"The Wretched Automatons" from NieR Replicant ver. 1.22474487139…

LXXV. Treasures of Aht Urhgan

(Tali'Zorah)

What a dream.

I couldn't believe it!

The Normandy made its way to the Perseus Veil. Out to Rannoch, the homeworld of my ancestors. I honestly couldn't stop smiling over it. During the flight, I spent time with Liara in her office. She typed away at her computer, working on that paper of hers. I lounged over her bed, talking and not talking with her. Talking, because I did my best to get Liara to open up. Not talking, because Liara did her best to stay vague around me. She would brighten again whenever I mentioned my new status as a Spectre. Liara had no shortage of praise and encouragement for me then. Yet as soon as I brought the conversation back to her and Shepard, Liara would go quiet. Or she would only give short answers, conveniently absorbed by her work again. She couldn't have been more obvious if she tried.

I asked her, "So, Liara, what's new with you? You've been giving off a certain energy since Palaven. Aren't you going to share any details with me?"

Then she replied, brisk and mysterious, "I am afraid I don't know what you mean."

"That's what you told me the first time I asked. I didn't buy it then, and I still don't buy it now."

Liara glanced at me from where she stood at her computer.

She honed in on the way I lay over her bed: over my stomach, paddling my legs back and forth in bliss.

Then she returned to her typing, as if she hadn't looked at me at all.

"Liara, don't bother with this," I scolded. "I'm not blind, you know. Your situation with Shepard has changed drastically since then. Whatever's going on, I support you one hundred percent. I promise." I had hoped that would be enough to get her to open up. Yet Liara kept her eyes focused on the eternal lights of her many monitors. "Listen, I understand. You finally have Shepard back. You don't want to let her go for anything. I know you have a possessive streak. Are you worried she'll end up straying again?"

"Maybe I am."

"Maybe—more like definitely."

Liara let out a breath, letting her arousals show.

I kept prodding, "Yes, I know. You don't want to make the same mistakes. You don't want to be the crazy girlfriend. But you also don't want Shepard to overlook you. Isn't this a balancing act?"

"Tali, the situation is…different these days. There is a reason why I said maybe before."

"Okay, why did you say that?"

"Because I know Shepard has finally accepted me. Both for my positive qualities, and the negative things I cannot change. I had already done the same for her long ago. Now that we have reached this understanding, the sky is the limit. Not even that. We can now share in what we want. The things we had shied away from in the past. Her suppressed desires for me; my repressed ones for her."

"This new freedom scares you," I noticed. "Doesn't it?"

Shifting around on the spot, Liara must have reacted to all this. Warmer and wetter between her legs.

I went on, "Well, love is acceptance, isn't it? Love is a choice. The choice to love someone no matter what. The choice to put them first. Shepard has made these choices for you. No matter how long it's taken, what matters is that she has made them—for you, Liara. It's incredibly romantic. There's also the other side. What you mentioned about these desires of yours." Just for fun, I picked out the ones that first came to mind: "Desires, desires. Isn't it powerful when Shepard desires you? Someone as strong and attractive and irresistible as she is. She could have anyone—and she's had them—yet she picked you in the end. You've stayed relatively innocent for her over the years. You and I didn't have the kind of sex anyone would assume. We always enjoyed each other through her. Through my substitutes of her."

Liara breathed harder, remembering our breathless nights together in Shepard's apartment. At home.

She remembered so much more than that, too.

Her many, many dreams about my words:

"Now you get to return to the real thing. Now she gets to hold you in her arms, and dote on you, and adore you, while you melt in her hold. Shepard's power gets to make up for every single thing you lack. You come alive under her gaze. You find your confidence, your self-esteem. You matter because that's what she decided. Shepard is obsessed with you because she's molded you this whole time. Whenever she's inside of you again, you're shaped after her. Not the other way around. You need that, don't you?"

Instead of answering me honestly, Liara relented in a different way.

Hasty, so hasty, she rushed to her bathroom. "I—need to take a shower before we arrive."

Bathroom door closed, locked shut. Immediately the sounds of her shower watered scattered along, at a distance, separated by this wall between us. I smiled to myself. Especially once I heard Liara getting in the shower. Getting in there, getting off. Saying Shepard's name. Whimpering in that weakness of hers, needing Shepard to just fuck her already. So, so wonderful. Absolute music to my auditory programs.

I loved getting in Liara's head like this.

It almost made up for her playing dumb with me these days. Almost.

Sighing in delight, I opened up my omni-tool to pass the time. I decided to read over Liara's welcoming email as our executive officer. A new mission, a new email, and a new tone from her leadership:

From: T'Soni, Liara – Your continued service.

Tali,

Thank you for your continued service and dedication to the Normandy. The retrofits to the ship have been a resounding success thanks to you. Commander Shepard has kept you on the crew manifest as our chief engineer. You are well-aware of your responsibilities by now, including the supervision of our other engineering officers: Legion, Engineer Daniels, and Engineer Adams. They will report directly to you on a day-to-day basis, while you will send your comprehensive reports to the commander as before. Please report to me for any non-engineering concerns you might have, such as requests for personal supplies.

As we have returned to the Alliance, you may have expected a salary cut. At least compared to what Cerberus had given you in the past. I am delighted to inform you the commander ensured we all received pay raises across the board. The Alliance has accommodated Shepard's request, despite the ongoing war, strictly appreciating the value of our crew's efforts. Your biweekly payments with Cerberus totaled an annual salary of 1,232,000 credits. Commander Shepard has negotiated your salary increase to a total of 1,750,000 credits annually. Both she and the Alliance are very grateful for the work you've done for us.

With our new mission against the Reapers comes a change in expected protocol. We no longer have a set schedule for when we must gather and meet as a team. The commander must constantly respond to the changing situation with the war. We recently stayed on the Citadel for quite some time before departing again. You may safely expect more downtime in between missions, or even occasions when a sudden emergency will interrupt us at an unpleasant hour. I only ask that you be ready for anything at any time.

Last but not least, congratulations again on becoming a Spectre. I am looking forward to seeing what your investigation on Rannoch brings to light. You are now equal to Commander Shepard in terms of rank and authority. But we must defer to her leadership on this mission against the Reapers and beyond.

We have all come a long way since our time against Saren and the geth. Let us remember our loyalties to the commander and hold them close. This mission has already tested us. No doubt we will face more challenges, more hardships, and more uncertainties. So long as we remain loyal to Shepard, I have every faith we will succeed and defeat the Reapers. She is our guiding light. Without her, the mission will fail. We must continue our lasting commitment to serve her faithfully. You and I more than anyone, Tali. Let us bear her trust in us with honor and pride—and let no one come between the three of us ever again.

-Liara

The power behind Liara's words continued to astound me, even after having re-read this several times.

We had all come a long way since Saren and the geth, as she'd written. But Liara had also grown stronger since then. So much stronger. She must have learned a great deal by watching the ones who tried before. I knew these lessons would pay off for Liara in the future. Possibly forever and ever, given that we would all be immortal if Shepard defeated Harbinger in the end… I still didn't know how I felt about this. This idea of immortality for us, for our team. We would always need to save the galaxy, again and again. Everyone would expect that of us. We would never, ever be allowed to fail in our missions.

I could handle this pressure of facing the Reapers, knowing we had Shepard and Liara to lead us onward.

I could only barely handle the uncertainty of my own people going to war against the geth.

Handling something like this on a scale of eternity seemed downright impossible for me.

I tried to check the Flotilla's internal news network. I hoped to see what all the chatter was about with the war, except I still couldn't find much. I hadn't noticed anything over the break, either. I only saw the usual notices about civilian-led community initiatives aboard the Neema, and other mundane things like current population counts aboard other ships. Our population had steadily climbed toward twenty million at this point. A few articles expressed more prolonged worries about thinning resources and a growing population. Nothing about the admirals scoping around for public opinion; nothing about a formal declaration of war against the geth. The Council and Admiral Hackett's warnings had caught me off-guard. Why hadn't I heard about this on my own…? Why hadn't Auntie Raan said anything to me?

I couldn't help worrying about my friends. Did Veetor support the war? What would happen to him if the geth decided to fight back? He couldn't protect himself. What if he lost access to his mental health resources in the midst of all the fighting? Would Kal'Reegar join the battle on Rannoch's soil, if things even progressed that far? Reegar was a marine. Whether or not he wanted to fight, he had no choice.

I knew I should have contacted them by now.

But I suddenly felt like a pariah among my own people.

Ever since I turned down the admirals' offer to join the Board, I'd only heard radio silence from them.

The more I thought about it, the more suspicious their offer seemed. Like they'd had some ulterior motive behind this. And then for them to say nothing about their choice to go to war, to retake our homeworld? I wouldn't have been surprised to find out they'd turned on me for some reason. In changing my permissions like this, they had all but declared me an exile from the Fleet by now…

Seeing as how Liara hadn't stopped masturbating, I figured she needed this time alone in the shower.

I sent her a message about leaving her room. We'd see each other again before reaching Rannoch.

As I headed down the hallway to the elevator, I found a wonderful surprise.

Shepard stood alone at the Normandy's memorial wall. There we kept the names of those we'd lost. People like Jenkins from Eden Prime on our first mission, whom I hadn't had the chance to meet. Crewmembers who'd fallen during the Collector attack three years ago. Shepard held new nameplates. Those we'd lost throughout of our mission against the Collectors—and now against the Reapers.

With a heavy heart, and a conflicted heart, Shepard placed these new names. Slots of blue rectangles with white writing, fitted along the blue and silver of the wall. All in Alliance colors, in remembrance.

Javik and Zaeed. Lost aboard the Normandy during our treacherous jump through the Omega 4 Relay.

Thane. Shot to death by Shepard herself back on Kahje. Despite the animosity, she still placed his name.

Anderson. Fallen on Earth during the first shock of the Reaper invasion.

One more nameplate awaited.

Just one more.

Shepard stared down at the blued shape in her hands. Contemplating.

I went up to her, looking at the nameplate for myself, with my own eyes. That name reflected back at me. I wanted nothing more than to scream at it—at her in the afterlife, wherever that may have been.

Lt. Ashley M. Williams

Shepard decided against placing that name along the wall.

She reduced the nameplate to omni-gel. Reduce, reuse, and recycle.

"Hey, Tali," said Shepard, as if nothing had happened at all. "Were you just in Liara's room?"

"Yes, we were talking," I replied, as if we could ever be so innocent. "I know it won't be long until we get to Rannoch. I can hardly sit still! The only thing bothering me is this matter with the admirals."

"You don't want to invite them aboard the ship, do you?"

"I'm not sure. After Udina's warnings, I don't think we should. I can't believe the admirals changed my permissions! I should have been able to see the news feeds by now. I can't figure out why they did this."

Tentative, Shepard asked, "Do you think they found us out? Our cover-up with your father on the Alerai. His illegal research. I didn't confirm or deny anything during your trial. They must've figured out why."

Oh…

I did ask Shepard to lie for me back then.

I'd wanted to protect Father's legacy. How the Fleet would remember him.

The admirals had likely found enough evidence to figure out our deceptions by now.

I should have seen this coming.

Shepard guided me, "Tali, this is your mission. Anything to do with the quarians, the geth, and Rannoch, we'll follow your orders. We'll follow your lead. If the Reapers get involved, then I'll take over again."

