Chapter 42. Empty Condolences
Two Days Later, 2155 CE, Citadel, Spectre Office
"Cover story flimsy," Valern's hologram mumbled. Even though he was only a few minutes away, the salarian wasn't physically present. It would raise a lot questions if he were to be seen entering the Spectre Office. Councilors summoned the agents of the council if they required their talents, they didn't come looking for them within one of the several command centers they maintained across the Citadel. "Thresher maws would leave visible disruption of local terrain."
"It's not like we'll let people take a stroll around Akuze anytime soon," Harper countered.
"Still, could use improving."
"It will have to do for now," the human retorted, the unnatural shape and color of his eyes hidden by his holographic depiction. In the early stages of their joint-operation, he had been mistrusting of Cerberus' director. Back then physical contact had been considered the trigger for the artifacts' influence and since Harper had come into contact with one, it seemed unlikely that he had managed to remain unaffected. Only time and the medical reports indicating that the man hadn't been affected beyond the very visible change to his eyes had caused the turian Spectre to finally put his trust in him. After taking a sip from the beverage he was so font of, Harper continued. "Besides, the public is our smallest problem right now."
"Agreed," Saren's brother replied while presumably looking at the frozen image of the spiral-like relict responsible for this disaster. "If the artifacts really work in a similar fashion to this technology, they may already have caused irreversible damage."
"You think we've been compromised?" Director Rei asked calmly, which in itself was surprising considering that besides Desolas and Harper, he was the one most likely to be affected by this newly discovered effect. He was one of the members of their operation that had spent significant time around the artifacts, potentially getting exposed to the same signals and sounds that 'Object Theta' had used to turn the Cerberus agents on two separate occasions.
"Us? Unlikely. As far as our analysis suggests, the signal needs time to get a firm hold of someone," the general shook his head, "and just like your surviving operative, neither of us were around the artifacts long enough for the effects to manifest themselves," a moment passed before Desolas went on, his tone now somewhat more somber. "But the people who took a room full of these things to Khar'shan?"
"Spirits, the batarians are sitting on a ticking bomb," Saren finished his brother's line of thought. "They probably don't even know what these things are really capable of. We should warn them."
"Warning Hegemony about the artifacts would risk exposing ourselves to the galaxy," Valern injected.
"Not only that, it'd also be pointless," Desolas muttered."Compromised or not, they're batarians, they won't listen to us. If we tell them, they'll probably think that we're trying to get them to hand over valuable tech and start tinkering with the artifacts even more just to spite us."
While he had little love left for the batarian people, he couldn't help but feel sorry for them. If the artifacts worked exactly like the spiral and the Hegemony wasn't aware of their real danger, it was already too late. Hundreds of high ranking batarians could've already been swayed to the Harbinger's plot and if that was the case, they were not only beyond saving but a danger to the rest of the galaxy as well. A hundred and fifty turned Cerberus operatives on one planet were a localized threat, that could easily be contained. The same couldn't be said about half the Hegemony's leadership being compromised. That was a devastating scenario.
They'd have to keep an even closer eye on the pariah state from here on out, just in case the Harbinger decided to tell his new pawns to start another war.
"And dig their own grave even deeper while they're at it," Rei sighed. "Putting the artifacts aside, I'm afraid that the Leviathan might've already sealed their faith. If an orb or a spiral can do this, then I don't want to know what might be hiding in that wreckage."" he said as his hologram was replaced by the image of one of the creatures that the human forces had encountered on Akuze. He could see why the humans had decided to call them husks, Haliat and his pirates had looked like twisted cybernetic experiments but at least they had still been somewhat alive. These things were a different story, they were shells of their former selves, reanimated corpses turned into killing machines.
"Ship ancient and heavily damaged, might be harmless," the salarian reasoned.
"Or it might hold something far worse entirely," the human argued. "If this incident taught us one thing, it's that we know far too little about these artifacts to work under the assumption that they're harmless. From here on out, even the air around them is dangerous until proven otherwise."
"Point taken," Valern nodded before placing a hand in front of his face. "Maybe time to bring in Asari Republics has arrived?"
"Which republics? The ones that hate my people and will second guess anything we have to say, the one's who couldn't care less about what the council tells them or the ones that are too small to make a real difference?" Harper spoke up in return, repeating his position on the subject matter. While both the human and turian governments and portions of STG had known about their investigation for years, asari authorities had completely been left out of the picture until now. The lack of a centralized government to confront made it difficult for them to find the right point of contact. The Primarch of Palaven, STG's command and the HSA's heads of government were all offices that Saren's allies could trust to keep their secret until the right time had come, the same couldn't be said about the individual states that formed the basis of asari society. If one republic got wind of the other one knowing something they didn't, favours and ancient debts would be called in and before they could put a stop to it, the extranet would be flooded with their knowledge. Those were the drawbacks of a society as free as the asari's, secrets didn't stay secret for very long.
"Not talking about republics themselves, talking about military. Individual matriarchs unreliable, follow interests of their followers, not the interests of Asari Repulbics. However Republican Navy different. Used to keeping secrets, even from own government. Kept discovery of the Citadel hidden for years," he breathed in for a short second to recover from the fast pace at which the words left his mouth. "Trustworthy ally."
"If ships like the Leviathan start showing up al over the galaxy, we'll need the asari," Desolas nodded after a few moments. "The Destiny Ascension is the most powerful ship in the galaxy, fighting a war without it would be foolish. Unless there is any opposition, I'll reach out to an old contact of mine and see what I can do," he stopped briefly, waiting for someone to speak up. When no reply came, he went on with a nod. "Good. I'll make the necessary preparations and inform you on further developments as they happen."
