Disclaimer: I do no own Mass Effect, I do not claim to own Mass Effect, I am only doing this for fun.
Author Notes: I apologize for this episode being a month late. I'm having a rough time these days. Going about my day with a mask on is exhausting, and often ends with a headache. That's not conductive for expedience when it comes to this work, it requires much thought and foresight.
Episode 67: Antes
Shepard remained on the beach with Nihlus at her side for another hour, only bothering to move when she realized that she was beginning to grow very sleepy. Still, the moment of downtime had worked wonders on her headache, though she would be hard pressed to say whether it was more due to the sea-side air or the company. By then the sun had risen well above the horizon, and facing it also made staying on the beach uncomfortable.
Upon returning to the Normandy she decided to check in with Javik. She found him in the cargo hold which was to be his sleeping space. The cargo bay's door still opened for her, as if the space had not been given up for a more private use. Shepard made a mental note to ask the engineers to rig up an override to allow Javik to lock the door from the inside should he need to. It was the least they could do to afford him some decency.
Just past the door she cast a quick glance about, taking a status reading. The enlisted had done their best to shift things around, to release as much floor space as possible. They stacked the crates as high as they could fit and secured the upper courses with straps and netting, to prevent collapse. Someone apparently had quite a bit of foresight, as they had shifted some boxes to form a sort of half-wall past which only the bottom end of the sleeping cot was visible from the doorway. They had also provided the space with some temporary folding furniture. Though right then the only things on the desk proxy was his new personal terminal. Javik's helmet and rifle were nowhere to be seen, Shepard hoped they were in one of the lockers in the shuttle bay armory. Without a doubt the space felt ad-hock, and Shepard made a mental note to do something about it, it definitely require additional furniture and some more shifting and moving about.
"Commander," Javik greeted blandly as he emerged from the alcove, still in full armor.
"Is everything alright here?" She asked as she leaned back on the wall next to the door.
"It is acceptable."
Shepard supposed that would be the best she would get from him right then. "Alright… is there anything you want added?" The question sounded lame even to her own ears. Try as she might to appear calm and casual the act of entering his presence still caused her guard to start going up. This was hardly getting off on the right foot, but she could not help it. It would probably take a while for her to be entirely at ease around his unique ability to read her like an open book. While she would not hold his nature against him, she could not just turn off her internal alarms either. The best she could do was at least try to make his stay on the Normandy more than merely acceptable.
"Your hesitance does not flatter you," Javik stated bluntly. "You should never appear hesitant in front of those who serve you. Hesitation is a sign of uncertainty and thus weakness."
Shepard raised an eyebrow as she met his gaze. That was not the first time she had gotten similar advice, so it did not broach responding. Still, he gave her such advice, which was interesting on its own. "You included? You will take my orders?"
Javik stared back into her eyes without blinking or shifting around, "Our goals align and this is your ship. It would be prudent of me to show some deference, no?"
Shepard had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. The words were true enough, but his tone was still more condescending than duly respectful. All the same, he was right, walking on eggshells around him would not get her what she wanted. "Deference is hardly the word I would use for your manner of speech there, but I will set that aside."
Javik's mouth twitched ever so slightly, as if he was biting back a grin.
"There are a number of things we must discuss before we can do anything important, or constructive." Shepard went on, before he could articulate an actual reply.
Javik made a sound in the back of his throat, but his expression returned to neutrality. "Well you will be happy to know that I was provided with a basic… omni-tool. Is that the right name? A universal translator was included."
Shepard hummed and nodded, "That is one item off my list. But not the most important item. To be blunt Javik, you have no legal standing in the present order of things. By that I mean you have no recognized identity, no birth record, no passport, no bank account… no record of any sort. It is a very… awkward position when it comes to negotiating our cooperation agreements." Mostly for her, and he would probably pick up on that, but she would not be caught saying that much out loud.
"I fail to see why I need any of that," Javik replied as he turned to approach his desk, sounding quite bored now.
Shepard pushed off the wall, setting her hands on her hips. "You need them because without them you will give the bureaucrats a headache that they'll happily pass back on to you at every opportunity. I mean that. Whoever does not tick the boxes, will be made to tick them." She paused for a long second to gather her thoughts. "Beyond that, as much as I hate the system, it's there for a reason. As of right now, you are not a person in the eyes of the law. I cannot put a contract in front of you, I can't even pay you without somewhere to deposit it."
"I see," he murmured.
"That said," Shepard leaned back on the wall. "I'm not a legal counsel, so I can't tell you what to do. But I can tell you what I think will happen. I suspect that if you were to claim asylum with any of the galactic powers, you would not be refused. You can declare your identity and the documents will be generated in the right formats. Once that is done, we can get you the missing accounts. Recognized refugee status is better than no status at all."
"And you do not suggest I seek asylum with your… Alliance?" Javik asked as he turned around.
Shepard shook her head, "No." She would never automatically make such an assumption, no matter how much easier that might make her life, or how much others would want her to do it.
Javik stared at her, eyes boring into her soul. Shepard felt her skin begin to crawl, but pushed that feeling to the back of her mind. "Give it some thought, do some research. If you need help, just ask."
"Understood," he replied.
Shepard shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Now there are a couple other things I need to say about the standard operating routines aboard the Normandy. I assume your new omni-tool is synched to Terran Coordinated Time already, which is what we use on board. This is a military ship, so meal times are defined. If you have special dietary concerns, such as health issues or restrictions due to cultural or spiritual practices, let me know, and I will do my best to accommodate them. Then, until I add you to the payroll, you're off the official shifts, so you don't have an as-is duty expectation, but I request that you keep this space tidy." That was a canned speech, but she was required to deliver it.
Javik's stare never wavered throughout, in fact, it got even more severe. "Understood, but I know that those are not the things you really wish to discuss."
