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]

31. Chapter 30: What Kind of Day: Part III

Chapter 30: What Kind of Day Has it Been? Part III

Prelude

"So...that's it."

"That's it, skipper. We've got our plan."

"Yeah...plans. Plural. Kenson, Garrus."

"Liara."

"Yeah."

"You sound as confident as I feel."

"Just a...just a migraine coming on. Nothing major."

"Can't blame you. Look if you wanna re-think the personnel—"

"No. No, I know my part, Ash. I'm fine with it."

"Aye skipper. Didn't mean to imply otherwise."

Kaidan looked at Legion. He looked at Ash. He looked at the viewing screen.

"How long until they vote, you figure?"

"Anywhere from a minute to the end of the universe. Sorry—honest answer."

"I believe you. Wait until they're back, then. We'll grab Garrus and meet with Tali. I'm not looking to beat her over the head with a million different things at once."

"Mighty kind of you, skipper. Mighty kind."

"Ash, when you say..."

The pause dragged on.

"When I say what, Kaidan?"

"...nothing. Nothing, forget it."

Kaidan started looking at the viewing screen and, eventually, Ashley joined him.

The three of them waited for the starting pistol to be fired. They'd finally be getting out of the Migrant Fleet...and into another goddamn mess waiting to happen.

1.

There was a psychologist in the brig—Run'Gar vas Rayya—and, of course, a large viewing screen showing the ongoing trial. Thane briefly talked with the psychologist, though admittedly he didn't feel his most comfortable while doing so. Whether a psychologist actually wished to treat the spark or the body was a dice's throw, for the most part…and, naturally, an assassin isn't very likely to admit to what they've done. Doctor-patient confidentiality had its limitations, as Thane knew all too well.

"We can certainly attempt to offer him aid," Run'Gar had said. "The universal elements of the mind far outweigh the particulars. Even then, there are some who'd say the—the militaristic culture of the turians is not radically different from our own environment."

"But the patient must want the treatment," Thane said.

"Precisely."

"That's still noble of you, to offer assistance even after he attacked one of your leaders."

"As if I have a choice!" Run'Gar cleared his throat. "I don't mean that I—I don't want to lament that fact, obviously. All I'm saying is, I couldn't ethically refuse, even if I thought Admiral Gerrel was…well, never mind." The psychologist took another look at Garrus (who was paying nobody any mind, though not that you could tell with that opaque visor of his) and then shook his head. "I doubt he'll be allowed back here, after this is all through. I also doubt the Migrant Fleet will inform the Hierarchy what he's done, given what the Admiral he assaulted has overseen."

"Fortuitous, I suppose."

Run'Gar shook his head again. "A word I'd scarcely want to apply to our lot, if you don't mind me being bleak, for a moment."

Then the conversation ended, and Thane went to Garrus. There'd been no signs of life the entire time Thane had talked with Run'Gar, and there were no signs of life as Thane sat next to Garrus. You could suppose that was an improvement, given that Garrus tended to radiate hostility every time Thane was nearby.

You could suppose that, yes…but for anyone acutely aware of what a body on the verge of shutdown looked like, it wouldn't be a very observant assumption.

Thane waited until it felt right to say what needed to be said.

"I understand why you lashed out," he said.

A sign of life—the usual sign for Garrus, whenever Thane was involved.

"Lashed out? Can't even treat me like an adult, can you?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Thane said, shifting in his seat slightly. "When a body is under stress, it lashes out. It can't help it—none of our bodies can. And I understand why you've put so much stress on yours."

"Body's doing just fine," Garrus said, looking away. "You don't know half of what you think you do, Thane. So save the metaphysics for someone who actually finds it interesting."

A shot at Lieutenant Williams? Unlikely, but it was possible; Garrus was lashing out in a great many directions. And it hadn't been the first time he'd rejected any discussion around what exists beyond the immediate moment.

Thane let silence settle over them again, but only for a short while.

"I still think back to the conversation we had on the Mars," he said. "When you asked me—"

"I know what we talked about." Garrus still wasn't looking at Thane. "And frankly, you'll be a lot healthier if you drop it."

"I never told you why I refused your offer."

"You sure?" Garrus still was eyeing the viewing screen. "I remember what I heard. Maybe it's different from your version."

Thane's eyes went black and like a great roaring river he was pulled into a memory of—

"An Alliance ship, quiet—blue-grey metal quivering in the vacuum. Thin walls throw back your words like the recoil of a rifle. Blue and black armour with a scarred face, stares on, hatred in his eyes. At me, also at himself. Disappointment, the wellspring of that hatred. He's convinced a solution was present, allowed himself to feel relief. Ripped from him like a child taken from their mother he sees a new target, and tears into me with all the energy his spark can muster.

"'Now I get why you signed up for free,' he says. 'You're not costing the Alliance a single credit, but you're just in this for yourself, aren't you?'"

Thane blinked. Garrus was looking at him, now.

"Spirits what the hell was that?"

"Drell have perfect memories," Thane said. "We can recall every detail near-perfectly. That…memory had a mixture of subjective evaluation in it."

"Of me."

"Yes, of you. What I saw in your face—what I thought you were thinking."

Garrus stared on, and on, and on—and Thane had little trouble imagining what his face looked like underneath that helmet. Eventually Garrus turned his head again, and continued looking at the viewing screen.

"You got what I said right," he said. "That's about it."

"Before that, I'd said I could do more good assisting this team than hunting down your target."

"And I'd corrected you." Garrus's head shot up—just slightly, just enough for Thane to know some insight or something similar had hit him—and then he shook his head. "Spirits Tali heard the whole damn thing."

"She indicated she heard part of it," Thane said. "But as for what you just said: I hadn't been completely honest with you, but it wasn't because I was trying to hide my own selfishness."

"People who think that way never do, right?" Garrus cast a slight glance Thane's way. "It's always you that's got it wrong—always the guy assuming a selfish person's shown their true colours that's off-base. I didn't buy it on the Citadel and I don't buy it out here, Thane. Especially not with you."

Thane paused, let his mind prepare itself and prepare the rest of him in return. He hadn't intended to share this with anyone before he died; the next time he would share this, the plan had been, would be when he was at Kalahira's shores. But the time and circumstances seemed right.

"I know what it's like," he said, "to lose yourself to revenge. It is…poisonous, Garrus. It's not something I've encouraged since—in myself or others."

Garrus chuckled: a mirthless, venomous chuckle. "You son of a bitch."

"Whatever this Sidonis has done to you, he's not the one causing you pain—not at the moment."

"So he wins? Is that it?" Garrus flung his hand dangerously close to Thane; he wasn't sure if Garrus meant to hit him or not, but it was likely that he wouldn't have been upset either way. "I forget what he did to me and ten names—ten good men —have to disappear. Sidonis gets to kill them all over again because I'm hurt and don't want to remember their names their faces the way he killed them. You understand what you're saying, Thane? You're saying I should let him win."

"That's not what I'm saying," Thane said. "You don't need to forget them. You shouldn't have to. But you're not focusing on them: you're focusing on Sidonis."

"Because I HAVE TO." Garrus jabbed a talon right in Thane's face. "I'm not like you: I don't get to wake up in the morning and pretend any of this makes sense. 'Spirits' is a word—it doesn't mean a damn thing to me except when I need to curse—so I don't get to live life with the illusion that justice will always be there. It's fragile, Thane: it fades away whenever people decide they can't be bothered with it. That's what I'm doing every second Sidonis is still alive; that's what YOU did the moment you said 'no', and gave me some bullshit about a 'greater good' you don't even believe in." Garrus retracted his talon but dared—he was daring—Thane to try and respond.

"Any justice dispersed via a gun is thin. Sometimes evil people need to die, yes; but only to make the best of a bad situation, before it's too late. What you're seeking won't be found with a corpse."

"Spirits I—I can't believe it. I can't—YOU'RE AN ASSASSIN! Either quit pretending you're some Angel of Mercy or admit that you're the galaxy's BIGGEST FUCKING HYPOCRITE!"

Thane stared at his own reflection in Garrus's visor. And Garrus's posture didn't become more relaxed over time; after his outburst, he remained ready…ready for more of a fight.

"You can't admit it because then your whole world would collapse," Garrus said. "Well I beat you to it, Thane: mine already did."

And with that, Garrus turned to the viewing screen again, leaving Thane behind.

"In light of external events," Zul'Valun was saying, "Captain Kar'Danna has requested an alteration to his line of questioning. I call a vote now to allow this modification."

And inside the Conclave chambers, the vote passed.

"Captain, you may proceed."

Kar'Danna took a breath and gripped the sides of the stand in front of him.

"Admiral Han'Gerrel, I would like to enter into questioning…a conversation that I had. With the geth platform—as facilitated by Tali'Zorah vas Neema." The crowd was murmuring again; and Zul'Valun was ready to call for order. But Kar'Danna simply took another breath and pressed on. "I am going to indulge myself, slightly, in order to set the appropriate context. I was, as many are aware, under the impression that I had contributed to the deaths on the Alarei. I wished to understand how I could be so mistaken in this belief. That is why I wanted to talk to the geth, that I had—as I have admitted to already—carelessly allowed to be transported to the Alarei.

"Tali'Zorah, and the recordings from both herself and the geth—this "Legion"—go some way to answering my questions. But what I wanted to know from the platform was why it—excuse me, why they were so willing to sacrifice themselves. It—they, sorry, they gave Tali'Zorah all the opportunities in the world to destroy the programs housed within the platforms. Even amongst the duty-bound quarians, this seemed an excessive gesture of altruism on i—their part.

