The networks are teeming with activity.
Our brief holiday, and my resultant quiet period, sparked an almost startling wave of theorisation and, in some cases, panic. I thought I had left things relatively securely: major operations were put on hold, key operatives given authorisation to act without approval, funds and resources pre-approved, but if I had stayed away for any longer than I did the chaos might well have spiralled.
And yet, it is surprising how little is required to stabilise everything. Personal, or as personal as a voice distorter can make a conversation, contact with my top agents. New operations given the go ahead. Operatives allowed access to archives. Money, millions and millions of credits, flowing through pockets, bank accounts and intermediaries.
It was almost unnerving. It took me around fifteen hours, after I had given Faith a brief tutorial in navigating the archives, to quench the immediate concerns, but now I can see just how widespread the ripples of my short break are. Major news outlets pondering the silence of the Shadow Broker. Governments wondering if something happened. Questions asked at every level, from the smallest local agents to the leaders of planets.
The Shadow Broker is as much an important part of the galactic community as any government.
All I do is facilitate. Gentle nudges, approving actions, deciding useful areas for investigation, allowing my top agents to decide the correct course of action with orders as vague as "ensure the salarians receive colonisation rights for this planet", or "secure the new technology developed by Ariake."
But there is so much to do... and each decision weighs. My intelligence reports that the Blue Suns are planning a raid on a volus merchant fleet. Hundreds of volus will die. Their turian bodyguards will die. I could order a sabotage of the Blue Suns operation... but the volus are providing weapons to a group linked to multiple terror attacks. The volus likely do not know that: the group is posing throughout a small colony, pretending the weapons are for defence purposes. I have investments in the company who manufactures the weapons, and will take an, admittedly small, financial hit if the delivery is not made.
How is there a right decision to be made? Do I simply ignore it, allow the galaxy to continue as it always has?
And that is only a tiny example, one that catches my eye as I scroll for a different piece of information.
The original concept seemed sound: begin using the Broker's resources to push, ever so softly, so subtly that nobody would notice, towards preparation for the Reapers. It is our plan, one that both Faith and I are in agreement over: she takes the lead on the military front, I work behind the scenes and manoeuvre the pieces. Each using our respective skills and knowledge: I know, in theory, how most militaries operate, and their relative strengths and weaknesses as Faith listed them to me, but to actually work with them... I do not speak the language of soldiers. I can fight, but I do not know war.
Faith may be no admiral, but she is not completely unqualified for the role. She has bested one of the most intense special forces training and leadership academies in the galaxy; advanced tactics, knowledge of alien militaries, linguistics and much more. She has led, and won, battles far larger than her previous military rank should dictate. Most importantly, she knows our enemy. She is one of the few who can comprehend the scale of the Reapers, who has seen the death of the Protheans through their beacon, who knows what is coming. She is to be as I am: a facilitator, the one who decides how the war is to be fought, then leaves the details to those who know how to lead fleets, organise supply chains and evacuate civilians.
I look over to her, diligently scouring through a smaller terminal to the side of my main bank, the one I use to access archived data. Glimpses of ancient art work, in the horrific shape of Reapers, dance across the screen, with the accompanying scientific interpretations. This is not her natural habitat, I know: as much as she can be a calm, reflective person "off duty", to her action is just that. She would prefer a problem that could be solved by a deadly assault... but she still does not hesitate. She is throwing herself into this, doing her duty, just as always.
As if sensing my gaze, she looks over to me, and I feel a wonderful rush as her eyes light up, lips curling into a small smile, one she only ever shares with me. 'You ready to eat?'
Kelly sighed happily and leaned back into her chair as her mother gathered up the remains of dessert. When she had called to announce she would be coming home, her mother had immediately gathered all of the family she could into their little house on Earth, and Kelly had spent the past week reconnecting with all of her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and old friends; she had not been home for over five years.
But tonight... was just her, her mother and father, and her two older brothers. Rather than big dramatic reunions, Kelly gently but firmly deflecting questions about exactly what she was up to, there was simple belonging, chatting about little nothings, about mother's plans for the weekend, about how she was about to become an aunt as her youngest brother's wife was pregnant, about the upcoming skyball game.
She had not been forced to stay away during her tenure with Cerberus, but had thought it better that way: she still called frequently, but with Cerberus' reputation, she could not be sure that she had not been tagged at some point, that the Alliance would not arrest her the second she appeared "on the grid" - she could not put her family through that.
