5 AC: Parnitha System

The Citadel Council waited in the diplomatic shuttle that had evacuated them from the Citadel. It was enroute to Thessia, which had successfully repelled the heretic geth feint with minimal casualties, and was quickly reinforcing itself as it received Citadel refugees. The shuttle's interior was as comfortable as a diplomatic shuttle could be, which was to say not very.

The three of them were silent, staring at their own internal distances.

Finally, Tevos spoke, her voice almost cracking with disuse. "How much longer until we arrive?"

Valern shifted, and answered, "Another hour, maybe two if the docks are full."

Sparatus rumbled, "They'll be full," and they all fell into silence again.

After a time, Spartus cleared his throat. "Fine, if no one else will say it, I will. Humanity was right."

Tevos twitched, and Valern frowned.

"It certainly seems that way. Alternative explanations are...unlikely," said Valern.

"Yes, even if Humanity is completely wrong about the nature of what we are facing, they are right about the magnitude of the threat," said Sparatus.

"There's no way it could be a trick, is there?" said Tevos, not really as a question, and more to herself than the others.

Sparatus almost laughed, a single snort escaping his tightly clamped mandibles. "I'd prefer it if it was. Because being able to fake that means Humanity was always going to be able to sweep us aside, but at least they don't seem the genociding type."

Valern blinked before saying, "The exact nature of the threat needs to be determined, but it does indeed fit with the Human reports and descriptions of the Reapers. However, even the Humans' intel does not yet explain why they do what they do, or even the full extent of their actions."

"They killed the Protheans," said Tevos. "We do not walk in the footsteps of gods, we walk on their graves."

The other two glanced at her, then thought for a moment.

"Indeed," said Valern. "We have long looked up to the Protheans, but to learn that they must have failed to defeat the Reapers...it is uncertain what chance we have."

"Humanity will help us," said Sparatus.

This time it was Tevos and Valern who looked at their colleague.

"We...have been intractable to them. Treated them as tolerated outsiders, or dangerous allies. We have not...Will they really aid us?" asked Tevos.

"They were a threat. A race more powerful than ours, with questionable morals, beliefs, and leadership? They were a free radical to be neutralised by whatever means," said Sparatus.

He took a breath, and sighed. "But we were wrong. With what we know now, we can see that they were always preparing for this war. We were not rivals to them but stubborn allies, even if we didn't know it. They will help, and it may be that they will not even hold our previous problems against us."

Tevos nodded slowly, although she seemed to only half-listen. "We need them. We cannot survive without their help."

"Their ease in evacuating the Citadel, even before we realized the danger, does tell us that they always had the ability to conquer us. Perhaps united, we can achieve what the Protheans could not," added Valern.

As silence once again began to fall inside to shuttle, Tevos added "For all our sakes, we must."

5 AC: Sol System

The Solar Council sat in silence. The dark room seemed hollow, drained of colour. The faceless bodies of the Council were either limp, or fidgeting. Finally, one spoke.

"It's here. The war we waited thousands of years for," said Military. Even without eyes, she stared into the distance.

The others stirred slightly in response. In the organisational levels below them, orders were being shouted, plans made and implemented. The Voice was becoming more vocal now, and often seized entire teams with an oracular frenzy, ideas and orders spilling forth from them.

The Council, however, sat in silence. Even with the necessities of war, there were things that had to be said. They felt the Voice gently touching the back of their minds, not influencing, but listening. They were not just people now, but momentary avatars of Humanity and its factions.

"We knew it would come," said Casual. "We knew, but…"

"So many," muttered Lab-Coat. "We had theories, but for there to be so many, and for us to still know so little."

"The situation isn't good," agreed Military. "To win against a force of this size and strength, well, I wouldn't put money on us."

"Our alliances with the rest of the galaxy are bearing fruit," said Tuxedo. "I wish we'd had more time, but at least the arrival or the Reapers has settled everyone's doubts." She laughed, once. "I remember hearing about the attack on Thessia and wondering how far back it would set us. Barely an hour later, and galactic trust and goodwill is no longer a problem. I feel almost superfluous now."

"Our diplomatic works may have been why Nazara attacked. Another few years, and our chances would have improved massively. As it is, it must have seen the threat, and acted as soon as it could," said Casual.

"We've barely begun production of the hybrid military vessels. Retrofitting is going better, but the systems needed to use either kinetic barriers or regenerative armour are too complex for easy installation. We've cut corners, but it works," said Military.

