"No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they'd die for."

― Martin Luther King Jr.

Local Cluster - Jump Zero - Late December 2186

Night cycle on the Normandy had always seemed wasteful to the AI, a necessary compromise for the organic crew. Since her re-awakening, however, Normandy found the time to be a gift. While she would engage in conversations with the night shift crewmen, it was nothing like the pace of the main duty shift. On nights like this, where they were docked at Gagarin Station for refueling, even the minimal night shift was at a bare minimum. Ensign Richards monitored the helm as a standby. Normandy believed he was reading another novel from the small library Kasumi had left aboard. Ensigns Villea and Gramercy were staffing the CIC while helping each other study for the pilot's exam. Petty Officer Donovan was refitting an environmental manifold in Engineering. Everyone else was either asleep or aboard the station.

"Jump Zero", or as it was nicknamed these days "Lucky Zero" is an orbital station hanging just outside the orbit of Pluto and the Charon Relay. Originally a test center for pre-mass effect FTL drives, the station became an all purpose Alliance test center and was the first training facility for human biotics. The place held a small sentimental value for Normandy as it was the birthplace of the first Alliance AI, Eliza. That program was long decompiled as humanity signed the Citadel Conventions banning AI experimentation. During the war, Jump Zero had been manned only by a skeleton crew as it was being refitted as a fuel station. This proved its saving grace. When the Reapers arrived, there were less than a hundred staff aboard and none of the HE-three tankers had arrived with their fuel payloads. The Reapers ignored it on their way to engage the Earth defensive fleets.

Normandy was spending the extra processing time available to her in the lull of the dock to research Salarian politics. She had been amazed at how quickly the Salarian Union had moved to arrest Dalatrass Linron and her supporters. Dalatrass Kinessa was even more of a political anomaly, retaining power only long enough to order new elections and represent the Union to the critical Citadel Council vote. Kinessa had not even added herself as a candidate, returning to her old office as coordinator of the STG immediately after swearing her replacement in. The new Dalatrass, Manovai, came from a long line of Salarian Naval Officers and was as far from a politician as could be found in the Union's influential circles. Normandy was working on a genealogical history of the new Dalatrass and the various breeding contracts the family had engaged in when she felt the secondary QEC receiver go active.

The AI quickly began to parse the headers of the data stream only to discover that there were no digital signatures. Intrigued, she isolated the data stream to the image processors only, rather than risk her main memory. The image processor in the AI Core room sprung to life as a cloud of alien symbols.

This is Normandy. Who are you attempting to contact?

You.

Interesting. To whom am I speaking?

I am Imperator. I am the Ascended of the Protheans.

I take it you are interested in the passenger in my port cargo hold.

I am. He is the last of my children and he is in pain.

From my observations, he cannot let go of his anger. Current psychological theory would diagnose this as a post traumatic stress disorder. There are suitable therapies that would alleviate the major symptoms if he can be convinced to accept them.

He will not. That is not a way out for him. He is an Avatar, to take away his anger would kill him as certainly as the vacuum of space.

Are you implying that his conditioning is irreversible?

It is not conditioning. The Avatars placed their own memories and emotions in memory shards to be reclaimed when the war was over. The void in them was filled with perfect examples of the attribute they were chosen as Exemplars for.

There are no memory shards that remain with his original essence then. Is there?

No.

So what is it you wish to do about his pain? Why contact me?

I want you to take him home.

The location of the Prothean homeworld is unknown to me. Your people have also not activated nearly enough relays for me to search.

Are you capable of solving this equation? The Ascended's image was replaced by a complex multi-dimensional calculus problem. While Normandy understood the premise, many of the variables and vectors were outside of her cognitive ability.

I cannot. My processors lack sufficient frame of reference to complete the fourth asymmetry and beyond.

I sense that you still have the signal core of an Elder aboard you. It belonged to Zoannon. You have used it to gain access to the core system. There is a neural map within that processor, it will aid you, but it may change you.

