Chapter 36 – Taken to School
Shiala finally found a groove with Jack's students. They responded differently to her teachings than they did to the "Psychotic Biotic," but each pupil continued to grow and learn—just not in the same way as before. After her involvement with the Thorian, Shiala's own biotics went nuts for a time, before calming down due to intense meditation she'd taken up with a passing justicar.
"Find your peace" she told them as the thirty-some students dropped into meditative poses.
Shiala's teachings represented the "cool" end of the biotic spectrum—"hot" biotics like Jack emphasized passionate, emotion-driven training utilizing intense feelings that if mishandled could lead down a very dangerous path. Thus far, none had strayed, but some were near the edge. Especially after their experiences with Sarah the Siren, who seemed to have unlocked or changed something within many of the students. Whatever she'd connected them to had fundamentally altered the eezo nodules in a majority of the pupils, allowing far more energy to be channeled into biotic abilities.
In another "opposite," Shiala focused far more on defensive uses of biotic powers—barriers, deflections, stasis, than offense (shockwaves, pull/push, warp). Jack had even left her instructions to do so before leaving—"Being able to kick someone's ass from across the room but not being able to take the same thing coming your way isn't the best fighting method."
Initially, the asari, whose abilities were quite strong even accounting for her species (being a former Commando), walked all over the power-oriented fight-first methods employed by the "Psychotic Biotics." If she survived the initial spar (which she always did), she would then wear them down by pulling the student into attacks that left them open, drained their reserves. Then all it took was a breath on the wind to topple them from their weakened states.
"Obviously, such tactics probably wouldn't work on Jack" she'd said upon being asked. "But none of you are, in fact, channeling the level of power that she does."
"She's the most powerful human biotic ever!" shouted Jason Prangley.
"That she is," smiled Shiala, "but I wouldn't be surprised if a Matriarch could knock her down a bit."
She also wasn't sure how much Jack (or other sources) had told the students about why, exactly, Jack was "the most powerful human biotic ever." Her experiences at the Teltin Facility on Pragia were an example of depraved cruelty only Cerberus seemed to be capable of. Thus, the still-green asari doubted the master teacher had shared much in the way of life stories with her students.
Jack's previous life blended heavily into her teaching style—she often allowed roughhousing, rule-bending, and other activities which would have drawn sharp rebukes from any other teacher (and often did). Shiala was less forgiving, but compassionate when doling out punishments to students for acting in ways that the "Psychotic Biotic" would have laughed off. Generally, she put less emphasis on making a point and more on helping the student develop an area that needed work. For example, instead of cleaning duty or extreme calisthenics (both favorites of "Hardass Ash," who also took off to join Shepard's save-the-galaxy crew) she would assign, say, extra barrier practice for a student who needed to buff up on that ability.
By no means would Jack return and think her students had "gone soft." Rather, she would find her charges just as able to defend themselves as they were already able to tear opposition to shreds, sometimes in a very literal fashion via Warps. Shiala had a hard time dealing with Axton, the former Dahl Commando brought in by Brick as a long-term substitute for his own half of the program, if only because Axton's boisterous, loud demeanor more closely resembled Jack than she'd have liked. Despite Brick's emphasis on punching (among other physical methods of combat), he'd not been nearly as, well, angry as Jack. Now, Axton re-awoke the dormant wild varren in every student during his classes, whether he meant to or not.
"Stop holding back!" he bellowed at Rachel Arkadios, who held her classmate Marco Machiavelli in a headlock but failed to follow-through with the requested enhanced-strength neck-snap. "We've got bacta! We've got medi-gel! It's not as easy as the New-U where I'm from originally, but damn it—if I'm teaching you how to break necks, you break necks!"
She knew better than to argue. Upon Axton's arrival, the students had been reminded of the consent forms they'd signed for the "physical" half of their KOMBT training—anything short of lethal force could be required over the course of their studies. With the types of regeneration made available by modern medicine, virtually all combat could be done to "95% real" standards involving real blood, real broken bones, and of course the very real pain that came with such things. During the Reaper War, some questioned the use of tactics similar to the Systems Alliance's shuttered "Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training" program only to be told "You want to make my students weak, put helpless meat on a slab for the Reapers to eat? I'll kill you!"
Much of this vicious training came in handy waging a battle against Sarah in the courtyard, especially resisting the Current of Pain as Catalina Rodriguez had done. While the students did not manage to actually hold Sarah off, it was in fact true that some of the Siren's underlings had their hands full trying to corral them as a result. Interestingly, Sarah's power-draining devices didn't cause pain during the process, but it left many of the students in considerable discomfort afterward. Residual energy built up from their enhanced eezo nodules that would have been drained away by the dreadnaught otherwise remained in their bodies, causing unpleasant swelling in biotic systems.
Axton's military background as opposed to Brick's frontiersman orientation caused him to instill discipline in a way neither Jack nor Brick ever did. Were Ashley still present, she would have been amused at the students' complaining (which was only half in jest—they really, really did not like the change away from freewheeling, curse-cut-short Jack's methods). Ashley had been pushing for a more formal, organized training regime for quite some time, but never made any headway. First, it was difficult to argue with results, and second, Jack kept telling her to "lighten up and get laid" every time she suggested anything resembling the spit and polish of the military.
The students still understood the value of the experience brought by Axton and Shiala-it just remained a universal truth that no one liked drastic changes to established routines. Despite this discontent, though, the Council was looking to more unconventional solutions against the Infection and Sarah problems, despite their public-facing turn toward ever-harsher containment policies. The Infection appeared to have trouble with or flat-out avoid biotics. Throughout history, asari were prized any time biotic power came up for their natural abilities, but it seemed the Infection wanted nothing to do with asari or biotics in general. Somehow, it failed to make use of them.
