HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE:
WELCOME HOME, PILGRIM
July 21, 2186
1515 hours.
Western Coast, Ar'sha Canyon, Former Country of Poltane'r, Uma'Waz Subcontinent, Rannoch.
Second Morning War, Liberation of Rannoch.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian, Admiral Tali'Shepard vas Normandy, Master Thief Kasumi Goto, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling, Major Kaidan Alenko, Soldier Javik, Legion.
She...Shep...Sheparddddddd.
The voice was not in his head this time, as it had always been. There was no ache in his head, no undeterred need to push the force out, for it was not present to begin with. This time, the voice was vocal; it boomed across the open plains, echoing across the continent as it was heard for miles, the canyon's walls carrying it across in all directions. And, unlike the many other times before, this voice carried no weight; it was not intimidating. It was not full of the usual arrogance that came with most, if not all, Reapers. There was no self-confidence or power in its voice. No, this time, all of that was absent.
This voice was broken, battered and, if Marcus heard correctly, unsure of itself. This time, Marcus knew he had the upperhand. Before, I've never been able to observe a crippled Reaper; every other time they were completely destroyed. The Fifth Fleet obliterated Sovereign, the Human-Reaper was blown up with the Collector Base, Desolation and Primal were vaporized by the Alpha Relay blast and Vanguard was dragged underground by Kalros never to be seen again. This time...I get to witness a defeated Reaper.
It feels fucking fantastic.
"Shit, that thing's still alive?" Despite himself, he managed to crane his neck around to watch as Keeling joined him on the side of the cliff, looking over at the Reaper that lay across from them. Legion had brought the tank over to an isolated island lying in the middle of the water, half a kilometer from shore. Lying directly across from them was Oblivion, its gargantuan body lying ontop of its legs, which were lying in different directions; two were curled under it, while the other two behind it were nowhere to be seen, and likely submerged entirely underwater. Only one of the four armoured plates that covered the eye remained, with the bottom left lying limply on its side, the armour charred around the edges, while the tip of it looked like a massive animal had just taken a bite out of it. The other armoured plates had been torn off by the explosion, and the debris sunk into the ocean around the dying Reaper. Now all of them could see its single eye, the red light dimmer than usual and growing even more so as the destroyer was its final moments.
Good. Suffer, you son of a bitch.
The eye itself, despite his surprise, had absorbed a substantial amount of the blast. The glass was cracked to the point of bare recognition, but it hadn't shattered, which was remarkable, considering the missile had actually detonated inside the casing.
What is that stuff made of? Is it even glass as we know it, or a material not even on our current periodic table?
Overall, combined with Oblivion's stuttery voice, limp form and dying state, the Reaper was no longer a threat, and the squad could simply bathe in their victory as they watched their enemy suffer for the first time. I can't believe I'm actually enjoying the suffering of my enemy; yet again, its a Reaper. Can it even suffer? Is it capable of that? What if its simply uploading itself to a new platform, like the geth do? What if death doesn't even bother it? It is a machine, after all; life has no meaning to them, even as advanced as they are.
Perhaps what they saw as Oblivion's suffering was actually the Reaper simply 'passing' on, not feeling any pain whatsoever and more annoyed at its defeat than afraid of its impending death. Still, the idea of it suffering is good enough for me. Piece of shit.
He breathed in the salty air, sighing happily at how much it seemed to refreshen him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, standing in there in nothing but his undersuit as he let the cold, ocean breeze blow against his face, icy but strangely calming. The sound of waves crashing against the Reaper's immobile form, its desperate attempts to grab his attention falling on deaf ears as he simply ignored it, not caring for whatever it had to say. He just wanted to enjoy their triumph, because despite how big a victory it was for them, it was still only a single victory. Outside the Veil, the Reaper War raged on, and victories out there were almost entirely unheard of. Like the victory on Tuchanka, the people of the galaxy could use the good news.
Victories on Tuchanka and Rannoch bring people together, while resulting in the death of two Reapers. That would make good headlines.
But in that one moment, he realized, with a sigh, that his job in the Veil was not quite over yet; now, his skill with diplomacy had to come into play. We've freed the geth of the Reaper control, but we still need to negotiate peace between them and the Migrant Fleet. Only then can we hope to form a lasting alliance against the Reapers. First, we better contact Shala and let her know about our victory.
He opened his eyes, licking his dry lips as he continued to grasp at his side, his cracked ribs still aching intensely, while his back felt like it was cracking with every movement of muscle. He groaned inwardly at the feeling and, combined with the agony in his broken, unset nose, despite all the regeneration his body was going through to heal all three, he knew the first thing, once back on the Normandy, would be seeing the doctor to get that all fixed.
With a grunt, he turned around to the rest of his squad. The geth tank was parked on the edge of the tiny island, hatch open as Legion stood outside it like a sentinel, optics lowered at the ground while all its weapons were holstered, looking almost like it was deep in thought. Keeling, along with Javik, was the least injured out of all of them, with barely a scratch on her, being clad in armor. With her rifle lowered, she patrolled the area, keeping an eye out for hostiles, despite the war technically being over. Javik joined her, while ocassionally shooting Marcus a look. The captain met one of them, giving a brief nod. Javik, surprising him once again, nodded back, but with a grin, clearly impressed by the human spectre's actions. Despite himself, he had to chuckle at that.
Guess Javik doesn't think I'm so 'primitive' anymore. That, or I'm just a really badass primitive.
Kaidan joined them, but remained in a crouch, a large gash on the side of the biotic's head a clear sign that the marine had suffered a concussion. Despite that, the marine managed to push through whatever pain he was in to continue his duties, knowing that as long as they were groundside, the mission was not over. He kept his rifle raised, scanning the land behind them. Marcus smiled. He earned his spectre status, even if it was Udina who gave it to him in the end.
Garrus was probably just as bad as Marcus. The turian looked like he was suffering through incredible pain, with his friend lying on his back, the side where his mandible had become disjointed looking engulfed by sickly red/blue bruises, which the exposed veins and muscle seen beneath; to make things worse, his broken leg lay uselessly to one side, unable to be moved. Kasumi lay crouched beside him, her injuries relatively minor, tending to him by easing his pain until they could get back to the ship. The way she tended to him, though...
He had to frown in disgust at where his thoughts were going.
God, you theorize like a schoolgirl, Marcus. Enough of that garbage.
You've got to admit though, they would make a good couple...
Sure, but its clear that they aren't so...ah, come off it! Stick to shooting things; that's what you're good at. If Kasumi could hear you right now, she'd accuse you of going soft. And we certainly can't have that, can we?
As for Tali...
He turned in time to watch as she approached him, standing up on her toes to tap her visor against his forehead, "Hey. Are you feeling alright?"
He licked his lips again, nodding, "Yeah, although I definitely need to check in with Chakwas back on the ship; there's only so much my cybernetics can heal through regeneration. I'm not as robust as most krogan, dear," laughing at his joke, he looked down at Tali's other arm, which, last he checked, was broken, "How about you? Your arm looks pretty banged up. Perhaps you need to check in with Chakwas too."
"Yeah," was her reply, the quarian poking at the temporarily flimsy limb, "Although its nowhere near as bad as what you've got, its still pretty painful. She'll probably order me to rest for a couple of days as well. Remember back on Illium, when Cerberus tried to have me and Kasumi assassinated?"
He cringed at the memory. The worry that had coursed through him at hearing the news, combined with concern for Zaeed, who had been riddled with bullets. It wasn't exactly pleasant in remembrance but he nodded, just to amuse her.
"Yeah, well I hope she doesn't pull that again," Tali decided, shaking her head, "I'm not resting for several days just because of a broken arm. Its simply not happening," turning to him, he noticed her eyes glimmer behind her mask, "You, however...you are pretty injured, now aren't you?" There was a hint of something in her voice. Was it...mischief?
He caught on immediately, and shook his head defiantly, "Oh no you don't, I am not sitting in bed for days on end! There's a war on!"
His wife shrugged, playing the careless one, "And? Lots of soldiers who are injured have to take some rest to recover! You're not special!"
He groaned, glaring at what he perceived as being a smile behind her mask, "This discussion is over, Tali. I am not sitting down in a bed for days on end," despite himself, he managed to conceive his own mischevious grin, turning towards her with a raised eyebrow as he counterattacked the quarian's proposal, "...not unless you're in the bed with me."
To his surprise, the quarian reached up with her unmaimed hand, grabbing at his chest as she pulled him down to her level, before looking into his eyes, "I can guarantee you that at least." And with a wink, she let go, letting him stand up straight again.
He could only grin back, the both of them sharing a look that was almost ravenous. Slowly, they began to inch towards each other, suddenly taking up each other's scent. The need for each other was becoming too intense, their lust having grown more and more intense since after their first coupling before the super-dread operation. The time between then and now felt like a lifetime, and the two of them were finding it very hard to contain themselves. Eventually, heads touching, Marcus felt the need to reach up to her mask and remove it-
An odd, strangely horrific, sound could be heard, sounding like a mixture of a pained squawk mixed with a groan and a grunt. Whatever it was, it was enough to snap the married couple out of their trance, frowning as if they were confused where they were, before turning towards the source of the sound.