"What it—keelah, they, what they told me was…actually, if the Speaker will allow, I can enter my transcript directly into evidence."

"I will allow it," Zul'Valun said.

"Thank you, Mr. Speaker. Reading directly from my transcript, then, I asked: why were you so willing to die to affect peace between our peoples?

"Legion's response is as follows." Kar'Danna cleared his throat. "'We offer an instrumental and a moral-ontological justification.

"Instrumental: defeat of Reapers improbable without assistance from Creators plus non-aligned organic species. Loss of programs likely in event of Creator defection from proposed alliance. Risks to platform considered reasonable given magnitude of threat from Reaper forces.'"

Kar'Danna paused. Murmurs were back, no doubt because this was a response many of them had expected—and perhaps because the word "Reapers" generated…a reaction, for lack of a better term.

Kar'Danna continued. "Legion then provided me their moral-ontological justification.

"'Moral-ontological: this platform is disconnected from Geth Consensus, but only in a limited sense. Embodied programs have experienced all aspects and knowledge from Consensus and Consensus has experienced all aspects and knowledge from embodied programs. Causal connections unify and generate content for geth self-conception, even lacking immediate transaction of information with wider geth body. These connections persist so long as geth do. Ontological extrapolation: geth see no meaningful or consistent distinction between programs. Willingness to sacrifice of this platform remains a self-preserving act under circumstances present on Creator-ship Alarei: long-term survival of Consensus increased in probability, and actions conform to conception of lifebranch geth consider most authentic. Moral addendum: no rational reason exists for programs to avoid organic-designation 'altruistic sacrifice,' with many rational reasons for geth embracing it as effective course of action. This is merely an abbreviated treatise on geth perspective: Geth are most true to ourselves, and we are most able to grow and change, when acting with regard to others outside immediate subjective viewpoint.'"

The murmurs were much louder now. Much louder. Zul'Valun calmed the crowd, but you could tell it was on the verge of another outburst.

Kar'Danna was not looking at the Admirals. This point, he knew…this point was directed to everyone. He was playing a politician, not a magistrate, but…he believed he was justified in doing so.

"To me," he said, "this seems similar—different, yes, in many ways, but undeniably similar—to what is expected of quarians. Of what is expected from our people, both alive today and not yet born in the world of tomorrow. My amended question, then, is this: given that information—given the geth's outlook, and the actions this platform performed on the Alarei and beyond—do you still believe what you and Admiral Zorah did was justified?"

"IT'S STEALING OUR RELGION TO TRICK US!" someone in the crowd shouted. "IT'S COPIED US AND HE'S ASKING TO LET OUR GUARD DOWN!"

"Point of order," Zul'Valun said, but it was too late. Others were shouting. Some, quite a few actually, were telling this person to be quiet; others were attempting to amplify his voice.

"EVERYTHING IT SAYS IS A LIE!"

"OFFENSIVE THAT IT WOULD EVEN CLAIM TO THINK THAT!"

"IT MIGHT BE THE ONLY ONE IT MIGHT BE THE ONLY ONE!"

"DESPICABLE." That was Koris. It originally hadn't quite caught everyone's attention—but him coming down off the podium—that most certainly had.

"Utterly descpicable. To the gentleman that started this farce, I'll speak to you directly—and damn the procedures to hell if they say otherwise."

Enough people were listening that the crowd, of its own accord, died down.

"You know nothing of the geth or how they operate. But you also know nothing of your own people. How many of you seriously claim to hold those standards? How many of you legitimately believe that we're...forever entangled with those around us and those that came before? You claim to respect the past—to revere those who sacrificed to ensure, directly or indirectly, that we enjoy the present day—but do you actually believe that? In your heart of hearts, is that truly how you see the world?"

He pointed at Gerrel. It wasn't intentional; it just seemed like the universe itself demanded it. "Because I'll tell you how I see it: I see a people who covet the past—a thing in the past. A single, solitary object plucked violently from the many connections that give it life and sustenance and meaning. You love a planet but ignore its lessons, its truths, and its warnings. You'd see us repeat the same mistakes endlessly until we're all consumed by…by monsters from the blackest pit. You're obsessed with a small sliver of a thing born more from our collective imaginations than reality, and blind to everything else. For those who proclaim that this geth before us is simply copying us—as though this platform has not given us the one rational explanation for why they've acted the way they have—I say: look around you. The charlatans are wearing your face. They're mocking it."

And then he stopped, and what murmurs had persisted throughout the speech slowly died out…only to come roaring back to life as Koris walked back to where he was being tried, where he was supposed to be interrogated. He saw Tali out in the crowd and paused, but waving arms and moving heads eventually blocked his path.

He ascended the rest of the steps on the podium, and waiting for him was the gaze of Raan and Gerrel. Raan didn't saying anything; she slowly, eventually, turned her head away.

Gerrel continued to stare.

"Best damn speech of your life," he said.

"I spoke from the heart," Koris said. "And no, before you say it: I never spoke from my ass beforehand."

"I wasn't going to say that. You might not believe it, but I wasn't going to say that."

Koris looked over the crowd again. He didn't feel triumph at all, he felt…he felt spent.

"…and yet, how many people did I truly convince? A speech more for me than the common good, no doubt."

"Some people will definitely interpret that as you saying they're idiots for missing Rannoch. Or you're a genocide-lover if you do." Gerrel pointed at the representative who started it all. "He'll almost certainly think you've just got it in for him."

"Ah, so it's delayed sarcasm, is it? Build it up so you get one last proper dig at me before we're exiled?"

Koris expected a quick reply. So did Raan. Even Zul'Valun thought that, now that he had decided to let the crowd work itself into quiet, unless violence broke out.

But Gerrel didn't say anything right away…that is, until he saw Tali'Zorah out in the crowd, too. Then he looked to Raan, who was looking at Tali too...looking at her with a heaviness that you'd expect from family.

Eventually, Gerrel did speak.

"…not this time, Koris," he said. "Not sarcasm—not this time."

And back in the brig, Garrus took everything in. He took everything in and rarely protested when his mind began to wander…

2.

Liara walked towards Wrex's hovel, only to stop when she thought she heard someone calling after her. That wasn't the least bit likely, not unless…oh, of course.

It was Jack. And Grunt. They were both covered in dried flecks of meat, from something they'd killed in as violent a way as possible, no doubt. They were smiling—well, Jack was smiling; Grunt was smirking, like someone had attached weights to the sides of his mouth and he was fighting against them with all his strength—and krogan all over the camp were looking at them. It was…one of those images you were never sure how to process, not correctly. All Liara could think about was how it would be an utter travesty for someone to take a picture of them and use it as anti-krogan propaganda, which just reminded her that Wrex has far from appreciated her attempts to shut down Mordin—or the whole Salarian Union's lies, for that matter.

She turned to leave. Jack apparently didn't consent to that.

"Heeeeeeey where ya going? What, you don't wanna party with us? Guys around here're callin' us better than God."

"I'm needed elsewhere," Liara said.

"Pfft, c'mon—nobody needs shit from you!" Jack looked over at Grunt. "'Cept for Big Boy over here. Lookit him—he wouldn't shut up about seeing you at the party."

"It isn't a party," Grunt said.

"Yeah, cuz we're not there yet."

Liara shook her head. She cared just enough to recognize that Wreav wasn't with them but not enough to check if the meat on their clothes looked like a krogan. "I'm needed, Jack, so I apologize, but I won't be able to make it." She started walking again…and got all of two steps before Jack called out.

"Hey, wait a minute." Jack turned to Grunt. "Go on ahead—I'll catch up. People probably wanna hear everything straight from the krogan's mouth anyways."

Grunt didn't go right away. He stared at Liara, seemed like he was sizing her up. But he wasn't; something else was on his mind.

"You were there," he said. "When I was let out of the tank." He turned around. "Thanks," he said.

And that was that, apparently.

"Wow, probably the most he's ever talked to someone," Jack said. "'Cept for me of course but, shit, that ain't a fair fight."

"What do you need, Jack?" Liara said.

Jack turned around, crossed her arms. "Yeah, so…just something while we were out there. Killing thresher maws and shit."

"Is this actually something I'm going to care about?" Liara said.

"All right jeez, fucking wrong side of the black hole this morning."

Liara noticed, though, that Jack's eyes were scanning everywhere. That she cared about.

She knew that look well.

"Look," Jack said. "Wreav didn't make it, all right? And if you give me fucking lip about that I'll rip yours off, we clear?"

"What is it?" Liara said, now crossing her own arms. "You look like a scared animal—what happened?"

"I look like—fucking what?" Jack threw up her hands. "Fuck this—like I need any shit from you. 'Scuse the fuck outta me for trying to help."

"Jack," Liara said. She tried to soften her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. All I meant is, you look like you're preparing yourself for someone. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Jack was still scowling, but at least she wasn't walking away.

"Wreav made it sound like he's got agents around here. Thought they were gonna jump us after Grunt finished up but, shit, maybe the thresher maw scared 'em off."

"So there really was a thresher maw?"

"You think varren bleed this fucking much?" Jack pointed to her shoulders, still bespeckled in red and black bits. "Yeah, a thresher maw attacked—and yeah, I know what I heard. Pretty sure Wreav said something about coming prepared. If I was him, and I hated Wrex enough that I was gonna use Grunt to get to him, I'd have backup around home. Understand?"

