Hey folks. Been a while.

The greenhouses were never actually going to feed everyone.

There simply wasn't enough of anything - enough space, enough seed, enough time. Enough knowledge. The best they could hope for out of them was a small, short-lasting supplement of fresh greens and algae bricks to the ration packs and salvage, or perhaps an improved diet for the children, the pregnant and the nursing for a bit longer. But, after the disappointment of that particular realisation, Liara had quickly come to see the real value of ramshackle buildings: they were proof, to everyone in the camp, that the asari could still build and sow and grow. Could still think and plan beyond the base but urgent needs of today and tomorrow. Could still be the masters of their planet.

Symbols were powerful. The problem, however, was that power cut always both ways.

"Dr. T'Soni, can you hear me?"

The voice in the earpiece was slightly tinny but distinct enough. Where D'Auzuma had found it, Liara had no idea, nor had she any clue as to where the matron had sourced the makeup kit. She hadn't even gotten the chance to protest the sheer unnecessity of it before a layer of foundation was applied to her cheeks and neck, then concealer, eyeliner and more, blended with thumb and brush.

She looked too much like she'd been crying. Apparently.

"Yes."

The gathering outside the greenhouses wasn't so much a crowd as it was a mob. The air itself seemed alive with anger, voices, high, loud and sharp, carrying through half the camp, pulsing through the walls of the emergency shelter D'Auzuma had hauled Liara into. The pressure of it weighed down against her skin until her chest ached at the thought of stepping back outside. Facing her people. It was almost like she was back on Tuchanka, the crush of the high-gravity world making each inward breath an effort even with the assistance of her biotics and her armour.

The armour, her biotics - they would do her even less good here.

"Good," D'Auzuma said. She tweaked the controls of the omni-app. "Huntress?"

Aurelia nodded, tapping the side of her jaw and the bone-conduction implant there. She, too, seemed far more composed than she'd been a mere ten minutes ago.

"Clear."

"Good. I'll try to keep to the back of the crowd, or maybe up on the roof, to get a good view." D'Auzuma turned back to Liara. "There are at least five standard camera drones up, and I'm sure I've spotted a nano too. They're almost impossible to see when they're phased, so be careful with what you say, even when you think you're not in focus. And remember what we discussed about positioning and body language. With this crowd you'll want to emote."

"I understand."

D'Auzuma went to straighten Liara's collar; Liara waved her away.

"This is taking too long. I need to get out there."

Her move for the door was abruptly stopped by Aurelia, who stepped between her and it, and shot her a pointed look.

"Dr. T'Soni," she said firmly, "I will be serving as your personal protective detail for this event. Griete will be my second. If either of us gives the 'down' or 'evacuate' commands, I expect you to obey and follow our lead immediately. In the event that we are unable to escort you to safety ourselves, you are to avoid engaging with hostile forces unless required, and return to this shelter or to the medical centre, where other members of the unit will meet you."

Liara manage to resist the urge to roll her eye, but couldn't suppress her irritated huff. Goddess, she'd fought Reapers on foot. A crowd of her own people, however angry they might be, were little threat, physically.

Check your ego there, Blue Shepard's voice sounded in dry warning. I wouldn't want to fight two hundred pissed-off asari. Don't think you really want to either.

Shepard was right, damn her.

Would have been right, if she were here.

The self-inflicted reminder she was not did little to improve Liara's immediate disposition.

"Fine," she ground out. "Now may we go?"

Aurelia nodded shortly, checked her weapon safety and took point, leading them out into another overcast day. Griete fell in beside her while two more commandos set off at a run, sniper rifles upon their backs; D'Auzuma peeled off with them, muttering into her omni.

The damage, as they rounded the corner and took in the view, was at once better and worse than Liara had expected. On one hand, the largest of the greenhouses was technically still standing. On the other, it was only technically. The structure retained only just enough of its shape it clearly indicate the size of what must have been an incredible biotic explosion. The beams were all buckled and bent, some past ninety degrees back on themselves, and there wasn't a single intact pane of glass left. Shards, some as big as her torso, littered the ground. Beyond it, it was apparent that none of the other greenhouses had entirely avoided the onslaught: gaping holes where more glass panels should have been, even a steel beam the thickness of her thigh protruding from one of them.

It seemed inconceivable that Benezia, of all people, had caused such destruction. Not to something she'd had a hand in building, let alone a place to grow things. Her mother was a peerless biotic and a much sought-after teacher in the arts, especially for commandos, but she'd always been a gentle soul, happiest in her gardens.

Until the Reapers. Saren. Noveria.

Goddess, what a fool Liara had been. Stupid maiden, not taking the time to think when she had the chance, rushing into action because she wanted to. It really was utterly inexcusable, and now she was stuck reacting instead of anticipating, countering instead of dictating.

