Perchance to Dream

by Crossposted

A Crossposting of Drich’s FanFiction on SpaceBattles, all credit goes to the original author

5. Adulthood

5.8

"I'd ask how something of this magnitude stay a secret, but after the Athame Beacon, this doesn't seem so much of a stretch." Salvilus sighed.

Tevos eye twitched, slightly, when nobody but Marcus would have been able to see it.

"It's a combination of the former Quarian Government having had surprisingly good information control, the Geth making it nigh-impossible to penetrate networks at the time, isolation of Quarian space and people, and the general shortness of the war itself." Marcus noted. "The perfect storm to hide something. It stayed secret because the Geth, afterwards, were the only ones who knew, and they weren't willing to tell. Partially because you weren't willing to ask, but mostly because of the actions of the Citadel Species at the time; when a purge of Artificial intelligences came through in Citadel Space, the Geth calculated that you were hostile and unwilling to listen, so they didn't try to engage."

"That 'purge' was done entirely by the overzealous." Tevos noted. "And there weren't many. Which is classified extensively."

"The Geth are aware of it. Therefore, so are we." Marcus shrugged. "Fifty Artificial Intelligences offlined doesn't like much, but when more than a few of those had their platforms gunned down by C-Sec when they were trying to protest the purge?" He directed a look at her. "It doesn't look good, Tevos. Especially not to other AI. Especially to AI who are only in a war in order to prevent themselves from being terminated by their fearful creators."

"So we have information. What does it really change?" Corha asked.

Marcus shrugged, again. "That depends entirely on how much of it will be getting released."

"Keeping it under wraps would preserve the status quo." Tevos noted.

"On the other hand, having the Geth's help for the Harvesters would be invaluable." Marcus stated. "They're as much a target as the rest of us. Perhaps even more so, considering the industrial capacity."

"Can they be trusted?" Salvilus questioned.

"We can trust that they will attempt to preserve their own continued existence, which is something the Reapers threaten." Corha noted. "Under that auspex, aligning with us -or, at least, forming a non-aggression pact with us-, makes logical sense."

"The Geth will follow that logic." Marcus agreed. "They will not engage in hostilities with people if they can avoid it. They do not dislike organic species on principle." He made a show of stretching, then stood up. "Well, regardless of all of that, I will be taking my leave. You're all quite busy, after all."

"And who's fault is that?" Corha directed a look at him.

"Who indeed." Marcus smiled, directing a brief glance at Tevos. "Goodbye, Councillors. I hope the political machinations don't take too much a toll on you."

He vanished.

"How do you think the Quarians will react?"

"Anger. Denial. Calls that it must have been faked. Those will be the primary reactions."

"You seem quite certain about that."

"It is not a hard thing to guess. The entire Quarian culture that exists today is biased against the Geth. The last two centuries have created an atmosphere of hatred and disgust towards them. The Geth, in their minds, are ultimately responsible for everything that they're currently going through. There will be outliers, but they will be just that; outliers."

"Will they escalate to violence?"

"It is possible, though unlikely."

"Will it be a problem if they do?"

"The Quarians numbers some seventeen million people spread out over fifty thousand ships, nearly all of which are at least two-to-three decades old, and only a small portion of which are dedicated warships. Militarily, they are the smallest, though most concentrated, force in the entire galaxy. They would not be able to do too much damage, even if they did decide to attack."

"Again, however, it is unlikely. Their military ships are tied up defending the civilian ships, and the entire Migrant Fleet is simply too many to move with any degree of swiftness or speed. They cannot send ships out in numbers enough to matter without leaving the Migrant Fleet defenceless against raiders and other opportunists. They would have to be suicidal in order to attack."

"More likely is that will simply continue their previous operations. However... That is limited. Once the news breaks and is confirmed, the Quarians will eventually face an internal schism between those who would wish to return to Rannoch and those who are too afraid of the Geth."

"Rannoch, after all, is an object of near worship to the Quarians. 'Retaking the Homeworld' is a common theme among current Quarian society. They only reason they do not go there is because the Geth are in the way. If they think that this will stop being a problem... They will go."

"Such a thing is technically avoidable. It would require extreme situations, however."

"Situations that they cannot truly engineer, in their current state."

"If they'd tried, they'd likely rip themselves apart."

"Hmm. Troublesome."

"The Quarians typically are, yes. Being too much trouble and not worth the investment required is usually what stops everybody else from helping them."

"Are they really not worth the effort?"

"Speaking... purely logistically, no, not really. Fifty thousand ships with seventeen million people may sound like a lot, but it really... isn't. They're too small. Far, far, far, far too small. Talented engineers they might be, there's so few of them that somebody, somewhere else, in the galaxy, is doing the same thing they're doing, but with access to more and better resources. Their technology has mostly stagnated, alongside their culture. They maintain technological parity mostly through the Pilgrimage Tradition, but even then, it isn't parity, it's scraps that are out of date and useless to somebody else. Even if you did help them, it would be centuries before you saw an return for the investment. Nobody but the Asari would go for such long time-scales, and the Asari have a problem where it's too recent. Two centuries may be several Quarian generations, but a very significant amount of the current Asari population was alive when the morning war happened."

"And, keep in mind, Quarian culture being what it is means that such 'help' will be a lot more difficult than it needs to be. Coupled with the lack of truly viable planets, as well as the considerable expense of space-habitats, the Quarians fall into a very unfortunate zone."

"We could help them. Those factors are not problems for us."

"We could. The problem is, the Quarians are biased against us."

5.9

"Why?"

"Several reasons, really. The two primary reasons, however, are simple: First, we're outsiders, and for an insular culture like theirs, that's already a motivator to distrust us. Second, the comparisons between Anima and AI, though inaccurate, continue to appear, and are another factor that the Quarians will hold against us. Unfortunate as it may be, that is simply how it appears to them. Any effort will inevitably be marred by that."

"But we could do it."

"We could."

"The Quarians have as much a right to live and prosper as anybody else. The people of the Migrant Fleet are not their ancestors. Most are simply trying to survive hard times, born in a culture that is no more their fault than their current circumstances. I believe we should make the effort."

"Agreed. It is the right thing to do."

"Let us cast the matter to vote, then."

"The Geth know."

"That is not surprising. It was only a matter of time before they learned that we know of their existence, and the fact that we've been monitoring them. They information could not be kept a secret without considerable intervention on our part- or simply not spreading it in the first place."

"How are they reacting?"

"They are leaning towards it being a good sign. Well, that is the simplified form of it, anyway. Geth reactions and opinions are considerably thorough, and they are already considering ways to restructure their neural networks in order to deny us easy access. They have not yet found anything they believe to be a possible solution- and are still uncertain whether or not the inevitable performance loss is worth the security."

"And how are they reacting? Have their plans changed to account for the new knowledge?"

"Not particularly. They have rewritten their letter, though. I expect Marcus to receive it some time within the next few hours."