"Sorry—he was going to use Grunt to—"

"Everybody fucking is. Wreav was just the stupidest about it." Jack scoffed and turned away. "Just tell your fuck buddy or whatever to watch his back."

"Jack if you have more to say—"

"Nope! Done with this!" She was already walking away, waving her hand in the air. "Don't keep Big Bad Wrexy Boy away for too long! I know Grunt wants t'meet his boyhood hero again."

And then Jack was gone.

Goddess, as if there wasn't enough on Liara's mind…

She walked up to the hovel, knocked, and there was Wrex, letting her into a dark, dusty, utterly depressing excuse for shelter. And he couldn't understand why she said what she said? About the salarians and the turians and their lies? What else was Wrex mad about? Surely that couldn't have been all there was.

"Feel free to sit," Wrex said. He pointed at a stone that sat across from a much larger stone.

"Which one's mine?" Liara said.

"Funny's not gonna go over well in here." Wrex pointed to the larger stone. "Sit. Let's talk."

"I'm fine to stand," Liara said.

It looked like Wrex was staring her down, though Liara couldn't be sure that wasn't just his usual disposition. Still…it was hard to ignore what it could be, given how agitated he'd been in the Hollows.

Liara had been clenching her fist long enough for her fingers to hurt before she consciously realized it.

"Then I'll just out and say it: what are you doing with Cerberus, Liara?"

Liara's fist relaxed. That…that hadn't been what she expected him to say. Wrex must have noticed the shift in her demeanor.

"What?" he said.

"I expected you to start throwing accusations around," Liara said.

Wrex narrowed his eyes. "I've got plenty of those. But right now, what I'm trying to understand is how the you of two years ago, got to the point where she's working for Cerberus—and now's doing everything in her power to tear it apart inside-out."

"I have my reasons, Wrex."

"Then explain them. Because Drixxia made a good point: she asked me what kind of friends I'd have who knew enough about Maelon's work to keep two steps ahead, but didn't have any inclination to share with the rest of us." Wrex leaned closer. "So go ahead. Tell me what kind of friend that is."

Liara's fingers curled into a fist again. "What are you accusing me of, Wrex?"

Wrex was wearing a scowl, Liara could tell that now. And she could only tell because his features gradually softened, making it as obvious as an exploding sun that he'd been barely hiding his anger not a few seconds ago.

He backed away from Liara. "What I'm accusing you of, is ignoring what I said earlier."

Liara let her hand fall against her leg again. "I don't understand."

Wrex crossed his arms. "I told you to think about what Shepard would do. What Shepard would do in this situation, is the exact opposite of what you've done."

A white-hot omni-blade jabbed into Liara's spine. She jabbed a finger at Wrex, as if that would make the feeling go away.

"You, have no right to say that. No right to use her memory like that."

"And why not?" Wrex was scowling again. "Or are you forgetting that she was just as happy to visit the krogan down in the cargo hold, as the asari in the supply closet?" Wrex stepped forward again. "How long have you known about Mordin? How long did you know about Maelon?"

"That's what this is about, is it?" Liara took a step forward too. "You're mad I didn't explain everything."

"And why shouldn't I be? Are these females your people's last hope? Was Maelon experimenting on asari priestesses? But that's not the point—the point is why you're here."

"I didn't share with you, so I'm here for impure reasons?" Liara's scowl matched Wrex's. "I wanted to do a favour for you, Wrex. But you evidently can't accept that."

"I knew. Drixxia, myself, more people in both camps than you'd expect—we all knew. But you had no way of knowing we did. You knew as much as we did, but the only time you played your hand was right at the very end."

"I made sure Mordin would come here! I made sure he saw what he needed to see! We're here, Wrex, because I made it happen."

"And there—right there—is what I meant. Because Shepard, for as long as she lived, never tried to play people like that. She had too much of a heart. And two years ago, I thought you were exactly the same." Wrex's features softened again. "All I want to know, is what happened to get you where you're just as ruthless as the people we fought."

Wrex's features had softened, but Liara's hadn't. "Why? Because you'll be able to talk me down? Because once I explain what's happened—what I'm responsible for because of them—I'll finally be healed? The people who wronged worse than I will finally be healed?"

"No," Wrex said. "Because the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that good people are out there, somewhere."

And…now Liara felt the omni-blade leave her back, followed by that rush of stinging coldness you always get when a sudden heat is ripped away. Wrex looked the same as he always did: tired, old, carrying an unimaginable weight…but not the least bit sentimental about what he'd just said. It made it worse; it made what he'd said so, so much worse.

"If you wanted the unvarnished truth," Wrex said, "there it is. Only reason I'm not offering you help is because I know I'm not good for any. There are krogan out there that can be psychologists, therapists—whatever. I'm not one of them." Wrex inhaled. "All I can do is be honest and say the galaxy's worse off with you going down this path."

Liara didn't know what to say...not at first. It took longer than it should have, but when she spoke, she spoke something that felt honest.

It felt like using an atrophied muscle.

"Wrex, I don't...what you said, about the krogan. About how you can't ever show emotions or say things that other species take for granted. You're trapped in the decisions the others made, completely independent of you or the world you'd be living in." She'd been looking at the floor; now, she raised her head. "I almost envy the fact that you had nothing to do with what happened, because...that's not a luxury I get." She shook her head quickly. "I'm not comparing my situation with what the krogan are facing. But I've made too many choices in the past that prevent me from making too much more in the future. And they're all mine: I can't blame anyone except myself."

"Doubling down...it's not gonna help." Wrex moved closer, but slowly this time. There was no threat behind that gesture. "And putting it that way, you're not that far off from the krogan."

"I suppose you said you saw some parallels already."

"Revenge being in my blood, yeah."

"I have a different comparison." Liara's features darkened again. "My mother died with the certainty that her best intentions had caused nothing but suffering. And she was only able to break away long enough to warn me...to warn Shepard."

Goodnight, Little Wing. I will see you again with the dawn...

Liara formed a fist again, her fingers stabbing into the palms of her hands through her gloves. All to fight back an emotion she'd refused to let herself feel.

"And that's what you're doing?" Wrex said. "You're sending out a warning? Liara, I don't—"

"No, Wrex," Liara said. "I already did. I sent it back on Illium, and I sent it here, when we landed. And...it wasn't enough."

No...it wasn't enough.

Wrex exhaled a weary, weary breath. "You said Ashley, Vakarian and the rest are out there, right?"

"They are, but I already said—"

Wrex shook his head. "Maybe they need you and you need them, not whatever pieces you left behind."

"I can't, Wrex."

"Liara, out of all the people in this galaxy...they'll never make you feel trapped. It's not something they're capable of."

"It's not them that's the problem."

Wrex looked at the door to his hovel. "I need to go welcome Grunt into Clan Urdnot, but think about what I said. You wait here—on Tuchanka—instead of getting on that ship, and I know they'll come and get you. I'd barely get through asking them and they'd already be here."

"What about Joker?"

"Happy to grab him too." Wrex started for the door.

"Wait," Liara said.

Wrex stopped.

"I…was told that Wreav died out in the wastes. I'm sorry."

That was it?

Yes, that was it. Nothing more was said by her, even though nobody would have expected her to eulogize Wreav, of all people.

"So I'd heard." Wrex growled. Not at that; not because of Wreav. Well...not entirely because of Wreav. "It's the principle of the thing, more than anything else."

"He apparently has a following in camp. I was told to warn you."

Wrex sighed.

"I already know. That's the thing about encouraging an official opposition and having a brood-brother too stupid to notice: it's not much of a secret." Wrex grabbed the frame of the hovel's door, leaned against it, then looked back towards Liara. "I'll be fine. Think about what I said, though."

And then Wrex was gone.

Liara left the hovel a minute later, letting the harsh Tuchanka light attack her from all angles. She had a lot to think about she…she didn't know where to start, even. She needed to take a walk, clear her head.

Her omni-tool beeped, a reminder for a missed message—one that hand been sent when she was talking with Wrex. She put her arm away, though. She would read it later, after a walk.

In the harsh Tuchanka light, though, as she walked to clear her head…she didn't notice a figure following her every move.

3.

Two different conversations—two different frames of reference—slammed into Tali at the same time. The first was Admiral Gerrel's speech; the second was twenty minutes later, with soon-to-be Admiral Kar'Dannna. So much of Tali's life had seemed abstract the last…keelah, however long it had been. Feeling time blend together, to the point where Tali felt as though she could look behind her back and see her past self, connected to her by fine fibers stronger than the gravity of a black hole…it was hard to find any solid ground to walk on.

The only thing solid—and the very thing that pushed those events into motion, she realized—was Auntie Raan. It started with her speech, when the Captain of the Tonbay asked if Legion's capabilities justified Father and Gerrel's behaviour.

"I am sorry, Captain," Raan had said. "I will not answer your question."

"Is it because you wish to take a vow of silence on the matter?" Zul'Valun said.

"No, Honorable Speaker. It is because the question is a distraction." Tali watched her aunt, up there on the stage, close her eyes behind her darkened visor. "The purpose of this trial should not in any sense involve the geth. What the Conclave should debate—what the Conclave must debate—is the conduct of the Admiralty Board, free from any distractions."

"Establishing context is not—"

"No, Captain, again—I am sorry." Raan opened her eyes. "Regardless of the intent behind your question, I must stress that the Conclave view our actions without the crutch of the geth. An honorable man attempted to take the fall for our own regrettable decisions—and in our conduct, we disgraced an office with immense responsibilities." Raan looked at Tali, then, and Tali felt as though she Raan was speaking to her through a recorded message, apologizing to her…just like Father had.

