by Cole Price
“All this death,” I muttered.
“Let’s just make sure it was worth the price,” Shepard said, extending a hand to help me up. “Come on. We need to find that artifact.”
Chapter 48 : History, Myth, and Lies
15 June 2186, Temple of Athame, Armali/Thessia
“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Shepard observed after a moment. “Let’s get inside.”
We approached the front entrance of the Temple, the great colonnade and the ceremonial doors that had never once been closed in over eight thousand years. A kinetic barrier shimmered in our path, blocking our entrance.
“It appears this Temple has been barricaded,” said Javik.
“Let me take a look,” I said, spotting a set of controls off to one side, something I had never seen on previous visits. After a few moments of work, I nodded. “It appears to be military-grade encryption, but I should be able to crack it.”
“Do religion and military always mix among asari?”
“No. This is very unusual. Especially since few still follow the Athame doctrine.”
Suddenly lights turned green, a bell-tone sounded, and the kinetic barrier came down. We moved toward the doors, our weapons still out but at our sides, waiting for someone to emerge and greet us. Nothing. We could hear the sounds of battle from elsewhere in the city, the distant roar and concussion of Reapers moving about. Inside the Temple, all was silent as the grave.
Not the best metaphor to be considering at this moment.
Shepard moved into the building, out of blood-tinged sunset light and into cool blue. He stopped, and stared in momentary awe.
He saw a vast open space, large enough to accommodate many hundreds of worshippers. Graceful lines and curves swept upward on all sides. A vaulted ceiling vanished into the distance far above, seemingly held up by sheer magic, so few were the visible supports. Here and there one saw ancient artifacts and scraps of text, displayed for the admiration of visitors, yet protected from the ravages of time. The great cultic statue of Athame, over twenty meters tall, stood graceful and silent at the far end of the aisle.
Silence. No sign that anyone was there, no sign that anyone had ever been there.
“Where’s the scientific team we were promised?” Shepard murmured.
“No clue,” I told him. “Let’s look around.”
“Good idea. Maybe one of these artifacts is what we’re looking for.”
I shook my head. “I don’t see how. Everything on display here is thoroughly known. None of these artifacts have anything to do with the Reapers.”
“Are you certain, asari?” Javik’s voice was low, and had almost an insinuating tone to it.
“I’m an archaeologist as well as a member of the Athame cult. I’ve studied all of these artifacts.”
“Perhaps you did not study hard enough.”
“All right,” said Shepard, as always trying to avoid a dispute among his friends. “What about these two items?”
On the right: a bronze sword, its hilt showing traces of elegant decoration, its blade corroded almost to nothing over many thousands of years. On the left: a bronze shield, just as ancient but somewhat better preserved, a stylized image of the Goddess sculpted on its face.
“This is supposedly Athame’s sword. There’s only one story in the Athame Codices in which the Goddess uses violence, the Theomachia. Supposedly she wielded this weapon against jealous divine creatures, who threatened our remote ancestors.”
“They were a race called the oravores,” said Javik. “They hoped to build an interstellar empire of their own. Thessia had vast resources, which they coveted. We protected you from them.”
I stopped. Turned. Stared at the Prothean.
He stared back. Extra eyes gave him an unfair advantage.
“What are you saying?” I demanded, my voice gone hard and brittle.
“I do not know where that piece of trash originated,” he said calmly. “Your story of the Theomachia, that I do understand. It was a story of how we protected your primitive ancestors. Athame was us.”
For a moment, my mind simply shut down. The implications . . .
Not only for asari prehistory. For asari religion as well.
My religion. The cult I had chosen to follow, the deity I had chosen to revere, the ethical principles I had disciplined myself to obey.
I turned my back on Javik and moved across the aisle to point to the other artifact.
“The shield of Athame,” I stated. “Legends say she used it to protect Thessia when the heavens grew angry. Our ancestors probably misunderstood some natural phenomenon. Possibly a meteor shower.”
“It was an asteroid strike,” said Javik. “We deflected it. Your gods were feeling kind that day.”
I whirled, stared at him again. “You claim that your people were here. Not just visiting, not just looking in on us. Actively intervening in events.”
“Yes.” He cocked his head at me. “A good thing for you that we did. Never mind the Reapers. You would have been extinct more than once had we chosen to pass you by.”
“An asteroid strike. These oravores . . .”
Then I had to stop. Something in my face set Javik’s eyes gleaming, caused Shepard to stare at me in sudden fear. I had probably turned a pale teal color, looking as if I was about to faint.
“The ‘o-ra-vo-re,” I whispered. “I’ve seen that word. In the records we recovered from the dig in the Eramethos Mountains, two years ago. A proper name, some kind of antagonistic collective. Vrandis Tren’s records referred to them several times.”
“Ah.” Javik smiled at me, an expression I had rarely seen on his face. “You found records belonging to Vrandis? Remarkable. I knew her.”
“You. Knew Vrandis Tren. You.”
