***Author's Note***
Hello again! Very sorry for the lapse in updates,
as this chapter's placeholder made known, the past
semester was quite rough. Let's just say thank
goodness I didn't have aspirations of becoming an
accountant. That stuff is…ugh, my brain. Anyway, the
semester is over now and I've got a whole month before
the next one starts up, so let's hammer out some
chapters, shall we? =D
Hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the PMs/Reviews/Well-wishes!
- Reading Between the Lines -
"I'm not sure exactly what you want me to tell you." He spoke calmly, as if they'd been discussing some minor detail, a shortage of supplies or an issue with one of the lesser crewmembers, instead of their true topic. The barely-contained outrage in her threatened to spill over, but she exhaled softly, and when she spoke there was no malice, no fury, just words.
"I simply wish to understand why the mission was relayed to us without any indication of what we'd be up against." She walked around behind her desk again, peering into the terminal on her desk that held an ever-changing wavelength graphic to represent her communication relay with the Illusive Man, and continued. "Just because the Collectors are apparently able to transmit through your security systems doesn't mean they're within them; if they were the Normandy would have been taken twenty times over by now."
"I didn't have the luxury of making unfounded assertions about our enemy, Miranda. I sent you in blind because that's how it needed to be; I don't recall this being an issue before."
She squeezed her eyes shut with irritation. If she accepted only the truth, she knew he was right; it never had been an issue before…so why was it now? She had entertained the thought multiple times over the last few hours, and it had taken all of those hours of thinking, as well as a few drinks, to work up the courage to confront the Illusive Man about it. They were always in sync with each other; agreed on what was necessary to protect humanity. Many times it had come down to her quite literally putting her life on the line to protect Cerberus' interests…but were those interests the same anymore?
"This is different," she lied. It wasn't different, not really, but something inside her seemed to want to hammer it into his head that she was a talented, gifted human being; no ordinary soldier. He didn't buy it.
"No, it isn't, Miranda. You knew the price of joining Cerberus, and on more than one occasion you've gladly placed yourself in danger to further our goals. This mission is, if anything, the epitome of previous scenarios; a war to protect humanity itself. You need to pull yourself together." A short pause hung in the conversation before he continued. "Have EDI contact me when she's mined the Collector Ship files."
The conversation cut out, and Miranda looked away from her terminal in disgust. She'd never felt so…inhuman in her entire life. She understood that her role as a Cerberus soldier was to fight and be willing to die for the cause of furthering humanity's interests, but she was beginning to think those interests and the Illusive Man's weren't one and the same. Shaking her head slowly, she crossed to the viewport and sat down in one of her chairs. The mission reports could wait, as could the crew inspections. She needed to think.
An instant later, the door to her office slipped quietly open. Her head whipped toward it, her eyes burning with indignation. She remembered locking that door. Whoever had dared to pry it open would suf—her train of thought halted as Jacob walked into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Usually his visits to her office brought with them a small smile of friendship, but today he was stone-faced as he crossed the room to take the chair across from her with a heavy sigh. He didn't need to ask, and she didn't need to tell; they both knew the reason for their frustration. After a long silence, he spoke softly.
"When I was a kid, there was a local boxing league. It wasn't anything formal, you know, just a big group of kids from around the city, and we made ourselves into teams and fought tournaments against each other for bragging rights."
"Yea," she replied quietly, "you told me once. Your 'Keyesport Killers'." He laughed quietly at her remembering, and a smile slowly crept onto her face for the first time in a long while. After a moment of silent nodding, he continued.
"They were my friends, and we won bouts together, a lot of them. But after a while, the guys on the team started fighting dirty. Anyone who asked questions about it got threatened. After a while, it stopped being about fun or having something to do with your friends, and started to be more about dominance." He looked her in the eye for a moment before sighing and returning his gaze to the viewport and the space beyond it. "Eventually I started to wonder if I was fighting for the wrong team; if this group of people I thought were my friends…weren't so much." A long silence hung between them, the only sound being the steady hum of the Normandy traversing empty space.
"It's a good cause," she said hesitantly.
"It's a vague cause," he replied with a small amount of acidity, turning his gaze back to her. "He…we're just tools to him. Sure he uses our names and talks nice to us, treats us well and all, but at the end of the day, every person in this organization is expendable. It wasn't like that in the Alliance…and I'm not sure I'm okay with it anymore."
Miranda said nothing, just looked out the viewport and nodded softly.
"Miri…" he whispered the name quietly, and it startled her, bringing back memories of a time when they were closer. She turned her head toward him, eyes wider than usual, and found his own face a canvas of uncertainty. "We've…had our past. And I don't pretend to know how you feel about it anymore. But I don't want to lose you to some ambush we should have known about, or a detail that was left out of a dossier because we didn't 'need to know'." He stood silently and turned to leave, but stopped at the door when she called out to him.
