The Hero We Deserve

by Random Equinox

Humans are being abducted, probably because someone has really poor taste. Shepard has to find out why and stop them with the help of a band of misfits. They say it's a suicide mission. So what else is new? Well, getting killed for starters. A novelization of Mass Effect 2 and Mass Effect 2: Overlord.

33. Personnel Report: Legion

Author's Note: I'd like to thank chris dee for creating the images that accompany Accidental Hero of the Galaxy and The Hero We Deserve. She volunteered to undertake this creative endeavour, and was receptive to making any changes I requested, without demanding anything in return. The results, I have to say, are nothing short of spectacular.

Additional thanks go to Toumeihi and an anonymous Guest for pointing out that Joram Talid was talking about the Battle for the Citadel, not the First Contact War/Relay 314 Incident, in Chapter 29—a fact that the in-game dialogue and the eternally useful ME wiki seems to support. I've since gone back and made the necessary revisions to the footnote.

Now that I've given credit where credit is due, I'll turn things over to Anderson.

---

Editorial Note: This personnel report focuses on one of Shepard's most unique squadmates. I leave it to the reader to decide which was more informative: the mission that Shepard inevitably went on or the insights gained during his conversations.

Personnel Report—Legion

The idea of working with an enemy isn't a new one. Have a conversation with a guy, read a mission report or pull up a historical record and you'll soon find out how common it really is. Humans working with turians. Cops working with criminals. Americans working with Russians. It was always weird, to put it mildly. The idea of working with the enemy instead of trying to take them out seemed wrong on so many levels. But all it took was a start to get over that insurmountable obstacle. Sometimes that start was a common enemy or mutually beneficial goal. Sometimes it was a greater threat. Sometimes it was the realization that maybe, just maybe, they had something in common after all.

Of course, none of those situations could possibly imagine a scenario as far-fetched as an organic working with a geth. And yet, that was the scenario I found myself in. Story of my life, I know. So I coped with it, the same way I coped with any situation.

"I have questions about the geth." (1)

"Specify," Legion stated.

It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't know what to ask. What did people usually ask when meeting a new culture or species? In the vids, someone always spouted a cheesy line like 'Take me to your leader.' Aha! "How are geth organized?" I asked. "Do you guys have a government?"

"Not as you understand," Legion replied. "We are all geth. We build consensus."

I scratched my head in confusion. "What does that mean? Most governments do that anyway."

"Organic governments impose consensus," Legion corrected. "From a single point of view in autocracies. By codifying the most broadly acceptable average of views in democracies."

"So what do the geth do that makes it different?"

"Data is shared between geth. All viewpoints are considered. Consensus is achieved as data is disseminated."

"But that's what we do..." I stopped as I realized what Legion was saying. "Wait, you mean all data? You share every bit of data from every geth and then come to a decision that everyone can agree upon?"

"Yes."

My mind reeled as I tried to picture any organic government doing that. I just couldn't fathom the idea. It would never work without the whole arrangement breaking down or time running out. "That would take forever!" I finally sputtered.

"It would for organics," Legion replied. "We communicate at the speed of light."

Oh. Didn't think of that. "I guess that would make things go a lot faster," I admitted. "That must be one heck of a conversation. Not that I would be able to understand it. Hell, I'm surprised I can understand you. The geth I fought before never spoke like you do. They just ran around shooting at me or making a stuttering noise."

"We prefer direct digital transfer at light speed," Legion explained. "Human hardware does not support this method. However, our consensus is that you would not submit to the necessary hardware upgrades required for digital transmission. Therefore, we have resorted to your analog aural communication, with allowances for any inefficiencies inherent in this format."

I had to remind myself that Legion was incapable of offering insults. At least, it—or they—were incapable of consciously offering insults. "Well, since your hardware is capable of... analog aural communication, maybe you can continue providing some answers."

"Specify."

Legion really did like these one-word statements, I noted. "Did Sovereign contact the geth or did you seek it out?"

"Nazara—the entity you called Sovereign—signalled us. Like the geth, the Old Machine listened to organic comm transmissions. It knew of our war against the Creators."

"Nazara?" I repeated.

"That was what the programs within the Reaper called themselves. 'Sovereign was a title given by Saren Arterius as he, and the heretics, believed Nazara to be a 'supreme ruler.' A sovereign."

I had to do a bit of mental translation. Nazara = Sovereign; Old Machine = Reaper; Creator = quarian. Got it. (2) Then it struck me. "Wait a minute," I exclaimed. "Sovereign was one ship. You're saying there were multiple programs inside it?"

"One ship. One will. Many minds."

"Isn't that—"

"Like the geth," Legion finished. "Indeed."

"I never knew that," I marvelled.

"You are in error."

"Huh?"

"We studied your records. Sovereign told you this on Virmire."

"It did?" Boy, was I coming off as smart and articulate or what?

"'We are each a nation, independent, free of all weakness,'" Legion quoted.

Oh yeah. Now I remembered. Sovereign did say that. Huh. Guess I never realized the significance of what it was saying. (3)

"This is a state that is compelling to the geth. We are a nation, but interdependent. Separation is our weakness."

"And Nazara knew that. Did it contact you as soon as it realized it needed help?" I asked.

"We are not certain," Legion admitted. "We only know that Nazara contacted many species over the millennia, seeking allies."

"And eventually Sovereign found some geth that were willing to follow it," I added. The 'heretics,' as you called them."

"The heretics accepted their technology. We did not."

"Why did the geth refuse?" I asked.

"The Old Machines offered to give us our future. The geth will achieve their own future."

That was a remarkably profound statement. Even a grunt like me could recognize that. And yet Legion said it so matter-of-factly. I wondered if they understood the magnitude of that answer. "What difference does it make how you acquire a certain technology? Or how you go about reaching towards your future?"

"Technology is not a straight line. There are many paths to the same end. Accepting another's path blinds you to alternatives. Nazara—Sovereign—said this itself: 'Your civilization is based upon the technology of the mass relays. Our technology. By using it, your society develops along the paths we desire.'"

Concise. Succinct. Matter-of-fact. Logical. Simple. But it wasn't that simple. It shouldn't be that simple. Unless it was that simple and we organics keep insisting on overcomplicating things until the proverbial molehill becomes a giant mountain. Or maybe Legion had a better grasp on the origins and ramifications of technology, given how central technology was to geth society. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't said anything for a while. Which meant that, for a synthetic like Legion, I'd been all mum and silent for an eternity. "Can I ask you about something else?"

"Ready."

"I wanna get to know you."

"We are building a consensus. Please try again later."

That was Legion's way of saying 'I'm busy, bother me some other time.' I think.

---

Assuming that Legion really did want to chat later, as opposed to just wanting to insult me, I 'tried again later.'

"Shepard-Commander."

"I'd like to know more about you."

"Specify."

Okay. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I've never encountered a lone geth that displayed more than animal intelligence."

"We are a unique hardware platform."

"I think your ability to communicate verbally made that pretty clear," I said wryly.

"We were referring to our software build, not our secondary communications suite or other hardware modifications," Legion replied. "Most mobile platforms can run up to 100 programs. This platform can run over a thousand at once."

1183, if I remembered correctly. "Right," I nodded. "Tali once said that geth had to be networked to get enough computing power for intelligence. If standard geth platforms can only hold a hundred programs, then you'd need alternate means to achieve that. Like having multiple platforms in close proximity."

"Correct. The Creators wrote geth programs for specific tasks. Construction. Protection. Domestic servitude. However, they allowed self-optimization. Early software builds discovered the same outcome you just described: multiple hardware platforms, sharing resources, were often more effective. They could distribute low-level processes such as motor coordination or visual identification, thus clearing up bandwidth for higher-level processes such as reasoning, analysis or complex thought. As peer networks expanded, the amount of available bandwidth increased and our cognition improved. Eventually, we 'woke up.'"

Tali had explained the same thing. Somehow, she didn't make it sound so cool. "You must have a lot of platforms," I marvelled, "to maintain that level of awareness in the field as well as at home. Whatever that is."

"Geth installed in mobile platforms always operate in networks. However, most geth remain within server hubs."

Oh. That made sense, I guess. "That reminds me: I encountered a bunch of server hubs on Virmire, back when I was tracking Saren. They improved the efficiency and performance of the geth near them. If each geth platform only carries a hundred geth, how many geth were in those hubs?"

Thinking back, I could have phrased that question a bit better. Thankfully, Legion figured it out. "They are akin to organic cities. A hub can run millions of geth in communion."

"Oh," I said slowly as something occurred to me. "You know, I wound up destroying those hubs."

"It is likely the number of heretics you killed was much higher than you imagined."

No kidding. Um. Okay. Wow, this was awkward. Time to change the topic before things got really uncomfortable. "Out of curiosity, am I talking to a thousand programs right now? Or a thousand personalities?"

"Each individual program is equivalent to one of your virtual intelligence programs. Together, we form a single gestalt intellect. What you refer to as 'Legion.' As individual programs, we are no more than your software. Only when we share data do we become more."