Shepard raised an eyebrow, why was he pushing her like this? What was his endgame? Was it a test of some kind? Or was he merely pressing his sense of superiority? "True, but we're not going anywhere for a while… and I choose to prioritize. You're getting the same briefing I've given every outside contractor I've ever hired first." That was not even a total lie, but also a stall tactic. Damn him and that extra ability. She was fully aware of just where the gulf between them lay. For all her intuition and honed ability to read people, Javik simply knew everything.
"I would rather get it out of the way now."
"I tried to be understanding," Shepard muttered. How was she going to explain something as basic as privacy? Worrying about whether someone was peeking into their thoughts was not an issue for most people. There was no protocol for this sort of discussion. "To be blunt, we have to discuss privacy. Your psychometry is unique, no other sapient species can do what you can. I wouldn't dare ask you not to use what is basically… an extra sense. I realize that it is as natural to you as vision and hearing is for the rest of us. But you need to recognize that whatever you pick up, should not become common knowledge." They already had a very active rumor mill without him throwing fuel on the fire.
"I have little interest in the affairs of those aboard this ship," Javik replied, sounding both condescending and incredibly bored at the same time. "I am here only to find my people."
Shepard hated the fact that she would have to take him at his word. Every instinct in her body told her not to. "As callous as this will sound, if any number of Protheans had survived... they would've come out of isolation by now. Apocalyptic loss of technology or not, it's been fifty thousand years." It was salting the wound, but fundamentally Shepard could not see a reason for them to have stayed in isolation. They would have had a living memory of their once-glorious empire. No species would just surrender that. Protheans perhaps least of all, if her understanding of them was at all correct.
Javik's expression shifted into a very ugly sneer as he made a sound in the back of his throat that was entirely unbecoming of a sapient being.
Shepard chose to ignore it, she could not blame him for that reaction. "As much as I wish it was otherwise, I'm realistic about the odds. Factor in that someone meddled with your Ark's AI. I should quantify by saying that they knew about your Ark. They could very well have known about the others. If they messed with one, it stands to reason they would meddle with them as well." Shepard watched as Javik's expression darkened with every word out of her mouth.
"Perhaps you are right, but we cannot know for sure," he replied, the rasp of anger seeping into his tone.
Shepard would allow him to maintain the hope. "That I will not dispute. No point in doing so. There is something I wanted to ask instead." A topic change would do them good right then, "Our understanding of what caused the Prothean Empire to collapse is incomplete. I would like… to fill in some blanks. Specifically, I know about the toxin and how it works, but not who made it. I assume that the ones who created it are also the ones who messed with your AIs."
Javik glared at her for a long moment, clearly accusatory.
Shepard opened her mouth to back-pedal, had she been too blunt?
However, before any sound could escape her mouth, the prothean growled. "They called themselves the Oravores. They a- no, clearly were… a fanatically xenophobic species who deemed themselves superior to everyone."
Shepard blinked. There had to be irony in there somewhere, but she would not linger on that. What was more important was the fact that she had never heard of that species before. It could be because she was not an academic by any stretch of the imagination, but her instinct told her that she was not the only one lost in the woods. She would not know until she could ask Liara. Come to think of it, she should not have asked that question without Liara present to begin with. "They weren't the only who thought they were somehow superior." Perhaps that was a low blow, but at the very least it was not an empty accusation.
Javik inclined his head, still keeping his ochre gaze locked on her. "Their conceit and arrogance was such that they thought they were the only truly intelligent species in the galaxy, and thus entitled to take whatever they wished. Our rulers tolerated them while they were merely strip-mining uninhabited planets. But when they decided they wanted Thessia's abundant supplies of element zero, we intervened. They responded with a declaration of war."
Shepard crossed her arms and hummed. That was the first time she heard of this. One would think that the Asari would have something of that in their cultural memory. Fifty thousand years was less time for a species whose individuals lived to be a thousand. It was much longer for humans, but even then the academics had some idea about life during the Stone Age. Then there was the physical evidence. Surely strip-mining would leave behind pits, artificial caves, or some other marks. Erosion could not efface those traces in a scant fifty thousand years.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I can see why they would mess with the AIs then." That was to say the least. The toxin would have worked in the population centers, but high-security facilities like the arks needed access on the inside. Going after the AI made sense. Alter its code correctly and issue it with the right orders and it would follow the instructions without hesitance. In that sense, synthetics were more vulnerable than the chaotic unpredictability of an organic who always maintained the capacity of having second thoughts. "Liara will definitely want to know about this." Heck, all of academia would want to know about this.
"The Asari does not need to know anything," Javik growled. "I only told you because it will help the mission."
Shepard rolled her eyes, "I respect your desire to avoid talking about it, but… I'm afraid it's unavoidable. I won't keep this from my crew because they deserve to know what they're up against, and beyond that it's my duty to report such things to the Council."
Javik's lips curled again, but he said nothing for a long moment.
Shepard almost started thinking he would let things slide.
Then his eyes focused on her with renewed ferocity. "This Council of yours will not help, and you know it. I also know that you are selective in your… reports to them. This would be the time to be selective, Commander."
"How have I been selective?" Shepard repeated, though she had a sinking feeling that she knew what he was talking about.
"I am aware of the EDI machine," he stated bluntly, unamused, his stare boring into her soul. "I am aware that your Council does not know about it. While I do not owe them any mention of it, I will ask you… what is preventing it being used against you?"
Shepard had been right. He had learned about EDI already, and he threw her hypocrisy right back in her face. Not that she did not deserve it. She opened her mouth to respond, but there was a scratch from overhead, she clamped her jaw shut, knowing full well what was coming.
"I assure you, I am loyal to the Commander and this crew," EDI stepped in, sounding very much affronted. Then after a pause, she went on, "My apologies, Commander. But by his own admission, he is aware of me, so it is no longer necessary for me to remain quiet." This time much calmer. "I want to defend myself from this baseless accusation."
