Shepard's memories of the next events were never clear, but covered in a haze of strange colors, haunting sounds, and unearthly motes that shifted and refracted the recollection into a barely-sensible kaleidoscope. There was a rocking movement, whispered conversation, a broken cry from Liara, the muted sounds of an explosion, and a soaring elation as the frozen terror of Peak 15 disappeared below them.
All the while the Rachni queen sang. She sang soft, bitter notes, tears for her children taken and neglected, killed in mercy but not without regret. She sang deeper, sadder tones for her lost civilizations, memories not her own, imparted only by the living machinery of her ancient ship. She sang notes of anger and loss, telling the story of the sour yellow blindness that drove her people to madness and death. Shepard got the sense that she was singing to him, rather than mourning. Imparting a chronicle of the Rachni, their memories into a living vessel.
Shepard felt something within him rise to respond – the Cipher of the Protheans matching the information given him, two sides of an ancient story that only two were left alive to tell. Shepard let go of what he was holding onto, and plunged into the meeting of memories. Something abruptly rose up within him, and sent shards of pain through his wracked and broken body. He felt himself convulse, and then what was left of his consciousness faded – but not before he felt a warm note of approval from the Rachni queen.
Memories swirled, shifted, and became intelligible.
He was Arravak, Avatar of Wisdom, striding through the great halls of the Citadel, now decorated in a panoply of greens and blacks, royal in their arrangement, powerful in their presentation. This was the Citadel of the Protheans, the seat and fortress-city of their empire. He strode into a very familiar room, looking down from a high dais at the assembled citizens. They might have been nobles, but they were varied. While most had the broad crests, and strong, three-fingered hands, there were others in their midst. But all had the haunting hourglass eyes that marked one as Prothean. The Council of Avatara would announce their findings. Would the subjugated Rachni join them? Or be exterminated?
Emrias, the 333rd Oracle of the Prothean Empire, stepped forward, and an expectant hush fell over the protheans below.
"We, the exalted council of Avatar pronounce the doom of the Rachni, and do bind the Empire forthwith by the letter of our pronouncement.
Arravak let his head hang a little, dread welling in his heart. Emrias was a puzzle to many, but not to him. The stance of Emrias' head, the tightness of his grip on the rail spoke of only one decision.
"The Rachni refuse to bow, and mock the unity of our empire. Destroy them in fire, and wipe them from the face of this our united Galaxy!" Emrias declared, raising his three-fingered hand in a gesture of bloody joy. Very few marked that it trembled slightly.
All of his efforts, his diplomacy with the queens, his entreaties to understand the division between the heretical Rachni and the Conclave of True Queens, would be for naught. His warnings, the vague misgivings he had about working ever closer to the achievements of the Inusannon, the Mass Relays, against the cryptic warnings of their ruined civilization, all had gone unheeded.
Genocide in the name of unity would be their legacy.
Resolve filled Arravak as he stood with the others, and saluted the genocidal will of the Council of Avatara. He would make a path for the Protheans to follow. But henceforward it seemed, Wisdom would walk in the dark.
Shepard gasped, reality reasserting itself on him in harsh white glares.
"He's awake!" a high, terrified voice said.
"And convulsing. Hold him down, Pressly, Alexei." Calm, clipped tones said, and Shepard felt his hands and knees grasped and held as his body bucked and trembled, every muscle clenching and unclenching. He felt himself retch, but nothing came up. There came the feeling of a cool device on his neck, a sharp prick, and he felt his body calming. Consciousness began to fade once more.
"Did you see his eyes?" he dimly heard Alexei ask horror in his tone.
"It's awful…" Pressly replied, but Shepard faded away before he could hear the rest.
The next foray into consciousness came gentler, a smooth rocking a sign he was moving. White sheets covered his face. His tongue felt heavy and unfamiliar in his mouth, and his eyes burned like they were made of flaming charcoal. His whole body pounded with agony.
"Go! Quickly! His vitals are spiking!" he heard a worried voice say.
"Excuse me, Khalisah bint Seenan Al-Jilani, Westerlund News. Is it true that you serve on the Normandy, Commander Shepard's ship?"
There was a slight pause, as whoever it was tried to move around the pushy reporter.
"Is this a member of his crew? Were there casualties? How many Alliance soldiers perished at the behest of the Council?"