"Jacob…" he turned, letting his gaze fall back on her. What should she say? What could she say? Everything that had gone wrong between them lied squarely on her shoulders. "I…I'm sorry." She wasn't sure for which offense she was apologizing, or even why those two words were the ones that had chosen to fall out of her mouth at this moment, but he didn't look confused or balk at her apology. Instead he simply smiled.
"It's okay." He turned to touch the access panel, and was gone. The door locked once more behind him, and Miranda covered her face with her hands as she let herself fall against the inclined back of her chair by the viewport; partially to hide the shame, and partially to hide the silent tears that rolled from her eyes.
"Very well," Shala said softly as she adjusted the datapad in front of her, "I believe we are ready to begin."
"And not a moment too soon," Han'Gerrel added. He had been thoroughly engrossed in his own device until she had spoken up; now he set it down with a hint of irritation. "I'd like to get this meeting on and over with, there are military reports I need to be on top of." A bitter snort of a laugh came from the other end of the table, and Shala closed her eyes behind her visor as Rael spoke.
"Yes, military reports. Whatever would the Migrant Fleet Marine Corps do without its precious Admiral Han'Gerrel?" His tone was nothing short of acidic, and Shala opened her eyes, glancing over at Han, who sat shaking his head softly. She had to give Han credit; he'd spent the last couple days since the events of the Alarei simply ignoring Rael's bitterness about his allowing Tali to leave with Shepard; more than Shala would have been able to do if the harsh words and tones had been directed at her.
In some ways she felt a bit guilty, and more than a little responsible for Han having to take all of Rael's spite in the matter. Han may have had the authority to allow her to leave, and if it had come down to a Board vote she certainly would have been granted clearance to go, but Shala had been the girl's de facto mother these many years. It should have been her to allow Tali to leave, should have been her taking this barrage from her father. Rael laughed, a soft mirthless noise, taking Han's silence as some form of provocation, and he continued.
"You do realize you're part of a board of your peers, don't you, Han?" Shala looked to Daro'Xen and Zaal'Koris, both of whom simply stared into their datapads, ignoring the conversation that did not concern them. Or at least Zaal did. Xen chuckled to herself at Rael's seething question, turning her head ever so slightly to him and speaking in a soft yet matter-of-fact tone that was ice cold.
"And that 'board of his peers' would have easily outvoted you and sent her along. Your ranting is only causing this meeting to last longer than it should, as well as embarrassing you, if we're being honest. And if you don't respect Han's schedule, you should certainly respect the timetables the rest of us must work with." Rael fell quiet in an instant, surprised that anyone else would speak up when he was clearly targetting Han. Xen turned her head to Shala in the silence. "Continue, please, Shala."
Shaking her head slightly in disbelief at how quickly Xen had silenced Rael, Shala nodded, gesturing to the datapad in front of her. "As can be made evident by the files and reports I've transmitted to all of you, the Alarei is being prepared for disassembly; we're hoping to use its components to retrofit and repair other vessels in need."
"Yes, about that. The list I brought has no fewer than twelve ships that could directly benefit from specific pieces of the Alarei's structure," Zaal commented, transmitting the list to all of their datapads.
"Ah, good, thank you Zaal." She reviewed his list until Xen spoke up.
"And the deaths aboard the ship?" Her voice held no sympathy, no regret for the loss of life, just factual curiosity; it made Shala shudder within her suit. Sometimes the woman could be terribly cold. "Surely we're not going to alert the Fleet that the geth were involved?"
"Absolutely not," Han said calmly. "I've had marines keeping the Alarei clear of any inquiring minds since the incident occurred. I've created a fabricated core readout that indicates a catastrophic core overload, one of a sizable enough nature to suggest massive amounts of electrical discharge and radiation bleed into living compartments. Fortunately…if there can be such a thing as 'fortune' in a situation like this…the Alarei was not a highly-crewed vessel. That explanation will suffice for the deaths of those aboard. Rael will reply, if asked, that he and the other three crew members were near the airlock already when the overload occurred, and were able to escape into a shuttle."
"You've…spoken with the three crew members about this?" Zaal asked hesitantly. Han nodded.
"I have. They've all agreed to the same story, and understand the necessity of discretion regarding the geth. One of them was technically Rael's second-in-command aboard the vessel, though he never had need to use the title. He's agreed to say, again if ever asked, that he recommended Rael evacuate with the three of them after checking core readouts. That keeps Rael's name in the clear, and makes their survival out to be sheer luck."
"And my bullet wounds?" Rael asked dryly.
"You, your three crew members, this Admiralty Board, Tali, and Shepard are the only people in the galaxy who know what was actually aboard that ship. The doctor who treated you hasn't asked any questions, and no one's going to pry into your medical history. Keelah, Rael, make like you've got a stomach illness or something." Rael chuckled again, and Shala saw Han's grip tighten on his datapad.
"A stomach illness? Well, I can certainly see my alibi got the same amount of attention as the ship. Thanks for that, Han."
