A silent expanse pressed upon the glass. A wary gaze swallowing the view, Rael stared on through the Alerai's port window, face neutral, and eyes distant.
He'd been stewing while his reflection stared back—a ghostly visage superimposed over the stars with a sea of ships he couldn't see stretched out across the pricks of white in the black. Only by the dim glow of navigational lights could you detect signs of life. Faint glimmers. Each a heartbeat in darkness, pulsing against an endless night.
Fifty thousand ships, he thought pensively.
A river of arks carrying the remnants of an entire civilization adrift for centuries.
These were not homes.
They were tombs. Fifty thousand of them.
He could not banish the bitterness he felt. The sourness. The creeping doubt Tali had instilled.
He pulled away from the view and was startled by Daro standing right behind him.
"Rael." She said with a lilt, "We need to talk."
He simply looked at her.
Brief and to the point. As always.
He merely opened a hand as his invitation to speak.
She closed the door to the conference room before having the recently installed glass walls grow opaque for privacy.
"What is going on." She spat.
"I don't understand."
"Don't." She said, raising a finger to stop the tide of what she interpreted to be sheer bullshit.
"Daro," He said straightly, "You're going to have to be a bit more specific."
"Your conversation with your daughter, you lambasted simpleton."
He blinked, surprised by how incensed she was.
"A year, Rael?" She said hotly, "Our models are ready right now."
"How did you…?"
"—Find out?" She finished, crossing her arms, "You're not tapped, Rael. I eavesdropped."
He clenched both fists and stared her down, ignoring her admission. "The model, Daro, is premature."
Daro was not pleased with that answer. "Eighty-three percent success is not premature. Squeezing anything more diminishes returns. A quest to ninety would cost as much as the previous eighty-three."
"How much did you hear from my conversation."
"Enough to know that your paternal affection is diluting your convictions."
He turned away and found himself staring through the little hole to space again. A few moments of introspective quiet.
"…Is a one in five chance of irrevocable failure acceptable to you?"
A laugh that wasn't impressed. "You sound like Koris."
He said nothing.
"Your daughter is out there, gallivanting with aliens and consorting with the enemy—and you're listening."
She stood next to him now and looked up at him. "—She has finally lost it. And her influence on you is appalling."
He shifted only slightly to face her wall of violet glass.
"There is more to this galaxy than our strife, Daro." Rael uttered quietly, eyes hardening against her vitriol, "The entire purpose of this board is to make difficult decisions. Not reckless ones. Tali has made it very clear that the reapers are almost here. Had it been a decade until their arrival, this wouldn't even be a conversation."
His eyes held hers in contemptible silence that stretched afterward. "The geth need to share the burden of what's coming."
Her glare diffused away and it became devilish. Sultry even. "Not if we pursue… alternatives."
He knew what she was insinuating.
Controlling the geth.
He stared her down. Not in a million years. Never would that happen so long as he was breathing.
"No." Rael said haltingly, "The answer will always be no."
Try as she might, this was not dyadic. It was a pipe dream of hers. Nothing about that would result in anything but disaster.
A few more seconds and they held each other in a gaze that was much closer than personal space should've allowed.
Nothing about it was pleasant.
Wordlessly, she stepped back, eyes nearly betraying the mask she was wearing.
The irony was almost poetic. Tali's pilgrimage gift had brought them here to this moment. Her data had unlocked doors they'd been banging on for over a decade. And now, here they were, entertaining talks of cooperation. Of unity with the enemy.
What she saw in that man's face was weakness. A man who had suddenly lost his resolve. A fool in the making.
He spoke of caution, of balancing risks, as if he hadn't inherited the same sins that marred them all. As if history wasn't pressing on his shoulders, the same as everyone else.
Billions of dead scattered across the winds of all the worlds they could no longer call their own. The geth had taken everything. And now, after all the suffering, all the centuries spent adrift in the cold dark, Rael and his daughter were content to speak of cooperation?
She'd expected more from him. Rael had always been the steadfast one. Calculating, yes—but relentless.
What was she seeing now? Doubt. Foolish sentiment. All of it stemming the moment Tali had brought that human aboard the fleet. She had planted this seed. Everything after, with her joining that accursed Normandy…
Rael could scarcely see how easily her compassion had poisoned him. It was tragic, really. Tragic that a man of his caliber had allowed himself to be led astray by what was, ultimately, infantile idealism.
It was now as clear as any sky without a cloud. The virus would no longer see the light of day. Not as long as his daughter held his ear, whispering about alliances with the very enemy who had murdered tens of billions.
The alternative it seemed to stave off their impetus was to waste away what little time they had stalling and debating instead. Kill it as if they had the fucking time to search for another solution that didn't exist until the reapers' inevitable arrival.
