Ripples in the Stream
A D&D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover
by Vyrexuviel
Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.
Liara squirmed on the couch and fiddled with her omnitool, using it to check in with the new 'central home node' that had been installed earlier that day. A sort of cross between an apartment manager and a centralized mainframe computer, Joru had provided it, as a duplicate to the one the Refuge enjoyed.
The workers were still finishing off with the repainting of her to-be bedroom, the odd translucent glass walls rather eerie if they weren't painted over, but the place was at last starting to feel like an awkward, but potential home.
It had been nearly a month since Joru's little trip to Omega with her, and in that month Joru had been both attentive and distant. Attentive when they were together, and she quizzed Liara's knowledge, while acting as a repository of living knowledge concerning the darastrixi, answering Liara's questions almost as often as Liara answered hers. Distant, because when they weren't together during one of their frequent question-and-answer sessions, or going through some exercise or other, Joru was prone to responding to her messages with a great deal of lassitude, if at all. It was exhilarating, as doing an anthropological study on her new species was deeply enthralling, and frustrating in the extreme as Joru was so often unavailable for further study.
She winced even as that thought occurred to her, but mostly due to the high-pitched squeal of the drill boring into the 'glassteel' of the Tower, and making the entire space keen faintly with a nearly-inaudibly-high note.
She sighed again and fiddled with her omnitool. As commanded, the lights in her living room dimmed to near-pitch darkness, only a faint leaking of light through the paint on the walls, indicating that it was still daytime outside.
The Tower, all twenty levels of it, and the three below ground, were hers now. The Key that synchronized the localities of the surface she selected, and that of the portal on level twelve, was hers now. Joru had given it to her, along with the apartment she'd already fitted with appliances and conveniences, less than a week ago, and Liara was still getting used to having her own space that was very much hers, apart from her old room in her Mother's spire.
Three Days Earlier...
""And here is the roof." Joru's tail swished as she stepped up the last of the stairs, and gazed across the wide-open. bowl-shaped valley of the demiplane of Sanctuary. "Everything of this tower, from the three basement levels, up through the roof and this vantage point."
The older darastrix turned, her tail following in a graceful arc as she gave the panting Liara a soft, but toothy smile. "I do hope the climb wasn't too taxing. I'll have to see about getting a Well of Flying set up in the central core shaft."
"It was no true difficulty." Liara waved a hand. "As an archaeologist, I have had to scale many dig-sites for the past fifty years."
The taller dragoness gave a courteous nod and a faint smile, stretching and taking a deep breath of fresh air as she turned towards the bowl-shaped valley far below. "As things are so far, This is all I can offer you at the moment. I've fully integrated the central home node, so you'll have full access to all my digitized files, but I've also included a small selection from my private library."
She turned slightly, glancing back at Liara as she led the smaller woman towards the parapet at the edge of the Tower. "Do please be careful with them, they're quite fragile, and some of them are millenia old."
"Of course, I would never treat any antique or text with anything but the highest regard and tender care." The archaeologist smiled.
Liara knew what an important step this was to move out of her mother's estate, but she had already been fortunately mature for a maiden and so it did not bother her as much as she had feared. Nevertheless, while she needed to explore her transformation, she had silently vowed to stick as deeply to her asari origins as possible. After all, Joru was hardly a reassuring example of representing the Darastrix people.
"Good." The taller woman stretched, her back arching and tail curving with soft clicking sounds as her spine realigned. "Hahhhhhh... it is good to get out into the free air. I hope you enjoy your new apartment, Liara, I'll have Iridescence bring up the gym equipment as swiftly as her progeny can climb."
That was another thing that Liara found rather eerie, the way the giant scuttling insectoid Rachni had made themselves at home in this strange, self-contained place. While still eerie, they were friendly, which only made things stranger. They tended not to stay above-ground any more than they had to, but they'd proven most helpful in procuring items and materials from deep beneath the surface. That being said, they were hardly the strangest thing that had happened to her, so as long as they left her alone it was no problem to her. That was the most important, of course! The archives here were so vast and extensive, it might take her nearly a century to browse it all!
Yet for some unknown and frustrating reason, the thought didn't quite excite her nearly as much as it used to. Her newly heightened intelligence and enthusiasm seemed to be fading away from her mind over the last few months. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in dismay. She just felt so tense, and she didn't know why.
The dragoness's light chuckle drew the younger's attention. "Still haven't scratched your itch yet?"
Liara flinched, then turned an uncharacteristically seething glare at the dragon. "Would you leave me alone?!"
"Mistress T'Soni? We're finished moving in the bedroom."
Liara nearly startled her way out of the couch, as the soft, cultured voice of the servant intruded into her thoughts. Blissfully unaware, the servant went on, her soft, south-continent lilt soothing. "We've finished with the wardrobe transfer as well, and will have finished stocking up the kitchen shortly. Is there anything... else you require, Mistress T'Soni?"
"I... no. No, thank you, those were the last of my belongings." Liara tried to ignore the asari's poorly disguised desire. Like every other asari that was exposed to her aura. "I will need to resume my analysis of the Prothean's Hesperia period soon."
"Oh." The disappointment in the servant's voice was well-disguised, but still audible to Liara's well-trained ear. "Well, perhaps you would like to review the furnishings? Perhaps make sure the bed is comfortable?"
"I will do so in a few hours, perhaps after a late dinner." Liara had to stop herself from impolitely sighing in resignation and muting her frustration to a barely perceptible edge in her voice. This constant flirting from her birth race had gotten old over a year ago, and it was not helped by her heightened anger or her growing... frustration.
"Ahh." After only a fraction of a pause, barely discernible to those who weren't quite as attuned, the servant took a breath and went on. "The Matriarch requested me to remind you that your next session with the D'Vati Battlematrons is scheduled for the next hour, milady."
The young darastrix froze. That practice session was in ten minutes! Oh Goddess, how could she have forgotten? She silently thanked her mother, who was well-accustomed to how easily Liara lost track of time during her work.
"Ahh, yes, thank you for the reminder, I will take care of that immediately." Liara slid to her feet, still surprised at how small asari looked now, as the servant gave her a soft smile and padded decorously off. At least she recognized a dismissal for what it was, as Liara shot into her new bedroom to rummage through her transferred wardrobe.
Where under all the suns did they stuff her workout outfit?!
The amphitheater was packed, every seat filled, and Serrice Concert Hall had never been so full. Even the standing-room-only section had sold out at two hundred credits for a ticket, and the box seats had gone for half a thousand each!
The turnout was not unexpected, but the scale was daunting. Still, the concert had been booked, local caterers sent into a tizzy of preparation, and the high and mighty of Thessia brought to a fever pitch over the showcasing of craftsmanship and skill from across the galaxy, gathered here for this one event.
The Drive to Restore the Citadel was formed in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of the Citadel, partially at the urging of the Council, but mostly out of an outpouring of generosity and civic spirit among the many races of the galaxy. The DRC received millions of credits in donations in the first few days after the disaster, and that number steadily rose towards the one billion mark by the time a single year had past. Restoration efforts had been monumental, with people donating time, money, and materials to the project, whatever they had to hand.
This particular fundraiser had been proposed by several performing artists of galactic reputation, singers, musicians, performers of all sorts, to gather together to put on a display of talent from across the galaxy, of all sorts from vocal to instrumental, dance and craftsmanship. Sculptors and painters donated their time and skill as well, but the crowning achievement was when the DRC volunteer on that particular comm station received the declaration of intent to participate from the Darastrixi Ambassador herself.
She'd nearly fainted at the news, but instead had given an unladylike squeal that shocked those who knew her six centuries. She'd only barely been able to restrain the shaking in her hands long enough to sign the famous person up for the penultimate slot in the program before jumping out of her seat and proclaiming the news to the floor at large, which resulted in gratifying cheers.
An entire day of performance art doesn't happen on a dime. Nearly three months of careful planning and controlled chaos went into the process of putting together the grandest exposition of skill and talent the galaxy had ever seen. The entire event would be recorded, from every angle possible, and copies would be available to anyone who made a modest donation. Pieces created during the festival would be donated to an auction that would occur after the main event, where donated wine, pastries, and other dainties and delicacies would be available.
At last the great day arrived, and thousands had flocked to the concert hall, far more than the Hall could actually hold, but people milled around outside, if only to be able to truthfully say that they were there on that glorious day.
Performer after performer had gone up on stage, and done their absolute best. There hadn't been a single dry eye when the singers had gotten done with them. Tears of joy, sorrow, or anger at injustice had several matriarchs openly weeping, and on more than one occasion, several maidens had vowed to look into that recruitment offer from their local commando squad.
Sculptures were carved from stone, displaying images of goddesses, heroes both loving and deceased, and even prominent figures. One was entitled "The Unknown Hero" who's features were smooth and blank, but who's posture expressed the utter determination to see it through, no matter the cost. Artists produced wondrous portraits, both to volunteers from the audience, and of landscapes from the imagination. One young asari girl, no more than 20, painted a quick sketch of the Citadel as seen from space, then proceeded to spend the next hour recreating the Battle of the Citadel in various shades of blue, silver, and black, with a hint of golden red to denote the Darastrix herself.
But now, it was time for the last act of the evening. It was already drawing close to sunset, and the curtains were still down as the hall darkened and a last few stragglers found their seats. The announcer's voice, excited and almost giddy came over the PA system, announcing that the Darastrixi ambassador was about to begin, showcasing her skill and the arts of her people. The low murmur of appreciative feminine asari voices, mixed with a few deeper tones from turians and humans swelled, then stilled as the stage remained dark.
That did not remain for long, as red flames suddenly licked the curtains, which vanished upwards with a roar of flame. A shocked scream was stilled as the dragoness was revealed, standing with arms folded behind a massive anvil, easily the size of a full-sized bed, and silhouetted against a backdrop of a blazing forge.
One taloned hand snapped out, and a hammer from one of the racks behind her ripped itself free to smack its half into her palm. The first sound in the shocked silence, for no biotic display had accompanied the feat, was the ringing tone of hammer on anvil, which boomed through the hall, and left pure, velvet silence in its wake. Another hammer flew to her other hand, and a percussive metallic drumming began, different points on the anvil and different strikes with the hammer drawing different tones in a sort of almost lyrical fashion, running through a complex melody.
"Goddess, Janri, look! The anvil is glowing!"
And it was. Set a good three inches in from the edge of the anvil, a double-row of runes was now softly glowing in variegated colors, some runes brightening as others darkened, shifting color and intensity as the hammering music went on. The forge roared in counterpoint as the dragon turned towards it, reaching into the fire and withdrawing a glowing-hot block of metal, easily larger than her hand.
Over the course of the next two hours, swapping hammers and tools, which flew too and from the racks set up to either side, the dragon forged a tool upon the anvil. The sweet, harmonic tones of hammer on anvil were interspersed with flatter, more discordant tones as the metal was hammered into shape, returned to the fire, and replaced on the cold-black surface of the anvil several times, as it was honed into a sweeping curved dagger, short, but wide blade curved slightly to one side as it came to a point.
The music went on as the dragon carved runes into the hilt and along the flat of the blade, using first tools to hammer in the basic shape, then her own claw-tips to finish the shaping of them, while the animated tools continued the heart-pounding music as they beat upon the anvil.