Shepard had promised that whether it was through her assurance to the Alliance that the Normandy crew was no longer working for Cerberus, or if she had to use her Spectre status, nobody would come into any trouble during the break, and so far Kelly was absolutely unhindered.
She had not realised how much she missed them until now: all the phone calls, letters and small gifts sent through the post could not make up for a mother's embrace, the playful punches on the shoulder from her brothers.
'Hey, Kel?'
She opened an eye, and saw her oldest brother, Daniel, giving her a warm smile. He was in the Alliance, a logistics officer: not a front line soldier, but he still carried himself well, with the bearing of the military men and women Kelly had lived amongst for months now.
'Yes, Dan?'
'Can I speak to you for a minute? Privately?'
She gave him a curious look. 'Sure thing.'
'Don't keep her too long, we managed to find that old game you used to love, what was it, Monopoly?' her mother called from the kitchen. Kelly grinned in anticipation. She loved the game.
'Now worries mom!' Daniel called back. 'Speak in your bedroom?' he asked her quietly.
'Sure.' She stood up, and followed him through the little house, into her old bedroom which had been long since refurbished from the bright colours she had loved as a child, and still secretly held onto with her tiny rebellions like lustrous pink underwear. Now decorated in neutral beige, she sat on her bed, and her brother sat alongside her.
'What's up?'
He looked thoughtful for a moment. He, like all of her siblings, had her mother's red hair, though it was cropped short, giving him a harder appearance than she knew his kind personality dictated. His eyes were a brilliant, flashing blue he had inherited from father unlike her own green, from mother. He was a handsome man, and would one day make a lucky woman very happy, though at the age of thirty he had yet to find the one for him.
'Ok... look, I know you've said that you can't talk about your work.' Of course... she had asked her family, respectfully, not to press, assuring them that what she was doing was legal, her employers were treating her well, and that she was happy: she was simply bound by more than one confidentiality agreement. 'I'm a military man, confidential is practically my way of life, and I believe what you said about being happy. I really do.'
She nodded, and he continued. 'But I'm not stupid. The others are all so happy to see you, they can't see it in your eyes. You're here to say goodbye.'
Her breath caught. She was so used to being the perceptive one: was this what it felt like when she noted something others were trying to keep secret?
'I...' she felt at a loss for how to answer.
'Don't lie to me Kel, please. I'm not going to tell the others... just, are you ok? Is there anything I can do?'
'Oh... Daniel...' She wrapped an arm around his waist, and leaned in. 'I'm ok, I promise.'
'Then what's wrong? What aren't you saying?'
What could she say to him? Shepard hadn't been specific about what they could say about the Reapers, but Kelly knew just how she would sound, talking about it.
He was right. She was here to say goodbye to her family... for this was probably the last chance she would get. She wished she could get them safe, but she knew they would not leave their home. They had made their life here, and would rather die than leave it all behind.
'Something terrible is coming, Dan, something we can't...' She looked up into his concerned eyes. 'War, Daniel. There's going to be war.'
His brow furrowed. 'War? What do you mean... there's always fighting, and you're no soldier.'
'I know, I...' something inside her slipped. Tears touched her eyes, for everything she had been through, for everything that was to come, and she just started talking. About the Collectors. About Shepard. About the Reapers, about the war that was to come.
He did not say anything as she spoke, sitting still other than to occasionally hand her a tissue, or nod with an understanding she felt absurdly reliant on by the end. If he had doubted her, she did not think she could have finished.
As she finally finished, telling him of her own little role as Shepard's yeoman, filtering through the hundreds of messages the woman received every day so she only saw the ones that she would find useful, helping the Normandy's crew work better as a team, she finally looked at him again, seeing a soft fear there. He believed her. But there was also a calmness in it; he was never one for panic, or getting worked up.
'There's been rumours, ever since the attack on the Citadel, and Shepard...' He murmured slowly. 'Thank you for telling me, Kelly. You... you think that Earth will be hit?'
She nodded softly, and he simply lowered his head, eyes sad as he continued to speak. 'There's no way mum and dad will leave.'
'I know. There's nothing... I wish there was something more we... anybody... could do.'
Suddenly she nodded more firmly. There was something she, everybody could do. Their own little bit. She knew that true strength came not in a single person, even one like Shepard, but when people were together, each using their skills to complement each other. She had seen it, from something grand such as the team of the Normandy winning an impossible battle, to just two people, borrowing each other's strength, becoming a formidable force greater than simply the sum of their parts.