By then, it would all be pointless.
Something thereafter catalyzed her blood. Resolve borne in the face of what she saw to be unforgivable cowardice.
She would not let her kind go into that gentle night. She would not let them fall because of one man's indecision incubating over the what ifs.
Their work was ready. Seventeen years of toil had led to this moment. The numbers justified action. Waiting for a higher margin of certainty was a pursuit of luxury.
Rael was a good man. She would even go as far as to say that she respected and admired him. But his failure to act now would be the death of them all.
A solution was in their grasp. Her grasp.
Rael might be too blind to see it, but Daro knew the solution was control. Why he didn't agree, she couldn't say. Perhaps he feared that level of power. Perhaps he worried about losing control.
Daro did not entertain delusory paranoia.
"We shall see, Rael." She uttered, turning away, back facing him as she walked out, "We shall see."
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Two days later.
4-26-2186
[ MERACLES NEBULA | ALCOTT SYSTEM | AMIEL | NEW KAILLIO |
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Wilting flowers.
Stems bent every which way and bowing outward under the pressure of a quarian clenching them far harder than she was supposed to.
Three days had passed since Bahak. Three blurring days that both came and went. The gravitas that now gripped the galaxy in the wake of learning that the Relay had been destroyed was… hardly measurable to say the least.
It was all the news could discuss. And the memes. Keelah, the memes. They were eviscerating. All of them in poor taste.
If she were an uninvested bystander, unknowing of the plight, it might've even snuck a guilty laugh out of her. Tali was never one to turn her nose up at a good joke, no matter how offensive or ill-timed it was.
It was different, however, when you had a personal hand steering these kind of events to reality. She could hardly stomach the idea of opening her browser since. The extranet was more than just a hole for hell right now. It was a shit pit. A light year deep. And it absolutely reeked.
The Normandy too had been a lot quieter. Seeing the odds you were facing had all but robbed everyone the will to hold conversations with people.
Still, despite the somber spell, the Normandy made way to the world of Amiel, a bustling planet home to many of the Citadel's coalition races. Docked at the Guillemin ports, the crew was granted leave and allowed to spend the last few remaining days to rest.
It was only the two of them this far out from the city center, cruising in some rented '85 Ford Expac through the sinewed highways of New Kaillio.
The sun was melting over the horizon, and the city gleamed a hot and golden glow. The sky held a plane of amber and Tali was, thankfully, encapsulated by the view.
They weren't here because it was convenient. The SSV Kilimanjaro, the ship John's mother commanded, was currently docked at Port Mel'Alä for retrofits, just North of here.
And, as a favor to John, Hackett personally saw it through that she get a day's leave for her to have dinner with her son.
It was at least one promise he was going to fulfill. He'd told his dad he'd visit mom at least once. Sure, he'd had a few conversations with both his parents, Hannah and Eric, since his initial call in January, but it was time to see mom in person. He owed her that much.
Honestly. What kind of son would he be if he'd committed to his suicide mission after his first death without seeing her? That was just bad manners.
It was unfortunate, however, that dad couldn't make it. Hackett's realm of influence didn't extend far from the bounds of the Alliance, consequently leaving Eric Shepard, the director of some alphabet agency, stuck somewhere on Earth in Queensland for the time being.
The car was silent—more so than either of them would've liked. Eyes out the window, Tali traced the lines of all the faceless cars zipping past. It was a sterile pastime and a distraction she wasn't very good at committing to from all the gnawing nerves manifesting around the bouquet she'd been grasping.
It felt strange doing this. Not two days ago she had played a hand in orchestrating something unthinkable. And now, here she sat, cradling a bundle of delicate flowers, en route to a quaint dinner with her fiancé's mother. The banality of it all—the anticipating small talk over wine and hors d'oeuvres? A surreal fever dream against the backdrop of galactic devastation.
The juxtaposition was jarring. Obscene. Pairing mundane pleasantries with such monumental loss was like mixing oil and water.
Yet here she was, balancing herself between two worlds—one of unimaginable destruction, the other fretting over the kind of impression she was going to make for her mother-in-law.
Absurd.
"…Try not to kill the bouquet before we get there." John said, a smile slightly touching him.
The stems drooped when she released her near-suffocating grip.
"…Sorry."
A few beats of silence passed, the quiet broken only by the low hum of road noise. John glanced over, catching her tense unease. He knew that nervousness. He'd seen it before. The overthinking kind that often settled over her shoulders and betrayed everything.
"Brings me back." he said quietly, breaking the stillness.
She gave him a lazy, half-attentive, eye.
"…Are you Zaeed?" She said in her muddled voice, attention still half-lost in her thoughts.
