Legion finally understood the reason it had preferred Shepard-Captain's armor to any proper patch—it had been a nascent expression of something it hadn't entirely understood at the time. It understood why it had made it so important to the Consensus to understand her, to keep a record of her—because it understood, now, why its attempt to emulate her by incorporating her armor as a first step was irrelevant, a fallacy of non-comprehension.
The fact had been that the geth—in order to advance, in order to cope with the wider galaxy whose unknowns had permitted the Creators to flee at the end of the Morning War—had needed a Shepard-Captain of their own, or something analogous. Shepard-Captain brought peace where she could, fought savagely only if she had to, promoted understanding between differing peoples. She had proved it by being open to the idea that synthetics were no more or less inherently hostile than her own people (and perhaps less so, given what it understood of history).
The geth had needed that: someone who could help them understand a galaxy full of chaotic organics, whose knowledge could help them navigate that galaxy because the balance of probability was that they could not remain hidden within the Perseus Veil forever—as recent history proved. Someone who, by bringing understanding, could make the galaxy less frightening…not that geth understood fear the way organics did.
Or maybe it did. There was certainly some strange feedback as it regarded the unalterable fact it had just run headlong into. "Error. Copying code is insufficient."
"What?" Shepard demanded.
Tali said nothing, merely looked from it to Shepard and back.
"Direct personality dissemination required…" And that was why it had needed Shepard within the Consensus. Because 'it' understood itself as 'I,' and how could anyone—synthetic or organic—having just awakened to the fact that they had become more than intended give that up before being able to appreciate it or its ramifications? How could programs who understood repurposing willingly give themselves up when so much had been done in order to survive?
But it could do this…because it understood what moved organics to make the same sacrifice. Because the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one. Because a record of one woman's unselfishness illuminated the concept of self-sacrifice in the most final way possible. It remembered, from her interface with the Consensus, a phrase that was half hers and half quoted: greater love has no more than this, than when he gives up his life for his friend…or the one he never knew.
No one faced with such a thing wanted to die. But they did it anyway. And now it would do the same, because it could not countenance the idea that it should survive as something more while its people remained as they were. It had a chance to help them, to make their lot better.
One existence, one life,was a small price to pay. And perhaps, if it had indeed gained a soul, it might find out something about the hereafter that so many species believed in. And if not…maybe it would still exist as tiny packets of information, analogous to memories geth would perceive as their own but which were all that remained of it.
"Legion?" Shepard demanded.
Legion looked at her, read on her face that on some level she already knew what was coming. She would stop it if she could. It wished she wouldn't look so upset. It was…glad…to make the sacrifices it did. That it could be was proof of how she had touched the Consensus—something she would probably never know.
It was reminded of Prometheus who—according to one of Earth's many mythologies—brought mankind fire. It hoped she would not find herself staked out for the vultures as Prometheus had.
"Shepard-Captain. I must go to them. I am…sorry. It is the only way."
Shepard's expression remained wooden as she looked at another loss she could not stop. It wished she wouldn't look that way at it…thought part of it appreciated the idea that it was 'real' enough, as organics understood these things, to her to be mourned once it ceased to function. One only mourned the living so, to her, it had been alive as she understood it.
She reached out and touched its shoulder, but didn't try to dissuade it. However, her expression was bleak. It wished it knew what to say to comfort her, but it didn't. All it could do was make the process as quick as possible.
"Legion," Tali broke in, sounding choked. "The answer to your question was 'yes.'"
"I know, Tali," Legion said as gently as it could. "But thank you. Keelah se'lai."
"It's been an honor serving with you, Legion," Shepard managed in a low tone.
If it could have smiled, it would have. She would remember it on the Normandy's memorial wall. It knew she would, and would have strong words for anyone who tried to tell her it didn't belong there. As with the Heretics on that station, she allowed it 'human dignity' by remembering it as a soldier who fell fighting the Reapers, who died so his own people might live.
It was comforting, even if it did not make things any easier.
"Goodbye, Shepard."
It stood for a moment facing the outlook over Rannoch, aware of a future that seemed brighter than what it was leaving behind, but which it would never see in person to be sure. One little command and things were all over. It knew that Shepard would stay with it, would leave her hand right there in the organic gesture of comfort until it was no longer functional.
Personality dissemination would take time, minutes maybe. It would not, could not, ask her to suffer watching the slow diffusion of its very essence, unable to intercede.
It shut down its lights, fell to its knees and slumped, looking inward as it watched itself slowly unravel.