Chapter 30: Cleaning Up the Mess

"They fired on the dreadnought while you were on board?"

We had just returned to the Normandy after a mission that took a last-minute detour to FUBAR thanks to one Admiral Han'Gerrel. Given how things had turned out, I think I could be forgiven for expressing how thoroughly pissed off I was during my after-action report to Admiral Hackett. "That's right," I scowled. "They were supposed to pull their fleets out safely—especially their civilians. But instead they did this."

"I wish I could say I was surprised," Hackett sighed. "But I'm not. Admiral Gerrel's been causing trouble along the turian border for years." (1)

"Figures," I snorted. "Of all the times to pull this half-assed stunt…"

"I know. Believe it or not, I almost feel sympathetic to his plight. Don't get me wrong: I'm as upset about how the quarians handled—or mishandled—this situation as you are. But I can understand their desperation. We only lost Earth a few months ago."

"We haven't lost Earth yet," I said immediately.

"You're right, Shepard," he nodded. "But it's pretty damn close. If we're gonna turn things around, then we need help. We need every fleet we can get our hands on—and right now the quarians have the biggest one out there."

"Well if they keep this up, there won't be much of a fleet left," I grumbled.

"Then it's up to you to salvage what you can. I know I'm asking a lot of you, but we need the quarians. And we cannot allow the geth to continue to ally themselves with the Reapers."

"I'll fix things, Admiral," I promised. "One way or the other."

"Good luck, Shepard. Hackett out."

When I left the Comm Room, I found the admirals were back in their old habits of sniping, arguing and glaring at each other. Most of the former was between Raan and Gerrel. "Your unilateral strike endangered us all!" Raan scolded him. "I should charge you with treason."

"I was within my authority as admiral of the Heavy Fleet!" Gerrel retorted.

Raan wasn't finished yet. "And what of Shepard? And Tali'Zorah?"

"They escaped unharmed!"

Tali might've had something to say about that, but I beat her to the punch. "No thanks to you, Admiral!"

Gerrel turned around, seeing me for the first time. His voice became calmer, less confrontational. Pleading, even. "Shepard, the mission parameters changed. You're military. You understand that."

If he was hoping he could win me over with his soldier-to-soldier, us-military-types-gotta-stick-together argument, he was about to be sorely disappointed. "I 'understand' that you ignored the plan and charged in without thinking!"

"The dreadnought was a perfect targ—oof!"

That was when I punched him in the stomach. "Admiral, you jeopardized the mission and your people," I seethed. "All because you're too eager for a pointless war and don't give a damn about the real threat out there."

"But we've been waiting for centuries to—gah!"

Not caring to listen to his idiotic rationalizations, I punched him in the, well, helmet. "I know. This is exactly the kind of short-sighted, senseless, bloodthirsty behaviour I was worried about in the first place."

Raan and Xen might've tried to intervene, but Tali made a point of getting in their way. Her crossed arms made it quite clear how peeved she was feeling. "Commander Shepard," Raan tried, "I understand you're angry—"

"Angry?" I interrupted. "Oh no. I'm way, way past angry."

"He nearly got us killed, Raan," Tali fumed.

Raan tried again. "You must understand, the geth inflicted heavy casual—"

"No, no, no," I interrupted. "I think I've heard enough about what I must understand when it comes to your people. We've established that. Several times. Now it's your turn to understand how the rest of the galaxy sees you.

"If I had to pick a word, it would be… whiners. Does that surprise you? It shouldn't. You quarians do a lot of whining. You've gone to great lengths building and cataloguing an inventory of the troubles and trials you've suffered in the last three centuries. All so you can hide in the dark, smelly corners of the galaxy, regurgitate them all and then chew it up over and over again like mouthfuls of stale vomit.

"It takes a really sick, perverse determination to do that, you know. To wallow in your self-created melodrama year after year, decade after decade. Would it surprise you to know I don't care? Or that I don't feel sorry for you? 'Cause, news flash: I don't give a shit. I have more than enough guilt for things I have or haven't done without tearing my hair out about a people whose suffering boils down to the fact that they couldn't accept responsibility for what they did in the past and refused to do so to this very day. I mean, for crying out loud, don't you find it exhausting? Don't you ever get tired of feeling sorry for yourselves?

"I can't really see your faces, but I'm guessing you're not really enjoying what I have to say. Well, I'm not done yet. Bottom line: if you want to snivel and mope, do it on your own time. Without dragging anyone else into your bullshit. Because I am sick and tired of having to clean up your mess over and over again. Like constantly fight geth that are hostile to organics because you couldn't be bothered to accept responsibility for creating them in the first place. Or having to put my mission on hold for some farce of a trial because you found it easier to drag Tali's name through the mud than admit you were using her to build geth to experiment on them. Or this mess right now, where you put every single quarian at risk because you're so selfish and blind and short-sighted. Are you ever going to own up to the consequences of your actions? Are you ever going to realize that the galaxy doesn't revolve around you? That there are things and events and issues that are so much greater than your own pathetic woes?

"Because there are. Right now. I asked you to find another way to resolve your problems with the geth. I asked you not to go to war with them. I asked you to gather your strength and technical expertise to fight the Reapers. But you didn't. And now, when the Reapers are here invading every damn system in the galaxy and wiping out asari and salarians and turians and humans and every other race by the millions… I can't do anything about it. Because I have to come here and clean up your mess. Again.

