Introspection, deep introspection, had never been something that had given Cassandra a great deal of trouble, at any stage in her life. 'To serious and quiet by half' had been a common refrain by adults in her life, which had been balanced out quite nicely with their exasperation and plaintive questioning of God why their 'serious and quiet' child had an unfortunate tendency to get herself into trouble and act like something of a 'chaos gremlin' -to use Aethyta's charming phrase, which had quickly become quite popular with the other adults in her life- at what amounted to the drop of a hat. Likewise, meditation had been something she had quickly developed a talent for, especially once Benezia had started getting involved in her education on that particular front. So it really wasn't much of a surprise that, when she finally met her partner all those years ago, on her way to Anhur, she had found the 'inner peace' required to return to the White Hot Room -without grievous physical or mental trauma, that is- to be a fairly simple proposition. Even in times of great stress and upheaval, only a few minutes of effort lay between her and the deepest core of her soul.
Even in moments like this, where hundreds have died -including a kid barely out of boot, on her team and under her leadership- during yet another attack on her people by one of the bogeymen of the Milky Way Galaxy. And this time, it wasn't an every-day bogeymen like slavers or pirates or even severely misguided SPECTREs, either! No, this time around it had been the genocidal, creator-destroying, quarter-of-the-galaxy stealing mechanical hordes of an AI labor force gone psychotically rogue! God above, why had the fucking geth of all things shown up? It didn't make any sense, not even for a Prothean beacon…did it?
"Welcome back, Cassie." a familiar voice greeted her warmly the moment she 'stepped into' her soul, and she smiled just as warmly at the young woman that was always here to greet her now. Jean Grey, like each and every one of The Force's hosts, had left an imprint, a gestalt, of her soul in The Force. And like each and every one of those hosts, it -she, really- called The White Hot Room home. She, amongst all of the hosts, was the one that Cassandra got along with best. And the one that she wanted to emulate the most and the least alike. A hero, and a villain, by any measuring stick. And one of the finest trainers for her psionic abilities that Cassandra had as well, being at least a quarter of the reason that the young woman was still alive and in possession of all her limbs.
"I wish I could say it's good to be back, Jean, though it's always good to see you." Cassandra replied, settling into the formless space that somehow always felt like a comfortable chair when she was here. "But circumstances being what they are..."
Jean nodded, her fiery red hair flowing around her, defying the non-physics of this place…or perhaps obeying them in an unusual way. It was hard to tell, sometimes, what did or did not exist in The Room. "The geth. I saw everything through your eyes. We all did." Her expression turned somber, sad and sympathetic, but not pitying. Never pitying. "The young one who died. Jenkins, wasn't it?"
"Corporal Richard Leroy Jenkins. " Cassandra confirmed, feeling the weight of the name. "Twenty-two standard years old. Only his second or third deployment. Talked about home and his family, especially his little sisters, almost constantly. Wanted a life of adventure and excitement and heroics, just like his idol. Me." She closed her eyes, though it made no difference here, she could still feel and see everything. You couldn't hide from or within your own soul, after all. Shaking her head, she scoffed. "I should have smacked that crap right out of his head, broken his heart if I had to. I should have—"
"Stop." Jean interrupted firmly but gently, her tone tolerating no disagreement. "We've had this conversation before, Cassie. You know better than to start tearing yourself apart because of things beyond your power…"
"Except it's not beyond my power, is it?" Cassie snapped back, cutting her off as much physically as verbally as she slashed a hand through the air in a sharp, almost violent gesture. "I could have annihilated every Geth there! Melted them to scrap, reduced them to atoms, torn that fucking dreadnaught from the sky with nothing more than a thought, and I-!"
"That is enough!" Jean didn't speak, or shout, or yell or growl or hiss. In fact, Cassandra wasn't even sure if Jean's mouth had created sounds at all, but the words pressed against her from all sides, an impossible weight and pressure that silenced her in an instant as she was reminded of just how much more powerful -or, perhaps, more capable of wielding their mutual power- the other woman was than herself. After a moment, a long and pointed moment, the pressure faded away again. "Cassandra, that is enough. Yes, you could have done those things. And, perhaps, someday you will. But you don't want that kind of power now. You can't handle that kind of power as you are now. Take it from someone who, across more timelines and universes than I care to describe to you, tried to save everyone and do everything and…play God: you will become a monster if you try, and that is even more likely to have happen if you try to do it too quickly."