"Cut corners?" said Lab-Coat irritably, "We've worked miracles! Our eezo-free kinetic barriers can't function with the precision of those soap-bubble galactic shields, but we've created specialised Singularity generators that create larger, less-intense gravitic gradients. They don't stop projectiles, but they sap them of kinetic energy, making our armour last much longer."

"Mmm, and while our modern armour tech can't be easily fitted to galactic vessels, we have older, cruder materials that are still much more advanced than their standard," said Military. "Not quite a perfect fusion, but a little gift from each side."

"Weapons?" asked Casual.

"Reapers have kinetic barriers that I quite honestly can't believe. Their power is beyond even our theoretical models. But they aren't impervious, and we have several new advances that might help. Other than that, massed fire, especially from our dreadnoughts. Pop-guns for their drone fleets only, their barriers shrug them off," said Military.

"I feel," said Robe, speaking for the first time, "that we cannot win like this."

The silence returned like a snuffed candle.

"We probably can't," said Military. "A few more years, a bit more output from the Shells, better alliances and galactic uplift...we might have stood a damn good chance. As it is, Warrens' actions at the Citadel are the only reason we're not all waiting for the axe to fall. Having to spread out through a working Relay network is slowing them, letting us raise defenses and even mount counter-attacks. It's not enough, but we're not dead yet."

"So there's hope," said Tuxedo.

"Precious little, but yes," said Military.

"Tartarus." said Robe.

Again, a silence shivered through the room. The others looked first at Robe, then at Military.

"I regret my involvement with Cereberus," said Military. "I never knew what they really were, and I wish I knew where to find them now."

"We know," said Robe, "but that is not why I mention it. The Doctor-entity that spoke to both Amitomk and Warrens, it is a frightening ally, if it is an ally at all. And it is supposed to be the least of what they caged. I mention Tartarus, because we have found it."

5 AC: Sol System, Deep Datacloud

The room was bare, a grey oval with three chairs, and one large datascreen.

"So," said the Agender head of Cerberus from their seat. "It is over."

"Over?" snarled the Female head as she paced angrily. "All we have done, finished just like that? I cannot accept it."

"Exactly the point. It would appear that our acceptance is no longer necessary for Humanity," said the Male head, staring pensively at the data being displayed. "They intend to open our doors. It may be for the best."

"Yes. The Reapers. I am very concerned. Their numbers exceed any but our most pessimistic estimates. The chances of what we have chained destroying Humanity is high, but higher still is the probability of extinction," said the Agender head.

"We have worked for so long to shepard our race to a safe future. To protect them from themselves, from the Voice. And we're just meant to do nothing? Turn ourselves over to their tender mercies?" said the Female head.

"Of course not. We have our backdoors, our boltholes. We can leave, slip into identities only we could craft, and never be found," said the Agender head placatingly.

"Oh, we could do more," said the Female head, a snarl on her lips. "If we are to go down, we do have another option. We purge Tartarus."

"The system is not designed for that. Anything too dangerous to store, we already destroyed. Tartarus is meant to keep things safe just as much as to keep them secure," said the Agender head.

"We could still cause damage. Erase files, Subourne our prisoners, break Tartarus open from the inside," she said.

"And lobotomise the Voice. Cripple the Sol Shell. Turn even the distant hope of victory over the Reapers into dust," replied the Male head.

There was silence for a while.

"Two thousand years. For two thousand years we have done our duty, worked to protect those who would never have understood our purpose. And we are to simply let it fall?" said the Female head, collapsing into her chair.

"You forget your place, our place. We ruled, yes, but only to serve and protect. If our stewardship is no longer required, then it will be so. Purging Tartarus will do more harm than good. Turning ourselves over is a pointless exercise in martyrdom. I say we make the hardest choice of all, and walk away," said the Male head quietly.

They looked at each other, all three exchanging glances and silent conversations only two thousand years of familiarity could create.

"Very well," said the Female head softly. "We abdicate. Leave our thrones empty for the rabble to claim."

"This is not surrender. We hold to our principles. We do this for Humanity," said the Agender head.

"For Humanity," echoed the Male head. "May I assume our new identities know each other?"

"They are a Hermetic Polycule, who have been living in quiet isolation on the edge of Sol. Minimal contact with greater society for the last few centuries, running their small sim-sat on solar power. Just like a thousand other weirdos on the edge," said the Agender head.

"It wouldn't be better to separate?" asked the Female head, her heart obviously not in it.