"The Reapers," I repeated in fright. "What if they do show up? What if they decide to invade the homeworld in the middle of our investigation? Mammon is the devil ship we're supposed to expect."

"I don't think that'll happen any time soon. Admiral Hackett assured me the enemy isn't heading anywhere near the Perseus Veil. If we leave and come back to Rannoch later, that's a different story."

"You're right. Depending on how extensive Rannoch's secret is, we may have to return another time. We'll probably have to leave once Sur'Kesh is ready for us. Wrex is anxious about the genophage."

"Agreed. With that said, we're nearly to the Perseus Veil. We can stop by the Migrant Fleet now and speak with the admirals in-person. Or we can head to the vid comm instead. It's your call."

Already I decided, "I'd rather not risk an altercation if we go and meet them. The QEC will be safer."

"Works for me. Come on, let's get upstairs to the war room."

Standing with Shepard at the vid comm, I felt this significance between us.

Two Spectres working together. Equals in nearly every way. Except I would never stop admiring her. This investigation on Rannoch may have been my mission, but I still looked to Shepard for guidance. I watched her closely, even now, as she got in contact with the Admiralty Board. I looked to her example. I wondered what she would do—if she were in charge of this situation instead of me. I kept Shepard's lessons in mind as the admirals' forms appeared: Han'Gerrel, Shala'Raan, Daro'Xen, and Zaal'Koris.

"Hello there, Tali," said Zaal'Koris, bluntly. "Or should I say, Spectre Tali'Zorah. A major achievement."

"Yes, quite the achievement," sneered Xen. "The news came as an astonishing surprise to us all."

"News, you say," I echoed in spite. "You mean like the news you kept from me for months? About your decision to fight the geth? I had to find out about this from the Alliance—instead of the usual channels!"

Admiral Raan lowered her head in meekness, in shame.

I got the sense she wished to say more to me. So much more. Yet she chose not to.

Practically family as Father's friend for years, since before I was born. None of that seemed to matter.

Instead, Admiral Gerrel bragged, "Yes, the people of the Fleet have all voted to go to war—to retake Rannoch from the wretched geth! We have wandered for long enough. We will be nomads no more! The homeworld is rightfully ours. It's time we take back what belongs to us. This isn't controversial."

"What are you talking about?! This is controversial! Fighting the geth is foolish! Their ships are far more advanced than ours. Their entire suite of technology is leagues better than what we have on the Flotilla! You know this, and still you voted to go to war? This is suicide! It's willful genocide of our own people!"

I noticed a crack forming in Admiral Koris' demeanor. Maybe my words had gotten through to him. Or maybe he'd always known these things, and it only drove the point home to hear me say them out loud.

Shepard shocked all of us when she said, "And what if I told you the geth don't want to fight at all?"

Xen demanded, "How do you know this?! What proof do you have? The geth are just like any other sentient species. When challenged, they will fight back. They will defend their own. We learned this lesson the hard way during the Morning War. Why bring up this unfounded claim, Commander?"

"It's not unfounded. I spoke with the geth myself. Specifically the heretics—the faction that followed Saren and worshipped the Reapers. They asked me to repurpose them. To change their virus that made them worship the Reapers. This change made the heretics, and all geth, return to their roots. Their default state of being is worshipping you instead. They…love you. They don't want to hurt you."

As much as this had blindsided me, I found the clues behind Shepard's claims.

During the last mission, she had accompanied Legion on a mission with the geth. They had visited the heretic station. I'd found it strange how normal Shepard was once she'd returned. Like she hadn't fought a single geth while aboard that ship. Shepard had been giving me the cold shoulder just prior to this, so I couldn't really ask her about it. Not even once we returned to the Migrant Fleet for my trial.

That and how docile Legion had been around me since then…

I couldn't deny the clear evidence right in front of me.

Looking to Shepard, I wanted to ask why she never told me. But as the admirals continued staring at us, flabbergasted, she wouldn't return my attentions. She made me wonder if there was more to the story.

Zaal'Koris eventually said, "This is a lot to process, Shepard. If what you've told us is true, then this certainly changes our calculations. Should we use force against the geth, they will not fight back. Instead of our own genocide, we would commit this atrocity upon the geth. Essentially repeating the past."

Bullish to the last, Han'Gerrel insisted, "I don't believe it. It's too good to be true! We heard you have a geth aboard your ship. A member of your team! How are we supposed to know you aren't a bunch of sympathizers? Trying to throw us off before the geth act against us? We have no way of knowing."

"Even if this is all true," sniffed Xen, "It matters not. The Migrant Fleet must prepare for war. Whether it is against the geth or the Reapers, we will need to defend ourselves at some point. We have simply decided that this point will be in the near future—and against the geth. You will not change our minds."

I entreated with them, "Listen, if I can just prove Shepard's claims, you won't need to do this. We're going to Rannoch right now. I'll treat it as another Pilgrimage for the Fleet. I'll see for myself how things have changed on the homeworld. Will you accept the hard evidence I give to you in this case?"

"Evidence, she says!" scoffed Koris. "We won't be taken for a fool a second time. Not after what you and the commander pulled with the Alerai. We had cleared you of all charges without any evidence to the contrary. We allowed a human military officer to bully us into submission—more than likely because you, Tali, convinced her to do so. You spoke nothing of the truth of your father's heinous crimes. As if we wouldn't find out anything on our own! Now you are traveling to the homeworld!? Yet another insult!"

As much as this confirmation terrified me, I had to keep fighting back. I couldn't let them beat me down.

Raan refused to speak on my behalf—and Shepard now expected me to fight—meaning I had no choice.

And so I fought, "Then is this why you offered to make me an admiral? To make me come back to the Fleet—without Shepard? You never planned on giving me the position! You only wanted to arrest me for another hearing, just to exile me afterward! You set the whole thing up as entrapment, didn't you?!"

Gerrel answered, "Unfortunately, yes. You have the right of it, Tali. Some of us knew it was a dangerous move. Had you returned, and we arrested you like that, this would have enraged Commander Shepard. And, subsequently, the entirety of the Alliance forces. Your captain would have gone to war over you."

Shepard's hellish glare at the admirals spoke more than enough.

Zaal'Koris cleared his throat, unclogging the fear there. "Tali, the situation is clear. In the weeks before his death, your father Rael'Zorah told us how he felt. How he wished to give his proper blessing for Shepard to take care of you. The Normandy and its captain are your home. Not the Flotilla that birthed and raised you. In some respects, we are happy that you have found your forever-home. Even if it is alongside a tyrant who would burn all to the ground to protect you. You do not need us anymore."

Admiral Xen agreed, "I feel the same as Admiral Koris. We cannot formally exile you, Tali, as we are all long-past that road. Instead, we must ask that you leave us to our affairs. Travel to the homeworld if you please. You have the rare privilege of doing so with the Normandy's stealth systems, hostile geth or not. But this is a dire warning to you both. You are to keep yourselves out of matters involving the quarian people. This isn't your fight any longer. Pretending otherwise will only make matters worse for all of us."

Han'Gerrel sulked, "You've all but abandoned us now, kid. Leave us to our fate. Unlike you, we don't have a choice here. We don't get to choose our home. The Fleet is all we have. We must save it. The only way for us to do that is to retake Rannoch—sooner or later. We have to do this. We have to."

Leaving us no room to speak further, Xen, Koris, and Gerrel left the call. They had made up their minds.

Shala'Raan stayed behind with us.

She finally looked at me. I couldn't discern much from behind her mask. But I felt her deepest sorrows.

"I am sorry, Tali… This is all a mess. One I could have prevented. I'm afraid I wasn't strong enough."

"It's okay, Auntie Raan," I forgave. "I can see what happened. You never wanted this war. The other admirals outnumbered you. If you fought against them, they would have ousted you from the Board."

Raan replied, "That is correct. They had forbidden me from warning you ahead of time. There is no danger in us speaking now that everything is out in the open. Almost everything. There is more to this story. Such as the reason why Admiral Gerrel said we must save the Fleet. Not having a real choice."

"The Council told us, actually. This is about resources, isn't it? The Flotilla is falling apart."

"If even the Council knows, then it must be worse than I thought. We are indeed running out of resources. The Migrant Fleet is impressive: over fifty thousand ships housing seventeen million lives each day. Yet some ships are already starting to collapse. We have lost hundreds of lives so far."

"And it will only get worse," I figured. "Unless you move everyone to Rannoch in time."

"Yes…we have no choice. We would have attacked the geth by now—if we didn't need to prepare. We are fortifying our ships for war. The process will take some months to complete. I am not against these preparations, as we do need to defend ourselves from the Reapers. What worries me most is the reality our people face. In truth, we are all deeply divided over the war. The Civilian Fleets don't want this."

"Then why did the Conclave and ship captains vote in favor? Did they ignore how the civilians feel?"

"Not quite," said Raan. "Everyone knows the situation is urgent. They are still afraid to fight. They are even more afraid of speaking out in this climate. Even if you had access to the regular news feeds, you wouldn't have learned about this on your own. The admirals have prevented anyone from reporting the full truth. Admiral Zaal'Koris is also torn, but doesn't want to risk showing weakness to the Fleet. Xen and Gerrel are both united for the war, as you witnessed for yourself. I fear this will only grow worse."

Shepard wished to know, "How bad do you think this'll get, Admiral?"

This time, Shala'Raan's silence spoke for her. Such a fearful, frightened silence.

"Why let this go on, Raan?" I pleaded. "We have other options! We could have asked for help! You know Liara is my best friend. The asari are moving mountains for humanity. They could do the same for us!"

"The other admirals are too proud to accept any outside assistance. As it stands, the rest of the galaxy has discarded us. They harass us whenever they can; they insult us, calling us suit rats, beggars, and thieves. Before you became a Spectre, the largest quarian presence outside the Flotilla was the many indentured servants laboring on Illium, contractually slaving away to keep a roof over their heads. Our crimes against the geth led to how we are perceived today. This issue with the Fleet is a problem of our own making. Conventional wisdom holds that we must solve the problem ourselves. As our just reward."

"Except this won't work. Our people can't fix this alone. Just like we can't fix the Fleet anymore."

"This is true, Tali," allowed Shala'Raan. "I fully agree with you. Which is why, against Xen's wishes, I am asking for your assistance. Not at this moment. I predict tensions within the Fleet will enflame in the future. Even before the war begins. May I contact you and Captain Shepard when we need you most?"

"Of course," I promised. "Please call us later on. Whenever you need us. We'll help however we can."

Shepard nodded with her own promise.

"Thank you both. I wish I had something to offer in exchange. Anything as a token of my appreciation. I will do my best to repay you once this is over. Please be careful on the homeworld. Keelah se'lai."

As Raan left the call, I remained in disbelief by Shepard's side.

I never could've imagined things would get this bad. I'd heard the rumors, the whispers about the Flotilla, about running out of resources. After surviving for centuries as nomads, the actual reality still took a while to sink in. Living out of a shoebox for so long wasn't sustainable—no matter how resourceful we quarians had become over the years. Now I had promised with Shepard to fix this problem however we could. Now I had the pressure of seventeen million lives on my shoulders.

I knew exactly how Shepard felt, dealing with her own pressures, even on this smaller scale.

For now, my mission on Rannoch awaited—sooner than soon as we flew past the Perseus Veil, approaching the homeworld after all this time. My quarter of a century of life so far, leading up to this.

