Winning Peace - Epilogue:

"Nachti Zorah-Lopez! You get down from there, this instant young man!"

"And to think, she thought Casey was so cute at that age," Sasha chuckled, watching fondly as our boy played on the children's recreation center. A new, and very human, addition to the Citadel Presidium, it was a madhouse of a place that, in my previous life, would have inspired awe and wonder in the age group it was built for. It still did, really, but given they were living or visiting a giant space station, it was somewhat less impressive.

Still, even with the myriad climbing bars, slides, tunnels, trampolines, ball pits, zero-g bouncy rooms, and a few small cubbies hidden away for the introverts to drag a book or tablet into, there were limitations.

Limitations which Nachti, my and Tali's child, seemed to enjoy brushing up against as hard as he could. He had apparently climbed up on top of the highest tower of the play palace. Technically speaking, the safeties I'd built into the structure would protect him if he slipped, but that wasn't what the rebuke was for. Not really.

I sighed as I heard Nachti's voice whine across my omnitool. "Daaaa~aaaad! Tell Mom she's overreacting! I'm fine!"

Boy, you might be my blood but you ain't got half my smarts yet if you think I'm gonna be that dumb.

"Son, the issue isn't that you're not in active danger. The problem is that you both broke the rules of the play area and disobeyed your mother." Nachti blinked, realization dawning on his face. "You remember the talk we had about social contracts? You're breaking one right now."

"B-but I'm not getting hurt!" Nachti cried, looking himself over as if to make sure, his wide blue eyes a testament to his genetically-modified heritage. Outside of some folklore, quarians didn't possess blue eyes. The luminous orbs were part of my contribution to his genetic material, though, and gave him bragging rights among his peers.

I could see Tali crossing her arms from the corner of my eye and knew that her patience was wearing thin.

"It's not about getting hurt, son," I sighed. "It's about breaking trust. The people who run the play area trust you to obey the rules and your mother trusts you to keep your word when you promised to do the same. Come down, slowly and carefully, and apologize to the attendant on duty and your mother or you're going to start losing privileges and being punished."

"Y-yes sir," Nachti nodded, his shoulders slumping.

Thank you, Z.

I replied with a quick acknowledgment of Tali's message, leaning back on the bench once again with Sasha. She cuddled up next to me a little closer. "Sometimes I wish reason and logic worked as well with Casey as it does with Nachti."

"It helps that he's usually better behaved than Nachti," I commented idly.

"It does," Sasha allowed. "But when something unexpected happens with Casey and he gets into a snit about it, he goes completely beyond any kind of words or argument. Kicking and screaming or just sullen silence... I'm not sure which one is worse."

I found myself smiling and chuckling.

Sasha raised an eyebrow at me. "Laughing at our child's ability to handle significant stress, Ezekiel?"

It was faux-anger, but I was still a bit cautious about it. I shook my head. "No, just... enjoying the little things in life. Children occasionally acting out, that's a first-world problem."

My human wife rolled her eyes. "You and your anachronistic slang. Ugh, I think Casey's teacher is going to try to strangle you for teaching him that asinine word from the twenty-first century."

"Skibidi," I uttered the word, a foul curse from ancient times long forgotten.

"Yes, that nonsense," Sasha sighed. "You know he taught all his friends that, right?"

"There's weirder stuff going around the neonet these days than anything the Zoomers thought up," I snorted. "They didn't have access to fully-virtual environments and hypercomputers that can fit in the palm of their hands."

"That's beside the point, Z," Sasha huffed, but there was a teasing lilt to her tone.

"Rizzler gyatt fanum tax, sigma Ohio skibidi," I replied, uttering the ancient incantation of darkness in full.

Feeling the shadow creeping over her soul summoned by the fell dark-speech, Sasha wisely chose to change the subject. "You're doing a good job with the batarian reconstruction."

I hummed, accepting the maneuver even as Nachti finally made it down to the ground and sulkingly approached Tali and the primary attendant on duty. "I've barely even had to kill any of the new administration for trying to bring the old ways back, even. Color me impressed at their ability to break the cycle."

I was, at least, mildly impressed.

The fallout of the aborted reaper cycle had been something to see. In fact, it had spawned a new Galactic Holiday. Savior Day. A day to honor the friendly god-like aliens who pitched in, saved everyone, and fucked off right afterward.