“Quite well. Did you not guess, asari? I was a senior officer in the task force assigned to evacuate the last Protheans from this world, just before the Reapers overran this region of the galaxy. I worked with Vrandis for many days.”
“Liara . . .”
Something in Shepard’s voice pulled my attention away from Javik. Just as well. I might otherwise have assaulted the smug creature.
Shepard stared at the shield. I followed his gaze.
Looked at the shape of Athame’s head, as it appeared on the ancient metal.
I had always assumed that the depiction was simply very stylized. Some primitive asari artist hadn’t understood perspective well enough to make the crest look realistic.
Now I looked at the shield. Looked at Javik. Looked back at the shield.
I realized that the primitive asari artist had been quite realistic in her depiction of the Goddess. If Athame had been depicted with four eyes, I would have seen it at once.
“This is simply not possible,” I muttered to myself. “We would have known.”
“You certainly should have known, asari.” Javik turned away from me, glanced around the Temple interior. “You are so very sophisticated. So dedicated to science and empirical reasoning. Legends and myths, stories of miraculous events, these do not fit your worldview. So you invent explanations for the old stories, saving you from having to confront the truth about them. Well, now I am here, and I am able to give you the truth about them.”
So he did.
The story of how the divine messenger, Janiri, gave the asari seeds and taught us about the seasons.
“We didn’t want you to starve.”
The story of how Athame herself taught our ancestors mathematics.
“Before that, you could only count as high as your toes. We took pity.”
The story of how the Goddess granted our ancestors the powers of biotics, as a reward for their devoted worship.
“That gift required many years of genetic research.”
The story of how the divine servant Lucen taught us about the stars.
“Your species was deemed to have potential. A shame you didn’t live up to it.”
The three of us ended up in front of the g
reat cultic statue, Javik and I angrily staring at one another, Shepard looking unusually grim off to one side.
“I already knew that the Protheans visited Thessia. I already knew that Vrandis Tren came here to study my ancestors. You’re saying your people did more than study us. You tampered with our biology, our culture. Taught us about the universe.”
“Yes.”
“You uplifted us. Created asari civilization.”
“Yes.”
“No,” I insisted, my voice harsh with anger. “You did not give us everything we’ve accomplished in the last fifty thousand years. Your scientists left Thessia. The Reapers came and rendered your people extinct. We were left alone, to build on whatever basic concepts you taught us. We earned our civilization.”
“Are you sure, asari?” Javik’s eyes moved, scanning the interior of the Temple again. “We are missing something. I can sense it. This artifact, the one your government has waited until the final extremity to reveal to us. I do not know what it is, but I can guess.”
“There’s a Prothean beacon here,” said Shepard.
Both of us turned to stare at him.
While Javik and I debated, he stood before the image of Athame, his eyes sliding closed, one hand reaching out as if to touch an object unseen. Now he turned back to us, absolute certainty in his face.
“What? You’re sure?” I felt rather betrayed, by someone I expected to be on my side.
“It’s not something you forget.”
“But why hide it so thoroughly?”
“The answer is obvious,” said Javik. “Power and influence. Your people hoard the knowledge of my race for your own gain.”
“No. That can’t be.” I shook my head in denial, although in the back of my mind I think I already understood the truth. “I can’t believe my people would keep something like this a secret.”
“Liara, haven’t you mentioned that Armali has been important for thousands of years?” Shepard stepped close, rested a hand on my shoulder to reassure. “A great cultural center, going back to your earliest history. Hundreds of scientific advances over the centuries, technological innovations, all coming from this one city. All of it originally centered on the cult of Athame.”
“That’s . . . true.” I glanced uneasily up at the image of the Goddess. “Our earliest civilizations centered here, on the Armali plains. The city has retained its importance ever since.”
“Suppose all that progress was supported by the presence of a Prothean archive?”
Javik grunted in agreement. “The priestesses of this goddess Athame kept the truth hidden. No doubt this beacon gave them an advantage when they sought influence over other asari. Then it gave this city an advantage over others in the competition for power. Then, when the entire asari race reached the stars, it gave them an advantage over other species.”
“You’re saying my people have kept this a secret for fifty thousand years?”
“Not all your people,” Shepard suggested, turning away to look up at the statue once more. “Like Councilor Tevos said, the Matriarchs are good at conspiracies. That cabal your mother belonged to, it might be a lot older, a lot larger than any of us realized.”
“Rrrh. Although I am sure the rest of your people would not be inclined to ask questions, if the secret provided comfort, prosperity, and a chance to feel superior to others.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“You can’t keep denying reality, asari. Even a small amount of Prothean information would give your species an edge.” Javik sneered at me. “Or are you insulted that no one thought to involve you?”
“Leave her alone, Javik.” Shepard glared at the Prothean. “Your people set up this situation, and it was a mistake. Anything you left behind for us is something we never had the chance to earn through our own effort.”
“No species has enough time to earn such wisdom. The Reapers always destroy them first. Without our knowledge, you would have no hope of winning this war.”
“Well, if it is true, then the asari who chose to keep all of this hidden have a lot to answer for. We might not be in this mess if they had shared the knowledge more freely.”