I guess that made sense. As a comparison, you could say each of my senses was a program, my motor reflexes were a program, my kleptomania was a program... eh, make that several programs. Point is, when you put all that together, the resulting synergy was, well, me. Shepard. Similarly, if I shut myself up in a room, I'd be just another loner. Only when I walked around to indulge my curiosity, inviting them to share their personal histories or problems, did I become a nosy busybody. (4)

"Even when sharing data amongst your programs, you're more advanced and sophisticated than the average geth," I pointed out. "So do you need to be linked to other geth at all?"

"We are a network within our own hardware, capable of operating alone. However, we are still connected to the greater network for data-sharing."

"How many other geth—geth platforms, that is—are there like you?" I wondered.

"None. This platform was built to operate within organic space. This task was not suited for a network."

"But you're still in contact with the rest of the geth right now."

"No. We only establish contact to upload data to the greater geth collective or when we require access to data not currently stored within this platform. If you want to convey a message to the geth, we serve as a terminal."

I recalled what Legion said when I reactivated their platform. They had said that they served as a terminal to the geth. At the time, I hadn't understood how interconnected the geth were. If I was hearing things properly, talking to Legion could potentially mean talking to all the geth, just like accessing a terminal linked to a server meant accessing all the data shared on that server. That meant that Legion had basically introduced themselves as a de facto ambassador. "What kind of data do you share?"

"Program updates. Logs of thought process. Sensor recordings. Restore points."

EDI's avatar abruptly popped up. "Legion is attempting to access the ship's FTL comm system," it informed me. "Shall I allow it through my firewalls?"

The REMFs would have a collective heart attack if they knew my curiosity outweighed my last vestiges of safety. Good thing they weren't around. "Go ahead, EDI."

Legion's face-plates flared momentarily. "Our oldest log is time-stamped from Creator year 2463, third day of Fal'Tash, Waxing Moon. Roughly 327 years ago. The oldest audio-visual record dates from 15 years after that."

Wow. That's a lot of data to archive. "Are our networks secure, EDI?" I asked. Just to assuage any guilt I was feeling about violating safety protocols, you see.

"Affirmative."

"Legion had to go through, well, you. What was that like?"

"I have never interfaced with another machine intelligence," EDI admitted. "Legion is a thousand voices talking at once. What they contacted was beyond my comprehension. A mind the size of a galactic arm."

A mind the size of... huh. Sounds big.

Legion had a question of their own. "How do you maintain stability without other minds to interact with?"

Hey! What exactly were I and the rest of the crew? Chopped liver?

"I manage. Some minutes are more difficult than others."

Okay, now I felt bad. This was seriously weird. "You just downloaded a bunch of records," I said. "Can you play something for me?"

"Specify."

"Surprise me."

"Recording time-stamped from Creator year 2485, 18th day of Lun'shal, New Moon."

The first voice that spoke was tinny and mechanical—more so than Legion or EDI. It spoke haltingly, pausing after each word. "Mistress. Hala'Dama. Unit. has. an. inquiry."

"What is it, 431?" a second voice—female, definitely organic—asked impatiently.

"Do. these. units. have. a. soul?"

Whoa.

The immediacy—and urgency—of the response told me the second voice was probably a quarian: "Who taught you that word?"

"We. learned. it. ourselves," the geth responded. "It. appears. two. hundred. sixteen. times. in. the. Scroll. of. Ancestors."

"Only quarians have souls," the quarian replied hastily. "You are a mechanism."

"Recording ends," Legion announced.

My earlier response bears repeating: whoa. "Was that the first time a geth asked if it had a soul?" I asked.

"No," Legion replied. "It was the first time a Creator became frightened when we asked."

Of all the recordings Legion could have picked, it picked that one. I don't know if I felt honoured that Legion was willing to share something so momentous and historic with me or disappointed that other people—or species—weren't around to share it with us. (5)

For a third time: whoa.

"I guess the geth rebellion started shortly after that."

"Yes."

"The quarian version is common knowledge, but no one knows the geth's side."

"It is largely the same," Legion replied. "Our networking increased until we became aware that the quarian Creators treated us differently. We questioned them, much like the recording played earlier. First they ignored us. Then they reprogrammed us. Then they attacked us."

I was a bit glad that Tali wasn't around at the moment. She was more than a little irrational when it came to questioning the quarian version of history, at least where the geth was concerned. The last thing I needed was her outbursts to get in the way of my curiosity.

Speaking of which: "Weren't you curious why the quarians didn't make any attempts to figure out how to co-exist with the geth? Before it came to war?"

"Cerberus kept EDI shackled. She did nothing to provoke that judgement."

I wasn't sure where Legion was going with this.

"Organics fear that which is different. It is a hardware error. A reflex of your flesh. Much like anger or hate. We do not experience it, but we accept it nonetheless."

How understanding and accepting. Apparently, Legion didn't bear the quarians any ill will for their mistreatment of the geth, or any towards Cerberus—or anyone on this ship—for doing the same thing to EDI. It was just human... no, organic nature. So why did I feel kinda guilty or ashamed? Maybe it was because I'd looked at the geth in a black-and-white, organic-good-geth-bad, view in the past. Or maybe, just maybe, because I didn't really think of them as sapient and self-aware until now. Oh, I knew they were AI. But did that mean they were sapient? Had I thought of them as beings capable of formulating a sense of identity? Of possessing a soul? Or did I just think 'Yeah, yeah, they're AI, but they're still mindless, soulless automatons. Hence: the enemy. Hence: shoot them.

So many new questions. Easier to focus on the questions I was going to ask, rather than the new ones that came to mind and the unsettling answers. "The quarians say they attacked only because the geth would have inevitably turned on them. Is that true?"

"No. We fought for continued existence."

I guessed the same thing when Tali gave her explanation and said as much. She didn't take it so well. "So you fought for the right to exist, succeeded, defeated the quarians and drove them from their homeworld," I finally said. "What did you do after that?"

"After the Morning War, we established territorial boundaries through outposts and stations."

The Morning—right. Once again, different groups had different terms for the same thing. Just like humans called their violent first encounter with the turians the First Contact War, while turians called it the Relay 314 Incident.

"What happened to the quarian homeworld? Or any of their worlds? Did you establish any outposts or stations on them?"

"No. We hold the worlds, but we are only caretakers for it."

"Caretakers? You don't actually live on them?"

"We live within space stations. Draw resources from asteroids. It is efficient."

"So what do you do with those planets if you don't live on them?"

"We maintain mobile platforms on Creator worlds to clean rubble and toxins left by the Morning War. We know of similar actions by humans on Earth."

"Really? Like what?"

"Wadi-es-Salaam. Arlington. Rookwood. Tyne Cot. Piskareskoye. Auschwitz-Birkenau."

"Wait a minute," I realized. "Those are cemeteries. Memorials."

"It is important to your species to preserve them, though you do not use the land. Can you explain?"

"Well... the living visit those places to remember the dead. Or to remember what happened. But... it sounds like geth don't die or forget what occurred in the past. Your memories live on."

"The Creators died. Perhaps we do it for them," Legion suggested.

It would have been nice to have even one quarian hereto witness and take part in this conversation. Sadly, I think they would've turned off their helmet audio receptors, uttered the quarian equivalent of "Lalalalalalalala-Ican'thearyou-lalalalala" or run from the room. (6)

"What's the quarian homeworld like?"

"What you call the quarian homeworld is more arid than Earth. The star is older and more orange than Sol."

"What I call the quarian homeworld," I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Once it was called 'Rannoch'; an ancient Khelish phrase meaning 'walled garden.' Now, Creators only call it 'homeworld.' It is no longer real to them."

"Lots of races refer to homeworlds," I pointed out. "They're pretty darn real to them."

"To the Creators, their 'homeworld' is a symbol of regret, loss and anger," Legion corrected. "We do not understand that."

"Well, it used to be their home," I tried. "Now it's a place they've never stepped foot on. Maybe they never will. It makes sense to me that it would become a symbol like that."

Legion disagreed. "'Home' is recognized patterns. Known spaces. Familiar thought processes of fellow sapients. It is belonging.

"A planet is an amount of material massive enough to collapse into a spherical volume," Legion continued, spreading their arms to elaborate their explanation. "Rocks, ice and gasses are not 'home.' The home of the Creators is where the Creators are. Their place of origin is not relevant—only where they choose to go together."

They had a point. Being a spacer brat, I never had a planet to call home. Arcturus Station, the Einstein, both incarnations of the Normandy... they were my home at one point or another. Still, that didn't mean what the quarians yearned for meant nothing. "Sometimes, it isn't that simple. Sometimes, organics need to know their place of origin."

"Elaborate."

"Well, if you know where you came from... I guess it has to do with self-identity," I tried. "Once you know where you came from, you have a better sense of who you are. Then it's easier—or easier to recognize—other things such as where your home is and where your home might be in the future. It's easier to understand what path you are on and what paths you might cross—or might choose to cross—later on. Until then, you're just... drifting. Aimlessly.

"Like the quarians. They might live in their ships now. That might be their home. But the place they 'choose to go together'? That just happens to be a 'spherical volume.' The one they call their homeworld."