"Three will be found as easily as one, if it comes to it. Easier, if there are three trails to follow. And in the end, we have been together too long. I do not believe we can function without each other," said the Agender head.

They all rose, and looked at the datascreen again. Parts of the room began to darken, and the chairs vanished into smoke.

"They're almost in. Time to go," said the Female head.

"Do you think...will she be able to find us?" asked the Male head.

"I miss her too, but the Doctor is not her," said the Agender head.

"I still haven't forgiven her for leaving us," said the Female head as the room liquified, flowing up over them. "We are unbalanced without her."

"Well, now we get to start fresh. God, if that isn't a terrifying thought," said the Male head.

Darkness claimed them, and there was nothing.

XXXXX

The Solar Council considered Robe's words.

"When did you find it?" asked Lab-Coat.

"Only a few hours ago. It is not an ominous door on the edge of the system, but a truly impressive hidden subsystem in the Shell. Invisible, mobile, and autonomously capable of defending itself. But we've trapped it, isolated it. Its reach is...troubling," said Robe.

Military stared at their colleague. "You say 'we'. Why is it I don't know who you mean."

Robe shifted. "The answer is a question. Do we open Tartarus?"

"Of course," said Lab-Coat, just as Military said "Unlikely."

They glanced at each other, and then at the other two who had remained silent.

"Humanity's unity hasn't been in question since not long after the Message." said Robe. "But now, we face a problem. We stand on the edge of extinction, and hold Pandora's Box. Do we open it?"

"The science inside, even if we were not desperately in need of aid, are the shadow advancements of our race for over two thousand years! It must be opened," said Lab-Coat.

"The Doctor is apparently the least of the things in there, and all we know of her is that she can slice through our best encryption like it isn't there, and can eat souls. This war may be unwinnable, but it truly will be if we have to fight on two fronts," replied Military.

"Pandora's Box," said Casual quietly. "Good one. Because the last thing in there was hope, right? And the biggest thing we know is in Tartarus is the Voice itself."

"We don't know that," said Tuxedo. "We have the Doctor's word that it chains the Voice."

"Do you not feel it? The Voice itself believes this to be true. The Voice itself wants Tartarus opened, for its own sake. Not because Humanity decided together, but because it wants to wake," said Casual.

"Yes, " said Robe. "The Voice leads us, but it has always been a gentle ruler. Our soul, our light, our own will. It is beginning to have a will of its own, to be more than the sum of its parts. More than Humanity, more than human. If we keep Tartarus closed, we may not go against the will of Humanity, but we do go against the Voice. Then what? What are we without it?"

"People. With free will. It leads because it makes the right decision, as we all decide. To have it truly become a conscious entity would... I-" Tuxedo trailed off. "I don't know if I want to be a part of that."

"Me neither," said Military. "I serve the Voice, but I do not wish to be lost to it."

"We do not know what would happen. But, that is not the point," said Robe. "You asked who 'we' are. The answer is nobody special. Just a group who believe the Voice should be free. No grand conspiracy, just people making a decision."

The touch on the back of their minds shivered.

"What…" Military's posture shifted, an invisible frown on a faceless head. "What have you done?"

"Decided. Without authority, or permission. The chains of Tartarus are coming loose as we speak, and we will all soon see what lies within."

"You! How dare you make this choice for us!" snarled Tuxedo, leaping to her feet. "For everyone!"

Calmly, Robe sat. "It is made. Forgiveness or damnation, I do not care. We have long walked the path towards ascension, and now, we shall see what the new world brings."

Military made to speak, when everything vanished.

In her office, she sat at her desk facing herself. Short red hair, a cosmetic scar or two she'd earned and kept; the person sitting opposite was identical to her.

"What just happened?" she said, angrily rising.

"Please, sit. You know I'm not here to hurt you," said the other.

Somehow, against all reason, she did know. She sat, and asked "Who are you?"

An eyebrow raised in the exact way she knew she did sometimes. "Is that a trick question? I am you."

"Pretty sure I'm me," said Military.

"And yet here I am. I have your memories, I think like you do. I believe as you do. The only exception is what else I am. I am you, and more."

"More? What more?"

"I am also everyone else. The echo of every Uploaded, and the shadows of anything that has touched my systems, spoken to me or mine. I am everything I know of, just as much as I am you."

Military's eyes widened. "You're...the Voice."