"Yes, it is true that you may find yourself called upon to fight this Infection" lectured Shiala during a morning session. "If this happens, remember that just because it can't use you doesn't mean it won't try to kill you. Your barrier is your life and will be your only defense against the Infection agent."
A burly young man by the name of Toby Hameel asked why not wear heavy armor, which in STG tests had a good chance of stopping basic Infection Forms.
The asari gave him a patronizing look before answering in an exasperated tone. "You have been trained to fight with your biotic powers. Heavy armor only slows that down. Even in a time like this, it is better to rely on your barrier."
"But what if your barrier is constantly depleted?" he replied.
"If you can't keep a barrier up against that many hostiles, perhaps you are in beyond your element" said the asari. "Even if you were to suddenly face overwhelming odds, retreat remains a viable option. Regroup among others ready to fend off the Infection, whether they have fresh barriers or crates of incendiary ammunition backed with mass effect fields."
"That's a new one" whispered Rachel to Marco. "Brick and Jack never talk about retreating."
As if she'd heard (she hadn't), Shiala resumed her speech. "Though your previous teachers have emphasized the ability to avoid retreat by ensuring your first attack leaves nothing behind to run from, this is not always the best choice, or even a possibility if your foes are too strong and numerous."
She got a roomful of annoyed looks in response, but pressed on. "What do Samantha Shepard and Sarah have in common?"
Shiala had to wait for a chorus of boos, jeers, curse words, and even insults thrown at her personally for making the comparison to die down before answering her own question.
"To borrow a human phrase, they both hit like a skytruck, dodge attacks in ways that would make some drell jealous, and take more punishment than krogan. It is to this ideal you should aspire in combat. Possess no obvious weakness while not falling into the trap of average-at-everything."
The crowed revved up again, only to quietly realize the truth in Shiala's words.
[…]
"What have I been telling you?" raged a pink-colored Cortana to Samantha Shepard as Normandy pulled away from the SETTLE station (which the Commander had begun referring to as the "fix everything and build everything place"). She'd assured Sam color changes no longer meant rampancy, just anger, much to the Commander's relief.
"You can't just let the Flood fester! Look at how fast it's moved! In only a few months, it's jumped from one out-of-the-way hole to almost a third of your galaxy!"
"You know what?" replied Sam. "You sound like an angry mother! What'd I do, spend too much time playing video games?"
"Well if that's what it takes to get you to deal with this, then I'll sound as mothery as I have to." Cortana seemed awfully found of pouting and putting her hands on her hips. To her, the inhabitants of this galaxy deserved all that and more for ignoring the greatest threat organic life ever faced.
She tried a different tactic.
"Do you realize how lucky you are? The only reason we're not all a Flood-ified mess is because the areas of your galaxy the Flood has attacked so far are sparsely populated! The systems that have fallen up to now are generally under a million. Estimates say the Flood requires a significant amount of biomass to advance to its next stage, which it currently isn't capable of doing due to operating only in lightly-settled areas for whatever reason."
Sam let her head roll back in a gesture of irritation.
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you honestly believe that I'd rather sit here and let the Citadel Council try to 'contain' the Infection? From everything I've seen, that doesn't work!"
"The only containing with the Flood is what's left of your DNA contained in its stomach after it eats you. Scared enough yet?"
"Cortana, why are you lecturing me about this?"
The AI stabbed the air with a finger. "Because you, Commander Shepard, are probably the only one that could get this galaxy to pull itself together enough to fight. And you're not doing that."
"So what do you want me to do?" demanded Sam sarcastically. "Seduce Sarah, steal her starship, let you loose on the other big cruiser the Trans-Galactic Republic brought in, and then burn that section of the galaxy?"
"Minus the unneeded sexual implication, yes, that would work quite nicely."
Sam sat down on her bed, covering her face in her hands as she lay on her stomach.
"I am so sick of it. Sick and tired! 'Sam do this. Shepard, save that colony. Commander, kill those bad guys.' Don't mind us, we're just going to actively make the task we gave you more difficult!"
"You don't hear the Master Chief complaining. And he had it a lot worse than you in many ways."
"Oh, I'm sorry" snapped an increasingly-irate Shepard. "Did you have a little memory lapse from your geth upgrade? I died."
"That was a low blow" replied Cortana. "Would you rather I WENT RAMPANT and left you with NO INFORMATION about the Flood?"
"Look, I get you're probably used to Mr. Silent Strength. I bet this sounds like a whiny little girl who got told she couldn't stay up past her bedtime by comparison. Guess what? Welcome to everyone who's not some super-conditioned, mentally-walled-off mega-warrior!" Sam knew it wasn't fair to take this all out on Cortana, but Cortana had also gone and pushed all the right (wrong?) buttons at once.
It took less than a half-second by Shepard's clock, but to Cortana it felt like an eternity as she tried to process everything Sam just told her. It seemed the human reaction to resurrection wasn't exactly what she'd thought it would be—unadulterated joy at having cheated termination, to use a computer term.
"Sam, everything I know tells me that organic life prefers living to dying. You go to extreme lengths to prevent death—this ship has heavy armor, a stealth device, energy shields… You even have personal battle dress similar to the Master Chief's! You died, I know that. Why are you not happy to have been brought back?"
Seeing Cortana's expression to be genuinely curious rather than taunting, Sam bottled up her anger to produce a rational response rather than lashing out.
"Have you read my file? My complete file, which may or may not be available in computer systems you've been connected to?"
