Deep Space: An Epic Sci-Fi Romance

by Joan Jett

  Our actual mission was quite different. The Council remained dubious about the Reaper hypothesis, unwilling to commit the galaxy to full-scale preparation against a threat that might never materialize. They therefore sent Normandy in search of the ironclad proof they needed in order to act. We would look for evidence that the Reapers had once destroyed the Protheans, still existed, and were likely to return.

  Thessia was our first destination.

  I’m sure neither the Alliance nor the Council considered the asari homeworld in need of our attention. As it happened, the University of Serrice had hastily convened a scientific conference to discuss “recent developments in research on the Prothean extinction.” It would give us a good opportunity to broadcast all that we had learned to the scientific community. If we presented things properly, the community would do most of the work of gathering evidence for us.

  Naturally, politicians who don’t like the results of scientific research will ignore or deny them as long as possible. Still, the more reputable scientists we could get to support the Reaper hypothesis, the more likely that even the Council would stop to listen.

  I should be clear that the timing of this conference was a complete coincidence, and entirely at the behest of the University of Serrice. The fact that I still held a tenured position at the university, or that the T’Soni family foundation had just made a substantial contribution to their capital fund, had nothing to do with it.

  Ilos provided the centerpiece of the conference. Shepard and Pressley made a presentation on the discovery of the lost planet’s location. We presented photographs and recordings that we had taken on Ilos itself. At the end of the first day, we played a recording of our conversation with Vigil to a packed lecture hall. Then we let the assembled scientists go, heady with excitement at the prospect of launching their own expeditions to the legendary world.

  On the second day, we hit them with the Reapers. I presented addenda to my last paper, covering all that we had learned during the last days of our fight against Saren. Technical experts from the Citadel gave preliminary reports on their analysis of the fragments of Sovereign. Then we played another recording to the main hall: our conversation with Sovereign on Virmire. The Reaper’s manifesto.

  The results were explosive. After every presentation on the second day, staid, respectable scientists could be seen screaming at each other in the corridors. A few of them nearly came to blows. Others stormed out of the hall, leaving the conference. Yet amid all the fierce debate I saw some very thoughtful faces, more and more of them as the day passed.

  Afterward I had private conversations with several scientists, people I suspected would be very helpful in the months to come: Garrett Bryson from Earth, Mahinda Chandana from Elysium, Amanda Kenson from Arcturus, Athana Orysae from Thessia, and Rish Kalan from Mannovai. All of them seemed at least tentatively convinced of the Reaper hypothesis, and all of them stood ready to begin work on its further confirmation. I promised to support their efforts as far as possible.

  * * *

  5 June 2183, Armali/Thessia

  After the conference ended Normandy’s crew had shore leave, for the first time since the attack on Eden Prime. Shepard and I traveled to Armali to visit the ancestral T’Soni estates. Our aircar left the city and passed over green countryside, rolling hills and small rivers, dotted with small towns and scattered farms. Up ahead we saw the seashore.

  “Where’s your house?” Shepard asked after a while.

  “There,” I pointed as it came into view.

  His eyes went wide.

  I grew up in a large house, even by asari standards: over seventy rooms and about six thousand square meters of living space. It sprawled across a hilltop, at the heart of a two-hundred-hectare estate of farmland and forest, facing the seashore a few hundred meters away. It was over three thousand years old, built in a neo-Calydonian style popular at the dawn of our interstellar age, all courtyards, fountains, and stately colonnades.

  I sent the family pass-code as we approached the estate’s airspace, then guided the aircar to a landing near the front doors. As we emerged, five asari walked gracefully down the grand staircase to meet us. Kallyria led the deputation, a tall and statuesque asari just entering her matriarchal years, looking much like Benezia but somehow softer in demeanor. She wore a long robe in crimson silk, an elaborate headdress, and a warm smile.