I felt my hands balling into fists at my sides, as I thought of my mother, of Matriarch Thessala, of all the others who must have been involved over the centuries. “Yes. On that much, I think we can all agree.”
“Good,” said Javik. “That still leaves us searching for the artifact, with no help and very little time.”
I stepped up to the base of the statue, opening my omni-tool. “If there’s a Prothean archive here, there must be some way to initialize access, but I don’t see it.”
“I do,” said the Prothean.
He moved off to one side, to where a fragment of an ancient religious image stood on display. He reached out to touch a spot at the base of the display, and it lit up with greenish-white energy.
I heard a crackling sound, and saw light shining through tiny gaps in the great statue’s outer surface.
“The activation process has begun.”
“That’s it,” I exclaimed, scanning the statue with my omni-tool. “The college of priestesses must have set up several access points around the room, where no casual visitor would trigger them. Check the other displays!”
Shepard and Javik hurried to canvass the room, examining every artifact, every scrap of the Athame Codex, every display case for further triggers. Shepard found the next, and then Javik located the final two.
I looked up, as a massive, roaring rumble echoed through the entire Temple.
Just in time to see the great statue of Athame dissolve, huge masses of stone falling free to shatter on the floor. The face and form that had stood watch over the asari people for thousands of years crumbled to dust in a few moments.
Goddess! I thought, for the last time in many years.
I fell to my knees, staring dumbly at the place where the statue had been. Staring at the thing at its core, the thing that had always been there, even if it had been hidden away. Sheets and blades of some strange metal, alive with green-white energy.
A Prothean archive.
One completely unknown to the scientific community. The largest I had ever seen, larger even than the ones on Kahje or Mars, and apparently still active after fifty thousand years.
Somewhere deep inside my mind, beliefs I had cherished for over half my life crumbled too. Beliefs I had taken into my identity, used to shore up the core of my soul.
Gone. A tissue of lies and deception, vanishing in the light of truth.
The Goddess was not a gentle, compassionate guide for the asari people. The Goddess was a sham, an illusion designed to bolster our racial pride. Designed to conceal the fact that nothing we built was ever truly ours, that we had never been more than a mere creation of the Protheans.
The Goddess was nothing at all.
Shepard stepped up beside me, hunkered down to my level. “Liara?”
I glanced up at him, and found myself unable to speak. My mind had locked up completely.
“Liara!” He reached down, pulled me to my feet, held me there by main force. “Snap out of it!”
“I . . .” I shook my head, violently. “I’m sorry, Shepard.”
His grip shifted, became supportive rather than coercive. “I understand, but we’ve got to keep moving. The Reapers are still out there, and we don’t have much time.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” I turned once more to where the statue had stood, saw where the stone of the altar had broken, exposing a high-tech control panel. I stepped close to examine it, and found it set up with Prothean symbols. It took only a moment for me to find the final activation controls.
“That’s done it,” said Shepard.
Green-white energy welled up along the archive’s length, suddenly flared, giving rise to a bright sphere that detached itself and drifted down toward us. A hologram, alive with graphic images and bright skeins of text.
I nearly called on the Goddess again, fe
lt my jaw lock down on the words just in time. “Fascinating.”
A voice resounded from the hologram, speaking in flawless Fourth Age Prothean dialect. “Please hold. Obtaining chronological marker.”
I opened my omni-tool, scanned the thing, and got absolutely nothing I could recognize.
“Time-scale established. Post-Prothean cycle confirmed.” Suddenly the hologram soared up into the highest reaches of the Temple, where I realized it could “see” out into the city around us. “Reaper presence detected. This galactic cycle has already reached its extinction terminus. Systems shutting down.”
“Wait!” called Shepard.
I blinked. He had used the Prothean word.
The Cipher must have worked its way into his language centers too, so he can use it consciously. He can speak Prothean. Possibly not as well as I do, certainly not as well as Javik does, but well enough to be understood.
“We need answers,” he continued.
It drifted over to him, hovering in the air centimeters from his face. “To what question?”
“The . . .” His vocabulary failed him. He glanced at me.
“We need to know about the Catalyst,” I said, also in Prothean. “We need to know what it is, so that we can finish the Crucible.”
Shepard nodded. “That’s right.”
The holographic sphere drew back from him, hovered in the middle of the triangle the three of us had formed. It shifted its shape, elongated, elaborated. Before long, a Prothean form stood among us.
“A memory of one of my people,” Javik mused, smiling slightly.
“I am called Vendetta. I am a non-organic analysis system, overlain with personality imprints taken from Pashek Vran, chief overseer of the asari uplift project. After leaving this world, he was killed in the battle of Tranbir Nine. Your remaining time is also at an end.”
“Pashek Vran.” Javik glanced at me. “I remember him as well. If you want a new name for your deity, asari, that one will do.”
I felt my lips tighten in distaste, and said nothing.
“Do you know anything about the Crucible?” Shepard asked, imitating the word I had used.
“I received data downloads from the Crucible project for as long as it remained active.”