"General, do you still think that we can beat these things in a conventional fashion?" Harper once more spoke up just as his brother had finished his sentence and this time Saren found himself agreeing. Between the Leviathan of Dis, these 'husks', which seemed to be reanimated corpses, and the artifacts' newly discovered abilities, he too had come to question if his brother's plan would be the complete success they needed it to be. An enemy who could turn their own dead into weapons wasn't exactly the kind of foe you'd want to fight in a war of attrition. For every soldier they lost, their foe gained one and even the battles they won would give their enemy something to use against them.
"I think that unless we find another way, fighting them with everything we have is the best and only option we can prepare for," his brother replied as his own holographic depiction turned to face the human.
"If Akuze proved anything, it's that we still don't know enough to really prepare for the Harbinger's endgame," Harper said in return. "This phenomenon the artifacts use to," he paused his explanation, trying to find the right word, "indoctrinate people into switching sides, it needs to be studied. We need to find a way to defend ourselves against it and we need to find a way to reliably detect it. If we don't, our armies may not even get to the frontlines of your war without sleeper agents tearing them apart from within."
"Data suggests that electromagnetic waves and different sounds are partially responsible for effect, shielding ourselves against them difficult but possible," Valern was the first to answer. "However can't account for other possible causes until more in depth study of its function. Detection also problematic."
"Even if we had access to the artifacts, Director," his brother replied on the basis of the salarian's brief assessment. "Studying them is out of the question. The fate of your field team proves that it's too dangerous."
"What's the alternative, staying out of their way? What happens if there's another incursion? Are we just going to ignore it?"
"Until we have the certainty that we won't be compromised, our only option is to stay as far away from them as possible," Desolas repeated.
"Good people died to give us that knowledge. The least we can do is make their deaths count."
"And we will," Desolas sighed,"by making sure that we don't repeat the same mistakes they made."
"The mistakes weren't theirs, they were ours," the human muttered in return. "If we had studied the other artifacts instead of blowing them up, we would've been able to prevent this."
"Jack, the general is right. If these things can sway us by simply being in the same room, destroying them is the only thing we can do," the other human offered.
"Destroying the artifacts might win battles but knowing how they work?" Harper countered,"Figuring out what makes them and their creator tick? That's how we'll win your war, General Arterius."
"To vanquish a foe requires more than just brute force," Saren began to recall a proverb that had been drilled into the minds of most turians at some point in their lives,"to vanquish a foe requires understanding-"
"Planing and cunning," his brother interrupted. "and on any other day, I'd agree with you. But if we make ourselves vulnerable by trying to understand our foe, the only victory that will be gained from it will belong to him," the older turian went on. "I understand that this recent display of our foe's abilities has all of us on edge but we can't allow ourselves to be compromised. We're the only thing standing between the galaxy and these monsters. If we fall, if we're 'indoctrinated' to the Harbinger's will," he quoted Harper,"then there won't be any hope for any one."
While that might've sufficed to calm down Harper, Saren found himself unsatisfied with the answer. Harper was right, they had to do something. Drawing battle lines and digging trenches would only get them so far.
"When we started this, I promised myself to shine a torch into the shadow the Harbinger is hiding in," Saren replied, recalling the day all of this had began after one of his closest friends had died on some nameless patch of dirt, chasing a rogue, crazed Blackwatch captain compromised by the same artifact that had brought their group together. "From the shadows, we preserve the light," he repeated the words imprinted on the sigil of the legion his brother was in charge of and he himself had been trained in. "How are we supposed to preserve the light, if we're scared of stepping into the shadows?" If the following silence was any indication, his fellow conspirators hadn't expected him of all people to oppose his brother. Desolas and him had always formed a united front. Even when Saren had gone to hunt for clues himself, the growing worry that they wouldn't be able to win against the Harbinger driving him to use his status as a Spectre to investigate privately and recover prothean artifacts and intelligence on his own, they had stood together on every occasion.
"If we study the artifacts, we wouldn't step into the shadows, we'd step into the Harbinger's trap," his brother disagreed before looking at his omni-tool. "I realise that some of you don't agree with the way I plan to fight this threat but I also trust that all of you know better than to meddle with something we don't understand. I will contact you individually once I managed to reach my asari contact," he paused again, looking at Saren himself now, his voice growing darker, the faintest hint of something the younger turian would most closely describe as a mixture of fear and determination. "Until then, I suggest that we go our separate ways, sort things out on our own homefronts and start making preparations for a further escalation of the Harbinger's effort. He showed us another piece of his plan on Akuze and unless I'm mistaken, it won't be long until subterfuge and secrecy are replaced by brute force," and just like that the holograms started to disappear, one after the other vanishing into thin air until only a lone blue projection remained, its continued presence stopping Saren from disconnecting himself.
"Was there anything else?" he asked, while looking at the hologram.
"I get the feeling that you and I seem to have reached a similar conclusion, Agent Arterius," the human replied before pulling on the cigarette in his hand, its tip glowing a lighter shade of blue for a few seconds.
"And what would that be, Director Harper?"
"That your brother's strategy will not succeed on its own and that he's no longer capable of seeing beyond his own way of doing things," his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at that, not because he didn't like what the human had to say but because a part of him felt like it wasn't his place to question Desolas. His brother was one of the most accomplished commanders of the Hierarchy, experienced on every level of command. If anyone would lead them to victory, it would be him.
Right?
While Desolas didn't talk about it, Saren knew that his encounter with Haliat had changed his brother in a way he didn't think Desolas could be changed. It had shown him something that genuinely terrified him, something that he couldn't conquer through his own strength. He could see how that might lead to his brother's resolve outweighing his reason. When faced with the impossible, Blackwatch had taught both of them to simply keep fighting. Saren's time as a Spectre had shown him that there were different ways to fight an enemy but Desolas was a soldier through and through. When faced with an enemy intend on destroying him, his brother's natural reaction was to make it as hard as possible for the enemy to achieve that and focus on one thing and one thing alone, winning the fight. It was this mindset that had made him the exemplary soldier and general he was today.