  Kallyria was my mother’s younger sister. She had all Benezia’s intelligence but none of her ambition, had never sought to teach or lead others. She led no acolytes of her own, and had never sworn the acolyte’s oath to another. She remained content simply to live among her family, enjoying all the pleasures cultured life on Thessia could offer. She had borne three daughters, all by utterly conventional relationships with salarian fathers, all of them centuries older than I and with their own adult children.

  “Aunt Kallyria,” I greeted her, accepting her embrace gladly.

  “Liara. I understand I have you to thank for this dreadful responsibility.” She smiled as she said it.

  “Blame Sha’ira, not me. She made the recommendation, I only agreed to it.” I turned to Shepard, who looked rather as if he faced an imminent battle. “Kallyria, this is Commander Shepard. My siavi-consort.”

  “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Shepard in tolerable asari.

  “I am pleased to make yours,” said Kallyria, her eyes glittering with enjoyment as she examined him. “I have heard a great deal about you, Commander.”

  “All of it good, I hope.”

  “Most of it, and what little was not only serves to lend spice. Liara, do you wish to take possession of the house and lands?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. We will be returning to Normandy in a few days. I don’t know when I will be home for good.”

  Kallyria nodded gracefully. “Take as long as you need.”

  “There’s just so much for us to do, and . . .”

  “Liara. Do not concern yourself with it. These are your maiden years. It is your task to go out into the universe, learn, and do great deeds. It is the task of those of us who are matrons and Matriarchs to ensure that you have a home to return to when you are ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Will you at least take the master suite for yourself and your consort?”

  I hesitated.

  Kallyria smiled. “Have no fear, Liara. We have not left it as it was when Benezia was in residence. We have removed most of her things and decorated it in a manner that should be more in accordance with your character.”

  “I suppose there would be no harm in trying,” I surrendered.

  We spent the afternoon and evening talking with Kallyria about management of the wealth that Benezia left me. Shepard seemed reluctant to join us, but we insisted. He did have insights to offer, although he seemed more and more dazed as the discussion wore on.

  “Good Lord, Liara,” he remarked after Kallyria left us to enjoy dinner alone. “I had no idea you came from such a wealthy family.”

  “Does it bother you, Shepard?” I asked, concerned.

  “Maybe.” He toyed with his fork, moving some of the seafood salad around on his plate. “I know we haven’t discussed a more permanent relationship, but I have thought about it. In comparison with all this, I don’t have much to bring to the table. All I have is fifty or sixty thousand credits in the bank. The sum total of my worldly possessions fits into one footlocker and a rather small storage unit back on Earth.”

  I reached out and put my hand over his. “Shepard. You bring yourself to the table. That is more than enough.”

  “Hmm. I remember a story I read once.”

  I waited, listening.

  “The hero of the story was a soldier like me, just after a difficult war. He met a beautiful girl who recruited him to go on a grand adventure, full of intrigue and danger. They succeeded, and saved more worlds than he had ever known existed. But then he discovered that she was a princess who ruled over a vast kingdom.
She was fabulously wealthy and powerful, and after taking up residence in her palace he found he had nothing worthwhile to do. The only profession he knew was that of a soldier, and there were no more wars for him to fight. They loved each other very much, but she couldn’t live in his world, and before long he realized that he couldn’t live in hers. Finally he had to leave her or go crazy.”

  After a minute I asked, “Do you really think our story is going to be like that?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not . . . but I can’t get the thought out of my head.”

  I sipped my wine to give myself a moment to think. “Shepard, I think you are borrowing trouble. If the Reapers are coming, how likely is it that we will ever be able to settle down in peace? Shouldn’t we cherish the time we have, however long that may be?”

  He gave me an ironic smile. “You’re being asari again.”

  “Always.” I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling a hot prickle of desire down my spine. “If you’re not going to eat any more of that, I have a better idea for how we can be spending our time.”

