The Reaper War

by Cole Price

  There I saw the edge, the abyss beyond, the place where Shepard had fallen. I had to at least look. I think, once I had looked, part of me planned to hurl myself in after him.

  A strained grunt. A gauntleted hand appeared, clenched on the edge of the shattered stone floor. The other one appeared as well, scrabbling for purchase.

  I gasped. Somehow I levered myself onto hands and knees, gathered all my willpower, and lunged.

  The pain in my chest felt as if I had just been stabbed all over again. I ignored it.

  My hand closed on Shepard’s wrist, an instant before he would have lost his grip.

  * * *

  15 June 2186, Interstellar Space

  I awoke to the sound of a vicious argument, carried out in asari dialect on both sides.

  “With all due respect, Commander, you had no right to take Dr. T’Soni down there without one of us as escort.”

  “I understand your concerns, therapōn, but my selection of mission teams has to be based on my tactical judgment.”

  I groaned inwardly. I did not call on the Goddess, I resolved that I would never call on the Goddess again, but at that moment I truly wanted supernatural assistance. Anything to help me face the fact that two people who each loved me sounded ready to come to blows.

  “Your tactical judgment doesn’t seem to be very reliable. It very nearly got my principal killed today.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  I took stock. It seemed pleasantly dark behind my eyelids. I could hear familiar sounds: the ship’s main drive pulsing in the distance, medical instrumentation chirping softly close by. I caught a faint scent of antiseptic. I lay supine on a firm surface, a light cover over my body, comfortable, feeling no pain. I breathed easily and evenly.

  “Your remorse does not interest me, Commander.” Vara’s voice, laden with poorly suppressed anger. “I want your word that you will not expose Dr. T’Soni to risks like that again. Not without one or more of my people on hand, to protect her more effectively than you appear able to do.”

  “You know I can’t promise that, therapōn. The mission has to take precedence. You may have noticed that we’re at war.”

  “My home world is being destroyed even as we speak, dull stone. You may safely assume that I know we’re at war.”

  I tried my voice. It worked, after a fashion. “Vara.”

  Footsteps, hurrying across the floor. A sense of presence leaning over me.

  I opened my eyes.

  Karin Chakwas stood there, glancing at the medical monitors above my head, glancing down to check my condition. “Liara. Don’t move.”

  I tried to speak again, produced nothing but a low rasp.

  Dr. Chakwas produced a small bottle with an attached straw, helped me wet my mouth and throat.

  “Vara,” I said, more clearly this time. “I don’t have the time or energy to say this politely. Shut up.”

  I saw my acolyte’s face, her coloring faded, her eyes wide with chagrin. “Despoina . . .”

  “Not another word,” I husked. “It is my decision who among us goes with Shepard on ground missions. My responsibility. Not yours. Remember your oath.”

  She looked mutinous for a fraction of a second, but then she regained control of herself and made a tense nod. “Commander. You have my apologies.”

  “I understand, therapōn.” Shepard gave her a sharp glance, but refrained from pressing the point. “You’re right. I’ve been under-utilizing your team, and this time it hurt us badly. With more hands on deck, asari who knew the territory, this mission might not have been such a disaster. Now we have to pick up the pieces. You have my word that I will give due consideration to including some of your team on any future ground missions, whether Liara is there or not.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, and then seemed to relax, let go of her anger. “Thank you, Commander.”

  “Good.” I took a deeper breath, still felt no pain, and closed my eyes again. “Good. What’s the situation?”

  Shepard’s voice, bleak as winter: “Kai Leng got away with all the Prothean data. The Reapers are on Thessia in force. The whole planet has dropped off the grid, but we have to assume the worst.”

  Vara’s voice, full of despair: “Millions dead already, despoina. Organized resistance has already collapsed across most of the planet. Within days, it’s going to be as bad as Palaven or Earth. If not worse.”

  I wanted to say something, ask more questions, but instead my mind just shut down. I feared that if I opened my mouth again, nothing would come out but a long wail.

