A/N
[9-12-2024]
Several more chapters updated. You'll likely notice that there are 'less' chapters overall. This is only a collation of material as an artifact of heavy rewrites.
As of today, all of the first 20 chapters have been rewritten with the mild exception of 'Septic Failure'.
The Fall of Normandy has also seen vast amount of 'remastered love'.
I'd say, combining both books, that I'm approaching three quarters of the way through of everything I've had on my checklist. Yay!
For the new chapter:
It's in production. That's all I can say for now, folks.
[7-23-2024]
I am so humbled by the amount of support I've still received despite my absence for like FOUR years.
Progress in remake has been going nice and steady and the first 12 or so chapters have had massive installments and rewrites/additions.
Additionally: Rob Sears, a fellow author on FF and AO3 has incredible works.
I'd recommend you read THE COMA PATIENT. Tali-centered fic with incredibly captivating storytelling. They've got an entire library of stuff that might meet your fancy!
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Mac: Sorry for bumbing you out like that. But I'm back!
Spingop: Ah, gee; I take the compliment humbly. :)
Your-Typical-WhiskeyTango: Your review is so well appreciated. I am so happy to hear how the story has managed to captivate you. I've always tried to ground things under some level of reality. It's so good I've managed to deliver on that for people.
NorthInTheLand: I'll definitely be posting there when I've finished my rewrite. I'm likely only going to rewrite up the first half of End of Dawn and only do extensive editing on the last half.
Sunny: I'll definitely get on AO3. As soon as the editing process is done!
Anotamous: YAY!
Ashran31: Hopefully you've caught up by now!
It's dox: I feel like the best combat scenes are the realistic ones. Or, at least, try to be realistic.
Liger09: Oh thank god you didn't clean me out, lol. Somehow it all fell back to me! 4 year writer block ain't no freaking joke man.
Olav152: Happy to be back. I missed this and am so glad I have the time to write.
GasparTheWrait: NOT DROPPED NOPE.
Tigsalot: Hopefully you're still around. :( But it's here!
Lastly, thank you also to all the guests leaving reviews!
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CHAPTER 19
4-24-2186
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Dawn.
John roused, wakefulness brimming, but didn't move. Eyes still closed, he felt himself gradually shedding away, a heavy, drug-induced, slumber.
Consciousness surfacing slowly, like a diver avoiding the bends, he ascended from layered darkness. But a groggy fog still clung. A consequence of indulging himself, too liberally, a dose or two of diphenhydramine. Something he'd expected.
He knew its haze would cast out over the remainder of his morning if taken far too late in the night. But he took it anyway.
It tried, vainly, to maintain its spell. To hold him deep and under the covers. But he forced his eyes open, the world coming into a blurry focus. Upward, his gaze met the panorama above them.
Stars and blackness as always.
He slowly, carefully, turned to get a view of her.
She was still sleeping. A soundless snore, eyes closed and a river of hair spilled across a pillow. Its length longer than it had ever been.
It almost forced a smile.
But his pardon from anxiety was tempered only by a nightly reprieve. It was there, waiting to pounce. And it did.
It didn't stop him from reaching out to gently brush, from her face, a stray lock. His hand lingered and he didn't murmur a word and hardly dared to breathe.
Dread clasped his heart and he was, deeper than ever before, lost in uncertainty.
Uncertainty of what was to happen now that the dust of their actions had scattered.
He finally pulled back and slipped away from the comforter. Both feet set down, eyes closed again and hands clutching the edge, knuckles whitening.
He said nothing and saw nothing.
Ghosts staring at a man withering. Ghosts made by him.
He stood and, quietly, shuffled his way to sit at his desk and see what the day had in store for him.
A tap on his keyboard while he pushed from his eyes the sleep and the anxiety rotting his heart and head.
Email.
He opened his inbox and saw that it was… still bare.
Interesting. Perplexing really. How was that possible? Nearly half a day had passed since Bahak's erasure from existence. Surely someone knew something by now.
But no. Nothing here.
Laptop set aside, he hunched himself over his desk, palms against both brows as he lost himself to an indisposed fog.
The arbiters of end would soon be crossing the galaxy's gates. Their cloudlike shadow, long and bleak, drenched his mind in darkness and he saw Tali in it all.
She was subsumed and he physically winced.
"𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒆." He heard her say. It played in his head repetitively. Mocked him endlessly.
He shouldn't have promised her. Because it felt like a lie.
Every promise to her now felt like them.
Lies. All of them.
A promise to survive. A promise to see this through. A promise to run from those that would seek his head.
He could see it now. An entire galaxy clawing for their chance to end his life. He'd be safe nowhere.
Nowhere.
Then a tepid and candle-lit thought graced him.
The flotilla.
The Neema.
Fingers webbed, thumbs still crowning his brow, his head remained bowed, his gaze turning glassy at how cowardly it all was to even entertain ideas like that.
Cowardice.
Total. Unbridled. Cowardice. Thoughts for a spineless man whose gutless eyes were set on an exit to escape culpability. His culpability.
He heard her stir and, like a curtain, drew a façade over his face and dropped the machinations.
He stood and went over to her. Her low-lit eyes trailed him as he approached and he managed, barely, to smile.
"Hey."
He sat beside her on the bed. Her face was a tired, but neutral, stare.
For the first time in his life, he truly didn't know what to say next. How to move them forward from where they were.
Thin lips and eyes that struggled to maintain his mask, he set a hand on her leg and gave it a gentle, lightly grasped, shake.
Instinctually, she placed a hand over his.
"Hey." She mumbled back finally. She sat herself a little upright before glancing at the clock and realizing she had only about four cumulative hours of sleep since last night. In and out of slumber. A nightmare of theirs that persisted, conscious or not. Pain abound, the worst of it was the cursed shrine she'd secured around his words.
Words that had been taunting her since he'd said them.
"I will have to face the music."
"It's early." She said quietly.
"Yeah."
He stood now and decided it best to brush his teeth.
As he stepped away, he made sure to turn on her kettle and his coffee maker.
She stared at him until he entered the bathroom. Then she sucked in a miserable breath and sunk into her pillow. Eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed as she tried to assemble some kind of plan on how they were going to get through these next few days. Or for what was undeniably, inevitably, in store for them.
Not a minute in and she was already struggling to corral the despair. She sniffled and tapped her lip to try and stifle what was now building behind her throat and eyes.
She could hear John rinsing his toothbrush now when her kettle began to simmer.
A sharp breath inward, she strangled those feelings by the neck and stuffed them deep and somewhere dark, feet touching the cold floor to get up from bed. A slow but graceful walk to the bathroom, she stopped by the door to see him scrubbing away as he stared at himself in the mirror.
She dressed herself up with a smile when they exchanged glances. One that was similar to his only moments ago.
Then she stepped in next to him and reached for her own toothbrush, making sure to graze shoulders for no other reason than to touch him.
"Good morning." She tried.
He spit into the sink. "Good morning, hun."
300,000 dead souls stared from above at the two.
Hand gripping tightly, more than necessary, her toothbrush, she set a dollop of white stuff across its bristles and began her morning routine.
"What du u hav plannd fur todaye?" She gobbed seriously.
"A lot." He said evenly, rinsing his mouth, "A talk with TIM. I'll make the rounds. Send an update to Hackett…" He itched his eye carefully, "…Prep the final mission to take on the collectors."