  Kallyria’s word turned out to be good. The master suite no longer felt as if it belonged to Benezia. Now the walls showed blue and white rather than forest green, with shelves for some of the books and artifacts I had acquired over the years. Starlight and sea air came through the open windows, as I stripped Shepard nude and then thoroughly ravaged him. It felt a little sad and strange at first, enjoying my lover in my mother’s bed, but it ceased to matter when my mind merged with his once more.

  * * *

  8 June 2183, Armali/Thessia

  On the last evening, Kallyria and I held a banquet for all of my friends from the Normandy.

  Since most of our guests were not asari, we moved the long couches out of the great dining hall, and set up one of the massive wooden tables with eleven chairs. I sat at the head of the table. To my immediate left sat Shepard, then Ashley, Garrus, Dr. Chakwas, Engineer Adams, and finally Kallyria at the opposite end of the table. To Kallyria’s left sat Wrex (in a very sturdy chair with extra elbow room on both sides), then Tali, Pressley, and finally Joker on my immediate right. We took great care to serve foods that everyone could enjoy, even dextro-protein dishes for Garrus and Tali, and the wine flowed freely. I called for music, a mix of asari and human orchestral pieces, just loud enough to be heard.

  It was lovely watching all of them together for the last time.

  Ashley spent much of the meal trading boasts and bad jokes with Garrus and Joker. Pressley fell into a deeply technical conversation with Tali, comparing human and quarian navigational procedures.

  Others seemed to have their minds elsewhere. Dr. Chakwas and Engineer Adams chattered happily and became rather tipsy on the wine together. As the evening progressed, they began to hold each other’s gazes more, and their hands began to brush against each other more often.

  Kallyria surprised me by spending most of the evening in conversation with Wrex, of all people. The big krogan certainly seemed to hold up his end of their talk. More than once I saw Kallyria throw back her graceful head and laugh out loud at one of his remarks. I began to wonder whether my aunt, that famous connoisseuse of salarians, was becoming more broadly curious in her later years.

  Goddess, we’ll have to make sure plenty of guest rooms are ready. There may be more than one liaison going on here before morning.

  Once the dessert course wound down, I caught Shepard’s eye. He nodded and rose, holding his wine-glass.

  “Friends. Tomorrow most of us are going back to Normandy. Back to a new mission, which will hopefully not be quite as strenuous as the past few months.”

  “Speak for yourself, Skipper,” said Ashley. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  Shepard grinned. “Still, some of us will be leaving for other destinations, and it’s important for us to give them the right send-off. To begin with: Garrus, it has truly been an honor fighting with you. I’m going to miss your eagle eye and your skill with that sniper rifle, not to mention your sense of humor. Normandy isn’t going to be the same without you, but I’m quite sure that wherever you go, you’ll be doing righteous work.”

  All of us applauded as Garrus stood and raised his own glass of turian brandy. “I don’t think you’ll be rid of me that easily,” he said once we became quiet. “I’ve decided to put in my application for the Spectres. I might just be meeting you somewhere out in the dark corners of the galaxy after all.”

  “That gives me my toast,” said Shepard. “To the Spectres!”

  “To the Spectres!” we cheered, and drank to Garrus.

  “Now for one of the quieter members of the Normandy’s crew,” said Shepard. “Brave, smart, and tougher than almost anyone I’ve ever met. I’ve yet to see the technical problem that she couldn’t solve, and heaven help you if she has reason to come after you with that shotgun of hers. She’ll be going home to her people soon, but she will not be forgotten by the friends she’s made among us. Let me be among the first to congratulate her by her new name: Tali’Zorah vas Neema.”

  Tali stood, overcome, and could only say, “Thank you, Shepard.”

  “For you, Tali, and for all of us, my toast is this: To the homes we all hope to see again one day. Keelah se’lai.”

  “Keelah se’lai,” we all murmured, and drank to Tali.

