Deep Space: An Epic Sci-Fi Romance

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Deep Space: An Epic Sci-Fi Romance Page 21

by Joan Jett


  All eyes were on Burns, who simply nodded and said, “You’re right.”

  “What?”

  “You’re right.” Burns tried to gesture, forgetting the restraints for a moment, and grimaced as they pulled on his wrists. “I made the decision without bothering to learn the facts. I didn’t stop to consider the human cost. I didn’t consider the people who would be affected. It was a grossly unjust decision. I would like the chance to make it right.”

  “I don’t believe you. You won’t sacrifice your political career for the likes of us.”

  “I think I’m going to have to,” said Burns. “Mr. Rodriguez, at some point in any politician’s career he has to ask himself one question: am I in politics to serve the people, or only to serve my own ambition? Being abducted isn’t how I would have chosen to get to this point, but being here with you, watching you, seeing you as human beings for the first time . . . I think it’s time for me to me to ask myself that question. I’m the one who has to live with myself after I answer it.”

  Kaidan cleared his throat. “Miguel, if you want justice done, you need Burns. He can get you what you want. Kill him and justice won’t matter anymore. Whoever replaces him will never move on the issue.”

  Rodriguez stood silent for a long time. He looked around the room at his compatriots, reading their faces. I did the same. A few still seemed hostile, but most of them looked thoughtful.

  “All right,” he said finally. “This is probably a mistake, Burns, and I still don’t trust you any further than I can throw you, but maybe this is a real change of heart.”

  “It is,” said Burns. “I swear to you, when I get back to Arcturus I will re-open the reparations question and do everything in my power to see a bill passed.”

  “Take the cuffs off him.” Rodriguez turned to us. “He’s yours. Now what happens to us?”

  Kaidan sighed. “Miguel, you know the Alliance can’t afford to just let you and your people go. There are millions of people back on Earth with grievances. If we show them that all they have to do is pick up a gun and grab hostages to get what they want . . .”

  “Yeah. On the other hand, I don’t think you want seventeen angry biotics on board your ship. Alliance frigate, right? Maybe forty crew? You have a secure brig large enough for all of us? Enough guards to keep us locked up if we decide we don’t want to be?”

  Kaidan said nothing, exercising his poker face.

  “Right.” Rodriguez sighed, bracing his shoulders as if taking up a heavy weight. “I’ll turn myself in and let the Alliance throw the book at me. The Alliance can say they’ve dealt with terrorists, and parade me around for the cameras. Let the rest of my people go. They’ll leave Alliance space, go into hiding, and stay quiet.”

  For a moment I envisioned him standing next to Shepard, and realized how similar they were. That is what human leadership looks like, I realized.

  “I would support such a solution,” said Burns quietly.

  “If your people will renounce violence, there are worlds within asari space that might welcome them,” I suggested. “I have contacts that might be useful.”

  “That would work,” said Rodriguez. “None of us are violent by nature, just angry and desperate.”

  “All right, let me contact my commander and see if we can make this work,” said Kaidan.

  On the way back to the Normandy, Chairman Burns walked ahead of us down the boarding tube. Rodriguez followed us, disarmed and ready to go into custody. Kaidan leaned close and whispered, “Thanks for coming, Liara. You were a big help.”

  I looked at him: calm, quiet, unassuming, perhaps a little stolid. He had no ambition to command, and he would never share Shepard’s exuberance or self-confidence. Yet in many ways he served as the rock upon which our team was built. A man to hold in deep respect.

  “For you, Kaidan, I would gladly do anything,” I told him, and I meant it.

  Chapter 21 : Hell's Hound

  While Normandy ranged further out into the galactic wilds, I spent my time working on a research paper, possibly the most important paper I have ever written.

  It opened as a survey of available evidence for the time, speed, and nature of the Prothean extinction. This part carried no controversy. The galactic scientific community had long since reached consensus on these issues. The extinction occurred about fifty thousand years before the present, it took place over a period of less than five hundred years, and it involved such intense and widespread violence that only tiny fragments of Prothean remains had ever been recovered in our time.