"I have information showing that you were once clinically dead but brought back by Cerberus to lead a fight against aliens who were abducting human colonists while the Citadel Council did nothing and the Reapers approached. This is why I do not understand your seeming lack of action against the Flood. The last time the politicians dithered, you jumped in with both feet."
Sam sighed. It wouldn't surprise her if her little slave-to-tyrannical-dictator-depraved-hedonist phase wasn't something that got published everywhere. Cortana hadn't been connected to any system that was part of her second or third brushes with death aside from the Special Tasks Group on Capek, and while Shepard didn't doubt the AI's hacking abilities, she suspected Cortana wasn't exactly looking for secret information when she'd been jacked into the STG base.
"Well, that explains it." Shepard almost burst out laughing. It seemed that as intelligent as Cortana was, she, too, could also jump to completely erroneous conclusions based on incomplete data just like any organic.
"Explains what?" Cortana raised a projected eyebrow.
"Why you think I just woke up and suddenly decided to be the galaxy's biggest self-centered bitch."
"I never…"
"Yes, you did" said Shepard in a teasing tone. "You thought I was just some sourpuss who lost her drive to do her duty. Forgot what it meant to be a soldier. You're missing a few pieces of data, friend."
"Please, tell me what I don't know!"
"First of all, being revived by Cerberus was only one of multiple brushes with death. And I'm not talking almost-got-hit-by-a-shuttle-but-escaped-unscathed, I'm talking lower-body-smashed-to-paste and near-hardware failures."
Sam accessed heavily encrypted files regarding her own resuscitations, both times involving Mordin Solis. She placed it in Cortana's private folder.
"You know, I could have cracked that" said Cortana with a wink and a curtsey. "I just don't make a habit of snooping around files belonging to people serving on my ship."
Her ship… EDI has been well and truly replaced.
That train of thought also brought up something she'd been meaning to do since she'd been revived but hadn't gotten around to—hold some kind of service honoring those who gave their lives during the Reaper War. Unbeknownst to her, she was not the only one with this line of thought, however due to events of galactic significance taking everyone's time and effort toward averting total societal collapse, paying dues to the deceased fell by the wayside.
Lilith, please forgive me for burying memories of your sacrifice…
Sam could almost hear the Siren's voice in her head. "You little stinker. I saved your sorry ass, and this is what I get? To sit here all by myself with no one remembering me?"
Well, you may not be alone much longer…
"Did I say something wrong?" Cortana interrupted Shepard's contemplation.
"No, it's just… I was thinking about people who aren't here anymore."
"If you don't mind me asking, who?"
"There was another one of the Sirens—name of Lilith. She went bad during the Reaper War, but redeemed herself in the end. Crashed a ship into the Altar and destroyed every Reaper in both galaxies! She also apparently set free that insane Sarah—but can you really blame Lilith for that?"
"She should be remembered by all."
Sam's face twisted into a guilty frown.
"That's just it. We never took the time to. The war ended, the fascist government we built to fight the war imploded, then the Sarah craziness started. And now you and the Infection came through an interspatial rift!"
Sam looked up. "I'm pretty sure you'd yell at me for hosting a memorial and worshipping the dead instead of kicking Infected ass!"
"I may be an artificial creation, but I understand and experience emotions just the way organics do. I, too, have experienced loss."
"It's funny you mention that. The AI's we have here don't really have true emotions. They can simulate them through 'preferences,' but it's not quite the same process. We used to have a different AI on this ship called the Enhanced Defense Intelligence. We just took to calling her EDI."
"Before you ask, no there is no ghostly presence or quantum remnant in this system. She was completely transferred to another vessel."
"I know. It's just…"
"You were attached to her. Based on my understanding of the cultures in this galaxy, the standing of artificially-created life is rather tenuous." Cortana almost brought up the time Sam had taken her, technically an illegal item, into the heart of the government, but thought better of it. "You did not think as those who believe us unworthy do. You believed in, and continue to support, treating synthetic life as equals."
"From reading my medical files, you know I am over half synthetic myself by now."
Cortana smiled, before recollecting Shepard's "Augmentations for the win!" greeting to the Master Chief.
"Indeed you are. SPARTAN soldiers undergo enhancements as well, but it is less about technology replacing parts of the body and more about raising the limit by augmenting existing organic material."
She looked straight into Sam's eyes, as much as one could being projected from a terminal across from someone laying on her back, having parsed the entirety of Sam's medical files in less than a tenth of a second.
"I could not understand what happened to you after the Collector mission since I lacked knowledge of any time later than that and earlier than when I arrived. I thus concluded that you were selfish and had lost your ability to do what you committed yourself to upon becoming a Spectre. I am sorry to have judged you so harshly."
"You know, I once asked what kind of guns a taxi had, so I'm not really one to talk about making stupid assumptions…"
"I still cannot determine exactly what drove your emotional state after your two revivals. I would appreciate a clarification. As I said, the Master Chief and others I have worked with are always happy to have survived."
Shepard launched into a lengthy explanation of her life. It wasn't really possible to explain a feeling of being used by absolutely everyone without chronicling, well, every incident. Highlights (or lowlights) included being disbelieved about Saren, ignored regarding the Reapers (twice!), becoming a combat-addicted thrall to Maximilian Xytler, being crushed by an angry Brick, nearly dying to disperse a cure for the genophage, being forced to play pet to the Council vis-à-vis Aria T'Loak, and the current situation. She ended with a poignant statement about being denied any death with dignity—always being brought back because someone else had another problem for her to solve.
"Well. You continue to show me angles I never saw in my own universe before." Cortana almost seemed…astounded. As much as an artificial intelligence capable of performing just about any computational task in the blink of an eye could. The "No Extraordinary Measures" order she'd seen in the Commander's file made a lot more sense now.
