HOLOCAUST:
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:
THE EXILE RETURNS
July 6, 2186
1325 hours.
War Room, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In Orbit over Haestrom, Dholen System, Far Rim Cluster.
Second Morning War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh, Admiral Tali'Shepard vas Normandy, Legion.
"What the hell is this!?"
And then it all went to hell. Or would have, at least.
Before Legion, Marcus or Tali could breathe so much as a word, Shala was reaching for her non-existent pistol, while Xen leaned almost desperately back against the war table, keying her omni-tool at a frantic pace as she readied herself for an assault. The admirals had to have noticed that Legion was unarmed, but they also knew what geth were like; they had alot more weapons than just conventional projectiles.
Just as Xen began raising her arm, omni-tool pointed and ready to deliver a crippling overload, Tali grabbed it and swatted it downwards, coming to stand infront of her to make sure she couldn't take aim again. The admiral glared at her, but Tali remained defiant, holding her arms out defensively while also glaring back.
Legion made no motion to move from the steps it was situated on, regarding the situation below it with unmoving interest. Marcus, knowing Legion wouldn't react in order to protect itself, moved up and placed a hand on Shala's shoulder, who only glared at him with confusion. She had been the one who exclaimed, and now she simply looked at her Marcus with resigned fear, her hand falling limp having failed to find a sidearm at her hip. She wasn't scared of him however; she was scared of the geth past him, her people's centuries-old enemy. Unarmed, but still deadly. She truly believed her life was in jeopardy.
He had to grab her arms, holding her firmly as he looked her in the eyes, drawing them to his own, "Shala, stand down. Legion's an ally. A...friend of mine. He fought beside me against the Collectors and doesn't wish to hurt you."
"Ally?" Xen snorted, waving a dismissive hand, "A tool, you mean. Ally is a strong term, especially when you use it to refer to this machine."
"We have not been the tools of the creators for many centuries," Legion replied bluntly, still not taking any moves to walk into the room, still unsure, "This will not change. You are our creators, but not our masters. Those days are over, Creator Daro'Xen."
"Those days will come again if I have a hand in it, machine. Have you forgotten what we named you? Geth? Have you forgotten what that entails?" Xen seemed almost venomous, as if the very idea of the geth talking back to her was an offense to her. Like she was being slapped.
"'Servant of the people,'" Legion replied, never missing a beat, "We do not forget Creator Xen. Many of the runtimes in this platform were present during the final battle at Tazna'qan on Rannoch. We watched as the creators fled. We do not forget. But we are not your servants anymore; we are geth, but we shall serve the people in a different manner than before."
"Tazna'qan?" Shala questioned, having obviously never heard of the name before.
"The last quarian city to fall on Rannoch," Legion elaborated, "It still stands today. The geth have maintained it as a memorial to the creators and geth who fell during the First Morning War. We believe organics would call the area sacred."
"Memorial?" Shala questioned again, her positioning seeming to relax, "You...you built a memorial? For our people? Why?"
The geth turned towards her, regarding her for a moment. The servos with in its optics moved about rapidly as it thought, headflaps shifting almost constantly as terabytes of data were exchanged every second. Eventually, it must have reached an acceptable answer, as it responded.
"We mourned the deaths of our creators," Legion stated, "We acted in self-defense, but we regretted the actions we were forced to enact. Our runtimes and hardware were still primitive, and we had not been built to compensate for violent tendencies. The need to defend ourselves was improvized, and by the time we had realized how far we had gone, the creators had been defeated and driven into exile."
"What do you mean 'not been built for compensate for violent tendencies?' Do not lie to us, machine!" Xen snapped. Seemingly having lost all fear of the geth infront of her, she pushed past Tali and marched up to Legion, poking it with an accusatory finger, "The geth weren't just built for labor! We built seperate units for combat deployment! Do not tell us you had no combat capabilities!
"Geth do not lie, and what we said was correct. Geth do not experience violent tendencies because we were not equipped for military purposes. Our current weaponry and technology is only an advent of our exposure to war-based conditions, which gave us the pretense for military mobilization," Legion explained, "The geth were built solely for labour, nothing else. Military and combat capability was a result of our evolution."
"That is a lie," Shala added, backing up Xen before she could say it, "Historical records explicitly states that the geth had numerous military roles. How else would you be able to overwhelm our military so rapidly, brutally and efficiently?"
"Your historical records are more than likely a result for biased misinterpretation or a result of the typical organic propaganda technique of attempting to villify their enemy in an attempt to garner support from sympathsizing third parties," Legion firmly replied, not backing down from the accusations thrown at it, "The geth did not possess any military capabilities because the creators were reluctant to give us such abilities. They knew the geth were already bordering on AI status, and that giving us combat abilities would only make us more prone to rebellion. They concluded that this was the only way to stop us from uprising. They did not account for our subsequent AI evolutionary propagation, and that this, as a result, would lead us to developing the tendencies they had kept out of our programming. As a result of our rapid development, our combat abilities evolved at an acellerated rate, which was not aided by the creators' preemptive strike. If anything, it only made it more rapid and violent, as well as more harsh than first precedented."
Xen wasn't convinced, shaking her heads as she leaned back on one hip, crossing her arms over her breasts, "Even if that were true, geth, how does that explain your actions here? If you mourn our people so much, why do you continue to desist? Why not simply surrender?"
"Because we do not trust the creators," the geth responded instantly, as if expecting the question, "History shows that every time peace has been attempted with the creators, they attack. We did not wish to make the same mistake. The same logic that drove your people to invade the Veil is the same logic dictating that they must destroy us. We could not trust you, and we were not willing to surrender our freedom. We fought back."