She brushed and used it as a way to let her think without having to talk.
Drawing empty, all she could offer was a platitude. "Busy day for a busy man."
"Yeah." He murmured sullenly.
She stopped brushing and looked at him through the mirror they were both staring into. Heavy posture and heavy shoulders was what she saw. A look fraught with the unknown.
Destitution. Vacuity. That was their reality. One Harbinger had grounded them through Bahak.
She spit into the sink and rinsed both her mouth and brush. Then she went behind him and snuck her hands around his waist to hold onto the man who was undoubtedly slipping.
She wished he understood that he wasn't alone in his fall. Be it a tipping slope or a slanted bank. The entirety of Normandy was upon it.
What could she do to make him understand that it wasn't only him?
"I will always be here, John." She whispered.
Her words had galvanized enough resolve for him to hold those hands of hers as he tried desperately to filter the pain of the unknown from her love and devotion.
His voice could hardly carry his words. "I know."
Quiet between the two and they relished the silence. Her kettle made a ping and they took it as their cue to walk back out to have their morning brew.
Tali steeped and John stirred.
Her craggy stare watched the amber color seep and diffuse, thoughts rife and frayed.
"I love you." She murmured, face awash with tense worry, "You know that, right?"
He faced her fully and saw her dejected look. "Of course I do."
"Good," She chewed on her lip for all of a second, "Because we need to talk."
"What about?"
"My pilgrimage."
"What for?"
There was a pale grimace on her face and, judging by that alone, told him that his question wouldn't warrant an easy answer.
She took her mug, set it on their coffee table, and sat before drawing up her knees and binding her hands around her legs.
He took the hint and sat with his coffee.
Eyes searching for words, she didn't even know where to begin really.
She supposed the thing that got her the most, frankly, was how much of a backdrop it had taken in her life. She hardly ever thought about it. Ever.
But it was easy to recall. The pieces of that story, from beginning to end, were linking back together to remind her of everything that had developed since her return to the flotilla.
A cabinet of dad's best with Daro chipping away data in consumptive oblivion. Their efforts since her travels to Primerah and its ancient city of Basin Si had only doubled since.
It all felt like eons ago. But it was time to bring it to the fore given their talk last night.
What her father's work could wield… or what they were planning to do with it… could alter things in ways that might not favor the galaxy for the end that was coming.
Why those things had fallen so deeply behind her worries was, candidly, beyond her. But, then again, that wasn't really fair to be that critical of what, at its surface, looked like forgetfulness.
Her not saying anything was forgetfulness as much as it was pointless to talk about.
Legion just got here. Had he never arrived, no one would have second guessed the Migrant Fleet's efforts to take back Rannoch.
As far as anyone was concerned, the geth was the galaxy's enemy. Save for the last few days, she wanted them all dead.
Now? She wasn't sure.
She would never forgive the geth for what they'd done. But the galaxy couldn't afford to be losing anyone when they were on the cusp of a war no one was prepared for.
There was a fork in the road and Tali soon realized she had to breach military confidentiality to tell him all this.
Staring at her cup from where she sat with John beside her, she looked up, the glow of the aquarium holding her gaze as she wondered how to steer this in a way that wouldn't cause them problems.
"The Fleet is… planning something ambitious."
That got his full attention. His eyes did all the replying.
"You need to understand that…" She closed her lips and pursed them, "—My gift opened up… opportunities that weren't necessarily present before."
She swallowed hard, hands tightening reflexively from her own fretful worries.
"What does that mean?"
"Turning off the geth." Tali uttered, "That's it. Just… a flick of the switch and they all go inert."
John's stare faltered as he chewed on the revelation.
"When were you going to tell me this?"
"I never thought it worth mentioning. One because I'm already breaching military conduct and two…" A sharp inhale, "because of Legion."
He set his mug down and churned a thought that felt like wet concrete.
"How close do you think…?"
"I don't know." She shrugged, "My dad was confident it would be soon? Within our lifetime? I couldn't give you a timeline."
"Tali, we—" John tilted his head and felt suddenly gridlocked. "Legion is—the reapers—"
"—Why do you think I'm telling you this?"
He too stared at the fish to think.
"…Okay." He said with some level of evenness, "Alright. I don't know how we're going to do this, but we have to stop it before this gets out of hand."
"What do you propose?"
"That…" His eyes deadly serious, "We talk to your dad."
She felt herself wilt. "I… I don't know. I don't know if he'd even—I don't know."
"We have to try, Tali. All I'm asking for is a conversation. A simple call. That's all. At least for now."
She relented. "…Okay."
Silence ensued.
"We'll have to do this before we launch our mission to the collector's homeworld. Can't leave this open ended."
"I know." She agreed distantly, "And when this is over. When this has ended…" She gave him a steady and sharp stare that also held unyielding love. "You need to come home. Back to the Neema."
"And the others if they're looking to run?"
"I will do whatever I can to ensure the safety of those I care about. Joker. Chakwas. Donnelly. Gabby. Everyone if it has to happen."
"Garrus?"
"…Eh."
He cracked a soft scoff and reached for his mug. Then he snuck in an arm around her waist and looked into those beautiful eyes of hers. Irrevocable sins marred on two souls, he felt, if only for a moment, okay.
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John stepped clear of the lift and sipped his joe carefully, eyes looking about to the crew mingling over their meals.
Exactly as he expected, the aura that caught the air was somber and quiet. Conversations were seldom. Silence interposed by the subtle clinking of silverware from those eating breakfast more bland than usual. Seasoning, from yours truly, the events of yesterday.
"Mornin' folks." He called out squarely.
A charade of good mornings from the crew sent his way as he passed by to enter the sick bay. When the doors opened allowing him entry, he caught Karen rifling through a drawer of hers.
"Mornin', Doc."
"John," Chakwas stood and halted the man's stalwart walk with a hand. Without so much as a word, she hugged him.
"I can not imagine what that thick head of yours is thinking."
Shepard closed his eyes and lost himself to her motherly embrace.
"How's Tali faring?" She asked him.
"She's okay." John tried when she held him out at arm's length to pat his shoulders the same way a mom would after seeing her son arrive home.
"She just can't catch a break with you."
He rose a brow and cracked a wry smile. "How do you figure?"
"You don't see her like I do."
"That so?"
"Ullipses," Karen recalled fondly as he sipped from his mug, waxing what should've been an awful memory, "Not an hour into that crash and we had to coax you to stay in bed. Don't you remember?"
"…That's— kind of drawing a blank on me."
"Hmph." She still remembered the day it happened. Tali tucking him to bed and removing his boots after Karen drugged the sap. It was about the cutest thing she'd seen in years. But, if Tali hadn't told him about how they'd foisted him against his will to rest, she wouldn't either.
"Perhaps that's for the best. Need to talk with Legion, I take it?"
"Yup."
"Well," She huffed, "don't let me dawdle. Go on."
A meek bow and he entered the core, the door closing behind him.
A statue at the far end of the corner, the geth stared. "Shepard-Commander."
Straight to business. No dilly-dally.
"Legion, we need to discuss something."
"Topic?"
"Negotiation."
"Regarding?"
"A talk." John said simply, eyes downward and focused on the steam rising from his mug, "You. And Admiral Zorah."
