by Cole Price
Samara nodded slowly, standing straight and tall once more, open pride in her face as she looked at her last remaining child.
Then she almost lost her composure again, as Falere moved to fold her mother up in her arms. Samara stood tense and awkward for just a moment, but then she returned the hug.
I felt tears sting in my eyes, as I realized how long it must have been since the two of them had simply embraced, like any normal mother and daughter.
Goddess. Will I ever get the chance to stand with a child of my own, and feel such pride and love for her?
“Stay then, child,” Samara murmured. “And if I survive this war, I will return here and visit. As a justicar should.”
Falere nodded and let go.
Samara turned back to us, to Ashley. “Thank you, Commander. I confess my reasoning failed me for a moment. I am glad you were able to save me from my mistake.”
Ashley nodded. “What will you do now, ma’am?”
“I will stay with Falere for a time, to ensure she has the means to survive in this place. Then I will report to my Order. There are very few of us, but what we can do in this war, we will do.”
“Good.” Ashley extended a hand for Samara to shake, and then turned away. “Liara, would you say the High Command will be satisfied?”
“Most likely.”
“Do me a favor. When you report to them, just tell them the ardat-yakshi aren’t a threat anymore. Bad enough the Reapers might come back. Falere doesn’t need her own people trying to hunt her down.”
I nodded slowly in understanding. “I will.”
“Good.” She glanced around her one last time. “Let’s get back to Normandy. This is a pretty place, but I for one am sick of it.”
Chapter 40 : Relics
6 June 2186, Mil System Space
“This is SSV Normandy to anyone receiving on the planet Chalkhos. Please respond.”
Ashley waited for a long moment, and then glanced at me with a frown before repeating her hail.
“This is SSV Normandy to anyone receiving on the planet Chalkhos. Please respond.”
Silence, on every comm channel.
“Liara, I’m beginning to think there’s no one left here to pick up.”
“This planet had a population of sixty million less than three days ago,” I pointed out. “The Reapers couldn’t have killed everyone that quickly, could they?”
“I wouldn’t put it past them . . .”
She trailed off, because I suddenly appeared distracted. I held up a hand for patience while I listened to one of my own comm channels.
“Thank the Goddess,” I said at last. “Here, let me patch this in.”
“. . . ISV Cannae, Quintus Trevanian commanding. Good to hear from you, Normandy. We’ve got a very bad situation here.”
Ashley cut herself into the channel. “This is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, temporarily in command of Normandy.”
I winced, where she could not see. Many of us had begun to fear her command would not be as temporary as we first believed.
Shepard, where are you?
“Your principal is on board as well,” Ashley continued. “What is your situation? Can we lend assistance?”
“We’ve set down in the mountains on the northern continent. I’ll send you coordinates. We are under heavy attack from Reaper ground forces, supported by at least one destroyer-class platform.”
I caught Ashley’s glance, got a quick nod of permission. “Quintus, have you attained your primary objectives?”
“Yes, Doctor. We’ve recovered ARGOS, and we’re integrating its matrix into the ship even as we speak. Soon we’ll have our own unshackled AI helping us run things. We evacuated what few survivors we could find from Taranis as well.”
“Then why aren’t you in FTL and heading for safety?”
“Got a distress signal from Chalkhos. When we arrived . . . well, let’s just say there’s something here that has to be recovered, but it’s too big for Cannae alone. I don’t think it’s a good idea to discuss this further on an open channel. Can you land?”
Ashley nodded decisively. “Affirmative, Cannae, we will approach. Send us your tactical updates. We’ll see if we can take some of the pressure off your position on the way in.”
“Much obliged, Normandy. See you soon.”
“Joker, take us in. I’ll have targeting for you in a minute.”
“Aye-aye, Commander.”
Ashley leaned forward on the command podium, while Samantha and I worked to analyze and integrate the data flow from Cannae. It didn’t take us long to replace the galaxy map with a contour map of the terrain where Quintus’s ship had landed.
Low mountains, old, worn down by millions of years of wind and water. A wide valley running down from the highest ridge-line, many kilometers long, once occupied by farms and fertile parkland. The high northern latitude made the climate almost pleasantly cool, with little of the oven-like heat found across most of the planet.
“Reaper forces here, here, and here,” I reported, using a cursor to mark large formations moving slowly up the valley. “The Reaper destroyer is here, hanging back for some reason, almost as if it’s afraid to push our people too hard. Asari militia forces scattered throughout the middle heights, using guerilla tactics to slow the Reaper advance. Cannae is currently on the ground here, not far behind the militia.”
“What’s that unit at the top of the valley, marked as unknown?” Ashley demanded.
“Unclear. Cannae has that tagged as most-secret data, not to be transmitted even under my best encryption schemes. We’re going to have to go see for ourselves.”
“Very secretive, your captain.”
“He has good sense,” I said, only a hint of annoyance in my voice. “I’ve trusted him for years.”
“Fair enough.” Ashley reached a decision, tapped at the controls on her podium. “Joker, here’s your target list. Hammer these concentrations of Reaper forces, take the pressure off the asari, but watch your fire. We really don’t want any blue-on-blue damage here.”