"- and this kind of destruction is what we get for offering sanctuary to traitors and deviants!"

The mob easily numbered in the hundreds, most of whom were watching the current speaker, a matron whose cheeks bore the distinctive grey tattoos of the Armali Courier's and Messenger's Guild. Others clustered in small groups, especially on the fringes, holding animated discussions, arms waving, emphatic gestures. There were aliens, too, a small group of humans standing down the very back, making the best of a rare opportunity to observe grass-roots asari democracy in action.

An added complication, that, and an unwelcome one. Aliens all too-often misunderstood the nature of asari governance, treating the sometimes heated debates as signs of tension or disunity, ascribing them more urgency than they merited. In reality, ideas were raised, debated and discarded over the course of hundreds of debates, until an outcome most people found broadly acceptable was reached. It was when people stopped talking to each other, even in anger, that problems started, or when no-one dared raise a dissenting voice.

"We have more than enough trouble already without sabotage being added to them!" the matron continued, punctuating her words with a thump to her chest, then casting her hand out towards the crowd, as if in entreaty. "I add my voice to those saying that we should expel them both from the camp!"

A roar from the crowd in response to her words, and hands thrust in the air, lit with biotic coronas. Assent. More than half - almost two thirds, but Liara's quick estimate. The light of it was all but blinding.

It all felt raw, somehow, alive in a way that made her skin tingle with energy. The debates Liara had attended as child had never felt like this. The Forums sealed high emotion away behind millennia of protocol and ritual, wielded by matriarchs whose silences often spoke more than they did. The extranet channels weren't much better, AI moderators and profanity filters dulling the heat, the extremists and the unpleasant downvoted to the fringe and ignored.

No filters here.

The matron, flushed with victory, jumped down from the table serving as rostra, to a warm reception from those in the front few clusters. Seconds later, another matron hoisted herself up onto the table, facing the crowd.

"We thank Matron Ikari for her words, " she said, raising her hand for quiet. Her voice rang out, clear and practiced, and she surveyed the assembled with no sign of unease at being the focus of so many - she'd moderated before. "We have heard only one argument but it's come to us in several voices: that Benezia T'Soni and the ardat-yakshi should be expelled from the camp. Have we reached consensus so quickly, or are there any dissenting voices? Is there anyone that wishes to speak next?"

There was an expectant pause, and Liara gathered herself up to step forward, but someone else got there first.

"I would speak."

The voice, clear and firm, carried over the crowd effortlessly, and the crowd parted nearly instantly to reveal Samara. The Justicar made no move to approach the rostra. Instead, she stood at ease on the opposite side of the crowd, burnished in burgundy and apparently unscathed by the day's events.

"Justicar, with the greatest respect," the moderator said, a tilt of her head her only concession it that, "it is forbidden. You are not permitted to interfere with decision-making."

"I may not vote, and I may not lend my voice to the debates, it is true, but I may provide counsel and clarification of laws I am bound to uphold."

Her cool eyes surveyed the moderator and then the crowd, as if waiting for further challenge. None came. And if she spotted Liara's group opposite her - and she must have, so experienced a warrior would not miss a combat-ready group - she gave no sign. Somewhere within the hot, tight, sick roil of feelings in Liara's chest, a new bubble rose: unease.

"Destroying property held in common is a serious offense; attacking an innocent and a Justicar without provocation even more so," Samara proclaimed. "The severity of the accusations against Benezia T'Soni requires that a full investigation be undertaken before justice may properly be served. I will gladly carry out this investigation, and deliver any penalties required by law and by the Justicar Code."

That bubble of unease burst, becoming a chill that ran up and down Liara's spine. Penalties under the Code were harsh, particularly in comparison to the sentences typically issued by their people's justice system. Even minor infractions, the ones that would typically be dealt with by a stint of shunning, could merit something as severe as the loss of a limb under the Code. Greater crimes, ones that might attract a penalty of imprisonment, or even exile, called for execution. Destruction of common property was right up there amongst the latter.

Suicide by Justicar, Aethyta had said.

It all suddenly seemed horrendously unfair, somehow, and alien. As if she was looking at their people through new eyes. Maybe she did have new eyes: too much time spent among humans and krogan and other aliens who valued the individual's right to self-determination over the wellbeing of the greater whole. Or perhaps it seemed unfair simply because Benezia was her mother, and all of this was Liara's fault, and that with everything the way it was at the moment, expulsion or even simple shunning might as well be a death sentence.

Out of the corner of Liara's eye, she could see the moderator bending down to allow someone to speak into her ear. When she straightened, she addressed Samara directly again.

"Justicar, again, with all respect due to you and your Order, the ardat-yakshi is, by your own admission, your daughter. Can we trust you to remain impartial in any investigation involving her?"

