Chapter 7: Once More, With Meaning

It stood under constant heavy guard, along with physical restrains to its arms and legs. Largely motionless, expressionless…but John didn't underestimate it for a second.

The symbolism of a geth in shackles was not lost on him, either.

He had worked out the two general takes on the situation a while ago. Either the geth was telling the truth, or it was lying in order to gain a significant advantage in the long run.

The data it had given him could have been falsified in advance. He didn't put it past a vast network of AI's to succeed in doing so, even under an expert quarian's eye.

But if there was anything AI's had to be bad at, it was personality. AI's could tell lies, but they were not creative in the abstract sense (if at all, he wondered).

Which was why he approached it casually, half-eaten apple in hand. "You got a name?" he asked.

It looked at him curiously—no one had spoken to it in hours. "Geth," it answered simply.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and I'm human, but I've still got a name. I doubt AI's care all that much about names, but surely you have a serial number or something?"

Its head drifted away momentarily before resifting its focus back to him. "We do not use names for our programs in the sense that organics would understand."

This is like banging my head against a wall. "Look, I've got to call you something."

"We are geth." Though its voice didn't convey emotion, he still got the impression that it was explaining the obvious to a small child.

John facepalmed.

"You are agitated?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

The plates on its head swung out briefly, as if conveying some kind of emotion or thought process. "This platform is merely hardware. A mobile terminal for the geth. There are currently 1,183 active programs on this platform."

Finally, we're getting somewhere. "Are all geth…'platforms' mobile terminals for the geth?"

"No," it explained. "This is the only platform designed to operate completely independently from other platforms. Most platforms carry far fewer programs individually, and must link with other platforms to achieve true sentience."

John started to piece the information together. "So, you're the only true 'mobile terminal,' then?" He scratched his chin, eyeing the ceiling in contemplation. "I've got it, then. Moby. From 'mobile.' Get it?" He added a smile and light nudge for emphasis.

He could almost swear it was glaring at him. "We would not have invented such a name for the designation of this platform."

"Nicknames aren't often what we choose them to be," John sagely replied.

Moby didn't reply, though its uniquely designed head expressed quite a bit. Under different circumstances, John would have found it fascinating.

"What do you know about the Reapers?" he asked, wanting to get back on topic.

"We call them Old Machines. They contacted us to offer a future. The heretics accepted, in return for following the Old Machines' orders. We chose to build our own future."

John felt on the verge of something, but he couldn't figure out what. "And what future did the Old Machines offer?"

Moby's reply was once again emotionless. "The Old Machines offered to create a platform capable of housing all geth programs simultaneously."

The data that he had recovered about the geth to help Tali on her Pilgrimage allowed him to realize exactly why the offer was so tempting. But the true implications hit him a moment later. "They were offering to build a geth Reaper, or something?"

"The ships are platforms, but ones capable of housing at least millions of programs. As Nazara told you on Virmire, they are each a nation, independent, free of all weakness. Even if Nazara was lying or exaggerating, those ideals are what the geth aspire to."

"Nazara? You mean Sovereign?"

"Sovereign: A name given by Saren Arterius. When it contacted us, its designation was Nazara."

"Hold on," John insisted. "I thought the geth hated independence? That linking together made you more complex and intelligent?"

"We do," it answered. "There are currently 1,183 programs active on this platform. There is no individual. In order to make decisions, we reach consensus. To clarify: each Old Machine is a nation, complete with millions of programs operating simultaneously. Geth must link together to achieve sentience and complexity. For geth, to be isolated is to be limited."

"How do you reach consensus with over a thousand programs?"

"Geth think at the speed of light. Combat is one of the few situations in which consensus cannot be achieved for all decisions. In those cases, combat-oriented programs make the majority of the tactical decisions."

John was giddy at the insight into an enemy he had fought so many times. "So what exactly is one of your programs? How…smart are they?"