  Controversy began in the next section. There I surveyed the hypotheses current in the scientific community regarding the cause of the Prothean extinction, and demonstrated that none of these hypotheses fit the available evidence.

  Most experts at the time believed that the Protheans destroyed themselves in a galaxy-wide civil war. In my paper I argued at length that no mere civil war could have destroyed every last Prothean everywhere in the galaxy, so quickly and so completely that not even physical remains survived. I demonstrated that no other known civilization ever managed such a feat. Even historical cultures known to have destroyed themselves, usually through nuclear conflict or environmental mismanagement, always left behind plenty of physical remains.

  I also made an argument based on the science of hoplology, which uses mathematical and statistical methods to study warfare. I asserted that civil war is inherently self-limiting. As any population fighting a civil war decreases in size, it also loses its ability to continue fighting, and this effect can be described mathematically. It is therefore not hard to prove that civil warfare always leaves behind a remnant population capable of recovery. Again I produced multiple examples from galactic history to bolster the argument. So far as we knew, the Protheans had left behind no remnant population. Therefore civil war could not have been the primary cause of their extinction.

  Another common hypothesis attributed the Prothean extinction to a galaxy-wide natural disaster. Candidates for such a catastrophe included a brief period of explosive activity in the galactic core, a truly massive gamma-ray burster that sterilized the entire galactic disc, and so on. I had no trouble at all refuting this hypothesis. I drew on astronomical and geological research to show that there existed no physical evidence for any such event at the right time. I also demonstrated that no such disaster could have destroyed all physical remains of the Prothean species. Finally, any natural disaster capable of destroying the advanced Prothean civilization would also have eradicated all of our own ancestors. Since we lived to argue about the subject, no such natural disaster could have occurred.

  A third and final hypothesis, championed by the turian archaeologist Milon Asterius, introduced the possibility of synthetic hunter-killers. Asterius imagined machines, programmed to systematically search out and destroy Protheans wherever they tried to hide. I had to handle this last hypothesis with care, because I had come to suspect it brushed very close to the truth.

  In my paper, I agreed that synthetics could have been programmed to eradicate the Prothean species, even down to the destruction of all physical remains. However, I disagreed with Asterius regarding the origins of those murderous machines. Asterius proposed that the Protheans built their own destroyers, possibly as a weapon in their putative civil war, and that the hunter-killers in turn became extinct once the Protheans were gone. To oppose this idea, I reviewed the evidence for pre-Prothean civilizations which had also become abruptly extinct. I argued that if an extinction cycle existed and predated the Protheans, its cause could not have originated with them. I also pointed out that if the murderous synthetics had also become extinct, we would today have evidence for their physical remains.

  I concluded the paper by proposing a modification of the Asterius hypothesis: Some unknown party created hunter-killer synthetics at some point in the distant past, at least one million years ago and possibly long before that. These synthetics bore responsibility for the abrupt extinction of a number of galac
tic civilizations, most recently the Protheans. We had good reason to believe they had survived the Protheans and still existed in some form. I strongly suggested, but stopped short of explicitly stating, that they might come back.

  I presented evidence, citing the so-called “Leviathan of Dis,” the aeons-old war that had scarred the surface of the planet Klendagon, the destruction of ancient civilizations on the planets Etamis and Joab, and most notably the recent find on Trebin. I made several carefully worded predictions that could be supported or falsified by new evidence. I concluded by calling for the scientific community to seek out further confirmation.

  I finally completed the paper a few days after our mission to rescue Martin Burns, under an innocuous title: A Survey of Competing Hypotheses for the Cause of the Prothean Extinction. It first appeared in the April 2183 edition of Transactions of the Society for Prothean Studies. At Shepard’s suggestion I also forwarded it to Acta Militaris, the leading journal of the Systems Alliance War College at Arcturus.

