The Reaper War

by Cole Price

  “Really? Not even a little bit? Come on!”

  “I do not head-butt people!”

  “All right, fine, don’t go all blood-rage on me.”

  I growled in exasperation.

  She grinned, her point proven.

  I set my wine-glass down and leaned a little closer, setting up a small, intimate space between us. “I admit to a great deal of curiosity. What was it like, being with Benezia?”

  “Some of the best years of my life, kid.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes. Strange, how different we were, and yet we got along great for a long time. We were together for more than a century.”

  “You loved her?” I asked gently.

  “Of course I loved her. She was so smart. Always thinking. Nice, too. Hell of a lot nicer than I am.” Aethyta gave me a wicked smile. “And damn, that rack. I mean, even before she hit the Matriarch stage . . .” She whistled in appreciation.

  “You don’t need to tell me everything.”

  “Yeah, yeah, nobody ever wants to hear about her parents getting it on. Let’s just say we were really, really compatible. Like you and that human of yours, from what I hear.”

  “Don’t go there, Father. I am not telling you about my relationship with Shepard.”

  “Aww. Not even a few juicy details?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Maybe I will. I’ve had a couple nice chats with him already.” She took a deep sip of her wine and smiled reflectively. “It wasn’t just the sex, though that was real good. Nezzie always took me seriously, even when none of the other Matriarchs would. She was the only one who ever listened to me, when I said the asari were stuck in the past. Only difference was, I wanted us to start standing on our own. She wanted tighter alliances with the other species. After a while we were like two draft beasts pulling in opposite directions.”

  “Is that why . . .”

  “Why it ended? Nah.” Then she looked down, shadows in her eyes. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I think mostly it ended because she wanted to solve things the smart way, and I wanted to fight.”

  “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

  “Yeah. I hear you’ve racked up quite a body count. But then, you are a quarter krogan.”

  I groaned. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.”

  “Too bad, though. After a while, we just didn’t see eye to eye. I still loved her, she still loved me, but we couldn’t be partners anymore. Besides, the more important and influential she became, that started coming between us too.”

  “Her role as a Matriarch?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, I never had any following worth the name, but she started picking up acolytes by the shipload. After a while, she started having to choose between our bond and her political work.” She made a deep sigh. “It was pretty clear she was leaving. Can’t be the wise counselor when you’re bonded.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Why not?”

  “Sex appeal. Younger asari, most of the other species? They’ll only really pay attention if they want to have sex with you, but they’re not sure if they’ll ever get the chance. So you have to be available, but at the same time mysterious.”

  “What? That’s not true. Shepard listens to me!”

  “Yeah? And just how many times have you popped his heat sink?”

  I rolled my eyes in disgust. “Do you have to make it sound so tawdry?”

  “Hey, if it’s all civilized, you’re not doing it right.”

  Involuntarily I had a very vivid memory: one particular night during which Shepard had been quite the barbarian. I felt my face color. Aethyta saw that, and gave me a nod and an evil smile.

  “So that was just before I was born?”

  “Yeah.” She scowled for a moment, obviously recalling some old anger. “Shocked the hell out of me when I heard she was pregnant. She was too old, for one thing, and she hadn’t talked to me about it at all. She must have somehow opened the Gate of the Goddess one of those last few times we were together, and there you were, on the way. After all those centuries with no kids of her own. Strangest damn thing.”

  “Perhaps she wanted something to remember you by, even if you weren’t bonded anymore.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. We did talk a few times after that, even after you were born, but mostly we just fought. Finally I agreed to stay away, let her raise you without any help from me. You must have been five or six years old then. I made her promise to let you go your own way, though. No matter what she wanted.”

  “Really?”

  Her voice dropped, lost its rough edge. “I knew you’d be special, kid. Any daughter of hers. I told her: You’re treating her like a baby bird, Nezzie, but she’s going to raise one hell of a storm with those little wings.”