“You got it. Ninety seconds.”
Within moments I could hear the roar of atmosphere as Normandy hammered its way down through the stratosphere of Chalkhos.
Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom. The Thanix cannon fired on rapid cycle.
At once, I began to see battle-damage assessments in the real-time data feed from Cannae. Icons changed, numbers flashed, a cool and sterile way to report the sudden incineration of hundreds of Reaper creatures.
Normandy jinked, hard, and all of us jostled in our safety harnesses. Ashley nearly lost her footing, despite her own acceleration frame.
“Whoa!” shouted Joker, even as he threw the ship into a series of violent evasive maneuvers. “That Reaper down there has decent aim for a change.”
“They do better when they’re shooting at space-tactical ranges,” Ashley observed. “Can you lay down another barrage?”
“Watch me.”
Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom.
“Militia report the enemy in full retreat,” I said. “We’re secure to land. At least for now.”
“I’ll take it,” Ashley said. “Joker, take us down.”
I ignored her, ignored Joker’s flippant response, ignored even Samantha as she helped with my work. I refused to think about anything but the cold, objective analysis of data.
Refused to think about the ice forming around my heart.
* * *
Aria might have refused my help in retaking Omega, but I found her operational security sorely lacking. I had no difficulty planting informants all through her fleet, long before it departed Citadel Space. Thus I knew when she finally moved to attack Omega. I knew that Shepard stood next to Aria on the bridge of her flagship, helping her persuade the Cerberus commander to stand down.
I also knew about the commander’s response. The first chill came when I heard his name.
General Oleg Petrovsky.
I had once gotten th
e better of Petrovsky. Once. It had not been easy. It had only been possible because I brought overwhelming force with me. Petrovsky used surprise and cunning tactics, and he very nearly defeated a Shadow Broker task force despite his numerical disadvantage.
Aria didn’t have overwhelming force at her disposal, and Petrovsky had spent over two months preparing Omega for an attack.
The assault turned into a massacre: Aria’s flagship destroyed, dozens of her supporting ships put out of action, hundreds or even thousands of her people killed. Including, apparently, all of my informants in a position to see whether either Aria or Shepard survived.
Days later, something seemed to be happening on Omega. We still had no word of Cerberus retaking complete control of the station. We got confusing reports of armed resistance, guerilla wars fought in the slums, Cerberus troops exacting reprisals.
I did not know whether Shepard still lived.
Then the other disaster fell.
The Reapers began to attack asari worlds.
Illium came first, a Reaper armada sweeping down to begin its harvest of the asari people. With help from T’Soni Analytics, Matriarch Pytho managed a virtuoso defense of the planet, preventing Reaper ground forces from landing. Yet they paid a terrible cost. Orbital bombardment reduced Nos Astra to rubble, killing millions and driving the remaining population into exile in the high desert.
Aspasia sent word, reporting almost all of her people evacuated in time. Aspasia herself took refuge in Matriarch Pytho’s fortress under Mount Hyasteia. There, she and the remnants of the Illium Defense Force could hold out for months. None of us labored under any illusion that they could survive a siege forever.
Then more asari worlds began to come under attack: Asteria, Trategos, Cyone, other colonies scattered across the galaxy. Only Thessia appeared immune, for the moment.
Some of our worlds managed to put up a good fight. We had some of the best fleets and planetary-defense networks in the galaxy, and as on Illium they sometimes prevented the Reapers from landing in force. Even when the Reapers did land troops, they often found it difficult to subdue whole populations of natural biotics.
For a few days I dared to feel hope.
Then the Reapers changed their strategy. Perhaps they could not easily capture asari populations for the harvest. They could still destroy cities, wreck infrastructure, and reduce farmland to radioactive waste. They could render asari worlds uninhabitable, and then wait for the inhabitants to die of poison, thirst, or simple starvation.
Apparently the Reapers did not even consider my people worth harvesting, if the process required any risk.
It worked. Asari could resist the Reapers very effectively, but we lacked a certain force, a certain toughness. Unlike turians, krogan, or even humans, we could not easily take the fight to the Reapers, force them to give way and leave our worlds alone. All we could do was stand siege. As with my friends, hiding under a mountain on Illium, there could only be one possible end to that story.
I buried myself in work. I drove the Shadow Broker’s network – what remained of it – to produce intelligence my allies could use. I consulted with Samantha and Ashley. I spent more hours questioning Javik, extracting every scrap of knowledge he could offer. I slept in my office aboard Normandy, with no company other than Glyph. When I slept at all.
Slowly, I felt the foundations of my soul weathering away.
* * *
6 June 2186, Kratera Mountains/Chalkhos
Ashley led our whole combat team out to meet Cannae’s captain: James and the entire Marine section, Garrus, Javik, EDI’s mobile platform, even Dr. Chakwas came in case anyone needed medical attention. I followed as well, Vara, Nerylla, and Kyriake at my side.
Quintus Trevanian waited at the bottom of his ship’s cargo ramp, a tall, massive turian with piercing blue eyes and elaborate crimson paint on his face. With him . . .
“James!”