  Dr. Chakwas, warm and reassuring: “Your own condition is surprisingly good, Liara. The blade didn’t sever any of your major blood vessels, although in one case it was a very near miss. The main difficulty was a puncture wound through your left lung, and some minor damage to your heart. I’ve performed surgery to repair the gross damage, and you appear to be responding well to quick-heal. Still, it’s a good thing you asari are tougher than you look.”

  “How soon can I return to duty?” I whispered.

  “I want to keep you here for a while. If all goes well, three days before I release you to your quarters and clear you for light duty.”

  I opened my eyes again, did my best to project confidence. “Vara, I want you to work with Commander Shepard and Specialist Traynor. Keep the network moving. Support the mission. Can you do that?”

  She braced her shoulders and looked resolute. “Yes, despoina.”

  “Good. Now go.”

  She went, not without a backward glance.

  As soon as Dr. Chakwas withdrew as well, Shepard leaned close to take my hand and place a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Oh God. Liara . . .”

  I shook my head and looked up at him, saw the pain and rage in his eyes. “None of that, love.”

  “He played me. That Cerberus bastard played me.”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “He played all of us. He couldn’t access the Prothean beacon without our help, but he knew exactly how to pull us into a trap once we had given him what he needed.”

  “That’s twice he’s gotten the better of us.” His jaw set in grim determination. “It’s not going to happen a third time.”

  “Is there going to be a third time?” I asked hopelessly.

  He nodded, and I saw a flash of the old confidence. “I think so. We have a lead.”

  Something in his voice gave me a scrap of courage. I struggled for a moment, pushed myself up a bit against the pillows behind me. “Tell me.”

  “It was Traynor who found it, actually.” He gave me a small smile. “You’d be proud of her. It was a very nice piece of analysis. She projected the path of Kai Leng’s ship through the relay network.”

  “So we might be able to chase him down. Recover the Prothean data.”

  “It’s possible,” he agreed.

  “Where?”

  “We can’t be entirely certain. She lost the signal. It looks as if he was heading for the Iera system.”

  I frowned, my mind starting to work again. “Horizon?”

  “Looks that way. Seems strange. There’s nothing there but the Sanctuary facility, but Traynor also noticed that the planet has gone completely silent. Suspicious.”

  “Yes.” I frowned. “I wish I could go to my office. It’s just across the crew deck . . .”

  “Don’t even think about it,” he commanded. “Listen to Dr. Chakwas and get some rest. You’ll be back in action soon enough.”

  * * *

  After an hour under Karin’s watchful eye, I graduated to sitting at a desk and eating a light meal. Then the door opened and my next visitor stepped in.

  My spork stopped halfway to my mouth with its load of noodles and spaghetti sauce. I carefully put it back down and glared.

  “I have come to apologize,” said Javik, standing at attention with his hands behind his back.

  I blinked in mild astonishment. “That has to be a first. What do you feel the need to apologize for?”


  “During the battle with the Kai Leng human, I lost sight of him. Before I could reacquire, he had moved to attack you. I regret this.”

  “I think all of us lost track of him, Javik. You have nothing to apologize for.”

  He lifted his head slightly, somehow contriving to look smugly self-satisfied, even while trying to apologize. “I am not concerned with the inefficient visual organs of asari or humans. Very little escapes these eyes. I did not lose him in the glare of his support vehicle’s lights. His pathetic invisibility device did not conceal him from me. But in the moment when I sought cover from the support vehicle’s gunfire, he created some manner of holographic image of himself, which distracted me. I did not realize the truth until it was too late and you had already been injured.”

  I gave him my best aristocratic stare and nod. “Then I accept your apology, Javik.”

  “Good.” He cocked his head, watching me. “Are you well, asari?”

  “Well enough. And I have a name, Prothean.”

  “Yes . . . Dr. T’Soni. Or do you prefer Liara?”

  “My friends call me Liara. You may call me Dr. T’Soni.”