  It was like a blow to the heart. I gasped to get enough air. “Little Wing?”

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  She patted my free hand. “Better to remember her like this, instead of as whatever she turned into with that Saren bastard.”

  “Father, you shouldn’t blame her for what happened. It wasn’t her fault. She was trying to stop Saren, guide him as a force for good. But she was indoctrinated.”

  “Look, I heard stories about the Reapers messing with your head . . .”

  “They’re more than stories. I’ve seen it. Every Cerberus soldier is a Reaper slave. Benezia fought it with every fiber of her being. She even broke free, and helped us on Noveria before she died.” I looked away, wiping at the tears that threatened to well up in my eyes. “I was there. She said . . . she said I’d made her proud.”

  Aethyta leaned back, staring at me. “All this time I blamed Nezzie for it. Thousand years old and I still don’t know crap. Thanks for telling me.”

  A familiar sense of presence at my elbow: Shepard, stepping up to stand beside me at the bar. “Everything going okay here?”

  I took his hand and squeezed it gently. Aethyta saw that and smiled, nodding her head. “Yeah, Shepard, thanks for pushing the two of us to talk. It was good.”

  “I wish I could give you more time together,” he said. “I just got a call from dalatrass Linron. She’s willing to meet with us and the Primarch, even if Wrex is there too. That’s an opportunity we can’t afford to pass by.”

  “Of course, Shepard.” I looked at Aethyta, thinking this is my father once more in the back of my mind, wondering how I would adjust to having a family relationship with her. I felt confused, uncertain, but on the whole I decided it was going to be a good thing. “I’m sorry I was angry at you. Let’s stay in touch, if you think we can do that without frightening half of the Matriarchs on Thessia.”

  “You let me worry about that, kid. I think I can spin it so they’ll stay off your back. Besides, you and your bondmate here are going to be running into a lot more dangerous situations than that.”

  “Probably true.” I leaned across the bar to embrace her, for just a moment. “Goodbye for now.”

  “Take care of yourself out there, okay, kid?”

  “I will . . . Dad.”

  “Hey.” She cleared her throat, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I’ve called a few friends. Commandos. Eclipse maidens who aren’t under that crazy Jona Sederis’s thumb. They owe me some favors. They’re all yours. Just tell them where to go.”

  I blinked in surprise. “You’re giving me asari commandos?”

  “Well, you’re too old for me to buy you a damn pony. Besides, if you’re going to be a mover and shaker, you need more than just one acolyte. These girls are already impressed with you. They’ll swear the oath if you let them.”

  “Goddess, as if having one acolyte wasn’t enough to scandalize the Matriarchs.”

  “Kid, I’ll give you a little secret. The Matriarchs are always scandalized about something. At least you’re doing it by getting out there and accomplishing important things. In the long run, that’s all that matters.”

  “Exactly
what I’ve been trying to tell her for a while now,” Shepard grumbled.

  “I can see I’m outnumbered.” I gave Aethyta a happy smile, and realized it was sincere. “You’re the best father a maiden could wish for.”

  Chapter 14 : Alliances

  24 April 2186, Pranas System Space

  Less than an hour before our rendezvous with the diplomatic ships, Shepard and I retired to my office to prepare. Glyph set up all the documents we might need.

  Anticipating Urdnot Wrex didn’t seem likely to pose a problem, since we both knew the scarred old krogan quite well. Primarch Victus also promised few surprises, since Shepard and I had already consulted with him at length. Dalatrass Linron, on the other hand . . .

  “I don’t know much about salarian politics,” Shepard admitted, standing behind me to watch the data on my console.

  “Few outsiders do.” I struggled for a moment with my memory. “I seem to recall there is a word in your language that would be appropriate. It suggests great complexity, sophistication, stealth, and deviousness. I believe it is derived from the name of one of your historical cultures . . .”

  “Ah,” said Shepard. “Byzantine.”

