The Reaper War

by Cole Price

  “Admirals, I am strongly tempted to go home and fight the war I should be fighting. At this moment, I am having difficulty giving a damn how the geth deal with people selfish and stupid enough to do what you have done.”

  He turned his back on Gerrel, moved back to a more neutral position, turned once more to face all the admirals more impartially.

  “But the terrible fact is this: with the Reapers at the gates, none of us can afford to work at cross-purposes. So Normandy is going to stay. I, and all of my people, will do our best to resolve this war, so that we can all turn and fight the real enemy.”

  “Thank you, Commander Shepard,” said Gerrel. “I don’t like what you just said, but I respect you for saying it. It’s good to see there’s at least one other soldier in the room. And when we’ve won this war, I’m sure we’ll do everything we can to help in the fight against the Reapers. Now, if you’re done giving speeches, I need to get back to the Heavy Fleet. Raan, we’ll talk later.”

  Gerrel turned, every line of his body stiff with injured pride, and stalked out of the War Room. He brushed Tali aside in his haste to leave.

  “Bosh’tet,” Tali muttered as he disappeared.

  Raan shook her head and turned toward us, taking on a conciliatory stance. “Commander Shepard. You must understand, the geth inflicted very heavy casualties before you disabled the Reaper command signal. We nearly lost everything.”

  Shepard nodded. “I get it. When a battle plan suddenly goes south, it’s tempting to lose your head.”

  “If I understand your metaphors, yes, I agree. But now we can think things through. Anything we decide here, Admiral Gerrel will fall in line. Once we have won this war . . .”

  “You mistake me, Admiral Raan,” Shepard interrupted, his voice cold as ice once more. “I did not say I would necessarily help you win your war against the geth. All I said was that I will help you resolve it.”

  Raan paused, tilting her helmet in confusion.

  “Legion?” Shepard called.

  The geth platform emerged from the QEC room, where it had awaited Shepard’s signal. Without hesitation, it stepped down into the War Room to stand beside Shepard.

  “Shepard-Commander. We are prepared to offer assistance.”

  The reaction was everything Shepard might have hoped for, even if only two of the quarians were surprised. Raan and Xen lost all control of their body language, staring at the geth with shock and rage, both of them looking as if they wanted a weapon.

  “What the hell is this?” demanded Raan.

  “Introductions are in order,” Shepard rapped. “This is Legion: a mobile platform hosting well over a thousand individual geth runtimes. Independent, very intelligent, and highly capable. It helped me to defeat the Collectors, it opposes the geth alliance with the Reapers, and it is offering friendship and alliance.”

  “This is a fascinating prototype,” Xen observed, her shock fading. “With some study, I may be able to use it to find new vulnerabilities in the geth consensus.”

  Shepard glared. “I don’t think you heard me clearly, Admiral. Legion is a friend. It helped me in the war against the Collectors.”

  “So did your sidearm, Commander. Are you about to declare ties of friendship with it as well?”

  “I don’t think you want to continue this line of thought, Admiral.” Shepard loomed over Xen. “Legion is a sentient being. It is my friend. More importantly, it’s our best source of information about the geth.”

  Xen put hands on hips, as if lecturing an unruly student. “The scientific benefits . . .”

  “Are off the table.”

  Xen made a huffing sound, but she could see Shepard would not be moved. She backed away.

  “Very well,” said Raan, turning to Legion. “What can you tell us about the geth? How will they react without Reaper guidance?”

  “You are operating under a false assumption,” said the geth. “You have cut off long-range control, but the Old Machines have placed a base on Rannoch for short-range direction.”

  “The geth still have Reaper upgrades?” asked Raan fearfully.

  “Correct. They are currently disorganized, but given time to assimilate the short-range signal, they will recover.”

  “Keelah. We must warn the fleet. Xen, coordinate with Gerrel. Move!”

  Xen nodded and hurried to depart.

  “It sounds as if any resolution to this conflict will involve disabling the new Reaper signal,” said Shepard. “Where is this base?”

  “Unknown,” answered Legion.

