"I don't make mistakes; I make prophecies - which immediately turn out to be wrong." - Murray Walker, Formula 1 commentary legend
Chapter 18.3 - Race Against Time: Ilos
While I was busy running around the Citadel bringing my… illegitimate possessions to a storage area easily accessible to Crow, Shepard had given her report to the Council and Udina face-to-face.
As expected, the fleets gathered at the Citadel were not, in fact, meant to hunt down Saren.
I actually cannot fault the Council for their way of thinking. As annoying as it was from a gamer's perspective, the threat of war with the Terminus systems was a real one. And why would you get yourself into more trouble than you need to, what with the Geth abandoning the isolation of the Perseus Veil and their top SPECTRE going on a rampage?
Of course, if they had any sort of initiative in them all, they would've sent the Citadel Defense Fleet anyway to stop him dead in his tracks. As far as I was concerned – with all my knowledge of the Terminus basically being Omega and Mass Effect 2 – a show of force could only help, far more than harm.
But at least keeping the CDF around wasn't bad - with the fleet leaving, the Citadel would have been completely defenseless. C-SEC was no deterrent to any proper attack, as demonstrated on multiple occasions. And the fleet might have been too late anyway – even though the flight of the NORMANDY took no less than three days (with the last of the damage sustained on Virmire being repaired mid-flight, that is), getting an entire fleet combat operational and going – especially with every vessel being slower than our prototype – would've probably taken a whole week.
That did not excuse them from not sending us out to – at the very least – gather intel on what Saren was doing, but, y'know, minor details.
The core problem of the Council being too impassive remains. I want to make a small distinction here, though - I don't actually think the Councillors Tevos, Sparatus and Valern were stupid to make that call. I think they were just too deeply embedded into their respective political games, woven far too much into their known world to be able to deal with any sudden changes. Let alone too many of them at the same time.
Especially given the amount of authority the Asari held over the other two Council member species - and the Asari's tendency to view the long - yet more-or-less ignore the short-term-view. Or unlikely possibilities. Maybe if the Council of the Republics – their internal government – would have Maidens and Matrons in it to balance out the Matriarchs, then it would've been different.
Alas, pointless musings.
Because for all the reasons one could bring up to defend the decision made by the council - I cannot think of a single point that could be raised in Ambassador Udina's defense.
Arrogant. Pointless. Short-sighted. Spiteful. In one word: Incompetent.
And there are few things I despise more than people - who should know better! - being utterly incompetent.
There was no point in grounding the NORMANDY. Detonating the bomb on Virmire had been necessary – Garden World or not, to hell with it! I had read Shepard's post-action report. Her case and her arguments were solid. STG evidence would've backed us up – but apparently, Kirrahe hadn't gotten around to submitting his report yet.
There was nothing to be gained from keeping the one ship and crew that had done so much from going out to hunt. Nothing logically sound, anyway.
One man alone – with the not-so-silent approval of the Council – had just crippled the entire war effort. Only to further his own ambitions for the questionable sake of our species' diplomatic standings with the Big Three.
In other words: Licking their boots.
At the time however, I swallowed my frustration. It wasn't worth neither time nor energy.
I would have ample opportunities to make my opinion known later. There was no doubt about it.
Anderson spotted me as soon as he entered The Flux. I emptied my Jack & Coke, hesitated – Do you really want to tempt fate? - and rose to join him, giving a lax salute.
"Good Day, Captain."
"Private Raven." He nodded once, then nodded again, offering me a seat.
Half surprised at the lack of formal procedure, I followed his invitation.
"Has Commander Shepard informed you about our meeting?", he asked, expression guarded.
"By proxy of Lieutenant Alenko, yes." I folded my hands on the table. "Although, only very briefly. Something went wrong with the Council, I take it?"
"You could say that." He looked like he wanted to say more, but Shepard, flanked by Kaidan and Liara entered the club in that moment.
"There you are, Raven." Shepard nodded. She looked decidedly less relaxed compared to when I had last seen her – and that was briefly after she had returned from her visit to our heavily injured in Alliance HQ's hospital wing, mind you.
I rose to offer my seat to our Commander, but she politely declined. I stayed where I was, suppressed the urge to light one up and listened to what was being discussed.
"I just arrived myself, Shepard," Anderson said and looked up at her. "And only heard what happened from third parties – would you briefly fill Pvt. Raven in, please?"
She did just that in under twenty seconds. I attentively listened for any deviation from 'canon', if it could even be called that way. However, there was none.
Shepard was angry, Anderson apologetic - Udina had blocked all attempts at getting a message to the ship until we had docked.
I eyed my teammates. Liara looked disheartened, but not quite willing to give up – and occasionally sneaked a half-hidden glance at Shepard. Kaidan looked like he usually did – calm and composed. But I swear I could see how he fumed. He'd probably been the one to call Udina out on his idiocy.
A privilege that should've rightfully been mine – but it was for the best of all (except maybe Udina) that I hadn't been present.
I can be loud when I want to. Anyway.
As soon as Anderson explained how Udina hat blocked him from warning Shepard, I couldn't help myself. "Pardon me, Sir, but… Commander Shepard is a SPECTRE. Can't she just… I dunno, override Udina's orders? That man isn't even part of the Navy."
"Technically, you're right, Private. But technicalities and reality don't quite match. They rarely do." Anderson leaned forward and rested his chin on folded hands. It almost looked like he was praying. "As long as the Alliance is at war, our ambassador to the Citadel is in fact able to put a ship into lockdown. Technically, Udina is ordering the NORMANDY to be at his disposal. As he's our ambassador in times of war, and the NORMANDY is not technically assigned to any combat formation, it is fully legally of him to do so. In theory, she is currently being prepared for a 'sensitive transport'. In reality, he will of course never even consider putting one foot aboard."
Shepard snorted. "He knows that he might get spaced. The crew is not happy. They want to finish the job ASAP."
"You're lucky that my hearing seems to be a bit impaired by the music, Lieutenant Commander,'' Anderson said in lightly scolding tone. It didn't sound like he was disagreeing.
I was mildly surprised by the sudden shift in tone, coming from our always diplomatic paragon of a CO. Then again - Udina.
"Technically, you could indeed override Udina's orders. You could even order an investigation into his affairs, for 'obstruction of justice'. But… I am sure that he has already called in enough favours in the right places to delay you almost indefinitely. Or found some loopholes in the regs for cooperation between Alliance and SPECTREs. He's very good at that."
He leaned back and shook his head. "The official channels are closed. And I don't think we have time to wait for them to be re-opened. "
"Unsurprising." Shepard's lower lip - that much I had gathered - was used to certain mistreatments. However, at that rate, she was going to chew it off. "What do you suggest, Captain?"
"We're still going to override his orders. But we're not going to bother with the technicalities."
In his fatigues, sleeves rolled up like it was customary among the working crew, Anderson looked less like a commissioned officer, but more like a soldier. A grunt who got his hands dirty. And like a grunt, he did grin.
"That's what N7s do, isn't it, Shepard?"
I was only a background actor for the rest of the scene. Therefore I will keep it short.
After deeming the risk of taking on Citadel Control's armed guards as too dangerous, Anderson decided to infiltrate the Alliance embassy and hack Udina's terminal instead. If Udina was present, Anderson would 'have to think of something'. Seeing the glint in the captain's eyes when he said that 'Udina had made it personal' made me secretly happy.