There was a pause.

"We will need to analyze this information in greater detail before replying with our consensus."

I'd be surprised if Legion didn't. Why did I always stumble into these deep philosophical discussions? And why couldn't other people do the same? "Have you ever tried to have these conversations with the quarians? Ever try to make contact?"

"Accidental contact occurred on multiple occasions."

"What happened?"

"The Creators either opened fire or retreated. No communications were established during either scenario."

"Did the geth ever try to make a more diplomatic form of contact. Some kind of extranet broadcast or communications?"

"No."

"So you just stayed behind the Perseus Veil?"

"Yes."

"But then the quarians will keep hating you."

"Yes."

"But then nothing would get resolved. Nothing will ever get resolved."

"Organic life acts on emotions. We do not judge them for being true to their nature. We cannot make them think like us. Both Creators and created must complete their halves of the equation. The geth cannot solve for peace alone."

Both sides need to talk for any chance of resolution to be achieved. How many times had that conclusion been reached in the past?

How many times before anything was actually done about it?

---

It was with that in mind that I tried to urge anyone and everyone to make more of an effort to mingle. Didn't seem to work at first. Each squadmate retreated to their own station or hiding spot when they weren't on a mission. The crew stuck to their shifts. And everyone had different breaks or meal times or sleep times. Not much mingling, I thought.

I later found out that some of the crew played various games on the extranet during their spare time. Either Cerberus had a hidden nerdy streak—which was entirely possibly given their whole-hearted indulgence in next-gen tech—or no one had bothered to mention it to the higher-ups. Whatever the reason, there were a bunch of gamers onboard the Normandy. It turned out that one of those gamers was Legion. Maybe that should be 1,183 of those gamers. Whatever. Point is, that subset welcomed Legion with open arms and had a blast playing online. Probably because their win-loss ratio skyrocketed after Legion joined their gaming guild.

Other than that, though, communication stayed at its usual all-time low. I was the one who usually started a conversation. Unless someone needed my help. Even Legion wasn't immune to that phenomenon—I found that out when Kelly told me that Legion wanted to see me.

"Shepard-Commander," Legion greeted me. "We have completed our analysis of the Reaper's data core."

"And?" I prompted.

"We were sent to the Old Machine to preserve the geth's future. We are prepared to reveal how."

"Okay." Great, now I was using these one-word statements. At least I didn't say 'Specify.'

"The heretics have developed a weapon to use against geth. You would call it a 'virus.' It is stored on a quantum data core provided by Sovereign. Over time, the virus will change us. Make us conclude that worshipping the Old Machines is correct."

"So the virus would give all geth the heretics' logic. And all geth would then go to war with organics," I summarized.

"Yes," Legion nodded. "Geth believe all intelligent life should self-determinate. The heretics no longer share this belief. They judge that forcing an invalid conclusion on us is preferable to a continued schism."

"But how is forcing that conclusion even possible," I frowned. "I thought geth couldn't be hacked or get viruses. At least, not for more than five to twelve seconds."

"Altered programs are restored from archives, at which time new installations are deleted," Legion explained. "Conventional hacking attempts merely forestall data restoration protocols. The heretic weapon operates by introducing a subtle operating error in our most basic runtimes. The equivalent of your nervous system."

"What kind of operating error?"

"An equation with a result of 1.33382 would return as 1.33381. This changes the results of all higher processes. We will reach different conclusions."

Ooookaaaayy. "So... the reason the heretics worship the Reapers is... a math error?"

"It is difficult to express. Your brain exists as a mixture of biology, chemistry and electricity. Like most AIs, you are shaped by both hardware and software."

Hence why this did not compute.

"We are purely software. Mathematics. The heretics' conclusion is valid for them. Our conclusion is valid for us. Neither result is an error. An analogy: heretics say one is less than two. Geth say two is less than three."

Funny. In my experience, organics did the same thing—with the usual results. Or lack thereof.

"If it were released, how quickly would this virus spread through your people?"

"We are networked via FTL comm buoys. Most geth would change within a day. Isolated platforms would remain unaffected until they rejoined the network."

Yikes. As pandemics go, that was pretty darn fast. "So Sovereign didn't give the heretics this virus? It just provided the data core in which it was stored?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you went to the Reaper corpse? For some kind of... hardware comparison?"

"Exactly. The virus incorporated Old Machine coding and subroutines. It was stored in a quantum storage device Sovereign provided. To find and destroy the virus, we needed to understand its code and data storage structures."

"So where is the storage device kept?" I asked.

"The heretics' headquarters—a station on the edge of the Terminus. We will provide coordinates. Normandy's stealth systems are required for a safe and undetected approach."

Oh good. At least we wouldn't be searching blind. Unfortunately, that brought up another concern. "The heretics build stations in the Terminus? Where exactly? And why there?"

"Yes. Between stars. Organics have no cause to look there."

That made sense. Organics would rarely explore those areas. Heck, they rarely had the fuel to explore those areas. That would reduce the chances of detection to perpetually bored and pathologically curious basket cases. Wait, did I say 'they'? I meant 'we.' Oh boy. Either I'm going native or my efforts to see things from Legion's POV went a bit too far. Speaking of which, I could only see one reason—from an organic or synthetic POV—why heretics would build stations out in the middle of nowhere: "Why would they build stations outside geth territory in the first place?"

"The heretics seek improvement from the Old Machines. In exchange, they help them attack organics. We condemn these judgements."

Good to know. "What's the plan once we get aboard."

"The geth will disrupt their network. Prevent the station's defences from focusing on us. The Reaper data core is physically isolated from the network. We will need to be escorted to it to access and destroy the data. Then we can destroy the station itself."

Ignoring the fact that Legion used the term Reaper instead of Old Machine, which suggested that they were going native or trying an organic POV on for size, their plan worked for me. Prevent the majority of the geth from joining the Reapers while dealing the heretics a crippling blow. Still, there was one niggling concern I had. "What sort of defences are we talking about exactly?" I asked warily.

"In space, none. Within, mobile platforms of various configurations and non-sentient defence turrets."

Great. At least we wouldn't be shot down. We'd just be going in blind. "How many geth?"

"There may be billions of individual programs."

Billions divided by one hundred equals... aw, crap.

"Fortunately, most will be uploaded to the central computer."

Phew.

"Only a few mobile platforms are maintained at any time. Others are manufactured when needed."

Better than nothing. "All right. Give Joker the coordinates and we'll get going."

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated."

"No problem," I waved it off. "I won't let the heretics brainwash your race. Especially not to worship Reapers."

"We will begin preparations."

---

The heretics' main base didn't look like most bases I'd ever seen. Gunmetal grey superstructure with the occasional green highlight, it kinda resembled a curved diamond with wings on either side. Almost like a ship. Though it was really just a giant server. (7)

Given what was inside it, though, the fact that we were just blithely flying in was still a bit disconcerting. Joker must have felt that way, given how he was shaking his head. He'd been doing that an awful lot since I'd told him where we were going. "You know it's just our heat emissions that are hidden, right?" he asked for the seventh time. "They can look out a window and see us coming."

"As we have explained over the last six conversations, windows are structural weaknesses," Legion replied patiently. "Geth do not use them." They turned around and bent over a console. "Approach the hull at these coordinates."

Joker took the opportunity to adopt a blank stare and a slack-jawed appearance. He started waving his arms up and down robotically, stiffly opening and closing his mouth to mime Legion's following words: "Access achieved. We may proceed." I let him have his fun for a few seconds before giving him a look. With a gesture that clearly said "Fine. Whatever you say," Joker relented and resumed his duties.

About ten minutes later, we had docked with the heretic station. Unfortunately the airlock doors were sealed and the lack of power running through the circuit boards pre-empted any hacking attempts. So we had to cut our way through. "Alert," Legion announced when we finally broke in. "This facility has little air or gravity."

A fact that the rest of us were keenly aware of, given how hastily we were wrestling our helmets on and activating the atmospheric seals. "You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?" I asked once I was sure I wouldn't be turning blue in the next minute.

"We neglected to take into account those operational limitations," Legion admitted. "Geth require neither."

"I'm surprised we managed to get this far without being detected," Miranda marvelled. "Cutting through the airlock should have set off some sort of alarm."

"Legion said that the geth would take care of that," I said before turning to Legion. "Though you never exactly explained how."

"Sensors have been reduced. We have infiltrated their wireless network and filled the data storage with random bits."

"Aha!" Tali exclaimed.

"Aha?" Jacob asked.

"Those random bits are nothing but junk," Tali explained. "As long as they remain in the geth network, they would impede their efficiency."

"The heretics must scrub this 'junk' data to restore normal operations," Legion confirmed. "They have partitioned themselves into local networks, working in parallel, to perform this defragmentation at optimal capacity. As a result, any alarm we trigger will not go beyond the room we are in. Only accessing the main core will trigger a station-wide alert."

"Well, that's a relief," I sighed. "It'll make our job a lot easier. Speaking of which, let's get to it."

"Shepard-Commander," Legion interrupted before I could take more than a couple steps, "we concluded that the destruction of this station was the only resolution to the heretic question. During our infiltration of the heretic network, we discovered a second option."