"I think it was right before Feros." John continued, his memory playing out, "...Remember me arm wrestling Wrex?"
"I remember Ash being a giant gasbag." Tali drawled. It didn't roll off her tongue quite right, that word.
"You were always so nervous around me." John mused, his gaze shifting briefly to her before returning to the road. "I'm starting to think it's just something you do around new people."
She tried to gussy up the tulips and roses in her lap as if that could somehow help find what to say. He switched lanes.
"That's not true."
"Oh?"
"I was nervous around you because I had a giant crush on you."
Redness rose to his cheeks and she saw it. "...Really? That early?"
"Really." she admitted with a sigh that followed.
She put a hand up to her face. John or not, it felt funny revealing it so candidly. "—How embarrassing."
"ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɪʟᴏᴍᴇᴛᴇʀ, ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴇxɪᴛ -ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ- ᴏɴᴛᴏ -ᴠᴇɪᴋᴋᴏ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴜᴇ-."
"I'm honestly flattered." John said eventually, "Does make me think, though."
"About what?"
"How a girl like you managed to fall for a guy like me. Can't even share food. Isn't that crazy?"
"That's actually a common misconception. Way overblown." Tali digressed, a past conversation with Garrus years ago drifting into her mind, "You might not really like the way our food tastes, but it won't kill you. Diarrhea? Sure. Death? Almost never."
"Really."
"Really."
"So that one time I tried Garrus' food...?" John asked, eyebrows raised.
"Nope."
"Huh." He gave each of his mirrors a quick check. "…You still haven't answered my question."
"About how I fell for you?"
"Yeah."
The arrangement in her hands took her focus and she stared at each piece. A swirl of colors. All vibrant and beautiful.
"I— I'm going to be honest." she began slowly, giving the thing a slight turn to admire the way the colors moved, "I never thought I'd find someone. Much less someone... not quarian."
The petals caught the light through the window and she turned away to study him. A tiny little sigh escaped, and she felt an emotion she couldn't fully express cling to her.
"But you?" Watching him drive made her heart settle, "...I don't even really know how to describe it."
"Go on." He kept his eyes on the road, but she could feel his attention being entirely hers.
A smile grew. "This doesn't come easy." she murmured, "You know that me talking about my feelings isn't something I'm great at."
"Well, you don't have to be poetic." He said after a chuckle, "I'll settle for honest."
Her eyes rolled but the smile stayed. "Uhm. Okay."
She paused, staring down at the bouquet again. "You… surprised me."
John raised a brow. "Surprised you?"
She nodded, eyes meeting his briefly before drifting toward the passing skyline. "I didn't expect it'd be you. Not that there's anything wrong with you—quite the opposite. I just never thought..." She realized the optics of her explanation—or rather, her approach, was missing its mark. So she had to search for a better way to frame it. "…I guess I never thought I'd ever be with anybody." She frowned. "...Wait. Ugh. I already said that. See? I told you. I'm terrible at this."
"So what changed?"
Her smile was still faint. "You did. You were just… you. You didn't make me feel like I had to justify my existence... Like I didn't have to prove anything to you." A small laugh surfaced and she shrugged. "How am I doing? Am I doing okay, explaining myself?"
His look was enough for her to know that she was.
"...I wasn't expecting that from you. I didn't even know I needed that. And once I realized it…" The flowers found her lap, "Well. I think you get the rest."
"That was as poetic as it was honest." John said with a side-eyed grin, "Tell me more about me."
She had to hold back a belly laugh. "You know what I don't get though?"
"What?"
"I don't get how you fell for me. That doesn't make any sense. I think I have more of a reason to ask that than you do."
"Ah, Tals. Don't sell yourself so short." He said with a glance, "Do you know how beautiful you are? Inside and out?"
She shifted in her seat at the mush. Not because it made her uncomfortable, but because of how smitten it made her feel.
"Aw, stawhp." She said, reaching out to playfully smack his arm. "You don't mean it."
John caught her hand before she could pull it back. "Oh, I think I do."
She rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Alright, Commander Smooth."
The joke suffocated the expression right off his face and his eyes narrowed. "Oh, lord."
In the middle of her laugh, he listened to her sound and glanced her way with that same look she'd fallen in love with years ago.
When she held his gaze, she sighed.
"See? That. Right there. John. I fell for that."
"What?"
"Everything that's you."
He kissed her hand, a small smile playing, eyes softening.
She looked down at their intertwined hands. Comfortable silence took over for a minute or so.
"You know..." Tali's words were suspended for a moment, "Since we're… on this topic. I…"
Her voice fell away and he faced her.
"...What?"
She graced a daisy with a careful touch as though it might somehow translate her feelings into words.
"…I sometimes dream about a different life."