  “That’s it.” I peered up at him. “I don’t know the details, but I can guess what these Byzantines were like, given the connotations of the word. Now expand those features by an order of magnitude, and you may have some idea of salarian internal politics.”

  “More complex than asari politics?” he asked, amused.

  “Considerably so. My people have some skill at deception and manipulation, but the issues in our politics tend to be relatively simple, and most Matriarchs permit their schemes to play out over long periods of time. Salarian dalatrass think quickly, scheme quickly, act quickly, and their politics are personal to a much greater degree. They seek out every possible advantage for their own bloodlines.”

  “So tell me about Linron.”

  I worked with my console, calling up an image and a waterfall of biographical data. “By most measures, Linron is the third most powerful dalatrass in the Salarian Union. She holds suzerainty over about one-quarter of the salarian homeworld. Her direct and indirect subjects number nearly three billion.”

  “You make her sound like some sort of queen,” said Shepard.

  “In a way, she is. Salarian society is organized along feudal lines. Each dalatrass holds specific territories for her bloodline, usually as a fiefdom from a more senior dalatrass. Linron is at the top of her personal hierarchy, recognizing no other individual as her superior. Indeed, she is the most powerful dalatrass of the homeworld, holding the planetary capital at Talat.”

  “So the most powerful aristocrat on Sur’Kesh only rules over a fraction of the planet’s surface area and population.” Shepard’s eyes darkened as he scanned Linron’s biography, thinking hard. “She must have rivals.”

  “Yes. My most recent assessment identifies five other dalatrass that are both hostile to Linron and powerful enough to compete on her level. Narra of Mannovai is probably the most influential.”

  “So if Linron won’t play ball . . .”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think it would be that easy. Narra and Esheel have more territory and wealth, but they are based in the salarian colonies and don’t have Linron’s central position. Valern and Sendar are based on Sur’Kesh, and Valern of course has her connection to the salarian Councilor, but neither of them matches Linron’s wealth and influence.”

  Shepard nodded. “We could try to talk to all of them and put together an anti-Linron alliance, but even moving at the speed of salarians that would take time. Weeks, maybe months, and all the while the Reapers are chopping Earth and Palaven to pieces.”

  “I doubt that any of the top-tier dalatrass would be interested in an alliance involving the krogan.” I sighed in disgust. “I’m sorry, Shepard, but I don’t think we can count on salarian support in this war. At least not until the Reapers pose a more immediate threat to salarian worlds.”

  “And yet Linron agreed to meet with us,” Shepard mused. “I wonder what she’s up to.”

  “I’ve queried my informants in her territory. So far I’ve heard nothing to indicate what she may be thinking.”

  Shepard rubbed at the stubble on his chin, staring at the image if Linron as if trying to read her mind. After a moment, he nodded slowly to himself.

  “Victus,” he said.

  I frowned at him. “I don’t follow.”

  “She’s not here to talk to me, and she’s certainly not here to talk to Wrex. The asari didn’t send an official representative at all. Does she know you’re the Shadow Broker?”

  “I don’t think so. Salarians are good at espionage, but I haven’t seen any indication that the STG has penetrated that deeply into my network.”

  “Then the only person at that table she’s likely to respect is the Primarch. She’s heard that Victus suggested an alliance with the krogan, and she’s not happy about it. She’s here to try to keep the turians in line with the old Citadel power structure. The one that keeps asari, salarians, and turians in charge, humans barely tolerated, and krogan all the way out.”

  I nodded, impressed. “That’s a very good guess, Shepard. I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.”

  Just then we heard Samantha Traynor’s voice, from her post in the CIC. “Commander, the salarian dalatrass and the krogan clan chief are ready to come aboard.”

  “Thank you, Traynor. Have them escorted to the conference room.” Shepard turned to me as I rose from my desk. “Showtime. Are you ready?”

  “No, but that’s never made a difference before.”

  “Hah!” With me at his side, he strode out the door, heading for the lifts. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t start another war.”