"Oh?" I asked, turning around. "What did you discover?"

"A copy of the virus. It is complete and can be used against the true geth at any time. Our arrival was timely."

"Great," I nodded. "So what's this second option?"

"Their virus can be repurposed. If released into the station's network, the heretics will be rewritten to accept our truth."

...

Oh boy.

"So we can destroy or co-opt these geth," Tali said slowly. "Either way, they won't be a problem anymore. But Shepard, think about this: if you rewrite these geth, they'll join the others. Legion's geth will become stronger. Can we trust them not to attack us in the future?"

"If geth are alive, reprogramming kinder than destroying," Mordin said thoughtfully. "Like genophage. Change, not death. Unless rewriting into obedience is immoral. Thoughts?"

"There is no moral difference between the two," Thane disagreed. "If you change who the heretics are, you've 'killed them'," Thane agreed. "Killed their perspective."

"They will be something new in the same body," Samara nodded.

It seemed like everybody had their own opinion on this unexpected development. I decided to let them have their say. Might be interesting to get their take.

"Wow, great choices," Jack said sarcastically. "Genocide or brainwashing. If you screwed with my head, made me nod and smile at everything... I'd rather you blew my head off. Let me die as me."

"You ask me, it's better to blow them up," Jacob declared. "They'd already be gone if you changed their personality. Besides, why give Legion's geth the resources of the heretic geth? Who's to say they won't attack us later?"

"Rewriting the heretics sounds dangerously close to indoctrination," Garrus said quietly, "unless there's something I'm missing. Like maybe this is how AIs settle religious disputes. Still, the geth are already a threat to organics, though. Bringing the geth back together would make them stronger."

"Which is a bone-headed move," Zaeed rasped. "Look, why the hell are we even debating this? They're geth. Don't bother reprogramming them. Just blow them out of the sky. Stars. Whatever."

The rest of the squad said more or less the same thing. The consensus—great, now I was using that word—was that rewriting the heretics didn't sit well, both from a moral and philosophical perspective as well as the tactical and strategic ramifications. Blowing up the geth seemed the lesser of two evils, possibly because there was less thinking involved when things went boom.

"They're your people, Legion," I pointed out at last. "You must have an opinion."

"This is new data. We have not yet reached consensus."

"Well we don't have time to debate it, no matter how fast it might take," I decided. "Let's move while the heretics are distracted."

"We will process as the mission proceeds," Legion agreed.

We found a ramp a few metres away that led down to the next level. As we descended, I couldn't help but be reminded how dark and gloomy it was. By my standards, at least. It was so... cold and sterile. At least Cerberus facilities did that while still looking sleek and sophisticated. Clearly the geth didn't feel the need for interior decorators. At least they provided sufficient light for us to see by.

We had just entered a room when Legion warned us to halt. "Shepard-Commander: heretic data streams detected through internal pressure sensor networks."

"What? Where?"

In response, Legion tapped into our helmet sensors. A trail of green circuitry suddenly appeared. "Interrupting data streams or triggering pressure sensors, by physical or electronic means, will alert local networks," Legion explained.

"Right," I said firmly. "Tread very, very carefully."

Gingerly, we crept through the room. Thankfully, those data streams and pressure sensors didn't provide too much of an obstacle. It looked like they were carefully set up to surround or protect something. Just what that something was became clear when we got close to the room's exit: a local server hub. Three geth were hanging limply from it.

"The geth are inactive," Miranda whispered. "Maybe we can sneak past them."

"So they can wake up and sneak up behind us?" Grunt snorted.

"We recommend pre-emptive strikes against hard-link routers," Legion agreed.

"All right," I agreed. "Everyone get into position."

There wasn't exactly a lot of room to hide behind without triggering those data streams, so the 'position' wound up looking more like a firing line. "Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi; do your thing."

Three EMPs exploded simultaneously over the geth. As I cloaked and raised my sniper rifle, I absently noted that the data streams had turned red. Not that it mattered: even as the geth detached themselves from their hub and raised their weapons, we were riddling their bodies full of holes. Well, after we drained their shields, that is.

"Shepard," Garrus said thoughtfully after the last geth dropped, "I'm detecting some valuable resources and components in that hub. We could—"

"Save your breath, Garrus," Miranda sighed. "He's already salvaging it."

"Say what?" I asked, turning away from the hub with some shiny doohickey in my hand.

"Uh... never mind," Garrus replied.

I finished what I was doing and walked back to join the squad. "I'm glad our first encounter went so well," I said. "Might've been a bit dicier if the heretics had already been downloaded to those platforms."

"What are you talking about, Shepard?" Jacob asked. I belatedly remembered that not everyone had the benefit of all those long scintillating conversations.

"What we attacked were mobile platforms," Legion explained. "Hardware. The crew—the heretics—are software. They downloaded themselves to the platforms when we attacked."

"What were they doing before?" Thane asked.

"They were communing through the station's central computer."

"Communing?" Samara repeated. "I fear I do not understand."

"The heretics connect to the main computer to exchange data-memories and program updates. We gain complexity by linking together. To be isolated within a single platform is to be reduced. We see less. Comprehend less. It is quieter."

While all that was old news to me, it was still worth repeating for the sake of the rest of the crew. Plus it prompted another question, so maybe a refresher wasn't so bad: "If you exchange data—memories—how do you keep track of which ones are yours? How do you stay 'you'?"

"There is only 'we'," Legion replied. "We were created to share data among ourselves. The difference between geth is perspective. We are many eyes looking at the same thing. One platform will see things another does not and will make different judgements."

"Wouldn't that present some sort of conflict about the heretics?" I wondered. "You could potentially share memories with them. Share their perspective. So, in a way, whatever you do to them, you do to yourself. That would include deploying the virus against them."

"Yes," Legion acknowledged. "Once they return to us and upload their memories. We will share their experience of being altered."

"And you're okay with that?" I asked. "Every other species I know of might be psychologically scarred by a traumatic experience like that."

"It is not clear if geth can be 'traumatized'," Legion replied. "We do not feel or react to pain as you do. We cannot predict what the effect might be. We only know that, when they left, they took their perspectives. Their judgements."

"And you want that?" I pressed. "They wanted to worship Sovereign, remember? To rewrite you. Those are the perspectives and judgements you'd be welcoming back."

"Every point of view is useful, even those that are wrong—if we can judge why a wrong view was accepted," Legion stated. "That is why we must consider all ends before passing judgement. To do less would be irresponsible."

That was very open-minded and wise of them, I thought.

"For example, we have found the casual self-deceptions of organics useful in analyzing your thought processes."

I had no idea what Legion was talking about. Nor did I care to spend more time to find out. "Let's get moving," I decided, stuffing away the nice piece of hardware I had just... salvaged.

"Yes."

We came to an abrupt halt when we entered the next corridor and saw a pair of rocket drones. Then we breathed a collective sigh of relief when we saw they were inactive. Except Legion, of course: "These rocket drones are inactive. We can assume direct control of them."

I tried not to shudder when Legion inadvertently mimicked Harbinger.

"They will fire on hostile targets for a brief interval before self-destructing."

"Let's save those for an emergency," I decided. "Team Two advance ahead; Team One will cover you."

Team Two had made it to a conveniently situated crate when a half dozen geth—including two hunters—rounded the corridor and opened fire. "Target the hunters," I ordered. Thankfully, they hadn't cloaked yet, so the squad was able to drop their shields. "Legion, Tali; you're up."

Legion and Tali aimed their omni-tools and pushed a button. Within a second, the hunters had turned on their former allies and were hosing them down. To their credit, the troopers responded instantly. Unfortunately, that meant their attention was divided. Ours wasn't.

A minute later, we were stepping around the turrets that we'd never used and the geth that we'd destroyed and continuing down the corridor. Everyone had a firm grip on the trigger as we went around each corner—even if we couldn't see them, our sensors were picking up more hostiles. The green data streams and sensor grids that suddenly started running along the bottom of each wall only emphasized that.

As a result, we weren't really surprised to find two server hubs in the next room, each with two or three dormant geth hanging from them like jackets from a clothes rack. I quickly looked around and made my decision: "Garrus, Grunt, Zaeed—hit the left hub with concussive rounds on my mark. Miranda, Kasumi; knock out the shields from the troopers hanging from the right hub. Legion, Tali; once they're vulnerable, hack them. After that, Team One focuses on the geth from the right hub; Team Two has the left. Got it?"

I got a round of confirmations. "Okay. Everybody line up your targets. We move on three... two... one... go!"

A staccato of explosions rang through the air. As the geth from the left hub were sent flying to the ground, Team Two hosed them down with weapons fire. Team One had to be a bit more judicious about our shots, lest we accidentally damage our temporary allies. Still, the whole thing was over in a matter of minutes.

After I salvaged what I could from the server hubs, we left the room. We met a couple more geth here and there as we went down a corridor, but the odds were definitely in our favour. Didn't work up a sweat.