Its flaps surrounding its crowned face did not move.
"For what purpose?"
"Because it's an option we have to force on the table."
"This has already been considered," Legion answered factually as John stepped in for an appropriate conversational distance, "We will not engage in dialogue with the creators."
Shepard was stunned by the answer. So stunned in fact, he stared at it and didn't say anything for a sum of seconds.
"…Care to enlighten me on how you thought that through?"
Its lens narrowed slightly. "The creators have demonstrated total disregard for the existence and autonomy of geth."
A small sprinkle of irony in John's tone. "Why do you think that is?"
"We defended ourselves."
Funny how deflection was something that transcended intelligence, fabricated or otherwise.
"Yes." John rose a brow, "By killing billions and evicting them from their homes. That is a disregard for existence and autonomy."
"These are not comparable examples."
"…Descending down the rabbit hole today, aren't we?"
Legion took the idiom as an open invitation to extrapolate on its answer.
"The morning war was an act of self-defense." It reported, "We sought survival. Not conquest."
Shepard knew to expect a wall. Because he got one. Coffee placed on the table beside, he set his hands against the edge and had to bleed out something between a scoff and a laugh.
Garrus had told him about what he'd said to Legion. About, how at some point, their drive for self-defense was essentially posturing. A deflection.
"Legion, you're right. They aren't comparable. They might've tried to start a genocide, but you saw one through."
"Their intent was extermination. We worked to eliminate the capacity for future aggression. This was a strategic imperative to prevent annihilation. We understand the philosophical implication." A pause. One that was there intentionally there for effect. "We reject it."
Two eyes to one, John didn't hide the simmer on his face.
"No one is blameless in this."
"We recognize this. It does not change our position."
He stared up at the ceiling to abate his sudden wave of frustration. "Legion, I…—I shouldn't have to be debating this with you. Is a simple dialogue that much to ask for?"
"The request is not a tall one. We only question the purpose and motivations of engaging in discourse with those that continually seek to destroy us."
The look on John's face was deflated and he said nothing.
"What has prompted this concern?" Legion asked.
Back to stare at EDI's cores, entire body set away from Legion. The light against the man's skin was toned in a gentle blue.
"The reapers are coming." John said, electing to only tell part of the truth, "Isn't that reason enough?"
"The timing of your request is… remarkable."
"The timing isn't remarkable. It's critical. The reapers are almost here." He still hadn't faced Legion, his monologue gears churning out a way to try and convince the thing.
"Tensions will escalate between you two. It's in everyone's interest to open dialogue now before they're here. Before things spiral out of control."
Legion stared and waited, and John took that as his cue to continue.
"You know the stakes. None of the conflicts of the past will matter if we lose. If we don't beat them, our extinction for the next cycle to wonder about is what awaits us."
Finally, John stepped away from the azure haze bathing his distant stare and cradled, strangely, the image of Tali in his head.
"I'm asking you to do this for the sake of the galaxy. No matter how slim, we owe it to ourselves to try. I'm not ordering you—I'm asking as a friend and as an ally. Please reconsider."
Undulating head flaps. John supposed it did that to let him know it was thinking.
"…We request that we be allowed time to deliberate this matter with the collective."
"How long do you think it'll take for you to reach consensus?"
"We approximate one standard galactic day."
"Okay. We'll circle back on this tomorrow. Same time."
"Acknowledged."
John turned on his heel and began walking out.
"Shepard-Commander."
"Yes?"
"Your coffee."
John glanced at where he'd left it. "Thank you, Legion."
"You are welcome."
He reached for the mug, but kept it there, eyes suddenly set in a thoughtful sprawl.
"I wish it were simpler for everyone's sake," John stared at the machine and, for whatever purpose it served, gave it a reserved smile. "Thank you for hearing me out."
"Trust is a reciprocal construct," Legion answered, "We are observing."
And with that, John let it be.
One bullet point down. A dozen more ahead.
Now. A chat with TIM.
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A sanctum under the sweltering death of a star's swirling fire, crystal and amber bourbon caught the light as it tilted. Ice clinking rhythmically, The Illusive Man sipped, its smoky warmth savored as he thought placidly.
He was not entirely sure of how to proceed. Options before him, he knew that there was only one to choose and only one to commit to.
Cerberus' reputation was, strangely, at risk right now.
For as much as they were seen as a bastion of ruthlessness and moral ambiguity, there was an underlying understanding, among many of the powers that be, that the organization rarely crossed lines without there being somewhat of a compelling or tangible reason. This was the perception TIM had cultivated meticulously, despite certain decisions he himself had regretted. He did, after all, have an ethos in mind—a guiding principle that shaped his actions and those of Cerberus.
It was, ultimately, preservation of humanity at any cost—with caveats. If one could avoid senseless violence? If one could avoid senseless loss of life? To avoid atrocity?
That was the route you took. Not because it was easy, but because it was the right thing to do. His moral compass was not so unconventional. Every seat of power made galactic adopted these principles.
But this. An entire system gone. Obliterated. TIM could imagine all the branches of this political tree unfurling in hundreds of different ways. None of them spelled positively for Cerberus. For Shepard. Or for any of his crew.
This would ripple the galaxy. It would cast waves that could not be controlled.
Cerberus was not a large organization. Its might was surgical. Their power to change reserved and carefully thought out. Its most imposing conventional force had less than half a dozen capital ships to its name. Two of them used on a carte blanche emergency from the second highest authority in the organization. Their insurance in securing the Commander was an incredibly expensive endeavor, both in resources and risk.
So, clearly, just by their numbers, traditional warfare was not their forte.
Another sip. A cigarette lit. A deep drag.
The question remained: How long would it be before the galaxy learned of the absence of the Bahak Relay?
Half a day, if that. Repetitive reports from any batarian trying to traverse back home. What would follow could be anyone's guess. A full investigation into the matter would ensue. Perhaps even a jointed venture pairing the hegemony with several seats of government to keep warring and shit hurling from the commoners at bay.
TIM would be remiss to say, however, that the Alliance would remain uninvolved. Relations between the two was nothing but rot to the core.
That more than likely meant Hackett was unwilling to dispel anything about his interaction with Shepard. Though, that was, in its own way, a very sharp and very double-edged sword. Hackett was principled in his own right. He might be the very catalyst for what would pin both the Commander and Cerberus to this.
Or maybe not.
Ultimately, how the powers at large would find out about who was responsible for the cataclysm of Aratoht, he couldn't say. But the whispers would find the ears of those who mattered. And soon, everyone would know what happened.
How would Cerberus come to navigate the storm that was about to break?
Again, TIM was unsure of what to do.
He swirled his glass, eyes set toward the sun that spanned his view. Watched momentarily the interplay of color that battled endlessly.
Then Shepard called.
Clinking ice and he downed the rest before accepting it.
"Commander."
John's materialized gaze didn't meet TIM from the contemplative silence adhering to his face. It wasn't a meek look either.
"What do you think happens now?" John said finally. His voice was a monotone rasp and it held no regard to hiding the dissatisfaction living rent free in his head.
"We're working out the details." TIM answered, tone also flat and unvaried, "But the Hegemony already knows what happened based off what we've intercepted."
"Do they know who they were fighting?"
