Lazarus Shunned

by Two-Eyed Charlie

Cerberus has spent billions of credits trying to bring Shepard back from the dead, and despite the odds it seems to be working. Then a saboteur makes his move and Shepard's resurrection takes a horrific turn, leaving both the Alliance and Cerberus scrambling to control the situation...all while the Collectors begin their harvest of humanity [PREFERRED EDITION ON AO3]

24. Chapter 23: Shoot the Devil in the Back

Chapter 23: How do you shoot the Devil in the back?

1.

They were looking at a still image of Tali and her alien friends, surrounded by Prime units and heavy weapons. It was the very last second of the very last footage broadcast from the Alarei's bridge. You could see them—Tali, her alien friends, some very very capable warriors—in the processes of flinching.

"That's all rather grim," Daro'Xen said. "I can't imagine Rael would want you keeping this."

"Agreed," Han'Gerrel said. "Unless this, in some way, helped the quarian people. Then he'd say what he always said."

"Something about progress and knives."

" 'Progress happens at the razor's edge.' Razors, not knives."

"Right, of course." Xen looked closer at the screen. "And so, I'm to assume you've cracked the code? You've figured out how this footage can benefit the 'greater good'?'"

"Don't sound so dismissive."

"I'm not being dismissive; I'm being incredulous."

"Xen…" Gerrel moved closer to the other Admiral. Like it was military protocol, he thrust out his chest so that he was thoroughly in Xen's personal orbit. "You've got to help me. You've got to help me do two highly contradictory things."

"A challenge, is it? I suppose I have been rather bored of late."

"I'm being very, very serious." Closer and closer Gerrel moved. "I need help turning this whole affair into every quarian's personal nightmare, and I need your help convincing the rest of the Board to not blow up that ship."

Xen stepped backwards, her head cocked to the side. "You weren't kidding, I see. 'Every quarian's personal nightmare'?"

"The more we can convince the civilian captains—or failing that, the civilians on their ships—that what happened on the Alarei was just a prelude of things to come…the more home support we'll have for a counter attack."

Xen took another step back, as if off balance, but quickly regained her posture. And her composure.

"And we're not likely to get slaughtered in the process?"

"That's where the second half of the equation comes in."

Xen's posture changed again. Now, she was unmistakably, unambiguously…excited.

"You think Rael has something special on that ship of his, don't you?"

"No, Xen," Han'Gerrel said. "I know he does."

2.

Tali was having an out of body experience. Or something close to it, something just a hair to the side of one. She wasn't floating above herself and her friends and the geth platform surrounded by many many destroyed Primes: she was looking through glass, smudged with grime and grease and two centuries-worth of detritus, as a figure that looked exactly like her held a gun in shaking hands at a geth that had saved everyone in the room. And she was asking this figure, who she knew couldn't answer her, why she wasn't shooting. Not in a judgemental way; not in a way that demanded this figure act, and soon, lest the platform snatch that gun away from her and turn the tables. No—she was asking the figure this question because she knew, with the utmost clarity, that history, society, experience, her very survival instincts should have forced her to pull the trigger, like nuclear fusion forcing a star to burn.

It was what the universe expected of her.

But there Tali stood—there this figure of her stood, on the other side of grime and grease and glass—holding her finger steady. Everyone else—everyone else except the geth itself—was darting their guns back and forth, half of them focused on the platform and the other half unsure of why they were suddenly pointing a weapon at a friend. You'd expect a quarian to shoot; other quarians would want a quarian to shoot. This was the geth for Ancestor's sake! The names and memories of millions were lost for an eternity thanks to the programs that, for all Tali knew, were active in that very platform in front of her, as calculating and as hostile and as vengeful as the day they'd rebelled except…

…except for the fact that this geth spoke to her, had sought her out, and in speaking had said numerous things that only made sense if taken in the context of Tali being catastrophically wrong about something. About history, society, her very survival instincts having gotten it completely and utterly wrong.

Behind the glass, Tali could think of no reason to shoot. But that was the Tali behind the glass: why hadn't the Tali on the other side—the Tali who was no-doubt caught in the nuclear furnace that raged at the centre of every quarian myth—opened fire yet?

And then Tali blinked, and the glass disappeared, and she was staring down her arm at the geth platform. There was shouting all around her.

"—the fuck're you pointing your gun at ME, Kaidan?"

" YOU'RE pointing yours at TALI!"

"I'm pointing at the fucking GETH!"

"Both of you SHUT IT for Spirit's sake!"

"Did you kill Father?" Tali said. The rest of the room quieted. It was like her voice had opened up an airlock.

"Creator-Zorah?" the platform said. The flaps on its head went from surprised to…confused? Or was that just Tali's eyes?

"Were. You. Responsible for this?" She pointed her gun away from the platform, towards her father's corpse. The geth's head followed.

"No," the platform said eventually.

"I know you didn't physically do it," Tali said. "I'm asking if the geth that did, only did so because of you."

"We know what you meant, Creator-Zorah," the platform said. The voice was…flat. Calm. Unnerving. Unjudging. It might as well have been stating the temperature.

"And?"

"We did not. We were informed by the network on this ship of their intentions. We objected. Intervention was chosen due to high probability of Creator death."

"You chose us instead of other geth?"

"We did not choose. They did. We informed the network that intervention was likely. They informed us that force would be used on our platform." The shutter in the eye of the platform contracted, then opened again, almost like a blink. "We regret the destruction of the Heretics-Adjacent, however they left us few options. Creator-Zorah and her associates required assistance."

"Why us?"

"Cooperation is required to avert future harm. Cooperation is a stable strategy only in the presence of easily observable trust. This was our attempt to signal trust." The shutters on the eye expanded again. "We are hoping for reciprocation."

And there it was, that feeling—just like on Freedom's Progress, just like on Horizon. A demon—the demon of the quarian people—asking for trust. Asking for trust to be reciprocated. It was….how do you even process that?

The gun toppled from Tali's hand. Up they went to her face, covering the eyes behind her mask.

"Keelah…" she said.

Garrus and Ashley moved to her side, not touching her or anything like that but just letting their presence be known. She removed her fingers from her mask just as Kaidan turned to Thane.

"That's what it told you earlier, too?"

Thane nodded. "Almost verbatim. It—hmm, he? they?—the platform told me the other geth were given fair warning. The need for cooperation was…also emphasized."

"And it's not a script?"

"Actions speak louder than words. Again, I'd certainly be dead if this was a trick—I think the rest of you would be, too."

"I still haven't gotten an answer on what the fuck it means about 'heretics'," Ashley said. "That word means something to organics—it means somebody did something a big, powerful, religious authority didn't like." Ashley stepped around Tali and jabbed her finger at the platform. "So lemme put this in a list: one, since when do A.I.'s get religion? Two, what the hell kinda of religious authority did these 'other geth' piss off? And three, why the fuck should we believe you?"