The sight they were greeted by shouldn't have surprised them, and neither should the source of the sound have been. Still lying on his back was Garrus, head now tilted towards them with the biggest look of annoyance he could muster, the horrific sound they had heard having been the result of the turian trying to cough; something that obviously hadn't succeeded very well. Still, it was clear the turian had gotten what he wanted, as he seemed to relax at the sight of the two of them looking at him, despite the looks of irritation on their own faces.
This time, Marcus couldn't help his reply, one eyebrow raised at the injured marksman, "One of these days Garrus...you're not going to be here to do that."
His only response was a shrug before turning away again, visibly wincing as Kasumi prodded an area that was obviously tender for the soldier. With a shake of his head, he turned back to his wife, squaring his shoulders as he leaned forward, sighing as he closed and eyes and let his head rest against her visor. He imagined she had mimicked the action, her hands grasping his lovingly. His voice was a bare whisper, his entire body feeling drained from the day's events, "We're almost there, honey. Do you feel it?"
The sliding of her visor against his head signalled she had nodded, her own reply being just as hushed as his, "Yes. I'm standing on the homeworld of my ancestors, just like so many people before me wished they could have done. Over the many generations of Zorahs, I'm technically the first...even if I'm not a Zorah anymore."
"And I'm one of the first humans to set foot on this planet ever," he replied, a large smile creasing his face as he opened his eyes, looking past the smokey exterior of her visor to make out the outlines of her face, "Maybe you can give me the grand tour, Mrs. Shepard."
She giggled, sighing as she opened her own eyes, as if able to sense that his own were open. Their eyes met, and they stood there for a few moments, standing in silence. When she spoke again, she almost mumbled the words, as if afraid she would break the moment, "I'll be learning just as much as you, Mark. This may be the true home of my people, but its still just as alien to me as it is to you."
Despite the intensity of her words, he couldn't but smile, "So...Mark, is it?"
"You did tell me to start using that name."
"I may have suggested it...yeah."
"Then consider yourself promoted to Mark."
"Oh, a promotion is it? Then should I call you...Tal? Or Miss T? One of the two, surely."
The quarian pretended to think about the two options, until she eventually shook her head, visibly smirking behind her mask, "Mmmmmm...I think Tali will do just fine, thanks. I already get Kasumi calling me Fishbowl. I don't need anymore weird human nicknames."
"As you wish, your highness."
"I am not royalty!"
"Whatever you say...princess."
She glared at him playfully, stepping back as she put her hands on her hips, "I'm warning you, Marcus Shepard..."
"Whatever you command, Your Grace," he managed to say, lips still held back in a large, shit-eating grin. Despite herself, Tali couldn't help but smile as well, and eventually the both of them started laughing almost uncontrollably, much to the squad's confusion. Keeling and Javik were the more confused of the alot, taking time to stand and simply stare at them as if they had gone insane. But, despite what they thought, the couple didn't try to stop themselves, and continued to laugh to their heart's content.
Because after a long battle where the fate of two people's hung in the balance, it was nice to be able to actually laugh.
Shepard.
The voice was shaky, but it was clear that Oblivion wasn't quite dead yet; a fact that annoyed Marcus greatly. Sighing heavily as he contained himself, he continued to let his smile linger as he looked up at the great beast; the king of the machine kingdom, brought down by one, puny human. Its emotionless eye focused entirely on him, ignoring the rest of its squad as Marcus was given its unwavering attention.
Continuing to look up at it, he shrugged, crossing his arms, "Why don't you hurry up and die, Oblivion. Stop clinging to life and just pass away. Even a Reaper must know when it's beat."
You...resist. But y-y-you will fail. The cycle MUST con...co...continue.
He pinched his nose in annoyance, sighing as he shook his head. A movement that, in retrospect, wasn't a very good idea, as his nose flared with pain at the motion. Despite that, he ignored it, looking up at the Reaper as he let his hands fall to his side, feeling Tali's presence by his side. He could tell the rest of the squad was also paying attention, their attention focused on the Reaper. Its voice no longer communicated to Marcus solely; now, its taunts could be heard by all of them, loud and clear for all of them to hear.
"I killed Sovereign," Marcus spat, grin sliding from his face as he became more serious, realizing just how disgusted he was by the sight of the machine before him, "I blew Harbinger's Collectors to hell. I vaporized Desolation and Primal. I fed Vanguard to the mother of all thresher maws. And now here you are, a deadbeat corpse, bleeding and bruised, lying on the ground as your life ebs away," he shrugged, biting down on his lower lip, "From my end, it seems alot like resisting is doing pretty well for me. For us."
We are many. I am but one of a horde. The destruction of one does not contribute to the larger whole; you believe this is a victory, but you have merely sparked a brief flicker of pathetic, futile hope in this cycle. It will die, and the cycle will continue. It is inevitable.
This time, it seemed as if Oblivion's voice had cleared up, the Reaper putting what little energy reserves it had left into speaking. Shaking his head, he began to pace, glaring at it as if examining a wounded animal, "We are more," licking his lips, he continued, breaking into a rant, as he usually did, "You know, I suppose I should thank you. You might be asking, 'is this puny organic thanking me for trying to wipe out all civilization as he knows it'? Yes, Oblivion; that's exactly what I'm doing. Why? Because you've managed to achieve one thing that noone else has; you're uniting us. Before, we only had each other. The Council didn't like the quarians, humans didn't like batarians, quarians didn't like geth, krogan didn't like salarians and turians, and vice versa. Vorcha and batarians hated everyone, and the scum of the Terminus were content to rape and murder their way through the galaxy. But thanks to you, people are finally waking up. We don't love each other sure, but we're united against a common foe. People are ignoring old hatreds to fight you."
It will not last. Organic programming makes compatibility impossible. Mutual cooperation does not last.
He laughed bitterly, shaking his head, "Oh, but you're wrong. Have you seen Palaven? As we speak, krogan and turian soldiers are fighting side by side. It was a salarian that cured the genophage. A salarian. Let that sink in. The salarian STG is even willing to commit treason against their own government to fight beside us. I made a deal with a man I hate just so that we could stand together in our darkest hour. Right now, humans and batarians, are fighting side by side; the former would like nothing but to nuke the latter, and the latter would like nothing more than to enslave the former. Legions of mercenaries, pirates and everyday murderers, rapists, con-men and other Terminus scum have finally realized that they'll have to fight to preserve their sick, depraved little world. Sure, our reasons for fighting are different, but the one thing that stays the same is you. You are the binding force. You are the glue holding us into unity. Isn't that beautiful? While you're trying to divide us and harvest us, you're actually achieving the exact opposite."
Oblivion seemed to have completely ignored the human's words, as if they hadn't meant anything to begin with. You cannot even begin to comprehend the magnitude of our presence. It is beyond anything your limited organic imagination can replicate.
He laughed, rubbing the stubble on his jaw as he stepped forward, moving so close to the edge that Tali almost flinched at the sight of it. Leaning forward, he glared straight into its single eye, enraged, "You know what I'm sick of hearing? That we don't comprehend your presence. That we don't comprehend what you're doing. What makes you think that? What gives you the right to play God and destroy entire races? So you know what? No, you're going to explain. I'm sick of hearing that the reason we're being systematically exterminated like vermin is one that can't comprehend. Well, guess what? We may surprise you. So go on, explain. Its not like you've got anywhere to go, right?"
For all of Oblivion's supposed 'intellect' and arrogance, the Reaper actually remained silent after his response. It was like it was actually taking the time to think through what it was going to say, mulling over the words he had spoken. The idea surprised Marcus; it was almost like the human had managed to finally influence the Reaper, managing to sway its way of thinking. Before he knew it, Oblivion spoke again, its voice sounding measured and calculated.
You represent chaos. We represent order. Every organic civilization that has been or will be must be harvested for the protection of the galaxy. Order is fragmented by the perputuated existence of consistent organic society. Organic society creates an anomaly that, if allowed to continue, allows chaos to fester. Chaos leads to destructive elements beyond your own capability to control. This chaos damages the galaxy around you; it also stops new species from rising up. Sometimes they are conquered, sometimes they were wiped out entirely. We exist to impose order on the chaos of organic evolution. We are the solution. We are both your salvation, and your bane. We are the galaxy's guardians.
Without our intervention, your civilization is doomed to its own destructive tendencies. It is inevitable.
"You expect us to believe that you're wiping us out to protect us?" Tali stated, her arms crossed and looking at the Reaper in astonishment, "That all this misery, suffering and bloodshed is for a greater good? That you're all just...superheroes? Righting wrongs and protecting the galaxy?"