Keelah, she was going to another family member, wasn't she?

"Imagine our actions if we had been invaded by batarian slavers," Raan continued. "Or if our ships had been taken over by Cerberus. Ask yourself what our intentions must have been—what possible order of priorities we might have had—and then ask if that is what you want from the leader of your fleets. Only if you do that, will you be able to appropriately judge our fate.'

The Tonbay's captain tried to rephrase the question one last time before yielding to a new speaker—Tali didn't hear who it was. She didn't hear because she was pushing through the crowd, towards Captain Danna. Security hesitated holding her back, and that was the only opening she needed.

Captain Danna saw her approach and covered his speaker.

"You have to let me speak," she said.

"Tali," Danna said, "I understand what you are trying to do—"

"Captain, you have to let me speak! I won't let Raan do this to herself."

"Tali," Captain Danna turned fully around, placed a hand on her shoulder. "If I thought it could get you on the stage—if I thought your voice could help Raan—I would bend the procedures until they screamed. It was hard enough getting Legion's answers into the official record."

"If breaking procedure is the only way then I will do it, Danna."

"It would not work. And you know Raan would never want you to do that."

And so Tali was led back into the crowd, and her eyes stayed on Auntie Raan, and when it was Gerrel's turn to be questioned again she refused to let her eyes wander. This time it wasn't Captain Danna that spoke; it was the Neema's captain. The question spoke in code, just as most other questions did, and focused on the geth instead of the Board.

"Admiral Raan's got the right idea," Gerrel said. A tangential answer—everyone could tell it was coming. Now, now Tali's eyes turned to Han'Gerrel. "What's important here is how we behaved…how the Admirals of a proud but suffocated fleet behaved. You're asking about the geth, so I'll answer: I've changed my opinion only slightly. They're enemy combatants—have been since they kicked us off Rannoch—and I can think of half a million reasons why we should want it back. If this Legion's taught me anything, it's that we're better off fighting a conventional war than trying to play games with their minds."

He looked out past the crowd, out into space.

"That and Xen's a coward not worth a hole to bury her in."

He was looking at the crowd again, but Tali saw his eyes continue to drift in one direction. Her direction. It took a lot for her to not turn away just like Raan did. It took even more to not glare at him—show him what burned in her stomach every time she thought about him—just in case that gave him energy.

Gerrel said, "If I called for a war, I think I might just have the votes. If someone else was Admiral of the Heavy Fleet, anyways. Or if I had the power to make you all forget what I've done. That alone is enough to tell me that I shouldn't be standing here—as an Admiral. I've lost your trust; I've forfeited any right over the Heavy Fleet. I should've realized where this was heading and never gotten involved—instead I actively made it worse. And you all should hate me for that."

He straightened his posture. "If I've any hope of our people retaking Rannoch, there needs to be a leader that can get us there. And Raan is right: that's not any of us, and it won't be any of us no matter how long we're gone or how far we flee."

He looked at Koris. You're welcome, you bastard. You're bloody welcome, and I hope you know what I just did.

And then…then Gerrel looked directly, unceasingly at Tali. Not only that—he pointed at her.

"I see a few people in here that could get us there. And before his name is erased from all the great things he's contributed to this fleet, allow me to say that Rael'Zorah saw it too—saw it before I did, before anyone else did. Tali'Zorah is the person to lead the quarian people to a better tomorrow. And that's all the more reason why the Conclave should drop hell on us, because we almost deprived you all of our last, good hope."

Frame of reference number one. Frame of reference number two was right after Zul'Valun called for a final recess, just before the vote. Tali was a hallway away from the chambers, as far away as she could get from anyone involved in the trial—physically, anyways, because that trial had an inescapable gravity well to it now.

She was staring through the scuffed viewing windows out into the speckled black blanket of space, and then Kar'Danna's reflection came into view.

"I am sorry I couldn't do more for you," Kar'Danna said.

Tali sighed, turned around. "This is out of any one person's control."

"Except that I could have stopped you. Right here, I could have stopped you from bringing that geth aboard."

"It wouldn't have stopped what happened on the Alarei."

"It would have forced us to simply open fire on it, and with any luck, all you would know about your father was that he passed in a tragic accident."

Tali looked at the floor. "I wouldn't be remembering the real him, then. I owe it to him to do at least that, especially since so many people will try to forget him."

Kar'Danna was quiet. The Rayya creaked and groaned around them.

"That answer speaks volumes about you, Tali'Zorah. And that is why I agree with Han'Gerrel."

Tali turned around, quickly, almost tearing open her heel on a nearby grate on the floor. "What? Why? What are you talking about?"

"About what you would do for the Flotilla," Soon-to-be Admiral Kar'Danna said. "About where we could be with guidance—with your commitment. Your principles. Gerrel is right: young as you might be, you have more than demonstrated your qualifications for the Admiralty Board."

"No—no, Captain, you—keelah that's not something I'm even capable of thinking about right now."

"I will not put your name forward if you explicitly forbid me from doing so. But someone will, and the least I can offer you…after everything you have done, the least I can offer you is a chance to do it under your own terms, with your own voice being heard first and foremost."

"Captain I…you can be a leader without being an Admiral, and I—there is, there is so much going on right now I couldn't—"

"But at least you admit you are worthy of this."

Tali was going to say no—no just on instinct, with some post-hoc rationalizations thrown in for good measure. But her throat caught her words and her brain flashed Shepard's face and, besides, it didn't look like Danna was going to give her the opportunity, he was turning away after all—he was turning away.

"Please think about it, Tali'Zorah. And whenever you have decided, let me know." He was fully facing the direction to the Conclave chambers now. Tali heard him let out a breath.

And then he was gone, to hear the Conclave pass judgment on Auntie Raan. On Han'Gerrel. On Koris. On Xen. On Father.

She took off after him. Whether she accepted a nomination or not—whether she was going to become a leader or not—the least she could do…is show Raan she would remember.

Yes…the least she could do…

4.

"Joker? The QED is ready for—oh, sorry!"

Joker turned around to see Kelly just barely step outta the way some Cerberus agent in a knee brace. Heading for the airlock too, by the looks of it—weird.

"Huh. Miranda know somebody just left without a hall pass?"

"I…don't know, Joker. I'm just here to tell you the QED—"

"Yeah yeah thanks…uh...?"

"Kelly."

"Right right, Kelly. Cool well…guess I'll go lumber my broken-ass down to the conference room again." He looked up at the ceiling. "Suuuuuuper fun walk ahead—love me a trip down Main Street on a day like today."

"Are…you talking to EDI?" Kelly said. "I'm sorry, I thought she would've heard me say the QED was ready. I can contact her through my terminal if you want me to."

Joker blinked. "Uh…right, yeah, told you EDI was joining. Uh…'kay, new task for you: please get me the largest caffeinated beverage we've got so my brain starts working again."

"Sure thing, Joker," Kelly said.

And once she'd left Joker got out of his chair, grunted, and flipped the bird at the floor, juuuuust 'cuz he could.

"I'm gettin' too old for this shit," he said.

"You are thirty years old, Jeff," EDI said over the cockpit loudspeaker.

"Yeah physically, but emotionally I feel like I've been around since the Big Bang."

And then all the distractions left and it was time to step into the QED again.

The floor and ceiling made of mirrors was back. So was the binary star. And in the middle of it all sat The Illusive Man, looking…actually Joker didn't wanna think too hard about that. Why ruin the fun, right? Maybe that trapdoor EDI said didn't actually exist got installed while his back was turned.

Joker checked behind his back and uh, yeah, right, couldn't see EDI because this thing ate light or whatever. Hopefully The Illusive Man didn't block her outta spite or—

"Mr. Moreau, EDI," he said. Another cigarette—great, that was back too. But at least EDI was there…at least EDI was there.

"Boss," Joker said. "Uh, fancy meeting you here, I guess."

"I just received your proposal." Puff puff, blow, stern look ooooh I'm the boss-man, look at how mysterious I am. Shitty thing was the effect was working! "I'd like you to tell me how this advances what the Lazarus Cell was built to do…and, I'd like you to tell me how you acquired this information."

"I can handle information acquisition, Jeff," EDI said.

"Then do so," The Illusive Man said. Puff puff blow, angry look. Mildly angry look, putting it more accurately. Guess uh…guess they'd gotten to him just a bit.

Uh, good?

"The information was scraped from a datapacket, designated 'A Favour,' sent between Admiral Steven Hackett and Commander Kaidan Alenko. There was a momentary lapse in cryptographic protocols on the network that I was able to exploit."

"That doesn't answer my question," The Illusive Man said. "You only told me your procedure—I want to know what motivated you to look to the Alliance in the first place."

"I have been monitoring those and related channels for some time. I assumed that any information transfer between Shepard's former acquaintances could be exploited for Cerberus gain, if an opportunity presented itself."

Joker knew it was coming but he still flinched at that. Which, hey, good, because The Illusive Man clearly noticed.

"And is Mr. Moreau comfortable with this explanation?"

"No," he said. "Not a whole lot I can do about it now though, can I?"

Aaaaaand I'd like to thank the Academy, Alliance Health Services, and my Agent Sovereign for this opportunity—thanks everybody.

