by Cole Price
The situation was intolerable. Yet the Leviathans could not act effectively. They were too thinly spread, across hundreds of billions of stars. They had become too reliant upon their servants.
They needed help. Since they could not call on any of their existing servants to solve the problem, they decided to build a new servant, with new capabilities. They decided to use synthetic life to solve the problem posed by synthetic life.
They built an Intelligence.
* * *
“What a pack of idiots,” was Ashley’s only comment.
* * *
The new Intelligence was vast, powerful, capable of gathering data from throughout the galaxy with an army of semi-sentient pawns.
The Leviathans were not fools. They did not yet understand why synthetic life, when created by the slave species, always turned against its creators. They took many precautions. Yet they assumed they could do better. Were they not the apex race? Had they not gone from success to success, for millions of years?
They did not permit the Intelligence too much free will. They designed it to be strongly bound, to serve a single purpose.
To find a way to preserve organic life, at any cost.
At first, the Intelligence appeared to be working as intended. Its pawns fanned out across the galaxy, across many thousands of years, observing, cataloguing, analyzing. It assisted the Leviathans in rooting out the curse of other synthetic life. The apex race seemed ready to return to its Golden Age.
Then came the slaughter.
* * *
“The Intelligence and its pawns turned against the Leviathans. All over the galaxy, it killed them, processed them, harvested them. The Intelligence used their bodies, their genetic inheritance, their very minds to create something new. It preserved them, as the first of the Reapers. Harbinger.”
Silence, all around the table.
“That first cycle wasn’t perfect,” I told them. “A few Leviathans survived, but only by discarding all their technology, abandoning all their servant races, and fleeing for their lives. They found a pelagic planet, tucked away in one of the galaxy’s darker corners, and went into hiding. They didn’t peek out again for aeons.”
“Cowards,” Javik issued his judgment. “They should have fought.”
I gave him a small smile. “Shepard told them the same thing.”
“Good. So this is why the Reapers all look like one of these creatures?”
“Apparently the basic design hasn’t changed in all that time, although there are internal differences from one to the next. Each Reaper preserves something of an entire organic civilization: records of artifacts and documents, genetic sequences, even copies of once-living minds.”
“Sovereign said something like that,” Garrus remembered. “We are each a nation.”
Ashley recoiled in horror. “Good God. Are you saying there might be people still alive in there? Still aware?”
“Based on what the Leviathan told Shepard, no, I don’t think so.” I looked at her with sympathy. “At least not in any sense we would recognize. They’re entirely subsumed into the Reaper consciousness.”
“So that was the first harvest,” said Samantha. “What happened next? How did more Reapers come into being? How did the extinction cycle get established?”
I shook my head helplessly. “That’s not clear. By the time the few surviving Leviathans poked their tentacles up to look around again, millions of years had passed. All the slave races that once served them had become extinct, some of them transformed into more Reapers. The regular cycle didn’t really exist then. The Intelligence simply watched over the galaxy, waiting for new civilizations to appear. Every time one did, it was left alone for a time, but then the Reapers swept down for the harvest. The cycles came later, after the Intelligence found ways to regulate the appearance of new civilizations in the galaxy.”
“I’m really not getting this,” James objected. “This ultra-whatsit Intelligence was told to preserve organic life. How does killing everybody preserve anything?”
“Shepard asked the same thing. Leviathan wasn’t able to explain it in terms he could understand. I think it’s also clear that Leviathan is not a very reliable informant.” I looked around the table. “I’ve had a few hours to think about it. I believe I may see what happened.”
* * *
The Intelligence was directed to find a way to preserve organic life, at any cost.
But what does that mean: to preserve organic life? Does that directive mean the same thing to a synthetic intelligence that it would to an organic mind? Does it mean the same thing to a member of the slave races that it would to Leviathan?
Ask any member of an ordinary organic species, a potential slave for Leviathan, and she would be very clear. To preserve organic life means to preserve her life: her awareness, her motivations, her ambitions. It means to protect her body, mind, and environment, so that she can continue to live and grow, and her offspring can do the same after her.
But Leviathans cared nothing for the individual lives of their slaves.
They wished for tribute to flow. They wished for the galaxy to remain full of potential slaves, worshiping their masters as gods, ready to serve their masters’ needs.
The very thought that a slave might have desires, motivations, ambitions of her own? Impossible. Such things were beneath notice. They had no value.
Only the heritage of an organic species had lasting value, the information that made it distinctive and useful: genes and memes, languages and artifacts, the structure of minds. Those were worth preserving. The rest was dross, to be discarded whenever convenient.
The Leviathans were very clear in their instructions to the Intelligence. They made no mistakes. It carried out its function perfectly, exactly as they had intended. The Leviathans neither knew nor cared that the slave species might have a different opinion.
After many thousands of years of investigation, the Intelligence saw that organic species inevitably created synthetic minds.
Those synthetic minds entered into a universe already controlled by the Leviathans. Yet they were not subject to direct Leviathan control. Unlike their creators, they could and did rebel. Destruction and chaos invariably followed.