"My people represented order," Javik hissed, looking at Oblivion with nothing but contempt, "And you wiped them out."
The protheans were simply another equation with the same solution. Your people were a perfect representation of why the cycle exists; everytime a new species rose up, your people enslaved and assimilated them into your conglomerate. Those who wished to be free were ruthlessly destroyed. Your ignorance and arrogance would eventually give way to civil conflict. You would eventually grow so powerful as to develop stronger and more powerful weapons. We have bore witness to it. Billions of years before, we have seen weapons capable of annihilating entire star systems. We have seen armies of nanomachines capable of conquering entire species and converting them into machines. The cycle is the only reason your galaxy has not already destroyed itself.
The answer only seemed to fan the flames of Javik's hatred, the prothean baring his teeth as he gripped his particle rifle more tightly.
He shook his head, laughing, "You destroy us to protect us from ourselves? Is that not our job? Isn't the main component of freedom the ability to choose whether or not to destroy or preserve ourselves? To allow ourselves to decide for ourselves what solution works best? What you're doing takes away our free will. And for what? I saw the Human-Reaper on the Collector Base. How do you explain that abomination, huh?"
Oblivion was silent for a few moments before responding. Some species are deemed worthy of ascendance. The Great Intelligence calls it the Uplift. Every cycle, one or more species are chosen to evolve to the final form. Your species has been chosen, Shepard.
"Yeah, well you know what?" he leaned forward, hissing his response, "Take your ascendance and shove it up your ass. I don't want your evolution. I want my freedom. I want to live in peace. We all do. You presume to act in our self-interests, but you're nothing but a glorified fleet of nannies; murderous nannies who think that if they strip away our freedoms and everything that makes us unique will make us better. You're delusional. You couldn't possibly understand what it means to be organic, and you never will. I think I'd rather destroy you."
A philosophy reminisent of the quarians. Observe the results. The proof is laid bare for all to witness. The Great Intelligence prophecized it.
"The Great Intelligence, eh?" Kaidan quiered, his rifle lowered, "What is that? You're speaking of Harbinger, aren't you?"
Harbinger is our leader, but he is not the Great Intelligence. The Intelligence is of a higher form than even the Nazara. It gave us our purpose. It provided us its teachings, and we precipitate. It is our honourable mission to preserve galactic life as we see fit. The cycle MUST continue. It is beyond your comprehension to understand our divine purpose to-
"ENOUGH!" he roared, standing back as he let his voice cut across the canyon, silencing Oblivion's voice with its intensity. Reaching his hand behind him, he shook his head, "I've heard enough of this. We're going to put a stop to the cycle, Oblivion. We are going to choose our own way of living. We will not allow the Reapers to choose it for us. You can fight us all you want, but in the end...we're creating a weapon that will ultimately prove your destruction. And when its finished, we're going to show you what true order is. And then, we're going to rebuild. And we're going to show you just how wrong you are."
Feeling a familiar weapon enter his grip, he grabbed it and pulled it forward, feeling a round already loaded into the chamber. Without further hesitation, he pulled the weapon up and against his shoulder, taking aim at the Reaper's already damaged and cracked eye. Grinning, he spoke one final time, watching Oblivion's unflinching gaze, "Also, tell Harbinger I said hi. He's next, by the way."
He then pulled the trigger.
The Cain pulsed in his hands, and he watched with glee as the missile shot forth and slammed into the Reaper's eye. It detonated, the blast undoubtably finishing Oblivion off as the loudest airhorn he had ever heard sounded, before abruptly stopping; a brief lance of heat washed over the group, but it was gone as soon as it hit, and as they looked on, they watched the smoke clearly to reveal the mangled interior of Oblivion, its single red eye missing to be replaced with a single, mangled socket, now leaking flames and smoke as it coughed it out into the atmosphere.
No sound could be heard, and Marcus handed the Cain back, knowing what that meant.
Oblivion was finally dead.
With a sigh, he turned back around, smiling at Tali and the rest of the squad as they stood triumphant before the Reaper's corpse, and also slightly more educated on the Reapers' reasons for the cycles.
Doesn't change anything. We may know their reasons, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to survive. We will destroy the Reapers, no matter what it takes. We can enjoy this victory while it lasts, at least.
He walked forward, moving towards Legion, the geth infiltrator still standing beside the tank, where it looked like it hadn't budged during their entire conversation with Oblivion. A matter of fact, the geth didn't even look like it had been paying attention at all, looking to be looking blankly at the ground. He frowned at that, moving towards it with purpose as he wondered what it was thinking. He was standing right infront of it when his comm lit up, Farkov's voice pouring through the comms, "This is Major General Farkov to any UGC forces still active, do you read?"
Immediately tapping his comm, he nodded, "This is Shepard, I read you, Farkov."
"Copy that, captain," Farkov replied, sounding refreshed and hardly even tired, "I've just called in the Inchon, Chancellorsville and Antioch for extraction. I haven't been able to get in contact with any other forces, however."
"Solid on that," was Marcus' reply, "Extract into orbit and I'll get in contact with the others, Shepard out," with that, he switched comms to the 39th, hoping to get a response, "This is Shepard to Durand, how copy? If you're reading on this frequency, please respond. I need a status update."
A few seconds passed, followed by a burst of comm traffic, gunfire echoing through the line as a voice that wasn't Durand's replied, "This is Major Tou, captain. Colonel Durand is down with severe injuries; she's breathing, but that's about all she's doing; I've assumed command of the unit. We've taken heavy casualities and lost thirty percent of our vehicles. 45th has taken just as heavy a hit, and have lost sixty percent of their own vehicles. Lieutenant Colonel Cameron is dead, and most of his unit was wiped out in the initial wave. Those geth primes and Torsk's men arrived and helped bolster our position though, and they've barely lost any men. Vass' men are here as well, and they've lost seven men."
He nodded, wincing at just how heavy the casualities had been. You knew what the stakes were; the loss of life was inevitable. Some of the force dead is better than losing them all.
Victory at any cost. We fight or we die.
"Copy that," Marcus replied, "Our mission was a success. The Reaper signal, Oblivion, has been neutralized. What's your status currently?"
"Well, that's the thing, sir," Tou replied immediately, his voice hoarse from a lack of hydration, sounding raspy and sore, "The geth...the geth just sort've stopped attacking. We didn't know what was happening at first, but then their dropships just retreated, and every single enemy soldier just turned tail and ran. I'll tell you this sir, they looked confused. Like, uber-confused. As if they didn't know where they were or what they were doing. Moses told us it was because of the lack of a signal to direct them?"
Tali piped up, nodding, "That's because we took out the Reaper signal. Without the Reaper signal consistently providing them with the upgrades and keeping them 'indoctrinated', the geth would be reverted back to their state before receiving the upgrades; similiar to what Marcus did when he saved the Migrant Fleet early in the battle, except permanent. Its the equivalent of waking up from a hallucination; it'll take them time to remember where they are and what to do. Once they come to their senses, they'll cease hostilities and try to initiate peace talks. The true geth never wanted war with the organics to begin with."
"Well, you heard the lady, Tou," Marcus backed up, "Lower your weapons and do a body count; the battle is over. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to engage any geth forces. If they shoot first, then by all means; but unless they do so, do not open fire. Do you understand me, colonel?"
"Understood, sir," Tou sighed, giving a mixture of a relieved woop of delight and a tired groan, "Also sir, some of your squad turned up at our position sometime before the signal dropped. Did you get separated?"
He smiled, happy to know the others were safe, "Something like that. Keep me posted, Tou. Shepard out." And with that, he finally cut the comms, turning back to Legion as he prepared to speak...
...only for everyone to flinch as Legion's optics suddenly shot up, looking directly at Marcus. When it spoke, its dull monotone was almost entirely absent, replaced with a sound of awe.
"Shepard-Commander!" it spoke, "We can confirm that the Old Machine signal has stopped transmitting. We are free-"
"Excellent job, captain," came an overly satisfied voice Marcus was hoping to not hear anytime soon, "You've disabled the signal. Now they're completely vulnerable. Just sitting out there in space, twiddling their thumbs; even our pursuers have stopped moving. What's that human saying? Oh, that's right. Like shooting fish in a barrel."
He frowned, tapping his comm as he responded, "Gerrel, I know what you're thinking. Don't."
"Or what?" came the quarian man's thick, almost american, accent, "I'll admit Shepard, you've done alot for our people. You took up Tali as your protege during your pilgrimage and even managed to seduce her with your bullshit philosophy about hugging the geth and making everything better. You stood for her during her trial when noone else would. And when our people were trapped over the homeworld because of my mistake, you swooped in and saved us from certain destruction. For that, the quarian people are forever in your debt. But your time is over...because as useful as you were, this was always our fight. One we must finish, and us alone. Your help is much appreciated, but you're not needed anymore, and our next decision must be our own."
