by Joan Jett
I couldn't bring myself to care. I grieved dumbly, like an animal that can’t comprehend the stillness of its companion’s body, prodding at it and expecting it to rise. My heart had no room for anything else. The weight of Benezia's body in my arms was about all I could manage to deal with.
It had been so long since I had simply embraced my mother. I had almost forgotten the comfort that could come from such a simple act. Now I had one last opportunity.
She had always embraced me. Even when she was being strict, even when she demanded more than I was willing to give, she had always opened her arms to me. I could depend on the circle of her arms, the warmth of her body, the scent of her skin. Reminders of a time when the world was new, and a small child could always return to safe harbor between voyages of exploration.
That was gone now, past any hope of recall.
Time to grow up.
I moved at last. Almost without any will on my part, one hand rose to scrub the tears out of my eyes until I could see once more. I leaned down to kiss my mother's forehead. My hand trembled as I gently closed her staring eyes. Then I slowly moved out from under her, easing her to the floor, and pushed myself to my feet.
I stood over her, looking down at her for the last time.
"Goodbye, Mother."
Then I turned and went to Shepard.
When I reached his side, a truly bizarre tableau confronted me. Shepard and Tali conversed with a dead commando. The asari stood with her back pressed to the side of the rachni queen's tank, one of the creature’s tentacles splayed out against the thick plastic right behind her head.
"You are not in harmony with those who hoped to control us," the commando said, her face expressionless, her eyes glazed and unseeing. "What will you sing? Will you release us? Or are we to fade away once more?"
"What is happening?" I murmured to Tali.
Startled, she glanced at me, then back to Shepard and the tank. "The queen . . . she's somehow speaking to us through that asari. It's some kind of telepathic projection, using her brain as a translator."
Deep in the ashes of my heart, I felt something new: a stirring of scientific curiosity. "Fascinating."
"I think she's asking Shepard to choose what to do with her, now that the Binary Helix project has been wrecked."
"Your companion hears the truth," agreed the asari. No, the queen. "You have the power to free us to sing again, or to return us to the silence of memory. What do you choose?"
"Look at those tanks above her, Shepard," said Tali. "That's fluorosulfuric acid, strong enough to kill anything no matter its biology. They must have been concerned about the consequences if she ever escaped."
"Her ancestors were a scourge on the galaxy once," I said, "but eradicating them was a mistake. This queen doesn't appear to be hostile, and she has done nothing to us. She is an innocent victim. Here we have a chance to set things right and earn her gratitude."
Shepard looked at me for a long moment. I held his gaze, although to this day I can’t be sure what he read in my expression.
"I won't kill you," he told the queen at last. "That's the kind of thing Saren would do: discard you the moment you were no longer useful to him. You deserve the same chance anyone has, to make a life for yourself and your people."
"You will forgive us? Give us the chance to compose anew?" Even through the medium of the dead asari's voice, I could hear echoes of incredulous joy in the question. "We will sing of your mercy to our children."
Shepard stepped forward to a control console, called up the main menu. A few keystrokes and it was done. A lift carried the tank upward and away from us, rotating it slightly around its long axis and exposing an open panel in its side. The rachni queen abandoned her translator, the commando's corpse collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. She moved toward the opening . . . paused for a moment, to look back at Shepard . . . then she was gone.
"I sure hope that doesn't come back to bite us on the ass one day," he said wearily.
I put a hand on his shoulder, looked up into his face. "Don't worry. It was the right choice."
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"No." I closed my eyes for a moment, felt my heart beating again, my lungs filling with breath. Even the sharp pain in my side suddenly seemed welcome, a sign that I still lived. "Never mind. I suspect I will be. Eventually."
"Liara . . ." Tali began, her voice very small.
"Oh Tali." I turned and embraced the quarian. "Please don't punish yourself. It had to be done. You saved the Commander's life. You saved all our lives."
I stood there for a moment, close to my friends, and felt myself fill with compassion for both of them.
Before her fall Benezia had often taught the value of compassion. Of course, by compassion she didn't mean the meager, weak-willed sympathy that any sentient being might feel for another. To her compassion meant energy, an irresistible force, a demand for action to defend and give life to the Other. True compassion would do anything it took to fight injustice, drive away evil, end suffering, and bring peace.
Benezia taught that compassion is easy for one's own family and lineage, harder for one's friends and casual acquaintances, harder still for strangers, hardest of all for one's enemies. Still, she said, it’s better to exercise compassion in easy ways than never to exercise it at all. She likened it to physical exercise, strengthening the compassionate will so that over time it would become equal to more difficult challenges.
I had spent too many years alone, never required to exercise compassion for anyone, never facing any serious challenge. My cloistered life had weakened my will, leaving it unequal to the trials of the real universe.
No matter what else came to pass, I knew that I could no longer live in that fashion.
Now Benezia is dead. I am her heir. Very well, I will have to be Benezia from now on.
"It's time to go home," I suggested, and Shepard agreed.