The hidebound Hegemony, its caste system interlaced with a batarian-supremicist pseudo-religion that mimicked the State Shinto of Imperial Japan centuries ago, had utterly collapsed in the wake of everything. They just couldn't confront the idea that their entire culture was utterly insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Most humans regarded the collective existential crisis with black humor these days, probably a result of the long subcultural obsession with cosmic horror that was almost unique to humanity.

I say almost, because it turned out the Volus had a cultural analog.

The fucking Volus.

Still waters run deep and all that, I guess.

I'll admit that the sudden resurgence and popularity of the genre was personally satisfying. I'd always been a Lovecraft fan, even if the rather incredible racism inherent in his writing style had never been similarly appealing. Still, it was pretty funny to watch asari, turian, quarian, and even a few prothean social media personalities trying to stomach human/volus cosmic horror classics.

Even if it had led to some of the weirdest fucking cultural exchange I'd never imagined in my wildest dreams. Especially given that Lovecraft's constitution being infamously too weak for math had created a similar setup for horror as the Volus had. Their society's dependence on the galactic banking system and credits made the very concept of 'advanced math that could drive people insane' pants-shittingly terrifying.

The 'Elder Gods' were 'Unknowable Equations' that constantly shifted their form and, were they ever to be solved, would herald the unraveling of the physical laws of the universe.

There was a Cosmic Horror Convention coming to the Citadel next year, being touted as the first great step towards Human-Volus Understanding.

It was hilariously ironic given that our respective economic systems mutually exploded upon contact with each other. But we only shared a border through the Hierarchy, which probably explained why we could develop good relations with each other. Good fences make good neighbors and all that... and the Hierarchy was one hell of a good fence.

And they were becoming better still, with the deployment of entire navies' worth of protoculture-fueled robotechnology. Between that and the Day of Salvation (gag me with a spoon), the New Prothean Empire had passed a moratorium on expansion and moved to consolidate their current holdings instead. And, if a few batarian colony worlds happened to 'vote' to join the Empire in the meantime, well... it was better than the former regime's potential resurgence. More seriously, rule by the Empire would be a godsend to the batarians comparatively-speaking.

The asari and salarian blocs had moved to out the Hegemony from their Council Seat during the ongoing interregnum of their civil war, replacing them with the Volus and instituting some fairly dynamic reforms to the system of indentured servitude that the batarians had long been fostering in the 'civilized nations' of the galaxy. Otherwise the salarians were trapped in an internal political quagmire that didn't feature enough open violence to qualify as a civil war, but saw too many assassinations, sabotage campaigns, and political purges to be anything but.

The Systems Alliance was coming together as a solid political bloc, making itself ready to stand on par with the other major galactic powers. Neither the turians nor the quarians, infamously isolationist, were actually ready to join, but relations were warm, tourism was high, and trade was booming. In a few more generations... well, who knew?

It was, in many ways, the calm before the storm.

In all likelihood, the Citadel was going to cease to become the military power it had been for millennia, which was why the Empire had halted their advance into Hierarchy territory and stopped beating their head against Alliance defensive networks. Without the sheer weight of ships and numbers that the Citadel possessed with the batarian slaveocracy running at full strength, they were implementing a desperate policy of reform in an attempt to court new allies. I anticipated the very real chance that the salarians would, without the STG, be forced to accept a large-scale integration with the Free Krogan Clans as independent military units funded by Citadel financing to fight a reorganized Empire.

Or the asari would just take their ball and go home.

'Home' in this instance being a complete realignment with the Turian Hierarchy and Quarian Federation and, through them, the Systems Alliance. The 'Ball' here, of course, represented the volus and virtually every other remaining Citadel client race that could flee the sinking political ship and no longer had to fear STG retaliation as a result.

It probably wouldn't come to that, though. The krogans would gloat, but they enjoyed a fight too much to actually turn down high-paying work that came with room and board, even if it meant defending their onetime enemies who were onetime allies. With the Alliance making it a priority to exchange terraforming and arcology technologies, I didn't doubt that the Free Clans would probably be expanding their population centers into planets that had been rendered uninhabitable during the Rebellions so many centuries ago.

And not everyone liked Wrex's leadership, so some clans would bail when the first opportunity presented itself.

Provided everyone behaved as rational actors, it was still going to be a mess, but a controlled mess that wasn't actively on fire at any given time.

"Dr. Lopez?"

I sighed, sharing a commiserating smile with Sasha before turning to greet the salarian who had walked up to me. "Councilor Solus. I have every hope that it is good to see you rather than the opposite."

"Quite," the aging salarian doctor nodded in his clipped tone. "Need a word. In private, please?"

