Ten hours before the launch of the Battle for Earth
An omnipresent truth to life was that a large percentage of occurrences fell into the categories of comedy, and tragedy. Many of the galactic races had a saying reminiscent of this, but Liara found that the human analogy was the most similar to that of the Asari. Benezia had left many impressions on her, but the lesson from that particular cultural touchstone may have resulted in the largest impact.
In life, the emotional impact one might feel from a situation can be described under the umbrellas of komodía and tragodía. Politics, warfare, existential truths, it matters not. There is often no telling what degree of influence we may have over any of it, and the earlier one comes to terms with this, the better off they will be. There will always be factors beyond one's control, and I know that may leave you very frustrated, Liara, because I know that you are a very analytical child. The best response I've found, in my experience, is to allow yourself to laugh at the situation. Tears should be reserved for life's most powerful moments, when there is no other appropriate reaction. Not only will this method serve you in embracing life's most cherished moments, but it will prepare you for the many harsh realities of this galaxy.
She never understood why Benezia would speak such profound words to a child barely into adolescence, and it wasn't until the last decade that Liara had come to fully appreciate the gravity and truth to her mother's wisdom. As she and many others could attest, operating alongside Commander Shepard tended to have that effect.
But there would be no laughing now.
Liara wasn't normally one to shed tears; it just wasn't something she allowed herself to do. She could count on both hands the number of times she had cried in her life before meeting Shepard, like when she learned that her father would not be a part of her life. But beyond that – when her mother lay dying in her arms because of Liara's own weapon, when Shepard had first told her that he loved her, when Shepard died, and when he came back and helped her take down that yahg… not even touching upon the number of close friends they'd lost along the way. She did not care to count them.
And now, on the eve of what she could only describe as a death march, the single most solemn event in the history of this cycle. She couldn't remember the number of times that tears had found their way to the surface within the last several months, and they were again streaking down her cheeks with the same tiresome regularity.
Liara let out a shuddering breath the moment that Shepard's reassuring, measured voice ceased sounding from the ship intercom. The knots doing somersaults in her stomach threatened to constrict her lungs with each passing minute, grim reality settling over her mind like a toxic smog, choking her thought processes and frazzling her nerves to the point of near numbness.
The multitude of horrors and pains of the Reaper War were etched into her brain as if by a stone chisel, nightly reminders in the form of restless sleep torturing her no matter how close she was to her bondmate. The Reapers were an unstoppable force dangerously close to fracturing the iron resolve that the Commander had re-forged the galaxy with, the same one that every living being hoped would be the immovable object they needed. It was more than one man should ever be asked to do, but yet he did it without a single complaint or moment of hesitation.
Still, despite the enormous strides taken in just the previous months, the unspoken truth loomed large. The missions against Cerberus proved that time was a commodity they no longer had, and signs of irremovable strain on the galaxy's people were forming on an already crumbling existence. Shepard's words moments ago were the spark that would light the fuse of the volatile explosive before them, the last hope they had for salvation. The assembled galactic fleet was en route to the Sol system, with Normandy at the forefront.
The final toll had commenced, hollow and resonant bells reverberating through every combatant as the advancement toward an uncaring fate began. Within the next day, the fate of every advanced species of the cycle would be determined.
Liara pressed the last key, a final message sent to the Shadow Broker network. Orders, contingency plans…
Blind hope, bidding the agents good fortune on top of a goodbye that may be the last.
She turned, slowly swiveling to look at everything in her office, a fond expression plastered on her face, before resting on the ever-present blueish-white orb spinning in place.
"Glyph, is that everything?"
"Yes, Doctor T'Soni. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Her eyes dimmed, becoming hooded. "No, that will be all." She hesitated before looking back to her VI assistant. "I… thank you, Glyph, for everything. I don't know if I'll be coming back after this, so I just want you to know that—"
Liara found herself choking up, over a virtual entity of all things! She swallowed the fleeting shame, rationalizing the feelings with the fact that the little ball of code was her only company for most of her most the time spent orbiting Hagalaz.
"—That I appreciate all you've done for me."
Glyph continued its endless rotation, faltering for only a moment. "Of course, Doctor! It is always my pleasure to assist you!"
Liara forced a pained smile, eyes pricking with tears as Glyph returned to the semi-circular dock next to the intelligence terminal. She raised a hand to the door control, pressing the green softkey and left her headquarters.
