If It Meant Living: Beyond - Chapter 1
"Quantum Signals, Old Mysteries, and New Stars"
"Far better it is to dare mighty things." – Theodore Roosevelt
Eldir-za~Mli-Harmoné took several hours to admire the richness of the deep green hue of Tormo-B4's sky. It was the green of the sprawling forests of Palacent, or perhaps the auroras over Namosta every twelfth cycle. One day, once this Hub teemed with life, once Tormo-B4 had received its true name, great poets would travel here to write of the sky.
Every so often he checked on the progress of the Constructors, though the likelihood of any difficulties requiring his attention was exceptionally low; the Constructors' hard lattice and situational directives had been honed and perfected over many thousands of years. They performed what and how they were designed to perform and did so perfectly; it was their purpose, their reason for being.
In several months – the blink of an eye in the clock of the universe – this Hub would be complete, a new center for resonance and fulfillment of Souls would open itself to those who would come, and the Whole would grow ever greater. He was glad to be one to facilitate such growth though it meant he was for a time virtually alone, the soothing cacophony of the Whole a mere faint hum this far from the Center…
…his head tilted curiously as brilliant white-blue tendrils broke across the deep green of the sky, cutting into its richness like a finely-sharpened knife. Mere slivers at first, they grew and spread, dancing and pulsing in an elaborate rhythm.
Then suddenly – though it had been many hours since the first tendrils had appeared – there was no more green, only an impossibly bright white tinged with a hue as blue as the hot gases burning eternally in the Vao Nebula. He blinked rapidly, the bio-circuits in his retinas struggling to find the proper focal length to process the blinding light.
The terrain of Tormo-B4 was not particularly severe or varied, consisting of low, sandy plains over which the Hub would hover, dotted with sparkling tidal pools which reflected the starlight; yet he could now discern gentle hills and tiny lakes seeming to disappear into the white-blue light in the distance. At some point it occurred to him that perhaps he should run…but he did not.
For where would he run to? The immense light was close enough now that he could judge its movement, and it was far faster than his own. Such a distance from the Center, Passages were few, and none were near this planet. His ship could of course create its own – but it was docked far beyond the other side of the Hub, and not within his reach.
Besides, he found he did not particularly want to run – for he was fascinated by the approaching phenomenon. He now recognized that it was not light at all, but rather energy. As it drew ever closer, dancing, writhing wisps of light-energy, he came to the rather profound insight that it was alive. All of it.
As it continued its relentless approach, he began to hear it. The energy – a wall of light taller than the atmosphere's reach yet composed of thousands, no, millions of distinct, individual wisps – emitted a noise that could only be described as a…growl. The sound tainted the energy, gave it intent. Malevolence.
He suddenly tried to recall why he had chosen not to run. That's right – because he would not be fast enough. As the wall of energy drew so close he could see nothing else, he had the thought that perhaps he should have tried anyway.
Though his Soul had lived for millennia, he suddenly found that he did not want to d–
November, 2193: Seven Years After the End of the Reaper War
Presidium, The Citadel: Widow System, Serpent Nebula
"Help."
Graceyn Jane Shepard – Systems Alliance Admiral, Destroyer of the Reapers, Savior of the Citadel, First Human Spectre, Hero of Elysium – swung her legs playfully in the air, high above the Presidium.
In the years since Garrus had shown her it was possible to reach the support beams that ran just below the artificial sky, she had frequently taken it upon herself to return to the lofty retreat. When she needed to think. When she needed to calm down after some disagreement. To remind herself of the wondrousness of life. Just because. Because it was fun to get a head rush from peeking over the edge, to giggle as her legs dangled freely in the air as a child's on a swing.
She quirked an eyebrow as she watched taxis speed along below her. "That's what the signal is saying? 'Help'?"
"The technical translation is more complicated, of course," EDI replied pleasantly, "but yes – I believe it is requesting our assistance."
EDI had first picked up the signal coming from the Large Magellanic Cloud a week earlier. Transmitted in an unknown language and sent across galaxies and dark space, the most interesting thing about the signal was that it was directed at them – to be precise, at the Citadel.
"How did you finally decipher it?" Shepard asked, though her mind was already racing through the possible implications.
"The message was composed of the very particles that make up the universe, though controlled and directed in a very deliberate matter. It is a quantum language, not entirely unlike my own; but there is something…natural…about it that even my own code lacks." A measure of admiration had crept into EDI's tone. "Ultimately, I was able to apply the rules of quantum computing to the signal and construct it in a way that made sense."
"How certain are you of the translation?"
"Very. There is simply no other manner in which the components of the signal make sense."
Shepard's mouth twitched. "And it doesn't say anything else?"
"Not directly. I have, however, been able to pinpoint its origin to within a 7.4-square light-year region in the outer third of LMC, on the edge facing the Milky Way." EDI paused; when she spoke again her voice bore an almost whimsical tone. "That is relatively good news…should one want to consider travelling there."