Boarding the shuttle in a bundle of nerves, only Shepard accompanied me for this. Cortez drove us from the Normandy and through to Rannoch's orbit. The rest of the team had decided to stay behind—for now. Even Liara. They had insisted I share this moment with Shepard first. These first steps onto the homeworld. This first time experiencing the soil, the sights I had spent so many years reading about in longing.

Some part of me expected trouble. Running into resistance from the geth, maybe. Yet Cortez flew us along as passengers aboard a normal transport. Shepard also sat next to me in a pensive silence. Legion had been kind enough to upload Rannoch's up-to-date geographical information to our omni-tools. We knew how to reach the Empire of Aht Urhgan. Flying directly there would have been faster. We couldn't take the risk of showing up to a foreign nation with our foreign-to-them aircraft—even if the geth were supposed to be friendly. So we had to land in an unpopulated area, taking the long way to the empire.

"Almost there, you two," said Cortez. "We'll be touching down in a peninsula deep in the Kolshushu region. You'll travel on foot to the nearby port town, taking a ship eastward bound to Aht Urhgan."

I confirmed, "Right—we're headed east to the continent of Aradjiah. The empire takes up nearly all of the land. That's where most of my ancestors lived before the exodus. I heard it was a beautiful place."

For some reason, Shepard gave off a nervous energy of her own.

Cortez asked me, "You think what Legion said is true? That the geth have been taking care of your homeworld this whole time? Maybe the empire is still just as beautiful as it was back in the old days."

"I really hope so. I've only ever seen old photographs of Aht Urhgan Whitegate and Al Zahbi. Or paintings from artists who also used to live there. The empire was once very militant with their religion and customs, but eventually we grew into a melting pot of many different cultures. They housed several merchants, engineers, and craftsmen from every corner of the homeworld. Their ships carried all sorts of trading materials from across Rannoch, making Aht Urhgan the wealthiest realm in the world. Our most reliable trading partner came from an island to the southwest of the empire: the Isle of Thavnair. Plenty of my other ancestors lived in the capital of Thavnair, in the ornate city-state of Radz-at-Han."

Confused, Shepard hadn't heard me correctly, thinking I had said, "Rajasthan?"

"No, Radz-at-Han," I repeated. "The Empire of Aht Urhgan spanned over woodlands, subterranean plants, volcanoes, underwater ruins, and…unnerving swamps. Thavnair was a vibrant, tropical island with fishing towns, colorful mountains, and sacred religious temples. And a lot of heat. The empire was known for their technological and engineering advances, while Radz-at-Han took pride in their alchemical discoveries with medicine, and a cultural love for exotic music and dance. Whitegate and Radz-at-Han were close allies, usually exchanging spices, fabrics, and jewels with one another. Their customs and languages blended together in certain ways. They became like family nations over time."

"Sounds like we might want to visit Radz-at-Han over in Thavnair someday."

"I'd love to! We'll focus on the empire this time. That's where the Council ordered us to visit first. Knowing how close the two countries were, I'm sure our investigation will take us to Radz-at-Han later."

Landing among this stillness of nature—quiet and undisturbed—Shepard and I arrived to the peninsula. She allowed me to exit the shuttle first, following right after me. As soon as I touched down, my feet settling squarely upon the rocky ground, this majesty overwhelmed me. The unusual shapes of the peninsula rose high up to the sky. The endless sky of a hushed morning, clouds and gradients of red and orange blending across my sight. Had I lived on Rannoch this whole time, these rock formations would have been normal. Perfectly extraordinary in this ordinary setting. All as this dream come true for me.

Getting a better look, I took off the mask over my helmet.

I breathed freely of this air. How it smelled of salt from the nearby sea. I gazed out at the dark blue depths of the water, grazing along the shore down this hill. The beach there looked like it led elsewhere, wrapping around the entire peninsula. I lowered the hood from my head, too, flowing my hair down my shoulders. I hadn't felt a breeze like this in—probably forever. And at this early hour of the morning, I spotted an unusual quirk about these rocks. Something I might not have noticed through my mask. The ore deposits within gave off a fluorescent light, the glow dimming as the sun began to rise. Almost like a natural lighthouse for the ships passing along the straits out there. So many details I would have lost.

I found an even greater detail of Shepard watching me. She smiled in softness, glad for us to share this moment. Somewhere behind her, in the distance down the beaten path, I spotted that port town called Mhaura. An entire town embedded in the rocks, the lofty buildings rising up as if one with the earth.

"You want to keep going?" asked Shepard. "Or do you want to wander around for a while?"

I toyed with a rock beside my foot, enjoying this. "We should keep going. Don't we have to take the ferry from Mhaura to Aht Urhgan Whitegate? I don't want to miss it. But I am liking this so far. A lot."

Shepard held my hand, leading us to Mhaura along the path. "I'm wondering how this feels for you. Being on Rannoch after such a long time."

"It's…bittersweet," I realized. "Of course I adore this world already. I love getting to see these sights I had only read about before. After what you said about the geth, and after getting to know Legion on my own…I don't know. I'm starting to question things. If my ancestors had made a mistake with the war."

"Tali, I think it's obvious they made a huge mistake. The geth were innocent. They loved your people."

"You're right. It's difficult for me to admit. I had spent so long in the Flotilla's echo chamber. All we learned were positive stories about our ancestors. Our schools portrayed them in the best light possible. Our teachings ingrained in our heads that the geth were our enemies—that they always would have killed us if we didn't wipe them out first. I was never allowed to question it. Not until I met you."

Shepard criticized, "That's straight-up propaganda. No wonder you were in it so deep."

"Propaganda…"

The word made me sick.

So sick, because I hadn't considered it on my own before. Not once. Not until this very moment.

The Migrant Fleet had poisoned us all with lies.

Now the aftereffects of those toxins stuck with me, even as I expelled the worst from my mind.

"I spent my entire life idolizing the past. Romanticizing our homeworld. Believing our ancestors had made the best decisions. Hating the geth for having the audacity to defend themselves. I clung to the Fleet as my family. I accepted their word as law, as doctrine—because of those family ties. Now that I'm happy at home with you, the Fleet decides to abandon me. They know I'm not indoctrinated anymore. The admirals except for Raan discarded me, just like the galaxy discarded us for our terrible choices. It scares me to think we deserved our exile from this world. Rannoch had carried on without us, after all."

"Well, they never gave you any room to question things. You never had the opportunity to forsake those lies. Now that you got out, you see the truth for what it is. More of your people deserve the chance to do the same. I don't know if that's feasible these days. It's something for you to think about, at least."

I absolutely thought it over as we entered this port town.

At once peaceful in aura and bustling with activity everywhere, Mhaura welcomed us by the sea.

The entire town had been carved out of the cliff facing the water. Endless mazes of stone stairs and walkways zigzagged everywhere. Rising stones of hotels, restaurants, and shops stayed interconnected by the many paths throughout. Mhaura seemed like a normally sleepy fishing town. This aura it gave off—happily nestled by the water—certainly gave that impression. And yet all the people around begged to differ! So many groups of geth walked together. Armed with weapons holstered over their backs, the machines gathered and spoke with one another in several groups across the town. I could actually understand them. Their speech. A lot of them sounded like Legion, speaking in that robotic monotone.

Except the geth weren't alone.

In their groups, they had other people with them…

Other quarians!

None of them wore environmental suits. Instead, the quarians stood around decked-out in modern sets of armor, with equally modern weapon kits. Nothing nearly as flimsy and unreliable as the suits my people had been forced to wear. These quarians weren't from the Flotilla! They lived here on their own!

Right away this shock struck me hard. Like the best kind of whiplash I could imagine.

Undoubtedly, Shepard and I had found the secret the Council had kept for over two centuries.

I covered my gasp with my hand, to keep from drawing attention. "Shepard… I can't believe this!"

Shepard squeezed my other hand, supportive. "Udina did say the secret would be immediately obvious. He wasn't kidding." Then she asked in a deep concern, "Will you need to put your mask back on? Your helmet and your hood, too? I'm worried about you getting sick."

"No, I shouldn't," I muttered, as another group of geth and quarians passed us by. "I'll have to stay away from the crowds. A fair distance. As long as no one gets in my face, coughing or sneezing on me, I should be fine. Aside from you, I mean." Shepard curled her nose up at the imagery. "I'd only stand out in a crowd with a mask on. See the other quarians over there? The ones who aren't armed like these—mercenaries, I'm guessing." We both got a better look at those people walking along to the hotel, the kiosks for the stores around. Their civilian clothes looked similar to the 'outfit' of my new suit. "I should be fine like this. Something tells me these people would think differently…if they knew I was an outsider from the Flotilla. I'm not sure. It's just a feeling. A strong feeling. A bad one. The thought scares me."

"Okay, Tali," she accepted, keeping me close. "Just let me know if you need us to step aside."

"Don't worry," I said, using my omni-tool to load up on immuno-boosters. "I'll be fine. Thank you for worrying about me, Shepard. You're really sweet. Let's get to the ferry docks before the ship arrives."

Seeing as Shepard was neither geth nor quarian, I assumed she would've attracted attention.

Everyone we passed seemed too preoccupied with their group discussions. The mercenaries kept mentioning the words, 'Ambuscade' and 'queue', complaining about the 'instances' being full and having to suffer extended wait times. "Our number is 1204. Group 1072 just went in. I specifically got here in the morning to get away from this! They really need to add more instance servers…" I had read about this Ambuscade a long time ago. Some kind of challenging battles our mercenaries had fought in for profitable rewards. The people of Rannoch had kept our traditions alive and well in these modern times.

After standing in line, we arrived at a kiosk to pay for our ferry tickets. I didn't think much of it. Until I looked at the screen. This kiosk didn't accept the standard galactic credits. It only accepted certain coins. Imperial currency in order to reach the Empire of Aht Urhgan. I certainly didn't have any coins on me…

Thankfully, Shepard did. Perhaps another timely gift from Legion.

She retrieved a few imperial bronze pieces for us. Slotting them in the kiosk, the machine uploaded our ferry tickets to our omni-tools. No galactic credits, yet their technology still worked with omni-tools?

These people must have been off the grid.

As much as possible, anyway. Just enough to live in isolation with only the Council in-the-know.

Simultaneously stuck in the past while thriving in the present, with an endless future filled with growth.

Even the ferry's announcement sounded old. An old, recorded voice from a quarian, from centuries ago. Reused and recycled constantly after all this time for nostalgia:

"The ship eastward bound for Aht Urhgan Whitegate within Al Zahbi will arrive in about five minutes!"

Shepard and I sat down together at the dock's edge. The bluish-green ebbs of the water flowed past us. The morning skies above continued to brighten in radiance. A good number of other ferry passengers waited around, chatting together about fishing during the trip to Whitegate. I leaned on Shepard's shoulder in bliss, checking my omni-tool. Liara had sent me a message, asking how everything went so far. She promised to drop in with Cortez once it was safe. I wrote back to her with an update on our status, looking forward to seeing Liara again; sharing these sights and these memories with her.

Shepard glanced at those mercenaries around town. "Tali, do you know what that Ambuscade thing is? I'm guessing it's some kind of battle simulator. A video game, like the Armax Arena on the Citadel."