  “Now for the most unlikely of friends,” Shepard continued. “There’s a word in the krogan language: krantt. It means something closer than mere friendship, closer than any tie of kinship. It denotes those who can be trusted to kill and die at your side, those who can be trusted with your honor and your life. Until we began our mission against Saren, I had never heard the word, and I certainly didn’t understand it. Now I do. Urdnot Wrex, I look on you as one of my krantt, and I am honored to have had a soldier such as yourself at my side in this war.”

  The krogan stood, his tankard raised. “To you, Shepard. For a wandering krogan, true friends are few and far between. I didn’t expect to find any on Normandy. I guess I was luckier than I deserve.”

  “So where are you going, Wrex?” asked Shepard. “You haven’t said much about your plans.”

  “I think my wandering days are over for now,” said Wrex. “I’m going home, to Tuchanka. It’s been a long time. Maybe I can knock some sense into the clans this time. When the Reapers come, you’re going to need the krogan in fighting shape.”

  Kallyria reached out and placed a gentle hand on Wrex’s arm. He smiled down at her.

  “That’s my toast then,” said Shepard quietly. “To Tuchanka. May it rise again.”

  “Tuchanka,” we agreed, and drank to Wrex.

  Shepard sobered, his face calm and intent. “I have one more toast. We’ve lost some of our best in the war against Sovereign. We should remember them now, even as we enjoy this time in peace with our friends.

  “To Richard Jenkins, who died too young, almost before we began this journey.

  “To Nihlus Kryik, Spectre, who would have been my mentor and our ally, if he had not been betrayed by a friend.

  “To Kaidan Alenko, who gave his life that billions who never knew his name might live.

  “To all the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice, from Eden Prime to the Citadel.”

  He paused, and glanced at me. Then he slowly continued.

  “To Matriarch Benezia T’Soni, who walked into hell with open eyes in order to uphold her beliefs.

  “To Saren Arterius, Spectre, who was once one of the galaxy’s greatest defenders, and who in the end died as his own man after all.

  “To the fallen.”

  Silently, we all drank the last of the wine.

  * * *

  Afterward some of the guests accepted my hospitality, while others returned to Armali and the Normandy. Shepard and I remained behind for one last night together, not wanting our brief idyll to come to an end just yet.

  After we made love, I nestled close to his side, resting my head in the hollow of his shoulder and letting his arm cu
rl around me.

  “I love you, Shepard.”

  Chapter 50 : Desolation

  28 June 2183, Amada System Space

  I remember the day it all ended.

  While Normandy dropped out of FTL, I stood working with the galaxy map in the Combat Information Center. I paid little attention, too engrossed in my research, seeking patterns in a sea of data, trying to plan where our mission might be most effective. Only part of my mind listened to the voices from the bridge a few meters away.

  “Disengaging FTL drives,” said Joker from the pilot’s seat. “Emission sinks active. Board is green. We are running silent.”

  “We’re wasting our time,” said Pressley. “Four days searching up and down this sector, and we haven’t found any sign of geth activity.”

  “Three ships went missing here in the past month. Something happened to them.”

  Pressley snorted. “My money’s on slavers. The Terminus Systems are crawling with them, especially this close to Omega.”

  I picked up a datapad and began to walk up the corridor toward the bridge.

  “Picking up something on the long-range scanners,” said Lieutenant Lowe, one of the new crew who had come aboard after the Battle of the Citadel. Her voice became intent as she opened new windows on her display console. “Unidentified vessel. Hmm. Looks like a cruiser.”

  “Doesn’t match any known signatures,” observed Joker.

  Finally something made its way through my fog of preoccupation. “Lieutenant Pressley, what’s happening?”

  The navigator glanced at me. “Can’t say yet, Doctor.”

  “Cruiser is changing course,” said Lowe. “Now on an intercept trajectory.”

  “Can’t be,” said Pressley impatiently. “Our stealth systems are engaged. There’s no way a geth ship could . . .”