Chapter Six: High Hopes

"Everyone is doing a fantastic job," Admiral Hackett stood on a raised platform to address as many of the Earth-bound troops as he could. Gunfire still echoed in the distance, joined by the bloodcurdling cries of the Reaper husks. They had gotten through another day, and there were definitive signs that the enemy numbers were dwindling. "It has been a long month for all of us, longer when you consider how much we had to prepare. I wanted to make sure that each and every one of you—no matter race, color, clan, creed, planet of origin, or bubblegum flavor-knew how important your contribution has been, how significantly you've helped, and how much the galaxy owes you—each and every one of you—its very existence. Damned fine job, people! Damned fine!"

His words became drowned out in the thunder of cheering. Battle-weary soldiers and civilian volunteers alike whistled and clapped, trilled, and shouted. They had taken Earth back. They knew this. Straggler husks aside, they knew this. And this was their day. Their victory.

But it was still not over.

The remnants of Shepard's squad had managed to find each other in the chaos. Jack was cheering and whooping with the crowd, Wrex beside her beating his fists together. Tali stayed back and watched the spectacle with silent skepticism. She worried that the celebrating was premature, but she also knew the value of boosting morale. She had seen the reports. Millions were dead before the army had arrived. Thousands of soldiers fell soon after. Samara and Jacob had been numbered among the dead, both fighting to the last thermal round to hold a barricade between base camp and the enemy. They had gone down fighting. They gave the sacrifice of heroes. Grunt was the only one not present, and for as long as there were gunshots tat-tatting in the north, the quarian was hopeful the krogan youth was alright.

She heard the Geth Prime come up next to her. His omnitool was activated and blazing through rows and rows of symbols and data. His eyelights analyzed the display while Tali looked on, gleaning what she could from the Reaper-augmented Geth programming.

"We have located her presence on the server," he said, his head slowly turning to her. "We await further instructions."

Tali continued to look at the coding. The Prime slowed down the display for her benefit as she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. What she saw made little sense to her. But the small bit she could make out showed that Shepard was, indeed, part of the Geth collective...but as a program rather than a simple memory. Had she been so preserved after her visit to Rannoch? Or was it something else entirely?

Tali tore her eyes from the omnitool display to examine her own hand, a shimmering tracing running along every inch. They were all like this, now. Human, quarian, krogan, turian—even the geth were covered in delicate circuitry that looked every part the machine but behaved every bit the organic. She glanced up as the crowd broke for mess, taking the chance for a meal as also a chance to celebrate the official turning of the war still being fought. It was not yet a clear victory, but they could taste it.

The quarian turned back to the Geth Prime. "I need you to log me in."

"Creator Tali'Zorah, that will require transport to a ship in orbit."

"Just get me in, Prime." Her tone was short but tired. Frustration came through that was clearly meant to be directed elsewhere. "I have a feeling that our future is in your programming, and I need to get it out."

She found herself on the seashore, a sudden and drastic shift from the cold metal and dim track lighting of the geth's server access. It was brilliantly sunny and humid like Tali had never before experienced. Even jungle planets felt different. The breeze was cool on her face and smelled of salt. It was with a gasp that her hands flew to her gaunt, leathery cheeks.

No mask.

She looked down. No suit, either. Instead, the quarian wore a white sundress trimmed in eyelet lace, her arms and feet bare. She wiggled her toes in the sand. This was the server, she reminded herself. There was no way she could get sick or die...or even really be here. Wherever here was supposed to be.

"There you are!"

Tali was startled by the voice even more than she was horrified at her current state. Turian brandy—where was the bar when she needed one? Shepard was walking toward her in a black swimsuit with a towel tucked about her waist. In her arms was a small child, krogan, trying to show her a bit of broken seashell.

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out. The geth keep fixing my more outlandish anomalies."

"Shepard, you're...you're a program." It felt stupid to state the obvious, but there it was. There was no end to how ridiculous Tali could make herself feel.

"So are you right now," Shepard replied with a wily grin. "It is what it is. No sense being scared of it. How are the others?" She smoothly raised a hand to keep little krogan fingers out of her eyes.

Tali shrugged. "We lost Samara and Jacob. Grunt is...still fighting we think. The Normandy is completely MIA." She gestured to her friend. "What about you? How did you get here?"

"I've really never felt better," was the borderline-dismissive response. "We've been building all sorts of things—haven't we, Ashley?"

"Yep!" the little krogan piped up, free leg swinging. "Sand citadels and digging for thresher maws!"

Tali couldn't help but grin, sharp teeth gleaming. But it was almost completely wiped from her face when two other children shoved their way past her, laughing and squealing as they kicked up sand in their merry chase.

"So sorry," a rapid and panting voice said as a salarian went dashing by. "Juvenile human-turian hybrids. Impossible, really. Amino-acids all wrong. Regardless, hard to keep up with." He gave a small salute and continued on his way.

"Mordin?" Tali breathed in disbelief. Her piercing eyes focused on Shepard.

"The human woman no longer looked so carefree. Her expression was drawn, and even the krogan had become lethargic in her arms.

"And that's about the point when I realized I was dead," she commended softly, heaving a sigh. "Impossible dreams."

Tali caught herself shaking her head back and forth, back and forth, in denial of what she wasn't certain. Shepard was a program, one grossly aware of the perceived current state of things. What did the geth know? Was their collective memory influencing this fictional scenario? But whatever this was was clearly full of private thoughts, something no geth could have concocted even with Reaper sentience.

This all came from Shepard. It had to.

For Shepard to have such a consciousness as a program, she couldn't be dead. Could she?

Could she?