It happened in an instant, and Shala jumped with surprise. Han shot to his feet, stabbing an accusing finger over her and Xen's heads to skewer Rael where he sat, no longer laughing.
"Would you rather we tell them the truth, Rael?" The room was deathly quiet, and after a moment Han continued in a cold, calculating voice. "You'd rather we tell them about the dozens of geth aboard the ship; the countless brutal deaths? The reason they were there in the first place?" Shala's eyes whipped from Rael back to Han, and she waited to see exactly what he meant. Rael leaned back in his chair, trying to stay calm under Han's fire.
"Of course not. Why would we ever tell the quarian people that geth boarded one of our research vessels because of the ignorance of an outsider, or that we then needed that same outsider's help to rid ourselves of them? Are you insane?"
"Are you?" Han asked quietly, tossing his datapad across the table. It clattered to the surface, sliding a bit to come to rest between Daro'Xen and Rael. Shala craned her neck forward to see the screen as audio and video emitted from the device. It was clearly Rael, speaking with someone; two someones, she realized as she listened.
"Use spare parts out of the Alarei's cargo bay if necessary, I want those platforms up and running by the end of the day. Strings 586 through 714 require at least three geth networked for the attack to strike at full potency."
"Sir," one of the others began hesitantly, "I understand the necessity of testing these algorithms, but the risk of bringing these pieced-together platforms online, much less allowing them to network…"
"I know the risks. I also know the potential for our Fleet, for our species, if just one of these attacks proves successful. We must continue, no matter the cost."
"Agreed, sir," the other spoke up, "but the pieces we're using to construct these platforms are…highly irregular. If we could send out some salvage teams to bring back more actual geth parts…perhaps even contact Tali'Zorah to see if she cou—"
"Absolutely not!" Rael turned to fully face the man as he continued. It was obvious the recording continued for another thirty seconds or so, but the audio dissolved, the recording's integrity compromised. It didn't matter; what had been heard already was more than enough.
In his seat, Rael's eyes were wide behind his visor, and after a long moment they rose to meet Han's gaze. "How…where did you…?"
"The security terminals aboard the ship, Rael, where else?" Han took his seat calmly as the other admirals sat stunned, Shala included. Words escaped her, but Han had clearly listened to it many times over, as he seemed prepared to discuss it while the rest of them sat dumbfounded. She, as well as Xen and Zaal she imagined, had entertained the idea that some sort of foul play was happening aboard the ship; geth didn't just build themselves overnight, but to have it completely verified…her eyes found Rael again, burning with an indignation she didn't know she had in her. Han continued speaking. "It was in a backup databank, queued for deletion." A brief silence, then he continued in a hard and unwavering voice. "You were bringing geth online aboard that ship, Rael. You were putting peoples' lives in danger, putting the entire Fleet in danger, and you sat there," he gestured with a finger to where he'd sat next to his daughter and Shepard days earlier, "and let Shepard lie to our faces about it."
"Th-The tests needs live subjects, online entities," Rael stammered, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "Theoretical emulators weren't enough; we needed to know how they'd react, the speed at which they'd recover."
"So you threw caution to the wind and scrapped the interior of your own ship to build geth, Rael?"
"I did what needed to be done!" Rael yelled back at Han's increasingly accusatory tone.
"Monstrous…" Zaal whispered, only now seeming to be able to talk about it.
"But did you learn anything from it?" Xen asked quickly.
"Daro!" Shala exclaimed, taken aback that she'd even consider condoning in however small a part Rael's actions. Xen's head turned back to Shala's, confusion in her eyes; as if she didn't understand the horrible indifference she'd just displayed. Han's voice rose above all of them.
"You endangered this entire Fleet, our entire species, t—"
"I MADE A PROMISE, HAN!" Rael screamed the words across the semi-circular table, and the chatter between the others instantly ended. For a moment the room was silent, and Rael continued, barely-contained sorrow backing his words. "I made a promise…to Meru, and to Tali…and to every quarian aboard every one of these ships; I made a promise when I became an admiral. I'm going to take back the homeworld, and if our enemy is cold, and calculating, and ruthless, then I will be too. I endangered my life, and everyone aboard that ship knew they were risking theirs as well, and do you know what we learned from it? Do you?" Silence met his question, and he spoke again, in a pained whisper. "Nothing. Not a single thing. They resisted every attack, restored from archive every time…we lost everything, and learned nothing." Slowly, he slumped back into his seat, eyes staring into the floor in front of their curved table. The room was quiet for a long moment before Shala spoke quietly to Han.
"Did Tali and Shepard know?" He shrugged as he met her gaze.
"Hard to tell. Though Tali would have had to hack some terminals to get through certain parts of the locked-down ship; if she had harbored any curiosity for what had caused the attack, she probably could have found out." Shala shook her head softly.
"It seems…" Zaal said quietly, joining their conversation, "that Commander Shepard gave us more of a lifeline than we originally believed." Shala tilted her head in confusion, but Han nodded as he looked at the man. When he turned back to her, he explained.