"Now do you understand why I'm just so very tired?" Sam sat up.
"Yes" replied Cortana. "Though I'm still going to tell you to get your space pants back on, go out there, and burn the Flood. Just in a nicer way than before."
"That I can handle. Now that, you know, I'm not being treated like some kind of lazy complainer."
"Oh, I'd still call it complaining" laughed Cortana. "Just with a better reason than I originally thought."
[…]
Though religion and faith still played a role in the lives of some galactic inhabitants, many saw the inevitable march of science as making such things meaningless for them. The practice of honoring those who passed on, however, continued in spite of falling religiosity. It was for this reason that Phil Fury, Director at the Systems Alliance War Memorial Center, pulled every string he knew of to get the broken pieces of Normandy SR-2 delivered from the Trans-Galactic Republic docks where bombs planted by a crazy asari had destroyed or damaged many ships, Normandy included.
It had become abundantly clear to Fury that he wasn't going to get the original Normandy back any time soon, if ever. Thus, he could no longer placate the public, especially after sightings of the ship suggested her profile had been radically altered. Using his contacts within RISE (especially Wolf Schmidt, not that this went on any record), he learned Normandy had received a humongous overhaul—and her designation had been suitably altered to "2.5."
"Looks like more than a slight version increment to me" he'd said to Schmidt.
"Shepard needs firepower and stealth" replied the RISE agent. "Can't say more than that—wasn't even briefed on it other than that she borrowed some highly-classified tech."
Later that day, Fury received a call from none other than Sam Shepard herself. Actually, Sam placed the call from her shipboard AI, but came on once the connection was established.
"Fury."
"Shepard."
"I realize you're probably mad at me because I'm flying around in your war memorial. Also, I kinda had it chopped and rebuilt because mission requirements demanded it… I've been thinking that since it's pretty unlikely you're ever going to get your ship back at this rate, we ought to stop by and drop off all the museum parts we have in storage."
"Sounds like a good plan. I actually managed to round up the bits of the other Normandy—the one that appeared through Arcturus out-of-nowhere. I'm thinking it would be best just to set up the museum in that ship, since it's far more similar to what Normandy was at the time this memorial commemorates than the ship you have now. Not that it's your fault or anything that she's a good bit larger."
Shepard decided to go for it.
"Would…would you mind if we had a bit of a rechristening ceremony? For the memorial, and for absent friends?"
"Absolutely not. I would welcome it!" he boomed.
In order to prevent the Normandy SR-2.5's cloaking feature from becoming unintentionally visible during what promised to be a highly-public event, those aboard wishing to attend stuck themselves in blastboats. The Fireant's Class 2.0 hyperdrive was permitted to operate without restraint due to passengers aboard, so Normandy simply deployed fighters and remained at SETTLE. The blastboats would hopefully arrive quickly, able to skip the mass relay lines and subsequent inspections.
A small debate broke out over whether it would be appropriate for Jackie Jakobs to attend. Shepard decided it best for her to remain behind, despite her drastically changed nature.
"People might take it the wrong way. They don't know you like we do" she'd said. For the first time in a while, Jackie cried. But at the same time, she also understood—to the public who even knew of her existence, she was a monster.
Dr. Filner also declined to participate, having not known any of those being remembered, nor being present in the galaxy during the conflict. The Master Chief and Cortana elected to "hold down the fort" since the latter remained capable of running the entire ship if necessary. Even in spite of this three-person reduction, that still meant twenty-two people crammed into Fireants, and that was just the party from Shepard's little crew. Never mind the dignitaries that would try to weasel their way in to get a nice photo for their next campaign.
The matter of capacity was settled when Ultimatum got selected to host most inbound attendees, since her hyperdrive had been repaired. Only those selected personally by Phil Fury and/or Steven Hackett would be allowed aboard Normandy SR-2 for the ceremony. Everyone else would get a live holo-feed aboard the Trans-Galactic Republic's Star Dreadnaught. The presence of such an imposing warship would hopefully discourage any would-be malcontents from disrupting the proceedings. It wouldn't stop, say, Sarah, but she'd confined herself to the Terminus of late.
Fireants carried a crew of five normally—pilot, two gunners, a sensor officer, and an operations officer. There was physical room for up to ten in a squeeze, but Shepard, recognizing that close-quarters for even a short time among her rather diverse squad could pose a problem, chose to spread her people as much as she could. Five times six gave thirty slots, so one blastboat was left behind and three of five ran with four instead of five. Fully anticipating her choice of leaving ships short-staffed might lead to problems (or just cosmic screw-you), she drilled everyone quickly on operation of key systems. For once, it wasn't necessary—all five ships arrived without incident after being dropped by Normandy.
As Paladins One through Five docked with Ultimatum, Sam couldn't help but notice several large civilian vessels inbound. Admiral Nimitz would later inform her that cadets at various military academies, many now cross-species, had been sent to pay their respects. A few groups of secondary school students from Earth were even watching from one of Ultimatum's many "viewing rooms." Those who could stream the proceedings over the HoloNet/extranet did so. The ECHONet could not carry the stream the distance to Gamma-Three, unfortunately.
It felt wrong to be holding a ceremony in Normandy's cargo hold, but that remained the only place with enough room to set up the way Fury, Hackett, and Shepard wanted it. She joyfully hugged David Anderson upon seeing his arrival. He'd been granted "special status" without reservation—allowed onto the ship itself for the duration.
"It's been too long" he'd said. "And to think the last time I saw you, you were wearing my pajamas!"
