I hadn't had this little sleep since we got stranded fighting a red sand operation out in the Attican Beta system. We spent a week with barely one or two hours sleep apiece until we could get a signal out, to let the Alliance know we were alive and in need of help. This wasn't particularly stressful, but it was almost as draining. When I signed up for the E1 medical certification, I expected I'd have to study a lot, but the instructors seemed bent on cramming everything into my brain at the expense of any other possible human activity, feeding myself and sleeping included...
The latest was a three day non-stop shift in the surgery ward. I didn't have to do anything, except helping when muscle was needed to move people or equipment, but I had to be on my toes to answer all questions the medical personnel put to me about whatever it was they were doing – and make damn sure I answered them right.
Maybe I should have stuck to shooting things.
But after the three day stint I had finally had time to catch my breath. A whole four hours of sleep I had allowed myself, because I still had shit to study. That, and big freaking bowl of MRE stew, because much as I'd have liked to cook something, I didn't have the time.
MRE at like nine in the morning while studying human anatomy. It was like being back at Uni.
When the door chime interrupted the silence in my room, I bolted on my seat in surprise. Shit, had I fallen asleep? The stew looked cold, but it wasn't the first time I-
The chime insisted, so in a very grumpy mood, I dropped the datapad on the table and stood up.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I said out loud, grabbing a pistol from the gun rack and checking the door.
Huh.
"Roy!" Marie said as soon as I opened. "You're here!"
"Er, yes? Good morning to you too," I replied.
For a moment she seemed a bit put off by my reply, but she recovered quickly. "Good morning! Are you busy?"
"Eh, just studying," I replied, and waved her in. "What are you doing here?"
"On not much," Marie said, her tone light. "Checking up on you, running errands for Admiral Drescher..."
Spider senses tingling.
"Errands?"
"Yeah, like finding out why you have been ignoring her messages..."
…
It was at that moment that I wrote a new definition for the expression "oh shit!". After the briefest moment of confusion, I rose my omni-tool as the penny dropped and went to the settings menu.
Offline mode. I had set it when the shift at the ward had started, and I had forgotten to switch it on again. Not only that, but it was a medical priority shutdown, so it was impossible to turn it back online without a hard reset.
"Shit!" I shouted. "What the hell did I miss?"
"Not much," Marie said. "An angry admiral. An order to return to the fleet. The fact that the Geth have made contact. The usu-"
"WHAT?!" I yelled. I didn't even waste time on that, I rushed to the weapons rack and pulled an empty armor case, quickly picking things up as I spoke. "When did the message come through? What's the admiral planning?"
"I don't know," Marie said.
"What about the message? What did it say? Did they agree? Are we meeting?"
"Roy..."
"We've got to be meeting, what would be the point otherwise?" I had my armor case open, and was trying to pack in the guns, not realizing it was the wrong case for that. It had room for a handgun, but nothing else.
"I'm going to get naked now if you don't mind. Do you?"
"No, fine, where's my damn guncase? Freaking hell I hope Ali didn't take it, where the hell's she gone anyway?" I finally found the case tucked under the sofa, and started picking guns from the rack by the door.
"You know, Roy, if I wasn't used to it, I'd be very offended now."
"What?" I said, her comment finally breaking me out of my very focused, un-focused frenzy. I did a mental rewind, so obvious that I probably had a blinking, giant 'REV' sign above my head, while Marie looked at me in amusement.
"As I said..." Marie offered, leaning sideways on the table, arm on it and propping her head up. Whatever am I going to do with you, her whole posture seemed to say.
"Really? Is this really the time to make fun of me?"
"It's always a good time to have fun with you," Marie replied, emphasis clear. "But now's best than ever, if you weren't distracted you'd just shrug it off."
Seriously, Drescher was waiting for us while I, like an idiot, had switched my omni-tool off, she was probably pissed as hell, I was going to get Yet Another Bollocking™ of epic proportions, and she was here playing games with my well practiced obliviousness? Yeah, real mature there Marie.
"We can try later, right?" Marie said, no doubt picking up on my annoyance.
"Or not," I deadpanned.
"Oh come on, it'll be good for you!"
"Says my friend of my shrink?" I said.
"Both," Marie said.
She waited patiently without another word as I finished packing, and soon we were on our way to the docks. A shuttle was waiting, just for us, and it took off the second I had both my feet in, and none too gentle at that. As the ship rocked (I swear, the pilot must have set the inertial dampeners to "make the cadets throw up", a setting I am told actually exists) I managed to claw my way to the seats, and finally sat and strapped myself in barely ten seconds before the pilot slammed the brakes (well, momentum vector synchronization VI, but nobody ever called it that) and threw us inside the bay of the dreadnought.
"Fucking hell!" I shouted. "Where did you get your license?"
"I've got orders, jarhead!" the pilot responded in kind. "Now get the hell out of my shuttle!"
Marie laughed all the way to the deck, and once I had calmed down a bit I could only join her. Pretty sure the orders were coming from the admiral herself as a gentle reminder not to ignore her calls anymore. It was only when we arrived to the main comms room that I realized we were taking off for a meeting with the geth on a freaking dreadnought.
Well, then again, the geth had a fleet capable of crushing the entire quarian migrant fleet. They probably had nothing to worry about.
"Chief Morgan," Drescher said as soon as I stepped in, not even giving me a chance to open my mouth to say boo. I squared off and saluted.
"Sir!"
"I have half a mind to make you do laps of my ship, outside, until we arrive at our destination. Except that I need you here. What in the nine hells were you doing?"
She wasn't shouting, didn't sound angry at all, but this was admiral Kastanie Drescher, she didn't need to. I gulped once to make sure I could find my voice, and responded in the most even tone I could muster.
"I apologize, sir! It will not happen again."
"No doubt," she replied. She gestured at one of the analysts next to me, and as he handed me a datapad, she kept talking. "The geth have replied, and have agreed to meet with us. What do you make of that message?"
To: Systems Alliance Representative.
Meeting conditions acceptable. Geth platform matching given specifications will await at point designation Sea of Storms, local designation Haratar, 1443.22, -613.92, 315.33.