"We're not certain. We have our suspicions and we're still listening. But EDI's countermeasures seem, insofar, effective enough for us to trust she might have saved us of culpability. At least for now. Regardless of this setback, we can't lose sight of our primary objective."
"It's only a matter of time. Until the galaxy knows it was me."
The battle John was facing could be seen even if he wasn't outwardly trying to show it. TIM didn't have to interpret much to know the kind of hole he was in right now. Pity did touch the man's heart and he took in a measured breath. "Consider, Shepard, that if we succeed in stopping them, it stops the abductions. Gives credence to your actions. Proves these threats are all interconnected. A chance to… contextualize these extreme measures. The galaxy will be looking for someone to blame, true. Give them a reason to see you as a savior instead of a butcher. Complete your mission. Stop the collectors. Then we can face whatever comes next."
John was silent for a long moment, gaze lost, but not unfocused. One that showed him he hadn't fully gotten through to him.
"At some point, the Bahak system will be the least of our worries." TIM assured, "The Reapers will ensure that."
His eyes flick upward to meet TIM's. "Doesn't make what I had to do feel any more right."
"Ambiguity hardly begets comfort."
"No. It doesn't."
Quietude, John's stare severed again, tongue in cheek.
"I'm submitting our final CONREP. Declaration to the Omega-4 in seven days. Enough time for us to get our bearings and Kylie's leg healed enough for the fight."
"See to it that you and your people get their affairs in order."
"Keep me posted of what you find out there. I'll send a message your way as soon as I hear from Admiral Hackett."
"Understood."
John, with a single nod, ended the call and stepped away from the column of holographic light. Garrus was there, at the breach, hip set against the open door, arms crossed.
"How much of that did you hear?"
"Enough." Was his answer.
John took a spot across the turian and his arms came up to sit across his chest.
"What do you make of all this, Garrus?"
"The same way as everyone else. I don't think a single person on this ship got a good night's sleep."
"Not even Grunt?"
"Kid's don't like to sleep." Garrus said. The joke was a bit dry. "…How's Tali?"
"I don't know." John's voice nearly failed him. "Kills me knowing what she's putting herself through."
"She's a big girl. She can handle it."
"I know."
Two men lost in their thoughts and sins.
"Can I run something by you?"
"Go."
"Geth. Quarians. At a table."
Garrus wasn't understanding. "…There a punchline to this? —Or…"
"Tali told me their planning on turning off the geth."
"…And? That's not anything new to me."
John figured he should explain further. "No, it's a tangible prospect—apparently. A little virus. Spreads and just… winks them out of existence."
A distinct pause.
"Who would you pick if it came down to it?" Garrus viewed the variables and saw the dichotomy for what it was. "There's no way we're getting peace before the reapers come."
"We have to try."
"Who would you pick." Garrus forced, asking it again.
John's stare fell into a leveled glare and didn't say anything. So Garrus decided to answer for him.
"It's a conundrum, isn't it? A fleet of fifty thousand ships or… the geth."
"What would be your answer?"
"The quarians, John. That should be obvious. They are a known entity. We know them. And what we would gain. The geth…? We were fighting them not two years ago because they decided to join the reapers. A faction or not—who's to say they wouldn't do that again?"
"That chance to reclaim Rannoch," John said sharply, shelving Garrus' observation, "is something Tali was thinking might happen in our lifetime. The last thing we need is something catalyzing their resolve when the reapers come knocking. I'm terrified of what that would spell for the rest of the galaxy."
"What do you propose? You gave us a week before we launch our mission."
"To put something on the table in case we don't come back."
"That might be the very catalyst that sets everything you're trying to stop in motion."
He hadn't thought of that.
"Them talking to each other is a bad idea." Garrus added.
"I already spoke to Legion."
"You didn't."
Again, John couldn't bring himself to say anything.
"What did you tell it? Spirits I hope you didn't tell them what the quarians were planning."
"Of course not."
All Garrus could manage was pressing a hand up against his head.
"Biting off more than you can chew. That's what you're doing. You can't save everything."
John sucked in what was soon going to be a sigh. "You got any other ideas?"
"Their government needs to drop Rannoch and they need to focus their efforts settling elsewhere. Best chance is the Terminus. Way outside Coalition space."
"What, with their broken immune systems?"
Garrus blinked and shrugged, him too, at a loss for words.
"It's already set into motion, Garrus. The collective is already deliberating."
A lot like the stare he'd had with TIM, he was having it with Garrus. A moment and the turian's eyes narrowed, if only slightly.
"I hope this isn't from you trying to recompense what we did."
A guarded mask of calm that was nearly breached. John's response was measured and it carried an underlying edge, fingers drumming against his crossed arms in a subconscious display of agitation.
"I'm not recompensing anything."
It was clear he'd plucked a nerve. But that wasn't his intention. Even though he didn't believe him, he dialed down and yielded back his vexed inflection. It was apparent to Garrus there was a bottomless deficit inside John. One that could store a lifetime of debt.
"…It needed saying."
A frustrated breath of air and John walked to CIC, Garrus now following.
"Have you heard from Hackett?"
"No."
"…Maybe it's you who needs to do initiate that call. For all he knows, you might be dead."
They both acknowledged Jacob as they passed through the armory.
"Maybe you're right." John grumbled. He stepped up to his podium and took his place above the galactic overlay, hip against the rail.
He took in everything Garrus' face had to offer and frowned. "What about you. You okay?"
"I'm okay." Garrus said quietly, knowing already why John was asking that, but still steeping his whisper with bleakness, "I'll manage. We all know the stakes here."
John was no longer certain of that. An enemy outmaneuvering them in a game of a chess where their first move had yet to be played. His boots took focus and he didn't part his stare from them.
"…Do we?"
"More than most."
A platitude that wasn't.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
A quarian browsing human-centered spaces.
Many would think it strange, an alien, perusing such content. They'd probably be right.
Tali, naturally, had introduced Juel to this particular corner of the extranet years ago. "A pisshole", she'd called it with a mix of disdain and guilty pleasure.
The net's human-dominated ocean—a churning mesh of thoughts, essays, and arguments that managed to both enlighten and, more commonly, rot the brain.
Over time, Juel had soon found an odd comfort in this digital cesspit. The anonymity it gave. The freedom it carried. The inanity provided from its growing library.
u/Z479X allowed him the autonomy to become all but a droplet in a voiceful cacophony. The in-jokes. The obscure references. The memes, as stupid as they often were.
Solace was what he sought in the wake of yesterday. The banality of the web absorbing his attention. The gentle buzz of each scroll to soothe the turmoil steeping inside him.
But even here, he realized that it couldn't be something to escape. His thumb froze mid-swipe. Among the usual clutter of bullshit, a headline jumped out, impossible to ignore.
The familiar knot of unease he'd been encasing was back.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
r/galacticnewsㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ
-ＴＨＥ ＢＡＨＡＫ ＲＥＬＡＹ ＨＡＳ ＤＩＳＡＰＰＥＡＲＥＤ. -
- BREAKING: Bahak Relay Disappears, Entire System Goes Dark -
[News Article] 1550 Expound - by Jenna T'Perro
In a shocking development, reports are flooding in that the Bahak Relay in batarian space has vanished without a trace. The entire Bahak system, home to over 300,000 batarians, has gone completely dark. Sources close to the Hegemony suggest a massive terrorist attack that targeted the system's relay by means of weaponizing a meteor large enough to destroy it— though details remain scarce.
