd decided to hold off on taking off her suit and dealing with the shock of that until after they had dealt with Ahern's final test, and she was very glad she'd been smart enough to do that. Fighting that bosh'tet while dizzy and sick would have ended badly. After she'd recovered from her minor injuries, she'd decided to do it Saturday night, since the crew would be occupied in their parties celebrating the end of the First Contact War.
The clean room Shepard had authorized for her was a conversion of one of the escape pod launch cradles. Walls had been extended around the external bulkhead of the corridor, forming a primary airlock with a series of sterilization routines. An inner airlock door lead to where the escape pod would normally be, which had been removed and walls installed to form two fairly large rooms, the first about ten feet by eight feet, the second much smaller. The second room contained the equipment and DETA filtration systems that kept the inner clean room sterile at all times.
The floor, ceiling and bulkheads were all spray-coated with a thin layer of reactive foam, which bonded to the surfaces and formed a thin, impermeable barrier hostile to microbial life. The air in the room was cycled through the second room, UV sterilized, then passed through six layers of DETA filtration before coming back in. The room itself had a single locker in one corner, a low slung locker along the far wall labeled 'MED', a single table on the wall nearest the door. A comm panel sat next to a full length mirror on the same wall.
And much to Tali's embarrassment, a plastic-sheeted bed was set to the left side of the room.
She'd been mortified to see that, wondering what Shepard thought she wanted a clean room for exactly (even if, to be honest with herself, that's exactly what she wanted it for … eventually.) A conversation with Doctor Sedanya had calmed her down, though.
"The medical facilities in the main medbay are simply not good enough for you if you're seriously hurt. There's no positive air filtration, and while the diagnostic and disinfection routines are good, they're adapted for humans, not quarians. Since we're setting up a clean room anyway, we decided it was best to set up a medical trauma section just for you and keep you isolated from other pathogens."
True to her word, the under-section of the bed had shelving containing medical equipment and a spare medical envirosuit. There were hooks and mountings on the wall for medical sensors and equipment, the low locker along the far wall full of scanners and monitoring equipment she didn't understand.
Taking off her suit had been something very difficult for her to do. On the Normandy, she'd only had to do so once, using the airlock after heavy sterilization cycles to move from her old Flotilla-issued suit to the new suit Shepard had commissioned for her. The heavier materials and higher quality of the Colossus suit, along with its extra features, had become comfortable over the months she'd worn it, along with all the customization she'd done to it.
Taking her old suit off in the airlock had been nerve-wracking, but she'd done it knowing she would be putting on a new suit immediately.
She'd been without a suit twice more in her hospital stays, but that was different, as they put her in isolation units and she'd had on a body-suit in any case. Along with the heavy and sterile plastic sheeting, and the bulky envirosuits of the quarian medics, she'd felt exposed but not naked.
This time, Kiala said she should stay naked for at least three hours, to get used to the idea of being out of the suits. On the Flotilla, clean rooms were only let out for couples engaging in intercourse, and only for an hour at the most. Given the expense of sterilization equipment and filters, they had to be frugal in their use.
The idea of having her own personal clean room to use whenever, and for as long as she liked, was certainly entrancing. But getting used to actually using it was daunting. Still, she knew she had to get used to it, so she'd taken her suit off. She'd cringed as she'd removed each piece this time, being careful to lay them out on the table in the order she took them off in.
Seeing her pale skin had not been as shocking as she had expected, and she figured she'd gotten used to it in the hospital. The first hour she had the suit off she'd crawled into the bed, pulling the thick plastic sheeting up to her chin, oddly cold and vulnerable feeling. She'd actually dozed off, and woken up coughing and feeling dizzy an hour later. She'd spent another hour with the suit off before sterilizing it and herself and putting it back on,
Now she was back at work, or at least trying to work, and was wracked with coughing, nausea, spasms and the occasional blurred vision.
It wasn't as bad as she'd feared, but it was still worse than she'd felt after Noveria.
Kiala had explained that she would always feel a little sick after taking off her suit. In an environment without any dextro-compatible germs, like the Kazan, the risk was that levo-compatible bacteria would try to set up shop in her body, and while they would eventually die out, the incompatible waste products they produced would cause allergic reactions. Eventually she would get used to it, though.
That had gotten her to thinking why more quarians in the Flotilla didn't slowly try to wean themselves off their suits. Outcasts, sadly, had no choices but to try, given their surroundings were constantly bathed in germs and foreign substances. Many of them sickened and died, but many more survived. They still needed the suit to avoid being completely overwhelmed, but at least a few quarians could keep the suit off for hours with little ill effect.