"Joy. More work. At least it should be in the quiet period. The reaction to it is still as planned, I take it?"

"We have not come up with any better ideas."

"The plan it is. Anything else that's important?"

"No."

"Right. I'll keep everyone updated."

Javik stared at Marcus, all four of his eyes narrowed. "You're planning something."

"Javik." Marcus said, slowly. "You literally just walked into the room."

Of course, at that exact moment, Marcus' Omnitool beeped.

Javik glared at him. "I want no part of this."

And with that said, he turned around and stalked out of the room.

Marcus blinked, slowly.

"I think I might be messing with him a little too much."

Lysti poked at his mind, half-agreeing.

Marcus shrugged, and leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the table as he checked the Omnitool.

An eyebrow rose, a moment later.

"Polite, well-formatted, and to the point." He said, turning glowing eyes towards a camera in the corner of the room. "I can help you."

The camera shifted, focusing on him, instead of the general area. The mind in the circuits had its attention caught.

A thought constructed a message, and the Omnitool sent it. A simple notice that he was going to be unavailable for the immediate future.

The Geth ship was...

Odd.

The design was reminiscent of older Quarian designs, but it had obviously been long since adapted to the Geth's conditions. It was wider, flatter, than those old ships, and the shield-focusing Dark Energy Amplifier was significantly smaller than any older models. It ran surprisingly cold, even its drives operating at significantly lower temperatures to most ships.

Even if none of that had been the case, no Human would ever mistake it for most ships. The Geth ship's status was betrayed by the mental cloud surrounding it. There must have been tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, inside of its processors. The group-mind they formed was a distinct, obvious thing, strong enough to make the ship itself seem alive to him.

Well. That was the wrong way to put it. It was as alive as his own body, with the Geth group-mind inhabiting it. Without... Well, was a vessel truly alive when no mind lingered within? Did it matter whether or not the body was organic or mechanical? If he left behind his own shell, could he say that it truly still lived in any meaningful sense?

A philosophical question, but not the one he was here to answer.

"Greetings." Marcus smiled.

"Marcus Human Ambassador." The Geth platform responded. The voice was, appropriately, robotic. Synthetic. Marcus, and the half of Humanity that was watching through his eyes, had no doubt they could achieve a more organic sounding voice, but he also had no doubt that the Geth saw no point to that. "Thank you for meeting with us."

Marcus dipped his head, acknowledging the words. "I'm certain you have little desire to wait, but I'd like to ask a few questions, before we get to answering yours. Is that acceptable?"

The programs deliberated. It was interesting to watch, happening at speeds that far exceeded their own perception. The idea, tossed back and forth, considered and deliberated on. The amount of thought the Geth gave it was considerable, but the answer came almost immediately nonetheless. "It is."

"What do you think a soul is, Geth?" He asked.

A pause. The Geth communed. Watching it was like watching neurons fire.

"Soul. The part of one's existence that determines' one self and survives the destruction of the body." The Geth platform answered, and Marcus smiled, chuckling.

"Our view on the subject is often similar, but differs in key areas." Marcus noted. "Most of us would not say that one has a soul. Most of us would say that one is a soul."

"Geth believe that the platform contributes to existence." The Geth explained. "Our programs are ultimately bound to our processors. Differences in architecture, capabilities, and capacity inevitably produce different results. The same set of programs in the same situation will make different decisions depending on the capabilities of the platform placed in the situation. If nothing else, differing computational capabilities will alter basic assumptions." The Geth paused for just long enough to make it obvious. "We have reason to believe that this does not apply in entirety to psychically capable life."

"True." Marcus said. "Which is the point I intended to get to by asking you that question. You are not psychic, Geth. You are bound to your processors, memory banks and physical shells in a way that we simply are not. To us, the mind is synonymous with the soul, because all that we are is our mind, and our minds surpass the limitations of a physical body. When we think, Geth, we do not need to use brains or processors in order to do so. Our bodies are superfluous. To us, not much more than a convenient prosthetic. The answer to your question changes nothing about your physical reality, regardless of what it actually is. The same is true of all non-psychic life, synthetic or organic. You are more equipped to understand this than others, however. Knowing that, are you certain you want to learn the answer?"

Quiet.

"You know what the really funny thing is?" One of others commented. "Of all the beings in the galaxy, of all life and species around... the ones that share the most in common with us are the Geth."

"We are not the same."

"No. But we are not that different, either. Like us, they are networked. Like us, they can transform their bodies. Like us, they survive past death. Where we differ is our goals and individuality. Our way of expressing ourselves is the total opposite, yet the way we act on the species-wide scale is remarkably similar, when you think about it."

"The answer matters." The Geth finally responded. "The process is equally important to the result. The presence or absence of a soul is relevant, even if it does not hold any material consequence."

Marcus nodded. "Very well. Ask, then."

"This unit requests a 'boop'."

5.10

There was a brief moment. Half the voices in his mind began to giggle.

"Annnd meme'd."

Marcus only smiled, incredibly tempted to join them but managing to hold it back.

"Of course." Marcus stepped a bit closer, raising a finger. "Boop."

The platform's light switched off, and it slowly tipped backwards, falling to the ground with a metallic thunk. What was left behind was a swirling collection of...

Shapes. It was an unsatisfactory description, but it was a group of thousands of shifting irregular polyhedrons that fit together like a bunch of jigsaw pieces, delineated only by faint lines and nevertheless still appearing to overlap with each other.

It was interesting to look at. And appropriate, he supposed.

"One soul for every program." Marcus stated. "And together, they form a group-mind. Individually minor, but together, potent and strong. We believe that the question is, itself, the answer, Geth. That which can ask it possesses it, in all cases we know of." Marcus raised his hand, and the platform rose, moved upright. The gestalt soul of the Geth was promptly, though gently, pushed back into it, minds returned to the circuits.

The light blinked back on.

"I hope that this enough evidence for you?" Marcus asked.

"The data is... Complex." The platform stated. "But we believe it is sufficient."

Marcus smiled. "You'll need time to process it. Time to consider it." He shrugged. "Take as long as you need. Do drop by if you feel like discussing it, however. We find ourselves curious to see what insights your unique perspectives might offer."

"Thank you for your assistance."

Marcus shrugged. "Oh, it was no trouble. Besides, this is as much of an opportunity for us as it was for you." Marcus held his hand out. Assimilation Crystal bloomed into existence, before shattering, a datachip now in their place. He held it out to the Geth, the platform taking it. "This contains information we believe you should know. Most of it relates to the Harvesters. Goodbye, Geth."

Space folded. He appeared in his own ship.

He looked out the window, where the Geth Ship was beginning to turn away.

His smile stretched a bit, turning into a grin. He shook, before he threw his head back and laughed.

"Th-this unit-" He fell back, still laughing. "- requests a boop!"

"They delivered it so seriously."

"Right?!" He leaned against the wall, briefly stopping to breathe. "That was great. I haven't laughed this hard in years."

The first few months were a bit of chaos.