For only the second time since Liara had known her, Samara looked uncertain. But she recovered quickly, face slipping back into the implacable Justicar mask.

"I have judged my kin before. I had three daughters, all ardat-yakshi. Now I have but one."

It took every ounce of Liara's self-control to keep her own expression unchanged as the chill along her spine intensified. Goddess.

She had underestimated Samara. Badly. A Justicar was not permitted to lie, and, certainly, every sentence in that statement had been true. But while Morinth's condition and death may have been a matter of public record, nobody here besides Liara, Samara and Falere could possibly know how Rila had died, how close Samara had come to joining her. How close the prospect of losing her third and final daughter had pushed Samara towards breaking vows she'd upheld longer than Liara had been alive. Given a choice, made to choose, she would protect Falere, no matter the cost. Even if it meant sacrificing someone else. Like Benezia.

"However, Falere is innocent of any wrongdoing," the Justicar continued, again surveying the crowd. "She is here by invitation, and has upheld every law regarding her continued presence here."

Likari, the grey-marked matron from before leapt back up onto the table beside the moderator, a group of similarly tattoo'd asari shouting words of encouragement to her.

"The invitation to join us here was extended to the ardat-yakshi without a vote or other indication of broad consent," she said, less to Samara and more to the crowd. "Her presence here is illegal!"

Samara didn't move an inch, her expression didn't so much as flicker.

"Were she unaccompanied and not bearing the warning tattoo, that might be the case. However, she is not."

"We," Ikari countered with something akin to a sneer, gesturing towards her supporters, "also find it hard to believe that she had nothing to do with the altercation that resulted in... this."

Again, Samara stood like a rock that broke the ocean's waves.

"When I swore to the Code, I swore that I would speak the truth, even if a lie would better serve justice. Then, as now, I honour my vows and speak truth: Falere is blameless. Matriarch Benezia struck first, and without provocation. Her history is well known to you all, as is her indoctrination by the Reapers."

And there it was. Liara's jaw ached suppressing the urge to shout, and she could feel the damaged muscles in her cheek twitch and spasm.

Liara still held the Oath of Subsumation over her. If Samara found Benezia guilty of any crime, Liara could bar the Justicar from enacting 'justice' as long as she remained sworn to Liara's will. But once that Oath was lifted, Samara would be compelled to carry out the required sentence, and likely pursue Liara for attempting to divert the natural course of justice.

The prospect of fighting Samara was not one Liara relished. She wasn't sure she would have been a match for the matriarch in peak condition, let alone now: scarred, unfit and half-blind.

"Whether it was indoctrination that caused Matriarch Benezia to attack Falere as she did, or some some other, unknown cause," Samara continued, "is for investigation. Falere acted only to defend herself, much as I did."

"Ardat-yakshi are infamous for their tendencies towards aggression and violence! And yet, you say she is entirely-"

"I will not be spoken of as though I am not here!"

Another disturbance, behind Samara, accompanied the words and drew both Liara's eye and the attention of the mob.

Falere pushed her way forward; the crowd sprang back from her approach as if she were contagious. Unlike her mother, the ardat-yakshi looked battered and bruised, her eye purpling and a number of small, recently sealed cuts dappling her cheeks and scalp. Unlike her mother, and the speakers that had come before, Falere had to raise her voice to a shout to ensure that it carried.

"I am permitted a voice and a vote! Or am I to be denied my right under law to speak and be heard as any other?"

Silence, uneasy, fell away in front of her. Upon the rostra, Ikari looked over at her uncertainly, almost as if it had never crossed her mind that Falere might be present to hear her speak, or challenge her. A whispered but visibly pointed conversation with the moderator ensued, but she stepped down and vanished amongst her fellows.

"We thank Justicar Samara for her wisdom and the Matron Ikari for her... reprise," the moderator said dryly, prompting a light, short ripple of laughter. "The Forum now recognises Matron Falere T'Alis, of Lessus."

"It is as the Justicar has said: I have done nothing wrong," Falere shouted, not making a move for the speaker's platform. She was all but trembling, though whether it was from anger or fatigue or nerves, Liara couldn't say. "And I have given freely of my time and labour in service to this community! The greenhouses are my work, and I'm certain that I'm more upset than any of you by what's happened. But if my presence here is causing you distress and feeding this disharmony, then let us end it! Send me back home and I'll trouble you no more."

"What do you propose we do?" some unseen figure in the crowd shouted. "Just give you a ship? So you can go some place where they don't know what you are?"

Samara glanced at Falere and some sort of unspoken communication passed between them.

"Falere would return to the monastery on Lessus," Samara said after a moment. "I would accompany her to ensure that there are no opportunities for... deviations."