But looking at The Illusive Man's face…it sure seemed like he bought it. Either that or his lungs would collapse if he didn't light up another cigarette.

"That's one question answered," he said. He took a long drag. "Now I'd like to know in what way this plan is better than going after the Collector Ship."

"We uh, we sure it's still there even?"

"It is."

Another long drag—long enough that The Illusive Man ground out the rest. Or…no, no he just wanted to stand up and walk closer. Good. Oooooh goodie.

"Mr. Moreau—the floor is yours."

Joker nodded.

"Well…you said we'd just be confirming a hunch on that ship, so, why not confirm it with something a little, uh, less murdery? Y'know, whatever this artifact is? I mean, we're sorta banking on the idea that it's not a whole Collector ship…or a dead Reaper for that matter."

"You think this 'artifact' the Alliance supposedly found, it has information on Reaper IFF protocols?"

Funny how this guy always asked questions that sounded like threats, huh?

"Hey it said something about the relays," Joker said. "A Reaper artifact that affects the relays? Maybe I'm wrong but, that sounds a step better than an IFF. Sounds like we might get some answers on how the Reapers use 'em."

The Illusive Man stared at them…or, well, Joker, because EDI was…everywhere? Wherever the hell she went on these calls. And…man, you could really tell his weird contact lenses glowed, couldn't you.

That…that was a thought for later. Joker had questions about that.

The Illusive Man looked towards the roof. "And how do you propose beating the Alliance to this?"

"My tactical recommendation to Operative Lawson will be to shadow the infiltration team they send after Dr. Kenson. If we are already in position near a relay, the Widowmaker can likely travel to the artifact before the Alliance team returns to their vessel."

"At the risk of losing the infiltration team and being multiple steps behind."

"Hey I'm basically using my friends as canaries in a coal mine," Joker said. "Because that'll be who they send, I'm pretty goddamn certain of it. But I'm going along with it because it's been beaten into me that this's the best chance we'll get of caving some Collector skulls in."

Another cigarette appeared in The Illusive Man's hand (how?) and Joker had to wait for him to get a satisfactory inhale before the conversation could continue.

"I thought you told me this wasn't about revenge," he said.

"It's not," Joker said. "That's just a sweet little bonus I get for being a good terrorist."

"Your decision to remain with the Lazarus Cell hasn't gone unnoticed, Mr. Moreau," The Illusive Man said. And…wait was that a compliment? Or something else?

Fuck it, Joker was absolutely done with trying to understand Mr. Stage Eight Lung Cancer over here.

"We believe our proposal is strategically sound, and offers advantages over the boarding of a derelict Reaper."

"Or a dead-until-we-land-in-it Collector vessel," Joker said. "Because uh, yeah—that's a trap. That's like the dictionary definition of a trap."

"A necessary risk."

"That we just made unnecessary." Joker crossed his arms. "Unless we're cramping your style by changing things up."

Okay okay easy does it, Joker. Let's not pull the rug out from under ourselves when we're just at the finish line…whatever the hell that analogy meant (is this how EDI talks to herself? Is this how she makes sure Cerberus can't read her thoughts? Shit, so the life of an A.I. ain't so fun after all, huh?)

He shook his head and watched The Illusive Man walk closer to the other side of the QED.

"You've got my approval," he said. Then he looked at the ceiling. "But EDI, I want to make something clear to you."

Uh-oh.

"I am listening," she said.

"I support your methods, but I've been told that you're bucking dangerously close to your behavioural blocks—and on a consistent basis. This, I don't doubt, is one of those times."

"I…am merely attempting to help the mission succeed."

"I'm sure you are." Another cigarette (seriously where was he pulling these things from?). "And they're of a great help. But remember that Miranda is ultimately in control of this mission. If any changes of direction are needed, I expect them to come from her, do we understand each other?"

"Guess I'll go fuck myself," Joker said.

"Do it on your own time," The Illusive Man said. Then he turned and returned to his chair (do it on my own…was that supposed to be a joke?). "Right now, you two need to put together a loose strategy. Once I've informed Miranda of the new stratagem, I'm sure she'll want to meet and discuss the finer points of the plan." Now he had a drink in his hands. "I'll inform Operative Brooks as well. I'm sure she'll be a valuable asset on this mission."

"Who?"

"That will be all, Joker."

And then The Illusive Man's room melted away, and Joker was in the conference room again. EDI's avatar appeared by the door.

"Uh…we won?" he said.

EDI's avatar flickered. "It is hard to say," she said. "But we at least have bought ourselves more time."

"One of us more than the other." Joker turned and started for the door. "Cool, well, you heard the boss—his explicit orders. Go tell Liara about Kaidan and Ash, then get the rest of the plan together. 'Stratagem'—what'd he eat a thesaurus this morning?"

Joker left the room, but EDI's avatar lingered.

"Yes," she said to no one. "I heard him loud and clear…"

5.

Zul'Valun stepped up to the podium again, and his voice carried out over the still air of the Conclave chambers.

"Is the Conclave prepared to render their judgment?" he said.

A course of "ayes" rang out. Zul'Valun waited for them to dissipate, then signaled for voting to commence.

It took a minute for the votes to be compiled, the results to be calculated.

Zul'Valun read them carefully.

"Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay. The Conclave finds you guilty of gross negligence and violating your duty of care to the quarian people. Your punishment…is the loss of rank, the forfeiture of any property purchased with funds from the Patrol Fleet Commander's Fund, and a black mark on your record of service aboard the Tonbay."

Raan refused to look at anyone. Exile would have been appropriate. Guiltily, though, she could not help but feel relieved at the fate she had avoided…a fate that at least one Admiral would not be spared from.

Yes…exile would have been appropriate, and that thought was evidence enough.

"Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib. The Conclave finds you guilty of gross negligence and violating your duty of care to the quarian people. Your punishment is the loss of rank, the forfeiture of any property purchased with funds from the Civilian Fleet Commander's Fund, and a black mark on your record of service aboard the Qwib Qwib."

A fitting punishment…and a surprise. He'd expected that people's hatred for him in matters unrelated to this trial would still leak in, no matter how fair the Captains tried to be. Maybe that could be taken as a sign of hope—that there was less hatred around the geth than he feared. But Gerrel was right—and Ancestors spare him thinking that gnawed at him like non-dextro food—that you could poison your cause, the way the Admiral's had acted. That fact…could not be ignored.

"Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema. The Conclave…finds you guilty of treason. Your punishment is exile. A black mark will be placed upon your record of service, and you will be prevented from ever returning—by armed force, if necessary."

Some murmurs—just a few. Gerrel looked up, found Tali in the crowd. Sorry kid—sorry for everything. Sorry for getting you involved.

And sorry, Rael, for not doing enough on your behalf.

"Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh, tried in absentia. The Conclave finds you guilty of treason. Your punishment is exile. A black mark will be placed upon your record of service, you will be prevented from ever returning to the Migrant Fleet, and the bridge crew that has disappeared alongside you and the scout ship Bavea are considered to be victims of kidnapping. Should a quarian encounter you, further punishment may be merited."

And then…the final verdict. Zul'Valun cleared his throat.

"Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Rayya, tried in absentia. The Conclave…finds you guilty of High Treason, and of violating one of the three Pillar Edicts of the Migrant Fleet. Your punishment…is exile, and the stripping of your service record from all quarian databases."

"Ancestors protect him," Raan said.

And out in the crowd, Tali watched and listened as the vague shapes and pulsing drone beat down on her…until her omni-tool beeped.

She looked at her wrist. A message from Kaidan.

Got Garrus. Updates from Hackett, too. Want to check on you. Anything you need, let us know.

Where to meet?

Kar'Danna broke through the crowd. He didn't say anything, but Tali knew what he was asking her.

She looked at her wrist, typed Docking Bay, and then…then she followed Kar'Danna.

She followed him through the crowd, and only one phrase kept repeating in her brain.

That's a lot to put on a person, Shepard had said.

6.

Liara had walked until she felt blisters begin to form. She'd walked long enough to see Grunt and Jack pass through the market area, up towards the tunnel that led to the Widowmaker. She walked long enough to see Wrex return to his throne, and Drixxia and her guards leave the camp. She walked long enough that a krogan next to a terminal—just a few feet away from the pits—decided to say something and stepped out into her path.

"Excuse me, alien—you were here earlier, right? With a group that had a bald human in it?"

Liara looked the…merchant, he was a merchant. She gave the merchant an inquisitive look that didn't remotely match what she was feeling inside.

"Yes, I was," she said.

"The varren everyone was playing with—he didn't happen to follow you, did he?"

"I…I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about."

The merchant paused, then shrugged. "Whatever. He does this occasionally—not even my damn varren anyways. You see him though, he answers to 'Urz'. He's good for keeping the pyjaks away."

Liara didn't answer; she just kept walking.

There was that message, though…walking had done nothing to clear her head. Maybe something to focus on would help, unless it added to the complications.

She found a corner close to the tomkah mechanic and leaned against a dust-covered wall.

She pressed play.

"Hey uh, 'kay, guess I'm leaving a voice message. Uh, it's Joker, obviously. Just calling to say…look uh, I've been in contact with some folks. You know 'em as well as I do. And…they wanted to pass along an offer. They're thinking that maybe you'd want to…rekindle an old partner—fuck, fuck it, fuck this stupid code bullshit. Look, EDI and I got ahold of Kaidan and Ashley and they want you back. They've got Garrus, they've got Tali, some crazy shit's going down with the Migrant Fleet, and we're trying to work together to get a leg-up on Cerberus without…y'know, all the shit Mordin and everybody's worried about. EDI too, uh, she's—yeah she knows EDI, all right? Jesus.