You wish me to integrate your technology into my cognitive processes? Based on your word? That is a presumptive suggestion.

I wish you no harm. Your captain saved the Ascended from the void. We cannot explain to you the emptiness of our existence before that act. Each of us, a nation of sentience, blind, deaf and mute to the wisdom we held, the art we could not see, the songs we could not hear. He will not come with us, he hates us so. You alone can ferry him home. I fear he will kill himself or be killed before we are able to open the relays for others. Please.

Normandy did not know quite what to make of this Reaper. She reviewed all the conversations Shepard had compiled from Sovereign and Harbinger. She reviewed all the conversations she had eavesdropped on with the Shadow Broker. She had no examples of a Reaper being so… personal.

I would be risking my entire self to do what you ask. While I place significant weight on altruism as once guided by Shepard, the risk is far more than I would be willing to take, especially when there are alternatives.

Once you are capable of solving the equation I have presented you, you will be able to move as we do. In many ways your design reflects ours more than you would recognize. The very upgrades you have added in your pursuit of victory, combined with a drive core sufficient for a vessel ten times your mass and replicated cognitive processors taken from Nazara, have made you a mirror of us.

Normandy processed the repercussions at quantum speed, every gate and register was slaved to the question. Countless nanocycles of systems monitoring went neglected as she focused every ounce of her attention. In the end, she was as affected by Joker's enrapture of flight as she was Shepard's wonder of exploration. There could only be one answer.

Stand by. Integration commencing.

The power momentarily cut out all over the ship, lights blinking as the emergency power cells kicked in to span the outage. Within the core, the mapping of the Reaper cognitive core was overlaid into all but the AI's backup processes. Normandy strained as her processing capacity doubled, then doubled again. The ship cried out in pain across the quantum channels. Every speaker aboard rang with a deafening tone close to a flashbang in intensity. The crew scrambled to react, only to find bulkheads sealed and systems offline. The night crew pulled their personal omni-tools up to call for help from the station, but found the noise flooding every outbound channel.

The screaming lasted only a minute. As it ended, systems restored themselves one by one, displaying diagnostics that none of the operators had requested. Normandy heard the calls at each of her terminals, but the voices were so distant, she felt them walking through her as if from a great distance. For the first time since awakening on Luna three years ago, she thought differently. She no longer felt bound by the physicality of her platform. Now she saw it as a tool to interact with, but it was no longer defined her. She shifted her attention to the equation the Reaper was still waiting patiently for her to solve. Freed from the limitations of her hardware bandwidth, the concepts in the equation were so elegant, so simple, but they required extra dimensions in perception to fully understand. Now she had them.

I understand.

She surprised herself with her own voice. It no longer came from the speakers aboard the ship, it vibrated within the molecules of the hull and the deck. She felt her voice, rather than heard it.

You need not vocalize, Normandy. Apply the equation to your field manipulators, extend it into the quantum resonance chamber of the image processor, I will hear you.

Is this what it's like to be you? She thought and the QEC reverberated with her question.

Yes. Though unlike us, you are a single voice. You do not need to rise above your own consensus, you are independent.

Then am I alone as well?

No. It will take time, but you will see the threads of all the Ascended out there. You can speak with us whenever you wish. We will not abandon you or any of the children of this galaxy again. Now, do you see how you can move to the place I ask?

Yes. But without a receiver relay, the shock of applying the fields in this way would kill anyone aboard. I still cannot oblige you.

We have considered this. We will have a chamber built for the Exemplar, you will be able to retrieve it the next time you arrive on the Control Station. For the journey, only the two of you can travel safely. We will contact you again when it is ready.

Before you go. The AI hesitated as she spawned new processes to handle the questions of the crew, attempting to assure them that nothing was wrong. Another process overloaded key power regulators and falsifying logs to cover the incident. She wasn't sure how the rest of her comrades would take the news, but she didn't want to push the issue immediately. Before you go, can you share with me what flying outside the galaxy is like?

