Deep Space: An Epic Sci-Fi Romance

by Joan Jett

  We emerged from the Mako to look around. Soon Tali found an open door leading to another lift.

  “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,” said Ash.

  Shepard shrugged. “Can’t go forward, can’t go back. Let’s at least see what this is.”

  We stepped into the lift. Shepard touched the activation panel, and the car began to descend along a slanted track. Suddenly we moved through another vast open space, like a great temple or cathedral. On all sides I could see bits of Prothean technology: power nodes, archival units, computers, hundreds of massive cylindrical objects that I couldn’t identify. All of it sat dark and dead.

  “If this was simply an automated trap, Saren would have triggered it as well,” said Tali.

  “Are you suggesting there’s some other agent at work down here?” asked Shepard.

  “It seems possible,” I said reluctantly.

  The lift opened. We walked slowly down a ramp, and found that not all of the ancient technology had fallen inert. As we descended, we saw a dim light hovering over a computer console at the bottom of the ramp. It flickered, brightened, and became a whirling scatter of broken images. Then we heard a voice, smooth and emotionless, speaking a language I suddenly realized I could understand.

  “You are not Prothean,” it said. “Yet you are not machines either. This eventuality was one of many that were anticipated.”

  “Looks like some kind of VI program,” said Tali. “The holographic output is badly damaged.”

  “I do not sense the stain of indoctrination on any of you, unlike the other who passed recently. Perhaps there is still hope.”

  “That explains the trap,” I said. “This VI must have seen Saren pass by, but stayed in hiding because he’s an agent of the Reapers. It revealed itself to us instead.”

  “You can understand what it’s saying?” rumbled Wrex. “Sounds like gibberish to me.”

  Shepard and I looked at each other in wild surmise. He nodded. “I guess I can understand Prothean. It must have come to me with the Cipher. Liara?”

  “The same,” I said softly. “I must have absorbed the Cipher from you . . . sometime in the last few days.”

  Ashley snorted. I felt my face flush.

  “My name is Vigil,” said the VI. “You are safe here, for the moment, but that is likely to change. Soon nowhere will be safe.”

  I began to translate from the Prothean language for the rest of our group.

  “You’re very articulate for a VI. Are you some kind of advanced artificial intelligence?” asked Shepard.

  “I am a non-organic analysis system overlain with personality imprints taken from Ksan Ishad, chief overseer of the Ilos research facility. With the departure of the last Protheans to work here, I was left to monitor events and await the arrival of organic beings. I am prepared to describe the purpose of this facility, and to assist you in completing the task of the scientists who labored here.”

  “What was that task?”

  “This facility was designed to break a cycle that has continued for billions of years. It very nearly succeeded, but the last Protheans were logically unable to carry out their full intentions. A flaw remained in their work, which the Reapers may yet be able to exploit.”

  “What flaw?”

  “The Citadel is the heart of your civilization and the seat of your government. So it was with us, and with every civilization that came before us for which we had evidence. But the Citadel is a trap. The station is actually an enormous mass relay, one that links to dark space, the empty void beyond the galaxy’s horizon. There the Reapers lurk between cycles, waiting to return and begin the task of omnicide once more. When the Citadel relay is activated, the Reapers will pour through. All you know will be destroyed.”

  “Goddess,” I breathed. “Remember the message from the beacon, Shepard? There was an image of the Citadel, a sensation of vertigo and fear . . .”

  “They were warning of the trap,” said Shepard decisively. “Commander Shelby was on the right track. The Reapers spend most of their time outside the galaxy, in what Vigil calls dark space. Then when they’re ready to return, they open the Citadel mass relay and attack by surprise.”

  “Wait a minute. How come nobody ever noticed that the Citadel was a mass relay?” Ash objected.

  “The Reapers are careful to keep the greatest secrets of the Citadel hidden. They created a race of seemingly benign organic caretakers. The keepers maintain all of the station’s basic functions, while concealing its nature from outsiders. Any species that discovers the Citadel can use it without fully understanding its technology. Reliance on the keepers ensures that no other species will ever discover the Citadel’s true nature. Not until the mass relay is activated and the Reapers invade.”

