by Joan Jett
We left them behind.
* * *
Above the detention area we found more laboratory space, this time with some of the scientists still at work when we arrived. The scientific team had an odd composition, led by a krogan. I couldn’t judge how accomplished he was as a scientist, but he showed all of his people’s usual talent for combat. He and his asari assistants fired on us the moment we appeared, and it wasn’t at all easy to defeat them.
I had lost track of the direction of our objective. Fortunately Shepard wasn’t so easily confused. He led us confidently as we worked our way to the back of the research building. Eventually we emerged on a long exterior walkway looking out over a beautiful lagoon. To the left the walkway led to a tower, isolated from the research building. To the right it passed along the edge of the research building, and then ended in a raised drawbridge. On the far side of the drawbridge stood a very large structure, possibly the main fortified complex.
Shepard stopped for a moment, frowning as he tried to decide which direction to choose.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The breeding facility is that way,” he pointed to the right, “but the way is blocked. I don’t see any other way in.”
“What about that building to the left?” I suggested. “It might be a control center of some kind.”
“Worth a try. Come on.”
We defeated two geth platforms and entered the tower.
Inside we found an office, a surprisingly opulent room, richly appointed with a magnificent view of the ocean. I saw a conference table, a holographic communications platform, an enormous desk with a polished black surface . . .
A sound came from under the desk. All of us pointed our weapons. “Come out,” snapped Shepard.
“Don’t shoot, please!” A dark-skinned asari clambered out from beneath the desk, dressed in a lab coat, her hands in plain view, her expression terrified. “I just want to get out of here before it’s too late.”
“We’re not going to hurt you unless you open fire first,” said Shepard. “So far you’re the first person who hasn’t done that. Who are you?”
“Rana Thanoptis, neurospecialist. Saren hired me to work in the lab . . . but this job isn’t worth dying over, or worse. Sooner or later the indoctrination is going to get me too!”
“You’re not here to work on krogan biology?”
Thanoptis shook her head emphatically. “None of us are, not on this level. We’re studying the effect of proximity to Sovereign on organic minds. At least that’s what I deduced after I was here for a while. Saren kept us all in the dark as much as possible.”
“You helped him and you did not even know why?” I asked.
“After I got here, I discovered I didn’t have the option of negotiating. This position is a lot more permanent than I expected.” Her expression changed, became evasive, even crafty. “I can help you, though. This is Saren’s personal office. That door behind me is his private lab space. Nobody knows what he does in there . . . but I can get you in.”
Thanoptis went to the door, used her omni-tool to hack the lock. While she was thus engaged, Shepard and I shared a quick glance, a flicker of agreement.
“See?” said the scientist, wheedling. “Full access. All of Saren’s private files. Are we good? Can I go?”
“In a minute,” Shepard answered. “Tell me about your research first. What exactly were you studying here?”
“It’s that dreadnaught, Sovereign. It emits some kind of signal or energy field. Undetectable, but it’s there. I’ve seen the effects, measured them. Saren uses it to influence his followers. To control them.”
“Shepard, that fits what my mother said about indoctrination,” I pointed out.
“Your mother?” asked Thanoptis in a shrill voice. “By the Goddess, you’re Benezia’s daughter?”
“That’s correct.”
“Well, she would know. She spent months on board Sovereign. Saren owned her, body and spirit.”
I tilted my head back, giving Thanoptis an angry look, but I decided not to dispute her.
“Direct exposure to the signal eventually renders you a willing slave,” she continued, “but there’s collateral damage too. The subject becomes increasingly unable to think independently. Complete mindlessness, like those salarian test subjects on the first floor. It happens to everyone here eventually. My first test subject was the man I replaced. Now I just want to get out of here before it happens to me.”
Shepard scratched at the stubble on his cheeks. “So why is Saren researching this? Isn’t he the one controlling it?”
“The signal doesn’t come from Saren, it comes from the ship. It makes people obey him, but I don’t think he controls it.” A haunted expression came into her eyes. “I think . . . I think he’s frightened it might be affecting him. Indoctrination is subtle. By the time the effects become noticeable, it’s already too late.”
“All right, Rana.” Shepard smiled warmly at her. “Here’s the thing. I’m going to blow this place to hell and gone. If you want to make it out alive, I’d suggest you start running.”
“What? You can’t – but I’ll never – aaah!”
Thanoptis bolted for the door behind us and disappeared.
“You enjoyed that,” I said accusingly.
“Damn right I did. Come on.”
Behind Saren’s office we found an elevator to take us up to the higher floors. Tali checked her omni-tool. “Shepard, I’m getting some very strange readings from just above us.”
I opened my own omni-tool, testing the environment for EM and gravitic radiation. What I saw caused me to gasp in surprise.
“What?” asked Shepard.
“If this is correct – Shepard, these readings are typical of certain kinds of Prothean technology. Specifically . . .”
The elevator opened.
“. . . a beacon,” I breathed.