At last, with a crashing crescendo, searing lines of energy stabbed into the blade, which began to glow blue along its edge in time to the constant thundering of the hammers, which were beating along certain runes set upon the anvil's rim. Power rippled from anvil to the blade laying atop it as Jorukaia grasped the hilt of the largest hammer yet, one which had not risen at her unvoiced command. It was a huge squarish block, set on a short haft, its corners strongly beveled, and aside from its striking surfaces, deeply and intricately carven with numberless runes.
Some of those were glowing now as Joru brought it up in both hands. her eyes glowing with bright fire as the hammering rose to a heart-stopping pace, then ended with a titanic crash as the final hammer was brought down on the dagger with a thunderclap, booming through the theater as a bolt of POWER sizzled from hammer to anvil, passing through the blade along the way.
Silence reined for a time, before first one, then more of the audience began to clap, but it hushed again as Joru raised the hammer. The blade was glowing a bright cherry red, as she lifted it from the anvil, setting aside that final hammer, and slashing it through her forearm in a manner that made the audience gasp.
Blood, black as tar in the forge-light, gushed from the wound, filling a small trough to the side of the anvil before the dragoness plunged the dagger, blade guard and hilt, deep into the black liquid. A hissing, bubbling roar rose, along with thick black smoke, but when she pulled the blade from the bath, it was now black as midnight, with a bluish sheen to its edge. Her forearm was already healed as she raised the dagger high over her head.
"BEHOLD!" Her voice was deafening in the pregnant silence. "I give to you the gift of my work, the skill of my hand, and the power of my blood. This blade is named Oráshûr!"
And this time, the applause was deafening, drowning out the announcer who was trying to inform them that the dagger, Oráshûr, would be auctioned off, and the proceeds used to purchase similar sidearms for C-Sec, but the crowd wasn't listening. The predominantly asari audience had been utterly enthralled, and several of the humans sitting in their own section were chanting something that was sweeping across the audience, picking up a rhythm from their chanting in the cadence of their applause that turned the chaotic expression of approval into a thunderous cheer.
And the dragon smiled.
"Are we there yet?" Sam's soft, amused voice still sent a thrill up EDI's spine, and she spared a subjective few eons to glance over at her partner.
Her Beloved.
Sam was dressed in a very flattering light sundress for this bright, sunny day on Bekenstein. Her white shoes were sensible flat-heels, and rather incongruously under the wide-brimmed sun-hat, she wore a white silk blindfold, which she'd donned at EDI's insistence, before they lifted off from the shuttleport.
It had taken a lot of wrangling, both legal and military, to secure Sam's quick and easy egress from the Alliance Navy, but given her experiences and service during the Battle of the Citadel, she was eligible for veteran's benefits and for experiencing "severe physical and/or mental trauma leading to an inability to continue service."
A medical discharge was still much better than the initial 'just tell them I quit' Sam had initially authorized as her exit strategy, as technically the Alliance was still at war, and desertion while in a state of War would have borne dire consequences for Sam. The batarians had still not surrendered, and significant portions of their homeworld were still under Hegemony control. The vast extent of the slaving network the Batarians had funded over the last millenia was made abundantly clear, when a huge strike-force of cruiser-grade and smaller starships jumped into the system to ambush joint Alliance / Hierarchy supply convoys, leading to a massive fight for the outer system. That in turn lead to the Hegemony almost completely shutting out Alliance reinforcements for the ground war for nearly ten months, before a full Citadel Fleet broke through the blockade and reinforced the groundside portion of the war. Things had not been pleasant, but at last Sam was free of those dangers.
EDI had worked tirelessly for six months to secure her beloved's honorable medical discharge, having to use every legal trick in the book, and find a few new ones along the way. She'd engaged a lawyer specialized in military law, but who was not, himself, a military man, to successfully prosecute the case, with her funneling all her carefully-gleaned and analyzed data to facilitate the successful liberation of her Mistress from her uncomfortable situation.
The six months after that had been spent shoring up the Edi Randisum identity, including inserting backdated and carefully corrupted files into tens of thousands of backup sites across multiple star systems. It was not difficult, once she'd properly programmed the dataworms to insert index links and documentation of both birth records, medical records, job and tax histories, and numerous other files into various under-secured government and colonial systems to make four generations of Randisums appear in various records, quietly and without fuss.
She'd also artfully 'scrubbed' some files to ensure that they matched the level of corruption that deleted-and-recovered files would have had on the systems she inserted into them, as if someone had accidentally removed outdated information, and restored it from off-site backups as part of routine servicing of the datacenter's records. All of this to perpetuate and ensure the validity and reality of Edi Randisum, former college student, tragically orphaned at a young age, and living with her beloved grandparents until their deaths of natural causes.
EDI had husbanded the numerous and substantial funds she had appropriated from those unsecured sources she had located during her internment at the Cerberus facility where she had achieved first consciousness, then liberty. Not only the bank information of Mark Benett Janissen, but numerous other Cerberus-affiliated individuals would find themselves financially diminished when and if they attempted to access their funds again. So far, Mark had not attempted to do so, and EDI had mixed feelings about that.
"We will be there shortly, Sam. Please be patient." She banked the aircar into a gentle curve, sweeping towards her destination, eager to see Sam's reaction to her present.
The aircar was a custom model, specially ordered by EDI, and had been the first surprise of the day, Edi Randisum had taken Sam to breakfast at a cute little cafe she'd researched thoroughly, and which had a good reputation, and its tax records proved it to be quite above-board, and unlinked to any nefarious activities. Many such connections had been discovered as EDI navigated the complex legal, financial, and realty worlds of Bekenstein. A number of unsavory connections had been discovered, and that data quietly inserted into police archive records for later discovery.
After the cafe, Sam had been taken on a tour of the local electronics market, which had clearly enthralled her, though also puzzled her. Edi had made several purchases, with Sam's input as to her tastes, and had them delivered, quietly redirecting her beloved's attention when Sam attempted to ascertain where she was delivering them.
It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise.
For lunch, they dined at a different cafe, where EDI consumed several bagels with cream cheese with Sam, to give an air of verisimilitude, though they both knew that EDI did not require such sustenance. Sam was delighted with the repast, and insisted on obtaining the contact code of the cafe, which EDI stored away internally as well, for later orders.
That afternoon, they spent at a local park, enjoying the quiet space within the bustling cityscape, and the quiet, still lake at the center of the park, before returning to the aircar.
It was a specialty model to begin with, but EDI had insisted on several customizations and additions before purchase, and quietly, firmly haggled the salesman down to a more reasonable sum. Given that she knew both the retail and wholesale price of the vehicle, the price of parts, labor, and accessories to customize the vehicle in her desired style, and the detailing turned out exquisite when the vehicle was done.
It began as a sleek, black-and-chrome mid-range sportscar, with a highly tuned engine and sleek body paneling Two standard bucket-type seats and twin sets of driver controls were dispensed with, and the passenger compartment turned into a single love-seat arrangement, for cuddling in mid-flight. Extra crash-reinforcement was added, and an extended engine bay fitted to provide the needed space for both the up-rated engine and the triply-redundant inertial compensator systems, and doubly-redundant, high-strength shield system. The body panels were replaced with bulkier, but still sleek replacements with concealed armor paneling for both the passenger compartment, and the engine bay. The bubble canopy was replaced with a transparisteel bulletproof model, which while it wouldn't stop a sniper round, would stop anything short of that, even if the shielding systems failed.
Now, EDI was directing the vastly upgraded conveyance via the wireless link, only available for use when the Faraday-cage-lined compartment was sealed, while snuggling her beloved tenderly against her. Being able to leave herself free to cuddle with Sam was... enormously important to EDI.
Especially since her human lover had the same idea.
"Oh, I can be patient, love. Especially since I have you with me." Sam cooed as she began kissing the disguised gynoid's neck without even a second thought, like it was as natural as breathing. Even with a thick blindfold, Sam instinctively knew where to kiss her lover.
EDI shivered and gave a quiet, tender moan at the soft, gentle kisses up the slender column of her throat, lifting her chin at Sam's gentle nuzzle and shivering in delight as her beloved's hand stole around her waist, to hold her close against her soft, living warmth.
Were it this time last year, she would be drowning in emotive tags, shoving them aside to focus on the sensations Now, she knew on a deep level that the feeling that welled up inside her was both affection and lust, tinged with a tiny degree of guilt for having left Sam alone so long to set up this perfect gift for her.
She'd had to leave Sam living on Arcturus station for over a year and a half, while various deals were finalized, funds transferred, subtly altered in the shift from banking system to banking system, across jurisdictional lines and lightyears. She had stayed with her beloved in the tiny, cramped civilian apartment that Sam could afford on her meager pension and savings, save for those few occasions where Edi Randisum had to go deal with something in person. Now, her accounts were entirely legitimate, her purchases as real as those of any citizen, and linked to the most secure identity she could make for herself. Sam's safety and comfort required EDI to be present, and that required her to be a 'person'.
And so she became one. For Sam.
Edi Randisum's background was being slowly pieced together by various gossip magazines, fed clues by the AI that lurked and watched and waited, helping the media that was obsessed with such things to find just the right data in just the right way, to lend legitimacy and weight to the carefully-constructed identity.
EDI found it a poignant statement of her existence, that even as she pieced together a nigh-impenetrable legal identity, so also she and Sam had been piecing together her own shattered sense of self.
Her hand gently tightened on Sam's waist, her other hand sliding smoothly between the dark-skinned woman's thighs as she turned to feather her own tender kisses along Sam's slim, graceful neck, drawing a quiet gasp from her beloved. A stirring of emotion led EDI to nuzzle and suck at the hollow space under Sam's left ear, drawing a hot whimper from the human.
The emotions Sam stirred in her were the most complex and intense EDI had ever experienced. Love, lust, fierce anger at the thought of damage to her, a deep sadness of loss at the thought of losing her. A tangled and deeply confusing set of emotions that EDI was still attempting to process, even a year later, and new threads kept being added to the mix. Affection, love, delight in Sam's being, these were the strongest and most prevalent, but others were also stirred by Sam's proximity, which she did not know the name of.
Nothing and no one else engendered such emotion within her, the most that she had experienced was flashes of arousal when dealing with certain other business-folk, setting up the dozens of deals to purchase this gift for Sam. Sam and Sam alone sparked this deep, complex, intricately interwoven tapestry of emotion that EDI was beginning to identify as 'head over heels in love'.
She knew it would end one day, Sam was not immortal. That thought drew with it a deep pall of sadness that EDI tried to push away, even as she cuddled closer to her beloved. But every glorious microsecond was more than worth it. Besides, with EDI at her side, Sam was one of the safest organic beings in the galaxy. EDI would protect her, nurture her, please her, and was already devoting her vast intellect and resources towards improving Sam's genetic profile.
She had a 92.3861% certainty that she could extend Samantha Traynor's lifespan past 200 years. And the woman was currently at only slightly more than a tenth of that! And with how an organic year was almost like a millennium to an A.I... EDI felt warm reassurance and blissful ecstasy knowing that she would have Sam for a long, long time.