"Show some damn respect." Shepard heard Kaidan say, his voice uncharacteristically rough.
The trolley Shepard was on bounced, and he lost his grip on his consciousness. As the last of it slipped through his fingers, he heard the sharp sound, a dull thump, and an insincere "Sorry."
The scream of synthetics, shouted prothean voices, and an earth-shattering blast let Alexander know he was dreaming again. But the sound, the clarity of the destruction was clearer somehow, and he found himself standing over a hill, the landscape around him sundered by blazing battle of green and red beams, electrified screams, and hoarse shouts of desperate soldiers.
The Prothean Empire was dead. All that was left was to scatter the ashes, and pray that the earth they stained was fertile enough to birth its successor. But there would be a successor. A tall prothean near him watched the destruction unfold below, detached, but haunted by the distant screech of their towers falling as a Reaper scythed through their defenses, slowed, but not stopped by the formidable anti-ship armaments.
"Oracle, we need to evacuate." The prothean near Alexander said, turning to face him.
"To what end, Lezasir? There is nowhere more heavily fortified left in this galaxy to flee to. We have scattered what hope we have across the galaxy – Eveni, Ilos, Thessia. To flee to one of these places would only bring the wrath of the Reapers upon them. We are too noticeable, and I have opposed them too long." He turned to look at his companion, and smiled grimly. "the elevated husks have been asking for me by name."
Lezasir clenched his hands. "You mean to die here?" He said.
Alexander nodded, feeling acceptance of his own death bring a fey joy to his tired limbs.
Lezasir stood still for a moment, and then hesitantly, offered his hand. It was a breach of protocol, to initiate empathic contact with your master, but Alexander would not refuse the man who had given so much to him, and would stand beside him in death. Alexander stretched out his hand, touching the hand with his own three fingers, letting the fingertips brush. Images, emotions, impressions, flitted across the contact, and Alexander blushed with the passion of the man's feeling, was humbled by his unwavering loyalty, and found solace in the same vision of their blood-soaked empire rising again, cleansed and founded anew with the strength to topple even their eldritch foes.
The contact ended, and Alexander felt tears on his cheeks, all four of his eyes watering.
"It is time." He said, and reached for a transmission shard, feeling the empathic link surge as it met the technology. Alexander let the entire wash of his being into the message, the last he would ever send.
"I am Vijori the last oracle of the Council of Avatara, speaker for the Prothean Empire. This will be my last message. I issue no orders, but bid you stand against the oncoming death in the full fury of our collective wrath. For we may die, but the seeds of our civilization will sprout again. The Reapers will come again for their harvest, but they shall find we have salted the ground against them.
To the Empires to come, I give you this command: Be vigilant. The Reapers have many weapons, and will try to shape the galaxy, and those in it, against you. Use the weapons we have left." Alexander leaned forward, imparting the locations of four places, four monstrously important places, Ilos, Eveni, Ilos, Thessia. The routes, and relays, defenses, and the hope they represent.
"Do not relax your watch. They will come, and you will be ready. Spare them no mercy, for you will be shown none. Destroy them utterly, and carve the names of the lost into their broken bodies."
Alexander took a deep breath. "I am Vijori, the last Oracle of the Council of Avatara, and Speaker for the Prothean Empire. May Victory and Vengeance guide your hands."
The transmission ended, and Alexander released the shard, plugging it into the beacon network, and hit the override command.
The screams were nearer now. It would all be over soon.
Shepard awoke slowly, as if he was clawing his way out of a tar pit. His eyes hurt, and his body ached around his chest, back, and head. But the pain was no longer beyond control. He blinked slowly, feeling every minute movement of his eyelids over his eyes. He blinked again, mastering himself, and sat up slowly. His chest protested, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving, scooting himself back to rest on the wall behind his bed.
His bed. Shepard looked around. He was in a small, light-filled room. Medical machinery whirred beside his bed, attached to his body via surgical tubing. He took a deep breath, and leaned his head back.
"You're awake." A hesitant voice said. It was familiar, but there was a strange tone in it, a fear and hesitance that sounded wrong.
Shepard blinked slowly twice. "Liara?"
Liara stepped forward, so that one of the machines no longer occluded her. There was a definite hitch in her voice as she continued. "Yes. We've – we've been taking it in shifts to watch you."
"Watch me? How long was I out? I thought I was dead…" Shepard said. "What happened after –" and he paused.