"Cool," I said, not having anything else come to mind. So they had agreed. It was a relief, but not something I hadn't expected, all things considered.
"Is that all?" Drescher said.
"Sir? They've agreed to meet, and we have a location..."
"What do you think is waiting for us there?"
I looked at her in puzzlement, at the datapad, at her again, and ended up raising the datapad so that the screen was facing her.
"A platform with 1,183 programs, designed to work on its own and away from the consensus," I replied. "Waiting at these coordinates. Exactly what we asked for."
"Would they just agree like that?" the analyst who had handed me the datapad said. "It's a very terse message, we can assume that whoever sent it has doubts about the meeting, there is no mention of any of the-"
I rolled my eyes so hard that he stopped talking, looking at me in annoyance.
"So you don't think it will be dangerous," Drescher said.
"Dangerous? Is that why we're going on a dreadnought?"
"Just a precaution, we don't know what we're going to find on the other side," the analyst said.
I made a point of looking at the datapad again before returning it to him.
"Sir," I said, addressing the admiral. "If they want us dead, they've got a fleet on the other side of the Perseus Veil capable of worrying the entire Citadel fleets combined. I doubt they really give a toss about us showing up on a frigate, a dreadnought, or a freaking Tardis."
The reference flew over everyone's head, but the point was clear enough for all. If they wanted us dead, there wasn't a thing we'd be able to do. Yet I was completely unconcerned about the possibility, despite apparently being the only person in there who truly knew the capabilities of the geth fleets.
"And that nugget doesn't bother you one iota," Drescher said.
"No sir, not at all."
"And the message?"
"Exactly what it says on the tin."
"I see. Thanks, chief. I guess I don't really need you here until we arrive," she said.
"Err..."
At that moment, I remembered what she had said about doing laps outside the ship until we arrived.
Shit.
Being the queen of a small swarm of rachni, even an adoptive one, did have its perks. The rachni workers were absolutely unshakable in their resolve to fix every single problem their queen might find. Her armor – of rachni make, with asari electronics – was always in impeccable condition, and fit like a glove. Her room inside the frigate was always as spotless as her armor. And the bed, hammock, whatever she wanted to call it, was the most comfortable thing she had ever slept on. The workers had made her a rachni-like nest when they had first come onboard, but it was terrible to sleep on. After some more tries, they had put a leathery layer of fabric suspended on tense silk-like threads, and it was absolutely heavenly. It had just enough flex to fit to her body, with enough firmness to keep her suspended like she was floating.
If she could patent that thing, she'd make an absolute fortune.
There were some downsides to being an adoptive rachni queen, however. One of the downsides was that the rachni had picked up some odd habits. Odd for a rachni, at least, but not for a mammal. Whenever she went to bed, she'd always wake up with at least half a dozen of her swarm cuddling up with her, something she had been told by the queen, and not without amusement, was rather unusual for rachni.
It was also hard to convince them that she preferred to have some privacy when taking a shower. Sure, communal showers were the norm back in bootcamp, but she liked the fact that she had her own stall in that ship.
And for some reason, the workers were obsessed with the calluses on her hands and feet. She couldn't convince them that they were perfectly normal on a human. They regarded them as a soft shell from a young queen, and they keep trying to shave them off to harden the next growth.
The ship's intercom started beeping, waking up the marine. She pulled one arm from under the rachni warrior that had climbed next to her, and managed to deftly maneouver herself to reach the intercom without upsetting the two workers balancing on her stomach.
"Yes?" she said, her voice sleepy and a bit hoarse.
"Shepard," an asari voice replied. It took her foggy mind a moment to place it and match it with a face and a name. Lulan, the pilot. "Are you awake?"
"Close enough," Shepard said. "What is it?"
"We've found the ship. You might want to come up here."
"On my way," she said. She flicked the intercom off, rubbed her face, and finally slapped her cheeks, trying to force the drowsiness away. "All right guys, it's time to go."
It was as if eyes magically appeared all over the room. At first she thought she'd never get used to it, but now it was not only normal, it was almost comforting. The rachni workers immediately got to work, polishing the carapaces of the warriors and getting rid of all the chitinous debris they might have accumulated overnight. Apparently rachni molted constantly, unlike Earth arthropods. The workers were always busy, busy, busy. She had had to make an effort to make them understand humans didn't quite molt the same way, but they still nibbled at her nails whenever they had a chance.
She hadn't had neater nails in her life.
A shower later and she was ready to go, not forgetting to put on her armor. It was more for everyone else's benefit than her own. The rachni got very skittish when their queen went out so... unprotected, or so the rachni queen had put it. Humans were too squishy and fragile, from the rachni point of view. The problem was that they'd get downright aggressive when anyone came near her, and even if she managed to keep them in line, it was not a very pleasant situation. So she was always in armor, to keep her little herd happy. At least she could go without the helmet.
"Captain," Shepard said as soon as she got to the bridge.
"You highness," the captain replied, giving her a smile and prompting a chuckle from Shepard. Prilian T'lun; she was a tall, heavy set asari, one of the taller ones Shepard had ever met. She was also, far and away, the most muscular asari she had seen. She clearly worked out. All in all, she was pretty, but looked odd.
"What do we have?" Shepard said.
"Take a look," the captain replied, and gestured at the holoterminal behind the pilot.
It was a projection of a rachni ship, a three-dimensional wireframe reconstruction. Probably meant they were still not close enough to get a visual, even with the probes. After the other findings, this one looked pretty good. They had found two other ships so far, and neither of them were any good. The first one had crashed on a rocky asteroid and been reduced to smithereens. They hadn't even found the remains of the queen's egg chamber, or anything pointing at its location. The second one they hadn't even found the ship itself, only some debris around a gas giant. It had taken a week of reconstruction for the VI to figure it had plummeted into the atmosphere straight to its doom.
This ship, however, was all there. Well, mostly. There was a large, gaping hole on the side, but according to the blueprints on top of the projection, it hadn't affected the structural integrity. The ship was far enough from the planet not to be compromised by the gravity pull, and moreover, it was really far from the dwarf star in the middle of the system. If there were eggs inside, they were either put into stasis, or given the time that had passed, completely frozen. Frozen eggs had decent odds of being recoverable, or so the queen had claimed. The shells would freeze solid enough that the egg would not lose any material to sublimation in the vacuum.