  Let the record state that I was the first. Tali discovered the truth, ripping it from a geth memory core. Shepard brought the truth to the attention of the galaxy’s leaders in a closed Council session. I was the first to frame the truth in objective, scientific terms. I was the first to bring the Reaper hypothesis to the attention of the galaxy as a whole.

  That one paper counts as the second greatest scientific achievement of my life. Years later it was to win me the T’Sarien, Praxis, and Nobel awards.

  At the time, of course, almost no one paid it any attention. In most of Citadel Space the paper was ignored, at least until the Reapers arrived three years later to provide conclusive supporting evidence. Fortunately for all of us, my paper did receive closer consideration in human space, especially among certain members of the Alliance Admiralty.

  As I soon discovered, another human group was also paying very close attention to my work.

  * * *

  17 April 2183, Yangtze System Space

  Shepard rarely used the ship’s conference room, preferring instead to meet with all of us while “doing the rounds” of the ship each day. Still, there were few alternatives on the Normandy for large meetings, or if Shepard needed to communicate with the Council. On this occasion all of his closest associates attended: Kaidan, Lieutenants Adams and Pressley, Ashley, Garrus, Tali, Wrex, and me.

  “What we discuss today is not to leave this room,” said Shepard once we had all seated ourselves. “We have a mission to carry out, not from the Alliance, but under my authority as a Spectre. The mission is highly sensitive and we have very little margin for error.”

  I glanced around the room. All of the humans looked very sober, not accustomed to their commander in this mood. Garrus watched Shepard with fierce attention. Tali’s face remained unreadable, but she too seemed very focused. Only Wrex appeared overcome with ennui.

  “We have approached Binthu, second planet in the Yangtze star system, in the Voyager Cluster,” said Shepard. “Lieutenant Pressley, our position and status?”

  The navigator stirred in his chair. “We’ve taken up a position in the L2 Lagrange point of Binthu’s only moon. Drives in standby mode and stealth systems up. We should be invisible from the planet’s surface, and very difficult to spot for any ships approaching or departing the planet.”

  Shepard turned to Adams. “How long can we keep stealth systems up?”

  “Heat sinks are in good order,” said the engineer. “We can stay in drift mode for about eighty hours before we have to vent. Quite a bit less if we maneuver.”

  “Relay probes?”

  “All three in orbit around the moon. We have complete coverage of the planet.”

  “Excuse me, Commander,” I interrupted. “Clearly we are taking extraordinary care not to be detected as we approach this planet. As I recall, Binthu is uninhabitable and almost completely unexplored. Do we have reason to believe there is someone here?”

  “Yes, we do.” Shepard tapped at his omni-tool and used the conference room’s holo-projectors to display a geophysical map of Binthu.

  I saw a rather dull world, smaller than the usual terrestrial planet, with little geologic activity and no sign of native life. Carbon dioxide dominated the atmosphere, with chlorine and sulfur compounds in the mix. I noted a few small seas, horribly toxic with acids and salts. The wide continents had no mountain ranges, covered instead with low rolling hills and wide plains. Fierce chemical weathering probably wore any mountains down in mere millions of years.

  Shepard zoomed in on a specific area of the largest continent, close to the planet’s equator. Map symbols bloomed like red flowers: radio and microwave transmissions, neutrino emissions from a fusion power plant, and signs of metal and ceramic materials. I glanced at the scale, and felt my eyes widen a little in surprise. An extensive facility, or set of facilities, had been built on and under Binthu’s surface.

  “We’ve seen pirates and slavers before, working out of prefab habitats on hostile worlds. This is on a completely different scale. There are probably hundreds of people down there, and I think we can assume that the place is well-defended.”

  “So who is it, do we know?” asked Garrus.

  “We believe the facility belongs to a rogue human group named Cerberus.”

  The name meant nothing to me at the time, but Garrus sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Terrorists.”