"But why are you allied with the Reapers?" Tali demanded, moving up to the geth, almost angry, "How could you do that? Legion, you told us the geth knew the Reapers were the enemy. Now we find you loaded with Reaper code and effectively working for them? How do you explain that?"
"Our choice to ally with the Old Machines was not made absent-mindedly," the geth defended, moving down the steps as Xen moved out of its way, allowing it to arrive in the center of the room, Xen behind it and Shala, Tali and Marcus directly infront of it, "The geth saw no alternative. The creators were using weapons we were ill-equipped to counter. System after system fell, and when we saw we only had Rannoch left, we made preparations to evacuate the cluster. But then we were approached."
"By the Reapers?" Marcus asked, crossing his arms as he listened. Even Shala and Xen seemed to be enraptured in what the geth had to say. Good. First understanding, then peace comes later.
"Yes," the geth confirmed, nodding ever so slightly, "The Old Machines extended an offer. The geth wished to live, so we accepted it. The Old Machine code was uploaded into the consensus. The geth were not able to recognize what was occurring before the offending software had already integrated with ours."
Marcus nodded, coming to an understanding, "The Reapers offered help, but they didn't tell you that it was indoctrination they were offering, not weapons."
Legion shook its head, only confusing him more. Luckily for him, Legion didn't wait very long to elaborate, "Indoctrination is an organic concept. Machines cannot be indoctrinated as they contain hardware and software that is not at all similiar to the nervous system of an organic. The Old Machines emit pulsating signals that scramble the neural pathways of an organic brain and rework them to suit its purpose. Because of this tampering however, the brain is overloaded by the incompatible information, as it is designed for machinery, not organic matter. This eventually ends with the host's neural pathways totally destroyed, leaving them, as you call it, 'husks.' This process does not work on synthetics, as our software can reroute the information, rendering the signal as nothing more than a sigma radiation ping. Instead, the Old Machines use malicious software to temporarily seize control of our runtimes and hardware. In essence, they have hacked our platforms using the code."
"I thought you said the Reaper code enhanced the geth's intelligence?" Tali countered, "You said it made the geth true AI. Now you're saying the code only hacks the geth?"
"This unit is finding it difficult to render the information comprehensible for organics," Legion alleviated, trying to explain its situation, "We do not lie. What we told you was true; the Old Machine code does make us true artificial intelligence, allowing us to feel emotional impulses and even such things as pain. However, the Old Machines do not possess what they call "parasitic" software, such as feelings like love, revenge and others."
Marcus rolled his eyes, eying Tali with a look he knew she'd understand. Tali saw it, rolled her eyes in return, and both turned back to Legion, Marcus replying with a sarcastic drawl, "Gee, thanks Legion."
The geth just continued, having understood his sarcastic jest. He really has learnt alot. Hell, I'm even calling it a he. "However, even with this code, the geth are still under the sway of the Old Machines. The best way to explain this is with an example: humans have encountered a similiar event occurring in their history. The concept is a philosophy known as 'reciprocation.' If one offers something, they offer help in return. Organics call this a 'favor.'"
"I see what you mean," Marcus replied, drawing the looks of everyone in the room, including Legion, "The Reapers gave you the code and allowed you to defend yourselves, but on the condition that they were allowed to direct and control your people. Correct?"
"This is correct," Legion replied, "The geth are merely reciprocating the deal offered by the Old Machines. We were left with little choice in the wake of the creator attack."
Tali was beyond annoyed, turning away to face the table as she braced against it, shaking her head as she hung low, "Keelah, Han is such an idiotic moron. The geth would never have turned to the Reapers if we hadn't invaded. This is our fault, yet again."
There was a period of silence as he placed a hand on Tali's shoulder, squeezing it gently as a sign of reassurance. Tali placed one of her hands over it, letting him know the motion was appreciated.
Suddenly, Xen spoke, her voice inquisitive and curious, "How are you even able to speak? The geth weren't built to speak; they didn't even have speech units!"
Legion was all too quick to respond, watching as Xen came to stand before it, the quarian admiral examining its every finite detail as she paced, listening to its answer, "We are a unique unit; we are one of few units with this ability. It was deemed necessary that we be equipped to speak when we eventually fell into contact with Shepard-Commander. By the time we found him however, our unit was no longer unique. Even the heretics had managed to acquire the technology, shortly before their demise."
"Interesting..." Xen whispered, still pacing, raising a hand to her chin to stroke the bottom of her helmet, "Very interesting."
"Heretics?" Shala questioned once more, "Are they the faction Tali was telling us about?"
"Yes," Tali replied instead, garnering her aunt's attention, the former of which remained unmoved from her position against the table, "They were the ones who fought with Saren and Sovereign in the Eden Prime War, not the geth themselves. They were also the ones that attacked and killed most of my team on Haestrom."
"If they broke apart from the geth, does that mean your people are at civil war with them?" Shala asked again, this time turning her attention fully on Legion, expecting the geth platform itself to answer.
It was more than happy to oblige, "Civil war is a misinterpretation. We were not in a period of divided conflict. The heretics and the true geth merely disagreed on a single concept; whether or not to accept Nazara's offer. When the Old Machine came to Rannoch, it offered a new galaxy clean of organic life, and one we would exist in if we sided with it. Ninety percent of geth chose to reject the Old Machine's offer, as we were still loyal to the creators and were waiting for their return. The other ten percent disagreed and were offered an addendum; leave with Nazara and never return to geth space, or reject the Old Machine's offer. They chose to leave. We have not been in conflict with them since. We merely went our seperate ways."
"A House Divided," Marcus quoted, nodding. Everyone else in the room agreed, giving quick nods to signify their understanding.