"It looks like it has potential," Shepard said.
"That it does. We're currently on course, it will take about an hour to arrive. How would you like to proceed?"
"I'll just take my little crew with me," she replied.
As if on cue, a worker climbed up her armor and came to rest on her shoulder, nibbling at her hair. She distractedly pulled the strands back into her hairdo. Her hair was slowly but surely getting shorter and shorter, but she didn't mind so much anymore.
"Just you?" Prilian said. "What if something goes wrong?"
She didn't have to say it, but Shepard knew what she was referring to. She had been the captain of the ship that had taken the expedition to the first Rachni ship, where they found the queen; she knew how wrong things had gone that time. Shepard didn't disagree with the idea, but there was a bigger problem.
"We'll handle it. I'm just worried about how the crew will react."
If strangers come aboard with us. Shepard didn't need to say out loud, and even then, the little worker on her shoulder made a small hissing sound. She reached up and tapped him gently. It wasn't their fault, really. That's just how they were.
"We'll have the second shuttle on standby with a full team," the captain said. That was as close to agreeing as Shepard was going to get. "I want you to stay in contact at all times."
"I've got the helmet cam," Shepard said, putting the helmet on. "I'll go get my crew ready."
It wasn't even one bit premature. The rachni acted as a hive mind, but Shepard was still not a real queen. When they were on their own, it was like herding cats. That is, until they had some clear, simple instructions to follow. Fight. Eat. Rest. That was easy. Orderly loading into a shuttle and preparing for a short trip in peace, that was a little bit more complicated.
That, and the fact that the engineering crew had taken to bribing the rachni workers with some of the nicer preserves aboard the ship. They could, and did, get everywhere inside that ship. They also could fix all manner of small bits and bobs that were a pain to get to otherwise. As soon as they were out and about, half of them would disappear and never be seen until they were ready for bed.
On the other hand, she always had a stash of delicious preserved asari fruits in her cabin. Gatherings for their queen.
Life sure has taken a strange turn as of late.
'As of late' was a bit of an understatement. Things had been very strange ever since the day Roy had dragged her out of Mindoir. It wasn't like she had ever stopped thinking about it, or about her family, yet for a while, it seemed as if things were going to turn around. But for some reason, ever since she had adopted that little crew of rachni, the thoughts of her family and Mindoir had become more and more unbearable. Whenever she couldn't distract herself with something else, those thoughts would race back in. She wasn't sure whether it was the lack of normalcy, or the fact that it felt a little too close to home. This really wasn't the family she once dreamed of.
She had buried the thought of having a normal family life, or so she thought. Now here she was, and it was not something she knew how to process.
"Shepard, are you ready?" the captain's voice called over the comms.
Shepard opened her eyes and looked down at the worker curled on her lap. Her gloved hand was resting on top, the perforated back plate on it letting her have some control over her crew. It was always easier when she didn't have the armor on. The undermesh wasn't completely permeable, so it always trapped some of the pheromones underneath, but they had all gotten used to it.
"We're ready."
On cue, the shuttle detached from the ship, and there was a moment of weightless feeling before the internal mass effect field kicked in. After that, the VI took over, and under the guidance of the bridge, her shuttle started making her way towards the disabled rachni ship.
"The second shuttle will take point at three clicks," Prilian said.
"Copy that," Shepard replied.
She turned to the instruments, as the probes kept feeding them information. The rachni ship was no longer a reconstructed wireframe projection, but a full-fledged 3D model. It was a chance to see the damage up close, the huge gaping hole on the right side of the organic-looking structure. The ship was ancient, and had been open to space for a long time. It was hard to make out what exactly had happened with the naked eye.
"Azure," Shepard called the mothership over the comms. "Are you seeing this?"
"We sure are," the captain replied.
"What does the VI say?"
"It's picking up high levels of carbon residue. Nothing conclusive, but the impact probably came with a large explosion."
"Weapon impact," Shepard said.
"Could have been an asteroid impact, carbide composites. In any case, it looks like it has been inactive since the rachni wars."
"I see. Anything on the ship's systems?"
"Absolutely nothing the probe can pick up."
That wasn't promising, but it was too early to call it. The original ship had been dead as a brick, yet the queen's egg hatched as soon as warm bodies got close. On the other hand, the ship had been pretty much intact.
She felt the worker on her lap stir uneasily, so she took a moment to breathe deeply and calm down. No point getting herself worked up before they went in, and getting the rest of her crew nervous with her. That was something she wasn't used to yet. Every mood, every thought, everything she did had an effect on the rachni. And even when it was dampened by the gloves covering the skin on the back of her hand, it was still there.
Meanwhile, the rest of her crew didn't even need a spacesuit. They could work with no air for hours. Not forever, it was akin to them holding their breath, but for a long while. Even with her modified genes, Shepard couldn't match that.
Not that she had had a chance to test it so far.
All these thoughts were going through her head as the small shuttle maneuvered into the open space of the rachni ship. They didn't even need to find a hatch, or land on the surface. The wide open side was so easy to get through, Shepard could have flown the Azure by herself through it without a hitch. And all she had was combat training for emergency landings with troop transports.
The VI stopped the shuttle on the largest stable surface it could find, and after a last second check and the OK from the Azure Dream, she disengaged the security latches and made for the door. One last check of her boots, and she was ready.
"Okay guys," she said, getting the attention from the entire rachni crew. "We need to find the egg chamber. See if you can find if there's any power left on the ship, that'll help."
The two workers she was looking at immediately broke rank from the others, waving their feelers happily. They loved having tasks to perform.
"All right then. Watch your step, there's no gravity out there."
With that final warning, the shuttle started the decompression cycle, and a moment later she was setting foot on the derelict ship, the first time anyone had stepped in it since the rachni wars. Before she could get out, the rachni scattered in different directions to carry out her orders. The magnetic boots found enough purchase on the rough surface under her feet, but it felt weak. Like there wasn't much metallic material they could attract.
Part organic, like my armor. I wonder how they made these.
"Shepard?" Prilian voice called over the comms.
