"The Sound of the End" (with 8-bit transitions) from NieR: Automata

XCII. Home Beyond the Horizon

(Tali'Zorah)

During the Normandy's flight to the Perseus Veil, I stayed with Liara in her room. She didn't want me to be alone for this trip. Shepard gave us our space. We spent our time idling in Liara's bed, talking about everything except for the mission. I had no idea what to expect on the Flotilla. Maybe we would have another frustrating mess in dealing with the admirals. Butting heads with Xen and Han'Gerrel and Zaal'Koris. Auntie Raan would mean well, but she likely wouldn't say much. She would need me to act. I hoped the sheer urgency of the situation would be enough. Finally enough to convince the admirals.

But then again, I didn't want to assume things. I used to believe I knew my people. I could've known what to expect by now. Yet they had already declared me an outsider. I was no longer one of them.

I couldn't help this terrible feeling souring my stomach.

So many issues festered in the eye of this storm:

The admirals' stubbornness in going to war against the geth, even though there was no need for them to escalate things. How divided the Fleet's citizens were with this idea of going to war. Divided only because they believed the geth would obliterate them. The Flotilla had no idea the geth were peaceful; that they meant no harm to any of us. Nor did they know that Rannoch wasn't actually abandoned. They also remained oblivious to the quarians there on the homeworld: how Rannoch hated and resented the Migrant Fleet for their historic blame with the Morning War. The admirals knew about this, but they had yet to communicate the news to the rest of the Migrant Fleet. And more with the divide between the Empire of Aht Urhgan and the Isle of Thavnair—the only two nations on Rannoch who could end the animosity between Rannoch and the Flotilla. Such a complicated, tangled web of generational hatred and centuries-old grudges across all sides. Now we had to somehow untangle that web—right before the Reapers invaded the Perseus Veil.

Once the time arrived, Liara and I left for the helm upstairs. We met up with Shepard, Joker, and EDI.

Past the windows, the entirety of the Flotilla had paused in place between the stars. A single collective of more than 50,000 mismatched ships, with my old homes among them—the Rayya and the Neema. The impressive mass of the Liveships centered the Fleet as always: those largest, rounded vessels carrying the engineered stocks of food for over seventeen million lives.

After traveling the stars for over three centuries since the Morning War, at last the Flotilla had neared the end of its capabilities. Those thousands of ships were on track to break down and become non-functional soon. They needed to make an emergency landing on Rannoch.

The admirals needed to listen to reason this time. We had to get through to them—no matter what.

As with our last visit to the Rayya, we waited for the Migrant Fleet's traffic controller. They were supposed to ask me for the password before the Normandy could approach. Standard protocol.

So we waited.

We waited some more.

We waited even longer.

Fidgeting atop his control panel, Joker droned, "Man…this is taking forever. The heck's going on over there?"

EDI took a closer look at the situation. "I can confirm the air traffic controllers aboard the Rayya are currently at their stations. There appears to be some sort of delay with their communications."

"That's…odd," I said. "Is there something jamming the systems?"

"I am not detecting any anomalies with their systems. Perhaps there is another issue that requires their attention. Something more pressing outside of their regular duties. They may be unable to speak to us."

Liara shared my worsening sense of dread.

Shepard gave me a timely reminder: "Tali, this is your mission. Whatever you say goes. We'll follow your orders for the Migrant Fleet and for Rannoch. We all will. I'll take over again once it's time to deal with the Reapers."

Steeling myself, I replied, "Understood, Shepard." I took a cautious moment to decide our next move. And then: "I don't want to risk the Normandy approaching without permission. They might decide to open fire on us. That's the last thing we need right now. Let's…give them a few more minutes first."

Not a moment after, we received our expected transmission from the Rayya.

Our expected transmission from an unexpected voice. A familiar voice I hadn't heard in some time:

"I-It's the Normandy! Tali, is that you?!"

"Veetor?! What are you doing at the Rayya's controls?"

"Letting you come aboard. Please hurry. Please find us! Team of marines protecting us. Shielding us from the pain. Sheltering us in the helm. We knew…you wouldn't abandon us. You're still our friend."

"Of course I'm still your friend, Veetor… Where is Admiral Raan?"

"Lost track. I-I'll use the ship's surveillance. I'll find her for you. Storm of bullets outside. Constant transitions fading in and out. Have to concentrate—!"

The transmission cut off.

Storm of bullets.

Marines protecting them from pain.

Constant transitions fading in and out? What transitions?!

Too many questions bubbled within me. Constant anxiety. I needed answers. Shepard and Liara followed Chatika and me to the Normandy's airlock. We waited as Joker and EDI pulled us into dock.

Liara asked me, "Tali, should we bring more of our teammates along for backup?"

Somber I decided, "No…I don't want anyone else to see this."

Even as we waited for this door to open, I felt these old expectations. How we should've had the Rayya's quarantine team inspect the Normandy first. Checking to make sure we passed their checks and inspections—eliminating any possible health concerns as we made contact with the Flotilla. How Captain Kar'Danna would have waited to greet us with his security detail. How I would've heard the sounds of my birth ship: the ancient inner-workings of the ventilation systems chugging away in comfort. Comfort to reassure us that everything functioned as it should have. Nothing to worry over.

But as we boarded the Rayya this time, none of those old comforts or expectations found me.

This emergency red blazed across the entire ship. Deep within this crimson bleeding, I saw the empty corridors. Several fresh spots of moisture had spattered over the ground—not at all in any patterns resembling water. Those streaks had mostly camouflaged themselves with our surroundings. Enough to keep me from looking any closer. Except I couldn't deny this stench clogging through my filters.

As I led the way to the ship's helm, more noise blared over the alarms everywhere.

The admirals' voices. Admiral Gerrel, Admiral Xen, Admiral Koris. Their agitating words blasted through the overhead speakers like foremen:

"The Migrant Fleet is under martial law! You are each expected to obey orders! All marines, report to your stations. All civilians, remain in your homes until further notice. We are enforcing a strict curfew—no exceptions! Anyone caught outside their designated areas will suffer the consequences!"

We stopped at this door leading to the next corridor.

We heard voices on the other side. Screams and gunfire. Innocent screams; culpable gunfire.

Shepard placed her hand over my shaking shoulder. She wanted to know, "What should we expect?"

I didn't understand her question. I thought we already knew what to expect. The admirals had repeated the Morning War here on the Fleet! They'd decided to purge dissenters who didn't want to go to war against the geth! These civilians couldn't fight back. The marines had no choice but to follow orders.

Shepard clarified, "I mean…what are we up against here? What do they have at their disposal?"

Exhaling as a tremble, I told her and Liara, "I'll remind you that we quarians are tech specialists. We aren't the best at a straight-up fight because of our suits. Technology is our greatest weapon. I'm worried that the admirals other than Raan have found…an alternate way to hold on to power. Without any news about the actual reality getting out. This is their way of keeping control over everyone."

Willing myself to face this, I led our group ahead to the next area.

A deeper red, a deeper emergency bled through this corridor. Ringing across the tin of this ancient metal, those screams and spits of gunfire repeated louder, closer. We found hesitant quarian marines aiming their weapons at innocent civilians. They acted on their orders to purge anyone against the war. I hurried ahead before they could fire their guns at the people nearest to us. Shepard, Liara, and my automaton stayed close to me. Just seeing our group did enough to paralyze them in this scene:

"Tali'Zorah?!" panicked one of the marines. "Who sent you here? H-How did you get aboard?!"

He stammered as he aimed his trembling gun at these innocent people.

He didn't even have the conviction to follow his orders.

"How could you do this?" I asked him. "Why?!"

Of course, he didn't have an answer for me.

Shepard and Liara had already aimed their pistols at him. Him and the other marines. Traitors to the Migrant Fleet—all of them.

Liara asked as gently as she could, "What are your orders, Tali?"

I didn't have time to wallow in my misery. Not with these civilians suffering suit punctures, bleeding right in front of us. More of them needed help. Millions of them needed help. We had to evacuate them. I had no idea how, only that we needed to do this soon. Before we lost everyone.

I may have spotted the immense regret behind these marines' masks. That couldn't matter anymore.

"Take them out," I said. "Take all of them out. Don't hesitate."

Following my orders, they fired at the marines.

Clean headshots detonated their masks. Most of their blood spattered within that broken opacity. The traitors fell to the floor; the civilians scattered away as quickly as they could. They'd seen enough horrors. I hoped they would get someplace safe.