"after you killed my mother?" Liara said, tears beginning to run down her face.
"Liara- I'm.."
Liara took a shuddering breath. "You do not need to apologize." She gave a bitter laugh. "In fact, I should – I should thank you." She bowed her head for a long moment. "I have thought over what transpired, and I believe your actions were the least evil of the choices presented to us." She looked up at him, an odd, intense light in her eyes. "And it would have killed you, if not for the Rachni queen." Liara looked away, out the window, and her hands, clasped in front of her, tightened. "My mother was ready to kill me," she gave him a glance, almost shy, and finished softly: "but you were ready to die for me."
There was a long moment of silence. Shepard struggled with himself for a moment, and then finally spoke, the words costing him immensely, emotionally, and physically.
"I had to kill my mother. Above Mindoir."
Liara looked up at him, her eyes wide and her hands trembling.
"She asked me to. If – if the slavers singled her out." Shepard swallowed, adding the lump in his throat to the litany of pains. "They would. Single the women out. Choose one or two to… to torment." Alexander's pulse began to race as the memory came up again, the bleached-out wash of the slave ship's lights covering the horrors beneath with its gauzy veil. His eyes lost focus.
"I had a gun. I'd stolen it. They didn't know I was there. They started taking her out of the cage, and she struggled and started screaming for me to kill her."
Alexander looked up at Liara, whose hands were covering her mouth as her chest heaved with silent sobs.
"So I did." Shepard felt the memory fall away, leaving him drained. "I killed every last one of them for making me do that. Gruesomely." He looked out the window, hearing the hardness in his voice. "I was 9." Shepard looked back to Liara again.
"I know what being on the point of that decision feels like. How the void yawns open behind it, seems comforting. You deserve better than that." Liara reached out her hand, and Shepard took it, remembering his dreams, letting his fingertips brush hers. "You're still so young." He said quietly. "So, I took the shot."
The perceptions flowed between them – a shared moment of grief, and the aching hole in their lives that would never be filled again.
"What…" Liara trailed off, knowledge flowing to her, unlocked from the beacon and the cipher's presence in her mind. Instincts that were not her own spoke to her, and she widened her fingers, tracing the inside of Shepard's.
"A connection." Shepard said, absolute certainty and an unspoken message in his voice.
They maintained the contact, resting in the notion and knowledge that they were not alone.
"There was a moment." Liara said slowly. "At the end. Mother broke free of the indoctrination. She wasn't a willing follower. Her mind was trapped behind a barrier she created, and was forced to watch as she ordered - and committed - atrocities.
Shepard frowned. "Did Saren -"
Liara shook her head. "Not Saren. His ship. Sovereign, she called it. Spoke in awe of it. Then that red spark passed over her face again, and she died."
They shared another moment of solace, when Liara's omni-tool chimed softly. Then three more times.
"I notified the others when you awoke." Liara said softly, wiping her eyes. "Thank you, Shepard." She said, and broke the fingertip contact, and stepped back, as the door to the room chimed.
Chakwas, Tali, Ashley, Kaidan, and Garrus all poured into the room. Wrex followed afterwards, somewhat hesitantly, awkwardly crouching to fit his hump through the door.
Shepard smiled, feeling like the muscles in his face were unnaturally stiff as he took in the sight of his team. He was proud of them. They'd overcome incredible odds. And from the looks of it, were still on the mend. Ashley walked and moved gingerly, while Kaidan's leg and arm were in a cast as he leaned on a crutch. Garrus had an oddly-shaped cast around one of his arms. Tali's suit bore four or five conspicuous grey marks from the melted rubber and omni-gel that indicated suit-patches. Chakwas looked worn, but happy to see him. Only Wrex seemed unfazed by the horrific damage he'd sustained. Just a few more impressive scars to add to his collection.
They all seemed relieved to see him awake, but there was a curious hesitance to their movements.
"You guys look almost as bad as I feel." Shepard said.
The joke fell flat. Ashley's face softened, a rare expression for her. She said quietly, "Skipper, did you not see?"
"See what?" Shepard asked warily.
"Commander, your interaction with the rachni produced some unintended results." Chakwas said sadly, pulling up his chart on her omni-tool.