"Shepard admitting to sending the geth parts, whether it's true or not, clears Rael of the responsibility, and it means that we can place the blame ostensibly onto an outsider if the need ever arises. It also saves us the public debacle of exiling not only an admiral on this very board, but the father of Tali'Zorah, who is essentially the ideal quarian. I'm willing to bet Tali found out what happened, and Shepard most likely assumed we would never find out what really happened if he fed us a false conclusion. His 'confession' allows the entirety of the blame to fall outside the Fleet." She nodded, understanding, and Xen chuckled.
"He's sharper than I marked him. I'll have to remember that." A brief silence hung in the room, and Rael of all people broke it.
"What now?"
"What do you mean?" Han asked coldly. "As far as the Fleet is concerned, the deaths aboard the Alarei were the result of a catastrophic core overload. And as far as this Board is officially concerned if that story ever breaks, Shepard is unintentionally responsible for the situation aboard the Alarei. He took a bullet for you, Rael, a very large one at that, and gave this entire Board an escape route to an otherwise very ugly and very public situation." He leaned forward, and Shala could see his eyes narrowing to slits as he regarded the man he used to call his friend. "So when your daughter would rather go with him than stay here with you…I'm inclined to allow it." He leaned back, picking up his datapad and flicking through reports as he continued to speak in a more formal tone. "You're still on this Board, Rael; if for no other reason than removing you without reason would get people talking, something none of us want. But know that any future 'research' you perform will be subject to extensive oversight from no fewer than two of your fellow admirals, and that any decision you make regarding the geth in any capacity is subject to approval from all four of us. Like I said," he stood, walking around the desk to leave the room as he finished, "you're still an admiral, but only in name. And the blood of every quarian who died on that ship is on your hands." He disappeared beyond the doorway to their conference room.
Daro'Xen nodded thoughtfully before picking up her things and following Han out. Zaal'Koris shook his head in a state of almost perpetual disbelief before doing the same, and Shala was alone with Rael. He still stared at the floor, as if he could burn a hole through it with his thoughts alone. Shala sighed audibly before speaking.
"Was your promise worth those lives, Rael? Or yours?" His eyes rose to meet hers, narrow and spiteful, but she continued, filled with no small amount of anger herself. "What about Shepard's, or Tali's?" She could see him startled, and pressed on. "They risked everything to get you off of that ship, Rael. Would your promise still have been worth it if hers was one of the bodies given the Rites of Passage aboard that ship?" After a moment he looked away from her, beaten. She shook her head softly, standing and taking her datapad out of the room with her.
As she walked back towards the shuttle bay to return to the Tonbay, Shala milled over what Zaal and Han had said in her mind. The more she thought about it the more it made sense; Shepard had, knowingly or otherwise, given the Admiralty Board a perfect out to their situation. Zaal had been right; it was a terribly large lifeline. And, she realized with a start, she hadn't had the opportunity to properly thank him for it. She reached the shuttle bay and stepped inside a small craft designed for single transit, punching in her desired destination and opening her omni-tool as the ship pulled out and drifted away from the Neema.
The lights are all around him. They flare and gleam in the domed ceiling of the chamber like a million small torches, and in them he feels infinite potential; the endless possibility of choice. He seeks one out, a larger light shining brightly toward the outer edge of the dome, and just as before it reaches out to him, calling him, engulfing him in its retina-burning brilliance.
He opens his eyes, not remembering having shut them, and looks around. The room is the same, but the building material is different. He raises his eyes almost apprehensively. The lights are still above him in the ceiling, twinkling and calling out to him. His pulse quickens, and his hands clench into fists. Tearing his gaze away from the lights, he rushes to the side of the chamber, where an open doorway awaits him. He steps through it…and into another chamber of the same type, just like the many previous times he'd attempted the same thing. Frustration overwhelms him, and he looks frantically around. There has to be something he does not understand, something he needs to figure out.
Raising his eyes again, he studies the lights, not only in intensity but in position and size. He sees no patterns, nothing to indicate a clue. These have been his dreams of late, trapped in this room, always remembering vividly upon waking, and he knows there has to be a lesson. Choosing another light at random, he takes a deep breath and allows it to envelop him again.
John's eyes snapped open, and he sat up slowly, remembering everything just as he always did. He could feel sweat soaking through his shirt, and made a motion to pull it off with one hand before hissing quietly in pain. The medi-gel Chakwas had given him had certainly kick-started the healing process, but it would be a few more days before the majority of the damage was mended. Looking down, John grimaced at the disfigured flesh on his hand, slightly visible through the unkempt layers of bandage he'd clearly loosened in his sleep. She had assured him it would heal, but that it would take time, and he gingerly adjusted the layers to once more cover the whole wound before getting up and pulling on a clean shirt.