The meeting ended abruptly. We made a beeline to the NORMANDY, post-haste. As it turned out, Anderson had already sent a message to XO Pressly.
Every servicemen stood at attention as we entered the ship. All stations were manned, all hands accounted for.
"We are ready for, and are awaiting your orders, Commander." Pressly said without even the faintest hint of hesitation.
Shepard stood for a moment. Let her gaze wander to every face in her sight. But there was no sign of doubt or uncertainty.
Every single man and woman aboard knew what they were getting themselves into. But if my gut was correct… then not one crewmember was going to be deterred by a potential court martial.
Just more proof how powerful Shepard's personality was. As if anyone needed any more evidence.
She nodded once. "Ready to scramble, everyone. Thank you. Let's do this."
Few words, but powerful in their meaning. They all nodded, saluted, or voiced an 'aye-aye!' before returning to their posts.
Seeing such amounts of grim determination made even me proud.
Our commander then turned to us. Only now did I notice that all squad members were assembled around the bridge.
"Gear up, Raven." she said. Everyone else was already in full armor and decked out. "Position yourselves at C/E ramp and the airlocks. Counter-boarding protocol. If anyone tries to board the ship, keep them out until we're ready to leave. We're going to get one chance - and we're not going to blow it." Shepard held up one hand and gave us all a sharp gaze. "But whatever happens - do not shoot to kill, understood?"
The next thing I know is that I stood in front of my armor and had to swallow down some bile. Too many memories. Few of them good. Seeing the Alliance clasp and the '905' on one shoulder was a right punch to the gut.
I trembled ever so slightly. Then remembered what Chakwas had told me, and I had told Shepard. I either got back into action at the first opportunity - or not at all.
The hardest part for me was to put the spare Recon Hood over my face. For the first few moments, for as long as it took the systems to calibrate, I felt like I was suffocating.
The status reports. The red and grey of lifesigns flashing and fading. The helpless feel as the thermometer linked to my gun hit critical, and the incessant warning beeping of both gun and shields.
I forced myself to breathe slower, closed my eyes for a moment. I forced myself to recall other moments - the feeling of triumph over the indoctrinated rachni. The relief of seeing Garrus' vital signs stabilizing and him coming back to his senses. The relief of ending a firefight without anyone getting seriously hurt.
I finally decided to shift the colour spectrum - from a slight blue to orange. That helped massively. But only when I grabbed my pistol - the Mattock was still damaged - I started to feel different.
Someone, I suspect Garrus, had given it a complete overhaul. No signs of battle scars. No dent, no bit off the paint. It looked like a completely different gun to the Judgement-VIII I had carried in Virmire - but all serial numbers matched.
Tali and Garrus stood at the still lowered C/E ramp, just out of sight of potential spectators. I joined them. Both of them gazed at me, expressions and body language hard to read. Chief Postle still hadn't returned to duty, and if he had, he would've likely hidden under a table or something stupid like that.
"See something?" I asked curtly. Before they could reply, Shepard's voice was in our ears.
"We're buttoning up! Stand clear, people!"
The heavy ramp that doubled as the airlock of the SR-1 was quite fast for its size and weight - but it felt so agonizingly slow.
I breathed out heavily once the locks disengaged. Not that I seriously expected any resistance from C-SEC… or even Alliance soldiers.
But who knew…?
Three more minutes passed in which we stood ready with bated breath. Somewhere else on the Citadel, Udina got the first of what was in store for him. I vividly remembered the hefty knockout Anderson was going to deliver.
Just like months ago, a loud metallic bang! startled me. The docking clamps had disengaged!
"Let's go! Get us out of here, Joker! Now!"
The NORMANDY left her berth and the Citadel for the last time in Mass Effect 1. Unchallenged, she soared past the patrols, reached the Widow relay, and began the final chase.
We had Saren's scent - and we would not be shaken off again.
Shepard had sent me a personal message. 'We have a conversation to finish. 1400 in my quarters.' Someone else might have interpreted that one as an unsubtle… invitation. Someone else would have been an idiot completely misunderstanding the dynamics between Shepard and her crewmates.
With one exception, of course.
I have already alluded to my realization that she was no angelic being. Not in the sense that you are thinking of… how do I explain this without things getting even more awkward? Let me try… Shepard was not the one figure that hovered above everyone else.
… not exactly getting my point across, am I…?
When you are playing the Mass Effect games, Shepard is supposed to be your own avatar. As such, with your knowledge that it is a game - and that there are certain rules for any game - you are far above any and all of your crewmates. You simply are not on the same plane of existence as them, no matter the methods the game designers try to implement.
Even during your first playthrough, if the context is not yet clear and you lack a perspective for the universe as a whole, your knowledge of gameplay rules gives you an inherent advantage.
My commanding officer, no matter how high you praise her, did not have such a luxury available to her.
She too was just a creature made of flesh and blood.
That made the upcoming task both easier... and so much harder.
I was freshly shaven, showered, and in a new set of fatigues when I approached her cabin. The bandages, still tightly wrapped around my upper body, were invisible - save maybe for my a bit stiffer posture. The only outward signs of injury were a few needle marks at my throat and a small spot where the hair on my head had been shaved off for an in-depth scan of my brain. And of course the dispenser still attached to my arm and steadily trickling a cocktail of chemicals to support nanites and other healing processes within my body. I won't give you the full list. It was kind of nasty.
The point is: No matter how little was visible from the outside, Shepard would look right through it all. My entire body felt beaten up, like after two subsequent days of hard, physical work - while simultaneously being whipped bloody.
I could walk, run and - according to Chakwas' scans - fight, thanks to the artificially accelerated healing process combined with the modifications my body had received. It hurt, but it was possible.
But on the flip side, it was no true recovery. My movement was somewhat limited still, and only a single hard punch could be enough to cause irreversible damage.
On the other hand…
Was the risk really that much higher than usual?
I didn't think so at the time. One well-placed round could end me, one way, or the other. Painkillers would keep me going. Stims would make sure I performed whenever necessary.
My train of thought got interrupted by Shepard calling for me to enter her quarters. I did enter, with no small bit of anxiety. Shepard sat at her table, to my direct right. Scattered across were around twenty datapads and three empty mugs. The room still smelled of coffee.
"Hello, Raven.", she greeted and put down another datapad as she rose. "Please, have a seat."
I did so promptly at the central round table. I briefly looked around and mentally compared the cabin in the SR-2 to this one. I could barely remember Shepard's cabin in ME1. For me, it shared this fate with Shepard's apartment from the 'Pinnacle Station' - forgettable.
On that note, I found it strange and worrisome that we never tackled either Pinnacle Station, or 'Bring down the Sky'.
I will talk more about Asteroid X-57 later, rest assured.
Shepard sat down across from me and placed yet another datapad down in front of her. It carried my name. Not a good sign.
For a moment, we were both quiet. I was waiting for Shepard to talk, but she seemed to be lost in thoughts.
With those rings around her eyes, I was actually a bit worried for her when she started to speak.
"Where do we begin…? I suppose I still owe you a proper apology."
The Commander now sat perfectly straight, but her voice was neither mechanical nor overly formal.