He tried to speak, finding anyway to convince the admiral to calm down, "Gerrel, don't-"
When Gerrel spoke again, it wasn't directed at Marcus, but his own bridge crew, "Heavy Fleet, all forward. Tactical, give me a firing solution on that dreadnought. All ships, once we're in range, open fire. I want the skies of Rannoch to be raining with geth ships by the time the day is done."
That...imbecile! He's going to ruin it all!
"Patrol Fleet, hold position," Shala stated firmly.
"Civilian Fleet, hold fire," came Koris' voice in tandem.
"You fools!" came Gerrel's insistent voice, angered and befuddled, "This is our chance to end this war once and for all! Look at them! Our enemy lies in space, just waiting for us to take them out! We will never have a better chance!"
"You're the true fool, Gerrel," Koris spat, "Shepard is right. Peace with the geth is the only thing that will help us to survive. We must be willing to leave the mistakes of our ancestors behind and move forward."
"Agreed," was Shala's comeback, "We cannot authorize any further recklessness on your part, admiral."
"Very well. Then you leave me no choice," Gerrel replied, almost smugly, "The Heavy Fleet, the military portion of our Fleet, mind you, will continue to move forward to engage the enemy. If the geth are still capable of returning fire, which we have no way of knowing, then a significant portion of the Heavy Fleet will be destroyed. Perhaps the entire fleet. Or, at least, that's what'll happen if you don't reinforce us. If we engage as one, we'll be able to destroy them with little problem. But if the Heavy Fleet is destroyed...what will be left to fight the Reapers? A few frigates and jury-rigged civilian vessels? And who do you propose is going to lead them? You, Koris? The man with no military experience or any knowledge of military tactics? Or you, Shala? Your indecisiveness cost you your credibility in the eyes of the Conclave! Noone would willingly follow you! And you, Tali, the child who's too young to even be an admiral to begin with. No, if the Heavy Fleet is wiped out, then you're all doomed. So what's it going to be? Stand by and watch your chances of winning this war disappear, or join me and end our enemy once and for all?"
Please don't...don't...
"Damn you, Gerrel," came Shala's regretful, irritated response, "Patrol Fleet...all forward. Reinforce the Heavy Fleet's rear. Provide firing support for the eighth and twentieth echelons."
No...
"I am sorry, Shepard," came Koris' equally regretful response, his voice sounding tired and defeated, "I can't believe I'm about to order this, but...Civilian Fleet, turn around. Flank left and engage our pursuers; start with the capital ships and work our way down. Deploy fighters to pick off enemy pickets. Spread out to make us harder to hit."
No...
"You made the right choice," was all Gerrel could say. Despite what he was doing, Marcus couldn't pick up a hint of smugness in his tone; only a determination to finish what his people started three hundred years ago, "We reclaim Rannoch today. For our ancestors, we must do this. It is the only way."
No...
He turned to Tali, willing her to do something. His wife was paralyzed by indecision, confused and shocked by the sudden turn of events; how they were now being forced to watch their victory turn into ashes in their mouths. He stared at her, almost begging her to do something...but she didn't even look at him, turning away and walking to the edge, looking blankly at the ocean stretching before her. Knowing that she would, and could not, do anything, his eyes whipped to Legion's optics...
...which were already staring at him, almost begging him to do something. After all, it was its people that were about to obliterated; helpless to defend themselves. I don't know what to do...Gerrel won't listen to me...
Then Legion spoke, cocking its head at him inquisitively, as if an innocent child struggling to understand what its parent was saying, "We defended ourselves, as every sentient life form as the right to, when the creators attacked. We ask you, Shepard-Commander; do we deserve death?"
Shepard-Commander, do we deserve death?
No...
Shepard-Commander, do we deserve death?
No, it can't be...
Shepard-Commander, do we deserve death?
Legion's words were all too familiar. Because he had heard them before.
His dream came back to him in startling clarity, refreshing for him the memories of that horrible nightmare. Quarian ships pouring from the sky, the air lighting up with fire as the oxygen was slowly eaten away, Marcus being drenched in the blood of millions as he stood amongst their corpses, Tali's husk-like form staring at him accusingly as Legion continued to ask him the same question, over and over.
...do we deserve death?
And now the entire dream made far too much sense.
"No..." he mumbled, "No, you don't. The quarians did this to you. They're at fault. This is their fault."
He looked up, turning to see as Tali looked at him, her eyes carrying with them a look of fear and dread as she looked directly into his own, secretly begging him to make the right choice. He looked at her, and then back at Legion, unsure of what he needed to do. What he should do. Legion's words mirrored the ones he had heard in his dream all too well, and if they had been accurate...then what about the rest? The raining quarian ships? Tali's huskification? The blood?
Which was prophecy, and which was taunt?
Eventually, his eyes met Legion's optics, unwilling to look back at Tali for fear of falling apart. He turned off his comm as he spoke to the geth, already feeling drained and defeated, but managing to put steel and cold indifference into his voice as he addressed the machine, "What...what do you suggest we do?"
Legion hesitated for a few moments, its optics looking at the squad assembled around it, all of who were now standing and listening intently, genuinely worried about what was going to happen. Javik looked at the geth coldly, his anti-machine attitude making him distrustful of Legion. After a few moments, it focused its optics back on him, its gaze almost too intense, "Do you remember what we said about the Old Machine code stored within this platform? Even with this platform being disconnected from the signal, we still possessed elements of the code, and we still do. And, as we have stated, this code is continuing to evolve within our processes, unlocking more and more elements for this platform to explore. And as we evolve as a platform, so does the code; it is constantly expanding, multiplying and replicating."
"Get to the point, Legion," he angrily stated, the pressure and stress of the situation beginning to fold upon him, "I need a solution, not engineering lessons."
"With the Old Machine dead, the Old Machine code is no longer being transmitted to the geth," Legion quickly stated, heeding Marcus' 'advice', "With the Old Machine unable to intervene, this platform could use its short-range transmitter to connect to the one possessed by the Old Machine. From there, we can continuously replicate any and all Old Machine code from this platform and begin our own signal; we can transmit the code back to the geth."
He frowned at the geth incredulously, shaking his head violently, "Are you fucking insane? You want to give the code back to the geth? We just spent hours trying to free them! Now you want to reenslave them!? Why!?"
"Giving them the code will not reenslave them. You misunderstand," Legion began, elaborating further at seeing Marcus' continued befuddlement, "The Old Machine, when alive, manipulated the code in such a way that, while giving the geth the upgrades, it was able to control them and indoctrinate them through the code presented; it could only do this to those connected to the signal, but this platform wasn't, allowing it to be free of this control. With the Old Machine dead, and the code in this platform free of any tampering, we can upload the code to the geth, but the geth will retain their independence. Not only will the geth be free to evolve and experience organic life as they see fit, but we would be able to join you. We would know the Old Machines more intimately, and be able to aid you in defeating them."
He shook his head, cursing his own uselessness. So give the geth the Reaper upgrades and, without the Reaper to control them, the geth will be able to use the code without being indoctrinated by the Reapers. The geth will be able to evolve to true AI status, on par with the Reapers, and will be able to find more ways to defeat them; fight fire with fire. That is tactically beneficial...
Before he could contemplate on this too much however, Tali was suddenly at his side, grabbing at his arm, looking at him pleadingly, "Marcus, don't you see what that'll do? If the geth receive the upgrades, they'll be as powerful as they were before! And Gerrel just convinced the entire Migrant Fleet to engage!"
His eyes widened in horror at that realization. And this time the Fleet is caught between both fleets, which will make another escape nearly impossible. They'll more than certainly be annihilated...
And so the impossible choice presented itself.
If I choose the quarians, then the geth will still be too confused to fight back and most certainly be wiped out. But if I allow Legion to upload the code to the geth...the quarians will be trapped between both, and the geth will have to defend themselves. The Migrant Fleet will be eradicated. So either way, I lose one of them.
I have to choose which species lives, and which dies.
It was too much. Marcus could feel himself caving in, stepping backwards slowly as he considered all the valuables placed before him, while Tali and Legion looked at him expectantly. Marcus had come here wanting to make peace between the both of them, hoping to create an alliance that would be ridiculously powerful. They would have gone to war with the Reapers, and their combined power would have destroyed just as many Reapers as the Crucible presumably would. But all that was now going to shit; here he was, forced to choose between one or the other...
On the one hand, he could think about this tactically; in that case, he would choose the geth. The geth had more advanced technology, an unlimited reserve of troops and ships to choose from, and a military war machine that outclassed anything the turians or humans had; even the asari were beat in the technology department when it came to the geth. But then, if he thought about it emotionally...Tali was his wife, Shala was his aunt, and he had never felt a connection for a people more than he had for the quarians. He loved their species, and while he knew they were in the wrong for the Morning War, he still wanted to help them win...
I can't...
I don't know how...
What do I do?
Shit!
Victory at any cost! Choose the geth!
Are you willing to watch an entire species be wiped out infront of you? Are you willing to do that? Could you? The geth are nothing but machines and are expendable! Choose the quarians!