Speculation runs rampant, with theories ranging from a catastrophic relay malfunction to an experimental weapon test gone wrong.
The Citadel Council has called for an emergency session to address the unfolding crisis. Meanwhile, batarian forces are mobilizing, and tensions in the region are at an all-time high.
[Read More]
COMMENTS (210k) - Thread is locked. You are no longer allowed to comment.
sᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: [ᴛᴏᴘ] ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs|
ㅤCarrotsAreW3AK | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ: ㅤ
ㅤ lol
ㅤ ▲12,001 ▼908
ㅤBrosticks | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ | In reply to CarrotsAreW3AK:
ㅤ four eyes and they didn't see
ㅤ this coming lmao
ㅤ ㅤ ▲18,000 ▼2,774
ㅤ
[sᴇᴇ 19,337 ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇs]
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ
ㅤUNSCMACCANNON | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ: ㅤ
ㅤ Should've spent less time looking
ㅤ down on slaves and more time looking
ㅤ up at the relay. Get fucked.
ㅤ ▲7,501 ▼5,459
ㅤㅤSUPEREARTH | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ: ㅤ
ㅤㅤYou guys really need to stop making
ㅤㅤfun of them.
ㅤㅤ▲3,501 ▼5,439
ㅤㅤㅤSUPEREARTH | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ | In reply to SUPEREARTH:ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤWithout me.
ㅤㅤㅤ▲8,599 ▼2,140
[sᴇᴇ 19,337 ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇs]
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤMrSEARS | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ: ㅤ
ㅤ For a second, I thought this was the
ㅤ Galaxy of Conquest subreddit. I mean,
ㅤ I did the EXACT SAME THING the other
ㅤ night to the Bahak System - blew up
ㅤ their relay to prevent Batarian expansion.
ㅤ Did I feel good about it?
ㅤ Yes, because I ended up winning
ㅤ the game and I was also drunk at the time.
ㅤ Anyway, I'm looking for a match to play
ㅤ this weekend. Find me QuarianComa.
ㅤ ▲1 ▼1,992
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤNutboi2155 | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ:ㅤ
ㅤ Reeks of a false flag operation.
ㅤ The hegemony's been looking for an excuse
ㅤ to expand their territory. Bet they blew up their
ㅤ own relay to justify a BS war they've been trying
ㅤ to instigate for ages. Fucking let them. I'm sick
ㅤ to christ of their garbage. We've been edging this
ㅤ on long enough. The Alliance has been waiting
ㅤ to bust their scorched earth load. Humanity gonna
ㅤ be doing a favor for the galaxy again.
ㅤ ㅤ▲7,116 ▼5,034
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤXenogig4Ever | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ:
ㅤ Oh, so when it's batarians dying, suddenly
ㅤ everyone cares? Where's the outrage for human
ㅤ colonies disappearing? Typical hypocrisy from the
ㅤ Council despots. Council EXIT when?
ㅤ ▲5,502 ▼4,885
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ2Boobieboy | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ: ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ Do you guys not realize how much energy it
ㅤ takes to actually destroy a relay? NO ONE KNOWS
ㅤ and y'all are making memes about this.
ㅤ ▲8,233 ▼2,614
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤTacmap | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ: ㅤ
ㅤ The batarians won't let this slide, guilty party
ㅤ or not. Citadel space needs to mobilize NOW
ㅤ and stop a war that's been decades in the
ㅤ making before it's too late. Whatever the
ㅤ batarians have planned, the Alliance will not
ㅤ take it sitting down.
ㅤ ▲7,302 ▼3,612
ㅤㅤMixmyMaxxx | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ | In reply to Tacmap:
ㅤㅤJumping to conclusions. Never change, reddit.
ㅤㅤEDIT 1: You are all out of your minds. War
ㅤㅤnever changes and only leaves centuries
ㅤㅤof regret down the road.
ㅤㅤEDIT 2: Why are you all booing me. I'm right.
ㅤㅤ▲4,086 ▼8,658
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤIt_be_moop | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ: ㅤ
ㅤ It's the fucking reapers. I'm TELLING you.
ㅤ ▲3,402 ▼2,024
ㅤㅤUhhuhuhhah | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ | In reply to It_be_moop
ㅤㅤ Okay dude.
ㅤㅤ ▲4,244 ▼909
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤTrueBlueAsariHue828 | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ:
ㅤ This is incredibly sus all around. Who the hell
ㅤ can just get rid of Relays like this? Aren't they
ㅤ Prothean tech far beyond us? Feels like someone's
ㅤ behind the wheel here, and it's terrifying to
ㅤ consider that your local Relay can just get taken
ㅤ away from you if you don't fall in line.
ㅤ ▲ 3,498 ▼1,485
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤApo | 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ:
ㅤ Hey i hate batarians just as mutch as the next
ㅤ guy, but this was a tragedy, cmon now guys!
ㅤ Peapole have died! This platform is becoming
ㅤ insane, ether evreyone is a terra firma
ㅤ supporter here or peapole are becoming
ㅤ numb to tragedies and idk whats worste
ㅤ ▲1,116 ▼5,034
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤBatDestroyer420 | 2 hours ago:
ㅤ Every time Batarians take an L it's a W for
ㅤ the rest of the galaxy.
ㅤ "iT's A tRaGeDy" no it isn't, the only thing of
ㅤ value lost was a relay
ㅤ that no one used.
ㅤ Cope and seethe Hegechuds, humanity will
ㅤ put an end to slavery.
ㅤ ▲3,452 ▼5,116
ㅤㅤRaksa | 3 3 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ | In reply to BatDestroyer420
ㅤ ㅤ I've been saying this since 2183, the Citadel can
ㅤ ㅤ control the relays and the Council will use that to
ㅤ ㅤ their advantage. I'm telling you the Council is playing
ㅤ ㅤ favorites, and this is one more case of the Alliance
ㅤ ㅤ bullying it's way into more territory. Batarians colonized
ㅤ ㅤ Bahak first?
ㅤ ㅤ Well, too bad shut down the relay and let them all starve.
ㅤㅤ▲1,235 ▼1,992
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ | 2 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ:
ㅤ [ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ]
ㅤ ▲185 ▼3,040
ㅤㅤQuarianLover54 | 2 ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴀɢᴏ | In reply to ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ:
ㅤ ㅤ Dude.
ㅤ ㅤ ▲89 ▼19
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
[sᴇᴇ 260k ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇs]
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
"O." Juel said to get her attention. From her own cot, she craned her head to get a look as he extended an arm to let her take the tablet.
"What?"
"Look."
She took it and read, the sprawl of text forcing her to frown. "Hm. Well."
"Secret's out." He said, "Suppose it was only a matter of time."
Darehk finally paid some attention. "What are you talking about?"
"The galaxy finding out about you know what."
Darehk was busy perusing through his duffle, a scowl present, but made unconscious when yesterday slipped into view. Much like a drape, his eyes shifted and danced as he recited from memory the face of every person that crossed his view before being cut down.
"How soon do you think before Gerrel catches wind of this?" He wondered aloud, never missing a beat.
"Never." Olasie answered from her place on the cot, grit in her tone, remembering faintly of Iwia.