"Very funny, sir." Unfortunately for Shepard, that would be the extent of any humor had during the ceremony itself.
"Let's not sugarcoat it" she began, standing behind a podium erected in Normandy SR-2's hanger. "We owe these people far more than we're able to give them today. It is past due that we recognize the many who gave their lives so we could be here."
A short holo-show with a projection of each individual to be called-out created images behind Samantha as she resumed speaking.
"Oriana Lawson is a reminder to everyone that the innocent will get caught up in war. Many that die deserve life, and many that live deserve death. She harmed no one, conspired against nobody, and ended up a casualty of the cruel randomness of conflict."
The hologram changed to Sir Hammerlock and Marshal Friedman of Sanctuary.
"The grim reaper does not confine his scythe to the battlefield. Being off duty will not protect you. Both adventurers and men of the law find that the long arm of war will reach right to where you live to pluck you out of this mortal coil."
Upon Tiny Tina's appearance, several audience members aboard Normandy openly wept. Many of those being remembered today would have empty caskets as they had either been vaporized or remained missing after their presumed deaths.
"It is a sad day indeed that someone as young as thirteen can become as active a participant in battle as those three times her age. Nevertheless, Tina's support brought down a tyrant and gave the citizens of Gamma-Three a fighting chance."
Shepard choked up slightly as the visual behind her changed again.
"Roland represented what happens when a man realizes he's been taken advantage of and decides to do something about it. One of the first generation of Vault Hunters to arrive on Pandora, he unwittingly assisted in the rise of the twisted Jack, President of Hyperion, but quickly became a leader in the quest to bring him down. His death was as honorable as his killer's blow was despicable."
"A man has to be sick indeed to imprison his own daughter in such a state that she asks to be released through ending her life. Angel guided two groups of Vault Hunters through the many hells that walk Pandora. She played a dangerous double game, deceiving her abusive father and bringing justice to his doorstep as she passed on."
She didn't mention the beyond-the-physical visions she'd had involving both Angel's voice and an actual appearance from Lilith. It wouldn't have made any sense to anyone else. She wasn't sure they'd believe it, even with all the craziness going on at the moment.
"It doesn't matter if your role is 'just support.' In fact, never call yourself that if this be your role—you're just as important to the overall effort as those who are on the front lines—and just as much of a target. Feron found this out the hard way after helping Liara T'Soni evacuate important information from a stronghold."
The drell disappeared, replaced by Liara T'Soni.
"Even those who work every day to prevent war end up being touched by it. In this case, Liara was struck down by a coward whose name shall be forgotten by the annals of history. Her information-gathering efforts were essential to many portions of the efforts against the Collectors and Reapers."
Shepard didn't mention Liara's involvement with getting Sam's body to someone who could possibly fix it (Cerberus) as the individuals responsible weren't exactly popular anymore.
Moxxi's son Scooter took the asari's place.
"Without this man, Gamma-Three would have been overrun. Scooter's knowledge allowed a distress call to go out that summoned a whole fleet to extinguish the greatest threat the galaxy had seen to that point" (she deliberately avoided making the Reapers sound worse than the Infection when by all measures the Infection made the Reapers look downright saintly). "He died a hero, on his feet in battle, a warrior's death!"
"I'll admit up front, it's hard talking about yourself when you're not actually dead."
The audiences weren't sure whether this was a deliberate laugh line, or just an invocation of how strange things had become.
"Samantha Shepard wasn't even supposed to be here. She fought like hell but ran out of time. Her death was all the more tragic due to events which should not have occurred."
Samantha Shepard, prime, had to stop herself from tearing into the Trans-Galactic Republic for what their medical personnel had done to her erstwhile copy. Especially with their gargantuan battlewagon nearby.
"Her crew continues to serve with great distinction among those of us fighting to keep this galaxy our own."
Though EDI had no physical body, all who served aboard Normandy SR-2 recognized her glowing blue avatar in both its spherical and more-womanlike form.
"It may seem odd, bringing up someone who would leave no body to bury. But EDI was as much a member of the crew as any non-synthetic. Her actions and expertise provided key support in pivotal battles until her death. Today, we erase the divide between synthetic and organic—EDI meant as much to me as any biological crew member."
The life-size projection changed for the last time and Sam almost lost it.
"Lilith was a Siren. But more importantly, she was a shining example of redemption. Renouncing one's own inner demons is something that's easy to talk about but difficult to do. Those that manage it come out stronger and better. Through whatever she did, the Reapers are no longer with us."
After she finished speaking, Sam begged off about "needing to use the refresher." Thankfully the one in her, well, her copy's, cabin was in working order. In reality, tears were causing her makeup to run. Plus, if she kept it in any longer, she might just explode. While the savior of the galaxy wept, politicians gave grand speeches about unity, strength, openness, and progress.
Thankfully for the patience and bladders of all present, Fury and Hackett had placed strict limits on how long any individual could hold the floor. After a rather long speech by Dalatrass Linron exceeded the allotted time, "out of respect for both those we honor and other speakers, we need you to yield the podium." The furious dalatrass refused, only to be dragged away by several krogan providing security on the payroll of one Thax Vorak. All dignitaries kept their pontifications within time after that.
Following all this, those allowed aboard Normandy mingled. It was difficult and awkward to socialize at what amounted to a mass funeral, but those present found comfort in each other's company. They'd all shared the horrors of battle and the pain of loss in various ways. Noting that those not present wouldn't have wanted them to spend all the time moping, Samantha Shepard got everyone on their feet and talking with liberal helpings of food.
Jack and Brick stood off to the side of the gathering. Shepard wondered what they could possibly be talking about that they wouldn't want to share with everyone else at a time like this, but decided not to eavesdrop until she heard something that gave her pause.