She paused, and Cassandra's mind flickered through images and memories that Jean was pouring out into the Toom. Of murdering her allies, slaughtering innocents, killing people who loved her and cherished her and protected her. Of becoming The Dark Phoenix, of becoming a villain more destructive and wicked than any of those that she had stopped. Jean's voice was almost impossible soft as she continued.
"I am so very glad that you're not yet able to do things like that, Cassie. I'm so very glad that The Force has learned to hold back the power it offers to it's hosts until they are ready for that power. Yes, it will hurt to lose people you could have saved. But I promise you, it is better than the pain that comes from being the one to kill them in the first place." She was silent for a moment more, before continuing in a determinedly brighter tone. "Now, you were worried about some of your emotional spiraling from before, right? Well, the good news is, we've identified the source of it."
"What's the bad news?" Cassandra asked, respecting Jean's obvious and unspoken desire for there to be no response or acknowledgement -direct and blatant, that is- of what she had just said and moving on swiftly.
"The bad news is, we can't stop it from influencing you, not yet and not entirely." Jean said, turning and waving a hand behind her, and Cassandra followed her gesture before gaping in disbelief. There stood an enormous replica of the Prothean Beacon, undamaged and undaunted, standing amidst the nothingness as if it belonged there. "You see, these 'protheans' were psychometric. They could pass thoughts and memories and emotions and information through touch, to an even greater degree than the asari. Their messages and information were as much made of the metaphysical as they were of data. When you interacted with the beacon, it downloaded the entirety of it's cache into your mind. Anyone else would have died, or the beacon would have self-destructed after managing to pass on only a fraction of the information it contained once your mind started to reject the influx of data. Between your own nature and will, and The Force, you were able to absorb it all. Unfortunately, it hasn't finished integrating yet. It's messing with your emotional regulation at the moment, specifically in reference to the geth and to that big dreadnaught."
"That's…not great. For a whole host of reasons." Cassie muttered a bit numbly, meaning every word. Above and beyond the interference with her mental and emotional state, there was the fact that she was now a walking, talking Prothean Beacon. If the wrong -or even some of the right- people heard about that, she would spend the rest of her life locked in a very small room having her brain picked clean by scientists and shrinks. Not a fate she was particularly interested in experiencing, by even the slightest stretch of imagination. Although, there was one very cute and obsessive Prothean Expert of her close acquaintance that would dearly love to know about this. She grinned a little perversely at the thought, and Jean made a point of groaning and rolling her eyes.
"Focus, Cassie!" she groused, shaking her head, muttering about 'kids' as if they weren't -reincarnations and unageing eternities of the soul aside- essentially the same age. And as if she hadn't gotten up to more than a few interesting escapades in her own relationships as well, for that matter, the hypocrite. "The point is, it's going to take a long time for everything to integrate, and it's going to keep influencing you to a greater or lesser degree. We'll do what we can to keep it from happening at the most…problematic times, but it's something you're going to be dealing with for a while yet."
"God…alright, thank you for the warning. We'll deal with it as it comes then." Cassie sighed, rubbing her face before shaking her head with something distinctly sardonic that could, perhaps, be vaguely considered a smile. "Any other news for me, or should I wake up and start getting ready to deal with the fallout from all of this?"
"Nothing for the moment, no, so you might as well. Besides, you have a visitor." Jean smiled -smirked, really-, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently, and Cassie had enough time to frown in confusion before she felt the familiar sensation of 'dropping' from her meditation, and she opened her eyes to see Ashley Williams staring at her from but inches away.
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Ashley Williams was not, by nature, a particularly nervous person. Dutiful, bitter, mistrustful. Loving, protective, resentful. All of those things and more she was, but nervous was something that had been driven out of her a long time, and many disappointments, ago. What was the point of being nervous when called to a superior officer's quarters just to be informed you were getting transferred again, or denied a promotion again, or left out of a report again, or had bullshit complaints filed against you because you wouldn't suck some egotistical sonuvabitch's cock in the hopes of finally getting recognized for everything you'd done and fought for over the course of your career?