"Unintended results -what do you –"
There was a flash, as Tali wordlessly took a picture of him, and sent it to his omni-tool. The omnitool chimed on the table next to him. Reaching slowly over to it, he plucked the bracelet off the table and slid it on his hand. Even this movement hurt. The interface started up, and a picture of himself laying in bed appeared.
His skin had taken on a new, redder tone. His white hospital gown lay on him oddly. But his eyes – his grey irises were now stretched around large, hour-glass shaped pupils. A plate of bone in the shape of an inverted cone protruded from his forehead, smooth curves narrowing to a point above his nose. Shepard stared at the picture, feeling something inside of him slip away. He had never paid particular attention to his looks, but now they were just... gone. He was an aberration. He had become something else.
"Something more" The Rachni queen had sung to him.
A stranger's memories flashed before his eyes, and he recalled a crowded hall, filled with different alien faces, but all with the same eyes – those intense, alien eyes binding species together.
"Not the Rachni." He said slowly, barely daring to look up at his crewmates. "The beacon." He took a breath. "This is what a full citizen of the Prothean Empire looked like."
"Say what you mean, Shepard." Wrex rumbled, his large red eyes narrowed.
The commander felt a wave of exhaustion roll over him, but he nodded, to the curious and worried faces in the room. All wary, all worried that this was some sort of psychotic break, from his, ah, interfacing, with the Rachni. And the Cipher. And the Beacon. Come to think of it, he'd had a lot of direct mental exposure to unknown and unstable elements.
"The Protheans were wielders of technology on a level that even the asari haven't been able to replicate. But their true mastery lay in their biological and genetic aptitude." Shepard looked about and motioned for the door to be closed. Wrex stepped in and complied, while Tali swept the room for bugs. Shepard looked at her, wondering what she was thinking beneath that visor. When she motioned the room was clear, he nodded, and continued.
"They altered themselves first, of course. But they expanded, and wanted a way to verify the true loyalists in their empire." Shepard noticed that Liara looked frozen, like an intense memory had been suddenly pushed on her. He continued. "So they changed a citizen's biology. Biometrics are, after all, extremely hard to forge."
"That doesn't explain why you were changed from interacting with the beacon." Tali said quietly, putting the pieces together. Unusually, she was staring at him unwaveringly.
"I suspect the changes came with some upgrades." Shepard nodded to Kaidan and Ashley. "Like the gene mods soldiers get." He sighed. "So, a war of extinction is upon them, and thus they hand out the citizenship upgrades to anyone willing to listen to the warning, and join in the fight."
"But how do the Rachni figure in, Commander?" Kaidan asked shrewdly. Garrus, at this point, pulled up the room's two chairs for Ashley and Kaidan, who both had leg wounds. They gratefully accepted.
"The Rachni queen… sustained me, somehow. Kept me from dying. In the process, she told me the history she'd learned from the databanks on the ship." He grimaced. "That Rachni ship was actually older than even Binary Helix knew. It had been in stasis since the Prothean cycle." Shepard held his head, considering the breadth of the knowledge that just flowed from him now.
"Much like this cycle, the Protheans encountered the rachni, and found them hostile. Unlike this cycle, though, there were two factions of Rachni – the Conclave of True Queens, and the ones who followed what the Queen called a 'sour yellow note.'." Shepard grimaced. "Sounded an awful lot like this indoctrination process Shiala mentioned." He left out Benezia's last moments for Liara's sake. The scar from that grief would not heal for a long time. But it would heal. "The Conclave was wiped out by the combined pressure from the remnants of the indoctrinated, and the Prothean Empire, which refused to recognize the distinction."
Shepard glanced over in concern at Liara, who looked like she was getting dizzy, an unusual pallor in her face.
"How did that data survive so long?" Garrus asked, his turian stoicism making his reactions difficult to read.
"Well, the Protheans actually learned their genetic engineering skills from the Rachni. The ones they had contact with before." Shepard said by way of explanation, Arravack's memories flashing behind his eyes once more. "They had living computers, which passed their memory down faithfully through the unique markers created by the rigors of life."
Kaidan let out a dry laugh. "That's going to be one hell of an AAR[1] Commander."
Shepard laughed, the movement costing him. Before he could start wheezing, Wrex interrupted.
"Why do you trust them?" The rumble was low and menacing, pitched to put everyone in the room on edge.
Shepard felt something touch his consciousness then – a tendril of a haunting song, a scene from someone else's viewpoint.