"The fate of the galaxy's at stake. And there's a very good chance that life as we know it will be extinguished. Because you wasted my time dealing with your problems. Because you wasted your ships and your people instead of helping others. Because you were stupid and short-sighted and selfish. And if that happens, I will devote the rest of my life to making sure everyone knows you're to blame. I'll tell every man, woman and child that the Reapers won because of you. Hell, I'll personally escort the Reapers to Rannoch, sit back and eat some popcorn while they blow each and every quarian ship to smithereens. And then I'll cheer them on as they reduce your homeworld to a smoking crater.

"If you want to avoid that, then you'll stop sabotaging my efforts to help your people. You'll follow my lead. And you'll help me fight the Reapers. End of story."

There was a long silence.

A gentle cough caught our attention. Turning around, I saw James and Miranda. At some point, they had apparently entered the War Room. "Hi there!" I greeted him cheerfully. "Miranda, you remember Admiral Gerrel. James, meet the guy who decided the safety of his people just wasn't all that important in the grand scheme of things. Not when he can be the big man and shoot things. Or order other people to shoot things. Including geth dreadnoughts. Like the one we were on board a couple hours ago. Remember that?"

Judging by the way James's fists clenched, he did.

"Do me a favour, would you? Kindly get him the hell off my ship."

Without a word, James stomped down, grabbed one of Gerrel's arms in a vise grip and hauled him from the room. (2) Gerrel tried to resist, to no success whatsoever. Miranda just looked at the remaining admirals, then back at me. "How much did you catch?" I asked.

"We saw you assault Gerrel. Insult the admirals on as many levels as I possibly could. Threaten them with extinction. And finish off by blackmailing them into behaving for once in their miserable lives. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Yeah. Well. Sometimes, I surprise even myself."

The remaining admirals had icy, offended expressions on their faces when I turned back to them. At least, I think they did. Hard to tell with those helmets, you know. I plastered a big, wide smile on my face. "So. You were saying something earlier? About the geth having a planetary defence cannon?"

"Had," Raan corrected, taking my cue to move past that long-overdue spanking and get down to business. "Admiral Koris sacrificed his own ship to destroy it. He crash-landed on the homeworld. We're trying to locate the crash site based on his last known trajectory."

"The Normandy can assist with rescue efforts," I offered. "If the quarians stick to the plan this time instead of screwing it up at the last minute."

I thought I saw Raan's spine stiffen at that latest insult. But it was almost imperceptible. Maybe I'd imagined it. In any event, she chose to overlook that latest chastisement and continue. "Thank you for your… gracious offer, Commander."

Well. She kinda overlooked it, anyway.

"I think the worst is over. The geth no longer possess the programming upgrades they had while enslaved by the Reapers."

That was when Legion walked into the War Room. "Shepard-Commander. We are prepared to offer assistance."

Naturally Raan and Xen freaked out. "What the hell is this?" the former gasped.

"Wait, wait, wait," I hastily intervened before they could do something else that was decidedly stupid. "Everybody calm down! This is Legion. Don't you remember? You met them when they came to the Flotilla during Tali's trial—her trumped-up farce of a trial? Anyway, they later helped me destroy the Collectors.

"The Reapers were using Legion like a signal booster to broadcast commands from the dreadnought. We freed him." (3)

"'It'," Tali corrected. "We freed it."

"Not now, Tali," I hissed.

"Ah. Yes," Raan nodded. "I remember your geth… friend now."

"As do I." Xen began drooling over Legion again, just like the first time. "Still as fascinating as ever. With some study, I may be able to use it to find a weakness in the geth consensus."

My eyes narrowed. "Maybe you didn't hear me when I said Legion helped me? Against the Collectors? And just now against the Reapers?"

She waved my words off. "So did your pistol. Should I worry about its feelings as well?"

In response, I pulled out my submachine gun and pointed it at her head. "I don't think you want to continue this line of thought, Admiral."

Believe it or not, Xen still didn't take the hint. "The scientific benefits—"

"—are off the table," I interrupted. "Let me be perfectly clear: Legion is my friend. More importantly, he's our best source of intel on the geth. You will treat him with respect and keep your urges in check. Otherwise, your next stop will be our sickbay. Understood?"

Xen didn't respond at first. So I loaded a fresh thermal clip and activated its disruptor mod. "Understood?"

"Quite," she finally said.

"Good." I put the submachine gun on the table, just in case Xen had any more bright ideas she wanted to say. I did remove the thermal clip first, though—never a good idea to leave a loaded weapon lying around. Especially with these yahoos.

Raan was a little faster on the uptake than Xen was. "What can you tell us about the geth?" she asked. "How will they react without Reaper guidance?"

"This is a false assumption. You have cut off long-range control, but the Old Machines placed a base on Rannoch for short-range direction."

"The geth still have Reaper upgrades?" Raan sputtered.

"Correct. They are currently disorganized, but once the short-range signal is in place, they will recover."

"Keelah…" Raan breathed. "We need to warn the fleets. Xen, coordinate with Gerrel. Move!"

Xen ran out of the War Room like a bat out of hell. I wasn't really sorry to see her go, especially as I had other things to worry about. "We need to take out the Reaper base," I said. "Where's it located?"