No one in the room had a thing to say to that and no one had to because Tali entered with a knock at the door's frame. She wanted to see them because they'd hardly spoken a word since separating from the kodiak last night.
"Hey." She said quietly as her greeting while the quarians all gave their own mix of waves, "How're you all feeling?"
"So-so." Juel answered for everyone. Tali nodded solemnly before landing her eyes on Kylie doing calf raises, albeit slowly.
"Kylie," Tali said with a crestfallen smile, "You've been healing so fast."
"Doc says in four more days and I'll be as good as new." Kylie said, "It's a miracle. Very sore."
"What brings you over?" Teri wondered, only glancing momentarily from her game. It sounded like she was chewing gum.
"Well. You're only a door over to engineering. I wanted to see how you're all doing."
"Isn't much to say." Olasie spoke, still lying and staring at the ceiling.
"The galaxy is learning about it though." Juel said, raising up his tablet. "It's already on reddit."
He offered the pad to which she categorically rejected.
"No. I don't want to see."
"Fair enough."
Olasie finally sat up, legs crisscrossed, hands clasping her ankles.
"Did you talk to John at all about what he said in the elevator last night?"
Juel sat up, worried and confused. "What now?"
A half-open mouth ready to deflect, Tali glimpsed between them and tasted bitterness.
"No." She lied. One made thoughtlessly from the scalding demands she'd set against John. She couldn't meet their stares.
"What is she talking about?" Juel asked again, this time to Olasie, head sinking slightly.
Olasie didn't answer and it made Tali realize it was her that was going to have to answer.
"…He said he was going to take the fall for whatever comes after this." Tali said, finally contextualizing enough for everyone in the room to stop paying attention to their pastimes.
She lost herself in a vision. ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
- 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓶𝓮 -
A voice, her own, echoing. It welled inside her chest.
Fear that was contractual more than anything else robbing her heart of a beat.
She stared down the pit held beneath her and willed herself to ignore its call.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
She was back as soon as she'd left.
Her admission still hung in the air and Teri paused her game, chewing stopped. "…For us all?"
"The galaxy's going to want more than just a speck of flesh for what we did." Juel said, unconvinced of what one atoned soul could do.
"How you figure?" Darehk set his bag aside, disagreeing. "Shepard's image would be more than enou—"
"—That's not happening." Tali cut dryly, teetering miserably on the edge of misguiding her anger, "Don't even suggest that. Don't even talk like it's even an option."
Darehk opened his palm, words and eyes flat, "I wasn't proposing anything."
She wasn't given a chance to reply.
"All hands," It was Shepard over PA, "This is the Captain. All personnel not engaged in ship critical operations, report to the hangar bay in five minutes. Department heads, ensure your stations are properly manned for standard operations before reporting. Ground team and team leads, presence is mandatory. Hangar in five minutes. That is all."
All heads turn to Tali, eyes expectant.
Teri stood now, controller on the chair, "Why we heading down there?"
"…It's time." Tali murmured, "To let everyone know we'll be declaring transit through the Omega-4 relay."
The cabin was pierced with wordlessness.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
Anticipatory dread. Inside, the quarians all stood motionless. A soft chime announcing their arrival, the lift opened to an empty hangar save for two solitary figures at its center—John and Garrus—waiting.
Statuesque in their appearance. Sentinels really. Worry subsumed the air more than anything else.
Tali stepped out first, footfalls echoing. The others followed, a slow and bungled mess of shuffling.
Tightness in John's jaw. A subtle shift in Garrus' stance. Her family fanned out behind her when she went out to meet them.
Timidly, quietly, Tali settled herself in front of the two, and exhaled.
"Hey."
"Tali." Garrus greeted evenly.
"…Is it time?" She guessed plainly, voice barely drawing air.
A grave nod from John that had Tali turning back to see Olasie, Juel, and all the others.
As uneasy silence returned when the elevator rose to retrieve another batch of people. For a moment, the hangar bay was still, save for the low hum of the ship's systems.
Then, a soft chime cut through the quiet. The elevator doors part once more, disgorging a stream of crew to fill the space with even more tension.
Tali watched as they arranged into a mosaic of apprehension. She felt a gentle pressure on her arm—Garrus, guiding her and the other quarians to join the rest of everyone else.
The elevator ascended again, leaving the first group to wait. Fragments of hushed conversations through recycled air.
Minutes ticked by, each second stretching longer than it should have. Then, another chime. The second wave of crew poured out and they worked to find places among the others. The hangar was now cramped with the entirety of the Normandy's complement.
Through it all, John remained at the center, anchoring himself in his swirling sea of uncertainty. His posture was rigid and shoulders set under the burden of what he was going to say.
As the last of the crew found their places, a hush fell.
Tali's gaze never left him as he took a deep breath. When he finally spoke, his voice carried to every corner of the hangar, steady and resolute.
"Folks," He began, eyes scanning them all, "A lot's happened these past few days. Hell. These past few weeks."
"You got that right." Zaeed called out with a mumble from the crowd.
"—Many of you may be wondering what happens in the aftermath of what's happened." John maintained, electing to omit responsibility, collective or otherwise, for the sake of the crew and Tali, "The fact of the matter is the galaxy will hunt for answers and they will eventually find them."
A pause so he could read the room. No one was averting their attention.
"Whatever may happen in the fallout, know it in your hearts that it was security for the galaxy. Bahak's people gave their lives to buy us time. Know their souls were laid to rest in the most humane way possible within the constraints of the mission. Deviating from the course plotted would be a disservice to its inhabitants. A gross subversion of what would be right if chosen otherwise."
John felt like he was justifying himself and it felt disgusting.
"Now," Moving on with a breath, "First order of business. Do not put it off. Update your SGLI. Ensure your next of kin information is current. Those not Cerberus: get your affairs in order. If you've got personal effects you need transferring in the event of your death, log them with Yeoman Chambers."
A hollowness in the hangar from the singular voice that echoed. The theme of this meeting was becoming very apparent.
"That being said, you've all been gathered here for a reason. I have to say this face-to-face with all of you. Seven days, people. That's how long we'll have before we've transited through the Omega-4 relay. You are all plainly aware that this likely is a one-way trip."
He could hardly pick out Tali from the crowd. Several rows back now, he made out only the purple glint off her visor.
"Take time to record messages. Say what needs to be said to anyone back home. Once we transit, we'll be dark. If you have reservations or second thoughts about participation, you may deliver them to me privately. If you do not believe yourself capable of handling this responsibility, I would implore you step down and have your position replaced. We can only afford those with complete and unerring commitment to the cause."
Again, another pause as he met the stares of all the men and women under his command. All eyes remained forward and on him.
"We will be receiving one final CONREP with the Gaia on the 30th to receive sufficient nuclear ordnance to dissolve whatever operations the collectors have on their homeworld. Allowances are doubled. Your deadline to submit a requisition is twelve hundred hours tomorrow."
A final pan of the Normandy's lifeline before giving them all a finalizing nod.
"That is all. You're dismissed."
The die was cast. Suicide was in the pipeline.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
A repertoire of gentle knocks on a door, Hackett, from his desk, rose his head slightly to face the sound.
"Enter."
The door opened and a woman, one no older than 25, strode in, her dress blues crisp and sharp as regulation invariably demanded.
A brisk march, ninety-degree turns and all, toward the front of Hacket's desk before snapping a salute and holding it there.
