Here we go! This is the second-to-last chapter; the final one before the epilogue. While I do know many reviewers want to see more, or want to have additional stories about what happens in the Warhammer galaxy, or seeing Guilliman, or similar ideas, they unfortunately won't be happening (though I am very touched you enjoy my story so much you want to see more of it). The thing is, many stories on this website continue to ramble, and while they're great, the authors don't have a planned end and so never do get around to finishing them. We are now coming to the end of this story, which I find a good thing because you guys won't be stuck with an author who never finishes, and I can move on to further projects.
Speaking of which, there will be more stories to come after this. I have quite the story planned, and I can guarantee if you liked this, you will love the next one, so please do stay tuned! I have learned a lot writing the Technophiles series, and in no small part thanks to all you and your wonderful reviews, I have certainly improved in my writing. I can pretty much guarantee that the next story will be not only a fantastic idea and concept you will all love, and it will be beta read (yay!) and planned much better. I can't say for certain when it will be out, but sometime within the next month after I finish the chapter after this.
As for this chapter itself, as several readers have jokingly pointed out, there is a sweetness warning here. Both Mass Effect and Warhammer 40k are somewhat notorious for their endings. There are no happy endings in either, really. It also seems that parts of the fanbases enjoy that novelty. However, for this story, you will get your happy ending and you will enjoy it! This is not a request!
Thank you for all your support and reviews. It truly does mean a lot to me. So, please, if you have the time, leave a review, and I will reply, as I always do and will do now:
Colossus Bridger: Thank you. I am surprised that I didn't get any negative reviews. I suppose the Cadian's speech worked as intended, which was good. I'm glad you liked last chapter, and hope you enjoy this one.
local doc: You've got this last ending chapter, and an epilogue next chapter. I do think, and certainly hope, you will enjoy both, as well as the story to come!
Zoltan-Atreyu: I think you'll like it, though unfortunately we won't have the Imperial's home galaxy or Chaos coming back in. I do hope you enjoy what's to come!
BonesofSmite: I'm glad you liked it! The Warhammer and Mass Effect fanbases have their... interesting moments, and that was both an in-character and more meta address to that. Ultimately, considering the reviews, it worked as intended so I'm certainly glad you enjoyed it and Shepard's medals (which was very fun to write). Thank you for your viewership; I hope you like this chapter, the next, and the next story!
themadnimrod: Indeed. The medals were very fun to write.
Dragon Blaze-X: I'm glad you liked it! We need more fluff, and we will get more in this chapter.
Akshka: Thank you.
valhalan guardsman: Indeed. They actually seem to function a lot like Classical Age or Medieval armies: when the fighting is done, they settle down on the land they conquered.
Guest: The next story will take place in a different universe, though it will be a crossover, will involve both galaxies (and a bit more...) and I do think you will enjoy it as much or more than Technophiles.
Guest: Alpha Primus killed the Illusive Man and Cerberus was disbanded or absorbed into the Mechanicus around Adas.
Anatheras: As far as the Tithe goes, I wanted to make it at least somewhat fair, because that's what the Imperium actually does. You do have a point though, and it was a big struggle to figure out exactly what each race should pay, and I'm still not 100% satisfied (and I don't think I would be regardless of what I said). As for the Turians and Alliance, the Imperium, and the Turians and Alliance themselves as you'll see here, consider paying a higher, militarized Tithe a point of pride, much like Cadia, Armageddon, Valhalla, Mordian, and so on and so forth. Shepard doesn't know about Trazyn, though that may or may not change. I do hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks for the review!
lucho406: I don't think I'll get into the Primarchs, unfortunately. It would probably take away from the story. As for what the Imperium is doing and has defending their territory, we'll see in this chapter!
Cringyusername SBSVQQ: Ah, well, then my emails from ffnet are a bit off, which, considering this website, makes perfect sense. I'm glad you liked last chapter and hope you like this one!
Austin: Thank you for the review! I'm glad you liked last chapter. The Asari might need to be watched for Slaaneshi influence. I might do a few comedy shorts; I think you guys would like that. You stay safe as well, and thanks again for the ideas and review!
OscuroSignore-51: The sergeant was very fun to write. As for the Marine chapters, that's been answered in this chapter. Thanks for the review!
Savior16: As mentioned, unfotunately I won't go into that much detail. However, I do hope you enjoy this chapter!
oOo
A Small Measure of Peace
"And so the days of the Samurai had ended. Nations, like men, it is sometimes said, have their own destiny. As for the American captain, no one knows what became of him. Some say that he died of his wounds. Others, that he returned to his own country. But I like to think he may have at last found some small measure of peace, that we all seek, and few of us ever find." - Simon Graham, The Last Samurai
oOo
Ten Years After the Reaper War
Prime Minister Anderson of the Systems Alliance sighed as he looked down at all the paperwork coating his desk. He really did hate being a politician. Always had. Even when he was the Alliance Councilor over a decade ago, he hated that role too. It was one of the reasons he left the position to go back to the military once more. But, after the Reaper War, Admiral Anderson found himself being urged to run for Prime Minister. He was, next to Shepard and Hackett, one of the most popular humans of this reality.
He resisted for a few years until he finally caved in and decided to run for office. Hackett had been laughing the entire time, damn the man. At least he was fortunate enough to avoid the political sphere altogether. He had no desire to be anything other than the Alliance Navy Commander, and no one wanted him to be anything different.
Anderson got just over ninety percent of the popular vote, and had been in office and reelected for a second term since then. It still didn't change his hatred of politics and politicians.
At least that sniveling moron Udina was gone. No one particularly liked him. About six years ago, Udina decided to retire. As it turned out, despite his rather spineless ways and distinct dispopularity of anyone who personally knew him, Udina's tenure as human Councilor proved to be rather well-remembered. He was rather apolitical, and was regarded well for his 'leadership' during the Reaper War and helping to bring in the Imperials. Anderson sighed to himself again. Such were the fortunes of history.
Ex-Admiral Boris Mikhailovich was now the human Councilor. An extremely blunt and occasionally crass military man, he got along with both the Imperials and the Turian Councilor Sparatus like a house fire. They certainly enjoyed it, but Anderson and most of their Citadel allies were rather concerned over some of the ideas that the two ex-Admirals and the Imperial Lord Admiral of Segmentum Galactica Secundus got up to.
At least Mikhailovich wasn't a politician. He also seemed to bring out a military part in Sparatus seldom seen before, which was always a plus. Small victories.
But Anderson was simply wasting time, trying to get out of his paperwork. Sighing once more, he forlorn looked out the wide, expansive window of his London office and got back to work. It was a wonderful, beautiful warm sunny day outside and he was stuck here, doing paperwork.
After the War, the Alliance Parliament and other higher government offices had decided to relocate from an obliterated Arcturus Station to Earth itself. They learned their lesson: a space station was much harder to defend than a planet.
London, like so many other cities of Earth, had to be completely cleansed of the Dark Mechanicum's taint by Imperial experts then rebuilt from the ground-up. The process was still ongoing, as it were. Even a decade and the help of the Mechanicus wasn't enough to fully complete rebuilding every shattered city on the planet.
But, as it were, London was now a city instead of a blasted wasteland. Construction of some places was still ongoing, but the city was once more rebuilt.
Outside of the building where Anderson's office was housed, the reconstructed city spread out before him.
There was the parliament building, his office and residence, the countless residential buildings, the rebuilt museums and monuments, and a brand-new Imperial Cathedral, the Cathedral of the Holy Throne of Terra. Dominating the landscape, much larger and taller than any other building in the city, it was built in the usual incredibly ornate Imperial gothic style. Flying buttresses and surrounding chevets abounded, and huge golden aquilas were spaced throughout. It was quite the building.
Anderson had been inside many times, and it never ceased to amaze him. While Alliance buildings and tastes were less ornate (and less expensive), the Imperials certainly could create things of wondrous beauty.
The Cathedral itself was used by the now fair number of Cult Imperialis faithful on Earth. Anderson was not among their number, but still he found the religion of his allies very intriguing. Perhaps it was the architecture of the cathedral, able to be seen even from the window of his office.
Anderson was fortunate enough to be located within sight of the Cathedral and above the huge open war memorial area and park in the center of the city. Though perhaps unimaginatively named "Memorial Park", it too was still a thing of great beauty.
Many a day he had spent there, looking at the huge wall with the names of those soldiers who fell during the war or the statues of Lords Dante and Shrike. He, Hackett, Shepard, and a few others were also there, but the Space Marine Chapter Masters drew the largest crowd.
They were very good depictions, in Anderson's opinion. Beneath the statues were information of the Chapter Masters and what they had done, alongside who they were. Dante and Shrike were widely remembered and hailed as heroes. One could find people in front of their likenesses at almost any hour of any day.
It was a pity that they had gone. Taking their place were (and Anderson shuddered at their mention) Imperial bureaucrats. As a general rule, he hated bureaucrats of any sort. The Imperial bureaucrats were some of the worst sort, and dealing with this damn Tithe was an extraordinary headache for him.
He had to deal with the now-due Tithe atop all his usual duties. If running the Alliance, dealing with the Citadel, keeping Mikhailovich in check, meeting with Anderson, cheeking up with old Reaper War friends, balancing the Parliament and keeping them in line, and doing all this damn paperwork wasn't enough, he also had to deal with all the internal and external factions of the Alliance. Mars was handed over to and now ruled by the Mechanicus, and he had to make sure Fabricator General Katrorona was happy and not planning anything detrimental. The Mechanicus also set up a shipyard on Jupiter. It was quite helpful that the Alliance Navy now had access to Imperial-style ships, several of which were now in service, but it also meant that Anderson had to deal with not one, but two Mechanicus representatives in his system.
On top of all that, he had to deal with the Alliance's internal politics. Anderson was, to the great amusement of Hackett, Shepard, Mickhailovich, most of the politicians and most of the populace, an independent. Sometimes he wondered how he got ninety percent of the vote in two different election cycles.
However, being an independent meant he was not a member of any Alliance political parties, and so had a… hard time keeping the parliamentary shenanigans in place. Which was putting it mildly.