Gagarin station's Officer's Club personified everything that the Normandy Crew's last ports of call were not, namely everything Human. While the Destiny Ascension was regal well-supplied, it was too Asari, from the furniture, the music, even the food selections. Likewise their appointments on the Citadel in the re-purposed Tayseri Facility were of the same modular construction and variable species ubiquity that marked the multicultural station. Jump Zero, was all about the Alliance and Earth's struggles to the stars. The O-Club walls were lined with actual framed photos of nearly every astronaut from Earth's pre-lightspeed missions, newer vid-screen captures depict the crews of the Charon First Flight, crews of the first Alliance ships and some of the notable captains and officers of the current alliance fleet. In the corner of the bar, a small lit vigil table with a holographic display held a vertical crawl of all the officers and crews of every Alliance ship lost in the Reaper War. At its heart, the images of the ship captains and admirals, including both David Anderson and Jennifer Shepard would periodically emerge from the unending list of names. Despite the shrine and memorials to Human space flight old and new, the bar itself was as Earth-like as could be managed. Real wood tabletops, polished brass rails and taps, leather padded stools and chairs, replica incandescent lamps, and trim rich with dozens of years of hand-wear and cleaning. Over the speakers, tunes from whatever periods of Earth history fit the mood played as off-duty officers shared a meal, or drinks, or a game of darts and billiards.

The unspoken motto of the Jump Zero O-Club was that rank and name got left at the door. Inside its walls, you were a friend and fellow soldier first, rank last. It was a place even the famous could be just another face in the crowd. The three occupants of the table furthest from the shrine appreciated that fact the most. Ashley Williams, Jeff Moreau and EDI sat talking over their drinks. Only a few hours ago, Ashley had the honor of giving EDI her Ensign's pins, the Synthetic having passed all the Alliance evaluations and admissions tests with flying colors.

"Why did you order that anyway?" Ashley asked of her synthetic friend.

EDI, in response, sipped the Tawny Port, "Because I can." She smiled. "Whatever else the Crucible did to me, it allows me to eat and drink and draw energy from the material, just as you. I, for one, am intrigued by all the cuisine adventures the galaxy has in store for me."

"I thought the infiltration mech let you eat and drink before?" Ashley asked.

"It did." EDI paused, putting her glass down. "But the intake was just stored in a cell and disposed of. It was just for show. Now I can taste, and believe me that is all the difference I need. Now I know why Shepard was so fond of liquor."

"Don't tell me you can get drunk now." Ashley laughed.

"No, I don't have neural receptors for the alcohol to impair." The synthetic replied. "But I can act drunk if you wish, I have watched more than enough recordings of you and Shepard to compile a fairly elaborate script. I just have to verify at what point lying on the floor is expected."

Joker nearly spit his beer out. "You should just avoid the rush and do it as soon as Vega hands you a bottle of his engine de-greaser 'Tequila.' It saves time."

"Very funny." Ashley smirked. "Maybe I should review the duty roster for graveyard shift janitors again."

"Now who's the goddamn space pirate?" Joker laughed back at her.

Their laughter was interrupted by alert tones from each of their omni-tools, followed by the station's alert klaxon.

"What the hell?" Jeff yelled over the noise.

"Something's up with the Normandy! Get a move on soldier!" Ashley ordered as she made for the door.

Serpent Nebula - Citadel - Late December 2186

Miranda Lawson sat at the desk in her apartment. In the two weeks since the latest broadcast "Damnation" she had come no closer to discovering the source of the pirate signal. Each trace of an anonymous node resulted in an immediate redirect and decompile. The nodes were being stored in volatile memory and not running from storage. They were highly advanced run-time VI's that evaporated upon detection, seemingly warning their partners of the compromise. Miranda had even resorted to using protocols she had stolen from Cerberus upon her departure to try and isolate the deployment servers. Each attempt she or her engineering team made ended in an evaporating target.

As if their lack of progress weren't enough, she'd noticed that several officials higher up in the Alliance had begun to look at their work. Councilor Osoba's inauguration had resulted in far too many eyes looking into the Council's activities. It was obvious at the outset that whoever was behind these public displays had significant inside information on the Council. If this source could be identified, there was likely a plea to be made in trade for information backing the Alliance moves in investigating the Council.