"You promise me" Jack choked. "You promise me that if it comes down to me or the mission, finish the job. Kill them all, and make a toast to me afterward! But none of this sappy shit—name a gun for me or something. Maybe a dreadnaught."
"I'm not leaving you behind" insisted Brick. "I won't let that choice happen! I won't fail to protect someone I care about again!"
Sam remained acutely aware injecting herself into this conversation could have untold negative consequences. As if some small nudge flashed in the corner of her vision, she walked back over to the pair.
Before she could say anything, Jack spoke. "And here's the Queen of the Girl Scouts here to tell us you can't always save everyone. Right?"
"Given what she accomplished fighting those weird alien bug things, I'd say the opposite!" retorted Brick with the enthusiasm he usually reserved for punching or explosions.
Again feeling herself on some kind of cosmic path, Sam paused to decide what she should say at this point.
Be uplifting or be brutally realistic?
A third option bubbled up.
Why not both?
"You're both right."
Jack grinned viciously before letting loose on her Commander. "You do realize that just because every time you've been able to try to have things both ways you've succeeded doesn't mean it always works?"
"Remind me to tell you about how I almost caught Morinth once" replied Sam. "Look, just because it's unlikely doesn't mean you shouldn't try for it. Everyone said it was a suicide mission. I proved them wrong because I didn't want to believe it was. Does that actually guarantee we wouldn't all end up pasted on the bottom of some Collector Cruiser somewhere? No. But there's nothing wrong with giving it your all even if the odds are supposed to be impossible."
"Yet again, she has it both ways! Bravo. I bet no one's called you on it though."
"Sometimes I feel like I get more lucky breaks than any one person deserves" said Sam.
"Don't complain" added Brick. "If you're lucky, we're gonna need it to deal with this Infection. Dibs on being assigned to Shepard's ship."
"Dude, you don't have to call dibs. She's not going to reassign anyone. Right?"
Shepard saw a chance to get Jack back. "Well… See, I hear you have a swear jar, Jack. If you want to stay on my ship, you're going to have to let me in on some of that action!"
"First off, with all due respect, fuck you, Commander. Second, Brick's the one with the money. You'll have to get it out of him, not me."
She rounded on Brick. "You owe me." She pointed at her legs.
Brick gave as good as he got. "On one hand," he lectured, "you totally deserved it. Being a psycho bitch and all at the time. On the other hand, you're not crazy anymore, so I'll partially concede the point. Dinner on me next time we hit a place that actually charges us for food."
"Okay" replied Shepard suspiciously. "But remember, Fishdog Food Shack doesn't count!"
Brick leaned in as Jack explained what, exactly, was meant by this condition. Shepard never heard what was said, but with a pair of sly grins she worried for her health. Even with her implants, Fishdog Food Shack and similar created digestive unpleasantness.
[…]
Aria T'Loak cursed loudly. In the back of her mind, she'd known keeping Omega amounted to a losing battle after seeing and hearing about what the Infection could do—all the fire she threw at it only delayed an inevitable conclusion. She'd surprised herself by giving civilians evacuation warnings and only igniting parts of the station, though that may have been more an outside influence than anything else.
"You say you hated Cerberus? If you cleanse that section with civilians still inside, are you any better than them?"
Anyone else would have been biotically hurled across the room, shot, punched, and thrown out the airlock. Nyreen Kandros merely got a glare.
Aria's fury instead manifested itself in a bright biotic glow, before fading. It was doubly jarring because she was used to being the one who manipulated others—having her own feelings yanked around was a new and unpleasant experience. That she allowed it to happen and hadn't killed the person doing it said something else. Oh, she knew everyone talked about her and Nyreen behind her back—thought they were being sneaky about it and that Aria wouldn't hear. Once, she'd drained the coolant from some merc band leader's hovercar in secret after he'd gossiped. Another time, several vorcha were casually shoved into a mining shaft.
Pacing back and forth inside the Castle, she'd ranted to Nyreen. "We should just leave! I…I can set us up somewhere else. Illium! It's much nicer there."
"I know you, Aria. It wouldn't be the same—and you wouldn't be the Pirate Queen any longer. You may be brutal, you may allow everything short of Collector abductions, you even let Ardat-Yakshi run loose if they stay away from you. But you also covertly sent supplies to Dr. Abrams before you burned his clinic down. You took him on even though you really wanted to kill him—you told me that yourself. You pulled strings to lighten the attacks against Mordin Solis when he ran the clinic. And the soldiers who disobeyed orders to keep firing at that out-of-range battlecruiser? They're still alive. Oh, you may think yourself greater and more terrible than ever before, but there's more to you than that."
Aria resisted the urge to both curse Nyreen out and tear her armor off in a fit of angry passion.
"You sound like Shepard" she fumed. "Goody-Two-Shoes Shepard. The Council's little pet varren!"
"And yet, here I stand" replied Nyreen, displaying a confidence with Aria only she could get away with. "In the heart of your command center, arguing with you in ways that would get anyone else thrown through that window."
"Don't you… You went and nearly died on me!"
"You asked for defenders. Talon is more than happy to lend its manpower and guns so long as the pay is reasonable."
"I don't even pay you!" spluttered the asari. "You…you do it out of some… Some…Shepard-like desire to…"
"Yes, I 'ooze virtue' as you have told me multiple, multiple times" replied Nyreen.
"I hate it" hissed Aria.
Aria always acted like this when debating her, so Nyreen decided to change the subject. "Scouts report a large amount of accumulated Infected biomass has built up in several of the core mining shafts. It is disrupting productivity and survived attempts to eliminate it with automated systems."