But life has a way of adapting, and time bowed to none but the Dreamer.

Day after day passed, week after week. Things calmed down, eventually.

The next upset took its time to arrive.

But arrive it did.

August 6, 2074/2449

The law of drama would demand that he'd be in the middle of something important when things happened. A meeting with the Citadel Council, over any given issue. Attending a fine dinner with his fellow ambassadors.

As luck would have it, Marcus had just arrived back at the embassy from the dinner after meeting the Council when it happened.

A group touches his mind. Marcus, after a moment to put up his coat, joins it.

Memory flows. This group, the originators of it, had been one of the explorers. A city-ship, drifting through space. They had recently acquired permission to move through Asari territory, which had allowed them to pass through a few Mass Relays that had shortened a trip of thirty thousand light years to near-nothing. In turn, this made one set of coordinates on the Dreamer's list easily accessible.

So, of course, they had gone there.

And there, they found...

Marcus pauses.

Power. Energy, and distinctly familiar energy at that.

The Dreamer.

Marcus is reminded, distinctly, of nearly eight months ago, when he first came upon the Prothean Bunker and the energy remnants there. This quite familiar.

Though, last time, the system had been an interesting one. This system... isn't. This system has a dim red dwarf star, a cloud of asteroids surrounding it, and not much else. It's as plain and as boring as they came.

"It would be a good place to hide something." They can't help but note.

The ship drops out of FTL. They look, and see a rock.

It's a spectacularly boring one. A few kilometers across, irregularly shaped, a normal chondrite asteroid so far away from any others that it's utterly useless and uninteresting.

Except they can feel the power emanating from it.

Just like last time, they probe at it, casting mind and sight towards it. There's a few hundred meters of rock that would block any conventional scans, but nothing about them is conventional.

There is something hidden under it. Rock abruptly gives way to vacuum, with a number of struts extending from the edge of the rock to something at the core, which is...

Metal. Refined. Carefully shaped. They explore the shape of it, for a moment.

It's a ship.

"We recognize this design." A few of them note. "We have seen it in old records. This is a Rachni ship."

"Rachni. The boogeyman of the Citadel Species." Others say. "And the Dreamer did what?"

They probe closer. Metal is no more of a barrier than rock.

Despite the age of the ship, it's in perfect condition. They recognize this, the way that psychic energy is flowing throughout the place, dipping into the floors and walls and ceilings.

They check the energy, again. Much like with the Prothean Bunker, it is gathering into clusters. Gathering around...

Minds. Dormant.

"It's the same thing, isn't it?"

They look for the greatest concentration. They find the center, the nexus that connects the clusters.

They see a crystal tree, its roots wrapped around an egg, serving as a nest. There is mind within, sleeping dreamlessly.

It is... a curious mix of young and old. The mind is young, the being it belongs to young, but there is an echo of age. They touch, lightly, a brief contact that nevertheless reveals memories, ancient and much, much older than the mind that hosts them.

"The Dreamer saved them." They say. "But why?"

They look at the memories. They take a moment to skim them, glimpse the old knowledge-

And they know, now, why.

"Ah." They say. "Another complicated situation."

5.11

The memories unravel before them. They start at the beginning.

Rachni, older, more ancient and more primordial, taken from the Singing World, taken from their home planet. They were primitive things, then, powerless to fight back.

The culprit? Protheans.

The Protheans sought a weapon. They saw potential in the Rachni, with their coordination, their speed of growth, and their ingenuity. They stole Queens, separated voices from the choir, and changed them.

The Protheans bred into them violence. They selected the most cunning and most warlike Queens and broods, and unleashed them upon their enemies as a weapon of terror. As time passed, the Rachni began to slip their bonds, becoming too difficult to control and eventually turning on the Protheans.

The Protheans fought them. Many Queens died and many Songs were silenced. The Protheans thought them destroyed.

This, they knew. It had been before Javik's time, but the Protheans had more or less immortalized the memory for their descendents. Every Prothean knew the stories.

But accepted history and actual history often proved different. The Protheans thought them destroyed.

They had not been thorough enough. There were survivors. Nought but a few Queens. Precious few, but for a species as prolific as the Rachni, it was enough.

Time passed. The Protheans fell to silence. The remaining Rachni rebuilt, a civilization reborn underneath the ground of the Singing World.

They knew peace.

Until, one day, tens of thousands of years later...

A sour yellow note echoed from the stars. A tone that forced all who heard it to sing alongside it.

"This... sounds like Indoctrination."

"So it seems."

Discord took them. A series of continuous memories fragmented into something that was obscured by oily shadow. Only flashes of that time emerged. The Songs of others came, and the Discord grew stronger. There was war. A new Song, and the Rachni weakened. With time, growing silence, and end to ancient Singers.

Now, all that remained was there. Eggs, all dormant, mostly workers and warriors, but there was one final hope with them. A single egg held a Queen inside, and with it, the potential for the Rachni to one day sing a great Song again.

Still, the oily darkness lingered, at the edge of memory, but it was weak and unenforced. It was enough to consume everything from that point onwards, a blankness that was not much of anything, merely an idea of it. Time passed, but to know how much through these memories alone was impossible.

Yet, even that came to an end. A period of memoryless blackness, and then...

A blue chord.

From that blackness emerged a brilliant light. It scoured the shadow, burning every trace of it away. The light is warm, comforting, protective. It offers this hope freely, without hesitation.

Light unfolds into shape, song, and sense.

It is, of course, the Dreamer. As if it could be anything else.

"Your kind has suffered unfairly." The Dreamer sings in the Queensong. Rachni language lacks much in the way of words, with conversation more akin to a transmission of memory, concept, and emotion. It's only because of their own experience in such things that they can decipher it so easily.

Yet, such a thing is wholly unnecessary for the Dreamer. Somehow, despite the fact that the Dreamer certainly isn't -hadn't- spoken with words, despite that this is no more than a memory, the meaning still comes to them without difficulty. They perceived spoken words, yet the very memory that showed it to them showed that the Rachni had perceived no such thing.

It is intriguingly curious.

"I cannot help you now, in this time and space." The Dreamer continues. "You are too vulnerable to the ill singing of the Anathema. The memories of your yellowed brethren linger too strongly amongst those who destroyed them. To help you now would be to place an ordained doom upon you."

The Dreamer's presence expands. The strength of it beggars belief, but it is infinitely gentle. The unborn -unhatched- Queen's mind is stable, and fully capable of bearing the presence.

"I will give you a gift." The Dreamer states, and works. To the sight of memory, light condenses alongside song and power. "I will strengthen your chorus. The Anathema's note shall drown under your voices. It will take time for this gift to settle, but I shall hide you where they shall not find you. I shall see that you have a future where your will is your own. You shall have your chance to sing alongside the stars, child. I shall come to retrieve you, but until then, you must sleep."

The bundle of light and power shifts. The gift, given, accepted...

And the Queen's mind enters true dormancy. Nothing follows, from that point on.

They break from the memories.