  “Then, Dr. T’Soni, are you well?”

  I sighed and looked down at my plate of pasta, toyed with the spork for a moment. “Dr. Chakwas assures me I am going to be fine. Light duty for a few days, nothing more.”

  “I do not speak of your physical health.” His stance relaxed slightly, his hands coming out from behind his back, his head not held quite so rigidly. He reached to pull a chair across the floor, and sat down in it a safe distance away from me. “You have learned a great deal that you did not expect, Dr. T’Soni. About your own people, and about mine. I am aware this has disturbed you greatly. I am concerned for how it may affect your effectiveness in the war. How it may affect the Commander’s effectiveness.”

  “Naturally, you have no concern for me as an individual.”

  “Naturally. I have no concern for myself as an individual. We fight for our very survival, against an implacable enemy whose powers we can barely fathom. There is no time for us to indulge in useless sentiment.”

  “I suppose you are right.”

  I stared at him for a long moment, evaluating.

  I would never like him. It would be very difficult for me ever to feel much compassion for him. He was too alien. He was too warped by his experiences: fighting a hopeless war against the Reapers for a lifetime, and then awakening into a universe in which his entire species had been hounded to extinction. He responded to his situation with a bigoted cynicism, bordering on cruelty. I could see only one redeeming feature in him: he was just as cruel, just as harshly demanding, to himself as to everyone around him.

  That infinitely stubborn integrity made me realize that I might be able to respect him.

  “In that case, Javik, no. I am not well.”

  He nodded in understanding. “You were proud of being asari. Proud of asari accomplishments, proud of what you believed to be your people’s moral superiority.”

  “Yes.”

  “Rather like we Protheans,” he said.

  I snorted in bitter amusement, recognizing the accusation I had directed at him so many times, at least in the privacy of my own mind. “I suppose so.”

  “Now you feel that you have been robbed of this,” he said relentlessly. “You did not accomplish these things on your own. Indeed, your people have behaved with dishonesty and hypocrisy, concealing your Prothean heritage for the sake of selfish advantage. To the point that you failed even to warn the galaxy about the Reapers, when that might have done some good.”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of air flowing through my lungs without pain. “Javik, I have a confession to make, and I suspect you may be the only person on board who will understand it.”

  He inclined his head, waiting.

  “I’m not sure the asari people, my own people, are worth saving.”

  “Rrrh. Now this, I understand very well.” Javik frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. “Such a sickness of the spirit, it was very common among my own people in our last days. We were a proud people as well. Proud of our science, our technology, our golden cities and invincible starships. Proud of our unity of purpose. Proud of our ability to rule over others, harshly but with absolute fairness.”

  “Then the Reapers came and took all that away from you,” I said quietly.

  “Yes. So easily that it constituted a profound insult. One we never managed to avenge.” He looked back at me, the usual heat of his eyes subdued. “Some of our people simply lost the will to continue. They saw no reason to preserve a species that had been so profoundly mistaken about its own merits.”

  “Did you ever have such doubts?”

  “I have a confession to make,” he echoed me, “and I suspect you may be the only person on board who will understand it.”

  I felt a smile on my lips, growing slowly.

  “I still have such doubts, Dr. T’Soni. Every day.” He cocked his head at me. “Yet now it seems my people may live again, if we are victorious, and these liberated Collectors fulfill their promise. Do you think we will be able to build the Unity again, just as it was, glorious and sovereign?”

  “Not if the rest of us have anything to say about it.”

  “Then it seems we will be forced to discover new ways to be Prothean. We will need to give up conquest and domination. We may even find ourselves learning this thing you call humility.” He gave me a cynical smile. “Rrrh. What a concept. It will be difficult.”

  “So. Perhaps after this war, my people will need to find new ways to be asari.”

  “It seems likely.”

  “More honesty. Integrity. Generosity to others. Maybe a little humility of our own.”

  “You are asari. You would know best what flaws your people must correct. If you wish at last to fulfill the potential we saw in you, so long ago.”