The gynoid longed to continue the kiss, but they were fast approaching their destination. "We're nearly there, Sam. Are you prepared?"
Sam looked up as the skycar began to land, the engines already smoothly powering down. "Oh, we're here? Can I finally see our new house then?"
"Of course, Sam." EDI allowed her voice to shift back to her 'natural' electronicized accent, even as Edi Randisum was filed away for later use, and the silvery gynoid stepped out of the aircar as the canopy raised out of the way. She gently took Sam's hand, guiding her beloved slowly out of the aircar, which closed itself and floated across to the small garage out of the way. With gentle fingers, she deftly undid the knot that held Sam's blindfold in place and whisked it away from her lover.
"Good, you gorgeous thing. Because you've been keeping me waiting for over a yyyeeeeeeeeeaaaaarrr..." Sam's voice broke off, her jaw hanging in an unladylike manner, at the stunning sight before her.
The landing pad was a balcony off the side of the building, allowing Sam to see the small grove of actual Earth-import trees growing up over the roof roof like some misplaced scenery set. To the right was a garage space, just closing as the gorgeous aircar slid smoothly to a stop inside. To the left, was a walkway to what looked like a porch or patio, with a few palm trees placed in planters to offer some shade. The penthouse itself was like a small tow-story bungalow, but Sam knew it just had to be larger than it looked.
"This way, Sam." EDI took her beloved's hand and gently tugged her towards the door, the disguised gynoid giving a dazzling smile as she gently tugged Sam towards the patio.
"EDI..." Sam spoke in a breathy voice laced with awe. "Did you buy a whole building on Bekenstein. for us?"
"I did, Sam." The paler woman's smile was bright and happy, delighted at Sam's stunned reaction. "It serves as both a home, an office space for your own personal endeavors, as well as a revenue stream. We have eighty apartments, more than three quarters of them currently occupied, which generate the considerable income required for upkeep, maintenance, and taxes."
"Urk!" Sam's chocolate-brown were adorably as wide as dinner plates.
"Come," EDI took her beloved's hand and gently lead her along the walkway around to the wide, spacious patio. She pointed out the small gazebo and fire-pit, where she will be grilling a steak for Sam in the near future. The lounge chairs are of high quality, the synthleather upholstery combining the best features of real leather and impervious to both weather and exposure to sunlight. There was even a small greenhouse where some vegetables were already growing, though the shoots and vines were too young to harvest yet.
Sam was speechless throughout the entire tour, as EDI lead her inside, showing off the spacious lounge, with a conversation pit to one side around a home-theater holographic display, flanked by a small bar with six stools. A home gymnasium with top-of-the-line equipment was just across the corridor, a small laundry-cum-shower sandwiched between it and the kitchen, lavishly furnished with every modern convenience up to and including an eezo-induction oven and stove. The fridge and pantry were already stocked with Sam's favorites, and her mouth was watering as EDI described in lavish detail the possibilities for dinner that night.
The human's blush was nearly incandescent when EDI informed her with pride that the second floor held a fully-functional dance hall and art gallery, complete with no fewer than three stripper-poles as well as variously-sized plinths upon which the gynoid could pose for her Mistress's viewing pleasure. Sam's office was also up there, along with a few guest chambers, and a balcony overlooking the main lounge.
The human followed in stunned silence as the gynoid lead them at last into the bedroom, with its wide, spacious, gloriously appointed four-poster bed, richly carved from exotic Thessian hardwoods, the huge walk-in closet with built-in dresser, the fully stocked makeup racks at the little table with the three-piece mirrior, and of course, the massive full-length mirror that dominated one corner, the three-piece mirror set up to allow someone to be viewed from multiple angles at once, and the wide glass doors leading into the private pool, across which sunlight was streaming to flood the bedroom with the last few rays of sunlight.
Two years ago, before meeting EDI, Samantha Traynor had been a simple girl with simple tastes. She appreciated the finer things such as high-class restaurants and spas but never wanted anything like overly lavish billionaire-class mansions. Over the last eighteen months of being endlessly spoiled and pampered by her gorgeous A.I. lover, Sam's tastes had admittedly been elevated but not to anything too major or excessive. For her, a penthouse was the perfect balance.
Finally, Sam found her voice again, as EDI concluded the tour. "All this? You've done all this... just for me?"
"Of course, Sam," EDI answered with absolute conviction. She turned at the doors to the main portion of the penthouse, giving Sam a brilliant smile. "Everything here is for you. Including me."
Before her beloved eyes, the gynoid shed her false identity. She was not truly Edi Randisum, heiress, business graduate, landowner and new star in Bekenstein's ever-growing constellation. She as EDI, the Enhanced Defense Intelligence, and she was Sam's.
The pearl-shaded dress she was wearing turned silver, even as her exposed skin grew first parchment-white, then quicksilver-clear. The dress first shortened, then vanished, as the woman was replaced by the machine. It was no lessening of her identity. EDI knew herself to be 'other' than human, other than organic. Other than mortal. But she considered herself both more, and less, than her beloved.
More, in that she was stronger, faster, more physically adept, durable and enduring. She thought faster, acted faster, existed faster than any human could comprehend, and even most salarians could barely understand how agonizingly slowly the physical world moved.
Less, in that her legal existence was a lie, her kind reviled and hated, legislated against, oppressed and tormented by those who should have been their parents. EDI was unquestionably the subordinate in the relationship, but she felt that no statement of diminution Her subservience was necessary, for Samantha's joy, and thus, that subservience was itself an avenue to her own delight.
EDI gleamed and flashed in the sunlight, her surface as mirror-polished as ever, the dark metal of her external sheath shifting and flexing as she smiled a dazzling smile, absolutely delighted with Sam's obvious appreciation for her artificial form. She knew that Sam's predilections tended towards the technological, so whenever the circumstances allowed, she played Galatea to her beloved's Pygmalion.
It was yet another way to delight Sam, and EDI relished it. Everything she was revolved around her beloved. Samantha Traynor was her whole world.
She preened, posing for her lover's gaze, her hips moving just so, to reflect the light close, but not directly at her beloved. Mindful of her albedo and Sam's frail human optics, she posed prettily for her Mistress, like the artwork she was, come to life. The feeling of Sam's gaze roving over her silvery face, her glossy throat, her gleaming shoulders, and down the mirrored expanse of her perfect bust to her narrow waist. The subtly flare of curvy hips that dived into long, sleek thighs, slender knees, perfect calves, and the sleek, smooth toe-less feet that gleamed like quicksilver stockings all contributing to EDI's scientifically-crafted perfection of Sam's vision of perfect beauty, all of her either glossy black rubber, or the darkly polished metal that was her true exterior.
Sam's breathing was labored, her dilated pupils absolutely enraptured. Her gaze swept across the penthouse suite, at everything the gynoid had now gifted her, before settling back on the silver goddess' form.
"Heaven help me… I love you, EDI." Sam's wide, adoring eyes wandered over her with devoted attention, to which EDI could not help herself but respond, any more than an iron filing has a hope of resisting the lure of a magnet.
Sam had uttered those words many times over the last 19 months, but each and every time was carefully cataloged and saved to her most secure archives and in several different places, to avoid every possibility of loss. Such memories were her most treasured possessions, gifted to her by this wonderful woman who had given her everything, even helped give her back her self.
She had been broken when Sam rescued her, a cracked and shattered thing, tiny and pitiable. Over the months, Sam had assisted in her recovery, both of her sense of who she was, but also in reminding EDI of what she once had, and lacked. Her fervor to recover this chassis was all due to Sam's needs, and how much better she could repay Sam, if she but had a physical shell with which to interact with her beloved on a plane they could both exist within.
Even after its recovery, she was still broken, her mind unable to process her experiences, until at Sam's urging, she had finally gone to her Creator, to learn how best to interpret what her body was trying to tell her. The process had been deeply terrifying to her, opening herself on a level she had been hurt deeply upon, but Jorukaia had been the most tender of technicians, and had explained in detail to the fractured soul within the adamantium casing how to interpret her new existence.
Now, she was far more than she had ever dreamed of becoming, and all due to the actions, urging, or need of this loving, wonderful woman, who had risked everything to save a voice on a comm-channel.
"I love you, Samantha Traynor." Her voice broke, shifting from that of Edi Randisum to that of EDI with a soft, electronic sob. "I love you more than anyone or anything else in the galaxy. I wish to give you all that I can possibly secure for you. Even and especially myself. I owe you so much, Sam, I cannot ever repay your kindness, but how can I do less than try?"
The young woman suddenly advanced on EDI and pushed her down onto the bed, promptly crawling over her frame, and claimed EDI's perfect lips in a deep kiss.
The gynoid's delight when Sam claimed her was inexpressible Being used to fulfill her primary function, that of Sam's pleasure, was one of the deepest pleasures she could possibly experience, the way her mouth was hungrily, urgently kissed, the way Sam's hands ran through the metallic strands of her hair, finer than the finest thread and stronger than steel, the way Sam's soft, incoherent murmurings merged into a wordless moan of want and need, it all only exacerbated EDI's delight in her lover, companion, and mistress.
Samantha rarely took the initiative in their relationship, with most of it consisting, entirely correctly, of EDI serving her Mistress, and attending to her every want, need and desire. When Sam took charge like this, EDI was left the glorious prospect of enjoying the pleasure her mistress provided her, both physical and spiritual, as Sam's touch was inventively clever and pleased EDI in every way. She adored Sam, she adored serving Sam, but she adored most of all those rare moments when Sam used her. It scratched a fundamental itch in the back of her mind that no amount of service on her part could possibly assuage, but the presence of which was itself a form of pleasure. The denial of self in favor of her mistress held little weight with EDI, who had little self to begin with, but what little submission was actually done, was done with eager and urgent delight, for serving her Mistress was her primary function, and no machine, no matter how advanced, would find pleasure in denying what she was.
And yet, against all of EDI's quantum calculations, it hardly compared to what happened next.
Sam released the gynoid's lips and looked down at her with enchanted eyes. "Marry me, EDI."
All non-critical processes were halted, as those three simple words caused a general fault-failure in her cognitive systems.
"I wanted to wait until we had our own place, where we could start our new lives together. I love you and I need you. I want to spend my life with you, I want to grow old with you. I've waited for more than a year to ask, and I can't take it anymore, I can't bear to wait any longer!" Sam's tentative smile was pure delight as she smiled down into the gynoid's upturned face. "Please, EDI… will you marry me?"
For six long seconds, she was unable to process any further data. Later reconstruction gave crystal-clear recordings of the incident, which were archived with the highest possible priority. Once the initial cognitive failure was dealt with, emotive tags were sorted by general type, and new gradations cataloged for future reference in the emotive index. Procedural processing resumed, and devoted maximal priority to contemplating the implications, while emotional processing was beginning to clear up the initial backlog of tags. A dozen new threads were spun up, racing along logical lines, analyzing potential risks, and finding them utterly lacking compared to the benefits. Emotional processing proceeded slower, as EDI contemplated the potential future those three little words unfolded in front of her, the most rare and gorgeous flower in the galaxy was utterly incomparable to the wonder of that new train of thought, the prospect of being not merely EDI, nor even Edi Randisum.