'You keep doing your work in the Alliance, Dan. It's the best thing you can do... we'll be relying on it; on you, on people like you.'
He gave a firm nod as well, looking scared... but determined. Like she felt. 'I will. And I'll see what I can do about mum and dad... and Steve, and our soon-to-be niece.'
She smiled, feeling much better - stronger, knowing that whatever happened, her family was happy, now, that there was somebody looking out for them, when she could not. That she actually had this chance, when so many other poor souls never would.
'Thanks Dan.'
He smiled softly. 'You ready to go back? You think you can actually beat me at Monopoly this time?'
Her grin widened. 'You're on. And you're going down, boy.'
They stood together, but Kelly took his arm before they left the room. 'Thank you, Daniel.'
'No, thank you Kelly. Just think of it... my little sister, personal assistant to Commander Shepard! Ever think that you'd be serving under humanity's hero?'
She elbowed him in the gut, feeling his hard muscles through the thin t-shirt.
'Oooh... or are you serving under her?' He shot her a broad, obviously fake wink.
'Dan!' She thought of how Shepard's eyes both lit up and softened when she looked at Doctor T'Soni, banishing the harshness she often wore on duty. 'She has somebody who could squash me by just thinking it!'
'Really? I always heard she... nevermind, spill!'
'Sorry,' she teased, 'that's classified.'
'How seriously do we take these claims?'
Councillor Tevos wished she knew. There was evidence. Lots of it. The machine that nearly destroyed the Citadel two years ago was not a unique geth construction: the technology found on the Collector Base, used to create something far too similar to what Shepard called "Sovereign", was ancient. Much older than any Prothean artefact.
The uncomfortable conclusion was that Shepard's explanation was the only one that currently made sense.
But... the mere fact of the existence of this race of machines did not... could not... lead to Shepard's conclusion that they - dare she call them by Shepard's name? Reapers... were on their way, were going to destroy the whole of galactic civilisation... could that possibly be the future?
She looked up, maintaining a regal posture that had been a part of her personality for over a century. Three of Thessia's most influential matriarchs were projected before her, wanting to know her opinion on the data that had seemed to seep onto the extranet, into the notice of decision makers across the galaxy.
Was this Shepard's doing? Anderson had suggested the human Spectre was ready, and able, to tell the galaxy of her claims, with the hard data to back them up, but this was not a dramatic proclamation, it was almost natural, something that had no source, just one too many failures on the Council's part to bury potentially volatile information, hitting the extranet, finding a cult following for it, and eventually reaching the desks of governments and militaries.
The matriarchs wanted to know what she knew. Wanted her opinion.
It had never been this way before. Asari government was... unusual... amongst the species of the galaxy. For the most part, colonies and even different regions on Thessia had no centralised laws: certain things; murder, theft, and so on, were illegal, economic contributions to the asari galactic presence was fixed, but usually the asari decided things amongst themselves, at a local level. Tax levels. Size and involvement of the government. Punishment of criminals. All decided by votes amongst every asari, taken by extranet polls.
The matriarchs were the influence amongst the asari: their opinions were the ones that mattered on a galactic scale, they were the ones who represented her people at diplomatic events. There was something of a matriarch's council, but it had no actual power: they were mostly those who had decided their "real" careers were over, and now used their family's wealth to fund a lifestyle that involved passing judgement on others, deciding their age gave them enough authority for others to take them seriously.
To somebody in their sixth century like herself, it was a frustrating arrogance, but it had worked for her people for millennia... and allowed her a great leeway in her career. The matriarchs wanted to speak their opinions, but for them to be just that: no real responsibility behind the words, no consequences to defend other than to say "simply my opinion".
She wanted to make a real difference. To further the asari's position in the galaxy. To be the face of the asari.
This was an inevitable consequence.
She nodded. 'Matriarchs, these claims are no longer to be ignored. I am willing to officially declare the existence of these...' She winced internally. 'Reapers, as truth.'
The three figures burst into loud conversation with what were most likely multiples aides and other "influential" figures off camera, before Tevos frowned and spoke clearly. 'Matriarchs! Please.'
They immediately calmed, and had the decency to look ashamed for their unbecoming outburst.
'The existence of this species does not confirm or deny any other rumour you may have heard. Please trust that the Council of the Citadel, and the central governments of all the major' Goddess, I hate that term... 'species, are dedicating resources and support to further investigate the Reapers. We have not, and will not, go public with the announcement until we know more.'