But was it also clouding his judgment? Was it responsible for him openly questioning Desolas? Was his resolve to defeat the Harbinger head on leading him on a path that would result in a catastrophe? Surprised by the sudden doubt he was feeling, Saren remained silent, taking a moment to consider Harper's words. No matter how much he disliked the notion, the possibility of Desolas focusing his efforts on the wrong solution existed.
"Even if I can't deny that there is some truth in what you say, the artifacts are too dangerous. Whatever you think you need to do with them, Director, don't," he finally spoke. Even if his brother's judgment was clouded, exposing themselves to the Harbinger's influence would do them no favours. He might not agree with his methods but there was no doubt in the dangers this 'indoctrination' presented.
"I am not talking about the artifacts, Agent Arterius."
In retrospective, it shouldn't have surprised Saren. Humans might've been crazy but they weren't suicidal, his time with Anderson taught him that there were things even they considered too risky to attempt.
"Then what is it that you're talking about?" he asked, his curiosity peaked.
"Do you recall why your brother contacted Doctor T'Soni?" Harper asked, dipping the tip of his cigarette into the small tray at his side. "He wanted someone who could see things from a different perspective, someone willing to try an angle we had previously ignored, overlooked or dismissed. Maybe it's time that we follow her example."
"Meaning?"
"We've been focused on the things right in front of us, searching for relicts of the past and digging through ancient ruins in the hopes of finding answers," the director began, "yet we've ignored some of the implications our discoveries had. Take the coordinates you recovered, we never really followed up on them."
"The ones in the Perseus Veil?" Saren remembered. "We checked them, there was nothing there."
"That's not entirely true, we only searched in front of the Veil, we didn't actually travel beyond it," the human countered.
"The only thing behind the Veil are geth."
"Precisely this attidude kept us from finding whatever indoctrinated Had'dah," the human's reply caused Saren to recall his encounter with the batarian entrepreneur. It had been his and Anderson's first mission. "You said it yourself, if we're too scared to step into the shade, how can we hope to achieve anything?" Harper figured before exhaling a small cloud of smoke and looking at something just out of view, the faint glint in his eyes suggesting that it was the sun Saren knew to be visible from his office. "The geth are the only lead we never followed up on and as of right now, they're the only one we have left."
"Ignoring that they tend to shoot anyone who trespasses into the Veil," Saren countered briefly, certain that he didn't need to add that their isolation had come at the prize of billions of quarian lives, "the geth cut themselves off from the galaxy nearly three hundred years ago. What makes you think they'll want to talk to you?"
"The fact that their behaviour is changing," Harper shrugged before a beeping originated from Saren's omni-tool. Opening the file, the first question the turian asked himself was how exactly the director had gotten his hands on a classified quarian reconnaissance report. Endangered species or not, the quarians still held onto a lot of the knowledge that had been necessary to create the geth, cyber security included. "Forward observers of the Patrol Fleet are reporting the same thing across the board, geth scouts are leaving their territory and pushing into the Attican Traverse. Open the document and see for yourself." He recognized some of these worlds mentioned in it from their own data base, most of them had been scheduled for expeditions until the incident on Akuze had placed everything on a hold and at least half of them had only been marked because of the map he had found. "And as far as we can tell, they're looking for the same thing we're looking for."
That assumption was more than just reasonable.
"Director, trying to contact the geth is just as likely to get you killed as studying one of the artifacts."
"So is doing nothing," the man retorted in a way Saren had to agree with. "Besides, talking to the geth is only one of the ways we can figure out what they're up to." Sometimes Saren wondered why both the humans who directly worked with him always had to be so cryptic. It certainly wasn't related to their species, Anderson was never like this. Did they simply enjoy people asking them questions?
"What do you have in mind?"
"We aren't the only ones interested in the geth. The quarians are following their every step," he explained. "I intend to use that."
"You want to spy on the quarians?"
"I want you to have a talk with one of them," another beep. Now Saren was looking at the picture of a quarian, an attached file letting him know that this was the commander of the Migrant Fleet's operation in the Attican Traverse. How exactly did Harper have all of this? Was the HSA actively spying on the quarians? Now that he thought about it, they most likely were. The Migrant Fleet, home to the last survivors of a species, tended to be treated with justified suspicion wherever it went. The captains of the armada had the nasty habit of strip mining uninhabited worlds in their path, even if they were claimed by other sovereign nations or corporations. It made sense for the humans to keep an eye on them, especially if their scouts were now moving through what was largely considered the HSA's primary room of expansion. He just hoped that the Migrant Fleet's only interest in the Traverse were the geth, the last thing they needed were overeager quarian captains trying to dodge the human navy on their hunt for resources or bullying smaller independent colonies under the HSA's protection into giving them supplies.
"Why me? Why not one of your people?" Saren asked after closing the file. He got that Harper had decided to have this talk because his earlier actions had shown that he too had some doubt in the plan of his brother but that still didn't explain why he wouldn't just send a human operative to complete the task.
"On their bad days the quarians are only slightly more talkative than the geth. The way I see it, a Spectre has the highest chance of getting them to share what they know about the geth."
"And a Spectre can also chase after whatever it is that they tell him," Saren reasoned. This definitely beat talking to geth or trying to study a piece of alien tech that might turn him into a traitor.
"Exactly."
He hesitated for a moment, which in itself was unusual since Saren had gotten a reputation for taking on every mission, no matter the odds of success. It wasn't the logistics of the assignment that were causing him to consider declining, it was the idea of going behind Desolas' back. Even if he wasn't betraying him, he would still act because he didn't completely trust in him.