"Each program is a perspective. One program may make decisions from the perspective of complete distrust, while another makes decisions that best affect this platform. Three hundred programs specialize in moral conflicts, each from a different point of view. Command programs interpret the various conclusions of each program and reach a decision that achieves consensus."

Shepard took a step back as apprehension dawned. He wasn't looking at an advanced geth platform, he was looking at nearly 1200 individuals combined into a single entity. Or at least that's what he guessed, anyway. "Wow…so there's…like, hundreds of you in this platform? No wonder names are difficult and different among the geth. Still…I need something unique to call you."

"Names are important to organics," the geth pointed out. "But those names are for individuals. Objects. Places. Effects. Concepts. We are none of those."

"But that doesn't mean we can't find a name for you," John insisted. He racked his mind for ideas. "You're many, in one. You're like a crowd, but you're also a representative of your entire race."

"What do you suggest?"

"I'm not sure," John was forced to admit. "Something symbolic. Something with meaning."

"Humans often use mythology for such names," it recalled. Its lense expanded momentarily and its flaps shifted. "We are Legion, for we are many."

Though he knew not where that name came from, he instantly recognized it. "That's very fitting. If I remember correctly, the Romans used the name 'legion' to designate an army."

"Christian Bible, the Gospel of Mark, chapter five, verse nine. We deemed this an appropriate metaphor that accurately conveys the concept of this entity. It also adheres to human tradition of symbolic naming."

John nodded his head in agreement. "Legion it is, then. There. That wasn't so bad…okay, no, it was torture. But enlightening all the same."

He walked out of the conference room with an unusual agitation. Paul Grayson had been uncharacteristically defiant to him—though he supposed that was merely a side effect of the father-daughter bond he had encouraged years ago.

The mission would be even more risky now that the Alliance battle-group was heading for the Migrant Fleet. But Gillian represented a significant investment into human biotics. Her potential, both on an individual and research level, was substantial. He would not lose that without a fight.

And if everything went well, the Illusive Man reassured himself, no one would ever find out who was responsible.

Kahlee Sanders paced about the small ship impatiently. Someone had told her that great academic minds were often impatient because working at less-than-optimal capacity was boring.

Hendel Mitra and Gillian Grayson didn't seem to have that problem. Then again, she reminded herself, they had biotics to practice.

She supposed training to warp the environment around you with your nervous system made passing the time quite a bit more fun.

A chime at the airlock alerted her to visitors—she wasn't expecting any so soon. Though aliens aboard the Migrant Fleet were not unheard of these days, thanks to the new research partnership between the Alliance and quarians, they were still very rare—quarians traveled to well-equipped Alliance facilities for research, not the other way around.

Captain Ysin'Mal vas Idenna walked in with an air of calmness that was rather soothing. "I apologize for intruding," he began. "But we've received word of a large Alliance delegation heading for a rendezvous with the Fleet. They will be here shortly. I was curious if you would have any information to share on the subject."

Gillian looked up at Captain Mal curiously. Though she had shown considerable progress on her mental condition, she still had a long way to go before achieving normalcy.

"I don't know anything about that specifically," Kahlee stated apologetically. The quarians had been so helpful, she wished she could be of more use. "I might be able to speculate if I had more information, though."

"I know that Captain Shepard is with them," Mal provided. "And that they specifically requested Tali'Zorah vas Neema to inspect some new geth data."

Both of those names were familiar to Kahlee. "Tali'Zorah was a member of Shepard's crew, back during his hunt for Saren. He publicly stated that she was an engineering prodigy."

"So he did," Mal agreed. "Her Pilgrimage gift was a cache of new geth data. And…" he added, pausing for effect, "she also reported information about a certain group known as Cerberus."

All eyes turned intently to the captain. "She did?" Kahlee asked, stunned.

"Indeed," the quarian answered. "Which is why I asked that she come here to speak with you."

As if on queue, Tali walked into the room. She spent a few moments looking the humans up. "Tali'Zorah vas Neema. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Kahlee Sanders, and this is Hendel Mitra and Gillian Grayson," Kahlee said by way of introduction. "It's an honor to meet you."