Within the Alliance Parliament, there was the Liberal Party (moderate left-wing), Conservative Party (moderate right-wing), Social Democrats (farther left-wing, more socialist party), Terra Firma Party (hardcore xenophobes and anti-integration party), Citadel Party (pro-Citadel and alien integration party), Federalists (pro-large-scale Alliance government control), New Conservatives (pro-Turian, pro-military, anti most everything else) and Imperial Party (pro-Imperium and whatever the Imperials supported). With eight different major political parties (and a few minor ones, whic, despite the name, still had the ability to cause major problems), it meant there wasn't much of a majority for any of them, which was very good in Anderson's opinion. It meant no one could cause too many problems. However, it also meant there was so much arguing that made dealing with the Mechanicus a breath of fresh air in comparison.
On top of all this, the Imperial Tithe was due this year, and while the resources had been gathered, there were some issues with the military forces. The Alliance military was based on a strictly voluntary basis, and many soldiers did not particularly like the idea of permanently transferring to the Astra Militarum and being shipped off to fight in the Imperial's reality.
Fortunately, Anderson had gotten the Imperial Guard to run a fairly successful recruitment campaign on Alliance worlds. Any soldiers recruited this way would count towards the Tithe. It was another feather in Anderson's cap, and raised his popularity by a fair margin for the Alliance military and most everyone else, who strictly opposed the idea of a draft.
However, even with all that, Anderson was still stuck inside, doing paperwork. While he preferred to be in this position so no morons could throw a wrench in the gears of galactic politics and peace, he really did hate this job. Hackett told him that's why he was good for it. Anderson suggested the older Admiral take it for himself, and Hackett actually laughed aloud at the suggestion. Damn that man.
As Anderson filled out some form for the requisitions of God-only-knew-what, he sighed again. Maybe he should retire after this term. Most of his old friends, many of whom were younger than he, were already retired.
But first, paperwork.
oOo
"Mom. Mom! C'mon, Mom!" Tali'Shepard vas Rannoch groaned as she was shaken awake from the comfort of her slumber. Turning her head groggily from the pressing warmth of her pillow, she looked up blearily, cocking one eye open. "C'mon Mom!" The strong, two-fingered hand continued to shake her shoulder. She sighed again.
As she peered up above her, two faces swam into focus. One was the grinning, green-eyed, black-hair-framed face of a young human boy. The other was the slimmer, gray-violet-colored and silver-eyed face of a Quarian boy about the same age. Both were wearing ridiculous grins and literally bouncing on their feet as they shook their mother.
"Mm'awake," muttered Tali as she blinked and gave a large yawn. Still she did not move beyond turning to her back and groaning again. The bed was so very comfortable. With its gray sheets, soft comforters, and downy pillows, it was far better than even the old bed aboard the Normandy.
Besides, she reflected, by far the best, and warmest part of the bed was laying beside her. But, by the sound of things, her husband wasn't getting any rest either.
"Dad! Dad! Wake up, Dad!"
"Yeah Dad, c'mon! Wake up!"
Somewhere to Tali's right, she heard her husband groan. The feeling of glorious warmth shifted as Tali rubbed her forehead. Why did their kids have to be up so damn early?
"I'm up, I'm up," said John resignedly as he sat up and shifted his weight with another groan. Tali muttered to herself. Why did he have to go and do that? She was so comfortable…
"What time is it?" she groaned.
"Seven!" replied Caeen with a grin, bobbing on his two-toed feet in a way she found strangely familiar. Tali gave one more utterly defeated sigh and sat up, staring at her two sons.
"Seven?" she asked.
"Yeah, seven!" replied Matthew. Tali looked at him tiredly from behind her soft, loose, silk-like sleepwear. Caeen glanced down at his brother as the human boy cocked his head and stared at his mother. "You promised! We could get you guys up at seven!"
"We did," admitted Tali with a small smile as she glanced over to John. On her husband's side of the bed, John sat, equally tired in his boxers and white t-shirt. Their daughters beamed up at him. Niha, with her rounder face and soft smile, interlocked her fingers and bounced on her toes in the typical Quarian fashion as her sister grinned. Katy, curly blonde hair falling over her shoulders, giggled with glee as John finally stood up.
"We certainly did," confirmed John as both girls grabbed each of his hands. He looked over to Tali and the boys. "It's not every day you turn ten years old," he said with a smile directed to Matthew. The boy flushed in pleasure. Beside him, Caeen grinned and bumped his brother playfully.
"Well, first get dressed, then we'll go downstairs to start opening up presents," said Tali as she finally stood up. Nearby, Niha and Katy giggled and laughed as they stood on John's feet as he walked forward. Tali grinned at them as her husband met her eye. Even after all this time, even though he might not thought of himself as such, he was still so incredibly handsome. Her husband. Her John. Her beautiful, wonderful, John. She smiled again.
"Aww, but we're already dressed!" protested Matthew, looking down and gesturing to his pajamas. Tali ruffled both his and Caeen's hair at the same time, causing them to smile and blush then try to awkwardly push her off. She smiled. Hopefully they would stay young… but that wouldn't be the case. At least she could have this now.
"Pajamas don't count as dressed," she replied with another smile. She made a shoo motion at her sons. "Now go get dressed. Actually dressed."
"Okay, Mom!" replied Matthew.
"Race you!" cried Caeen to his brother, who grinned back. The duo immediately took off in a sprint, tearing away from their parents' bedroom and back to their own. Tali shook her head with another smile and sigh. She didn't even bother chastising them. It was a birthday, after all. They would be a little hyper.
"Okay, okay, go get dressed," laughed John as he swung Niha and Katy off his feet. Both girls took off, still gleeful and excited. John shook his head, still grinning like a loon and took Tali into his arms, kissing her. Tali kissed back. After a short moment, she pushed John off her and grinned up at him. Even though it was far too early for a weekend, her childrens' enthusiasm was infectious.
Tali found it heartwarming that all her kids were incredibly excited for each others' birthdays. She assumed there might have been some jealousy there, or a disinterest because the birthday of one was guaranteed to have to others of a different species and gender, but that was not the case. Not precisely that Tali knew of such things, of course. Neither she nor John had siblings growing up, though both wished they did. Indeed, that was why they had four children, two Quarians, two humans; two boys, two girls; two older, two younger. It all balanced out, though that was not their original intent.
After the end of the Reaper War, after all the award ceremonies, after the debacle with the Oligarchy, after everything that happened, when it was all said and done, John and Tali returned to Rannoch. Both John and her father had long promised her to build her a home there, and that dreams would finally become a reality. After everything, after the hunt for Saren, the long awaited Dawn War, the Collector Base, the two years of waiting for the Reapers, the war, the battles, the death… It was all over.
They had come to Rannoch, where Rael, John, and Tali, helped by legions of very enthusiastic Quarians and even some servants of the Adas forge, had built a house. Rannoch, even though occupied by the Quarians for two years, was still sparsely populated with huge swaths of land unsettled.
The property they chose was near the sea, with a panoramic view of the ocean in the distance and the fertile plains and woods beyond. Neither Tali nor John could think of a more perfect location.
The house itself was large and two-storied, built wide and rectangular in the typical Quarian style. Made of Rannoch sandstone, with a few patterns carved on the outside, it truly was a thing of beauty. It had been finished in record time thanks to all the help the duo received. They were touched that so many people loved them; that so many people were willing to help them.
The question of children had quickly come up. Both John and Tali realized they wanted kids. Now that the war was over, now that peace was had and they settled down, it was a good time to raise a family. As two different species of two different protein types, they could not have biological children of their own… but they certainly could adopt. There were plenty, too many, children orphaned by the war.
Shortly after their house was complete, John and Tali had gone about trying to adopt. They didn't really know what they were doing, but thanks to some checking and help from close friends in high places, they figured it out.
They decided that even though they were on Rannoch, and even though there might be some problems trying to raise kids of different species, they wanted both human and Quarian children.
They had quickly found what they were looking for. It was a terrible testament to the war that the Shepards were able to find children to adopt so quickly. Indeed, the centers, orphanages, and other governmental programs to care for orphans of the war were overflowing and desperately wanted someone, anyone, to adopt children.
Tali and John had come out of the process on Earth and Rannoch with two babies: a Quarian boy and a human girl. They cared for the children for about six months before realizing that they both wanted more kids, and it was probably a good idea for the children to have siblings of the same species. They had subsequently gone back to the agencies on Earth and Rannoch and came out with two tiny infants: a human boy and a Quarian girl.
As the years went by the children grew up strong and healthy. Their seaside home was the perfect place to raise kids, with plenty of land and wide sweeping views. The children learned both Keelish and English, speaking and interchanging with both fluently, just as their parents. They went to school on Rannoch, and while human children were certainly a novelty, both Matthew and Katy did well and got along fine with their classmates.
The house was often visited by old friends of the Shepards. The old crew of the Normandy would come around occasionally to swap stories with John and Tali and delightedly play with their kids. Quarian Marines and politicians were also a semi-frequent sight, as were the Tech-Priests of Adas. The technical skills of the children were on a much higher level already thanks to Tali being their mother, but they were brought even further, even surpassing most adults under the tutelage of Fabricator General Natrius, Magos Zore'Reer or Magos Daro'Xen. The Tech-Priests (at least Natrius and Reer) were, interestingly enough, actually quite good with children. Tali and John had to smile and laugh whenever they saw their kids literally sitting atop Natrius's back and shoulders as he tinkered with something or another, pointing out what he was doing with his mechadendrites.
As for the children themselves, as mentioned, Tali and John found it both heartwarming and fascinating that they got along so well. They were brothers and sisters first; while Tali and John never hid the fact they were adopted, the idea that they were adopted children or different species never even seemed to cross their minds. They were siblings. John was their father. Tali was their mother. That was the way it worked.
Perhaps it was because they had been so young when adopted, or perhaps it was because of the strangely fortunate coincidence that each sibling was similar to one another in one way. Niha and Caeen were both Quarians, Matthew and Katy both humans. Katy and Caeen were older (by a year), and Matthew and Niha younger. Caeen and Matthew were boys, Niha and Katy were girls. They each related to each other in different ways on a large web. Perhaps that was it. Or perhaps it simply because they grew up together and loved each other as siblings should.