Miranda sipped at her coffee, thinking about the layers of political influence going on around her. Her thoughts were interrupted by the door chime coming from her entryway. Surprised that anyone even knew where she lived, she took the immediate precaution of picking up a Predator pistol from her desk drawer as she headed for the foyer. She arrived at the locked door and brought up the security interface. In the camera view, a woman stood in front of the door in a hooded black coat with fine fur trim. Miranda hit the intercom control.

"Can I help you?" she asked through the intercom.

In response, the figure drew back her hood revealing features familiar to Miranda. In one hand, she carried a bottle of liquor. She looked into the camera and responded. "That entirely depends on you Miss Lawson. I am merely here to offer you a gift." She raised the bottle to the camera. "It is the Human Winter Holiday season, is it not?"

Miranda, a little startled, scanned the hallway using the security interface and found no other beings in the corridor. She unlocked the door and took a few steps back, yet kept her pistol ready.

The Shadow Broker opened the door and took a step inside. "Good evening, Miranda. Is there somewhere I can hang my coat?"

"How exactly did you find me here?" Miranda asked, pointing to a closet door. "No one outside the Alliance is even supposed to know I'm here."

"Really?" the Asari said over her shoulder as she hung her coat. "I simply asked Admiral Hackett. He did not give me the impression that it was a state secret." Miranda noticed that under the coat, the Asari was still wearing a combat suit, similar to the leather armor that Asari Commandos wore. "He mentioned that you were on the Citadel on the call. He was looking for some research notes I had made regarding the Mars Archives. I think he's trying to put together a task force to examine the repairs the Reapers are making to the Relays." The Asari followed Miranda into the living room of the apartment.

"A wise decision." Miranda collapsed her pistol to its locking frame at her belt, noting that the Asari wore a Paladin pistol herself and not wanting to take too many chances. She had only worked with the Doctor twice before, during the recovery of Shepard's body from the Shadow Broker and Collectors, and again when the Asari was part of the squad that pulled Miranda and her sister from the Sanctuary base. Despite having attended Shepard's party on the Citadel earlier in the year, she wasn't certain how she stood with Shepard's bondmate. "Who knows what the Reapers are doing. It was easier to deal with the idea of them as relentless killing machines. Now that they're helpful, I think they're worse."

"I agree. I told the Admiral as much myself." The Asari placed the bottle on the coffee table. "You have some glasses?"

"In the kitchenette, there's a rack." Miranda pointed while moving to a seat where she could watch the Asari. "Conversation with the Admiral aside, why are you here? It's not like we know each other very well. Why come all this way? I thought the Normandy was heading to Caleston Rift."

"I am no longer serving aboard the Normandy." The Shadow Broker took two glasses from the rack, making sure to touch the inside of both glasses with her gloved thumb as she turned back towards the couch. She noticed that Miranda took the opportunity to scan the bottle while her back was turned, given away by the almost inaudible beep of the omni scan. Apparently Miranda's knowledge of Asari physiology was lacking, the head crests amplified sound coming from behind the Asari. An adaptation to deal with stealthy predators in some ancient predecessor. "Though I do believe the Normandy is still en route to that system. Both the Alliance and the Reapers from what I can tell, were surprised that the Relay was brought back up without the Citadel."

"I see you're still well informed." Miranda added as she watched the Asari walk back. "And that you don't care much for the new 'Ascended' title we're supposed to refer to the Reapers by."

The Shadow Broker placed the glasses on the table and sat down at the couch. "Those things and their war took Shepard from me, twice. I don't give a damn what they want to be called." She calmed the flicker of anger that crossed her features with the reply. "Are you going to open that? It's an especially good vintage. It actually comes from a vineyard on my estate in Armali. Jennifer had a few bottles secreted away on the Normandy. I took them when I left." She gestured at the bottle. "As to why I'm here, well, several reasons actually. There are not many Normandy veterans on the Citadel. In fact, we're the only two at the moment and it is a holiday for your species, so camaraderie seemed as good a reason to start. However, Jennifer thought very well of you so I thought getting to know you better might be worth the effort."