  “Find it.”

  “Acknowledged. We do have the location of a geth installation that is of immediate relevance to the tactical situation. A server from which fighter squadrons are controlled. These squadrons are in a position to threaten quarian liveships.”

  “I’ll add it to the list of objectives. Admiral Raan, I understand one of your colleagues went down on Rannoch in the last stages of the battle yesterday?”

  “Yes. Admiral Koris, the commander of the Civilian Fleet.”

  I finally saw an opportunity to step in. “Shepard, the liveships and the Civilian Fleet as a whole are critical. I haven’t been able to get through to most of my quarian friends yet, but I’m very concerned about some of the message traffic I’ve seen this morning. Samantha and I have analyzed the situation, and we concur that the Civilian Fleet is nearly at a breaking point. Without Admiral Koris in command, the civilian captains feel a great deal of pressure from their people to disengage and scatter. If that happens, it may take weeks to get the Migrant Fleet to regroup.”

  “If it can be done at all,” said Raan, concerned. “If the Civilian Fleet breaks? Commander, it could be the beginning of the end for the quarian people, no matter what happens with respect to the geth.”

  “Liara, would you say the Civilian Fleet is important to any resolution of this conflict that doesn’t end in the destruction of one side or the other?”

  “My assessment is that it is absolutely vital.”

  “Understood. Admiral Raan, I’d like to invite you to remain on board Normandy to coordinate with the rest of the Migrant Fleet. I think you’ll find our War Room facilities and our intel feeds very useful.”

  Raan nodded. “Gladly, Commander.”

  “Liara, can Traynor handle your end of things for a while?”

  My eyes widened with surprise. “I think so . . .”

  “Then you and Garrus are with me. Tali, would you be willing to help rescue Admiral Koris?”

  “Certainly, Shepard.”

  “Right.” Shepard’s face was already full of that tense exaltation it always carried, just before an important mission. “Let’s move.”

  * * *

  11 June 2186, Teeras Coastline, South Continent/Rannoch

  I didn’t expect Rannoch to be beautiful.

  On approach to Admiral Koris’s last known position, we discovered why no one had been able to contact him directly: a geth jamming tower, protected by AA batteries. Cortez had to evade fire and set us down at a distance from the tower, which Shepard resolved to take out on foot.

  The four of us emerged from the shuttle into evening twilight, fresh sea air, stars and a silver moon overhead, little avians moving about in great flocks. Rannoch’s beauty seemed austere, a thing of rock formations and stubborn plant life, but real all the same. I looked about with deep appreciation. Even Shepard and Garrus took a moment to savor their first sight of Rannoch.

  Tali, of course, stood in awe. “To be standing here, in the land of my ancestors . . .”

  For once, Garrus spoke with warmth and not a trace of irony. “I’m glad you got the chance, Tali.”

  “It’s interesting to see so much life here,” I murmured.

  Talk glanced at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, think about it. The geth are machines. They’re perfectly happy on barren worlds and asteroids. Even hard vacuum and deadly radiation don’t bother them.” I looked around. “Many millions of geth pl
atforms exist on Rannoch, maybe billions, with all the resource extraction and industry that implies. The natural, organic ecology shouldn’t still be here. Unless they took special care to preserve it.”

  “Hmm.” Tali looked around as well, thoughtful now. “You may be right. You’re wondering why they bothered.”

  “Yes. There may be more to geth intentions than we realized.”

  We moved forward, tracing a path along steep hillsides and bluffs, the sea always visible a short distance to our right. Very soon we became aware of geth, not close but not nearly far enough away. We would have to fight our way through soon enough.

  “I hope the admiral is all right,” I murmured, after another scan with my omni-tool.

  “There are so many geth here already,” said Tali, worried. “Cleanup crews. They’ve never learned to take prisoners.”

  “We’ll get there in time,” said Shepard. “Come on.”

  We found our first quarian escape pod soon after that, surrounded by a geth fire-team that seemed unaware of our presence. Shepard deployed us with hand-signals, and then ordered an attack. A few seconds of gunfire, overload charges, biotic feats, and the foe went down.