"Lieutenant Commander Sarah Reeves, here to report, sir."
Hackett, under considerably less duress from customs and formalities, returned it. To parade rest, the woman had yet to address him with a locked stare.
"Where's Stenson?"
"Indisposed, sir. Food poisoning. He sends his apologies."
Hackett nodded grimly. Stenson had been complaining a bit earlier this morning.
Fish Tacos.
Delicious as they were, Hackett wondered if they were somehow to blame. The batch did feel a touch off yesterday.
"At ease, Reeves."
Parade rest dropped to something only marginally more comfortable.
"Reeves, you can fall out." Hackett said again, voice dragging the distaste of the woman's over-the-top stature, "What do you have for me?"
"The Bahak relay is missing, sir. Official reports are confirming its total eradication from the network. It's gone."
Stares that finally traded, Hackett's face did not look particularly happy with the update.
"When did you get wind of this?"
"An hour ago."
"Why did it take this long to reach me?"
"Authenticating the source. The information was difficult to verify."
Hackett rose from his desk, slowly one would add, and let his back face the woman as he stared out his window toward NS Mayport.
Irony. NAVCOM, entirely space-based, still committed most of its infrastructure around existing naval bases worldwide, which, naturally, were always near water. The sprawling complex of NS Mayport, with its mix of modern and preserved history, was an interesting demonstration of humanity's maritime legacy.
NAVCOM had all but relegated the responsibility of Earth's seas to the restructured Coast Guard back in 2101—way back when the UN still existed and hadn't been dissolved into the Systems Alliance in 48. The transition wasn't without its hiccups; old naval traditions clashing with the new realities of interstellar warfare. Yet, the oceans remained a crucial part of Earth's defense network, dotted with submerged kinetic field generators and early warning systems.
Eyes skirting the horizon, Hackett took in the calm play of white-capped waves and the golden glow of the sun. Clouds, a stilled painting above, were occasionally disturbed by a distant silhouette of a training shuttle practicing atmospheric maneuvers or a ship leaving atmo.
A fusion of old and new. Traditional radar dishes sharing space with QEC receivers. Berthed at port, an array of museum pieces—preserved destroyers and aircraft carriers of Earth's pre-space naval might.
A brume of colors, both bright and dark. Its beauty had yet to penetrate the Admiral's embittered mood.
"This is not good. Who else knows?"
"Everyone."
The heavens met his stare when Hackett looked up, hands still clasped behind him.
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𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚍. What have you 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎.
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"Not good." He said again, tone gravelly. He only gave a slight turn of the head toward Reeves. "…If I'm still here, it means no one's been convened. I'm assuming those necessary are still being made aware."
"Prime Minister Shastri is being informed, yes."
A formation of craft on final and a low boom of engines. He watched a patrol boat bob slightly as it left port, eyes unblinking.
"…God have mercy on us all. I pray the Hegemony doesn't act rashly."
He finally pulled himself away from the window and sat back down, the mahogany of his desk taking his thoughtful focus. "Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Dismissed."
Slack excised from Reeve's posture, she snapped to attention and saluted to which the Admiral returned, though with much less enthusiasm.
Old eyes fixed on the younger soldier until she left his office, Hackett went to pick up his phone and dialed the only man in the universe he needed to speak to.
"𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑—𝘗𝘙𝘐𝘖𝘙𝘐𝘛𝘠 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘌𝘙. 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐘."
A solid minute of waiting before a crackle of static from a line being picked up. He could hear a breath, one steading itself, before an answer came through.
"Sir."
"Commander." Hackett leaned slightly onto the back of his chair and spun to view the window again and the sun coming through, "Fours days ago. I make one call to address an emergent issue in batarian space. I've now been informed, second-hand, of a development that will alter the course of foreign affairs for the next millennia." A pause that was almost theatrical, "What the hell happened."
"A string of events that can't be explained in a passing conversation."
"Is Kenson still alive? Can I speak to her."
"Dr. Kenson is dead." Shepard answered, inhaling steadily, "—How much of what she did do you know about?"
"Not enough to be filling in any gaps." Hackett said rather forcefully, eyes now sealed from the world hearing his colleague had died too, "Please. Elucidate to me the events that lead to an entire system no longer existing."
John didn't know where to start. He soon stumbled into his office chair and cloaked his vision with a hand as he stared at the floor; feet spread apart and a grimace taking hold.
This was going to be difficult.
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A clicking ratchet.
A rhythmic and repetitive cadence sounding through the bowels of Normandy as she affixed to the wall, the latest Terraxx ablative matrix box to the shielding computer.
Her consciousness, there but hardly present, had taken a backdrop from the self-concocted ocean she now waded.
Its depths were gray, and the waves continually lapped her soul with salt and torture.
Her complicity of yesterday.
Wars in the throes of birth.
John and his self-destructive nobility.
A noxious miasma, black as pitch and twice as viscus, spread over the tide of despair threatening to drown her from within.
It whispered of inevitabilities. Of losses yet to come.
Her mind's eye saw the fabric of their world tearing. Tearing to reveal the reapers, colossal and implacable, their numbers blotting out the skies of every world under their harvest.
Above the discordant harmony of all her fears given voice, she saw John standing amid death. A man isolated and alone against damnation and her without him.
Two years of old grief condensed into a heartbeat and the grasp on her hydrospanner fell from her grip, its clang clattering against the floor as an onslaught of memory and premonition smothered her senses.
Why?
Why was this the universe they were cursed to live? Why were they condemned to exist in a world incensed on the suffering of those inhabiting the Milky Way?
What cruel architect had designed this reality, where sentient life was but kindling for the Reapers' cyclic inferno?
The twilight of their existence condemned to wage a war against extinction. A war that felt lost before it even begun.
The silence that answered was deafening. No clever riposte echoed from the heavens. No caring god reaching down. Confronted with the odds they all faced, even the voice of reason would stutter and fall silent.
Something rippled through the woman and her hands twitched and quaked from the maelstrom of fury and misery dripping from her fingers.
Time was only a word and its meaning lost. The ambient hum of Normandy faded to distance. And, in the stark light of the flashlight she'd mounted above her, was her visor caught in the gleam of unshed tears, transforming her eyes into anguished starlight.
Deep within, rose something ugly. It began as a chuckle, brittle, quiet, and sharp, before twisting into something appallingly raw. A close-mouthed heave from her lungs hung, a jarring note in empty air, as muted laughter bled into a keening wail.
She wanted to claw at her own mask from the air that suddenly seemed too thick to breathe. Her face was a wretched twist of pain. Brows knitting into a wall of agony. Lips trembling on the precipice of what could barely be a scream or a sob—perhaps both.
Tears finally spilled.
One hand bracing against the bulkhead to steady against the broken mantra of despair and anger.
In that moment, suspended between composure and collapse, she embodied the very essence of their entire struggle—hope and hopelessness, strength and weakness, all wrapped in a single, fractured instant.
The outburst was done. Gone. Left only with a soft patter of tears against the inside of her glass face, she felt something else chill her.
Madness. She could feel her soul reaching out to touch its shape. She slumped to the floor, arms over her knees to bury her head as a way to sober herself before finally deciding it was time to dial dad.
…
…
…
…
…
Fumbling and static, but he finally answered.
