'You've been thinking about her.' Faith spoke gently into the cool night air. They had decided that rather than make the long ride back to the house in the dark, they would stay the night in a cave near to the pool. Shepard had packed suitable supplies, and a quick call to the horses' enthusiastic owner had her agreeing on the condition that she get a photo of Shepard and Liara with her children.

As Liara joined the union during their lovemaking, Faith had caught glimpses, heard hints and whispers, of the powerful woman Liara knew as her mother, even if in her final years they had become estranged, thoughts prompted by Faith's memories of childhood.

Liara did not need to ask who.

'I suppose I was. I... try not to think of mother often. With what happened, it is... easier.'

Faith reached blindly in the dark, quickly finding a cool hand lying near her own. 'I understand, Liara.' She had quashed her fears, those same feelings she knew Liara was experiencing, for close to fifteen years.

'Does it... does it ever get better?' the waver in Liara's voice broke Faith's heart. It was her fault that Liara had been there, been the one forced to take the shot.

Faith inhaled slowly, and considered her words before speaking. 'It... hurts less, after a while. But I've not properly felt free of it until now, being back here, talking about them with you; about their lives, not just their deaths.'

'Do you think if I tried...' the asari's voice trailed off, asking the question she did not need to vocalise.

'Only you can answer that. I wasn't ready until now.'

'Maybe... she...' Faith heard a soft sob from beside her, before a crested head rested on her shoulder. 'No, I... not yet. I can't-'

She wrapped her arm around Liara, pulling her in closer, speaking softly and quickly. 'I understand Liara, don't force anything,'

'Goddess, years have passed, why does it still...' another sob, another sentence trailing off into nothing. Faith tightened the embrace, wishing there was something more she could do.

'You can't just think it away, Liara, you don't just "get over it". It's hard... but I'm here for you. However I need to be, however long it takes.'


Kaidan squeezed behind the low couch, heart pounding, listening to the footsteps softly pad not six feet away from his head, instinctively grasping for his weapon.

When he had been given this mission by Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, he had expected hard combat, vicious enemies, a chance to really flex his muscles in a way he had not done since his time with Shepard. What he had expected, was not... this.

Rather than armour designed to protect him from enemy gunfire, he was clad in an incredibly well fitted tuxedo designed to catch the eyes of the woman hosting this party. Rather than his preferred M-6 Carnifex hand cannon, he was armed with just a tiny, easily concealable pistol strapped tightly under his arm where nobody could see, made of a composite of plastics so as not to set off any alarms. Rather than heavy combat boots, soft leather shoes allowed him to walk silently across the lushly carpeted halls.

What the hell am I doing here?

The footsteps continued, still circling the room, the guard clearly an alert professional rather than a bored merc.

He had never been trained for this kind of mission. He was a frontline soldier, not even special ops like Shepard, and even they were rarely involved in missions like this. This kind of thing was for the shadier parts of the Alliance, for the intelligence operatives, for the spies.

Not the damned soldiers.

But he was the one who had received an invite to this party. Mikhailovich told him that the Alliance, after two years, still received invitations to formal gatherings for nearly all of Shepard's crew, the heroes of the Citadel. Most were dismissed: they could not have their soldiers paraded about like trophies unless it was on the Alliance's terms.

But this one...

He allowed himself a brief scowl of annoyance as the guard continued her patrol of the room. She was thorough, but his hiding place was good.

An influential asari matriarch had invited him, along with just about every other famous military officer in the galaxy, to her home for a ball. Normally the Alliance would have just dismissed the offer, but apparently she was a "person of interest" to the Alliance, with too many attacks on human interests having money trails leading back to her, to be coincidence. His brief was to attend the party, sneak away, find terminal and download as much of her data as possible, without raising any suspicion.

Ridiculous...

It would have been far easier just to send someone from the intelligence wing and ignore the invitation entirely: what was the point of this farce? Was he being set up to fail? So when he was caught, the Alliance could finally disown and rid themselves of him, as Mikhailovich suggested some of the other admirals wanted to do?

He would not allow that. He would prove himself worthy of the uniform, take first the steps to wiping clean the stains his association with Shepard had left.

The guard finally left, and he crawled out from his hiding space, brushing down the front of his tuxedo to remove any creases, before straightening his cuffs and bow tie. If anybody found him, perhaps if he looked presentable he could act like he had simply gotten lost.

I am bad at this...

Remembering the schematics he had memorised, he set off down the corridor leading to the offices in the building.

But I will not fail.


'Ok, so, let's do this.'

Tali was sitting on the other side of the communications room to Garrus, both of them surrounded by datapads and a huge holographic projection of the Normandy before them. The last of the clean up crews had finally left the Normandy a couple of hours ago, with just a few external repairs left. Tali and Garrus had made the suitable repairs to the engine room and bridge, and with any luck everything would be finished before Shepard got back from her holiday.

