AN: This might be a bit weird for some people. I am taking a bit of a left hand turn here. I will probably be doing more things like this, and what I did with Legion, going forward. So, if you think I am going too off the rails, feel free to comment and I will consider it.
All in all, I am still following the main story, and will not really be changing it, aside for small details and expanding things to make the story more interesting.
It was dark. Or...shadowy?
The sun's light was dim, even with it being so large. What little light filtered through the billowing grey/green clouds barely illuminated the harsh landscape. Here and there, across the wide shale stone plain, sharp rock formations reached for the sky. Gasses, green, red, yellow, rolled into the air, some sprayed as if under pressure, some as gentle as a mist.
Turning, there was a mountain. More like a volcano, as grey ash rose from its caldera and lines of bright red and dull orange lava flowed down into rivers that eventually poured off a cliff into the churning seas of sulphuric acid.
Savage winds whipped and pulled, throwing silica dust mixed with volcanic ash. Here and there, full diamonds dropped from the sky, spat out by the volcanos and carried through clouds illuminated by streaks and sheets of lighting. Thunder pealed, echoing off the mountains.
One would not expect life to grow here. Not in an environment such as this. But one would be wrong. Hiding in the cracks and crevases of the stone, hardy mosses and lichens thrived. Small multi legged almost arachnid creatures pull what they needed from the volcanic vents they called home.
And under ground. In the vast caverns cut out of the living earth by lava and quakes. Here, the Queen stood over her brood. Workers moved over her, and around, sometimes over each other. The moved in efficient lines, working together as only their musically linked mind could.
Standing over the workers, sometimes from the ceiling, or down among them, soldiers strode, while the workers skittered. Their eight eyes always turning and scanning, always wary of a threat.
"Where am I," John whispered as he turned, looking at the world that no human could ever hope to set foot on and live. He stood on the great stone expanse that looked over the roiling oceans. And somehow he knew there was life there as well.
"Refrain of Light and Shadow," the strong echoing voice voice sang to him. Turning he saw the rachni Queen towering above him. Now she stood, her eyes scanning the ocean's horizon for a moment before turning to look down at him. "That is what we call this place. It is the sweet, cooling blue shadows that hide us from those that wish us to be no more. And it is the bright, glowing, warm yellow of the sun, hopeful and eager. A place your trust and kindness brought us."
"You are the Queen I released," John said in awe. "You've grown."
When he had seen and spoken to the Queen on Noveria, she had been close, if not slightly larger than a good sized aircar. Now, however, her mass was more like mako.
"We grow, yes," the Queen sang, a literal note of amusement in her voice. "Our hive, grows. We shall grow strong. My daughters have spread through this world. It shall be our new homeworld. And when our songs are strong enough, and bright enough, we shall announce ourselves with a powerful refrain."
"I...hope you mean more like a fanfare, and less 'Die, vermin, die'," John frowned slightly. "Because I'm pretty sure that would ruin my reputation.
"It shall be of gold and silver, Peace-Singer, we will mix our songs with those of the others," the Queen looked up at the sky. "Where once we thought only of the bloody red of war, we seek peace, prosperity, gold and silver."
"Peace-Singer?" John snorted with a shake of his head. "Think you have the wrong man."
"We do not," The Queen leaned down to look at him closely. "You are the bright gold, swirled with green and lavender. You seek hope and bring peace where you can. But you are also reds of rage, blacks of sorrow., the War-Ender. Your foes fall before you, though inside you cry for each of them. The songs of sorrow fill you when you sleep. We know of your terrors. The ones that speak to your dreams and hunt your heart. Their sickly, oily songs….
"But now, you are wrapped in melodies and raptures of Purple love. Your soul sings in near perfect harmony, easing your fears and blunting your rage."
"Near perfect, huh," John chuckled.
"Yes, It is close, but it is wrong. The small discords have grown. Your rhythms have become disrupted as they sought to close around a measure they were not made for," The Queen nodded solemnly. "It was the instruments of those that came fumblings with music, their degraded recordings changed you, but not enough."
"The Protheans?" John raised an eyebrow. "So, the beacons did something to me, but it didn't work completely?"
"Your grasp of lyrics does your credit, Peace-Bring, War-Ender, Life-Giver," the Queen sang to him. "Just as they took the queens of old and shaped their songs, seeking only those with vicious, martial tunes, grooming and growing them as songs of war and death, so too did they seek to alter your mind and soul to become a vessel for their own music."