Losing Samara, despite Liara's fresh doubts, would be a blow. Symbols again. With the krogan gone, having the Justicar as part of her damned entourage was important. It wasn't just the automatic respect and authority commanded by her uniform and Order, but she was a matriarch, willingly bound in service to a maiden. War hero or not, it would be even harder to get matrons and other matriarchs to take Liara seriously without the ability to flaunt such an unusual dynamic.

"What about supplies?" someone else called out. "We can't give you anything when we're on the verge of starving ourselves!"

"There isn't even enough fuel to do supply runs!" shouted another, and once again the air was filled with anger.

"Order!" the moderator shouted, her voice all but lost in the uproar. "One at a time!"

Goddess, must Liara's situation continue to get worse, day by day, moment by moment before it got any better?

No. No, it would not. She would not let it. Liara would do what she'd always done, when encountering some obstacle in her way, someone or something trying to drag her down: push on. Move forward. Find a way.

She strode forward, towards the moderator and the rostra, heads whipping around to follow her approach. She leapt up onto the table, uncaring that it was a breach of protocol, or that the table wobbled alarmingly beneath her feet, or that moderator was all but forced down.

"Falere is here at my invitation, because she has skills we need," she shouted, "and because I don't believe that we should just cast aside people because they're inconvenient or ill! I thought we had more compassion than that!"

Immediately, all eyes were on her, and D'Auzuma's voice was just as suddenly in her ear.

"Nice entrance. Now that you've got their attention, you can afford silence for a few seconds to gather your thoughts. The crowd is running on emotion. Play to that. Your mother was a beloved figure for centuries. They just need help remembering it."

Liara did as instructed, trying to find some kind of a coherent narrative out of the thoughts racing around in her head. Her mother. Benezia T'Soni. A graceful but often-missed presence. Weeks, months spent apart from her young daughter, teaching, speaking, working thousands of lightyears from home. Bedtime stories and biotic lessons interrupted by urgent calls, unexpected visitors. Commandos in every doorway, paparazzi and potential students at every turn, never a hope for a normal, quiet life.

It was responsibility, Benezia had tried to explain, a requirement of people lucky enough to be have wealth, status, privilege. And it was that sense of responsibility that had seen her attempt to turn a madman from destruction, only to get caught in the same trap that ensnared him. And even then, at the cost of her own self, she'd tried to serve. Used every last shred of strength and will she had to fight free and deliver the intelligence to save them all.

Liara's bad hand clenched into a fist at her side, and she could feel the surge of her biotics, hot and electric beneath her skin.

Had all of that been for nothing? Had it meant nothing to them? The suffering, the sacrifice, the distance?

"My mother was always the one for speeches and debates, not me. Benezia T'Soni believed - believes that we could always find a solution amongst ourselves if we talked it out. She spent most of her life upholding that ideal. Many of you here would have heard her words and wisdom before, and know that she thought that our differences of opinion were what made us strong as a people. We explore, we consider and we debate until we have explored every option open to us, and can agree on the best path forward!"

She paused and looked around, trying to catch the eyes of those closest to the rostra.

"Have we just abandoned all of that? Have we been brought so low that we'll turn on the sick and the injured in the heat of the moment? Without even understanding what happened?"

"Liara, stop! Meeting anger with anger is only going to inflame things further!" D'Auzuma cautioned urgently. "You need to project calm, reason. Give them a reason to calm down."

Liara ignored her.

"It's true that Benezia was indoctrinated by the Reapers! That they forced her to betray her beliefs and her people to serve their needs! But it's alsotrue that she was the first of us to see that something terrible was coming and try to do something about it! You owe her your lives! You at least owe her your patience! It sickens me that you'd rush into judgement so quickly. I thought we were better than that!"

"Liara, insulting your audience is the wrong approach. "

D'Auzuma's voice sounded more urgent, but Liara found she didn't care, and was opening her mouth to continue over the upswell in muttering when another matron stepped out to the front of the crowd..

It was Palla.

"Moderator," she said, voice pitched to carry much as Samara's had been, "I request right of rebuttal."

Rebuttal. Not support, rebuttal.

Palla looked askance up at Liara. It was only for sheer force of will that Liara stopped herself from outright glaring back. There had been tension, yes, between Palla and Benezia, but Liara had never thought Palla would something like this. And why hadn't she sent someone to find Liara at the first signs of trouble?

"Dr. T'Soni," the moderator said, "do you wish to present any further arguments?"

"Cede the floor," D'Azuma said immediately. "You've done more harm than good. You need to cool off. "

Liara held Palla's gaze until the matron flinched and looked away. Only then did she step down.

"I reserve the right of reply."

"So noted. We recognise," the moderator glanced at her omni, "Matron Palla Liakos, of Armali."

Palla took Liara's place, and just as Liara had done, took a few seconds to gather her thoughts before speaking.