A sigh escaped his mouth, breaking the silence that had settled in the room while Harper had waited for an answer. Blackwatch had taught him that the more a hunter knew about his prey, the more likely he was to succeed in his pursuit. Studying the artifacts wasn't an option, the worlds discovered through the map he had unlocked with the help of Doctor T'Soni had fallen out of the picture as well, the risk of finding more of the spirals and fueling the Harbinger's campaign in the process was simply too big and beyond that, they didn't have a whole lot of other leads to follow.
The only way they could learn more about their prey, if one could even consider calling their enemy that given that he had played them at every corner, was by chasing the other hunter they knew to be on its trail, the geth.
"I'll have to make preparations," the turian Spectre finally nodded. If it was between the galaxy and sticking to his brother, there was only one choice he could make, no matter how it made him feel.
"Inform me if you require support."
"Thank you but that won't be necessary," Saren finished while looking at Anderson's contact details."I've got all the support I'll need right here."
26. June 2414 AD, Benning, Park Cemetery
Just a couple more steps.
She could do this.
For something almost completely empty, the coffin was very heavy, far heavier than it ever should've been. Since the HSA had been 'unable' to recover her father's body, wherever it lay, the only things inside the wooden object were a badge, a flag and whatever commendations the man had earned without his family's knowledge over the course of his career.
When Emily had first gotten the news, she hadn't entirely believed it, thinking that someone, somewhere had made a mistake and notified the wrong next of kin as a result. Her dad dying? Never. He might've worked in a dangerous line of work but her father always came back home, it was one of the few consistencies she had grown to rely on in the twenty six years of her life. After she had gotten over the initial phase of denial, Emily had done what she knew she shouldn't have done, locked her own emotions of loss away just like she had done when she had lost soldiers during past missions. It was far from healthy but it had gotten her all the way to Benning and it was also what was currently allowing her to finish the grueling long way towards the still empty hole in the earth in front of her.
There we go, just one more.
That's it.
Letting go of the coffin and returning to her previous position with the rest of the people attending the funeral, she once more pushed down the grief trying to get the better of her and sat down next to her mother, who much like her had taken refuge in the mindset that allowed them to do the things they did. As her eyes remained fixated on the wooden box which was supposed to hold her father but didn't for a reason she'd never know, Emily really went into herself for the first time in days, intending to confront her feelings, something she had intentionally been avoiding up to now.
For her the single worst thing was not knowing why, when or how her dad had died. As an N7, she understood the need to keep the details of whatever operation had resulted in his death a secret but as a daughter she couldn't help but feel cheated. She and her mother deserved to know what had happened, they had a right to get the assurance that his death hadn't been something like a random accident. Secret agent or not, they deserved something akin to closure. Emily had always known that the life her dad had chosen didn't leave a lot of room for what she and her mother wanted or deserved but even then, she felt something other than grief surfacing now that she was actually thinking about his death.
Anger.
She felt angry that she'd never know what had happened, angry that a thousand regulations and protocols were keeping the people who could her what had happened from doing so, angry that in spite of everything he had done for them, everything he had sacrificed for them, most people would never know about her dad's life and his ultimate fate and angry about the HSA being completely content with it staying that way. It didn't seem fair. With everything they had done for the HSA, at least she and her mother deserved some answers, even if it was just the how and why.
The faint noise of someone walking up to the empty podium in front of her snapped Emily out of what she now recognized to be the second phase of grief. Watching as the tall, blonde man made his way towards the coffin, brushing his fingers along its edge as he went past it, she also briefly glanced back to the crowd that was attending the service and spotted several familiar faces, none other than Chancellor Goyle among them. It made sense for her to be here, not only because of what her father had done during his life time, it still felt strange to say it like this, but also because she and her dad had spent years working together on the Citadel. Even if whoever got wind of this gathering would interpret this as nothing but a formal visit, Emily knew that Goyle was here not because her office required her to be but because she wanted to pay her final respects to a now gone friend.
Alerted by the sound of someone clearing his throat, she returned her attention to the podium, her uncle standing behind it, the rare absence of his smile once more grounding this entire ordeal in reality.
"A husband, a father, a friend," he spoke, beginning his eulogy for her father."Alec was all of those things but he was also so much more than that. All of us came here today because in one way or another Alec changed our lives for the better. Wherever he went and whatever he did, he approched it with a commitment and a passion I've rarely seen elsewhere. But it wasn't just how he approached what he did, it was also why he did those things that set him apart from most other people. Until I met Alec, I didn't think that someone could be driven solely by a desire to do good, that someone could put themselves out there every day simply because they believed it was the right thing to do. I always figured that people needed a personal stake to take a risk, even if that stake was something as simple as having a purpose in life," the man paused, glancing into the distance just as the noon sun hit his face. He had long since stopped looking at the small piece of paper in front of him, now speaking from the heart instead. "Meeting Alec changed that. He showed me that the only reason you need to do what's right, the only incentive you need to take action, is the conviction to step up for someone who can't step up for themselves and to make sure that you're on the right side of things when the chips are on the table. For that, I'll always be thankful," she didn't recall a time when she had ever seen this particular side of Grant Redford. It was strange to see him this somber.
"He may no longer be with us but as long as we keep the things he treasured close to our heart, as long as we honor his memory by standing up for the things he believed in, he'll never be truly gone. He will keep living through all of us because we will carry his legacy into the future," she wasn't entirely sure when she had locked eyes with him but by now it was obvious that this final part of his speech had been meant for her. "A mutual friend of Alec and mine once told us that the best test of character anyone can be put through is the one no one else will ever bare witness to and that we only show our true colours when we're faced with the possibility of making a choice no one will ever be able to judge us for," he spoke as if he was remembering something that had only happened yesterday. "And I can personally attest to the fact that Alec always stuck to his principles, no matter the situation," was it strange that Emily began to suspect that her uncle might've known her father better than she had? "He was a man of integrity and action and he leaves behind an example we should all strive towards."