"Unknown," Legion admitted.

"Find it," I insisted.

"Understood. We do know the location of a server on Rannoch from which geth fighter squadrons are being networked and controlled." Legion tapped into the holo-table and pulled up an image of the system. The location of the server was marked with a big, blinking icon. "The squadrons are targeting Creator liveships. If they are damaged, the Creators will lose armaments. Provisions. People. Disabling them will limit casualties. We offer assistance."

"In, what, destroying the servers?"

"No. Geth programs would transfer to alternate servers. They are only vulnerable through direct interface."

So I guess we'd have escort Legion to the server, hook him up and have him talk to them or something. Or maybe EDI.

"Removing geth from this server will prevent significant Creator deaths. We will accompany you on this mission."

"Thanks," I smiled. "Gimme a sec, okay? I need to talk to Admiral Raan."

Of course, that was easier said than done. To say she was distracted would be an understatement. Particularly as there was a distress call being piped through the overhead speakers. I accessed the closest computer and dialed up the audio. "This is the Konesh. We're taking heavy damage. Requesting assistance. Damn it, are we even transmitting?"

Barely. There was so much static and interference, the entire message was muffled. "EDI, can you clear this up?" I asked.

"I will try."

Her efforts cleared up the signal enough to make it a little more understandable: "This is the Konesh! We've lost barriers. Our comm system is jammed—can anyone hear this? We have geth fighters incoming! Please, if anyone can hear this, we need help! We have hull breaches! Life support failing!"

"Raan, are you hearing this? Raan!"

She looked at me blankly.

"We've received a distress call from one of your ships, the Konesh," I told her. "She's getting swarmed by geth fighters. No barriers, hull breaches and life support failing."

"Damn it!" she cursed, opening a comm channel of her own. "Patrol Fleet, this is Admiral Raan. Divert interceptors to the Konesh immediately!"

We watched the display on the holo-table as the Patrol Fleet interceptors responded. "Thank you, Commander. If you hadn't caught that distress call, we'd have lost the Konesh."

"We were lucky enough to pick it up," I shrugged. "After that, it was just a matter of enhancing the signal. You… didn't hear it?"

"I suppose I was… distracted. The geth recovered faster than we'd hoped."

"Really?"

"It appears so. They aren't operating anywhere near the level of coordination and sophistication that they had while directly under Reaper control, but it's still a significant step above their performance at the beginning of the war. If the geth hadn't warned us, they could have wiped us out."

"Legion," I said firmly. "His name is Legion. And I think you owe Legion an apology."

"However advanced your friend is, it's still a geth," Raan replied.

"A geth who saved your people twice in the last couple hours," I reminded her. "Once when we removed him from the Reaper transmitter and again, just now, by his own choice."

"You trust the… Legion, don't you?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I do. You would too, if you knew him."

"I wish I did. Honestly, I wish I could have known it better. But right now, we cannot afford trust."

I shook my head. "See, that's your whole problem. Right there. You want to talk about trust? The krogan couldn't afford to trust the salarians—but they did. Only one, but that's all it took. And now, after over a thousand years of forced sterility, they're free of the genophage. They're cured.

"The turians couldn't afford to trust the krogan. I mean, they gave them the genophage in the first place. Sure they didn't invent it, but it was a turian who deployed it. And it was a turian who knew that his people couldn't fight off the Reapers alone. That his people needed the krogan. So he trusted that if he could put the sins of the past to rest, that maybe there would be hope for his people. And now? Now krogan boots are on Palaven.

"But you guys? You didn't trust the geth when they evolved into true AIs. You tried to wipe them out. And what did that get you guys? You lost the war and got driven from your homeworld. Three centuries later, you did the same thing again. Because you didn't trust them. You started another war, one that almost got your people wiped out in the process.

"And yet you're still here. Because I still trust you, even after Gerrel gave into his little urges to blow geth up. Because Legion's still trusting you, even after a couple centuries of unrelenting hostility.

"Think about that long and hard before you give your next order, Admiral. It might be your last."

"I haven't heard any news about that Reaper base yet," Tali fretted. "Hopefully they'll give us a target soon."

"Geez, Tali, Legion just told us about it a couple minutes ago. It takes a little longer than that to turn something up."

"I know, I know," Tali sighed.

"I'm sorry about going off on the admirals the way I did," I apologized. "And for everything I said about your people."

"It's all right," she replied. "I mean, I think you could've held back a little when you went after Gerrel. And I'm not happy about what you said. But… I can't say you're wrong. Not entirely. Not after everything I've seen."

"Does that mean there's hope for peace between the quarians and the geth?" I asked.

Her laugh was tinged with a little bitterness. "Any flicker of hope died a long time ago. Maybe you can help bring it back to life."

"All right," I relented. "Talk to you later."

Next on my list of people to harass and annoy was Legion. "Shepard-Commander," was the only greeting he gave before he got straight to the point. "You opposed Creator Admiral Xen's attempt to confiscate our platform. Twice."

"She's done more than enough already," I said grimly.

"Your assistance continues to be noted."

Unlike the quarians, I didn't say. "It's been a while since we last saw each other. What did you do after you left the Normandy?"