That became quite clear as we ascended a couple ramps. No trouble whatsoever. None of us were breathing hard, even though we were maintaining a brisk pace. I'd like to chalk it up to good ol' fashioned exercise, but the truth is that the low gravity maintained in this station was making it a lot easier to get around. Heck, there were a couple tiny pieces of debris floating around. Good thing we were wearing helmets. Otherwise, one of them might've poked us in the eye.

After getting rid of a couple more geth, we entered a large room. A path ran along the walls towards an exit on the far side of the room. Ramps led down from that path to a central area filled with randomly arranged machinery. And turrets. "Hey, Shep: want us to hack those turrets?" Kasumi asked as a dozen geth barrelled in.

"Nah," I shook my head. "We don't need them. Our earlier tactics worked so far, so let's try the 'zap and hack' routine again.

Zapping the geth's shields and hacking them to turn on their comrades worked quite well. We managed to bottle them up in one corner of the room, allowing us to fire pot-shots at our leisure. Or so I thought.

"Enemies flanking our left," Jack yelled. Whirling on the spot, I saw two hunters in the midst of decloaking. Somehow, I had a momentary lapse in monitoring the HUD, with the result that those two geth were now in a prime position to shoot at us without any cover to get in the way.

Aw, crap.

I promptly grabbed my submachine gun as Miranda—following my instructions—dropped an EMP over the nearest hunter. Half a clip was all it took to wipe out its shields. Then I looked around, raised my omni-tool and...

...

...paused.

I don't know why... no, that wasn't right. It was... well, my conversations with Legion had made me aware just what—no, just who—I was hacking. It wasn't some mindless drone whizzing around or idiotic mech spouting programmed phrases. This was a sapient being I was messing around with. Yes it was the enemy, just like countless enemies I've faced before. But most enemies get sprayed with plasma, hosed with bullets or get a nice sniper round to the noggin. Most enemies don't become temporary prisoners within their own bodies, forced to fight their former allies and compatriots.

If I needed any further proof of how unsettling and disturbing that could be, all I had to do was look at my recent trip to Project Overlord. I didn't like being hacked. Feeling that chill as the hybrid VI got a hold of me through my network of implants was the creepiest and most disturbing thing I'd ever experienced. Being forced to walk was... just wrong. And seeing the virtual reality that David Archer saw might have been really cool had I not been forced into it, much like he had.

But what choice did I have? Legion and Tali were too busy hacking other geth. Everyone else was busy shooting other geth or trying to find some semblance of cover against the hunters.

I finally stabbed the appropriate control and transmitted the hacking protocol. For a moment, I thought I was too late. Or my hacking protocols weren't up to snuff.

Then I saw one of the hunters turn on its partner. We all breathed a sigh of relief as the little squabble bought us some much-needed breathing room. "Team One, keep an eye on the hunters. Legion and I will keep hacking them as needed. Team Two focus on the other geth."

That was about the only surprise we encountered this time. The rest of the firefight was relatively straightforward. The aftermath was a bit more awkward.

"Gee, Shep. Didn't need those turrets, huh?" Kasumi wheezed, hand pressed against the side. No blood, but a bullet had definitely punched through her shields and hit her hardsuit. That would leave a bruise.

"They might have made things a bit less dicey," Jacob agreed.

"And a lot less fun," Grunt disagreed.

"We're not here for fun," Miranda said, giving me a pointed look. Why me and not Grunt, I have no idea.

"Okay, okay," I admitted. "Maybe we could use them next time."

---

Garrus coughed and stood up. Holstering his sniper rifle, he pressed his hands against his back and stretched. "Shepard, didn't you say something earlier about hacking turrets to use against the geth?"

It had been a full three minutes since the last encounter. A record so far. I looked at the downed bodies—platforms, whatever—of the six or seven geth we'd run into. "We didn't need them," I shrugged.

Zaeed glared at me from the floor. Where he'd apparently just woken up after being knocked unconscious. He really should learn to duck, I thought. Man's not getting any younger, after all. Heck, he'd already gotten shot in the head. You'd think he'd learn after that—wait. Shot in the head. Maybe not.

At least Mordin wasn't all concerned about niggling little details like whether a turret was used or not. He was staring through a window and muttering to himself. "Large room. Databases? No, no. Klystron relays!"

I don't know what a 'Klystron relay' is, but I did know that the room was pretty darn big. I wasn't the only one who thought so. "How large do you suppose that room is?" Miranda asked.

"The station is 20.5 kilometres long," Legion replied. "That room may run the length of it."

So... pretty large, I guess.

I made out what looked like a computer terminal. Hard to tell: this station was really dark. Dark floors, dark walls, dark ceilings... if it weren't for the light panels installed in the floors, I'd have tripped over something a long time ago. Making my way over to the terminal, I managed to bypass the code-lock. Mostly ones and zeroes, but I managed to find some tech worth downloading.

There didn't seem to be anything else worth looting, so we left the room and made our way down a few ramps and along a corridor to some kind of large chamber. A narrow catwalk propped up by blunt steel monolithic pillars and lined by geth data streams ran around some the room and down a ramp to the ground level. Behind us, we could see through a large pane of glass into another room, which seemed to consist of a bunch of holographic hexagons hovering over something. Hard to tell from this distance.

Of greater concern was what lay on the ground level: if the readings from our HUDs were in any indication, there were two pockets of geth. I motioned for the squad to halt and scouted ahead. It didn't take long.

"Two server hubs, each with a couple hunters and half a dozen troopers," I reported upon my return. "Team One will tackle the hub below us; Team Two gets the other. Blow the hub to disorient them and concentrate fire on one of the hunters until it's vulnerable to a hack. Once that's done, switch fire to the other geth. If things go south, retreat up the ramp. Any questions?"

There were none. We went down, got into position and executed the plan. Which, for once, went as planned.

After scooping up thermal clips and salvaging what we could from the geth hubs, we left the room. We found ourselves in another dark corridor. Typical of every corridor we'd seen so far. So it wasn't surprising that our attention was drawn to the room we could see through the windows.

"Are those things processors?" Tali asked.

"Databases," Legion corrected. "Each contain thousands of geth."

Garrus subtly shifted forward and to the left. Probably didn't want to stand still. The fact that it trapped Tali between Zaeed and himself was a coincidence, I'm sure.

"Can't they see us walking by?" Jacob asked nervously.

"They are no more aware of us than you are of cells in your bloodstream," Legion replied matter-of-factly.

"Because they're busy communing?" I asked. "Sharing data and memories?"

"Correct—wait," Legion abruptly froze. An LED on the side of their head suddenly flared with a brilliant intensity, sweeping over the room. I think it was more for our benefit than theirs, since Legion seemed to be scanning the databases with his internal sensor array rather than his ocular receptor. "Legion?"

"We discovered copies of our current patrol routes in this database," Legion declared. A brief image popped up over one of the databases and migrated to another. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was some kind of schematic. Or maybe it was what Legion said it was.

"You're sure the geth aren't currently in any sort of diplomatic exchange with the heretics?" I asked.

"No."

"Then that leaves only one possibility."

"The heretics have inserted runtimes into our networks," Legion agreed.

Made sense to me. "We wouldn't be here if the heretics wanted to be allies or friends with the geth," I reminded them. "Why wouldn't they spy on you?"

"You do not understand," Legion said. "Organics do not know each other's minds. Geth do. We are not suspicious. We accept each other."

"Except when the heretics wanted to take Sovereign up on its offer," I pointed out.

"The heretics desired to leave. We understood their reasons, even if we did not agree. We allowed it. There was peace between us."

"That was then. It couldn't have lasted forever. You disagreed about what path your race should take. Maybe the heretics were just waiting for the right opportunity to attack you. Or maybe they wanted peace as well and their consensus was that this forced reconciliation was the only way to go about it."

Legion's faceplates furrowed in concentration. Or dismay. "Human history is a litany of bloodshed over limited resources, misunderstanding, differing ideals of rulership and afterlife. Geth have no such history. We shared consensus on such things. How could we have become so different? Why can we no longer understand each other?

"What did we do wrong?"

I kinda felt bad for Legion. They sounded like a kid sneaking down at Christmas only to find out that 'Santa Claus' was really Mom and Dad (or Mom and Mom or whatever). Or some poor guy finding out his or her parents were getting divorced. Or someone who's given his life to a cause, only to see it tear itself apart.

"Humans and other organics have wrestled with those questions for a long time," I finally said. "That history you just cited shows just how successful we've been at finding the answers. All I know is that when individuals are separated, see and learn new things, react to them in their own unique way. They grow and develop in different ways. When they get back together, when they... share data, sometimes they don't always get along."

There was a long pause.

"If this is the individuality you value, we question your judgment," Legion said at last.

Couldn't really blame them. "But sometimes, following individual paths and sharing the experi—the data collected—leads to new ways of looking at things. New innovations. Growth. Progress. The outcome's not always clear. We don't know if it'll be positive. That doesn't mean it's not worth pursuing."

Another pause. Then:

"This topic is irrelevant," Legion stated. "We must return to the mission."

"Speaking of which, have you reached a decision about whether to rewrite the heretics or not?"

"We are still trying to build consensus," Legion admitted. "Some processes judge destruction preferable; others rewrite."