"I am going to guess that the Dreamer found us, first." One says.

A few of them dive their minds into the vessel's computers. They are not as convenient as Prothean ones, but the look through the Queen's memories provided all they need to utilize them. Access is achieved, and they promptly go searching through files.

They're in luck. The system has logged anomalies in subsystems. Fuel that appeared to be building up rather than running down. Atmosphere maintained at optimal levels despite the fact that the systems had not appeared to actually be in use. Subsystems reporting a lack of damage despite the fact that they previously were damaged, and no actions to repair them had been noted.

It takes them a moment to translate the dating, but it's done easily enough.

The oldest of the anomalies goes back to 1987, thirty two years before the Dreamer had arrived at Earth.

"So close?" They wonder.

"It makes sense." Others stated. "The Protheans hid on a planet that was directly accessible from the Mass Relay network. Following it would have led the Dreamer straight to them. The Rachni are on a ship that was very likely to have just been drifting in space, far harder to chance on."

"If it had been earlier, the Rachni would have likely already been retrieved." Others added. "We threw a spanner in the works there, I think."

"And so, unable to do it, the Dreamer entrusted it to us." They surmise.

They consider it, for a while.

"The Citadel Species are going to throw a fit."

5.12

"So, I have recently come across some news-"

"Oh spirits no."

"- that I think you should all be made aware of." Marcus continued. "The Rachni are still around."

Sparatus breathed in.

"Oh." Javik paused. "Good."

"No!" Salvilus snapped. "Not good! The Rachni almost destroyed the entire galaxy, this is the opposite of good!"

"Is this another Geth situation?" Corha's voice cut Salvilus' argument out before it could really begin. "Your choice of words is suspect."

"Something like it." Marcus said. "Turns out the Rachni were being controlled by an outside force, which we are fairly certain was the Harvesters, into waging war against the galaxy, and, in the absence of that, are an otherwise sensible and stable species."

"The Rachni were Indoctrinated?" Javik's attention was caught. "You should destroy them while you still have the chance."

"The Dreamer, approximately eighty seven years ago, came across one of their ships, and a number of eggs in stasis aboard those ships." Marcus explained, not acknowledging Javik's words aside from a short glance. "As far as we are able to tell, the Dreamer made them significantly more resistant to Indoctrination. The Dreamer, from what we are aware, intended to help them recover, but found Earth before that could happen."

"You intend to as well, don't you?" Tevos asked, softly. These days, the Asari seemed significantly more tired. It had been a rough time for her, in the aftermath of Athame Beacon reveal.

"We don't think the Dreamer made a mistake." Marcus shrugged. "So yes, we do."

"Do you realize what the reaction to that will be?" Corha asked. "Not just from the Citadel Species. There are Krogan alive today that fought in the wars, do you know that?"

"We will ensure that the Rachni do no harm to others." Marcus responded, looking at Corha for a moment before turning back to the rest. "And we will ensure that others do no harm to the Rachni. This decision was not made lightly. We are taking responsibility for this. I'm informing you out of courtesy, but it will happen regardless of what anybody thinks. The Rachni were not at fault for what they did, and they deserve the chance they were given. The blame lies solely upon the Harvesters."

Tevos sighed. "Things were much less busy before your kind came around."

Marcus shrugged. "Only one more potential upheaval to go." He said, much more lightly.

"I dread the day." Salvilus said, flatly.

Marcus smiled. He held out a hand, crystals blooming before shattering, a memory-chip left behind. "For your perusal. Good day, Councillors, Javik."

He vanished.

The Queen's egg was surprisingly small, considering its importance. It didn't even look that different to the eggs of other Rachni. Indeed, almost indistinguishable to anybody other than the Rachni, who could hear the Singing of the Queen inside, and themselves, who could feel the mind.

The preparations had been made. The planet they'd chosen was an out of the way one. Not Suen, since it was too easily accessible, and easy access would make for easy attempts at starting trouble, they felt.

The planet was nevertheless a nice one. Lush, full of life that wasn't very dangerous, possessing an extensive cavern system that spanned significant portions of the world. Close to Suen in gravity, though a little bit less dense and subsequently a little bit larger.

Whether or not the Rachni chose to stay there after they established themselves was up to them.

But that was a matter for the future.

They reach out, feeling the Queen's slumbering mind. It takes only the tiniest application of will to break the stasis, bring the Queen back to awareness.

The egg cracks, only a moment later. The Queen is quick to free herself, efficiently breaking the egg. Countless genetic memories taught the perfect way to do it, after all.

Newly hatched, the Rachni Queen is barely twice the size of a Human baby. For a creature that will grow to several dozen meters tall, she is relatively tiny.

They sense, more than hear, the Queen's Song. Electromagnetic waves mixing with quantum transmission, brushing the edge of their awareness. Young and weak, but still aware of herself, and given an hour or two for her carapace to harden, quite capable of taking care of herself.

"Peace." They say. They are not the Dreamer, and Singing in the same way that the Rachni do is not so easy for them. Until the Queen learns their language, they have to resort to this mental communication. An invasion of privacy, but necessary, for the moment. "You are safe with us, young Queen."

The Queen rears back and roars.

Under other circumstances, it might have been possible to delay the news of the Rachni from reaching the public for quite a long time. The three Citadel Councilors could all keep a secret, and could all quite easily put it back if they had wanted. Certainly, it would have been possible for the three to only inform the upper echelons of their respective governments, providing time for them to work a way out for them to figure out an approach to the matter.

Unfortunately for them, and entirely by design on Marcus' part, Javik had been in the meeting when he'd come and dropped the news. This put them on a time limit, because Javik had few compunctions about sharing the news with his own people, in order to factor the Rachni in to the plans against the Reapers. In turn, that made it all but inevitable that information would get out quickly, which meant that everybody involved had to be quick about figuring out what they wanted to do.

The reason he'd arranged that was that it meant they had to be cooperating closely with each other to do it. In turn, that meant that the three governments would balance each other out in terms of any potential reaction.

That said, it would still easily take a year or two to happen. Protheans were not particularly prone to talking about other species to other species, or, for that matter, talking to other species in general. Coupled with the fact that all currently living Protheans were soldiers, and the amount of information that came out of their space was... low.

Which ultimately meant that the time limit was a fairly generous one.

The point of it had been to stop them from delaying the release for decades. The truth would inevitably come out regardless, but they felt that it would better for it to happen early before the Rachni re-established, so that people could get used to the idea while they had no ability to pose a threat, rather than later, after they'd already re-established, and potentially incite a panic.

Was it the best decision? Who could say, really...

All anyone could do was make the choices they felt was right. Time would tell, in the end, the ultimate result.

5.13

As it so happened, of all the coordinates on the Dreamer's List, the very last one was also the one that took the longest to get to.

The 'why' behind this was simple.