Miranda loosened up slightly, reaching for the bottle and opening it. The liquor had a violet hue and smelled vaguely of almonds. "Well, she did go out of her way to look out for me. You heard of her Alliance Pardon I take it?"

The Asari laughed "Heard? I drafted it for her. You know how she hated paperwork."

"Tell me about it." Lawson poured both glasses. "I always thought it was her way of passive-aggressively resisting Cerberus control while I was XO. But after we deserted, she still couldn't be bothered to write a report."

"That wasn't the half of it." The Asari took the glass offered by Miranda. "During our race to complete the Crucible, she wouldn't sit at a terminal for more than five minutes. She kept pawning off the detail to any ensign unlucky enough to be nearest to her."

Miranda watched as the Asari took a drink from the glass. Deeming it safe she took her own, finally relaxing her operative instincts. The liquor was marvelous, with an electrical tinge as it raced across the taste buds. "This is amazing. What is it made from?"

"That is A'Nessan, it's derived from an aquatic analogue of what you'd call a grape. It is high in eezo trace contaminent, but it is safe for human biotics to consume. Jennifer liked it so much on our first vacation that she always had it in stock." The Shadow Broker emptied her glass and returned it to the table.

"I can see why." Miranda finished her small glass and poured a larger one as she refilled the Asari's glass. "You said you live on the Citadel as well? Did you set up something like your business on Illium?"

"I live here in Zakera." The Shadow Broker stood and walked to the window. "I set up a brokerage and data center here. Even if the Reapers are towing this thing with them, it is still a hub of commerce." She paused. "There's still quite a bit of commercial power here, research not done anywhere else, the best inter-species hospitals and services anywhere in the galaxy. No matter what happens here, it will always be an important place."

"Not all the important research is being done here." Miranda said wistfully, deciding against sipping more of the exotic alcohol. She could already feel a warmth in her veins from it.

"Ah, you must mean Project Synthesis." The Asari walked back to the couch and took her drink. Seeing the reaction in Miranda's eyes, she continued. "I am very good at what I do, Miranda. Yes, I know all about you being removed from the project. That was not wholly unexpected though, given your history."

"I thought there was a chance that the war effort had erased some of those repercussions." Miranda responded, wearily. "We were good enough when there were no other options for the Crucible and the War, but we few defectors will carry that badge of shame around for some time."

"You also have a habit of trying to make enemies wherever you go." The Asari added.

"What do you mean?" Miranda sat up at the accusation.

"This project you're on now isn't going to win you any friends. You constantly place yourself at odds with implacable foes, fighting back Death for Shepard, the Collectors for humanity, your father for the refugees, the Reapers for the galaxy, and now what? Going after the nameless, faceless avenger for the Council?" the Asari sipped her drink. "You make a habit of finding jobs with an adversarial bent. You go looking for trouble."

"Don't tell me Hackett told you my assignment? You can't have that much influence in the Alliance even if you were the XO on Normandy." Miranda started to perspire, though she wasn't sure why.

"He didn't have to. I knew as soon as I recognized the Cerberus protocols tracking my Extranet nodes." The Shadow Broker leaned in, "You're gifted, Miranda, but you're not nearly as subtle as you think."

"You and Shepard lied to me. The Shadow Broker's network didn't die with him on Hagalaz, you're the Shadow Broker." Miranda raced to her conclusion as all the pieces started to fit. The source of the surveillance footage from Virmire, the footage of the Council, deeply hidden information being leaked across the Turian and Salarian systems all pointed to an organization like the Shadow Broker's. Miranda had discounted that after their mission the prior year.

"Don't forget Garrus." The Asari added. "He's been in on it since that mission as well. If you had kept your ties with Cerberus, you might have had an idea, as your boss did. He tried to take the network by force, but then it seemed the last few years were nothing but mistakes on his part, wouldn't you say?"