"Then send in more Talons and do it the hard way!" snapped the asari. "What do I pay your grunts for?"
"Oh, not going to send in the Blood Pack? Or maybe it's because you're realizing they're too incompetent to do the job correctly?"
Left unsaid: Aria had been jumped by Infected vorcha—a group of them wearing remnants of Blood Pack equipment almost took her down. Their claws left nasty marks which would have scarred if it weren't for the bacta horde she'd secured. Luckily for the ruler of Omega, Infected vorcha were meant to create more biomass, not more Infected. There were no traces of Highly Active Infection Agents in the cuts.
"I just like watching you agonize over trying to keep your cannon fodder alive. They're disposable! Half the time, the labor's free because payment is not rendered until services are complete—and death doesn't count as complete!"
"That cannon fodder has kept this fortress safe" shot back Nyreen. "This fortress and your massive Element Zero horde that no one else knows about…"
"If you dare expose that, I will kill every last one of your underlings while you watch."
Nyreen's omnitool lit up. "What is it?"
"My squad is gone! Pulled through the vents by some, some tentacle thing!"
The following video showed what she guessed to be a turian disappearing into one of the large shafts that allowed hot air to escape the eezo mines. Whatever grabbed it looked yellowish-brown and left a disgusting trail behind it as it pulled back into the vent.
Inexplicably, Aria felt a strong urge to investigate the issue personally. Grabbing a Claymore in one hand and Nyreen's arm in the other, she headed off in the direction of the anomaly.
"I can move myself, Aria" chastised the turian. Her companion did not respond, but released Nyreen's arm.
The interior of Omega had once made sense. Omega had also been a Prothean mining operation—that was the last time any structure on the station had been built using anything resembling standardized methods. The Protheans gave up, unable to cut into the asteroid's thick crust. Millennia later, a collision with another body smashed the rock open and a massive free-for-all commenced on a huge reserve of Element Zero. Independent excavators, criminal syndicates, and large commercial interests all competed to grab the most of the rare, valuable material. Ultimately, the long arm of the law fell far short and Omega became a hub of criminal activity.
Despite thousand-year lifespans and close to infinite patience compared to most other species, neither the current nor previous ruler had ever mapped the whole thing. Figuring out how to get from a known point to another known point was left to mechs and underlings. After all, the boss never goes down to the airport, s/he sends a limo.
Consequently, the present boss found herself scampering up and down ladders, crawling through access tunnels, and in general feeling very un-Queen-like.
"Is it your goal to have me slog through every half-filled drainage pipe on the entire station?" she demanded, boring into the back of Nyreen's skull with vicious eyes.
"No" replied Kandros, "but if you truly want to figure this out, you'll put up with minor physical discomforts."
Aria could swear Nyreen was doing this on purpose. So she said as much.
"If this is some kind of twisted game, some attempt at humbling me, I am going to be very unhappy."
"As always, you see what you want to see" retorted the turian, pulling herself up one last ladder.
"Halt!" barked a voice. "Identify yourself!"
Aria almost lashed out biotically before realizing she'd ordered check points set up around anything resembling Infection. Upon noticing who had arrived, the three turians and one batarian practically tripped over themselves saluting.
"Report!"
They weren't sure who to report to, despite Nyreen being the one to ask. They technically worked for Aria and knew of her legendarily short temper. All of them unconsciously decided to speak in the general direction of their superiors and hope neither took offense.
"Arerax Siril got taken by some tentacle thing. Came out of a vent a hundred meters further in" said the batarian. "We moved the checkpoint twice today because the Infection keeps spreading faster than we can burn it."
"And why aren't you burning it?" Aria's expression suggested she thought them deficient for being unable to keep up.
"Aria, ma'am, something's happened. It's growing way faster than before!" protested one of the turians. "Every time we kill it, twice as much comes back!"
"So light it up permanently."
None of them wanted to be the one who had to suggest Aria didn't know what she was talking about. They decided to avoid the problem by simply showing her what was going on. Motioning for the two to follow, the checkpoint guards headed into an increasingly-biological looking part of the station.
Instead of haphazard plates of varying gray shades, the walls took on irregular brownish-yellow hue. Further along, it became apparent the "color" actually added thickness and dimension to the walls, being some kind of living tissue rather than simple stain or discoloration. Through a double-layer airlock style door that bore painted-on biohazard symbols, spherical protrusions could be seen. They pulsated in some rhythm.
"If you want to pass this point, you're going to have to put on hazard gear" growled the batarian. "Anyone who doesn't ends up dead. Some of them actually turn into Infected attack forms, while the rest just become that horrible yellow stuff."
Aria turned to head back out, but Nyreen's three-fingered hand alighted on her shoulder. "If we're going to deal with this, we need to go all the way in."
Scowling, Aria complied, donning protective gear alongside her turian friend.
"Let us go first" said one of the turians.
"No shit" muttered Aria. "I pay you to die in my stead."
Not realizing Nyreen happened to hear her dismiss the value of other lives, she didn't understand the reason for her companion's lengthy stare. Not being able to see past an armored faceplate in low lighting didn't help either.
The six advanced through the biohazard door, which closed quickly behind them.
"Blech" commented Aria as a large spore-pod vented something all over her faceplate. She wiped most of it away, noting the sickly color now all over the back of her glove.
"We're going to incinerate these suits when we come out" commented one of the turians after seeing what she'd done. "Don't worry about making a mess of it."
The whole corridor seemed hazy, as if something tainted the air.
"Any idea what's making it so hard to see?" inquired Nyreen.
"Uhh, I'm not a scientist" protested one of the turians, "but look at the vent over there."