Around the next corner, we found a similar scene.

Terrified quarian marines pointing their guns at more-terrified civilians.

I was about to take them out myself this time—until a strange sensation stopped me.

Our surroundings changed to an off-white backdrop. No shadows. No depth. No meaning. An amateurish version of reality had suddenly blotched before us. The marines and civilians both had turned into geth. The same dangerous, red-eyed monsters I'd suffered in my nightmares so many years ago. I paused, not knowing how to react to this scene. Only barely did I hold on to the truth of our reality. The hesitance of those marines trying and failing to point their weapons in our direction—

And how my team didn't hesitate at all.

Not fooled or distracted by this trick, Liara and Shepard disposed of the enemy.

As soon as the fake geth dissolved, so too did this vision. A crude alternate reality of the Migrant Fleet: or rather, the reality that the admirals wanted everyone to live and believe. Even one instance of experiencing this had left me disoriented. In mere seconds, I had started questioning if the geth were really the enemy. Already I knew the people aboard this ship and countless others had gone through the same. These same terrors, meant to terrify the entire Flotilla into submission. A mental and emotional assault of lies and visual propaganda. A last, cowardly resort from the Fleet's so-called leaders.

Shepard despised the implications. "This is messed up. It's beyond anything I've ever seen."

Liara agreed, "Yes, it is particularly vile… The admirals must have been on the brink of losing control. I fear the people we've run into no longer know what to believe. Should we really keep killing them?"

I justified, "We have no choice. They're targeting civilians! Now let's hurry and find Veetor at the helm."

I pushed us ahead even faster.

More urgency. More determination.

Shepard's visible anger helped me the most. I anchored myself to her barely-contained rage, even as these visual assaults kept repeating before us. I couldn't let my old memories and weaknesses take me down. Liara's compassion threatened to derail me. I knew she cared for the lives we had to cut short. I knew she had her reservations. She only tempered her temperance once we ran into more atrocities:

The marines had rounded up children. Tiny quarians in their tiny versions of enviro-suits—not the official ones we received during our adolescence. These traitors had set up firing squads—with their parents screaming from the sidelines, cuffed and detained. The marines claimed they would let the crying, terrified children go. But only if their parents sided with the war sympathizers. Only if the parents followed orders from their supreme leaders. This mind-bending New Order simply couldn't go on.

Again, Shepard did exactly what I needed her to do.

She executed the executioners before they could kill anyone. Catching everyone off-guard, she took full advantage of their shock. Yet not before another of those scenes came up, flourishing over this rage:

The off-white, shadowless background changed. This time, the color blurred in. Like watercolors gradually giving life to this new reality. Or perhaps an old reality. Through these changes, I spotted some kind of city replacing the Rayya around us. A vast metropolis that looked somewhat like Aht Urhgan's capital, Whitegate, back on the homeworld. This version looked more like a prototype of the city as I remembered it from mere months ago. This one felt a few centuries younger. Three centuries younger: as it appeared during the Morning War, with the geth attacking my ancestors. Or…not attacking them. I apparently couldn't shake this lingering propaganda that had poisoned my mind so many years ago.

The geth defended themselves from my people. They defended themselves against a similar purge at the time, with the quarians having declared martial law. I saw some of those quarians siding with the geth, fighting to protect them as friends and comrades. But I only noticed those details from looking this closely—and from knowing the truth myself. The admirals except for Raan had blurred these parts of the footage almost past recognition. They knew to specifically omit these things… Did they know the truth?

We suffered more of these cruel lies on the way to Veetor's location.

Outside the entrance to the helm, we found some semblance of sanity.

Kal'Reegar and his team of marines defended the door behind them. They had already taken out a number of traitors before we arrived. Their fellow marines who'd sided with Xen, Gerrel, and Koris. Reegar and his group remained in a heavy, mourning silence, only stirring once they spotted us.

"Tali, there you are!" said Reegar, hurrying over to us. "You've got Commander Shepard and Dr. T'Soni with you, too? Good call. We really needed some outside support. We couldn't get a message out."

"Yes, we heard," I told him. "The Council sent us. They're…concerned about the Fleet's radio silence."

"The Council…? Had no idea this went that high up. Must be, since they sent two Spectres to help out. With the three of you here, we'll finally turn the tides. We can't thank you enough, Ma'am."

As Reegar and his marines saluted us, I firmly felt like an outsider.

I should have felt this way. I had more than aligned myself with the Normandy and the Alliance.

Yet now, in the middle of all this, I felt like a traitor, too. As if I'd abandoned the Flotilla to this fate. As if I could have saved them—if only I'd done something sooner. Spoken up sooner. Spread the truth to them sooner about Rannoch and the geth. Maybe then the admirals' tricks wouldn't have worked at all. I wanted to believe this. I wanted to believe it so badly: as a simple solution to this complicated issue.

We followed Reegar inside the next door to meet with Veetor. There we found a few other quarians—engineers by the looks of things—working on repairs throughout the area. I spotted a number of quarian corpses lying across the room, too. I also noticed Captain Danna among the dead. Perhaps they'd tried to leave, to break away from the Flotilla, only to suffer the consequences. The Rayya, the Neema, and even other ships probably dealt with the same issues, the same consequences. They couldn't just leave.

"Tali!" said Veetor, already bringing up the surveillance footage. "Glad you made it. M-Monsters outside fought with our minds. Knew you'd defeat them. Or are the geth still…in your head, causing trouble?"

"We're fine, Veetor," I assured him. "When did all of this start? Reegar, do you know?"

Reegar informed us, "About a week ago, Ma'am. Admiral Shala'Raan did her best to protect us. She said we couldn't fight this war against the geth. Most of the public sided with her. Then the other admirals retaliated. They didn't start with the visions, those augmented realities with the geth. No, first they cut off the food supply, then started blasting those messages over the intercom. We couldn't eat or sleep."

Shepard summarized, "So you were tired, hungry, irritable. Then they turned on those simulations of the past. The other admirals waged an all-out war on your minds. Trying to wear you down."

"That's right, Commander. But, err…how'd you know those were simulations from the past? None of those scenes looked like anything from our history books! I thought they were completely made-up."

I insisted, "We'll explain the rest later. What happened after that?"

"Well, Ma'am, you and your team saw everything else… The other admirals ordered us marines to fall in line. Some of us did. They turned on the civilians. Ordered us to purge the dissenters. I couldn't believe what was happening. Couldn't believe my government told us to kill our own people… Luckily I ran into Veetor. We agreed only you and the Normandy could get us out of this mess. The people who were here before tried to leave the Fleet, but that didn't work. So we decided to hunker down and wait for you."

Liara wished to know, "Are you and the marines outside in need of food? Or perhaps other supplies?"

Reegar hesitated as he pointed to a nearby storage cabinet. "We…managed to smuggle enough food and supplies in there. Enough to wait for you and Tali to find us. Word got out about it a few days ago. We, uh… Well, we had to deal with the problem. Those people weren't on our side. Desperate times."

"I understand."

"We've been fighting against that other reality ever since. The thing is, I know the admirals are lying. We're deep in the Perseus Veil—if the geth were hostile, we would've felt it by now. Instead, we're blowing ourselves up from the inside-out. Same thing's happening on all ships across the entire Fleet."

I asked him, "Do you know where the admirals got this technology from? I've never heard of it!"

"No idea, Ma'am. If you can convince them to shut it off, it'd be a big help. Hell, if you could tell them to back off and stand down, it'd be even better. They're holding us hostage! We need to get out of here before people seriously start falling for those lies. Everyone's getting indoctrinated right in front of us!"

"We'll get the people to safety, Reegar," I promised him, knowing I probably couldn't keep this promise.

How were we supposed to evacuate millions of people across the Fleet?

How would we pull this off before the worst happened?

Reegar didn't notice my doubts, my questions. He smiled in relief behind his mask, simply believing me.

"Thanks for this… Commander, Dr. T'Soni—you have our gratitude, too. Veetor, you find the admirals yet?"

"Y-Yes," replied Veetor. "They escaped to the main plaza. Same location where they held your trial, Tali. The doors are locked shut. Can't get through. Have to hack your way in. Can you do it?"

Looking to Chatika, I had every confidence in her to get the job done. We had no choice, after all.