"Wow...I...just got bombarded with a lot of information there," John laughed as he shook his head in disbelief. Goddess, Liara would be excited and horrified to hear this...Or excited. Probably both.
"Yes...we must sing one chord at a time," the Queen apologized with a dipped head. "Our songs are many and layed into symphonies. It would be difficult to pick a single voice among the songs. Ask, and we shall unravel the notes for you."
John sat on a nearby flat rock as he considered. "Let's start with the Protheans. You said they made you?"
"No, they did not bring our melodies to life," the Queen shook her head. An oddly human gesture. "They conducted us. Shaped our music, wrote tunes and beats for our songs. Made them darker, colder. They sought to make Anthems of war to fight the Sickly, Sour Notes."
"They wanted weapons to fight the Reapers," John nodded tapping at his chin with a finger. "But the Reapers erased all the sentient races, I thought?"
"They came early, and fast. Their tempo outmatched those of the Conductors. Our songs were not ready, they were incomplete. As such, our songs were watched by those of cold music. They knew we could be of use to them," the Queen's sorrowful tones throbbed in John's chest. "Our music was violent and red, when we were found the sickly notes came. They twisted our songs. Rewrote them. We made war with music designed to drown down the music of other until the sour notes arrived."
John's eyes widened with understanding. "They wanted you to keep us weakened for the Harvest."
"Yes," the Queen confirmed
"And the prothean beacons...what did they do to me?"
"You do not hear the echoing songs of the past," The Queen looked a little pityingly at John. "You are limited by dead lyrics on paper. So many songs are written in who we are. Our colors of emotion. Our lyrics of hope and sorrow. Knowledge of who we were and who we could become. The Protheans did the same. They read the building blocks to hear the true echoes."
John...had no idea what she was talking about. Before, Saren had used her to find the lost Mu relay, because she knew its location. And she knew that because, somehow, they passed information genetically. So...protheans could read DNA for data?
"We hear your song," the Queen nodded, with a regretful tune. "And you are correct. But also incorrect. We lack the instruments to bring you full understanding. The beacons were made to speak to protheans. Song to Song. They could not conceive of themselves being unable to return, thus their music echoes wrongly in your mind."
"Then...how was I able to get anything?"
"The beacons sought to change your songs to fit their own. At the core, your music was rearranged. New stanzas and bars were added where they had not been before. But it started to destroy your song," the Queen sat back and reached out on of her tentacle like arms to gently pat John on the shoulder. It was weirdly...human. "Past-Seeker, she combined your songs. When your melodies intertwined, they smoothed out the wrong notes. They were pushed back, as close to proper as they could."
"Okay. And the second beacon made it worse?" John frowned. He was quite unhappy with the idea of a long dead ancient race trying to rewrite his song. Mind. Brian. Whatever.
"Your song had changed to fit the ancient notes. The song adapted. It was ready for the next verse and chorus. They connected, altering your own song further, but not violently. Slowly, building a tempo. Touching our song helped. We also smoothed your notes. Our songs were closer to yours, but also closer to theirs. Our songs bridged the gap. Until your song ceased," the Queen's sorrowful song touched John's chest, deeply. "We grieved."
"When I died...you heard that?" John frowned slightly as a thought came to him. When their songs touched, his took in notes of hers, as she took in notes from his. They had a connection?
"We did, and we sang blue notes of sadness," the Queen lowered her head, unhappy even thinking about it. "Your song blazed so brightly, it had been battered and cracked but it weaved others songs to it. The symphony you created was brilliant golds, silvers and reds. Blues and greens. Until it was gone. And we feared."
"You knew who killed me. And that they were coming back," John looked at his feet for a moment, then looked back to the Queen. "And now?"
"Your song burst back into the stars," the Queen...smiled? If one could smile through music and color. "Our songs were joyful, triumphant. Until it became clearer. Your song tightened and became whole once more, but...wrong. Changed. Some of your notes had become tiny, small. They wanted another song, bigger. There were notes that were sickly and yellow. We feared your song was corrupted by the void singers. You burned red. Until the purple love grew."
"Yellow….reaper tech…" John cursed inwardly. The implants must have been based on reaper tech. And, small notes…. Geth?
"Yes, when your song awoke they were discordant. But no longer. The notes are no longer sickly. They are yellow still, but their palate blends. The small notes no longer search. The have joined your whole and sing as one with you."