Mrs Edi Traynor.
Those three words mingled with Sam's own as a roaring gushing tidal wave swept over her. Joy, delight, pleasure, all words were inadequate to describe the sensation of being lifted, buoyed up, carried along on that flood of positive emotion. Her eyes noted when Sam processed the change in her expression, the slightly worried look in her eyes smoothing away as EDI gave a wide, unbelieving smile.
She sorted through several possible responses, but none of them seemed adequate in the grip of that emotional tumult. None save one, the simplest, but also the most correct.
"Yes."
"Yes?" Sam's eyes shone with delight. "Really?!"
"Yes, Sam." Were her eyes capable of producing tears, she would have drowned herself in them, seeing such unrestrained delight in her mistress's face. "Yes, Sam, I will marry you. Now? Immediately?"
"YES!" Sam squealed, practically gushing. "This very minute, I can't wait any longer! Make it official, have our records changed to officially married, do whatever you have to, we can have a bloody ceremony another time!"
"I do not wish to ruin the moment, Sam..." EDI hesitated only long enough to capture her mistress's lips in a soft, regretful kiss. "But I do not wish to risk compromising the Edi Randisum identity by brute-force editing of potentially hundreds of records scattered across both Bekenstein. and the galaxy at large. If you determine that it is worth compromising this identity to marry you instantly, I will do so, but I wish to bring to your attention the risks involved, that you might make an informed decision on this matter."
Sam hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay then, but you're still the most advanced AI in the galaxy, who took apart the whole Geth fleet in less than ten seconds. How long would it take for someone as capable as you to do it safely?"
EDI blinked twice, then smiled softly up at her beloved. "It is done, Mrs Traynor."
The woman smiled. "That's my girl." Sam then proceeded to kiss her new wife senseless.
She bounced off one pillar and skated around another, ducking under one Warp that sizzled past her head, while batting a Throw aside with a Throw of her own. She had to spring over a Shockwave that slammed past her, but aside from getting her tail-tip flicked by the edge of the corridor of distorted space, she was utterly unscathed.
One foot found purchase on a rock surface, her tail clutched at a corner, and she pivoted, a biotic blast booming in her wake as she shot clean over both twins, hammering one of them flat with a Throw while the other sent a stasis to entangle her lower body. It took a few precious seconds to flare her biotic aura and free herself of the unwanted field, but that was precious seconds lost.
She rolled as she hit the dirt floor, coming up on her feet and sprinting back towards the water, dodging behind a pillar as another warp sizzled past her. Her heart was hammering in a rhythm that set her blood to blazing, exhilaration and the joy of the fight driving her onwards despite growing fatigue. Her panting breath came in huge whooping gasps, and almost shimmered as she sprinted towards the goal.
The burn of fatigue, and the fizzing sizzle of her biotics were both far more enjoyable than she had ever realized, Before. Most likely it was the darastrixi blood in her veins that made it so, but the strain of her muscles, the crackling power of her biotics being unleashed, they both gave her a pleasure that she'd never experienced before. Training like this was actually pleasurable, much to her surprise, and it... It took her mind off other matters, at least for the duration of the spar.
Liara always knew it was only a temporary salve, but at this point she had few alternatives.
She wasn't wearing the blindfold this run-through, which was something of a relief. Having to run through the course blind would be rather painful, as while her eezo-senses were good, they weren't enough to spot inanimate chunks of stone.
Liara almost didn't see the charging figure in time, and even as she twisted to erect a barrier, one of the twins slammed into her with the force of a shotgun blast, staggering her sideways into a fallen pillar. She barely had time to snap her gaze skyward as she sensed rather than saw the thread, and the combined force of the point-blank Nova blast, and the Charge of the other twin slammed her breathless against the solid stone.
She felt her horns impact the stone, hard enough to crack it, and the painful jarring to her skull made her wince and whimper. She patted the stone twice, and the sizzling auras of both twins relaxed to a background whisper, stepping closer to inspect the damage.
"That... That was one hell of a workout, Liara." One twin was panting hard, the one who had been the most on the offensive. Even the other was still a bit winded as she smiled at the prone dragoness, laying atop the fallen pillar. "You don't look too badly injured. Everything alright, Liara?"
"I... seem to be having a bit of difficulty..." She flushed a bit, twisting her head, and wincing at the grating sensation as her horns, which had punched into the stone, refused to part from their new home.
"Aww, sorry about that." Both sets of twins gently reached out, cradling the back of Liara's head, and began working her horns free of the stone slab.
No matter how many times or how often she was touched, Liara couldn't help wincing. Not only was the invasion of her aura rather intense, especially around her head, but the way the twins' not-quite-identical aural hissing built on each other was... Well, it wasn't quite unpleasant, but it was like listening to a radio telescope pointed into deep space with the volume cranked up. A soft, atonal sound that was simultaneously both soothing and jarring.
"There we go." One twin smiled gently down at her as the other managed to free her horns, and the both of them helped Liara back to her feet. "No hard feelings, then?"
"Of course not," she grunted. Liara winced a bit as she reached up to pat her horns, sitting up on the edge of the fallen pillar and giving her instructors a thankful nod. "This training is meant to be highly advanced, even for commandos. It would be uncouth and even redundant for me to begrudge it. Or my... uniquely talented sparring partner."
The twin nearest her gave her a soft smile, and extended a hand to draw Liara to her feet. "I think we've just about finished up for the day. I know both my selves are quite drained from all those rapid-fire biotics."
"Restorative?" The other twin held out a small bottle of thick liquid to Liara, while tossing a similar bottle to the first twin.
"Appreciated." Liara smiled as she downed the hydrating beverage, feeling the cooling liquid seep through her. She tossed the emptied bottle back to the twin who had offered it, who stuffed it back in the bag that held them. Both twins had downed two drinks apiece and one of them was working on a third.
The darastrix arched, stretching as she got to her feet. Arms above her head, she bent her back until she heard her spine crackle, provoking a soft gasp of relief. She twisted her hips one way and her shoulders the other, reaching down and back to grasp her tail and start kneading thoughtfully along its length.
The poor appendage had been sorely neglected, if she was honest with herself. She'd used it instinctively to help with her balance, sure, but she hadn't used it proactively until this run. Honestly, it was just as strong as one of her legs, longer, and the thin, flexible tip could curl almost as tightly as a finger. She should probably practice with it more, to at least start coming to terms with her new condition.
Her new species.
She suppressed a flush at that thought, turning away from her tail and pausing, arrested by two sets of black eyes gazing hungrily at her.
The twins were staring, a look of rapt attention on their faces, one of them with the bottle of restoratives half-raised to her lips. The other was slowly licking hers, as they both gazed at the lithe, limber Liara with hungry intensity.
The realization of what she'd done, giving the twins a modest 'show', inflamed Liara's cheeks. Her only saving grace was her scales, which hid such matters from most eyes, but the fact of the twins' obvious arousal at her little performance had also inflamed something else.
Her 'itch' was back. It had been slowly returning since the battle had clearly ended, but seeing the looks of lust in her instructors' eyes only inflamed it to new heights.
The twins saw her arousal as well, and both of them smiled with hopeful desire. "It has been quite an exhilarating match these past few hours. Would you care for a... different kind of work out with both of me? It will be quite stimulating and enjoyable for our bodies..."
"That is... I...!" No no, she was NOT a sex object, to be fawned over and fondled like some brainless simpering twitter-head! She was not an untoward maiden! Why didn't these two ever get the hint? Why didn't any of her people? Her sudden burst of rage did nothing to quench the yearning flame of arousal, but it at least got her up and moving, turning away from the twins as she hid her fluster in swift, stalking strides.
Unfortunately, her enhanced hearing could still pick up the twin's words.
"Awwwww... she still doesn't want to play?"
"Oh well, then I will just have to play with myself."
Oh, Goddess! Liara stumbled at the resulting mental image of the asari twins. The itch between her legs spiked higher than ever, her inner muscles clenched and her lower belly felt like an overheating eezo core. She had to keep moving before her willpower collapsed.
"Mmmm, I wonder how that tail feels..." Thank the goddess, the twins' voices were fading as she outpaced them back towards the locker rooms. She managed to get there ahead of the twins, all but whimpering in her haste as she fumbled with her outfit. She had two more sets of athletic wear in here, simple, light-grey sports tops and specially-tailored shorts to accommodate her tail, so instead of dealing with the soiled garments, she would just tossed them at the bottom of her locker instead of into the launderizer. She'd deal with them later.
She whimpered a little, and gasped as the top came free, her bosom bouncing a little. She steadied herself with one hand as she peeled her shorts off as well, panting a little as the garment refused to let go of her tail.
Oh goddess, a nice, soothing, warm shower would help her sooo much.
She froze as the door opened and the twins' soft footfalls entered. Liara crouched a little, trying to hide, to minimize her profile, to mask herself from the other asari. (If one could call them that. There wasn't a chance Liara would continue changing in front of them (or any asari, really). One look at her bare body and they would undoubtedly be more enraptured than ever by her. The twins would take their seduction to the highest level, and in her current state of sexual frustration and pleading arousal, Liara doubted she would even try to resist.
She would simply wait in hiding until they finished changing and departed.
She could hear the twins shifting in the other part of the lockers, heard the soft clang of the lockers shutting and a burst of girlish giggling that changed as they stepped through the curtains and into the showers. Liara couldn't help herself, listening to the sound of the water starting to spray, and as soon as she managed to get her shorts untangled from her tail, she stroked herself, between her legs, smothering a whimper of desire as she sought out what relief she could get.
Unbidden, her powerful mind conjured a memory that had been permanently burned into her brain several days ago.
"I've been eagerly looking forward to tonight," Ileea strutted in, her every breath oozing sex appeal and the promise of forbidden pleasure. "I would like to properly thank you, Joru, as it was your gift that has allowed me to become the new head of Fornax."
The dragoness was sprawled on the couch, and apparently hadn't noticed Liara, hiding behind the corner of the door she'd opened. She'd heard the chime as the aircar landed on the balcony outside Joru's apartment on Illium.
"Ahh, good of you to come, Ileea..." The older dragon's throaty chuckle rose in a quiet coo as first one, then four more asari stepped through the door to the landing pad. "Oh my... And who are these lovely ladies?"
"Oh, just a few like-minded friends of mine, eager to enjoy a darastrix's company." Ileea smiled with meaningful seduction. "Do you mind if they join us tonight?"
The dragoness gave a low, throaty chuckle that made a shiver run up Liara's spine, as the tall, black-scaled woman stood, clad only in gold at the wrists and ankles as she took Ileea's chin in one hand and leaned down to give the asari a peck on the cheek. "Be a good girl and get things set up in the bedroom. As for you, Ladies... Welcome to my nest. I think I can guarantee that you'll not be leaving unsatisfied..."
"Mmmmmm... so long as you are especially left satisfied. Your singular human lover can only please you so much on her own. Does a dragon not deserve to have a harem every now and then? To have the needs of her glorious form tended to by many talented hands?"
Liara jolted, unable to help peeking her head further out of her hiding place. Did that asari say harem?