"Before the war, I held Matriarch Benezia in great esteem, as I'm sure many others here did. I was shocked and saddened by her apparent betrayal, for it was a betrayal of her own teachings as much as it was her own people. I'm deeply relieved to find out that there may be an explanation for it, and that her heart never left us willingly."

The matron focused her attention on Liara. Liara crossed her arms against her chest and met her gaze unflinchingly.

"Dr. T'Soni, your defence of Matriarch Benezia is only right and proper," she consoled, "not only as a daughter for a mother, but as a speaker for one who cannot speak for herself. But if what you've said before about her indoctrination by the Reapers is true, then I am afraid that she represents a risk we simply can't afford to take right now. The Reapers laid waste to enough of Thessia during the war without their agents sabotaging what we've managed to rebuild since then. Surely you must see that?"

Without giving Liara a real opportunity to reply, she turned back towards the crowd.

"Like most of you, I was there when the Reapers invaded our home. I saw our militias slaughtered by endless hordes of the same monsters we'd already seen overrun Palaven and Earth and a dozen more worlds. And when our commandos fell and we, the people, still kept fighting back, I watched them tow asteroids into Thessia's orbit. I hid, like the rest of you, as they bombarded our cities until I thought the sky itself was on fire and I could barely breathe for the dust. They tried to wipe us out!"

She took a pause for breath, and the quiet that came with it was absolute.

"She's good," D'Auzuma noted with unhelpful approval. "She's either naturally gifted or had some excellent media training. "

The matron's last few words were loud enough to be startling, but the next were pitched much more softly.

"And we only need to look around to see how close they came. Our homes are all gone. Armali - the very cradle of our democracy - still burns, months after our victory. And I don't think that any person who stands here today can say that they haven't lost loved ones. Mentors. Daughters. Sisters. Mothers. Bondmates. "

The matron ducked her head briefly, and Liara was close enough to see the silent upwell of grief be wrested back away.

An act, the cynical part of her brain suggested. But, no, that wasn't fair, or even right. A beloved mentor was only one of the losses Palla had suffered during the war.

"We've lost so much. " She raised her head, and straightened her back. "But we survived! And Thessia, her ideals, survive with us! Peace! Prosperity! Progress! People! "

This was met with a ragged cheer. Palla waited until it had died down before continuing.

"Prosperity and progress mean that we must be vigilant about what we have built, and not let the kinds of setback we've suffered today stop us from trying to move forwards. Peace means we must continue to seek unity rather than let these events divide us from each other. And peoplemeans we can't turn our backs on those who need our help. And that brings me back to the matter of Benezia T'Soni."

There was a restless murmur from the crowd at these last words, but it seemed to be less ugly, somehow, than before, and it died away quickly when Palla held her hands aloft for quiet.

"I agree with those who say that we can't afford to let her walk free until we're sure she's not a danger to us or what remains of our homes. But the exile others have suggested is not the answer. If she truly an early victim of the Reapers as Dr. T'Soni claims, we would be doing her and ourselves the greatest of disservices. An Armali with no compassion is no Armali I'd wish to live in.

"And if she is not, and this," she waved towards the greenhouses, "was an exercise of her will, then she would be a danger to anyone who encountered her unprepared. No, the only just and responsible path forward that keeps with our own ideals is containment. Confinement.

"I propose that Matriarch Benezia be subject to house arrest, under strict observation, within the bounds of the camp."

The maiden paused again, scanning the crowd, then turned to Palla.

"I'll take questions and clarifications now."

D'Azuma's voice was in her ear, even before Liara could raise her hand.

"And that's how it's done. Stay quiet, Liara. This is by far the best you could hope for now."

"But Benezia hasn't-" she started, but D'Azuma was ready to cut her off instantly.

"It's a good compromise, and she's given you an out for acting like an irate idiot. Accept it and stay silent and people will maintain their respect."

She was right, damn her. And the questions others put to the maiden were largely about practicalities, not about forcing the issue of exile further. Liara stood, quietly fuming, until debate on a second proposal, extending the confinement to Falere, began and she decided she'd had enough.

Without a word, she turned and worked her way behind the rostra and the newest speaker, until she was free of the crowd.

"Well, that could have gone better, " D'Azuma's voice chimed in her ear again. "We need to go over what just happened, and work on your rhetoric. I am not letting you get in front of a camera again until you can control your emotions-"

Liara ripped the earpiece from her ear and shoved it in a handy pocket. Aurelia was at her side, hand lightly resting on her pistol.

"Back to the infirmary?" she asked.

Liara's body still felt hot and tight, tense with anger, her pulse throbbing in her temples. Her missing fingers itched, her cheek ached. The worst thing about it all was D'Azuma was right. Liara really needed to take some time to gather her thoughts and cool down a bit first rather than go storming into an already difficult situation. Her impatience and emotion was what had gotten her into this mess, and she'd known that, and told herself she was going to to be rational about handlings things from now on, and then immediately turned around and -

Kalros take her by the feet.