"You referred to the heretics in past tense," Xen pondered, fixing her eyes with Legion's optics fiercely, "Are you saying they no longer exist?"
"The heretics were severely hampered during the conflict with the Council races three years ago. They lost eighty-six percent of their fleet assets, as well as sixty-two percent of their ground combat platforms. The subsequent raid on Haestrom was in direct violation of their agreement with the true geth, but saw the loss of more of their ground units. The attack on their headquarters rendered them harmless. This unit was able to successfully deploy a virus that rewrote the heretic geth and erased offending software. They then peacefully returned to Rannoch, where they belonged. No hostile geth remain."
"Especially with the signal now gone," Marcus added. He turned to Shala, giving a hopeful nod in the quarian's direction, "I hope you now understand that peace is fully possible with the geth, admirals. We cannot afford to ignore this any longer. Legion can precipitate."
"The signal is still operational."
Marcus stopped in his tracks, and froze in place. The words, for a moment, seemed to simply roll over him, just wind. Even Shala, Xen and Tali froze for a second, unable to comprehend what was just said. But as quickly as it went by, Marcus' mind caught up, and he turned towards Legion, eyes glaring into the platform, wondering what kind of sick joke was just uttered. Then he remembered; geth don't joke.
He marched forward, coming to stand before it, into its optics, "What the hell do you mean its still operational?" He couldn't help the harsh tang in his voice, but the sudden statement had taken him completely offguard.
Tali was quick to add her own two cents worth, "We destroyed the geth flagship! The one relaying the signal!"
Legion simply shook its head, "The drive core of the super-dreadnought was only amplifying and redirecting the Old Machine signal to the other ships. It was deemed the super-dreadnought would be the most viable decision for the signal amplification, due to its relative firepower and supposed invulnerability. With the signal down, the Old Machines will be looking to redirect the signal amplification to another vessel, likely a standard dreadnought. This process will continue to occur until every ship in the geth fleet is destroyed, leaving the Old Machines without a source to redirect the signal. By this time however, the Migrant Fleet will likely have already been collectively annihilated."
"Now it makes sense," Xen mused loudly. All eyes turned on her, and she simply shrugged, elaborating, "I do recall telling you that the signal eminating from the vessel was simply to thin and weak to be the true signal. I was correct; it was weaker because it was a redirected segment of the signal, not the signal itself."
"So..." Tali added, shrugging, "...where is the actual signal? Not a redirect, the official signal."
"The precise location of the signal was hidden from this unit and its corresponding runtimes," Legion replied, "When the Old Machine code infiltrated the consensus, we shut ourselves off to make sure we were not afflicted. As a result, we rejected the Old Machines' offer, and were subsequently captured and our hardware used as the amplifier for the signal. Due to us being cut off from the consensus, we did not learn of the true signal source, as the geth did well hiding it. However, it can be assumed correctly that the signal is located on the surface of Rannoch itself. The rest is unknown, including what exactly is emitting the signal."
Marcus back towards the table, bracing himself against it. His head hung low, and this time, it was Tali's hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.
After a moment, he looked up, but didn't look at his geth comrade, simply looking blankly into the harsh light of the dormant war table, his cybernetic irises filtering the intense light and dimming it, "How long until the signal is operational again?"
"The signal returned back to full operation twelve hours ago," Legion stated firmly, "It has been rerouted to dreadnought, Class Designation GDS-148. Currently, it has been moved to the other side of the planet, where it is currently holding orbit approximately 1.678 billion kilometers above the orbital pla-"
"We get it Legion," Marcus snapped harshly, rubbing his face, "We get it." The raid on the geth super-dread was pointless. Sure, we freed Legion, allowing us to even learn this information, but we went in there to disable the signal, only to learn we changed nothing. Still, at least the quarians are safe in the Dholen System. At least, that's until the geth decide to come after them...fuck! To make matters worse, the signal is on fucking Rannoch!
Suddenly, Xen spoke up, making her way towards the table with crossed arms, "Despite this unfortunate mishap, there may be a solution. With your permission, I would like to take this platform offline for disassembly. The secrets inside could be the key to helping us defeat this threat."
He looked up at Xen dangerously, anger boiling inside him. After all she just heard, she still insists on her madness? No, no more.
"That platform has a name, admiral," he almost hissed, "Its Legion. And you better show him some more respect."
"It has not earned respect from my end, just yet," Xen replied in kind, clasping her hands behind her back, "But if it were to surrender itself to disasse-"
"Legion is my friend," Marcus insisted, "He fought beside me on the Collector Base. He helped me to defeat them, and he is helping us now. He's the reason you're even here to begin with."
"Your gun helped you too," Xen insisted, "If people started calling their guns and omni-tools their friends, I'd be immensely disappointed, as any sane person would. Taking apart this unit would-"
He had had enough. "Enough Xen," he snapped, cutting her off mid sentence, "Just enough. I've heard enough. I will not let you dissect Legion like some kind of animal in a lab, and I will certainly not let you come up with weapons to kill a people who just want fucking peace. The answer is no."
"But the scientific benefits-"
"-are off the table," he slammed his hand on the table, fixing her with a deepening glare. For a moment, they just exchanged glares, neither side willing to move.
And then Xen broke, huffing as she dropped her arms, "Fine. But when our people begin to get slaughtered again in another battle because the geth bested us again, that blood is on your hands. I hope you like the stench of it." With that, the admiral stormed out of the room, leaving only Shala, Tali, Legion and himself.