Nothing remained for us at Peak 15. We had defeated Benezia, her commandos and her geth, her Binary Helix hirelings, all of them now unavailable for Saren's use. Shepard had freed the rachni queen, placing her outside Saren’s grasp as well. Perhaps Saren had the location of the Mu Relay, but at least we also had the information. Had we been less exhausted, we would have counted it all a victory.
We found a grav pallet and gently placed Benezia’s body on it, arranging her limbs with dignity and covering her with a dark blue sheet. It came with us as we took the tramway back to Central Station, made our way to the garage, and drove down the Aleutsk Valley to Port Hanshan.
Shepard sent a terse report to the Executive Board, refused to answer any further questions, and led us back to the Normandy. Within half an hour of arriving in Port Hanshan, we were in space, shifting up into FTL for a run to the nearby Strenuus system.
Dr. Chakwas examined all of us, treated our wounds and injuries, and prescribed food and rest. We were only too happy to oblige. Shepard and I shared a meal in the crew mess, taking care to discuss nothing of consequence, and then retired to our respective quarters. I slept deeply within moments of stretching out on my cot.
* * *
16 March 2183, SSV Normandy, Interstellar Space
To my surprise, the humans treated Benezia with respect.
Normandy’s patrol route would not permit a return to the Citadel for days. My mother’s body would have to ride with us for a time. When I awoke and asked Dr. Chakwas what arrangement could be made, she simply led me down to the staging bay, into a cargo compartment that had once contained ship’s stores.
Now the compartment was empty, except for a medical stasis pod placed in the center of the floor. Someone had carefully laid Benezia out in it, a soft night-blue cover concealing the blood and the terrible wound in her side, her face looking pale but at rest. She looked strange without her elaborate headdress, younger and somehow more ordinary. A single soft light shone down from above, stark but rather beautiful in its simplicity.
I glanced at Dr. Chakwas, my hea
rt no doubt showing in my eyes, and she smiled.
“Shepard saw to it,” she told me.
I am not at all surprised.
She left me to stand by the bier. I stood alone, lost in contemplation. After a time I raised my eyes and arms to make the prayer for the departed, elegant phrases of an ancient Armali dialect rolling out of my deep memory.
When I finished, Shepard stood there.
He had remained at the entrance to the compartment, standing in silence, his posture one of quiet respect. When he saw I had noticed his presence, he nodded and gave me a faint smile.
I turned away from my mother and came over to him.
"I wanted to see how you were doing," he said.
"You mean, you wanted to see how I was dealing with my mother's death." I sighed. "I am coping, Commander. The person we met on Noveria . . . there was very little left of my mother in her. I prefer to remember Benezia the way she once was, before Saren corrupted her."
"I suspect that's for the best." He leaned forward, his gaze on me very intent. "She broke away from him at the end, even if only for a little while. I was amazed at her strength of will."
"I agree. She was a remarkable person, Commander. I wish you could have known her before."
He smiled warmly. "I think I have some idea, Liara. Her determination, her intelligence, her strength, all the best of your mother lives on in you."
"That's very kind of you." I fought down a sudden surge of nervous confusion, glancing back into the compartment where my mother lay. "I appreciate your concern, Commander, but I will be fine. Benezia chose her path, or it was chosen for her. I have chosen mine. I am with you to the end."
He nodded. He looked down at his hands, avoiding my eyes, apparently not sure how to carry the conversation any further.
"Was there something else?" I asked him gently.
"Liara . . ."
I stared at him. Commander Shepard, the great warrior, the insightful diplomat, at a loss for words?
Finally he shook his head, baffled, and began to turn away. "I'm glad you're with us, Liara. We couldn't have made as much progress as we have without you."
It was an evasion. I almost said something neutral and allowed him to leave, but then I felt a surge of frustrated anger. I quickly moved to interpose myself between him and his escape route. "Commander, I think we have more to discuss."
He stopped, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Commander . . . William." A chill ran down my spine at the sound of my own voice using his given name. "I may be almost four times your age. I may have been working successfully as a scientist since long before you were born. The fact remains that I am asari, and in some ways my people still consider me little more than a child. There are many things in life I still lack the experience to understand."
"Such as?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Such as what it means when you meet someone you admire greatly. Someone you would trust with your life. Someone you find yourself thinking about at odd and completely inappropriate moments. Someone you feel a need to know better, a need to understand, because he presents a mystery that demands resolution."
"Ah. That." He leaned back against a bulkhead and began to laugh helplessly.
I was torn between two impulses. Part of me wanted to hurl myself into his arms. The other part wanted to call up a biotic field and smash him into paste on the bulkhead.
Fortunately he saw the expression on my face in time. "I'm sorry, Liara, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at myself."
"I fail to see the joke."
"How do you think I've been feeling, ever since you came on board?"
"Oh Goddess." I stepped back. "You too?"
He nodded, rubbing a hand across the stubble on his chin and refusing to meet my eyes.
"This makes absolutely no sense," I complained. "We have only known each other for a few weeks. We're not even of the same species. We have nothing in common."