"You interacted with her too, didn't you, Wrex?" he said quietly. "I remember you passing out. Regenerative coma."
The rest of the squad was looking between them with tense worry. Wrex held Shepard's gaze with one, giant red eye, craggy distrust on his scarred features. Shepard stared the krogan down, his sense of certainty growing.
"What did she sing of, Wrex?"
The silence between them lasted a long time, the tension ratcheting up as each moment passed.
"She sang for the lost." Wrex rumbled quietly.
"That is a song you know well, isn't it?" Shepard said, holding the krogan's gaze. Unusually, the ancient krogan broke eye contact first. Shepard continued. "Then we know her motivations. The Rachni cannot lie to each other like we can." Shepard said quietly. "And as for her actions? She saved us, Wrex. Brought us back to the Normandy when all she had to do was leave."
"Her descendants might not feel the same way." Wrex didn't let up on his intense stare.
Shepard's lips curled into a small smile. "Then we'll all be very very sorry about the Genophage, won't we?"
Wrex broke eye contact and snorted, the sound managing to carry a modicum of humor. Everyone relaxed.
"Talk to me when you're done lying around." Wrex said, that peculiar note in his voice. He left the room, the door sliding open for him silently.
"So what's next Commander?" Kaidan asked.
"We heading through the Mu relay?" Ashley said.
"Because activating lost relays on a human ship turned out so well last time." Garrus said sarcastically, but there was no bite in his voice.
"You know us, humans Garrus, predictably unpredictable." Shepard laughed, wincing again.
Chakwas began reading through the files on the particulars of his case as his crewmembers held an impromptu staff meeting.
Shepard watched the cheerfully bickering crew for a moment longer, and noticed that Tali was rocking back and forth on her knees, like she had something to say, but didn't want to interrupt. He caught her gaze, and the rocking stilled. He tilted his head silently, asking a question, and she nodded briefly.
"What do you have, Tali?" he said aloud. The crew quieted to look at the quarian.
Tali looked between Shepard and the crew once, and then began "Commander, you remember that comm buoy monitoring program? You ordered the Alliance's Vi's to collectively monitor their interaction to see if the geth had penetrated the long distance comms networks?"
Shepard nodded. It had been just before they'd taken on their second Thorian. He imperceptibly shuddered at the memory.
"Well, I've been tracking patterns in the transmissions, and I think I've found something. It's all metadata, but there's a persistent gap in the handshake relay time, especially around the Sentry Omega cluster in the Attican Traverse. There's artifacts from that particular set of comm buoys even as far away as the Sol system."
"There's a chance it's just a lazy comm operator – "
"- That's not very likely, Tali." Kaidan said. "Leaving the geo-code of your last op's coordinates is a punishable offense."
"Glad to see the Alliance is finally taking infosec seriously." Shepard muttered.
Tali nodded. "I agree, but I need some more sophisticated tools to work on the analysis."
"And that would require you work with Alliance technical staff?" Shepard hazarded.
"Exactly." Tali nodded.
"I'll talk with Captain Anderson." Shepard said. "I wouldn't mind knowing more about where the Geth, and perhaps Saren, are coming from. Thank you Tali." He made to sit up more, when Chakwas, who'd been reading his files with rapt interest, put a gentle hand on his chest.
"You're not going anywhere yet, Commander." The doctor said mildly. "You're still banged up internally. Send a message or start a call, but I want you on bedrest for another couple of days at least."
Shepard nodded contritely, feeling the ache in his body. Everywhere in his body.
Shepard opened his mouth to say something else, when there came a chime at the door, and four heavily-armed C-Sec officers strode in. Their uniforms were different, black with blue accents, instead of the other way around. The result made them seem to loom out of the shadows, their small sharp eyes tracing the room before settling on its occupants. Their colors and manner marked them as members of the executive protection teams on the Citadel.
"Please clear the room." The lead turian said bluntly.
Shepard's team looked to him, their consternation obvious.
"It's okay, guys." He gave them a crooked smile. "The council just wants to have a friendly chat about what we found."
The team grumbled their discontent, but began filing out of the room. Garrus in particular sized the agents up and down, evaluating something about their posture and armament that eventually soothed his concerns.
When his team had left (Chakwas shooting him a significant we're-not-done-here-yet look that foreboded prods and needles), the executive protection team did a sweep of the room with sensors, going over all of the medical machinery with methodical precision. Once they'd finished, they nodded to one another, and called someone up on their omni-tool. A few bursts of military chatter, then they positioned themselves throughout the room.