And yet, since she had met Commander Shepard, she had been feeling nervous fairly often. Oh, part of that was a bit of what was one-hundred-percent hero worship, not that she would ever admit as much out loud, but the rest of it was new and strange feelings. Feelings that she had forgotten about -made herself forget about- years ago. Feelings that she would continue to forget about, because the kick-off of a new war was not the time to be considering her sexual orientation and what her 'type' was. Even if her type was, apparently, slender, busty, armored, pistol-wielding biotic war heroes that descended from the sky like a damn angel to save her life multiple times in the course of a couple of hours at the most.
War heroes that had, apparently, been earmarked to be the first-ever human SPECTRE. It was top secret, of course, so naturally the entire ship was aware of it by now, however impossible that seemed. It was only right, of course, she certainly couldn't think of anyone else that would make a better pioneer for human involvement in that legendary organization, but it also meant she was now in the middle of the biggest thing she'd ever heard of outside of Shanxi and the Rebuke of Mindoir. Normally, this would be her chance to prove herself and finally earn what she deserved, but she had managed to fuck that up before she could even get started.
She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to punch the wall and feel something besides self-loathing and hopelessness. She couldn't believe how it had all gone down. They'd destroyed the geth, secured the beacon, God it had just been sitting there, ripe for the rescue. She would have taken some hits for not dying with the rest of her squad, but surviving everything the geth could throw at her would have made her special. It would have made her valuable, even to the people who hated her family, and helping recover the beacon would have only made it better. She could finally have been able to raise her family from the mire that they'd been sitting in since Shanxi, and she would have had the help of someone whose family was as respected for what had happened their as her own was disdained.
But then the fucking beacon had malfunctioned or…or whatever it had done, and it had grabbed her, and Shepard had saved her again, been put into a small coma for the better part of a day, and the beacon had exploded! She would be lucky if she wasn't discharged after this, never mind standing a chance for promotion!
"Gunnery Chief Williams?" an older, refined, -dare she say it- matronly voice addressed her, and she snapped her head up and latched her attention onto Doctor Chakwas, the Normandy's assigned Chief Medical Officer. Ash snapped to attention, saluting sharply, but the woman only waved a hand at her with a kind smile. "None of that, Chief. I'm just a doctor, nothing more. Still no issues with your injuries?"
"None, ma'am. I'm fine." Ashley responded promptly, wilting slightly as Chakwas raised an eyebrow at her, lips quirking slightly in amusement.
"You know what fine stands for, don't you, Williams?" she asked rhetorically, almost teasingly, and at Ashley's uncomprehending look, the amused quirk on her lips became a small smile. "Freaked Out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. So don't tell me that you're 'fine', tell me how your injuries are."
"They're f-great, ma'am." Ashley responded, cutting off the repetition of the word and replacing it hastily. "I was barely hurt to begin with, and you fixed me up. I don't even feel them anymore."
"You don't feel them because of the medi-gel, not because they aren't there." Chakwas reminded her, just this side of a chastisement, eyeing her critically for a long moment before seeming to relent and changing the subject, much to Ashley's relief. "We're on approach to the Citadel, I need you to retrieve the Commander from the Captain's quarters, then you ought to join her -and the captain and SPECTRE Nihlus, of course- up on the bridge. You don't want to miss the approach, it's like nothing else you'll ever see."
"Yes, ma'am, I'll do that right away." Ashley acknowledged the order -which is what it was, for all it was worded as a polite request- and the invitation alike, saluting again and turning sharply to do just that, feeling slightly embarrassed by the almost affectionately exasperated noise that the doctor made behind her at the continued formality.
The Captain's quarters were, by dint of their nature and that of the Normandy, both the only private quarters aboard the ship and quite small. Barely the size of the infirmary itself, from what she could see looking at it from the outside. Standing outside the door for a moment, she raised the knuckles of one fisted hand towards the panel, before pausing. It seemed almost sacrilegious to disturb Shepard after what had happened, especially for Ash to be the one doing it. But orders were orders, so she rapped her knuckles against the metal door. When no response came of any kind, she knocked again, louder.
Still nothing.
She pressed the intercom. "Commander? It's Gunnery Chief Williams. Doctor Chakwas sent me to get you."
Silence greeted her, and a spike of worry shot through her chest. What if Shepard wasn't okay? What if there had been complications from the beacon? Doctor Chakwas hadn't seemed too worried, but it wasn't like she -or the rest of humanity- had a huge amount of experience with this sort of thing, so she could have missed something big. Making a decision and hoping she didn't regret it, she waved her omni-tool over the access panel and ordered the door to open. The panels retracted with a quiet hum, retreating into the walls and floor to provide her entrance. She stepped through, blinking slightly at the relative darkness that she found lying inside, before blinking again as her jaw dropped from a mix of emotions at the sight before her.