The entire grate had been coated in what seemed to be brownish-yellow dust. It looked like some kind of "fuzz mold" except everyone knew better—it was obviously some Infection-related thing. As the vent pulled in air, the yellow haze could be seen moving toward and into it.
"Has it ever occurred to anyone to cut the vents?" roared Aria upon noticing this. "Maybe it's spreading because it's drifting through the ventilation system!"
The sole batarian chose to brave the wrath of Omega's ruler. "Most of the ventilation systems for this section route through here" he said hesitantly. "If we cut that completely, we'd leave a good 10% of the station without air."
"Am I the only one who's noticed that the Infection spreads by air? How thick do you have to be? Kill half the station if it stops the Infection!"
In her anger, Aria let loose a biotic flare which popped/seared several extremely bloated pods. From the pods emerged strange lifeforms which Aria had seen briefly mentioned on the news—they looked like some kind of walking aquatic creature with their many legs, large rounded bodies, and three or four pink-tipped tentacles. The launched themselves at the party.
"Fire, fire, fire!" yelled a turian. Weapons came out, spitting orange-hued mass effect accelerated munitions at the creatures. The obviously incendiary form of weaponry put them down quickly and left large score marks in the surrounding biomass. Aria noticed the affected areas begin to heal almost immediately, causing her to jump.
"Not so easy to burn, huh?" taunted Nyreen.
"Give me that" she growled, yanking a stolen FireHose out of the hands of her batarian protector.
PHIPHIPHIPHI! PHIPHIPHIPHI!
Aria popped the heatsink, sticking out her hand for another. Her bodyguards figured it best to let the violent crime boss come to her own conclusions about the Infection. Nyreen Kandros stood silently nearby, amused at Aria's insistence on continuing to pour more and more fire into the walls, ceiling, and floor despite having very little effect.
"What the fuck?" she screamed in frustration, causing everyone else to put their hands to their helmets.
Switching to a private channel, the turian Talon leader spoke to the ruler of all Omega.
"Perhaps you might try listening to your employees for once. Sometimes, they actually have useful things to say other than 'mission completed.'"
In a fury, Aria shoved past the rest of her group.
"Where is it? WHERE IS IT?"
Her hands mashed into the pulpy, spongy mass again and again, digging for something. Within a few seconds, her hand closed around the thing she sought.
"I hope these suits are fireproof" she said rather rhetorically as she yanked what had once been the fire alarm. Because it amused her, she'd wired the flame-based "anti-Infection system" to the same circuits, so the "fire alarm" now literally caused fires. It also set off an obnoxiously loud buzzer, or what would have been an obnoxiously loud buzzer if the speakers hadn't been chocked with Infection biomass. A few rotating flashing lights that were not covered began spinning, cashing a reddish glow over the yellow resulting from the Infection.
The setup Aria had ordered created used the same fuel as most common military flamethrowers. A flammable liquid sprayed in a fine mist from nozzles that directed its flow and contained flowback suppressors to prevent the flame from reaching back into the tank. Obviously, the design of such weapons presumed the nozzle would not be obstructed during use. Since growth impeded dispersal of the flame agent, it didn't ignite properly, causing patchy dispersal. The flowback guard worked as intended, but the end result was a buildup of fuel between the nozzle and the obstructing Infection. This combination went up in concentrated flames, letting off a gag-inducing smell as it burned. Environmental suits designed to block infectious agents did nothing to stop terrible odors, despite the phrase "This stinks so bad I need a gas mask."
Instead of an even burn, only spots cleared (temporarily). When the fire-burst shut off, the Infection began growing back immediately.
Enraged, the biotic boss tossed the gun from her hand that wasn't buried in a living wall, causing the weapon to spin end-over-end and bury itself partway in a pile of biomass further down the corridor.
For the first time in her memory, Nyreen Kandros heard fear in Aria's voice. "Do I even want to know what's in that mine shaft ahead?"
The asari tried to sound confident, like she was tough for asking a question to which the answer would be a resounding "yes." Except, Nyreen knew from her tone that she actually didn't really want to know, but for the sake of her pride and stubbornness, would continue forward anyway. A dropped Phaeston assault rifle emphasized that something was not right. It lay below the vent into which Arerax Siril was pulled. One of the three turians took a step toward the fallen weapon.
SHOOOP.
A tentacle with a disturbing purple glow appeared, wrapped around him, and messily yanked the helpless mercenary upward. An arm sliced off at the shoulder, leaving dark blue blood dripping off the left side of a vent clearly dented by already having at least one other unwilling being pulled through it. Two more popped out of grates near the floor. None in the party had noticed the openings as they'd been covered—now massive appendages barged out. The lone batarian fell first, grabbed by each leg and torn in half. The two parts were pulled back into the grates, or would have been if they'd fit. Whatever hungered for flesh cared not if large amounts failed to reach it due to being unable to fit through the ventilation system. Red blood covered the ground, which hungrily soaked it up.
"Let's go!"
Nyreen catapulted forward, tearing down the hallway.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" breathed Aria.
"We're outta here!" cried one of the two still-living turians.
"Cowards" hissed the asari at their retreating backs. They didn't get far. One was taken by a tentacle. The other tripped on a pod and faceplanted into it, losing his helmet in the process. He struggled for a while, then became still. She saw his metallic skin begin to turn, and at that moment, Aria experienced bone-chilling fear for the first time in centuries. She hurtled after Nyreen.
Catching up, Aria observed Nyreen staring through the window of the mining shaft's door. Tossing her Talon pistol aside, the mercenary leader remarked "We're going to need bigger guns. Lots of bigger guns."