"You don't need to explain yourself, EDI," Shepard said. EDI really did not need to state the obvious to her, nor explain herself to Javik. Her loyalty was not on trial here. There was nothing Javik could say that would make Shepard doubt EDI. While she had hoped to keep EDI a secret until she could get Javik to sign a binding secrecy agreement, it was merely a matter of maintaining basic on-board security. It was not like Javik was getting any different treatment from anyone else.
"Thank you. But I feel I need to make my loyalties clear."
"I will not stop you," Shepard replied.
There was a moment of silence during which Javik cast his gaze over the ceiling. Shepard knew he was looking for EDI's cameras.
EDI made a show of clearing her metaphorical throat, affecting all-too-human nonchalance, "Furthermore, I had a discussion on the matter with Legion. In the interest of maintaining the optimal readiness of my defensive systems, I requested the log documents pertaining to the intrusion attempt made against them. Legion was forthright in providing me with the data, and I am currently analyzing it. I will devise protocols to counter such intrusion attempts. I plan to relay these protocols to Legion as well. They will never be controlled in such a manner again."
Shepard allowed herself to smile broadly, though she bit down her urge to laugh. EDI was already mad that another of their kind had attempted to control Legion, but Javik had really irritated her with his accusations. Not that Shepard would blame EDI. The attempt could be understood as some violation against their forms, such as they were. Furthermore, EDI was unmistakably proud of her work and she had the work ethics to match. "There's your answer, Javik. No one likes to be controlled like a sock puppet. Also, I don't view synthetics as inherently inferior because they were created. You can't convince me otherwise. I've now met three synthetics who turned out pathological, but they are no more representative of their kind than one individual of any species can represent their whole species."
"I see," Javik replied.
His tone betrayed nothing, but Shepard chose to take it as a good sign. "Now I think we covered the most important things. I don't want to over-burden you with too much food for thought, I'll let you mull over it in peace." With that said, Shepard stuck her arm out in the range of the door sensor.
"As you wish," Javik replied, sounding less than impressed.
Shepard spared him a bland look and breezed out of the cargo hold. It was admittedly a retreat for her. She was still tired, and this had been more than she bargained for. Tomorrow was going to be plenty annoying even without her headache returning with a vengeance.
The Next Morning, in the XO's Cabin…
Nihlus jerked awake all at once, years of military training preventing any sleep inertia from stalling him. Still, he lay there for a long second, wondering what exactly had woken him. Then his terminal chimed, in a pattern he had designated for priority calls, and Nihlus all but leapt out of bed. There was only one individual who would call him on that channel right then. He was at his desk in less than three seconds and tapped the key to connect voice-only. "Councilor Sparatus, sorry to keep you waiting." It was a perfunctory greeting, hardly the truth, as after the previous day Nihlus would have loved to indulge in the rare luxury of sleeping in.
"Are you in a secure location?" Sparatus asked.
There was no casual greeting, no token cordiality, something was going on. "Yes, sir."
"I just finished reading over your preliminary report regarding Shepard's… discoveries on Eden Prime," Sparatus went on without a preamble.
Nihlus had sent it in the evening according to the Citadel's time, just a token two-page outline, summing up the events without going too deep into detail. Just to keep the Council apprised and save Shepard the energy outlay after she had almost fallen asleep in his arms as they sat on the beach. "I was going to submit the final copy as soon as I finished it."
"That is fine. When is the Normandy expected to return to the Citadel?"
"I cannot be certain, but I would say in the next couple of days. Shepard is occupied coordinating things with the Alliance. By my understanding, Alliance Colonial Affairs are putting together an archeological team for Eden Prime, but it will be a few days before they get here. Doctor T'Soni has agreed to join them." All that had been at the end of his report, and Nihlus hated repeating himself.
"Good." Sparatus paused.
Nihlus tried not to tap his claws on the desk. He had better sense than to let Sparatus hear proof of his impatience. The only noise in the room was the faint background crackle caused by the signal degradation due to the decryption algorithms working on the signal in real-time.
Sparatus sighed, though the exhale was the only sound that his microphone picked up. "I suppose there is no way to avoid the matter. I am surprised that Shepard's first attempt actually succeeded."
"Shepard had a first-hand source of information for the location." Nihlus replied, allowing himself to smile. "Respectfully, Councilor, where is this going?" He knew that Sparatus would have liked Shepard to fail, there was no need for idle small-talk like this.
Sparatus remained quiet for a long moment, the comm link continuing to crackle and snap. Then the microphone caught the sound of the Councilor's chair creaking. "To the matter at hand then. You mentioned that Shepard has… information on two more such facilities."
"Indeed," Nihlus replied. "Javik, the survivor from the Eden Prime facility, has all but confirmed the existence of multiple colonies and he is keen on finding them."
Sparatus sighed, the sound coming across very low, as if he had leaned away from the microphone. "Spirits… none of us expected Shepard to find another one-"
Nihlus stilled, glad that this was a voice-only connection. The fact that Sparatus did not expect Shepard to find anything hardly required any profound thought to understand. But to say another one? Another one what exactly?
"Kryik, I am ordering you ascertain the locations where Shepard suspects the other arks are." Sparatus went on, suddenly sounding much clearer. "If she mentions the Hoc system of the Sentry Omega cluster, then you are to ensure that the Normandy returns to the Citadel before you pursue that lead."
Nihlus stared at his terminal, hardly able to believe what he had just heard. Sparatus had an actual location? Hoc, in the Sentry Omega cluster? The only thing he could recall about the place right then was that it was out in the Terminus, which fit with what he knew of the other two arks. However that was not much to go on. "I will ask her, it should not be a problem for us," It was an automatic reply with his best affected nonchalance. He would tell Shepard about these orders, and the manner in which they were delivered, and see what she thought of them.
"Good. That is all I wanted," Sparatus sounded calmer now. The link clicked a moment later, connection severed.