"Instead of helping you when you were obviously not feeling well - both physically and mentally - I made the brilliant decision to beat you down even further. I fucked up, and I can do nothing but apologize for that." She lowered her head. "That was not one of my proudest moments, and I am sorry that you had to be on the receiving end - after everything you did."
To my own surprise - I actually managed a tiny smile.
"Don't worry about it, Shep. I understand why you'd lose patience with me like that. Let's not talk about it anymore."
When I noticed her tensing up, I knew I had to offer her something. Shepard would not let this slide - and even I felt like she had a right to get answers.
Plus, I was tired of lying. But had no intention of complicating the matter even more. And Shepard's apology, as sincere as it was, made me feel uncomfortable on multiple levels. She had not entirely been wrong, after all. Had our situation been reversed, I'm not sure if I had handled it better. Much worse, most likely.
"Yes, Commander. I have lied - about parts of my story."
I said that looking her straight in the eyes.
"But, what you know about me is mostly the truth."
"Why did you lie?" She observed, somewhat guarded, but openly. I had a good feeling about this.
I gave her a lopsided grin. "Mainly to fill in the gaps for the questions you all would have asked - and for the fear of being stuck in prison. Or an asylum of some sort. Not because I am a criminal. Actually, aside from what I was doing back when we first met - carrying guns and being on the Citadel without permission, I mean - I've never committed a crime. I didn't want to lie. But I thought that it would be better than just not talking at all."
"I understand." She thought for a moment, eyes trying to pierce right through me.
But for once, I actually felt relaxed. I had not gone into this meeting without thinking it through. And I did not fear the consequences. There was no logical reasoning behind it - just, I wasn't scared and would endure. I was sure of it.
"Will you to tell me the whole truth now?" she asked. Asked, not ordered.
"I'm sorry, Commander, but I won't. Not because I am hiding anything horrible - but because it doesn't matter anymore. I am Jess Raven, Shep. That's not a lie. Of course, that is not the name I was born with - but… to be honest, the person I was before is dead to me. There's very little linking me back to my old life - and even if I could, I'm not sure I would want to go back."
Any other commissioned officer would have made my life hell in those moments. I'm sure of that. I was, technically speaking, committing an act of insubordination and disrespect, as much as I tried to sound neutrally and make her understand.
But, as mentioned before, I had a good feeling about this whole conversation and little to lose. I was no longer afraid of Shepard.
She was silent for a moment, so I added: "I know that doesn't sound all that solid, and it's not easy for me to explain, but… For all I care, I was born the day I left Earth. To me, it's as if all ties were cut that moment. Aside from some memories, nothing connects me to that life anymore. And with each day I spend aboard this ship, my old life is lost more and more. And I'm… okay with that."
"I think I know what you mean." She folded her hands and placed her brow on them. "You really are a complicated case."
"I am sorry, Shepard." I honestly was. "I know that that's not what you deserve. But everything inside me refuses to even acknowledge that that person ever existed."
"What happened? - No, don't answer." She interrupted herself, her head still leaning on her folded hands, not looking at me. "You won't answer any questions about why you made your decision."
"That… is true." My good feeling began to wane.
She sighed. "I trust you, Raven. Shit, you've done too much for this entire mission. It would be dishonest of me if I wouldn't trust you as much as I do Liara… or Wrex."
She looked at me again, openly. For the first time, I saw worry. "But I'm concerned. For you to change your name and break off all your ties to family or friends - something really bad must have happened. I'm concerned that it will come back to bite you - and if you are not willing to talk about it, I just... Cannot trust your past to not affect you, going forward."
I had a lump in my throat. To hear that Shepard valued me made me proud. But at the same time - I knew what she was thinking, and didn't know how to change her mind. I was at a loss.
In order for her to trust me - I needed to trust her. Not as my commander - but as a friend.
I felt like something drastic was needed.
But a feel of hesitation paralyzed me, and silence weighed heavily on us both.
Until I, for once, got myself together and broke it.
"I have one last person left linking me back to my past, Commander. A friend who's currently on the Citadel."
She perked up immediately.
"He goes by the name of Crow." Having overcome the inner resistance, talking felt surprisingly easy. "I… actually have met him, whenever we were docked at the Citadel. He grew up the same way as I did… and we later made it to the Citadel together. We lost each other - that's why I was alone when we first met, Shepard. But he then contacted me the first time we'd been back. He'd seen men the broadcast when you were named SPECTRE. I trust him like few others."
"You have told him about our mission, right?" Shepard asked, but I immediately shook my head.
"I wasn't sure how much I could tell him without revealing critical information, so no, we never really talked about that." It stung having to lie again, but - well, technically, I never really had to reveal information to Crow. He knew almost everything I did, after all. "He knows a few things, but I think all of what he does know came from the news. He knows I'm travelling with you - and wasn't all too happy about having to sit on the Citadel while I was having all the fun. That's what he said, anyway." I grinned, and Shepard smiled lightly as well.
"I guess you never told anyone about him for the same reason you're not talking about your past life."
"That is correct. Also… to be honest, I was kind of afraid that you'd think I'd smuggle out information or something, had you known I was regularly meeting with somebody."
"The thought would have crossed my mind, I'll be honest."
"If you want me to," I said quickly, trying to overcome her last sentence, "I can introduce him to you when we have dealt with Saren. But, as I said - I trust him explicitly."
"I think I would like that." Shepard nodded. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me, Raven. I wish you would have done earlier… but you had reasons."
"Unfortunately, yes. I was lucky that you took me in. But I didn't want to expose him to the same risk of being thrown into jail as me. And, yes… part of it was also so that nobody could get to my old life. I admit it."
"I figured as much." Shepard leaned back. She thought for a momet and made her decison."Again: Thanks for your trust. I appreciate it. I won't report either one of you to the authorities - until we have figured out something to help you both."
"Thank you, Shepard. That means a lot to me." The days of Crow hiding were over. Not soon enough for him to have an impact before the arrival of the Collectors… but it was still a relief. Perhaps even a good thing, given his inexperience compared to me - and truth be told, the bar wasn't high. And it opened up so many possibilities for the future. I could not help but feel grateful.
"It's of no concern - for now. Not until the Reapers have been stopped." She waved her hand, looking a bit better than before. "But, I must ask you again - there is nothing else from your life before that could affect you? You are sure of that?"
"Now? Yes, definitely. Everyone else who knew me is long gone."
I kept it intentionally vague. Again, she chewed on her lip. Some big question was coming up - I could feel it.
"... I have to ask. Have you ever lied to me when we were talking about our mission, Raven?"
Her outburst back during debrief, I remembered. Of course, a valid question.
"No, Shep." I shook my head. "I have not once lied to you."
I answered truthfully - to my mind. Therefore, my voice did not waver in the slightest.
"I have more than once not mentioned what I was thinking, I'll admit it. But not once, I have lied to you about our mission."
I had done what was in my power to get the information across without compromising myself. As far as I remembered at that time, I had never actually lied - and even what I was thinking was not a guaranteed truth.
Thus, my conscience was clear. Make of that what you will.
Shepard's emerald eyes were difficult to look into for an extended amount of time. But I could meet them regardless.
"I…" She hesitated, briefly. "I have scanned your omnitool after you collapsed, Raven. I'm sorry, but I had to know."