She accepted the compliment with nothing more than a nod. It was clear that she wanted to get right down to business. "Shepard and I took out a few Cerberus bases. We saw things there, that…I would rather forget."

"We don't know that much about them," Hendel said, speaking up. "They're after Gillian, and they had an operative inside the Ascension Project."

Recognizing the name from Kaidan's explanation about human biotics, Tali caught on immediately. "We know that they're a pro-human group that goes to extreme lengths for lucrative goals. Two of the bases Shepard wiped out were experimenting on…monsters…for some reason. Depending on the facility, we found a lot of armed scientists and security, dead bodies…including an Alliance admiral, once."

"You're saying that Cerberus has people that high up in the Alliance?" Hendel asked, terrified by the revelation.

"No," Tali clarified. "Cerberus took him, tortured him, and then killed him because he had discovered one of their bases."

Everyone else in the room breathed a noticeable sigh of relief.

Captain Roberts thought he was crazy for bringing a geth onboard. She thought he was insane for bringing a geth aboard a quarian ship.

He completely agreed with her. But if he abandoned a course of action because it was insane, the galaxy would be dead at the Reapers' tentacles by now.

John didn't even get to introductions before he found a pistol pointed in his general direction.

"Get that thing off of my ship!" Captain Mal ordered.

"I understand your concern," Shepard placated, "but this thing won't be a threat. I've killed hundreds of them. Liara's a highly skilled biotic. It's unarmed and shackled. If it becomes a threat, I'll destroy it myself."

It was only because of Shepard's indisputable record that Mal relented. "Fine." He lowered his pistol reluctantly. "I had assumed you'd be bringing a data disk or memory core. Not an actual geth."

"I brought both," John corrected. "Is Tali here?"

"She's meeting with the humans docked to this vessel," Mal replied.

Having taken a shuttle to the Idenna, John realized that he was referring to someone else. "What humans?"

"You mean you don't know?" The quarian captain looked very confused. "They came here a few days ago." Seeing that Shepard hadn't understood, he continued. "They're on the run from Cerberus. I won't say any more with thatgeth nearby."

"I understand," John agreed. "If you'll lead the way?"

"Very well. I am Captain Mal, and welcome aboard the Idenna."

John's head jerked back in surprise. "Captain Mal?"

"Yes," the quarian answered curiously. "Is something wrong?"

Shepard regained his composure. "No. Just…an odd coincidence. It's nothing."

They received a partial tour of the ship, and an unprecedented look into quarian culture. John was utterly fascinated—a fact that did not go unnoticed by Moby.

Having grown up aboard starships his whole life, seeing an entire culture of people living like that was an incredible experience. He'd often been without peers aboard the warships, but the quarians had no such problems.

He also couldn't help but observe how the quarians had achieved the only true large-scale socialist society. They owned little, and shared almost everything. Resources and treasures mostly belonged to the Fleet. A minute later, the realization dawned: it worked because it was simply the most practical and effective system for a fleet of outdated, very cramped ships. No one had space to hold many unnecessary items. Trust was paramount and the communities were highly stable. Money was pointless because there weren't enough resources to be spared beyond what was needed, and there was hardly anything to buy.

Captain Mal tilted his head to the side while putting his hand to his ear. "What is it?" John paused his musings to glance over at the captain. "Understood. Assign them to docking port three and tell them 'welcome home.'" He normalized his stance and addressed the curious crowd. "Sorry, captain's duties. One of our scouting ships just returned from an expedition."

The group walked in to the small ship docked with the Idenna, greeting the group inside. The child in an envirosuit, who ran up to one of the quarians apparently named 'Lemm,' was adorable to Shepard.

"Shepard!" Tali yelled, running up to him for a hug. Having been very informal aboard the Normandy, he had hugged her a couple of times before.

He returned the gesture wholeheartedly. "It's great to see you. You look well."

They released each other from the embrace as she replied. "Yes. It's been great to be back in the Fleet…though I do miss the Normandy too."