I glanced at the surveillance footage over the screens. There in black-and-white, we spotted the four admirals together. Raan, Gerrel, Koris, and Xen shouting at one another by the looks of it. Xen, Koris, and Gerrel surrounded Raan, ganging up on her. She had no allies among them. She needed our help.

"We'll get it done, Veetor. Thanks for the confirmation. Reegar, why don't you stay here with your team? Once we have a plan to get out of here, I'll let you know. Let's stay in radio contact."

"You're a lifesaver. We'll stand by 'til we hear from you again. Good luck. I get the feeling you'll need it."

I hurried to the main plaza with Shepard and Liara. As we went, I truly realized the severity of the situation. That we needed to end this madness as soon as we could. Because if we didn't, too many lives would suffer. Too many lives had already suffered during this time we did not, could not act. And now, once again I felt stuck in a similar situation. Needing to deal with the admirals on a bigger stage. Needing to reason with them—and not under the normal pretenses I had assumed before. Not even remotely.

These lies and propaganda pieces interrupted us on our way ahead. Near-constant interruptions.

We dealt with them as before. We dealt with the scenes of traitorous marines as we had before.

Had I dealt with this for a whole week, maybe this all would've felt normal to me by now. Normalizing these atrocities. Normalizing these injustices. Numbing me to my own convictions…until I started to give in. Until I started to side with the admirals other than Shala'Raan. Until I started to see my own family in Auntie Raan as the enemy. Anything to make this mental assault hurt less. Anything to make it all stop.

But I remembered the truth instead. I held on to my beliefs. I clutched my memories close: of the time I had spent with Legion aboard the Normandy, and across the galaxy on our missions and shore leave. I remembered the time we had also spent on Rannoch, seeing all those geth happily co-existing with the quarians there. And I remembered the great lengths the Flotilla had gone to brainwash me. To bend my impressionable mind at a young age. To make me believe in these alternative facts that they believed in.

At this door to the main plaza, I set Chatika to work. She could hack our way inside without my input. Probably better and faster than I could at a time like this. I just knew I couldn't concentrate well enough.

In the meantime, I consulted with Liara and Shepard:

"What can we do?" I asked them. "We can't just convince the admirals to move the Flotilla to Rannoch. The empire will order the geth to open fire on them. I don't want to start an unnecessary war between Rannoch's quarians and the Fleet! Our only option is to evacuate the millions of people off of these ships. But we only have a few more days until the Reapers arrive to the Veil. That's not a lot of time…"

Liara knew. "I'm afraid the Normandy wouldn't be enough. Even if we made several trips to Rannoch."

Shepard suggested, "What about the geth? They're not too far away. Can't we ask them to help?"

"Possibly," said Liara. "The geth have several ships we could use. I worry about their presence causing more problems. If we could somehow get the admirals to sanction the move, maybe it would be fine."

"This is the best move we have. We need to convince the admirals to let the so-called dissenters evacuate. It'll complicate our negotiations with Rannoch's leaders, but this is urgent. Let's ask Legion."

"Okay," I agreed, calling Legion via radio. "Legion, are you there? We need your help!"

"Greetings, Tali," responded Legion. "We are prepared to assist. What is the situation?"

While Chatika continued hacking the door, I explained what I could. Legion listened in a diligent silence. It listened, even with these blaring alarms in the background—and the admirals' obnoxious orders, demanding our obedience. These interruptions drove the point home for us. We had no time to waste.

Legion promised: "Geth fleets will arrive momentarily for Migrant Fleet evacuations. Those who support the war will stay. Those who don't may leave. Our ships will wait for permission before approaching."

"Thank you, Legion… We'll never be able to repay you for this. The civilians need this nightmare to end—quickly. The geth wouldn't happen to have food and medical supplies on their ships, would they?"

"Yes. Geth fleets contain ample stores of food and supplies for quarian creators. These are from Rannoch. We will distribute them to all refugees once they are aboard. They will be safe on our ships during your diplomacy on the homeworld. Empress Nash'Meira of Aht Urhgan will need to coordinate with the Crown Prince of Thavnair to extend asylum to the refugees. Will you meet with them?"

"We will once we make it out of here. Not until we speak with the admirals. Please hold on until then."

"Acknowledged."

As this expected miracle, my automaton got through the door.

I rushed inside to the main plaza, with Shepard and Liara right behind me.

There we found the admirals in this scene. The same scene from the surveillance footage: Han'Gerrel, Zaal'Koris, and Daro'Xen surrounding Auntie Raan in antagonism, hostility. On our approach, the four of them stopped their shouting and bickering. Raan seemed relieved at first, knowing she could count on us. But her relief soon turned to despair. Because she realized what we must've seen on our way here.

"Tali, there you are…"

On my six, Liara and Shepard drew their weapons again. Aiming them at the other admirals behind her.

Not the best way to begin negotiations, but I couldn't blame them for wanting to protect me.

Han'Gerrel nearly rushed at me, enraged in a heated anger. Hotter than the emergency around us—"Damnit, Tali, how did you get in here?! No one asked you to show up!"

Han'Gerrel, Admiral of the Heavy Fleet and an old military friend of my father. Family as family could be.

Zaal'Koris, Admiral of the Civilian Fleet. An old family friend, too, if not in the same ways.

Daro'Xen, head of the Special Projects arm of the Migrant Fleet. Never a friend and never an enemy.

Until now.

I didn't recognize these demons. These monsters speaking to me in indignant tones for daring to show up here. For daring to do the right thing with so many of their people in danger. As if I had merely interrupted some regular occasion they'd excluded me from. They only stopped shouting once the lights around us cut off. The alarms finally went silent. Those obnoxious orders bleeding from the speakers at last stopped. Veetor and the other engineers at the helm must've found a way to make it all go quiet.

How did I not see this coming before?

How did I not spot this evil within them?

Did I not want to see it? Or were they just that good at covering it up?

"I'm not here to debate what's going on! All I know is you need to stop this. You need to let us evacuate the citizens. This isn't up for negotiation!"

Koris of all people dismissed me, "Evacuate the citizens? Nonsense! Who would listen to you? You are an outsider. You don't belong to the Fleet anymore! This is none of your concern, girl!"

"For the last time, I'm a Spectre! I'm not a little girl anymore! And this is my concern, Koris! It's the entire galaxy's concern! You're slaughtering innocent people! You're indoctrinating seventeen million innocents with augmented reality—and you're playing it off like some family dispute?! This is a humanitarian crisis! How can you be so…"

"Evil," finished Shala'Raan. Exactly as I had thought. "This is evil, plain and simple. There is no excuse!"

In the background, I heard a loud blast somewhere in the vents. An old, creaking weight scratched through the ship's very foundations. Like steel collapsing on itself. Enough to act as a reminder of the admirals' concerns. Their constant worries about the Rayya and countless other ships breaking down. Their one motivation pushing them for war against the geth. Such a pointless war against our creations.

I knew I couldn't use reason to get through to them.

Still I felt the need to try my hardest:

"I get your reasons for going to war. The Flotilla is breaking down. I understand that. But you don't need to do this! There are quarians living peacefully on Rannoch with the geth—right now. I saw them. I spoke to them. And I know the Council told you these things already! The geth don't want to fight you. They don't want to fight anyone except for the Reapers—to protect us and the homeworld! Why can't you understand? Why can't you see the truth?!"

Like last time, I expected the admirals to fight back against me. Even as we lost precious minutes.

But this time…they said nothing. Raan, Koris, Xen, Gerrel. They lowered their heads, deep in thought.

In speaking the truth once more, I had drawn out their shame. I had pulled away at their masks. And not just the ones over their faces from their helmets. Auntie Raan couldn't quite look at me anymore. I wondered for a brief moment if she truly wanted me here. Because of this challenge. Because of what I saw in each of the other admirals now. Because of what I had slowly grown to understand for myself:

"You're keeping something else from me. All of you. Aren't you?"

They couldn't confirm or deny anything. Far more terrifying than an approval or yet another lie.

"…you've been playing a game with me. With everyone else aboard the Flotilla, too. A game with reality, with the truth. Now the game is finally over. Isn't it?"

Once again, their silence.

Their silence weighed me down, cutting clear through my suit. I could've died from the exposure, the infection. This constant infection that had pulsed within my mind. A pustule of pleasant half-truths and other conveniences. A sickness weighing us down; limiting what we could and couldn't believe.