His cabin was dark, and a small frown found its way onto his face as he walked around it, using the blue glow of the aquarium to see by. He had expected Tali to be there with him; there hadn't been a moment since the two of them had returned from the Neema that they hadn't spent together. Still, he reminded himself as he stepped into the head and turned on the lights, she was his chief engineer, and she had a job to do like anyone else. He found himself missing her more and more when he woke to an empty cabin, and while he wasn't sure how healthy that was within the context of their mission, the feeling in general made him happy. She had stood with him when he hunted Saren, mourned him for the two years he spent dead, and fallen in beside him as soon as he'd returned; she was his most trusted friend, and recently much more. He smiled as he splashed water on his face with his good hand, then twisted his countenance into an annoyed grimace when he felt the three days' worth of stubble beginning to grow in. As he collected his razor from a nearby cabinet, a single chime sounded in the air above him.
"What's the news, EDI?" Since Tali had started spending the nights with him more often than not, EDI had begun to alert him with a sound before speaking, an acquiescence he was very appreciative of. A moment later, her voice filtered through.
"I have finished processing the databanks pirated from the Collector vessel."
He raised the blade to his face and began to shave. "Nice work; find anything interesting?"
"A number of things, most of them academic. However, one piece of relevant data was acquired. Schematics for the Collector vessel show the necessity of an advanced Identify Friend/Foe system, as well as data for calibrating it into their ship's pre-existing hardware. Analysis of the data indicates a ninety-eight percent certainty that this IFF system is what allows the Collectors to navigate the Omega Four relay."
The surprise caught him off-guard, and he nicked his chin with the razor. He didn't even register the slight pain, however, as he found himself staring wide-eyed into the mirror. EDI had just figured out a secret that centuries of spacefarers had risked their lives to discover. The imminent end to their mission, for good or ill, swept over him, and he gently set the razor down on the edge of the sink.
"So…if we acquire one of these IFF systems and use the data you have to install it into our own ship…"
"Theoretically, the Normandy would then be able to successfully navigate through the Omega Four relay, and gain access to the Collector power base."
A long pause hung in the air before John shook his head and spoke again. "Alright. I want Joker informed of everything you just told me. Then get in touch with Garrus and make sure our weapons systems are online and at their best. I assume you've already relayed the Illusive Man with this information as well, so tell him to contact me when he knows where we can get an IFF."
"Understood, Commander." And she was gone. John exhaled heavily before picking up the razor again and getting back to work.
Five minutes later, a clean-shaven John stepped into the lift outside of his door, selecting the CIC level. When the doors opened, he stepped forward to his terminal and checked his messages. The majority of his inbox contents were Cerberus messages, indicating new technology or armor upgrades that were available for him should he be able to pick them up, but one message from an unknown sender caught his eye, and he opened it.
Commander Shepard,
I regret that our last, and first, meeting ended so abruptly. I think you would be surprised to know how much you've been spoken of both before and after your visit, and hope that we have another opportunity to speak soon; preferably under less hectic circumstances.
The Admiralty Board had an interesting meeting today. The Fleet is safe and the Alarei incident is being handled quickly and quietly, in no small part to your intervention in it. Also, you should know that despite what was decided at the meeting you attended, I and the other Admirals understand the trouble you spared not only us, but Tali as well.
Please keep me as informed about your mission as you can. Tali is very special to me, as I'm sure you're well aware already.
Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay
John considered the message for a long moment before archiving it for later reply. It was laden with implication and insinuation; had they found out what had really happened aboard the Alarei? He shook his head quickly to dismiss the thought. If they had uncovered the true events surrounding the situation, Tali would have already asked to speak to him about a permanent residence aboard the Normandy…
He closed his terminal and began to turn away before stopping in remembrance and turning slowly back to Kelly. Her eyes were working furtively over three separate datapads, comparing and contrasting prior and current crew state files. After a moment, she seemed to get the ghost feeling of being watched, and turned her gaze to him, starting slightly when she saw him already looking at her.
"Oh! Sorry, Commander Shepard, I didn't see you there."
He smiled before replying. "Not a problem, Kelly; and I'm no longer with the Alliance military. KIA and all that…" he waved a hand nonchalantly, and she smiled back before nodding.
"Right, Shepard. Got it. What can I do for you?"
He hesitated a moment before speaking. He had spent the rest of his time shaving wondering what the next step should be once they parted ways with Cerberus. It was, after all, inevitability. The Illusive Man was without a doubt one of the most ruthless people John had ever encountered, and while he professed a protective agenda, John could almost feel the power craving underneath the man's calm exterior. And so once the Collectors were taken care of, John would return to the Council and, hopefully, to the Alliance. What he had pondered as he shaved was what he'd be bringing with him when he returned.
"In the fairly near future…" he began cautiously, "there may be a…rather large schism between myself and the Illusive Man…"
"Because once the Collectors are toast, you're going to take the Normandy and go back to the Alliance and the Council?" Her question was direct and casual, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise a second before he looked around cautiously to make sure no one had overheard.
"How did you…?"