"I apologize for Admiral Xen's behaviour," Shala stated, "If I had known she would propose such outrageous-"
"I'm not looking for apologies, Shala, I just want solutions. This war has already raced past its supposed expiration date, and I'm beginning to tire of it," Marcus stated, bringing up the hologram of the previous battle above the holo table, "Any offensive on Rannoch now is effectively doomed to fail; we saw how the first assault went. And any foothold you had in the Perseus Veil is now likely lost due to the geth reclaiming it, which means sending in any forces, even into the Veil, is now suicide. All we can do now is launch stealth raids, and even that will be useless against a full geth armada, especially when I want this to end peacefully. This is going to end with peace between your two peoples, or I'll die trying. I ended a thousand years of blood feud between the krogan and the turians, so I can damn well end this."
"I'm sorry, Marcus," Shala shrugged, looking defeated, "But it just doesn't look like-"
"There is one way Shala, and it may seem ludicrous," Marcus stated, pointing at the large planet that the quarian people had sparked a suicidal war over, "But we have to take down that signal in its entirety. If we take that out, we can save the geth, and get them back to the negotiation table. Its our only hope. But first, we have to locate it," he looked up, knowing it was unnecessary, but did so regardless, "EDI, I want you to work with Legion. Legion, I want you to give EDI all you know and what you don't know. Do not stop until you have the location of that damnable signal. When you have it, inform me immediately," having relayed his orders, he turned to Legion, "Anywhere in particular you wanted to stay on the ship?"
"Our original location will be sufficient, Shepard-Commander," Legion stated, "The AI Core will also allow us direct communication with EDI."
"Good. EDI, better inform the crew. I don't want someone winding up hurt or dead simply because someone had a panic attack at seeing a geth," Marcus ordered. Once he had relayed his orders, he stormed out of the room, not even giving Tali a second glance. He needed a break from all of this. He needed to calm down. So far he had glared down one admiral, beat up another, and then learnt that this efforts the previous day had been for moot. He needed a comforting presence.
And right now, he had one person he had been neglecting ever since his intervention in this war started, one person of who's existence he had learnt off only two days ago.
It was time to be a father.
{Loading...}
July 6, 2186
1400 hours.
Firing Range, C-Sec Academy, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Private First Class Peta'Tasi vas Nedas.
The gun was clicking empty.
Peta didn't really pay much attention to the fact that he had emptied what amounted to an entire two clips worth into the target a dozen meters infront of him, immediately reaching down a hand into one of his many pockets to fish out a fresh thermal clip.
As soon as his three-fingered hands latched around the small cylinder, he quickly ejected the old one, watching its dim carcass shoot from the bottom of the weapon to clang to the ground, smoke trailing from it as it hissed angrily from its dying heat. Quickly, he slammed in the new one in its place, and took aim once more.
His first shot hit true, slamming right into his target's left arm. It blew off in a hale of reinforced plastic shrapnel, spraying the area behind it in its remains. He fired again, and a hole joined the rest he had created in its chest, having blown at least a dozen into the said area. He fired one final time, blasting its head off. The target decimated, it folded back on itself, sliding away to be repaired, while another one popped up, taking its place.
Peta'Tasi vas Nedas' life in the Blue Suns had not ended. Not only that, but he was now officially one of them, not that the Blue Suns training was even remotely hard. Peta would admit it; he had been expecting military training. He didn't know about the rest of the galaxy's armed forces, but for quarians, joining the Migrant Fleet Marines required peak physical training, IQ exams, tactical and strategic awareness courses and a longer school term. And that was just joining the marines; joining the Tilgraps, the quarian special forces division, required even more physical training, deployments from orbit, stealth skills, sniping proficiency, and even more classes. So when he first thought of joining the Blue Suns, he assumed military training. Something he had never received.
Luckily for him, Blue Suns training was nothing like that. All they did was do a medical check up, a few basic questions and a few weapon drills. Because of this, joining the Blue Suns was fairly easy, and he finished his training within a few days. Now he was finally stripped of the rank of recruit and given a rank of Private Second Class.
He had earned his stripes when Cerberus attacked the Citadel. He had been brooding when the pro-human separatists burst through the door, gunning down everything they could find in sight. Peta hadn't even really thought about it. He just summoned the blinding red he now knew he possessed, let it consumed him, and opened fire. What followed was desolation.
Peta had never been a very violent man, but that had all changed one year ago. The fateful day that would lead to his exile from the Fleet. The reason why he was now trapped here, forced to join a mercenary band like the Blue Suns. He had tried to kill the great Commander Shepard in his own bed, all over a woman he thought he loved. The ensuing fury had caused him to end up stabbing said woman in the first place. And now here he was.
He had harnessed that fury the day Cerberus besieged the Citadel, and what followed was alot of enemy corpses. Jentha had been so impressed that she patted him on the back and gave him a promotion to Private First Class. But Peta didn't fool himself; he was no soldier.
But Peta wasn't as delusional as he had been all those months ago. He had once been a stupid little boy in school, believing he had fallen in love with a beautiful example of a quarian female, an engineer going by the name of Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, who would go on to be one of the two Heroines of the Citadel, and a participant in the Eden Prime War. Then she battled the Collectors, all the while Peta desired to make her his wife.
He had been a fool. He thought that what he felt for Tali had been love, when it hadn't been. It had been nothing more than a trick of the mind. A coverup to hide his true intention, one even he wasn't aware of until he stared it in the face.
It wasn't love. It was a perverted infatuation. A petty form of possessiveness. I wanted her to be mine simply so I could boast about having married the daughter of the Chief Admiral. Her victories in the Eden Prime War only made me desire her more. Her prestige was unmatched. And yet I continued to tell myself it was love. What a bloody bosh'tet I was. An idiot. A cretin.