  “Not just terrorists.” Shepard abolished the holographic map and stepped out into the center of the conference room. “Cerberus is a low-key organization, and it seems to place a very high value on secrecy and discretion. The Alliance can’t even be sure how long the organization has been in existence. There’s evidence that it’s been active almost as far back as the First Contact War. Although we’re fairly certain that Cerberus has been behind certain incidents of sabotage or political murder, it’s difficult to attribute any given event to them. They don’t announce their involvement or ‘take credit’ for violent incidents. Nor do they overtly work to push a specific political agenda in human space. They seem to have . . . much larger goals.”

  Garrus nodded. “We got briefings on Cerberus while I was in C-Sec. A little thin. Not much more than watch out for these guys, they’re bad news.”

  “The Alliance has recently been carrying out an inquiry into Cerberus. In fact, we took part in that inquiry when we investigated the disappearance of Alliance troops on Edolus. This was just after you joined us, Liara, and you didn’t come along on that mission.”

  I nodded, remembering the incident. Someone had lured the missing Marines to their deaths in a thresher maw’s nest. At the time Shepard had been unable to determine who was behind the ambush.

  Shepard continued. “We reported our results to Rear Admiral Kahoku back on the Citadel. The admiral disappeared without a trace a few days later. The investigation into Cerberus has been in disarray ever since.”

  “They’re covering their tracks,” said Garrus.

  “Very likely. I’ve spoken privately to Admiral Hackett on this subject. He told me there’s evidence of Cerberus infiltration at very high levels of the Alliance, both in the military and the civilian government. The Admiral has given me no orders regarding Cerberus . . . but on my authority as a Spectre, I decided some time ago to investigate them independently if an opportunity presented itself. Now it has.”

  “What are your orders, sir?” asked Kaidan calmly.

  “We loiter here for the next few hours and gather more SIGINT. Unless we can verify the facility is not Cerberus and it has a legitimate reason for being here, I will lead a team down in the Mako. Kaidan, you will remain on board the Normandy and prepare to deliver additional ground support. We will perform reconnaissance and infiltration to gather more intelligence. If it seems appropriate, we will mount an assault on the facility and destroy it.”

  Kaidan nodded.

  “Six hours,” Shepard concluded. “Everyone get some rest and get ready.”

  * * *

&n
bsp; 17 April 2183, Cadmus Station/Binthu

  Normandy deposited us just over the horizon from the unknown facility, a line of low hills between us and our target. As usual, Shepard drove the Mako, while Ashley ran the weapons systems, I took the EWS console, and Garrus, Tali, and Wrex waited in the expanded passenger compartment.

  What I could see of Binthu appeared thoroughly unpleasant. A light rain fell, my instruments reading it as a weak solution of sulfuric acid. I worried for the integrity of the Mako, and of our suits if we had to go outdoors for any length of time. Clays made up most of the surface, covered by deposits of salt and sulfur compounds, a very friable composite easily broken up and scattered by the Mako’s wheels. Shepard had to drive very slowly, careful not to sink into soft or moist ground.

  “Hey, Shepard, I kind of like this place,” observed Wrex. “Reminds me of stories my family used to tell about fighting the rachni back in the good old days. Wouldn’t it be a kick in the quad if we came across a few of those here? You know, now that they’re out and about again.”

  “I doubt it, Wrex.” Shepard glanced over his shoulder. “We’re a long way from Noveria.”

  “You never know. They get around,” said the krogan darkly.

  “Liara, any sign of active sensors?” asked Shepard.

  “There’s definitely active radar in operation up ahead, but it’s configured to watch the sky. Signal strength here on the ground isn’t nearly enough to detect us.”

  We climbed up the low range of hills, stopping behind the ridgeline where the facility still had no line of sight to us. Then we sealed our suits, emerged from the Mako, and moved on foot up to the closest vantage point.

  Through binoculars the nearest part of the facility bulked very low, a one-story structure sheathed in thick ceramic against the acidity of the environment. Most of the facility had to be located underground. For the first time I saw the symbol Cerberus had chosen for itself, painted on the outer wall of the structure: a tall, narrow hexagon with two sidebars, all in black and gold against a white background.

 

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