As Nihlus stood there, staring at his terminal's screen without seeing, a thought occurred to him. Not only was Sparatus begrudgingly interested in something Shepard was doing, but there had to be something in the Hoc system. Sparatus would not have mentioned the location when talking about the arks without a reason. The more Nihlus thought of it, the more certain he became that there had to be an ark in the Hoc system. The Council knew of their existence, and that could only be the case if another Spectre had found one before Shepard.
Then came another realization. This had to be part of the reason why the Council agreed to make Shepard a Spectre in the first place! They decided it was better to have her under their nominal control than no control whatsoever. This way the information would not go solely to the Alliance, who would gladly keep it to themselves. Shepard thought she had baited the Council, but in fact, they had played her. Sparatus would have realized that Shepard would figure them out, and it would be unlikely that she would let it go entirely. As for why he was getting the call? Sparatus likely expected him to do something to stop Shepard. Unfortunately for Sparatus, Nihlus would do no such thing, not when he could stand back and enjoy the show. Shepard would likely deal with Sparatus the same way as she dealt with Saren on Noveria, and he would deserve it.
Thinking on the matter caused a very uncomfortable feeling to settle in Nihlus' gullet. Suddenly he had a grim suspicion about the identity of the Spectre who had found the first ark, if indeed there was an ark on Hoc. He reached down to his terminal's keyboard and brought up his star charts. The application quickly displayed that there was only one garden-class planet in the system, Virmire. A planet often called a tropical paradise waiting to be exploited. It had been on everyone's radars for decades, though no one was able to pay the set-up costs. The last attempt made caused massive investment bankruptcies. Aside from the opportunists and gougers of every sort, who would charge double if not triple rates for all supplies necessary for such a venture, there was no way to guarantee the settlement's basic safety.
As for Saren, Nihlus knew he must have found Nazara before twenty-one-seventy-five. Nazara had been lurking in every shadow aboard the Impera when Nihlus had become Saren's trainee. Had it come from Virmire? From an ark? Saren had used Virmire as a temporary berth for the Impera after some particularly well-equipped slavers had managed to damage the vessel. He knew all about the smattering of half-built facilities on the planet's surface, remnants of past utilization efforts.
It would be all too like Saren to find the ark and report it, but omit the AI. Especially if he thought he could get more Prothean tech out of it. After that, the Council would have ordered him to remain quiet, and he would have done so. If Nihlus thought of it like than then it even explained why Saren had been quiet ever since Nazara had absconded with the Impera. Saren would know that there was a possibility of his lies being revealed, and by Shepard of all people.
If Nihlus was right, then Sparatus would readily put Saren in charge of the ark search. He would think he was putting his trusted senior agent in charge, and keeping Shepard from doing as she pleased. Saren would get perverse pleasure from overruling Shepard and manipulating Sparatus. Shepard would figure it all out in good speed, and then she was going to be absolutely livid.
Nihlus put his terminal back into standby and turned toward his bed. He would not be able to go back to sleep with his thoughts racing like this, but it was still a little too early to be up and about. He needed to think, as the uncomfortable feeling in his gullet had not abated. To make matters worse, Sparatus wanted him to be the bearer of bad news to Shepard. Just when he thought that Shepard's stress might begin to ease, Sparatus found a way to add a fresh load. He felt a very visceral surge of resentment. Shepard was barely keeping herself together, she did not need this sort of complication, especially if Saren up and decided to compound on it.
Hours Later in the OD…
Shepard spent half of her next day locked up in the OD, working on the longest, most detailed report she had ever written. She had started shortly after breakfast and powered right through lunch without even noticing the passage of time. Some sections proved notoriously difficult, necessitating her to consider exactly what she wanted to put on record. However, it was eventually finished and given to EDI for transmission to Admiral Hackett.
After that, she turned to other logistical matters at hand. At the top of her routine work pile was a report from Doctor Chakwas regarding the status of their new crewmember. Due to patient-doctor confidentiality Chakwas could not go into details on Javik's physical health, but it seemed like he had weathered his fifty thousand year stasis well and was generally healthy. However this was based on physical observation and a lot of guesswork, as the doctor did not have a baseline on Prothean physiology to make a formal comparison.
This segued into the second half of the report. Chakwas requested a copy of the Ark's medical and life support databases, including the data from Javik's damaged pod. All that should allow her to extrapolate a generalized baseline for Protheans, enabling her to treat Javik, should the need arise. A second point of concern was information pertaining to how the Protheans dealt with Kryptin-8, for comparison with Zev Cohen's neutralizing agent. They needed a cure that was confirmed to work, just in case Javik was ever accidentally exposed. Finally, she would not clear Javik for any sort of active duty without those things. The only thing Shepard could do was add those considerations to her mental list, to be mentioned to Liara at her earliest convenience.
Thus it was late afternoon, just a little before dinner time, when Shepard finally emerged from the OD and ventured down to deck three to have a meal. While not typically prone to becoming moody due to hunger, this marathon paperwork session had taxed even her patience. Too much hard work and no breaks could make even her a less than happy camper.
The atmosphere in the mess area was casual to say the least. When asked about the empty tables around what should have been the busiest meal aboard, Matthews explained that a few of the enlisted had set up an eating area on the beach just down the Normandy's shuttle bay ramp, in the shadow of the overhanging hull. Apparently the temporary expansion to the mess hall had proven to be very popular, to the point that most of the crew were down there at present.
Shepard decided to let them have that pleasure for themselves and after getting her meal, she eased down at the officer's table across from Liara. The archeologist was so engrossed in the contents of her datapad, idly rolling a fork in her pasta, that she did not notice Shepard's arrival until she had set down her tray.
It was the sound of the tray touching table that caused the asari to look up. "Commander! I'm sorry I was lost in my reading," she trailed off.
"It has to be something fascinating, I think."
Liara smiled sheepishly, but set both the datapad and her fork down, "Yes, sorry about that."