I felt my features freeze. My mind ran hot, but all I felt was panic. Had I been led into a trap? Desperately, I tried to remember if anything on it could compromise me -
The mission mindstorms! Scheiße!
"I've read the mental map you made for Virmire. Have you made similar documents for our other missions?"
Again. A question without any judgement behind it. Leaving me hanging with not much to go in. That made it difficult to answer. But I had to.
"I have…"
This whole affair turned out to be an emotional rollercoaster for me. I did not like being toyed with - but could not do anything about. And, most strangely - I felt no resentment towards Shepard.
I simply had to answer for the mistakes I had made. It was only fair.
"Why did you never tell me?"
"I…"
How to turn all of what had literally kept me awake at night over the course of six months into a few sentences?
"I didn't want to influence you in your decisions, I think. After all… they all were only speculations, and…" I waved helplessly. "You are the one who knows all about combat,planning, that stuft. Who am I trying to argue with a decade of experience - and your level of skill? Worse, if I had actually convinced you of my ramblings, and they turned out to be wrong…"
I gestured a bit helplessly. It was only half acting. "I know you would have taken my opinions under consideration. You told me so, back on Therum. But still… I didn't think they'd be useful. More distracting than anything else."
"I see… but that's a shame. I have read your conclusions with interest. And they actually impressed me." She leaned back, her facial expression relaxed, yet aware, for lack of a better word. "I have seen specialists at AllCom doing worse - not even kidding. You can be proud of both the detail and accuracy in your analysis. It was good - in fact, I insist that you tell me the next time."
Suddenly - she smiled. "I'm not going to order you. But I want to encourage you - I may have more experience, but another perspective never hurts. And in any way, I can help you. Maybe tell you if you are making a mistake - or help you to put your ideas to the test."
"Thank you, Commander." I bobbed my head. I wasn't so sure about my drabblings being impressive. After all, I had seen it happen first hand - well, third person - and was more or less cheating. They were never meant to be looked at by someone else - only for myself, a way to remind myself. Then again, if nothing else - it opened up possibilities.
And maybe, Shepard knew better than I.
More than anything else I felt no small amounts of relief. I remembered all of the security measures - for example, never to put information into the documents that I couldn't base in 'reality' and generally avoiding all mention of 'the games'.
For once, my paranoia was beneficial and justified.
"Why don't we start right now?", she suggested. "Do you have any thoughts about Ilos?"
This, I felt more comfortable with. "Not really, no. I think Liara may be the one to ask about how Ilos looks like. All I can tell you is that we've got to expect a strong Geth presence on that planet - and that's not exactly news."
"No, it really isn't." Shepard chuckled and shook her head.
I thought quickly about how much I could give away - then had an idea.
"That being said - I have a few thoughts regarding the Conduit. If you're interested, of course."
"I am. Despite all of what we have learned so far - we still don't even know what that thing even is. Aside from something we don't want Saren to have. Shoot."
I pursed my lips. "We don't know if the Conduit is a cover name. But even if it isn't… the name implies a… connection, of sorts."
Once more, I was happy that this wasn't the german localization. The german word 'Röhre', while not exactly a wrong translation, implied a tube. Don't ask, it's complicated.
"The more I think about it, Commander - the more I am convinced that Ilos is some sort of a gateway. If this 'conduit' is, as Saren and Beneziah said in Tali's recording, crucial to their return - then it may be their entry point to this galaxy. A 'connection' between the settled worlds of this galaxy and - wherever the fuck they're hiding. Which means that we will have to shut it down or destroy it to prevent that from happening."
Shepard nodded. "To tell you the truth, that's part of the reason why I was so adamant about chasing after Saren as soon as possible. Because if the Council stays on the defensive too long and a potential invasion fleet remains unnoticed - well, it might be too late to turn the tide. It's good to hear you thinking along the same lines."
Well, yes, but actually no.
"That being said, I am not too sure about some of my other theories. I can tell you, but none of that is really thought out."
"Please, tell me anyway."
"I have listened to the recording of your conversation with SOVEREIGN. Assuming that it didn't lie… 'You exist because we allow it. And you will end because we demand it.' And all that stuff about the Citadel, the Mass Relays, the cycles of extinction… I cannot put my finger on it - but what role does the Citadel play? The relays, I can understand. It makes sense in a very cruel way - those oh-so-convenient connections between all the important places in the galaxy? If you have that, no species has an incentive to invest a lot of resources into more effective FTL drive systems. Makes it impossible to outrun the Reapers once their attacks start. But… what purpose does the Citadel have?"
"Many of what the early Asari and Salarians that explored the station have discovered is unknown to us now." Shepard reasoned. I could see that brain of hers at work, almost. "If the galactic civilizations developed along the paths the Reapers intended - why not create a bait at a station central to the Mass Relay network and store a lot of their more advanced knowledge in there? It would gurantee that the galaxy keeps on evolving the way they want. And it would explain why the Asari and Salarians are technologically more advanced than all other species - they had a few hundred or thousand years of a headstart on everyone else."
Close enough - but not quite!
"You're right, and it would make perfect sense. However, I think it may go deeper than that." I leaned back and watched Shepard carefully. "I don't think that it's been a coincidence that Salarians and Asari first met on the Citadel. Subsequently, I don't believe that it has been a chance thing that the Council decided to make this significant and oh-so-conveniently huge station with perfect living conditions for most life forms its capital and headquarters."
Watching the realization on Shepard's face was both gratifying and jarring.
"I think," I concluded, "that this is something that has happened for many cycles before. I think that the Citadel is a trap. Therefore, it would be logical to conclude that the Reapers still have some sort of power over that station. I can't tell you what kind of power… but there is a very good chance that, if we allow this 'cycle' to continue, their first action will be to spring the trap. And while we don't know all the possible consequences… it has been sprung numerous times before. It may just be enough to end all resistance before we can even start organizing it."
Shepard asked me a few more questions after that, to which I could only give very vague answers.
What I said at that moment would easily be proven by reaching Vigil - including the one or three details that were wrong as to draw suspicion away from me. I had to leave it at that for the moment - there was a constant risk of saying too much.
Finally, she fell silent and deep into thought for half a minute. I waited.
"It… doesn't matter, right now." she then said, slowly. "We need to stop Saren. That's all what counts. When we're done with him… then we can think about the rest. We should change the subject before we've completely murkied the water."
"I agree." I nodded and felt relieved. I too preferred to stick to what was the task at hand insead of a wild discussion about all of the could-be.
Shepard thought for a few seconds, then picked up her datapad and glanced it over briefly. "While we're at that… this is Dr. Chakwas report on your current physical condition. I believe that she has told you her opinion in person?"
"If by that you mean 'told me in no uncertain terms how much of an idiot I am for even thinking about it', then, yes, she has." Having to deal with our Doc had not been pleasant. Let's leave it at that. "But, at the same time, I also know that I am technically cleared for duty. And combat, under emergency conditions. I think we're qualifying."
Shepard looked down. "I don't like the idea of having to put you into harm's way again, Raven. Not so soon. Not with you not being at your best."
I grinned joylessly. "Believe me, I'm not a fan either. It's still better than the alternative. That would be to sit here and roll my thumbs while all of you get out and fight a battle that could win or lose the war before it really starts."