"No. My office first. Let's go."

They left the mob, the ruined greenhouses behind quickly, Liara following Aurelia's sure path through the camp, not really paying any attention to her surroundings. The walk helped a bit, though, the brisk pace of it giving her body some outlet for energy even as she fumed. Was everythingabout their people a lie? Not just their history and the basis for their advancement, their military might, but their famed diplomacy, cooperation, compassion and foresight? Were they really just a frightened mob driven by self-interest, reined in by the few matriarchs charismatic enough to advance their own agendas? Was she really just a hot-headed idiot with grand ideas and no self control?

When she reached her office, her monitors, she dismissed her escort and flung herself down in her chair so hard that it rolled back. And then immediately made the mistake of turning on her feeds to see the news coming out of the camp.

"Remarkable scenes here today in Armali, with Matriarch Benezia T'Soni and an ardat-yakshi accused of destroying several buildings within the camp in a biotic explosion. A warning: some viewers may find the following footage distressing."

The feed cut to omnitool footage of the greenhouses, still standing, but lit from in by flickering biotics. Indistinct but alarmed chatter became screams seconds later, as a thunderous, blinding biotic explosion detonated, sending a hail of shrapnel hurtling outwards. The omni's owner either fell or dove for cover, the imagery blurring into grey.

"Most will remember Matriarch Benezia's spectacular fall from grace and her apparent death just prior to the start of the Reaper War. Her daughter, discoverer of the Crucible and war hero Dr. Liara T'Soni, has claimed that Matriarch Benezia's actions were the result of the theorised Reaper mind-control process, known as indoctrination."

A cut, and the video resumed inside what remained of the main greenhouse. More alarmed voices and the hiss and splatter of water, feet splashing through mud as the camera whipped around. There, Samara, on her feet, blood running from her nose and a gash in her forehead. Falere leaning heavily on a bench covered with soil, frightened, tears in her eyes. And on the ground, bloodied-

She changed the feed. That CNN reporter - Maris - with the dispersing crowd in the background, pressing a finger to her earpiece as if to hear better.

"-Dr. T'Soni, discoverer of the Crucible and a key figure during the Reaper War, has defended her mother's actions prior to the war as being the result of 'indoctrination', a so-called Reaper 'mind-control' weapon. Indoctrination has also been blamed for the fall of the entire Batarian Hegemony, resulting in the capitulation of Khar'shan in the opening stages of the war.

"It is unknown at this stage if Matriarch Benezia's part in the destruction of the buildings was due to indoctrination or other causes. Confidential sources say that Benezia has been in deteriorating mental and physical health since the end of the war-"

A new feed, but a face Liara immediately recognised, the matron from the Courier's guild.

"-it's a matter of safety, Cearra. Everything I've seen indicates that the ardat-yakshi is left to work unsupervised for hours at a time. There are children here."

"Little is known about the ardat-yakshi, Falere T'Alis," Ce'Molla intoned, looking grim, "but both Dr. T'Soni and Justicar Samara T'Alis were quick to jump to her defence."

Liara herself, up on the table, looking tense, the faint haze of repressed biotic energy adding brighter tones to her skin.

"Falere is here at my invitation, because she has skills we need."

Samara, stoic, standing at ease

"She has upheld every law regarding her continued presence here."

"I'm hoping to discuss this 'invitation' and get more answers in my exclusive interview with Dr. T'Soni next week. This is Cearra Ce'Molla, Republics Galactic Journal. Back to you, Veerith. "

"Thank you, Cearra. Stay tuned for a more in-depth look at the rise and fall of Benezia T'Soni and- "

Liara killed the monitors entirely and slammed her fists down on her desk in sheer frustration, cursing when a hot burst of pain lanced from her damaged hand all the way up to her spine. She tore off the gauntlet to try to ease the sudden, hot throbbing, cursing again when it did little to help. Even her own body was betraying her now, phantom fingers and dead nerves burning as if she were being set on fire all over again.

If she were still on the Normandy, she might go down to the hangar and go a few rounds against the punching bag there. No - she'd go to see Shepard and vent in her private quarters, ranting until her voice was hoarse if she had to. And when she'd calmed down, or her anger had turned cold again, and she could go back out and do what needed to be done.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not after they'd won. Building the peace wasn't supposed to be harder than fighting for their lives.

A datapad on the desk caught her eye, beside her discarded gauntlet. The treaty. She snatched it up and glanced over its contents once more, before pressing her thumb to it and flinging it back down. Maybe it was ridiculous, maybe it was petty and just a complete fit of pique, but she felt better for doing it. At least she would accomplish something today. Something that needed doing.

"Liara?" Aurelia's voice chimed over her omni. Hesitant. "One of the humans is here to see you. Samantha Traynor."