"I think we have more in common than you realize. But then, this doesn't have to make logical sense. Sometimes it just happens."
"Things do not just happen to me."
He grinned. "Maybe you should try it once in a while. You might like it."
Humans, I thought and carefully did not say. Aggressive, reckless, counting on luck to get through every situation. Yet it seems to work for them.
"I am glad we have finally discussed this," I said. "I wasn't sure it would be appropriate to act on these feelings. I was under the impression you were already engaged in a relationship with Chief Williams."
He became serious. "Ash is a good friend, that's all."
"Does she know that?" I challenged him.
"I'm trying to make it clear to her. Alliance regs are very strict about fraternization. She's my direct subordinate and there are way too many ranks between us."
"Somehow I do not believe that will stop Ash, if she is serious about pursuing a relationship with you."
"No, it won't." He shook his head. "That's my problem to solve. My question for you is, where do you want to go with this?"
"I wish I knew. I'm sorry, William, I'm asari enough to need time to think about it."
"That's fine, Liara.”
He reached out and gently touched my face, just the tips of three fingers tracing the line of my cheek. I felt a rush of warmth, my heart racing, warning me that perhaps I had reason not to take too much time. I dropped my gaze for a moment, then mustered my courage and looked back into his eyes.
His eyes are really quite beautiful, I realized.
“Just keep me in the loop if talking about it would help," he said at last.
"I will. Thank you."
"Oh, and here's one datum for your empirical assessment. Please don't call me William."
I stared up at him, puzzled.
"I know, you've probably read that humans normally use first names with their close friends . . . and their lovers. I'm an exception. I've always hated the name. Even my mother started calling me Shepard once I was old enough to be a pest about it."
"All right . . . Shepard."
"Perfect." He moved half a step closer, looming over me but respecting my personal space. "You're cute when you say it."
Then he was gone, leaving me fuming in his wake.
Cute? I folded my arms and shook my head in rueful frustration. I'll have a good deal more than "cute" from you before I'm done, Shepard.
Chapter 14 : Springwine
16 March 2183, SSV Normandy, Interstellar Space
After Noveria the Normandy returned to a more normal routine, patrolling along the borders of human-claimed space in the Pax and Argos Rho clusters. We could not be certain where Saren would pursue his quest for the Conduit. Until we learned more, Shepard wanted to ensure that the geth carried out no more incursions deep into human space.
In any case we needed the time to rest, to heal in body and spirit, after the perils of Noveria.
Shepard also needed the time to establish his command. Since going into service less than thirty days before, Normandy had seen more action and change than many warships saw in years: the assault on Eden Prime; the sudden removal of Captain David Anderson; the arrival of "aliens" like me among the crew; battles against slavers, batarian terrorists, the geth, and even the rachni. The crew, still learning how to work together as a team, found all of it a great deal to assimilate.
During the weeks that followed Noveria, Shepard welded Normandy and her crew into a cohesive, effective fighting unit. He didn't work miracles, he simply worked hard.
His leadership style involved a great deal of walking around the ship, talking to every member of the crew, listening to their concerns, handing out praise or correction as needed, sometimes lending a hand with their work. He always seemed to be on duty, even in the middle of gamma-shift while the rest of the command crew slept. Unusual among Alliance ship-captains, this behavior amused and sometimes disconcerted the crew. "Commander is making the rounds," they would say, joking about
cleaning up their work areas or polishing the day's status reports for Shepard's inspection.
It worked. Shepard made himself the calm center of our little community, the anchor all of us could rely on to keep steady in a hostile galaxy. He earned the crew's loyalty, transforming the Normandy from an ambiguous experiment into a finely tuned fighting machine.
The technique worked on me as well. After Noveria he made time for me every day, even if only a few minutes before we retired to our separate beds for the night. We rarely spoke of anything important in those evening encounters. Even so, they presented opportunities to enjoy each other's company . . . and explore the growing attraction we felt for each other.
It began the evening after we left Noveria. I was just sitting down to my evening meal, attracting a few stares from the crew around me, when Shepard arrived. He glanced in my direction and stopped dead, blinking in surprise.
"You weren't kidding, were you?" he observed.
I gave him my best blue-eyed innocent gaze. "About what, Shepard?"
He pointed wordlessly to my plate, piled high with noodles, tomato sauce, and no fewer than five of the small round constructions called meatballs. The steward had suggested a slice of something called garlic bread, and that smelled so good I asked for two. A small bottle of Armali springwine completed the meal.
I shrugged. "I have a great deal of catching up to do, after Noveria."
"I'll say." He set his datapad down across the table from me, claiming the seat, and went off to the steward to collect his own meal.
By the time he returned I was already demolishing my food, twirling the spork to collect balls of noodles half the size of my fist. The garlic bread had a strong taste, but it was very savory and it complemented the flavors of the pasta. Besides, after a few bites from the first slice I found it useful for herding errant sauce around my plate. The springwine played the only false note, too sweet for the sauce’s acidic taste. I drank it anyway, as springwine does not keep well once it has been opened. Besides, I had other reasons for making the selection.