The crew milling about the third deck did so with considerably less levity than she'd grown used to. Liara had seen it before — Normandy's dutiful workers and landing party members would live every day with equal parts stoic responsibility and brilliant happiness when the work was done, until Shepard informed them over the comm that their next mission had a very real possibility of being the last. That was just how Shepard's crews turned out, a scrappy yet inclusive family consisting of more races than any spacecraft outside of the Citadel.
Even Garrus had no jokes or dry humor to contribute to the situation. The ruthless calculus of war, as she once heard him say, had siphoned the young vigor from him much as it had done to Shepard…
"This really is it, huh?"
Liara jumped at the Turian's words, pressing a palm to her chest in response to her elevated heart rate. Garrus snickered. "Sorry, didn't mean to give you a heart attack before we even get to Earth."
"It's alright. I was just— well, zoning out, honestly. Seeing everyone so somber gave me pause. You're right, this really is it."
Garrus leaned against the railing. "You know, I feel like I've had this conversation before. More than once, as a matter of fact. Can't imagine why, it isn't like we've gone up against the biggest threat to the galaxy already, right?"
Liara managed a dry chuckle; it seemed that he was still capable of his trademark witticisms. It was something she loved about her Turian friend, and set him apart from most other, war-minded members of his species.
"Bizarre indeed. And you've even done it one more time than me, and everyone else, except Tali." Liara grew quiet and looked at the floor, before returning her gaze to Garrus. "We've been through a lot, our little family."
Garrus's mandibles flared lightly. "More than any in history, maybe. We haven't all been together for the whole ride, but there's no other group I would rather have lived my life with. And to think, we have the Commander to thank."
Her heart swelled at the notion. "Not everyone would use the word 'thank,' I imagine, but you're absolutely right. My life has been relatively short, for an Asari, but the last few years have made it feel as full as that of any matriarch, and Shepard is the reason for it all. Without him… I might never have made it off Therum."
A contemplative looked crossed Garrus's face. "I think you've had a lot to do with his ability to get this far, too, Liara. You and he have been close for years, and you've done a lot in helping him cope with the weight of the universe that's been put on his shoulders since day one. No one person in the galaxy should have been able to handle the responsibility he's been given, and yet here he is. Between you and me, I don't know how he hasn't cracked. Spirits know I would have."
Liara dipped her head in a shallow nod. "I don't think the entire Council, and all of its Spectres, could have accomplished what he has. It's been remarkable, if not immensely stressful. I can feel it in him every time we're close, but he always insists that even just my presence helps."
He cocked his chin toward the ship elevator. "He probably needs it now more than ever. Go on, Liara, make sure the Commander is ready to kick the Reapers back into dark space."
She regarded Garrus with unspoken admiration and gratitude, pulling him into a long hug. "Thank you. For everything."
"Ahh… don't mention it." He stammered out. "You've always been here for me, too. And don't worry, once all of this is over, we'll have plenty of time to appreciate what we've got."
Liara broke away from Garrus and turned for the elevator. The motion of the door whirring open, her feet pulling her inside, and the low hum of the craft methodically lifting her went nearly unnoticed as emotional numbness crept into her mind. The gravity of their situation hung on her like a lead weight, elevator walls constricting in on her, squeezing her mental stability like an unforgiving vice.
She jumped again as the door fell. Soft, thudding footsteps led her to the door of Shepard's cabin. It was the exact same as hers, every last contour and depression in the metal mirroring the ones on decks below. In a way it was a fitting parallel for the manner that Shepard was—
A shrill beep sounded as the light faded and the door segmented and separated. There stood Shepard, leaning on a wall, hands clasped and face beaming. "I was hoping you would come up."
And just like that, the oppressive veil was lifted from Liara's spirit. "There's no place that I would rather be right now."
—
Blood thundering in her ears, she sprinted behind a slab of broken wall amidst a hail of gunfire. Her chest heaved with desperate breaths, lungs greedy for any air they could get. Explosions rocked the ground and rattled her brain, leaving a perpetual ringing in her ears. Tears pricked at her eyes from the acrid smoke as her stomach involuntarily clenched in response to the agonized screams of people around her.
One of the Reaper creatures bellowed out that unnatural, guttural roar that sounded like a demon from her darkest nightmare. She spared a glance from her cover to see the hulking monstrosity slamming its club hand down onto a Turian beneath it. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her dirty rifle as she swallowed harshly before firing indiscriminately at the beasts littering the debris field.