The rest slowly dawned on me:

"The last time we spoke, I told you the same things. That the geth were friendly. This hasn't changed. You put on a show of not believing me. Then you informally exiled me from the Fleet. You wanted me gone because I was too dangerous. Because I have a mind of my own and I'm not afraid to think for myself. Because I know the truth. The truth you didn't want to get out."

Han'Gerrel finally admitted, "You have the right of it, Tali… We didn't want anyone to know."

"You knew about the geth. You knew about the quarians there. Then you must have known about the rest. The truth about the Morning War. That the geth didn't just decide to attack our ancestors for no reason. That some of our people sided with the geth, defending them until their last breath. Things you never taught us in school."

"Yes," confirmed Koris, heavy-hearted. "We knew. Even your father. But…we didn't know for certain. We honestly didn't know what to believe. The sources we found… Well, they were difficult to grasp. Far more difficult to accept. Even so, we had reason to believe these sources were true. We suspect you saw those sources on your way over here. The quarians and geth fighting shoulder-to-shoulder in the war."

"Simulations," clarified Xen. "Virtual retellings of history left behind by our ancestors. From where we located them, we're positive the admirals of yesteryear didn't want these to be found. We can see why."

I didn't see the same. "Then tell me why. Explain how you could possibly cover this up."

Shala'Raan spoke out: "Tali, please listen. The quarians who fled to the Migrant Fleet from Rannoch didn't just forget the realities of the Morning War. Efforts were made to suppress the information. They knew our painful history couldn't get into the wrong hands."

"The wrong hands!? What are you talking about?! This information is the truth! We deserved to know!" Why did she still look so guilty? How could she have done this? "Damnit, Raan, if you knew, why didn't you say anything? Why did Father risk his entire career researching illegal weapons to fight the geth—only to end up dead? He died for something he knew was a lie! If the rest of you knew the geth were innocent, then what was all this for?! Over three centuries of brainwashing our entire species against another sentient race… You made us fear them. You made us hate them…for nothing. All for nothing."

For once, Xen actually tempered her arrogance. "I sympathize with you, Tali. Although you must see the full picture for what it is. We weren't allowed to say anything. We could not corroborate the truth at the time. Not until more recently. Nevertheless, I understand your anger. Surely you feel blindsided by not knowing all the facts. But there is still far more to grasp. The situation is undoubtedly complicated—"

"There's nothing complicated about telling your own people the truth!"

Gerrel sounded unbelievably depressed. "Tali, that's where you're wrong. By its very definition, the truth is complicated. It's something that often breaks people's spirits. Not everyone can handle it."

Zaal'Koris explained further, "The truth nearly imploded the Fleet in our earliest days. As Shala'Raan said, the first migrants clearly remembered the war. The events were fresh in their minds. They bickered fiercely over losing the homeworld. They fought and distributed blame. As is normal to do during times of great conflict and shame. Civil war broke out within these very ships. Our ancestors spilled blood, thinning their numbers once again. We would have had more survivors if not for what happened."

Xen continued the story, "They only reached a ceasefire upon coming to an agreement. That the truth would never again see the light of day. They had no idea about the survivors who'd hidden themselves away on Rannoch. In their minds, there was no need to consider the possibility that these carefully-crafted lies would fall apart someday. And so the nomad quarians began to raise new generations of people. Ones who learned a curated version of our history. Ones who could stand united against a common enemy—instead of internally divided over a painful and humiliating past. A complicated past."

A common enemy…?

Gerrel lectured me, "Tali, in times of strife, there's nothing that brings people together like a common foe. Outsiders the people can project their wildest fears on to. The people can turn their anger outward. They have an unknown other to fear and to hate. Whatever's going wrong in their society, they can just blame this other group for everything. It makes them feel better. It keeps them from having to look deep down at the hard truths they don't want to face. It gives their leaders an easy way out…to avoid accountability for their mistakes. The facts don't matter anymore. What matters most is that we the people remained united for over three hundred years. Yet now it seems we have to face reality at last."

I couldn't believe this.

The admirals chose to justify what they did. Everything they did.

Xen justified even more: "This is the necessary way of things. Not just aboard the Migrant Fleet, but everywhere else as well. There are myriad unknowns across the great vastness of the universe. There are even more terrifying questions in our everyday lives. Political concerns, safety concerns for our own homes, or simply not understanding one's neighbors. People are afraid of what they don't understand. And when they're afraid, they need strong leaders to protect them. Often authoritarian leaders."

Zaal'Koris continued the point, "They also need to feel united as part of a group. We all need to feel a sense of belonging with one another as a nation. As a world, a species. As a family. This collective unity gives us a kind of superpower where we might stand together against our common enemy. The geth, the Reapers—or the out-groups and outsiders within a society, as Han'Gerrel explained. Call it tribalism or nativism all you'd like, but it is a fact. People want simple solutions to complicated problems. This was our simple solution to everything. Hating the geth kept us together…until now."

People feared, hated what they didn't understand. I could accept this. I didn't like it, but I accepted it.

Yet as our leaders, it was the admirals' job to make us understand. Instead, they gave us easy lies. Lies that made it easier for them to control us. Lies that inflicted us with ignorance and paranoia and cruelty. Those useless anchors limited our potential as people. We would've been much better off without them.

No wonder the quarians on Rannoch couldn't stand the Migrant Fleet.

They despised us for more than our actions in the war. They despised our small minds, our pointless hate. They despised the way we'd limited ourselves for the sake of unity. The complete opposite of them: how they lived in Rannoch's light of truth. Such a liberating truth with the geth as their beloved friends. The same friends who'd promised to do anything for us, too: evacuating the small-minded civilians from this small-minded Fleet. Getting them to safety…even after everything we'd done to them.

Shala'Raan tried to speak to me. Gently. So gently.

I didn't want to hear it.

"You've gone too far," I declared. "It's time to face reality now. Not only with Rannoch and the geth. The rest of our people living aboard the Flotilla since the war. The reality of our survival."

Xen asked in fear, "And what reality might that be?"

"If we could only survive over the years through lies, then we don't deserve to exist in the first place."

The admirals' silence chilled from my meaning.

I spoke in an equally chilled, hollow voice: "The Reapers will be here in less than a week. There's no more time to debate this. We have to act before it's too late. We're leaving with the civilians. Taking them safely to Rannoch. Aboard geth ships. Because those machines somehow have more of a heart than you do. Promise you won't follow after us. This doesn't need to escalate any more than it already has."

Shepard and I should have arrested them for their unthinkable crimes.

The past had sadly clouded my judgment with the admirals one more time. For the final time.

Zaal'Koris finally listened to reason. "Understood, Tali… We will order our marines to stand down. All hostilities and augmented reality interruptions will cease. The Fleet will not pursue anyone who decides to escape. We will leave it to you to convince the civilians as to their safety with the geth. As for the Admiralty Board, we will obviously stay here. I endorsed this madness because I was afraid of losing control. Losing everything if we didn't get the civilians to cooperate. Perhaps we will attempt to flee to Rannoch as a last resort… I don't expect their leaders to accept us. None of us deserve freedom."

"I must agree," said Raan. "I am deeply sorry, Tali. I hid too much from you. Had I told you the truth, this all could have been prevented. I accept my part in this travesty. I can never ask for your forgiveness."

Xen and Gerrel stayed quiet. They didn't bother adding anything. They would all go down with the ship.

I left the main plaza with Shepard and Liara. We needed to return to Veetor and Reegar. We needed to work with Legion to convince every single person aboard the Fleet to leave. Or at least, again, the supposed dissenters who never wanted the war to begin with. We had to get creative to do this quickly.

As for the admirals, I had to leave them behind. I had to get away from the lies. I only wished this didn't hurt. I wished I didn't have to hold back pointless tears as I walked away from them. Anyone who could lie to me like that didn't deserve my devotion. These lies reminded me of that other devil. My old childish friend who'd ruined my life before. I never wanted these reminders of her ever again.

Our creativity with the Flotilla's civilians paid off. With Veetor's assistance, I put out a PSA across the Rayya, explaining my negotiations with the admirals. We then broadcast this same message across the rest of the Fleet's ships. The people actually listened to us. For all they knew, I was the one responsible for stopping the violence and the bloodshed; the constant attacks against their psyche. They remembered all I had done as part of the Normandy's crew, fighting against Saren and the Collectors and now the Reapers. They trusted me…even though I was still an outsider to them. They trusted me enough to actually board the geth's ships. They trusted me to get them to safety on the homeworld.