  Garrus shook his head in dismay. “Spirits. The mass relays always lead to the Citadel, just as they did for the asari and the salarians in this cycle. The bait is too good to ignore; it’s too obvious a place to build a galactic government. Every new civilization must set up shop there . . . like a prey animal that’s been trained to climb up on the block and politely offer its throat for the knife.”

  “Sovereign suggested as much when we spoke to it on Virmire,” I pointed out. “Consider what this means. Every time the Reapers invade, they are always able to capture the highest levels of galactic government in the first blow. Kill the leaders, capture all of the records, and seize control of the mass relay network. For all of their power, the Prothean Empire must have been shattered by the very first attack.”

  “That was indeed our fate,” said Vigil. “Our leaders were dead before we even realized we were under attack. The Reapers swarmed everywhere in the mass relay network. Communication and transportation across our empire were crippled. Each star system was almost entirely isolated, cut off from the others, easy prey for the invaders. Over decades, the Reapers systematically obliterated our people, star system by star system, world by world. No offer of mercy was ever given. Our enemy had a single goal: the extinction of all advanced organic life.”

  Shepard stepped forward, to stand less than a meter from the swirling colors of Vigil’s damaged display. For a moment he could barely speak, his voice choked with anger and fear, as he contemplated quadrillions of violently murdered dead. “But why do they do this? What do they get out of it? Why do they keep repeating this cycle over and over, across billions of years?”

  Vigil seemed to pause for a moment. “We do not know. The Reapers are beyond our comprehension, driven by motives that organic beings may not even be able to imagine. In the end, what does it matter? Your survival depends on stopping them, not on understanding them.”

  “All right. You brought us here for a reason. Tell us what we need to do.”

  “The Conduit is the key. Before the Reapers attacked, we Protheans were on the cusp of unlocking the mysteries behind mass relay technology. Ilos was a top-secret facility. Here researchers worked to create our first small-scale mass relay, linking directly to the Citadel, the hub of the relay network.”

  “The Conduit is a back door onto the Citadel!” I said.

  “What good does that do Saren and the Reapers?” asked Shepard.

  “When the Reapers attacked, the records of the Ilos facility were lost. Even when they came to eradicate the Prothean population on the surface, they knew nothing of this facility. We severed all communication with the outside and our facility went dark. The researchers were able to hide in these underground archives.

  “To conserve power, the staff sealed themselves into stasis pods to wait out the Reaper invasion, leaving me to monitor the situation and prepare for their awakening. But the genocide of a galactic civilization is a slow process. Years passed, decades, centuries. The facility’s power reserves began to fail. I was forced to shut down most of the pods to save a few. Eventually the Reapers withdrew back through the Citadel relay into dark space. At that time only a dozen of the top researchers remained alive, far too few to continue the Prothean spe
cies.

  “Yet they vowed to find some way to stop the Reapers from returning, a way to stop the cycle forever. The keepers were the key. Before each invasion, the Reapers send a signal through the Citadel. The signal compels the keepers to activate the Citadel relay. After decades of feverish study, the last Protheans discovered a way to alter the signal. They passed through the Conduit to the Citadel and made the necessary modifications. This time, when Sovereign sent the signal, the keepers ignored it. The Reapers are trapped in dark space.”

  “I think I see,” said Garrus. “The Protheans went through the Conduit to slam the door against the Reapers . . . but they couldn’t close the Conduit behind them. It’s still here, acting as a back door to the Citadel.”

  “Correct. The one you call Saren will use the Conduit to bypass the Citadel’s defenses. Once inside, he will transfer control of the station to Sovereign. The Reaper will override the Citadel’s systems and manually open the relay, and the cycle of extinctions will begin again.”

  “Is there any way we can stop them?” Shepard asked, almost pleading.