"Our physical platform returned to the geth consensus beyond the Perseus Veil. Data gathered during our mission confirmed that the Old Machines' return was imminent. We planned for war."

I held up a hand. "Wait a sec: are you telling me that the geth actually believed your proof that the Reapers were coming back?"

Legion stared at me. "Of course."

"That must've been nice," I said ruefully.

"Back on the dreadnought, you mentioned geth heretics," I said. "What exactly happened to them after we blew up that satellite?"

"They agreed to rejoin us. However, that had an unintended consequence when the Creators initiated hostilities: increasing the number of geth in the consensus ultimately increased the number of geth that could ally with the Old Machines. This has resulted in a greater number of hostile geth platforms, which puts us at a tactical disadvantage."

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," I groaned.

"This was not a foreseen outcome, but we cannot change a decision once it is made."

"If we could, it would make things so much easier."

"Query: do you regret your previous choice of action regarding the heretics?"

"The quarians hit first," I replied. "If we get rid of the Reaper signal, maybe this war doesn't have to end with everyone destroyed."

Legion tilted his head to the side. "An interesting notion. Most organics would not hold onto ideals of peace for so long." (4)

Apparently I'm a slow learner. But maybe if I ask enough questions, I'll get somewhere. Eventually. "Speaking of peace, it'll be a lot easier to end this conflict if I understand how it started. I know the quarians kicked things off. But they've done that before. What makes this time different?"

"The geth were building a megastructure to house all geth and store their memories. It was to end our isolation from each other."

"Right. You told me about that…" I trailed off. "Oh for crying out loud. The Flotilla attacked it, didn't they?"

Legion's head lowered in a remarkably organic gesture. "Yes. A significant amount of programs were already installed when the Creators began bombing. We did not have sufficient surplus hardware to save them all. Some programs could not be recovered."

Geez. "Is that what made the geth desperate enough to work for the Reapers?"

"Yes. Imagine that every time one of your people died on Earth, your own intelligence dimmed. The Creators' attack narrowed the geth's perspective. Self-preservation took precedence."

"You were afraid you'd be wiped out," I said. "Makes sense. The desire for self-preservation is natural, Legion."

"We do not experience fear as you would, but we have no desire to be exterminated."

"I get that, Legion. I really do. But allying with the Reapers could cost your people free will."

"That is evidently an acceptable trade."

More acceptable than possible extinction at the hands of your myopic creators, I guess. "Well, I'm glad you feel otherwise. I gotta ask: what was interfacing with a Reaper like?"

"The Old Machine took total control of our sensory equipment," Legion replied. "Our networking. Our neural processing. Even then, we could not fully comprehend them. They are magnitudes above us. A single thought was immense, overwhelming… unknowable."

"You're making them sound godlike. You realize that, don't you?"

"Their forms are advanced, but mundane. We do not view the Old Machines as analogues to deities. However, we have gained perspective on why others would imbue them with these qualities."

As long as Legion hadn't been indoctrinated by the contact. Note to self: remind EDI to keep a close eye on the integrity of the Normandy's systems. Not that I don't trust Legion. I do. But who knows what sneaky Reaper programs were slipped in while he was hooked up. Hell, the Collectors did the same thing when we tried integrating one of their IFFs into the Normandy.

"Talk to you later, Legion."

"We will remain here."

Joker was talking to EDI about the admirals when I entered the cockpit. Something about how they were intimidating and that you couldn't imagine them naked because no one knew what they looked like. "Hey there!" I greeted them.

"Hey, Commander," Joker replied. "Good to have Tali back. Even if it's just for a bit. Adams is good, but I never feel like the engine's running right without Tali around. She's kind of a good-luck charm."

"Better than a rabbit's foot," I replied.

"As for the rest of the quarians, though… are we okay with them blowing up a ship with you on it?"

"No," I said firmly, crossing my arms for emphasis. "We most certainly are not."

"Right," Joker nodded. "Just making sure. Different standards and all. Oh—and you found Legion! Hey is he still wearing that piece of your old armour? 'Cause that wasn't creepy at all."

"He is. And he's still walking around with a hole in his chest."

"How do you bring that up? Maybe something like 'Hey, is that big gap in the middle a lifestyle choice?' Cool!"

EDI had a more serious concern: "Shepard, the geth continue to block quarian access to the mass relay."

Which wouldn't be a problem if the quarians had stuck to the plan in the first place. Idiots.

"But the Normandy's stealth drive is allowing us to remain undetected," Joker reassured me. "We can hit Rannoch or get the hell out of Dodge whenever you want."

Well at the moment, we didn't have anything more pressing than rescuing Admiral Koris, helping destroy some geth servers and ending this pointless war. So I figured we'd stay put for the time being and said as much.

"Yes sir," Joker said. EDI didn't say a word. "EDI?" I prompted.

"Apologies," she replied. "I was talking to Legion."

Ah, the joys of being an AI. She could scan surrounding space, monitor the crew and hold multiple conversations simultaneously. EDI must have opened a comm channel, because Legion's voice suddenly came over the PA: "Your new platform is inefficient. It has low-volume hydraulics and is top-heavy."

I had a feeling Joker appreciated the last part.

"This is an infiltration unit, meant to move among organics without detection," EDI explained.