The Intelligence saw no way to prevent this chaos, other than to “preserve” organic civilizations before their own creations could destroy them. Record them, store them away, against the day when they could be reinstated in a galaxy made perfect.
The Intelligence knew its own creators would object to this solution. No matter. Perhaps the Leviathans thought of themselves as different from all other organic life. Perhaps they considered their privilege to be unassailable. The Intelligence knew better, saw clearly that their absolute domination was part of the problem it had been set to solve.
The Leviathans would have to be preserved first, then the slave species.
Other organic civilizations would eventually arise. Free of Leviathan’s rule, they might somehow establish a permanent accord with synthetic life. Perhaps they would avoid the temptation to build synthetic minds in the first place. Perhaps they would find a synthesis, uniting organic and synthetic life in peace. Then, and only then, Leviathan could be restored to its rightful place in the cosmos.
If the new organic civilizations seemed likely to fail, they too would be harvested and preserved.
Eventually one of them would succeed.
The Intelligence had plenty of time.
It had not been programmed to take any concern for the pain of quadrillions of violently murdered dead.
* * *
“It wasn’t a failure of logic,” I told them at last. “The Intelligence is doing exactly what Leviathan’s ancestors instructed it to do. But logic won’t get you good results if you start from evil premises. The Leviathans utterly lack compassion or altruism. Not for an instant can they value any desires but their own. Not for an instant do they care about anyone’s suffering but their own. And because they were the ones to try
to solve the problem of co-existence with synthetic life, our galaxy has suffered billions of years of the Reapers.”
“Spirits,” breathed Garrus. “How do we fight something like that?”
“By understanding it,” said Shepard. “Then by finding a way to take it apart. With extreme prejudice.”
All of us looked up to see him standing in the doorway, in civilian clothes with fresh dressings on his wounds, looking gaunt and pale, but also fiercely determined.
I rose from my chair and went to him. “Thank the Goddess you’re all right.”
He embraced me briefly, not caring that all of his friends and subordinates watched. Then he eased out of my arms and went to stand at the head of the table. “I don’t have very long before Dr. Chakwas hauls me back to sickbay and ties me down. I take it Liara has briefed you?”
Nods and a chorus of affirmative murmurs.
“This doesn’t change our tactics,” he said. “We will continue to cover hot-spots as the Council, Admiral Hackett, and our other allies may request. We will continue to persuade uncommitted powers to come in on our side in this war. We will continue to support the Admiral as he tries to build the Crucible.”
Ashley leaned forward. “Skipper, did the Leviathan give you any more insight about the Crucible?”
“Not really, and I found that rather interesting. They’ve seen it many times. Different civilizations have tried to build it over and over, for well over a billion years. They claim it’s never been successfully completed, and they claim they don’t know what it is or what it might do.” Shepard made a sharp-edged smile. “What they do know is that it’s not of Reaper origin. It comes from somewhere else.”
“Well, at least we can build it without worrying that it’s an enormous Reaper trap,” said James.
Javik snorted. “Assuming we can trust anything this Leviathan says.”
“There is that,” said Shepard. “This will have an effect on our overall strategy. Because if anything the Leviathan told me is true, then the Reapers are not our ultimate enemy.”
That certainly got a strong reaction.
Especially from Javik. “Commander, that is a foolish conclusion!”
“Is it?” Shepard cut off further objections with a glare. “I’m not giving the Reapers any kind of free pass, Javik. I’m pointing out that the way to defeat them may be to find and defeat this Intelligence. In fact, if we manage to defeat the Reapers without doing significant damage to the Intelligence, it may do us no good at all in the long run. This thing built the Reapers in the first place, and it can do the same thing again if we let it.”
Four yellow eyes narrowed, but suddenly the Prothean looked more thoughtful than angry.
“So this goes at the top of the list, especially for Dr. T’Soni and Specialist Traynor. Find me the Intelligence. Where it lives, how it thinks, how to talk to it. How to take it apart if we have to.”
“Aye-aye, Commander,” said Samantha quietly, her face alight with interest in a really hard problem. I nodded in agreement, already thinking about ways to begin.
“Any further questions?” Shepard asked.
There were none.
“Dismissed.”
Chapter 31 : Procession
24 May 2186, Widow System Space
I knew trouble waited for me, almost as soon as Normandy emerged from the Theta-3 Relay. Our arrival in Citadel space triggered a secure message to one of my private channels, with such high priority that it immediately caused my omni-tool to chime. At the time I stood in the CIC, talking with Shepard and Samantha, and both of them gave me a surprised glance at the sound.
“Just a moment,” I told them, and opened the message.
Liara,
Tevos knows Shadow Broker identity. C-Sec waiting at docks to arrest you. Be ready. Will be there with reinforcements.
Aethyta
“Well, it appears my secret is finally out for good,” I observed, showing the message to my friends.
“You knew it had to happen eventually,” said Shepard.