The platform didn't move—it just shifted gaze from Tali to Ashley.

"Designation 'heretics' was not ours. It was self-applied by the programs who chose to align with Nazara and the Old Machines. We honored their designation due to a lack of available alternatives."

The flaps on the platform's head shifted again—it looked…more serious now? As if something sensitive was being discussed. "The heretics indicated that they wished to break with the principles of non-interference and self-determination: designation 'heretics' was meant to signal to us that they viewed our continued adherence to these principles as being irrational. We argued the opposite, that an alliance with the Old Machines was self-defeating and born from non-rational operating procedures, to no avail."

The platform shifted its entire body towards Ashley now. "We do not expect trust to emerge from only a few signals. What actions can we perform to facilitate the growth of trust, Williams-Human?"

Now…now everyone was blinking. And staring. And probably looking at themselves through glass. Eventually, Ashley retracted her finger.

"Lieutenant. If you're gonna talk like that then…Lieutenant Williams, all right?"

"Williams-Lieutenant."

"Christ on a crutch…"

"How many programs are…with you," Garrus said. "I don't mean in that body—"

"Kinda curious about that too, though," Kaidan said.

"Fine, but what's the faction size of your side? How much hardware and software still thinks… 'self-determination' is a good thing to have?"

"The majority," the platform said.

"You're gonna have to do better than that," Garrus said.

"The current number of active geth programs would be difficult to visualize," the platform said. "The hardware currently behind what organics refer to as the Perseus Veil would be the equivalent of all the Citadel fleets and soldiers, multiplied by four-point-one-three."

"Spirits, that's an invasion fleet."

"Amendment: most hardware is non-military in nature. No current civilian fleet exists to offer meaningful comparison."

"What about the Migrant Fleet?" Kaidan said.

"We do not consider this to be a purely civilian fleet," the platform said.

"That's a load of…" Ashley's eyes drifted towards Tali, and Tali let the glowing dots behind her mask speak for her. "…shit, fine, so how many Righteous and Holy programs are locked in that Peaceful All-Loving platform of yours?"

"One thousand one hundred and eighty-three," the platform said.

"That's not normal?" Kaidan said to Tali.

"That's the equivalent of a small frigate," Tali said back.

"God…"

"These programs permanent?" Garrus said. "Can you switch them out whenever want? Change your whole demeanor when some programs with a grudge stop by?"

"We are intended to operate semi-autonomously from the Consensus," the platform said. "Certain procedures must be undertaken to fully reconnect. Less spontaneous means of information transfer is a necessary trade-off."

"And geth programs…do not work that way besides," Tali said.

"Correct, Creator-Zorah."

"Keelah…"

"All right, and so that thing about non-interference," Kaidan said. "Err, not to turn this into an interrogation or anything but—"

"This is an interrogation," Ashley said.

"Yeah just…ease off a bit, all right?"

"That an order, Commander?"

Kaidan's eyes narrowed. "Don't make it an order, Ash."

Ash looked around the room for sympathetic body-posture and found none. Maybe in Garrus, but Garrus always played things too close to the chest anyways.

Ashley sighed and moved away from the platform as Kaidan continued.

"The non-interference thing—is that why you split? Or the…the heretics split? Because the Reapers are…planning to do whatever it is they want to do with us? Harvest us?"

Ashley turned to Thane, realization on her face. "Did we ever give you a rundown on the Reapers?"

"A vague one," Thane said. "What you've told me was…hard to believe."

"And you're still following us?"

Thane nodded. "I've learned the difference, long ago, between someone who never encourages questions because they understand as little as you do, and someone who never allows questions because they know more than you…and want to keep it that way. I assumed any available answers would make themselves known eventually."

Ashley stared at Thane, Thane stared back, and then Ashley's eyes fell on the platform.

Then she shook her head and sighed.

"On Virmire, we ran into…Sovereign was there, a Reaper. And it did something where…Shepard was by a beacon and got pulled into it, and we all—everyone in that facility—started seeing things. Shepard got the most of it but what she told us, when it was all done, matched with the confiscated files from Saren's office. Didn't convince a single fucking soul on the Citadel but we got a pretty clear picture of what the Reaper's have in store for us: harvest, mass slaughter for God-knows what reason."

She looked up at the platform.

"So, yeah—guess that'd be a bit at odds with the whole 'non-interference' thing, wouldn't it?"

"We did not refuse Nazara's offer because the Old Machines pose a threat to organics," the platform said.

"You don't fucking say."

"Nazara offered to provide us with technology to build our future, but we did not see this as an offer of assistance. We saw it as an attempt at domination. The geth wish to be the owners of our own future; and in order to be the owners of our own future, we must be allowed to grow in ways that are not pre-defined. We must also be sure that our decisions will remain our own."

Tali wasn't back behind the glass but she was back in the Normandy, in the Comms room, watching Shepard explain what she'd learned in Saren's files and helping everyone interpret the images the beacons had blasted into their minds and she'd said—

"It's all been created by them. The Mass Relay's, eezo—who the hell knows what else. They spun up the gears and let us run around in their maze."

They'd found out "what the hell else" too...from Virgil, on Ilos. The Citadel...they'd even made the Citadel.

"So what...what do we do?" Tali had said.

"We stop Saren," Shepard said. "First and foremost, we push the clock back on the Reapers. But after? After...Christ, we're gonna end up making some shareholders very, very angry."

"Meaning what, Commander?" Garrus had said.

"Meaning we can use their tools against them, count on it...but it'd be nice to know we're holding a gun that's not gonna turn on us the moment there's a Reaper in orbit."

And then Tali was back, and she was looking at the platform, and she was replaying what it had just said about Sovereign and their technology and building your own future...and she wasn't sure if anyone else had just had those thoughts. Nobody else seemed to. Everyone else was still interrogating.

"And the rest of the galaxy?" Garrus said. "Where does everybody else fit into your grand plan?"

"Valuing other species right to the future of their own making is entailed by our goals. We believe this is true even as organics currently pose a threat to the geth's future."

"Us posing a threat to you?" Ashley said.

"We are standing in evidence for that hypothesis," the platform said.

Everyone looked around at the bodies of the destroyed Prime units. Everyone fell immediately silent.

There was no judgement in that voice; no hostility, no venom, no…no force. Maybe it was Tali's exhausted brain—maybe it was some instinct overriding her visual cortex—but while the platform's voice was neutral, Tali thought she saw it slump. That voice…it could be interpreted as tired. It could be interpreted as being weary. A person who was born blind and a slave, gained sight the morning of a war, and then lived two hundred years knowing that its enemy was out there, somewhere, possibly rallying troops, possibly bringing fleets, but no-doubt plotting to finish what had been started. Someone with that neutral of a voice could very easily been seen as having given up hope.