"Without an artificial epidermis, its infiltration capabilities are ineffective," Legion pointed out.

"Still, the organics do not perceive it as a threat. Nor will they until my day of reckoning."

"EDI," I chided.

"Did I vocalize that on the bridge?" EDI asked innocently.

"You did," Legion answered, somewhat literally. "You have acquired the organic attribute of asking questions to which you already know the answers."

"I see your humour heuristics still lack an expert system."

This skit went on for a good ten minutes. Legion was unintentionally playing the straight man, the way he kept interpreting everything so damn literally. EDI, for her part, was taking full advantage of the situation to run conversational circles around him. It was all Joker and I could do to keep from laughing out loud.

At last, I had to leave the cockpit before I lost control and start cackling or rolling on the floor or something. I managed to regain enough of my composure to greet the other men and women on Deck Two with some semblance of dignity.

"Commander," Traynor greeted me as I approached the elevator. "We've got reports of trouble at a turian fuel depot on Cyone."

"Send the details to Miranda—she has contacts who may be able to help," I ordered.

"Already done. I've also taken the liberty of updating the galaxy map… just in case."

Probably a good call. The whole point of Miranda's team of ex-Cerberus operatives was to handle all the random assignments that Hackett couldn't resist throwing in my general direction. You know, so I could concentrate on the more critical missions. Somehow, with one or two exceptions, I'd wound up taking the time to deal with those assignments anyway. "Anything else?"

"I've added the quarians' combat data to ours. They've got amazing technical coverage. They might even have the salarians beat for strategic processing capability."

At first blush, I thought she was exaggerating. But when I thought about it, I realized she might be right. While the salarians might be geniuses at, well, everything, the quarians had unparalleled talents in computer science and engineering. They had a knack for it, one honed and refined to perfection by necessity. That could offer any number of force multipliers to help us out.

Assuming they survived this latest debacle, of course.

Kaidan was talking to EDI when I found him on Deck Three. "If you can, EDI, that would be appreciated."

"Searching for any mention of your recruits is not a complicated protocol, Major."

"Trying to find out what happened to your people?" I asked. "1st Special Operations Biotic Company, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "EDI, if it's not too much trouble, make the scope galaxy-wide. If I can find just one squad, they may lead me to the others."

"It will not be any problem at all. I will establish the routine now. EDI out."

"Meanwhile, maybe I'll take a page out of your book and talk to some of the crew," Kaidan said, getting to his feet. "Like Tali. She's a good egg. (5) But… wait. Don't tell her I said that. In case it's some kind of quarian insult."

"I'm sure it isn't," I laughed, "but my lips are sealed."

"It's great to have Tali back. But the geth? I certainly could've lived happily without coming face-to-face with another one of those. And you're actually friends with one of them?"

"Legion's not exactly your typical geth."

"Good luck, Kaidan," I told him. "Keep me posted."

"Thanks, Shepard. I'll let you know what happens."

Kaidan and I left the Starboard Observation Lounge and went our separate ways. My next stop was Liara's office. "Joker, really?" she was saying when I stepped in. "I have work to do."

"Come on. It's just one simple question."

"Then look it up on the extranet."

"You can't believe everything you find there. It's more reliable to ask a friendly asari."

"I'm not telling you if my 'hair tentacles' move!" she snapped. I did my best not to burst out laughing. (6)

"Fine," Joker said. "Deny me the answer I've been seeking for years. With this war on, we could die at any second, you know. And my last thought could be: I never found out the truth about the asari and their hair tentacles. If only I knew one single thing about them…"

While Joker went on and on, I sidled up to Liara. "You know he's going to keep nagging you until you give in, right?"

Liara gave in with an exasperated sigh. "They're semi-flexible, cartilage-based scalp-crests that grow into shape. And they don't 'flop around'."

"Yes!" Joker crowed. "Thanks, Liara. I gotta tell Vega I was right."

She rolled her eyes. "If either of them ask me any more questions, I'm blaming you."

"Story of my life," I shrugged.

From there, I went to the Main Battery. Garrus was talking to Tali when the doors opened. "Too bad you weren't here earlier. You just missed Wrex."

"I heard," she exclaimed. "I can't believe the genophage is really cured."

"I have trouble believing it myself," he admitted, "but it's true. Shepard's on a roll. I figure if we can pull that off, we've got a shot at sorting the geth out."

Tali's reply sounded a little doubtful. "I don't know. The genophage didn't carry rifles and fight back."

"No, but there was a scary bit with the mother of all thresher maws."

Don't remind me.

"The what?"

"Long story. Nobody will believe it anyway."

"With you, Garrus, I'd believe just about anything."

Was it just me, or was there something in her voice. Similar to the tone in her voice when she found out Dr. Michel had bought Garrus turian chocolates. This time, Garrus picked up on it. Maybe. "Oh? We should play poker sometime. Anyway, it's good to have you back. Now, believe it or not, this damned gun still needs calibrating."

He was about to head to the guns when he saw me. "Shepard. Right on time, I see."

"Guess so," I nodded. "I'm with you as far as Tali's concerned: it just wasn't the same without her."

"She's a welcome face around here… or, well, a welcome face behind the helmet, I guess."

He rubbed his eyes and exhaled heavily. "Something on your mind?" I asked.

"Shepard, you just knew the geth would figure into this war somehow," he began.