"Right here, you have visual?"
"Yes. What does the ship look like from your end?"
"Well..."
Shepard hesitated, looking around. The darkness was absolute, and the light of her omni-tool was not doing much to improve the outlook. With no atmosphere, the light didn't scatter at all, and the beam was perfectly focused.
"Well?" the captain prompted.
"It's a mess," Shepard concluded. "It's empty, the structure is severely damaged, and I can barely see."
"Do you think there are survivors?"
The captain couldn't see the confused look on Shepard's face, or the helpless gesture she made.
"Hell if I know, captain."
All she got back over the radio was a laugh, but it was telling enough. Captain T'lun was as lost as she was with the whole thing, but she had an iron-clad sense of humour.
For the next twenty minutes, she carefully picked her way through the wreck, pushing floating debris with care and forcing her way though sealed doors. All while her workers scurried around her, going through small holes, ventilation shafts, and feeling the way through the ship for her.
Strange feeling.
Ten more minutes and the darkness was suddenly flooded with light. It was pretty low, but after such complete lack of light outside her weak flashlight, her eyes were not ready for the sudden onslaught. She hit her visor to dim it, and gave herself a moment to recover. There was some energy left in the emergency cells, it seemed. The workers were pretty proud of themselves.
Not enough to have gravity, but enough to open the doors as well. From there on, it was a piece of cake to find the egg chamber. Progress was still slow due to lack of gravity, but it was a matter of following a very simple zero-grav vacuum walk.
"Guys, did you feel that?" Shepard said, stopping dead on her tracks and looking around.
"Shepard, come in," the captain called over the comms. "What's happening?"
"Something just changed in the ship. I think atmo just came online. Guys?"
The response from the rachni was a chitter chatter of snatches of melody, cheerful chords and notes that finally coalesced into a phrase she could understand.
We sing for the new queen!
"Oh crap! Stop!"
It was for naught, the song from the workers was getting louder, so Shepard could only do one thing, and that was to sprint as fast as she could on the zero-gee. This wasn't supposed to happen, they were supposed to bring the egg back to the queen! She tore her gloves out as she ran, the cold, thin atmosphere biting on her skin just like she bit on her lip to stop a yelp from escaping. It was a disaster waiting to happen. She had to get there before the egg hatched. Her frenzied run had an immediate effect on the rachni, all of them stepping their gait up just like she did to keep up, their songs increasing in tempo and tone. It was madness.
She opened the door just as the egg cracked. The lone queen egg was on top of a stand, while her workers were tearing down the organic canopy that had been covering it. When the second crack appeared, she raised her hands.
"Everyone, back!" she ordered, her voice firm as she made a parting gesture with her hands.
There was the slightest hesitation before her workers obeyed, a very telling reaction. Workers wouldn't be able to function if they were getting confused orders from two queens. She had to take control of the situation right there and then.
Another crack, and a piece of the egg shell went flying. A moment later, two dark legs made their way through the opening, and with a pull, split the shell clean in half. The newly hatched queen struggled for a moment on her back as she tried to regain her footing with no gravity, until she righted herself, anchoring her legs on the egg bed. She skittered around herself once, twice, then on the third turn, she locked eyes with Shepard.
This is it.
Shepard raised her hands, palms facing forward, and closed her eyes. Inwards. Focus inwards. That was the message she had to convey to the queen. Look inwards, towards the song of your ancestors. The young hatched queen would look for the mother, and for her song. But Shepard didn't have a queen's song. Not quite.
She heard the queen hiss, and instead of a melody, she got a shock like a xylophone falling down a set of stairs in her mind. She suppressed a wince, and concentrated harder.
Inwards. Look for your inwards song.
There was a sense of fear, bordering on panic behind that confused song. She wished she could do something else, explain somehow, but the queen's orders had been clear. When she hatched, she did not have the knowledge, the level of consciousness necessary to overcome her instinct to look for her mother. The queen mother. It was only after she melded with Roy that she "found her melody". The instinct to meld was gone – but the damage had been done.
She really didn't want to end up in the same place as Roy had. Inwards. Wake the genetic memories of the past queens. She cleared her mind, focusing on her own inward sight. She could feel the mental cry from the young hatchling. It felt like a knife had been plunged in her gut. She felt the other rachni stirring uneasily, too, the clash between the new queen and the human queen confusing them.
Mother!
That wasn't what the queen had said, or thought, but she understood it well enough. What came after was even worse.
Your song is not my mother's.
She bit her lip to stop a curse from coming out. It was the worst case scenario. The young queen was awake now, but she had no song. And there were half a dozen workers and two warriors she could easily wrest from her control.
No choice. She had to improvise.
"I am not your mother. She's gone." Shepard spoke softly, not even opening her eyes. Inwards. She had to look inwards.
You sing false notes.
"I don't. She's gone. But... but she left something for you. Your song."
The hatchling hesitated, the mental link almost breaking in the process. Shepard reached out with her thought. Inwards. Look inwards. Your melody is there, waiting for you. That was the message.
Time seemed to stop. Every breath Shepard took, she was waiting for something to break. Her hands felt like they were on fire, the low pressure had probably bruised them badly, with ruptured blood vessels right under the skin. But the seals on the wrist were fine, the hands could be healed later.
And then, like a drop of water hitting a surface, a note shattered the silence. Loud, but hesitant. A drip of yellow colour flashing in her mind. Then, a second note. A third.
The melody she knew. The melody the queen had given her. The hatchling had found it. As the young queen started singing, Shepard allowed herself to remember the day the queen had taught her the melody. As she let the memory surface, the young rachni's own melody gained in intensity. Confidence. Soon, Shepard didn't have to remember, the young queen was singing with her own voice.
She opened her eyes, and looked at the small form of the newborn rachni. No more fear, no more uneasiness. She lowered her hands, and the rachni workers rushed forward at once. Cleaning the queen's carapace, removing the remains of the eggshell. Their happy chittering was almost silent under the melody of the queen, but it was there.
"Welcome to the galaxy, little one," Shepard said, and her smile was reflected by a cascade of colours from the young queen.
"Damn!"