"Hmmm." Shepard lay back onto the beam and clasped her hands behind her head, her gaze focusing on the soothing motion of the artificial clouds above.
"So some beings from another galaxy that can communicate in the building blocks of the universe and are technologically advanced enough to not only be aware of our existence and the precise location of the Citadel but also to send a directed signal across 160,000 light-years and the emptiness of dark space to us…need our help?"
There was a pause. "So it would appear."
A grin pulled at her lips. "Well that's just damned interesting…"
... ... ...
Intai'Sei: Phoenix System, Argos Rho
The sun began its journey below the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant gold and the usually bleached-orange landscape a deep burnt red. The setting rays blazed through the windows and lit the apartment with a pale, effuse light.
Kaidan chuckled warmly as he relaxed into the couch. "It may be a barren desert that typically resembles a furnace, but Intai'sei sure does have beautiful sunsets."
"That it does…" Shepard sighed contentedly from her position on the floor in front of him, taking a sip of chilled wine then leaning back against his thighs. "I could never retire here – whatever 'retire"means – it's far too isolated and, well, hot; but that sunset is enough to restore my faith in the universe. You know – if I had lost it, which I haven't. Recently."
Kaidan reached over to the table with the arm not draped over her shoulder and retrieved his own glass. "This may be the last time we see it for a while."
"Yeah…" She sat up straighter, twisting around so she could look up at him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
He frowned slightly as his hand drifted up to her cheek. "Don't be ridiculous. There is no way I'm going to be separated from you for a year or more."
She smiled and turned her head to place a kiss on his wrist. "Me either – that's not what I meant. Assuming everything comes to together, assuming the Council approves the mission – are you sure you want to go? Because if you don't…we don't have to."
His head tilted a bit, an uncertain expression on his face. "You'd really stay behind if I asked you to?"
"I would. Of course I want to go, but there are some things that are more important." Her eyes twinkled. "Only a very few, mind you – but you happen to be one of them. Maybe the only one."
He exhaled softly, leaning down and pulling her close for a slow, tender kiss. "Thank you," he murmured against her lips. "That means more to me than you will ever know."
He kissed her once more then settled back into the couch as the sun dropped below the halfway point of the horizon and shadows fell across the room, his fingers idly running through her hair as she rested her head on his knee. "I realize there's a real chance we won't come back, and I'd be lying if I said the thought of never seeing my Mom, my friends, Vancouver, or the Citadel again didn't bother me. But we've been there before and came out the other side."
He paused, taking a long sip of wine. "Mom's okay; she has a good circle of friends and lives a full life. She still misses Dad, and she'll miss me…but she'll be fine. The Spectres will be in good enough hands with Major D'alavik. So in truth there's nothing holding me here."
He smiled down at her in the waning light, gently brushing back the strands of dark red hair falling across her cheek. "I'm curious about what's going on with this message – who these aliens are, whether we can actually help them, if that's even really what they want from us. But most of all…"
He slid his hands under her arms and lifted her up until she was sitting across his lap, then met her searching gaze.
"…I want to see new stars with you."
December, 2193
Presidium, The Citadel
The ginger-soy sauce perfectly complimented the moist yet flaky Arctic salmon, Liara thought. Though Humans had brought a number of valuable contributions to galactic civilization, truly delectable seafood had to be near the top of the list. She made a mental note to send a message complementing the Presidium Pointe chef on his skill. Then she smiled to herself, watching as Shepard's eyes closed in blissful pleasure as she took a bite of the basil spinach.
It was a monthly ritual they had – lunch in Liara's office in the Upper Presidium, just the two of them. From time to time they missed a month, one or both of them off on some mission or other; but in five years they had never missed two months in a row. It was a chance to swap stories, to talk about the latest work going on at the Research Council in a private, secure venue, to share thoughts on political machinations and galactic events, or just to relax.
Today, it was a chance to talk about The Message.
"So what do you think?"
Liara raised an eyebrow speculatively. "You know my years as the Shadow Broker have made me inherently suspicious; I see conspiracies and ulterior motives in every action. So frankly, my first thought is that it's a trick; a trap even."
Shepard nodded idly as she chewed a bite of the salmon then took a long sip of lemon-flavored water. "Absolutely. It would be foolish to not recognize that as a very real possibility. But Liara…" she couldn't help but grin mischievously "…what if it's not?"
Liara shook her head, chuckling lightly. "If it's not, then it means we get to face an extra-galactic enemy that's too formidable for a highly-advanced civilization to face alone. What could possibly go wrong?" She rolled her eyes. "Sounds like fun. I'm in."
Shepard's eyes twinkled in delight. "Wonderful. After all, I wouldn't know what the hell to do with a new alien species without you there to explain them to me." She paused, a slight smile on her face. "But are you sure you're ready to give up the Research Council work…or the Shadow Broker business?"