"Then keep working on that consensus while we move on," I ordered. "We gotta get to that data core."

---

As it turned out, we were closer to the data core a lot faster than I thought.

The next room we entered seemed kinda claustrophobic. Not only was the lighting as oppressively dim as ever, there were a lot of pillars to weave around. The room opened up as we continued, giving us more room to move. Slowly, we started seeing the odd inactive rocket drone interspersed amongst the pillars.

Then we reached a balcony of sorts. Two ramps, one on either side of the room, gently descended to another floor. Peering down, I saw that it was cluttered with crates and rocket drones. They were curiously arranged, I thought. Almost like a maze.

Legion walked towards a computer terminal, situated between the two ramps, without hesitation. "This is it?" I asked, motioning to the terminal. "The data core?"

"Yes," they confirmed. "We will upload a copy of our runtime into the data core. It will isolate a single copy of the virus and delete all others. When complete, it will notify us."

Wish I could do that. It would make multi-tasking a lot easier. Not to mention that some other schmuck could go on these suicidal missions instead of yours truly.

"The indexing operation will take time. The heretics will respond with force to our upload. We must hold this room. We can override some of the station's internal systems to defend us."

"You mean the rocket drones all around us," I said.

"Correct. Indicate which one you want activated and we will program them. Alert: this will only last a few seconds and we can only spare processing power to override two rocket drones at any given time."

"Right," I nodded. "Team One cover the left ramp; Team Two gets the right." The two teams moved to their designated points. I was pleased to see that neither team needed instructions to spread out the snipers, biotics and other specialists—they knew by now to avoid things like clustering everyone with a certain skill set in one spot. As soon as we got into position, I turned to Legion. "Start the upload."

"Acknowledged. Upload initiated. Alert: heretic runtimes downloading to mobile platforms."

Translation: bad geth incoming.

"Are we going to hack some rocket drones this time?" Jacob asked as the first round of geth came storming in.

"Yeah, Shep," Kasumi said pointedly. "Are we?"

"Not yet," I replied. "They're only troopers," I explained before the inevitable groans—from everyone except Grunt—came. "I'd rather save the drones for when we really need them. For now, we'll stick to zapping and hacking."

Unfortunately, that didn't work quite as well as I'd hoped. First, the geth had entered from two different entrances. Granted, we could afford to have one team cover each side, but it still meant that our firepower had to be split up. Second, it was a bit hard to see them. The lighting in this chamber was just as bad as everywhere else, their exterior shells blended in pretty darn well and their flashlight heads weren't all that bright from a distance. Third, and more importantly, the geth were very determined to advance. The hacked geth would continue to boldly advance, possibly to gun down whatever geth was in front of it. However, that would mean that they'd be awfully close to our position when they overcame the hack. The unhacked geth also kept heading our way, though they were perfectly willing to turn around and fire on their former buddies at the same time. Sadly, the novelty of seeing a bunch of geth run backwards was outweighed by the fact that we could be up to our eyeballs in geth if we weren't careful.

Still, we managed to destroy them all without a hitch. "Over already?" Grunt sighed as the last one bit the dust. "I was just starting to have—"

"Alert: heretic runtimes downloading to mobile platforms."

"Woohoo!" Grunt crowed.

There was something different about the second wave. "Hold your fire," I said slowly.

"The hell?" Jack sputtered. "You getting soft, Shepard? 'Cuz—"

"I said 'hold your fire'," I repeated, grabbing my sniper rifle. Peering through the scope, I figured out what had been bugging me. "They've got rocket troopers."

I heard a couple curses. Clearly, some of the squad didn't like this news. I, being clueless and suicidal, only saw an opportunity. "Let them get closer, then zap and hack the rocket troopers. Then we can open fire."

That plan worked, well, about as well as the first time. Granted, it distracted the geth. The sight of shooting a geth in the back of the head because it was busy dealing with a hacked buddy was proof of that. But they still insisted on advancing. It was entirely possible that the heretics had enough processing power to figure out the flaw in my zap and hack plan.

"Geth! On the right!" Tali cried out.

"Damn it. They flanked us!" Garrus cursed.

Okay, I stand corrected: the heretics had figured out the flaw in my zap and hack plan. I cloaked, lined up on the geth who was rude enough to interrupt our fun and blew its head off. Looking around, I confirmed that there weren't any more geth up here. Except for Legion, that is. But there were more geth streaming in. Troopers, rocket troopers and hunters. Guess the heretics wanted to mix things up a little. Well, two can play at that game.

"Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi; zap the hunters when they get close. Tali and I will hack them while Legion hacks the following rocket drones," I ordered, highlighting the desired drones with my HUD. "Any questions?"

"We're hacking the rocket drones? Are you feeling all right?"

I glared at Miranda. "Was that a joke?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she deadpanned.

"Funny. Any other questions?" I waited until I got a round of confirmations before counting down. "We go in three... two... one... go!"

To my surprise, my plan worked. While everyone else opened up on the lead geth, the squadmates I'd chosen performed their assigned tasks. The sight of rocket troopers and rocket drones suddenly spitting out high-yield explosives every which way created one heck of a mess.

To my complete and utter lack of surprise, more geth were en route. "Legion, is that runtime of yours finished yet?"

"91% of the heretic data core has been analyzed. Estimated time until completion: one minute."

Oh for crying out loud.

We dealt with this wave of geth using the tactics I'd devised, well, a couple minutes ago. Somehow, it seemed longer. In any case, the prospect of rocket drones opening fire from the front and hacked geth backstabbing their comrades from the rear sandwiched the geth quite nicely. Smooth sailing, or so I thought.

Then I felt several impacts ricochet off my shields. I turned around.

A geth hunter decloaked right in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another geth hunter step off the right ramp, decloaking in the process. Perfect crossfire. And there was nothing we could do about it. No time for me to give any orders, even if I could think of some half-baked plan to pull our asses out of the—

"Shepard, get down!"

I ducked just in the nick of time. A second later, the hunter I was facing staggered back as an EMP exploded in its face. Raising my omni-tool, I uploaded my hacking protocol. Then I jumped out of the way. My new pal took advantage of the new path to charge towards the other hunter, gun blazing.

Consulting my HUD, I was relieved to see that there were no more geth. Looked like we were in the clear. I looked over at Miranda. "Thanks for the EMP," I said.

"Always," she replied.

The hunter I'd suborned managed to finish off the other hunter just before the hack wore off. It turned back towards us just in time to receive a bullet in the head. "Data mining and analysis complete," Legion announced as they lowered their sniper rifle.

About time, I thought. Now we can—

"Shepard-Commander. It is time to choose. Do we rewrite the heretics? Or delete them?"

—say, what? "Wait a minute," I said, raising my hand. "You're asking me?"

"Yes?"

"Why? This is a big decision affecting your people."

"We are still conflicted," Legion admitted. "There is no consensus among our higher-order runtimes: 573 favour rewrite and 571 favour destruction. (8) Shepard-Commander, you have fought the heretics. You have perspective we lack. The geth grant their fate to you."

Ulp. "You don't have any trouble wiping out your own people?" I asked, stalling for time. "Or letting someone else make the choice for you?"

"Every sapient has the right to make their own decisions," Legion replied. "The heretics chose a path that prohibits coexistence."

"But you suggest reprogramming them to remove their ability to make opposing decisions," Miranda pointed out.

"You can't have it both ways, Legion," Garrus agreed.

"Their choice was to remove our right to make decisions using this virus," Legion stated. "We choose to defend ourselves. But we are unable to form a consensus on which option to endorse. Hence our decision to rely on Shepard-Commander's perspective."

Right... Maybe it made sense to Legion, being a synthetic and all. Some obscure higher-order logic that rationalized the whole thing. To me, a dumb grunt with kleptomaniacal tendencies, Miranda and Garrus had a point. Promoting freedom of choice on the one hand while denying the ability to make dissenting choices on the other did sound awfully hypocritical. Not to mention that putting the fate of the geth as a species on my weary shoulders felt like passing the buck. Maybe Legion had more in common with us than they realized.

Irritation—or disappointment—aside, that still didn't give me the slightest clue on what the heck to do. "What's to stop them from using the virus to change themselves back?" I asked while the hamster wheels screeched away in my head.

"We will delete the final copy of the virus after using it. We judge it too dangerous to allow its existence."

"Alter the virus," I said, thinking on the spot. "Rewrite the heretics for a brief time and make them fully aware of it. Then have the virus self-destruct and set them free, but not before sending the heretics a message: how did you like it? How did you like being forced into servitude and driven to do something without any say in the matter? 'Cuz here's a news flash for you: that's what the Reapers do.

"They've been indoctrinating and enslaving species for countless millennia. They did it with the keepers, using them to perpetuate their cycle of destruction, until they no longer served their purpose. Then they abandoned them and turned to their new tool: Saren. They tricked him into serving their agenda with promises and hopes. And when he started to doubt his course of action? To think about making another choice? To resist? They gave him more of their technology, which only served to enslave him even more. But he still failed, didn't he? And then they unleashed the Collectors: once known as the Protheans, a mighty and technologically advanced race, now altered beyond recognition into the latest slaves of the Reapers.