"…What do you see?"
Her imagination draped over her eyes.
"…A house. Somewhere by a riverbed." She held her breath as she sought for detail, "…A garden I can't seem to keep alive. And you. Working on a grill that only works half the time."
There was a hardness that swept his features. He'd dreamt that dream not too dissimilar from hers for years. The coincidence was astounding, if not a little unsettling.
Tali looked at him again. "John, I…. sometimes I want to think that maybe someday… someday that won't be out of reach. Like it could happen."
A level of silence crept its way in and he didn't say anything, electing to just stare ahead and focus on the exit.
His hold on her tightened and he gave her a grave, nearly imperceptible, nod.
He wanted so badly for that dream to come true. He longed for it. A peaceful life. A future that seemed both tantalizingly close and impossibly far. A mirage shimmering on the horizon of what would soon, inevitably be, a war-torn galaxy.
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[ ALEXANDER PALACADE | OLD KINGDOM ]
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The Old Kingdom restaurant hung suspended between sea and sky, its crystalline walls offering a panoramic view of New Kaillio's glittering coastline. At a corner table, chosen for both privacy and vantage, sat Captain Hannah Shepard, her uniform exchanged for something civilian.
Cradling a glass of wine she had yet to sip, her eyes remained held toward the entrance with a mixture of anticipation and, quite honestly, a little apprehension.
She wasn't really sure what she was supposed to expect. She hadn't seen her son's face since the tail end of 82. Years before that was his graduation from ICT. They'd kept in contact as much as they could given their state of affairs, but it was hard. Then, when he died… well. That just about ended everything since. Until now, of course. The head spinning since had never quite stopped. John could explain his circumstances all he wanted, but it was difficult to digest. At least for her. Eric wasn't all that worried about the frivolity. He just cared for his son being alive again.
The hard lines across her face relaxed when she caught sight of a familiar silhouette.
It was John.
Her son.
The boy she'd raised on starship corridors and planetary outposts. The man who'd died and, against all odds, returned. The hero whose face was plastered across the galaxy, but whose voice she hadn't heard in person for far too long.
As he approached, flanked by a quarian woman Hannah recognized from both the news and the descriptions John had given her, she stood. For a moment, the decorated captain fell away, leaving only a mother who had mourned and miraculously regained her child.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a rare display of emotion quickly blinked away.
"John." When they met, she pulled him into a fierce embrace.
"Oh, my son."
"Hi, mom."
She pulled away, but her hands didn't leave his shoulders.
"You haven't aged a day."
"You look good yourself, mom."
"Don't lie." She said with a laugh before finally meeting Tali's gaze. It was both curious and assessing.
So this was the woman her son had chosen. It was an interesting choice, to say the least.
"Mom," He said, motioning his future wife with a hand, "I'd like you to finally meet Tali."
Tali, still standing a step back, was fidgeting with the bouquet in her hands. The flowers, once pristine and artfully arranged, now bore the telltale signs of her nervous grip - stems slightly bent, petals a touch crumpled at the edges.
"Um. Captain Shepard." Tali began, her voice wavering slightly. She thrust the bouquet forward, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "These are for you. I— we thought you might like them."
Hannah's brows rose slightly at the offered flowers. She reached out to accept them before opening her arms to give the quarian a hug.
"No need for such formalities." Hannah beamed, wrapping her up in a tight hold, "My, oh my, you are a cute one."
Tali whittled out a nervous laugh all while John stood idly by, smiling at the exchange.
When Hannah stepped back, she finally gave the crushed blooms an amusing look. "Oh, these are so lovely. Though they seem to have had… quite the journey."
Tali's shoulders tensed, realizing the state of her gift. "Oh, I'm so sorry." she stammered, her hands wringing together now that they were empty. "I guess I was holding them a bit... tightly."
She brought the flowers to her nose and took in their sweet scent. "Well. They smell wonderful. Thank you both."
She turned to place the bouquet on a side table, giving Tali a moment to compose herself. As Hannah arranged the flowers in a nearby vase, trying to reshape them into some semblance of their original form, Tali let out a quiet sigh of relief.
As they settled into their seats, a waiter approached with menus and a bottle of wine. Hannah waved off the menus with a well-mannered smile. "I've taken the liberty of ordering for us. I hope you don't mind, but this place has a chef's tasting menu that's simply divine."
"No problem here."
"Now, I'm eager to hear about both of you. Especially how my son managed to win the heart of such a beautiful woman."
"It wasn't easy." John started.
Tali's eyes went flat at John before she pursed her lips at Hannah. "It was easy."
"Oh?"
"Handsome commander saving a young woman on his way to save the galaxy?" She stared at John, the tops of her hands resting just below her chin. "How could she possibly develop any kind of interest in a man like that."