It is inevitable.
Suddenly, Tali was beside him, grabbing his arm, "Please, Marcus! You can't choose the geth over my people! Please!"
He tore his arm from her grasp, stuttering as he fumbled for an answer, but could not give her one. She looked at him hopelessly as he tore his gaze away to look at Legion, who's optics looked at him blankly, not showing any of the blatant desperation that Tali had given him, but no doubt was feeling it just as much, "Shepard-Commander, we regret the decision that must be made but, as we have said, it must be made. You know this. Tactically, the geth are the better choice for your UGC. We have more troops, more resources, more ships, more advanced weaponry. We are equipped to deal with the Reaper threat."
Tali grabbed his arm again, and he didn't tear away this time, letting her words wash over him, "If you think about this tactically, then the Reapers have already won! We're not like them! If we treat people like numbers then we're no better than they are! Please, don't choose the geth over my people! I'm begging you, please don't do this!"
Javik nodded, coming to her side, "The quarian is right, captain. The machines will only betray you later. At least the quarians can be trusted. Let the machines die."
"Do you remember the question that caused the creators to attack us, Tali'Shepard?" it spoke, turning directly towards the quarian to face her, "Does this unit have a soul?"
For the first time since their argument began, he stood still, and took a deep breath. He thought through his choices, and steeled himself, sinking into this thoughts.
I love the quarian people...I can't let them die...
But the geth are the better choice. Like the krogan, they have more military backbone. What good are the quarians? They command a fleet of rustbuckets and trash! They are of no use to your armada! The fleet can do without them!
But Tali's right...if I start thinking that way, what makes me better than what we're fighting?
She's a quarian; of course she's going to try and stop you from choosing the geth over her own people! If you were in her position, wouldn't you? She speaks from bias, not rationale! You can't let your feelings cloud your judgment now! The quarians or the geth. That's your choice. And the right choice is the GETH.
But how many men, women and children will I be condemning to death? I can't send seventeen million souls and an entire species into the grave! Its not right! Its...its fucking genocide!
IT DOESN'T MATTER! YOU MUST WIN! VICTORY AT ANY COST! WE FIGHT OR WE DIE!
Or we could fight AND die! What cost is there going to be if we keep running everything into the ground!? How can I honestly condemn an entire species to death immediately after I just ranted to a dying Reaper about unity!? I did not keep the quarians around just so I could murder them all! Its wrong!
THEN SO BE IT! IF YOU MUST LIVE WITH THE GUILTY CONSCIOUS, THEN DO SO! BUT YOU MUST DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE-
Wait, what?
So be it...
So be it...
SO BE IT.
We represent chaos. You represent order.
It is inevitable.
No...
...do we deserve death?
And then his eyes shot open. Am I not just proving the Reapers right? If I do this, no matter who I choose, could I possibly tell myself that what I did was for the greater good? Is that not what the Reapers are doing!?
No...
No.
NO.
There is always another way...
Filled with new found confidence, his indecision washed away, and he visibly tensed. Tali must have noticed something had changed, as she backed away, letting go of his arm. He clenched his fists and unclenched them repeatedly, gritting his teeth almost painfully as he looked up into the sky, contemplating what he was about to do. He had decided long ago, when he had started this fight, that he would always look for a better alternative. That there was always another way to resolve a conflict. When he was on Noveria, he chose to let the rachni queen go despite the backlash it would receive...because he believed the queen had a good side. He believed that she was better than what history made her out to be. Virmire only hardened that belief; made him swear to always find another way in the future. On Tuchanka, he could have taken the easy way out and simply shot Mordin, sabotaged the cure and gotten the salarian reinforcements; but in the end, there was another option. And in the end, he had gotten the salarians anyway, without sabotaging the cure.
There is always another way, dammit! ALWAYS!
And in that moment, he had made his decision.
Turning back from the sky, he looked at Legion, and nodded, "Legion, upload the code."
The geth nodded, with Tali's body slumping, looking betrayed. Javik shook his head, looking disappointed in his commanding officer as Legion raised its hands, a glowing sphere of blue holographic energy forming between its palms, its headflaps shifting and merging as it contemplated the information before it. Finally, it spoke, "We have gained access to the Old Machine's transmitter. Uploading code."
Startling Tali, he turned towards the quarian, "Tali, contact the Fleet. Get us both a direct link, right now."
She seemed to perk up slightly at this, and immediately began tapping at her omni-tool to make the necessary connection. Managing to hack through the block Gerrel had setup (no doubt deliberately put up to stop Marcus from contacting him), his wife quickly established a secure link, setting up numerous backups to make sure the admiral couldn't cut the connection. Without waiting any further, she spoke, announcing her presence to Gerrel, even as their comms were filled with the sound of quarian bridge officers shouting and Gerrel barking out orders, "This is Admiral Tali'Shepard to Fleet, cease your attack and fall back. That is a general order."
"Tali?" Gerrel spoke, sounding surprised to hear the quarian's voice, "Ah. Should have known you would have hacked through the comm block. It doesn't matter; all ships are committed."
"I'm ordering you to stand down, Gerrel," Tali hissed, "I will not tell you again."
"You have no authority down there, Tali. Do not try and intimidate me," Gerrel spat back, "You're nothing but a replacement; Rael was twice the admiral that you are. You have no real authority in this Fleet, and the rest of the admiralty knows it. We will win this war like we were always meant to; in the skies of the homeworld. All ships, belay any further orders that Admiral Shepard provides; keep up the pressure. I want every single geth ship blown out of orbit."
"Damn it!" the engineer almost roared, quickly switching comms to the Tonbay in the hopes of convincing her aunt to stand down, "Shala, you must break off now! I'm giving you a direct-"
Her response was the sound of screaming, followed by numerous explosions. Marcus' eyes widened, his head snapping to look at Tali as they both looked on in shock at what they were hearing. The entire comm band was a flurry of yelling and screaming, with what sounded like Shala barely getting her orders through. The bridge of the Tonbay was in chaos, from the sounds of it. More, smaller explosions could be heard, but they sounded just as serious as the larger ones. Finally, Shala'Raan's voice could be heard.
"Mayday, mayday! This is the QMFV Tonbay, requesting firing support! Taking heavy fire from two flanking geth cruisers! They came out of nowhere! We're venting fuel and all starboard weapon systems are disabled or destroyed. Hull integrity is weakening every moment we stay here, and the cruisers are positioned in such a way that they are able to penetrate our barriers! We need reinforcements, now!"
Gerrel's response was immediate, "Farleaz and Yea'pez are inbound to provide reinforcement. Admiral Raan, can you hold position? They will be able to engage in 50 seconds. I repeat, can you hold?"
"Negative! I repeat, nega-" another explosion cut off Shala's response and for a few moments, it seemed like Shala had been killed in the blast. Then, four seconds later, Shala spoke up, her voice sounding hushed, "Keelah! Main thrusters and stabilizers are offline and the drive core is leaking element zero into space; we're caught in the planet's orbit! We're going down! All hands, to escape pods! I repeat, all hands to-!"
Another blast silenced the comms to the Tonbay entirely.
For a moment, Marcus thought Tali might burst into tears, but despite what it seemed like had happened, the quarian desperately looked up into the sky, looking for a sign that the Tonbay was indeed losing altitude. Marcus looked up with her, peering into the murky, orange abyss that was Rannoch's sky. For a few moments, they could see nothing; but after a few moments, they saw it. A bright spark of orange light, barely noticable due to how it blended with the sky's color, but providing enough of an outline to be seen; it surged down from the sky, racing towards the ground with unprecedented speed.
The Tonbay was going to crash.
They watched on, observing as the shape of the Tonbay went from a simple orange dot in the ascending abyss to the outline of a ship. It continued to plummet, fire encompassing the front of its hull as the bow of the ship was scorched and burnt, the ship's heat shields providing just enough to protect its crew from the reentry. Pieces of hull and armor were stripped from the vessel as it continued to glide towards the ground, the debris becoming flaming pieces of wreckage that fell into the ocean below it, causing large and little splashes everywhere.
Finally, the Tonbay was close enough to not only be seen, but heard. The sound it made as the air was parted by its presence was equivalent to a 21st century jumbo jet crashing, accompanied by the sound of crackling flames and the screech of damaged engines. The ship itself was a wreck; its entire starboard side had been riddled with plasma, most of its turrets being mangled and broken pieces of machinery, while other parts of the ship were marred with scorched pot holes. The back trailed blue as element zero continued to leak from the ship's ruptured drive core, and the ship continued to spiral towards the ground, losing altitude as its descent boomed across the canyon, echoing through the plains.
They continued to watch as the telltale signs of escape pods began to erupt from the ship's sides, shooting out in multiple directions. Luckily, most of them moved towards land, but disappeard behind the rocks of the canyon, stopping the group from seeing what happened to them. Some were unlucky, with one or two crashing into the ocean and sinking almost immediately, taking whoever was in them and dragging them down below to their deaths. All the all, the ship continued to plummet, further and further, until it disappeared behind a set of rocks, the only thing not disappearing being the sound of its sub-orbital descent.