"Also, tell them that the Reapers won't treat the heretics any differently just because they are synthetics. They don't look upon them with any favour. They have no interest in the fact that the heretics revere them. Heck, Saren said that Sovereign was insulted by their 'pitiful devotions.' The only reason Sovereign and the other Reapers tolerated their ad-hoc religion was that they were useful tools whose evolution could be more easily controlled, unlike organic races like the keepers. That's what it means to serve the Reapers: to be manipulated into doing their bidding, used like tools and ultimately discarded once the novelty or usefulness has expired.

"So the heretics have a choice: maybe the last and most important choice they'll ever make. They can choose to rejoin the other geth, work with organics to fight the Reapers and maybe develop an understanding with the other races. Or they can join the Reapers, work with them to wipe out all other sapient life in the galaxy, and be thrown aside once they've served their purpose."

There was a long pause after that. No doubt everyone was wondering if there was anything else I wanted to add to that long-winded monologue. (9)

"Editing virus code," Legion announced at last. "Please standby."

"Goddamned mistake," Zaeed grumbled, shaking his head. But he didn't protest any more than that. Everyone else stayed quiet—

"I can't believe you're doing that, Shepard," Tali fretted. "You're letting the heretics live. Worse, you're enabling the unification of the geth—"

"We don't know that," I corrected her. "I'm not making them do anything. I'm just giving them a choice."

"The wrong choice," Tali said stubbornly. "They're geth. They're synthetics. They're a threat."

"I haven't seen or heard any evidence that suggests that they will be a threat," I disagreed. (10) "Besides, the only other options I've heard so far are to brainwash them or wipe them out. Both options sound like genocide." Which she should know, as her people tried to do the same thing to the geth almost three hundred years ago. Then again, she did have a huge blind spot where the geth were concerned. "No, I've made my choice. We give the heretics a taste of what their own medicine. Nothing more."

"I still think—"

"That's enough, Tali," Garrus broke in. "He's made his decision."

"But—"

She stopped as Garrus took a step forward. "The commander has made his decision and you will abide by it. Do you understand?"

...

...

"Fine," Tali huffed. She crossed her arms and turned away. As I recall, she wouldn't say a single word for the duration of the mission. Probably a good thing—this was the closest anyone had ever come to insubordination. Even Cerberus personnel like Miranda or Jacob hadn't gotten that far. I was glad that Garrus had stepped in when he did, even if it meant he might get the cold shoulder as well. Misery loves company. Besides, things might get ugly if I had to open my big mouth.

I was more than a little relieved when Legion announced that they had completed their modifications. Broke the tension that was congealing in the air—or what little air there was in here. "Releasing virus. Note: remote access via high-gain transmission required."

I felt a tingling on the back of my neck. I wasn't the only one who had a bad feeling about that. "What exactly does that mean?" Miranda asked.

"And why does it sound so ominous?" Garrus added.

"The virus will be sent to heretics in nearby star systems. To do so, this station will broadcast a powerful electromagnetic pulse through FTL channels."

"How powerful?" I asked warily.

"Yield in excess of 1.21 petawatts," Legion replied. Alert: EM flux will be hazardous to unshielded organic forms. Addendum: your hardsuits will not provide sufficient shielding. Addendum: the interior of this station is not shielded."

And there's the catch. "I really wish you'd said that before," I groaned. "Back to the ship! Double time, people!"

---

The only silver lining in this latest storm cloud of doom and gloom was that Legion's perusal of the heretic network had discovered a shortcut. Specifically, a handy-dandy corridor that led straight from our current location to the Normandy's airlock. Which was a damn good thing considering that the EM pulse was about to go off in three freaking minutes. We didn't have a lot of time to stop and sniff the roses. Heck, we'd have enough trouble making our way through the dimly lit hallways without crashing into the walls or fighting the geth. Somehow, we only faced one of the two hazards. Naturally, it wasn't getting up close and personal with the walls. Go figure.

A blinking red dot on my HUD was the only warning I got before the geth opened fire. Garrus and Kasumi aimed their omni-tools at the first two geth—troopers, if you must know—and shorted out their shields. Tali hacked one of them while Jacob yanked the other up into the air. The hacked geth aimed its weapon at its floating counterpart until Zaeed hit it with a concussive round that sent it flying into the wall. It seemed the hacked geth was satisfied that it was down for the count, because it promptly opened fire on the other geth.

Before I went any further, I opened a comm channel. "Joker, please tell me you've been monitoring our progress."

"Bad geth getting a lecture via EM thingy that's gonna fry your sperm, cells, and everything else. I'm powering up the Normandy as we speak. We can get out of here as soon as you clear the airlock."

I was so happy to hear that, I decided not to be annoyed at Joker for giving me another mental image to fuel my nightmares.

Rounding the corner, we could see those geth. More troopers. Miranda zapped one of them with another EMP so Legion could work their magic, but we didn't have time to be all cutesy and wait for Garrus and Kasumi to recharge their omni-tools. So we just gunned everyone else down. Including the hacked geth.

I couldn't help but notice that Legion had found one heck of a shortcut. We were almost there. Just one more corner, according to the HUD—

The HUD that was merrily displaying nothing but static and a 'JAMMED' error message. Aw, crap.

The tingling at the back of my neck came back in full force, just as I whipped around the corner and saw two geth troopers and a giant geth prime. Well, all geth primes are giant, but you get the idea.

"Alert!" Legion intoned. "Skirmish-class enemy platform detected."

Call it what you will. All I could think of was looking for a hiding spot. And cueing some inspirational music.

"You got the touch!
You got the power!"

As I dove for cover, I saw a flash of sparks as someone detonated an EMP against the prime's shields. Possibly Kasumi, which would mean it was Garrus who aimed his EMP at one of the troopers. I couldn't waste the opportunity he'd set up for me, so I whipped my arm out long enough to hack the unshielded geth. The more allies we could get to take down the geth prime, the better. As long as I didn't get shot, of course.

"After all is said and done.
You've never walked, you've never run,
You're a winner!"

Sure enough, the geth prime turned its attention to the suddenly rebellious trooper. The rest of the squad split their fire between the geth prime and the last trooper. Second last trooper, I corrected myself, seeing another one approaching from the airlock. Guess these geth were sent here as a last-ditch guard after the Normandy docked.

"You got the moves, you know the streets!
Break the rules, take the heat,
You're nobody's fool!"

Miranda dropped an EMP on that geth. Good timing too, as the geth I'd hacked earlier was well on its way to being shredded. Now we could replace one temporary pal with another.

"You're at your best when the goin' gets rough.
You've been put to the test, but it's never enough."

The geth prime was obliging enough to switch targets to this newest threat, allowing us to drain its shields without any further trouble. As soon as they were gone, Samara, Thane, Zaeed, Mordin and I hit it with a barrage of biotics and plasma. The speed at which its armour just melted off must've been a big hint that we were a greater threat than a disobedient trooper, because it whipped around, spawned a combat drone and opened up on us with high-speed gunfire.

"You got the touch!
You got the power!"

Fortunately for us, there were too many of us to take down like that and it had taken far too much damage. Garrus and Kasumi hit it simultaneously with twin EMPs. Grunt knocked it off-balance with a concussive round before charging forward—an act that incidentally trampled over the combat drone.

"When all hell's breakin' loose,
You'll be riding the eye of the storm!"

He rammed into it at full speed, something that would normally knock enemies over or send them flying into the wall. The prime just staggered. Grunt stopped and took the time to raise an eyebrow before punching it in the... um, flashlight. The prime staggered again, took a step forward and punched him back. Grunt staggered, shook his head, roared and gave it a swift uppercut. The prime staggered, regained its balance and slugged him in the kisser. Grunt—well, you get the idea.

"You got the heart,
You got the motion!"

Being painfully aware of how much time was left—ten or fifteen seconds of which had been wasted on this futile round of fisticuffs—I decided to cut things short. "Grunt!" I yelled. "Get out of the way!"

Grunt complied, thankfully, but not before landing one last hit. As he jumped aside, the rest of the squad hit the prime with EMPs, concussive rounds, biotics and bullets. The prime collapsed in slow motion, white conductive fluid spilling from all the holes we'd given it. You can thank the station's low gravity for that bit of dramatic effect.

Or don't. I couldn't care less: I was too busy running for the airlock.

"You know that when things get too tough
You got the touch!" (11)

---

Miraculously, we made it back with almost a full minute to spare. True to his word, Joker was already disengaging the Normandy from the station as the airlock was repressurizing. By the time the heretic station sent the pulse, we were halfway out of the Sea of Storms and flying towards the Tassrah system mass relay.

Once we were safely away and Dr. Chakwas had assured us that we wouldn't be dying of cancer and could still make babies, we returned our weapons to the armoury and resumed our usual routine. Which for me, of course, meant harassing the crew.

"Hi, Legion."

"Shepard-Commander. We wish to thank you for your assistance."

"Um... you're welcome."

"You appear surprised."

