Deep Space: An Epic Sci-Fi Romance Page 3

  "That would be fine, thank you. I certainly don't wish to cause trouble."

  Dr. Chakwas nodded. "In that case, I’ll let you enjoy your shower. I'll leave a uniform outside the cubicle for when you're finished."

  It may have been a cramped little refresher cubicle aboard a military starship, but after Therum I considered it blessed luxury. After a time I emerged and put on the doctor's spare uniform, feeling fresh and civilized for the first time in many days. My scalp and crest tingled with the sheer pleasure of being clean and well-groomed.

  Dr. Chakwas escorted me out onto the crew deck.

  It's very strange how popular vids describe life aboard a starship. I've seen many that were set aboard the first Normandy during its all-too-brief existence. They almost always portrayed the vessel as being full of vast open spaces, as if it were a luxury passenger liner rather than a warship. In at least one vid the Normandy was clearly much larger on the inside than on the outside.

  In reality, warships are always cramped. There can be no open space that doesn't serve some essential function. Any large empty compartment means more mass for the drives to propel, more hull area to be protected by armor and kinetic barriers, and a larger cross-section to present an easier target. Every compartment on board ship is exactly as large as it needs to be, and not a cubic meter more.

  On the other hand, the vids always seem to omit hundreds of things that are necessary to make long-range space flight possible. Chairs for every crewman on duty, with safety restraints. Workstations for command officers. Small cabins for the senior officers, bunkrooms for the crew. Refreshers, a ship's laundry, water purification and recycling machinery. A galley, and cargo space for food stores and other perishables. More cargo space for equipment, spare parts, personal armor, weapons and ammunition. A ready room and training area for the ship's Marine detachment. Workshops for repair and maintenance. A small laboratory, if the ship is likely to perform planetary surveys or exploration. The list seems endless.

  Normandy was a crowded, busy place with very little in the way of creature comforts. But for over a hundred days it was my home, and I soon came to love it.

  It was apparently mealtime for much of the crew. A dozen uniformed men and women ate, drank, and chattered away, and the chief steward worked quickly to distribute more provender.

  I sat down at the nearest available place and looked around at all the humans. Such variety! Pale, dark, tall, short, stocky, slender, male, female, every one of them was unique and distinctive. Asari who have never met many humans often complain that “they all look alike,” but I can attest that is not at all the case.

  Before long I became aware that many of the humans were watching me as well. If I could judge human expression, some of the glances ranged from uncertainty to open hostility.

  Dr. Chakwas returned to my place and placed a tray in front of me. I looked down and saw a variety of shapes and colors. I picked up a standard-issue spork and began to investigate my options. "What is this, Doctor?"

  "Breakfast!" said Dr. Chakwas. "We're going to pretend you're on gamma shift and just starting your day."

  "I suppose that’s true." I decided to start with a spoonful from a pile of soft yellowish curds. It tasted rich, but not unpleasant.

  "Those are scrambled eggs," the doctor explained, pointing to my plate. "These are links of pork sausage, and these are called hash browns."

  "What about the white porridge in this cup?" I asked.

  "I recommend you not eat that," said another human as he sat down across from me. I glanced up and got an overall impression of darkness: black hair, deep brown eyes, and a prominent patch of black fur over each eye. The human’s expression was open and friendly. He cheerfully extended a hand for me to grasp, and I felt a tell-tale sensation in the palm of my hand when I touched his.

  A human biotic.

  Dr. Chakwas made introductions. "Doctor, this is Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, commander of the Marine detachment aboard Normandy. Lieutenant, Dr. Liara T'Soni, the Prothean expert Commander Shepard rescued earlier today."

  "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." I smiled at the Marine, feeling rather shy at all the new faces. "Why should I not eat this?"

  "I suspect you'll regret it. Those are called grits."

  I tasted the grits and found them quite palatable, if bland and a little salty. I reached for a tumbler of yellow liquid and found it to be some sort of juice, sugary and tart and full of pulp. I immediately found myself gulping it, drinking half the tumbler before I could force myself to set it down. "Ah, that's good."