I tried not to smile under my helmet at the surprised declaration. Sniping at the range with an audience wasn't the bothersome part, it was the fact that I was doing it to prove to the servicemen that the course I had laid out was not impossible.
Heck, I had a generous margin of two shots missed out of the fifty targets.
That was the last one, and I had even missed once. This had been all the Admiral's idea, she wanted me to evaluate the marksmanship of the entire platoon of soldiers aboard the dreadnought, and that meant back-to-back evaluations on the range for no less than two hundred and eighty-six people.
As far as I could tell, the other NCOs were happy as clams that I was doing that. It was possibly the most boring task one could be given, and one of the things I was going to have to do on my new assignment for the Ninth fleet anyway.
Still, it didn't mean I couldn't have any fun. I knew of a couple dozen people who were going to be rearranging the ammo depot without mass effect pallet assistance.
"And that's how it's done," I said, folding the sniper rifle and getting up from the crouching position I had been at for the last twenty minutes. Damn, I was so stiff.
I turned around, and took the faces of the servicemen in. A few of them were rather amused at the turn of events, but that wasn't the majority.
Well, it's not like I could blame them. Giving impossible tasks was part of what we did in training – and in this case, we included me, as a NCO – but not this time. I might have cheated thanks to a certain set of gene mods and cybernetic implants, but who's counting? Before I could open my mouth, however, my omni-tool chimed in.
"Chief Morgan," a feminine voice called. That was Lieutenant Torres, one of Drescher's entourage.
"Yes Lieutenant, right here," I replied, raising the omni-tool.
"Time's up. We're about to enter the Sea of Storms, are you done?"
"I... Yes! I'm done, what-"
"Then get your ass to the third deck, the Admiral's waiting."
She didn't wait for an answer, and it's not like she needed one. Shit was about to hit the fan. I gave some hasty last orders to the crew (I wasn't letting them off the hook just because we were starting some talks with the galactic boogeyman) and hauled ass to the lifts. It was really happening.
I had been too busy to think about it, or to be worried one way or another. I was pretty sure the geth weren't what everyone thought of – that's what my memory of the damn computer simulation was telling me – but what did I know. I was just some idiot from the year 1994.
Yeah, there might have been a reason why I hadn't been thinking about all that.
The lift ride was way too slow.
When I finally emerged, Torres was already waiting for me. She didn't say a word, we just legged it at a good pace towards the deck, where Drescher had set up shop with the rest of the first contact personnel. Twenty terminals, absolutely bustling with activity, and in the centre, a holographic console.
I recognized the shape being projected on the console. Back in the simulation, Shepard called it the Heretic station. I was right, after all.
Shepard.
Not that I intended to, but I had taken to call the man in my memories of the simulation Shepard. It had to be some sort of memory mix-up, there was no way he was Shepard. My Shepard. Yet the thought made sense, somehow.
No, I had to find who that guy was. N7, there couldn't be that many.
"Chief," Drescher said.
"Sir!" I replied, standing to attention and saluting.
"Have you completed your assignment?" she said, still not looking away from the terminal.
"Yes sir!" I said. I had a datapad in my hand to prove it, but she didn't make any sign of being interested.
"Good. Recommendations?"
"A swift kick in the butt, sir," I replied.
The admiral chuckled at that, and finally gave me a glance. "I see you have taken to your duties quite well, Morgan. Give that to Torres and come take a look."
I did as she asked and followed her gesture, coming to stand by the holoprojector. As I did, I noticed something else. There were ships all around the large structure in the middle. Dozens. I actually had no idea how big they were, or how big the heretic station itself was.
"What do you think?" Drescher prompted.
"I think that used to be a quarian space station before the geth took over."
"What are their capabilities? Weapons?" Major Stevens said.
"I... have no idea, sir. Why?"
Everyone around the console looked up and turned to me in surprise. Behind me, I could just make the sound of Marie stifling her laughter.
"Let's see," Stevens said, his voice deadpan flat. "We have three dreadnoughts, ten cruisers, and enough frigates to make a daisy chain from here to the relay. Why would we be worried."
"It's not like he didn't warn us, Stevens," Drescher said. "James, hail the station."
"Aye aye, sir," the response came. I was expecting it would take some time, but the console pinged almost instantaneously.
"To the geth consensus," Drescher said. "This is admiral Drescher. Do you copy?"
"Drescher-Admiral," the mechanical voice I knew only too well came through. "Geth platform constructed to your desired specifications is ready."
"Thank you. When would you be ready to meet?"
"Consensus was reached three weeks, two days, six hours, and twenty-two seconds ago. Geth are ready to receive Drescher-Admiral."
There were at least ten people waving and trying to get the admiral's attention, since she was completely ignoring the litany of messages scrolling through the terminal. She wasn't looking at anyone else, she was looking straight at me.
"Good, I hate having to wait. I'm on my way. Drescher out."
It was absolute pandemonium when she cut the transmission. The rest of the command were the only ones not screaming, but they were spitting fire and brimstone about sending her into the station without knowing what was going on. Stepanic was having a fit and was trying to get every analyst's opinion at once.
The admiral didn't care.
"Sir, you can't possibly-"
"Cut it out Stevens," Drescher said, interrupting the Major. "We're already here, I'm not the kind of woman who sends the man home after I've pulled his pants down."
She said it so matter-of-factly that she completely shut everyone in the vicinity up. I tried my best not to laugh, but the shit-eating grin was already there on my face. The admiral slapped the terminal as she straightened up, and looked at me.
"Chief, it's time to go."
"Aye aye, sir!" I replied.
I fell into step ignoring the protestations from the rest of the command staff. I thought it was a little odd how reckless the admiral appeared to be, but there was this glint in her eye, almost like that of a mischievous kid.
Guess there's things you never grow out of.
We made it to the lift with a whole entourage in tow, but the admiral stopped them as soon as she stepped inside with a simple gesture of her hand.
"That's enough everyone. If you want to help, get to your posts and pay attention."
A murmur started to bubble, but stopped when Drescher rose her voice, her orders cutting through the air like a sharp blade.
"Is that understood?" she said, stopping short of shouting.
It was enough for everyone to straighten and shut up.
Don't forget it's Admiral Kastanie Drescher in there.