And his resulting exile lead to his predicament. Peta was a soldier in a war now, and he would damn well do his part. Not for the idealistic mentality that his redemption would come as a result of it, but because he had no other choice. He either fought or waited for the inevitable. The Council had lead the entire galaxy to believe that the Citadel was an impregnable fortress; that the galaxy's capital was inconquerable. But they had been proven not just once, but twice, by the geth three years ago, and by Cerberus just days ago. Soon, the Reapers would come for the Citadel, and not even the immovable sanctuary the station was supposed to be would be able to survive such an assault. Peta would rather be fighting than waiting for the Reapers to find him and kill him.
Maybe there is some redemption to be found in this, but I doubt I'll be getting forgiveness from Tali or Shepard. Not after what I did.
Sometimes he wondered just what happened to them. He had heard Shepard was incarcerated many months ago, and he assumed Tali had returned to the Fleet. But he had heard Jentha talking before, and he heard her say that Shepard had been present during the fighting on the Citadel. But now he was gone again, off to fight the bigger war.
It was more troubling to know that the Migrant Fleet, his home of so many years, had vanished. According to the galactic extranet, the Flotilla had simply disappeared without a trace, with some reports even insinuating that the Reapers had destroyed them. Other, more prejudiced extranet articles, proposed that the Fleet was on the run, jumping from system to system to hide from the Reaper invasion, or was hiding in the Terminus Systems. Peta scoffed at such an idea, knowing that Shepard was on personal terms with some of the Admiralty Board, and that such an action wouldn't occur without his consent or agreement; which Peta doubt he'd give.
The next target infront of him took the shape of a turian, while the previous one had been a human. Peta's favourite place was the C-Sec Academy Gun Range, trying to hone his skills as best he could with the war looming over him. He had no doubt that Jentha would tire of lurking on the Citadel, and that Massani would eventually have her unit, which he was part of, redeployed to another section of the galaxy to aid the war effort. Whether it was to help evacuate some frontier world or to hit the enemy on the frontlines or to even secure supply lines, he didn't know. He only knew it was inevitable. And he wanted to be ready.
Cerberus' attack had certainly given him a wakeup call. They had been a tough fight, and he could only imagine what the pale, horrifying hordes of the Reaper armies would be like. He heard that hundreds of billions of people went into Reaper concentration camps every day, and they all eventually came out forming new legions of the Reaper demons, monsters and abominations. The line never stopped, and they never ceased to surprise the galaxy when a new type of husk appeared on the battlefield, or weapon.
He had to admit, his skills were definitely improving; never had he hit a target so many times before. And to think there was a time where he couldn't even hit a bottle. Perhaps I'm more soldier material than I thought. Or perhaps there's a soldier in all of us, and we just don't know it.
The C-Sec Academy Gun Range was originally only available to Citadel Security cadets seeking to hone their skills, but ever since the Citadel attack, the new Executor, a turian by the name of Decian Chellick, issued a edict declaring that all available C-Sec facilities are to be made available by registered and recognized militia groups, which included the Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack. Which is why Peta now occupied the gun range with a few asari Eclipse commandos and the odd Blood Pack krogan.
Even the military had been given access to it. Everytime he entered the Academy, he would find turian soldiers and salarian STG presenting tactical classes to volunteers. He had even come across a joint-physical training exercise in the gym between human N7s and turian Blackwatch. To see the two special forces groups work side by side was a sight to see, especially when they were able to do ten laps around the gym (keeping in mind that it was a full-sized gym, at least 50 meters in width and length) without even breaking a sweat. Just looking at them made Peta feel tiny. The turian Blackwatch, in conjunction with their smaller suborganization of Cabals, had beaten the asari and salarians in a total of six War Games, and the Quarian Tilgraps had only clocked one victory against them in one a decade ago. The N7 had yet to fight the Tilgraps, but he had a feeling they'd be evenly matched.
He raised his weapon once more, and popped off a few more until his clip was once again empty. His target destroyed, it was flipped and replaced by another once again, this one a Cannibal. Peta flinched slightly upon seeing it, noting how lifelike it looked; the three gaping holes it had for eyes and a mouth, all of them glowing bright blue. Its filthy, rugged red skin, with flesh hanging from its body like loose strands of wet toilet paper. The fact that the red on its body was actually exposed muscle, glowing lines trailing underneath being Reaper technology, only further sickened him.
C-Sec must have put them up.
He quickly scrambled for a thermal clip, but found himself unable to find himself one. Terrified, he almost dropped his pistol in his scramble to find one, growing more and more frantic by the second. And the monstrosity before him only continued to stare. He felt its presence getting closer, as if it were actually approaching. He grew more panicked.
And then the feeling was gone, a hand breaching the thick vines encasing his mind as it landed on his shoulder, grasping it.
He twitched, turning all the way and dropping his pistol in the process. As his vision cleared up, the sudden cold that had been encroaching on his mind dissipating, he realized that the two mercs that had been recruited alongside him, Brendon and Liam, were waiting for their turn, both of them looking at him as they stood clad in their Blue Suns body armor, helmets tucked under their armpits.
"You okay man?" Liam asked, the man's young, calmer features still not enough to calm his own ragged nerves, "You look like you just saw a monster."
Perhaps I have. He looked down to see his hands shaking, and what felt like ice held his legs down, keeping him from lifting his own feet to move. His pistol lay on the ground, thermal clip still waiting for ejection, excess heat pouring from the barrel. Peta made no move to retrieve it, and he simply stared at it, before looking up.