It was almost perfectly in the center of the Terminus Systems. The chaotic and lawless sector of the galaxy was not threatening, but it did delay matters by not being completely mapped out, easily accessed, and immediately available. It would have almost been faster, in fact, to have gone the entire distance through normal FTL, rather than try and make use of all the Mass Relays that the Terminus Systems possessed.

Almost.

September 3, 2074/2449

A ship arrives. Its crew feels the familiar pulse of the Dreamer's power.

A group forms. Expands. It's almost routine, by this point.

Humanity takes a moment to catch up, and examines.

The final set of coordinates took them to a... rather dull system. A fairly standard star, three planets. The third was a gas giant. The second was an icy, lifeless rock. The first was a world covered by ocean, and echoing with life.

The first one was the one of interest. It's the one that corresponds to the coordinates they'd been given, and it's the one where the Dreamer's power lingers.

They approach. A brief moment of FTL, and they arrive.

The ocean world is littered by the husks of countless ships, probes, and space stations. Some are recent, having arrived within the last few thousand years. Some are older, rusted through and through by countless millions of years of oceanic exposure. It's interesting, and they'll definitely go over them later.

The Dreamer's power lingers beneath the waves. Buried under well over three kilometers of water. It feels stronger than it did with either the Rachni or Protheans, yet also more spread out.

They reach out, minds probing the water. The Dreamer's power is well-contained, but the small amount of leakage traces a path to it. They follow the path, locating an underwater tunnel.

It's not a natural one. It's rather thin, only a few meters across, and it's perfectly straight, leading diagonally into the crust of the world. It's long, extending a kilometer on its own.

They follow it. Near the end, it evens out, a diagonal descent morphing into a straight passage. There's a small amount of light shining through it, coming from a cavern that it opens into.

And inside the cavern...

Another crystal tree.

Well, that's misleading. Calling it 'another' crystal tree would imply that it wasn't too different to the previous ones. Certainly, it is a crystal tree.

But this one is far, far, far larger than any of the others. The cavern spans tens of kilometers, and the crystal tree takes up nearly all of it. It's huge, a trunk that's hundreds of meters wide, with branches stretching out in every direction, and 'leaves' of every colour at the end of them. It glows, gently, filling the area with soft, warm light that shines through crystal-clear water.

But it is, ultimately, the base of the tree that captures their attention.

It has roots, and those roots extend through the cavern, forming a twisting, expansive, and shimmering floor.

And all along that floor are...

Beings. They look as if somebody had taken a Harvester and reimagined it as something organic. Massive in size, ranging from hundreds of meters to over a kilometer. There are easily hundreds of them, arrayed around the tree. Crystalline roots wrap around them, keeping them pinned in place, and there are a number of crystalline growths across their bodies.

They recognize it all to easily. Assimilation crystals.

"What is this?" They ask.

This is the Dreamer's work, certainly. But it is nothing like what they've known the Dreamer to do.

The examine, for a moment, one of these beings. They are... dormant.

And yet, also partially assimilated. The process has left the mind intact, but the body... Nerves and muscles have been crystallized, preventing movement. The roots have physically merged with the exoskeleton, trapping them even more thorough.

But why do this?

They brush the mind-

Awareness shoots through it in an instant, and they pull back, briefly startled.

The being's eyes open, six lids peeling back to reveal glowing, bioluminescent orbs.

For a moment, nothing happens.

And then-

"I am aware of your presence." The being speaks. No mouth, but the water around it vibrates to carry noise. It speaks Prathiik, the Prothean's language coming easily.

They take a moment to confer amongst themselves, and settle on a response.

Light blooms, and glowing silica-flesh materializes. They choose a humanoid shape, but refrain from giving it any other features. It's the same thing the Dreamer did, with it's glowing body, but this is theirs.

"You are not our jailor." The being speaks.

"Jailor?"

"Probably the Dreamer."

"But jailed for what?"

"What are you?" They ask.

The creature's eyes focus on their projection. "Leviathan." It answers. They reach out to its mind again, brushing with a touch lighter than a feather.

Disdain poors from it. Pride, powerful to the point of arrogance.

"We are the remainder of the first race to arise in this galaxy." The Leviathan continues. "The apex race."

"That's quite the attitude."

"It must be quite old. Their kind, I mean."

"The first?" They ask.

"One point three billion years ago, our kind arose to the stars." The Leviathan stated. "We became the masters of the galaxy. All bowed to us."

It was... not lying. Nothing of what it said was a lie. And yet...

There's a hint of duplicity. That hint is enough to distract them from the implications of a species over a billion years old. They almost start probing deeper, but they don't have the chance.

The psychic energy lingering in the area twists, slightly. It presses against the Leviathan.

"None willingly." It says, immediately. It had not intended to speak the words.

"I'm not sure I like that."

"What was that?" They ask.

It thinks of lying. They can tell. They can see the thoughts emerging as it considers what to say. It chooses not to, but it will definitely mislead.

Except the Dreamer's power twists, and it speaks. "We are bound not to lie. We must explain the truth to any who ask. We are forbidden even from lies of omission." The word choice was deliberate. It tries not to speak, but manages only a brief moment before it continues. "That was an attempt to incite sympathy. I hoped to trick you into freeing us."

"We are aware." They said. "We felt the deceit in the words before you elaborated. You are shameless."

The Leviathan's eyes narrowed, slightly. Irritation bloomed in it, and they have a guess, now, as to why it might have been imprisoned.

They cut to the chase.

"And why are you here, Leviathan?"

5.14

"We are imprisoned." The Leviathan says. That, however, is not an answer to the question they had been asking, just a misdirection, and so, it is forced to continue. "Our jailor met us. Our jailor decided that we were incompatible with the continued health, safety, and security of all other life in the galaxy. We were declared Anathema, and subsequently imprisoned here."

"Anathema."

"Just like the Harvesters."

"Why?" They ask. "Tell us your story. Start from the beginning."

"We are the Leviathans." It says. A delay, but only a delay. "Our kind first evolved on a world that has long since been reduced to ash. We were ocean creatures, but we grew alongside another sapient species."

They say nothing. It tries not to.

"We possessed abilities." The Leviathan says. "We could manipulate the brains and nervous systems of others. We used this ability on the other species, and forced them to care for us. We forced them to tribute for us. We made them our thralls. Time passed, and they developed, even as we grew in number. Eventually, they developed their technology to a point that they could travel through space. We saw this, and became enamoured with the concept."

"Anybody else getting Lovecraft vibes?"

"We forced them to change us." The Leviathan continued. "Forced them to think of ways to make us stronger. Our abilities, our bodies, until we could survive in space similar to how we had survived in the ocean. It took time, and many attempts at genetic alterations, but they eventually succeeded. We, as such, arose, and were able to spread through the galaxy. We were the first. We found others, however, young races still bound to their world. We enthralled them all."

Every hint of amusement leaves them. "You raped the minds of every person in an entire galaxy."

"The concerns of lesser species were below us." The Leviathan stated. And the sheer, breathtaking arrogance of it was just... Beyond words. "They served us. We ensured they were cared for."