She sighed. "I know how stubborn you can be. And I understand you completely - I'd hate to stay in the medbay when everyone else is fighting as well. But I'll warn you regardless. In your condition, you need to stay out of harm's way even more than usual. If you do so, you're going to be less effective. And I fear that you will slow us down instead of helping."
"I don't know if I am going to be effective and able to keep myself out of harm's way, Shepard. The only thing I can promise is that I will follow your orders and not be stupid about it." I said. I wasn't trying to be convincing. I was just convinced myself. "But should it come to the worst, then you will regret not having brought that one extra gun that might have tipped the balance. For the agonizingly long, few minutes or hours the Reapers need to wipe us out before turining their attention to the rest of the galaxy. My own safety is pointless if it loses us the war. And if you need to leave me behind because I cannot keep up - then that's just fair. I'll figure something out in that case."
A gamble. A stupid one, from a sane person's perspective - but still better than sitting around rolling thumbs with literally everything at stake.
She remained still. Five seconds, ten, twenty.
"Do not make me regret this, Raven."
"I don't want to die, Commander. I was just stating the truth. I'm not fatalistic. I'm trying to be realistic."
To my surprise - Shepard chuckled.
"Ash has taught you well. If she were here, she'd say the exact same. I'm sure of it. Make sure that you and your gear are in the best possible condition when we're at our destination. That is an order."
I watched as a swath of blue-ish smoke twirled through the air, across the whole room - and into the ventilation unit. Then, slowly, I took another drag.
The conversation with Shepard had given me a lot to think about.
I thought that I finally understood her. Although, only a little.
The ship had, generally speaking, quietened down a bit. We were an hour from the Mu Relay. Most others were asleep, including the Navy personnel. This was the last 'graveyard shift', as I had learned it was called, prior to shit going down.
All preparations had been made.
Since I had no zero-grav training - not to mention any knowledge of the NORMANDY's hull structure - I had not been called upon to actually leave the ship for our in-flight repairs. Only one more thing to highlight how extremely basic my training had been. If I actually stayed with the Alliance, I would have a lot of catching up to do to actually justify my rank.
Of course, only if I stayed. Or managed to clear up my name.
I had no idea what the consequences would be for us. Maybe Udina's orders would later be found illegal? Or maybe we would still formally be court-martialed, but the charges would quietly be dropped?
I was not actually worried about my own survival anymore. I had survived Virmire. Somehow, I would make it through Ilos and the CItadel as well.
I just didn't want to think about it.
Instead, I replaced Ashley at the workbench, keeping our firearms maintained and loading all of them up with the ammo mods everyone preferred. It was a rather easy task, overall - Mass Effect weaponry is rather modular, by which I mean that you can easily remove and replace major components - trigger group, the barrel/heatsink combination… even the generator and magnetic accelerators, amongst other things, could be replaced as a whole unit.
Still, I wished that Ashley had been here to help me, chat, and teach me. It felt too quiet in C/E. But at least I knew she would return. Maybe not to this NORMANDY, though...
Since most of our weapons were new, the only gun I really had to work on was my Mattock. Shepard had also brought me a new one, but… when I weighed it for the first time, it just felt wrong.
Sure, I could have simply modified it the same way as my old gun. But when I replaced the standard foregrip with the angled one I had grown used to, and it still felt wrong - I instead used it as a source for spare parts and rebuilt my old rifle.
Maybe I was suffering from a severe case of 'Jessie' syndrome.
Or, maybe, I was just getting old. Which was more or less the same.
I can already see it. Me telling Zaeed the story behind my gun, he just looks at me once and tells me to 'get on my level, noob.'
I chuckled at that ridiculous thought.
An improvement.
After all, I currently leaned against the wall in the Marine's ready room.
Someone had superficially cleaned it, but - strangely enough - not dared to touch anyone's belongings, or so it seemed. I would have thought that sending them to the families would have been done while we were docked at the Citadel, but… Maybe it had been planned for later.
It meant that I still had a job to do.
While their possessions had been stowed away, it was more than obvious that people had lived here not too long ago.
And seeing the table we had played hours and hours of poker on… it still felt like they all might walk back in at any second.
I half-expected Miller to greet me, make a stupid joke at Kat's expense, and then sit down to pour himself a glass.
On one hand, I was glad not to know any of them much better. It meant that the weight of their loss was a bit easier on me.
On the other hand… I regretted not to know any of them more.
It's difficult to explain…
I think one major aspect of it had been down to a subconscious misconception. A stupid mistake on my part.
Not realizing that they were all alive. Not just some artificial characters, bound to game logic and the logic of their char designs. More than scripts, and 'if you say A, he will react to it this way 100% of the time'.
You may roll your eyes now and ask yourselves as to what on Earth I was thinking, and if I was thinking at all. After all, had I not literally risked my own and ruined quite a lot of other lives in an attempt to save one of these chars?
The only thing I reply to that is: Yes. In the forefront of my mind, I thought of them as real people.
But deep down, I did not really see any one of them as individuals.
Secluding myself from them and staying introverted most of the time did not help change my perception by much. It still felt to me like I was some foreign object to the actors in a play. Deus Ex Machina, if that's not too arrogant.
And only occasionally, when the other 'actors' where intracting directly with me, I felt like I was actually partaking in the play - only to then being a third party once more.
That was my one big mistake.
It needed Shepard talking sense into me to realize it.
Baring my additional knowledge, I was one of them. An 'actor' at the same level.
Realization hurt.
And now, with what was, supposedly, the final mission just around the corner, I had little time to actually connect to my teammates. Or the Navy crewmen.
I promised myself to do better the next time. I would not make the same mistake in Mass Effect 2. Regardless of how it would play out.
Once I felt like I had control of the situation.
Realization hurt - but, in some sense, it also was a release.
A box, coloured black and green. I didn't know it's contents, and frankly, it wasn't my business. But I had promised a dying man to make sure it would reach the right people, so I would do it - simple as.
It required a bit of a mental effort to approach Millers lockers. Opening it and searching through them, even more so. Surprisingly, his personal effects were stowed quite orderly. A mark of a career soldier, as I learned.
Only one of the shelves was a mess and of course immediately drew my attention to it. I just had to check.
They were spread all over the place - but it turned out to be a deck of cards.
At first I snorted. Of course, the infamous gambler would keep a deck of cards close to him.
Then I took a closer look, and found myself speechless.
It was a full deck of french cards for a poker game - fifty-two cards, Diamonds, Hearts, Spades and Clubs, no Jokers. But strangely - no inherent 'style', or pictures.
Virtually every set of cards out there - well, human, or rather European ones - comes with pictures, especially for Jack, Queen and King. This set didn't have any of them printed on - only the corner indices appeared to have been printed on by industrial means.
Instead, each and every card was… handpainted. And with great detail.
I carefully and with no small sense of wonder browsed through the whole deck. Every single card was painted with care and embellished with detail that betrayed a calm hand and a high level of craftsmanship.
A flock of tiny doves circled around a winged Ace of Hearts. A grinning skull with a crown on its head and a coin between its teeth marked the King of Spades. Ten delicate roses, with petals and thorny stems that were intertwined, forming an impenetrable hedge as Ten of Hearts. Skeletal hands held each of the Eight of Spades, ghostly ones the Eight of Clubs. A shotgun, a sniper rifle, a pistol and an assault rifle adorned four of the Five of Diamonds - the center one carried a knife. A soldier, fully geared and with a British flag on the visible pauldron, facing a grave as the Jack of Hearts, with a barely readable slogan in the sky above him - 'Into Fire, Unafraid'.