Liara laughed. "I have no intention of giving up either – though I will delegate most of the routine duties to those I trust. But the truth is, Shepard, most of the old mysteries have already been solved. As for those that haven't, who knows…maybe the answers can be found beyond the edge of the galaxy."
They spent a few moments enjoying the meal. Finally Liara stood, going over to the counter to retrieve the desserts – something called a "double chocolate ice cream brownie" for Shepard, and a lime gelato for her. She may appreciate Humans' seafood, but she would never understand their obsession with chocolate.
She placed the dessert plates on the table and sat back down. "So when will the ship be ready?"
Shepard's voice was muffled, the rich chocolate sticking to the roof of her mouth. "Abouth sithx weethks."
The Normandy SR-3, like its predecessors, was a prototype. Half again as large as the SR-2, she had room for a crew of sixty plus ten private cabins and a captain's suite as large as many Citadel apartments. But the crown jewel of the new ship, and the reason for its prototype status, was its propulsion system.
Deep in the Catalyst's files had been incomplete research – thousands of millennia old and abandoned by its creators in the wake of a Reaper attack – into the development of starship drives capable of true inter-galactic travel. EDI and some of the most brilliant scientists in the galaxy had spent the last six years first understanding, then completing, extending, and finally building the technology.
In addition to the standard antiproton thrusters and FTL drive, the SR-3 contained a drive with the capability to create, maintain, and traverse wormholes. The prototype engine installed in the ship could open wormholes of a maximum of 1,000 light-years in "length," i.e., the distance from the entrance point to the exit point in normal space-time; EDI was optimistic that future versions would be capable of far greater distances.
Shepard gulped down some water. "Hopefully in around six weeks. Arcturus is running it through a battery of tests and simulations now. In about two weeks they'll start hop-skipping through wormholes around the galaxy, stress-testing the new engine. Assuming all goes well, they'll certify it in about a month; then it's just a matter of letting the paint dry."
Liara nodded slowly, already making preparations in her head. "That should be plenty of time. Still, LMC is, what, about 160,000 light-years away? Five months is a long time to be cooped up on a ship with nothing to do…"
Shepard shrugged. "Five months is nothing – can you imagine the decade or longer voyages those inter-galactic cruisers are on? Besides, have you seen it? It's a big ship. You only thought the SR-2 was luxurious."
She took a final bite of her brownie. "There's just one tiny obstacle remaining…"
Liara's head tilted slightly. "Oh yes? What's that?"
She leaned back in her chair, slowly licking her fork clean. "The Council."
... ... ...
Shepard glared at the Councilors in disbelief.
No, not disbelief. Disgust. Though she truly shouldn't be surprised – this was at least the seventeenth time she had been in this position. Still, she just couldn't wrap her head around how representatives of seven – six, she quickly corrected herself, as Anderson was at least reluctantly on her side – different species could all be so thick-headed, and at the same time.
"The simple, undeniable fact, Admiral Shepard, is that a single frigate cannot stand up against anything powerful enough to have sent this signal."
Her eyes narrowed at the Salarian Councilor. "I realize you're new, and you might not be fully apprised of the facts, sir – but the Normandy SR-2 couldn't stand up to the Reapers either, and that didn't stop us from winning The War."
For that's what it was known as now – The War. There had been hundreds, thousands of wars fought before it, but none had come even close to the sheer scale of the enemy, of the devastation, of the resistance, and ultimately, of the victory. So it had become simply 'The War.'
"Admiral, I don't see how that's – "
She willfully interrupted him; it had been a long time since she had been intimidated by a politician. "The new Normandy is the only ship that can get there in anything approaching a reasonable amount of time. It will be another eight months at a minimum before any more ships are equipped with a wormhole drive. And with respect, that's too long to sit around and wait."
The Turian Councilor, Malano, cleared his throat. "Regardless, two, five or a dozen ships wouldn't be enough. The problem isn't the Normandy – the problem is that we have no idea the true motivations of these aliens. I can't in good conscience approve a mission to go in blindly; better that we exercise prudence – take time to more fully study the signal and direct our scientific attentions toward LMC. If in time we discover these aliens are benign, then perhaps we send an envoy to initiate diplomatic relations. If we instead discover they aren't so benign, well…better that they stay in their galaxy and we stay in ours."
She dropped her chin and stared slightly up and sideways at him, an eyebrow raised; the look was that of a master incredulous at the ignorance of the student. "To refer back to your esteemed colleague's earlier remark, anything powerful enough to have sent this signal isn't likely to respect galactic boundaries!"
She took a deep breath, steadying her voice. "Look. I'm not afraid to face this, whatever it is. Friend or foe. If they're not hostile, if they truly need our assistance? Great. Wonderful. Happy to help. If they are hostile, if it's an elaborate trap? Then we find out with enough time to get ready."
