ILOS
REFUGE SYSTEM
PANGAEA EXPANSE
EARLY SEPTEMBER 2188
IT HAD BEEN HARD, BUT SATISFYING WORK. He had been correct in that he had found a hanger, ships still in their berths. It had been very fortunate that neither the geth machines nor anyone else had uncovered this place. Most of the vessels were skiffs, small scouting and repair vessels, most of those barely better than hulks, never to be flightworthy again. But the one in the centre of the hanger… that one was a warship, the equivalent to a modern frigate class vessel, not as large, but as powerful. It had long ago been lashed down under a composite-mesh anti-static/discharge cowl, an ancient generator that had only recently - perhaps a few years - clapped out supplying power to standby systems and mechanisms meant to keep the ship intact for long-term storage – or a getaway.
The ship followed the Prothean aesthetic, armor plating in teardrop shapes, overlapping like scales, shaped like a striking fist. He'd rigged a solar array from purloined science teams before they'd returned, scavenging supplies he could use to get this beauty up and running. He had been inordinately pleased with it.
It was an Ev'incian-class Interceptor, called the Far Traveler - heavy with weapons, supplies and Prothean food. He'd been sorely tempted, but fifty thousand years was a long time, and he doubted if even his people's legendary stasis tech could keep it edible that long. With faint regret he dumped it. It would take the ship some time to recharge, although there was pride there that it would not take too long.
After a while, he tried the ship's startup, almost laughed in pleasure that it began smoothly and error-free. Around him lights flickered and strengthened, the hum of machinery and electronics, coming back, like him, after a long sleep. Fuel would not be a problem, Prothean starships used generators powered by artificial microscopic singularities, but he needed the ship's batteries charged before he could access basic control schemes. Once done, he powered the ship to full power and then checked its computer systems.
This time he did utter a gust of laughter. Its databases were full, maps, knowledge, entertainment long thought dead. And something else.
Where he was – it was called the "Archives" for a reason. Deep below the complex resided the dormant computers and massive reams of data the scientists used to crack the secrets of the Relays. Deep below, inaccessible to anyone not a Prothean, was the last of the great knowledge caches of his dead race. There could me more – more hiding places to uncover. He race may not be extinct. This was the new hope that powered him on. He refused to believe it a vain one.
With this ship, with codes he understood and knew how to bypass, he would soon have it all too. He told the ship that he was its new commander, reset it to obey him, and surprisingly, the ship knew of him, accepted his command without trouble.
He found that both puzzling and flattering, after a fashion.
With this, he was that much closer to finding them. He would find them, whatever it took.
Resisting the urge to rub his hands together in glee, Javik took a deep breath, and got to work. The transfer of so much knowledge, the sifting of it, the planning with it, would take time, but time was all he had left. He could spend it.
With the data pouring into the crystal storage on the ship, Javik told the computer to look for anything relevant to his quest, and then searched through the entertainment archives. A few ancient fables, lighthearted fare, experienced in that Prothean way, but he found he could not watch for long. Too many memories he could not bear.
Perhaps someday, when the pain had receded enough, if it ever did.
It had not, he discovered, done so yet.
He found himself dozing after a while, surrounded by familiar sounds, familiar smells, waiting for the computer to finish, when it suddenly chimed, jolting him awake.
"Relevant data encoded, Commander Javik. Relevant anomaly discovered via search parameters."
Blinking, Javik sat up. "Explain."
"Timestamp: Last Era, Conduit Realization Project: 417 days, nine hours, twelve minutes. Forensic Relay Technician Smolaan Renla. Begins."
A feminine Prothean voice then, and Javik found himself smiling. He had missed that sound more than he had realized.
"Relay retro-engineering log 1011. I've reported my findings to Seve, but he thinks I've made a mistake and replicated the data somehow, which is giving me a false set and mirrored readings. I told him that I had run the scan thirteen times to be sure – and thorough – and there is no error. He went mewling to Totus Van like a stripling that I was somehow trying to undermine his authority. Van reassigned him to modular number sequencing."
A small laugh. Javik found himself trying to picture her in his head based on that laugh. He stopped when she spoke again, admonished himself. Foolishness.
"The Relay-to-Citadel switching arrays are duplicated within the Lead, Secondary and Tertiary Relays. This second set does not contain coordinates to the Citadel. The implication should be obvious."
Javik frowned, paused the recording. That was curious. He let Renla continue.
"If this is true, it implies that there is far more to the Relay network than we suspected. I cannot say if it will impact work on the Conduit. I doubt it. It is a mystery we will never solve, but the implications are clear. I have been directed by Van to record this on the slim hope that someday it may serve to aid the next cycle. So be it. My conclusion is that dual contact and connect switches for the Citadel implies only one thing."
Javik's eyes widened. It could be possible, yes. Javik told the computer to double its efforts, prime the ship and prepare a course back to Earth.
He and the ghost of Renla said it at the same time.
"Two Citadels."