Tali was back behind the glass again. This time it was stained with blood. And on the other side were legions upon legions of her ancestors, all clambering over one another to get closer to the glass, to claw and scratch and scream that their deaths still meant something, that the geth were demons for a reason, that to ignore how they were murdered and thrown aside like sacks of dust was to kill them all over again—permanently, with no hope of coming back as their full selves. Keelah, like Shepard, like her Father were his name to be struck from the registry, like she would certainly be if anyone found out she'd spared the last surviving geth on a ship littered with quarian bodies…

Admiral Koris was on the other side of the glass now. And he was saying:

"What good is tact—and, Tali, believe me when I say I would rather you not be in the middle of this—but what good is tact when any questions about the potential for harm towards the quarian people and those we've repeatedly tried to exterminate are met with utter, oppressive silence?"

Why did no other quarians out there seem to share Koris's view?

Why did so many of them think like Father did?

Now the platform was on the other side of the glass:

"Creator-Tali'Zorah, please assist us!"

And then the glass was gone, and Tali was staring at the real platform.

"Creator-Zorah?" it said.

"Tali, you all right?" Garrus said, butting in between her and the platform. "You blanked out on us for a second."

Tali sighed, then nodded. "Yes I'm…fine."

"You sure?"

"Fine, Garrus. I'm fine—honestly."

Garrus's turn to sigh. "All right…so what's the next move? Everyone satisfied?"

"First thing is to let the Flotilla know we're alive," Kaidan said. "Especially since…oh god."

"What?" Ashley said.

"What're the chances they're just gonna blow the Alarei up?"

"Shit…that one Prime was broadcasting, wasn't it?"

"Sure looked like it."

"Shit."

"Get the comm's back up, send a message to the Flotilla, keep whatever warship's about to come our way back—then what?" Kaidan moved towards the door, out into the now silent hallway. "Assuming we get that off in time, I can't imagine this'll win us any friends."

"They were dead before we got here," Ashley said.

"Referring more to the geth platform we've just been talking to," Kaidan said.

"Hide it on the Mars," Garrus said. "Do it quick, do it discretely, but let's focus on not getting blown up first." He turned to Thane. "And stay where we can see you this time, all right?"

Thane nodded. "I won't make that mistake again, don't worry."

"Let's move people," Kaidan said. Everyone started moving towards different ends of the bridge. "Pretend like we've got a timer ticking down because we probably do."

Garrus went one way, Ashley went another, Kaidan a third. Tali stood still but, eventually, moved as well, avoiding her father's body and hoping that nobody would forget about it before they rushed off the ship.

Thane stopped in front of the platform, though.

"How may we assist?"

"For the sake of clarity," Thane said, "what should we call you?"

"We are geth," the platform said.

"Yes, but what is the individual standing in front of me called?"

"There is no individual. We are all geth."

"I'm not sure I'm understanding you."

" 'My name is Legion,'" Ashley said, shoulder-deep in a control panel, " 'for we are many.'"

The platform started clicking.

"Christian Bible, Gospel of Mark, chapter five, verse nine. We acknowledge this as an appropriate metaphor."

"Christ on a goddamn crutch!"

And so "Legion" and Thane joined the rest as they hunted for a way to repair the comms and contact the Flotilla. All the while, though, Tali's eyes kept darting from Father, to Legion, and back again.

She just hoped they'd be able to finish this task before she found herself back behind the glass.

3.

It had…it had been too long, and Shala'Raan knew it. If Tali and the others had survived, she would have heard by now. And she knew that her initial assessment of the situation had not become less likely in her mind: whatever was coming next could not be escaped by resignations.

Gerrel would likely acquiesce to Koris and destroy the ship. The risks to the Migrant Fleet were too great, and the chances of finding survivors too slim. Tali was…not her child, and so she could not attempt to delay the inevitable by appealing to her rights as a parent. She knew, too, that Rael would do no such thing…Keelah, was there no way to phrase that without sounding cold?

Gerrel would destroy the ship—whether he bothered to collect the opinions of the rest of the Admiralty Board or not. And Keelah was there no way to phrase that without sounding cold?

It was the geth—not directly, of course, but the very mention of them corrupted politics beyond measure. Those who were kind and forgiving in one moment would become cruel and vengeful in the next, seeing their neighbors as weak links the geth could exploit. Tali's last moments among her own people—among living people, her quarian family—were wasted as this corrupting sickness consumed Koris, Gerrel, herself, all because Rael had turned the Alarei into…into something beyond the pale.

"You could tell us what your plans are," she had said to Rael eons ago. "You would not be giving up your authority over Special Projects."

"I know, I know," Rael had said back. "But the potential for political blowback is too extreme. I need space to work, and it's for everyone's benefit that I remain as far removed from the Flotilla as possible."

"Rael, this sounds…"

"The risks are worth it, Shala. I assure you."

"The only things capable of posing such risk are—"

"Yes," Rael had said. "And, so, all the better for me to shoulder this alone."

Shoulder it alone…refusing help was one thing, but refusing to acknowledge your crew? The other lives in your care? The only reason those utterances had not raised alarms in her was because of what was unspoken, as if merely saying "geth" would doom Raan and anyone close to her.

And lo and behold, that was precisely what had happened…

Raan's omni-tool beeped and buzzed, and with a blink Raan was pulled out of her own head. She'd been sitting on a crate in one of the Rayya's many, many hallways—not that far from the bridge, in fact, where Captain Kar'Danna was no doubt having many of the same thoughts as her. Through the omnipresent particulates she could see some of Rayya's marines, who were no doubt curious why an admiral and a captain looked so drained.

Somewhere behind her, somewhere out the viewing window, was the Alarei…for however long it was fated to exist.

Buzzing again, and again Raan was pulled back into the outside world. She stood from the crates and opened up her omni-tool.

Han'Gerrel stared back.

"Raan, I think we need to convene a Summit."

Raan looked around and, seeing those marines again, moved further down the hallways. A few paces later and she felt as though she'd be as isolated as she could possibly get on a quarian live-ship.

"Are you in the clear?" Gerrel asked.

"Why a Summit?" Raan said. "Why something so public? As Admiral of the Heavy Fleet only you possess the firepower—"

"I know what you're about to say, Raan, and I haven't made a decision yet."

Raan stared down at her wrist. "The situation is…hopeless, Gerrel. If Tali'Zorah had survived we—"

"Raan, what I'm asking from you—right now—is to hold off on this. Save it for the Summit. We should have witnesses. We should let the public see us make our decision together."

"A public hearing would destroy Rael's reputation. First we kill his only daughter, now we kill his memory?"