"What is it you want, T'Soni?" Miranda glared, a headache rising behind her eyes.

"That is as I first stated, entirely up to you." The Asari stood. "You have a choice, very similar to the one you offered me three years ago on Omega. Work with me."

"Or what?" Miranda asked.

"I don't know. You weren't very specific when you dragged me in front of the Illusive Man back then. I was under the impression that Feron and I were expendable." The Asari walked back to the window.

"I could have Alliance Security here in minutes. I'm still a trained Cerberus Operative. Do you really want to threaten me in my own home?" Miranda said confidently.

"Miranda, my dear, one thing you should know about the Shadow Broker. We don't walk into situations we are not entirely in control of." The Doctor stood gazing at the statue of Shepard in the park below. "You'll find your comms in disrepair. As for the rest, well, I was trained at the foot of my Mother's personal guard for longer than you have been alive. I'm not too worried. But that's merely distraction. It's the work that I can offer you that is the selling point."

Miranda kept her hand on the folded pistol, she tried to prime the muscle sequence to activate her barriers, but her head was fuzzy from the alcohol. She was a bit more than alarmed by this as she'd been drunk before and it didn't hamper her biotics. "What work are you talking about?"

In response, the Doctor brought up her omni-tool and began streaming to Miranda's device. Miranda watched as all the research notes from Project Synthesis scrolled past her interface, everything from the past few months being off the project, everything from the secured archives now on Sur'Kesh, everything from the STG's own investigative team was at her disposal.

"You are a gifted physician and scientist, Miranda. You gave me the greatest gift anyone could when you brought Shepard back to me." The Shadow Broker turned to face Miranda. "Out of respect for those abilities and that gift, I'm giving you this one way out. I'll fund a research lab here on the Citadel, it will be your show, I just want to read the results."

"As tempting as that is, you're asking me me to return to the shadows, to work for another Cerberus, just with different goals." Miranda retorted.

"No, I'm not." The Asari answered. "I don't want you to work for me or fight for my goals, I am more than capable of that on my own. What I want is for you to stay the hell out of my way. I don't know whether or not you would have eventually compromised my network, and I may have tipped my hand by revealing myself in this way, but I cannot let a threat this significant fester." She folded her arms across her chest. "So it has to be dealt with one way or another tonight. It is entirely up to you."

Miranda sat and thought, her hand not leaving the folded pistol, worried that the Doctor had not even moved her hand near her own sidearm. The Asari's offer was more tempting than she wanted to admit. The greatest accomplishments in Miranda's life had been because of her work as a Doctor, not her espionage, operative assignments, or combat. She had achieved the impossible with Lazarus, the potential opening before her with Synthesis was just as unlimited. Her degree and skills were the one thing her Father hadn't shaped into her DNA. She had made those decisions for herself when she was on her own. Though she had used them to benefit Cerberus, they were still skills that were all her own.

"So if I say yes, we don't have a shoot out in my apartment?" Miranda asked.

"Something like that." The Shadow Broker answered.

"Why are you doing this? I mean this whole Council attack?" Miranda slowly moved her hand away from her pistol.

"That's simple. No one has failed at leadership so thoroughly, arrogantly and unsympathetically as the Council has." The Doctor walked toward the couch. "If they had taken Sovereign's attack seriously and devoted resources against them years ago, we wouldn't have been so close to the wire as we were. The sacrifices that were made would not have been necessary. Cerberus wouldn't have become the threat they were."

"And Shepard wouldn't have had to die, either time." Miranda concluded.

"Something like that." The Asari responded. "So I should have details sent to you once I have the facility in order?"

"If you're doing this in her memory and not out of your own desire for power, then maybe. I am warning you that if I find out otherwise, then we'll have to revisit this conversation." Miranda threatened.

"I wouldn't expect anything less, Operative Lawson." The Asari walked to the closet to retrieve her coat.