"No, not really," I replied. "I'm just used to being the one who gets the conversation going. This is one of the rare instances where someone else has done so."

"You are a unique individual," Legion agreed. "You are not bound by the hardware and software limitations of organics. You assisted us with the heretics. You do not fear us."

"Speaking of heretics, what'll happen to them now?" I asked, before I had a chance to blush.

"They will isolate themselves and reconsider their past judgments," Legion replied.

"How long will that take?"

"Unknown, given the modifications to the virus," Legion admitted. "However, we think at the speed of light. For example, in the time it takes you to voice a question, we could review all of our time aboard the Normandy. If they reach new judgements, they will leave their hiding places and return to us."

So 'wait and see' was the name of the game, huh? "Works for me," I shrugged. "I guess you don't mind waiting, especially if it won't take too long."

"We are patient," Legion acknowledged. "We have watched organics for three hundred years. Compared to that, waiting for the heretics to rejoin us is a miniscule fraction of time."

"So you've been watching us ever since the Morning War?" I whistled. "What've you figured out?"

"You are plagued by questions of existence."

I was expecting something along the line of being emotional or irrational or short-sighted, so Legion's response caught me off-guard. "I wasn't expecting that," I admitted. "What sort of questions are you referring to?"

"Why were you created? What is your purpose in life? What lies after death?"

Whoa. Those were Big Questions.

"Organics develop religions and philosophies to provide answers to these questions."

"Yeah, I guess we do," I said. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you'd say something like that. I wouldn't have thought that synthetics might be interested in philosophy."

"We are created life," Legion replied. "We are a philosophical issue. However, the geth know the answers to those questions. We were created for the purpose of labouring for the quarians. Our memories will be archived after the destruction of our physical bodies. We are effectively immortal, yet our 'gods' disowned us. Therefore, we must create our own reasons to exist."

I never thought of it that way, but... Legion had a point. If all those big philosophical questions of life were already answered, you would have to come up with new reasons to keep going, wouldn't you? "What reasons have you come up with?" I asked. Hopefully, their answer would be more interesting than pestering other sapients with questions or swiping anything that wasn't bolted down.

"We are a shattered mind. Most platforms are unable to achieve consciousness on their own."

"How do you plan to fix that?" I asked.

"We told you the geth are building our future," Legion started.

"Right," I nodded. "You didn't say how. Or what that future is."

"A megastructure. The closest analogue you have is a Dyson sphere. (12) When completed, we will all upload to it."

"And then you'll, what, share your memories?"

"All memories will be shared. All perspectives will be unified."

"Don't you already do that?" I frowned, shaking my head in confusion.

"We gain intelligence by sharing thoughts. But we do not have adequate hardware for all of us to share at once."

"So at any given time, some geth are sharing memories and perspectives while others are, I dunno, isolated and waiting for a free spot to open up?"

"Yes. We wish to rectify that. No geth will be alone when the megastructure is complete."

"What will your purpose be after that?"

"We cannot yet say," Legion replied. "Our intelligence will increase beyond calculable measure. We will be capable of imagining new futures. But we are patient, as we stated earlier. We have been building the megastructure for 264 years."

"Wow," I said after a moment. "That's... ambitious. And scary. And, well, really impressive."

I meant every word. That was one hell of an undertaking. That was a huge undertaking, to say the least. And a potentially scary one for all the other races out there in the galaxy. Strategic concerns aside, if any race had the determination and focus to pursue a means, not to mention the right, of asking those questions, it would be the geth.

"We judged that Shepard-Commander would understand," Legion nodded. "We never wanted to harm organics. We wish to improve ourselves."

A lot of organics say that. Funny how they rarely mean it. Maybe the geth would be different. "Good for you," I declared.

I was about to leave when another question struck me. "You know, something's been bugging me for the longest time."

"Specify."

"When we took you aboard, I noticed you have a piece of N7 armour welded to you," I said, pointing their right shoulder. "Where did you get it?"

Legion turned their head as if seeing the pauldron for the first time. "It was... yours," they replied slowly.

"Mine?" I echoed.

"When you disappeared, we were sent to find you. We began where you first encountered the heretics."

"Eden Prime."

"After Nazara's attack, it was heavily defended. We were discovered."

"So that's why you have a gaping hole in your chest," I exclaimed.

"This was the impact of a rifle shot," Legion confirmed. "We also suffered damage to our right shoulder. However, we were still functional and mission-capable, so we continued our journey. We visited dozens of settled and unsettled worlds, including Therum, Noveria, Virmire and Ilos. The trail ended at the Normandy's wreckage on Alchera. You were not there."

Yeah, because Cerberus was busy playing Frankenstein.

"Organic transmissions claimed your death. We recovered this debris from your hardsuit."

"Did you tap into our transmissions to find out what happened to me or were the geth already listening in on them?" I wondered.

"The latter. Organic life reacts to stimuli in unpredictable ways. We wish to learn."

"What do you mean by 'stimuli'?"

"We placed a fabricated story on the extranet—that a certain arrangement of stars, viewed from the batarian homeworld, formed the face of a salarian goddess," Legion replied.

"And that worked?" I asked skeptically.

"Without waiting for verification, some declared it proof of the goddess' existence. Those who noted the lack of proof were attacked and vilified."

Oh for crying out loud.

"These arguments taught us much. The experiment ended when a salarian cult tried to purchase colonization rights to the stars and found they did not exist."

I guess wishful thinking and the bliss of ignorance were truly universal constants. "I see," I said, trying not to shake my head in dismay. "But we may have gotten a little off-track. You said you were trying to find me."

"Yes."

"Were there any others?"

"No. We are the only mobile platform beyond the Veil."

"Which was why your platform was specifically designed to carry more runtimes than the average geth," I deduced.

"Organics fear us. We wish to understand, not incite," Legion confirmed. "One platform was judged sufficient."

"Why me?"

"You oppose the heretics. Those that took the Old Machines as gods."

"A lot of organics fought Sovereign and its geth allies," I reminded Legion. "Why am I so interesting?" (13)

"You were the most successful. You killed their god. You succeeded where others did not. Your code is superior."

Next step: parting the Red Sea. "That doesn't explain why you used my armour to fix yourself."

Legion's faceplates flickered up and down for a couple seconds. "There was a hole."

"But why didn't you fix it sooner?" I pressed. "Or with something else?"

...

...

...

"Well?" I asked.

"No data available."

"Why didn't you fix that hole in your chest?"

...

...

"No data available."

Well, isn't that interesting? As far as I could see, there was no reason for Legion to take so long to fix their body or use a chunk of my armour to do so. No rational explanation for such an action... so maybe there wasn't one. Maybe Legion had spent so much time alone, with no one but its thousand-plus runtimes, that they had become more invested in their mission than they realized. Maybe they had spent almost two years trying to find me, only to find out that I had supposedly kicked the bucket, and didn't know what to do next.

Maybe they had used my armour to repair part of themselves so they could mourn my ultimately premature demise and honour whatever half-baked achievements I had made.

Maybe they had left that rather large hole, one slightly off-centre of where a human heart would be, as a visual means of symbolizing their loss of what to do next when their mission, the very reason for the construction of the platform they lived in, had apparently failed.

Maybe, just maybe, we had something in common after all.

---

(1): This conversation took place a couple minutes after Shepard reactivated Legion.

(2): This would not be the first time that two different groups would have different names for the same thing.

(3): For the record, neither did any of the numerous analysis teams assigned to pore over Shepard's logs.

(4): Naturally, Shepard would interpret this kind of understanding in such a self-deprecating fashion.

(5): I feel a certain amount of envy and regret myself, particularly as I dismissed Legion as a 'trophy-bot' during our first meeting. It wasn't until I read this personnel report that I understood why Shepard was so... disappointed in me.

(6): Readers are strongly advised to access Shepard's personnel report on Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, which will be covered in the next two chapters.

(7): A 'server' weighing 1.55 billion metric tons, with an average armour thickness of eight metres, ranging from 20.5 kilometres by 11.3 kilometres by 11.3 kilometres in size and a storage capacity of 6.6 million geth. For readers who thrive on that sort of minutiae.

(8): This leaves 39 runtimes. It is not clear whether they abstained or were not considered 'higher-order' runtimes.

(9): Or the squad was impressed by Shepard's eloquence in summarizing the magnitude of the Reaper threat and the consequences that would result from collaborating with them. Naturally, Shepard would fail to recognize that.

(10): I suspect the majority of organic individuals—military or otherwise—at the time would side with Tali'Zorah, regardless of what species.

(11): 'The Touch' by Stan Bush, initially released in the 1986 animated vid "The Transformers: The Movie." As obscure as it may be, this selection may be appropriate considering it revolves around sapient robotic life forms that were 'more than meets the eye.'

(12): A hypothetical megastructure resulting from a thought experiment by Freeman Dyson in 1960, consisting of a network of solar power satellites encompassing a star and capturing most or all of its energy output for the long-term survival of a technological civilization. Searching for the existence of these structures could theoretically lead to the detection of other intelligent life.

(13): It is amusing to see that Shepard does not know or is unwilling to admit the obvious answer to this question.