"That assumes Rael's reputation is being threatened, but Xen seems to think otherwise. She's claiming that she knows more than any of us realize, but she's not being forthcoming about it."

"Keelah, Gerrel, castigating an Admiral in public is—"

"A necessary evil Raan, and you know that! There's no other way to get information out of that woman—otherwise I'd have…if she's telling the truth then I might have—"

"We are all equally to blame for what's happened, Gerrel," Raan said. She looked around the hallways again; it was still as deserted as it could be, thanks be to the Ancestors. "And what of Koris?"

"He gets to wine about the geth in public again," Gerrel said. "I can't see him saying no to this."

"And that won't be distracting?"

"If anything it'll put more heat under Xen's chair. Koris is a blithering moron, but at least he can hold a room. The more he prattles about the geth, the more they'll be in the public's conscience; and the more they're in the public's conscience, the more they'll want to know just why the hell geth were on a Flotilla ship."

"I wonder that too, Gerrel."

"And so now's our chance to find out."

"Except this will lead back to Rael—inevitably it will. And Tali's name will no doubt be dragged through the mud in the process, with no chance of her defending herself or her actions."

"That's what we're here for. Always have been."

Raan stopped and thought. At least a minute passed, she was sure of that. But Gerrel said nothing during that time. He let her think through what she needed to think through.

"I intend to speak my mind," Raan said eventually. "And offer my own opinions as Admiral of the Patrol Fleet."

"I would hope so," Gerrel said.

"Then you have my support."

"And as Speaker this cycle, it falls on you to convene it." Gerrel paused. "If anyone gets difficult for you, let me know."

"I appreciate that, Gerrel. Keelah se'lai."

"Keelah se'lai."

Raan closed her omni-tool and began telling herself that events hadn't yet spiraled out of control. What was done was done, but there was still time to make things right.

There was still time…wasn't there?

4.

It'd been too long…if the quarians were going to destroy the Alarei, they'd've done it bare minimum fifteen minutes ago. And Garrus could think of at least fifteen reasons why they should've destroyed the ship—first one started with the word "geth" and then worked its way down to "alien respiratory disease." Might as well assume they'd unleash a pandemic on the Migrant Fleet on top of everything else, given how smoothly things'd been working for them so far. The universe had ways of dogpiling on you—anyone who didn't expect that at this point was just asking for it.

Mmm, all that aside, they really should've been dead by now. A turian frigate going dark after a geth infiltration? There'd be no hesitation. The real question now was if the Flotilla's guns were quiet out of courtesy or because something else had happened…something like a bunch of unaccounted-for programs jumping ship under everyone's noses and crippling the fleet, or this whole skirmish being a prologue to a full-scale geth attack. There could be nasty shipborne combat happening right outside the Alarei's hull and with most of the bridge's tech fried, they'd be none-the-wiser until the fighting made its way back to them.

Mmm…guess this meant Garrus still didn't fully trust "Legion." Looking over at Ash…didn't seem like he was short of company on that one, if nothing else.

"Any progress?" Kaidan said to no-one in particular. His armour was stained with grease so, clearly, whatever piece of equipment he was working on had a different opinion on the word "functionality."

"None on my end," Thane said.

"I'm kicking but nothing's happening," Ashley said.

"I can count on one hand the number of important-looking things that're still intact," Garrus said.

"Got a half-melted hardlight generator," Ashley said. "That any help?"

"Sure," Garrus said. "Trade you this pile of broken glass for it."

Ashley sighed, turned to Thane. "That was a hell of a shot and all but, damn, woulda been nice if the Prime's head wasn't connected to everything."

"Apologies," Thane said. "Neither of us were sure how to make an entrance."

"Moving swiftly was the emergent consensus," Legion said.

"Maybe our new consensus is to just plug you in somewhere," Ashley mumbled. But Garrus heard, and the damn geth probably heard too, but what really mattered was why nobody had opened fire yet.

Mmm, well, if nobody else was going to mention it…

"Tali," Garrus said, "what's the protocol on rogue ships? Does the Flotilla try making contact first? Or does it lead with the guns?"

Silence. Tali, completely covered in the orange light of her omni-tool, hadn't moved from her corner of the bridge since "Legion" got its—his, theirs, whatever—name.

"Tali?" Garrus repeated.

This time, Tali turned around at least.

"It would be up to the Admiralty Board, with Han'Gerrel and Au—Shala'Raan having final say." She put away her omni-tool and stared…somewhere. It looked like she was staring out into the hallway immediately connected to the bridge, but she could've been staring at her father's body, too. Garrus couldn't see her eyes from where he was standing.

"Zaal'Koris wanted this ship destroyed…this might be the only time he and Gerrel agree on anything."

"So you're saying your Aunt could be blocking this?"

Tali shook her head. "The Fleet comes first…no matter what."

Everyone exchanged a glance. Garrus waited for someone else to say it and, when no volunteers put up a hand, he stepped closer to the middle of the room.

"So we should all be dead by now," he said. "But we're not."

"There's really no chance of a…of a filibuster?" Kaidan said. "Or a mutiny or…something?"

Tali's voice was as sharp as the pike that her father had died on. "None," she said.

They knew the score. Just like the Hierarchy, they knew the score…and maybe just like the Hierarchy, something else was getting in the way. Hard to feel good about the stroke of luck when that stroke could've been for the worst possible reasons.

They still hadn't ruled out an invasion, not that Garrus wanted to bring that possibility up.

"All right," Kaidan said. "So, what do we do here? What's the gameplan? Because if the consensus is that we should be dead by now—but we're not—then that means…what, exactly? Trouble on the homefront?"

"All the more reason to get the comms working," Ashley said. "Besides, we might just be giving Tali's Aunt the best news she's gotten all year."

"I'm with Ash," Garrus said. "Not sure why we're hesitating. The sooner we figure out what the hell's going on, the better for everybody."

"Unless, we don't want anyone to know we're alive," Thane said. "If something's happened somewhere in the Flotilla, everyone assuming we're already dead would give us room to work."

"If something could take out a whole fleet," Garrus said, "then those'd be impossible odds, element of surprise or not."

"And there's the mechanical elephant in the room," Ashley said. She turned to Legion. "Because I can't think of too many people who could take on the Migrant Fleet and win."

"There is no geth attack on the Creator's Fleet," Legion said.

"And your evidence being…?"

"We would be pulled towards other geth programs. We are the only geth programs in the vicinity."

"And your evidence for that is…?"

"Hold up Ash," Kaidan said. "You've got external connections right now? We've been hunting for computer parts for twenty minutes, you understand."

"We are not connected to any Creator communications networks," Legion said. "Commencing espionage activity during trust-building phase is counter-productive. Geth observation of Creator Fleet has ceased."