"I get it, sometimes things just… grab us and don't let go. Also, I should say I am a cloak-user. Cloaks only work on the eyes, I've cultivated a very light thread to go with it."
Liara chuckled, "Of course. Alright, what can I do for you?"
Shepard glanced at her pasta, but did not linger long. "Liara I need you to do something for me. It's nothing dangerous. Doctor Chakwas told me that we do not have a baseline on Prothean physiology. I need you to ensure that the top priority of your work is the Ark's medical records. Doctor Chakwas needs that data, and I don't care who you have to irritate. I give you license to boss them around, and if anyone protests… just mention that this was an order from Spectre Shepard. That will shut the argument down."
"I'll see to it that it's done," Liara replied as she picked up her own fork. "But I have to be honest, I don't think I'll get used to having a Spectre for a… colleague."
Shepard chuckled, "I'd say we're more than colleagues. We're friends." She genuinely meant that. Liara may have been a civilian, but she was hardly a shrinking violet. Anyone who would call her out on her machinations, to her face, and despite her status, had a more-than-respectable amount of metaphorical balls for Shepard to take notice and respect.
Liara smiled broadly. "Friends it is. Anything else?"
Shepard grinned, Liara's instincts were sharp like the blade of a sword. "There is one other thing that you need make sure that I get. I need you to check the system for the manner in which the Protheans handled Kryptin-8. They must have devised some countermeasure. I can't rule out the possibility of coming in contact with it, and it would be irresponsible to have no counter-measure. That stuff is deadly to Protheans. I have some information on a potential neutralizing agent, but it was never tested on an actual Prothean. Suffice to say no one wants to find out it doesn't work at the worst time imaginable." Tasking Liara to go back to the sources was the only realistic option. Shepard could not go looking for Zev Cohen to continue his work. Add to that, there was no way to test his formulas without running the risk of dire consequences. That and her paranoia demanded that she stay away from everything and everyone who had worked at Peak Fifteen, for no other reason than the mere implication of possible Cerberus connections.
"Definitely," Liara replied, "I will make sure that you get that information as soon as possible."
"Great, thank you." Shepard replied. With that feeling like a natural lull in the conversation, Shepard turned to her food. The smell of the garlic-and-herb tomato sauce had only amplified her hunger. Suddenly she was famished and liable to inhale the whole plate, if she would allow herself to do so.
Liara also went back to her food, and for a few minutes there was only silence as they both ate in peace.
With half of Liara's pasta gone about five minutes later, the archeologist set down her fork down. "Commander, if I may make a request… I need to be at Blackrock tomorrow, to settle in town."
Shepard looked up and grinned, "Can do. We don't have a wheeled vehicle, but the Kodiaks can fly on VI, though if you would prefer, I could ask-"
Liara straightened and threw up her hands as if warding off an attack. "Oh no! A VI flight will be fine. I wouldn't want to bother Spectre Kryik. I am sure he is busy."
Shepard hummed, "If that is what you wish." Who was she to argue? The VI could easily be programmed to land in some parking lot with a minimal risk of starting a fire. However that was not the thought that seized Shepard's attention right then. She twisted her fork in her pasta and then absently raised the clump to her mouth.
Now that she thought about it, she realized she had not seen Nihlus all day. Which was perhaps a bit unusual given that he loved to lounge on the couch under the OD's viewports. He was likely doing something, and right then she struggled to figure out whether Nihlus being away was good or bad. That said, if whatever he was doing had been urgent, he would have announced it by now, though the lack of urgency did not exclude the high likelihood of unpleasant surprises. It would be just the way the universe rolled.
"I admit, I'm very- I would've loved to remain on the Normandy." Liara announced after what felt like another good minute of silence.
Shepard snapped out of her thoughts with a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth.
Liara was not even looking at her, she was focused on her own plate. "You have to understand, Commander. He's the last living Prothean. The things we could learn! The historian in me is eager to work with him."
Shepard set her fork down, how was she to explain things to Liara without hurting her feelings? Fact was, Shepard highly doubted that Javik would enjoy playing a million questions with Liara. He seemed to have a very short patience fuse and an even shorter temper. He thought himself superior to everyone there, and the only reason he tolerated things was likely because he literally had no other choice. Liara would not be able to box him into a corner as easily, and he would likely resent the attempt. That was hardly the sort of attitude conductive to the sort of work Liara would want to carry out. "I understand, and I don't blame you for being enthusiastic about this. But I think that Javik needs time to acclimate to the massive changes in his life first." Liara would probably misunderstand exactly what Javik needed to acclimate to, but Shepard had not lied.
"Ye-yes… you're right of course," Liara sounded abashed right then. "The only reason I've not asked is… you are a Spectre. If what Spectre Kryik said about your job is true-"
"He tends to be melodramatic for effect, but he never outright lies," Shepard stated and then resumed eating.
Liara smiled wanly, but the expression disappeared quickly. "I want to think that I am powerful, but I have to be truthful. I've never… taken a life before. I'm not eager to start."
Shepard nodded, "Good. That is not something anyone should be eager to start." She paused there. "I realize there is irony and maybe some hypocrisy in me saying that, but I like to think that it's because I've been there that I can say it."
"No, I think it makes some sense." Liara shook her head. "It is only a problem if you were looking forward to the whole thing from the start."
Shepard inclined her head in a silent acquiescent nod. "Got me there, Doctor. The only thing I planned, when I joined the Alliance, is to serve in the fleet, become an officer… you've not met my mother, but she's the captain of the Fifth Fleet's flagship, the Kilimanjaro. She is a veteran of the First Contact War. She fired the shot that turned the tide of the battle to break the blockade of Shanxi. I was going to follow the family tradition. As much as being the second generation officer can be considered following a family tradition."
"If you say it is a tradition, then it is," Liara finished, smiling all the while. "Seems to me that you fulfilled it admirably. All the Shepards have an affinity for guns. I would say the bigger, the better. I imagine the Skyllian Blitz altered the details of your plan, but the essence remained the same."