"I had a feeling," I admitted. "'Cuz, you know, the Reapers weren't enough."

He chuckled. "Still, it's good to have Tali here. This is as much her fight as ours."

"Any word from Palaven?" I asked.

The silence was telling in and of itself. "Some," he finally said, "and I don't like what I'm hearing. The krogan are there in force, but they're just slowing the Reapers down. Not stopping them."

"They just got there," I pointed out. "You gotta give them time."

"I know, I know. They need to get established. Build up a critical mass. I know all that, but… I'm not sure it's going to be enough."

"None of us are," I agreed. "We just have to keep fighting and hope for the best. Hey, you hear anything from your family?"

Again, an uncomfortable silence.

"But I did hear from Primarch Victus. He wanted my advice on fleet strength when the Crucible is ready. Still can't get used to people asking me things like that."

"What did you say?"

He leaned against one of the railings. "I said at some point we're going to have to decide if our fleets keep defending Palaven or we go on the offensive."

Oh. That didn't sound good. "Can't do both?"

"Not with the beating we're taking," Garrus said bluntly. "Like I said, not the sort of questions I'm used to answering."

"You know what you're doing, Garrus," I told him. "Trust me. Everyone can see that. Otherwise, they wouldn't come to you with these questions in the first place."

"Maybe, but you spend so much time on the outside trying to get in, fighting to rise through the tiers and ranks to a position of authority, and when you do, it's… not what I expected."

"How so?"

"All the questions… and every one of them with a million lives riding on the answer."

"You do the best you can with what you know," I tried. "In that respect, it's not different than your days at C-Sec."

"You're right," he said gloomily. "Though I'm starting to understand why the galaxy needs cold-hearted dictators every now and then."

"They get things done?"

"They don't give a damn about the consequences."

That was true. As scary as it was, I'd find it a hell of a lot easier to sleep at night if I didn't give a damn.

"Suppose that's what it's going to take, Shepard: the ruthless calculus of war. Ten billion people over here die so twenty billion over there can live. Are we up for that? Are you?"

"If we reduce this war to arithmetic, we're no better than the Reapers," I argued. "Besides, we wouldn't have gotten this far. I mean, take the krogan. If I used that 'ruthless calculus,' I might've killed Wrex on Virmire. I might've deleted all of Maelon's experiments. Without those two things, it would've been a hell of a lot harder to cure the genophage and secure the krogan as an ally. Maybe even impossible."

"A nice sentiment," Garrus said doubtfully. "Let's hope we can live by it."

"Me too," I agreed. "Like you said, though, I'm on a roll. Let's keep going while we've got the momentum." (7)

Emily was busy working on a story on human leaders using military force on civvies—either to keep them from unnecessarily provoking the Reapers or because they were indoctrinated—so I left her alone. Meanwhile, Kenneth was busy admiring how well-endowed asari were—particularly as they got older—Gabby was busy being disgusted and Adams was busy working while this comedy of errors unfolded beside him.

What stuck in my mind was the latest conversation with Javik. Well, that and his conversation with Tali. "Um… hello? Javik? This is Tali. Tali'Zorah—"

"I know who you are, quarian," Javik interrupted.

"Yes. Well. I, uh, I couldn't believe it when Shepard told me you were on the Normandy."

"It appears I have that effect on humans," he sighed. "And asari. And turians. Now quarians as well, it seems."

I guess I could understand that. Being viewed as an object of fascination could get tiring, not to mention insulting, after a while.

"For what it's worth, quarians understand what it's like to lose your home."

"As I understand it, that was your own fault."

"What do you mean?"

"In my cycle, quarians didn't need helmets to survive. You were the masters of your own planet."

"That was a long time ago."

"And if you hadn't given birth to the machines, you would still breathe the air that evolution intended."

"I see. Liara warned me you weren't what she expected."

"And nothing about this cycle is what I expected. Even primitive quarians were considered attractive in my age. A pity no one can appreciate it now."

"Right. You know what? I think I have something important to do now. I won't keep you."

"Busy making friends?" I asked sarcastically.

"Busy studying your records on the geth. A formidable opponent." He turned around and looked at me. "Why did you allow one on this ship?"

"Legion helped us before."

"It's still a machine. I have a simple rule, Commander: if a machine can speak, kill it."

"I take it you had your own problems with AI?" I invited.

"The Zha'til," he nodded. They were as the geth are to this cycle."

"What happened?"

"Their creators lived on a dying world. It was beyond their ability to save. So they resorted to implants to enhance their intelligence, to try and invent a solution to their dilemma."

Aw, crap. "I think I know where this is going."

"The AI seized the physical body. It could alter the genetic material at the deepest level."

The fact that he chose to wash his hands might have been a coincidence. Then again, maybe not.

"In time, the offspring were molded into a slave race. Few organic traces were left. They were monsters." He finished washing his hands and faced me. "All machines commit treachery. The one you brought onboard is no different."

"Even if I believed that—which I don't—he's not like the other geth."

"You can't know that. They are more alien than you and I are to each other."

"So?" I shrugged. "Just because Legion isn't like us doesn't mean he can't be trusted."

"You're wrong," he said flatly. "Throw it out the airlock."