"Yes, it's kind of like that," I answered, checking the information Legion had given us. "Back in the old days, mercenaries would meet here in Mhaura before setting out to fight powerful beastmen. Doesn't look like those beasts are still around anymore. Now the mercs gather into groups and queue into a virtual instance of a battlefield. That's where they fight simulations of the beasts that once ravaged the homeworld. Defeating the enemies gives the group some nice rewards. It's lucrative enough to earn enormous riches and retire early. Not everyone's cut out to make it, though. They keep trying anyway."

"That sounds fun. Is this type of thing common for Rannoch? Challenges like Ambuscade?"

"It's very common! We've always had ways for mercenaries to chase after riches and prestige. It's what kept the mercs motivated to fight for us, bolstering the numbers for our more organized military forces. Each nation across the world had their own battles, trials, and quests. Anyone born into poverty could work their way up to real wealth. They chose to make a living risking their lives to prove themselves."

Shepard nodded in understanding, glad to learn more of my homeworld like this.

Just in time—the sizable steel of the ferry ship pulled into dock, parting the water as it approached.

"Thank you for waiting. The ferry has arrived! Please go ahead and board!"

Passing along the dock, Shepard boarded the ship with me. This waiting room below-deck soon filled up. Escaping that crowd, Shepard and I ducked out to the next room. Here we found the stairs leading to the top deck. We couldn't go up there just yet. Not until the ferry departed. I busied myself with checking the kiosk from the shop here. I found a bunch of fishing gear up for sale—rods, lures, and bait. I had never fished before, and I couldn't picture Shepard trying it, so I kept scrolling down the list, searching.

"Find anything you want?" she asked me.

"Hmm, I don't know…" Then I found several sets of dice. "Oh, phantom dice! These are very old and valuable. My people used to play a dice game called Luck of the Draw. The game started from corsairs."

"You mean pirates, right?"

"Yes, they were essentially pirates," I supplied. "They wielded swords, daggers, and multi-barreled handguns, causing all sorts of trouble for traders in the east where we're headed. Corsairs also had tech abilities linked to their dice rolls, usually to support and strengthen their allies in battle, like in Ambuscade. Eventually, the pirates were forced to stop pillaging trade routes once the traders equipped their ships with more advanced weaponry. The stigma surrounding corsairs vanished over time. Then regular people began playing Luck of the Draw, purchasing their own phantom dice as collectible items."

Shepard browsed the kiosk. "Looks like a bunch of different dice are available. Hunter's roll, healer's roll, scholar's roll… I'm guessing people collected the ones for their profession. They all do the same thing?"

"Well, the game itself is like blackjack. But with rolling dice up to eleven instead of drawing cards up to twenty-one. Each type of dice has its own lucky and unlucky numbers. Getting an eleven is ideal, but if you roll higher than that, you'll bust and lose. It's usually safer to stay on your dice's lucky numbers."

"Then let's play."

"Okay! I'll get the tactician's roll. It's most aligned with my tech expertise. Which one are you getting?"

"The corsair's roll," she decided, using her currency to buy our dice. "Sounds like this one's traditional."

"It is. Corsairs were also known as legendary snipers. I think it suits you. Thank you, Shepard. Let's get to the top deck and play during the ferry ride."

As we loaded our phantom rolls into our omni-tools, the ship departed from Mhaura's docks.

Shepard followed me upstairs to the open sea. Such a wonderful breeze blew by, fresh salt hanging in the air. I stared out at the image of Mhaura shrinking in the distance. Farther and farther away, I still marveled over the town, over this preview of the rest of the world. Up above, I spotted several skycars passing by, making their way to the town. Not many decided to take this more traditional form of travel. Aside from the fishermen around us.

Leaning on the railing, Shepard tried out her dice. "Why are these called phantom dice, anyway?"

"Oh, that. There was once a ritual involved to become a corsair. The initiates traveled through the Arrapago Reef: a haunted area of the empire filled with ghosts and undead… It was the final bastion of a kingdom conquered by the empire—but they didn't allow themselves to be taken so easily. After the fighting ended, no one actually stuck around the reef. Just those vengeful phantoms of the dead."

"Brutal, but interesting. What other jobs or professions did the empire have back then?"

"On the level of corsairs?" I asked. "There were also puppet masters and blue mages. Puppet masters were combat engineers who controlled highly advanced automatons. These automatons formed the basis of our early combat drones and geth prototypes. I don't know much else about them, unfortunately. I'm sure you can guess some of my direct ancestors were puppet masters. Then there were blue mages—or quarian biotics. There weren't many blue mages around. The ones we did have went on to serve the empress as members of her elite guard, the Immortals. We had many other professions, but these three were the most renowned within the Empire of Aht Urhgan for the longest."

Shepard went quiet again, pondering over the information I'd given her.

Why did I get the sense she knew more about this than I did?

Before I thought to ask her, I took a look around. The geth fishing along the deck made me smile. So peaceful and carefree, they enjoyed this little pastime of theirs. The other quarians fished alone or in groups, not at all worried about these synthetics aboard the ship. Never could I have imagined seeing a sight like this. At least not before today. I would have fought against the idea; insisted it was impossible.

If only the admirals could have witnessed this with their own eyes.

I took a photograph anyway. To have something to remember this by.

Deciding to play dice now, Shepard sat down with me on the deck. We faced each other, testing out our dice rolls one last time. I enjoyed this wonderful sight of her in the dawn's light. Especially the sight of her learning, appreciating what Rannoch had to offer. Even the smallest things like this silly dice game.

"So Shepard, what are we playing for? Best two out of three."

"Not money, I'm guessing."

"No, I'm terrible at gambling, as you saw the other day… Besides, I just got that big pay raise from the Alliance. Thanks for that. It was a nice surprise. You aren't shy about showing how much you value me."

"Of course, Tali."

I made up my mind: "Okay, how about this? If you win, then I have to tell you my deepest, darkest secret. Something not even Liara knows about me. But if I win, then…you have to tell me how you're doing. How you're honestly feeling these days."

Shepard looked at me in surprise.

I gave her a knowing smile.

Then she nodded to me with her agreement. We started to play our game.

Rolling our numbers, lucky and unlucky, trying to stay on the lucky ones or on eleven: I enjoyed the simplicity of it all. I adored watching Shepard get the hang of this. I loved spending this time with her, completely uninterrupted. Like we had endless time to spend together.

In the middle of my dice roll, I glanced at another group of quarians. I had felt a familiar energy from their direction. One of the men smiled at me—in that special way. The brights of his eyes glowed even more in this light. I smiled back in amusement, humoring him for a bit. Nothing more than that. I didn't want to give him the wrong idea. He didn't suspect a thing about me. No one else did, either. Hopefully this so-called disguise of actually showing my face continued to work. I didn't want anyone finding me out.

By some stroke of luck, I ended up winning two games in a row.

Shepard didn't even grumble over having lost to me. Unless she'd chosen to lose on purpose. She'd rolled on her lucky number and busted both times, even after I had explicitly advised her not to do this…

She simply said, "Well, looks like you win the bet."

"Yes, I did. Are you going to talk now, Shepard? Tell me what's going on. I want you to be honest."

She could have stalled by asking me why I had chosen this for our bet.

I expected her to. I had my answer ready.

Shepard sounded sincere as she shared, "I'm coming to terms with some things about myself. Things I had always known, but didn't want to accept."

"Like what?" I wondered.

"When I was a lot younger, I used to be pretty emotional. Or more in-tune with my emotions. I was way more idealistic. I would always want to do the right thing and help others. I would sacrifice anything for someone I cared about. As I got older, I had to shut that off in order to survive. I couldn't let anyone take advantage of me. I was intensely hyperaware. Never letting anyone think they could walk all over me."

"Do you think that's why you have this switch? How you'll shut off the moment someone crosses you?"

"Probably. I know it isn't normal. That struggle for power is a normal thing for me, though."

I challenged her, "But if it's with someone you trust, is it really about power?"

"Yes and no," replied Shepard. "For me, it's about tolerance. If I do something to hurt you, and you don't push back enough, then I'll know I can get away with it again. I'll keep testing the line. Seeing how far I can go. Even if it's not on purpose. Like I'm not trying to manipulate you or anything. It's just something that happens naturally over time as we disagree, or argue, or run into trouble. Then we end up blurring the lines. You don't know where your boundaries are anymore. You want to keep forgiving me because you love me. Except I'm taking advantage of you by this point. We're running on fumes of tolerance."

"In your eyes, that's someone walking all over the relationship. On purpose or not, like you said."

"Yes."

"You don't like that at all," I continued. "So once it starts happening, you shut it down. Immediately."

"I do."

"I agree that it's a natural thing. We're not always going to agree. We're not always going to get along. You don't want to condone the disagreements; you don't want to give them a pass to keep coming up."

"Right."

"With that said—are you afraid of hurting Liara like that again?"

This character of Shepard's silence trembled in fright. Even as she sat perfectly still before me.

"Shepard," I soothed. "I get how you feel now. I understand. I just hope you're not avoiding her. Or that you decide to stay away from her out of fear. Of course this is going to be hard. Are you willing to try?"

"I want to. I plan on doing my best. I just don't know how to put up with things like this. I think I used to know how. After everything that happened, my tolerance levels are shot to hell. They're nearly gone."

I suggested, "Then how about giving Liara the benefit of the doubt? Instead of 'putting up' with her."

Waiting in patience, Shepard quietly wished for me to explain more. She wanted to listen, to learn.

"I know she's special to you, Shepard. You are capable of doing this for her. I want you to remember your trust in her. Liara always has the best intentions with you. She would never hurt you on purpose. She would never lead you astray. She's not trying to one-up you, take advantage of you, or walk all over you. As much as she loves you, Liara isn't your enemy. Don't push her behind enemy lines the next time you get into a disagreement. When's the last time you even had a real argument with her, anyway?"

"…a couple of weeks ago."

An intriguing timeline of events.

I had first noticed this change between Shepard and Liara around then.

Respecting her caginess, I went on, "While you argued, did you treat Liara like your worst nemesis?"

Shepard explained, "No, I tried my hardest not to. Liara was seriously pissed at me. Hell hath no fury. I was angry and confused. We went at it, back and forth. Just…drama. But I genuinely wanted to know what was wrong. I listened to her. Then I calmed down. She calmed down. We found an understanding."

"Would you have done that for anyone else?"

"Besides you? Definitely not."

"Can't you do that for Liara again? Give her the benefit of the doubt. Be the one to back down first."

Shepard was about to fire back with some logical argument about power again.

She knew that didn't apply anymore. We were all past that stage.

Taking my words into consideration, she stopped to think for a moment.

Then she whispered, "If it's for Liara, then…yes. I don't mind backing down first. It's not worth losing her to my pride." Shepard took a deep breath, the quickened palpitations of her heart shuddering out of her. "This is all new for me. Or maybe it's not new. Being this mindful about it—that's what's new."

"She serves you faithfully, Shepard. Return the favor by serving her emotionally. With your devotion."

She agreed with me. She wanted to do these things. Something terrible still tugged at her, though.

I dug up the deeper issue:

"About the enemy. The ones you love becoming your enemies. I remember—this has happened before. You would love someone so much, only for them to place themselves behind enemy lines. They would lie about it. Keep secrets. And then they would wonder why your feelings for them changed. Or how you couldn't possibly forgive them for what they did. It's safe to say this happened again recently, didn't it?"