Shepard blinked, Liara had summed things up in a way that really had not occurred to her previously. "You're right, it did alter the plan. But… that's just the nature of planning? This brings to mind a certain pearl of wisdom from then general Eisenhower, who famously said that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable. And it's true! Becoming the most decorated sniper in the Alliance was unplanned. My superior officer at the time recognized a certain aptitude and decided to train me. At the time it was one more developed skill. The situation on Elysium necessitated I employ those skills, and the rest, as you know, is history." Shepard honestly wondered why she was talking about this so openly. It was probably down to Liara being a historian, someone who would want to record, but not contribute. She listened in an objectively detached manner, without judgment of any sort.
"Yes, I've read a recently-published account of that night. I believe the author was an infantryman from your unit."
That caused Shepard to freeze in her seat out of genuine surprise. Who could it have been? She made a mental note to look it up, time permitting. She doubted anyone from her old unit would dare speak a single ill word about Arthur or her, but her curiosity had been piqued. Shepard knew that it was not the first such account. Pretty early on there was an episode made for a television series where important battles were dramatized with computer generated graphics and testimony from civilians that made everything sound more Hollywood than reality. Whatever Liara had read, might just be the only recounting from a witness who had not been absolutely terrified out of their mind at the time, only to later muddle the details in the unconscious effort of psychological self-preservation.
"He talked about the hours in that ski lodge. About what the unit had to do to ensure the civilians remain safe… about the improvised barricading and bulletproofing out of furniture, how they ran the lodge's heating to the maximum to make infrared scanners useless… it's a harrowing narrative." Liara went on, her voice rising with fascination, only to dip as she finished.
Shepard listened with one ear, she had known about much of that. Still, she wondered, why now? Why talk about it after so many years? Was it merely a matter of enough time and emotional distance allowing them to talk about it? That night had been a very literal, very visceral nightmare for everyone in that lodge. Even trained soldiers could succumb to the pressures if they had to spend hours with a bunch of near-panicked civilians all the while aware that if the enemy broke through, their odds would not be very good. Shepard knew that Arthur made a fully informed decision that night. He knew that if they let the slavers enter the lodge, they would have free reign to abduct, kill, and use the vacationers as living shields. Arthur made the choice to go onto the crags because only from there would they have the best chance of reducing enemy numbers.
The others were under no delusion either. It was a highly dangerous call to make, and it proved to be the death of Arthur before the night was through. Shepard knew that despite the falling snow and the wind whistling amidst the peaks, the others still heard some of the sniper cracks echo in the valley. They may have even heard the shot that mortally wounded Arthur. They realized that one of them had been picked off. It was hard to miss one of the two sniper rifles going silent when their cracks echoed differently due to distances and angles. One of them had risked his life to sit alone in a pitch-black room by an ajar window with infrared binoculars, listening for her shots still cracking in the night.
Shepard could still remember the urgent radio calls after an hour elapsed since her last shot. When the snow had stopped and the first morning light sweeping over the valley revealed the sheer number of half-buried bodies amidst pools of frozen blood marring the glimmering, freshly-fallen powder on the access road leading to the lodge. That night had touched every single one of them, though only Shepard had walked away with a pithy title she did not care for, and a medal that should not have been hers.
"Commander!" Liara exclaimed.
The sound of Liara's voice, louder than strictly necessary, snapped Shepard from her thoughts and caused her to look up from her pasta. Sometime in there she had turned to staring at her food without noticing it, as if in a trance.
Liara was half out of her seat, her expression announcing how worried she was for all to see. "By the Goddess." The archeologist reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Shepard's clenched fist next to her plate. "I am so sorry. I did not mean to stir up memories."
Shepard pulled her hand back and intentionally set it on the table flat. She had to force herself to breathe deeply, mentally cursing for lapsing like that. Then, after a few seconds, she shook her head, "Sorry, Doctor… I was just… trying to figure out who it might have been. That bunch… none of them were exactly the authorial types." That was not a total lie, just the surface thought. Liara did not need to see the rest of the iceberg.
Shepard watched as Liara sat down, but her mouth was still set into a thin frown, as if she knew that she was being fed a feeble-at-best excuse. It was likely that the archeologist chose not to call her out on that. Shepard would take whatever she could get, and before the creeping guilt could show on her face, she opted to look around the mess hall. She readily caught Matthews turn to the dishwasher, his movement was far too quick to be a matter of regular business. The chef had been alerted and aware of what had happened. She could live with that, because Matthews had lived through something unpleasant himself. He would know that she would not want to make a mountain out of this mole hill. The big relief was that Doctor Chakwas was not there to witness this. Shepard did not need the doctor thinking she had a screw loose again, or rather, that she might have had it all along. Now was not the time for loose screws. This was only a minor lapse, a tiny slip up that she could deal with on her own.
Shepard sighed, setting her determination to the task of simply forgetting. "It's the stress, Doctor T'Soni. Nothing more. I've not had a decent bit of downtime in weeks." There was never enough rest for the exceptionally weary.
"You do not need to justify anything, I understand," Liara replied. "I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I sometimes forget that people are not books. Being over-eager with people tends to have… adverse effects." A note of sheepishness crept into her tone toward the end.
Shepard smiled, and the expression was not merely a token effort to assuage the archeologist's guilt. Liara clearly felt every bit guilty for bringing up those memories, though Shepard would never blame her. It could not be helped if her mind decided to act the fool right then. Stress was an added factor in it all.
Before she could say another word Matthews appeared in her peripheral vision as he approached the table, carrying a steaming mug. Shepard raised an eyebrow, but he shook his head and wordlessly set the cup down in front of her. Shepard glanced down and was surprised to see it full of steaming hot chocolate. She glanced at the cook, only to see him smile, turn, and go back to his work. Shepard wrapped her fingers around the cup and smiled. This was another time to be thankful to the universe for their cook in his infinite patience and bottomless kindness.