Her gaze ran slowly across the row of Councilors, piercing into each of them in turn. "Or do we want to wait for them to come to us? Do we want everything we've rebuilt to be destroyed again? Don't make the mistake of your predecessors; don't bury your heads in the sand and think the crisis will just go away. Because I assure you – and I speak from experience on this – it won't."
She smiled then. Kindly. Reassuringly. "All you have to do is let me go."
It was a full two hours before Anderson came back to his office. He was unsurprised to find her there, leaning against the ledge and staring out at Presidium Lake. As she turned around and met his gaze, his nodded slowly. "We approved the mission. You're going."
She exhaled slowly, letting go of the tension that had been coiled tightly in her gut for the last two hours. "What was the vote?"
"4-3." He smirked a bit as he went over to the cabinet and poured two drinks. "And I'm fairly certain at least two of the Councilors that voted 'yes' did so solely because they thought risking an inter-galactic war was worth it to get you out of their hair for a year or so."
She laughed in delight as she accepted a glass from him. "Then I will be happy to oblige them."
... ... ...
Cipritine, Palaven: Trebia System, Apien Crest
Garrus threw the datapad onto his desk, flinching in annoyance as it clattered loudly. Goddamn Select Committee with their security paranoia had rejected the use of the new holo-displays until they could be "studied" further…
He collapsed into his chair, crest falling back against the high back. He slowly swung side to side, his mind a morass of "concerns" and "issues" and "developments." Quarian/Geth-Turian joint ventures…Yahg suppressions…Krogan expansion concerns… Good gods if they had to fight the Krogan Rebellions again he was going to personally strangle Shepard, he didn't care if the Cure bargain had been a crucial factor in winning The War.
This last meeting had stretched the last of his patience; at this point he was rather intensely regretting his decision to resign as C-Sec Executor and, at the insistent and repeated urgings of Primarch Victus, return to Palaven and join the Select Committee nearly two years earlier.
He didn't give a damn how high on the Primarch succession list he was – nothing was worth this torture. Politics. Why did he ever think he was remotely suited for politics?
He knew the answer, of course. Five years of running C-Sec, of building it back up after its decimation in the final hours of the Reaper War; five years of being in charge and able to do what was needed, no one but the Council to second-guess him – and they were far more occupied with other matters. It had seduced him, insulated him, made him comfortable in his own apparent power.
But here on Palaven, he had Commissioner Orinia and Ministers Kuryn and Pallatus and even Chairman Nehraka fighting him at every turn. More than that, as he sat in meeting after meeting and listened to them drone on and on and on, he couldn't get a thought out of his head…it crept and twisted its way into even his most high-minded moments…
…none of it mattered.
Palaven was a highly-evolved, advanced society. It accepted technological improvements in due course, integrated them into its daily life, and moved ever forward. It had a long history and a longer future. As the largest military in the galaxy – though the Humans were rapidly growing and would likely surpass them in the next decade – they had rescued civilization in the past and very well may do so again in the future.
But he had seen the greatest threat the galaxy would ever face, stared into its arrogant eyes, and helped to defeat it. He wasn't so egotistical as to think that they had won because of him; at best he had played a minor to middling role – but it had been a far larger role than anyone else on the Select Committee, that much was certain.
His fingers twitched, seeming to yearn for a sniper rifle, any sniper rifle. He sighed, getting up and going over to the cabinet against the wall to open a new bottle of piramo. He poured it straight over ice, chuckling slightly as he recalled a time nearly a decade ago when Shepard had done a similar thing with something called 'vodka' on perhaps the darkest night of her life – well one of them, anyway – as she had awaited arrest and war crimes charges for blowing up the Alpha Relay and with it, 300,000 Batarians.
The memory just served to remind him of the relative stakes, he thought as he leaned against the cabinet and sipped the piramo. The simple fact was, this was trivial. All of it.
The galaxy was safer and more prosperous than it had ever been. Technological and medical advances were proceeding at an accelerating pace; the rebuilding process had been an economic boon rather than a burden. The various species were more at peace than they had ever been, Krogan expansion notwithstanding; even the Batarians were playing nice in the face of the unprecedented outpouring of financial and boots-on-the-ground support after the end of The War.
He sighed, and considered comming Solana to see if she was free for a night out – or in, whatever. But more than likely she was either working or relaxing with her husband, enjoying a quiet evening at home with the one she loved. Lucky her…
In lieu of comming her, he quickly finished off the glass and poured another. He didn't have any obligations for the night, might as well enjoy it. It had been many hours since dinner, and he could already feel the piramo working its magic.
He wandered back over to his desk as he took another long sip, casually pulling up the most recent reports on the Krogan expansion and wondering at what point he would need to pay Wrex a visit and call in a favor or two. He started scanning the file, finding it hard to bother reading every line.