After that the man once more walked back to his place and the same procedure she had seen happen to some of her former comrades began to play out according to protocol. Even though her father wasn't being buried for what he had been, a Section 13 specialist, he still received the same kind of military funeral any member of the armed forces or HSAIS received upon dying in the line of duty. Emily never really had expected to see things from the perspective of the families belonging to the soldiers she hadn't been able to bring back home and frankly, this was a role reversal she had hoped to never to experience herself. As a soldier deployed in a high risk combat role, she had gone through loss often enough to know what it felt like, marines she had served with for years had died right next to her on Elysium and N7 operatives who had gone through the very same torment she had to earn that place had been claimed by seemingly random bullets moments after following her orders. All these experiences had left a mark on her and in the past, the gesture of putting a small patch of dirt onto a coffing had always been accompanied by a certain sense of failure and a sad acceptance of reality. Yet this time it was different, this time the act felt just as empty as the coffin below her feet.
The difference closure could make was really as significant as she had suspected it would be.
Walking away so the person next in line continued, Emily wasn't really sure when exactly she lost track of time.
"Lieutenant Commander Shepard?" a voice tore her form her thoughts as she found herself waiting for the funeral crowd to disperse itself. Turning on her heel to meet whoever it was that desired to talk to her, she was surprised to find Chancellor Goyle, a women who during their last encounter had honored her for her actions during the Skyllian Blitz, in front of her. She had seen her during the service and she knew that her dad had developed a rather odd friendship with her while working security on the Citadel but that still didn't explain what she wanted from her.
"Ma'am?" she asked, uncertain where this would go.
"Please, today it's just Anita," the woman replied. "I'd like to extend my condolences to you and your mother," she added.
Of course, condolences. She should've guessed that Goyle would want to extend those, this was after all still the funeral of her father.
No matter how often she told herself that, it still sounded strange.
"Thank you Ma'a-" Emily caught herself. "Anita," she corrected.
"I know you must have a lot of questions," the chancellor said, "and I am sorry that you won't get a lot of answers but," she hesitated for a moment, probably deciding whether or not she should continue, "I think you should know that your father's death wasn't in vain," Emily wondered if all the condolences letters she had written after Elysium had sounded as empty as that sentence. Thinking that Goyle had finished what she wanted to say, the marine turned N7 was about to walk away to keep herself from displaying anger at what was obviously meant as a sincere gesture only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulders. "But there is something else you should know about it," Goyle added before quickly letting go of here, probably sensing that she wasn't in the mood for talking or physical contact.
Was it that obvious that she was shutting herself out?
Probably.
"Section 13 informed me that Alec died fighting something," she began only to once more hesitate, although this time for a very different reason. Emily didn't consider herself an expert at reading people, far from it really, but if she had to put a name to what was stopping Goyle from talking right now, the closest she could manage would probably be fear, "terrible and they believe that the thing that killed him may soon be on our doorstep again. I know this is hardly the appropriate time for something like this," the woman explained before looking around herself as if to check if anyone was eavesdropping on them, if that was even possible given the security detail that had arrived with her, "but I know that Alec would want me to tell you what I can currently tell you."
"And what would that be?" on the list of strange conversations she had had after getting the news that her dad had died, this one was swiftly climbing to the top.
"That you're on the list of people who could be called upon to defend us from it," Goyle replied before slowly stepping backwards. Given what she had just said, Shepard didn't even bother to ask what that was supposed to mean. She knew that she wouldn't get an answer. "Again, I am so sorry for your lost."
"Thank you, Anita," she repeated.
Confusing conversation or not, it still felt empty.
Three Hours Later, Shepard Residence
Shutting the door of the room she had spent most of her childhood after moving away from Arcturus in behind her, Emily briefly glanced at the ship models on top of her old wardrobe before dropping down on her old bed, comfortable with the increasing darkness setting in the room now that the day was coming to an end. She had built most of them with her dad and over time the hobby he had somewhat forced on her in the beginning had grown on her, a fact supported by the dozens of miniatures spread over her room which, like just about anything in her parents' house, now too reminded her of the fact that her dad was still dead. Coming into here might not have been such a good idea after all now that she thought about it. After yet again forcing down the grief trying to claw its way out of her heart, she sighed. If Goyle had spoken the truth, if it had meant something, she could accept that she had lost her father. Knowing that it had mattered was a kind of closure, right? If he had truly died to stop something terrible, it had been worth it.
But what if it hadn't meant something? Thinking back to the other portion of what the chancellor had told her, she now actually tried to make sense of it. If her dad had died fighting it but it could come back soon enough for her to face it again, had his death really made a difference or had he just been taken from her for no reason? That, in her mind, largely depended on what 'it' was even supposed to be. Goyle had told her much more than Emily had ever expected to hear from anyone but even then the woman had been incredibly vague. She had a basic grasp of what situations could cause Section 13 to be deployed and as such her mind began racing, trying to find the most likely answers to her questions.
Had he died during an undercover operation against the IFS? If yes, what had gone wrong? Had his cover been blown because of a mistake or because of a coincidence?
No, that was unlikely.
Had he been killed trying to prevent some kind of batarian attack? If yes, why would they attempt breaking the cease fire? Should she cut her leave short to be ready when the next attack came? Check in with her unit to see if they knew more?
Maybe she should-
No, Emily shook her head as she thought back to the conversation. Neither of these things would trigger the kind of reaction she had seen in Goyle, the batarians and the IFS were familiar threats and definitely not something that would scare a seasoned politician like the chancellor . It had to be something else, something new she could soon meet herself. What wasn't she thinking about?