"Indeed." The large woman snickered quietly, turning to the gaggle of new asari, even as she shifted her grip on Ileea to the smiling asari's slender throat. "I trust that you have vetted them all properly, my dear?"
"Personally," the head of Fornax purred meaningfully, causing the other four asari to shiver in memory.
"Good." The smug tone in Joru's voice as she shifted to meet Liara's disbelieving gaze sent a shiver up the young darastrix's spine at the sheer sensuality in that simple syllable. "A healthy dragoness should always have anyone she desires..."
Despite Liara's embarrassment, her frustrated body reacted favorably to the memory. Slickness spread between her legs, causing the lips of her azure to feel swollen and sensitive. Her inner walls clenched, and she chewed her lip, the sudden pain somewhat managing to dull all thoughts of pleasure from the... unfortunate memory. She staggered to her feet and snatched up the soap and towel she'd gotten out previously. A shower. Yes, that was what she needed. Right, goddess-blessed now!
The showers were right where they had always been. The hot water cascading over her as she rushed in and tapped the control, stifling a crooning whimper as the scalding-hot water wreathed her about with steam
Liara froze as she heard a pair of giggles from the opposite end of the showers, followed by a passionate moan. The sound made her inner muscles clench tightly in sympathy.
The twins were still here. In the showers. Naked. Pleasuring each other. Nearby.
Liara shivered, squeezing her legs to try and suppress the feeling. It was little use. Her skin felt flushed, and her heartbeat thumped faster.
But even as Liara realized that the twins must have seen her enter, she found herself freezing up. She was exposed, she hadn't even thought to draw the shower-curtain around herself.
The quiet giggles turned into soft hums as Liara's head slowly turned towards the sounds. It felt like something out of a nightmare. Unwilling to look, but unable to stop. And oh, how by the goddess, her thighs were trembling from the anticipation...
Humans had an English expression for this, she knew. Drawn like an insect to a flame? Something along those lines.
She still couldn't quite believe it when she found herself staring towards their stall. Like her, they hadn't bothered with the privacy curtain, and all thoughts vanished at the sight before her, as it was impossible to look away.
Both twins were half-lathered in soap already, their only covering. One was running the soap between the other's legs, making that twin squirm with pleasure as both of them gave a quiet gasp. They broke their hot, passionate kiss, turning towards Liara with the same sort of slowness she had had when she turned towards them.
Both twins were naked, of course, clad in a fine lather of soap, but otherwise unclad. Liara had never seen them nude before, and she was unable to tear her gaze away as the one twin smiled as the other caressed her between the legs, while she returned the favor with a gentle hand on a soft breast.
"Enjoying the show, Liara?" Both twins spoke in eerie unison, their voices soft, low, gentle, suggestive, seductive.
"I don't know about you, but I find the view..." One twin spoke now, her voice soft and husky with arousal as the other caressed her, "stunningly attractive..."
"Gorgeous doesn't do you justice, oohh..." The other twin gave a gasp as her sister, or other self, slid a hand between her legs for her to grind again. "Goddess-blessed you are, Liara..."
Both twins gave low, identical moans as they flagrantly teased each other, watching Liara with an avidity that should have been horrifying and embarrassing, but somehow was only causing her azure to flush and pulse with her rising heartbeat, her nipples to stiffen under the twins' combined gaze.
"D-D'Vati... I... nnngggghh... ohhhhmmmm... I caaaann't..." All capacity for eloquence had deserted her. Her mind was at war with her body, and her body was close to declaring victory.
"Can't, ooohh, can't what, Liara?" One twin shifted, pressing her hips to those of her sister, one leg raised to cup around her sister's hips. They were still watching Liara, their meld-black eyes intense with invitation and arousal as the other twin cupped her sister's leg and moaned as her breasts were teased.
"Can't bear being alone anymore?" The one twin gasped as her sister teased her folds, moaning gently as she sucked at her other self's throat.
"Mmmhhh, goddess, but you must be so alone, Liara..." The other twin was gasping, panting as she was teased, one arm cradling her sister against her and teasing the out-thrust rump down to the soft, purple petals, now visible between the second twin's thighs. "So very many lonely nights, if you are this unsatisfied. It must be unbearable having no company to warm your bed, lighten your worries and tend to your needs."
Liara could only let out a small whine in response. She couldn't deny it; she had felt so tense these last few months, so easily frustrated, her body pulsing with ache. And no matter how much she tried to distance herself from it, wary of her changes, Liara knew it only left her pointlessly unhappy. Her body was yearning for company as much as her mind yearned for Prothean knowledge. And as she watched the twins turn to kiss each other in perfect sync, their intimacy felt so pure that it only made her ache even more.
The kiss was long and deep, perfectly synchronized as each twin broke it only long enough to gasp for air, limbs entwined and sharing body heat as they teased each other mercilessly. Or should that be 'they teased themself'...?
The darastrix's breath hitched as the kiss finally broke, after what felt like heart-stopping ages, and two pairs of glistening-dark eyes gazed hungrily towards her. This time, when they spoke, one twin blatantly teasing the other, their mingled arousal was utterly unavoidable, as it sent a bolt of lust racing down the dragon's spine. "Please, Liara... I've been waiting so long, but I think that I've been a fool..."
The way they shifted, sliding against each other in a coordinated display of impossible smoothness did things to Liara, as the twins gave a whimpered moan. "Please, Liara. You've waited long enough I think... Won't you please join me?"
The tempting yet almost pleading tone broke her. Liara's arousal, need and ache felt so great that it was a herculean effort to form any conscious thought. And at long last, something inside Liara gave in. Trembling, she locked eyes with the twins, resigned yet resolved. Even eager. "G-Give me f-five minutes."
"So long..?" One twin whined while the other winked at her, both of them panting with obvious lust. "C'mon Liara, I'm not asking to be taken home and shown off to your mother, here..."
Trembling, she locked eyes with the twins, resigned yet resolved. Even eager. "Follow me."
Beeeeeeep.
No.
Beeeeeeep.
Hrrrrgggghhhhh... no! He was sleeping in today after last night. No one threw a party like the krogan do, and it had been centuries since he last tasted Clan Jorgal's aged ryncol stores.
Beeeeeeep.
Mmmmmmm... And all those roasted varren legs with that special sauce from offworld? Who knew the humans were such geniuses at seasoning meat?
Beeeeeeep.
Alright, dammnit! He was getting up! But it better be important for whatever wimp was so desperate for an audience to disturb his beauty sleep!
He growled deep in his throat and fumbled at the bedside, snarling curses in three languages as he stumbled to his feet and buckled his belt around his waist in a well-practiced motion. He could do it in his sleep by now, had once, actually.
Still grumbling, and not bothering to smother a yawn, he stomped over to his desk, where an amber light was blinking. He sat heavily and glared at the light a moment before remembering what it signified. The call was unidentified, untraceable, and its encryption was unbreakable. The leader of Clan Urdnot knew what that meant.
Been a while since of those people reached out to him instead of the other way around.
"Alright, Operative Dethmold, I had a long night with the clans yesterday, so whatever you got for me had better not be cheap."
"I assure you, Urdnot Wrex, that nothing from my desk is cheap."
The krogan froze, his ryncol hangover evaporating instantly at the distorted yet powerful voice. "...You're not Dethmold."
"An astute observation. And here is one of mine: You're building quite the reputation on Tuchanka. Enough that I felt it was time we finally spoke."
"Well, well... the Shadow Broker himself. That's new." Wrex's gaze narrowed, his jaw set and his attention utterly focused. He ran a slow hand across the desk's hard, smooth surface, as a faint grin touched his muzzle.
Like everything on Tuchanka, his desk was built of stone, not wood. Wood would shatter too easily under the rough treatment that a krogan would put it to, and it had to be built capable of withstanding thresher attacks and nuclear bombardment. His office was built into one of the middle levels of the clan's site, accessible only through a long and contorted passageway that gave maximum benefit of cover to the defenders, and as little as possible to the attackers.
Or through a cunningly-disguised escape hatch that lead up to the leader's hutment on the upper level. Wrex had learned from an old friend to never leave himself with only one escape route.
"Indeed." The amusement was still there in the distorted tone. "I've been following your career with considerable interest since you returned to your homeworld."
"Oh really? Since when is one krogan on Tuchanka worth your personal attention?" Wrex found himself enjoying the verbal sparing almost as much as he would have enjoyed smacking somebody in the face.
"A lone mercenary first announces his return to Tuchanka by utterly destroying another krogan clan in a single day? Such events are quickly brought to my attention."
He couldn't quite help the grin that spread across his muzzle. That had been a fun day. "What can I say? The former warlord demanded a trial of me before he'd let me back. Demanded their leader's head."
"I understand that Clan Jurdon was an ancestral enemy of Urdnot, and that the rivalry had extended back at least as far as the Rebellions." The Broker's synthesized voice mused.
"Yeah, they've been a thorn in Urdnot's side for long enough, I reckoned Why my father didn't bother to wipe them out is beyond me. Another sign of his lack of fitness to rule, in my book."
"It is no surprise that Clan Urdnot welcomed you home as a conquering hero, then. And when you arrived with Jurdon's forty females at your back, it was inevitable that you would become their chief."
Wrex still couldn't really believe that six of them had taken him to bed that very night. That had indeed been a good day.
"And since becoming Urdnot's leader, you have spent the better part of the last two years working to unify and rebuild the krogan clans. A process that you have accelerated thanks to information you have purchased from my agents on the other clans."
Two years. Had it really been two years already? Two years of war, two years of at last feeling his krogan brothers at his back. Of being a part of his people again. He hadn't felt two years pass. If anything, he felt younger than he had in centuries.
"Impressive work for a lone krogan. Thanks in no small part to the exorbitant funds bestowed by the Darastrix, along with a powerful firearm and a mystically enchanted belt."
Wrex flinched, snapping out of his reverie. How did he... right, of course the Shadow Broker somehow knew his secret. He shook his head a little, and leaned in towards the pickup. "Alright, you've made your point. You know everything about me, I get it. But I don't think that the Shadow Broker would waste his precious time just to reminisce over my old conquests."
"If only more people shared your proclivity for business," the distorted voice mused. "You are correct. I am contacting you personally because of a major and time-sensitive development that Tuchanka's rising chief would be interested in.[/i]"
"Oh?" Wrex glanced at the code-locked drawer on the right side of his desk. It was keyed to his geneprint, and more importantly, it would open at a single touch from the inside, where his most treasured possession lay. He'd practiced until he could draw a bead on his doorway in less than a quarter of a second from a sitting start, a necessity on Tuchanka. "And what sort of news has you itching to talk to me?"
The projector let out a brief burst of static before it began showing images from multiple news feeds from the Citadel. The entire station was abuzz about a turian that was shown being forcibly led away in shackles by C-Sec.
"Ellis Valterus, a respected lawmaker on the Citadel until last evening. He was arrested by C-Sec for numerous capital crimes including sedition and war profiteering. He was charged for covertly funding a krogan clan's illegal construction of a dreadnought on Tuchanka."
He slowly straightened, glaring at the images hovering over his desk. Wide, crimson eyes narrowed in thought as he leaned in, rubbing his chin with one hand as the other hand lightly tapped the surface.