The Seven of Spades carried the caricature of a gluttonous man sitting on a gem-encrusted throne, hungrily biting into a leg of pork he carried in one hand, while the other held a chain with which he had bound what appeared to be malnourished, female slave to him. All of it was drawn by hand, in all of its disgusting details. It required a bit of thinking, but eventually, I figured out that it meant to represent the Seven Deadly Sins from Christian teachings, and upon closer inspection found every single one of them represented.
In stark contrast, I grinned lightly as I found what appeared to be the same woman being carried out on the back of the Jack of Hearts - out of what looked like a banged-up building, surrounded by two other soldiers checking their corners. Three of Diamonds. And I had to grind my teeth when the two were facing each other, holding hands, on the Queen of Hearts.
I briefly wondered if Miller had made all these cards himself. Seeing that some cards appeared unfinished, some of them marked with thin pencil-drawings to be coloured later answered that question. Surely enough, I later found a chest with all the needed colours, pencils and brushes.
On one hand, if my interpretations were correct, then Miller hadn't told me the whole truth back in that shed on Feros. On the other hand, I felt like I had read a dead man's diary. Which was, in a sense, true - and made me both sad and uncomfortable.
At the bottom of the deck, the last card I flipped up was obviously the one dearest to the artist. It was an emblem, but every single aspect, every single feather looked almost realistic, every single ray of light that shone off the steel could have blinded me if I looked at it too closely.
Two wings extended from a sword's cross-guard and the upper part of the blade, the sword itself pointing down and piercing right through the Ace of Spades that served as the backdrop. It was unembellished, but stainless - a soldier's tool of war, not some fancy wall display. Yet, the entire ensemble was surrounded by a stylized halo.
And below that, on a parchment and in greatly decorated letters, the slogan.
WHO - DARES - WINS
I can't remember how long I sat on Miller's cot, deep in thought. I didn't notice how Kaidan first approached, stopped at the entry and probably watched me for a moment.
I jumped as he made his presence known by a soft knock against the wall, but then relaxed when I didn't catch any impatient or angry vibes from him. As much as that was possible, given the circumstances, he looked relaxed.
"What are you up to, Raven?"
I cleared my throat. "Before he… died," I hesitated at the memory, "Corporal Miller asked me to retrieve a box from his possessions and make sure that it reaches his family." I nodded towards it, then continued. "But while I was looking for it, I found… this." And pointed at the cards.
Kaidan smiled sadly. "You found his art project, then."
"You knew about it?"
"Yeah. He didn't want it to be public knowledge, but I walked in on him after Therum. Caught him with paint all over his fingers. He asked me to not tell anyone though. I quote: 'Man's gotta keep some secrets, y'know. Keep the ladies guessing, makes ya more interesting than you oughtta be.'"
Despite myself, I had to laugh. Kaidan's impression of Miller's wish-wash of an accent had been all too accurate.
Kaidan grinned at me. It faded out to a wistful smile.
"Good to see you recovering, Raven. You had us all worried."
"I am sorry about that, Sir."
He shook his head. "Don't go 'sir' on me. It doesn't matter anymore. We're equals now."
He looked around. "I've had my fair share of bad luck in my career, Raven. But I've never lost one of my men before. It… sucks, to say the least. And then having to turn my back on the Alliance... "
He rightened himself up and spoke a bit fiercer. "But that only makes it more important to stop Saren before the Reapers come waltzing in. If we can manage to do that, then they will not have given their lives in vain."
"As you say, Sir - I mean…"
I realized that I had almost fallen back into the habit of merely listening and being passive instead of interacting and trying to be active.
Scolding myself, I ground my teeth and continued.
"As you say, Kaidan. We would have been stupid had we stuck around to wait until we could only watch. I dunno how you feel about this… but giving the finger to both Council and Alliance was the best choice we had, I think." I shrugged. "SPECTRE's are supposed to act independently, aren't they?"
"I'm not surprised to hear you say that." He folded his arms and smiled.
"Why wouldn't I?" I replied and made a gesture. "What is the fucking point in giving us the order to hunt Saren - just to then call off the hunt when it really matters? I'm sorry, but if that is the Alliance way, then I'm not sure if I would like to work under anyone but Shepard. No offense to you, personally."
"None taken. But, in the Alliance's defense - that's the first time I have seen so much incompetence in its leadership. And even then, it was mostly Udina - excuse my language, being an asshole. Usually, thinking somewhat independently is actually encouraged. Not to the extremes of what we are doing, of course - ", he actually chuckled - "but enough to play to people's strengths."
I chuckled. "Well, if it were all incompetent all the time, we would still be back on Earth - or a 'protectorate' of the Turians. So, I guess you're right." A thought crossed my mind. A strange time to bring it up - but then again, I was not sure if I would get another chance. "Actually, something I wanted to ask you… If I had signed up the regular way, where do you think I would be right now?"
When he looked mildly puzzled, I clarified: "What I mean is: I know that what I've been going through isn't how things usually go for recruits." Least, I hope so. "What would have been the regular way for me, and at what level of training would I be?"
He thought for a moment. "That isn't so easy to tell. You clearly got something, or else you would not have been able to keep up with us. Mhm… I think you may have just been promoted to PFC and be en route to your first frontline deployment. Usually, marines don't start to specialize in a specific style of combat until they are being promoted to that rank and have at least some at least minor combat experience. We kind of had to rush you through the basics and specialize your style early. I'm not saying your training would have been slower - but broader, covering more subjects."
"What do you mean?"
"For example, you would have been taught not only how to repair, but also, how to operate the Mako a bit more in-depth. You could perhaps, depending on which unit you'd been assigned to, fly and maintain a Kodiak shuttle. But you definitely would know a bit more about a ship - in a worst-case-scenario, marines are expected to replace injured servicemen at a basic level, just to keep the ship operational. And it goes on and on with things like basic decrypting and encrypting. Or a basic understanding of the Alliance's operational structures and tactics." He shrugged. "You would have spent a few months learning all of this, then be promoted to PSC and be deployed on routine patrols with minimal risks involved, just to get the hang of things before eventually deemed combat-ready and sent to the frontlines, as I said. But I could also see you undergoing Infiltrator training right now, since you are clearly quite effective with the high-powered rifles. It is difficult to tell."
In an earlier life, I would have been happy to be endorsed as an Infiltrator. But now with some experience under my belt, it struck me as odd. "An Infiltrator? I am not all that sneaky, I have to say."
"Alliance Infiltrators aren't all about being stealthy and actually infiltrating enemy positions, Raven. That job mostly goes to the SpecOps Infiltrators, the N-ranks, like myself. Marine Infiltrators mainly fight as you do, with a squad. They're called Infiltrators as well because of their abilities to fire outside of the enemy's effective range and then disappearing to either confuse the enemy, or tear apart their formation. That, and they usually carry the majority of a squads hacking and electronic countermeasure equipment. You're infiltrating their comfort zone and keep them off-balance as much as you can."