  Lieutenant Alenko grinned at me. "I know how that feels. After I've been working hard with my biotics there's nothing better than a big glass of cold orange juice."

  "My people are very fond of fruit juices. This is very good even if it’s reconstituted. I wonder if anyone has tried exporting it to asari space?"

  We ate together in silence for a while. I found Lieutenant Alenko an agreeable companion. He knew how to be quiet . . . and with him and the doctor in my company, the hostile stares from the rest of the crew ceased.

  "I am curious about something, Lieutenant," I said once most of my food was gone.

  "What's that?"

  "If I'm not mistaken, many of your crew dislike me on sight. May I ask why?"

  "Hmm." The lieutenant toyed with his empty tumbler, not meeting my eyes as he considered how to answer. "What do you know about our mission?"

  "Very little. I'm pleased that you came to rescue me from the geth on Therum, but why an Alliance warship would be sent to do that is not clear." A sudden memory struck me. "Wait. Commander Shepard introduced himself as a Spectre. Is the Normandy assigned to the Citadel Council?"

  "That's right," said Lieutenant Alenko. "We're on detached duty until further notice to support Commander Shepard's mission."

  "I thought there were no human Spectres."

  "Commander Shepard is the first, as of three days ago now. He’s assigned to locate and take down a rogue Spectre: Saren Arterius."

  I felt a burst of enlightenment as I saw the connections. "Ah. My mother Benezia has worked with Saren on occasion for several years now. She doubtless made him aware of my expertise. Together they sent the geth and that krogan to Therum for me. For all any of you know, I might secretly be in league with Saren. That turian, Garrus Vakarian, suggested as much when he first saw me."

  "That's a good summation, ma'am, but there's more. Most of the crew wouldn't ordinarily care about Council politics, but in this case we have a good personal reason to want Saren stopped." The lieutenant paused, clearly uncomfortable. "He and his geth attacked a human colony just a few days ago: Eden Prime. They killed tens of thousands of civilians and almost completely wiped out two brigades of Marines. If we hadn't already been on our way there, the whole colony would have been destroyed. Once we were able to prove Saren's involvement, that's what convinced the Council to strip him of his Spectre status and outlaw him."

  I shook my head in disbelief. "I had no idea Saren had gone rogue so badly.”

  He only watched me in silence.

  “Wait.” The fine meal I had just eaten suddenly felt like a ball of iron in my gut. “Are you implying that my mother was implicated in this attack?”

  "I'm sorry, ma'am." He held my eyes. "We have evidence. A recording of her, discussing the Eden Prime massacre with Saren, recovered from a geth memory core."

  I glared at him, not wanting to believe it, but I could see nothing but bleak honesty in his face.

  Oh Goddess. No.

  Suddenly I couldn't meet anyone's gaze. I bowed my head and covered my face with both hands, feeling as if an abyss had yawned directly under my feet.

  This simply cannot be happening.

  Mother, you always spoke for the highest ideals of our civilization, always taught that all living things must be treated with compassion. What could possibly have happened to you? What could drive you to agree to the murder of so many?

  I didn't br
eak down in tears. Not quite.

  It took me a long moment to regain control and muster my courage. Only then did I raise my head again, to look Alenko squarely in the eyes. "I think it's time I saw Commander Shepard. Will you take me to him, Lieutenant?”

  Chapter 5 : Council of War

  25 February 2183, SSV Normandy, Interstellar Space

  Commander Shepard's quarters turned out to be just a few meters away, on the opposite side of the crew deck. Lieutenant Alenko and Dr. Chakwas led me to a nondescript door labeled LCDR WILLIAM SHEPARD – COMMANDING OFFICER.

  "Come in."

  Once inside, I glanced around and saw a strictly utilitarian space: tiny and dimly lit, a desk and chair, one other chair in front of the desk, a uniform locker, no decoration or personal items at all. Everything was neatly organized and immaculately clean. Behind the desk I saw another closed door, which I guessed led to his private cabin.