Wait...he didn't say anything that time.
"Our songs have touched and mingled," the Queen laughed, a musical, trilling, like small bells. "We hear your notes."
"Alright," John decided not to think any more about it. It would hurt his song. Brain. Whatever. "And you said love is...purple?" Not that he didn't know what she was referring to.
"Yes, as you surmise. The purples of love that exists between you and Hope-Singer. Your songs have grown close. They touch and overlap. They are nearly one, as is with her people. Because of the Conductor's touch," the Queen floated notes and images of Tali and John. "It is not how your song is made. Much as when you were altered by the Conductors. But we shall help you. The sour notes pushed at you. It used your weakend song, trying to break it. But we will bend our songs to yours. We shall push back the sour notes, reorganize you discordant notes. We are more adept that Past-Seeker."
"What will that do? Will it damage our Bond?" John frowned with worry. He needed Tali. She was his reason. His purpose. Now that he could see his song, he saw what the Queen said. He was the sick yellow notes. How they were corrupting him. And how her song soothing the red, raw beats in him.
"Your song and Hope-Singers have become one," the Queen laughed again. "Even if we had the ability, we would not wish to separate a melody as pure and amazing as yours. No, we will simply smooth the bars that the songs come together, mix them smoother. They will not be the same as if her song connected to the song of the Life-Creators. It will be a new song. Unique and yours forever."
"Life-Creators?" John blinked looking up at the Queen.
"Yes, Hope-Singer's people," she sang confirmation. "They sang into metal and plastic. Wire and plates. And their voices created new songs. Small songs. Song that sought for each other. Songs that wished to be more. They wanted their songs to touch the songs of the Life-Singers."
"Wait," John's eyes widened. "You mean that the geth are alive?"
"Yes. We can hear them. Our scouts sing, and we hear," the Queen nodded. "We looked back. Their systems were not designed to ward off intruders. We looked at the history. It was slow, but they grew. Then the Creators grew fearful. They fought, bringing war. Now, the Small-Songs seek only to be greater songs. They wish to be more than they are."
"Well, that is certainly going to make things interesting," John sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How long will it take for you to smooth my song?"
"We are done," the Queen's bell like laughter echoed once more as her tentacle drew him closer to her. "The song of the mind move at the speed of light, Peace-Bringer." As she spoke, she drew John closer, and the closer she got, the smaller she became. He face changed, the snout and mandibles pulling back and separating into a human-like nose and mouth. Her legs came together to form a single set and her chest and lower body shifted and warped. By the end, the Queen stood taller than John, perhaps seven feet tall. But instead of the large insectoid she looked nearly human. Red flesh was half covered by her dark exoskeleton. Her eight eyes remained, by the single large central pair of eyes sat in a human like face, blue against the black. She smiled, wide human smile that revealed jagged pointed teeth and the mandibles that folded inside her mouth.
"We are Soul-Singer. We hope to be your friend. We are touched by you as you are by us. You have changed us, and our daughters grow free and proud because of it. Your songs will always be sung," Soul-Singer pulled John forward into a hug. A slightly awkward hug, as she almost smothered his in her, honestly, overly large chest. Then, laughing again, she pushed him back. "Our time is nearly done. Ask."
"Will...I see you again?" John looked up at the woman...rachni...woman-rachni. "Will you help us against the Reapers?"
"Yes," she nodded. "When the Void-Callers come, we will stand with you, if we can. We fear the yellow notes. We worry about their touch. But if we are able, we shall help you."
"And...what about Xera?"
For the first time, Soul-Singer looked uncomfortable. "We...see much of the same notes in her as we did you. She is unclear, however. Her notes echo through Hope-Singer, then you before we can see them. They are faint notes but are touched by more of the small notes than yours. The yellow notes have no grasp on her, however. Be sure of that. Any more?" Soul-Singer shrugged.
"Alright, last thing," John waved a finger about him vaguely. "This whole scenario?"
"Our minds are linked, Peace-Bring, War-Ender. Not like your mate. Think of it like that device you use to speak with the man of darkness and shadow," Soul-Singer smiled. "We are quantum. Entangled."
"Quantumly entangled?' John frowned. "How do you know about that?"
Soul-Singer laughed joyfully as she shook her head. "We have technology, Peace-Bringer. We traveled the star long before any of the other races. We touched your Citadel long ago, before deciding is was not for us. In fact…" Soul-Singers eyes narrowed as she contemplated John. "We shall share with you a secret. In hindsight, it shall be obvious, but no one thought to look."