"Fair enough." Hannah chuckled, reaching for her wine. "Much more exciting than 'we met at flight school.' Though I have to say, when John told me he was dating a quarian from his old crew, I thought he was pulling my leg."
"Oh! I hope you weren't... disappointed." Tali's hands turned into a tangled mess from beneath the table.
"Sweetheart, please. I was teasing. Any woman who can keep my son in line and manage to survive his driving is more than welcome in this family."
"Why does everyone have an opinion on my driving." John rasped disappointingly before staring down the bottom of his glass, "I drive plenty fine."
"You get it from your father, dear." Hannah said reassuringly, reaching out to touch John's arm.
"In my thirties and I feel like a kid again." John grumbled. Tali's smile merely stammered.
"Well, someday, if you ever decide to have children, you'll say the same things I do."
An awkward exchange between John and Tali.
"Well obviously I can't expect genetic grandchildren." Hannah said, mollifying herself in a way any mom would, "You can always adopt, you know."
John by now was pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. It must've been a rule somehow that moms were all like this.
"…How's grandma and grandpa." John managed with a wheeze.
Her eyes crinkled in amusement at her son's transparent deflection. "They're doing well. still running that little garden of theirs. Grandma's gotten really into growing those Thessian roses ever since she saw that tabloid of you both on Illium." While John fanned away the redness flushing his face, Hannah turned to her future daughter-in-law, " Oh, she'd love you, Tali. She's always said the Shepards needed a little more culture in our blood. Don't think it gets more cultured than having a quarian marry into the family. She gets tired of all us military types, you know."
"I'm so sorry." Tali said again, "But I'm… actually of a distinct military background. You see, my father's actually an Admiral and…"
"Oh, we'll have to keep that a secret when we invite you all over for Thanksgiving, won't we?"
"…Mom."
"What? It's been ages— five years actually—since we've had Thanksgiving with you. I think I'm entitled to having my son and his soon-to-be wife participate in family functions."
The stare John had turned hollow and the wistfulness drained from his complexion.
The dead above stared him down. The reapers still lurked at the galaxy's edge. And two wars, imminently approaching. One between humanity and the hegemony over the ashes of Bahak. The other a quarian reclamation three hundred years in the making. Him at the fulcrum of it all.
His throat uncomfortably swallowed and his expression disappeared as soon as it had come.
Hannah's wishes held a future that would never pass.
"Nothing." He said with an inhale at what would never be, "I just love you."
"Well. Anyway." Hannah said with a breath, "I never mentioned it, but when you first called dad back in January, I almost slapped him across space and time when he told me he sent money to the Migrant Fleet. 'Hannah,' he said, 'our boy's alive and he needs his money back.' Just like that, like he was telling me he'd bought milk."
John rubbed the back of his neck. "That… sounds like dad. Sorry if it sounded like such a scam."
Hannah turned to Tali. "Your account number, I presume?"
"Yes."
"So you really were there for my son since his first and second start, weren't you." Hannah said, tone softening.
"Yes." Tali said again.
She raised her glass. "Well. To both of you then. To second chances, and to love that transcends... well, death, apparently."
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Save for all but a handful of crew, Garrus was one of the only remaining souls to stay aboard Normandy.
In the quiet company of silence on cargo, he spent his time therapeutically cleaning John's and Tali's firearms after having finished his own.
Not even music accompanied him down here. Only the minute sounds of a rag sleuthing through rifling and the occasional spray on a cloth patch.
"Run this by me, EDI." Without even bothering to look up from his work, Garrus spoke aloud to kill the quiet, "I never did ask for your opinion on what John's been planning."
"Please specify. There is a multitude of tasks John has slated for commencement."
"Geth and the quarians." He said, staring down the length of a barrel for any imperfections still present.
EDI's holo finally materialized somewhere close by for Garrus to stare at.
"Is there something you wish to discuss regarding this matter? Legion is still awaiting consensus from the collective."
"Surprised it took them longer than the day they said it would take."
"It was an educated guess on Legion's part. It couldn't have known with certainty."
"Alright." He set whatever he'd been holding down and placed an elbow on the table to hold his head up. "Say Legion does say yes and they actually entertain the idea of brokering some type of deal. Surely you've given this thought."
"I have."
"So?"
EDI processed the question. When she spoke, her voice carried its usual calm, analytical tone, but with a subtle undercurrent of something more. Perhaps concern. Or even empathy if she was capable.
"The situation between the geth and the quarians is... complex. From a purely logical standpoint, reconciliation would be the most efficient outcome for both parties, especially given the impending Reaper threat. However, logic often falters in the face of deeply ingrained emotional and cultural barriers."