  Shepard sat behind his desk in an undress uniform, the blue light of a holographic display casting shadows across his face. When he saw us, he turned off the display and rose. "VI, office lighting to two-thirds."

  "Commander, she insisted on seeing you," said Alenko, as the lights became somewhat brighter.

  "That's okay, Lieutenant," said Shepard. "Dr. T'Soni. You're looking much better."

  "Dr. Chakwas assures me I am going to be fine. You have a very capable physician."

  He smiled warmly at the doctor. "She's the best. Please, take a seat."

  I did, and he seated himself behind his desk again, while the others stood by the walls to either side. Suddenly it was a very tiny space, and I felt closed in. The scent of human became very strong despite the ventilation fans.

  Best not to waste any time, Liara. "Commander, may I ask what you plan to do with me?"

  "That's entirely up to you," he said. “I'd like to ask you some questions, but you're our guest, not our prisoner."

  "I am not under arrest?"

  He shook his head decisively. "I think our friend from C-Sec would call you a witness. You haven't been charged with anything, and I don't think you will be unless we learn that you've been in contact with Saren or Benezia recently."

  "I have not."

  "All right. Then what do you know about what Saren and your mother are up to?"

  "Nothing but what Lieutenant Alenko has told me, and even that I find very difficult to understand. I know who Saren is, of course. He is – or was – a Spectre, with a reputation for brutal, ruthless efficiency. He commands a great deal of wealth, including major shares in several large interstellar corporations. He holds very high citizenship rank in the Turian Hierarchy. He uses all of this influence to promote very militant political positions, and he specifically opposes human expansion and involvement in Citadel affairs."

  "How is your mother involved with him?"

  "I’m not sure." I took a deep breath, keeping my emotions firmly in check. "By asari standards I am very young, but I left my mother's household over fifty years ago. Most asari keep in regular contact with their mothers, but Benezia and I . . . we are not close. I have not spoken with her in many years. I have heard more from some of her acolytes."

  "Acolytes?" asked Alenko.

  "My mother is what we call a Matriarch," I explained. "Matriarchs are asari in the last few centuries of their natural lifespan, who have developed a reputation for wisdom and vast experience. Our people respect them and look to them for guidance, even when they do not hold formal office. Sometimes a younger asari will formally commit to following one Matriarch, living by her teachings and working to support her goals. We call these the Matriarch's acolytes."

  "It sounds like a religious relationship," Shepard observed, his gaze on me fiercely attentive.

  "It can be," I agreed. "My mother, for example, has a reputation as a philosopher and theologian. She is very influential, with thousands of acolytes."

  "What does this have to do with Saren?" demanded Alenko.

  "One of my mother's acolytes is a childhood friend of mine, not much older than I am. Shiala. We saw each other and exchanged extranet messages for years after my mother and I stopped speaking. Shiala told me that Benezia first met Saren through the Binary Helix Corporation, where they both hold large investments."

  "When was this?" asked Shepard.

  "About seven years ago. According to Shiala, my mother was impressed with Saren's talents, but concerned about his politics, especially his hostility toward humans. She believed he could be redirected toward more productive goals, given the proper advice. She became his counselor. Some of her acolytes considered the plan too risky, and she permitted them to leave her service, but Shiala was among those who stayed."

  "Are you still in contact with Shiala?"

  "No, Commander. She ceased to communicate with me . . . it must have been about two years after my mother allied herself with Saren. I know nothing of their activities since then."

  "Okay, let me get this straight." Shepard leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "Saren's been a thorn in the side of humanity for years, but he's never attacked us directly before. Seven years ago your mother became his partner, hoping to change his ways. Five years ago, the last time you spoke with Shiala, there was still no reason to believe he was going to go rogue. For all you knew, your mother's plan was working. Am I good so far?"

  "I believe so."

  "Now we come to Eden Prime. Are you aware that was once a Prothean world?"