His comm buzzed, and he glanced down. External but automatically passed-through call…hmmm. Only a dozen people in the galaxy were on his green-light list; none of them but his father and, possibly, Victus would care that he was well on his way to being drunk. Unless they were actively being attacked; then Victus would definitely care. He quickly calculated the rough odds, shrugged and activated the link.
"Vakarian here."
"Bored yet?"
He grinned, shaking his head at the empty office. "Shepard. My gods, you have no idea how bored I am."
There was a light, musical chuckle on the other end, one that never failed to warm his heart. "It just so happens I can change that – if you're game."
He laughed, full-throated and deep – something his people rarely did. Then again, he had never been a particularly good Turian. "I don't give a damn what it is – I'm game."
His crest fell back against the chair, this time in relief rather than exasperation. He was free.
January, 2194
Presidium, The Citadel
Shepard's nose scrunched up, her brow furrowing deeply; the overall effect was one of utter befuddlement and consternation. She stared at the holo-display in front of her for another moment, then collapsed back in the chair and shook her head across the table at EDI. "I'm a smart girl; all the tests said so. I should be able to understand this."
EDI smiled kindly. "Really, Shepard, it's not necessary that you do. I will be there; Kaidan, Liara and Keenon, as well as Legion of course, are all proficient in quantum computing. The likelihood of you finding yourself in a situation where you will be required to understand, much less manipulate, such a language is quite low."
She huffed a tired laugh. "Which is exactly why it will almost certainly happen. Look, I can't be expected to evaluate and judge these aliens, to make decisions that will affect the security of not only my entire crew, but possibly their entire civilization, if I can't grasp how they think."
She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then pulled the holo-display closer. "Okay. I understand how QEC works – two particles interact physically then are separated, but they remain entangled; linked. But you're saying the thing that makes quantum computing so powerful isn't so much that, but rather this superposition quality?"
EDI nodded. "Yes. In standard computing, a 'bit' is either a one or a zero – on or off. In quantum computing, a 'qubit' can be a one, a zero, or any possible superposition of the two. As the number of qubits increases linearly, the number of possible states increases exponentially. This is why quantum computers are orders of magnitude more powerful than binary ones."
Shepard shrugged. "So, what, does this mean that the aliens are just really, really smart?"
EDI laughed. "It could mean that they are AIs, or are otherwise capable of calculating and retaining large amounts of information. I think we would both agree, however, that that is not necessarily the same thing as being 'smart.'"
Then EDI leaned forward across the table, clasping her hands together atop the glass. "The thing that is unique about the quantum language, Shepard, is that it is not a 'yes' or 'no' proposition. Not only can the qubits be all possible states, they are all possible states. It is a way of thinking that is more…fulsome, more whole…than the binary thinking of most computers or, frankly, most species."
Intrigued by that thought, Shepard stared at the code streaming slowly across the display, looking for the patterns, the currents, the flow. It was hypnotic, and she found herself getting lost in it –
– the door to her office buzzed as it opened. She jumped as the sound jarred her out of her reverie, looking over as Kasumi walked in.
"Hey, Shep. EDI, you look ravishing. Shepard, you look…annoyed."
It had taken Shepard a year and a half to convince Kasumi to join her task force squads. She finally had Keiji back – or at least an AI construct that looked and talked like him – and understandably was focused on making the relationship work.
But a regular paycheck, only occasional assignments, stealth infiltration and surveillance missions…it had eventually become too much for her to resist. And bit by bit, the "respectable" life had worn away her barriers and instinctual defense mechanisms; bit by bit, the idea that she didn't have to hide anymore – except when she wanted to – had begun to take hold.
This particular evening she wore tight-fitting black pants over heeled boots. A gray cowl-necked sleeveless shirt that shimmered as she moved revealed the dark olive skin of her slender, bare arms and the intricate tattoo that wove from her bicep to her shoulder. Her sleek, pitch-black hair fell over her right shoulder and behind her left; her distinctive lip tattoo remained, and glasses that seemed to constantly shift in tint if you stared at them masked her eyes.
In short, she painted an utterly gorgeous and highly dangerous picture – just how she liked it.
Here, though, she was among friends. Her glasses lightened then vanished as she hopped up on the table, glancing at then reaching over and shifting the holo-display to where she could read it.
"Ooh, quantum code! I love this stuff, it's so ethereal…"
Shepard laughed, shaking her head. "You're coming, right? Tell me you're coming."
Kasumi ran fingertips in lazy circles along the tabletop. "Ahh, Shep…you're always asking me to go with you on these little adventures… 'It'll be fun!,' you say…'piece of cake,' you say. And inevitably I end up getting shot at nearly every single minute…" Her eyes cut over to Shepard, lips curling up in a wicked grin. "Keiji can come, right?"
Shepard nodded firmly. "Absolutely. Part of the deal."
Kasumi planted her hands on the glass and vaulted off the table. "Of course I'm coming! Are you kidding? When do we go? I can't wait to get out of here."
Shepard smiled broadly, leaning back and kicking a foot up on the table where Kasumi had been.