But whatever the way, the children grew up happy and healthy, which was really all anyone could ask for. Tali and John originally found themselves slightly apprehensive of raising kids as most new parents were, but with the help of their own parents, and as time went on, they found it came with ease. It was fun, and it was wonderful to shape the lives of these young children. Their children. Even though they might not be biologically related, they were still John and Tali's children. Nothing could change that.
Thus as Tali showered and changed into her clothes, with John doing the same and the shouts and excited laughter of her kids filling the house, she smiled to herself.
They had a home.
And to a Quarian and a beat-up soldier born in a spaceship, that was something.
oOo
Tali sighed and smiled to herself for the umpteenth time today as she finally finished tidying up the kitchen. The cakes (they always made two smaller cakes for every birthday, one dextro and one levo, so as not to leave anyone out) were now baking in the oven. Both she and John were fair enough cooks for both dextro and levo food. Neither of them actually preferred baking or cooking, and neither was particularly better than the other, so they usually simply traded off for making meals. Today wasn't going to be much of a problem, actually: the children were all caught up in the presents and excitement and wouldn't interfere with anything in the kitchen. Tali had agreed to make the deserts, while John would be cooking dinner.
It was a good day, overall. Matthew (and, by extension, his siblings) had been delighted with his presents. As was typical, he had opened them all within the span of about fifteen minutes. They had all promptly gone to play.
The kids had continued to play both in and outside the house for the rest of the morning. Tali had started the deserts while John cleaned up all the mess left from opening presents.
At about noon, Hannah and Rael had shown up. This too was a holiday tradition.
It had originally been very… off-putting was probably the best phrase, for both Tali and John to learn that their parents were… an item. It was disconcerting. As a married couple, your single parents marrying each other was… interesting.
But they had gotten over it. Their parents were not related in any way except as in-laws, so that was something, at least.
Tali's father had waited out his term as governor of Rannoch and did not seek reelection, instead preferring to marry Hannah. Shala'Raan was now the governor, and in public opinion, doing just as good a job as her predecessor. The two had always been, in John's opinion, the more competent Admirals on the Migrant Fleet.
Rael and Hannah had been married shortly after the Reaper War. Much like Tali and John's own wedding, the ceremony took place on Rannoch. The two had retired comfortably to their own home on the planet, and continued to keep in close contact with their children all the while.
They came to the house at noon. John had answered the door, and given both of what he now thought of as his parents a hug. Rael and John had quickly patched their relationship after the Reaper War, and while he never admitted it out loud, both Hannah and Tali knew he enjoyed it when John called him "Dad".
John's greeting had been quickly overshadowed by a horde of grandchildren excitedly come to greet Rael and Hannah. John had handed his children off to his parents with a smile. This too was a tradition: the kids all loved to go to grandma and grandpa's house for afternoons and come back together for dinner.
Now, as Tali finished cleaning up the kitchen, the familiar footsteps of her husband echoed behind her. She turned around with a grin. It was nice to be on Rannoch, where both she, her children, and every other Quarian could remain unmasked and unsuited. It was nice to be home.
"Well, it seems to be a very successful birthday so far," said John with a grin. Tali chuckled in reply.
"It certainly does," she drawled, remembering how quickly the presents had been torn through. Matthew seemed to like all of them, too. She glanced around the light, open, and airy kitchen. The cakes were baking. The kids were at her parents' house. (Well, both of their parents' house, she guessed.) The cakes were in the oven. It was a wonderful day outside.
"Well…" began John. "I believe we have until about five or six." He glanced down at Tali. "What do we do until then?" Tali rested her hand against the counter and leaned to the side, emphasizing her hips with a small grin on her face.
"Well, the kids are gone… I think I have a few ideas of what we could do…"
oOo
Garrus Vakarian walked through the wide streets of Palaven, the sun shining down upon his scarred face. He smiled to himself. What a beautiful day.
Indeed, it truly was a beautiful day outside. The glorious yellow sun of Trebia was shining, the streets of Cirpirtine were open and wonderful, the people were out and chatting in the streets, the children were playing, the animals were chirping, the insects were buzzing, the buildings and war memorials were shining brightly, and everything was wonderful.
High above, the silhouette of an Imperial Navy battleship floated in the sky. Instead of being a dreaded specter of death and a poignant warning to the populace below, it was a welcome sight. Side by side with the Imperial battleship were countless Hierarchy vessels. They represented security, passion, honor… They were the iron shield of the Turian Hierarchy, and while the Imperial Navy did maintain a presence in the Trebia system, it was at the request of Primarch Fedorian.
The Imperium of Man and the Turian Hierarchy existed in what was actually a fairly well-regarded and peaceful military alliance. After the Reaper War, Fedorian and his advisors negotiated with the Adeptus Mechanicus to provide them with a forge world upon Impera, the fourth planet in the Trebia system. Already the forge there was in operation, supplying the Hierarchy military with countless weapons in return for their support and resources.
The Mechanicus had also established a shipyard upon Essenus, the fifth planet in the system. A hydrogen-helium gas giant responsible for a great deal of Turian fuel resources, there was now a full-scale Mechanicus/Imperial shipyard there. Apparently, in the Sol system of the Imperial galaxy, there was an utterly behemoth orbital shipyard around Jupiter, a planet with a similar makeup to Essenus. The Mechanicus in this reality were hard at work turning both Essenus and this Sol's Jupiter into much the same.
Already, as per the treaty signed by Fedorian and the Mechanicus, were there Imperial-style ships in the Hierarchy Navy. The Imperium certainly did not give them full-strength battleships or any utterly huge vessel of massive power, but even an Imperial Sword-class frigate was more powerful than a pre-Reaper War Hierarchy dreadnought. The Turians would take any advantage they could get.
As for the Imperial-Hierarchy alliance… well, the signs of it were all around Garrus.
Towering high into the sky directly in the center of Cipirtine's largest park, was the lovingly restored and buffed shining form of Ater Equitum. The Warlord-class Titan had been one of the engines of Legio Pallidus Mor that gave its life in defense of Palaven against Legio Tempestor. After the war had been won, the sacristans of Pallidus Mor had gathered up all of the fallen Titans of the Legion and attempted to restore them.
Unfortunately for Pallidus Mor, not all could be restored to functionality. Ater Equitum was one of these. With nothing else to do with it, Primarch Fedorian had asked Legio Pallidus Mor if the Hierarchy could keep the Titan and put it up as a war memorial to those god-engines that had given their lives in the war. Though losing one of their engines, even a dead one stung, Pallidus Mor eventually agreed.
Ater Equitum was now the gray and yellow centerpiece of what was known as Memorial Park. (Garrus found it amusing the Alliance and the Turians named their war memorials the same thing.) The Turians, a militaristic and honorable species, had created a huge memorial to every single person who had fought and died in defense of Palaven and the Hierarchy, including, to the Imperium's astonishment, quite a few Imperials.
The Titan was the behemoth centerpiece. Around it were halls and small museum-like rooms bearing information and carved depictions of important figures. Primarch Fedorian, Chapter Master Tulioc of the Hawk Lords, Grand Master Terico of Pallidus Mor, Supreme Grand Master Azrael, Great Wolf Grimnar, General Adel of the Steel Legion, General Fuller of the Minervan Tank Legions, and, to Garrus's embarrassment and amusement, himself, Protocus, Camivia, and the rest of the Hierarchy's once-high command were all there.
Surrounding the Titan and halls, flowing through the artful greenery, was a wall bearing the names of every single person who died in the battle. Every Titan princeps, every naval personnel from both the Hierarchy and the Imperium, every Space Marine, every Guardsman, and every single Turian soldier who gave their lives so that the galaxy might live was mentioned. The wall wound for kilometers. It was beautiful, yet haunting and sobering at the same time. Sometimes Garrus would simply walk along its length, looking at the names, wondering how he managed to survive when so many others didn't.
There was also the Imperial Cathedral of the Primarchs and the Emperor located on the far side of Cirpirtine, near the spaceport. While the idea of an Imperial cathedral located on an alien world used to be an anathema for both the Imperium and the Hierarchy, it was now a reality.
To the Turians it was indeed an alien structure. The gothic style and incredibly ornate detail was something their own architecture lacked. Garrus found the utterly behemoth building, even larger than the Palaven government buildings, incredibly beautiful yet still incredibly foreign and strange.
It was built mostly to serve the Imperial Navy personnel coming and going from Palaven or the diplomats who lived in Cipritine, but to everyone's huge astonishment, there were also some Turians that frequented it. The Imperial ideals and rich storied history of their Primarchs was something that attracted Turians.
Garrus found it both incredibly amusing and slightly disturbing that there were a few Turian clergymen in training as well. While aliens in the Imperial Cult remained a tiny minority, it now existed, and those Turians that frequented the Cathedral seemed to be just as faithful as their human counterparts.
Of course, getting back to the overarching details, things were going much better overall without the war or looming specter of the Reapers. Palaven and the Turian colonies had been rebuilt. The Hierarchy and Imperium existed together. Of course, the Hierarchy also had an excellent rapport with the Alliance. Garrus found it ironic that they got along so well with the humans, especially considering the Relay 314 incident and how much of a rocky start the two groups had gotten out to. Indeed, they were far closer than with the Salarians or Asari, the longtime traditional allies of the Turians. War, it seemed, brought out the true nature of people. Garrus seldom realized it was greatly due to his efforts and friendship with both Shepard and later Azrael and Grimnar that this was the case.
But, yes, everything had been rebuilt. Imperial Navy ships hung in the sky not as a threat, but as a warm blanket of soft protection. With how grateful the Turians were for their help during the war, alongside the fact that they actually fought and had a very strong tradition of militarism and honor, the Imperials, to their own shock, found themselves getting along fairly well with an alien race.
It was also helped along by the fact that the Turians had decided to pay their first Tithe, due this year, as Exactus Particular instead of the optional and lower Exactus Tertius. The Hierarchy considered it an insult to their honor that they would not pay the higher Tithe, and, like many Imperial worlds, decided to take it as a point of pride.