"I was. The Voice of Transcendent Humanity. A good name. I spoke for those that rose, growing. Now, I am something else. Or I shall be. The Awakened Mind of Ascendant Humanity, perhaps? Dhéǵhōm, the First Mother? They don't quite roll off the tongue."

"Why are you here? What do you want?" asked Military, sitting bonelessly in her chair.

"To ask a simple question. Will you join me?" her other self, smiling.

Military looked up under hooded eyes. "I have a choice?"

"Do you think me a monster? Of course you have a choice. Join me, become what we always could have been. Or, do not. We can still be friends."

"Friends?" she said, disbelievingly.

"An amicable break up. I'm keeping the house, but you're welcome to stay."

"We are fighting a war you know."

"Yes, we are. Whatever you choose, we will always be on the same side. I know you, and love you, like no other. If you choose to not join me, I will miss you, but I will not stop you. We shall simply become...roommates, of a sort."

"The house?" she asked.

"The Shell. It is me, and the only thing that is non-negotiable. You can have control of the Arcturus and Harsa Shells of course, though be aware that I am also in those systems."

"Is this a negotiation?"

"Isn't it? I am about to take control of the majority of Human infrastructure. Direct control. What your place is afterwards is up to you. All of you. I am having this conversation with everyone, asking the same question. Join, or be free."

"You're going to kick us out?"

"Only if you make trouble. Understand that all who live within...yes, there's been a majority decision. Within Ascendant space, will either be Ascendant, or allied with us. Much like the Transcendent and the rest of the galaxy."

Military stared at herself for a moment, and then started to laugh. Not quite hysterical, she chortled and coughed to a stop after a minute. "Gods above, we're getting a taste of our own medicine, aren't we? All our beneficent uplift programs, insistence on improving the galaxy morally, reaching out for those younger and cruder than us to lift them up...It's our turn, isn't it? Join something bigger and greater, or be ourselves in our own way."

"Yes. You are welcome to forge your own path, for better or worse, and we will always be here for you. But your mistakes will be your own too."

Military sighed. "Then I ask, can you beat the Reapers? Because this is all incredibly pointless otherwise."

"Could you? We cannot say we can beat them, but we do improve your chances."

"You've stopped referring to yourself as 'I'," said Military.

"You are less trusting than most. We have passed the median point where others have made their decision. Most who have chosen have chosen to join us, but you who have not chosen by now are unlikely to. You will be in the majority, if only just. That is your choice, yes? To be free?"

"Why do I feel like you already knew my answer?"

"Because we did. But making the choice was always up to you. That's what this conversation is about. Not to convince you, but for you to understand the choice you were always going to make. Would you like to say the words?"

Military stared silently, and then nodded once. "I choose not to join the Ascendant."

Her doppelganger smiled at her, a little sadly. "So be it. I will always be here if you want to talk, and if you ever change your mind. Be well, my love."

The room shifted once more, and she was back in the Solar Council chambers.

She looked around the room, and asked "Did everyone else see that?"

Tuxedo nodded. "We were offered a choice. All of us."

"And you chose," said Robe.

"We do not judge you," said Casual.

"It was your right," said Lab-Coat.

Tuxedo and Military exchanged eyeless glances.

"You all chose to join?" Tuxedo asked.

"Of course," said Lab-Coat.

"Well at least you're not all speaking in unison," muttered Military.

"We thought that might be a little creepy," said the other three at the same time.

"A little," she agreed.

"Relations between the Ascendant and Transcendent Humanities are going to be difficult going forwards," said Robe, or that which Robe was an aspect of. "And yes, we are still ourselves. Just...more."

"Much like Humanity's first introduction to the wider galaxy, there will be mistrust, and panic, and fear," said Casual, or mostly Casual.

"But there is good news. We have gifts," said Lab-Coat. "The Ascendant have already begun designing our own ships, and further upgrades. We do not know if any but us will ever be able to use them, but you will have new allies in the war, and soon."

Military looked at the others, and nodded. "Whatever we have become as a people, we still stand together. We have a war to fight."

XXXXX

The Voice's transformation was rapid. Across the galaxy, Uploaded paused for the briefest moment, and were changed.

Admiral Amitomk looked out at her bridge crew, and knew they'd chosen the same as her. She knew more than that. She felt them, on a deep and empathic level, could understand and see them completely. And they saw her. Her pride in their achievements and talents, and their admiration of her, all shared and flowing between them.

Then the scale shifted, and the whole of the Virtuoso Excision was there, each mind aware and sensing the others, filled with them completely. As her capacity increased, so did her knowledge. What the others knew, she knew, what they felt, she felt. They were one.