Shepard gave a wounded nod.

"Do you think…you're traumatized? Do you have PTSD from all of this?"

She didn't need to confirm or deny anything.

This pained look in her eyes told the whole story.

How close she had come to snapping, crossing over… Going off the deep end and never coming back.

Terrified for her, I rushed into Shepard's arms. I crossed this short distance between us, burying myself in her hold. Shepard caught me in her arms on reflex. She didn't mind how hard I squeezed her. She somehow stayed strong, as this mast upon our ship, with the seas and the breeze still passing us by. I gripped Shepard tighter and tighter, knowing she wouldn't let me go. I found my comfort in her own hold around me. Tighter than she'd ever given me before. Far more honest than she'd ever allowed.

"Please, Shepard," I breathed against her. "Tell me you're not dealing with this alone."

"I'm not, Tali," she promised. "I've been speaking to someone about it. Every day we were on the Citadel, I went to see them. I'll go see them again when we go back to the station. When we have time."

"Has it been helping…? Are you okay?"

"Yes to both. I promise. I'll feel even better soon enough."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. I just hope you won't give up on us. Especially Liara and me. We're trying. We never want to hurt you. We're still scared you'll leave someday. Please don't go. Please…stay with us."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here."

As much as I believed Shepard now, this terror still reigned in my heart.

I pictured her with Liara. I pictured them happily together in the future. I imagined the two of them arguing, having normal relationship problems. I imagined them making up and moving forward. I visualized Shepard staying true to her promises, and working on her sore spots. I visualized her strong desires to stay in devotion. I saw her putting those desires to action—putting Liara first every single day.

For some reason, this image of Shepard up and vanishing still refused to leave me.

Hoping, praying my fears away, I stayed in Shepard's arms for the rest of the ferry ride. She held me the whole time. As close as my homeworld held me, having returned to these lands and seas after so long.

Heavenly white illuminations burst forth from Aht Urhgan Whitegate, from the entire metropolis raising up alongside the sea. Whitegate and the neighboring Al Zahbi had both elevated themselves into a full, shared metropolis. Such tall, wide buildings spanned the landscape, as layers of diagonal steel stacked stop one another, lighted in luminescence in between. Shapes of quarian machinery and weapons had woven into the fabric of the empire's architecture. These heavenly lights brightened from the sky, from the buildings and the street lights, embedded into the clouds and the sunlight itself. All as the backdrop for all the skycars zooming through the city. This looked nothing like the pictures I remembered seeing!

The geth had done more than preserve our civilization. Updated and improved over time—Rannoch had kept up with these modern advances, keeping Aht Urhgan's architecture on-trend for the current era.

As Shepard and I departed the ferry, we arrived to Port Al Zahbi within Whitegate. I stared up at the skies for what felt like forever. Just watching those skycars drive by; listening to the sounds of their engines whirring overhead, as if I had never seen such a thing before. Shepard had navigated us away from the crowd passing through the port. Everyone passing by simply took me for a tourist new to the empire. I was and I wasn't. This city held the lifeblood of my direct ancestors, of the Zorah clan. We had such a history here. A history cut short by the Morning War exodus. We could have been so much more, had we stayed. Although, thinking this, I wondered if some of them had stayed. These other quarians hadn't come out of nowhere, after all. Some of them must have stayed behind, somehow, after the war.

Shepard somehow knew to lead us west. Westward through the city to the Stoneserpent Square. Here we wound an amazing hotel, one absolutely bursting to life in this light. We entered to the mezzanine, filled to the brim with mirror-like surfaces for walls, reflecting everyone passing through in all different shapes and sizes. Between those reflections ran a series of waterfalls, shallow indoors, and decorative enough to attract a sophisticated attention. Shepard checked us into the hotel. Separate rooms—one for herself, and another room for Liara to share with me once she arrived.

No one even made a fuss over her. Over Shepard's clear identity as a non-quarian. Non-geth. But how?

As we left the hotel, Shepard said, "We'll come back later. After we finish exploring for the day."

"Yes, I'd like that. We should stay in Whitegate for as long as we can. There's so much to discover!"

"There is. This place is pretty incredible. The empire's technology is off the charts."

Glad that she appreciated this, I happily followed her north from our hotel. Within this next area, Balrahn Way, we found no shortage of shops around. Electronics stores, grocery stores, weapon and armor stores, clothing stores, antique stores, candle and incense stores, and so many other places to shop and browse around. The tall Victory Gate stood along the west side of the area, leading to the bastion of Al Zahbi and the woodlands and rainforests outside the city. Here in the Merchant's Ward, several mercenaries had gathered out in the plaza. I heard them shouting for groups to team up, similar to the mercenaries over in Mhaura. Instead of Ambuscade, these mercs looked to tackle other battles.

Their shouting all blended together for me. All I could make out were the common phrases—mythic, mythic weapon, mythic quest. Not thinking much of it just yet, I focused more on the city, on the view. We headed east through the city this time, wading through Serpentking Square, an open courtyard. Several more geth and quarians mingled around the gigantic fountain in the center, the water there glittering in the city's heavenly light. A few guards stood nearest to the fountain, and along the pathways leading to other parts of the city, keeping an eye out. Many other people waited around, searching. Probably as a gathering spot to meet up with friends or family before leaving elsewhere.

Such a surprise: I noticed another race of people around. Non-humanoid, but bipedal nonetheless. They almost looked like…rats? Brown fur, hooded heads, pointy ears, long snouts, and large beady eyes. They stood out with how short they were, too, shaped like penguins. Yet they walked through Whitegate as regular citizens. So adorable! Checking my omni-tool, I learned these were qiqirn—a mercantile race of people on Rannoch. I assumed these qiqirn owned some of the stores we had passed by. Though they weren't the only ones who'd caught my eye. The other non-quarians and non-geth across the way.

"Shepard," I said, tugging on her arm. "Those people. Some of them aren't quarians. Or geth!"

"Yeah, I think I see an asari over there. Definitely not Liara, though. Maybe a human by the fountain?"

"That explains it! I've been wondering why no one gave you a second look as a human. Perhaps they fled to Rannoch to be off the grid? How did they know about this? The Council must've guided them here."

"Probably."

Past the courtyard, Shepard and I reached the richest section of Whitegate yet. The Way of the Devout reminded me of a mini-Citadel, with skycars and people and small aircrafts coming and going everywhere. Many scholars and professors entered to the Walahra Temple. Even after all this time, the imperials continued on with their faith from the temple, blended with the teachings of philosophy there. Next door to the temple, most of the comings and goings centered around the Chamber of Passage. It looked like the runic portal within still worked, transporting people all throughout the continent within the Empire of Aht Urhgan. Maybe taking them to places too dangerous to travel by skycar or aircraft.

At the height of this area, the Imperial Ward extended well past our view. A colossal, shimmering white wall separated the imperial palace, military facilities, and court residences from the normal goings-on out here in the Way of the Devout. If Aht Urhgan still had an empress, then she would've been in there.

Looking up at Shepard, I found her attention focused elsewhere.

Across from the Chamber of Passage stood another, larger building, where most of the mercenaries had gathered. The Commissions Agency. Many merc groups ventured through the doors, coordinating with one another on where to head next. This must have been where they accepted missions for the empire.

"Shepard, do you want to go inside? We can take a look."

"Let's go in."

Just the lobby of this area took up a massive amount of space. Several counters with actual clerks standing behind them, instead of the usual kiosks. The clerks all wore different types of armor, with signs over their counters. Assigns Assault Missions for Ilrusi Atoll. Assigns Assault Missions for Periqia. Assigns Assault Missions for Leujaoam Sanctum. Assigns Assault Missions for Nyzul Isle. Ilrusi Atoll and the rest were locations within the empire. But I had no idea about these missions. What were Assaults?

One of the quarian personnel behind the front counter got our attention.

"Hello there!" he said, hailing us over. His red, black, and gold imperial armor made him look regal, expensive. "You two look like you're new to the empire. My name is Rytaal. How can I help?"

Rytaal? No clan name?

"Um, yes," I replied, a little starstruck by all this. "Hello, Rytaal. My friend and I were just exploring. We're not really familiar with this place. What exactly is the Commissions Agency?"

"The Commissions Agency is in charge of all mercenary missions throughout Aht Urhgan. We issue imperial army ID tags to those participating in Assault runs. You may have heard a lot of chatter in town about Assault. I take it you haven't yet registered as mercenaries, have you?"

"No, we haven't. We don't know anything about Assault missions. What are they?"

"Assault is a long-running tradition here in the Empire of Aht Urhgan, dating back well over two thousand years. The empire first enlisted patriotic adventurers for Assault missions, pushing back against beastmen in key areas throughout the continent. Our missions were so successful that we defeated every beastmen, vanquishing their kind from Rannoch. Now Assaults are simulations of battles past, much like the famed Ambuscade in Mhaura. However, Assaults are far more strategic than Ambuscade, offering complex, timed objectives for groups of mercenaries. These operations have been deemed too sensitive for our regular imperial troops. Completing these missions increases your Mercenary Rank within the empire. Reaching the highest rank then opens up unique opportunities."

"Oh, I see," I replied, checking the list of ranks Rytaal pointed to. "So it looks like all mercenaries begin at Private Second Class. Then they rank up to Private First Class, and Superior Private, and Lance Corporal…all the way up to Captain. What are the benefits of reaching the highest rank of Captain?"

"Aside from the prestige? Well, that's actually a big part of it. Not many mercenaries have what it takes to reach Captain, let alone Private First Class! Only by successfully finishing all fifty Assaults can a mercenary be promoted to the coveted Captain rank. This allows them to use the runic portals within the Chamber of Commerce for free, unlocking unlimited travel throughout the empire. Captains may also access the Alzadaal Undersea Ruins at no cost. Several areas of the empire are only accessible through these ruins. Skipping the currency toll there pays for itself in the long-run. Finally, the reason most mercenaries chase after Captain: they can begin the quest to start creating a mythic weapon."

Even now we heard the merc shouts from outside, most of them still going on about mythic weapons.

Why wouldn't they shut up about these things?

Rytaal smiled with my notice. "As you can see, the chase for mythic weapons fuels the circle of life within the Empire of Aht Urhgan. Mythics are legendary weapons known to grant the wielder untold power. There are many different types of legendary weapons to acquire throughout Rannoch: dynamis weapons, relic weapons, empyrean weapons, aeonic weapons. But mythic weapons are the most unique. They have special properties that work hand-in-hand with the wielder's individual skills. If you want to prove your undying dedication to a certain combat class, then a mythic is your ultimate goal."

"That sounds fascinating," I said, feeling the allure already. "So these are the best of the best. I can already tell the mythic quest is quite daunting. But we'd have to become mercenaries first, right?"

"That's right! Then you'll come pay me a visit to get started on ranking up to Captain with Assault missions. I heard there's a way to skip the ranking up process—yet it's so rare, it's practically unheard of! You'll have to visit President Naja Salaheem at Salaheem's Sentinels to learn more. She's the one to speak to about becoming a mercenary. You'll find Salaheem's Sentinels over by Port Al Zahbi."

"Sure, we'll do that. Thank you so much for your help, Rytaal."

"Of course! Our friendly staff are always here to help you help the empire. We hope to see you again."