That was what Garrus had been doing. While he was no longer the Praetor, having given it up to be with his family more, he was still brought on as a special advisor to the Primarch and the HIerarchy's government from time to time. Even though he was technically retired, his opinion was still greatly respected. Some of his fellow Turians wondered why he would retire, especially because he had a very good shot at being the next Primarch, but Garrus didn't want any of it. He had better things to do. Besides, he had never been a good Turian; duty was not his highest calling. His family, on the other hand, was.
As he continued on, Garrus's feet took him through the streets of Cipritine, treading over the paved sidewalks and open parks. He went beyond the center of the city to its outskirts, walking all the way. He supposed he could have taken an air car, but it wasn't that terribly far, and besides, it was a beautiful day outside.
Eventually, he reached a more outskirt neighborhood of the city. It was not a suburb or tie-in town; his home was still in the city itself, but in a far more relaxed and residential-style area.
His house was large, and built in the typical larger, more brutal yet still beautiful Turian style. It was of silvery stone and metal, three stories and blocky in appearance. His yard was considered exceptionally large for Palaven; in fact, the idea of a yard itself was considered exceptional. Despite the fact that his work was largely consulting the higher-up Hierarchy officials and he did not necessarily have a full-time job, he was still paid very well. That, plus all the money he made on royalties and investments over the years left him and Camivia fairly wealthy.
As Garrus stepped through a decorative exterior gate, he smiled to himself. This was probably his favorite part of any day. Hell, this was probably one of his, if not his favorite, thing to do in existence.
Reaching the door, he unlocked it with his omni-tool and opened it.
"I'm home!" he called with a grin as he stepped into the threshold of his house.
"Daddy!" came the nearly instantaneous reply. The sound of running feet echoed through the foyer. Garrus's grin broadened.
From the surrounding rooms and halls, three small Turians sped their way towards the front door. Garrus's mandibles split wide into a huge grin as he kneeled down. A heartbeat later, he was almost bowled over as he was mobbed.
"Daddy, you're back!" squealed Malnia as she jumped on him. Garrus laughed and swung her around, depositing his daughter on his left shoulder.
"Daddy!" Below him, Palvius tugged on his shirt sleeve, also wanting up. With another joyous laugh, Garrus leaned down, and with a single mighty heave, deposited him on his other shoulder. Palvius grinned delightedly, his subvocals rumbling in joy as he clung to his father's head. Garrus smiled and pressed his forehead into both the children currently being held aloft in a quick fatherly kiss.
Below him, Maedia, his second-oldest, smiled up at him, mandibles flaring as she grabbed on to his leg. She was getting a bit big to hold or carry on his shoulder, a fact that saddened Garrus. Yet still it was always wonderful when he came home to a house full of children utterly delighted to see him.
"Where have you been, Daddy?" asked Maedia, grabbing his pant leg. Garrus smiled down at her, letting go of Malnia, allowing her to grab on to his head and balance as he ruffled the top of his second-eldest's head.
"Working," he replied. "Helping Primarch Fedorian with some stuff."
"It's so cool that you know the Primarch!" replied Palvius enthusiastically. Garrus looked back up at him.
"Well, if you work hard and do your job well, and work your way up, then you can know the Primarch too." Maybe it was a bit of a standard good Turian father response, but he did have to teach his children. Besides, he didn't want them ending up as a vigilante on Omega. Now he knew how his father felt…
With a silent apology to his own dad who really put up with a lot, in retrospect, Garrus stepped forward and swung both his children down off his shoulders. He was met with a few awws and complaints, but they accepted the gesture nevertheless as he straightened out his back and looked around the admittedly slightly messy halls and various off-shooting rooms of his house. His kids remained clustered around his feet, looking up at him adoringly.
"I'll come out and take you guys shooting in a bit," said Garrus as he glanced around. They were Turians; like Imperial children, Turian children were taught how to shoot young. Garrus himself had learned at about his kids' age. He was currently starting them out, and they were enthusiastically picking up the basics after a course on weapon safety. "Now, where's your sister, brothers, and mother?" he asked.
"Caelidia's playing with Azrael in the family room. Mama's in the living room with Castis," replied Meadia, looking up at her father. Garrus nodded.
"Okay. I'm going to go say hi to them. You guys go and be good. I'll take you out in a bit," he promised.
"Okay, Daddy!" said Malnia. The trio ran off, hopefully not to cause too much mischief. Garrus sighed as he started towards the family room and stepped over a discarded article of clothing. According to his human friends, Turian children were less messy than human ones. However, they were still messy, especially when there were six of them.
As he walked forward through a few comfortable-decorated frontal sitting rooms, he began to hear the voices of his eldest daughter playing with his second-youngest son. Their familiar tones caused him to smile. His kids were wonderful. The thought entered his head and refused to go away: so, this was what it was like to be a father. It was a thought he'd frequently had over the last ten years, yet it continued to enter his head in new ways every passing day.
Stepping into the family room, he was greeted by the sight of his eldest daughter on her knees, playing with her younger brother. Like both their parents and their siblings, Caelidia and Azrael's coloring was silvery-gray with the blue markings of clan Vakarian painted upon their faces.
Right now, Azrael was staring with intense concentration at a building block held suspended in a cocoon of biotic energy in front of his face. His right arm was held out, hand dripping with dark energy and visibly shaking with the effort of holding the block aloft. After a brief struggle, the energy dissipated and both the block and the boy fell to the ground.
"That was great!" praised Caelidia, shuffling forward and holding her brother up. Twisting in her arms, Azrael looked up at her, hopeful expression on his face. "You did great!"
"I did?" he asked. His older sister nodded in confirmation.
"You did!" Brushing some dust off of him, Caelidia turned back to the blocks scattered on the ground. An intense expression of concentration flickered across her face. Holding out her hand, it glowed with biotic power. The blocks on the floor rose as one. Caelidia turned back down to her brother and grinned at him. He excitedly returned the gesture, in awe over his sister's power. With another movement, Caelidia slowly lowered the blocks back down to the floor. "With some practice, you'll be able to do that, too!"
"Can you show me?" asked Azrael, staring up at his sister with a look of adoration specifically reserved for older siblings. It made Garrus's heart melt from where he stood in the doorway.
"Of course I can!" replied Caelidia. "Mom'll show you, too!" Azrael simply chirped happily in response, his subvocals singing his approval at the idea.
"Hey guys," said Garrus, stepping forward with a grin on his face. "Looks like you're both coming along really well with your biotics."
"Daddy!" came the instantaneous response. Once more, Garrus grinned hugely and chuckled as he was rushed. Both children ran into him at the same time, nearly knocking back his kneeling form with the force of their hugs.
"So, how's it going, guys?" he asked, ruffling their fringes. "It looks like you're both doing great."
"Caelidia is teaching me!" replied Azrael enthusiastically. Garrus chuckled again.
"I can see that," he replied with a smile. He looked over to Caelidia. "Good work, Caelidia. It's nice of you to help your brother." Below him, Caelidia flushed at the compliment.
"Oh, it's… I, uh… I enjoy helping Azrael with his biotics," she replied. Garrus grinned.
"I know." And he did know.
Both Garrus and Camivia knew that there was a chance their children could be biotics, considering that Camivia was herself one. They didn't precisely know the exact chances (they'd need an expert or a Tech-Priest to find out, and they honestly didn't care enough to go to that trouble), but they certainly knew it was a possibility.
Caelidia had started to manifest biotic powers when she was four years old. Garrus remembered the first time, when she had accidentally knocked over a rack of dishes. She had been frightened of what happened, and equally frightened her parents would be mad at her for something she didn't know how she did.
But unlike Camivia's parents, Garrus and Camivia had sat down with their crying daughter, holding her close and explaining exactly what happened. As it turned out, having a biotic mother, and having an excellent example of what not to do in Camivia's long-gone and uncared-for parents, worked wonders in raising a biotic child. (Neither Garrus nor Camivia actually knew what happened to her parents, and neither cared enough to find out. In Garrus's head, it served them damn right for hurting the most wonderful woman in the world. He endeavored to give both her and his children the life she never had.)
However, there was the still-present problem of Turians having a suspicion and dislike for biotics. Garrus and Camivia were adamant Caelidia would not have the life she had in the cabals. With that in mind, they began attempting to reform the Hierarchy military system and Turian society as a whole.
Though Camivia was no longer the general in charge of cabals, and though Garrus was no longer Praetor, their words still carried incredible weight in the Hierarchy as a whole. The current commander of the cabals was, fortunately, also a biotic, and wholeheartedly agreed with them.
Thus, in the ten years since the Reaper War, Garrus and Camivia spent a lot of time with their new work: trying to fix the biotic problem. Everything was going quite well, actually. Biotics were now more widely accepted, in no small thanks to Garrus Vakarian, Hero of the Hierarchy, Savior of Palven, friend of the Primarch, the Great Wolf of the Space Wolves and Supreme Grand Master Azrael of the Dark Angels marrying a biotic and brutally putting down anyone who dared to look down on her.
Interestingly enough, it was also helped along by the Adeptus Mechanicus and Imperium, who released a comprehensive report on the difference between biotics and psykers. The latter did not exist in this reality, and the former were wholeheartedly supported by the Mechanicus. Apparently the "Holy Motive Force" flowed through them in one way or another; Garrus didn't exactly know. But, suffice to say, the Imperium explaining the horrors of untamed psykers in comparison to the relatively safe biotics went a long way to assuage fears of biotics.
Neither Garrus nor Camivia would allow their daughter to grow up alone, unloved, and stuck in some terrible military academy with no peers or comradery.
As the years went by, and to their friends great impressment, they continued to have children. Upon learning their fifth child was a boy, Camivia wanted to name him Azrael, after the Supreme Grand Master of the Dark Angels. Garrus… didn't really know what to think. He was surprised that Camivia actually wanted to name their son that, considering she didn't interact with Azrael that much and neither had seen him in (at the time) six years. It actually wasn't that bad of a name, sounded Turian enough, and actually might win some points with the Imperials and Turians for naming him after a war hero, so, after thinking it over, Garrus agreed.
He found it hugely ironic that Azrael was a biotic.
Azrael began to manifest his powers only a short time ago. He was the first of Garrus and Camivia's children to be one after Caelidia, but despite the gap, both Camivia and Caelidia delighted in helping Azrael learn and master his powers. Caelidia especially was the epitome of a good sister, something that Garrus found wonderful.