The Asari returned to her cover, ejecting the thermal clip and looking around. Corpses. Fresh corpses, or bodies that soon would be. She'd tried to lead them somewhere, anywhere, away from the Reapers. It hadn't mattered — they chased her relentlessly, like the synthetic apex predators that they were. For days and nights her people had hidden in wet, cold holes in the ground, scrounging up whatever they could to survive and see another day.
—
Maybe they'll pass us over, or maybe they'll just leave us be.
The naïve words uttered by that poor human girl had hung painfully in the air, those around them not having the energy nor the will to dispute the extremely remote possibility. She was young, far too young to have to live a life entirely encompassed by war and death. However, her attitude of positive hopefulness sprinkled among mature acceptance was at the very least a welcome one.
—
None of that helped one bit, as that very same girl lay dead against the wall, eyes glazed over and body limp. The Asari ripped her eyes away from the sight and let out a strangled sob. Back to the wall with tears streaming down her pale blue cheeks, her last clip disappeared into the weapon with a soft click. With another subtle lean around the corner, she shot at two advancing husks as they lumbered at her with their awkward gait, dropping them just as the temperature gage beeped angrily and vented the built-up heat.
This was it. This was how it was going to end. Hungry and tired and alone, suffocating under the relentless waves of endless screeching horrors. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair! Why did she have to live this shell of a life, fight this unwinnable fight, rage against the dying light of a doomed galaxy—
A mechanical growl shook her back to reality. Her head jerked to see a brutish hulk staring her down, soulless eyes fixated as it drew closer to her. The Asari gnashed her teeth and rammed the rifle's stock into the creature's metal face. The impact didn't elicit so much as a flinch, the weapon glancing off its plate armor with a hollow thud that jarred the gun from her hands. She didn't look after it as it skittered away, instead returning the fixed-eyed leer the Reaper creature was still giving her. Why was it just standing there?
Despite every instinct of self-preservation, she marched toward the beast. "Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?! What are you waiting for, kill me already! Get it over with, you big fucking ogre!" Her arms extended to shove the brute, but she ended up receiving the energy right back. Still it sat there, unflinching, completely silent.
The Asari growled, about to yell in vain again at the suddenly unmoving creature when an earth-splitting horn blew from on high. That trademark bellowing signal of death that announced the arrival of a Reaper ship. That deep, ugly, distorted sound that existed within and beyond the nightmares of every Milky Way species to be born in the last century. The Reaper slowed its descent and landed with a quake so massive that the building the Asari took shelter in threatened to crumble from the shock. She tumbled to the ground at the impact, wishing with every fiber of her being that it had just landed on her and saved the trouble of killing her later. Despite that, she got to her feet and exited the stone façade.
The Reaper, just like its hundreds of surrounding minions, made no move whatsoever, save for the odd rhythmic up and down motion that looked unsettlingly like breathing. It would have towered over every structure in the area, even before they were felled by the fighting.
"T'Soni."
The voice, if it could even be called that, was the lowest and most disconcerting baritone shockwave she'd ever heard. The sound itself was almost more surprising than the fact that the Reaper had just spoken to her.
"What do you want? Did you come down here to gloat? Monologue about how superior you are over us? Over me?"
It sat silent, as if contemplating its words. Did they even do that? "No. We have come with a… request."
She stood ramrod stiff. "A request? You and your kind destroy everything that our races built, kill and enslave every single person in your path, and you have the nerve to insult me by coming to me and asking for a favor? Fuck you!" She spit at the metal mountain.
"Listen." It thundered down at her. "Our logic has, and always will be, sound. Every organic civilization must be harvested in order to bring order to the chaos. It is inevitable."
"I've heard all of this bullshit before, and it still doesn't make any sense! Why are you here now, telling me this?" She stomped the rubble beneath her.
"Our request is simple. Do not continue to resist. You will only fall. Without our intervention, you are doomed. We are your salvation."
The Asari crossed her arms with a scoff. "And why do you care? You've already won, why should you give a shit about 'saving' my life?"
Again the Reaper didn't answer right away, like a fifty-year old terminal trying to compute quantum mechanics. "Because we have… personal, interest in you."
Its words staggered the Asari nearly as much as the landing moments ago. "The more you talk, the less interest I have in indulging you. I don't have any idea what the hell you're talking about, but you'd better get to the goddamned point or just hurry up and kill me!"
Silence.
"Well?!"
"We… did not get to see you grow up."