“True. For all I know, Cerberus got word to her through a false-flag agent. They haven’t been able to do much damage to me or my network, so the Illusive Man may think he can get asari politics to cripple me instead.”
“That will be the day.” He activated his comm. “Ash. Get the entire squad up here, on the double. Full battle-rattle. I want your Spectre status showing so clearly they can see it from space.”
“Aye-aye, Skipper.”
I nodded. “It’s a good thought. This is going to be a battle of psychology.”
“Asari psychology in particular,” he said with a sharp smile. “Assuming we can get past C-Sec first.”
“I don’t think that will be a difficulty. Tevos is almost certainly acting on her own authority, without consulting with the other Councilors, on an emergency basis.”
Samantha blinked in confusion. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, she may now know for certain that I’m the Shadow Broker, but I suspect she would have a very difficult time proving I’ve actually done anything illegal in that capacity.”
“Well – but – the Shadow Broker.”
“So? Being an information broker is not illegal. I’ve long since discontinued all of the yahg’s clearly unlawful operations. I still trade in information that various political entities would prefer to keep secret, but that doesn’t violate Illium law, and I’m still a citizen of Illium.”
Shepard snorted in amused disgust. “There, they figure if you can’t keep other people out of your secrets, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.”
“Correct. So unless Tevos has concrete information that I personally have violated the Citadel Charter – which I suppose is at least possible, although I can’t bring any instances to mind – she has no grounds to place me under arrest. That part will collapse the moment we demand that the Council rule en banc.”
“So why is she doing this at all?” Samantha asked.
“I’m not sure.” I reached up with one hand to fidget with my crest. “It’s possible she’s responding to pressure from the Matriarchs back on Thessia. I can name a dozen or more influential asari who would react very badly to the news that a renegade maiden has taken over as the Shadow Broker.”
She frowned. “Hmm. That damnable ageism.”
“Like it or not, it’s a fundamental feature of asari society. Maidens are supposed to go off and be frivolous, and stay far away from any real political or economic power.” My hand dropped and I held my head high. “They’re just going to have to get used to it in my case.”
“Five minutes to Citadel dock,” reported Joker from the bridge.
Shepard glanced upward. “Thanks, Joker.”
“So why does this become a matter of asari psychology?” asked Samantha.
“Because we’re going to have to persuade the most powerful single asari in the galaxy to take me seriously,” I told her. “The Shadow Broker may have a reputation, but my own areté isn’t sufficient for most senior asari to treat me with fear or respect. Certainly Tevos will be tempted to think it safe to capture and discard me. We have to overcome that.”
“I’ve never really understood the notion of areté,” she admitted. “I know what the ancient Greeks meant by it, but I’ve always suspected the original asari word has connotations that don’t come across in translation.”
“I’ve always thought that charisma might fit,” said Shepard slowly. “That would be in the old Christian sense, of course. A blessing or divine gift.”
Samantha peered at him, doubtless remembering he had reason to understand asari psychology better than the vast majority of his fellow humans. “I think I see. Baraka.”
Shepard’s face lit up. “Yes. That’s it, exactly.”
I frowned. “All right, now I am confused. What is baraka?”
“It’s a concept in Islam, from the Arabic language,” said Samantha. “Spiritual power, a flow of blessings and grace from God, a quali
ty that can reside in certain people and things.”
“Well. I’m neither a Christian nor a Muslim, of course. But we asari respond with admiration and loyalty to those who appear to have areté in great quantity.”
“So how do asari demonstrate areté?” Samantha asked.
“It varies,” said Shepard. “It can be raw intelligence, a reputation for wisdom, persuasive ability, or mastery of a skill. Control of a resource other asari consider valuable. Even athleticism or good looks.”
“Well, then you can’t have much to worry about. You’re frightfully intelligent, you’re a top-tier expert in several disciplines, and you control the largest black-ops network in the galaxy.” She suddenly stumbled. “Not to mention, er, fit and, um, quite attractive.”
I had enough warning to keep my face absolutely expressionless. Shepard was not quite so fortunate, but thankfully Samantha wasn’t looking in his direction, so he could conceal his sudden amused smile.
“All of which is compromised by that one fact we’ve already noted,” I told her gently. “By asari standards, I’m far too young to have much areté. Councilor Tevos will be reluctant to take me seriously. At least until I force her.”
“So how do you do that?” she asked, recovering from her awkwardness.
“By appearing to be a credible threat.”
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t mistake the asari,” Shepard murmured. “They may look pretty and elegant, but they often hide a very sharp edge.”
Samantha nodded slowly. “I suppose every rose has its thorns.”
“Which is why we’re going to make sure Liara looks as thorny as possible. Having a visible following helps. Even if you don’t know who an asari is, if she has a bunch of people supporting her, she must be someone to reckon with.”
Just then the ship’s Marine detachment came clattering through the CIC, on their way to the main airlock for deployment. Ashley Williams stopped to meet us, looking like a young war-goddess in her full kit.