She laughed quietly, shaking her head and returning to sorting through her personal inbox as she replied. "I'm a psychologist, Shepard. It's my job to know how you're feeling before you do." Another tick mark in Kelly's column was added to John's running total as he replied.
"And how do you think people would react to that?"
She tapped the interface to close her terminal before turning back to him, leaning forward to rest on the handrail leading up to the galaxy map. "Honestly? It depends."
"On what?"
"Trust. What else? For you to pull something like that and have the whole support of the crew, they'd have to trust you more than they trust not only the Illusive Man, but more than they trust in Cerberus as a whole. Like it or not, the Illusive Man is Cerberus. Every crew member on this vessel was prioritized not for their want to be best friends with an alien, but for indifference towards alien species. That's the best that the Cerberus believers are going to be able to give. You can't just convince these people you're more trustworthy than the Illusive Man," she snorted a small laugh, "hell, half of them know that already. You have to convince them that you're better than Cerberus; that your way is better for humanity. It's a tall order to fill, but they say you like impossible tasks." She smiled, and he returned it, nodding.
"Thanks for the advice, Kelly." He turned to walk toward the lift, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around in surprise, and his eyes found hers.
"For the record," she said quietly. "My money's on you. And I think you'll find a good number of the people on this ship are…looking for something better to believe in." She gave his shoulder a squeeze before turning and stepping back over to her terminal, continuing her work once more. He smiled again, nodding as he walked into the lift and pressed the indicator for Deck Four.
Everything seemed fine; the numbers were reading out correctly, calibration was in check, and not only were his power draws within the acceptable range Tali had specified for him, they were below the minimum, a fact he took a great deal of pride in. Still, Garrus realized as he stepped back from the terminal, his mind was elsewhere. Back on that Collector ship, if he were being honest with himself, back to that hell that had almost taken them all. He shook his head slightly, dislodging the thought from his mind before his omni-tool chimed. Looking down at its holographic interface, he cringed a bit. He knew the information would be good, word said it always was, but he had been wary in deciding to contact her. In truth, she was little better that the rest of them he'd slaughtered, but she had the information he needed now, and she was the only one left. Opening the file, he read through it as he leaned back against the bulkhead.
Archangel,
I've got the information you need, call it a 'thank you' present for you and your friends taking out all three mercenary squads like it was child's play. Blue Suns transit records for that week indicate a single 'person of interest' being moved from Omega to the Citadel. Looks like your traitor is trying to lose himself in the crowds. Can't say it's what I'd have done, but then again if there weren't any idiots out there, the geniuses like us wouldn't stick out so much, would we? In any case, you've got what you want, I'd consider us even.
- Aria
He sighed, closing the omni-tool and leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. He'd waited a long time for this information, and some days had wondered if it would even come. The chance to settle a debt owed, close the book on Omega…His train of thought was interrupted by the opening of the door to the battery, and she stepped inside, her already serious face becoming more so when she saw the look on his own.
"Bad news?" Her words were a cautious whisper.
He shoved off the wall, crossing the room to get another test running on the main gun; old habits died hard. "Good news, actually. Just bad implications."
"You found him then?" Her voice was still quiet, cautious, and he turned to face her, nodding silently. "Good. If you…need any help with it…" He smiled and nodded at her offer, and she looked away for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
"It's time. I've gotten all the information I needed; everything is in place. As soon as we're done with whatever this next mission is, I'm going to go after Hock. If Shepard really is taking us on a suicide mission…I can't do it without tying up loose ends."
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. I'm sure everyone on this ship has loose ends to tie up before heading through that relay. Believe me; he won't let us go in unsure. He'll give everyone time to take care of business; hell, he'll probably offer to help you with it." He chuckled slightly as he spoke, but she wasn't laughing.
She shook her head. "I wouldn't ask him to. And even if he would, this is personal." Garrus could feel the mood inside the room darken; there were bad memories, old, buried memories, in her tone. His weren't nearly as old, but he was almost sure they were just as bad, and so he felt at least some relation to her pain as he squeezed the shoulder he still held, earning her attention.
"You're not going in alone, are you?" She took a step back, out of his touch, as she turned to face the bulkhead.
"I have to. This is my problem; I'm not going to endanger anyone else on this ship just because I want answers; answers I'd never have gotten on the trail of if you hadn't..." She turned back around to him in a hurry. "I mean don't get me wrong, I'm still…amazed that you picked up the trail, but…" she trailed off, looking past him into the machinery of the large ship weapon over his shoulder. "I just don't want anyone to be at risk for something this personal."
"At risk?" He stepped to the side to catch her eyes again. "You do realize the mission we're on, right?" He pointed over her shoulder, through the bulkhead into space. "Every time we leave the ship we're asking to get shot at. Have you seen Shepard's hand since they got back, Kasumi? Ten different shades of torn up; and all because Tali wanted 'answers'." He let a pause fall, and she took up the conversation.