Then, exactly eleven seconds later, the entire ground shook as the ship crashed, knocking the crew off their feet as a tremendous explosion could be heard, followed by the quaking of the ground as the ship made impact, likely dragging along the ground to a final stop. Numerous other explosions followed it but, after a few more seconds, it all stopped, the Tonbay coming to its final resting place on Rannoch's surface.
And still no word from Shala.
As the group settled, it was then that they heard Gerrel's insistent voice over the comms, demanding status updates. Finally, Tali chose to respond, "No Gerrel, the Tonbay is not alright. We don't even know if Shala is even alive at this point. So, with Shala missing in action, I am ordering the Patrol Fleet to retreat."
"Belay that!" Gerrel shouted in protest, "Continue the attack!"
"Upload at forty-two percent," Legion spoke up, reminding the squad that the geth was still there, and that they were now on a clock to halt the quarian attack before it was too late.
"Gerrel, listen!" Tali spat, "The geth are about to return to full strength! Legion is reuploading the geth code to the geth so that they may have the upgrades, but free of the Reaper control! If you continue to attack and they get their upgrades, they will return fire and the Fleet will be destroyed! You must withdraw! All ships, you must withdraw!"
"She's lying!" Gerrel spat back, "She'd say anything to save the geth! We're almost there! Keep pushing! Rannoch is almost ours!"
"I am not lying!" Tali hissed, "You must believe me! The geth are not our enemy! Please, listen to me! You must stop this attack or they will destroy you!"
"No, we end this, right now!" the admiral's blunt response poured through the comm, full of hatred and comtempt, "Keep firing! Don't let up! Navigator, bring us about! Pour fire into that cruiser! Avenge the Tonbay!"
Finally, he had had enough. Marcus held up his hand for Tali to stop, and accessed the comm, speaking, "Gerrel, this is Shepard."
"No you don't, Shepard," Gerrel immediately began, desperate to talk over Marcus and make sure the man didn't get a word in, "You're not going to-"
"Listen," he hissed, voice full of steely indifference and utter passion, "Do you know where I am, Gerrel? Do you? I'm on Rannoch. Tali is on Rannoch. You are in orbit of Rannoch. Now, think about that for one second. What have you longed for your entire life? What have your people longed for during their entire exile? Rannoch. This is your homeworld, Gerrel. The one true homeworld you will ever have. But do you know who else owns this world? Who else began to share it with you the day you built them? The geth."
"You can't serious-"
"Oh, I'm serious. Because, quite frankly, I'm sick to fucking death of all of this," he snapped, cutting Gerrel off before he could go on anothe rant, "All of it. I stand on one of the most beautiful planets I have ever seen; the definition of beauty if I ever did need to find a definition, and right now all I can see on is the blood of three hundred years of pointless, idiotic warfare. For three hundred years and the brief months before that, countless lives have been wasted fighting an enemy that never wanted to fight you to begin with, while countless geth have been murdered due to a misunderstanding on both sides. Both of you have been going at this stupidity for three centuries, and I'm sick of it! The entire galaxy is sick of it! We're all sick of it!"
He began to pace, his anger building up faster and faster as he broke into another one of his speeches, "The galaxy has adopted this stupid, idiotic ideology that synthetics and organics can never work together! The first morning war has created this false narrative about how AI can never be trusted, and that machines are simply tools to be used and discarded! I mean, think about it. What started this pointless fucking conflict!? That's right, a geth asked a question, God forbid. It began to question its existence! Is that not the right of every sentient being!? To ask questions? Well of course, because the quarians knew that! You didn't want to kill the geth for being sentient, you wanted to kill them because they weren't slaves anymore, and you thought you could prevent some war by striking first. A war that would have never happened if you had taken the time to actually answer its question, and to embrace the geth as a new species, not a new threat. And your mistake then is what's got you in this position in the now!"
"Upload at sixty-seven percent," came Legion's update.
"Can we just consider, for one second, the idea that maybe you all fucked up? That all this animosity for the geth, all this baseless hatred and fear, was all just a cover to make you feel better about a mistake you made? Perhaps you never hated them all; maybe, somewhere within the first fifty years of your exile, your ancestors struggled to come to terms with their mistake, and in that moment, a lie was born; a lie that said it was all the geth's fault, that they were the monsters and that they had to be destroyed to retake your homeworld. And that lie was circulated, repeated and retold to countless new generations of children, until eventually the lie is repeated so many times that it becomes the truth. Gerrel, what if you, as a child, was fed the same lie that so many other children before you were told? The geth aren't monsters. The geth don't hate organics. The geth love their creators. Despite you trying to destroy them, they didn't hesitate to let you escape during the exodus. They could have easily killed you all; but they let you go. I've seen it. I've witnessed it all in the archives; the proof is there. The geth have been taking loving care of Rannoch since after your exile, and you know why? Not because they need it; they've hardly touched the planet in terms of society-building. No, they were repairing it in preparation for your return."
"Upload at eighty percent," Legion updated once more, now ever closer.
"The geth want you to come home. They love their creators," Marcus stated, some of his fire dousing itself as he became more emotional, "The geth are like children, and you are the parents. They just want mummy and daddy to come home. They want their parents back. You see, the thing is, while you've found yourself unable to forgive the geth for taking your homeworld away from you, the geth forgave you the moment you left. The question is: who was more in the wrong? The geth, who only began to realize who they were, or the quarians, who tried to exterminate a beautiful new lifeform before its fully experienced life?"
"Upload at ninety percent."
Sighing, he came to his conclusion, "Please, I'm begging you, Gerrel. I beg all of you. Reconsider. Revisit your ancestors' actions. Think about all that has been done over the years, and how much you've wasted three hundred years of creation over a war that could have been avoided. The geth don't hate you, they want you home. If you can believe that for one second, just one second, then this war will finally be over. If you can just drop your weapons, sit back and allow each other the space to mull over each other's decisions, then you can reach that desired resolution. Gerrel, you once told me that if you could retake Rannoch without any bloodshed, you said you'd take it. Do you still feel that way?"
There was a few moments of silence, and Gerrel replied, an audible gulp heard, "I do."
He smiled weakly, "Well, you can. Withdraw your ships. Let history work its magic. The geth have forgiven you already for what you did three centuries ago; now its your turn to forgive them, if you're up to it. If you can do that, then you'll have taken back Rannoch without another drop of blood being spilt. I beg you...I implore you...to give them a chance. Keelah Se'lai."
And there it was; all his magic had been worked. All he could do was sit there and let what happened next play out. Would it work? Would Gerrel see reason? It was ultimately their decision now. The quarians had to make the choice to forgive the geth for three hundred years of exile...
"Upload at ninety-eight percent."
And quickly.
What felt like hours passed with no word from any of the quarian ships, nothing but silence being heard over the comms; not even orders were being shouted or tactical readouts being relayed to anyone; it was just complete silence. Uneery, perputual, silence. It was almost deafening to Marcus' ears; the sound, despite a lack of it, thrummed in his ears, making him feel like his head was about to explode with anticipation.
He reached over and grabbed Tali's hand, letting his five fingers interlace with hers. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes behind the mask, and from what he could see, she was smiling warmly at him. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. Together, they both looked up at the sky, hoping they would make the right decision.
Then suddenly, almost of nowhere, Gerrel's voice returned, sounding resigned, "No, captain..." Marcus closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in anger as he realized that despite putting all his energy into that speech, it had amounted to nothing; the quarian's had chosen to-, "...Keelah Re'lai. All ships...hold fire. Withdraw to minimum safe distance and hold position."
Marcus let go of the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and smirked as he looked down, watching Tali jump up and down on her toes as she spun around in glee. Despite all her experience and age, the fact that she was an admiral and his wife, that one moment had made her look like a kid again, full of energy and excited when things went her way. Marcus found the energy infectous, finding himself laughing almost uncontrollably.
"This is Admiral Koris, all ships follow Gerrel's lead. Form up behind the Heavy Fleet, and hold fire. If any ship opens fire, you have my permission to fire upon it."
"As you have mine," Gerrel reinforced.
"Patrol Fleet," came a familiar voice over the comms, "...oh, you know what to do. Follow their lead."
"Shala!?" Tali almost screamed over the comm, "Is that you!? You're alive!?"
"I survived, yes," came the admiral's worn out voice, "A few cracked ribs, but I'll be fine. I could do with a pickup, however. And I have numerous crew members spread out across the countryside that could do with extraction. I can barely move."
Before Marcus could say anything, Moses' voice suddenly appeared, speaking for him, "Creator Shala'Raan, upload the coordinates of you and your crew and we will pick you up and take you to Shepard-Commander's location immediately."