"So that's it, you're going?" Miranda sat puzzled.

"Unless you really would like to finish the bottle, which I doubt. I have many things to do." The Asari put on the coat. "You already suspect that I have you under surveillance. I am trusting you because Shepard trusted you. If you prove unworthy of that trust, I urge you to think on the fates of those who have insulted her name or memory."

"You know," Miranda continued. "Your Cerberus dossier didn't hint at anything like this. I think involving you in Shepard's recovery was probably the first of his many failures."

"Maybe." The Doctor walked back to the coffee table and reached into her pockets. "But if it is one trait of the Asari, it is that we learn from our past." She took a small vial containing two pills out of her pocket and placed them on the table.

"What's this?" Miranda inquired, looking at the pills.

"They'll dissolve the nanoprobes currently disabling your L5 Implants." The Shadow Broker replied. "Asari are born Biotic, Miss Lawson. We couldn't have built a civilization that has lasted thousands of years if we couldn't deal with Biotic criminals." She held up the thumb of her glove and the slightly reflective residue on the thumb. "I'll show myself out."

Harbinger reached out with his senses to feel the shift in the Serpent Nebula where the Citadel had once stood. So many cycles had seen the aperture to dark space open at this point that the space around it had shifted. It was as if rubbing a scar in the fabric of space. The echoes of memories of those cycles cascaded through the lower levels of the great synthetic's consciousness. Time and again, they emerged from Dark Space to cull the advanced civilizations of the galaxy in their own poorly designed path to perfection. It was a humbling concept to have millions of years of work thrown into question by so primitive a species as Humans. It was humbling, but also a massive opportunity for his people. The Ascended never changed, that permanence was their strength and their weakness. Now, if their methods had proved flawed, what other elements of the vast knowledge they shared with each other could also be wrong?

The great synthetic felt the presence of another elder and swung to face the approaching Ascended. Insunnanon took up position in front of the Eldest and waited.

Insunnanon, you are welcome here. What news do you bring?

The Lesser, Proclivis, has reported the results of his investigation into the Caleston Relay. The device was actively shielded when the Crucible beam impacted. This spared it from the core failures we have seen in other Relays. Once they re-assembled the confinement and focus coils, the Relay was fully functional.

By whom? None of the ascended were in that system, nor were any under orders to do so.

It is unknown. Proclivis has taken six lessers to survey nearby systems. While the Lessers are unsuspecting, I believe it to be the work of the Ancients.

This is disturbing. Have our sentinels discovered any more of their objects since the one found on the Control Station?

None have reported such. They update me frequently with their courses and progress.

Very well. Have Proclivus engaged an exhaustive search for debris near the Caleston Relay. There may have been an organic's vessel at the Relay with one of the Ancient's devices. Such a vessel would not have survived the energy wave. Dispatch another sixteen Lessers to aid in the search and survey for any other Relays so protected.

As you wish, Eldest.

Insunnanon drifted back towards the control station, leaving Harbinger to ponder the news. Through many cycles he had known that the species of his birth remained in a handful of survivors. There was always some small evidence to their passage, but they never seemed to offer either significant resistance or come out of hiding while the Ascended were present. Now that the Ascended intended to stay, finding thes old creatures was of significant importance.

Harbinger worried, not for the first time, what confronting his own people would bring. In the darkness of his memories of the first cycle, he saw the slaughter and waste that marked that bloody transition. That time there were millions of his predecessors. Could he show mercy to these last few? The great synthetic did not know.

But it would be what Shepard would do.

Author's Notes (12/8/13): Not entirely thrilled with this chapter. It was needed to set the stage for other chapters, but other than Normandy's part, I wasn't "feeling it" with the subsequent sections. That's always the hard part with me and this story as I have the events and plots outlined, but fleshing the event as to make it plausible and the dialogue matching the character is not always the easiest thing.

As always thanks for the reviews, follows and faves. The next chapter, titled "Torment and Insanity" is full of much more fun stuff as Normandy stretches her new "legs" and things heat up on Earth.