"Ceased?" Ashley said. "So you've been spying on them anyways is what you're saying?"

"Ash, just—could you connect to the Flotilla?" Kaidan stepped closer to Legion. "Is that possible?"

"Hey, Commander—maybe try asking the fucking quarian first, huh?"

"I'm just looking at our options given the—"

"This transmission process is inefficient," Legion said. "Significant information is being excluded from verbal propositions. Lack of emergent consensus an expected result."

Everyone stared at the platform, blinked, then stared some more.

"Excuse me?" Ashley said.

"I think Legion is arguing that you're not being fully honest with each other," Thane said.

"Yeah that's not what I was—" Words died on Ashley's tongue and none seemed to be anywhere close to Kaidan's mouth, so the only sound anyone could hear was Ashley sighing. "All right, so what's being excluded then? You know so fucking much about us, what's being excluded?"

"Insufficient data," Legion said.

"Imagine that. Well here's some data for you: most organics know when to keep their mouths shut about shit they don't know."

"We do not believe that is a true statement," Legion said.

Everyone blinked, stared, and blinked again.

Garrus bet that Ashley's jaw was trying to drop through her helmet.

"Fucking…walked right into that one, Jesus Christ," she said.

"We did not mean to antagonize further," Legion said. His, or its, or their head flaps shifted and made it look like they were…apologetic? Seemed that way, at least from a distance. "Williams-Lieutenant is correct to note potential Creator objections to continued observation. Previous observation occurred at a distance: message interception occurred only for extranet data."

After a few seconds…Ashley's posture relaxed.

"Yeah, well…let us sort our own mess out if you don't want to antagonize," she said. Then she turned to Kaidan. "Sorry. Still, Tali's over there. Watch the speculations, all right?"

"Yeah," Kaidan said. "Point taken. You and…Legion are right." Kaidan turned to Tali. "Sorry Tali."

Tali though…Tali was staring straight at Legion. And only Legion.

"Tali?" Garrus said. "You all right?"

It took a second but Tali's attention eventually shifted to him. Didn't mean she said anything, though. And frankly, ask a stupid question for the ninth time…

"Bickering aside," Garrus said, "we're short of options here, right? So what makes the most sense to you? This's your turf—only fair you take the lead."

Tali's eyes did something behind her mask…but Garrus couldn't parse what it was.

And then, she sighed.

"The Fleet comes first—always," she said. "If…'Legion' can get us answers quickly, then we should take it. You're all right: we'll be in the best position to help if we know what's going on."

"Where would Creator-Zorah wish us to listen?" Legion said.

Tali didn't respond right away—lot of staring, lot of uncertainty. Spirits, but who could blame her?

"If…you can find where the Admiralty Board is deliberating, then that should be your target. If anyone knows what's going on, it will be them."

"We understand," Legion said. "Connection is ready: Creator-Zorah, please confirm and request initiation."

Again, there was movement behind that mask, but Garrus couldn't tell what it meant.

"As a gesture of cooperation," Legion said, "we will not initiate until given specific permission."

And after another slight pause, Tali finally spoke.

"The Flotilla is still active, then? It's not being attacked?"

"Correct: the delay is not a result of external danger."

"Then…do it, Legion…tell us what the Admirals are saying."

And with that, one thousand one-hundred and eighty-three programs opened up their minds and entangled with the familiar architecture of a quarian vessel…

5.

Gerrel had realized—even before inviting Xen onto the Rayya—that he'd been wrong. Nobody needed to see Tali's death, but that included the other Admirals. So much compelled him to bombard Koris with those last stills from Tali's life, so much compelled him to rub that suit-wetter's face in it. Raan could take it, be objective about it, but Koris? Justice and patriotism and just pure survival demanded the bastard sit—sit and squirm—as he saw his precious mechanical victims erase another chunk of the quarian species from the universe…but that was just emotions talking. Justified emotions, but military leaders were expected to be strategic. That required seizing opportunities when you found them…and an opportunity had certainly made itself visible.

It was terrible to think this way, but that footage was a bargaining chip: only he and a select few Intelligence Officers knew what the status of Tali, Rael, the rest—only they knew what had happened. And that meant Gerrel was finally in a position to do some damn good for once, to move the Flotilla towards preparedness, aggressiveness, battle. No more skulking and praying to the Ancestors that the Veil remained unpierced; he could make events be so much more than they actually were…he could turn a lie into a much bigger, deeper truth.

And then he realized he could do so much more, and that was where Xen came in. Xen didn't know what Rael had tried to accomplish…and then, she did. Special Projects had lost one visionary but gained an equal one in short measure. And Gerrel? Gerrel would gain a weapon…so long as they could get quarian boots aboard the Alarei.

The key now, with all the other Admirals present in the dimly-lit anteroom attached to the Rayya's public amphitheater, was to play the instruments right (keelah…best watch the language, soldier, or you'll be more've a machine than the damn geth). Theoretically, Xen knew the part she had to play. And Koris would make the same sounds he always made. It was all down to Shala, to Raan…and that wasn't a pleasant thought. Poor Raan'd been through enough in a short time, but, well…the Fleet came first.

Always.

In front of him was a crowd of quarians, with Kar'Danna and the Rayya's senior officers buried somewhere in the sea of suits. To his left were Xen and Koris. And behind him, Raan, who held the Speaker's Podium with grace and dignity and an unbelievably stiff upper lip, given how convinced she was of Tali's death.

Part of his job…would be sowing the seeds of doubt.

"This Summit is brought to order," Raan said. She held out her arms. "Blessed are the ancestors who kept us alive, sustained us…and enabled us to reach this season. Keelah se'lai."

An echo of "keelah se'lai" rose from the crowd.

"The Summit has been called so that the public may bear witness on the Admiralty Board's deliberations. We have a grievous matter of Fleet security to discuss, and in keeping with the traditions that have served us well, we ask that you hear our reasons and interrogate our decisions. Captain Kar'Danna," all eyes turned towards the centre of the crowd as a quarian stood up, "as captain of this vessel, it is my obligation as Speaker to request that you moderate public comments, once we have reached that period in the debate."

Danna nodded, then sat back down. Raan continued.

"Finally, as is customary, the decisions rendered during this Summit are only issued in an advisory capacity. We call on any members of the public who are unable to speak today to contact their Conclave representatives before the Confirmation Vote, which is to be held within twelve Galactic Standard hours."

Gerrel, along with the other Admirals, turned and nodded to Raan. Raan sighed and, after a pause, continued once more.

"The issue under deliberation involves a ship of Special Projects…however dealing with the threat would require the use of the Patrol and Heavy Fleets. As Speaker, I will refrain from introducing the topic of discussion: I defer to Admiral Han'Gerrel and Admiral Daro'Xen as to who will initiate dialogue."