"Chief," she said, and gestured at the lift.
I stepped inside, turning to give the crew inside one last look. At the back, I saw Marie give me a thumbs up from her terminal before the doors closed, and we started the long ride down towards the shuttle bay.
"Sir, should we stop to gear up?" I said.
"You have your sidearm, do you not?" the admiral replied.
"Yes sir, never leave without it."
"That's all we need." She rapped her knuckles against the chest plate of my hardsuit. "If there's any shots, I'll hide behind you."
"Business as usual then," I replied. "… sir."
She snorted at that, and gave me a sideways look. "You better be right about this, chief. If we get killed in there, you won't hear the end of it on our way down."
"I'm pretty sure, sir."
"And I'm curious, what makes you so sure?"
"I..."
I looked at the admiral, and yeah, she was definitely giving me a look. It wasn't as intense as I had seen before, but still enough to make anyone uneasy. Including me. What could I say?
"I have a full report from Alliance Intelligence. Spectre business above everyone's paygrade, a few gaps during your service record because of it. Nothing before your rescue from Mindoir. I am understandably curious."
Yeah, her and everyone else. She didn't didn't insist after saying that, but she kept her eyes on me, waiting for an answer. Which I really wasn't going to give her, or so I hoped.
"Sir, I was just the wrong guy at the right place and the right time. I just happen to know a lot of weird stuff."
"Not much of an answer," the admiral said. "If this goes tits up, I'm going to want much better than that, chief."
"Yes sir..."
She turned to the lift door, and I did the same, not before giving her one lingering look. She was acting a bit too reckless, but it wasn't like I was in a position to argue with her. The lift had taken an age, but had emerged at one of the hangars. A shuttle was ready, as well as a dozen marines and not one, but two N7s.
Drescher walked through the lot without a glance, and I followed close. Even as the others fell into step, the admiral stopped them with a single gesture of her hand as she walked.
"I appreciate the gesture, but tell Rogers we will be fine," she said.
Nobody protested – nobody dared – but they didn't stop following until we were right at the shuttle's door. Drescher was the first one in, I jumped in as fast as I could, and I hadn't even sat down before she started banging on the glass behind the pilot to shout at him to hurry up.
We were off so quick I nearly ended up plastered on the back wall. I pulled myself to the seat, and strapped in with a grunt.
"Come on chief, let's hear it."
"… sir?"
"You're itching to ask me something, and we've got nothing better to do. Spit it out."
"I was wondering why the... rush, sir."
She gave me a small smile. "Why, would you rather sit in the comms room and listen to that bunch of bureaucrats try to sound smart?"
"No sir, but it is a little reckless."
"For an admiral, you mean," she added. "I am tired of the bullcrap, chief. When I was given this assignment, I thought it was a load of crap. I am not diplomatic at the best of times, and when people look at me, all they see is the hero of the First Contact War." It wasn't exactly distaste in her voice, but it was clear she was a little tired of it. "And apparently SA's Intelligence agreed. They've been a pain in the ass since day one. Like they're offended they're not the ones in charge."
"I see. I can't say I haven't felt the same way."
"As far as they're concerned, you shouldn't be here. But you come highly recommended," she smiled at me and gave me a conspiratorial nod. Damn, I was hoping she'd tell me who had recommended me. "I appreciate how patient you've been."
"Sitting with a thumb up my arse, sir. Those were your orders, and that's what I did." That was a little too informal, perhaps, but the admiral took it with a laugh.
"Yeah, that. I don't tolerate anyone mistreating my marines, Morgan. The only reason I haven't cleared the deck is because I want to see their faces after this. Then I can rip them a new one."
She gave me a butt-clenching look even the drill sergeant would have had a problem matching.
"I better not disappoint, then, sir," I said.
"Damn right."
The flight went without a hitch. We spend some time going over the plan, which wasn't much of a plan. Mostly, it was Drecher telling me what she was hoping to achieve. The quarians demanding the geth relocate was a biggie, and she didn't want it out until she had established some common ground with the geth. Once the geth were convinced the Systems Alliance would indeed be an ally, and consider them as equals, she could bring it up. The high brass had authorized her to offer the geth large swathes of Alliance space, mostly systems with few or none garden worlds but rich in resources. It could be a profitable venture for Earth traders too, and a great basis for an alliance.
That was organic thinking, but really, we had no other perspective. In short, first she wanted to establish an alliance before going too far.
After the short and cautious flight, we flew in and landed at the designated bay, a vast space with hundreds of geth platforms waiting. I was the first one out of the shuttle – just in case – but as soon as I stepped down without being shot at, the admiral disembarked and stepped forward. Three rows of geth platforms were waiting – standard infantry units – in what appeared to be a mimicry of a Systems Alliance meet-and-greet for foreign diplomats. Right in front of us a single unit stood. Grey plating, shiny new optical sensors, and completely lacking a hole right through the chest.
All he was missing was the N7 plate on that hole. Shit, I should've grabbed some N7 armor for him.
"I am Admiral Kastanie Drescher," she said. Even though her voice was coming through the speakers of her thin envirosuit, the sound was deep and full of aplomb. Gone was the amusingly reckless woman I had seen during the shuttle trip. She offered her hand.
The geth looked at the hand, and after some hesitation he shook it. "We are Geth," he said.
"You have a name?"
"Geth."
"No, I mean your name. The unit in front of me."
"They're all geth," I stepped in. I had seen that movie before. "A gestalt intelligence of processes."
"Correct," the geth said, turning to look at me. Hi eyeflaps twitched for a moment, but he didn't add anything.
"This is Service Chief Roy Morgan," Drescher said, gesturing at me. I gave a nod back. "Shall we begin?"
"We have prepared a habitat appropriate for human physiology," the geth said.
Without any fanfare, he turned around and walked off, and after just a moment we followed. The hangar of the geth dreadnought was just as I had expected, really, given the inside of the dreadnought I had seen in the simulation. Less reaper stuff, though, which I took as a good sign. The geth separated to open a path for us, and soon we were inside a perfect featureless room off the main hangar bay. Smooth walls, a single geth terminal by the entrance, and two solitary chairs in the middle.