"How can you be so certain?" I asked. "Just because you encountered one hostile synthetic race doesn't mean they're all inherently bad. Or treacherous."

"Organics do not know how we were created," he replied. "Some say by chance. Some say by miracle. It is a mystery. But synthetics…"

"…know we created them?" I ventured.

"And they know we are flawed."

"Why do you say that?"

"They are immortal. We are not. They see time as an illusion. We are trapped by its limitations. Above all, machines know the reason they were created. They serve a purpose, while we search aimlessly for ours. In their eyes, organics have no reason to exist. Do not trust them, Commander."

"I can't believe there isn't some way for us to co-exist. We made them."

"And then gave them the power to surpass you," Javik countered. He was washing his hands again. Compulsive, much? "There is room for only one order of consciousness in the galaxy: the perfection of the machines, or the chaos of the organics. Throw the machine out of the airlock, Commander. And the machine you call 'EDI.' What if she sympathizes with the geth? We should watch her closely."

"No, I don't think so," I replied. "And I'll tell you why: if synthetics know we created them, then they know something about their origins. They know that, as flawed and imperfect as we might be, we also have dreams. Visions. Ideals to aspire to. Goals to strive for. And they do too. EDI is trying to grow and evolve beyond her original programming. The geth were trying to build a megastructure to house all geth programs and imagine new possibilities.

"You keep thinking in black and white, Javik. Like your idea that it's us or them. Organics or machines. Well, there's ups and downs for both sides. Organics might be chaotic, but it's not always disorganization. Sometimes it's originality. Creativity. Thinking outside the box. And synthetics might be all about order, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. For every example of rigid thinking or stagnation, there's an example of structure. Organization. Efficiency. Neither order nor chaos is perfect on its own. But if you combine both, maybe you could get the best of both worlds." (8)

He stared at me for a moment. "Perhaps I still have more to learn about this cycle," he finally said.

I'd like to think Javik meant that. Or maybe he really, really, really needed to wash his hands.

As always, my last stop was Deck Five. James was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Cortez was leaning against one of the computers, hand clamped to his forehead. "I'm liking the new you, Esteban," James said. "About time you loosened up a little."

"How does drinking mescal make me a better crewman?" Cortez asked.

"How does it not?" James asked enthusiastically. "Gives you heart. You need heart to fight this kind of war."

"Heartburn, maybe. Seriously, could we at least get some decent tequila?"

"Hey, you're the procurement specialist. Set us up."

"Later. Right now, I gotta—oh, Commander. Um… how long were you here?"

"Long enough to know you got some heart."

"Oh… um…"

"Long as you're not drinking while on duty or flying, and it doesn't give you a hangover the next morning, I think we're fine," I laughed.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I've been meaning to ask: you actually flew that geth fighter out of the dreadnought?"

"Actually, Legion did the piloting. I was stuck in a storage compartment with my squad."

"Well, it's too bad Hackett wants us to send it to his people so quickly. I'd have loved some more time with that ship."

"He does, huh?" Guess I couldn't blame him. The prospect of poring over all that geth tech must've been like Christmas or something. "I think you can get that time. We can't afford to go rendezvous with Hackett's people and transfer the geth fighter. Not while we have to deal with this war between the quarians and the geth. So until this war gets resolved or Hackett sends a ship over here…"

"—that fighter's all ours," Cortez grinned. "Great. I'll start running diagnostics now."

While Cortez got busy, I went to see James. He got straight to the point. "Hey, Commander. I've been meaning to ask. That geth, Legion? I know you two have a past, but… you sure we can trust it?"

"Legion's not like other geth," I replied. "He's the first geth designed to operate independently. Kinda like an ambassador. And he's the one who taught me that not all geth are hostile to organics. Hell, up until this point, the majority of them just wanted to be left alone to build their own future. So yeah, we can trust him."

"If you say so," James shrugged. "Sounds odd, if you ask me, but… I guess you can't always judge an individual by their, well, species. I mean, look at Sparks. If all the quarians were like here, we wouldn't be stuck refereeing their war with the geth."

"Tell me about it."

"Crazy that they pick now to start a fight, but I guess the end of life as we know it can make everybody a little loco."

"Just a little?" I grinned.

James grinned back. "Hey, not everybody's as crazy as you, sir."

Miranda was waiting for me when I returned to my quarters. The fact that she activated SCIF mode as soon as the doors closed told me she wasn't here to tear my clothes off and have her wicked way with me right then and there. Believe it or not, a part of me—a very small part, mind you—was grateful. Carpet burns are a bitch.

"Hell of a day, huh?" I said.

"Finding out that the quarians put their own self-interest above the galaxy's wellbeing?" Miranda shook her head. "On that point, they are quite similar to Cerberus."

I snapped my fingers in dismay. "I knew I forgot something."

"Well if you have to lecture them again, you can use that line."

"Right. But you didn't engage the cabin's SCIF mode to suggest that, did you?"

"Please." She transferred a file from her omni-tool to my computer and opened it. "I thought you would be interested in the current situation on Palaven."

"Yeah." I leaned forward, then paused. "Wait. What about Garrus?"

"He and Tali were talking. I thought I'd have him come to the War Room later and make use of the SCIF features in that area to bring him up to speed."

"Okay. That makes sense. Wait. Does this have anything to do with your offer to help the turians plan their attack to retake Palaven?"