  “Yes. There is a data file in my console. Take a copy when you go. When you reach the Citadel’s master control unit, upload the file to the station. It will corrupt the Citadel’s security protocols and give you temporary control over the station. That might be enough to give you a chance against Sovereign.”

  “Wait. Where’s the Citadel’s master control unit?” asked Tali. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  “Follow Saren through the Conduit. He will lead you to your destination.”

  “Saren’s got enough of a head start,” Shepard decided. “Grab that data file and let’s go.”

  I opened my mouth to object. The Vigil program seemed very weak, almost out of power. I could feel the opportunity to converse with it slipping away . . . but we had no time. We might be hours, even minutes away from the return of the Reapers. Against that threat, my scientific curiosity couldn’t be permitted to take priority. I touched Shepard’s shoulder, shared a glance of mutual understanding with him, and then turned away.

  Perhaps Vigil saw the moment of byplay and understood. “The one you call Saren has not reached the Conduit. Not yet. There is still hope if you hurry.”

  As from the beginning, the machine’s voice sounded smooth, pleasant, and without inflection. Yet I could hear echoes of loneliness and despair in it, and I didn’t believe I was imagining that. Perhaps Ksad Ishan, whoever he had been, had infected the AI with his own emotions.

  Fifty thousand years in this place, never knowing if the last desperate plan of the Protheans had worked, waiting through all the empty years for someone to happen by.

  “Goodbye, Vigil,” I murmured.

  * * *

  When we returned to the Mako, no barriers stood in our way. We boarded the AFV and continued along the underground passage, occasionally pausing to use the guns on geth patrols. Shepard took risks, exposing the Mako to fire to take out the enemy quickly, feeling the whip of time on his back.

  None of us spoke, except to make reports and give or take orders.

  Months of guesswork and struggle, and it all came down to this. Saren was at least fifteen minutes ahead of us. Even if we could win through to the Conduit, we might emerge onto a Citadel already under geth control. Like a city gate already in the hands of the enemy, opening wide to admit a barbarian horde.

  What could we do, if we arrived only to see the Reapers blotting out the sky?

  I knew what Shepard would do.

  Fight until you can’t fight any more .

  Finally we turned a corner, paused at the top of a long ramp. Less than a kilometer ahead of us . . .

  “Good God,” whispered Ashley.

  A working mass relay, the two-column structure standing on end at the bottom of an enormous well whose top was open to the sky, the two rotating rings supporting a large mass-effect core. Looking at it, I realized all of us had been very stupid, believing the interstellar mass relay network to be of Prothean manufacture. The Conduit clearly had the same function, but its aesthetic appeared quite different, more typically Prothean.

  “I’ve seen that before,” said Garrus. “It looks just like the mass relay sculpture on the Presidium.”

  “Which was already in place when the asari discovered the Citadel,” I said. “That must not have been a simple art installation after all. I think we can guess where the Conduit ends.”

  “Yeah, but how do we get to it?” queried Ash.

  The ramp between us and the Conduit measured less than five hundred meters long, but it was alive with geth: troopers, rocket platforms, armatures. They hadn’t taken notice of us yet, but as soon as the Mako exposed itself we would be in the middle of a storm of weapons fire.

  I glanced at Shepard and felt a chill. He was in that mode, measuring distances, estimating odds, deciding how best to gamble with the resources he had available. The last time he entered such a calculating mood, we managed a miraculous escape from Saren . . . at the cost of Kaidan’s life.

  He touched the controls. The Mako retreated about twenty meters, out of sight of the Conduit.

  “Shepard to Normandy.”

  “. . . Normandy.” Pressley’s voice, awash with static. The Conduit’s emanations must have interfered with the transmission.

  “Lieutenant, I want you to bug out. Run for that secondary mass relay and use it if you can. Get back to the Alliance and report to Admiral Hackett.”

  The transmission cleared for a moment. “Sir? What should I report?”