"Soon enough."
... ... ...
New York City, Earth: Sol System, Local Cluster
Shepard peered out the floor-to-ceiling windows…woah. This was high enough up to give even her vertigo. The Victory Tower was 1.2 kilometers tall, making it the tallest occupied building on Earth. They were on floor 195 of 210, which put them just over a kilometer in the air.
Everywhere she looked there were gleaming skyscrapers. Just to the west was Central Park, a vast open space of pools, fountains, and lush gardens – for all the trees had been scorched in The War – stretching for over four kilometers through the heart of Manhattan.
New York had been utterly destroyed in The War; no city on Earth save Beijing had been so systematically and deliberately demolished by the Reapers. But The City That Never Sleeps wasn't about to be defeated so easily. They had rebuilt from the ground up, block by block; what had emerged was not the city it had been before – but in many ways it was better. Thoroughly modern, technologically and ecologically advanced, clean and bright, it was now a model for future developments.
She smiled and reluctantly turned away from the windows. "With a view like this I don't really have to ask, but why did you move the company headquarters here?"
Miranda shrugged mildly, sinking back in her chair. "I thought we could help with the rebuilding efforts more easily from Earth. I wanted to support the return of commercial industry to New York. But mostly, I wanted to ditch the old headquarters that oozed my father from every square meter." She smirked in satisfaction. "I wanted to make it mine."
"Well, I'd say you've succeeded." Shepard crossed the room and settled easily into the chair opposite Miranda's desk, chuckling slightly at the brief feeling of déjà vu to similar moments back on the Cerberus SR-2.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. So how is all this money, power and influence treating you?"
Miranda's eyes rolled as a sigh escaped her perfect lips. "I'm afraid it's all rather dull and uninteresting. Don't get me wrong – running a corporation of this size and scope is a lot of work; long hours, dozens of decisions a day, each one of which can mean millions of credits earned or lost. But…it's not hard; it's not an intellectual challenge. And I always loved a challenge more than anything."
She huffed a laugh. "Luckily, Ori loves it; she enjoys the strategy, the power plays, the larger chess game. She's willingly handling more of my responsibilities every day." She flicked on her calendar and checked it quickly. "Say, do you want to go out for a late lunch? I can easily clear my schedule."
Shepard frowned briefly. "I'd love to, but I actually have several more stops to make this afternoon, then I'm meeting Kaidan for dinner on the river."
"Which one?"
"Which what?"
"Which river?"
"Oh," Shepard laughed. "Um, the East River…I think."
"Hmm. Busy day then – what are you up to?"
She smiled slightly. "Just a new project; but we'll get to that. First, catch me up – I heard you got yourself caught up in a little adventure last year."
"Yes, that…" Miranda stood and went over to the table against the wall, pouring a glass of water then leaning against the table. "The head of one of our competitors in the genetics space took out a contract on me. Stupid, foolish man. But tracking down the assassin then tracing the hit back to the source did involve some…excitement." She smiled a bit, a faraway, almost wistful look in her eyes. "It did feel good to fire a gun again."
"Uh-huh." Shepard quirked a devilish grin. "I also heard that a certain Corsair-turned Cerberus agent-turned Alliance Lieutenant has been increasingly frequenting your residence since that 'excitement.'"
"How – " Miranda groaned. "Never mind. I don't even want to know." Her lips pursed together. "Yes. Jacob helped me bring the assassin to justice, as it were. Then, well…I guess you'd say we're trying to make a go at it. For better or worse, he's one of the few people who knows what and who I am and isn't afraid of it."
"Took him long enough…" Shepard muttered under her breath, then smiled up at Miranda. "I'm glad to hear it; I hope it works out." She glanced back out the windows at the crystal blue sky, sunlight reflecting off the buildings. "So how much responsibility is Oriana ready to take on?"
"Honestly? Most of it. She's still a little young to be running a multi-cluster corporation, but somehow I don't think that would stop her. She's as smart and clever as I am, after all; I imagine there's very little she can't do if she puts her mind to it. Why do you ask?"
Shepard leaned forward, dropping her elbows to her knees and clasping her hands beneath her chin. "Because I'd like to offer you a new challenge."
... ... ...
Presidium, The Citadel
"Is the Normandy a goddamn love boat?"
Shepard reached up and slid the ship manifest that Anderson had been reviewing over to her, frowning curiously. Her eyes scanned down the list, lips threatening to curl up in a smirk as she reviewed the information in a new light. "That wasn't my intention…" She pursed her lips together, trying to suppress what was rapidly becoming laughter…and ultimately failed.
She started chuckling as she pushed the holo-display away slightly, leaving it hovering in the air a meter or so in front of them, then looked sideways at Anderson, eyes twinkling. He tried to look stern and disapproving, but a grin slowly blossomed on his face – which turned her chuckle into full-throated giggles. "The Starship Normandy, now offering couples cruises to a galaxy near you – private cabins starting at a low million credits per person…"
That sent him into uproarious laughter, and soon they were both leaning against the table, doubled-over and holding their sides.