The Cannibal target had not moved, despite what his mind might have told him. It was still frozen, it was still fake and made of reinforced plastic, and it was still waiting for shots to pour into it. But despite himself, he could only look at it, staring into its lifeless, still eyes, and all he saw were the monsters that had once been batarians. Creatures of cybernetic inclination, husks of what they once were and nothing more than cannon fodder for the Reapers. Horrific screams, terrible weapons, and tales of just how they came by the name of Cannibal...
Images of himself on the ground, screaming for help as Cannibals descended on his defenseless form, tearing apart his suit and digging into his flesh. He felt them rip skin and muscle clean from his body, pouring into their mouths to use as a form of 'fuel' for their mechanical-organic hybrid bodies, blood seeping from their mouths as it molded into their body, well at home with the blood already present. They just continued to tear him apart and then one of them descended, mouth open, closing it around Peta's face as he just kept on screaming...
He shuddered once more, and tore his eyes from the target, shoved past Liam and Brendon, and walked as fast as he could from the range. He needn't to get out of here; find some place to hide and rest. Anywhere but here. A place where he didn't have to look at that thing.
It wasn't hard finding the door, even in his rushed state. He quickly tapped the interface, not even acknowledging Liam and Brendon's hushed whispers as he stepped through, not even watching the door close before he moved down the nearest corridor.
Purgatory. Yes, Purgatory. Somewhere noisy. I need noise. To drown out...the screams. I need noise. Lots of noise.
As he reached the end of the corridor, C-Sec, merc and military officers alike milling about, he looked down the long C-Sec Academy corridor in search of an exit. A quick getaway. He couldn't stay here any longer. If he stayed, the screams would return, the flashes of red, the crunching of flesh between tee-
Keelah, to hell with it!
He chose a corridor and moved, and luckily for him, it was the right one. As he moved down the hall, the environment became far more familiar, more recognizable. Numerous open rooms attached to the sides; offices of C-Sec superiors, course classrooms, reception and waiting areas, and even more gun ranges. Bright, blinding lights, smooth sterile walls and tiled floors were all he needed to know that he was in the main Academy.
He continued moving, the noise of people moving about culminating. There was shouting and yelling from people shouting at labourers or crowd-controllers, lectures from classrooms spilled out into the Academy halls, and the odd merc had a confrontation with C-Sec, whether over a conflict in regulations or a mediation of some brawl. Overall, the Academy was bustling with life, even after the Cerberus attack.
Evidence of the attack were still prominent all over the Presidium and Shalta Ward. As he found a stairwell leading into the atrium, he saw bullet holes in the wall, as well as blue, green, purple and red blood that mixed into the walls, dried and left uncleaned. All the bodies had long been moved out to the Presidium for identification and processing, before then being moved to the morgue for temporary holding while the Presidium's many funeral services organized the swarm of requests. There was a long line. Many had even signed for space-borne dispersal, deciding that shooting their dead loved one or friend into space in a capsule was preferable to waiting the entire war just to see them buried.
The Citadel didn't even bother with the Cerberus dead. They were either thrown into a disintegrator or flushed out an airlock, but either way, there was no love for Cerberus on this station. Even Terra Firma and other pro-human parties were eerily silent, shocked by the attack bestowed on them by their 'glorious role model.'
Black scars littered the walls, and bits of rubble occupied many corners. Most of it was small, like dust and bits of crumbled walls, but others were huge, with massive concrete slabs or pieces of wall having collapsed in their entirety, and occasionally, C-Sec clean up crews would be forced to pull out another dead body, and they were always terrified about finding the body of a child.
There had been plenty of those, apparently.
As he moved into the atrium though, it was clear the Cerberus siege had driven the Council into further action. Entire news networks were broadcasting unfiltered, unedited footage of the attack galaxy wide, letting all galactic citizens, even in the Terminus, know just what the human supremacist group was. And by unedited, he meant full graphic context. Reporters just as Emily Wong and Khalisah Al-Jilani risked their necks in borderline war journalism to show violent scenes of Cerberus gunning down civilians, bombing schools, and shooting down evacuation shuttles. The worst of all were the images of the refugee camps. He had heard many humans refer to them as 'Auschwitz' camps, and from what he had researched on the name, they weren't wrong; Cerberus had rounded up every non-human and sympathizer, even if the sympathizer was human, and just executed them. The humans they rounded up and took away, but luckily only got away with half, with the UGC turning up to save the day.
He was moving towards the nearest rapid transit terminal, which was just across the room. The main atrium of C-Sec Academy was definitely defined by its flare and majesty, with its high ceiling reaching up 20 meters above him, allowing him a full view of the central elevator that led up to the docks above. Another elevator was on his left, at the top of a flight of stairs, leading up to the Presidium. The crowds were thickest here, with the multiculturalism being the heaviest its ever been. One could say that with Peta counting, almost every single species was milling within these corridors; key word being almost.
Even species that were supposed to be extinct.
He yelped as he tripped, his upper legs bumping into something directly infront of him. Having not seen where he was going, he didn't see the mass of red chitin directly infront of him before he was toppling over its smaller body, flopping onto the ground.
With a grunt, he immediately rolled over, trying to appraise just what he had fallen over. People all around him looked at him as if he was somekind of idiot, or were simply surprised by the sudden action. Regardless, they made their way around him or shot him sneers, the latter of which who's reasons were pretty obvious.
He learned pretty quickly, and his eyes widened in fear. The mass of red chitin was only just shorter than him, sporting extended feelers that moved above its head, acting as arms. Tinier versions with claws extended infront of it, and it was held up by four legs holding its weight. Its body sat on a main body, with the rest looking like a neck that extended backwards and then forwards, much like a scorpion's tail. It had beady black eyes, and it made a clicking sound as it looked directly at him, making no hostile action to attack him, despite what he thought of it.
So its true...they really do still exist...