Another sigh.
This was pointless, Emily knew exactly what she wasn't thinking about but instead of finally allowing herself to grief, something her mother had done once they had gotten back home, she was distracting herself with senseless thoughts about imaginary scenarios, avoiding the one thing she didn't want to think about in the process. Right now it didn't matter what Goyle had been trying to tell her. The only thing that mattered right now was her finally coming to terms with the reality she'd have to live in from now on, no matter how depressing that would be. Dancing around the issue would get her no where and if her parents had taught her one thing, it was that the best way to solve your problems was to confront them, no matter how uncomfortable that might be.
"Your mother's asleep, thought I'd check up on you," she heard from the now once more opened door. She hadn't even heard him enter. Had he been incredibly quiet or had she been too deep in her thoughts? A combination of both was the most likely answer. "Mind if I come in?"
"Knock yourself out," she muttered and not a moment later her uncle stepped inside.
"How are you holding up?" he asked as the ship miniatures captured his attention as well. Emily briefly considering to give him the answer she knew would get her some space but decided against it. She had just decided to face them so the only thing left to do for her was to actually go through with it. "Given the circumstances, I mean."
"Barely," she finally admitted to both herself and Redford as the latter inspected one of the models, intend on giving her all the time in the world to answer. "It's just like," she began only to realise that she really didn't know exactly how to put what she was feeling into words. "All of this feels so," once more she failed, instead sittung up on the bed and looking at her uncle.
"Surreal?" the older man offered while blowing the dust off from one of the miniaturized frigates she and her dad had constructed some years ago.
"Yes," Emily sighed as she watched the dust glint in what little light remained in the room, finally allowing the same grief she had been fighting at every turn to surface. As expected, it was both crushing and reliving at the same time. "
"Yeah, I get that. One moment he's still there and the next-"
"He isn't," she finished. "And even though you know exactly what's going on, you still ask yourself where he went and think that he'll be back any moment now," she added. "Growing up, I never thought about my dad not coming back, you know? I was always sure that I'll see him again, no matter where he went or how long he was gone, I knew he'd come home eventually and when he finally did, I just acted like he hadn't even been in danger."
"I remember that," the man replied before sitting down next to her. "Honestly, I felt the exact same."
"You did?"
"I worked with Alec for the better part of three decades and I always figured that I'd buy it before him," Grant shrugged before dropping back onto the bed as well, his considerably heavier weight causing it to squeak. "and in those years I don't recall a time when we went out and I thought he wasn't gonna make it back in one piece."
"Really? What about his last mission?" she blurted out the first question entering her mind. "Did you feel like that right until it happened?" Only now did she realise that it probably hadn't been the most sensitive thing to ask. Her uncle and her dad had been like brothers and this was probably just as hard or maybe even harder on him than it was on her. The only real difference between their situations was that he somehow managed to be a far more decent person than her right about now. "Sor-"
"Don't be," he cut her off. "I wasn't there, so no," he added a few moments later. "Listen, I can't begin to imagine how hard this is on you and your mother, not knowing how it happened. So whatever it is that you need, just say the word."
"Do you know?"
"Hmm?"
"Know how it happened," she elaborated.
The look he gave her told her what she already suspected.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"No, I get it, you can't talk about it," she sighed before feeling the previous anger make itself known again. This time it was accompanied by a question that had probably been lingering in her mind for quite some time now. "What I don't get is why you'd do something like that to yourself or your family."
"What do you mean?" her uncle asked from his position on the slightly too small bed, evidently confused.
"Everything," she explained without actually explaining anything. "Section 13, the secrecy, it just seems so," she hesitated, unsure of what it actually was that she was trying to say. "No one, not even me, will ever know what my dad did for us. Sure, some people are going to keep telling me that his death mattered, that it all meant something, but I'll never really know if it did, you know? From here on out, I'll always have this voice in the back of my head that's telling me that it didn't and that people are lying to me so I feel better about him being gone."
"I would never lie to you, Emily," did he sound hurt? She didn't mean to hurt him.
"I wasn't talking about you," she swiftly replied and soon enough a silence began to settle in the room, neither the marine nor her uncle brave enough to speak up for the time being. Devoid of anything else occupying her mind, Emily Shepard rose from her bed and walked over to the models, picking up a miniscule dreadnought, the same kind of vessel her mother would be in the process of commanding right about now if she hadn't taken personal leave to attend her husband's funeral, who was just another HSAIS agent to most people outside of her direct family and a completely average person to everyone who had ever walked past him on the street. It seemed strange to her that someone could change the lives of so many people without anyone ever knowing. While she hadn't signed up for the recognition, she had always taken pride in the fact that she committed herself to a greater good. Her dad hadn't even been able to take pride in what he did, a thousand regulations kept him from disclosing even the smallest detail of his job.
How had he done it?
"It's not a good life, if you break it down. You live in the dark, you fight in the dark, you prepare yourself to die in the dark and somewhere along the way you just get used to it being this way and accept that the light's not yours to have," Grant finally spoke up while looking at the ceiling, appearing almost disconnected for a moment. "But the good and the light in Alec's life never came from his work, it came from you and your mother." She remained silent at that. "For the longest time, Alec didn't think he'd ever settle down. He always told me that family life and retirement wasn't for him, that he'd bore himself to death," the man chuckled. "But all of that changed when he met your mother and your mother had you. Two days changed his entire outlook on life. They gave him a reason to make sure he never lost himself in the dark."
"I thought you said he taught you to be on the right side of things?" she recalled his speech and the contradiction to it he had just revealed. "How does that fit into the picture?"
"No matter how good of a person you are, if you do this long enough, the line gets blurry," her uncle explained. "But after you were born, your dad always saw clearly. He might've almost missed your first day, but it changed him, gave him the best reason to stay himself no matter what happened."