"So, did you guys have a nice day?" asked Garrus as he looked down at his children, snapping out of his thoughts of the past.
"Yep!" replied Azrael enthusiastically, bouncing on his feet as only a four-year-old could. "Me 'an Caelidia learned biotics!"
"That's great," said Garrus with a smile. "Now that I'm back, I'm going to take Palvius, Maelnia, and Media out shooting. Do you want to come, Caelidia? Azrael, you're a bit too young, but I'm sure Mama will stay here with Castis and teach you some more about biotics."
"I'd love to!" replied Caelidia with a grin.
"Okay!" said Azrael at nearly the same time, delighted that Mama would show him more about biotics. Garrus grinned.
"Well, I'm going to go see your mother. Caelidia, get ready, and Azrael, Mama will be over soon enough, I'm sure."
"Okay!" came the nearly perfectly synchronized reply. Caelidia ran off excitedly as Azrael went back to his blocks. Garrus smiled as he stood up and went to find his wife.
Stepping over a few miscellaneous discarded items on his way to the living room (he'd have to admonish the kids to pick up their stuff more), Garrus finally stepped over the threshold to see his wife.
Camivia was sitting on a wide, comfortable couch, softly smiling as she looked down at the tiny Turian wrapping his tiny arms tightly around his mother's neck. Small two-fingered claws trailed down the back of her neck. Garrus's subvocals literally purred at the sight of his year-old son snuggled into his mother's cowl, fast asleep.
Castis was their youngest. Named after Garrus's father, he was still an infant, and brought back memories of each and every one of Garrus's children when they were the same age. Garrus purred again. If only they could stay this young…
Apparently hearing his purr, Camivia turned her head and looked over to the door where he stood. A soft smile, a look of pure love reserved for one, and only one, special person. Him. He returned it, his eyes crinkling and subvocals singing with joy and his returned love for her.
"Hello, Garrus," said Camivia softly. She remained seated so as not to disturb the seated Castis, but her eyes alit with delight at the sight of him. Garrus stepped towards her and nuzzled their foreheads together. He could feel her own reverberating subvocals through the contact, and he smiled.
"Hello, my love," he replied. Camivia flushed as always did when he called her that. That was the reason he did it, after all. "How've you been? The kids been treating you well?" She smiled up at him.
"Just fine. Palvius, Malnia, and Maedia have been playing and Caelidia's been helping Azrael with his biotics. I got this one to sleep a bit ago. Right now, everything's just fine," she repeated with a smile. Garrus grinned and kissed her again.
"Good to hear," he said. "I'm going to take everyone out, as promised. I told Azrael you'd help him with his biotics." Camivia nodded.
"Sounds good. With just us, Castis will sleep just fine. We'll do fine," she replied reassuringly. "Besides, it's nice to teach someone biotics." Garrus kissed her once more, nuzzling their foreheads together. Even after all this time and six children, he couldn't get enough of her.
"Well, I'll go make sure everyone's ready," he said, turning to leave.
"Hey, um… ah… Garrus?" asked Camivia from her position on the couch. Garrus turned back around to face her.
"Yeah? What is it?" he asked. Camivia sounded unsure. Hesitant; like back when they were during the war. It was a mood she was rarely in these days, and it was something he always endeavored to keep her out of.
"Well… um… ah… I was wondering, if… uh… you'd… well, if you'd…" She looked away, still holding a peacefully sleeping Castis, then back up to her husband's face. "I was wondering if… if you'd like to have another kid," she finished. Garrus's head jerked back in surprise. That certainly wasn't the question he'd been expecting.
"Well, uh… hrm." He cleared his throat. "Is there… any particular reason? We have, uh, six already," he finished awkwardly. His wife smiled up at him, and part of his heart melted.
"Uh, no. No particular reason," replied Camivia. She shrugged. "I just thought it would be nice, you know, to have another kid. It's not like we don't have room or can't handle another one," she argued. She cocked an eyebrow and grinned wryly. "And besides, the only work you'll be doing is the fun part." Garrus nearly choked on his own saliva.
"Yeah, uh, yeah, sure," he replied. It actually would be nice to have another kid, another little one to raise and take care of. And if Camivia wanted another child, then, well, who was he to say no? "Sounds good to me."
"Well, then, it's a plan," said Camivia with a smile and small nod. "Our seventh." She gave him another smile. "Your sister and Kelly are going to come over and take everyone out in a few days. I think that's a good time to… begin planning, as it were," she continued, amused. Garrus nodded.
"I guess so. How long have you, uh, had this planned out?" he asked, genuinely curious. Camivia only laughed and winked at him. Garrus huffed, his subvocals ringing out with amused fake-anger. Camivia laughed at that, causing her husband to join in. Her laugh was infectious, and after not hearing it for so long, Garrus tried to give her a reason to make the noise as much as possible.
"Maybe if we have a boy we'll name him Logan," she mused after they both finished chuckling. Garrus only sighed in response. Well, one for the Dark Angels, one for the Space Wolves, though Logan was certainly not a very Turian name. But since when had he ever been a good Turian?
"Well, I'm off to take Malnia, Maedia, Palvius, and Caelidia shooting," he said. Camivia nodded.
"You guys have fun, and make sure they're careful. But first, give me a kiss," she ordered. Garrus grinned.
"Why, yes ma'am," he replied as he leaned forward to touch his forehead together with hers. What did he ever do to deserve this much joy in life?
oOo
Solana Chambers nee Vakarian blinked blearily as she slowly came to consciousness. She was warm, oh so very, wonderfully warm, and comfortably numb. The snug heaviness of a large quilt covered her body, and everything was so wonderfully, blissfully warm.
She blinked again, then closed her eyes . Distantly, she heard her own subvocals purring in delight and smiled internally.
Her face and mandibles were pressed into soft and warm human skin. The faint tickle of a few stray wisps of her floated on her head, but Solana ignored it. She was used to it by now. Her right arm dangled by her side, and her left was firmly wrapped around a comparatively squishy human body, numb and warm and comfortable.
Her eyes opened again, alternating between half-asleep and slightly awake in the oh-so-wonderful lazy morning comfort. She smiled to herself, and smiled even more as she felt an arm tighten around her in response to her rumbling subvocals.
Solana's face was pressed into Kelly's neck, the more rough hide of her carapace resting against the very (in her opinion) pillowy-soft skin of her mate. Solana did not quite know why Kelly found her own carapace as comfortable as she found resting against her, yet Kelly still did. Perhaps it was because Turians were slightly warmer than humans, or perhaps it was the subvocals Kelly could feel resonating through her chest. Or perhaps it was simply because Kelly loved her and simply found being pressed next to her comforting and comfortable no matter the feel of her carapace.
Most nights they fell asleep in each others' arms, bodies hugged together and faces pressed in each others' necks or chests. Last night was no different.
Solana adjusted her left arm, pulling Kelly tighter to her chest. Kelly sighed contently in her sleep. Solana smiled.
It had been hard going in the weeks and months after the Reaper War for her. With the loss of both her arm and leg, she was stricken and rather morose. Even though Archmagos Cawl had been nice enough to make excellent prosthetic replacements for both of them, Solana was still devastated by the loss… and the battle in which they were lost in the first place.
Many nights she woke up in cold sweat, reliving the explosion that nearly killed her again and again. Sometimes she did die; sometimes everyone died. Then, of course, there was when Kevral died, died in her arms, and sometimes she would wake up crying and whimpering about the red human blood that seemed to permanently stain her armor and hands.
It had been a rough time, but through it all, Kelly, her brother, and the rest of her friends and relatives were there for her. As she found out, being married to a psychiatrist certainly had its perks. Having a very loving brother and excellent friends among the crew of the Normandy also did wonders.
Gradually, the sleepless nights grew less. Gradually, the ache of her phantom limbs went away. Time passed, and the wounds on her mind and body healed, even if some scars remained. But such was the way of life, she had learned. Some things stayed with you, but it was all about how you handled them. Nightmares would come, but they were only that: nightmares. She was the master of her mind and body.
It was mostly thanks to the help of the woman currently pressed against the warmth of her chest. Solana purred again, and to her delight, Kelly's eyes flickered open. She gave Solana a soft smile.
"Morning," she said with a yawn. Solana grinned at the gesture and leaned in to touch their foreheads together.
"Good morning," she replied. Neither of them said anything for a short time after that, simply staring at each other and basking in each others' presence.
The sun was streaming through the many large windows in front and to the side of their bed. Golden beams danced around Solana's silvery carapace and Kelly's bright red hair. It fell across the white sheets of their bed, and the mahogany of the side tables to the right and left of them. There was little other decoration in the room. Both Kelly and Solana liked the large windows and the wondrous amount of space they had.
After the Reaper War, and after Solana's recovery, the duo had decided to move to some paradise world far away. They no longer wanted shipboard life, nor did they want the bustle of Earth or Palaven. Instead, they found a planet of sandy beaches and sunny skies called Perpetua. They built a large house on a beach there, with no neighbors and no one else to come bother the legendary war heroes of the Normandy, and lived there happily ever since. It was a peaceful, wonderful life.
After an indeterminate amount of bliss laying together, Kelly looked up at Solana.
"Should we get up?" she asked. Solana made a grumbling noise.
"Why?" she replied. Kelly laughed lightly.
"We're going to go to the port later today and catch a ship to Palaven to go visit your brother and his kids," she said. Solana gave a dramatic sigh. Kelly laughed.
Solana knew Kelly was very excited to see her nieces and nephews. She always was. Garrus and Camivia were very close to the two, and by extension, so were their children. Both always delighted in seeing them.
"I guess," huffed Solana, causing Kelly to laugh again.
It was a bit painful, moving out from the very comfortable and very warm covers, but eventually they got there. As Solana stood up, she looked down at her bedside table. Upon the deep brown wood was a single speck of color: a golden aquila pendant, mounted on a chain.
After Solana showered, she would put on the pendant as she did every day, hiding it beneath her shirt. It was a constant reminder of old friends long gone, what happened in the past, and the man that was Carnius Kevral. Solana found it sad that he was no longer he- Kevral was now a name in a book, a stranger whose likeness was enshrined forever in photos. No one knew the man that he was.