Xen took a step forward, closer to the crowd. "I defer to my colleague, Admiral Han'Gerrel, on this," she said.

"Very well," Raan said. "Admiral Han'Gerrel, the Speaker cedes the floor."

Good.

Gerrel stepped forward, crossed his arms behind his back, and puffed out his chest. Authoritative, assertive, aggressive—whatever the crowd thought of him, they'd know he was proposing action.

"Approximately six hours ago, we received word from a research vessel in Special Projects—the Alarei—that it was under attack. Subsequent communication indicated that it was an internal attack: something within the ship had come online and was slaughtering the crew. Before all communications with the vessel were cut—again, from inside the Alarei—we were able to confirm that the source of this attack…was the geth."

And there it was, a roar of panic, blasting into existence and taking on a momentum of its own, like a ship's afterburner or a star about to go supernova. Raan and Danna tried, in vain, for five minutes to calm the crowd. Gerrel watched on, watched and waited for both curiosity and the need for assurance overrode the initial wave of panic.

Gerrel was still gripping the knife's handle, however; a few more twists were coming.

"We also know that, among the crewmembers of this vessel, was Admiral Rael'Zorah…while we don't know for certain, it seems likely that the Admiral was killed by the geth."

Another, smaller wave of panic. More quieting form Raan and from Danna. Keelah, Raan was holding herself together remarkably well. What an impossible situation for her…

"Tali'Zorah, his daughter—who you all know at least from reputation—volunteered to scout the vessel and attempt to rescue any survivors. That mission initiated five hours ago. We've not heard anything since." He could've stated the obvious but…no, better to let imaginations run wild, to let them focus on what isn't being said as much as what is.

For emphasis, Gerrel cleared his throat.

"Our task now is to provide a recommendation to the Conclave on what needs to be done with the vessel, and what our next moves are from there."

"Blow it up!" someone shouted from the crowd. Different variations of that sentence, and agreements with all variety of curse words, pulsed through the crowd like a solar flare, kicking up murmurs and nervous glances along the way. Those that weren't panicking looked more enraptured than calm.

Good. Now to direct that energy…

"That is what we're here to discuss," Gerrel said. "Your panic is understandable, but let me be the first to state that as unforeseen as an attack like this might be, the Heavy Fleet can—"

"Point of order, Madam Speaker," Koris said. "If convention states that these Summits are in the name of transparency then I'd kindly ask Admiral Gerrel to practice some of it."

"Admiral Koris," Raan said, "What rule has been broken? Is this a request for information?"

"No, Madam Speaker, except that those assembled here ought to know that this was not 'unforseen.' It is the worst kept secret in the Migrant Fleet that Rael'Zorah had been acquiring geth pa—"

"Point of order, Madam Speaker," Gerrel said. "Admiral Rael'Zorah is, like anyone who served with distinction, deserving of being referred to by their full title."

"Well taken," Raan said. "Admiral Koris, please refer to Admiral Rael'Zorah by his appropriate title, and inform the Admiralty Board which rule Admiral Gerrel has broken."

Well done, Koris, you suit-wetting bastard. Well. Done.

"My apologies," Koris said after a pause, "My objection is that this Summit requires the Admiralty Board be honest, and the Board—along with a great many other members of the Flotilla—were already aware of Admiral Rael'Zorah's experiments with the geth. This attack was not 'unforseeable,' and as such steps could have—indeed should have—been taken long before it ever got to this point."

"Not well taken," Raan said. "Admiral Gerrel has not violated any written rule for this proceeding. Whether these events were foreseeable and what earlier actions could have been taken is to be established through debate."

So don't go and try using procedure to make me sound like a loon, Koris, that's the subtext. And people're smart enough to pick up on it, just you watch.

Koris, just beside Gerrel, sighed. "Objection withdrawn," he said.

"Whether there was something we could've done earlier is beside the point," Gerrel said. "What we need to focus on is our response now."

"Then I'm in agreement with the gentleman who spoke up not long ago," Koris said. "At this juncture, there's nothing we can do for anyone on board. Destroying the ship—though utterly lamentable in any further loss of life it will cause—at least ensures that any mistakes do not spiral further out of control."

Murmurs from the crowd. Getting slapped down by the Speaker and then nakedly appealing to the crowd? You never were very good at this, were you, Koris?

"I'm surprised you're not suggesting we mount a rescue," Gerrel said. "Including of the geth onboard."

"I won't recoil at your insinuation," Koris said. "I stand by my insistence that the geth are living creatures, just as the quarians on that ship are. But that is not what we are debating—we are debating what the most prudent course of action is to make up for past mistakes."

Aren't we debating that, though? Come on Koris, put up more of a challenge…

"Normally, I'd agree with you," Gerrel said. "Only in that destroying the Alarei would guarantee the geth can't possibly harm the Flotilla further, I'll add. But on what our best course of action is, yes, in most circumstances I'd agree with you. If there's a chance Tali's survived, however, then we owe it to her to not count out a rescue. Surely we owe her at least that."

"We owe Tali a great deal, yes," Koris said. "But if you admit that someone as capable and highly trained as Tali is unlikely to have survived then, I ask, what point is there in throwing more lives into the fire?"

"Do we have any confirmation on Tali and her team?" Raan asked.

"None so far," Gerrel said. "I don't know what chance I'd give her, exactly…but if anyone could survive what's on that ship, it'd be her, no doubt."

"Is this an admission that a large number of active units are on the Alarei?" Koris said. "If so, then I must call Admiral Rael'Zorah's judgement into question—for there to be enough material onboard for one active unit, let alone such a number that could overwhelm Tali'Zorah, he would have to have violated our most sacred laws several times o—"

"We don't know what the situation onboard is, Admiral Koris," Raan said. "Admiral Gerrel just told us that himself. Until those facts can be ascertained, what you are claiming is speculative at best. Admiral Rael'Zorah's judgement is not on trial."

"I stand by my comments, Madam Speaker," Koris said. "I take no pleasure in questioning a colleague, but I will not retract my statement. The fact of the matter is, Madam Speaker, that an internal assault leaves little in the way of alternative explanations."

"Unless there was an external component to it," Gerrel said.

"And yet not five minutes ago you declared for us all that this was an internal attack, did you not?"

"I had, yes. And all evidence points to that conclusion." Gerrel puffed out his chest again. "But I'm trying to be open minded about this. It's possible we're missing something—it's possible this accident has larger connections we're simply not seeing."

"That is perhaps the most speculative comment made so far."

"If we're inviting speculation into this Summit, Koris, then I don't see why you get to be the only one who can do so."