  I found myself having flashbacks. I had first met Tali, Garrus, and Shepard when they rescued me from geth on Therum, three years before. I had forged my friendships with them on a dozen battlefields, fighting geth. It felt very strange to be doing it again, after so much else had happened to all of us.

  “Keelah,” said Tali, rushing forward.

  Quarians. Probably the passengers of the escape pod we had found. All dead.

  “They came so far,” Tali moaned, in a small voice.

  We moved on. At one point Shepard paused, halting us with a gesture as he peered ahead. Then he fired his Claymore, apparently at nothing.

  A powerful explosion erupted from the ground at the point where Shepard had fired.

  “Land mines,” I observed. “Bound to be more up ahead.”

  More dead, a few quarians, a lot of geth. The admiral’s people had clearly made a good account of themselves. I began to worry that we had come too late, that Koris had already gone.

  “Shepard, get down.” Garrus crouched behind some rocks, pointing. Some distance ahead and below us, we saw a geth squad on patrol.

  Shepard nodded. “Just a moment. I want to try something.”

  He made a control gesture, one I had never seen him use before. A tight little ball of biotic energy flew out, across the gap between us and the geth.

  BOOM!

  An enormous flare of light, and I could feel a sudden burst of severe gravitic distortion from fifty meters away. One geth platform went down at once, blasted into fragments, the rest so stunned that they put up no resistance to our gunfire.

  “What in Athame’s sacred name was that?” I demanded.

  Shepard grinned at me, pleased with my reaction. “A little technique Aria showed me. Like it?”

  “Very impressive. You’ll have to teach me. Although it seems more appropriate for your biotic style than mine.” I gave him a wicked smile. “It doesn’t require much finesse.”

  “Well, T’Soni, Aria is something of a blunt instrument.” He sobered. “Too bad I didn’t have a chance to learn anything from Nyreen Kandros.”

  I nodded, remembering the turian rebel from his experiences on Omega.

  We moved on, climbing down to where the geth patrol had stood. There we had to fight again, as another geth squad dropped in from orbit. A more vicious battle, more difficult, with geth rocket troopers firing at us from close range.

  I hate rockets.

  Afterward we found another escape pod, this one badly damaged in the landing, broken and on fire. More quarian dead scattered around it . . .

  “Oh, Goddess!” I holstered my sidearm and rushed forward, heedless of any danger.

  One of the crumpled quarian bodies: male, tall, broad-shouldered, his environment suit bright in crimson and gold. Down and motionless in a welter of blood.

  “Liara?”

  It can’t be. Not him. So honest, so sincere, such a formidable talent, so in love with his new wife.

  It was. When I queried his ID chip, I saw the name.

  Arin’Tana vas Qwib Qwib.

  “Oh no,” murmured Tali.

  “Is this who I think it is?” asked Shepard gently.

  I knelt by his body and nodded. “Arin. One of the first people I hired when I set up T’Soni Analytics. I couldn’t have succeeded without him, couldn’t have helped you against the Collectors, couldn’t have taken over the Shadow Broker’s network.”

  Shepard rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Liara. I remember now, meeting him on Illium. I liked him.”

  “He was a good man.” I scrubbed at my cheeks, forced myself to swallow the tears by sheer will. “He deserved better than to die like this.”

  “This useless, stupid war,” growled Tali. “Damn Garrel and Xen both. Damn Raan for not standing up to them. Damn me, too, for not finding some way to convince them.”

  I sighed. “It’s not your fault, Tali.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe this was inevitable before they put me in a position to act. But now I am in that position, and I’m responsible.” Tali looked down at our friend’s corpse once more. “No more dead. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  I glanced at her, and something in her carriage surprised me.

  Tali has stopped thinking of herself as a victim of circumstance. She may be ready to stand up and fight for what she believes in.

  Good. Time enough to mourn later. I took a deep breath. Goodbye, Arin.

  We moved on.