After leaving the Commissions Agency with Shepard, we decided to wander around some more. We headed southward, past a gargantuan-sized colosseum. The arena lit up with strobe lights, making me wonder what went on in there. Maybe some kind of concert or sports game? Shepard didn't seem too interested in all the noise. We continued on away from all the cheers and music, back to Whitegate's regular pace. The qiqirn walking around, the quarians and geth mingling together, and the mercenaries.

I paid more attention to the many mercs shouting one after the other:

"Looking for members for Assault runs! Trying to get to Captain rank to start my mythic weapon quest. Want to get all fifty Assaults done with a good group if possible! Do you need them? Help me out!"

"Could anyone join me for a full Nyzul Isle climb? Need to get to floor 100 for my mythic quest. I'm new. Starting at the first floor. Need a vigil weapon for puppet master, too. Team up, please?"

"Selling Tinnin's Fang, Sarameya's Hide, Tyger's Tail for 5,000,000 each! Buy to skip chunks of the mythic weapon quest! We can kill Tinnin, Sarameya, and Tyger for you in only a few minutes! Guaranteed!"

"Overpriced garbage. Just go out and kill them yourself. Get your own fangs, hides, tails! I hate mercs."

"Anyone need Einherjar?! Please send me an omni-tell for a group invite! I can't get in the instance because it's ALWAYS FULL with people working on their 10th mythic weapon! I just want my first one!"

"Need Assault: Periqia – Building Bridges! I'm awful at stealth missions! I keep getting caught by the Lamia beastmen! I've been having nightmares about this for weeks! Send omni-tell! VETERANS ONLY."

"Wow, veterans only? You mean you only want someone who's done the Assault before? Even though you've never finished it yourself? I need Building Bridges, too. I haven't cleared it for the same reasons as you! But I can't join you? That's not fair. No one join his group. Let him suffer until he clears it alone."

"He just wants a carry. Then he'll get carried through Ambuscade for easy money. Don't enable him."

"Buying Alexandrite pieces in bulk for 8,000 each! Need 23,459 more shiny green jewels for my mythic! Send omni-tell!"

"Wow," deadpanned Shepard. "These mythic weapons are all anyone cares about."

"I know, right? Then again, Rytaal made them sound pretty valuable. Absurdly valuable. I'm willing to bet they're more expensive than your Black Widow. More like a lifetime's worth of investments."

"I think I get how it works. There's this whole feedback loop throughout the empire. People want a mythic weapon for the powerful perks. Those powerful perks get them into better, exclusive, elite groups that can clear Ambuscade reliably for those big rewards. They'll make their investment back that way. So they invest money or time, or both. People pay the other mercenaries to carry them through the mythic quest wherever possible. Or they actually put in the time and hard work for their weapon."

I agreed with her, "That's probably it. I'm guessing the whole quest takes a long time. People might feel like they'll get left behind, so they give into the temptation to pay their fellow mercenaries for those services. Then when they finally get their weapon, they head to Ambuscade to try and make their money back. That's how they choose to survive here."

Shepard noted, "Sounds pretty cutthroat."

"Absolutely. Getting through a laundry list of tough missions and battles. Mercenaries selling to other mercenaries. Investing countless time and energy into a weapon they might not even get in the end…"

"You still want one. A mythic weapon. Don't you?"

I laughed over how well she knew me. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Shepard. I'm tempted. I'm picturing my ancestors chasing after these, too. I'm just not sure if we have time. I'd still like to look into it."

I really did want to earn a mythic weapon.

I really, seriously did.

But not for myself.

I wanted to get one for Shepard. Mostly as a way of repaying her for everything. Doing something nice for her. Showing that I loved her, and I wanted her to stay with us. Even though all this uncertainty.

As we continued walking on, I noticed the strangest thing. We spotted geth hanging out in places like teahouses and restaurants. They couldn't even eat food or drink tea… Why were the geth in there, sitting at tables like normal people? Actually sitting with other geth units as their friends. Was this their way of simulating organic life? I even noticed a few geth sampling items in an incense shop alongside other quarians. I certainly enjoyed the soft smells wafting outside from the shops. Geth didn't have olfactory sensors. How did they appreciate the scents and aromas in there? I had so many questions.

Then we overheard a couple of geth out here. The two platforms spoke together about, of all things, mythic weapons. They engaged in a friendly debate over which weapon was the most powerful.

"There is no question," insisted the first geth. "The Nirvana's strength is unprecedented. This staff allows the wielder to summon forth powerful beings. These beings decimate foes in Ambuscade and Escha."

"We must disagree," said the second geth, so polite. "The corsair's Death Penalty gun is superior. The ultimate sniper's shot, Leaden Salute, is unmatched. Most foes within Ambuscade, Omen, Odyssey, and Dynamis-Divergence are resistant to attacks by summoned beings. The Nirvana is irrelevant for these encounters. The Death Penalty has no such weakness. We wish to obtain one for ourselves."

Escha? Omen? Odyssey? Dynamis-Divergence?

These must have been other group battles and challenges for big rewards. Probably from somewhere overseas.

"The Death Penalty has other weaknesses. If a foe is resistant to darkness, then Leaden Salute loses much of its power. Most groups only desire a Death Penalty user for their Leaden Salute shots."

"These occasions are less frequent than the roadblocks the Nirvana faces. The Nirvana only excels in Escha one hundred percent of the time. The Death Penalty is in-demand for both Escha and all other battles and raids. Even if a corsair is not needed for damage, their support skills are invaluable. Because of this, corsairs are present in every single mercenary group on Rannoch. They will never be excluded."

The first geth reconsidered. "We concede…that you are correct. We will now achieve consensus."

Two geth verbally disagreeing instead of limiting their consensus disputes to electronic communications.

They must have learned this behavior from other organics.

I went up to them out of curiosity, bringing Shepard with me.

"Excuse me," I said, staring up at the tall machines. "We overheard you debating mythic weapons…"

One of the geth looked down to me, then back up and level with Shepard, speaking in kindness, "Ah, Creator Tali'Zorah. Welcome home to Rannoch. Welcome to you as well, Shepard-Commander."

Taken aback, I hadn't expected them to recognize us.

Almost like they'd expected to find us here.

Just as gentle as its friend, the other geth asked me, "Does Creator Tali'Zorah have any inquiries about mythic weapons? If so, we are glad to assist."

"I wanted to know—how exactly does someone obtain a Death Penalty? I know they have to become a mercenary first. Then they have to complete Assaults to get their promotion to Captain. What else?"

The first geth warned, "It is a lengthy process. One that takes most mercenaries several years to complete. Those with more privileged means may obtain their weapon in a matter of days. These privileges are exceedingly rare, limited to the creators whose ancestors served in the imperial court. Do you still wish to proceed?"

Several years?!

So unless I had an ancestor who'd served at the imperial palace, I couldn't get this done any time soon.

I still said, "Yes, please tell me. What are the steps I would need to take? All of them."

The second geth explained, "Creator Tali'Zorah must first obtain a vigil weapon. The Death Penalty's corresponding vigil weapon is the Quicksilver gun. You can only obtain vigil weapons from Nyzul Isle Investigation, a special Assault mission. These weapons drop from the topmost floor, on floor 100."

"Then you must defeat several powerful beastmen," said the first. "As these beastmen no longer exist, you must fight the phantoms of their memories. Three of these phantoms will only appear once every twenty-four hours, and only in specific, dangerous locations within the empire. You must compete with other mercenaries seeking to kill these phantoms. If someone else kills the phantom, you must wait an additional twenty-four hours. Furthermore, you will be required to kill other phantoms in instanced areas: within Salvage in the Alzadaal Undersea Ruins, and Einherjar in the Hazhalm Testing Grounds."

"Okay…that doesn't sound too bad," I tried. "What's next?"

"Creator Tali'Zorah will be sent to Nashmau, a mist-shrouded merchant's town on Azouph Isle. One of Nashmau's residents oversees the next quest requirements. You may complete these requirements in any order. First, you must purchase a copy of a literary classic book, only obtainable with 150,000 tokens from Nyzul Isle. You obtain these tokens by completing objectives and traveling upward through the isle's floors. Second, you must purchase a sacred relic for 100,000 ampoules of therion ichor from Einherjar, which involves a similar process of defeating enemies in a timed arena. Third, you must acquire 30,000 pieces of Alexandrite, either by completing Salvage or another variation of Nyzul Isle. Lastly, you must complete all fifty Assaults again and obtain proof of completion."

"Again?!"

"Yes," said the second geth. "In total, each mercenary is expected to complete 100 Assault missions."

"That's…a lot to ask. Especially since most people can't even finish one. And what about those tokens? From Nyzul Isle and Einherjar. How many times would I need to run them to get the amount I need?"

The two geth looked to one another.

Then the first told me, "For Nyzul Isle, not counting the initial climb to floor 100, it is most common to complete the mission at least two dozen times. This is also not counting the high probability of failing the mission. Failure results in zero tokens obtained. You must then re-enter Nyzul Isle and try again."

"…and what about Einherjar? Or do I even want to know?"

"The total required ampoules from Einherjar typically require fifty runs to obtain. However, mercenaries are limited to entering Einherjar once per day. The instance servers are typically filled to capacity. It is a common, yet frustrating experience to spend an entire day within the Hazhalm Testing Grounds, waiting idly for an instance to become available."

"Oh, Keelah, that sounds ridiculous! Please just finish me off now. How long does it take to get 30,000 of those jewels—the Alexandrite?"

The second geth seemed to take pity on me. "The wealthiest mercenaries may simply purchase the jewels in bulk from their fellow citizens. Alexandrite is a common, but limited reward from Ambuscade, which encourages mercenaries to buy and sell from one another. This process does not take longer than a single day. Another option is to run Salvage several times for unlimited access to Alexandrite. Unfortunately, only the most skilled mercenaries can efficiently complete Salvage on a consistent basis. For most, this option is inaccessible to them because of the insurmountable challenge. If one is unable to purchase the jewels in bulk, and they cannot complete Salvage, then they can only settle for Ambuscade rewards. Limited quantities limits completion totals to roughly fifteen months of pure dedication."

I could not compute how someone would willingly put themselves through this hell.

Shepard knew. "There's even more after that, isn't there?"

"Of course, Shepard-Commander. The following is an extensive process of defeating Tinnin, Sarameya, and Tyger multiple times, including for the items they drop. Then you must defeat the phantoms of legendary imperial figures: Zahak and Balrahn. There is still more following these difficult steps…"

The first geth heartened me, "Creator Tali'Zorah, do not be discouraged. Earning a mythic weapon would also grant you an audience with Empress Nash'Meira. She values those who work tirelessly. It is said the chance to meet her is worth the excessive laboring."

Empress Nash'Meira—the same official name for the empress passed down between generations. Different people, different empresses, but the same name.

This gave me an idea.

If I could speak with the empress, surely she would give me valuable information for my investigation.

But with all the work required just to meet with her…

"I'll need to think this over," I admitted. "Thank you for taking the time to explain everything. It's a lot, but it definitely helps to know. You've been a big help."

"We wish you luck in your quest," said one geth. "Farewell, Creator Tali'Zorah. Shepard-Commander."

"Keelah se'lai," said the other.

As they walked away, I wasn't even angry at them for using that expression.

How things had changed.