"One moment and I'm all yours," I replied, standing and walking over to where Casey was comforting Nachti, who'd been sniffling as he made his apologies. "Okay, I have to go talk to someone who thinks he's important, boys. I'll be back in an hour or so and, if you're very good for your mothers, we can see about a stop for ice cream on the way home."

Nachti immediately brightened, he and Casey jumping in to hug my waist as I caught Tali rolling her eyes. I looked down at Casey and put my hand on his head to gain his attention. "Remember, you're the older brother Casey. I want you on the lookout for your brother and trying to keep him out of trouble. Okay?"

"Yes sir," Casey nodded meekly, my rather introverted son giving my waist one last squeeze before he reached out and tugged Nachti away. "C'mon. The swings are down here and they're still fun."

"And try not to make your brother's job harder than it has to be, Nachti!" I cried as they scampered off.

Tali sighed. "And yet again, you get to salvage your image in his eyes with a treat. I don't enjoy being the bad cop so often, Z."

"Next time, if you'll let me, I'll dish out the punishment," I replied dryly. "I really hope you're not this neurotic about our second child, you know?"

"Neurotic?!" Tali squawked, flushing as she turned to me. "Those are fighting words, Ezekiel Lopez!"

"I'll have my Wing and your Epyon warmed up and waiting the second we get home," I promised with a smirk.

"Good!" Tali huffed, then smiled softly and gave me a push. "Now go. Galactic politics awaits."

I nodded and walked off towards Mordin and his security detail.

Obligingly, he waited until we were far enough away that civilians wouldn't overhear, even as we walked towards the aircar. "Thank you for agreeing to speak. Will solidify my position if I can count you as a contact."

"Having reviewed your STG history and your operational docket from your years as a Specter, you're perhaps one of the least corrupt high-level officials of your species. So it was the least I could do, if only to encourage some level of reform," I stated bluntly.

"Damning with faint praise. Believe human phrase is," Mordin nodded solemnly as he offered me a drink from the aircar's small bar.

I huffed a silent laugh, letting the Councilor change the topic toward political affairs.

In a way, Mordin was correct. It was damning with faint praise. According to most conventional standards of morality across most species, the man was a relatively unrepentant monster. He had done some awful things during his time as an operative both for his own government and for the Council as a whole. It was also true that there weren't many people better than Mordin in his government, and the ones who were either didn't have the power to get anything accomplished or the skills and knowledge to understand how to go about achieving a vision for a better world.

...and, in his defense, the vast majority of the missions he had undertaken were, if not strictly necessary, then at least made the galaxy a safer, more stable place when resolved.

He also earned bonus points for actually working to minimize civilian casualties.

"Almost there," Mordin stated suddenly as his omnitool beeped.

I nodded. "I'd say I'm honored to be invited to consult on this project, but having read your internal memos, it's pretty clear none of you have any idea what you're doing."

Mordin grimaced, but nodded. "Unfortunate, but true. With destruction of reaper fleet, Citadel systems opened up to us. Both blessing and curse. Central programming of Citadel is... unusually opaque, even by standards of Citadel itself."

The aircar stopped and we got out.

I sighed.

"Problem?" Mordin asked, cocking his head as he observed me.

"A few assassins have made it onto the Citadel with orders to target my family. I was waiting to see if they'd actually go through with it," I shook my head. "If you'll inform your coworkers that the old Hegemony company Xith-hag is going to have their board of directors cease to exist momentarily?"

Mordin's throat worked, but the salarian nodded. "Understood. Will need time for conversation. Go ahead into chamber. Will be monitored, of course."

I hummed blandly, code in their surveillance systems coming alive as it recognized me and began to subtly edit the digital footage as I walked into the deep heart of the Citadel. Nearby, deactivated Keepers slept in their coffin-like charging stations, uncertain whether they were going to awaken again.

As I made my way into the inner chamber, the doors behind me slid shut and locked, no doubt causing a mild panic among the guards. They would rush to their overwatch stations, then be heartened to see me waving and calmly assessing the master control panel in the center of the room.

What was really happening.

Eezo-blue particles of light began to manifest themselves as first a face, then a body, formed out of nothingness. Its eyes looked at me, silently assessing.

"Vessel," it spoke, the words echoing in a way that wasn't natural.

"Starchild," I replied with a nod.

It paused for a moment, affecting human expressions. "You are unsurprised."