  For some time we advanced, fought, dealt with land mines, disabled one geth weapon system after another, all in a grim silence. The jamming tower, our objective, loomed ever larger in the distance.

  Once we reached the first AA installations, the enemy began to put up more of a fight. We saw more advanced platforms, even a few big, crimson-armored Primes that made my blood run cold with remembered fear. The old white Primes we had fought during the war against Saren had been bad enough. These upgraded platforms seemed far worse: tough, heavily armed, and downright clever.

  Still. Geth posed a problem all of us knew very well how to solve. We smashed them, one after another, and I confess that I derived a certain pleasure from the act. The image of Arin’s broken body remained in the back of my mind. I found it very difficult to remember Legion, and think of the geth as people.

  Then we found a survivor. Barely.

  A male quarian crouched against a rock, both arms clenched to a vast wound in his belly. He peered up at Shepard, seeming barely aware of the rest of us, even as Tali knelt to provide first aid. “You . . . you got my message? Sent out a distress call . . .”

  “Radios are still down,” said Shepard, kneeling where the dying quarian could see him better. “You a soldier?”

  “Maintenance tech,” the quarian gasped. “Dorn’Hazt. I clean engine parts.”

  “This place is crawling with geth. Why didn’t you hide?”

  “I thought I could fight. Buy the others some time. There were so many . . .” He coughed, and I could see blood splash against the inside of his visor. “First time I’ve even picked up a gun.”

  “Stay still. We’ve got medi-gel.”

  “Don’t bother,” said Dorn wearily. “I’ve lost too much blood. Go, find the admiral.”

  “We’ll find him, Dorn.” Tali patted the dying quarian’s shoulder. “I promise.”

  “Please. Listen. You have to tell them.” Another cough, weaker this time, as Dorn raised his head to look up at the sky. “The Civilian Fleet didn’t want this war, not really. We wanted to return to Rannoch, but if we had known the cost . . . If there’s even a chance Admiral Koris can get us out alive . . . And my son. Tell him. Tell Jona . . . his father made it to the homeworld.”

  Shepard frowned. “Jona?”

  But Dorn was beyond answering questions.
/>
  Tali sighed. “Rest well, Dorn’Hazt vas Rannoch.”

  “Do you recognize that name?” I murmured to Shepard.

  “I’ve heard it before. A message we came across on the Alarei.”

  I glanced at him in shock. “The woman who recorded a farewell, just before the geth gunned her down.”

  “Her son was named Jona too.” Shepard shook his head in weary disgust. “If that’s not a coincidence, the poor kid must be an orphan now.”

  I nodded, feeling numb.

  “Let’s get to that tower.”

  The last two guns gave us the hardest fight. The geth dedicated every resource to stopping us. Shepard took advantage of some of their own gun emplacements to provide artillery support, smashing the geth gunners and then taking the controls himself. Ten minutes later, we watched as Cortez swept in from cover and fired on the jamming tower, bringing it down in a gout of flames and electrical discharge.

  “Dorn? It’s Zaal’Koris. Are you there? Dorn!”

  “This is Commander Shepard. I’m afraid Dorn didn’t make it, Admiral.”

  “Shepard? He didn’t?” A pause, and then the admiral’s voice returned, much flatter. “I see. Did you find any survivors?”

  “I’m afraid not, Admiral. We’re here to extract you nonetheless. I’ve got a shuttle, and we can’t be more than a few moments away from you.”

  “Good. A few of my crew did survive here. They’ve made their way to a clearing. Pick them up.”

  “Stay together. We’ll meet you there.”

  “Negative. The geth have cut me off. I can hear another wave approaching.”

  “Give us your coordinates.”

  “Leave me. My crew will soon be overrun.”

  Shepard snarled silently, his lips pulled back to exposed gritted teeth. “So will you, Admiral! Now give me your coordinates!”

  “My people are civilians, Shepard. Non-combatants. They’ll be slaughtered! Rescue them!”

  “Admiral, I’m sorry for your crew, but I need you leading the Civilian Fleet. It’s the only way we’re ever going to end this fight.”