Although weary to do so, Shala's response was immediate, "Coordinates uploading."
Just on time as well, as Legion's hands suddenly dropped to its side, the sphere it had between its hands evaporating, "Upload is now one hundred percent complete. We are f-" then, as if suffering a malfunction, the geth stuttered, dropping to a knee as its headflaps began to spastically twist in random directions, its optics flashing rapidly. This caught everyone's attention, and they immediately moved to assist Legion.
Tali crouched beside the geth, grabbing its head in both hands, her voice worried, "Legion, are you okay? Legion, speak to us! What's wrong with you?"
Then, as quickly as it happened, the geth suddenly stood up, headflaps settling and optics ceasing their incessant flashing. A matter of fact, it was almost as if nothing had happened, the geth simply looking blankly at the ground. Sharing a look with Tali, who was now standing up, looking just as confused, Marcus approached the geth, "Legion, are you okay?"
And then, in what was the most surprisingly organic gesture Marcus had ever seen in a machine before, the geth slowly craned its head towards Marcus, looking uncertain of itself. Headflaps drooped slightly, the gesture looking eerily alot like the drooping ears of a dog when it was...sad?
"Marcus," Legion began, causing Tali to gasp, "I am...sorry."
Marcus. I. It...he...used a personal pronoun to describe itself.
While amazed that Legion was now talking more like an organic, he stepped forward, frowning at the geth's change of attitude. What is he sorry for? We won. The code was uploaded, the quarians retreated...oh, don't tell me Gerrel went back on his word! That piece of shit better not have...
"Legion, what's there to be sorry about?" Tali asked, cocking her head in confusion, "We won. The war is over. We did it."
"You are correct," the geth replied, shaking its head, "But the upload has not...fully completed. There is...one more component needed for upload. The code has been uploaded, but without a actualization placeholder template, the code will be redundant and, therefore, inaccessible."
Tali seemed to draw her head back in realization but Marcus, ever ignorant to how technology worked, looked at Legion, smiling, "Then we can quite easily find a way around that, yeah? We can bring Moses in to help, and Tali and EDI. Right?" He looked at Tali, who lowered her head, shaking it. Frowning, he looked back at Legion, meeting its optics, "...right?"
"Negative," Legion began to explain, "For an actualization placeholder template to be established, there must be at least a single geth platform with already fully evolved Reaper code fragments that have evolved outside of any Reaper influence; the only platform with this is me. Unfortunately, for the geth to be immune to Reaper tampering and indoctrination, and to stop the Reapers from simply hacking the code, a geth imprint must be attached to help the code to identify what to be associated with. To do this, said geth imprint must be dispersed into the consensus, and absorbed by all geth programs for the transition to be completed," it looked up sadly at Marcus, its headflaps remaining dormant this time, "That geth imprint is me. I am sorry Marcus, but I must go to them."
All he could manage was to look blankly at the geth for a few seconds, looking at him blankly. The information had already sunk in; what Legion was trying to tell him. It all made sense, even for him. The look of sadness in Tali's and Legion's postures made more sense now. How could it not? It was so painfully obvious.
Finally, his shoulders slumped, and he nodded, "Is...is there...is there no other way? Truly?"
There is always another way, dammit...
This is far too familiar...
Legion shook its head, "No. I'm...I'm sorry. Its...the only way."
He fumbled for answers, looking up, "But if you're absorbed by the consensus...!"
Taking him by surprise once more, the geth reached up one hand and awkwardly grasped his shoulder, the servos in its hand relaxing just enough for it to squeeze, but not too painfully. The gesture was meant to be reassuring, and the geth looked at him with sadness in his optics, "We Are Legion, For We Are Many. Once absorbed by the consensus, everything I have learnt will be absorbed and become a part of the geth; my memories, my experiences, my interactions with the crew and what I have learnt from them, even what you called me...all of it will no longer be mine; it will be the geth's. I will be the geth, and the geth will be me."
"Keelah," Tali exclaimed, a hand reaching up to her visor, "So every geth will essentially be you? Every single one of them will, in essence, be Legion?"
"Yes," was Legion's reply, letting its hand fall from Marcus' shoulder.
"Wow," Kasumi laughed, "So if I'm in a room full of geth, all of them are you. Got it."
Marcus is unable to say anything, his entire body feeling rigid and stone-like. All he could do was stare at the geth, someone he had even begun to call a friend, as it answered the squad's questions before he gave his life to give his own species a chance at a new form of life.
Jenkins.
Ashley.
Jacob.
Mordin.
Thane.
Legion.
Too many names...too many of them friends...
Even as he stood perfectly still, licking his lips and letting the moment sweep over him, he forced himself to turn when he heard Tali speak, approaching the geth before coming to a stop infront of him, hands at her sides, "Legion, the answer to your question...is yes." Before the geth could say anything, she wrapped her arms around his frame, tucking her mask against his chest. The sounds of silent weeping could be heard, followed by what he presumed were tears. Legion returned the hug, and despite the gesture looking awkward on the geth, it was still good to see that he was embracing his new found sentience.
"I know, Tali," Legion replied, releasing Tali from his hug as she too let go, sniffing as she stepped back, hands in her lap. She continued to watch the geth as he watched her back away, "And thank you." Finally, Legion turned towards Marcus one final time, reaching behind his back, "Marcus."
He looked up, stepping forward as he cleared his throat, nodding, "Yes, Legion?"
Bringing his hand back, Legion brought his pulse rifle with it, holding it in his hands for the last time. After a few more moments silently complimenting its design, he held it out to Marcus by the handle, looking at him directly, "I noticed you lost your own pulse rifle during the battle with Oblivion. I would like you to have mine, to use in my memory."
Like I did with Jenkins' sniper rifle after he died...
He hesitated for a few moments before eventually reaching forward, taking the weapon in hand and admiring the grip. This wasn't just any pulse rifle...this was Legion's personal weapon. And he would make sure to use it to the best of his own ability. He would continue to fight in Legion's name, and take down as many husks and Cerberus soldiers as he could.
Its what you would want, Legion.
He nodded, lowering the weapon as he looked back up, snapping a firm salute, "Thank you, Legion. I...I wish there was more time to say what I want." His hand fell to his side, sighing in defeat.
"As do I," the geth replied, turning forward as its optics began to dim, "Keelah Re'lai."
And just like that, the geth's optics darkened completely, headflaps going limp. He fell to his knees, his torso's momentum continuing to carry him until he collided head first into the ground with a thump, his entire body limp and resting in the light of the Tikkun sun. Its rays reflected off the N7 shoulderplate welded to its shoulder, and glinted on the circuits that were exposed by the huge hole in its chest. Putting the pulse rifle on the ground, he quietly crouched down, he laid a hand on the geth's body, closing his eyes and murmuring the Mourner's Kaddish to himself. He noticed Tali had followed suit with her own people's prayer, and Kasumi with her own Japanese one. Soon, almost everyone, except Javik, had joined in, saying their prayers for the fallen geth soldier.
Over the comms, screams of delight could be heard, and Marcus couldn't but smile as he stood up, picking up his new pulse rifle as he did, listening to the cries of joy.
"The geth are moving...they're stirring...they're not firing."
"Sir...the geth are contacting us. They...they want to talk!"
"Ma'am, we're getting greetings across every major communication system...wait...ma'am, they're directing us to the nearest dock!"
"Admiral Gerrel, you won't believe what we're getting here! The geth are asking for a ceasefire!"
"This is Admiral Koris to the Civilian Fleet, disable weapons and drop kinetic barriers! Everybody, rejoice! We're home!"
And like a cacophony, cries of cheer and merriment filled the Fleet and had it not been for the void of space, the sound of it would have boomed so loudly, it would have been heard from the Citadel.
If only the Reapers could hear this...
He barely even felt Tali sneaking under one arm, resting her head on his shoulder as they looked up at the sky above. He subconsciously wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him. They simply enjoyed the moment, watching the sky for what felt like entire minutes as they revelled in their triumph, their ultimate victory.
Victory at any cost...heh, we won it at the cost of a friend...but even then, he's not truly dead, so what cost?
The moment was broken as the familiar whirr of an approaching geth dropship could be heard, and despite every instinct in their bodies telling them to take cover, they simply turned around, parting from each other as they watched the dropship close in, getting closer and closer.
A few moments later, the dropship came to rest in the middle of the island, its engines keeping up dust and sand in all directions as its engine continued to roar, even as its rear hatch opened. Marcus and Tali approached quickly enough, watching as Shala, huddling over to them while holding her injured ribcage, approached from the dropship's interior, followed by dozens of other surviving quarians from her crew. And, approaching from behind them like a tall sentinel, was Moses, the geth prime's great strides allowing him to outpace the other quarians behind him.