He shrugged. "They're also called 'Skirmishers' or simply 'Marksmen'. Both of those descriptions are more accurate, if you're asking me. But, who knows? Maybe you'd actually be good enough to be invited to N-school and start training as a real Infiltrator. I'm not sure if you'd make it, though. The training is… unforgiving, and rejection rates are as high as eighty percent, even for only the base N1 grade. But even if you don't pass, it's valuable experience - and many that didn't succeed were given a second chance later, with more experience under their belts."
He gave me a curious look. "Why are you asking, though?"
I sighed. "I'm an optimist and believe that we will survive, believe it or not. When we do, that means that Saren's dead and the Reapers stopped. I'm trying to figure out what I will be doing after that. Did Shepard tell you about the promotion she promised me?"
"She's mentioned it, yes. It's not the way this usually goes - I mean, you're lacking… say, three or four months of bootcamp to be qualified for that rank, but stranger things have happened."
"Have they? 'Cause, to be honest, I'm not sure if I'm ready for a promotion."
Reminder: I was only twenty-one, had been aboard the NORMANDY for six months, and as Kaidan just had proven, lacked quite a lot of knowledge.
Kaidan's grin broadened. "They say Admiral Hackett was once promoted to be the XO of the KILIMANJARO - and that he had to work during the day and study all night to actually get his commission. Apparently he needed to catch up on training he should have done at least two promotions prior. Might just be a rumour, but I would believe it in a heartbeat. And you don't need to worry too much. You'd get promoted anyway - you just need to complete the Advanced classes of the bootcamp in order to qualify, and have your paygrade raised."
I pursed my lips and slowly nodded in response. That cleared some things up which I should have asked a long time ago.
His smile vanished quickly. "It's also good to hear you thinking about the future, by the way."
I stopped. And just like that, abruptly, I was pulled back into the present. And the uncomfortable atmosphere I was in.
Fumbling for words and thoughts alike, I spoke slowly. "... What else am I supposed to do? Can't keep thinking about things I can't change, right? That's what Kirrahe, Shepard and Liara have been saying. And Joker too."
He nodded, then grabbed his head with obvious signs of pain. "They are right, all of them. And it's a good thing that you're starting to realize it. You're not alone on that, Raven. Shepard and I both feel the same."
He groaned lightly.
"Sorry, I need to cut this short and sleep a bit. I recommend you do as well. Ilos is waiting. And it will be challenging, for sure. "
I merely saluted. "I will be ready when the call comes." Nothing else needed to be said.
He turned around to leave, but looked over his shoulders. "As for that box… I suppose it is green, with black stripes?"
I nodded, surprised.
"You won't find it in there. I have already sent it to Miller's family."
Seeing my surprised face, he smiled… I think.
"I know my guys. Making sure their most valuable possessions get to their families safely… That's my job as well, sadly. You don't need to worry about it anymore. Goodnight, Raven."
And with that, he left me in the company of a deck of cards and my own thoughts.
And there were a lot of both.
I felt a sting at what felt like abandoning a personal duty, but took Kaidan's advice to heart. It was not my job, and I trusted him to take good care of it.
Still, my spirits were raised, and I felt a tiny bit more in control of things. Every small step counted. And all of this talk about what the Alliance had to offer had brought me a huge step closer to answering a question I'd had for a long time.
One thing, after the other, 'Raven'. Handling everything at once is not good for you.
As for the incomplete deck of cards… I took custody of them.
Theft? I wouldn't say so. More of a reminder.
Not of my own guilt… but of a good man who gave his life to see others safe.
It was only a few hours later that I finally made a move I should have made a few week ago.
The Mako was nearing completion. All components were replaced - with the exception of the wheels, which would be reattached when all of the checks were completed. Our estimated time of arrival in the Ilos sector was T-3 hours.
Garrus painted over the replaced parts. We had worked as we were used to - as if Virmire and my… major issues had never happened. I didn't know the reasons back then - but I did notice him watching me often, and only if he thought I wouldn't notice.
He treated me as usual. To the point that I even started cracking small jokes again. It worked miracles, even took my mind off the last kilometers to the end.
I had dived into the storage compartment below. Evidently, to get our spare tires. Not wrong. But the item hidden between them was of more importance.
I freed the data disc from its storage space and weighed it in my hand, as good as I could in that cramped environment. I looked at it for a few minutes, pondering.
Of course, I had my omnitool on my arm. Within ten seconds, I could have a razor-sharp blade at the ready to cut it in half.
It took me ten minutes to actually get myself to do so.
One major block in my mind - I now saw with more clarity - had always revolved about my need to stay alive, no matter the cost. More than a human's normal survival instinct. As long as I was the only one close to Shepard who knew the truth, I had to survive to make sure that my knowledge would not be wasted.
Ever since I had recorded this disc… I felt a bit more freedom to do as I saw fit.
I had plans for 'the gap', if 'the gap' would happen as it did in-game. No plan however could guarantee my survival - and the one I intended on following maybe even less so than any other.
Should the worst come to worst - then my knowledge should not go to waste. Crow would back me up, but there were too many question marks on his end as well.
This data disc had to survive to give me the freedom I needed to take risks. But… it could not.
With the destruction of the NORMANDY a very real possibility, there was no guarantee that the data on that storage would survive the impact on Alchera. Or, hell, even land on Alchera at all. Equally, how was I supposed to make sure Shepard would actually find it - but only if I was dead? Because if she found it with me still being alive, it could cause all sorts of troubles.
No, I concluded. I needed to create a failsafe storage. But not this way.
It required only one cut to make the disc unreadable. Four cuts, and the small pieces left fit nicely into the ship's trash compactors. It could not be restored.
I sighed and began to climb out again. For once, I was sure I had made the right call.
I don't remember much of the briefing.
In fact, I don't remember much of us approaching Ilos, aside from what I mentioned before.
Apparently, Shepard asked me to tell the others about my theories regarding the Citadel - and the conclusions. If I was right, then Saren was expecting to mass a force powerful enough to smash aside the Citadel defense fleet - and in addition, the Citadel was a massive weak point Saren was going to exploit.
I made no mention of the fact that he would kind-of do both and made it abundantly clear that, while it was a real possibility given everything we knew - there was by far no guarantee he'd attack the Citadel. No point in tipping my hand.
Kaidan suggested that we called up the Council immediately, but Shepard shut down that suggestion - they would not listen anyway. An uncharacteristic answer, but more than understandable. Sadly, I can't remember any details.
Just as sadly, my lapses in memory include the legendary discussion about dropping in in our Mako and Joker showing off his legendary flying skills.
"I can do it."
"Joker?"
"I can do it…!"
According to others, my only comment was - "He said he can do it, so let's get to work."
"Gear up and head for the Mako. Joker! Get us right on top of that bastard."
Sounds awesome, to me. Probably got me a few rolled eyes.
I have a blurred memory of entering the Mako through the side hatch as the last one. I probably don't need to mention it, but every single one of Shepard's companions came with us. It's likely that I had a brief, philosophical moment about how this was being the last hurdle, but I'll never know.
I probably looked at my pauldron a few times.
I had scuffed up the '905' designation, and the Alliance markings.
A spur-of-the-moment thing. And yet somehow, it felt right.
I remember that the impact planetside felt harder than ever before. Maybe because we were a bit out of practice. Maybe because we simply had no room to properly slow down. Could have been down to my injuries as well.