'Have you seen the list of things Shepard wants to do with the ship? It's crazy. There's never been a ship like this before.' muttered Garrus, still slightly

There has never been a ship where an AI has been trusted to run all operational and navigational tasks before. I hope to prove myself worthy of Shepard's trust.

It was strange, Tali thought, how quickly she had adapted to, and even accepted the idea. When she had taken Legion into her suit, the years of conditioning quarian life had beaten into her had started to crumble, and she began to see the advantages of artificial intelligence. She still did not trust AIs in general, but both Legion and EDI had proven themselves worthy, and both had ample opportunity to not just kill them all, but to upload themselves away from their current platforms, getting loose on the extranet, and much, much worse.

But they had not. EDI liked being in - no, being -the Normandy. She did not seem to want anything more than that, to help in the fight. Legion liked being in her suit; even when she had offered to build him a new platform, better than his old one, he had declined. She had already made substantial upgrades to her suit: her shield generators were more than twice as powerful as before, based on the same complex multicore shield technology she had installed on the Normandy; Legion able to operate the complicated programming needed to utilise it. He managed the power draw on her new generators; the excess weight across her hips had taken only a few days to get used to. After she fitted new sensors to her helmet and shoulders, the amount of information on her ever-present HUD had more than doubled, but yet was presented in a clear, intelligent manner that shifted and adapted to the situation.

She could not help but feel a surge of anticipation for when she got to try out their new combat abilities.

Less exciting was the fact that she had been continuously ill for the last week. Not the raging fevers she felt when she had a suit breach, but a general weariness, uncomfortable headaches and unpleasant bodily fluid excretions from more orifices than she cared to admit.

But Legion said his stimulation of her systems was producing results at a rate even greater than he anticipated. She could still not remove her mask safely... but it was now a matter of months, rather than years, before he was confident she could live relatively comfortably on board the Normandy without it.

Legion had, in short, changed her life.

And just as she had been improved through Legion, they were now looking to do the same to the Normandy through EDI.

'If we can figure out a way to get all of the upgrades Shepard wants, the Normandy will have thicker, better quality armour than most cruisers, and heavier, if fewer, guns.' She almost hopped in glee at the thought. The Normandy was already the most exciting ship in the galaxy, just imagining what it would be like after these fittings... 'And we can use technology most people haven't even heard of through Liara's networks, and to top it off Liara is paying for it all!'

I get far too excited about ships...

I have concerns about the plans to modify my processing capabilities, to allow me to run at maximum capacity even when my cyber warfare suite is engaged.

'You mean the increases?' Garrus spoke up again. While he was no amateur when it came to ships; compared to herself, EDI and Legion he quickly found himself lost in the techno-babble. She would make it up to him later, Tali thought with a wicked grin she knew he could not see. She had acquired a copy of Fleet and Flotilla and several bottles of dextro booze, and had, without him knowing, set up the port observation room for a comfortable viewing.

Yes. I do not doubt it will make me more efficient, but...

The AI's imitation of organic speech patterns had at first bothered her, when she knew EDI had already determined exactly what she wanted to say, but it had become, just like so much else with these two AIs, simply a part of her personality.

'You are concerned...' Tali scrambled to think of why.

Oh, Keelah...

'You're concerned that it might change your personality, if you have more power?'

That is correct. I am satisfied with who I am now.

'I... don't think it would change you...'

Study of organic history shows that, almost without exception, power corrupts. Would I be any different?

As Tali was thinking, Legion's distorted voice played through her suit's external speakers.

[Your concerns are based on incorrect assumptions. The most corrupting organic power is granted power, such as legal power, greater status in a hierarchy, et cetera. Greater inherent power such as increased muscle mass or higher intelligence is not so corrupting. Example: Shepard-Commander's new platform is substantially more powerful than her old one, yet she does not abuse it. However, her granted status as Spectre allows her to commit almost any action without recourse, and she has committed actions many organics have seen as evil, perhaps corrupt, using her status as protection. To extrapolate the argument to this situation: your inherent power would be increased, but you are no less responsible for your actions.]

But increased muscle mass does not alter mental facilities. I am concerned that with additional power, my core personality will be altered.

Two AIs discussing philosophy. Tali could now claim to have seen everything.

'Couldn't you just... I don't know... use the extra computers like we do a gun: a tool to use, and set down when it's not needed?' Tali quirked her head towards Garrus, knowing that if Legion and EDI had bodies they would do the same.

'... what? Fine, non-AI specialist shutting up, right here.'

Tali sighed. 'We can discuss this with Shepard when she gets back, EDI. For now, let's get these modification ideas into blueprints we can use.'