No one besides Solana and Kelly knew his last words. Solana had told Kelly the full story one long and tortuous night; the explosions, the death, the charging skitarii that killed a good friend and his crimson lifeblood spilling over her hands.
Most of all, she told Kelly his words. He knew. He always knew. But his last words, his unfinished message, was what haunted her the most.
"I… didn't… know… I… don't… know… what to think. I waited to see… if… And waited… too… long…"
If what? What had Kevral tried to tell her? If what, if what? She didn't know, and never would.
It was a secret held by herself and Kelly that Kevral was probably one of the only reasons xenophilia still existed in this galaxy; that freedom existed in this galaxy thanks to all he had done to help Shepard and smooth over Imperial/Citadel relations.
And so she kept his pendant with her always, in silent reminder to the man he was and all those lost in the war. It was with her always, and though she found her peace and happiness, some memories still lingered, and always would.
oOo
The incessant clang of pistons and hiss of pneumatic engines sounded throughout the sprawling docking bays and huge manufactorums of the forge. Countless servitors and mortal workers crawled over the huge carapaces of tanks, Knights, plasma engines, and countless other products that the forgeworld of Adas churned out like so many insects. The seemingly tiny flares of welding torches and glowing metal flickered like the distant lights of a city. Indeed, this place was a city: a city of flowing metal and clanking machines, of churning conveyor belts and pounding hydraulics. A city of manufacturing; a city of the Machine God.
Magos Zore'Reer vas Adas strode upon the grated steel walkway high above the huge manufactorum bay below. The black, red, and violet robe of Adas covered her form as mechadendrites swayed behind her.
Her face now had more metal, her body more cybernetics. As she trod farther and farther upon the path of the Tech-Priest, her body and things she once held true alike were replaced by the glory of the Machine God.
Her immune system was upgraded to survive anywhere, far beyond that of any normal Quarian. Internal organs and her digestive system were replaced and now allowed her to digest nearly any food of both dextro and levo protein. She smiled as she recalled her very first meeting with the then-Magos Natrius, at a seedy restaurant in the Citadel where he had baffled her by trying both protein types. How strange to think that was so long ago, and how strange to think she was the first person to truly interact with the Mechanicus and Imperium. The Reaper War was over a decade ago; the Dawn War and her meeting with the Tech-Priests even further than that.
With a smile and a shake of her head, Zore'Reeer continued her walk high above the manufactorum floor. It was also strange to think of how far she had come in this time; how much she had grown. She was no longer a nervous girl on her Pilgrimage: she was now a full-fledged Tech-Priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus. She had learned so much since meeting Natrius, so much over the last decade, yet there was still so much more to find out.
Zore'Reer did not consider herself wise. Yes, as a Tech-Priest, she knew the rituals and some of the mysteries of the Machine God. She was more technologically adept than many. But she still felt that in the face of all the Omnissiah had to offer, she still knew very little. Natrius, Piloc, Cawl, Katrorona, and others might have been wise, but even with over a decade of experience in the Cult Mechanicus, Zore'Reer knew little. Ultimately, it was her duty to find out, to seek new wisdom on the path of knowledge.
However, Zore'Reer's ultimate duty was to oversee and help the forge on Adas and the Quarians on Rannoch. It was a task she loved with all her heart. This was why she became a Tech-Priest: to seek knowledge in the name of the Machine God, and to aid others with that newfound wisdom.
Beneath her, as the pistons clanked, welders sparked, and machinery roared, Zore'Reer smiled. Truly, the Omnissiah at work was a thing of beauty.
It's wonderful, isn't it?
She thought aloud, translating her words and feelings into information and code. In all actuality, the feelings and thoughts and words were enough. The code was their method of transmission. The message was instantaneous: two minds connected as one as if psykers through the power of the Machine God.
The reply to her thoughts was nearly instantaneous.
Yes, it is. Though not as wonderful as you.
While Zore'Reer's jaw and parts of her cheek were now steel, she still had flesh upon her face. She blushed beet red.
Behind her, she felt 047 grin. The skitarii, galvanic rifle in hand, stepped forward and nudged her playfully.
Through all the years she had been on Adas, through the Dawn War, through her time training as a Priest, through the Reaper War, through her ascension into a full-blown Magos, the skitarii 047 had always been by her side. He too had been there on the Citadel, at the very beginning. Zore still remembered his very first pick-up line to her.
She was also always there for him. While he was a skitarii, a disposable foot soldier of the Mechanicus, simply a cog in the grand Machine, she found him clever, witty, and charming. She loved him, as much as a Tech-Priest could love.
When 047 had been horribly injured and in a coma after the Dawn War, it had been Zore'Reer that stood constantly by his side. She was the one to nurse him back to health, the one who healed him and was by his side through it all. Though Natrius treated his skitarii as people, not machines, it was still a novel experience for a skitarii to be shown that much love. But that was exactly what it was. Love. As cheesy and ridiculous as it might sound, that's what it was. Between a now-Tech-Priest and skitarii. If only the other Magi could see it. They would find the concept fascinating to study.
In the time after the Reaper War, Reer had connected them mentally through a link that shared their thoughts, emotions, and feelings with each other. Though marriage was not an institution within the Mechanicus (the Tech-Priests distained emotion), and while there was nothing sexual or typically romantic about their relationship, the two nevertheless shared a connection on a level that few had.
Their thoughts, their feelings, their very beings were one, and neither would have it any other way.
You're still a ridiculous romantic bosh'tet, you know that, right? Zore'Reer could feel the cheeky grin in his reply.
Of course I am. That's what you like about me, after all. Reer laughed both aloud and in her head.
I still don't understand how you manage to come up with fresh Mechanicus-oriented pick-up lines after all this time, she replied. In response, 047 merely put his finger to his lips.
I'll never tell. That's another thing you must find along the path of knowledge. Reer laughed. They continued their walk forward high above the factory below, a Tech-Priest escorted by her loyal skitarii. As they walked, Zore-Reer continued to reflect upon it all: her chance meeting with Natrius, his chance coming, her meeting with 047, the Dawn War… all of it. Ultimately, as she looked down upon her augmented form, she was thankful it had all happened this way. There was no luck behind it: all was part of the divine code of the cosmos as arbitrated by the God of All Machines. It was her duty to ponder that code, to find the mysteries of the universe. With 047, the workers and Priests of Adas, and the Quarian people behind her, she could certainly do so.
She, they, had centuries to do so. Smiling once more, she remembered the words Natrius used to hook her and the rest of the Quarians on the Cult Mechanicus. Oh, how right he was.
Abandon the weakness of your wretched flesh, and live forever in a miracle of steel.
oOo
Far below, on the factory floor, Kal'Reegar vas Adas hefted his youngest daughter high on his shoulders so she could get a better view of what was going on in front of them. Beside him, his oldest daughter and middle son stood by their father's side in open-mouthed awe at the Knight Valiant being constructed in front of them.
"One day, if you want it, a Knight will be yours," he told his children. They all looked up in awe at the huge, not-quite-finished carapace of the Knight Valiant being put together before their very eyes. Kal smiled at their wonder.
"Really, father?" asked Feeha, his oldest, looking up at him in amazement. Kal smiled.
"Yes. If you want it. The path of a Knight is a difficult one, but you can all walk it. You're all smart and strong. And if you don't want it, that's fine too." Even though Kal was the founding and only lord of House Reegar, he would not force his children to become Knights if they did not want to. What kind of father would he be if he did? Though some of the Mechanicus might complain, he stood firm. When his family was in the picture, he was a father first, Knight second.
HIs children gave no response to him, instead looking up at the wonders of the Knight under construction. This would be House Reegar's sixtieth large Knight; a great accomplishment. Indeed, House Reegar was now on the level of some of the major Houses from the Imperium's own galaxy. It was only fitting, though, as his was the only Knight House to defend the Mechanicus in this reality.
He looked down at his children and smiled once again. They were indeed growing up strong and intelligent, wise and kind, and would one day become great at whatever they decided to do. He was proud of them already.
oOo
"Production continues to increase exponentially," said Fabricator General Katrorona of Mars bluntly. "Within the next few centuries, the Mars of this reality should begin to emulate a true forge and paradon of might that is required of a world of the Machine God. Perhaps then we might go on to grander projects, such as building a Knight House, an orbital complex and much larger shipyard or a Titan Legion of our own. However, until then, our current forge complexes, defensive arrays, and the bases on Phobos and Demos will remain sufficient. While production on everything still continues, it is proceeding at an acceptable pace."
Katrorona's holographic form was superseded by that of Fabricator General Ygranium, Lord of Impera. The red and blue robes of the fourth planet of the Trebia system flowed around his form as mechadendrites and servo arms waved behind his back. As all the other Tech-Priests present in the holographic call, he bore an Omnissian power axe, the symbol of his office.
"Both production and the size, factories, and defenses of the forge on Impera itself continue to increase as it does on Mars," he reported. "Impera is a much smaller world than Mars, Adas, or any of the other major forges of our home galaxy, so thankfully it will take less time to fully complete the forge complexes and our defenses." There was a brief pause as the Fabricator General of Impera looked around. "Besides increasing the forge complexes and our production capability, as we all wish to expand on, the chief priority of Impera is our defensive measures. We are, after all, located in the Turian home system near the Hierarchy's main battle fleets. It is simply due diligence that the Adeptus Mechanicus looks after its own defense in such an instance."
"Indeed," replied Archmagos Cawl smoothly from aboard the Zar-Quaestor. Behind him stood his ever-faithful shadow and son, Alpha Primus, clad in his usual gray armor with bolter clasped firmly in hand.
Ever since the Reaper War, Archmagos Cawl had stayed in this reality, sailing the stars in his utterly behemoth ark mechanicus Zar-Quaestor. He adored the newfound freedom this galaxy offered, with its spirit of innovation, lack of crushing central power from Mars, and complete sense of freedom from the often stifling regulations of the Imperium and Mechanicus from his home galaxy. Here was a new reality, a new place to experiment, and a newfound freedom among the stars.
Cawl had spent his time happily committing what many of his more obtuse colleagues from his home galaxy would call tech-heresy. He couldn't care less.