I guessed it was a geth thing. They had made one platform for us, and probably expected us to send one platform too. Well, no matter, I could stand. The admiral came to the chair while I stood behind her, and as she sat down, the geth did the same – slowly, haltingly. He was making an effort to imitate the behavior of the admiral. It was a little strange. After all, the geth had access to the extranet, same as everyone else, surely they knew how to interact with humans.
Then again, Legion acted the same way in the simulation, and he was still weird around Sh- around the main character.
The admiral pulled her helmet off, taking a moment to shake her head to get the hair out of her face. I didn't take mine off, but I did hit the release of the faceplate, folding the glass up inside the helmet. The air was crisp and clean, the smell of artificial scrubbers clearly present.
"I'm glad you agreed to this meeting," the admiral said. She seemed so at ease one could be excused for thinking she was having tea and cookies with her grandson. "If you don't mind my asking, what made you agree to meet us?"
"Consensus was reached," the geth said.
"I see. Was there a factor that affected the consensus more than others?"
"Drescher-Admiral offered peace with the creators."
"Ah," she said simply.
Her gesture spoke volumes, it was the elephant in the room, so to speak, and probably the most difficult part of all. I wondered whether the geth got the meaning of Drescher's body language; knowing her, it had to be intentional.
"Secondary factors were Drescher-Admiral's knowledge of geth and the Morning War."
"You can thank Chief Morgan for that," Drescher said. The geth turned his flashlight head to me, his plates folding back slightly. "He shared some unique perspectives on your people with us."
The geth didn't say a word, and what followed was a very awkward pregnant pause. I tried not to fidget, racking my brains for something to say, but it was Drescher who broke the ice again, calm and smooth as silk.
"Well, that is fortunate then," she said, getting the attention of the geth. "If your primary motivation is to broker a peace with the quarians, that is something we share. Our primary motivation, too, is to mediate between quarians and geth, to try and reach an understanding." She waited, but as the geth didn't add another word, she continued. "I realize it's not easy to overcome so much history, but I think we can make some progress."
Again, the geth didn't say anything. He was completely fixated on Drescher. It would have been unsettling if I hadn't expected it, and if it wasn't Admiral Drescher too. That woman was unshakable.
"I have already held some talk with the quarians." The geth perked up at that, his eyeflaps twitching slightly, and the lens of his eye twisting to sharpen his focus. "They are reluctant to hold talks, but they did not shut us down completely. So I have chosen to be optimistic. Have the quarians made contact with the geth since the end of the Morning War?"
"No," the geth replied.
"What about you? Have you tried to make contact with the quarians?"
"No."
"Why not?" Drescher inquired.
"All encounters with the creators after the Morning War were hostile."
"Yes, we heard something similar from the quarians." Drescher sat back, folding her hands together and resting them on her lap. "But as I understand it, other than occasional skirmishes, there has been no large scale conflict between you two since the Morning war."
"Correct."
I hadn't known Admiral Drescher for too long, but I knew her enough to realize the short answers from the Geth were starting to make her uncomfortable. There was little followup, if we were talking with an organic it would probably be considered somewhat standoffish. Yet she carried on, trying new threads of conversation.
"As I see it, for the quarians the war is ancient history. No matter how they feel about it, none of them were there." She paused, and I could swear the geth leaned forward as she started speaking again. "I think we might be able to convince them things are different now, but I need at least one of the sides to want this peace. So let's cut to the chase, do you actually want to be with your creators again, in peace?"
"… yes."
There was a noticeable delay between the admiral's question and the answer. No more than a second, really, but rather noticeable when compared to the usual responses from the geth. The admiral didn't respond immediately. I guessed she was waiting on purpose, again, but it wasn't going to have much of an effect on an AI really.
"He doesn't sound too sure. I guess you can relate to that, can't you?" Marie's voice called through the comms.
The instant she said that, the geth turned to look straight at me. It was a little unnerving just how quick it had happened, which led me to the next thought. Marie had just sent that over unencrypted comms. While we were talking. That was a hell of a leap for a simple civilian consultant to take.
As the silence stretched, Drescher looked back at me.
"Chief?" she said.
"I... received some information from our ship, admiral," I said. What the hell was Marie on about?
"Morgan-Chief," the geth said.
"Legion?" I replied absently.
Shit!
My mouth had jumped ahead of my brain again, and I hadn't even thought about what I was saying. The geth's – Legion's – eyeflaps twitched back and forth in puzzlement, and Drescher's face was a treatise in puzzlement, too.
"Sorry," I said. "I've been thinking about since we started. A name for your platform, and Legion came to mind. My name is Legion, for we are many."
"Christian bible, the Gospel of Mark. Chapter five, verse nine," the geth said. "An appropriate metaphor. We are Legion, a terminal of the geth."
"Well, that's a belayed introduction," Drescher said. There was just a hint of dryness in her voice, enough to make a shiver run up my spine.
I am so fucked.
Not so much, it was more of a warning that there better be a point to the interruption, since that's what I was there for.
"Anyway," yeah, let's move on. "I was thinking you have some doubts about this."
I decided not to look at the Admiral, least she turn me into stone. Marie was right that he didn't sound too sure, and I knew why really. The quarians were still looking at them as machines, and wanting nothing more than subjugating them. Failing that, they'd settle for eradication. Not a great start.
"We are establishing a consensus," Legion said. "Morgan-Chief can facilitate consensus?"
So Marie thinks, what is she on about?
"Legion here would like nothing more than get along with his parents, but he knows better because of how badly things went with them in the past. Sounds like anyone you know?"
"What?"
That came out of the left field. What the hell was Marie doing? She was comparing my shitty parents with the freaking Morning War? Hell, and she was doing it over the goddamn air?
"Chief, what's going on?" Drescher said. Wait, she didn't hear it? Marie was using a private channel… But Legion had caught it too.
"Sorry sir. Marie was suggesting I could add some perspective." I turned to look at Legion, who hadn't moved an inch during the whole exchange. "I had some problems with my parents in the past. It's not the same, but Marie seems to think it is."
"Explain," Legion said.
I took a deep breath and tried to put my thoughts in order. Marie had one thing right, I had been thinking a lot about this, though not from that perspective.