  I picked up the one glass of wine Dr. Chakwas had permitted me with my meal, and took a sip. “Is that why you came to uplift us? Because you thought we had potential?”

  “We thought you might become a useful subservient race. Given time, and a great deal of careful work.”

  I found myself smiling, a twisted smirk not unlike his.

  Now, that’s more like the Javik I’ve come to know.

  Chapter 50 : Sanctuary Lost

  16 June 2186, Iera System Space

  Dr. Chakwas worked one of her usual miracles. By the next morning, my condition seemed good enough that she redefined “bed rest” as “working from the bed in my office, with Samantha and Glyph to help, and wearing a medical monitor.” So the Shadow Broker got back to work, struggling to hold the last tatters of her network together, fighting to keep useful intelligence flowing to our allies across the galaxy.

  Just in time. That day, the day Shepard went down to Horizon in pursuit of Kai Leng, turned out to be one of the most fateful days of the war.

  First thing that morning, I contacted Councilor Tevos and gave her a detailed report on the Thessia mission. I laid out everything we had discovered about our Prothean heritage, and about the vast duplicity at the core of asari civilization.

  To this day, I can’t be sure whether the truth actually surprised her. I like to think that my call helped push her out of a state of paralyzed shock. She still saw no hope for the future, but in a way that may have liberated her from any lingering concern for asari internal politics. At the final hour, she realized that nothing remained for our people to do, except commit ourselves absolutely to the defense of the galaxy. If none of us survived the battle, so be it; that might be necessary for our atonement.

  Thus as soon as we finished our conversation, she contacted Admiral Hackett and signed on to the turian-human-krogan alliance, on behalf of all surviving asari forces, absolutely and without reservation. When the time came to fight the final battle, the Asari Republics would commit every available soldier and ship.

  It was very ne
arly her last official act. I never had the chance to speak to her again. As history records, she failed to escape from the fall of the Citadel three days later.

  On that same day, the Salarian Union finally entered the war.

  The salarians had stayed aloof ever since the genophage cure. Dalatrass Linron adamantly opposed any aid to the allied powers, and for weeks none of her colleagues saw fit to risk overriding her. The Reapers appeared to encourage this decision, leaving their worlds alone, making no attempt to harvest them in large numbers. All of us knew, even Councilor Valern knew, that this could be nothing but a temporary reprieve. Yet Linron seemed determined to make us pay for breaking the old asari-salarian-turian alliance.

  Then, about noon on the sixteenth of June, Linron suddenly died in the heart of her palace on Sur’Kesh. No one could determine the cause, although the timing certainly seemed suspicious. I can attest that the Shadow Broker had nothing to do with it, although rumors of my involvement lingered for years afterward.

  A succession struggle immediately broke out among Linron’s female relatives. Chaos in their bloodline freed several other dalatrass from their former political obligations. Within hours, a faction sprang into being that seemed willing to support the alliance against the Reapers.

  The Salarian Union as a whole couldn’t reverse course at once. Salarians think and move quickly, but there are so many of them, their factional relations are so complex, that they rarely act as a coherent unit. Still, a number of salarian establishments immediately began coordination with the allied powers. Foremost among these came the Special Tasks Group, which threw itself into the war with astonishing speed the moment Linron vanished from the stage. Many salarians later fought in the Battle of Earth.

  I never did discover the true sequence of events on Sur’Kesh. I still find it very interesting that Major Kirrahe returned to Sur’Kesh from the field, suddenly and without apparent cause, only hours before dalatrass Linron met her mysterious fate.

  Against those diplomatic victories, we had to set a major defeat.

  The allies had held the Reapers at bay on Palaven for over a month. Turian and krogan forces had destroyed dozens of Reaper platforms, including a few Sovereign-class capital ships. They had killed millions of Reaper soldiers, and had also helped millions of turian non-combatants to evacuate. Daily reports from Palaven had worked wonders for the morale of those fighting the Reapers elsewhere.