Above all, the Migrant Fleet trusted me as a Spectre. My presence here, and Shepard's presence here, meant that the Council cared for their well-being. The Council hadn't abandoned them to their fate.

So the vast majority of the citizens aligned themselves to the greater galaxy. They took this leap of faith and boarded the geth's ships, aligning themselves with the Council instead of the admirals. They chose to believe the spots of truth they'd found from those simulations: the same veiled clues I'd spotted before of the geth and quarians working together centuries ago. I had expected them to fight against the truth. But in their willingness to seek freedom, they'd opened their minds instead. They believed.

The logistics challenged us the most. So we recruited EDI to help us, using her processing power to help us figure this all out. She recommended the appropriate quarian personnel to have on each ship—instead of just packing everyone aboard and hoping for the best. That would've been a disaster.

We ensured we had enough trained medics to aid anyone with injuries—and several people remained injured after the fighting. Enough cooks who'd worked in the cafeterias aboard their old home ships who could help feed the hungry. Enough engineers like Veetor who could work with the geth to install temporary shelter space across this brand new Civilian Fleet. Enough trusted marines like Kal'Reegar who could reassure the civilians of their safety during this trip. Enough counselors for the traumatized to speak to. Enough social workers and willing families to watch over the now-orphaned children.

This gargantuan operation, we organized and pulled off in only two days. We did our best to keep everyone together by their home ship, boarding entire groups of quarian ships on each of the geth's much larger vessels. The natural grouping of friends and family across the Flotilla helped expedite the process. The people didn't have to fuss over a ton of belongings. No one really owned that much, anyway. We then dubbed every geth ship as a cluster of the quarian ships they housed for the journey.

Several million people from the Flotilla joined this evacuation. Following the sheer number of casualties, twelve million souls came along with us. The only ones who stayed behind were the true believers. The marines and civilians who'd done the admirals' bidding in agitating for the war. Young adults who had no families of their own and saw no reason to leave. The ones who didn't trust me, who wanted nothing to do with this. About two million people chose to stay. We honored their wishes and left them behind.

Once the exodus began, Shepard and Liara stayed with me aboard the main geth dreadnought. The Normandy followed close behind us.

Legion remained on the Normandy for now, finishing up a few engineering tasks in the engine room. We needed the ship in optimal condition with the Reapers fast-approaching the Perseus Veil and the homeworld. Afterward, Legion would accompany us on Rannoch to speak with the empress first.

I hadn't slept during the two days it took for us to get everyone aboard. Anxiety powered my insomnia. I wanted to make sure the refugees would be okay. I couldn't sleep without this next reassurance. I'd promised myself I would rest later. I knew I needed to get some sleep before we reached Rannoch.

Liara and Shepard roamed this dreadnought with me. The shape and scope of this impressive vessel reminded me of a more advanced ship from the Flotilla. What we could've achieved with our own engineering—if we hadn't been so limited by such old technology before. This lifeless ship now suddenly housed so much life. A place for synthetics had adapted itself for organic needs, however temporary.

The quarians aboard this ship had made the most of the situation. They created their own little shantytowns again. Pieces of scrap metal and other spare parts, the engineers had used to make quick, simple, makeshift cubicles as homes. Families had brought the blankets and other scarves from their home ships on the Flotilla, placing them over these cubicles for the time being. Meanwhile, the medics had to settle for placing the sick and injured over the ground. They spread the patients out as best as they could: cleaning infections, patching up punctured suits. The cooks prioritized the injured for meals.

Outside the cubicle and medical areas, people gathered together in central zones, sitting in groups. They spoke and reminisced and did their best to process what happened. I thought we would hear constant sounds of crying. Frustrations or disbelief or complaining. Instead, everyone seemed…relieved. They did cry, but their tears sounded more as catharsis than panic or fear. We had taken them away from a terrible situation and finally explained the truth to them. The truth about Rannoch and the survivors, the Morning War, the geth's peaceful intentions, and the tensions between the Fleet and the homeworld.

We even came across a few unexpected conversations.

Some of the quarians spoke with the geth directly. I overheard a geth prime talking to a pair of civilians:

"We apologize for the inhospitable state of our ships. Geth dreadnoughts are not suitable for organic lifeforms."

One of the civilians replied, "Oh, that's all right. There's plenty of room for everyone, and that's what matters! We can't thank you enough for bringing us aboard. You and Tali'Zorah saved us all."

The other quarian said, "Feels surreal to be thanking a geth…but we do owe you our endless gratitude. Even though things seem a bit bleak, we're glad to be away from that terror on the Flotilla. And the admirals were hiding away the truth about you! Hurts to think about. It's better to know the truth now."

Across the way, I spotted someone looking in our direction. A father with his small child standing next to him. He appeared to want our attention. I brought Shepard and Liara with me to meet him.

"Um, hello Tali'Zorah," said the father. "Commander. Dr. T'Soni. My name is Dorn'Hazt. I just…wanted the chance to speak with you. If that's okay."

"Hello, Dorn," I replied. "Were you a soldier aboard the Flotilla? Or an engineer?"

"I was an engineer. Maintenance. I'm used to cleaning engine parts for the Civilian Fleet. I didn't want to go to war. They were about to draft me for the fight. Never held a gun in my life…until I had to protect my son, Jona."

Dorn held his son's hand. Jona remained speechless. He couldn't react or acknowledge us. He'd witnessed too many atrocities on the Migrant Fleet. Far too much for his young mind to handle.

Heartbroken over his son's state, Dorn's voice sounded equally broken: "Thank you…for all you've done to help us. We can finally see reality as it's supposed to be. No more augmented realities playing tricks with our minds. It was so hard to remember the truth with so much going on. I understand now that was the point. When did you figure out the truth? That everything we learned in school was a lie?"

"Not long before I visited Rannoch for the first time. It was hard for me to accept as well. I still have to remind myself that the Flotilla lied to us. It's going to take a long time to undo what they did."

"You're right. I lost my wife, my son's mother, to the geth not even a year ago. I'm trying my best to make the shift. I'm doing it for the good of the Fleet—or what's left of it, anyway. I appreciate you taking a moment to speak with us. Thank you again, Tali'Zorah. You've given our people true freedom."

After saying goodbye to Dorn and his son, we went to find Veetor and Kal'Reegar.

My friends had congregated near the ship's central control system. Not many people had found their way over here, content to stick with the other groups near the cubicles and medical posts. Just a few other engineers making sense of the geth's systems for their own knowledge.

"Reegar, Veetor," I greeted. "How's everything going over here?"

"Going well, Tali," responded Veetor. "No more monsters. No more fighting. Finally peaceful. Surprised to see friendly monsters with the geth. They really…care for us."

"Yeah," agreed Reegar. "Hopefully things start to sink in soon. I'm happy to let bygones be bygones with the geth. Just wish none of this had to happen. The admirals repeated the same crap that started this mess in the first place! Trying to purge us like they did centuries ago. History always repeats itself…"

Depressing but true.

I focused on our next steps: "Well, we'll make it to the homeworld in a few more hours. We've already explained why our people won't be able to leave these ships right away. I hope they can be patient."

"They'll be plenty patient, Ma'am. We know what's at stake; why the survivors on Rannoch hate us. If you can convince them to let us come home, we can finally put this behind us. Worst case scenario: we'll have to make these geth ships our new home. Either way, we'll be better off than we were before."

"After everything that's happened, I'm glad you're so optimistic."

"Pragmatic," he corrected, saluting me. "Best of luck again, Ma'am."

"It's just Tali, Kal. You haven't had to protect me since Haestrom. You don't need to be so formal."

Reegar remained awkward, wishing to respect my status as a Spectre now.

"…Ma'am," he repeated.

I managed to smile at him. He still hadn't changed after everything.

But even as I smiled, I felt my exhaustion close to taking over. This slight dizziness and a vague headache from going-going-going. Two full days of worrying about the Flotilla, about logistics, about everything.

Liara leaned over to me, whispering, "Tali, you should rest now. You have not slept since we left the Citadel. You'll need to be at your best for what's to come."

She and Shepard guided me to the nearest makeshift town. They found one of the unused cubicles for me to sleep in. Not wanting to just leave me, Liara sat down inside. I joined her in this quiet peace, resting my head over her lap. I had to curl up to fit with her like this. I didn't regret it at all. Those other voices from the Flotilla's refugees sounded far enough away; only Shepard's sounded much closer.