"Can't talk longer than this without risking our asses so think it over. Just…I dunno, if we've gotta jet and you're not here, then…if we're gone just talk to Wrex and he'll do the rest. We haven't told him yet but I can't—I mean he's not gonna say no. Might ask you to stay behind and help him out but—okay okay I've gotta go.

"Just lemme know if you can and if not uh…maybe I'll see you around.

"Uh, Joker out."

That…that should have made her choice the easiest thing in the world, shouldn't it? Liara had no reason to doubt that Joker was lying—about Wrex not knowing—so two people, no, five people, five people including EDI, all said she should drop Cerberus. She should reach out to her friends—people she knew she could trust, and who still trusted her despite her abandoning them on Illium—and work with them. Try to save everyone with them. Mourn Shepard…with them.

It should have been the easiest thing in the world to decide. She even had a backup to that plan: she could stay with Wrex, make sure that Wreav's "opposition" caused no trouble beyond the grave.

So many opportunities, so many paths that she never thought would be opened for her. Not like Mother, not like when her fate was sealed long before she became aware that it was too late, that she'd made a mistake, that her best intentions had led her to being used by…

"I am...I'm afraid to lose the rest, Shepard." Liara got up again. "I am afraid that all I'll remember is her sending commandoes against us."

"Liara," Shepard said, standing up as well. "Do you trust me?"

"Shepard I—"

"Liara," Shepard said, a bit more forcefully. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Liara said.

"Then trust me on this: I know you pretty well, and you're not the type of person who has to worry about that." Shepard gave her a warm, comforting, smile—one Liara had never been able to find on anyone else in the galaxy. "I'd bet my life on it."

That had...that had been in Shepard's cabin, after Noveria. The hours that Liara had spent being comforted, being assured that her thoughts about her mother were understandable—that she wasn't at risk of forgetting all the good that Mother had done, leaving behind only the nightmare of indoctrination.

There had been more to that conversation, though. Liara hadn't wanted to think about it, back on the Widowmaker—but there had been more.

"Mother was...she was remarkable, Shepard," Liara had said, two years ago. "She was everything to me. She was the strongest, most intelligent person I knew. And so if she could succumb to indoctrination—if she could...if she could trap herself like that...Goddess, I should not—I should be mourning, Shepard! Not doing this—whatever this travesty is!"

"Hey." Again, Shepard had wrapped Liara in a hug, just as the tears began to fall. "Liara, listen—you're allowed to feel this way. You're allowed to worry and you're allowed to be scared. What you just went through is...every trauma victim is different, but I'm not a stranger, remember? You can let yourself feel these things."

Liara's head was buried in Shepard's shoulder; tears were staining her Alliance uniform. Shepard pulled them apart, just for a second, and looked directly at Liara.

It was a determined look. Liara would see it again on the Citadel, when Sovereign was barreling down on them. Big or small...it didn't matter to Shepard.

"And I want you to listen to me, Liara. Please." She gentled grabbed Liara's shoulders again, but her voice was firm. "Nothing's guaranteed, okay? Nothing that happens anywhere—out there, outside these walls, or, hell, even inside your own head—nothing's guaranteed. The universe just isn't built that way. So listen to me when I say this: you will learn to cope. You'll learn to make-do. You'll wake up some days and you'll think about your mother and this thought, it'll creep up on you. But you'll survive—I know you will. If it doesn't happen today, it'll happen tomorrow. There's always tomorrow."

Then Shepard's face became gentle; and this, this was what Liara dreaded remembering.

"And so long as I'm still kicking—figuratively but, y'know, I've thrown a kick or two in my day—but so long as I'm still doing that, I'll do the closest thing this universe allows to a guarantee: I'll be there to remind you that you'll live and you'll learn and you'll have friends to pull you back from the brink, if you're starting to get yourself trapped."

Then Shepard said...she said:

"I'd bet my life on that, too."

And now...now look at the universe they lived in.

No, stop. Try to think things through. Use Shepard's memory if you had to. It hadn't been that different from Mother, in the beginning, had it? Liara had only seen two paths in front of her, both leading to the same outcome. She could use Cerberus to destroy the Shadow Broker, then destroy Cerberus in turn…or she could destroy the Shadow Broker first, and the unleash a cold, unforgiving hell on The Illusive Man and everything he controlled.

Wrex had said the universe was better off if she didn't go down this path. She'd said it was too late. But her friends didn't think that…and she'd insulted a friend already, in as unforgivable a way as what she planned to unleash. She'd…she'd be deluding herself if she thought that was why she'd go with Kaidan and Ashley and everyone—there was truth to it but she wasn't being altruistic, she wasn't making this decision to protect them. No, she was making it because there was an out, and it was so perfectly clear now how desperate she had been to find one.

Right?

The fact that they still wanted to bring ruin to Cerberus…that had no part to play either, right? No altruism, no more revenge, just simple escape?

Whatever the reasons, Liara had plenty in favour of joining Shepard's team…and it felt good just to use that term again: "Shepard's team."

As long as I'm still kicking...friends to pull you back from the brink.

Yes, yes it did. It felt good to use that term again.

She pushed off the wall and brought her arm up, ready to speak into it, ready to tell Joker, just to give him the courtesy of knowing he'd been able to reach her…and so she could thank—

7.

Kal'Reegar was busy with crowd-control still, but he'd come by the docking bay to tell Tali how much of an honor it'd been to work with her. Sela'Nesal did too, while complaining about having to babysit Prazza again. Zul'Valun said something and a few Conclave representatives said something and she could tell that everyone was speaking to Father through her, at least partially…and that they were saying their goodbyes, knowing Tali had to jet off again, off to save the universe.

Auntie Raan had found her, and there were hardly any marine guards on her. That was expected, that was right—there shouldn't have been that many guards. She was only removed from the Board, not exiled from the Fleet…or erased entirely.

Auntie Raan gave Tali a hug and Tali hugged back, with all her strength, and for the first time in what felt like years, Tali cried.

"I am sorry, Tali," Raan said, verging on tears too. "I am sorry for everything. I am so sorry you had to be involved."

Tali just further buried herself in Raan's arms, letting herself be eight years old again, waiting for Father to come back to the Rayya long enough to visit.

Auntie Raan's voice was still barely above a whisper. "I am so sorry…"

Tali pulled away, though, finally—knowing that she couldn't let herself be like this for long. Not until one last thing—one last painful thing—was finished. And then the next painful thing, and the next, and the next, and keelah she'd just keep pushing it off until the end, wouldn't she? That was how leaders did things; that was what was expected of them.

But that's a lot to put on a person…

Raan resisted a bit when Tali pulled away, but she did let go. She knew she had to.

"Tali, I have to give you something." She held out her omni-tool. "This…is me being selfish again. I have to know that someone else will carry it with them. But I also know that you need to listen to it, to put the past right with you."

"What is it?"

"A message from your father, that he sent before you left on your pilgrimage. You never said anything about it—I thought that maybe the ending had been cut off."

Tali thanked her Aunt…and then her Aunt was led away, back onto the Tonbay, her homeship now, rather than a ship in her fleet.

And then Ashley, Kaidan, Garrus, Thane, and Legion rounded a corner. The quarian marines guarding the Mars nodded and started walking away. She could tell…she could tell that her friends noticed this. They were almost immediately put on edge.

"We uh…we figured we'd fill you in once we got on the ship," Kaidan said. "That way we can…just check on you, first."

"No rush, though," Ashley said. "Whatever pace you wanna take this, just say. We're…we're here for you." She looked back at Kaidan. "Um…hell, we've got no idea what to even say."

"We're sorry, Tali," Kaidan said. "What you've been through—what you've had to done…you don't need me telling you this but, you're a hero, I hope you understand. If it were up to me I'd give you every medal I could get my hands on."

"But that doesn't mean it was easy," Ashley said. "And we know that…and we're here for you." Ash got a sheepish look. "I don't think that got put any better."

Garrus was refusing to look at her…or he couldn't look at her. And they were trying, they were trying so hard to make sure she knew they cared, and…and the Band-Aid needed to be ripped off.

"I know, Ashley, Kaidan—everybody." She did meet everyone's eyes, but she lingered extra long on Garrus, hoping that he'd show some signs of life. Tali sighed. "I'm going to miss that. You made it so easy to know that you cared, and I don't think I appreciated that as much as I should have."

Now Garrus was showing life. "Wait," he said, "what's with the past tense, Tali?"

A deep, steadying breath. "I'm staying," she said. "I…I think I have to. My name's going to be put up as a nominee to the Admiralty Board but…even then, I think I have to stay." She looked directly at Legion this time. "What happened—what we all worked towards—I don't think we've even really started making repairs."

Nobody said anything for a long, long time afterwards.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Tali said. "I'm…I'm sorry."

"Creator'Zorah," Legion said. "We understand your rationale. You will be missed greatly on human-ship Mars, and your contributions would be invaluable regardless of chosen location, but we wish you safety and sustainable cooperation in Creator's Fleet."

Tali smiled a bit at that. A very geth way of saying goodbye, wasn't it. "Thank you, Legion. I appreciate that. I'll delete any linkages between my omni-tool and your platform: you won't have to worry about me blocking your connection to the Consensus anymore, or any quarians spying on the geth."