Liara took a deep breath and counted to five. And then to ten. Then twenty.

"Send her in."

Seconds later, Sam appeared in the doorway, concern evident in every line of her body.

"Liara, are you alright? I've been trying to find you since I heard what happened, but nobody's really been talking to us."

Lira gestured to the chair opposite.

"I'm not surprised. We're not really used to having aliens on the homeworld, much less alien military. A lot of people choose to live here because travel is so tightly controlled. At any rate, I'm glad you're here. Here. Please return this to Admiral Hackett with my compliments."

She nudged the diplomatic pad towards the human. Sam frowned but picked it up anyway.

"Liara-"

"I'm fine, Sam."

Concern morphed into blatant skepticism.

"Really? Because if my mum had been in a bad accident and then people I was trying to help were threatening to lock her up, I'd be pretty upset. And probably just a little bit angry."

"I-"

Liara stopped mid word and sighed, running a hand over her crests again. She wasn't fine by anyone's measure. Sam wouldn't believe her if she said otherwise.

"I'm not angry, Sam. I'm furious! My mother spent her entire life trying to help the people out there! You think that'd mean something to everyone. Goddess, it's not like she set out to become indoctrinated. She was trying to stop this all from happening!"

It felt surprisingly good to say that aloud.

"Have you seen her yet?"

"No. Not yet. She'd just come out of surgery when all of this-" she gestured roughly in the direction of the greenhouses, "started. Now, well, I think I need to calm down a bit first."

"Can I help at all?"

Coming from someone else, that would probably have seemed like an empty offer. But Sam - anyone from the Normandy, really - wouldn't make idle, useless platitudes or hollow gestures of support.

"I don't know, Sam. I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing. I know what I want to do. I know what I need to do, if we're going to move forward before more people die. I don't want us to still be in recovery mode when everyone else is done rebuilding. But people make it so difficult. And I keep making stupid mistakes. Speaking before I think.

"You know that if it'd been Shepard up there today, could have made everyone see reason.

They would've understood. As it is, the best I can hope for now is damage control. It's been the same with everything else. Any time I try to do something to move us forward, there's a dozen people telling me I should stop, and another hundred insisting I do something else entirely."

Sam turned the datapad over in her hands.

"Liara, I hate to break it to you, but you're not Shepard."

Liara couldn't quite help her snort of derision.

"I am well aware of that, believe me."

"Yeah, but, you know - Look, sometimes, during the war and things were rough, I'd think to myself, 'what would Commander Shepard do?' And when my back was against a wall, it got me through."

"Sam-"

"Wait, let me finish - please? Asking 'what would Shepard do' got me out of more than a few jams, let me tell you. But the thing is, sometimes, it didn't work. Or didn't make sense. Data compression algorithms don't usually to respond to motivational speeches, you know. And so then, instead, I'd ask myself 'What would Liara do?' Because she's a giant nerd, just like me, only much, much scarier."

Caught somewhere between offended, flattered and bemused, Liara scowled at her.

"I'm not sure I take your meaning."

"Can I be brutally honest?"

"Perhaps?"

"Good enough." Sam shrugged. "Shepard is good with people, Liara. You're not."

Offended won out in the end.

"I am! I can be-"

"You can fake it when you need to. I've seen you work a room, you know. Remember the casino? And I saw your speech at the stadium. Unless they're from the Normandy, or you're bloody furious, it's 100% social engineering. It doesn't come naturally. From, well, come from the heart."

Liara thought back to her apartment on Illium, her charts of hierarchies and her flipbook of flirtatious lines she practiced in front of a mirror until they seemed natural. Her shoulders fell, most of her insult with it.

"There may be more truth to that than I'd like," she admitted.

"And Shepard - don't get me wrong, Shepard's incredible, and an incredibly smart and charismatic woman and god, those shoulders and her abs and- um, er, I've forgotten where I was going with this. Oh, wait. My point is, Shepard's not great at everything either. She couldn't project manage her way out of a wet paper bag. "

"I know that, Sam." She ran an irritable hand over her crests. "I'm not… great with people. Shepard hates paperwork. What's your point?"

"My point? Well, I guess my point is that if you're going to compare yourself to Shepard, you need to do it fairly. Shepard knew she couldn't be good at everything. Nobody can be. So you - you're not good with people? So what? You're good with systems and data and big-picture thinking. Hrd skills. Do that and get someone else to deal with the meatbags. "

"Asari aren't like humans," Liara protested. "There are different expectations. I have to keep people on-side."

"And there isn't anyone else who can do that for you? You're the-" Sam stopped abruptly and looked around the cabin. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she leaned in. "— the bloody you-know-what."

Sam sat back

"Shepard may have been the one out front making headlines, but you were the one in the back room, pulling the strings. When you get right down to it, Shepard was, well, one big, noisy, incredibly good looking distraction."