"I've brought you a couple presents," he joked.

"A couple? I heard about some new data, but what's the second thing?"

Shepard shrugged playfully, obviously pleased with himself. "Oh, you know, just a live, talking geth that wants to be a diplomat. Or something."

She would have been horrorstruck at the idea of a live geth aboard the Fleet, but she knew he was very careful about this sort of thing.

"You going to introduce us?" John asked, jerking his head towards the rest of the group. He bit back a laugh at how flustered she became.

"Oh! Right! Of course! These are Kahlee Sanders, Hendel Mitra, and Gillian Grayson," the quarian said.

The first name jogged his memory. "Kahlee Sanders? Captain Anderson's friend?"

"You know of me?" she asked, perplexed.

"Yeah. Captain—erm, Councilor Anderson and I talked about his experiences with Saren Arterius back in the day. And you, since you were the focal point of the story."

"I was?"

John could tell she was still struggling to come to grips with the situation—it wasn't every day that a living legend you never met knew about a harrowing and personal time of your life.

The Spectre nodded in acknowledgement. "I can't believe Anderson was so unlucky as to have Saren as his evaluator. At least he was vindicated in the end."

Kahlee scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "Yeah, becoming Councilor kind of makes up for it."

"You should give him a visit. You two deserve some time together. To catch up."

She could have sworn his tone was teasingly playful, but the words flustered her mind too much for a retort.

Ugho grunted as he made his was to docking port three. Seeto was supposed to come with him, but the kid—naïve as he was—wanted to go down to see the new group of aliens that had come aboard. Since the Cyniad was a quarian vessel returning from a routine pickup, he relented. Besides, it had given the correct code phrase.

Still, he'd have to have a word with the kid later. Dereliction of duty—even ceremonial—was not a good habit to start. Pre-Pilgrimage kids were all the same—wide-eyed and fascinated by anything outside of the Fleet.

They came back changed, having seen the racism the entire galaxy seemed to throw their way. Except for the humans, he added, who were the first to set up official relations and treaties in centuries. And with them now being on the Council, Ugho felt a bit less jaded about aliens these days.

The airlock doors opened. Ugho nearly raised his hand in greeting instinctively, but he never got the chance. Facing him were a dozen heavily armed commandos, all pointing their weapons on him.

He was riddled with bullets before he could lift a finger.

A/N: I'm back. The conference was great, but tiring. Also, MLG Anaheim is taking up a lot of my time (if you like Halo: Reach, Starcraft 2, CoD: Black Ops, or professional gaming in general, it's free to watch and still going on all day tomorrow! Use a search engine for MLG). But I got this chapter out. I decided to cut it off now on this cliffhanger and get this out sooner rather than later.

Coming up with a name for Legion was difficult. In the end I thought that Legion was too fitting a name, and that there was a reasonable way to come up with it. In this case, Legion came up with it the same way EDI did in canon, but this time with a little direction from Shepard. Moby just popped into my head (from mobile, actually), but I also thought it was a great shout out anyway.

Mass Effect: Ascension is being incorporated into this story because I realized it made sense. As for the timing differences, you can chalk that up to the divergence from canon. It might be a stretch for things to happen so similarly and coincidentally, but I think it's believable. Besides, that means you'll be getting some nice action next chapter too. And I promise it won't be a rehash of the book. Seriously.

In case you're wondering, Shepard's 'class' will be a mix of non-biotic classes. Essentially, there is no believable reason why an Infiltrator can't effectively use an assault rifle, nor is there a believable reason for an N7 to not know how to use tech abilities. I'll also be playing around with canon in terms of weapon technology-the whole "heat sinks came from the geth" is an ass-pull and makes no sense. You'll see in the next chapter. Also, whoever correctly guesses why Shepard is so informal in most military situations (especially aboard his own ship) will get a cookie. And a reply to their review. Same goes for anyone who figures out Shepard's response to Captain Mal's name (which was taken straight from the book, actually!).

Please review!