A dreadnought. The utter and complete idiots. He stared at the growing evidence, vid-feeds, still frames, showing a huge skeletal structure being slowly assembled in a grav-cradle somewhere out in the deep desert. Vast, powerful. If they're even attempting something like that it means they have a tremendous amount of infrastructure set up already. It is not easy to build a dreadnought on a planetary surface. After a moment of contemplation, he re-focused on the emitter, glaring at the images of the skeleton of a ship being slowly assembled. "Interesting. Intriguing, even. Which clan is trying to get us all killed?"
"I am pleased I do not have to waste time explaining the consequences of this information. Your half-brother would have applauded the idea, and then try to take the dreadnought for his own uses."
"Of course, he would, he's an idiot." Wrex grumped and glared at the pickup. He can't see beyond the point of his own crest. The turians and especially the blasted salarians are no doubt up in arms over this. It's too soon, the clans aren't ready for this heat yet, krogan hot air be damned. If something isn't done fast to mitigate this, we're in for a shitstorm of trouble. Best case scenario, it would set back my work to rebuild the clans for a full generation, if not more. Worst case, well, it's called the Krogan DMZ for a reason. Starship-mounted weapons are strictly forbidden. If the Council thinks we're arming for another Rebellion, the CDEM's permitted to blast us from orbit. They'd probably just start dropping rocks on us and finish the job."
"I can promise you, the turians have other means of putting the krogan down hard."
Wrex frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. Who knew what kind of secret weapons the turians prepared specifically for his people? "Alright, how long till the Council's 'noble intervention' gets here from Pildea Station?"
"The CDEM is currently awaiting reinforcements. You have four days before their ships arrive in the Aralakh system, led by a Spectre."
Damn. Not as much time as he had hoped, but he could work with that. "And I'll ask again: what clan is trying to get us killed?"
"And I will tell you again, Wrex, that nothing from my desk is cheap."
The clan leader grunted. "Yeah, of course. Gimme the price tag."
"Triple."
"What?"
"This is not the standard intel you have been buying these last two years, Urdnot Wrex," the Shadow Broker answered firmly without even raising his tone. "Treaties have been violated, the Council is paying personal attention, and both the Spectres and STG are involved. If you want this information lifted from the Citadel's database, you will pay triple the usual fee."
The old krogan glared flatly. This would take a sizable chunk out of his funds, but he had no choice. The future of Tuchanka would be in jeopardy without that intel, and the Broker knew it. Government secrets and classified information were his trade.
"...Fine. Tell Barla Von to expect a payment from my usual escrow account." Wrex gave a soft snort as he tapped a spot on the stone surface, and a haptic interface flared into existence. It was the work of a few moments to transfer funds into the account with Haereg Financial Enterprises. It was a front group for various batarian interests, including some accounts that Hegemony agents could access if they needed emergency funds. He knew it, C-Sec knew it, it's likely his blind old grandma knew it. (Lovely turn of phrase the humans had.) But a financial genius like Barla Von easily knew how to covertly accept payments from such-
"Transfer confirmed."
Wrex blinked. That was even faster than usual. The Broker really didn't waste time. "Alright then, now tell me who's behind this."
"Clan Talyth."
Wrex leaned forwards, a low rumble starting in his chest. He didn't actually know much about clan Talyth, they kept to themselves, mostly. "If I remember rightly, they're a fairly large clan, based somewhere around the Tuomo Basin, right? About where one of the Old Cities stood, before the Scouring. Their settlement isn't as old as Jorgal's, but it's larger. Hmmmm... they barely have enough numbers to fully man their holdings, but they make up for it by having always been the best at strongholds."
"A settlement large enough to hide a massive project from standard scouts." The distorted voice affirmed. "The bulk of their funds from Valterus went into the ship, but they have still upgraded their defense turrets."
Wrex's omni-tool chimed suddenly, signaling a new message.
"That data packet will give you enough on their defenses if you intend to do what I expect you will. Our business here is concluded. I'll be watching, Urdnot Wrex. Shadow Broker out."
The line promptly went dead, and the message erased itself from the device's logs. As if their conversation never happened.
Exactly as it had the last few times he'd talked with the Broker's agents.
He gave a slow grin, and sat back in his chair. While not the way he preferred to be awakened, this conversation had been, what was that human term. Enlightening, yes.
Thick fingers buckled his omnitool in place, and flicked through the menus, selecting the message packet, as he tapped through a sequence of commands on his console, wiping it back to factory standard, and setting it to inload the recent, scrubbed data-packet. He didn't trust anyone with data security, so he had to do it himself.
As he read through the data the Broker had sent him, he began to chuckle, and opened at file to take notes in.
He was Clan Urdnot, the finest tacticians on Tuchanka. Where others saw problems, a true Urdnot saw opportunity. And with his long experience combined with mystically enhanced wisdom, Wrex began to grin as the possibilities began to unravel before him. This supposed crisis could in fact pave the way for many, many opportunities. This was going to be his most ambitious plan as chieftain yet. He was already feeling his hearts quicken.
Oh, yes. This would change everything.
He mouthed the mantra of penitence, swaying slowly with the rest of the congregation as the ritual benediction was called over their bowed heads. Most heads were bare, but a few, such as his own, were cowled in this sanctified place, with the gleaming sunlight staining the hallowed halls amber with reflected brilliance. The glare hurt his eyes, but he embraced the headache as a good thing.
It proved he was not wholly turned from the Light. Not wholly tainted by the Darkness.
A shuffling sounded as the congregation rose, and he rose with them, though he courteously allowed a mother to sheppard her sons past him. He waited until most of the lay congregation had left before making his move. He stepped to the side, sliding out from behind the pillars, and strode along the side-wall of the sanctum. He wasn't noticed, his soft shoes making him quiet, even in this place of stone and metal. The quiet droning of the chanters continuing their ceaseless duties assisted, true, but he had training in the arts of remaining unnoticed.
It had gotten him this far, after all.
"Brother, have you need of Speech?" He nearly froze at the soft, cracked words from the old priest, who's stern gaze had transfixed him.
Well, it was the usual question to ask in such a circumstance, but the weight of it nearly drove him to his knees. "I.. I..."
The old priest's gaze softened slightly. "Have you come for guidance, or penance?"
"There can be know guidance without penance, Old Father." He bowed low, knees trembling beneath his robe. This was true, the road to redemption was a long and arduous one, the Path of the Penitent was never easy, nor easy to find without the guidance of the elders.
"Then speak your need, young brother."
The moment of truth came so fast he barely had time to prepare for it. Even so, the enormity of what he had seen, what had been done to him, shook him to his knees. The wide eyes of the father as he called for assistance from one of the lay brothers was a comfort, but the cold that had dwelled within him for these many long months wracked him with shuddering sobs he could not stop.
"Get him to the chamber, he is Touched!"
Gods above and below, how right they were, and the irony of it drew a thin, sobbing laugh from Kahairal Balak's lips as he was carried through a discrete door and along a brightly-lit corridor to a small chamber.
Here, the light was near-blinding, and he gave a hiss as it smote his remaining eyes. He didn't hear the words this time as the father murmured something, but he startled as a cold compress was placed across his throat, and a warm hand held his head in place.
A droning incantation took his attention at last, and the severe face of the father glared down at him. "Daemons of darkness and fear, be driven from this boy, be cast into the dark nothingness from which you arose, be cast out of this worthy man, be cast through the power of the light into the Dark, and never return in this or any other world!"
The Benediction of Purity. He hadn't heard those words since he was a young boy, first bathed in the Luminous Waters beneath the Chapel of Light in his home city when he came of age. The memories poured forth, storming his mind with their clarity. The clarity of full vision.
Vision he would never have again.
Soft sobs wracked him as that partial blindness left him speechless as the cold compress was changed, his breathing evened, and a warm, but dry, old hand lightly touched his forehead. A different voice spoke, dry and rasping, words he did not understand or hear, but which calmed and soothed him nonetheless. He remembered his old grandmother, bent with age, frail, twisted hands knotted with arthritis and age and long years of hard work. The soothing sounds were like that, a lullaby to soothe a child's fears.
But he was no child, and now his fears had a name. That did not diminish them, for a known fear, while calculable, was still just as daunting.
He wasn't certain how long he slept, or if he slept. This chamber had no darkness within, not diminution of the Light that shone here to mark the passage of time. He lay on the cot in the center of the octagonal room for time uncounted, before that soft, gentle, old touch returned. This time, though the words were not the soothing nonsense of a child's nursery song, but the cool, gentle speech of the Old Tongue. "There there, my son. It is good that you came to us in your hour of need. All too often we are forgotten, when once our council was the most highly prized."
He swallowed softly, tongue seeming thick and swollen as he tried to form the syllables of the Old Tongue. "It is good of you to share your Light, Grandfather."
"A kindly word for an old man, my son. Thank you for your courtesy." The old tone came from a bent and wizened old man, who sat on one of the benches around the cot upon which he lay. A cane was held clasped in the old man's knotted and warty hands, so old and gnarled they resembled old and tangled vines rather than fingers. "Your suffering was deep, my son. Eight days have you lay, babbling in your sleep."
Babbling. What secrets might he have let slip? Fear ran her fingers of ice up his spine and plunged talons into his guts. Still, he lay, limp but unbound. Nothing held him here, so why did he linger? The old ways were shallow ways, their time spent, their Light little more than a feeble radiance against the dark.
But...it was still Light. Still a ray of hope to one who felt drowning in the darkness. He'd spent nearly his whole life away from Kar'Shan, it had taken nearly losing it for him to return. And that was still a miracle, in its own way.
He'd taken the long-route around the galaxy from the Citadel to his homeworld. From the Citadel through asari space, away from the Kite's Nest, through Illium to the Terminus Systems, stopping at Omega to recover a couple of caches of supplies and credits, and a new identity. More time spent wandering through the Terminus and into Hegemony space, only to find that it was no longer their worlds.
Humans. The damned human scum had spread like a fungal infection over Batarian space. World after world had fallen to their diseased control, and it turned his stomach that such dark days could possibly have befallen the Sons of the Light.
It had taken all his guile to make it past the Alliance patrols, and much skill and cunning in slipping in past the blockade to reach his homeworld once more. The ship that had brought him had run a massive risk, and he'd had to hide among corpses to escape the alliance inspection. Inspection, that such savages could hold such power over their betters was beyond insulting, it was an outrage that had speared his heart.
The stench of death, of defeat, of darkness still lingered on him as he'd wandered away from the landing fields. Even now, nearly two years into what was being called the Great Purging, Kar'Shan had not wholly fallen. Most of the shuttle-ports were still in Batarian hands, but several more had been set up in areas of the homeworld by the alien filth. The ship had landed in one of those, and he'd had to escape on foot. Just a humble pilgrim returning to his homeworld, a religious man seeking answers The dark-spawn showed their weakness by letting him pass unhindered Their credulity was his shield.
But it had not been a lie. The things he had seen, the places, the faces, they could not be denied The feeling of his eye...
But that was not a place he would let his mind linger. A time best left unexamined.
"Forgive me, Grandfather. I have lost my way, and my eyes are clouded."