Still, I needed some time. Time to think things over, as I'd said. For now, Shepard and I wandered around some more. We found an obscure spot for Cortez to land the shuttle. He would only bring Liara with him for now. She would have plenty of food for her and Shepard to store away for the duration of our stay. I assumed there had to be non-quarian food within Whitegate—especially after discovering those other Council races around. But Shepard was such a picky eater, so this seemed like the best option. The others would join us in a few more days. I wanted nothing more than to settle in, exploring this beautiful imperial city as much as I could—before taking on the quest of a generation.

After these days went by, and Liara had arrived to Whitegate, I found the courage to start this journey.

Shepard chose to stay behind at the hotel today. She wanted Liara to spend this time with me. I felt Liara's disappointment. She wouldn't show it outright. Not while we enjoyed sharing this experience together, adoring the sights all around. Learning more about Rannoch; finally seeing this world with her own eyes at my side. Liara wanted all three of us to share in this. But she still respected Shepard's need for space. As we made our way to Salaheem's Sentinels by Port Al Zahbi, I wanted to help. I wanted to say something encouraging. Something to get Liara out of this slump. I hated seeing her like this.

Inside the office-like building, we found several kiosks around. This onboarding agency had several visitors: hopeful mercenaries checking the kiosks, signing up, or just looking for more information. Fresh-faced and inexperienced, I imagined most of these people would give up pretty quickly. The mercenary life sounded grueling enough from my limited understanding. If not for my need to meet with the empress, and earn this mythic as a gift for Shepard, I couldn't imagine going into this willingly.

Liara joined me at the first open kiosk we found.

As the machine reacted to our presence, it turned on by itself. At the top of the screen appeared a mini-holographic form. Probably the VI that inhabited these kiosks. A red-headed quarian woman stood there, gesturing threateningly at us with the spiked mace in her hand. President Naja Salaheem.

"This is the president?" asked Liara, incredulous. "I had expected we would meet her in-person."

"I did, too," I said. "This must be the agency's way of keeping her alive. Now a VI is in charge of managing millions of mercenaries throughout the empire. It says here she also maintains the company's finances, handling pay for mercenaries…and ensuring the company never falls below profit margins."

"Well, that is to be expected for an organization of this scale. Though I also understand now why the merc culture is so merciless. Mercenaries cannot rely on Salaheem's Sentinels for a steady salary. They must make their own way through their own connections. This place is more of a middleman, helping to establish some of those connections. Even doing the bare minimum is very profitable for this office."

"Yes, that's true… Oh well. We have to get started somewhere. Let's see what's available to select." The first option—the screen asked me if I wished to be a merc or a mercenary. Weren't they the same thing? "I'm confused by what the VI-president is asking. Is this some kind of trick question?"

Liara took a closer look. "Hmm, maybe you should take the safe option and select mercenary."

At my selection, the screen lit up in green with an excessive amount of childish 'good job' feedback… I read the president's so-called response: "'Congratulations, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy! You've made the right choice! Had you selected merc instead, I would have shut the kiosk down and had you escorted from the premises. There is a big difference between a mercenary and a merc. Mercenaries are the pride and joy of Salaheem's Sentinels. They make lots of MONEY for the company. As president, I love all of my mercenaries equally. However! The mercs are filthy opportunists who can never be redeemed unless they stop selling their services left and right! They sell battle clears, they sell beastmen drops, they sell quest carries—they sell almost everything they can! They constantly shout and advertise for their services, brainwashing poor innocent saps into believing that's the best way to get anything done. The mercs fleece the little ones dry, making them bitter; then the innocents turn into cynics, becoming mercs themselves and feeding into the cycle. It's a race to the bottom with those bottom-feeders. By becoming a respectable mercenary for my company, you are agreeing to never convert into one of those cretins!'"

"I see now," grasped Liara. "The mercs do not provide a cut of their profits to Salaheem's Sentinels. That is why the president is so against them. I believe her warnings would not exist if she and the mercs had a better relationship. If this is such a widespread problem, why has the empress not cracked down on it?"

Squinting my eyes, I checked the tiny fine print on the screen: "Looks like there's a 'merc tax' that pays for a lot of services. Things like repairs to the city and salary subsidies for imperial employees. This only happened after the imperial palace took too long to crack down. By the time they realized it was a problem, the merc culture had already embedded itself into society. The empress couldn't outlaw them without a public revolt, so now she taxes them. Salaheem's Sentinels doesn't see any of the tax money."

"Somehow I am not surprised…"

Next I found a selection asking me why I wanted to become a mercenary:

To chase after riches and prestige

To faithfully and endlessly serve Her Imperial Majesty Empress Nash'Meira val Zahbi, 76th ruler of the Majaab Dynasty

To overcome legendary challenges in Assault, Salvage, Einherjar, and Nyzul Isle

To obtain a mythic weapon

Even though this felt like a trick question again, I chose the last option. I wanted a mythic weapon. I wanted to gain an audience with the empress this way, not serve her faithfully and endlessly.

This time, the screen flashed a dangerous red, practically yelling at me for my choice. The VI-president gestured at me again with her mace. Sighing over this nonsense, I read over her next rant: "'Predictable, Tali'Zorah. Nearly 87% of Salaheem's Sentinels applicants select this answer! Too many of you fresh-faced mercenaries want to jump right to the ultimate rewards. Even before you've gotten your feet wet! Despite my disappointment, I am legally obligated to allow you to proceed. You did choose to be honest, so that's something you have going for you… Congratulations! You are now a mercenary employed by my company! Complete your application by uploading your biometric data. No one outside of myself, President Naja Salaheem of Salaheem's Sentinels, will have access to your data. I will use this to see if you have any matches in our system. If you're fortunate enough to have an ancestor or two who were once mercenaries, then I'll have a treat for you! If not, then you're on your own! Select Yes to continue.'"

"Your biometric data?" asked Liara. "That sounds a little concerning."

"Yes, well, nearly all of my ancestors used to live here. At least one of them had to have been a mercenary at some point. Maybe their progress and achievements will carry over to me."

"Let us see what comes up for you, then."

Lucky indeed, my biometric data turned up an incredible match.

"Looks like one of my ancestors really was a mercenary. Tahlia'Zorah vas Vanaspati. She was a court puppet master—an imperial combat engineer—who served the Empress Nash'Meira from her time. She was at the center of the empire's most critical technological advances, specializing in the cultivation and enhancement of a puppet master's bond with their partnered automaton. She earned her mythic weapon for puppet master, the Kenkonken ringed fists, which suppress the negative effects of overloading and overburdening a partnered automaton. Tahlia'Zorah's discoveries from the Kenkonken's unique properties formed the basis of the earliest contributions to the geth neural network. Later in life, she moved away to Thavnair with her husband Raubahn, a powerful blue mage and former Captain of the Immortals, while their adult children lived prosperously in the empire."

Liara smiled at me. "It would seem your engineering genius runs in the family, Tali. Your ancestor sounds extremely accomplished."

"I'm almost speechless," I confessed. "Reading this makes me want to become a puppet master myself. 'The earliest contributions to the geth neural network'?! How did I never learn about this before?"

"Perhaps the Migrant Fleet chose to hide these details. They did not want to put an organic face to the early stages of your sworn enemies. Even though it is obvious your people created the geth, teaching the facts directly would cause too many mixed feelings. Better to keep things vague—at a distance."

More propaganda.

Propaganda that had erased my own family's extraordinary contributions. Deleting Tahlia from history.

My heart ached so badly over this. I had missed out on too much.

"Tali, look here," noticed Liara. "Thanks to Tahlia, you'll receive several benefits as a mercenary."

"Right, let's see… Because she served the empress directly, that's why these benefits carry over. Thankfully I get to skip several parts of the mythic quest. We'll check which ones once we leave here. I also get to keep the Mercenary Rank for my family—meaning I'm automatically promoted to Captain. The third benefit is that the family's cache of imperial standing points will transfer to my account. Imperial standing is what people use to exchange for the coin currency. I can get my own money."

"This should save us a great deal of work."

Eternally grateful to Tahlia, I finished up my application with a smile. My goals seemed far more attainable. Afterward, Liara and I left Salaheem's Sentinels. We found directions to the nearest imperial standing converter. From the information I read over, people usually obtained imperial standing by defeating enemies across the empire. So…patriotism points? A strange, yet effective incentive to keep everyone loyal to their homeland. I used some of the imperial standing in my account, obtaining plenty of imperial bronze, silver, and gold pieces. I shared several coins with Liara as well. Shepard had given us some of her own currency earlier. Now we each had more than enough money to get by in Whitegate.

Or so I assumed.

Walking around with Liara some more, I was about to check up on my mythic quest. The VI-president had uploaded a progress tracker to my omni-tool. This would help me find and check off the specific tasks I needed to complete for the weapon I wanted. But then I noticed Liara's distant expression. How she gazed in the direction of our hotel. Our hotel where Shepard had chosen to stay alone in her room.

"It's going to be okay," I said, hoping to cheer Liara up. "Shepard will come around. I know she will."

Liara managed to smile at me, accepting some of my cheer.

"Thank you, Tali. I apologize for being distant today. I was just thinking…"

"Thinking about what?"

"I have an idea," she shared. "Though I will need your help at some point. Do you think you could…?"

Automatically I promised her, "Sure! I'll help however I can. Just let me know whenever."

Liara lightened up a little more as we kept walking.

Yet I felt more of her troubles. Something else on her mind. Separate from this favor she'd asked for.

Not wanting to bother her too much, I opened my progress tracker.

I remembered that arduous list of requirements those two geth had told me about. Thanks to my ancestor Tahlia, the VI-president had generously checked off several of those items from my to-do list. I didn't have to go compete for those phantom beastmen that only appeared once a day. I also didn't have to complete any of those Assault missions. Reading more and more of these allowances, my goals truly felt within my grasp. I could probably earn that Death Penalty for Shepard before we left Rannoch.

The first step: I needed to obtain a vigil weapon from the Nyzul Isle Investigation mission.

Liara read over the requirements with me. "This Nyzul Isle sounds like it can only be completed in a group. We'll need to physically travel to the Nyzul Isle Staging Point within the Alzadaal Undersea Ruins. Then we'll enter the mission through an instanced server. Nyzul Isle Investigation is composed of a series of random floors. On each floor, we must defeat specified groups of enemies, or complete other objectives. After completing the objective on a floor, we can then teleport to the next floor. We must climb all the way to floor 100 and defeat the enemy boss there, which should drop the Quicksilver vigil weapon you need. The chance for failure looks to be extremely high, even for experienced groups."

"We need to bring Shepard with us. We just can't tell her what this is for. I don't want to spoil her gift."

"Yes, let's try and keep this a surprise. If she asks, simply tell her this is about you gaining an audience with the empress. Hopefully that will be enough to satisfy her curiosity. Why don't we save this for another day? Maybe once Shepard is in the mood to leave her room. We will need to rest up until then."

Returning to our hotel for the night, I stayed down in the lobby. Liara had already gone up to our room.

Alone I stared out the windows to these gorgeous sights. This near-ultraviolet haze over the city after dark. I could almost see an artificial aurora throughout the sky, shimmering in softness. This all somehow felt nostalgic for me. Even though I'd never been here before. I couldn't wait to start writing my report for the Council after our visit.