  “Saren got to the Conduit ahead of us. We’re going to try to follow him through it. We think it will come out on the Citadel. Very likely that Sovereign and the bulk of the geth fleet are already there. The Council is not likely to survive unless we can catch Saren and the Alliance comes to assist. Got that?”

  “Five by five, Commander.” Another surge of interference, then: “. . . luck.”

  Shepard cut the channel. “Ash,” he said very quietly, “don’t bother with the guns.”

  “What?”

  He threw the Mako into full speed. We surged forward, back onto the ramp, and into the full view of half a hundred geth.

  I thought I had become accustomed to reckless human tactics, but this outdid everything. My eyes widened with panic, even as I forced my gaze to the EWS console. I considered reporting what I saw there, but then I realized our lives were in Shepard’s hands, and he didn’t need the distraction. Either our kinetic barriers would last for the next twenty seconds, or they would not.

  Eighty percent .

  Shepard drove at full speed directly over a trio of geth troopers, smashing them to the ground.

  Sixty percent .

  Shepard swerved right, following an ancient trail of water flowing down the slope, heading directly for one armature but cutting off line-of-sight from another.

  Forty percent .

  The armature hammered at us as we passed, but couldn’t turn quickly enough to follow. Shepard jinked hard to the left, then back to his original course, and three geth rockets sailed just past our right side.

  Twenty percent .

  The terrain opened out around us, and Shepard accelerated in a straight line for the Conduit. Suddenly every geth in the area had a clear shot at us. I watched as our kinetic barriers melted like a candle in a furnace.

  Zero.

  I heard a large crunch from the rear compartment, where the power plant and main electrical bus resided. The interior lights flickered but recovered. We could hear the mass-effect core flutter wildly, a noise like sand blasting a sheet of metal.

  I held my breath, waiting for a plasma bolt from one of the armatures to slice through the Mako’s hull.

  Still intensely focused on the controls and his forward view, Shepard opened his mouth wide and screamed.

  “Yaaaaaaah!”

  The Conduit reached out and grabbed us. For a frozen moment we flew weightless through deep space, a glimpse of d
arkness and distorted starlight through the viewscreens.

  Then we flew through the air, under gravity once more, the Mako flipping side over side, then slamming into some solid object with a terrible crash.

  Darkness.

  Chapter 46 : Ascent

  28 May 2183, Presidium Ring/Citadel

  Shepard opened the Mako’s hatch, although he found only a small space between it and a polished floor. He had to contort himself, turning onto his back, before he could pull himself out of the wrecked AFV. I followed right behind him.

  We emerged onto the floor of the Presidium.

  The Citadel clearly stood in dreadful danger. We saw dozens of unarmed citizens, sprawled dead on the ground. The geth had clearly emerged to find the galaxy’s elite, walking on the Presidium just like any other day, and ruthlessly cut them down in their tracks. Darkness reigned everywhere, lit only by scattered fires. I looked out toward the ward arms and saw they remained open. Out in space, I could see the glimmer and flare of countless lights, evidence of a terrible battle still under way.

  “Goddess. Shepard, look!”

  He looked where I pointed, out along the axis of the Citadel.

  A single ship approached the Citadel at speed. It looked tiny at first, but once my mind corrected for the distance, I realized it had to be kilometers long. All the other contending vessels at the same range were nearly invisible, even the great turian dreadnoughts that served as the backbone of the Citadel fleet. The approaching ship looked like some form of marine life, with a long mantle and multiple tentacles folded along its body. Even as I watched, the tentacles began to stir, reaching forward as the ship approached the heart of the Citadel.

  Sovereign rushed to claim its throne.

  “Come on,” Shepard ordered. “We haven’t got much time!”

  The others had emerged from the wrecked vehicle, shaking their heads to clear them, testing themselves for injury. Now they formed up with us as we moved toward the base of the Council Tower.

  Tali looked back at the vehicle, almost wistfully. “Well, the Mako won’t be going anywhere now. It seems sad for it to come to an end like this.”