The Reaper War

by Cole Price

  “Good. Good.” For the first time, I saw the Prothean wear a grim smile. “Commander, are you in the habit of listening to this asari?”

  “Always,” said Shepard.

  “I am reassured.” He glanced between the two of us and nodded to himself, as if confirming some private suspicion. “She is correct. I do need time to regain my strength. Once I have, I will fight for you. My rank is no longer relevant, but my name is Javik.”

  Shepard extended his hand. This time the Prothean took it. “Welcome aboard Normandy, Javik.”

  Some intuition led me to say, “We’ll be arriving at the Citadel shortly. Perhaps you would enjoy visiting there.”

  “The Citadel?” Javik had good control of his voice, but I could hear a note of wonder buried deep.

  “Yes. Athaksena,” I said in Prothean. “The Reapers tried to attack there three years ago, as they did in your cycle, but we stopped them. Now they invade using a different strategy, and the Citadel still stands. At least for the moment.”

  “Indeed.” Javik nodded. “That is well thought of. I will gladly visit the Citadel when we arrive.”

  * * *

  23 April 2186, Presidium Docking Ring/Citadel

  Shepard and I left Normandy together, fast-walking down the boarding ramp and out into the passenger lounge.

  “What are your plans, love?”

  “I think I’m triple-booked,” said Shepard. “I want to check in at Huerta Memorial and see how Ash is recovering. I need to talk to Miranda, so I’ll have to go to the Spectre office – that’s the only place I can get enough security on the call. Then Aria T’Loak, of all people, wants to talk to me. I may be out late.”

  “Hmm. I have some Broker business to attend to, for that matter. Not to mention that Javik will need a guide, if he wants to explore the Citadel.”

  “No rest for the wicked, and the righteous don’t need any.”

  “I won’t try to figure out which we are. Be careful, Shepard, and I’ll see you this evening.”

  He brushed his lips across mine in a quick kiss, and then he hurried away.

  “Commander Shepard! Commander Shepard!”

  I stopped, watching a dark-haired female human in a skin-tight white dress, as she tried in vain to get Shepard’s attention. Smiling to myself, I stood at ease with my hands clasped behind my back, waiting for her to give up her quest.

  “Damn it,” the woman muttered. Only then did she turn to see me standing there.

  “Diana Allers?”

  She was quick on the uptake, at least. She nodded and approached me, a camera drone hovering at her shoulder. “You must be Dr. T’Soni.”

  “That’s right. You must excuse the Commander. We may not be on the Citadel for very long, and at the moment his time is very crowded. I wanted to speak to you in any case.”

  “Then the invitation to embed on board Normandy . . .”

  “Came from my desk, yes. I assume you are interested in the opportunity?”

  “Are you kidding? I got an invite from the Shasta, but when your message came I dropped everything else. The Savoir of the Citadel and the Butcher of Bahak, back from the dead and reinstated as the first human Spectre? The only ship in the Alliance fleet managed by an unshackled AI? The biggest celebrity story to come along in fifty thousand years?” She paused and cocked her head at me. “Not to mention Matriarch Benezia’s daughter. This is the chance of a lifetime.”

  “I quite understand. We must agree on a few things first.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Ms. Allers, I’ve been very impressed by your work in the past. You appear to have a gift both for finding the critical story, and for reporting it honestly. That’s rare in modern journalism. But if you are to embed upon Normandy, you must understand your role.”

  “You need a propagandist.”

  She’s very quick. “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry, Doctor, I understand what’s at stake here. Wars can be won or lost on the editing floor, and this war really needs to be won. That’s another reason why I want to embed with your crew. It’s clear you’ll be in the middle of the war’s most important events. Given past history, you’ll be pulling off the kind of impossible victories that we have to win if we’re going to survive. Which will give me exactly the stories that people back home most need to hear.” She gave me a dazzling smile. “Long and short of it, with Normandy I expect I can be an honest reporter and a propagandist at the same time. It’s a dream job for anyone in my profession.”