The door hissed open. The entire Council, looking unusually small without the distance provided by comms or a grand, decorated atrium. Valern strode in first, his posture and stride conveying a carefully practiced absence of information. He was followed by a cagey Sparatus, while Tevos glided in last. They took their place at the foot of his bed, arranging themselves in a semicircle. The EP team scanned the room once more, detecting any listening devices or stored weapons. After a minute of quiet electronic noises, they nodded to the councilmembers and arranged themselves in a protective pattern throughout the room.
A peculiar thought quirked Shepard's lips into a smile.
"I'm ugly, not treacherous, Coucillors." He drawled.
He saw Tevos' give an unwilling smile, her lips curving in spite of the serious demeanor of her compatriots.
Sparatus, though, abandoned all pretense. "We keep a watch on you all the same, Shepard. I believe you humans have a saying about 'taking care when fighting monsters'-"
"-lest you become one." Shepard murmured, completing the sentence. For once, Sparatus failed to look irritated at the interruption.
"Precisely. Saren is a charismatic and powerful turian. You would not be the first to fall prey." Sparatus' tone aimed for gentle, but failed to lose the haughty undertone.
Shepard tilted his head. So it was going to be one of those types of meetings. He suppressed a sigh, wishing he felt sharper for the verbal sparring to come.
"We've received preliminary reports from your crewmembers. Are they accurate? You found Rachni on Noveria?" Tevos said, a burr of alarm in her voice.
"And then you released the queen?" Sparatus' voice was hard. And suggestive of his doubt in Shepard's judgement.
"I stand by the decision." Shepard said. "I, well, sang with the queen." Shepard looked down at his hands, their now more alien appearance failing to give comfort. "I was nearly dead from my fight with the matriarch, and thus I was able to communicate with the Rachni the way they communicate with each other." He looked up.
"I don't believe it was my proximity to death giving me hallucinations and fuzzy feelings, nor do I believe it was a wishful interaction on my part." He snorted. "the details are too inconvenient."
"Be that as it may, Commander," Tevos began.
"I also managed to unlock the totality of the beacon's message, and more of what was contained within the Cipher, through my contact with the Rachni. They once threatened the Protheans as well." He looked up at the Council once more. "And were also once their allies. They have been at the forefront of two galactic extinction cycles. So yes, I stand by the decision. They may have knowledge we need to defeat what's behind Saren."
Shepard saw Sparatus give the other two councilors significant looks. "I hope you're right, Shepard. Otherwise our children's children will pay the price."
"She's lost too much, and too deeply, and is too wise to spread the same pain across the galaxy once more." Shepard said quietly.
"I hope you are right, Commander." Tevos repeated Sparatus' sentiment.
"Do you have any leads on Saren's whereabouts?" Valern asked, breaking the awkward silence that had developed.
Shepard sighed. "No. We retrieved the information on where the Mu Relay before any in Saren's network could pass on the information. The Mu Relay is the one that connects to this Conduit that Saren is looking for." Passing a hand over his face, Shepard continued, "It's likely that Saren is conducting brute force operations to find the relay anyway. We've won some time, though."
Looking slightly mollified by his assessment, the council nodded, and Valern said, "That's something. We will lean on our other instruments to see what information on Saren's activities we can find."
"In the meanwhile Commander, you deserve some rest." Tevos said, not unkindly. "We will review your doctor's recommendations with regards to your…" Shepard sensed a faint hint of uncertainty in the tiniest of pauses that the Councilor gave, but betrayed nothing. "-changes." She finished.
"We will contact you if we find anything of note." Sparatus said curtly. Tevos nodded, and Valern cast a glance at the other two. Tevos tilted her head slightly, but nodded at him, and Sparatus huffed. The EP team sprung into action, emerging from the scant corners in Shepard's hospital room to escort two of the three councilors from the room. Valern, strangely, remained behind.
When the other councilors had left the room, Valern nodded Shepard's way and began.
"The other councilor's have noticed that I as an individual have more rapport with you than they do. I suggested I use that perception to better convey the council's will." Shepard noted a slight distaste in Valern's words, likely at the display of disunity that such a stratagem required.