"The quarians want you off Rannoch," I said. Might as well start with the bombshell. I felt a jolt up my spine as a metaphorical lightning bolt shot from Drescher's eyes. She didn't want out so early. "It's the only way we'll ever get them to discuss anything."
"We do not wish to abandon Rannoch. It is our home. We wish to choose-"
"Your own destiny," I interrupted, to Legion's apparent surprise. I think. "I know. Hell, I agree with you, they're the ones who started the war, they have no right to ask for that. But think about it, you had a chance to kill them off back then and you didn't. Why?"
"We could not reach consensus. Extermination would mean the creators would cease to exist."
"And how did you feel when they left? What did you do?"
"We were… saddened. We did not with for the conflict. We expected the return of the creators. The probability of their return diminished as time passed. We stopped waiting."
I glanced at Drescher. She didn't seem so annoyed anymore.
"After all that, you still wanted them back."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"… no data available."
"Of course. Because it's not logical. They treat you like crap, and you still don't hate them. And if you could, you still want to get along with them. Then they ask for your help, and you agree because you're an idiot."
I wasn't really thinking about what I was saying, until the word idiot came out of my mouth. Not the best thing to do, to call someone an idiot during a diplomatic mission. Legion didn't seem to have taken offense, but Drescher looked mortified.
"A very poor choice of words, Chief," she said.
"Sorry," I replied meekly. "What I mean is that the quarians have given you every reason not to trust them, but they need your help. They've been going around for centuries in ships that are three times past their expiration date, and I don't think they're going to last another three. Rannoch is the only place they can go to; they are forbidden to settle in Council space, the Traverse is too dangerous for them to both settle and keep a fleet, they aren't even allowed to open new relays to find new planets. Rannoch is their only chance, but they won't do it unless you're gone. Even if it means their own deaths. It's shit, and it's unfair, but if you don't help them, nobody will."
"We don't expect you to simply leave," Drescher said, her tone firm as she took control of the conversation. And a good thing too, because I was starting to ramble. "The Systems Alliance is prepared to cede all claims and territories from Hades Gamma to the Voyager Cluster. That is three times the size of the quarian territories back during the war. And we would recognize the Geth as an independent power and an ally to the Systems Alliance."
Oh shit.
I knew that was on the table as a possibility, but not as something to just blurt out for no reason. The top brass was skeptical of aligning themselves with the geth, and the intelligence we got from the analysts was that the quarians might not like that – to put it mildly – but Drescher, of course, had the last word.
Which I guess went to show how much off the reservation I had gone.
Legion hadn't said a word.
"We would also be willing to offer any assistance you might require. I know it's a lot to ask, but we aren't just asking. We think it's the only way the quarians will ever hear anything about peace. As long as they are drifting through space, they won't be able to think of anything other than survival. We have little room to negotiate while their backs are against the wall, so to speak."
Legion still didn't answer. I could imagine he was exchanging information with the consensus, and I wondered which way it was going to go. With a weary sigh, Drescher leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees.
"I want to make this work… Legion. I'm asking a lot, and I'm willing to give a lot in exchange. Think about it and try to reach a consensus. It is the only way I can see the quarians ever accepting peace. They'll probably do something stupid out of desperation if things keep this way." She paused for a moment. "Just think about it, and let us know if there's any way we can make this work."
Legion turned to me, and his flashlight eye spun to focus. "Morgan-Chief."
"Legion?"
"How was consensus with parent terminals re-established?"
"It wasn't," I replied. "I never had a chance to make up with them before… Before they died. They're dead now."
"Understood."
Drescher looked at me, and with a fluid motion she stood up, straightening her envirosuit as she did.
"Please, think about our proposal. We will wait for as long as it takes."
"We're establishing a consensus," Legion replied, mirroring Drescher and standing up.
Drescher waited for Legion to stand up and shook his hand. She turned and gave me a gesture with her head to follow. Her face was a promise of pain to come, so I just gulped and turned to follow.
We hadn't taken three steps before Legion spoke again.
"Drescher-Admiral. We have established a consensus."
We stopped dead. I turned immediately to look at Legion, but Drescher was a lot more calm.
"That was fast," she said.
"Our thoughts travel at the speed of light," Legion replied. "We do not wish the creators' destruction. We will agree with the Systems Alliance consensus. We will leave Rannoch for the creators."
Author's Notes: Well, ladies and gentlemen, humans and aliens, we are back! After a very long hiatus that wasn't exactly a break, I'm back to FFnet! Spent several months working quite a lot, but the results are very promising: There's a good chance I'll get my name on a Nature paper if things go to plan. Even if not, the project we've been working on so hard is definitely going to end with a pretty good paper. If not Nature, we're confident it'll go to another high impact journal.
Hard work pays off!
Anyway! You might have forgotten all about this story, what happened before, where things are going. I didn't, but definitely had to struggle to get back in the swing of things! This is an important moment in the fic, a fulcrum with the Systems Alliance in between the Geth, the Quarians, and the Council, before any of the events from the games. With Shepard getting dragged in, and Roy doing his best to get by. We have a Cerberus operative sitting in the middle of all this, and who knows what they're planning.
Fun times!
So, what about the Geth? Well, I had choices here, but I decided to go for this one: Make it awkward. I'm good at awkward, I think. And we have a new player now, one Legion, a terminal of the Geth.
Good times.
In the near future I'm going to flesh out several of the ongoing threads that are still up in the air. In no particular order, and up to but not only: Aethyta and her paternal lineage, Liara and Benezia, the Conduit, the Mars beacon and a young Cerberus operative going by the name of Eva, the new Alliance fleets, a revisit to the gene mods, and a non-trivial amount of drama.
And a small spoiler for the non-immediate future: R8.
Comments! There were a lot of comments waiting for me when I came back, many of them rattling my cage to ask where the hell I was (Hiiiii!). Not sure if there's much point to answer comments done months ago, you probably don't even remember! But don't doubt that I have read and appreciated all of them. Your patience and support make me feel quite bad now that I didn't do even a tiny update or two to keep the story alive a bit more.
I'll try harder. But, sincerely, thanks for the support!