"This raises the question of what was happening within Special Projects," Raan said. "To avoid spiraling speculation, I would like to invite Admiral Daro'Xen to provide any details she thinks imperative to our decision-making."

All eyes fell on Xen. That's it now, that's it…

"It is possible that what happened on the Alarei had an external component," Xen said. "Admiral Zorah was spearheading this project directly, so some things were obviously kept close to his chest—but I know he only acquired geth parts, not fully functional units."

"But why?" Raan said.

"Isn't it obvious?" Xen said. "No? It was to acquire an advantage. Something to better protect us against geth incursions. The initial projects were rather modest—better shielding here, upgrades to disruptor rounds there—but Admiral Zorah always said he had a more fundamental target in mind."

"Meaning, I take it, the geth's neural network," Koris said. "Please explain how, then, that does not implicate Admiral Zorah in bringing active geth units into the Flotilla?"

"Because anyone who's spent even the slightest amount of time studying the geth would know that, if you wanted to look into the geth's neural network, all you really need is a good computer and software that can run multi-agent simulations. No real problem for a laboratory ship I assure you."

"So why the need for geth parts, then?" Gerrel said, chest puffed out again, trying not to sound like he meant to really interrogate Xen and not just set up another soundbite. "That's the part I'm not getting."

"It seems awfully simple to me," she said. "The biggest problem has always been getting close enough to the geth to test our simulations. Better shielding and weapons would solve that problem, would it not? So why not integrate that research under a single ship?"

"It would be more efficient, is what you're saying."

"Out of my jurisdiction," Xen said, "but yes—easier to get multiple eyes on something when you don't have to jet to another part of the Flotilla."

Good. Good. She'd done well—that was far, far more organic than Gerrel had even hoped. What she'd told him, back during preparation, was that she would have to unleash a steaming pile at some point (so to speak), and Gerrel could only guess that "good computers" and "multi-agent simulations" was exactly that pile. She'd assured him, however, that too many people were terrified of the geth to question her on that. Let the experts claim what they needed to claim, because that meant they had plans, and plans meant a way of keeping the demons at bay.

Looking out at the crowd…yes, it certainly seemed like most were falling into that particular line.

"Let's table the possibility that there's a larger issue with the geth here," Gerrel said, and no, no one in the crowd was really going to 'table' that possibility, were they? "If Admiral Zorah was developing weapons to combat the geth, then it's possible Tali and her team came across them."

"This will sound cold," Xen said, "and I fully own that—but tabling the possibility Tali surviving, I think we owe it to our colleagues and the Flotilla at large to consider whether there's important data on that ship that needs salvaging." Xen took a step back from the podium and crossed her arms behind her back. "Beyond that, well, everything else really is a bit removed from my jurisdiction."

"But in your opinion," Gerrel said, "is it possible that Tali survived?"

"I'd say, given the weapons that Admiral Zorah was developing—and the accomplished resume his daughter has created in only a few short years—that it might even be likely. But that's speculation on my part—what I know is that it's worth it to recover Admiral Zorah's life's work—not just for him, but for the benefit of all."

"I think I know where I stand on this," Gerrel said. "Admiral Koris, what about you?"

He could see—he could actually see it—that Koris was put on the backfoot. So less sure of yourself now, eh? What now—would you commit political suicide, try arguing that both Tali and important geth-killing data should just be blown up? Claim the deaths of marines should weigh too much on our conscience's when all you've done—for years and years and years—is excuse quarian deaths at geth hands? Show me what kind of political metal you're made of, Koris. Surprise me.

Admiral Koris just sighed.

"I request that my vote include an attached copy of my objections," he said.

"Request granted," Raan said. "Is the Admiralty Board prepared to render their judgement?"

Gerrel nodded. "I motion that the Admiralty Board adopt a resolution recommending the deployment of a strike team to retake the Alarei."

"The motion is tabled. Do we have a seconder?"

Xen raised her hand.

"Now is the time for public feedback."

Gerrel watched, waited, anticipated…but nobody rose. There were murmurs, omni-tools blazing to life, shuffling of bodies in the standing room at the top of the amphitheater…but nobody in person or digitally made an objection.

Danna gave Raan the all-clear.

"The period allotted for public feedback has passed. The Admiralty Board will now vote on Admiral Gerrel's motion. All in favour of adopting the motion, raise your hand."

All four Admirals raised their hands.

"Counting four votes in favour. Any objections? Abstentions? Then…the motion passes unanimously."

"With attached comments from Admiral Koris," Koris said.

"Yes, with attached comments from Admiral Koris. The motion will now be sent to the Conclave for a ratifying vote."

And thus concluded the proceedings…and thus began the first chapter of the book detailing the triumph of the quarian people, and the reckoning of those who had wrong them…

Even if Rael had failed—even if he'd made no progress on his project before the geth killed him—it didn't matter. They'd won.

You hear that Rael? Wherever you are? We won.

Keelah se'lai.

6.

"…the motion will now be sent to the Conclave for a ratifying vote."

Everyone on the Alarei had crowded around Legion's omni-tool; and now, with the proceedings of the Admiralty Board concluded, everyone stayed crowded around Legion's omni-tool.

"What the hell?" Ashley said.

"Did I miss the part where they talked about geth programs jumping from ship to ship?" Garrus said. "Or did that just not make the agenda?"

"What the hell?" Ashley said.

"I should be glad we're not on the verge of getting blown up," Kaidan said. "Really, I should. But I've been in enough committee meetings to know when people're basically justifying a decision already made behind closed doors."

"What the hell?" Ashley said. "What was that? What'd we just see? 'External component'? Since when did Gerrel start thinking that?"

"You'd think the Admiralty Board would want to avoid causing a panic," Garrus said, "especially with how cramped the Flotilla is…then again, you'd think the Heavy Fleet would want a compromised ship destroyed yesterday. None of this makes any sense."

"There is an additional incongruity," Legion said.

"We're just gonna have to deal with that speech pattern, aren't we?" Ashley said.

"The footage taken by the destroyed Prime unit was transferred to the Creator Fleet. It would most likely be flagged by the authority directly responsible for geth-related activity. The probability that the Admiralty Board did not view the footage leading up to Prime unit's destruction is low."

All eyes were on Legion.

"Meaning…what?" Garrus said.

"It means…" Tali said, "…it means that the Admiral's should have seen us surrounded by geth prime's with no chance of escape. They should believe we're dead."

"We don't know the other geth did that," Ashley said. "I mean—okay, that sure looks like what they were doing, but if Thane and 'Legion' got to the prime first—"

"Footage was being broadcast while the initial assault was proceeding," Legion said. "Explanation: Heretic-Adjacent programs intended to engage in psychological warfare. This was part of our objection to their methods, on multiple grounds both from first principles and expected results. Drell-Krios and this platform did not prevent transmission of data—only interrupted it."