The expression of shock she wore on her face threatened to freeze itself there until her dying day. "Wh-what? What is that supposed to mean? Who the hell are you?!"
"We are Augur. Like Sovereign and Harbinger before us, we are the pinnacle of evolution. We are each a nation, but organic minds cannot grasp the nature of our existence." The voice carried undertones of apparent sadness, however that was possible.
"What does any of that have to do with me?"
"Reapers, as organics call us, are born from the likeness of those harvested to create them. The same is true for the primary entity that speaks to you now. What this has to do with you… is your lineage."
Gears turned in the Asari's head, arriving at conclusions she wished had never formed whatsoever. "Are you saying that—" She choked on the lump forming in her throat. "Spell it out, you fucking machine!"
"Salana T'Soni, only daughter of human Commander John Shepard and Asari scientist Liara T'Soni. Their… essence, is present within this consciousness. We, are them."
All at once, the dam holding back every emotion that Salana ever had to repress because of the Reaper War burst. Fast and oppressive, like rushing water from a raging river the feelings drowned her as they went, uncaring, unceasing. Every ounce of sadness from loss, every ounce of momentary relief from finding another living being, every ounce of anger toward the self-proclaimed gods forcing her to live as a child of war. All of it inundated and overwhelmed her, and Salana wanted nothing more than to fade into the void right then and there.
"Th-th-this can't be true, it can't be true!" She clutched at her head, trying in vain to keep her mind from tearing itself apart. "You're lying, you have to be!" Her words came out in an angry shout as the blood in her veins screamed and pounded against her brain.
"Join us." The Reaper stated, more than requested.
Salana found it increasingly difficult to breathe. "I… I can't…"
"You can. Do not continue to resist. It will bring you only pain. If you allow us to harvest you, you will trade a short lifespan of suffering for an eternal existence among trillions of others."
A snarl bubbling within Salana grew into a pained howl. She picked up a rock and hurled it at the Reaper, hot tears running down her cheeks as the stone pinged uselessly off its shell. "It isn't that simple! That goes against everything that mother taught me as a child, and everything that my parents fought and died for! You expect me to give up, just like that?! How dare you even suggest that!" She jabbed a finger at the Reaper. "If any part of you ever truly was my parents, then you would never ask me to do such a thing!"
The Reaper sat quiet for a long while. It regarded the Asari carefully, leaving her to cry and rage at it all. When it became apparent that no amount of self-reflection would change her mind, it rumbled again. "As you wish. We will not harvest you, Salana T'Soni, but know this: resisting the cycle will do you no good. We are inevitable. The Reapers will catch up to you again. The others will not be so kind."
Chunks of earth fell from the Reaper's limbs as it rose from the ground and hovered away, back to the atmosphere from whence it came. The Reaper thralls, as if disconnected from some monstrous network, all fell to the ground, dead. Sanala stood in the dark, solemn graveyard, staring into the abyss. For maybe the first time in her life, she was truly alone. No organic beings, no Reaper creatures, not one soul existed anywhere near her.
The crushing emptiness, the stench of death, the harsh reality that there was nothing left, all of it combined to break Salana entirely. The Asari fell to her knees, palms resting on her thighs. The scream that tore from her throat was so loud that it became the only sound to exist in, as far as she was concerned, the entire galaxy. It contained so much sorrow and pain that even the ghosts stopped to pity the girl.
She had long since given up any attempt to hold back her tears of anguish, now crying her eyes out. She couldn't feel anything. Her entire body and mind had gone completely numb. In the span of a few hours, Salana's entire existence had come crashing down, proving to be little more than something that the Reapers allowed her to have, if only briefly.
The Asari looked over her shoulder with hollow eyes. The glint of a pistol used by one of the dead refugees peeked over their fallen body, still clutched in the hand that had pulled the trigger. Leaning down to retrieve the gun, she gulped and released a breath long held.
Salana tipped her head back to look at the night sky, all luster gone from her eyes. "You can't have me." Her voice lost all emotion, becoming as flat as that of a mech.
As a child, her mother shared the words of someone she had described as a kindred spirit.
Stand amongst the ashes of a trillion dead souls, and ask the ghosts if honor matters.
Honor was a concept she'd given up long, long ago. There was no hesitation as she pressed the cool barrel of the gun to her temple, and pulled the trigger.
This idea has been kicking around in my head for years, and only now did I sit down to flesh it out. Let me know what you think, or if it holds up well. I hope you enjoyed!