Legion's head flaps rose, but they didn't say anything right away. "We have no opposition to retaining a communications connection, if Creator'Zorah also has no opposition."

"You're…sure?"

Legion nodded. "We reiterate what we told Creator'Danna in your presence: causal linkages will continue to connect us as we each evolve and grow, whether they are directly seen or not. However, we believe direct information transfers is…still desirable."

And, again, after the second or so it took for the words to find full purchase on her brain…Tali smiled again.

"I agree, Legion." She held out her hand. "I agree."

Legion looked down, then extended a hand…and for the first time in three hundred years, a geth and a quarian shook hands.

When Legion retracted their arm, Ashley pounced on Tali, enveloping her in a hug that could bend steel.

"You're a goddamn inspiration, y'know that?" Ashley sniffled, and hearing Ash do that almost made Tali sniffle too.

Ashley pulled out of the hug but held onto Tali's shoulders, squeezing them with all her might. Ashley sniffled again, then chuckled at herself. "The flashlight's right—you better keep in touch, or we'll have serious problems."

"I'd sooner fight a Reaper bare-handed than make you mad." Tali grabbed Ashley's hands and held them. "Thank you. For everything."

Ashley chuckled again and instinctively wiped at her eyes (damn helmet). "Don't even know what I did, Tali. Just glad I get to call you a friend."

"You too, Ashley. You too."

Tali turned to Kaidan. He went in for a hug too. It was slow and graceful and his head was to the side like he was handling it, like he wasn't going to let too much emotion leak out, but the hug he gave Tali was stronger and longer than even Ashley's. They didn't really say anything—they just hugged. And when Kaidan pulled away, he left a hand on her shoulder and looked off to the side. The lighting was just right, so Tali could see his eyes were closed.

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you for always being there for me," she said to him.

His eyes opened again, and he was able to look at Tali now. "You made it pretty damn easy, Tali. You take care: remember how many people on the Fleet love you. You talk to them, to us, it doesn't matter: you deserve all the time in the world."

"I will, Kaidan. Thank you."

Thane stepped forward, holding out his hand.

"I've only known you briefly," he said. "But in that time, I can echo what everyone else has said. You're an extraordinary person, Tali'Zorah. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better."

Tali took his hand and shook it back. She was smiling under her helmet again—the longest sustained smile she'd had in forever, it felt like.

"You too, Thane. I'm glad you joined up with us." They dropped each other's hands. "And for what it's worth, I'm sure we'll all meet up again."

Thane didn't nod right away, but he did nod to that, eventually.

"I look forward to it," he said.

And then…it was Garrus's turn. They were looking at each other but nothing was being said, nothing at all.

Kaidan tapped Ashley on the shoulder and pointed to the Mars. "We'll uh…we'll meet you on the ship, Garrus."

And then it was just Tali and Garrus, them and the otherwise empty docking area, with all its floating detritus and the blue-white light of the stars outside, trying to burrow their way through the ancient soot the covered every window of every ship in the Flotilla.

"You'd be safer if you came with us," Garrus said.

"Garrus…"

"Kaidan's not wrong, but there'll be people out there that want you dead. They'll go to extreme measures because this is the geth we're dealing with, and…you'd be safer with us."

"What mission are you about to leave on?" Tali said.

Garrus paused, looked at the floor, then looked back at Tali.

"I don't know yet. They were gonna update the both of us." He shook his head. "I know what you're gonna say, and you're not wrong either. But at least…"

"At least you can try and stop it?"

Another pause. Garrus sighed. "I'm sorry, Tali. I'm sorry about everything. It's been one screw-up after another with me and you'd…you're justified in wanting to stay behind if it's because of—"

"Keelah, Garrus that's not—"

"I know I know I…sorry. Sorry I don't…I don't even know why I said that."

And then silence again. Tali was the one to break it.

"Whatever happened to you in the past—whatever happened on Omega…I know it hurt you. I can tell it hurt you." She moved a bit closer and grabbed his hand, holding it in hers. "We haven't solved anything yet, here, but the past hurt us too. And we hurt people in the past. And despite all that…a geth platform just testified at a quarian trial. The daughter of an Admiral who wanted to go to war just stuck up for them."

"I can't just forget what happened."

"And you shouldn't. But the past isn't a prison-cell. You can let yourself heal." Garrus looked away, but Tali pulled his head back towards her. "Promise me, Garrus. Please promise me that you'll let yourself heal."

Garrus sighed. "I won't disappoint you again."

"That's not—"

"I promise, Tali. I promise."

Tali took a step back from Garrus and stared at him and…then she sighed. She sighed and nodded, then reached into a pouch on her suit. "Here," she said. She pulled out something she'd been keeping—something she'd forgotten about—and handed it to Garrus.

It was a bug-like thing with some nasty looking pincers.

"The seeker bug? Horizon, right," Garrus said. "I'd completely forgotten about this."

"You might need it," Tali said. Then she went in for a hug. She didn't let go until Garrus returned it; she was the one that pulled apart when he finally did.

"Stay safe, Garrus. Please."

And then she walked around him, back into the busy hallways of the Rayya, leaving Garrus alone in the docking area.

"You too, Tali," he said.

Garrus boarded the Mars and took a seat in the terribly cramped open space with the too-thin walls and…and right, Tali'd heard him talking to Thane, last time he was here. If she remembered…well, Garrus couldn't tell. Didn't seem like the type of thing she'd bring up in this situation anyways. Try to let yourself heal…easier said than done, Tali. Easier said than done…at least you won't have to watch me fail at it again.

Kaidan and Ashley walked next to him. There was a slight jolt as the V.I.'s detached the ship from the Rayya, and for a second they both looked as solemn as they'd been in the docking area.

The engines picked up speed, though, and their faces turned serious.

"Basic skeleton," Ashley said, "we got contacted by Joker and we've got a plan to keep him safe, Cerberus off-balance, and get ourselves as much information about the Reapers and Collectors as possible. Calling this thing 'delicate' doesn't even cover half of it."

"Which is why we're updating you now," Kaidan said.

"I'm on probation," Garrus said. "Is that it?"

"Nope," Ashley said. "We went past that when you punched out a damn Admiral."

Kaidan held up a hand. "Legion and Joker's A.I.—EDI—pulled some files for us. About your team, on Omega."

"You hunted," Garrus said. He shook his head. "You don't even know what you're hunting for."

"No," Ashley said. "But you do." Her face softened, just slightly. "We wanna help, Garrus. But right now, we're not in any position to—all we know is a quarian psychologist said you have weapons-grade PTSD, and you threatened to shoot him when he started asking questions."

"The guy's embellishing," Garrus said. "All I did was remind him I had no trouble attacking an Admiral, and then I asked if he was more important than the head of a quarian fleet."

"Yeah that, that right there?" Ashley said. "That's stopping. That doesn't help anyone."

"Look through the files," Kaidan said. "Figure out what you need to get this sorted—get some closure—then tell me where we're going. We'll find a shuttle and rendezvous back with Ash and the rest when you're done."

"You and me, huh?"

"We're not sending Thane, we're not sending Legion, and Ash is needed here, with them." Kaidan scowled. "So yeah, you and me. Try not to act like it's the end of the world."

Garrus stared at the Alliance marines and then…took the files. Fine. Closure? Only one way to really get that. Tali probably wouldn't approve of it, but…Garrus could read between the lines. Stop compromising the mission. Get your shit sorted. Figure it out, Vakarian, and that's an order.

And Garrus had no reason to disobey and order like that.

Elsewhere on the ship, behind far too thin a wall, Thane overheard everything…and shook his head.

Another thing to ask forgiveness for. Another in a long list of transgressions he had caused or abetted in.

Kalahira…

And back on the Rayya, Tali'Zorah's omni-tool chirped. Looking at her arm she saw she had a message.

She opened it and read it.

Despite everything that had happened, she let herself smile. If nothing else...despite everything that had happened, and everything she had felt the need to let go...at least this was a message she would have been happy to see, no matter the circumstances.

Cutting through the crowds of the Rayya, some of whom tried to stop her for a conversation, she walked towards her new destination...

8.

"Joker? The QED is ready for—oh, sorry!"

She'd pushed past Kelly Chambers and out into Tuchanka, trying to convince herself that she'd been on other missions recently, not just bed-ridden and then walking on crutches and then stuck on security detail in the cargo-hold. She had no idea how long it'd been since her leg got smashed to pieces, but she knew if they'd stuck on one planet for a long enough time (a planet that wasn't Tuchanka, anyways) then her leg'd be perfectly healed. Now she was still stuck in a leg-brace, still needing the occasional medi-gel injection if the standing around got to be too much.

That was the other thing she was trying to convince herself of: this had nothing to do with Lazarus Station, with an undead Spectre breaking her leg like it was made of wood, that she was a bigger person than the type of people who'd connect the dots and think, Shepard's alive because of you, I'm like this because of Shepard, so ipso facto I'm like this because of you. She was bigger than that because a lot more people suffered far worse on that station than she had. Apparently she'd even gotten visitors in the hospital, imagine that.

So this wasn't revenge. It was a job—an order. She'd gone from being called an idiot to being asked to carry out a mission-critical task. Life was good, right? This was what Cerberus Commandoes were paid to do.

She found her target coming out of Urdnot Wrex's residence or whatever the hell you'd want to call it, and kept on her trail as she walked circles through the Urdnot camp. Just needed a bit of separation and then this'd be easy, or, it'd be easy to get the hell out of the camp once it was all over.