  "Yes, Commander. I visited Eden Prime soon after your people colonized it. The colonial government called me in to advise them after they discovered the first Prothean artifacts there."

  "Seven days ago the archaeologists working near the New Providence settlement uncovered a large piece of working Prothean technology. A beacon of some kind."

  My heart raced and my eyes flew wide with excitement. "That would be an incredible discovery! Only nine Prothean beacons have ever been discovered before, and none of them were operational. We could only guess at their function."

  "The Alliance agrees with you. The Normandy was sent to pick up the beacon and take it to the Citadel for analysis. When we arrived, Saren and an army of geth were already attacking the colony in force. They were after the beacon."

  "Did they take it?"

  "No, but we think Saren must have downloaded some information from it."

  "Through a mental link? Some Prothean technology was designed to transmit information directly into the user’s mind."

  "I know."

  "You do?"

  For answer, Shepard only tapped his forehead.

  "Oh, by the Goddess!" I breathed reverently, staring at him in fascination. "You have been touched by working Prothean technology? What did you see?"

  "Let's table that for now." Shepard narrowed his eyes at me, looking like a predatory avian evaluating its next meal. I shivered for a moment under his regard. "Two days after Eden Prime, the next attack took place way out on the galactic fringe. Dozens of geth tried to capture one asari archaeologist, who happens to be one of the galaxy's leading experts on the Protheans. What does that suggest to you?"

  I blinked and forced my mind to work. "If Saren also received the message from the Prothean beacon, he would probably not have understood it clearly. It would make sense only to a Prothean mind. He will need to find a way to translate the message into images and symbols more compatible with his turian psychology. Then he will need to interpret the translated message. For that . . ."

  "He'll need a Prothean expert!" exclaimed Dr. Chakwas.

  "It does make sense," said Shepard. "The timing suggests Saren sent the geth after you immediately after encountering the beacon. Some of the geth on Therum might even have been among the ones that attacked Eden Prime. But if he knew he would need you, why not retrieve you before the attack?"

  "Perhaps he did not know," I suggested. "All of this suggests that Saren is improvising. He attacked Eden Prime only after humans discovered the existence
of the beacon. He attacked Therum only after he realized the Prothean message could not easily be understood. Now that he has failed to recover me, he will look for other ways to get the information he needs."

  "Are there any others in your field with whom Saren could consult?" asked Dr. Chakwas.

  I shook my head. "I don't think so. He is likely to need an asari scientist to interpret the message correctly, but Prothean archaeology is not a popular field of study among my people. I can only think of one or two scientists who have more time in the discipline, and they live well-protected on major asari worlds such as Thessia or Illium."

  "Why would he need an asari scientist?" asked Shepard.

  "Our species has limited telepathic abilities. Assuming that Saren can carry out the symbolic translation within his own mind, an asari with the correct expertise could join her mind with his, help him interpret the images and make sense of the message."

  "So if I understand you correctly . . . Saren attacked Eden Prime to gain information he can't use, he has no way to translate it into a form he can use, and even if he manages that he still needs you personally to help him make sense of it."

  "I am sure he will find ways around those obstacles, Commander."

  "It still gives us time to catch up with him before he succeeds," he said, determined. "That leaves the question of just what he wants with the information in the first place."

  I pounced. "Where is the beacon now? If I could see the message . . ."

  "Destroyed," said Alenko. "Some kind of overload happened while Commander Shepard was still in contact with the beacon."

  I felt a surge of disappointment. Such an opportunity, lost.

  "The only two people in the galaxy who have the Prothean message are Saren and me," said Shepard, "and I didn't get the whole message before the beacon exploded. I would suggest that you look into my mind, but I don't think it would do any good."

  That brought me up short. At that time in my life I had almost no experience with the joining. As part of my education and initiation into adulthood, I had briefly shared memories belonging to my mother or other asari. I had never entered into a full joining with anyone, and I had certainly never touched the mind of an alien.