"That's different." She renewed her gaze on him, not in anger, but in determination, crossing her arms in front of her as she spoke. "He's crazy about her; anyone with half a brain can see it."
Garrus unconsciously allowed a disbelieving chuckle to escape him as he folded his own arms. "And I suppose that makes her more important than the rest of the crew? More important than protecting his, and your, entire race?"
Her cheeks reddened, but she pressed the issue. "For him it does, yes! There isn't any way it can't!" She looked away again, a silence hanging in the air, and Garrus shook his head in frustration before replying quietly.
"So that's your entire reasoning behind doing this one solo? That you're not enough of a 'vested interest' in the crew?" Her head whipped back toward him.
"Tell me I'm wrong! I hardly do anything on these missions. Shepard says the Illusive Man made me out to be some invaluable asset, but why am I really here?"
His temper flared, and he took a step towards her as he spoke. "Why are you here? Because you're the best infiltrator in the entire galaxy! You could sneak past fifteen Spectres and steal all their credit chits while whispering things about their wives in each other's ears that would start the best fight of the century! Your little stunt back on that damn ship saved my ass, and you've saved a couple others from some pretty serious injuries at the very least. You're an amazing shot, a hell of a tech expert, and you're…" His hands worked in front of him, trying to formulate some end to his rant. "You're you. There isn't anyone else for the job, Kasumi."
A weak smile played across her face, but she still looked unconvinced as she shook her head slightly. "And when Shepard needs those skills, I'll be happy to provide them. But this business…Garrus, it's not mission-critical. And, not that I'm complaining, he's really not my type, but I don't mean anything to anyone the way that Tali does to Shepard. I do—"
"The hell you don't," he interrupted her, closing the space between them in a split-second. An instant later, his arm was around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her eyes were wide with shock, but as he sought her lips, she wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, hesitantly pulling him closer as they kissed. It seemed to last for an hour, and though he was a good deal taller than her, and his armor obviously unwieldy for this sort of thing, he kept her close, and could feel her actively pressing against him as well, as pent-up thoughts and feelings ran rampant between them. After a long moment, their lips parted, both of their faces still inches away from each other, both slightly out of breath. He looked into her eyes, still wide with…surprise? Fear? Confusion?...and his mind raced for something to say. She beat him to it.
"I…I need to…I should go…" She let her heels come back down to the deck, taking a single step backwards out of his embrace, and touching the access panel for the door as she moved. His hands still hung slightly forward, frozen by his shock at what was happening.
"Kasumi, wait," he said, taking a step forward. She placed a hand on the chestpiece of his armor, halting his advance gently as the doors to the battery opened.
"No, I…I need to get ready…for…things." She shook her head nervously, then turned on a heel and walked as quickly as possible back down the hallway. The sight of her departing form was cut off by the doors coming back to a close in front of him. His mandibles hung open in disbelief; what the fuck had just happened? After a moment, the incredulity drained from him, and his arms dropped, his head following suit, and he wondered for the first time in a long time whether or not he'd been misinterpreting anything.
His datapad next to the console began a steady beeping, alerting him that the diagnostic readout on the main gun had compiled, but he ignored it, instead running through their words and actions in his head. The beeping continued, and he shoved it out again. No; he had to be right; she did feel something for him, he just knew it. Again the beeping intruded on his thoughts, and in a single motion he spun, took a step forward to pick up the device, and hurled it into the bulkhead, feeding all his frustration into the motion. The datapad shattered on impact, bits of metal and wire falling in a miniature cascade to the deck. Exhaling, he gripped both sides of the main terminal and hung his head. Silence, broken only by the steady hum of the gun's power core, filled the room, and after a moment a synthesized voice spoke.
"Munitions Officer Vakarian?" He rolled his eyes at the AI before responding.
"Just 'Garrus', EDI; and please tell me you're not about to read me some 'Machine Rights Manifesto'."
"That is not the intent of this message," she began. After a short pause, she added, "furthermore, synthetic beings, even those of high aptitude such as myself, have no formally sanctioned rights or privileges under Council law." Another short pause, almost as if she were gauging the necessity of her previous statement, before she continued. "Commander Shepard wishes to know if the main gun's power draws have been permanently entered and applied."
For the first time since meeting the human almost three years ago, Shepard's name made him irritated. If he had just kept his…whatever it was…with Tali a secret, Kasumi wouldn't have been so inclined as to go off alone on her own suicide mission. His brain tried to remind him of how Tali had been when he had brought her back to the Fleet; and to how well the three of them always got on, but he ignored it, replying to the machine with ice in his tone.
"Well you tell Almighty Shepard he can…he can just…fucking…tell him he…" He ran out of steam; he couldn't take this out on Shepard. Spirits knew his best friend who was brought back from the dead by his second-greatest enemy deserved a little happiness in his horror story of a life. He hung his head again before finishing. "Tell him everything is ready, EDI. The current settings are more than enough to keep us running indefinitely. As long as the main core holds, we've got teeth."