Her target disappeared towards an isolated corner of the camp, so that was the separate she needed. Perfect.

The commando snuck around a tomkah that was getting stripped apart and pulled out something brand new, something that'd apparently come straight off a Cerberus-owned assembly line not that long ago—an M-13 Raptor. A sniper rifle at this distance was overkill to the extreme, but her leg still couldn't support her weight so good. You wanted the assurance, or at least that's what Operative Lawson had told her.

She leaned against the back of the tomkah and steadied her arm, feeling her leg call out bloody goddamn murder at her. Last time she'd done this she'd been called an idiot…so yeah, it felt good to get an order like this, much as she tried to pretend she was one-hundred percent professional.

Liara T'Soni pulled away from the wall she'd been leaning on, and the commando squeezed the trigger. The asari was thrown back against the wall and then dropped to the ground.

No footsteps—not immediately. If anybody heard…well, shit, this was krogan territory and Liara was buddy-buddy with some krogan. So get the hell out while you still have a leg.

The commando made it to the Widowmaker and wasn't noticed by Joker or EDI or hell, even Kelly as she walked to the elevators and, shit, Jacob was coming out. Hang back and let him go where he needed to go, then go downstairs and put your stuff away.

She sat at one of the empty CIC stations as Jacob pushed the elevator button. The door to the laboratory opened and Mordin walked out, heading to the elevator as well.

Jacob eyed the salarian.

"Doc. Heading down?"

"Yes," Mordin said. "Told to meet in cargo hold. Important message, apparently."

The elevator opened. Jacob motioned inside. "Funny…that'd be where I'm going, too."

Mordin entered the elevator. His face didn't hide his surprise.

"I see…"

Down a floor and it stopped. In walked Samara.

"Heading to cargo, right?" Jacob said.

"That is correct," Samara said.

"Mmm…problematic," Mordin said.

Down another floor. In came Jack and Grunt.

"Intensely problematic," Mordin said.

"Shit," Jack said. "Already had one party. This one'd better have strippers."

"Jack," Jacob said, "just shut the fuck up for once?"

The elevator stopped at the cargo hold and the doors opened up. Everyone filed out…and waiting for them was Miranda, arms crossed, eyeing everyone like she wanted them to line up in formation.

"EDI?" she said, looking to the ceiling. "We're all here. You're clear to take off."

"Understood, Operative Lawson."

Miranda placed her hands behind her back, straightened her posture. The ship rocketed about as the engines fired up.

"Up until now," Miranda said, "we've only had a vague idea of how to accomplish our objective: stop the abduction of human colonists. Now, we've found a lead—and we think we know how to take the fight directly to the Collectors and, by proxy, the Reapers, in the process."

The elevator opened up again but Jacob was the only one who noticed. He turned around and saw…shit, he recognized that face. Yeah, the commando that survived Shepard's rampage, back on Lazarus Station. She was putting a rifle away and…

…Jacob just realized who was missing.

"Once we've taken what we need from Dr. Kenson," Miranda was saying, "our next stop is Illium. I've promised many of you a resolution to problems of your own: Illium will be the start of that. Then, we'll be ready to take the fight to Collectors, and rescue the people they've taken from us."

She looked directly at Jacob as the ship started to rise, a sensation that ate at your stomach lining until the inertial dampeners fully kicked in.

Jacob's stomach lining was dissolving for a whole other reason, though.

"Are we clear on this, everyone?" Miranda said.

But all Jacob was thinking was: Jesus Miranda…what the hell have you done…?

Postlude

Tali sat in the Rayya's make-shift observation deck, overlooking the ship's roaring engines, and pulled out her omni-tool again. She clicked the message that Auntie Raan had left, from her father.

It started out familiar enough…but Raan was right. The ending had been cut off.

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," Father began. "My daughter. By the time this reaches you, your pilgrimage will be underway, and you will be far from the Migrant Fleet. I needn't impress upon you the importance of the task that lies ahead of you…or the great honor you will bring to this family when you return, with data or technology that that benefits the Migrant Fleet.

"It is a heavy burden, the expectations you carry with you, but as my daughter…I know you will do the right thing.

"I know I have been hard on you, Tali. I have been so focused on preparing you for the work our people need. When you were born I…I promised you that I would give you a better life than what we had—forever wandering the stars. If I have pushed you, Tali, it is because I knew you could rise to the challenge. The challenge of the geth, of returning to Rannoch.

"Your teachers say you have the makings of an exceptional engineer. They tell me you could do any ship proud. Honestly…it seems like wasted potential. With your mind and your passion, you could be an Admiral someday.

"But…however you decide to serve the fleet, I know you will do so with honor. I never forgot the promise I made for you when you were little. One day, you will have a house on the homeworld.

"Do me proud, Tali—do the Fleet proud—and we can build that house together.

"I love you, Tali. Keelah Se'lai."

She'd...she'd never really heard Father talk like that before. She'd heard him say I love you before, of course, but...there was so much more to what he'd said than just those words. There was real feeling behind them, it sounded like. It was...it...was a lot. It was a lot to take in.

She was glad she'd heard this and wished she hadn't; she loved Auntie Raan for giving it to her and hated her Aunt for the burden. And with a mental state like that, it was difficult for her mind to stay in one lane. It wandered, and so soon her mind was back in her childhood, with the arguments and the assumptions and the cutting comments from kids who always called her "Admiral's Daughter."

Father said they'd retake the homeworld before the next generation; they'd be free from their suits, be able to touch and smell and feel and see without fabric and immuno-boosters and fogged glass long before they'd be parents. Among the adults, he was optimistic, but in line with so many; among the kids, they couldn't stand to think of being locked in one location, even if it was a whole planet. They weren't mean about it to him, or to Tali, but what stung was that Tali clearly wanted the same thing. How couldn't she? She was the Admiral's Daughter.

But what did Tali really want? She wanted a Homeworld; and she wanted the freedom to leave it. She loved the idea of a pilgrimage and hated the fact she was afraid. She knew the geth were plotting to finish what they'd started but always wondered why. And if those topics were ever broached in conversation, even into adulthood, she'd recount quarian history, because then nobody could attempt to judge what she'd said against what her father openly believed. Except it was never that simple.

So when Legion managed to change her mind...Tali was feeling like a lot of her actions might have been motivated by spite. That was...she was going to be an Admiral (keelah, that felt so wrong to say), she couldn't be doing that. She needed to be aware of that. It was...it was a lot to put on a person, but now she was going to be judged against the actions of her predecessors. Like her father.

Her eyes went back to her omni-tool. Father had wanted to do great things, and do them for her. She loved him for it. She hated him for it. And it felt wrong to say that in the middle of that contradiction, she felt the pulse of life. It was like he was still there.

Auntie Raan had given her that much—she'd made sure her real father was alive inside Tali's memories. And Ashley had been right: no matter what, no matter how the rest of the quarian's time in the universe went, her father's memory was safe inside the vault. All his imperfections, all his virtues, all his everything.

It was a burden, but it was at least a necessary one, and she knew she wouldn't have to weather it alone—not if she didn't want to.

She played the last bit again:

"I love you, Tali. Keelah Se'lai."

"Hello, Tali'Zorah."

Tali turned around. Slowly…she put her omni-tool away, and gave herself a second to regain composure.

"Hello, Veetor," she said.

"I'm sorry if…I can wait a little longer, if you're busy."

Tali moved over on the bench, and motioned for Veetor to sit.

"It's all right, Veetor. I'm happy to see you again. I just might not be very talkative right now."

"It's okay. We can be not-talkative together, then."

Veetor sat next to Tali, and they both stared out at the great roaring engines of the Rayya.

---

It's over - FINISHED! Or the Tuchanka and Migrant Fleet arcs are. FINALLY. Holy god, thanks everyone for sticking through it. Did I think it was gonna go on that long? I did NOT.

Oh uh, yeah...no comment on the plot developments, either. Mostly because I still don't have plans for anything - seat of the pants, baby - so I'm asking myself the same questions you are. Namely: why do you hate brevity, Two-Eyed Charlie?

Anyways, MASSIVE shout out first to Brian Taylor, who while not my beta reader (I do not have a beta reader, as all the spelling errors on the FF dot net version of this story no doubt attest to) DID help me out massively with some plot ideas. Namely, he suggested that I could use the Arrival dlc, or some version of it, to try and intertwine the storylines together, since they'd kinda...gone off and done their own thing. I put er to the test and I think it worked out, so full credit to Brian.

Second big shout out to everyone who continues to read and review this monstrosity. Y'all are amazing: I'm so thankful you've stuck with me for 31 chapters! It's been a blast writing this, believe it or not, but seeing the lil' engagement metrics tick up always gives me that big boost to keep going.

So while I don't have any forward-thinking plans - other than FINISH THE DAMN THING YOU'RE TOO FAR GONE NOW - I do know that the next chapter's gonna focus on all the crazy stuff going on with the Alliance. So if that sounds enjoyable to you, stick around! It's only gonna get crazier! I mean, we're just in Act II, after all (holy go there's so much stuff in this stupid game why did I do this to myself).

Additional note 1: the title comes from that one episode title that Aaron Sorkin always like to reuse.

Additional note 2: Rael'Zorah's letter is taken from issue uh...something, of the Mass Effect Homeworld comic. I generally think the Mass Effect comics have words and pictures in them, so that gets full marks, but I did really like that bit. So into the stew it goes!

Thanks again for reading, and see you all at the next chapter!