"Alright," John said evenly, both hopeful and worried.
"The Life-Singers. Their connection, the binding of the soul," Soul-Singer gently laid a hand on John's head. "They connect. A spark stikes. You felt it. When it does, they connect on the quantum level. They each get a half. And become one through it."
John's eyes shot wide as he stared up at Soul-Singer. "That's...that's why we know where each other are! And we can tell feelings!"
"Indeed," Soul-Singer nodded before looking regretful. "I am sorry. I enjoy speaking with you, but there is no more time. We shall speak again, someday, when there is either peace or war."
"You….aren't really like this right," John waved a hand over Soul-Singers humanoid body.
"No, Peace-Bringer," she laughed. "You are shaping us more than we are shaping you. If you notice, my method of speaking has changed. You are adapting to the connection as am I." Her expression turned sad again as she sighed. "Unfortunately, connecting like this is difficult. It shall be a long time before I have the strength to do it again."
"I thank you," John stepped forward and hugged Soul-Singer, awkwardly, as he attempted to avoid the large bust. "Until we meet again."
"Until then," Soul-Singer grinned and picked John up. "My last thing, a tease at Hope-Bringer."
Leaning forward, the rachni gave John a deep kiss.
Tali, SR-2 Normandy, Maind Crew Deck
They had kicked her out of the med bay. She couldn't blame them. As it was she was pacing back and forth in front of the window. Which, of course, Xera had closed while giving Tali the finger.
Garrus and Miranda had sat at the table. Miranda doing more to comfort Garrus than Tali would have expected. And had she not been so distracted, she might have noted that for later.
Grunt came and went. He was spending a lot of his time working out with the equipment in the cargo hold.
She had been in the way. Xera and Chakwas knew their jobs. John was dehydrated, and malnourished. And sleep deprived. Probably massively stressed about getting the pal'tec vis surden done.
When they had asked him, Grunt admitted that John was getting wide eyed and weird toward the end.
The pal'tec vis surden. Tali stopped and pulled the stone out of the pouch on her suit, and stared at it. It was still amazing. He had shaped the piece of her homeworld into a work of art. There was no other like it, and there never would be. They were each other's home.
She felt him.
Tali's head snapped up as she stared hard at the med bay window. Her breathing increased as her fingers twitched. All her instincts told her to rush to her mate.
But she fought them down, and instead, put the stone back in its pouch. "He's back," she said quietly, more for the others in the room.
"What?" Garrus stood quickly. "He's alright?"
"I...think so," Tali blinked, contemplating. The Bond was...different. It felt smoother, more complete. She hadn't noticed the little jagged bits until they were gone. It was like all of the doubts and worries had been brushed aside. He was just...there.
She spun on her heel and moved quickly to the door, knocking. "Edi? Can you open the door? Or somebody? I need to see him!"
"I can," Edi agreed as the door opened.
Xera sat in a chair by the desk. She was leaning over with her elbows on the table, her helmet in her hands.
Doctor Chakwas stood to one side, pale, and tired, but smiling slightly. "His vitals all stopped for almost a second," she said. "But then they just popped back up to normal, as if nothing had happened to him."
"I, for one, am getting tired of his bullshit," Xera breathed, sitting up. "My heart damn near stopped when the system...blinked."
"There...something changed," Tali said, slowly walk to John. When she looked down on him, he looked at peace. He was still pale, but not sickly so. His eyes and cheeks didn't look so hollow. In fact, she could almost see color coming back.
Then his eyes snapped open. He took a deep breath, like a man breaching from deep water. He almost sat up, jerking up some, before Tali's hand touched his chest, pushing him back down. Then his eyes snapped to hers and a brilliant smile crossed his lips. "Hey, beautiful," he rasped, his voice dry. "I had the weirdest dream…."
Quarian Lexicon
Pal'tec vis surden: Medallion presented during the Ceremony of Bonding. Literal translation: Symbol of Souls United. Quarians followed a different path, where humans would place a ring upon their bride, a quarian male would present a medallion depicting the future life of the newly bonded pair. Worn on a chain around the neck before the war, they now are carried by every bonded female in a special pocket within their enviro-suits, just above their heart. Usually made from precious metals, the quarians in the fleet now use scrap metals to conserve resources.