We missed Saren by only a few meters. As much as I wished we had done it, firing the Mako's guns during a drop could've caused us to crash.
That being said, the 155mm-cannon, controlled by the VI, gave us excellent covering fire as we ran for the security override to open the lock Saren had closed right in our faces.
I had little time to appreciate Ilos' strange beauty. Two geth armatures made sure of that. However, with the new top-of-the-line equipment Shepard had procured, we simply melted them.
It felt surprisingly good to not have to aim for weak points, but simply chose the unmagnified option of my sight and keep pressing the trigger until they exploded.
Similarly, it felt… good to be back in the fight. No needless worries, no endless brooding. A clear goal, clear orders, and visible enemies that went down when they were hit often enough.
It was a simple business. That doesn't mean that it was easy, but… simple.
I must confess… I felt fully alive again. Which was probably a bad sign for my mental health. It helped, though, so I was not bothered by it. Not that I had time to waste on such thoughts anyway.
Down into the ruins, almost never stopping to combat the Geth, but wiping them out as we went.
My body started aching soon, but some painkillers removed the unpleasant sensations from my conscious.
The surroundings were always just a blur. No time to appreciate the masterful architecture, or the gloomy atmosphere. No time to slow down. The clock kept on ticking.
Only one ride in an ancient elevator gave us a small respite. My ammo block was at well over 95% capacity, I had only used two charges of medigel on Tali and Shepard - with Tali being hit giving me a minor panic attack, I'll admit - and I still had eight flashbangs and incendiary grenades left each.
Then, further. Always further.
Things went a bit dicey when the Geth set up an actual defense, a few meters away from the old command station. Their Prime unit was a tough nut to crack, but once his shields fell, Shepard and Wrex simply lifted it up to smash it into the ground, while I myself covered the wreckage with a fire bomb to make sure.
Not subtle - but effective.
I dimly remember the messed-up and corrupted, 50.000 years old recording we stumbled upon while overriding Saren's hacks. For some reason, I had forgotten it even existed.
It was quite ghostly. And I didn't understand a word - only Shepard did. A warning against the Reaper invasions. Too degraded to be of any real use.
As we left, all the recording repeated was one loud, hounding sound which echo seems to followed us.
Shepard ground her teeth and didn't translate. But I thought that I remembered it still…
"Cannot be stopped!… Cannot be stopped!..."
Entering the Prothean temple… or rather, the mass grave this structure had turned into was an experience I will never forget.
It's one thing to see everything with the limited graphics a 2006 game can offer. It's a wholly different experience walking in the ashes, when your eyes see it all and can put it into perspective.
And I was only watching the internal monitors of the Mako as we returned to our 'tank' to continue our hunt.
I remained silent as my teammates discussed the stasis pods on the wall. Possibly thousands of dead Protheans. Expired long ago as the ruin continued to decay. Not a pleasant thought.
We took out stragglers as we went. The few units Saren had left to slow us down… did not really do a superb job.
Until, finally, what appeared to be a barrier of pure energy stopped us in our path.
Seeing the opening in the wall to the right, Shepard ordered us to dismount and investigate. An elevator, as it turned out.
As our battle formation dictated, I stood far behind the others and could actually take in the whole atmosphere.
I wish I could have opened my rebreather systems, or removed the hood altogether. There are some places where you can smell history - old libraries, for example.
Alas, we were on a mission, and the chemical composition of Ilos' atmosphere was not something we were willing to gamble with. Even if it was breathable as our systems claimed, there was always the risk of some pollen creating massive allergic reactions. Or something nasty like that.
Plus, it probably would only have been the same experience as on Feros. Dust and decay, only amplified a hundredfold given all the plant life and being underground.
And more and more of the sickeningly sweet stench of rotting bodies. Could be rotting plantlife as well. One way, or the other, I was glad not having to smell it.
Riding elevators older than galactic civilization would be nerve wracking to anyone, I'm sure. As blurred as my memory is, I remember shifting around uncomfortably and looking for the tiniest signs of parts breaking and us plummeting to certain death.
And the others were even more nervous.
Naturally, it was a relief to step back out - to a sight that still echoes in my mind.
Just in time, I remembered to activate my recording programs.
The game really did not do it justice.
The ancient ruins looked like they had embedded themselves neatly into the roots of the gigantic trees above, likely thousands of years old. A blend of nature and the ancient pinnacle of civilization. And in its center, on a walkway made from stone and steel… a console with a red hologram, flickering and glitching out everywhere.
Yet the voice, as mechanical and artificial as it sounded, resonated within the chambers and echoed off far away walls.
"You are not Prothean…. But You are not Machine either. This eventuality was one of many that was anticipated. This is why we sent our warning through the beacons."
I remained quiet, caught in the moment. Memories of my first playthrough of Mass Effect came back to me - only now in reality.
I could almost hear the now-iconic theme song.
"Looks like… some kind of VI program.", Garrus said, clearly affected by the whole atmosphere as well. "Badly damaged."
"I do not sense the taint of indoctrination upon any of You. Unlike the other that passed recently. Perhaps there is still hope."
"... how can we understand you?" Liara asked, wide-eyed. "Why aren't you speaking the Prothean language?"
"I have been monitoring your communications since You arrived at this facility. I have translated my output into a format You will comprehend."
It sounded so patient to my ears, so calm - which of course was an idiotic notion, given that it was a VI. Incapable of emotion or independent thought.
It started flickering more, trying to materialize some sort of an image. The glitches became more intense, forming ghosts of times long since turned to ash.
Did it even notice that its efforts at communicating with us visually were useless? Did it even matter to a guardian with fifty thousand years of stoic service?
"My Name is VIGIL. You are safe here, for the moment. But that is likely to change. Soon, nowhere will be safe."
A/N: Hallo.
So much for jinxing stuff, huh? Well, there has been a very good reason for that - my PC broke over Christmas and was not fixed until two weeks into January. Subsequently, I had to recover as many as my documents as I could before piecing everything together again. Because my backup notes... Are some actual, honest-to-god pieces of paper. Ah well, it just be like that sometimes.
That being said, this chapter's exceptionally long once more - so, I don't suppose you will mind very much. And it has cleared some things and progressed others nicely enough. It's not that easy to balance everything out… but I hope it's still acceptable for what it is. A way of both progressing the story and adding some - for the lack of a better word, 'humanity' to it. There may not have happened a lot on the surface. But I hope you can see that things have changed and are changing below it.
Rest assured, some questions are left unanswered - I know. But they may just come back to be answered at a later time.
By the way - I would like to take this opportunity to make you aware that there is a Russian translation of this story in the making! It should be relatively easy to find - and yes, I fully approve of it. In fact, I think it's brilliant. Thanks to the translator 'BlankAsBlanket' for his work - Большое спасибо!
And, of course, Thank You to 5 Coloured Walker for his Beta efforts, too!
Well then - there are only a few steps left to take, and I look forward to getting them completed. I hope you do as well. If my calculations are correct, then, actually, there are only two chapters plus one epilogue left to work on. Unfortunately, with my Christmas break over as well I can't dedicate the time I would like to - alas, as per usual, they will be completed in due time.
Thank you all for reading, and I hope to see you for the Battle of the Citadel!
last edit; 25.01.2020 - I actually messed up some formatting. Only the first of many mistakes to be revealed, I'm sure.