Equipment filled the room: computers, communications gear, instruments for high-energy and mass-effect physics, and a powerful electron microscope. None of us paid any of it any attention.
At the far end of the room, there loomed a Prothean beacon. It appeared identical to the Eden Prime device before its destruction. It stood isolated from all the other equipment, nothing but an elaborate holographic control console floating in mid-air before it.
This one was working. I could see the shimmering of strange energies all up and down its length.
Shepard didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, glanced at the control panel, and reached out to touch an activation switch. Then he stood tall, his hands relaxed at his sides, and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. The beacon flared, distorting the light as mass-effect fields twisted the structure of local space. It lifted Shepard off the floor, holding him rigidly about a meter in the air.
I nearly leaped to touch him, to pull him away – but then I remembered his description of the Eden Prime beacon. This was part of the beacon’s normal function, and in fact Shepard’s interference might have been what destroyed the other device. I stayed my hand and held my breath in suspense.
From where I stood, I could see his face. I expected a rictus of tension, but in fact he seemed relaxed, almost serene as the information poured into his mind. Slowly his eyes opened . . . and then the beacon released him and he fell to hands and knees on the floor, breathing hard.
I unlocked my muscles and ran to him, helped him to his feet. “What did you see?”
“The same vision,” he told me, “but there was more. I think I got the whole message this time.”
I stared. “Then you now have everything Saren has?”
He grabbed my shoulders, sudden triumph washing across his face. “I can’t be sure . . . but I think so. We’ll have to look into it when we get back to the ship. Together.”
I nodded slowly, understanding his suggestion.
Then another voice intruded: very deep, full of odd harmonics, like an electronic musical instrument trying to
replicate the sound of distant thunder.
“You are not Saren.”
Chapter 39 : The Death of the Righteous
20 May 2183, Saren’s Headquarters/Virmire
We all turned, seeking the source of that terrible voice.
We had thought one corner of Saren’s lab to be empty. Now a hologram slowly faded into existence: a weirdly alien creature, like an insect or crustacean, with an oblong body and numerous appendages, all drawn in light of a deepest red.
“I get the feeling something bad is about to happen,” said Wrex.
“You are not Saren,” the voice repeated.
Curious, I stared at the apparition, trying to determine what it meant. “What is that? Some kind of VI interface?”
Shepard shook his head, approaching the hologram cautiously. “No. It’s an image of Saren’s flagship.”
“Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh. You touch my mind, fumbling in ignorance, incapable of understanding.”
“Goddess. You mean that’s Sovereign?”
Shepard only nodded, awe and fear on his face.
“There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own that you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension. I am Sovereign.”
“Sovereign isn’t just a piece of Reaper technology, a derelict Saren found to use as his flagship,” said Shepard slowly. “It’s . . . an actual Reaper.”
“Reaper? A label created by the Protheans to give voice to their destruction. In the end, what you choose to call us is irrelevant. We simply are.”
“How is that possible?” I asked. “The Protheans vanished fifty thousand years ago. The cycle of extinctions goes back for millions of years at least.”
“Organic life is nothing but a genetic mutation. An accident. Your lives are measured in years and decades. You wither and die. We are eternal: the pinnacle of evolution and existence. Before us, you are nothing. Your extinction is inevitable. We are the end of everything.”
Shepard shook his head, his jaw set in determination. “I don’t know how you defeated the Protheans, but you won’t defeat us. There’s an entire galaxy of races, united and ready to face you.”
“Confidence born of ignorance. The cycle cannot be broken.”
“Cycle? What cycle?” asked Wrex.
“The pattern has repeated itself more times than you can fathom. Organic civilizations evolve, rise, advance . . . and at the apex of their glory, they are extinguished. The Protheans were not the first. They did not create the Citadel. They did not forge the mass relays. They merely found them, the legacy of my kind, as many others have found them across the eons.”
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
“Since before any of your suns burned in space. The galaxy has rotated many times about its hub since the cycle began. It will not end until the last stars have guttered into darkness.”
My mind reeled. “Merciful Goddess. Billions of years?”
“I don’t understand,” said Shepard. “Why would you construct the mass relays, then leave them for someone else to find?”
“Like all those who came before, your civilization is based on the technology of the mass relays: our technology. By using it, your society commits itself to develop along the paths we desire. In this way we impose order on the chaos of organic evolution. You exist because we allow it. You will end because we demand it.”
“They’re harvesting us,” I whispered, shaking in horror. “Letting us advance to a certain level, then taking what they need and destroying the rest. The galaxy is nothing but a vast garden for them.”
“Or a hunting ground,” Wrex rumbled.
Shepard placed a steadying hand on my shoulder, but continued to face Sovereign. “Where are the rest of the Reapers? Are you the last of your kind?”
“We are legion. The time of our return is at hand. Our numbers will darken the sky of every world. You cannot escape your doom.”
“Where did you come from? Who built you?”
“We have no beginning. We will have no end. We are infinite. A billion years after your civilization has been eradicated and forgotten, we will endure.”