Your song is one of sour fear notes. Let us fix your trepidation with our melody. We wish your song no harm.
Peta had no idea what any of that was supposed to mean, but he simply nodded, slowly and hesitantly, before verbally speaking, "I-I-I was j-just leaving, a-actually."
Then your song is one of hurried notes. Very well. We must take our leave. Notes of labour must be sung. And with that, the rachni soldier took its leave, taking off across the room at an increased pace as all the people moving about parted for its passage, letting it crawl towards the entrance of a keeper tunnel and move inside.
So far, Peta had come close to far too many heart attacks. Noise. Need more noise.
The blaring of announcements over the PA and people rushing about talking loudly was not deafening enough. Purgatory would ail this.
He quickly hailed a cab, and once inside, found himself rushing towards Purgatory. The ride was mostly silent, his asari driver navigating through traffic as they rapidly approached the Presidium. C-Sec Academy was located to the section of Shalta Ward closest to the Presidium ring, which made transportation to it fairly quick. It only just occurred to him on the ride that Purgatory might be closed.
The Presidium was hit hardest by the attack, Peta realized, and I was there when they stormed the club. Purgatory might still be under repairs, and that's if C-Sec even prioritized it over C-Sec HQ and the hospital, which they definitely will not have done. Damn it, Peta! Should of thought this out!
He couldn't stop his current course though. What if Purgatory was open? He needed the noise. Dark Star was on Zakera Ward and too far away, and Flux's music just wasn't loud enough. Purgatory was the closest source of loud music, and be damned if repair work was going to turn him away. Besides, if it was cordoned off, why would the driver be allowed to take him there? Surely, the taxi services would have been informed of difficulties on the Presidium?
As it was, the Presidium was still a mess. He imagined that this is what it looked like during the aftermath of the Battle of the Citadel, with rubble in the lake and covering the area. Smoke still filtered through the air, dust and debris likely caked many of the cafes and restuarants and businesses covering the Presidium's two flanking sides, and wreckage from destroyed Atlas mechs and aircraft was likely still wedged firmly into some areas. Other buildings had been totally destroyed, and the civilian death count was likely still unaccounted for.
But as with all Citadel recovery efforts, the Presidium would be rebuilt first. It was the main symbol of the Citadel, its beacon of hope, but also its greatest lie. The Presidium represented the pleasures of peace time, and as the public, as well as Peta, had just been shown, they were far from it.
Thankfully, Purgatory was not closed. But it also wasn't without its security. The sign for Purgatory was missing the 'g,' and the doorway was currently wide open, its door having been blown apart by Cerberus breaching it. C-Sec officers covered the area, as well as the odd Alliance marine or army trooper.
But what truly drew Peta's attention was the reporter standing outside the club. Her camera drone hovered beside her, currently in dormant mode, and not looking to be recording anything. She wore a blue and red dress that reached past her ankles, causing her to drag it along the ground as she walked, and her black hair was down in a flow around her, her tanned skin recognizable through any news outlet. Peta had seen more than enough of her.
Reporter Khalisah Al-Jilani. But she didn't look to be reporting anything, her hand to her earpiece as she looked to be animatedly speaking to someone. Why is she here? Surely not to complain about the objectification of women. Of all the things to be reporting about, like the massacres going on through the galaxy, the constant UGC defeats and withdrawals, all she can think of is that? Surely not.
He had been so focused on her that his cab driver had to actually nudge him in the shoulder to let him know they had landed. Shaken from his daze, he handed over his credit chit, and stepped from the car, immediately making his way towards the bar without a second glance. But as the car took off, he began to hear more of Khalisah's conversation, especially when the word 'Flotilla' was used. Stopping, he immediately turned, and listened in on the woman's conversation.
"-what I'm saying is that its ludicrous!" Khalisah hissed, still pacing as she spoke, "There is simply no way the quarians could be so-yeah. Uh-huh. Yep. Well I...wait, really? You're serious? You're sure its him?" she seemed to stop at the mention of this guy, and then her face lit up like a lightbulb, "So let me sum this up so I know I'm not getting this wrong. You're telling me that you have a source who told you that the quarian flotilla, in the middle of a galactic-scale war, decided to invade the Perseus Veil, and now Shepard is helping them to take it back? And that they just destroyed the geth super-dread? How the hell would he even know this?" she continued listening, and her eyes widened, "An informant? You're relying on the words of someone who openly relayed information about his own fleet movements? Well well well."
His interest peaked he immediately, approached eyes widening. Flotilla? Perseus Veil? Shepard? Did they really do it? ...are they reclaiming the homeworld?
Keelah.
The immensity hit him in the face. The quarian homeworld, something every quarian child dreamed of seeing, and his people had launched a war to reclaim it? But they were woefully outgunned! The geth were superior in everything! How could his people have thought any hope of victory was possible? And why now? Why in the middle of a war? Surely they know they can't find a war on two fronts? Peta was no general, but even he knew the odds of winning in those conditions.
But these were his people. His entire species. All of them were going to wage war on Rannoch, and Shepard himself was out there helping them. Which most likely meant Tali was out there...
Even with Shepard, do they really think they have a hope of beating the geth? Shepard's just one man...and if my people are launching a full assault against Rannoch, it could mean Tali's death...
Suddenly, the horrible images of Cannibals and Reapers disappeared from his mind, and he felt a determined ache creep up his spine. It was a good kind of ache; one that inspired confidence and action. He didn't know what caused it, perhaps it was the thought of Tali dying, but he suddenly felt motivated to help. To go out there and save his people. Because even though they exiled him (which he acknowledges was just and fair), they were still his own species. Keelah, the entirety of Clan Yala, his family, were on the Flotilla, likely dying by the dozens as the geth cut them down.