  “I’m glad we understand one another. You will submit all your stories to both Commander Shepard and me for approval before you file them.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “You may interview members of the crew, but only if they are willing, and only when it doesn’t interfere with their duties. If you have a dispute with anyone on board, you will refer it to the Commander for resolution, and you will accept his decisions.”

  Allers nodded. “I’ve embedded with military units before. I know the drill.”

  “Good. One more thing. You will not make any attempt to sleep with the Commander.”

  Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

  I gave her a cool smile. “Ms. Allers, you do a very good job concealing your habit of mixing pleasure with business. It’s wise, since your credibility is at stake. Even so, I’m aware of the liaisons you have carried on with General Chen, with Secretary Randolph, and with Admiral Vestinus. Not to mention several others of less importance. You appear to have an appreciation for strong, competent military officers.”

  She was taken aback for only a moment. Then she nodded and smiled broadly in return. “Guilty as charged, Doctor.”

  “I imagine Commander Shepard would also be to your taste. The opportunity will not arise. Am I clear?”

  “The Commander is emphatically spoken for. Got it. Anyone else on board you want to place off-limits?”

  “So long as you don’t disrupt military discipline, no.”

  “That won’t be a problem. How soon can I report aboard ship, and how much gear can I bring?”

  “Right away, and one footlocker.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  That quickly, she went to pack and move aboard. I shook my head in bemusement. At least if we had to have a journalist on board, she would be both competent and enthusiastic about her work.

  * * *

  23 April 2186, Presidium Commons/Citadel

  Once I had Diana Allers properly instructed, I spent several hours working with some of my informants on the Citadel, receiving their reports and issuing new tasking for them. Finally I was able to walk out onto the Presidium itself, looking for my favorite wine-bar. I looked forward to an hour or two of peace and quiet, just me, my datapads, and some chilled meliteia.

  At the top of the staircase leading down to the bar, I froze for just an instant.

  Aethyta stood behind the bar, preparing a drink for a customer.

  Fortunately I had caught her looking the other direction. She didn’t see my instant of hesitation. For a moment I considered turning away, but then I set my jaw and continued down the stairs, as if nothing at all concerned me.

  I might have known she would appear at some point.

  I had first met Matriarch Aethyta about two and a half years before, when she took a job tending bar at the Eternity lounge, close to my office on Illium. Over time, many of the T’Soni Analytics staff came to regard the Matriarch as a friend and confidante. Even I had become quite fond of her.

  Until I discovered she was my father.

  It may seem strange that after years as an information dealer, after I had become the Shadow Broker, I could still nurse a sense of personal betrayal. I had fought to keep my own secrets, some of them far more significant than Aethyta’s. I had lied, cheated, stolen, sacrificed the lives of people close to me, and even committed cold-blooded murder on more than one occasion. I could hardly reproach anyone else for something as simple as concealing a blood relationship.
For all I knew, Aethyta simply obeyed Benezia’s wishes on the matter.

  The truth still burned. Once I learned the facts, I stopped visiting Eternity, and I had not spoken a word to Aethyta since.

  It didn’t help that after I became the Shadow Broker, I discovered she had more reason to observe me than simple parental curiosity. She had been spying on me the entire time, on behalf of a coterie of Thessian Matriarchs. I suspected her principals might even have ordered her to assassinate me, if I managed to sufficiently frighten them.

  So now I was the Shadow Broker, and Councilor Tevos and the Matriarchs had to suspect something, and the most terrible war in galactic history was under way. Of course the leaders of the asari people had concerns about the most influential renegade maiden in a thousand years. So, once more they sent Aethyta to take a position from which she could observe.

  To hell with the Matriarchs. To hell with Tevos. And to hell with you, father.

  I walked over to my usual table, not even a glance to the side, and sat down as if I had not a care in the world. A waitress took my order, returning a few moments later with a glass of chilled meliteia.