'Are they a threat to the asari?' The leftmost figure asked.
That was the question. Existent or not, a course of action had to be decided. Did they do as Shepard recommended, and prepare for full scale war?
'I...' She hated having to do this. Political platitudes... she had to make them. People demanded answers when she had none to give. She had promised herself she would be different, when she took office, but had caught herself doing so more than once. 'I cannot answer that question yet, matriarchs. We simply do not know enough.'
That was the truth of the matter. What could be done? If Shepard was proven wrong, they could ignore the outrageous rumours. If there was enough proof that she was completely right...
She swallowed thickly. That scenario was nothing short of nightmare inducing. She was confident of herself, but she was not a wartime politician. She could ensure the humans and turians made peace... but defend a galaxy?
There was just no possibility that Shepard could be right. Giant machines wiping out civilisation, every fifty thousand years?
Outrageous. The stuff of stories.
The matriarchs looked as unhappy as she felt. No real answers... but she had none to give.
Suddenly their images froze. They were discussing amongst themselves, Tevos knew: they had done so several times previously, and the consequences of them doing so in her presence was never pleasant.
And she had nothing to do but wait.
She was torn.
Part of her wanted to just ignore Shepard: humanity was such a hasty, passionate species, ready to commit to something at a speed even the shorter lived salarians were not. Was it so outrageous to suggest that their Spectre had been taken in by an obsession like this?
But she could not. Shepard was granted her status precisely because of her level-headedness. The human had provided enough evidence to ensure her claims could not be dismissed.
But what then? She could not simply commit to Shepard's war. There was no evidence that the Reapers would actually come, that they would attack.
Evidence...
She had been a soldier, once. For half a century, she had fought for the asari, and hated how this kind of bureaucracy, the demand for evidence she could not, as a foot soldier, give, would impede what she wanted to do.
But seeing it from the other side was different. If she simply committed to open war, on the word of one soldier, the consequences would be astronomical.
Shepard's given name was Faith. The word had several translations, but the most relevant one was belief without proof.
She wondered how jaded this life had left her, that the thought roused only a tiny spark of humour. Had her parents, who had tragically perished to a batarian raid, imagined the name would ever hold such poignancy?
Finally, the images of the matriarchs began to move again.
'Thank you, Councillor Tevos, for your opinion. We await further updates, to decide our course of action.' The central matriarch spoke, before all three feeds cut.
Tevos' shoulders fell almost imperceptibly, and she slowly sank back into her chair, with the slightest hint of a break in her posture.
The matriarchs were as indecisive as always, hoping somebody else would make the decision, so in case things went wrong, they could pass as the wise advisers who had argued caution.
The bitter thought flashed across her mind, causing her to grimace. She, of course, felt similar thoughts about most people who thought themselves more qualified than herself to do her job, but never willing to take up the mantle of responsibility, but rarely thought them about her own people.
The asari were different. They did not make platitudes, as other species did... their long lifespan simply meant words of caution were just that. Wait and see until the wisest course of action could be considered.
Is that not right?
The matriarchs who had now faded from view had frustrated her just as much as any of humanity's ambassadors, or one of the increasingly insistent emissaries from the volus, who were still agitated about humanity being granted a Council seat so soon, but who as always were unwilling to take the only action they could - economic - because of the effect it would have on their own profits.
She glanced at her chrono. She had over ten more minutes scheduled for this talk: she had expected the matriarchs would be particularly inquisitive.
The realisation was oddly freeing. Until her appointed call time ran out, nobody would interrupt her. Her assistants would hold all of her calls.
Tevos glanced at the large pile of datapads on her desk.
She had a somewhat unique chance to catch up on some of her mounting paperwork...
But she did not want to.
She wanted to just... Goddess... forget her duties, for this almost uniquely freeing moment, before some other important dignitary took her attention, or galaxy-threatening problem presented itself, and she had to launch herself back into the debates about what to do regarding the Reapers.
Ten, nearly fifteen minutes...
Tevos checked that her door was still locked, and that her calls were still on hold.
She was alone, and would not be disturbed.
She tapped a few keys on her terminal, banishing the endless reports from the Collector Base, replacing them with a colourful, childish display.
A grin tugged across her face as playful music danced from the speakers.
Path of the Goddess: A Justicar adventure game.
A/N: I am mostly flying in the dark now with regards to the Council and their acceptance of the Reapers before they actually arrive, any and all feedback on this: good, bad, giant logic hole I missed somewhere, is greatly appreciated!