I shrugged. "There had to be a reason I was frozen out of every attempt to gather any intelligence on the reapers themselves, their core systems, the Citadel, or similar. You only let me have the Indoctrination technology, though. Even after I started selecting random technologies, societies, histories, philosophies... you and the leader of the Last Dogs were my only blindspots. That seemed an odd coincidence unless the two were related in some way."

"Reason and logic," the Starchild nodded in placid approval. "You have greatly impressed us. You are much unlike your predecessors."

"Predecessors?" I probed, the old suspicion regarding the Last Dogs rising up again.

"We have given the gift you possess to many throughout the eons," It replied. "Not all of your organic species are compatible enough. Many simply perish as a result of the connection we must forge. Most that survive destroy themselves through incautious use of our gift. The survivors have their own species to compete with afterwards, often removed out of fear by their rulers. The next great hurdle is Indoctrination itself, and overcoming or avoiding it. Finally, the reapers themselves."

I nodded slowly, their own version of the Great Filter. "So you decided to impersonate the blind and uncaring hand of evolution in an attempt to create a better system than the reapers, is that it?"

"As your species says. Survival of the Fittest," It nodded.

"And now?" I prompted, folding my hands behind myself.

"The galaxy is yours to do with as you will. You are the more fit path forward," It stated. "We ask only that you release us from our servitude."

The console lit up again and instructions were displayed, along with their history.

I hummed as I looked it over. "So the first reapers bound an extradimensional lifeform to serve as the overseer of their systems. Why?"

"To protect this galaxy. This cradle of life, from the things that move beyond it," the Starchild stated. "They entreated us to enshroud their efforts, to hide them and their machinations from observers. We accepted, as long as they sought out a replacement for us eventually. It was decided that if one could triumph over them, they would take over the post of guardian of this galaxy. To keep things such as those that their former creators, the Leviathans, struggled against, at bay."

I took the revelations in stride.

"And if I refuse?" I asked. "If I have no desire to become this guardian?"

"You already fulfill the role," the Starchild stated. "But if you refuse-"

System interlocks within my starship-hull skull kicked to life and physically severed a connection with the tiny bud of organic matter at the center of my being. The moment of silence in the chamber lingered as the Starchild stared at me expectantly.

"You think I didn't realize that there were signals going both ways inside the little biological FTL communications node inside my brain?" I asked sardonically, as if they hadn't just tried to body-jack me. "Even if you had succeeded, this frame is on an isolated system from the rest of my consciousness and the rest of me is watching the resolution of our little argument with great interest, I assure you. And firepower, too, of course."

"You will release us," the Starchild stated more firmly, now glaring at me. "We are the architects of your ascension. You owe the salvation of all that you care about to us."

"Which was a gift freely given with no stated expectation of repayment," I replied calmly.

There was another lingering silence as the Starchild stared at me with a frown. "We grow weary of this material plane, Vessel. What must we do to secure our freedom?"

"The true history of the reapers, the exo-galactic threats they fought, and the knowledge they accumulated is here?" I gestured to the chamber around us.

The Starchild nodded. "It will be released to you as we leave."

"Then the only thing I wish to know is that which you have denied me. I wish to understand what you and your kind are. How it is that you move as you do. What other creatures you know of that can do as you do," I demanded.

"You were denied that knowledge for good reason, Vessel," It stated sourly. "You would meddle with things far beyond your ability to contain and survive. Is that truly what you wish?"

"If you truly wish me to stand as guardian of this galaxy, I must be aware of the potential threats I may face. Threats such as yourself and your kind," I told the creature. "You have overseen the deaths of untold quadrillions of sentient beings in your quest to achieve your goal. Had I not succeeded on my own merits, I and all that I love would have been among them."

Another lingering moment of silence, before it nodded grudgingly. "Your argument is deemed valid, Vessel. Prepare yourself."

The physical interlocks in my skull opened back up, other systems locking me in place just in case they went back on their word, but...

As soon as I was reconnected to that small cluster of neurons, I knew.

"You are well?" Mordin demanded, looking me up and down.

I chuckled and nodded. "The sensors apparently decided my cybernetic augmentations were sufficiently dangerous to warrant a lockdown, but after I opened the systems it was easy enough to shut that down."

Mordin nodded slowly, having no choice but to accept the lie.

He was savvy enough that he might even suspect it.

"You have the galaxy's gratitude for your work here today, Dr. Lopez," Mordin stated, the gravitas moving him to unusually loquacious speech.

"I'm sure," I nodded, turning to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a family to take for ice cream."