She sucked in air, trying to catch her breath as her palms raised in surrender. "Look…I've got people I have to take, and people I want to take, and people the Council is making me take. The SR-3 is a big ship, but it's getting a little crowded. I can't ask – " she glanced back at the manifest " – Major Vega to bunk in the general crew quarters. I can't ask any of these people to."
He huffed a final laugh and nodded slightly. "I know. But you do realize this setup violates at least half a dozen Alliance regulations?"
"Then it's a good thing this is a special multi-species Council-sponsored mission and not an Alliance one."
"Fine, fine, fine. It's just…have you considered the possible effect on shipboard discipline of this…these…arrangements?"
She nodded thoughtfully. "Every person on the ship has been hand-picked; they've each previously served under at least one of the senior officers, and served with distinction. They also were given the opportunity to decline the assignment after full disclosure, with no negative repercussions. Nobody on the ship's a rookie – not even the janitor."
She sighed softly. "I know how to run a ship, Anderson. Whether it's full of marines or criminals or aliens, doesn't matter."
He gestured in her direction. "Ah, hell, I know you do. I just want to make sure everything is covered. You're headed on a journey straight into the unknown, Shepard." His gaze met hers. "You don't have to do this, you know. You don't have to always be the hero. We can send someone else."
She smiled affectionately at him. "I know. But Anderson, it's another galaxy! Of course it's the unknown – that's what's so enticing about it. Can you imagine what awaits us, what wonders we'll see? I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Besides, to paraphrase an old friend…it has to be me. Someone else might get it wrong."
"Okay, okay…" he chuckled ruefully "…to paraphrase myself, I know when I'm talking to a brick wall. Just…for god's sake, be careful."
She rolled her eyes as she recalled their conversation of so many years ago before she breached the Omega 4 Relay. "Hell, it's no fun if you're careful."
February, 2194
Docking Bay A-17, The Citadel
Shepard ran her hand along the shining chrome bar separating her from the galaxy map. The map was now fully three-dimensional and rotatable and zoomable on the x-, y- and z- axes. It currently displayed the Milky Way that she knew like the back of her hand; but a number of Council-sponsored scientists had turned their focus to the Large Magellanic Cloud over the last three months, and they now had the most detailed scans of an external galaxy every created. In a few months the compilation of those scans would replace the Milky Way in front of her.
Even so, LMC was still largely a mystery. The clusters had names like "H3 Alpha-4" and "Sigma Seven-B"; the systems, save those on the outer rim closest to the Milky Way, had no names at all. The Normandy had been equipped with state-of-the-art infrared, x-ray, radio and visible light telescopes; once they passed beyond the Milky Way's border they would be pausing between wormhole jumps to use them to begin filling in the blanks.
She stepped off the perch and over to the left. The shelf that on the SR-2 had held her private terminal was gone; in its place was a 2x2 meter holo-display, hovering at eye level.
She nudged Kaidan in the side lightly with her elbow. "Is it all there? Have to make sure, you know."
His eyes cut over at her, a mild smirk on his face. "Just let me fiddle, okay? This is practically one of the coolest things I've ever seen."
She grinned affectionately and peered over his shoulder. With the touch of a finger, virtually any information available could be accessed. Real-time data from and control of all the Normandy's systems and external sensors, of course – but also the Citadel's and the Alliance's full databanks and EDI's data stores. Not her core processing, but pretty much everything she "knew."
He flicked several fingers in rapid succession. "See, this is the current input being captured by the radio telescope, and this…" his pinkie slid to the left "…is what it captured ten minutes ago."
She tried to keep a straight face, but quickly failed as a giggle escaped her lips. "Kaidan, darling…that's red static."
He sighed, dropping his chin to hide a smile. "Well, we are still in the Citadel dock…"
"Not for long." She swiped diagonally down the display and it vanished. Then she grabbed his hand in hers and pulled him away from his new toy. "Come on. It's time."
Together they walked along the CIC – brightly lit, at her insistence – toward the cockpit. Stations lined the walls, a majority of the occupants human but also Turian, Asari, Salarian and several Quarian. The deck buzzed with a low-level hum of electronics, conversations, movement and excitement.
Status updates on various ship systems lit her Omni-tool during the short walk; others preferred to update her in person, approaching her and sliding a report over, which she accepted with a smile and a nod.
Joker swung around as they approached, practically bouncing in the pilot's chair. "Can we go? Can we go?"
She rolled her eyes, catching EDI watching him with an expression of as pure a love as she'd ever seen on any organic. "Almost. Procedures to follow. You remember those, right?"
He sighed and slowly rotated back around to the controls. "Yeah, yeah…go ahead, ask me."