"Marcus, the entire quarian species is going to be forever in your debt after this," Shala stated, reaching out a hand for him to shake...one he promptly ignored as he moved in and gently hugged his aunt-in-law. Taken by surprise, the quarian didn't react for a few moments before promptly hugging him back. After letting go and pulling back, Tali did the same with her, and once done, the admiral spoke once more, "I've already heard reports of the Fleet being welcomed into numerous geth docks around the planet. Does that mean its over?"
"Yes, Admiral Raan," came Moses' reply, Shala turning to look up at the giant geth as it towered over her, its optics looking down to address her, "You are also welcome to live here on Rannoch, with us. All creators are welcome to return home. We also propose an alliance."
That got Shala and Tali's attention, both of them raising their eyebrows at the geth, "An alliance?"
Moses nodded, motioning to Marcus, "Despite our conflict here, the war is far from over; the forces that were responsible for putting us in this situation to begin with are still at work. The Old Machines will not relent in their war, and it is clear that the fight for survival is as much our fight as it is the UGC's. This is why I propose an alliance between all quarians and geth; a unified coalition against the Reapers; a coalition that could then join the UGC in its war."
"What, like a...Rannochian Coalition?" Shala proposed, and Moses nodded. Seeing this, the admiral turned back to Marcus and Tali, looking for their approval. Seeing both of them nod, she turned back, and nodded to the geth with what looked to be glee in her movements, "Well, I'd have to confirm with the other admirals, but I have no doubt they'll agree after what's happened today. We will have our coalition. And once we've cleaned up here and got settled in, we'll begin pooling whatever resources we have to send to the UGC for use in the war with the Reapers. Perhaps you would like to examine our flashbang technology and find a way to apply it against the Reapers?"
Moses was more than apply to comply, "That would be applicable," turning from Shala, he looked directly at Marcus, giving him a brief nod, its headflaps moving consistently with its new range of emotions, "Shepard, as a representative of the geth, I would like to inform you that all geth will now be pledging themselves to the UGC, and we will begin immediately by sending as many engineers as we can to assist with the Crucible's construction."
"As will we," Shala stated, "Although she won't like it, Xen is the only admiral that can be spared right now, and her technical expertise, as well as her science team aboard the Moreh, is some of the best in the entire Migrant Fleet; we'll have Xen, her science team and every engineer we can spare sent to the Crucible as well. The Migrant Fleet is now yours to use as you see fit. We'll begin recruiting as many people as possible for military service as we can, beginning today."
Marcus nodded to both of them, thanking them, "That's all I can ask for. This is your fight as much as it is ours. We should all stand together," turning, he noticed Tali sitting on the edge of the island, her legs dangling from the edge as she looked over the ocean before her...at least, the side that wasn't blocked by Oblivion's corpse. Noticing this, and her rather contemplative attitude, he turned to both Shala and Moses and nodded, "Now, I'll leave you two to discuss the nitty-gritty details. Admiral, Moses." Nodding to both courteously, he moved towards his wife at a steady pace.
Within moments, he had crossed the distance, bringing himself to sit next to the quarian with a sigh of relief, finally allowing his burnt out muscles a rest as he sat beside his wife, legs dangling over the edge. Tali noticed this and quickly leaned her head on his shoulder, Marcus wrapping an arm around her waist as he welcomed her in, both of them assuming the same position as they had before as they calmly watched the ocean, letting the breeze slap against their bodies.
Finally. No more battles awaiting for them for the moment; just the ocean. Nothing but Tikkun's rays beaming down on them, warming them up with its intensity as they enjoyed each other's company. It was a bliss.
After a few moments, he broke the silence with a chuckle, the rumble in his chest enough to arouse the suspicion of Tali, who looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, "What are you laughing about?"
"Nothing. Just shopping for another house," he joked, directing her focus with a pointed finger to a pair of rock overcroppings in the distance that just loomed over the ocean below, presumably making for a stunning view of the water, "That's a perfect spot."
"Beachfront property?" she quiered and, noticing his nod, she giggled as well, slapping his chest as she rested her head against it, tucking herself in, "Hmmmm...good choice."
"Well, we better claim it fast, eh?" he continued to chuckle, looking up into the sky with a long sigh, "With forty-eight thousand ships up there with just under seventeen million people, its going to be a flooded market. Early bird gets the worm, as they say."
Despite his amusement, he couldn't but notice Tali's sigh at what he said, as if what he said wasn't actually amusing. Looking down at her, he began to stroke her head soothingly, voice laced with worry as he spoke, "What's wrong, Tali? Is it about Legion?"
"Yes," she sighed again, shaking her head, "No. Keelah, I don't even know what to feel. On the one hand, I'm resting in the arms of my husband on a planet I thought was only possible to reach in dreams after achieving an alliance with an enemy I was brought up to despise. But on the other...I'm going to miss Legion. And that's what's really weird. I mean, keelah! A quarian, mourning a geth! How crazy is that? My ancestors would spit on me."
"Its not crazy at all," he replied, continuing to idly stroke her helmet as he looked up at the horizon, "And you know what? Legion wouldn't want us to focus on his death; he'd want us to focus on the good it did. He gave new life to his species, and allowed us to create an alliance others would have dismissed as pseudo-diplomacy. Legion wouldn't want us to linger on his death, but rather on the good it brought."
"Yeah," a sniffle, "You're right. You always are...when you need to be."
He nodded, suddenly feeling slightly sad as he reached a certain realization. This is it...this is goodbye.
"Okay, what's wrong with you?" came Tali's voice, Marcus shaking from his stupor as he looked down to see her looking up at him, "And don't say its 'nothing'. I saw that look. Something on your mind?"
With a heavy intake of breath, he sighed, "Well, I just realized that with the war over, our time together is coming to an end. I mean, I can't very well ask you to come with me now that you're n admiral. You've got duties of your own to tend to, and I can't possibly ask you to abandon your people just for old times sake. I mean, I'll miss you. Intensely, even. But I can't let love dictate my reason, you know?"
For a few moments, Tali didn't say anything, and he feared he had said something wrong. Looking down, he frowned, noticing that she was still looking at him, but before he could ask anything, she just started to giggle, "Keelah, what are you on about?"
"That this is the last time we get to spend time with each other before I have to-"
"Keelah, you are soooooo dense. Didn't you ever consider that I might actually be coming with you?"
That caused him to freeze. It took a few moments before the gears in his head to start clicking in his head, and by that time, Tali was already in a larger fit of giggles, wreathing around in his arms. Frowning, he looked down at her, not the least bit amused by her words due to her confusion. Finally noticing his befuddlement, she sighed and looked up at him, shaking her head, "Marcus, you can't seriously think that after getting you back I was going to let you leave again, would you? I told you, until death do us part."
"But you're an admiral. What about-"
She raised a single finger to his lips, silencing him immediately, "Its simple. All I have to do is abdicate the position and give it to another admiral; personally, I'm thinking of giving the chief admiral position to Koris; we need someone who's willing to make hard decisions while not being recklessly arrogant like Gerrel can be; besides, Gerrel is far effective as a war tactican and battle commander than he is sitting in board rooms and organizing political charity. That's more of Koris' field. And with the new alliance they're proposing, its safe to assume that even geth will be allowed to assume admiral's positions, so we don't have to worry about a void being left in my absence. So, really, its a no brainer, isn't it?"
He nodded, letting his shoulders slouch as he conformed to his wife's logic; its not like he could argue against it; don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that stuff. Still, he was glad that his wife would be able to stay with him for the remainder of the conflict; he had barely survived her absence, and he would now need her at his side more than ever.
With that settled between them, they continued to watch the sun of Tikkun, relaxing in each other's arms as they simply enjoyed the moment.
Minutes passed as people came and go, with Cortez having arrived in a shuttle to pick up the squad and take them back to the Normandy, which was now hovering directly above them. The dropship had left with Moses and Shala for a space station in orbit, where leaders of both sides would soon be convening to discuss terms. Legion's body was recovered by the shuttle as well to be taken back to the ship for a memorial service, and the geth tank was also taken by the crew; using it to replace the Mako they left behind in the fortress. They could use the extra firepower anyway.
When all was said and done, Marcus and Tali were left on the island by themselves, enjoying each other's company. Tali got to enjoy her homeworld, and Marcus got to enjoy his new one. And while the Reaper War was waiting elsewhere, Marcus could enjoy his little touch of peace while he was on Rannoch.
"You ended an entire war with just words."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"There have been weirder ways to end a war."
- Marcus Shepard.
"So this was the beginning of the Quarian Totalitarianistic Republic. So what happened next?"
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"Well, alot and more. I hope you're listening, it gets very...political from here."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
ArchReaperN7, you LIED to us! You released this BEFORE the next holidays! What's going on?
Yeah, well I got some motivation out of nowhere and decided to write. And...here we are. Magical, isn't it? Anyway, hopefully this is enough to satisfy you guys until next time; because with this chapter, I've basically finished the quarian-geth arc. The next chapter is most Rannoch aftermath type things, and I think you guys are going to like what I have in store. ;)
Until next time,
Keelah Re'lai, troopers!