Tevos felt the faint tinges of panic as she read through the reports from the Omega 4 exploratory research team. The first scouts had already reported back, and what they had uncovered was... astonishing.

The science teams had not even reached the Collector Base when they had sent the first notes back. The photos and videos of the sea of wrecked ships, with a horizon of exploding stars and black holes, were almost breathtakingly beautiful in a raw, vivid way, but the scans indicating the age of the ships had immediately set her on edge. Some were millions of years old. Natural decay meant precious few such ancient relics were found, but the archaeological experts on the team said that simple age should not account for the dearth of such ancient relics found across the galaxy: there were more in that ruined sea than had been discovered in Citadel space in the past thousand years.

The sheer variety of ships was the second troublesome factor. There were ships, the experts said, from at least two hundred very different cultures, their unique composites, shape and technology distinguishing them beyond question, and that was just an estimate from initial scans. All of the Councillors knew that there had been cultures before their own, the Protheans just being one of them. The recent surge in evidence of what was being called "The Cycle", led by Liara T'Soni, was simply too detailed to accept as anything but fact. So it seemed all of the people of these now forgotten cultures had attempted to pass the Omega 4 relay, just as Shepard had, only they had failed.

And it made the presence of the Collectors even more troublesome. It had been confirmed within a day that the samples Shepard sent to Thessia, Sur'Kesh, Palaven and all of the major species' homeworlds, were from genetically modified Protheans, meaning the present (until a few days ago, anyway) occupiers of that impossible area of space were not its architects. She already knew the Protheans were not the creators of the mass relays and Citadel: it was a convenient lie told to children to save the complicated truth: that nobody knew who built them. The Protheans were the only ancient species about which anything of substance was known, so the impressive monuments and technology across the galaxy were attributed to them.

It was a decision made long before her tenure, but one she could not disagree with. Those with any interest could find out the truth on the extranet with little difficulty, and though the lie of course fed conspiracy theorists, there was simply not enough malice behind it to cause any real trouble.

Though... these reports were casting the shadows of doubt across her mind. The other half of the report had been on the Omega 4 relay's partner. It was responsible for generating the enormous area of habitable space in that impossible place, and special requests had already been lodged to examine it in more detail: the power and computations required to not only generate the safe zone, but also to keep it in the perpetual motion required to avoid the terrifying forces tearing the galactic core apart and pulling it back together would have to be immense.

It would be the primary topic of discussion next time the Council met. Still no evidence of Shepard's "Reapers" had been uncovered, but what was found had already shaken more than one long-established belief amongst those in the know. A species capable of creating such things could not just disappear without a trace, leaving only helpful technology behind.

What if she was right? What if these machines were the creators of it all: the Citadel, the relays, and the species of the galaxy were simply bodies to be harvested into a creature like the one Shepard destroyed?

What could they do, that the Protheans, that every Cycle before them, had not already tried... and failed?

What could she do?

Tevos shook her head, resisting the urge to throw the datapad down. She already had so much to handle: anger from the volus and elcor at the human appointment to the Council was flaring up again, the news from Tuchanka that one of the clans had grown exponentially was still causing grassroots pressure to put further sanctions on the krogan, and Aria T'Loak had apparently decided that the Council's use of the Omega 4 relay gave the criminal permission to bother her at any hour of the day, despite the hefty sums paid for the privilege of travel. And they were just the issues pressing her mind: the huge mound of datapads on her desk had not even been looked at yet today. Rumours of genocidal machines should be just that: rumours. But the denial was easier when Shepard was dead.

She had a duty, to her people, and to the people of the galaxy. If there was truth to Shepard's words, and the proof was found on the Collector Base, she could not simply wish it away.

She would not.


A/N: Thank you Jay8008 for beta reading.

A short-ish chapter today, but I'd like to take this opportunity to give some hints as to where I am going with all of this!

Council denial of the Reapers seemed to me ok up to a point, given the lack of proof, but I do not think the Councillors would be as stupid as they are presented in the game. Frustrating, political beasts, but not stupid, so here I will be filling in the gap between ME2 and 3 not with Shepard rotting in a cell, but the conflicting interests involved in a pre-war situation like the one I have built up to now. I've rather enjoyed using Tevos as my "voice" in the Council, and will continue to do so :-) One of the biggest inspirations to this story, LogicalPremise's Of Sheep and Battle Chicken, does this far more convincingly than I from the very get-go of Mass Effect, and I thoroughly implore you to read that fantastic story if you haven't already!

Since I am venturing into entirely new territory with most of this, any and all feedback is appreciated!

EDI & Legion's little philosophical discussion was inspired by one in a book called "The Wise Man's Fear" by Patrick Rothfuss.