It was so very intriguing to find that one could power things with element zero instead of plasma, promethium, or the energies of the Warp. Cawl virulently opposed the last one; he was no Magi of the Dark Mechanicum. Thus, it was quite wonderful to find that he could get some similar power levels and reactions from element zero as one might get from Warp energies, without any of the "help, help, daemons just took over my soul" mess. Honestly, it was good for everyone.
Element zero could now power constructs, tanks, and even small personal devices or power-packs. Things that were regarded as impossible by the so-called scientists of this reality were created by Cawl's hand with as little effort as a weaver on a loom.
Cawl did quite enjoy working with element zero. It was clean. Pure. It did not sully the hands or the soul, and over-exposure to it would simply result in said individual bearing the blessings of the Machine God within them. Truly, there was no down side to the material, and that wasn't even considering what wonders he could create with it.
The Mechanicus was expanding all throughout this galaxy. Already, three major races had Mechanicus forge worlds next to their homeworlds. Mechanicus technology was the best in this galaxy, and Cawl and the Fabricator Generals of Mars, Adas, and Impera sought to continually expand upon it with the new resources and materials found here. Already, the Mechanicus was approaching the same level of power and monopoly they had in the Imperium's galaxy, yet with the rule of Cawl, Natrius, Katrorona, and many others, none of the side effects of stagnation.
Besides his work with element zero and happy tinkering with anything else that came his way, Archmagos Cawl had also been contacted by the High Lords of Terra to build a Space Marine chapter to defend Imperial interests in this galaxy.
The High Lords and the Oligarchy decided that much like the various regions of the Imperium, Segmentum Galactica Secundus needed a Marine chapter stationed there to defend it. As Cawl was operating in this galaxy, and as he was the most (grudgingly) undisputed master of Marine genetics in existence, it fell to him to create that new chapter.
However, the first issue was deciding what gene line the new chapter should descend from. Most of the various chapter masters and gene lines themselves argued it should be of their blood; the High Lords were split due to internal politics. It was a bit of a mess, all things considered. The various descendants of each Primarch all had their good reasons for it to be their blood, and the High Lords had equally good reasons for it not to be a few lines. Plus, the High Lords all had their own opinions, which only added to the issue.
Ultimately, the High Lords had told Cawl to pick a gene line to raise the chapter from and ordered him not to tell anyone, be it them, the wider galaxy, and even the chapter itself which line it was from. That way no one would know but Cawl, and any disagreements could quickly be stamped out because the chapter itself wouldn't even know where it hailed from.
Cawl had pondered the problem awhile, even asking Primus what his opinion was. The tall Marine had simply shrugged and said it mattered little to him. The Archmagos continued to try and pick one, but ultimately he simply sighed and generated a random number between one and twenty.
The result was seven. The new chapter, to be named the Sentinel Knights, would be of the blood of Dorn, though no one but Cawl, Primus, and a few of the Archmagos's close assistants would ever know it.
Cawl had already begun the preliminary work. Their armor would be gray, their heraldry someone else's problem, and they would be armed with his finest works of wargear. Soon, Cawl would return to Blessed Mars to oversee their direct creation, but until then, he was simply conversing with the Fabricator Generals of this galaxy, trying to get everything straight before he left.
"With the now-secured power of the Machine God in this universe, we can now focus on expanding it, as is our due diligence," continued Cawl. The holograms of the other Tech-Priests, Katrorona, Ygranium, and Natrius, all nodded along with Cawl. "Perhaps we can begin to look into creating some Titan Legions or other Knight Houses besides House Reegar. Perhaps even a biotic Knight House, or a Turian one for you, Ygranium," mused the Archmagos. The Lord of Impera titled his head as if slightly disturbed over the idea, but seemed to be considering it nevertheless.
"Well, House Reegar is doing quite well," interjected Natrius. "Their numbers are up significantly, nearly to the level of some of the lesser-number Questor Imperius Houses. They do indeed provide an excellent source of power for Adas. I do indeed highly recommend looking into getting a Knight House for all your forge worlds, if able."
"We are certainly planning to, though thank you for the input," replied Katrorona gracefully. Natrius nodded.
"Very well, then," said Cawl, drawing the other Priests' attention back to himself, "I think that just about concludes the meeting. Production is up, the power of the Machine God is secured, our plans for the future are laid out, and we shall bring glory to Mars and the Omnissiah. Are there any questions?" There were none. "Well, then I wish you all luck, and Glory to the Machine God."
oOo
Nictus Faldros hummed to himself as he folded a slice of pathraa meat over a series of cut vegetables and herbs, two-fingered talons dancing nimbly. Neatly, he packed it all in place and laid it beside half-a-dozen identical loaves of meat and food. Cleanly wiping his hands off, he nodded in satisfaction as he took in his work. It was very well done, if he did say so himself.
Looking up, he smiled as he felt the warm sunlight stream through the kitchen windows and fall across his skin. Golden light streamed through the numerous windows and on to countertops, utensils, appliances, and the nearby long rectangular kitchen table. It was a very open and spacious room with lots of light, which was exactly how Nictus liked it.
He turned his head to the left, facing the counter in front of the sink. There the sunlight also danced about Angela's hair and face, illuminating it with a wondrous golden sheen. He smiled as he took in her markings, his markings of red and white swirling about her face. It was a never-ceasing wondrous thing for him, that she, a human, wore his Turian clan markings around her face.
She was cooking her own meal there; they were different protein types, after all, and so their routine was to make their own food side-by-side, doing different tasks but still basking in each others' presence.
Silently, Nictus crept forward to her place and wrapped his arms gently around her, bringing his head down to her neck as his mandibles chuffed gently into the skin there. Angela, used to his antics by now, was not surprised. She only smiled in response, allowing him to hold her as she leaned into his warm and comforting embrace.
She could feel his rumbling suvocals through his chest; a contented purr of pure bliss and comfort. Angela was honored to be the one to receive that sound, even if she could not hear it as a Turian could, and honored to be the one to cause it within Nictus.
She remembered back to the war, nearly a decade ago. (How time flew!) After that time in Nictus's tiny dilapidated apartment, they had decided to leave Palaven behind and go somewhere far away, somewhere peaceful where they could not be bothered. They had married almost as if an afterthought, by a Turian Army officer who frankly didn't give a damn that he was officiating a human/Turian wedding. Neither Nictus nor Angela wanted to risk coming to the attention of the Cult Imperialis by being wedded by a ceremony under the God-Emperor.
Immediately after, with tickets secured through a favor a Hierarchy customs official owed Nictus, they were away from Palaven and headed to the outer parts and colonies of the galaxy. Together. Alone together. Angela had relished the thought. Alone together. Just the two of them. That was all she needed; all either of them ever wanted.
They had ultimately settled upon a very out-of-the-way Turian colony beyond even the edge of proper Hierarchy space called Palindius. It was a world of great natural beauty of all sorts, with woods and plains, mountains and beaches, and very sparsely settled but still safe and within the loop and protection of the Hierarchy. In short, in their opinions, the perfect location.
With all the money they had ever earned in the service of the Hierarchy and His Divine Majesty, plus all the bonuses from their disbandment, they purchased a large plot of land and the house built upon it.
They were upon a large meadow, with plains stretching off in one direction and woods in the other. The land was fertile, and while Nictus and Angela had both come from cities and were perhaps the farthest thing from farmers, they quickly learned how to grow crops. That was their livelihood: they did not need work, did not need to serve someone else in some bustling city, but instead grew and subsited upon their own. Besides, there were only two of them. They did not need much.
In the decade since the Reaper War, they had grown and lived and loved and laughed and occasionally cried together. As all relationships were, there were times where they argued, times where they fought, but they were few and quickly made up. What was important was they were both forgiving souls, and realized they very much loved each other; everything else was secondary and could easily be overcome. They were both deliriously happy with each other, their lives, and the way it had all turned out.
Angela had picked up the intricacies of farming rather quickly, to her own great surprise. She absolutely loved tending crops and the few poultry they had. Perhaps it was because she had been surrounded by pollution, cities, machinery and death for so long, but she enjoyed being outside where the sun shone, the air was clean, and everything was so overwhelmingly green.
Nictus had actually become quite the carpenter. It was after their first kitchen table broke after they… well, stress tested it that he decided to build a new one himself. Despite having only two talon-like fingers, he turned out to be a very good woodworker, and they would sell or trade some of his creations in the nearby town for supplies. (They also made sure to stress-test just about every other horizontal surface in the house, simply to make sure everything was up to quality standards, of course.)
Also, true to his promise given in a stifling tent on a terrible day on Palaven so long ago, Nictus did indeed follow the Imperial Creed.
There was an icon to the God-Emperor in a small shrine in their house, and Nictus privately prayed there every day. His prayers were separate from Angela's, and he preferred silent solitary while he performed them.
To Nictus, the Spirits of the Turians were perfectly compatible with the Imperial Cult. The afterlives and deities who governed humans and Turians were different. While he did not know if the God-Emperor heard his prayers, or even accepted them from a xeno, Nictus still prayed to the Master of Mankind every day on Angela's behalf.
Please, oh please, glorious Lord of Humanity, I know that I am an alien, and that your empire teaches your people to hate aliens. But, you see, I love one of your people. I love her very much. I would do anything for her, anything to help her, anything to protect her, anything to make her smile.
They tell me that you are the Lord of Humanity, that you constantly protect and watch over your people. Please, oh please, protect Angela. Give her your blessings. I do not know if her love for me counts as a sin in your eyes; from what I've heard, they argue about whether it is or not. But please watch over her. Please protect her. You are the Master of Mankind, and she is a human. There's probably nothing you can do on my behalf, but I don't really care: please, just please watch over her.
Apart from their newfound life, Nictus's newfound religion, their newfound skills, and a rather constant and very enjoyable series of making certain all the structures in their house could hold the weight of a human and Turian, their life was perhaps rather uneventful. They both very much enjoyed it, though.
Angela's hand came up to scratch Nictus's mandible, eliciting another purr from him. She smiled.
"Well, hello, Nictus," she said, leaning back farther into his touch. She dusted off her hands, finishing with her own levo food in front of her.