  * * *

  “I am Commander William Shepard, Alliance Navy, in command of Normandy. I also have the honor of being a Council Spectre. I’d like to welcome all of you to this conference. I hope we can find a way to work together against the enemy that threatens all of our worlds.”

  Five of us stood around Normandy’s conference table. Urdnot Wrex stood to Shepard’s left, dominating the room with his sheer physical presence, massive in his crimson battle armor, but unarmed for the moment. Primarch Victus stood at the far end of the table, looking tiny compared to the massive krogan, watching all of us with fierce attention. Dalatrass Linron stood to Shepard’s right, a bulky female salarian in full ceremonial robes, her body language carefully controlled but whispering of anger and mistrust.

  I stood in the shadows behind Shepard and to his left, where I could observe everything and say nothing.

  “Yeah, Shepard, that would be nice.” Wrex paced slightly on his side of the table, his deep voice even more thunderous than usual. “A little naïve, though. Especially with these two.”

  “You see, Primarch?” Linron deliberately ignored Wrex, turning to speak to the turian as if none of the rest of us were present. “The krogan has no sense for the ebb and flow of negotiation. I am forced to question your judgment. Why should the turians turn away from their age-old alliance with asari and salarians, in favor of these brutes and upstarts?”

  I nodded to myself. Shepard’s hypothesis seems confirmed.

  Victus shook his head, but his voice remained smooth and calm. “With all due respect, dalatrass, the asari and salarians have thus far not lifted a finger to aid the Turian Hierarchy. The humans have already done more, and they have proven willing to approach the krogan at my request. Against this threat, I will seek alliances where I can find them.”

  “Well, you’ll get no alliance from Clan Urdnot,” snarled Wrex. “Not unless I can get something from it for my people.”

  “The krogan is in no position to make demands!” hissed Linron.

  “The krogan has a name: Urdnot Wrex. And I think the fact I’m here says I am in a position to make demands.” Wrex grinned at the Primarch, a rather frightening expression. “Guess the turians think they need us n
ow. Too bad they made sure there aren’t enough of us around to be much use.”

  Victus leaned on the table to stare at the krogan. “Wrex, the genophage was over a thousand years ago. I’m not the one responsible for it.”

  “And I’m not just some junkyard varren you can unleash whenever you’re in trouble!”

  I glanced at Wrex, reading his body language, and smiled to myself. He clearly intended to put on a show of being the angry krogan, but I could see clues in his posture and kinesics that said otherwise. He was using his image as an unsophisticated barbarian.

  Now, how well can Linron and Victus see that?

  “I’ve got my own problems,” Wrex continued, moderating his voice. “Reaper scouts have arrived on Tuchanka. So why should I care if a few turians go extinct?”

  Victus shook his head, and I thought I saw a gleam of understanding in his eyes. “Trying to draw out negotiations will get you nowhere, Wrex. I have no time for it. Just tell us what you want.”

  “I’ll tell you what I need.” Wrex looked around the table, drawing out his moment. “A cure for the genophage.”

  That bombshell had all the effect Wrex could have wished for. Shepard and I took it in stride, since we already knew just how much progress had already been made toward formulating a genophage cure. Victus leaned back slightly, his eyes wide, as he realized just what cost he might have to pay for the alliance he wanted.

  Linron, of course, recoiled from the table in disgust. “Absolutely not! The genophage is non-negotiable.”

  “Why are you so opposed to the idea, dalatrass?” asked Shepard.

  “Because my people uplifted the krogan,” she replied, putting all her authority in her voice. “We know them best.”

  Wrex loomed across the table, making big gestures as he shouted. “You mean you used us! To fight a war you couldn’t win! It wasn’t the salarians, or the asari, or even the turians who stopped the rachni. It was krogan blood that turned the tide.”

  “And after that, you ceased to be useful!” snapped Linron. “The genophage was the only way to keep your urges in check.”