Meanwhile, on Minuteman Station…
Charles Siever entered the darkened communication room and stepped into the center of the holographic imaging rig. After a moment he tapped at the console to connect him to headquarters at Cronos Station and stuck his left hand in to the pocket of his slacks. The communication equipment began to hum as the pedestal retreated into the floor and a ring rose over his head, scanning his form as it went. There was a series of loud clicks as the transmission initiated.
Then all at once he was facing the upper half-sphere of a roiling red star, close enough to see the flares and prominences on its surface. It illuminated a large, almost empty room. The only light in the room, aside from the star's red glow, was the pinprick of orange on the tip of the smoldering cigarette held between two fingers of the man seated in the armed chair at the center.
"Mister Siever," The Illusive Man stated.
"Sir," Charles replied calmly, keeping perfectly still. "I requested a meeting to discuss some concerns I have in person." Sure this was hardly seeing someone in person, it was calling on the most expensive video phone system in existence, but it was still better than nothing. The Illusive Man was as well-connected and well-funded as he was plainly paranoid. If anyone else was to use such an expensive QEC system, it would have been assumed they had a penchant for the dramatic, but Charles knew better, this was all about security. Few were privileged enough to know the physical location of Cronos Station, the Illusive Man's headquarters. As far as the galaxy was concerned, Cronos Station did not exist at all.
The Illusive Man reached to tap at the console set into the arm of his chair, which brought up a pair of projected screens in front of him. He stared at the text displayed on one of them for a long moment, but then turned back toward the camera. "I received your report on the progress of Project Cadmus, and your recommendation for additional field-tests before deploying the Spartoi fully. What you were less than clear on was why you want those tests conducted."
"I'm afraid that I had to be vague, I have my reasons to doubt that Banes is being entirely honest with us," and it went without saying that he did not want Banes catching wind of this. "Banes insists it isn't possible, but recent events with our asset on the Citadel give me a reason to suspect that he's at best overestimating his abilities, or at worst, underestimating the dangers of such behavior. As I've mentioned in a previous report, Jezebel fled as soon as she realized whom she was framing. She realized she was expendable and acted accordingly. Cerberus cannot afford the security risks such independent actions would pose should some Spartoi come to the same realization. I wish to test whether the Spartoi can develop such problematic thinking patterns before we risk deploying them in sensitive matters."
"You raise a very valid concern. Very well." The Illusive Man tapped at the console again, "I authorize you to deploy the Spartoi as support for our field teams. That should be more than enough to test whether they develop any undesirable tendencies."
Charles bit back the urge to grimace. Playing bodyguards to a bunch of field operatives who rarely saw a firefight was hardly the correct environment for a stress test. He needed something that would involve some actual combat. Stress was the unknown factor here. All the drugs in the universe could not replicate the exact cocktail of chemicals the human body released when the fight or flight mechanisms fully activated. Banes was a civilian, a laboratory rat through and through, he would did not understand that point fully. "With all due respect sir, bodyguard duties are not exactly what I had in mind when I made that request."
"What I have in mind is not a standard bodyguard assignment." The Illusive Man shifted in his seat, "Recently, some research teams out in the Terminus encountered an increasing number of Geth. Those machines are proving problematic for the hired mercenaries. Their loyalty has been found… wanting, when faced with such an enemy."
Charles straightened as if electrocuted. Geth? That certainly sounded more promising that dealing with pea-brained opportunistic slavers and petty criminals looking for an easy score.
"My sources within the Alliance have given me a reason to suspect that these attacks were perpetrated by the same Geth splinter faction that Shepard encountered on Eden Prime and Solcrum." The Illusive Man slipped his cigarette into his mouth and took a slow pull, its tip flaring brilliantly for a brief moment.
"Shepard," Charles growled the name, unable to help himself. "I am getting rather tired of hearing that name." Truly, she had her fingers in way too many pies as of late. The Alliance had even allowed her to negotiate with the Hierarchy! The woman was getting too big for her britches.
"She has her uses," The Illusive Man replied. "She does not know this, but her information contribution to our cause has been… substantial. Were it not for her misplaced idealism and naiveté, she could have been a real asset to Cerberus."
Charles tried not to glare into the camera. He did not need his boss knowing how much he hated the very idea of working in the same organization with Shepard, let alone with her personally. He would never forgive her for using his brother and then forgetting what happened. "Idealism and naiveté are not the terms I would use for her… proclivities."
The Illusive Man crossed set his hands in his lap. "On the contrary. While her belief in the usefulness and benefits of cooperation with the Council is exactly that… idealism and naiveté, even that idea has its uses. It is a convenient cloak to go with the dagger."
Charles had to concede that point. The Council was too used to monolithic policy. The Hierarchy was notorious for presenting a single, united front and point of view. Even the Asari Republics tended to deal with the galactic community as a single entity. Someone needed to represent the Alliance for the time being, so the Council would never see the dagger Cerberus had in their off-hand. "I still wish it was anyone but her."
"Perhaps, but you understand that even without being an operative on my payroll, she has her uses. She is privy to much, and although she hardly puts everything she knows into her reports, it is enough. In that sense, Shepard is a reliable source of information." The Illusive Man tapped his cigarette in the ashtray built into his left armrest. "She is certain that this Geth faction is controlled by a Prothean artificial intelligence. While I was merely interested in acquiring the tech before, now that the AI has become a problem to me, it is time to act." He took another drag on the cigarette.
"Fulfilling multiple objectives at the same time," Charles said blandly. "And what of the possibility of Shepard encountering the field teams?"
"She should have no reason to assume the Spartoi are anything more than hired mercenaries. Furthermore, the odds of her stumbling across them is low, as right now she is pursuing the Prothean arks. Unless one of the teams is sitting on top of one without knowing it, Shepard has no way of finding them."