  It occurred to me that my honey-wine might be poisoned.

  I drank from it anyway, not even bothering to scan it with my omni-tool first.

  After two minutes passed with no symptoms, I picked up my datapad and began browsing through reports. The back of my neck itched, where I felt Aethyta’s eyes.

  For almost an hour I held up my end of the standoff, doing my best to control my twitchy nerves. I sipped my honey-wine, a second glass after finishing the first, and carried on with my work. After a while, I managed to forget about my father’s presence for whole minutes at a time.

  Then a shadow fell across me. I looked up to see Shepard sliding into another chair at my table. He had an odd expression on his face.

  “Hello, Shepard.”

  “Liara.” His jaw worked, as if he was trying to chew the words to make them more palatable. “That bartender over there . . .”

  My heart sank. Oh Goddess. Here it comes.

  “The Matriarch the asari government hired to track my movements?” I took a sip of my wine. “What about her?”

  Shepard blinked, clearly caught off-guard. More off-guard than before. “She’s your father.”

  “I know.”

  “I never get to surprise you with anything,” he complained.

  “Well. I’m a very good information broker.” I sighed. “I came across the information several months ago, while I investigated Morinth’s activities on Illium. I had one of my technical experts break into the asari genetic archives, to see if I could discover Morinth’s identity. I took the opportunity to look at my own entry. My mother may have kept my father’s identity a secret, but everything is recorded in the archives if you know where to look.”

  “You haven’t talked to her about spying on you?”

  “If I did that, they might send someone who isn’t as sympathetic. Can you imagine a justicar being sent to monitor someone they think is, at the very least, an agent of the Shadow Broker?” I shook my head, refusing to even glance over my shoulder in Aethyta’s direction. “I’m walking a very fine line with Councilor Tevos and the Matriarchs as it is. I can’t afford to lose control of the situation. Not with the war summit hanging in the balance. This isn’t the time for family reunions.”

  “Liara . . .” Shepard gave me a very eloquent expression: You’re rationalizing, my love.

  Suddenly I remembered one of the drawbacks to bonding with someone as intelligent as Shepard. I couldn’t dissemble to him, no matter how desperately I wanted to. I made an exasperated sound and rose from my chair. “Oh, fine.”

  His gaze followed me as I walked, stiff-backed with resentment and anger, up to the bar.

  Aethyta glanced up, saw me approaching, and froze. I’m not certain what expression she saw on my face and in my eyes, but it must have been rather intimidating.

  I stopped, leaned on the bar with both hands, and continued to stare at her. “Hello, Father.”

  She blinked, once, and I could see her mind working at high speed behind her sharp reddish-brown eyes. “So you figured it out. I wondered why you quit visiting Eternity all of a sudden.”

  “Indeed. You can tell the Matriarchs that I’ve seen through their little game.”

  She stood upright, all grace and wiry strength, and a small part of my mind reminded me that she could be very dangerous indeed. “Don’t think I’ll do that. You don’t want to scare the Matriarchs any more than they already are.”

  “So who’s behind this? Thessala?”

  “You know I can’t talk about that. I’m sure you can figure it out on your own, if you need to.” Aethyta snorted. “Besides, Thessala? I wouldn’t give that idiot the time of day.”

  “I suppose not.” Damn it, she’s charming me. I refuse to be charmed. “So what is going on, Father? Why have you been spying on me all this time?”

  “You can’t blame the Matriarchs for keeping an eye on you. Look at what your mother did. Then you go off and become some hot-shot information broker, in thick with pirates and mercs and Goddess knows what else out in the Terminus. You deal with the Shadow Broker, of all people, and it starts looking as if you’ve got him in your hip pocket instead of the other way around. Then there’s the bondmate, who used to work for Cerberus . . .”

  “All right. I might understand it, if I had ever even once gone against the interests of our people. But I haven’t. I’ve spent the last three years doing everything I can to fight for our survival. I am not my mother.”