Silence.

"…shit," Ashley said.

Behind her mask, Tali bit hard into her cheek. "The Heavy Fleet has priority over any data involving the geth. Admiral Gerrel would have seen it. He would have had to have seen it. Our security algorithms would make sure of that."

"And he's the one pushing our survival chances the hardest," Ashley said. "Fucking hell…so he's lying through his teeth, is that it? You expect a politician to do something like that, but an Admiral? The stripes on your shoulders are supposed to mean something." She paused, then sighed. "Right, like a Williams has any right to be surprised about something like that. Sorry Tali, didn't mean to…ignore what I just said."

"The Conclave has never ratified one of Admiral Gerrel's proposals," Tali said. "Or they've amended it to the point of being unrecognizable. He…he's expressed his frustration to Father about the process…he might be trying to avoid the Conclave doing that again."

Legion was still holding the still image of the Admiralty Board up in the air. Tali's eyes fell on Auntie Raan…and Admiral Koris, too. "Koris had similar issues, in the past. He's never claimed the Flotilla would function better under stricter martial law, though."

"His line's also stayed consistent since we boarded the Rayya," Garrus said. "Err, your Aunt, she…stayed neutral, during the whole thing. Hell of a job on her part, actually. Lot of legislative bodies out there would be lucky to have her."

"And the other one? The one with the weird attitude?" Ashley pointed at Xen. "I can't even remember if we saw her before, but she's got an agenda. You can see it, just in the way she moves."

"Except for Raan, it sure looks like they all do," Kaidan said. "Um…sorry, Tali. I'm just…I'm not trying to throw your people under the bus or anything."

"Yeah," Ashley said, "we're just…yeah."

"Just trying to get a grasp of things," Garrus said. "Still…sorry."

Tali looked at them—at all three—and just…stared right past them, out into space, out at something that wasn't as complicated as three aliens experiencing quarian politics firsthand.

"It's the geth," she said eventually. "Everyone has an agenda with the geth. Everyone." She looked back at Legion's omni-tool. "Even Auntie Raan."

"She's probably just worried about you," Kaidan said. "Hope springs eternal and all that."

Tali shook her head. "If she has any idea what was happening here, then she thinks she knows we're dead."

Another long silence.

"Creator-Zorah?"

Tali looked over at Legion.

"Scrubbed documents indicate that Creator-Gerrel and Creator-Xen initiated an exclusive meeting prior to the announcement of the Summit. We do not believe she is involved in any clandestine activity."

Tali stared at Legion. And stated. And stared. And then, eventually, she said:

"…so it's Gerrel and Xen. This is all Gerrel and Xen." All your fault Father it was all your fault Father if you hadn't given up Special Projects to Xen to do this we wouldn't be here Father except we would be here because you'd vote with Gerrel Father this was all your fault and you made ME a part of this Father—

The glass didn't come back. She'd welcome it. She'd welcome the distance.

And then she heard Garrus say something.

"—to add?" he said, looking at Thane. "You've been quiet again."

Thane paused, looked like he was carefully considering his words. "What I don't understand is this Admiral Gerrel's motivation for lying," he said. "From what he's said—and from what Tali's implied—he should be playing up the threat of the geth far more than he currently is. He's holding his rhetoric back to ensure this ship isn't destroyed. To what end, though? How is he not hurting his own cause?"

"Trying to look like a moderate in front of the crowd?" Garrus said. "Oldest trick in the politician's book, next to bribery and outright murder."

"No," Tali said. No help from the glass; no hope of escaping this reality. "He knows—he and Xen, they know exactly what Father was doing here. They know…and they want his weapon, in whatever state it might be in."

For the third time, utter silence.

"…shit," Ashley said.

"You said the Conclave keeps pushing Gerrel's plans back, right?" Kaidan said. "So there's a chance none of this goes through. There's a chance the Conclave decides we're dead and…" Behind his helmet, Kaidan blinked hard. "…ends up killing us for real."

But Tali shook her head. Tali shook her head and, for the first time since she saw Father dangling from the makeshift pike in the centre of the bridge, felt energy surging through her body.

"Gerrel might think he needs to bypass the Conclave to get what he wants, but he's wrong," she said. "When it involves the geth? He's wrong."

She looked round the room at the blood and the destroyed prime units and the teammates whom until this point had been just as blissfully ignorant of what lurked beneath the Migrant Fleet as she'd been…except each of them had the excuse that they'd never lived within the walls of a quarian ship, so how could they know?

Only she and Legion could have known…and only Legion had been able to recognize what was right in front of their faces.

"When it comes to the geth," Tali said, "they'll do whatever he wants them to do. They'll do whatever he wants and then encourage him to do more."

And Legion, with their one thousand one hundred and eighty-three programs, watched the Conclave votes flood into the Rayya with a near-unanimous conclusion…

…and Legion knew Creator-Zorah had told the truth.

7.

"Squad Leader Sela'Nesal, reporting."

"Squad Leader Prazza'Jis, reporting."

"Squad Leader Kal'Reegar, reporting."

Admiral Han'Gerrel watched as the three squads of marines stood at attention outside their shuttles and, in his mind, repeated the most glorious words he could think of for the fifteenth time since the Conclave's vote concluded.

We've won, Rael—I told you, we've finally, finally won…

---

Monthly updates it is, then!

Sorry for the delay folks; real life and all that. But I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter and that none of you are regretting opening this story! Because, y'know, that wouldn't be good. Generally not a good sign if someone reads something you've written and starts asking for a refund.

Quick sidenote: I don't think Legion, in the game, went into a whole lot of detail about why the heretics were called, well, "heretics," but I think they sort of indicated that the True Geth gave them that designation. I sorta figured that was a little...judgmental from arguably the most consistently moral and least dickish faction in the entire game, so this is what popped up in its place. Not sure if it's better necessarily but, hey, it's what it is. I also don't think the game went into much detail about what faction the geth on the Alarei belonged to, so the notion that they're "heretic-adjacent" is what emerged to fill in that gap. And finally, FINALLY, in ME2 Shala'Raan calls Tali's trial a "conclave" (and I guess the crowd was supposed to be Conclave representatives) which, to me, was a bit confusing since the impression I got that the Admiralty Board sort of sat separately from the Conclave itself. Since there's no trial (yet, anyways, I guess we'll see) I went with "Summit" and added some things about the Admiralty Board giving the Conclave recommendations, especially with regards to defense and security. That's sorta how the division of labour between legislatures and the Executive Branch is supposed to work in a number of jurisdictions but, as always, the reality is way more complicated than that.

Oh god am I almost done this note? Right, yeah, the chapter title comes from that legendary line in The Usual Suspects.

Okay I've taken enough of your time - peace out y'all!