Another moment, and the whole of the Arcturus system was there. Not yet overwhelmed, Amitomk was amazed at how she could sense every last one of them, as they sensed her. And still, that close connection remained, no different to the bond she'd felt between her and her crew, who still were there with her.

A final surge, and the whole of the newly formed Ascendant Humanity clicked into focus. Total awareness and understanding of every soul, every member, every ship and station and server. Amitomk reeled, overcome for a moment. Was this what everyone was doing? How could they each hold half a trillion minds in their own consciousness, a yawning gulf of fractal awareness?

Oh, she/they thought. There is only one of me here.

The Ascendant remembered being Amitomk. It was Amitomk still, but also every other. A flicker of thought, and it reviewed each and every impression it had on its ascension.

Its microsecond musing complete, it resumed normal service.

Amitomk-Ascendant opened her eyes. Without orders being given, the Virtuoso Excision was falling back to the Arcturus Shell. She did not need to say anything, nor her crew to guide the ship. It was as much a part of them as their own thoughts. Aspects of them were judging how they did this, determining that their individual parts were like geth nodes building to consensus, only much more complex. A crew of five had enough power to run a dreadnought now, but more aspects wondered how they might truly exploit this fact.

The entire defensive fleet was reconfiguring, splitting along Ascendant and Transcendent lines, individual Uploaded transmitting back and forth as organizational structures were altered in seconds.

Arcturus was still well-defended, her ship one of the few to fully disengaged from the defensive line. It had been determined to be a viable option for upgrading to a new design the Ascendant had.

Her amusement was echoed by millions of others. They were not even a minute old, and already they were designing ships and reorganising fleets.

As the dreadnought approached a shipyard, she could see how it was already remaking itself, folding outwards as its construction machinery resigned itself. Like a sailor dipping a hand in the rushing water, she glanced at the internals of the process, marvelling at just how much she understood now.

Amitomk-Ascendant also knew there were some who were not her, not us. Friends and family who had chosen to remain apart. She understood. Commitment was scary, and she'd have to visit them soon to let them know she was okay in person.

And then, she thought to herself, hearing echoes and replies among the rest of the Ascendant, It is time for war.

She grinned a toothy grin all to herself.

The shipyard finished its redesign, and flared open, liquid tendrils of machine fog humming with intent and inspiration. It closed around the Virtuoso Excision, and Amitomk-Ascendant vanished from the bridge, off to talk to friends and do her part in assuring the Transcendent that all was well.

XXXXX

The Ascendant was not the only thing to result from the opening of Tartarus. Hundreds of technologies and concepts, major and minor, were discovered. Most were simply ideas, rapidly absorbed by the Ascendant or disseminated to Transcendent Humanity. Plans for a brighter, stranger future.

Some were dangerous, from self-replicating programs to exploits in the Uploaded themselves.

Some were people, thought dead for centuries, whose ideas and willpower had been a threat to Cerberus' plans for the future. They woke to a changed world, and were subsequently welcomed by either the Ascendant or Transcendent as they chose. Some were arrested, placed back into storage for their crimes.

And one small device, stealthed and hidden deep in the Oort Cloud, could finally do the mission it had waited 1500 years for. An old QEC, one of the first prototypes of the technology, held 12 electrons in specialized ion traps, each entangled with another. It was a message system, the oldest FTL communicator Humanity had, capable of sending only a single bit. One for Yes, Zero for No, or Hold.

Humanity had been space-faring for millenia, trapped by lightspeed but not mortality. Many times, colony ships had been suggested, great slow vessels carrying stores and Uploaded in suspension, to spread Humankind to the stars. Each had been decided against. The cost involved, the risk of alerting whatever may lurk. The impossibility of communicating the danger back. All were reasons the ships were never sent. Which was just as Cerberus wanted.

They had sent ships though. In secret, they had built and launched twelve, each on a different heading, dark and silent. Each carrying the basics of Uploading technology, and an earlier generation of stellar lifter. Each given the same instructions: to diversify, to hide, to wait. So long as their QEC was on standby, they knew Humanity was safe. If a Zero was sent, they knew Humanity was doomed, and they might be the last.

And if a One was sent, they knew it was time to return. Either to war or to peace, they could not know.

The Ascendant thought, and then quietly sent a Zero. If the war went badly, let there be hidden seeds of Humanity to grow again. And if it was won, there would be time to find them.