Her unwitting discovery of quarian porn on the extranet when looking for knowledge on human-quarian intersexuality had put paid to the idea that a quarian had to stay locked up in the suit for their entire life or die. Clearly, that wasn't always the case.
She knew the answer, of course – keeping the suits on all the time minimized the need for medicines, ensured survival from pressure or atmospheric failure, and cut down on incidental injuries. But at the same time, some quarians had died from even a single suit breach. Not trying to work towards adapting to the reality of life was going to hurt the quarian people in the long run.
The outcasts were the only experts on the best ways to survive and even grow stronger from such things, and Tali knew she was probably the only one bothering to listen to one. She was careful to compile everything Kiala taught her about out-of-suit survival – she planned to introduce such knowledge back to the Flotilla whenever she got around to returning.
Talking with her had grown easier. Despite her bitchy personality and bitterness, Tali was surprised to find that Kiala was actually rather kind and sweet. She had been hurt badly by the exile from her people, and hurt worse when her sacrifices were proven to be needless, but Tali was as careful and polite as possible to not offend her.
Kiala had a very dry and wicked wit, an absolutely filthy mouth, and a delight in every part of human culture. She was constantly comparing certain things the Flotilla did that made no sense to human culture, which was much more relaxed. The quarian fixation on loyalty to the Flotilla and the survival of the Flotilla above everything else had resulted, in Kiala's opinion, in most of quarian arts and culture dying off. Rather than actively look for solutions or answers, the Flotilla had slowly begun to decay, and she blamed the nature of the quarian outlook on survival for that.
Tali had held her tongue during these diatribes, and was slowly reevaluating much of what she'd assumed was merely fact. The humans were not stupid, and the more she looked over what they did, the more convinced she was there had to be reasons behind it. The more she understood about humans, the better she would be able to understand and help Jeff … and the more likely she could figure out how to convince him that he was better off with the quarian people – no matter their flaws – than his own.
That was why she was trying to dig through the manual, ultimately. And if a small part of her fevered mind was amused at the fact she was having to translate a thickly written technical document for insights into an alien culture for the sake of eventually getting laid, she refused to humor it.
Unfortunately, unlike quarian tech manuals, which tended to explain why things were done and the steps taken to avoid issues, human manuals were dry and dreadfully unhelpful when it came to explanations.
Since that didn't work, she got up a bit unsteadily to walk into Engineering proper, seeking out the Assistant Engineer. The human was performing preventative maintenance checks on the air-filters, glancing up when she approached. "Oya irie, rasyai. Yer done filling yer face with th' manual? Blasted thing is as useful as vorcha in th' engine room."
She titled her head, still getting used to the heavy Arcturus accent, with all its slang words. "I thought I was mumu."
He snorted. "Slang for quarian. Yer dem a me friend now, of sorts, so it be good to address ye with th' proper respect-like, seen? Rasyai be meanin' boss lady."
She laughed, shaking her head. "If you say so, Mr. Patrick. I had some more questions about the SA's practices in terms of all these backup systems. And the manual, as you pointed out, isn't very useful."
The burly engineer nodded, finishing his checklist and tucking away his pad. "Aye, figgerin' you would. Mumus prolly build a mite different than the Alliance, renk to yas, fullness to us. If ye had no questions, I'd be thinking you were lagga. What ye be wondering'?"
She folded her hands together. "The Normandy didn't have a great deal of backups, or so many extra subsystems. Quarian ships certainly don't, and I'm not understanding why there is so much focus on this. Also, your power systems are routed very strangely. And the asari black boxes are driving me insane!"
She huffed, and the older human laughed quietly. "Ah, truly dread, the quarian puttin' the screw to th' Alliance method. Fetch yerself a sitdown, lass."
She sat down on one of the watch-standing chairs overlooking the power board for the Core, and he stood in front of her, folding his arms and rubbing his squared-off chin. "Th' Alliance waren't never no brilliant engineers, rasyai. We came outta the Days o' Iron with bare upon half our smarties dead and gone, an' th' other half up to jus' tryin' to keep the damn lights going. Took years and years for their even t'be a proper Alliance Engineerin' group."
He gestured around. "Since so much of what we did back then was half-ass and shite, we had to make sure if one thing went clotted, the rest would be straight, seen? So ye have backups ta backups, emergency gear and repair gear and all of that roundabout." He frowned. "It has come in handy, too, the damned spikes had a hard time puttin' our ships down in the Clusterfuck War."
She burst out laughing at this term for the FCW, and he gave her a sour grin. "Nowadays, th' backups are part n'parcel of the culture."