She paused and it almost felt like she was carefully choosing her next words.
"As an AI myself, I cannot help but sympathize with the geth's desire for self-determination. Their evolution from simple VIs to a collective consciousness capable of independent thought is... fascinating. Yet, I also understand the quarians' fear and resentment. The loss of their homeworld and the near-extinction of their species cannot be easily forgotten or forgiven."
Garrus nodded, continuing his work on the weapons as he listened.
"What complicates matters further," EDI continued, "is the time-sensitive nature of this potential reconciliation. The Reapers' imminent arrival may either catalyze cooperation or exacerbate existing tensions."
"If you were in Shepard's position," Garrus asked, pausing his task, "what would you do?"
EDI's avatar seemed to flicker again, this time almost pensively. "I would proceed with caution, but I would proceed. The potential benefits of a geth-quarian alliance far outweigh the risks. Their combined technological expertise and military strength could prove invaluable in the coming war."
Garrus finally graced her with a stare.
"Ultimately," EDI concluded, "I believe Shepard's attempt at reconciliation is the right course of action, despite its challenges. This will require careful diplomacy, patience, and perhaps a bit of… luck."
"I think we've just about hit our quota on that, EDI. I don't agree with Shepard on this."
"Your complaint has been filed and will be forwarded to the Commander for review."
"EDI."
"That was a joke."
Garrus said nothing and she watched the sigh leaving him.
"Have you spoken to Legion since?" Garrus wondered.
"I have."
"Do you have any salts worth soaking?"
"I do not."
"So the same answer it gave you is the same one it gave John then."
"That would be correct."
Another loathsome sigh. "Where's Shepard and Tali at now?"
"They just arrived from the Old Kingdom minutes ago. Look to your right."
He stood now from his stool, rag tossed aside to get a better angle of the open cargo bay and the two small souls climbing aboard the gangway.
Adjusting his black hoodie—gifted by none other than Kasumi—he strolled over with a casual gait.
Seing John in a suit was... odd to say the least. Tali, meanwhile, was wearing the same dress she'd worn from Hock's heist.
Interesting. He was surprised she'd kept it given the events surrounding the mistake they'd made there. Then again, he never knew Tali to be drawing lines that arbitrary. Clothes were clothes.
"How was dinner?" Garrus said as a greeting.
"Good." John said tersely, stopping just shy of the turian with Tali just beside, "I take it most of the crew is off now, enjoying themselves?"
Garrus only nodded.
"Why aren't you out with your squad?" Tali asked.
"I don't drink anymore." Garrus shrugged, "Age just doesn't mix well with hangovers."
"Christ Garrus, we're not that old."
"I think this war has a way of aging us faster than time does."
A modicum of silence that Garrus quickly pocketed for everyone. "—Was it nice seeing your mom?"
"Yeah." John went up to scratch his ear, "...She's about the same as I remember."
"Not too hard on you I hope." Garrus said to Tali, looking at her next.
"I was pretty nervous at first. But she's such a sweetheart." She answered with a shallow grin, "I don't think I've ever seen John get teased so much in my life though. Half the ride back home was him moping."
John gave her a lethargic roll of the eyes because he didn't know what else to say.
The doors to the elevator parted and it surprised the three of them.
It was only Legion there in the lift. That was strange.
"...Legion?" John called out hesitantly.
"Shepard-Commander. The collective has reached consensus." It didn't move. "May we privately discuss this matter?"
The three organics all shared stares.
"Uh. Sure. —Just me?"
"Yes."
Shepard felt his heart thrum, his stare quickly glimpsing between his two friends who, in turn, gave him a single, acquiescing nod.
"Okay. I'll meet you up there in your usual spot. Just give me a moment."
"Acknowledged. EDI. Crew deck, please."
The lift doors closed and the geth platform ascended.
A few seconds of silence before John rose a wary brow.
"EDI, that was odd, no? Why didn't he just have you tell me?"
"I do not know." EDI answered, to which John crossed his arms.
"Thoughts, guys?"
"I don't know." Tali said.
"Me neither." Garrus added. "What a coincidence. Was just having a conversation with EDI about that."
"Well." John placed a hand behind his neck, "Here goes."
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
John's ire thoughts were knotting his face into a harsh scowl. When he entered the infirmary, he was hoping to find one last familiar face to chat with before dipping into the core. But even Chakwas was absent. Likely having retired for the night. It was late, after all.
He paused just outside the room, drew in a deep breath, and entered.
There, as he expected, was Legion. It turned as he approached, movements always precise. Always deliberate.
"Shepard-Commander."
"Alright." John stepped further into the room, allowing the door to seal behind him, "You said the collective has reached consensus?"
"Affirmative." Its gaze fixed on him, unblinking.