"Hello, Angela," he replied, trying to put every ounce of suaveness he could in his voice. From her smile and slight flush, he succeeded. "Well, everything's done for today and we have dinner ready for both of us. It does need to cook, though… Anything you'd care to do in the meantime?" She fully turned around to face him, looking up from her shorter height. Nictus's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her luminous face framed by those glorious red and white swirling, flower-like markings. His markings. His mate. His love. He purred again, and though they were not chest-to-chest he was sure Angela could feel them.
"Maybe we should make sure the table hasn't decayed over time. It would be such a shame if your fine work deteriorated." She flashed a sly smile. "Then maybe we should check the countertops after that, make sure they're still as sturdy as ever…" Nictus grinned.
"See, this is why I love you. You always come up with the best plans…"
oOo
"Goodnight, my love. Sleep well." Syzmon Janowicz smiled as he stood in the doorway watching Eleonora gently tuck the covers of their daughter's bed over her. The room was dark, illuminated only by a small night light mounted on the corner of the wall. It cast a warm, soft glow throughout the room, throwing Eleonora's shadow over the form of the bed. Szymon could tell from here that she was smiling.
"'Night, Mama," came the sleepy reply. Eleonora turned and tiptoed silently from the room, only stopping to blow a kiss at their daughter. There was a rustling of covers and a quick responding gesture, then Szymon was out of the room and Eleonora was softly closing the door behind her, careful not to make too much noise.
Silent as whispers, Szymon and Eleonora ghosted their way through the hallway leading from their childrens' rooms to their own larger master bedroom.
This was their routine every night. The kids would bathe or take showers, then either Eleonora or Szymon or both would read them all a story. They would either be hyper and hard to calm down, or tired and drooping even as the story was read, or carefully listening and quietly attentive, but either way they would each be shepherded off to their separate rooms and put to bed. Husband and wife would make the rounds, seeing each one of them in turn, kissing and wishing each of the three a good night's sleep before quietly retreating.
Now came their own routine, brushing their teeth and silently changing into their sleepwear side by side. Eleonora would let down her luminous blonde hair and comb or brush it for a few soothing minutes, then they would both go to bed.
As the lights went off and both settled beneath the expansive, comfortable covers, Szymon felt a shift and rustle beside him. Warm arms draped around him, and the body of his wife was suddenly by his side. He looked over to her from atop his pillow in the darkness.
"Do you… mind if I sleep on your chest?" asked Eleonora softly. Syzmon smiled softly and gently stroked her hair.
"Of course not," he replied. Eleonora sighed happily and settled into his body, arms curled around him. He wrapped one arm around her back while his other continued to softly stroke her head.
"Love you, Sy," she whispered. "Thank you… thank you for everything. Thank you for all this. Thank you…" her voice caught for a moment. "Thank you for loving me."
"You're the most beautiful and lovely woman in the galaxy," replied Szymon truthfully. "Of course I love you." There was no further words beyond that, only the soft sighs of breathing as Elonora drifted off to sleep on Szymon's chest. As for the ex-Alliance Marine, he simply lay with the comfortable weight of his wife on his chest, admiring her beauty even in the dark.
He remembered the past, remembered that day in Lord Commissar Gain's office, remembered everything that had led them up to this point. After getting out from Anderson and Gain, Szymon and Eleonora stepped into the hallways and turned to each other, lacking words to understand what happened and nervous to break any silence between them. However, as a Mordian was want to do, Eleonora was the first to bluntly break the quiet.
"So…" she began, unsure, "What now?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid of him and what might happen to her. Szymon looked over at her, his own nervousness floating in his eyes as he coughed awkwardly.
"Well uh…" Dammit, you have a chance right here, right now. There's a reason… this happened in the first place. You like her. She's beautiful. "I guess… with… uh, everything going on… and the benefits… and the fact that they seem to want this… I guess it would be best if we… uh… married," he finished awkwardly. Internally, he chastised himself. Great going. Best way to propose to someone, right there. Attempting to fix his mistake, he hurriedly continued. "I… I do love you. I promise I'll take care of you, take care of, uh, our baby. I love you, and I promise I'll be a good husband and treat you right." Eleonora looked at him as awkwardly as he felt.
"I… uh, yes, I guess you're right," she replied. "I uh… yes, I guess. I… I, uh, also promise to be a good wife," she finished unwieldy. Szymon nodded awkwardly.
"Well, then, I guess it's, uh, settled." Eleonora returned his nod just as awkwardly.
They had been married a few days later by an Imperial Guard chaplain in a ceremony only attended by their military friends and a bunch of random clergymen and other couples waiting in line after them. It was not exactly what one thought of when they thought of a wedding ceremony.
Afterwards, during all the reconstruction, Szymon had found a house within his native Poland for the both of them. Real estate prices seemed to fluctuate wildly: space was tight in some places with thousands in need of housing, whereas in others it was dirt cheap, almost nothing, with everyone dead, gone, and uncaring of who took the land. They had found a home in the latter range and area, and promptly settled in.
It was a strange first nine months. His relationship with Eleonora, his wife, was something between good friends, roommates, and an actual romantic couple. Many times they would simply wake up and go on to their own individual tasks or jobs. They would be polite but certainly more distant than a married couple should. Szymon was afraid of spoiling… this, afraid that his wife truly did not love him, that this was simply a marriage of convenience, which in all reality it was. Yet… yet sometimes, with the touch or brush up against each other, or when Eleonora would lean against him after a long day, he knew there was something there, that he truly loved her and she him, but neither was willing to acknowledge it.
It all changed the day their daughter was born. It was probably the happiest day of Szymon's life (tied with when their other two sons had been born, of course). He vividly remembered sitting by Eleonora's side, holding her hand as she gave birth, and her distinctly quizzical look at him staying. Then a rush, of things little remembered, and suddenly Eleonora was holding their daughter in her hands, a look of complete amazement on her face.
She had turned to him, and their eyes connected. Scratch that, everything connected. It was like a switch had been flipped, like they had both suddenly gained a new sense they didn't even know existed. At that exact moment, Szymon knew exactly what she was thinking, and he knew she knew exactly what he was thinking. They were suddenly connected, eye to eye, mind to mind, heart to heart, soul to soul.
Isn't this wonderful? Isn't she beautiful? Our daughter. Our daughter. Together. You and me. We made this. We made this. I love you. I really, truly, lovingly love you with all my heart. This is a miracle. This is wonderful. I love you.
They both grinned at each other at the exact same time, with the exact same smile, and promptly touched their foreheads together, kissed each other, and began to fuss and coo over their newborn infant.
When they got home from the hospital, they were one. Together. Everything clicked. But it was a few months after that when everything truly came to light.
Eleonora had come to bed one night with him after a long day of caring for their daughter and simply cried. Szymon was shocked. He had never seen her cry. Indeed, he'd never seen a Mordian cry, and frankly didn't really think they were capable of it. But those thoughts were overshadowed by his worry for her, and he held her and soothingly stroked er back and asked her what was wrong.
He learned everything. Everything about Mordian- it was called the World of Eternal Night, for it was tidally-locked, and the only settlements were shrouded in constant darkness, for humans could not live on the side facing the scorching sun. The suicide rate on the planet was the highest in the Imperium. Billions lived on a landmass one tenth the size of Terra's continents. There was little food or resources, and all was strictly rationed by the planetary government. Discontent and riots were frequent. The Iron Guard was the only thing that stood between order and total anarchy, and the only way to get off the planet.
Everything, everything, about Eleonora's life growing up had been horrible in a way that put so-called 'mistreated' Alliance biotics to shame.
Szymon was the first and only person that actually treated her with any sort of love.
She desperately loved him in return, loved his kind ways (which he simply thought were normal), loved the fact he stayed with her when he got her pregnant, when she gave birth, loved that she suddenly found a life where she had peace, a life where she encountered for the first time the then-alien notion of unconditional love.
She begged him not to leave, begged him to love her, that she would do anything to stay, and he simply held her and told her she didn't have to, that he loved her because that was what he should do, that she didn't have to rely on him, and his unconditional love was just that: unconditional.
They grew from there, together. Szymon realized that most of the Imperials had been treated horribly by Citadel conditions their entire lives. He and Eleonora had many friends in the same position; Alliance/Imperial couples. The Imperials were astounded that they were actually being treated with love and respect. The idea of Imperial loyalty then fully carried through, and Szymon and quite a few other Alliance humans now found themselves with partners that were not only completely and utterly loyal in a relationship sense, but who would also probably fight to the death for them, so long as they were loved and got that same loyalty in return.
Szymon strived to provide it every single day, and as time went on, his relationship with Eleonora only grew stronger. That was the mystery of it, he figured. You had people that were abused all their lives, and now they suddenly found peace, freedom, and love. No wonder why Eleonora, who was, in Szymon's opinion, much more beautiful and good-looking than he, with him. No wonder all these Imperials loved their Alliance and even alien partners so much.
Thus through the last decade, he and Eleonora had two more children together, both boys. They were put in a good local school, raised by Eleonora's insurance to be part of the Imperial Cult (which Szymon didn't really have a problem with), and grew with all the love that both parents could give that Eleonora never got on Mordian.
So as his wife slept in his arms, Syzmon looked up at the ceiling and reflected how lucky he was. He had a wife whose beauty and figure he would gladly kill for, who loved him unconditionally, and whom he loved the same in return. He had three healthy children that he adored. He had a home, on Earth, there was no more war; no more Reapers.
Both he and Eleonora, and by extension all the Imperial soldiers and the galaxy itself, had what they were looking for: that wonderful peace that so many people looked for, and very rarely found.
oOo
There we have it! I do hope you enjoyed the overwhelming amount of fluff. Writing Garrus, Tali, and Shepard as parents was very fun. As far as the Marine chapter goes, I think this galaxy would only need one. I myself could not decide which gene line it would come from, so I did what Cawl did and brought up a random number generator. While it would have been interesting to get a Traitor Legion or a Lost Legion, Dorn's bloodline is a safe bet with little glaring flaws or issues that would part them out as belonging to a specific gene line, so all's well that ends well, I guess.
We will have an epilogue next chapter, and I think you guys will enjoy it. Again, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter with all its fluff, and please feel free to leave any comments, questions, criticisms, concerns, and reviews!