"With respect, councilor, I have observed that you are more open to politically inconvenient evidence than the others."
"Perhaps." Oblique as ever, Valern continued.
"It would benefit you to consider their position within their own governments. However," Valern blinked and leaned forward slightly, "I am here to pass on advice. I would advise you spend the time here on the citadel studying under your new mentor, Jondam Bau. SpecTRes, as a whole tend to be individual forces of nature. Bau's nature is different from yours, but more proven. It would behoove you to learn what you can. Secondly,"
The robed salarian continued, "The Council received reports from Alliance Intelligence on this splinter group called Cerberus. We've noted activity from several human corporations believed to be associated with the group in the Styx Theta cluster. STG sources have reason to believe they have a presence here on the Citadel as well. Bau has also been briefed, and will fill an advisory capacity." A curious gleam entered the salarian's big eyes, and he said, "SpecTRes are expected to roll up terrorist organizations as side missions. We will see how you perform."
Shepard nodded his assent. He'd crossed swords with Cerberus once already, and it would give him an excuse to work with his friend and mentor Major Daniels once more.
"Finally, on a personal note, I've trusted you against reasonable doubt before, and been rewarded. You have my trust Commander."
Shepard looked hopefully up at the Councilor, but felt his heart fall in his chest at the expression.
"But I am not so free of political considerations as we both might hope." Valern bowed his head in apology. "As one former operative to another, listen to your superiors on the fine art of sharing only what is requested of you."
With those cryptic words, Valern exited. The last of the Executive Protection team followed him out.
The next several days Shepard spent recuperating, and writing reports on what had happened down under Peak 15. Heedful of Valern's cryptic advice, he compiled one report for the council, that would corroborate the basics of the story. For his own records, he wrote the rest.
His crewmembers came and went, as did his superiors in the Alliance. But mostly he was alone with his thoughts. The time to reflect left him to ponder the mysteries his chase with Saren had presented. Mysteries without ready answers. His reflections sharpened his focus, let him suss out some of the patterns in Saren's movements. The vague shape of his potential plan came into nebulous focus. The cycle was starting once more. The Reapers would come again to topple galactic civilization… and then what?
Why did they need Saren's help? An agent on the inside, and certainly one so well placed as Saren, is a boon to any invading force, but for a race that toppled the protheans at the height of their power, why spend the time and effort to cultivate an asset, and use proxies like the Geth?
Three possibilities presented themselves. A: The Reapers were so damaged from warring with the Protheans that they would prefer not to risk resources from within their own ranks. B: Something prevented them from bringing that force to bear on the technologically inferior races present in the galaxy today. Shepard smiled grimly at the last. Or C: The use of their own forces was so mired in bureaucracy it was simply easier to use others.
Shaking in head at his own jest, Shepard was startled from his meditations by the door alarm. Very few knew where SpecTRes recovered from their missions. It was not random well-wishers. Two names he didn't think he'd see again flashed across the screen. A horrible moment of self-doubt and prickling bitterness followed, and he almost refused them access.
But the doors slid open, and two beautiful asari walked in. One was tall and stately, the weight of wisdom, experience, and leadership carved into her every step, the gracefulness of her movements seeming hard-won, rather than effortless. Lyvanis had changed little during their time apart. At her side, Nalanissa bubbled and bounced, not yet her full height, but displaying the penumbra of the beauty she would bear. With a pang of loss for his childhood, Shepard reckoned once again with the fact that Nalanissa was still, and would be for some time, a child.
The pair strode across the room, looking openly into his face. Coming closer, they paused, shock overcoming their disciplined control of their body language. Shepard's heart, already in his throat, fell.
Then Lyvanis dashed over to his side, putting her hands around Shepard's face and bringing her forehead to Shepard's, touching the new plate on his forehead.
"Alexander." She said, the resonant dialect of the northern Serrice soothing a part of him he thought had died some time ago.
"Alexander." She said again, her voice thick with emotion. He felt tears gathering in his eyes, and l knew without looking that they were also flowing from Lyvanis'.
He felt the bed shift, and then after a second's awkward pause, felt Nalanissa's arms wrap around him, joining into a group hug.
"We've missed you." Nala said simply. Shepard nodded wordlessly.
"How did you find me?" He finally asked, once the lump in his throat seemed to lessen.
Lyvanis smiled wanly. "They always notify next of kin. You might have left, but I'm still on your forms."