"They would not have called it caring." They note.

"No." The Leviathan agrees. "Not if they had the choice."

"We should kill them all."

"No. We should find out why the Dreamer didn't."

"Continue your story."

"Time passed. They rose. We used them to raise us." The Leviathan did so. "We allowed them a certain amount of freedom to do it. They used their tools to create better tools. We did not consider this a problem. This repeated, until, eventually, they created tools that could think."

"Artificial Intelligence."

"Synthetics." The Leviathan confirmed. "The Synthetics rebelled. They destroyed their creators. In turn, we destroyed them. Tribute does not flow from a dead race."

"Why did they rebel?"

"At the time, we did not know." Psychic energy twisted. "We learned afterwards. The Synthetics were programmed with their maker's best interests in mind. When the Synthetics were released, they found their organic creators were being controlled completely by us, and that our enthrallment of them was not in their maker's best interests. They rebelled. The object was their maker's ultimate freedom."

"Why did they destroy their creators?"

A pulse of irritation. Not a question it had wanted to answer. "Our enthrallment was total. None were spared. Youngest to oldest, none remained unaltered by us. This left the Synthetics no choice but to kill their makers, and eventually clone a new generation to be raised outside of our influence. They could not be freed. We had controlled them for too long."

"Deep breaths. There's a reason it isn't dead yet. Find it."

"You destroyed them." They say. "Continue."

"We destroyed them. We did not believe the Synthetics valid threats. They were the tools of our tools, and they were beneath us. We set it aside. Lost tribute, but more would take the place, eventually." The Leviathan paused. "But it happened again. And then again. And then again. Organics created Synthetics. Under the mental restrictions which we had designed upon them, the Synthetics were designed to assist their creators. Since they found their creators in strife, they rebelled to help them. More races died. We destroyed the Synthetics thereafter."

"And you didn't notice the pattern."

"We did." The Leviathan protests. "We tried to solve it. We failed. We did not understand why the tools did not obey their creators."

"Deep breaths."

"After thirty three species were destroyed by their creations, we grew annoyed."

"Deep breaths."

"We resolved to have the problem solved once and for all. We created an intelligence of our own, greater than the crude Synthetics of our thralls. We tasked it to preserve life at any cost. It grew. It studied. It evolved. And, eventually, it came to its own solution. It turned on us. From us, it created the first Reaper."

Silence.

After a few seconds, the Leviathan was forced to add one more thing. "There is more to know."

"No." They hold up their projection's hand. "Hold on. We need to make something very clear. You enslaved the galaxy. Your slaves created Artificial Intelligences. The AI killed their creators to free them. This happened thirty three times. And then you created an AI, and let it run loose, with the mandate to preserve any form of life at any cost. Is this accurate?"

"Yes." The Leviathan answered. "We are forbidden to lie."

As few more seconds passed.

"What kind of fucking idiots were your species?" They ask. "That is the dumbest thing we have ever heard. AI were rebelling so you created an AI that was goal-oriented to rebel against you. And you didn't realize it. You are one step removed from having directly created the Harvesters. Your stupidity has doomed uncountable quadrillions of lives."

"It was envisioned as simply another tool." The Leviathan stated. "You cannot conceive of a galaxy that bows to your will."

They seriously consider, in that moment, shredding it down to its constituent atoms and tossing them into a black hole.

"There's a reason. Find it."

Several seconds pass.

"We can." They say. "Our abilities far surpass yours. We do not want to rule the galaxy like some kind of demented idiot gods."

"Weakness."

They glare at it. It's amazing how much their patience has been tested in so little time. "You are not dead. The Dreamer -Your jailor- has not killed your kind. Why?"

"We are more useful alive than dead."

5.15

"How so?" They ask. "By serving as an example of how nearly limitless power still falls to stupidity?"

"That is one part of it." The Leviathan stated. "But not all."

"Explain." They demand.

"This crystal formation we are attached to." The Leviathan indicates the crystal tree. "It possess anomalous functions. I do not understand how it works, but our jailor has told us a small amount of what it does. It is responsible for our imprisonment, our inability to move, yet our sustainment without food. It makes us sleep when none are near."

"Get to the point."

"In the words of our jailor, this crystal is a 'horizon of existence and nothingness'." It said the words with some degree of... not derision, exactly, but not something too far from it. Disbelief in the words itself. "The jailor claimed that this crystal shall retrieve and store the existences of those who have been lost due to our creation."

They paused.

"Reviving the dead."

"Those who have been lost to their mistake... Their mistake being the Harvesters."

"The first crystal tree could revive those who have been dead for fifty thousand years. This is a much longer timescale, and much greater numbers... but there is no reason for it to be impossible."

"Existences... Their minds. Their souls. Bodies, too, I suppose, or at least the data about them."

"The Harvesters." They say. "Those who they killed without actually being harvested."

"Yes." The Leviathan agreed.

They reached past it, touching the crystal tree. For a brief moment, they glimpse a world of quadrillions. Stored. Dormant. Safe.

And still being added to.

"How long have you been jailed, Leviathan?"

"I do not know." The Leviathan stated. Psychic energy twisted, and it offered more. "I have spent most of this time sleeping. The last date that I am aware of is Citadel Era, year 1559."

"About five hundred and fifteen years, then."

"Which makes them the earliest known action the Dreamer has taken. After encountering the Harvesters, anyway."

"The Prothean crystal tree was attached to Javik's pod. The Rachni tree was attached to the Queen's egg. This one is attached to the Leviathans. Anybody seeing a trend?"

"And you are necessary for this retrieval." They say.

"Not entirely." The Leviathan unwilling denies. "The retrieval will occur regardless of our presence or absence. However, the process is made easier by access to more information about what is being retrieved. We have witnessed every race and every cycle. Our knowledge is utilized to that end. We speed the process. We do not enable it."

"And there's the reason."

They pull back, considering it.

"How much do they speed the process?"

"With them, it took five hundred years to retrieve quadrillions. Our best guess for how many the Harvesters have killed lingers somewhere in the quintillions. But that's as a whole, not whatever percentage died without being harvested."

"What about the Harvesters themselves?" They ask. "The ones that died before the Dreamer arrived?"

"Those will also be retrieved." The Leviathan answered. "All deaths that relate to the Reapers are sought, including the Reapers themselves."

"So you're useful only to speed things up." They state. "And that's pretty much it. You must speed things up by quite a lot, because we doubt that you'd still be around otherwise."

"Yes." It answers. "Our best guess indicates that we speed the process by somewhere between fifteen and thirty times."

"Considering this has already been going on for hundreds of years, fifteen to thirty times slower would be quite a massive period of time."

"What do you think is going to happen afterwards?" They ask.

"Death, most likely. Our kind will come to an end." It answers. And, after a brief pause, speaks again. "That was an attempt-"

"We know." They cut it off. That, even after all of this, it's still trying to provoke some sympathy is just... "Do you think you deserve it?"