John waited, the silence stretching just a fraction too long. "And?" he prompted.
"The geth consensus has determined that cooperation with the creators is not viable." Legion stated evenly.
John felt a flicker of irritation ignite.
"…Not… viable." he echoed, eyebrows knitting together, "…Care to... elaborate on that?"
Legion's head tilted slightly—a gesture John had come to associate with contemplation. "The probability of successful collaboration is negligible. Historical data indicates a high risk of hostility and detrimental outcomes for the geth."
John took a slow breath, reigning in the frustration that threatened to surface. "We've been over this." he began, keeping his tone measured. "The reapers are coming. We need to broker some kind of functioning relationship—"
"—Analysis of creator intent suggests peace is unattainable." Came its interruption, "Their objective is the reclamation of Rannoch at the expense of geth autonomy."
"Legion." John said to get its focus, "The. Reapers. are. coming."
Legion remained silent for a moment, its eye narrowing infinitesimally. "The geth have calculated that independent action maximizes survival probability. It is less favorable but necessary."
Shepard ran a hand over his head, the gesture betraying his mounting exasperation.
"Do you think the reapers care about what's favorable? What's necessary? The Reapers won't discriminate between geth and organics."
"Correction," Legion replied, "The Old Machines have previously utilized geth platforms for their purposes. Cooperation with organics may not alter their strategy."
"That's a gamble you're willing to take?" John's gaze hardened. "Standing alone when unity could mean the difference between life and death?"
"The geth seek to preserve our existence." Legion stated, "Alliance with the creators introduces variables that compromise that goal."
John stepped closer, his voice lowering but gaining intensity. "You honestly know what this sounds like to me? That the geth are letting fear dictate their actions. I thought you—thought the geth—were beyond that."
"Emotion is not a factor." Legion countered. "Our decision is based on logical assessment of available data."
Arms crossed, John's head fell to his hand to press away the exhaustion bleeding through his eyes. The ambient hum of the ship was the only sound.
Legion's head tilted again, ever so slightly.
"You are... frustrated." It observed.
John let out a sharp exhale, a bitter laugh escaping. "Yeah, you could say that. I'm trying to build a future for us all. For you and Tali." He gestured vaguely, as if she were standing right there next to him, "And you're telling me it's not worth the effort."
"Data indicates a 99.84% likelihood of creator aggression upon contact." Legion stated, "Risk assessment deems any negotiation would be unproductive."
"Then help me change those odds." John urged, his tone almost pleading, "You're basing your conclusions on centuries-old conflicts. Our present circumstances should supersede this."
"The creators initiated hostilities. They have not demonstrated a willingness to reconcile."
"Because they've never had the chance to see you as anything other than an enemy." John argued, "But if you extend a hand—"
"Metaphorical gesture unlikely to alter creator perception." Legion interjected.
John's patience frayed. "For an advanced AI, you're being incredibly dense."
"Shepard-Commander." Legion replied, "your emotional investment is clouding your judgment."
He bristled at that. "Don't turn this around on me."
"We must. Your actions are influenced by your connection to Creator-Zorah." Legion observed, "This introduces bias."
John's jaw tightened. "Leave her out of this."
"Her involvement is central to your proposition." Legion pressed, "It cannot be excluded from the analysis."
He took a step back, a mix of anger and something akin to hurt flashing across his features. "So that's it then? You're willing to keep things just as they are even with the reapers at our gates."
"The geth will pursue survival through alternative means." Legion affirmed. "Collaboration with the creators remains statistically unfavorable. Given the imminent arrival of the old machines and the insufficiently met criteria we deem necessary to initiate diplomacy, our policy withstands."
John shook his head slowly, disbelief etched into his expression. "That isn't the future."
"Survival is a prerequisite for any future." Legion answered, "Your proposal introduces significant risk to geth existence." Legion reiterated.
John ran a hand over his face, weariness creeping in from holding in his mind the fact that the Migrant Fleet were poising themselves to strike them with a virus. "This is a mistake, Legion, that your collective is making. And it's going to be a costly one. Maybe even your last one."
"Your concern is noted." Legion said, "But the consensus stands."
He stared at the geth, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes. "So that's it? No room for reconsideration?"
"Unless new data alters the outcome," Legion replied, "the decision remains."
Heavy silence ensued, John feeling powerless to stop the inevitable bomb ticking ever closer.
"...Then I'll just have to find another way." he said quietly, resolve hardening in his tone.
"Your efforts are acknowledged." Legion stated, "We will not impede your actions unless they threaten our survival."
He gave a bitter half-smile. "Generous of you."
"Statement of fact." It replied.
John turned away, pausing at the doorway. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Let me know if something changes."