"Good work, Tali," she murmured, kissing my helmeted forehead. "We'll be right here. Get some sleep for now."

Deep breathing in this deeper sleep. The utmost comfort knowing Shepard kept watch close by, and feeling Liara's soothing presence as my bed and pillow. Chatika nestled herself in the free corner, sitting there with her head bowed in a quiet reflection. This reminded me of sleeping aboard the Neema again in that ship's shantytown. That little, temporary home I'd had, carved out from the ship's foundations. The terrible time I had spent there after losing Liara and Shepard both. Having them with me now made up for the agony I'd suffered in the past. Back when I was just a regular citizen on the Flotilla again.

We had all lived out of a shoebox for centuries in these shantytowns.

Now I felt myself on the brink. This close to giving my people a real home again. No room for mistakes. I set aside this deep emptiness in my heart. Emptiness from what I'd witnessed on the Flotilla. Emptiness from far more than that: for my own selfish desires I couldn't stop or suppress. An eternal greed for her.

(Liara)

As the geth fleets approached Rannoch, I waited until the last moment to wake Tali from her rest. Shepard had dutifully stood outside of our cubicle for the trip. We both worried for Tali beyond measure. Too many circumstances and situations had come up recently, straining her emotions. Straining her patience, her understanding. Challenging her longest-held beliefs about her people.

I hated that I had contributed to her stress lately. I hated that Tali may have been…depressed, because of me. I knew Shepard felt the same way. Neither of us knew how to talk to her about this, either.

Focusing on the mission seemed best—for now.

Besides, Tali didn't have the bandwidth to discuss anything else. At least, not at the moment. Not with so much at stake. So Shepard and I did what we could. We both kissed Tali awake, getting her to laugh a bit, almost like normal again. She knew we loved her dearly. She knew we would stand by her side through anything and everything. Our support helped her to stand again, to face her people again.

Shepard and I noticed this key difference, too:

Tali had begun associating herself with the Flotilla again. Or what was left of the Migrant Fleet: twelve million quarian survivors and refugees spread out across the geth's ships. She had repaired that broken bond with her people. Or maybe this horrible situation had repaired it for her. I didn't quite know.

As the geth dreadnought descended to Rannoch's soil, we joined a large group of quarians. They watched the scene through the geth's recently-installed monitors along the walls. For the first time, Tali's people saw their homeworld with their own eyes. Then they witnessed the technological marvel of the Empire of Aht Urhgan. The capital city of Whitegate: the magnificent metropolis filled with light, the grand architecture there in front of them. So much emotion, overwhelming. Tears and elation from behind their masks and helmets. Friends and loved ones held one another. I imagined similar scenes playing out across the other ships harboring the Flotilla's refugees.

Though some of their emotion had dulled a bit, knowing they had to stay aboard the dreadnought for now. Not just because of tensions with Rannoch's quarians, but because of the Reapers' imminent arrival. We could not allow anyone to disembark until we guaranteed their safety in Aht Urhgan Whitegate or Radz-at-Han, at minimum. Surprisingly, the refugees took the need to wait in stride:

"We've waited three hundred years for this," said one of the quarians. "We can wait a while longer."

"However long it takes Tali'Zorah to sort things out for us," said another.

As we landed just outside Whitegate, one of the geth primes approached us.

"Greetings. The refugees have made a request. They would like Creator Tali'Zorah to give a speech."

"A speech…? From me? Why? I thought the PSA I put out before would be enough."

Shepard rationalized, "They're looking to you as a leader, Tali. It's not like they have the admirals anymore. Right now, you're their unelected leader by default. At least temporarily."

"Yes, I agree," I said. "We have only spoken to a handful of the refugees directly. They would want to hear from you before we meet with Legion in Whitegate. Everyone seems quite hopeful now. It would not hurt to improve their spirits a bit more. Considering everything they have been through…"

Tali still sounded apprehensive. "Okay… That makes sense." She asked the geth, "How will the refugees on the other ships hear what I have to say? And once we leave, how will everyone spend their time?"

The geth prime replied, "We will replay Creator Tali'Zorah's words across other dreadnoughts. Following your departure, we will display informational media on Rannoch's current affairs. Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress, will wish to know the refugees are assimilating with the homeworld's culture and values."

"Understood. Thank you for doing this. I'll go ahead and address everyone now."

"Acknowledged."

Tali already had everyone's attention. Everyone sitting and standing nearest to us: rows and rows of civilians and marines gathered together. Across the way, the faint noise from the engineers' tinkering settled down. The injured patients in the makeshift medical posts calmed their suffering, if only for this moment. I noticed Kal'Reegar and Veetor among the audience, too, looking absolutely proud of our friend. They all wanted to listen to Tali. They each wanted to hear her true sincerity, her honesty:

"Everyone, I'm sorry for all that's happened. I traveled to Rannoch before, not that long ago. That's when I learned the truth for myself. I know I should have shared what I learned with you. Then again, knowing what we know now, the admirals wouldn't have allowed it. This was always too complicated.

"You and I have also had a complicated relationship. For the longest, you knew me as the admiral's daughter with my late father, Admiral Rael'Zorah. It wasn't easy for me to make friends. Even then, I never felt that you had abandoned me. The Flotilla has been like family to me. A close-knit family of seventeen million, down to twelve million. We're still fighting to survive after all this time as nomads.

"I had found my home with the Normandy, so the admirals decided I was no longer one of you. It wasn't until I nearly lost the Flotilla…that I realized how important you are to me. Each and every one of you. You raised me. You sheltered me. You taught me everything I knew…for better or worse. Now we've all realized the admirals' lies. The history of lies woven into our very culture as a species. We spent our entire lives on that fortress of lies across the Migrant Fleet. We have this chance to turn things around and live in the truth—if Rannoch accepts us. I can't promise that they will. But I'll do everything in my power to change their minds. I'll fight to make sure they know you're worth saving. You have my word."

Eternally grateful to her, Tali's people each murmured in unison, filling the space around us: "Keelah se'lai."

Shepard and I then left the dreadnought with Tali, returning to Rannoch's soil.

We made landfall along this rocky area just outside Al Zahbi, the fortress district right next to Whitegate. Legion agreed to meet us at the entrance to the imperial palace in the capital. Thankfully, Empress Nash'Meira had accepted our request for an audience—right away. There was no need for us to run around making another mythic weapon to speak with her again. That would've taken far too much time.

Already I noticed the Normandy not too far away: our home ship had landed there, brimming in the light of this early morning. A slight chill had dewed over the ground, across the patches of grass along our path. The optimistic orange of the sunrise shined over our brief trek to the city. An unusual quiet had settled over our walk. The quiet, the sunrise, all pre-empting the mechanical lights we approached, there within the heart of the Empire of Aht Urhgan. The sharp shapes of those tall towers in a slight asymmetry, glowing in the ethereal light centering from Whitegate, all as I remembered from before.

Tali removed her mask, her helmet. She pulled down her hood from over her head, revealing the gorgeous length of her dark brown hair. The luminous shapes of her eyes took in the sights before us. I felt her fresh excitement to return to her home beyond the horizon. Such a brief reprieve from all else.

A new dawn had risen today for the Flotilla, and perhaps for Rannoch as well.

As soon as we entered this mechanical fortress of Al Zahbi, we found how the empire prepared for the Reapers' arrival. Already the Imperial Army mobilized their forces: scores of quarian and geth soldiers marching together, testing weapons together. The engineers worked to fortify the fortress, shouting for assistance with this project and that project. Several of them mentioned something about Alexander: apparently an ancient automaton that functioned as an imperial defense system. The engineers believed they couldn't adequately protect the empire without Alexander's assistance. But they could do nothing more without Empress Nash'Meira's approval. Did the empress not wish to alarm the rest of the public?

Once we passed through the Victory Gate to Whitegate, I found the answer clearly in front of us:

The empire's citizens knew of the Reapers, their imminent invasion. Everyone knew. No secrets, no lies. Rannoch simply lived in the truth, so much unlike the Flotilla before. Yet as a consequence, I felt this palpable fear among the populace. Fear barely covered up by the devil may care attitude everyone had decided to take on. Even at this early hour of the morning, the maskless, enviro-suit-free quarians packed together in nightclubs, in bars, in stores, in stadiums. Every skycar above our heads made a beeline to the nearest entertainment centers. The people drank, they partied; they shopped, spending all the money they had; they cheered for their favorite sports teams; they hobbled down the pedways, laughing in drunken groups together.