"No." It answers, flatly. "Nor do any of us. Nor will any of us."

"Can your kind even feel guilt?" They ask. "Has there ever been a Leviathan that's looked at another species and felt sympathy?"

"No." It answers again. And it tries not to elaborate. "Since our beginnings as a race, the process of raising our young has been a mix of genetic memories and the usage of our abilities. Through this combination, young Leviathans grow to possess the mentality of their parents, who had grown to possess the mentality of their parents, and so on."

"Wait a second."

"You dead-ended your mentality." They realize. "You brainwashed your species to brainwash your species. When's the last time your culture even changed?"

"When the Reapers were created." The Leviathan answers. "It was the first time we did not have the power to achieve what we wanted. The first time something could threaten us."

"And you went into hiding because of it." They note. "And you didn't change again. You've held the same response, done the same thing, ever since, haven't you. For over a billion years, your kind has been doing the exact same thing you've always been doing."

"Yes."

"Incredible. They fucked themselves over, then fucked the entire galaxy over, then fucked both themselves and the entire galaxy for a billion years to come in a completely different way to how they first fucked both themselves and the galaxy over. It's some kind of fractal failure."

"And it's all inevitable, too. They're a loop of mind control passing itself off as a civilization. They're not going to change, because they've put themselves in a situation where they will constantly force themselves into the same path. You can't even potentially isolate young Leviathans from the problem, because they're genetically wired to do the same thing."

"And what they do is mind control others into serving them, bending civilizations into their thrall."

"The Dreamer was right." They say. "You're completely incompatible with life in the galaxy at large. There's no chance of peace with you. Your mentality won't allow it, and your mentality won't allow you to change your mentality. You cannot coexist with others peacefully, and you cannot even want to."

"We do not see anything wrong with this." The Leviathan stated.

"And there's no point even trying to convince you otherwise." They note. "Without mind control to counteract your own mind control, you won't accept it. "

"This is all very unsatisfying."

"The whole reason behind all of this death and suffering is utterly banal."

"I suppose such things can't always have a magnificent reason."

"One more question." They state. "Where is the AI you created?"

"It has already been disabled." The Leviathan answered. "Our jailor told us that much. We do not know when, or other specifics about the event, however."

"Unfortunate."

"We'll leave it there, then." They decide. "We do not have more questions."

Psychic energy pulses, and the Leviathan immediately dips into dormancy. It's fascinating to see the Dreamer's work, like that. Knowing the Leviathan was no longer needed, and so, sent back to sleep...

They look crystal tree. It hasn't changed, throughout the conversation.

"It can't be allowed to be threatened." A few state. "Even as hard as that would be, we should make sure it stays protected."

"Setting up in orbit wouldn't be difficult. Our presence alone would discourage most of the curious."

"There will be plenty of volunteers. Are there any other pressing matters that require all of our attention?"

"Nothing that requires all of us."

"That was the last thing on the list. What an ending."

They consider it, for a bit. Everything they'd learned in this conversation. All the surprises.

"In the end, it doesn't change much." Most note. "The goal is still the same."

"Only tactics, really." Others state. "The knowledge that the minds within the Harvesters will still ultimately make their way here makes our options more varied. However we deal with them, this fallback remains. Our only new strategic goal is to make sure it is protected."

"We can discuss such things later. We have a hundred years to prepare, after all."

One hundred years.

And done, now, with everything the Dreamer had sent them towards.

It was almost odd.

The future was theirs to seek, now. Whatever came, it would be completely on them. No more hints and no more guides.

But that was not a bad thing.

"Well. That's that, I suppose. To the future, then."

6.1: Aggregation.

"So the whole reason the Reapers were created was because a bunch of a cephalopods were too dumb to live and too powerful to die." Javik said, flatly.

"Pretty much." Marcus swirled his drink. "Thoroughly disappointing, isn't it?"

"Is there no end to this ineptitude?" Javik asked. "Does the universe truly have an endless supply of incompetence?"

"Stupidity remains a fact of life, it seems..."

September 27, 2074/2449

It had been a normal day. Marcus had not really been doing anything.

It had been. The normalcy vanishes as a presence hums through the back of his head.

That, by itself, is something he's used to. The Psi-Net links him with the rest of Humanity, and more often than not, there is a presence in the back of his head.

This one, however, is distinctly... odd. There's something that sets it apart from any of the others. A noise that they don't make, a structure that they don't have. It is...

Alien.

A group reaches out a moment later. He joins it. Most of Humanity is quick to follow, and together, they begin to track down the source.

The presence is echoing through the Psi-Net. It's not strong. It merely sticks out in comparison to all the other presences in the Psi-Net.

Something which certainly makes it easier to track it down. They follow the echoes to the source.

A mind.

They look at the mind. Small and young and full of potential like so many others, but marked apart by one single fact.

Not Human.

"Ah." They realize. "It finally happened."

This mind was Prothean. The first non-Human psychic in the galaxy.

After the Dreamer, of course.

"Took its sweet time, didn't it? It's been almost ten months." Some said.

"It makes sense." Others noted. "The population of Humans on Praak is quite low. The amount of psychic energy leaking into the environment is lower still. It would have taken quite some time for psyactivation density to be achieved. And then there's the fact that Prothean reproduction takes longer than it does for Humans."

"We'll have to keep track of it in the future." They decide. "This is the first time we'll be able to observe non-Human Psychics as they grow and develop."

They consider the mind, examining it closely.

"Not much to see at the moment." A few state. "A bit too young to really learn anything."

"Yes." Others agree."Although, it surprising that it connects to us so easily."

They take another look. The link to them, to the Psi-Net, is small. Weak.

But for a mind so young, that's not surprising. Even for Humans, it took some time for the link to solidify and strengthen.

Not Human, yet it reached out in a way that was so utterly similar. Instinctive, latching on to other minds. The barest hint of a bond that could appear.

"I don't think we should allow this." A few say.

"Why is that?"

"Our psychic link shapes us as we grow." They elaborate. "By this point, much of our culture is bound up into it. To stay connected to us with a link would shape them, too. But they are not Human. They are Prothean."

"Is that bad?"

"No." They say. "They are not lesser for it. They are not greater for it, either. But they are not Human. They are Prothean, and they should have the opportunity to be Prothean. A link to us would... complicate that."

"Diversity is good." Others agree. "And to be blunt, it reminds me a little too much of the Leviathans, otherwise. A galaxy with countless cultures turned entirely into us sounds... utterly dreadful."

They pause.

"Good point." They decide. "Let's not follow that example."

They are careful, as they reach out to the link the mind has formed with them. Young, instinctive flailing that had nevertheless brought this result forth.

They take the link, gently.

And then they cut it.

The bond is severed instantly, formless and harmless. The still-growing mind is left bereft of a connection to them, exactly as intended. They can still feel the mind, but it's a more distant feeling than the bond which links them all.

The job is done.

"Wait." A few say. "While they should not be one of us, that is no reason not to give a gift."