Shepard snorted gently. Trust the bureaucracy on nothing but this.
"Why did you leave Alex?" Nala asked, pulling away from Shepard.
Shepard side, and glanced at Lyvanis. "Because I was becoming a weapon, and I didn't want to be." Lyvanis looked striken, but resigned at the words.
"Nala, could you step outside for a moment, I need to talk with your brother."
"But we just got here!" Nala was quietly shushed out of the room, and the door closed, leaving an awkward silence between Shepard and his adoptive mother.
"I'm sorry Alexander." Lyvanis said slowly. "For all my counsel to you not to despair, I fell to the same." Unusually for the graceful asari, she looked down, as if steeling herself before glancing into Shepard's now alien eyes. "You were so adamant that death was all you brought…" She shook her head. "I got you a trial into the Velayan[2] system initially as a way to protect yourself – a lone human biotic in an education system full of aristocratic children." Something darkened in the asari's dark eyes, and she murmured with a low intensity "But you were good at it. You surpassed all expectation. And I began to listen to the incessant despair spilling from your lips, just as you were beginning to believe you could be something more than a weapon." Lyvanis shook her head. "I – well, I thought that if you were doomed to be a weapon, you could be my weapon, and work for just ends."
A rush of emotions hit Shepard all at once, and he breathed – two heavy breaths that seemed to expel more than air. The knot in his chest that he'd carried for so long seemed to loosen, and he laughed. It was a strange laugh, part hollow, part relieved, and part pure expression.
"What there is to forgive is forgiven, mother." He said softly, and gave a lopsided grin, probably made more alien by his new features. "Things conspired to turn me into a weapon anyway."
Lyvanis said nothing, but put her hand on Shepard's cheek. "You're my son. No matter that you are human or whatever prothean tech has done to your genes. You. Are. My. Son." She teased his cheek, "you hear me?"
"I see you still know more than is good for you." Shepard said dryly, trying and failing to keep the warm rush of gratitude from spilling out.
They hugged once more, and Nala was let back in. In one of the most peaceful afternoons Shepard had enjoyed in a long while, he and his adoptive family just caught up. He heard all the silly stories that a pre-pubescent asari had to tell from Nala, interspersed with Lyvanis' dry wit, pitched just high enough that Nala couldn't catch it – never mocking, but highly amusing. Then, when Nala got bored with all the chatter, and went off to play, eventually nodding off (young asari needed lots of sleep) Lyvanis filled Shepard in with the goings on in the Asari republics. The great houses still wielded far too much influence, and spoke in saccharine terms about the status quo. Shepard nodded grimly. Lyvanis was something of a maverick in the republics, arguing that the soft-power blitzes that had been so effective in the past would not assure the future of the asari people – not when faced with an increasingly intractable Batarian Hegemony, or while feeding the ossifying machine of the Turian Hierarchy. It was not an opinion many wanted to hear.
"Mother." Shepard finally said, at a lull in the conversation. "I'm not sure what clearances you have, but what I'm working on –" Shepard corrected himself "What Saren is working for, is big. I've only breached the penumbra so far, but if there was a time your message needed to be heard it is now. I…" Shepard trailed off.
"How close are you to getting him?" Lyvanis asked. She never doubted Alexander. Just a "when and where?"
Shepard shook his head. "it's not a matter of getting him. I'll bring him down eventually. It's what's coming behind him. The geth are just the beginning." He said. "all this?" Shepard motioned to the room around him, indicating the Citadel at large. "This is just the calm before the storm."
Lyvanis was quiet for a long moment, weighing her changed and tired son in her dark eyes, compassion and an undercurrent of fear radiating from her.
"What can I do, Alexander?"
And Shepard told her all he could, while the praying that his words would prevent their civilization from becoming like the Rachni's. Praying that their song would end the litany of the lost.
[1] After-Action Report
[2] A secretive cabal of Asari warriors. They're not commandos, because they answer to no formal hierarchy, and do not fall within even the Commando's decentralized chain of command. They were formed in the warring states period as a school specifically designed to counter the titanic power of the ruling matriarchs. "Subtlety over strength, precision over power" is their motto. Their hallmark is unbalancing, light biotic strikes designed to redirect or destroy the power of opposing, larger ones. This was how Shepard was able to counter Matriarch Benezia's massive, reaper-enhanced biotic blasts.