All the mercs appeared to be out of business. No one shouted about selling services for mercenaries chasing after mythic weapons. They couldn't compete with this unprecedented need to forget. The mercs and mercenaries both had mostly volunteered to bolster the Imperial Army's forces. Readying for active duty, they no longer had time to travel to Mhaura for Ambuscade, or trek through Nyzul Isle for their weapons.

Rannoch's people had decided to dance their troubles away.

We found Legion waiting for us outside the imperial palace, as promised. The nearby Commissions Agency for Assault missions and Chamber of Passage for inter-imperial travel remained empty. Only imperial soldiers passed through this entire plaza, to and from the palace as they continued mobilizing.

"Hey, Legion," said Shepard. "Is the Normandy ready for the next mission against Mammon?"

"Yes," replied Legion. "All engineering checks have passed Shepard-Commander's set standards. Engineer Adams and Engineer Daniels will monitor Normandy systems in our absence." It nodded to me in greeting. Then it looked to Tali, asking in genuine concern, "Are you well, Tali?"

Tali glanced away in uncertainty. "I'm not sure, Legion… Thanks for asking. Come on, let's head inside."

This marvel of the palace looked just as Tali had described to me before. An immense showing of strength and unity from the quarians and the geth—as one people, together, unified in truth. Amid these towering tapestries lining the walls, and the expensive make of the steps and carpets and railings, again those soldiers passed through. Their unified, marching footsteps drummed over the carpets in a fearless sense of preparation. Each of these foot-soldiers and captains and Serpentking Generals had dedicated themselves to protecting the empire. They would have gladly died for Aht Urhgan: for their people, and especially for their empress. They held that pride over their uniforms as they pressed on.

The imperial guards allowed us to enter the majesty of the throne room.

Luxurious, powerful, spacious. Such history breathed through this room: nearly two thousand years of continuous imperial rule, barely interrupted by scandals or internal strife. That enduring history manifested itself in the artifacts and paintings on display, to the empress' dutiful servants awaiting us. Her servants, her top advisers: they flanked this long, wide carpet leading to Empress Nash'Meira's throne, veiled in mystery as Tali had told me about. We could not see the empress, but she could see us.

I certainly felt her presence behind those curtained veils of sunny gold. Perhaps the quarians had engineered the embroidered fabric to act as a two-way mirror. No one could dare lay eyes on her, yet she desired to see all. Empress Nash'Meira seemed to watch us closely as we approached. As we treaded along this beautiful carpet toward her. We stopped at this unseen barrier set by Grand Vizier Razfahd, supreme leader of the Imperial Army and Serpentking Generals. And the empress' dear brother. The grand vizier did not need to speak his expectations for us to stop near where he stood.

Tali glanced behind her shoulder, looking to Shepard, to Legion, and to me. She made the silent request for us to follow her lead. As she lowered herself to one knee, head bowed, Chatika mimicked her movements. The rest of us did the same.

A mandatory show of respect and deference to the crown. Even at a time like this.

Even though the Reapers could've arrived at any second, destroying this ritualistic ceremony and more.

"Your Imperial Majesty," spoke Tali. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us."

"Tali'Zorah vas Normandy," replied Nash'Meira, her voice smooth and alluring. "You have brought your allies this time. Dr. T'Soni. Legion. The famed Commander Shepard. Surely this speaks to the urgency of your visit. The empire waits to hear your reasons. Have you come to assist us against the Reapers?"

"Yes, we have. We're prepared to fight by your side against the enemy—if you'll have us. I may have been born on the Flotilla, but many of my ancestors are of the empire. I want to help save this land."

"Well, that is a compelling argument. We have no reason to restrict you, if you truly wish to help. Yet we sense this is not the reason for our meeting today. Razfahd, please tell them of your reports."

"Of course, Your Majesty," accepted Razfahd. "Tali'Zorah, we've heard rumblings about the Migrant Fleet. There are…rumors that the admirals went mad with power. The Flotilla is no more. Is this true?"

"…yes, Grand Vizier. This is true. Only about two million quarians are still with the Fleet."

"Then what of the other nomads? Where have they gone? They can't have simply disappeared!"

Tali explained everything. She left nothing out. She told the empress and her advisers the truth. She even sheepishly admitted that the Flotilla's refugees had arrived to Rannoch. That the geth had essentially gone behind the homeworld's back to do this. The geth had helped Rannoch's sworn enemy.

I expected Nash'Meira and her brother to react with anger. I expected them to toss us from the palace immediately.

But instead, they remained silent once Tali finished her story.

They seemed to accept—in surprise—that Tali had ultimately told them the truth.

They seemed equally stunned that the Flotilla's refugees now knew their real history.

Then the empress said, "So the Migrants are now seeking asylum. That this day would finally come…"

Razfahd at last gathered his thoughts: "As it would seem… The geth chose to take the utilitarian approach. They went behind our backs, as you said. I admit—I thought the nomads would be stubborn to the last. But it sounds as though they've rejected each of those lies. This isn't the outcome I had anticipated…"

Tali entreated, "The refugees are willing to make amends. They want to work with Rannoch's people to resolve our differences. I'm most worried about the children. They don't understand any of this. They've witnessed too much. Everyone from the Flotilla needs the homeworld to welcome them back. Please."

"Yes, well… Perhaps our grudges were immature. The Fleet's quarians of today aren't the ones that started the Morning War. Their ancestors did. The children certainly don't deserve to suffer our rancor. If the nomads are willing to live in truth, I'm willing to see reason with them. What say you, sister?"

Miraculously, Nash'Meira responded, "The empire agrees with you, brother. If it were only up to us, we would accept the Migrants with all haste. Alas, we cannot make this unilateral decision on our own."

Already, Tali understood. "We'll need to speak with Thavnair's leader about this, won't we?"

"Indeed. That is to say nothing of Rannoch's other governing bodies. Where the Empire and the Isle go, so goes Rannoch. It sounds as though you are already prepared to negotiate with Thavnair's crown prince. Are you, Tali'Zorah?"

"Yes, I am. I'm afraid I don't know much about him. I remember the story you told me about the blue mages—the quarian biotics. How the empire banished the biotics over the incident that happened several years ago. Thavnair welcomed the blue mages, but they resented the Nash'Meira of that time for her decision. The Thavnairians have yet to let go of their grudges against you. So…do you have any advice for us?"

"We will offer more than mere advice. We will personally join you on your visit to Thavnair."

The empress' advisers each gasped in shock, in disbelief.

Grand Vizier Razfahd stuttered, "Y-Your Majesty!?"

Nash'Meira insisted, "Razfahd, now is not the time for discretion and moderation. Or even for upholding tradition. The Reapers are on the empire's doorstep. The empire requires Thavnair's cooperation. Not only for this matter with the Migrants, but for the sake of global security."

"You don't really think the islanders will offer to help the Imperial Army…?"

"We do not. It is likely the people of Radz-at-Han will seek to defend themselves and only themselves. That is acceptable. However, we must still facilitate the timely and trustworthy exchange of information. Rannoch must be united in the face of this war. Imagine what could happen if we made the costly decision of remaining enemies with Thavnair. They could seek to undermine us for petty reasons. Withholding critical intelligence on the Reapers. Sabotaging our defenses. Anything is possible."

"Anything is indeed possible with the Thavnairians… But is it necessary for you to show up? In-person?!"

The empress promised, "We will don a suitable disguise for the journey. You need not worry, brother. We shall be accompanied by Tali'Zorah and her legendary companions. Our safety is all but assured."

Razfahd bowed to the veiled throne. "As you wish…" Placing his trust in us, the grand vizier singled out Shepard next, "Commander, could you apprise us of the situation with the Reapers? We of course have our own information. We know the Reaper commander, Mammon, will arrive to the Perseus Veil in the next few days."

"That's right," confirmed Shepard. "Mammon is targeting the Veil and the quarian homeworld. It'll bring its capital-class ships and destroyers. Once those ships land, they'll send Reaper ground forces to neutralize your soldiers and terrorize your civilians. They'll harvest anyone they possibly can. If you can fortify your cities as much as possible, you'll cut down on civilian casualties."