"Wait a minute," she looked back to him, surprised that this was the thing she focused on at a time like this. The grieving human mind truly was a strange thing. "He almost missed what?"
"Seriously?" the man asked as he lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Alec never told you that he almost missed your birth?"
"Apparently not," she replied, raising an eyebrow and being amused at her uncle's confused face. It was a strange way to cope but since it made her feel better, she'd take a little humor.
"Well in that case," the man said while sitting up, his tone distinctively more upbeat than before. "You better kick back because that one's a really, really long story."
Two Hours Later, Benning, Park Cemetery
"I'll just be a moment, alright?" he said before letting go of his wife's hand.
"Take all the time you need," she assured him. "I'm not going anywhere."
Normally they should've already been back in their hotel but after making sure that things had been in order in the Shepard residence, the final resting spot of Alec had called him through the dark of the night, demanding his presence and like an obedient soldier, he had answered its call. Stepping over the green lawn and walking through the warm summer night, he briefly glanced up to the white moon offering him what little light he needed to make his journey towards the fresh, only temporarily marked grave.
"They gave you a good spot," he observed as he stuffed his hands into the pocket and glanced up towards the tip of the tree under which his partner's badge would spent the better half of an eternity resting. As the words of his niece came back to him, he began to think. So this what was in store for him when it happened, a small grave somewhere in the countryside of his home planet and no one being any wiser of the sacrifices he and his peers had made for the sake of people who didn't even know they existed. It was only fair, really. A life spent fighting in the dark was rewarded with anonymity in death. If they wanted recognition, they would've chosen a different path. He could live with them not knowing and so could the rest of Section 13. Just like the engraving of the badge buried underneath him read, they were one thing and one thing only. They were the watchers, the silent vigil of the HSA that stood guard no matter the time and circumstance. For them, anonymity was the biggest reward they could ask for. If no one else knew what they had done for them, it meant that they had succeeded at keeping them out of harm's way.
"Bit shady but I guess that's only fitting for people like us," he chuckled. Usually Redford wasn't one to laugh at his own jokes but given the day he had endured up to now, he'd allow himself to do it just this once. "At least you're not gonna get soaked when it rains," he figured before returning his attention to the small marker currently waiting to be replaced with a more permanent headstone. "I know you hate speeches, so I kept mine nice and short, hope it was somewhat bearable."
He realised that he was talking to no one but right about now, he didn't care that his partner's body was probably a smudge somewhere on Akuze's surface.
"I still remember the day we met and god damn did I hate your guts back then. Always thought you were full of shit," it had only been logical back then, the two of them had been as different as night and day. Unlike Redford, Shepard had already been a part of HSAIS by the time both of them had begun their training and very much unlike Redford, Shepard had always managed to be idealistic about what they did, even during the Fringe Wars that had shaped their friendship. No matter what side of humanity they saw, be it the destruction of Illyria at the hands of Andrej Kamarov or the Siege of Horizon, he didn't recall a time where Shepard had ever paused to question if what they did really mattered. To his partner the answer had always been obvious.
"I wasn't there when you needed me most and I'll always be sorry for that," Redford muttered, finding his voice to be uncharacteristically quiet, "and I know that it's not true but I still feel like I let you down," he glanced at the engraved name visible in the moon light, tracing the letters with his eyes and noticing that they had at least given the correct date to Alec's family. "When these things really show up," he placed a hand on the marker, the cold feeling of the metal sending a small chill through his hand, "I'll make sure that they get what's coming for them. No matter how much they try to fight it, no matter how many Akuzes they pull on us, when this is over, this will have meant something."
He knew that a promise to a dead man's empty grave was probably pretty meaningless but he would live up to it, even if it was the last thing he ever did. It still seemed unreal that he was the one making these promises and not the other way around. Redford had always pictured that Alec would be the one to bury him and swear vengeance on his killers. Why was it that people he was certain would outlive him by decades kept dying before him? First Grissom, then the last director and now Alec. At this point, he probably should start assuming that his enemies would outlive him and see what the universe did with it. If the trend continued, doing that would save him a lot of time but if his luck also held true, it would cost him his job somewhere down the line. Maybe he should only start doing that when he had a solid retirement plan.
Another smile at his own joke.
He couldn't allow this to become a habit.
Shaking his head exactly once to clear his mind, Redford returned his attention to reality.
"Never thought I'd be the one to say this, mate, but I guess there's no such thing as a guarantee with what we do after all," he began before pulling his hand away from the marker and once more stuffing it in his suit's pockets, turning his head upwards to look at the stars in the process. The view really put things into perspective. While he had no idea what he was actually looking, he'd liked to think that he could see a good portion of the HSA from here. It really put things into perspective, one person fighting for all of that simply because they believed that it was the right thing to do. "I'll see you on the other side," he assured his partner's grave before glancing back at Tela. "Just don't be pissed if I take my sweet time getting there."
2155 CE, Citadel, Embassy Area
"So to summarize, you want to kidnap a quarian scientist?" the human repeated the core message of Saren's briefing.
"Kidnap is such a harsh word, I just want to have a chat with him," the turian corrected with a shrug.
"A chat about the geth," his friend folded his hands and raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, a chat about the geth."
"And this isn't a council operation but a private gig, correct?"
"Correct."
"Saren," Anderson sighed while running a hand through his short, dark hair. "I know something's off. Save us both the time and just tell me what's been going on with you."