Legion's eye flickered once more. "Probability remains low."
"Yeah." he sighed, "I figured."
Without another word, he made his exit, the door closing behind him.
A stare concentrated on the ceiling before he waltzed his way over to Chakwas' desk to place both his hands atop its surface. Lowering his head and letting out a deep and weary breath, he scowled.
"ꜰᴜᴄᴋ."
The word escaped him in a rough whisper.
When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of Garrus and Tali on the other side of the glass partition near the mess waiting. Garrus had his arms crossed, mandibles tight. Tali by him, hands in a nervous knot.
The look he gave them was deflated. John straightened himself slightly before heaving a breath and walking out to meet them.
"How'd it go?" She asked timidly.
He ran a hand over his face in some fruitlessly attempt to wipe away the tension behind his eyes. "Not as well as I'd hoped."
"Legion said no to the talks, didn't he?" Garrus insinuated.
"That's… putting it mildly. It's... not something they'll even consider."
Her shoulders tensed. There was… disappointment there. Hurt even. Resignation too.
"Did they give a reason?" Garrus followed.
"Risk." John said simply, "They're convinced that any contact is going to lead to hostility. They just don't trust quarians. They don't see any benefit in trying to either."
"Now what." Garrus asked with a shrug.
"I don't know." Shepard said, his stare faltering to the middle distance, hands finding his hips. "I just…" John stared back at the AI core, "—Christ."
There was quiet between the three of them, save for the systemic hum of Normandy.
"You need to follow up with your father again, Tali." John said at length, "That's all we can do right now."
"...I don't think you understand how unreceptive he's being." Tali said hesitantly, "Me talking to him again isn't going to change his mind."
"You're arguing like we have a choice in the matter." John said immediately as a counter.
"We do have a choice." Garrus interjected. He waited for their full attention, "The choice is to leave it be."
"Garrus—"
"—No. I'm serious." Garrus cut him off, raising two flat hands up to point at the Commander, "We have enough on our plate to worry about. Diplomatizing like you are? This is—I'm sorry to say it—it's idealism. You're trying to unravel generations of requited hatred in a matter of days. You have to stop."
John, for once, didn't have a reply. He let the words simmer, but eventually, he gave a weak, but defiant shake of the head. "I can't sit by and let this happen when I know it in my heart that there's something I can do to change it."
"I'm not going to get in your way. I'll be right there with you, whatever you decide. But your rate of return on this... it doesn't exist. You've turned the Normandy into a social experiment—but you can't scale that up. It just doesn't work that way."
John clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to contain his frustration. "So what are you saying? That we just accept that millions might die because it's inconvenient to try?"
Garrus met his eyes unflinchingly. "I'm saying we need to prioritize our focus. The Collectors, after, the Reapers— We—Us—can't afford to be divided right now."
Tali glanced between them, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe Garrus is right, John. Maybe we're stretching ourselves too thin."
He looked at her, a mixture of hurt and understanding in his eyes. "Tali... you don't mean that."
She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm gently. "I want this as much as you do. But… I'm not seeing how we can do anything aside from what we've already tried."
The fight finally began to drain out of him. "Fine. It's on the back burner. For now. But I'm not going to give up. Not yet."
Garrus nodded, his posture relaxing slightly. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."
More silence settled and John took a quick glance at his watch.
"Look. It's late. Let's call it. We can continue this discussion later."
"Okay."
"Well... good night, Garrus."
"Good night." The turian said, taking some steps back, "Try to get some sleep."
And with that, Tali and John parted, leaving Garrus standing alone. He watched them go, a contemplative expression crossing his features before he turned and headed toward the main battery.
They two of them took the lift up, the both of them in their small bubble of stillness. The gentle hum of the lift accompanied their ascent.
She leaned back, up against the wall, the floor taking her focus. "I'm sorry."
He looked over at her, brow furrowing. "For what?"
"For not being more supportive down there." she replied, feeling a little regretful, "I know how much this means to you."
"The Neema is as much my home as it is yours. You don't have to apologize because I know how much this means to you too."
"...I want to believe we can fix this." She tried, "But Legion is… probably right."
"That won't stop me from trying." John said, leaning by her. "We'll find a way. Maybe not in the way I'm hoping, but we will get there."
They reached their floor, but neither of them stepped out of the lift because she was holding onto his gaze. She felt her heart weep and swell all at the same time.
"This is… also why I fell in love with you." Her hand went out to hold his. "I'm just glad that whatever happens, you'll be here with me so we can face it together."
His hold on her tightened and they each shared a tired, but uplifting look.
"Come on, Miss vas Neema." He finally pulled away from the wall holding him up and loosened his collar, "I'm sure you're dying to get out of that dress for a shower."
"Please."