Charles wanted to ask, but just the fact that he was told that much was already an aberration from the norm. Cerberus operated on a strict need-to-know basis, and try as he might he could not figure out why he needed to know half of what he had just been told. To be sure, he definitely should not have been getting an indirect confirmation of the existence of an agent so well placed that they could safely relay Shepard's undoubtedly-classified reports back to The Illusive Man.
Charles could see the benefit of keeping a shrew like Shepard as an unknowing, oblivious patsy. But he was a realist, he naturally wondered how long could that continue? The more that agent leaked, the sooner Hackett would sniff them out. Shepard's new position would allow her to turn all of Arcturus station on its head to find them. She could then say she did so on her own initiative, and none would have the proof to say that it was actually Hackett's witch hunt all along. "I suppose she is to be kept as long as possible."
"Correct."
"Though eventually she will outlive her usefulness… and Leng will have his hands full with her." Charles went on. Leng was nothing more than a rabid dog, incapable of working with a team, so naturally he would not be able to handle eliminating Shepard. At best Leng might wound her and kill some of her loyal guard dogs, but he would never deliver the killing blow on her.
"That is not your concern," The Illusive Man replied blandly before taking another drag on his cigarette, the tip flaring brilliantly with the depth of his inhale. Then he ground the cigarette into his ashtray, snuffing it out. "Now, I think we covered your concerns. I will have relevant information transmitted to you over the QEC in the next few hours. I want full progress reports throughout."
"It will be done," Charles replied with a nod of his head.
The Illusive Man spared him another long, piercing look, but then reached over and tapped a console key to sever the connection as abruptly as it had been established. The room was once again plunged into darkness as the holographic projection rig duly folded away and the imaging ring returned to its niche in the floor. Charles pulled his left hand out of the pocket of his slacks and turned around. To say he was entirely happy right then would be a bit of a misnomer.
A Week Later, on the Normandy…
Shepard had officially begun crawling up a metaphorical wall sometime around two days ago. The researchers arrived a day late, a full day after Liara had gone to Blackrock. It took so long because they needed to peel an exo-linguist from her regular work on Mars. While not fluent to the same degree that Shepard was, the woman knew enough to function as the keystone on the project. Liara knew something of the language too, but even less than the other woman. It worked for Shepard, and she was perfectly happy to avoid needing to pass knowledge to Liara via meld.
After the team's arrival it took a day for them to establish rapport before they dove into their work. After that it took two more days for Liara to deliver the entire medical database. This required physical transfer, as transmitting so much data would have taken much longer than a shuttle flight back and forth. Liara hardly noticed the hassle, she was all too happy to talk Shepard's ears off over a meal.
Unfortunately Liara was the only one whose job was going so smoothly. Shepard was fording unknown waters while trying to get Javik set up with everything he needed. She discovered pretty quickly that claiming asylum with the Alliance was a byzantine process. The problem was that while the provision for such claims existed, it was basically never used. There were few reasons why anyone would seek asylum with the Alliance specifically. For one, the Alliance represented humanity's space-bound interests, it had no real authority over anything that happened on Earth. Claiming asylum with the Alliance did not mean getting the red carpet welcome on some colony or Earth.
With those considerations, the Alliance was choosy. Of those who might have some reason to seek asylum and take whatever they could get, like the odd batarian claiming they were fleeing slavery, the Alliance thought twice about granting it, lest they accept a sleeper or a terrorist. Shepard had to exercise everything she had to help Javik navigate all the baloney. In the end both of their patience barrels had been scraped to the bottom.
To make matters worse, Javik was hardly pleased when she told him of her conversation with Doctor Chakwas regarding his status on board the Normandy. The doctor needed time to figure out what she got from Liara, which meant that she could not clear Javik for combat. However, at his insistence, he got clearance to visit the Citadel or Arcturus. It was an ameliorating concession, and did something buoy Javik's mood even a little bit. Much to Shepard's relief.
Thus when Javik wandered into the OD that morning to announce that his official paperwork had arrived, he looked like he got a terminal diagnosis instead. Shepard looked over the paperwork, to check whether there was something important still missing. The documents confirmed his status as a refugee with the Alliance. Perhaps unsurprisingly he also received a residence permit for Arcturus station itself. However, the one thing Shepard had needed were the vouched identity papers listing what he gave them, which at the very least allowed him to open a bank account and take up a job.
Shepard spent the rest of the morning helping Javik set up what he needed, and then gave him a copy of Admiral Hackett's contracts to peruse and sign. She could tell that he did not enjoy the process, but he carried it out with only a sour expression and a certain resignation to the inevitable. Normally, Shepard would not have been celebrating something like that, but in this instance it hinted at something positive. It made cooperation seem likelier, which was all she really wanted. She could respect Javik's choice to keep to himself while on board the Normandy, but she would not allow a rotten attitude to affect the team's overall dynamics.
However, with all of those things finally out of the way, Shepard cleared her afternoon schedule in order to have a meeting with the team to discuss their next course of action. She hated to be the raincloud that dumped on the parade, but after over a week groundside, having allowed the crew to act like they were on vacation, it was time to cinch up the belt and get back to business.
Author Notes: I feel bad that this "duck-lining" episode took me two months to complete. Mea maxima culpa. But it had to be laid out. One of these days I will reveal the reason why Charles hates Shepard so much, but all I'll say now is that he kind of hates everyone, though some more than others.
General Notes:
Episode Title – An ante is a bet one puts down to begin a round of a betting game. This episode was very much about showing the hand of the major player of this metaphorical poker table. You often get to see Shepard's, but now you have something of Sparatus', Saren's, The Illusive Man's, and even offer a glimpse at what Harbinger has been up to.
Chapter Notes:
Planning/Plans Quote – Shepard was quoting former US President Dwight D. Eisenhower, who expressed this maxim as the Commander of the Allied Forces during WWII. The idea is that while no plan survives the demands of reality intact, it would still be plain folly to do anything without a semblance of a plan.