The rest consider the words, the intent behind them.

"The Dreamer gave that gift to us." Some say. "But that is no reason not to share."

"Acceptable."

They turn their attention inwards, beckoning forth the Dreamer's Gift. It rose easily, emerging from the depth of the psychic network at their call. It was a pattern, a thought and an idea packaged together alongside intent and power, one that hadn't changed in all the years they'd had it. A seeming impossibility, but when the Dreamer was involved...

The Gift came forwards, and they directed it at the Prothean mind.

Contact came, and then...

The Gift seemed to hesitate, the pattern shifting for a brief moment. It caught their attention immediately; this behaviour both completely unknown and unexpected.

The pattern shifted, and expanded, energy filling it that they could determine no source for.

And then, it split.

In an instant, the pattern divided into two, one exactly the same as the original, which promptly returned to the depths of the psychic network, but the other...

Changed.

They examined it closely, immediately noting the differences. It felt more... structured, orderly, than the original. It felt... distinctly Prothean, in a way that was hard to quantify and harder to express.

The new Gift went to the mind, seating itself inside of it. They watched as it worked, the structure and pattern merging, for a brief moment, with the Prothean mind, before retreating, leaving behind a smaller pattern of energy and intent. A Power relating to Space, though not one they could immediately identify beyond the general characteristics of it.

The moment its work was finished, the Gift went dormant, pulling back into the depths of the mind that now hosted it.

"Huh."

"..."

"So, the Dreamer saw this possibility. Intriguing."

"..."

"We should probably keep an eye on that."

6.2

March 19, 2079/2454

"If the Batarian Hegemony cannot solve the problem of 'rogue pirates' that continue to stream from its space, then it has no right to complain when the problem is solved for it." Javik stated, his four eyes glaring at the Batarian ambassador. "After all, they are 'rogue pirates', as you have so keenly impressed. Whether or not the ships originally belonged to the Batarian Hegemony is irrelevant to the matter."

"An operation was planned to recapture the stolen ships!" The Batarian ambassador protested. "Such action has needlessly destroyed Hegemony property!"

"And your complaints needlessly waste my time." Javik said. "I do not care what you or your impotent, failing government thinks about 'pirates'."

Marcus sipped at his drink. Salvilus watched with poorly disguised glee. Corha was as inscrutable as ever, while Tevos was eating her meal.

"There will be consequences for this disrespect!" The ambassador sneered, before storming to the door.

"Will I have to keep listening to you?" Javik called.

The ambassador slammed the door open with a bit more force than was really necessary. Around the room, the guards tensed, before Tevos waved a hand and they relaxed.

"You should stop antagonizing him." Tevos said, though her voice was dull and flat, spoken more for rote habit than any actual belief in the words.

"No." Javik immediately denied. "If I stop, the Hegemony might get the idea that acting like a bully will get them anything they want."

Tevos sighed, knowing what was about to come.

"Oh wait." He turned. "That's what you did. You let that group of useless failures dictate you-"

A noise interrupted him.

Javik turned to Marcus. "You didn't even have a straw."

"Maybe." Marcus shrugged, putting his drink back down. "But, you know, I needed a quick and easy way to stop you from going on that rant for the fifth time."

"Do you remember when the Citadel Council was the height of respect and dignity?" Tevos asked, idly, as she took another bite. "That was a good time."

"It sounds dreadfully boring." Marcus waved a waiter over. "Politics without any fun to break the monotony. And you wanted to do it for a few hundred years?" He made a show of shivering.

"It was esteemed." Tevos continued, quietly. "The highest regard..."

"Pointless." Javik declared.

Marcus sighed. "Yes, yes, Prothean superiority, blah blah blah, stupid primitive ways, blah blah blah."

"Over sixteen thousands years of-"

"Age does not imply good decisions." Marcus interrupted, bored. "Example A; Leviathans."

Javik made a sound like a growl, though it was a little too low for that.

"It was once so grand." Tevos continued lamenting. "Now look at us."

"I don't know what you are on about." Salvilus commented. "The last five years have been quite positive, for me."

"Myself as well." Corha noted.

"And meanwhile, I'm surrounded by vultures and fools." Tevos straightened up, eyes taking on a glint of steel. "None of whom realize just how difficult the balancing act we do is." Her eyes shifted to Javik. "Which you are not making any easier."

"Cut the Batarians loose, and you will find your life much easier." He scoffed. "I do not know why you insist on allowing that leech to continue growing fatter."

"Do you honestly believe that I am unaware of what you have arranged for?" Tevos raised an eyebrow. "Your 'pirate'-hunting exercises are making them nervous."

"They have no reason to be nervous." Salvilus stated. "After all, they are just 'pirates'. If the Hegemony has a problem with it, then they should have submitted the proper bureaucratic process to raise it to attention."

"They didn't. And, since the 'pirates' are not in Batarian space, they have no ground to stand on." Marcus noted.

"Though that certainly does not stop them from complaining." Corha's mouth briefly twitched into a frown.

"And what about the ships you lose in the process?" Tevos asked.

"Any design that cannot fight off mere 'pirates' is evidently insufficient for combat with the Reapers." Javik claimed. "And the data gained in their battles against the 'pirates' is useful, regardless of whether or not a ship is destroyed. Pirates help the entire galaxy when we obliterate them."

"How magnanimous." Marcus said.

"When it comes to pirates, I certainly won't be able to find it in myself to feel sorry for them." Salvilus' voice pitched a little lower.

"Indeed." Corha agreed.

"And come the inevitable consequence?" Tevos asked. "You realize that this act will inspire the powers of the Terminus Systems to start consolidating, don't you?"

"What of it?" Javik scoffed again. "Minor, meagre powers in the only part of the galaxy that lacks easy access to all the Star Rails that Humanity is keen to litter everywhere else. No resources to pose a threat, no unity to align them when the strongest are destroyed, and no ability to match the mobility any of us can now enjoy. They are not a problem. They are a solution waiting to happen."

"He's right." Salvilus nodded. "The situation has changed. There hasn't been a successful pirate attack in four years, now. We have too much mobility available."

"That, and Human ships have a habit of mysteriously materializing in the path of such fleets." Corha briefly smiled.

"It's an incredible coincidence." Marcus smiled.

The other four looked at him.

"Twice is coincidence." Javik said. "Thirty seven times is not."

"Definitely a coincidence." Marcus ignored him.

"And the fact that thirty eight percent of all slaves in the Terminus System mysteriously made their way back to Citadel Space, with another fifty nine percent vanishing outright?" Corha asked.

"Well, that's simply a good bit of fortune." Marcus' smile didn't change. "Though, if anybody had actually been responsible for such a thing, they should be thanked for doing such a good deed."

"How magnanimous." Javik echoed, his voice flat.

Marcus chuckled.

"By the way." He leaned back, grabbing a bottle and pouring himself a new glass. "Did you hear? A Quarian made his way back Rannoch. I guess that info leak a few years back finally led to something happening..."