"We have plans to do so. The Empire of Aht Urhgan is among the most technologically-advanced nations in the galaxy. The geth have kept us up to speed over the centuries, helping us surpass even Council homeworlds. We have a key method to fortify the empire's lands. Thavnair will have their own method."

"What methods?"

Nash'Meira decided, "We will explain in further detail during the journey to Thavnair's capital of Radz-at-Han. It is wise for us to leave as soon as possible. Please allow us one hour to change and equip ourselves for the trip. We shall set sail by sea to the south. You may await us at Port Al Zahbi."

After expressing our gratitude, together we left the imperial palace. I almost couldn't believe our luck—with just how productive that meeting was. Now we would soon meet the empress face-to-face. She would actually accompany us on this next journey to the Isle of Thavnair. This shedding of her mystery.

Outside the palace, Legion volunteered:

"We will coordinate with the imperials for additional food and medical supplies for the refugees."

"Okay, Legion," said Tali. "I guess we won't see you again until the mission starts. Take care of yourself."

"We will, Tali. Thank you."

Shepard and I also said goodbye to Legion, watching as it returned to the palace. Then we made our way to the general area surrounding Port Al Zahbi. With an hour until the empress' arrival, we settled on getting something to eat. I did not have much of an appetite. Neither did Shepard or Tali. But this may have been our last chance to eat, depending on when the Reapers showed up. Perhaps we would have another opportunity to sample Hannish cuisine. We didn't want to take this precious time for granted.

Once we reached the port, we found a large wooden ship already docked and waiting for us. As Thavnair detested the empire, we couldn't simply show up in an imperial ship. This one looked much older than I expected. A regular mercantile ship for trading goods—not one meant for carrying multiple passengers. This way, we could blend in with the many merchants moving in and around Thavnair's seas.

Exactly one hour after we left the palace, the not-so-mysterious stranger approached us:

We found a young quarian woman in the empress—maybe somewhere around Tali's age. She had braided her long blonde hair for the trip. The ethereal white of her eyes matched the same lights blooming from Whitegate itself. The fine fabric of her crimson thobe billowed in the winds here by the port: a short embroidered jacket and a laced undershirt, long flowing trousers, an ornate belt at her hip, and matching shoes with upturned, pointed toes. She didn't look at all modern. More of a traditionalist.

Curiously, an automaton followed right at her heels. Colored in black and red, the little one looked nearly identical to Tali's model. Chatika and the newcomer soon waved to one another in friendliness, their frames chiming as those steeled jewels. Almost as if they already knew each other, somehow.

Tali asked carefully, "Your Majesty, is that you…?"

The empress smiled, placing a shushing finger over her lips. "It is me, Tali. If you don't mind, let's not use those titles anymore. I'm finally outside the palace again! You can simply call me by my name, Aphmau."

"Oh!" said Tali, surprised by this new, playful candor of hers. "It's very nice to meet you, Aphmau. Thank you for joining us. I'll try not to slip back into old formalities. Who is this with you…?"

Aphmau laughed softly. "This is Ovjang. She's my only friend. Everyone in the palace treats me as Nash'Meira. Even my own brother. With Ovjang, I'm always just Aphmau. It's refreshing." Ovjang bowed to our group, earning smiles from us. Then Aphmau regarded Shepard and me: "Shall we get going? The ship's waiting. I owe you a few explanations. Let's get through everything once we're aboard."

As soon as we boarded the ship, the trading vessel took off for the southern seas. Perfect weather, a wonderful breeze. No one else on the deck where we chose to gather, to speak together.

Aphmau explained to us, "I'll remind you all that the Isle of Thavnair is a prosperous trading hub. It makes the most sense for us to arrive on a trading vessel. Because of our strife with the blue mages, the Isle has not traded with the empire for several years. They're the smaller location, so it's impacted their economy far more than it's impacted ours. It just goes to show how stubborn they are as a nation."

Tali noted, "I can tell Thavnair is quite different from the empire. Their culture, their way of life."

"Oh yes, they are. There's a much deeper divide between us over culture. The Hannish people look down on the empire for our cultural domination over Rannoch. The homeworld tends to not hold on to tradition as much as Thavnair does. The world looks forward to the future; the Isle keeps its eyes locked to the past. Thavnair claims we've discarded our true roots in favor of mimicking the rest of the galaxy."

"Isn't that true to some extent?"

"I suppose… Thavnair has always had a rich culture and history. The empire once boasted the same centuries ago. But the Nash'Meiras of the past deemed it necessary for Aht Urhgan to evolve. We could not hold on to our old, rigid theocracy: controlling the populace through religion and a state-mandated culture. As the empire gained more lands, we became more and more diverse. Had we not changed with the times, we would have fallen to civil war or revolution. We needed to shift and grow in order to survive. The tiny Isle never experienced our same growing pains. They don't understand what it's like."

I chose to ask, "Would you say Thavnair favors a strong society over a strong state?"

"They do, Dr. T'Soni," said Aphmau, glad that I knew these concepts. "As you've noticed, the empire has a strong state. My family's imperial dynasty has stayed in power for thousands of years. Aside from incidents like our troubles with the biotics, we've remained stable. But like the former Flotilla, Thavnair has a strong, tight-knit society. Their people tie them together more so than their government. The government itself is quite weak and ineffective. The people govern themselves through their chosen caste system as a hierarchy. The Hannish people know their place in society. For them, that is the general order of things."

Shepard inquired, "What about their military? Can the island really stand up against the Reapers?"

"You'd be surprised, Commander. Thavnair has adopted our former blue mages, once called the Immortals. The islanders have grown their biotics into a fearsome, unified force. I expect they'll use their blue mages to protect the capital city-state of Radz-at-Han. They're taking cues from your biotic teammates like Dr. T'Soni: how they've withstood attacks directly from the enemy. They pay attention to the outside galaxy just as much as we do. Though they'll never admit this to anyone out loud."

Tali wondered, "If that's Thavnair's method for defense, what will the empire use instead?"

Aphmau told us, "The empire will use our technological equivalent. Deep within the Alzadaal Undersea Ruins lies an ancient automaton, Alexander. The old colossus was once used to provide perfect defense for the empire. He shielded our lands with his angelic wings, protecting our people from outside threats. Our ancestors attempted to use him during the Morning War. They ran into an old malfunction no one had been able to repair for several years. We have barely managed to repair the automaton in recent times. Our court puppet masters will deploy Alexander as soon as they are able. I gave them my permission before we left."

"That sounds incredible! Could Alexander withstand the Reapers' attacks?"

"We believe so. He is optimized to stand strong against hits from capital-class ships and destroyers. We are less confident Alexander would survive against those devil ships, as the Alliance has named them. Commander, do I have your word that you will disable Mammon as soon as possible?"

Shepard promised, "I will."

Aphmau smiled over that confidence. "Then I will leave the devil ship in your capable hands. Tali, once we arrive to Radz-at-Han, the crown prince will want to speak with you. Thavnair knows of your ancestors. You may remember that Tahlia'Zorah vas Vanaspati and her husband Raubahn spent their retirement living on the island together. You will have an edge in negotiating with the prince. He respects Tahlia's legacy. He will, in-turn, respect you. Lean on that as you convince him to let the refugees stay on Rannoch."

Tali accepted the advice. "I see. Thank you, Aphmau. Will this help with mending relations between Thavnair and the empire? Your two nations used to be very close."

"This will all tie together nicely. You are a valuable cornerstone for Rannoch's affairs. If not for your ancestors, none of what we're trying to do would be possible. Nevertheless, the people of Radz-at-Han will know we are outsiders. Try to be respectful of their suspicions. We will have to earn their trust."

The rest of our journey would bring us to the sweltering, tropical Isle of Thavnair. The city-state of Radz-at-Han awaited us in suspicion among that humid heat. I hoped the change in scenery would help thaw this frigid cold burrowing deep in Tali's heart. I felt that chill from her, even now as she smiled and spoke with Aphmau and Ovjang. This cold frosted from the memories of the Flotilla, the atrocities there. And from much more than that: from my imminent, promised engagement to Shepard in the future.

Sensing my thoughts, my feelings, Shepard held my hand as we gazed out to the sea together. She knew the same as I did. Tali needed to find peace with our new reality. All as the Reapers had set their sights on Rannoch, invading the quarian homeworld within the next few days.