Liara had been good at it. The back room work. She couldn't deny that. The role suited her natural tendencies towards solitude, and her gift for analysis.

And she'd also been good at doing the things Shepard couldn't do. Shepard had needed to bring the galaxy with her. Liara had known that, from the instant they reunited on Mars. And she'd known, in that same instant, that this meant Shepard would need to be protected, distanced from some of the things that would need to be done in the name of victory. The grim calculus of war, someone else had put it. The terrible sacrifices of morality made in the name of survival.

It had been hard, at first, deciding what, deciding who would be sacrificed, who would be saved. Even harder than it had been stepping into the Broker's shoes for the first time. But time and urgency and the dreadful knowledge of the cost of failure had brought a kind of distance that made necessity of to all bearable. She had been able to sleep at night, for the most part. Help Shepard sleep.

"That's probably the worst pep talk anyone has ever given, isn't it?" Sam said after the silence had drawn out for too long.

Liara belatedly returned her focus to the here and now.

"Can I be brutally honest?" she asked.

"No?"

"It probably was." Liara tried to smile reassuringly. "But I think I take your point. I've been trying to be the kind of public leader I think people want, or maybe need. But I can't be. I can't even rabble-rouse reliably. It's not… me."

Sam smiled encouragingly, and let the conversation shift to other topics - Sam's family, the Canberra's crew, the treaty and more. But Liara listened with only half an ear, the rest of her attention focused inwards.

Sam was right. Shepard was a populist. Benezia had been too, if of a different stripe. Heart and head, respectively, short game and long. Shepard made people feel like she was right, carried them away with her on a wave of emotion and left them staring at an unexpected compromise, wondering what had happened. Benezia talked and debated and wrote and somehow along the way made people think that her idea was not only best, but actually theirs in the first place. They both compromised. Persuaded. Coaxed.

Liara didn't. She didn't comprise or coax or persuade. She sat in her dark rooms with her data feeds and bent the universe to her will. She gave orders and pulled strings because what other people thought or wanted or thought they wanted ultimately mattered far less than whether or not they would do what she told them to do. Her time in the spotlight had served a purpose, but now it was becoming a liability. She needed to step back. Let someone else be the face. No, multiple someones. Because that was part of the problem too wasn't it? She was fighting the establishment at the same time she was negotiating with it. Fighting to keep people on side at the same time she was calling them out.

The public, establishment face - Palla would serve the latter role well, and, if not, someone else could certainly be found. And, actually, yes! Benezia had given Liara the perfect opportunity to give the appearance of stepping back into a supporting role. A declaration that she wanted spend more time helping her mother recover, coupled with her poor handling of today's debate, and the matriarchs - not all of them, of course, enough to make life easier - would read that as her, a poor, overambitious maiden, realising that she was in way over her head. And, why, add in a line or two about wanting to prove the existence of indoctrination, once and for all, and needing find a true cure, and she'd be giving surface legitimacy to all sorts of otherwise strange comings and goings.

Of course, finding someone for the fight role would be harder. They'd need to be young, smart, angry and eloquent, but not totally radicalised or uncontrollable. A rare combination. But how many agents had she groomed over the past few years? Guided into positions of influence and power? Given the gift of just in time, ever-so-useful information? Goddess, when she thought about it, all she really needed to do was find the right person and point them in the general direction of the Temple and they'd do all the work for her.

If she began to set everything in motion immediately, she could use Ce'Molla's interview as the reveal, at one stroke playing the callow, overwhelmed maiden for the matriarchs and blunting or derailing the reporter's most likely avenues of attack. Yes. Make herself into a non-story again. Her fame, her clout as Thessia's favourite daughter had more power the less it was used. It was therefore a resource that needed to be saved for the moments when it could produce the greatest effect. The stadium had been a good use. Today had not. She would make Ce'Molla's interviewcount.

"Sam?" she said, returning her full focus to the here and now. Sam had evidently been silent for some time, and was smiling at her in what would only be described as a slightly smug and somewhat disconcerting way.

"Yes, Liara?"

"I think you and the Canberra should finish up the QEC install and go. Take the treaty back to Hackett, and get the finalised copy back here before, oh," she paused for some quick mental math, "say, eight earth days from now. Nine at the very most."

Sam stood and ripped off a salute with extreme flourish.

"Yes Ma'am. Rightaway ma'am!" she said. "Anything else, ma'am?"

Liara rolled her eye.

"No, but if you call me ma'am again I will call Hackett as soon as the QEC is up to tell him you should be promoted to Captain and given a command."

"Oh ho ho, you fight dirty, Liara T'Soni."

"I fight to win," she clarified, and matched Sam smile for smile.

"Very glad to hear it. Now, go see your mum before you're too busy again."

"Yes ma'am"