She smiled, then took a deep breath and activated the general comm. This was it. "Navigation and propulsion, are you a 'Go'?"
Joker squared his shoulders formally. "Navigation and propulsion are a 'Go', Admiral!" Then he promptly slouched back down into his usual posture.
"Engineering?"
Adams' voice reverberated through the CIC. "Engineering is a 'Go.'"
"Weapons?"
Garrus wasn't on board yet, they would be picking him up along the way; Keenon was filling in for the time being. "Weapons are a 'Go.'"
"Cargo and Armaments?"
Cortez could be hear clearing his throat. "Cargo and – " Vega's deeper voice boomed " – Armaments – " back to Cortez " – are a 'Go.'" Vega's laugh could be heard before their link cut out.
"Science?"
Liara's voice could be heard both over the comm and in the air as she walked smiling up the CIC. "Science is a 'Go.'"
"Personnel?"
Miranda would be handling administration and personnel. While it would be easy to assume her temperament was not exactly suited to dealing with people, the simple fact was her experience on the Cerberus SR-2 plus six years running a multi-cluster corporation had made her an expert at it.
But she wasn't aboard yet either, so Kaidan was covering it for the moment. He squeezed her hand and shared a private smile with her, but his voice was officious and strong over the comm. "Personnel is a 'Go.'"
"Communications?"
EDI grinned almost gleefully from her seat. "Communications are a 'Go.'"
"Systems?"
Legion spoke from the control center in the corner – god, but he could be quiet. "Systems are a 'Go.'"
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she muted the general comm and gazed around at them. "I think that's everything…"
Joker's feet tapped rapidly against the floor. "It's everything. Now can we go?"
She looked out the large viewports at the purple nebula beyond. They would be seeing many more spectacular sights in the months to come, but she had always loved the view from the Citadel.
She reactivated the general comm. "The mission is a 'Go.' Flight Lieutenant Moreau, take us out."
"Yes, ma'am." The clamps fell away as the Normandy SR-3 slid out of its mooring, bright spotlights sweeping across her gleaming hull as she cleared the docking bay and banked to the left, accelerating past the Ward arms and toward the Widow Relay.
This part of the journey they had traversed dozens, even hundreds of times. What was soon to come would be another matter altogether.
APPENDIX A
OPERATION CLARION
Systems Alliance/Citadel Council Frigate-X Class Vessel Normandy SR-3
Ship Manifest
Captain/Operation Lead: Systems Alliance Admiral Graceyn Shepard
Executive Officer/Council Liaison: Systems Alliance Admiral Kaidan Alenko
Senior Officers:
Systems Alliance Major James Vega
Quarian Heavy Fleet Commander Keenon'Daal vas Idenna
Turian Marine Corps Lieutenant Commander Litha Palamin
Systems Alliance Staff Lieutenant Jacob Taylor
Officers:
Systems Alliance Senior Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau
Systems Alliance Flight Lieutenant Steve Cortez
Systems Alliance 1st Lieutenant Timah Naik
Systems Alliance Chief Engineer Gregory Adams
Systems Alliance Senior Medical Lieutenant Doctor Karin Chakwas-Adams
Primary Shipboard AI: Legion Model II
Secondary Navigation and Communications AI: EDI (shard)
Specially Assigned Non-Military Personnel:
Turian Senior Commissioner Garrus Vakarian
Research Council Chairman Doctor Liara T'Soni
Krogan Overlord Urdnot Wrex
Lawson Industries Chairman Miranda Lawson
GRaDeF (Special Multi-Agency Galactic Rapid Deployment Force) Agent Kasumi Goto
Council Special Advisor EDI*
Legion Model II*
GRaDeF Agent Keiji Okuda*
...
* Artificial Intelligence Platform
Total Personnel On Board: 78
Room Assignments:
Captain's Quarters: Graceyn Shepard, Kaidan Alenko
Cabin A-1: EDI, Jeff Moreau
Cabin A-2: Miranda Lawson, Jacob Taylor
Cabin A-3: Liara T'Soni
Cabin B-1: Timah Naik
Cabin B-2: Gregory Adams, Karin Chakwas-Adams
Cabin B-3: Keenon'Daal
Cabin C-1: Kasumi Goto, Keiji Okuda
Cabin C-2: Litha Palamin
Cabin C-3: James Vega, Steve Cortez
Cabin C-4: Garrus Vakarian
Engineering-A: Legion
Cargo-B: Urdnot Wrex
Secondary Vessels:
Systems Alliance Shuttle-Class Vessel A-2 "Raptor"
Systems Alliance Shuttle-Class Vessel UT-49B "Kodiak" (x2)
Systems Alliance Ground-Class Vehicle M37-H "Mako"
APPENDIX B
Systems Alliance/Citadel Council Frigate-X Class Vessel Normandy SR-3
Ship Layout/Schematic
See "SR-3 Layout" on my Deviant Art page, Deviant ID "Graceyn."