“Why?” demanded Shepard, stepping forward until he was face-to-face with the hologram. “What do you want from us? What could you possibly have to gain?”
“My kind transcends your very understanding. We are each a nation, independent, free of all weakness. You cannot even grasp the nature of our existence. We want nothing from you. We need nothing from you. You are merely dust in a cosmic wind, caught up in our eternal purpose.”
“You’re not even alive,” Shepard concluded. “Not really. Just a machine following a program . . . and machines can be broken!”
“Your words are as empty as your future. I am the vanguard of your destruction.”
The hologram began to fade.
“This exchange is over.”
For over a minute we stood there, rooted to the floor in shock. We had experienced too many revelations: Saren possibly not in control of his own mind, Sovereign as the true prime mover behind events, the sheer vastness of the Reapers’ scheme in both time and space.
Suddenly a thought occurred to me. “Did anyone think to record that?”
“I did,” said Tali, holding up her omni-tool.
“Thank the Goddess. Shepard, I think we have evidence of the Reaper hypothesis. More than we could have ever dreamed possible, short of the Reapers actually returning to the galaxy.”
“Hmm. I doubt it will convince anyone who has a vested interest in the status quo, which is probably almost everyone. I’ll take it anyway.”
“Commander?” Joker’s voice on our general channel, sounding frightened.
“Go ahead, Joker.”
“Did you order one highly visible two-kilometer-high robot cuttlefish?”
“Sovereign?”
“None other. Just dropped out of FTL, ten light-minutes out, and it’s flying like a bat out of hell. ETA less than an hour. You’d better wrap up what you’re doing down there or we’re all in deep trouble.”
“Solid copy, Joker.” Shepard turned to all of us. “You heard the man. Let’s move!”
* * *
In Saren’s office we found the controls for the drawbridge. Out on the walkway we encountered three krogan warriors, but these only took a few minutes to defeat. Passing through the compound, we emerged again on the approach to the AA tower: our objective.
This final stretch gave us the hardest fight of all. We found very little cover between us and the tower. Krogan warriors charged us across the walkways. Geth hoppers clung to the tower walls and sniped at anyone who stood still for more than a moment. Just as we thought we had begun to make progress, three rocket drones soared into the sky above us and began to rain death on our heads.
Shepard saved us. Any doubts he may have had after Feros, after he and I had our time of darkness, all of them had gone. Sovereign had failed to daunt him. Once again he maintained perfect situational awareness, never surprised by anything the enemy did. He kept us all moving, all firing on any target of opportunity, all alive.
None of us remained unscathed by the time we reached the controls for the AA guns . . . but thanks to medi-gel and sheer determination, we all stood on our feet, ready to fight onward.
The geth tried to ambush us moments later, riding up a nearby lift to spill out into our midst. Tali heard them coming and gave us a moment’s warning, and we met the geth with a barrage of gunfire.
The same lift led down to the level of the breeding facility. Wrex impatiently kicked the wrecked geth out onto the floor of the tower, so the doors would close.
We emerged on the floor of the breeding facility: a long gallery, open to the sky, awash with water above our ankles, with massive pieces of odd technology set up along both walls. A few geth and krogan waited for us in the gallery, not enough to resist us for very long. Once the fight was over, Wrex took a moment to examine the equipment.
“Look at
this,” he said. “These big tanks. They were growing krogan in these.”
I moved up to look at one of the devices with him. “This does not look like anything to do with natural krogan reproduction.”
“We knew that already. I guessed earlier that Saren was cloning krogan, then force-growing the clones to adulthood. Not an easy thing to do.”
“Why is that?”
“Krogan are hard to clone. Our DNA is more complicated than most. Then the hatchlings are real sensitive to the female’s hormones before she lays the eggs. Hard to get that right in a tank.”
I scanned the equipment with my omni-tool. Something about it . . .
“Shepard, a moment?” I called.
“What is it, Liara? We need to get moving,” said Shepard.
“This will only take a minute. Do you think this equipment is familiar somehow? Look at these readings on its power sources and composition.”
Garrus grunted. “Huh. That does look familiar. Where have we seen this before?”
“A week or so ago,” I suggested. “You and Shepard boarded a ship in the Kepler Verge.”
“Right!” said Tali, using her own omni-tool. “We looked at some of Dr. Saleon’s technology after he was killed, the equipment he used to stimulate the growth of extra cloned organs in his victims. This isn’t the same . . .”
“But similar,” I agreed. I shot Shepard an irritated glance. “I would be more certain if I had been able to see Dr. Saleon’s laboratory for myself.”
He frowned, but nodded in agreement. “My bad. What does it mean?”
“Similar technology, similar source?” suggested Tali.
“Are you saying Dr. Saleon was working with Saren?” asked Garrus.
I shook my head. “You didn’t see any other evidence of that, did you?”
“No. As far as C-Sec could tell, Saleon was a renegade, working on his own.”
“They got their technology independently, but from the same place,” guessed Wrex.
“The Reapers?” Shepard was skeptical. “This doesn’t seem like their style.”