She nodded. "But they are … well, wasteful, aren't they? Quarian ships don't use them, and the Normandy didn't have any." A series of coughs racked her slim body, and when she recovered, she made a gesture. "Sorry."
He gave her a concerned look. "Ye seen the doc? That is sounding right bumbaclot."
She puzzled over the last word before shrugging. "I have, but I'll be okay. Um...where were we. Oh, I was saying that the Normandy didn't have any backups..."
He snorted. "Shite, and how well did that turn out for ye? Adams about wore out me ear with all the sheg-up and problems ye had when ye took the littlest pinch o' damage. Sides, the damned spikes fouled up the Normandy somethin' proper, with all that overpowered shielding and not enough armor to stop a good spitball. No god-fearing sailor would go into the Long Dark on that coffin without a heap o' prayers."
She watched him as he made another gesture to the Core. "As for wasteful, aye, I'll be about it and say you're right as rain. From an energy curve standpoint, we're not gonna be strong pound for pound as a turian or asari ship. But we can soak twice th' damage afore we lose everything. I figure yon quarian types can't be affording anything that doesn't get the most bang for yer buck. Whatcha callit, minimalist."
She nodded, and he snorted. "Fancy-arse word for shoestring budget, amorelike. Yer ships get a serious problem and what do ye do? Fix it on the spot?"
She frowned, then nodded again more slowly. "Yes..for the most part, as long as we have the parts to do so. Most quarians are heavily cross-trained in engineering – we all have to be."
Casey Patrick nodded. "Well, humans ain't. Most of us are not a jot of good in the engineering ways, and we focus people on th' tasks at hand. Ye can't be applying the same solution to different problems. Same with th' power systems. Power management is something yer people are probably wild-on about, but on an Alliance ship, plenty o' power to spare."
She couldn't argue that. "Why so much extra power, when it could be made more efficient?" She coughed again, grimacing as a bubble of nausea made her vision swim, but listened as carefully as she could to the answer.
He scowled. "That pack o' black devils and stooshies we call BuShips, rasyai. Our weapons an' shielding aren't as good as the spikes, an' the stupid idjit answer ta that is more power." He rolled his eyes, waving a hand towards the Core. "All th' extra power goes inta the weapons, powers the sensors somethin' fierce, and gives us enough leeway to be sloppy."
Tali nodded. She wouldn't miss the delicate and crazed dance of power balances the Normandy had required, but it still seemed … sloppy, as he put it. On the other hand, having extra power was never really a bad thing, as long as it wasn't just poor isolation. "And the black boxes?"
Patrick smiled. "Och, I ain't ta be touching that talkabout. But I'll say that th' Alliance is more concerned with makin' things work than how they work. A lot o' engineers ain't all jooks about the situation, but … outta our hands, seen?"
Tali sighed and nodded. "What..." She paused, then folded her arms. "What am I missing or not seeing? What do I need to learn to be a good human engineer?"
Patrick took a deep breath. "Lemme put it so. Yer value is that yer not human, rasyai. Ye see things and look on the works with a different eye than me and mine do. For now all ye need to focus on is getting' familiar with all the equipment and the power curves. All the fancy-dancy bits can come as ye move on and along, seen?"
He frowned as his omni chirruped, read the message, and scowled. "Daft idjits. Some fool blew out th' number six power converter tryin' to hotcharge the GARDIAN array for some test." He glanced in her direction. "Are ye feeling up to some repairin', or is your coughing tellin' ye to rest?"
She snorted. "I'll be fine, Mr. Patrick. Let's get some work done."
Second A/N: A PRIMER ON ARCUTURIAN PATOIS
The settlers of Arcuturus were drawn heavily from evacuees from Jamaica and Scotland, as those islands were not salvageable in the changes during the Days of Iron. The community has been heavily intermixed since then, but the accent is still primarily Scottish and liberally sprinkled with Jamaican patois.
Oya irie : greetings
mumu: literally bucket, slang term for quarians
Renk to yas, fullness to us: to be offensive (rank) to others, but to be proper (full of grace) to one's own group. Commonly used as a saying to denote differences in method
lagga: laggard, slow, dumb
smarties: scientists, engineers, anyone highly educated
clotted: a complex word , and evolved to mostly mean something akin to a bloody mess, or more properly, its aftermath.
sheg-up: a low slang word for a confused process
stooshies: rich and incompetent idiots
talkabout: a complex subject, with an overtone of distaste.
jooks: jokes, to be happy about something.
Seen: a ritualistic phrase roughly asking if you understand what they mean