This was the problem with secrets, the longer one kept them, the harder it became to share them. It wasn't the first time that the human Spectre had asked a question like this, Saren was aware that Anderson knew him good enough to notice that his calm exterior hid an inner turmoil caused by his and Harper's talk and the actions he had chosen to take because of it. The turian knew that he had to do something to give them an edge but the fact that he'd betray his brother's trust in the process wouldn't just vanish because of it. But it wasn't just his personal dilemma that Anderson was sensing, it was also the reason behind it that was starting to eat away at Saren. No matter how much faith he had in his brother, the talk with Harper had planted one more certainty in the turian's mind.
At the rate they were going, they wouldn't win and from here on out it was up to him to change that, even if the odds of him being successful were only marginally higher than those of his brother being victorious.
"You're right, something's going on," he finally spoke as another certainty became apparent. If he wanted to give them a fighing chance, he'd needed help and besides his brother and his old unit, Anderson was the one person he trusted to be able to extend that help to him. "And unless we get that quarian to talk to us, we won't be able to stop it."
They should've had this talk a long time ago.
Codex: The Migrant Fleet
Formed in the closing hours of the Geth War, the Migrant Fleet, the single biggest collection of space ships in the known galaxy, became the home of the survivors of the quarian species after their exodus from Rannoch and, following their expulsion from the ranks of the Citadel Council's associates, has since roamed the galaxy, it's only goal being to survive in a galaxy no longer willing to deal with them. The fifty thousand ships of the armada are divided between the Patrol Fleet, the Heavy Fleet, the Civilian Fleet and the Special Projects Division and serve as the homes of the roughly seven teen million quarians living under the rule Admiralty Board, a government operating under martial law but acknowledging and working with the remnants of the quarian civilian government, the Conclave.
Diplomatic ties between the Migrant Fleet and the rest of the galaxy are sparse, either the stigma the creation of the geth brought upon the quarians or the unwillingness to tolerate ruthless quarian strip mining operations within their territory leading Council forces to 'discourage' the Patrol Fleet from venturing too deep into their sphere of influence, using different methods, for example intimidation or bribery, and varying degrees of offensive action, ranging from simple blocking maneuvers to disabling engine systems and firing warning shots at the weaker ships of the flotilla, to prevent the main body of the fleet from traveling through their space. Though highly controversial with most humanitarian organisations, the practice is mostly rooted in the Migrant Fleet's habit of 'overstaying their welcome' by causing permanent economic and ecological damage to the worlds they mine and attracting pirates, raiders and in rare instances slavers to the systems they journey through.
While out of touch with the major players of the galaxy, the Migrant Fleet, much like the HSA maintains close ties to a series of independent colonies, the tradition of the Pilgrimage, the act of young quarians leaving their home ships in the hopes of bringing something useful back to the fleet in order to prove their worth as adults, helping them to establish good relations with both large corporate worlds looking to make a profit and smaller, fiercely anti-council colonies seeking an alliance with the largest, non-batarian entity existing outside of the Citadel Council.
It should be noted that, even though popular with a sizeable portion of non-council worlds, there also exists a number of independent worlds weary of the militant captains of the Heavy Fleet, pointing to past instances of the fleet strong arming them into giving up supplies or mining rights. As such, the administrations of these planets frequently pay mercenaries to keep quarian scouting and scavenging parties away from their sovereign space and at times have resorted to ordering outright offensive action against the civilian parts of the quarian fleet in hopes of permanently removing what they consider to be a thorn in their side.
A/N: So... yeah... chapter 42 took me three weeks to get done... that happened. Originally I wanted this out on friday ( I was kind of busy up to last week, social life, trips and application stuff taking up a lot of my time) but somehow it ended up on sunday (I blame a friend's birthday and Stellaris for that one, sorry mates.)
Now... this chapter is bascially all talk and setup jumping over several setpieces, which is kind of the complete opposite to the last one which was basically the largest setpiece the story ever had. But it also deals with the fallout of the last chapter, giving our protagonist Shepard the other half to the dynamic she's gonna have with the lone survivor background.
It also gives Redford, who's narrative role I still really haven't 100% defined (he's not a protagonist or on the level of the backgrounds but he's definitely a main character) the drive that will explain his role from here on out (he is gonna stick around for the plot of the games which is almost upon us, I like him far too much to just sideline him from here on out and I already planned his entire story arc so yeah, he's gonna stick)
Aaand!...
It also shows why I delayed Akuze this much and why I said it would be the kick off to what happens in SV's version of the actual Mass Effect plot. Akuze sends Saren off to begin his role in the things to come and it also gives Anderson the reason to be where he will be once ME 1 begins ( which should be Chapter 45, to which I probably won't be getting before 2018 since i'm going on yet another trip (this one's all pleasure) at the end of next week.) I know this all sounds vague and there's probably gonna be alot of speculation what's gonna happen with the two now that I said it but you're just gonna have to wait and see.
So, for a chapter that I delayed this much, it's probably one of the most significant ones up to date. Even if not a single gun is fired or a single guy is punched. (yes, I am aware that I have a lot of detailed action for what's bascially turning into an e-book ;) )
Now to the codex (actually wrote this one down so I wouldn't forget it)
Before anyone crucifies me, I took the fact that quarians aren't allt hat nice to a lot of planets fromt he Mass Effect comic prequel of Andromeda. Those guys aren't exactly the green party if you catch my drift. Furthermore I was also sick of every story making the quarians completely innocent angles abused by the galaxy. Read that shit more than enough. Not on my watch, you hear me? In Semper Vigilo NO SPECIES is without sin.
Oh, btw, Semper Vigilo turned one year a few weeks ago. That's.. really humbling. Never thought we'd get to the point where we're at right now with this many people (full disclosure, never thought I'd crack 100 follows.)
Speaking of follows.
For the record, we're at 337 reviews, 574 favorites and 679 follows.
Review and let me know what you think
Also before I forget it, on the offchance that I don't get another chapter out before the day rolls around, I wish every last one of you happy and peaceful holidays.
See you around next time.