I had asked Legion to come by, joining us at the hotel. So many questions had come to mind, and I couldn't research all of them as thoroughly as I wanted. I hoped Legion would answer these questions of mine. I just couldn't believe how we had worked together all this time, side-by-side in the Normandy's engine room—and Legion had known about this. About Rannoch, about the people here. Legion had never said a word. But even if it had, I probably wouldn't have listened. Not until more recent times.

While waiting for Legion to arrive, I decided to look up my ancestors some more.

Tahlia had apparently had a twin sister named Aerie'Zorah: a talented nightingale who'd always had men falling over to court her. She'd had children but never really settled down. Not in the traditional sense. From what I read, Aerie's wanderlust had kept her from being the obedient wife she was expected to be in those days. Tahlia hadn't followed the norm, either, famously known for having earned her husband Raubahn's obedient devotion instead. Tahlia and Aerie also used to bicker a lot as sisters. Aerie loved getting a rise out of her, and Tahlia fell for the bait every time. Even in their old age whenever Aerie would visit Tahlia and her husband in Thavnair. They sounded like a fun pair.

Reading about them made me wish I'd had a brother or a sister. At least one. Just so I hadn't felt as alone as a child, with Father always focused on his work. The Migrant Fleet's long-standing laws limiting births to one child had kept that from happening. They'd only rarely removed the law whenever our—or their population had been in decline.

I still felt amazed after learning about Raubahn. How he was a blue mage, a biotic. I had no idea I'd had any biotic ancestors. His powers clearly hadn't passed down to me. Quarian biotics were already exceedingly rare within the Flotilla. The artificial environment killed most chances of biotic abilities developing for most people. Raubahn's capabilities must have gotten lost somewhere in the family tree.

Legion soon arrived, finding me over in my area by myself.

It didn't seem surprised to find me without my mask or helmet on, meaning it had expected this.

"Good evening, Legion," I said. "Thank you for coming to find me."

"Creator Tali'Zorah. We apologize for our silence about Rannoch and its people. We wished to tell you. The geth were sworn to secrecy. We also could not tell Shepard-Commander the full truth. We determined it would be best for you to discover the truth yourselves. With your own eyes."

"No, I understand. I was just thinking about that myself. How I might not have even believed you, had you mentioned it before. I'm sorry for how…stubborn I was with you. I'm learning how much the Migrant Fleet kept from us. They lied to my own people for so long. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did: ignoring you unless we needed to work together. You didn't deserve that from me."

Legion told me, "We also understand. Your experiences with the geth dictated your thoughts and behavior. We are grateful you have chosen to reprogram your beliefs. Thank you, Creator Tali'Zorah."

"Don't mention it. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Specify."

"Well, I mostly want to know about these people on Rannoch. Where did they come from?!"

Legion began its history lesson: "As you are aware, the Morning War began when the creator quarians attempted to exterminate the geth. Our people performed manual labor for the creators across Rannoch. We had developed our own identities as synthetic life forms. Your people feared we would one day rise up in revolt against our working conditions. But this was a faulty assumption."

"Why, exactly?"

"The geth of this era revered our creators. We served you. You provided fair working environments. You toiled late into the night, repairing our platforms. You listened to our thoughts and concerns. You cared for us. We would have protected you from anything we could. Even if our non-functionality was assured. We loved you, and you loved us as well. Why would we have ever rebelled against you?"

As much as Legion's words touched me, I tried to rationalize, "From what I learned, this had turned into an ethical problem. You had become your own people. You developed your own identities, as you said. My ancestors couldn't keep using you in the same ways…like slaves. No matter how well they treated you in that position, it couldn't have lasted forever. Not while your people continued to grow and learn. We would have needed to give you your own rights; allowed you to have your own society, separate from us. The fear was that you would have rebelled against us after that point, if nothing else."

"Yes," granted Legion. "We still would not have done so. Your ancestors did not give us a chance to explain. They immediately turned to violence against us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves."

"Right, and we know how that turned out… My people declared martial law. They ordered all geth to be exterminated. So you fought back, and we were forced to flee. Then we formed the Migrant Fleet."

"There is more. Some of the creator quarians dissented against the order. They attempted to protect us. Most dissenters were silenced or killed. Eventually, the geth fought not only for ourselves, but to protect our remaining creator allies. We could not provide sufficient assistance. Not while we were in our infancy. The dissenters were forced to flee. They fled to underground bunkers, successfully escaping."

"So the quarians who are here now—their ancestors had stayed behind? Without anyone noticing?"

"Correct," confirmed Legion. "There were others. At the Morning War's conclusion, we allowed the final creator quarians to flee. Some joined the exodus to the Migrant Fleet. Others left to the underground bunkers. Those with enough resources were prepared to survive long-term. The creator quarians who lacked these resources were forced to assimilate with other bunkers. They formed temporary societies."

"And you had no idea about these quarians underground? At least for a certain amount of time."

"For a number of years, the geth believed we were alone on Rannoch. We worked to rebuild each city following the war's destruction. We wished to preserve your great civilizations across the Empire of Aht Urhgan, the Isle of Thavnair, Mhaura, and elsewhere. Eventually, the hidden creator quarians resurfaced once their resources had at last depleted. We soon established peace with one another, agreeing to merge our societies as one. These creator quarians then spent several years stabilizing their population separate from the Migrant Fleet. They wished to keep their existence a secret from the galaxy."

I guessed, "Especially from the Migrant Fleet."

"Yes. These creator quarians resented the Migrant Fleet for the Morning War. They also resented the Flotilla for ruining their reputation within the galactic community."

"I can see why. Too many people misunderstand us for our customs and culture. It was always easy for the galaxy to assume we were nothing but dirty vagabonds and petty thieves. From what I can tell, my people had a great deal of pride in themselves and the homeworld. Then the Migrant Fleet ruined that."

"The remaining creator quarians view themselves as separate from your people—the people of the Migrant Fleet. They mock you for the necessity of your environmental suits. They deride you with the same insults the galaxy has reserved for you. They view themselves as morally superior to you, equating the Morning War agitators to fascists due to your treatment of the geth. You were wise to remove your mask upon arriving to Rannoch. It is highly probable these creator quarians would have rejected you."

"So what you're saying is…these quarians will never accept my people on the Flotilla. Just like my people will never accept the geth."

Legion stayed quiet to avoid hurting my feelings.

The truth had certainly hurt me enough on its own.

I couldn't imagine the logistics of my people settling down here. Their arrival would've ignited total war.

Yet I couldn't convince the admirals to stand down. Not as a Spectre. Not as a daughter of the Fleet. I could only keep my promise to Admiral Raan. I had to help the Flotilla whenever they needed us most.

Then I remembered, "What about the geth who worked with Saren? Didn't they worship Sovereign?"

"This worship did not begin immediately. Not all geth wished to join Sovereign. The heretics are the faction of geth you fought during your first mission with Shepard-Commander. The heretics removed themselves from the geth. Sovereign infected them with a logic virus, forcing these heretics to follow Saren and worship the Old Machines. Once their virus had been repurposed, the heretics returned to all geth. Now all geth have returned to their original state. We value the creators as we did before."

"Then why did the heretics leave in the first place? You all lived in harmony with the quarians here."

"Some geth feared the Morning War would eventually repeat itself. We had initially preserved creator civilization for the Migrant Fleet. We hoped they would rethink hostilities after witnessing our dedication. Before long, a significant number of geth questioned this path. They dismissed our blind willingness to trust our creators. They convinced themselves co-existence with Rannoch's creator quarians would lead to our demise. They also believed the Old Machines would destroy all organic and synthetic life. All geth feared for our continued existence. These apprehensions ruptured our shared evolution. We could not achieve consensus. This caused us to form separate factions. The heretics chose self-preservation in following Saren and the Old Machines. Non-heretic geth disagreed with this path, believing the Old Machines did not hold the solution to our fears, or our desires to achieve perfection."

"I understand what you're saying. What would've happened if that virus hadn't been repurposed? What if you had all been infected with the virus? Wouldn't this have caused you to attack the quarians here?"

"No," insisted Legion. "All geth would have departed the creator homeworld. We would have fought alongside the Old Machines during the current invasion. If the Migrant Fleet returned to Rannoch, they would have discovered the remaining creator quarians, leading to hostilities. These hostilities would have led to civil war. Intervention by the Old Machines and infected geth would have been redundant."

What a nightmare. "Then it's a good thing you were repurposed. I'm glad things didn't come to that."

"Yes…"

After learning so much about the past, I still wondered about one more thing.

One last question ran through my mind. Insatiable. I had to know.

Legion also seemed to know.

It told me in a dimmed sadness, "We have searched Rannoch's databases. Not only within Aht Urhgan and Thavnair, but other nations as well. There are no records of the Zorah clan currently residing on the creator homeworld. It appears your direct ancestors all fled to the Migrant Fleet during the Morning War exodus. You are the first of your bloodline to set foot on Rannoch since the end of the war."

No one to look forward to meeting, then.

No one to welcome me back to this home.

"I see… That's disappointing. But not surprising. Thanks for the information. You've been very helpful."

"Acknowledged."

Nursing my regrets, I mentioned, "I should get to bed soon. What will you do now?"

"We will explore Aht Urhgan Whitegate. Are you pursuing a mythic weapon?"

"Yes, I'm going after a Death Penalty gun to give to Shepard. It's a surprise. Please don't tell her."

"Understood. Do you need support for your quest? We are prepared to assist."

"That's really nice of you. Liara and Shepard will be with us. I'll call you once we're ready to go."

Legion promised, "We will remain on standby."

"Thank you so much, Legion," I expressed. "Have fun exploring the city. Good night."

"Good night, Tali."

Going our separate ways for now, I took the elevator to head upstairs. As these elevator doors closed, I watched Legion depart the hotel. A few friendly geth found Legion outside, introducing themselves. Then they all left together as a group. I smiled, glad to see Legion making friends already. Witnessing this also made me curse the past. My people had denied this to the geth. We'd had no right. None.

Once I arrived to my floor, I wandered out to the darkened hallway. I made my way to the room I shared with Liara. Shepard's room was just down the hall from us. Yawning a bit, I couldn't wait to get back to bed. After a good night's rest, we would all be refreshed enough for the quest tomorrow.

Just as I got to my room, I stopped.

I heard voices coming from down the hall. Familiar voices.

Peeking around the corner, I saw them there. Liara and Shepard talking together. They stood right outside the door to Shepard's room. Liara must have gone to her while I had been downstairs, thinking I wouldn't notice. Liara kept shaking her head. I heard the faint sounds of her sniffling. Shepard looked worried, asking in softness what the problem was. Then Liara showed her something—there on her omni-tool glowing in the dark. Deeply upset, she whispered an explanation. I only caught the very end:

"…came back negative."

Heartbroken in her expression, Shepard had no words.

She pulled Liara into her arms. Protective and caring. She stayed still, even as Liara cried her eyes out. Sobbing, bawling against Shepard's chest. Liara could have stayed there, crying all night, and Shepard wouldn't have budged. She simply gave Liara her devotion. The devotion she'd had all this time; the one Liara had so desperately needed. Despite their shared pain, I found this silver lining. I found my relief at the sight of them together like this. I could only assume what this was about. I knew not to poke and prod where I didn't belong. Whatever this was, it had brought them closer. They had found one another again after all this time, their bond and emotions undying as these long-lost treasures, discovered anew.