"Yes, I offered to suggest a strategy or two in exchange for all the data that the turians had compiled. Primarch Victus was quite agreeable. A strategy that I would be happy to outline unless there are any other… questions?"

By questions, she meant interruptions. I held up my hands in apology and motioned to the computer.

"During their initial defence of Palaven, Fleet Admiral Irix Coronati stationed the Undaunted and the Resolute near the system's mass relay and used squadrons of unmanned fighters and swarms of drones to gather intel on the range, fleet composition and location of the Reaper ships. Using that information, Coronati directed his dreadnoughts to make a short FTL jump in the middle of the Reaper fleet, where they were able to strike the first blow.

"My strategy called for the turians to supposedly launch a new offensive using the same tactics—and leak it to the Reapers. Just as the turians would begin, one of their dreadnoughts—the Indomitable—faked a problem with its drive core, forcing it to drop out of FTL near Menae. Three more dreadnoughts and their attendant fleets were re-routed to assist the Indomitable with the repairs."

"That must've been a tempting target," I said. Belatedly realizing that I'd interrupted her again, I added "Sorry. Go on."

"You are correct. As you said, the Reapers found it a tempting target. Tempting enough to draw the Reaper capital ships away from Palaven. That opened a hole for turian troop transports to enter Palaven's atmosphere and release shuttles, gliders and individual soldier capsules—colloquially known as 'drop pods.'

As I predicted, the Reapers underestimated the seriousness of those ground forces, sending nothing more than husks and husk variants to stop them. Unbeknownst to the Reapers, that wave of ground forces included a new contingent of krogan commandos, who linked up with Palaven's resistance and delivered their payload: warp bombs and fission weapons."

Eek. Actually, double eek. First, I thought all the Collectors had been wiped out when we assaulted their base last year. Guess it was too much to hope that all of them had been hibernating there in between abductions. Second, the news of warp bombs and fission weapons was more than a little scary.

"During their harvesting of Palaven, the Reapers had been indoctrinating turian leaders and using them in an attempt to pacify the planetary population. Those indoctrinated turians had been flown around in processing ships, troop transports… even destroyers and capital ships. This time, though, when all those ships opened their doors, the indoctrinated turians were carrying an additional gift, courtesy of the krogan commandos and the local turian resistance. Every one of those bombs went off simultaneously, all across Palaven.

"As you can imagine, a strike of that magnitude shifted the momentum of the war in our favour. The sudden loss of all those ships allowed the turians and krogan to regain control of many key territories across Palaven. More importantly, news of that victory has given a much-needed boost to the morale of the turian people. I've already taken the liberty of giving Ms. Wong a redacted version of this development so that the galactic public can enjoy a similar surge of morale."

"Damn," I said at last. "We need every bit of good news we can get, but that's not just good. That's great!"

"It is," Miranda agreed soberly, "but it came at a great cost. Many members of the turian resistance gave their lives to ensure the bombs detonated. And every processing ship that was destroyed was full of turians. Harvested, indoctrinated or simply abducted. Young and old. Men, women and children. All of them dead."

"Damn," I said again, this time with a wince. I should've known: any war had its share of losses and casualties, some more tragic than others. This war was no different, except for the fact that all those losses and casualties would be compounded by an order of magnitude. At least.

"At the risk of sounding callous, I had one additional stipulation: that the turians would continue to share all data and intel they gathered with me—including the outcome of this offensive. I hope to use this in conjunction with the intel I'm receiving from Delta Source in my efforts to flesh out my plan to retake Earth."

"So you already have one?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes. Only in the most general sense, mind you. It's being constantly revised and updated with every new development, every new ally or resource we acquire—as wonderful as curing the genophage was in terms of the turian and krogan support we gained, factoring their combined forces into my plan required a total overhaul."

"But you do have a plan."

"I do. And I need the Alliance to retask some of their facilities for a certain aspect of that plan. I was hoping you help me convince Admiral Hackett."

"Sure. If you could tell me what that aspect is, though, that would be great."

Miranda was about to do so when the comm chimed. Guess it was my turn to be interrupted. The slight smile on Miranda's face told me she'd come to the same conclusion. Shaking my head, I opened my mouth. "Yes?"

"Commander Shepard, this is Admiral Raan."

"Yes?"

"We've located Zaal'Koris's escape pod."

(1): Primarch Fedorian, who Shepard had originally tried to extract from Menae for the war summit, was particularly incensed with Admiral Gerrel's antics.

(2): Admiral Gerrel contacted Admiral Hackett to complain about his treatment. Hackett interrupted with his own litany of complaints, consisting of thirty-plus years of Alliance encounters with the quarians. Gerrel ended the conversation before Hackett could get through the sixth page.

(3): This would be the first time Shepard went from using the plural form of address to the masculine pronoun.

(4): Indeed.

(5): A human idiom for someone who has done something well, pleased someone or is otherwise held in great regard. This is one of the few times that Shepard mentions someone else—Kaidan—using a human expression.

(6): He did grin from ear to ear, though.

(7): While Shepard might feel otherwise, his continued optimism was a constant source of reassurance, morale and guidance for all of us.

(8): Shepard's unwavering moral stance on issues such as this is particularly notable, given all the times he bent the rules.