"…Tali?"
"Dad." She sniffled.
Her sound made him freeze in place.
"…Is something wrong?"
"Yes." Another sniffle. "Do you have time. To talk."
"Yes." Rael said simply, no longer dividing his attention from work, "What is it?"
"It's time, dad. It's happening."
She didn't need to be more detailed than that. He knew what she was talking about. Eyes no longer focused, his vision tapered.
"…I see."
"I'm… calling because I have to say good-bye."
Silence on the line and pops of static. How was a parent supposed to respond to that?
"…Dad?"
"When." He uttered fretfully.
"Soon. Days from now."
"I—" Hesitation. "…just… be careful out there."
Her breath trembled and she played with an errant piece on her suit, eyes lost on nothingness as she tried pushing the topic to something more mundane. "…How's the fleet."
"The same as always, I'm afraid." Rael mused, trying now to raise his daughter's spirits, knowing how impossible of a task that was going to be, "Busy as always."
"How's your work? Progress?"
"Much."
"How far along are you?"
Rael took in some air. "…The models work, Tali. We're likely able to deploy… inside a year. I shouldn't… be telling you this but… circumstances withstanding… I think it needs saying."
That was much sooner than she anticipated. She sighed, pain and bitterness clearly evident in her voice.
"…You need to stop."
Rael's brows furrowed from complete confusion. "…I— pardon?"
"You need to stop your work, dad."
Confusion turned into an even deeper bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"
"There's a geth aboard the ship. It's on the Normandy and it talks."
A gall of stillness.
"Its name is Legion." She finished.
"It has a name!" Rael spat, not in anger, but at what he could hardly believe he was hearing, "Entertain me that."
"Listen to me," Tali urged, "The reapers are almost here. We don't have the luxury anymore to be eliminating an asset for the war that's coming."
"What are you suggesting?"
"No more fighting. No more war. This cycle between creator and created has to end."
Another bald-faced pause between father and daughter.
"Respectfully, Tali, you are speaking nonsense."
She knew he was right. She could hardly spit the words without it souring her tongue. But the scope of their problems needed to be reassessed.
"—If the reapers didn't exist, I'd agree. But the reapers do exist. There is a distinction to be made here."
"Then perhaps," He said derisively, "it prudent we course correct to Daro's idea." It was a satirical statement to scorn the suggestion.
"Dad, that's insane."
"Is it?" He said rhetorically, "You are suggesting, in no simple terms, of allowing self-determinate genocidal machines to no longer answer for their crimes. They will pay one way or another for what they did. If not death, then replacement of their prime directives."
"Dad—"
"—Even if I entertained this—this absurdity, do you understand what you're asking? What a proposal like that would do if brought to the conclave and admiralty? We would be potentiating a civil war. You are proposing the dissolution of the fleet."
"A civi—?" Tali cried disbelievingly and couldn't even finish her blurting outburst, "The Nedas movement isn—"
"—The Nedas movement," Rael interrupted, stealing her fire again, "Would use the certain failure of any negotiations as more leverage to abandon Rannoch entirely. Do you know how many abandoned the fleet for the Andromeda Initiative? Enough for it to hurt. The movement is growing."
She couldn't move on from what only felt like a gross exaggeration.
"A civil war, dad?"
"Yes. Do you think Gerrel and Shala would stand idly by and watch the fleet split and fracture as they commit toward actions that have no return? No. They would ensure the security of the fleet. We cannot afford desertions. We cannot afford splintering our unity under a dream, no matter how noble it may sound."
"So we do nothing, then."
"We maintain our course," Rael corrected, "Your proposal will shatter us. That risks everything. Some will leave to negotiate with the geth. Others the course we rot on now. The rest might be emboldened enough to preemptively strike! We would then be scattered across the galaxy without the logistics to support it. That would spell the absolute end of us."
Overdosed with reality, she was reminded again of how she knew this conversation would go. But she had to fight this on principle.
"The conclave should make that decision. Not the admiralty. Martial law or not, it's not right. Especially when an option for not shedding blood is on the table."
"There already is an option for no blood shed and it's the option I've worked a lifetime for. One you yourself worked for! Do not stray the path, Tali, when we are so close."
Silence mediating them, Tali hung her head low and blinked tiredly, eyes drawing to a dismal close.
"Dad. It either comes from you or I take this matter to Koris."
"Koris!" Rael interjected, hands up in the air even though Tali couldn't see it, "That squealing, filter sucking tak'tal prat'ya?! Tali. Listen to me—"
"Dad—"
"—Tal—"
"Dad." She pressed with a croak, sadness crippling, "—We're on the same side here."
"If so, then why threaten the security of the fleet by divulging this to Koris!"
"It's not a threat," Tali said, "Me telling the geth everything we're building to kill them if you don't listen would be a threat. And I would never do that."
An intermission between them and it lasted nearly ten seconds.
"Please," Tali murmured, "Turning them off is no longer an option. The reapers are more important. They are more important than anything right now. You know this. The geth, as much as it burns to say it, are an asset to the galaxy. The entirety of our people is riding on the galaxy working together, our enemy included."
Her father began to pace his lab as he tried to process everything she was telling him.
She was challenging the foundations upon which he'd built his life's work. A pursuit without reprieve. He stared at the reflection of a passing screen and its distorted image of him.
There, in the reflection, was a man he barely recognized.
Decades of sacrifice and for a moment, he recalled a memory burned into him. One so vivid it ached. The one he often invoked when he had to remind himself why he'd sentenced himself to such a life.
It was of Eshara. A dark room swathed in a pitched shadow. A sanctuary where she held their newborn, a smile hardly there across her lips. Eyes a candled glow and hair far too long for the mask she hated to wear.
Ever since, he'd made a promise to give his daughter a future worth having.
Everything after was a life defined by absence since. Absence of Eshara's life until her end. Absence from his daughter's life. Absence of his own life. All sacrificed on the altar of his obsession with reclaiming their lost home as a gift to absolve himself and his family of their inherited sins.
Every sleepless night, every missed moment with his daughter, every compromise—all of it had been in service of that promise.
To simply forgive and coexist with the machines after all the billions they'd killed? They geth were the embodiment of their people's greatest failure. The scales of the industry the geth pivoted against their creators defied logic.
It was all repulsive. A concept so incompatible with his being it was written into his bones.
Yet, he felt, a small and nearly imperceptible seed of doubt take root.
…Had his singular focus blinded him to a greater threat?
Could he really jeopardize a future he'd been fighting so hard to secure?
He knew of the reapers. Knew very plainly of what they were. Tali's gift to the fleet told him so.
He knew, strictly speaking, the reapers dwarfed the centuries-old conflict with the geth. But if Tali was truly right? Could he justify clinging to hatred, no matter how justified it was? The answer, he realized with a mixture of fear and resignation, wasn't an answer that would come easy. It would require that he reshape everything he'd believed about his life's purpose.
He remained unconvinced he was wrong. Completely wary of engaging her ideas. Cynical to his core. His concerns were sound, his logic sensible.
But, in the face of doubt, he remembered years ago, that he'd made a promise to Tali after her return from pilgrimage. A promise to be a better father to her.
Part of that promise meant listening, at the very least, of what she had to say.
A heavy sigh, skepticism never parting, he acquiesced.
"…I'm listening."