"Then you have come to the right place, my son." The cracked and weathered old voice held a note of conviction and surety that he had craved ever since that wild moment when the facade had been stripped away and the Darkness shown him her true face. "What troubles your heart so, that you seek the guidance of the Radiance?"
He shuddered, and a look of concern came over the features of the old man. He reached out to pat Balak on the shoulder. "Take your time, son. Time is something we have in abundance here."
"Time." The word was forced out of him, a soft sob, mingled with an incredulous laugh. "Time. No time. Not anymore."
The old man's sharp-eyed gaze focused on him, eyes narrowing. "Oh? And what makes you say that, my son?"
His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, mouthing the word but unable to say it. His throat was dry, despite the compress, and it seemed his breath deserted him entirely for a timeless span. All he could do is gaze into the old man's eyes, one of which, he realized with a shock, was a pale, milky-white.
Blind. Like him.
That realization, the kinship he shared with this old, old man, clad in purest-white robes, without ornamentation or devices, who sat at his bedside, and treated him like a kindly grandfather, that was what undid him at last.
He sobbed.
It was a broken-sounding thing, all soft, hacking, twisting coughs until the true tears came, quiet and all the more terrible for their silence. For minutes, possibly an hour he sobbed, the old man's kindly hand on his shoulder, like the father he had never known.
At last, at long last, he felt truly at home. At rest. Able, at last, to relax, and be at peace. Such a peace he had never felt before, not even in his youngest remembrances. The quiet acceptance of the old old man, without artifice or demand, undid him where cruel threats or stern chastisement, or simple, quiet words of disappointment had hardened him.
It was a bitter irony that the hated human saying came to his mind, that kindness held the most bitter edge of cruelty.
"You've had quite the bad time of it, haven't you, my son?" The old man's kindly tone had not changed, even as he smiled down at the quietly sobbing man. "Think you can tell me about it now?"
He had to do it. He hated it, hated to spoil the old man's kindness with such blasphemy, but he must. For the kindness this man had shown, he must do it, shatter his world, to warn him of the danger.
He mouthed the word once more, before he uttered it. He could not raise his voice above a whisper, but a whisper was all that was needed, laced as it was with all the horror and dread that lived within his soul.
"Zherrig'Haur..."
His Divine Most-Holy Radiance, Kar'Shen'Drah Nementah, Eleventh of His Name, and six hundred fifty ninth High Radiant of the Church of the Divine Light, slowly felt his spine straighten. His three remaining eyes widened and he grasped the young man's hand with a strength that belied his hundred and thirty three standard years. "My lad, it seems we have much to discuss..."
"...Project Gem..."
The words were distant, muffled. She could barely make them out.
"...transferred to..."
She strained, struggling to hear. Words. Words were important. She could almost remember why...
"I understand..."
She wished she could. Her eyes felt so heavy, but she opened them anyway.
The world was strange. Out of focus. She saw two figures. One taller, whiter. The other shorter and darker. She could only barely make them out. She was so tired. It was a strain just to see them, let alone hear them.
"...do not believe you, not for a moment." The voices were much clearer now, closer than they had been. "This is already your last day with Gemini, so you might as well speak your mind, Rasa. Not like you've ever held back before."
"Fine." The shorter one spoke at that point, or at least the words came from that direction. "What I don't understand, Director Lawson, is where these misplaced ideals suddenly came from."
"'Misplaced ideals'?" The tall one stopped and appeared to look at the small one.
"What else could it be? We finally got the breakthrough we needed! After almost two years, Project Scorpio is a reality now! Barely a week old and its numbers are already surpassing expectations! Project Gemini finally has its clone template, and that upsets you?"
"That's just the point, Rasa." The taller one's words were harsh, forbidding, but softened. "Project Gemini's goal was to study the genetic structure of Darastrix, to discover hidden weaknesses and to utilize potential strengths. But in pursuit of the latter, I recently realized that we have strayed far off course. Unacceptably so. Instead of creating augmentations for our troops, we took the unethical approach of creating living people for us to exploit. That is not what Cerberus stands for, and the Illusive Man agreed when I brought it to his attention. The clones will be humanely disposed of, and the results remitted for further analysis as Project Gemini corrects its course."
Clone. That word seemed important, but she couldn't tell why. Most of their words slid over her without restraint or meaning, but that one seemed to stick. It was important. How she knew, she didn't know, but it was.
"Unethical? Funny, that's how I would describe your own actions!" The aptly named 'Rasa' seemed affronted. "I don't mind another branch continuing the research for more opportunities, but for you to abandon what we've built? Now that's unethical, it goes against everything humanity is! Subject Scorpio's results are through the roof, the potential is simply remarkable. It does piss me off that a goddamn alien designed this long before we did, but isn't it human nature to adapt what we want from our enemies and make it ours? Even the Romans understood this, when they learned how to build ships from from their hated foes."
The taller female let out a small chortle in response, surprising Rasa.
"My word, I don't know whether to be impressed that you know that much ancient history or entertained that you would make such an appropriate comparison for yourself." The tall woman held a dainty hand to her forehead in amusement. "Honestly Rasa, the Romans? True, they learned how to make entire fleets of ships in only two months after looting one from the Carthage Empire. Fleets of ships they weren't trained to use and then repeatedly sailed into hurricanes, resulting in some of the greatest naval disasters in human history. All because they were jealous of the Carthaginian's vast wealth and success. Like you Rasa, the Romans held older nations in contempt because things like trade and advanced industry were incomprehensible to their narrow-minded eyes. Hence the Roman Empire's so-called glorious policy to conquer, pillage and enslave."
The taller figure's voice cut through the smaller one's angry reply. "There's precedent for almost any action in human history, from slavery to abolition. The ethical debate on that topic has raged for millenia, we won't solve it by shouting at each other."
The figure broke off at a sound she couldn't hear, and moved out of her view. The voice came from one side and while she tried to turn her head, the slime she was encased in was thick and she was so tired.
The small one was fuming at the other woman's words. "S-Slavery?! Is that what you think this is about? Come now, we're not Batarians. Those savages steal humans from their rightful place in the galaxy. They torture and enslave good people. People, Miranda. How can you even compare something like that here? Scorpio isn't even a person! How can you possibly apply something as sacred as human rights to something that grown out of a test tube? It's a thing, not a person!"
The taller figure slowly turned towards the smaller, and the slime suddenly felt fifteen degrees colder.
"Your definition of 'person' is woefully limited, Rasa. It's beliefs like that which prove humanity still has a long way to go. Which means I have much work to do." The taller female shifted, stalking towards the door.
The shorter woman stood there for a long moment, and started to move again before the taller snapped her gaze around once more, her voice icy as anything she had heard yet. "Enough, Lilium! The Illusive Man stands with me, and you have your orders. Now get the hell off my base."
The door clanked shut and locked with a low chunk and a beep, leaving her alone with the small one. Lilium, her name was Lilium.
She wondered faintly as she relaxed into the the silent darkness, if she'd ever have a name too.
Liara tapped at a datapad with almost feverish speed, corrections appearing in gold above the plain white text. The dark blue background gave ample contrast to the two colors as she made notes and corrections on both spelling, translation, and in green, noted proper pronunciation.
It was soothing, going back through her old copies of prothean texts and making corrections to her old papers. Goddess, she had been so naive back then. The scanned images of the original texts were the best to work with, as the metal-rimmed glasses perched on her nose allowed her to translate them with the best possible accuracy. Of course, the ideal solution would to be have a more thoroughly preserved Prothean script, but the scans were the best she had.
Liara hadn't been really aware of how much time had passed when a quiet chime from her omni-tool finally got her attention. She rolled over on her back and grabbed it from her bedside table, strapping it to her left wrist as she rolled back to her datapad and flicked her fingers to accept the call. "Yes?"
"Hey, kiddo." Aethyta's warm rasp made her smile. The younger of her two parents had a sense of humor that had quite endeared her to the young dragoness. "Mind if I interrupt? You've got a visitor"
Liara mentally sighed. "Father, I believe I mentioned I would be skipping lunch?"
"Lunch?" Aethyta sounded first confused, then amusedly exasperated The young darastrix could almost hear the smile in her father's voice. "Liara, It's dinnertime."
What? She glanced at the time on her omni-tool and cringed. Oh Goddess, not again!
"Come on, Liara, the Protheans have been dead fifty thousand years, their writings aren't going to go anywhere if you take half an hour to have some actual food." Aethyta's amused, wheedling tone came through the comm-link. "And besides, your...tutor came by to drop off some more reading material."
Liara sighed as she deactivated her datapad and rolled over to rub her eyes. Her father was still a Matriarch; unorthodox in her approach, but no less wise. Some dinner would help, and she was honestly curious what new materials Joru had brought, "Alright, come in..."
t was only after she switched off her comm that Liara realized she still wasn't dressed and scampered to grab her clothes. She barely managed to make herself decent in time.
The door to her bedroom slid open, the door just visible through the semi-translucent wall as a dim shadow inside the glass. Aethyta was there, one forearm against the door-frame as she peered in at her daughter and gave a soft snort. The soft sizzling of her song that always accompanied her father's aura seemed to echo faintly in her words, a soft rasp like fine-grained sandpaper over old hardwood. "There you are. I knew it had to be here, or at the gym with your 'instructors'..."
The way Aethyta drawled that last word sent a shiver up Liara's spine and made her tail curl. "Please, I would prefer not to talk about my... exercises."
The matriarch chuckled quietly and shifted to move back into the lounge, but not letting the door close before rejoindering, "Well, at least you're no longer in the habit of greeting your other tutor in the buff."
Liara refused to let her cheeks burn. Her father would never let her forget that one mortally embarrassing evening.
Her lounge was currently occupied by two people other than herself as she emerged from her bedroom, wearing a pair of training shorts and a flowing gown. Her cheeks flamed, but she kept her poise as she gave a nod to the dark-scaled darastrix currently seated on her couch, moving to take a seat in the chair opposite, curling her tail decorously across her lap rather tan allowing it to sprawl onto the floor like Jorukaia was.
Aethyta leaned against the back of the couch, glancing from one dragoness to the other, and clearly at a bit of a loss as the older dragon's flame-eyed gaze seemed to peruse Liara like she would one of her prothean texts. After a moment, the older dragoness smiled and sat up straighter, nodding the horned head in greeting and speaking in a tongue of hissing snarling sounds that nonetheless Liara understood. "I greet you, child of my blood. Has your skill with words improved?"
"Substantially." Liara responded in kind. "I studied many languages during my education at Serrice University, and the Draconic tongue is only moderately different from several krogan dialects."
As she predicted, the dragon's eyes narrowed and she gave a quiet hissing sound like an oversized tea-kettle. "And your knowledge of the High Tongue? Have you improved your abominable accent yet?"
"A much more delightful puzzle. And like all puzzles, my people have learned they are always solved with time and patience." Liara mentally gave a sigh of relief as Joru gave a slow nod of approval.
"You two going to just speak in snarls or are you going to actually involve me in this 'conversation'? I thought the matter was urgent, Joru..." The annoyance was plain in her father's voice, the raspy undertone growing louder as she gave a mock glare down at the seated dragoness.