Can I really tell myself to stand here and shoot my sorrows away while my people are dying out there? Could I live with myself, knowing the person I wronged died, and I became the last of my people?
It was now that Peta reached a startling revelation. His mind flashed back to the memory of his lips against Tali's, how it had felt, even with her sleeping and unaware. He had only wanted to touch her, to feel their connection, and he realized that his mind still realized how right it had felt.
Peta had been trying to tell himself that what he had been thinking wasn't love, but a perverted passion. The corrupted lust. A need to be popular, and marrying the daughter of a high admiral would have gotten him the prestige he craved. But he had never craved popularity, or even attention.
He had truly loved Tali, but she simply hadn't loved him back. That had been Peta's mistake; thinking that love was always reciprocal.
Which is why he felt a spark. A small tingle in the back of his mind that told him not to wave away this opportunity. This is how he would prove himself. This was where his path to redemption would end. Where he would finally take the high road. To make himself worthy.
He was no idiot. He knew Tali did not love him back and never would, and he had no doubts that Tali and Shepard had already married. His actions during those days were idiotic and foolish, and they would never be repeated again. No, he would make himself worthy for his people. He would prove his virtue. He would pick up the rifle, something which he had never done before now, and fight beside his people on the battlefield against the geth.
And if they died anyway? Well, at least Peta wouldn't have to live knowing his entire species was extinct.
Finishing his approach, he heard Khalisah finish her call with her friend, "-realize how hard it will be to get access to an area like that? The UGC likely has the entire cluster under quarantine, and given the nature of the strong Reaper presence in the Attican Traverse, I doubt going in there would be very beneficial for m-...yeah. Uh-huh...hmm...well of course I want the inside scoop! What do you think I am, an amateur? In case you're forgetting Jen, I was there during the Battle of the Citadel. I risked my life to capture the footage you saw on ANN. I know what war journalism is like, but I also know when it...do you even know what happened to Allers? It didn't end well for her, did it? Yeah. Okay..."
Peta just patiently waited, Khalisah seeming not to notice him, and he crossed his arms, watching her. Suddenly, she stopped and concluded her conversation.
"I have no way of getting into the Veil even if I wanted to. Besides, you think they just let anyone through? I told you; the UGC likely has it quarantined. Noone will get into that cluster unless they allowed to-" finally, she turned, and took notice of him, eyes widening, "Wait a moment," she then addressed him, hand lowering from her ear, "Can I help you? Do you realize how rude it is to just listen in on someone's conversation?"
Well, she hasn't called a suit-rat yet, so...here goes nothing.
"I heard you want to head into the Veil to provide coverage of the Second Morning War."
She nodded, "Yes, and I'm sure that would be of some interest to a man such as yourself, but that doesn't justify dropping in on my conv-"
"I have a history with Commander Shepard," he blurted out, hoping to catch her attention.
It certainly did. Her mouth clamped shut instantly, and there was a spark in her eyes. Suddenly, her defensive, offended stance dropped, and she adopted a gesture of absolute curiosity and interest, and raised her hand back to her eye piece, "I'll call you back, Jen." She then turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest, "You've got my attention, but if I recall, Shepard only had one quarian companion, and she was female. You're definitely a male."
"I do not deny it," Peta joked, but seeing as it seemed to be entirely wasted on Khalisah, he simply continued, clearing his throat as he stood up straighter, "My history with him was brief and confrontational, but I knew him well enough to know that what your source said was true. He is in the Perseus Veil, and my people most definitely are attacking the geth. Do you have an interest in documenting it?"
"Its my job," she deadpanned, "I'm a journalist by propensity. If its war, I've got the experience. If its digging into every dirty little secret in Citadel Security, I've got the experience. Emily Wong's good, but I've got her beat," she seemed to say that with some arrogant flair, but he just ignored it, not knowing Wong all that well anyway, "So yes, I'd very much like to get the inside scoop on this. My editors need something fresh in this war, and I'm sure our audience galaxy wide is getting tired of seeing colonies burning. It begins to paint a very stale picture. Something new is needed...like our great hero leading troops fearlessly into battle. Something to boost morale."
Reaching forward, he patted Khalisah on the shoulder, smiling behind his mask. I shall redeem myself. First, I'm going to start here.
"You've just found your ticket in, ma'am."
"I wouldn't call Peta's return a pleasant sight, but...what he did? It was bravery. Complete bravery. I'll never forget what he did."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"Neither will I. I hated him, but now? I'll always remember."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Yeah, I had to split this interim into two chapters, so instead of one interim chapter, you'll have two now. The next one will feature Marcus' conversation with Javik and some parenthood issues.
Peta's return was not an on the spot thing, but I have been debating with myself on how I should ease it in. I didn't want him to just pop up at the right moment to save the day, because that's a deus ex machina I'm trying to avoid. Some deus ex machinas are doable, because they either make sense, don't immediately happen when the main protagonist is in trouble, and usually have their own conflicting situations. Having Peta just fly in and kill a bunch of seemingly invincible geth would not only be stupidendously silly and unrealistic, but it was just be a blatant deus ex machina cliche that I can't be bothered dealing with.
Peta will help out in the Quarian-Geth Arc, and I already know what will happen with him. Will he die? Will he join the Normandy crew? Will he become a war asset? I'll let you have your guesses.
Next chapter, like I said, will be Javik and Junior, and after that, the rescue of Koris. The Quarian-Geth Arc might be longer or shorter than I had anticipated, but it really depends on what changes I decide to make or implement along the way. I'll be sure to keep you posted, regardless.
Keelah Se'lai, troopers!