  “Liara.” She watched me, calm and very determined. “I know that. Every report I’ve sent back has said the same thing.”

  “Then why do you still hover over me?”

  “Don’t think of me as a spy. Think of me as a guardian spirit.”

  I snorted in derision. “Really?”

  “Really. I watch over you. I make sure the Matriarchs know you’re no threat. As long as I’m here, they stay out of your business.”

  “It’s true, they haven’t interfered as much as I might have expected.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I sighed. “All right, Father. But there’s still the other item on the list.”

  “Yeah. Why didn’t I ever tell you who I was?”

  “Yes.” I gave her my best blue-eyed innocent stare, and waited.

  All at once she dropped her gaze. If it a thousand-year-old Matriarch could possibly look ashamed, Aethyta managed it.

  “Hell, kid. Nezzie made that decision before you were even born. I’ve had more than a century to get used to the idea that I wasn’t going to be part of your life. Didn’t like it, but there it was. I thought maybe she would say something to you, when she thought it was the right time, but I guess she never did. Then she got mixed up with that Saren bastard, and then she got killed, and it was too late. I thought about coming to talk to you, but you had your own problems. Last thing you needed was your dad showing up to complicate things.”

  I looked down at the bar’s smooth surface, not certain what I was feeling. “I always wondered if you were ashamed of my mother. Ashamed of me.”

  “Is that what you thought?” Aethyta made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Damn. No, that had nothing to do with it. I don’t give a shit about all that pureblood nonsense. If anything, I thought you might be ashamed of me.”

  I looked up and frowned at her.

  “I’m not like Nezzie. I’m a rough-and-tumble brawler who got her education in the school of adversity, not a high-flown aristocrat like her. Not near as smart as she was, certainly not near as smart as you are. The one time I ever tried to do the wise counselor thing, they laughed the blue off my ass. Figured I would never be more than a weight around your ankles.”

  I held her gaze and saw nothing but sincerity.

  “Kid . . . Liara . . . the things you’ve been doing? Every day for over three years now, I’ve been waki
ng up thanking the Goddess I got to see it, even if you never found out who I was. I’ve had other kids, they’re all good asari and they’ve done well for themselves, but you . . .”

  I searched my heart. Somehow I couldn’t find any lingering anger, unless at the circumstances that had kept us apart for so many years. Slowly, almost without willing it, I reached out to lay my hand over hers. “Thanks. Father.”

  She smiled, like a sudden sunrise. “Any time, kid.”

  “So.” I took a deep breath. “Can we start over?”

  “You bet. Here, let me get you another drink. Meliteia, wasn’t it?”

  I nodded and watched as she produced the chilled bottle and a fresh glass, pouring the amber honey-wine with a flourish. She checked to make sure the other bartender could cover the early evening traffic, and then poured a glass for herself.

  “So . . . yeah,” she said slyly, watching me over her glass. “My dad was a krogan.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “So that makes you a quarter krogan.”

  I shook my head in bemusement. “That’s not how it works.”

  “Hmm. I’m a thousand years old. I’ve had kids with hanar. Don’t tell me how asari reproduction works.”

  “I will concede that you have more practical experience than I do.” I had to freeze in mid-sip. “Wait. I have half-sisters who are part hanar?”

  “I thought that wasn’t how it worked,” she teased.

  “That’s very unusual.”

  “You should meet them. They both live back on Thessia, nice matrons, kids of their own. Charis is a civil engineer, Lystria’s a musician. Sweet-tempered girls, both of them. Goddess knows they must have gotten that from their father. They certainly didn’t get it from me.”

  “I’ll admit, all these years of not knowing who my father was, I often wondered what traits I might have acquired from her. From you.”

  Aethyta chuckled. “Yeah, well, you’re definitely Nezzie’s kid. That T’Soni blood always seems to rise to the top. But if you ever feel the urge to head-butt something, all I’m saying is, it’s genetic.”

  I scoffed. “I have never wanted to head-butt anything.”