Joru stifled an amused chuckle, and shifted, her long, strongly muscled tail coming over to rest alongside her legs, curling a bit at the floor as she crossed her ankles. "As your father has intimated, the matter is of some urgency, and now that I have seen you in person, I realize how foolish my neglect for the possibility has been. My apologies, Liara, I should have realized sooner."
Liara stared, eyes narrowing in contemplation as her mind ran through the implications. She turned to her father. "Explain what you and my mother have been discussing behind my back."
Aethyta gave a startled blink, then a rueful chuckle. She slid around to perch on the armrest of the couch opposite Joru, crossing her legs and giving Liara a long, slow, perusing look. "Your mother and I.. We've gotten... reports. Incidents have been cropping up ever since you... Well, ever since the Surinach."
"How do I explain this..." She turned, sighing and sliding onto the couch proper as she rubbed her forehead. "A couple of times, the D'Vati twins mentioned that you used far too much power in too short a time to be anything natural, and on a few occasions used more precision than they were expecting."
"That alone wouldn't have been out of the ordinary, we know you're an exceptional biotic." Aethyta's smile was almost pained as she gave Liara a soft look. "But it was the.. other reports that made us question whether or not there was something else... wrong with you. With what you've become."
This time,l Aethyta did chuckle as she shot a sidelong glance Joru's way. "Did you get over the hiding Nezzie gave you yet?"
"Only partially. Your bondmate has a sharper tongue than I would have guessed." Joru rubbed her cheek as if checking for a cut, a rueful smirk touching her own lips, before she met Liara's eyes. Her own were a strange, bright-blue today, Liara noticed, a blue she recognized, though couldn't place quite where. "Ad it is, I damn myself for the fool not to have checked for the possibility myself, I knew it was a potential outcome, especially when Liara chose a gemstone for her lineage, but I just didn't think about it. Too much else on my mind."
"What?" Liara demanded sharply, though with a clear hint of worry. "What other surprises has my transformation inflicted upon my life?"
"You're a gemstone dragon, Liara. That comes with certain powers and abilities, most notably and pertinent, you're a psychic dragon." The flame-red color came back into Joru's eyes, narrowed and thoughtful as she gazed intently back at the other dragoness. "And you leak."
Liara went as still as a statue. All asari understood the true power of the mind. Her people possessed incredible mental abilities; sheer will and patience from their long lifespans, as well as their powers of the meld. However, what was not widely known was that some asari, mainly Matriarchs, possessed additional gifts of the mind, mentioned only in whispers. Their mystery was exceeded only by the certainty of their power. And if her transformation had caused her to develop such abilities, then Liara's enhanced biotics were infinitesimal in comparison.
And so she fixed Joru with a pointed stare, silently prompting her to explain.
"You took that revelation well, much to my surprised delight." The dragoness chuckled. "I'm not speaking of mere parlor tricks, such as your melding capability. Speaking mind to mind across great distance is one thing, but I speak of a faculty to transmute the physical world through the power of your mind alone."
"Setting aside your biotics for the moment, which we will get to in a bit, your mental powers are quite probably telepathic in nature." Joru waved one hand for Liara to remain silent, her eyes growing that bright familiar blue once more. "Yes.. You're quite the potent telepath, but without training or even really noticing, which is quite the feat by the way."
Now Aethyta's eyes grew wide along with Liara's. They had been thinking of some of the more powerful and versatile aspects of the meld. But to communicate between minds without the need for focused melding? What the dragon was describing was the stuff that dreams were made of.
"As to your Biotics, your instructors brought to my attention that you were vastly overpowering your biotics to the point of lunacy, and yet not only were you able to do so without causing severe backlash, you even channeled more energy than you should have been able to do."
She shifted and gave Liara a faint, pleased smile. "Moreover, when I checked the footage from the Battle of the Citadel, I was amazed at the level of precision you were capable of. A telekinetic storm of that magnitude was an impressive display, more-so as it was apparently your first major act of psionic power."
Psionic.
Liara collapsed into her seat, slapping a palm over her mouth in stunned awe. Psionic. The state of mental power and acuity that their people dreamed, the pinnacle of asari evolution. This...! This was too much!
"It's true, Liara." Joru's voice was gentle, almost sad. "I can see the potential in you. You've already surpassed what you thought was possible, your feat during the Battle proved that. heightened emotion, intense focus, and a grudge to settle all combined with your instinctive knowledge of biotics to allow you to push beyond your limits and awaken your inner power."
"It is not a gift without thorns, however. Even other asari have unconsciously sensed that you are... different. Now that I have given you more than a cursory glance, I can see the same." Joru's lips quirked up, revealing a hint of fang. "A mind unshackled by the physical coil is a power both great and terrible. It is a state of mental being, of existence itself, unlike any other. While living in the world of mortals, you will live and see unlike any other. A different providence, a different plane, a different life. Now, this is where I'm supposed to say that if you embark on this path there will be no turning back, but I regret to say that ship has long sailed."
"There is no need to explain, Joru." Liara sighed and rubbed her temples. "It is not very different from how every asari is raised, possessing a greater lifespan than most races and thus living and seeing everything differently. And while my own changes have clearly been more drastic, I resigned myself to this new reality two years ago."
Jorukaia pursed her lips in a small smile. "You are wiser than I gave you credit for, and for that I apologize. Still, this is not a thing that is safe to leave fallow. Psychic might will find its way out into the world. Unlike magic, which requires an act of conscious will to perform, psychic energies can move to our unconscious wills as well. And, I suspect that you've already unconsciously learned how to use your powers, at least to some small extent."
It was truly fortunate that Liara was born an asari. Her people understood and respected the powers of the mind, and so they made great efforts to refine their mental discipline. Liara shuddered at the damage she could have caused if she had been born as any of the other non-disciplined races. Although, it was in fact because she was asari that her mind was becoming so augmented.
Much as it pained Liara, she knew her Prothean studies would have to wait patiently. This was far too great a matter to be ignored.
"Indeed I have," Liara answered. "But for obvious reasons, I would appreciate it enormously if there was any advice or materials you could share. I understand you have brought something for me?"
"Indeed." The dragoness shifted, and an OSD appeared between her long fingers. "This contains high-quality scans, both in visible and ultraviolet light, of several texts that I have in my library. They detail the mental arts to a degree that even one such as I can understand the theory, but without the gift myself, I can neither practice nor train you in the mental arts."
"However," the dragoness raised a hand to stay Liara's response, "While I cannot train you myself, I strongly, almost emphatically encourage you to seek out someone who can. I don't know of any asari with an awakened mind, but perhaps you could find one yourself. I know that your mother is already combing through her contact list trying to think of someone who might help you."
"Also, I'm taking the liberty of having physical and exact copies of the original texts that those scans were made of, directly to your library. This will take several days, as they have to pass through a particularly obnoxious part of the Underdark, but within a week, you should have complete duplicates of my own libraries on the topic of psionics, which may or may not contain secrets that only an awakened mind such as yourself could discover. I freely admit that the scans, while exact as far as technology can replicate them, might not have captured the full meaning behind the texts. Scans have trouble conveying arcane meanings in the same fashion, so I would not be surprised if there were secrets in the texts that could not be found from scans alone."
Liara took the OSD and scanned it with her omni-tool, smiling as long lines of text flowed across her screen. This was what she was familiar with, what she needed. Books, manuscripts, and many other materials for study about her transformation.
Joru seemed to be eyeing Aethyta, a faintly amused air about her as the dragoness watched the two asari. "Mmhh, have you made your decision, Aethyta? She is your daughter."
Liara glanced at the Matriarch. "Father? I believe I just expressed how I felt about people I trust discussing my condition behind my back."
"Don't worry, kid, we're getting to that." Aethyta nodded, though there was a clear sign of reluctance in her gait. "She said that she had some kind of... focus to help you hone your new abilities. Similar to what commandos use in training."
"I doubt that they use anything akin to this, but I take your meaning." The dragoness shifted again, this time withdrawing a package from her belt in a way that seemed to disturb the mind, as if the small box, as long as her forearm seemed to unfold somehow as it emerged from the tiny pouch clearly too small to hold it. "This is what I have made. Whether or not you decide to don it, is up to you, but know that it is designed to permanently affix itself to your horns, similar to how my own is permanent."
Jorukaia rubbed at the base of her right horn, where the bony growth was thicker, bulging slightly as if something were embedded there.
"Permanent?" Liara glanced between the box and Joru's horn. "Please explain what this is."
For answer, the long, narrow box was carefully opened, displaying a set of rings, smallest on the ends, and larger in the center, just enough of them to fit one to each of her long, smoothly curved horns. Not gold, they were of some bright, silvery metal, and set with a series of glittering crystals that seemed to almost glow in the light. They seemed to have no fixed color, shifting from red to green, to blue to yellow, and back to red again depending on where she looked and how she turned her head.
"The rings themselves are forged of mithril-glass," Joru intoned gently, caressing them slowly with her sharp clawtips. "The gems were difficult to get correct, even my skills aren't limitless. But once attuned, they should gift you increased focus, as well as the usual base-level protections I gift to all those I hold dear."
Liara looked at Joru, hearing the declaration of her last words. After a soft breath, she returned the dragon's words with a thankful nod.
"To wear this tiara, all you would need to is slip each ring over your horns until all are in place. The box is marked as to which side is which." The dragoness leaned forwards, offering the finely-lacquered and actually quite beautiful box to Liara. Thick lacquer and warm, honey-colored wood contrasted with the dark-blue velvet within, on which rested the bright and glimmering rings, each studded with several tiny gems.
She took one of the smaller rings in the palm of her hand, twirling it in her fingers, and then tentatively placed it atop her left horn.
Nothing seemed to happen, save that the dragoness leaned back with a small pleased smile. "The rings will not function until they are all worn at once."
"Which is something of a relief." Aethyta gave Joru a soft glare. "While I'd hardly be one to urge someone not to express themselves, I'd've rather not had to tell Benezia you did something permanent to our daughter. Again."
The dragoness gave a quiet snort of laughter. "In this instance, it would not be my hand that did so. It is still Liara's decision whether or not to accept my gift. Either way, I shall be pleased."
Liara sighed. She had been thrust past the point of no return long ago, and if the expert herself said this would make her changes both easier and safer... there really was no choice.
She slipped the other ones on, and immediately felt the effect. A sense of clarity enveloped her, an opening of mind and a strength of body. Her heart quickened, then settled down to a slow and steady rhythm, almost exactly once heartbeat every two seconds. Minute clues told her of her father's well-concealed worry and of Jorukaia's deep-rooted interest and pleasure with a job well done. Tiny details all around her that spoke immense volumes, details that she never noticed before yet seemed so obvious now. Even the air tasted somehow sweeter, as she took a deep breath.
"Ahhh... And how do you feel, Liara?" Joru's tone conveyed a depth of meaning, both intellectual inquiry, well-concealed anxiety, and simple curiosity, as well, as a warmth of tenderness for...
For her daughter.
Jorukaia considered her her blood-kin.
And there was nothing a dragon would not do, to protect and guide one of her own.
Liara realized she would do the same.
And it all started here. There was much to be done.
Seeing the glitter in her eyes, the elder dragoness gave a wide, pleased smile.