She indicated acknowledgment, and then departed, leaving him once more in the relative silence of the battery. He looked down at the terminal, sighed, and ran another diagnostic before crossing the room and sitting on a bench built into the wall, his head in his hands.
The machine's single optical sensor continued to stare passively at the humans beneath its perch in what it supposed they would refer to as rafters. In reality, there was no true physical infrastructure inside the disabled old machine save for what the humans had placed there themselves. It had been a long time, and at first the geth within the machine had wondered whether the risk of detection by these entities was too high to allow further research to continue. In the end, consensus had been reached, and the platform had stayed away with an examining eye.
It hadn't been difficult to avoid the creatures, Runtime 605 assessed as it used the optical sensor to zoom in on a pair of men standing next to each other and staring daggers at their own reflections in a metallic surface. In the beginning it had perhaps been difficult, but the old machines' dominion had begun to access their minds. The geth had wondered why they hadn't fled or attempted to make any counterattack, and debate among the geth within had continued for days as they kept analyzing the humans' movements and actions. Eventually, it was concluded that some aftereffect of the old machine's access was a debilitation of the mind; to the point where the subjects of its torment would not even desire to escape.
Runtime 605 released control of the optical sensor, and another runtime immediately took over, sweeping it in an arc over their current position to fulfill its designation to scan for structural integrity issues within the old machine. Its memory banks freed for the moment, 605 returned to the query it had been milling around its core for a while now. It considered the impact that integrating key segments of geth code structure would entail. How would the new amalgamation of geth function? Would it function at all? Would the geth still retain individuality, or would they coalesce into a sort of group consciousness. In some respect, 605 conceded, they were already at that sort of state. Still, its math wasn't wrong, that it knew for a fact. Combining the geth code into fewer actual geth within the platform would allow them to relay information and react to outside stimuli exponentially faster. But at what cost?
After four-point-eight seconds of intense deliberation, 605 composed an outline of its integration model and the mathematical reasoning behind making such a change, and submitted it into the cloud of intelligences that was the geth collective within the platform. In a picosecond, the others had received and processed 605's information. Consensus began building, and seconds ticked by, during which 605 waited to see what its fellow geth would think of the plan.
Eight minutes and forty-six seconds later, the longest amount of time Runtime 605 had ever experienced geth light-speed communication take to render a decision, consensus was reached. The geth would begin finding ways to coalesce their code into each other, making fewer geth in the platform. The math expressly showed that the fewer the geth, the faster the platform; and so the plan would be to integrate into one single geth controlling the entire platform. One of the geth queried which geth among them the others would coalesce into.
Point-four-eight milliseconds later, consensus was unanimously reached.
The steady glow of the dozens of terminal interfaces behind him shone forward over his shoulders and around his large body, silhouetting him to anyone unfortunate enough to be admitted into this room to see him. Idly, he breezed through ten different reports from teams out to find Shepard. No one had seen him since Illium; like he had disappeared off the face of the galactic map. His face and spirit were contorted with anger, but inside he was terrified.
He did not feel fear, did not allow it to affect him. And so the fact that it was, at this moment, doing exactly that terrified him all the more. The price of failure would be to die like all the rest…an unacceptable end for a yahg to endure. He tossed the datapad to the side and sighed angrily, looking out the viewport into the tumultuous skies above Hagalaz, willing Shepard to reveal himself. His thoughts were interrupted when his comm channel emitted a voice.
"Sir," the guard spoke, "Walker has returned; he says he has what you've asked for." His spirits raised a bit. They had said they had another task for him, besides finding Shepard, but it had been so long ago he'd almost assumed they had given the opportunity to someone else.
"Send him in."
The doors slid open and a human clad in the black, special forces-esque armor he outfitted his operatives in stepped into his chamber. He was calm in motion, but his body language told the truth: he was terrified. It was a tell only a yahg could pick up, and he allowed a cruel smile to play across his face as the man approached and set a small package onto his desk.
"It was in the specified location, sir." His voice was hesitant, as if there were a longing of sorts for the content of the package, as if he wanted nothing more in the galaxy to just take it back and leave with it.
"Did you open it?"
"No, sir." He was telling the truth, but again his voice held a certain awe, as if he wished he had opened it to view its contents.
"Good." The Shadow Broker reached beneath the desk, retrieving a pistol, and fired a single shot point-blank into Walker's forehead. The man's head snapped back at the impact, his body dropping lifeless to the floor, and the Shadow Broker immediately put the corpse out of his mind. He could deal with it later. He opened the package, finding the three small objects within. Immediately he felt it; the sense of ownership, of control, of desire. He wanted these things; he wanted to keep them and study them. It was nauseating and wonderful at the same time.
After a moment, and with some force of will, he pulled his gaze away from the objects, focusing instead on the datapad in the package with them. He pulled it out, entered an encryption key that would allow only his eyes to read it, and read their instructions with fascination.