The burly Marine lieutenant didn’t quite lose his composure, when a slim blue figure ran out of Cannae’s shadow and hurled itself into his arms. He pulled her off her feet, swung her around in a complete circle, and accepted her enthusiastic kiss.
I saw a lot of grins among the Normandy crew. I confess I smiled slightly, despite myself.
“Something I need to know about, Lieutenant?” Ashley’s voice sounded grim, but anyone who knew her well would hear the amusement behind that.
“Sorry, Commander.” James set the asari in his arms down on her feet once more. “This is one of Liara’s people. Dr. Treeya Nuwani. A friend.”
Sergeant Tsege grunted in amused mockery. “I got friends too, but they don’t say hello like that.”
“I apologize, Commander Williams,” said Treeya. Her voice settled into its usual cool detachment, although she did not move away from her human. “I haven’t had the chance to see James since before the war began.”
“I think we can let it pass.” Ashley turned to Quintus. “Commander Ashley Williams, Alliance Navy, Citadel Special Tactics and Reconaissance. You must be Captain Trevanian.”
“That’s right.” Quintus eagerly extended his hand for Ashley to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Commander. Good to meet you at last.”
“Captain, we don’t have a lot of time before the Reapers decide to push up the valley again. Now that we’re here, can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Better if I show you. It’s just up here, a hundred meters or so.”
Quintus turned to lead our party up the slope, Ashley at his side. The rest of us fell in behind them.
I moved to walk beside James and Treeya, who suddenly showed every sign of being inseparable. “Treeya, I want to thank you for all the work you’ve done over the past few months. Cannae has done more to recover Prothean inscriptions and artifacts than any other ship I know. Admiral Hackett tells me your finds have been of enormous assistance to the Crucible project.”
She nodded, a spark of enthusiasm showing. “Thank you, Liara. It has been a very productive time.”
“Rrrh,” came a voice from behind me. “Is this another asari with an unhealthy obsession with my people?”
I glanced over my shoulder, saw Javik a few paces behind us. “That obsession may be the only reason we still have any chance at winning this,” I answered tartly. “Treeya, this is Javik.”
She stared for a moment, and then nodded. “I am pleased to meet you at last, Commander. I am actually not a specialist in the study of your people, but most of my work since before this war began has been under Dr. T’Soni’s direction.”
Javik blinked at the courtesy of her response, then gave a cynical grunt and turned away, his eyes as usual scanning the horizon for threats. He did move up to walk at our side, in case any more of our conversation interested him.
Treeya cocked her head at me.
I shrugged. “He’s not exactly what we might have expected, but he’s a powerful ally.”
“Of course.”
“In the meantime, there’s another issue I would like you and your scientific team to think about.”
“This matter of the Intelligence that supposedly stands behind the Reapers?” she asked immediately.
James chuckled at my expression. “Watch out, Doc, my girl can give you a run for your money in the brains department.”
“So I see. Yes, Treeya, the priority on that item seems to be rising very quickly. Those of us aboard Normandy still can find no evidence as to where that Intelligence may reside, or what, if anything, it has to do with the Crucible.”
“You will not learn those things by studying the relics of our Unity,” said Javik. “We knew of the Crucible from the inusannon, but we knew nothing of any Intelligence guiding the Reapers.”
I frowned, thinking hard. “Didn’t you say once that the Crucible resembled a communications device? Something that could be used to alter the Reapers, change their programming at a fundamental level?”
“It is only a hypothesis.”
“But a good one,
” said Treeya. “Especially if there is a unitary Intelligence underlying their cognitive activity.”
“What does that signify, asari?”
“Well. Assume the Crucible is a programming device of some kind. We finish its construction, bring it into the vicinity of some of the Reapers, and trigger its function. It interacts with those Reapers, rewrites their software in some way . . .”
“I see.” Javik grunted. “All the rest of them still remain.”
“Precisely. From the inscriptions Dr. T’Soni and I have found that mention the Crucible, your people seemed to believe that they would only need to fire it once. If your hypothesis is correct, that implies they thought it would rewrite all the Reapers at the same time. Unlikely, if they exist as true individuals, scattered across the galaxy. Much more likely, if some kind of unitary substrate influences them all.”
“That still leaves us the problem of finding it,” I pointed out. “Admiral Hackett believes his people will finish the Crucible within days. He no longer requires more Prothean lore to complete the project. Now what he needs is a target.”
“The Catalyst,” muttered Javik.
“Excuse me?”
“We do not yet understand this Catalyst.” He stared at me with all four eyes. “The missing component. The inusannon insisted upon it. The Crucible will not succeed if we cannot find it.”
“We don’t even know what it is,” said Treeya, despairing. “The Intelligence itself? An interface point for the Intelligence? Something else entirely?”
“Add it to the list,” I sighed.
“It’s already a very long list.”
“Hey, querida, don’t fret.” James put his arm over Treeya’s shoulders. “Between you, the Doc, and everyone else that’s working on this . . .”
“We might have just enough brain-power to fail gloriously,” I muttered.
“Hah!” Javik barked. “That is the most Prothean thing I have ever heard you say, asari. There may be hope for you after all.”