Commander Cassandra Shepard, her hero, sat in the center of Anderson's quarters, legs folded beneath her in a perfect lotus position, hands resting palm-up on her knees. But what struck Ashley speechless wasn't the meditation posture—it was the aura surrounding the Commander. The visible, tangible aura that charged the air in the room in a way that Ashley had never experienced. It was like tasting lightning and fire in the air, powerful and somehow heady.
An aura, a corona, of deep, midnight blue biotic energy that encased Shepard's form. It was pulsing gently, rhythmically, like heartbeat. Yet this was unlike any biotic display Ashley had ever witnessed, with differences above and beyond what even Shepard's well-known biotic power and the special training everyone knew that she had received from the Matriarchs she called family. And the reason it was difference was due to one thing: the ribbons of brilliant gold, like solar flares captured in miniature, weaving and dancing through the deep black-blue of the biotic field. The golden threads that moved with purpose, some spiraling around Shepard's body while others stretched outward before curling back, creating patterns too complex to follow yet somehow perfectly harmonious. It was like watching a lightning storm, and it was beautiful.
She froze, not daring to daring to breath too loudly lest it somehow disrupt the entrancing light-show that she was seeing before her. As she watched, transfixed, the golden threads began to recede, pulling back into Shepard's form like water flowing uphill. The midnight blue corona pulsed once, twice, then faded entirely. For a fraction of a moment, Ashley could have sworn that she saw the golden threads pool together to form the silhouette of a bird with wings spread wide
And then Shepard's eyes snapped open and locked onto her own in the same instant.
Ashley nearly jumped out of her skin. Those eyes —always an unusual shade of green that seemed to shift depending on the light— now held flecks of crimson and gold that hadn't been there before, or at least Ashley hadn't seen them there before. There was an intensity there, an incredible intensity, and for a moment Ashley could barely breath in the face of a metaphysical weight that seemed to be pressing down on her from all sides. Then it was gone, like a switch was flicked, and both the pressure and the colored flecks were gone.
"Ashley?" she breathed the word, and Ashley swallowed convulsively and nodded, flushing slightly at the way her name sounded when spoken in such a way.
"Yes, ma'am. Doctor Chakwas sent me for you, told me that we were getting ready to approach the Citadel and should head up to the cockpit." she managed to respond, still trying to recover from…whatever it was that had just happened, and Shepard hummed softly and nodded, rising to her feet with a fluidity that Ashley -herself fairly athletic and flexible- was briefly and intensely jealous of.
"Alright. Come on then, Ash. You're not going to want to miss this, it's one hell of a view." she remarked, and Ash couldn't help the bark of slightly nervous laughter she gave as she stepped aside so the officer could go past her, which Shepard did with a raised eyebrow.
"Sorry, ma'am. It's just the Doc said the same exact thing." Ashley shook her head, still feeling a bit warm in the chest from the continued use of her first name, and more than a little relieved. It indicate a degree of familiarity and good opinion that might mean Shepard thought, if not positively, than at least neutrally about her. That meant alot, and could end up meaning even more. Feeling a bit brave, she cracked a smile. "With all these promises and after all this hype, it had better be pretty fantastic. I'd hate to get let down at this point."
"You don't need to worry about that. And if the nebula and the Citadel itself don't do it for you, I'm sure you'll appreciate it when we make our way through the garrison fleet. Some very nice ships, there. Including the Ascension." Shepard assured her as they made their way towards the lift, and Ashley had to admit that she had a point. She might not trust aliens, especially -most- Asari not to throw humanity to the wolves if push came to shove, but she was a soldier, and soldiers could appreciate fine wargear. And the Destiny Ascension was the finest piece of warfighting equipment in the galaxy.
Idly, almost absently and accidentally, she wondered if Shepard had the pull to get a tour of it…and what it would take for one young Chief to tag along.
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"I am getting sick and bloody tired of people poking humanity with a stick!" Tevos snarled -there was no other word for it, even she would have had to admit if pressed on the matter- as she glared down at her copy of SPECTRE Nihlus' preliminary report, visibly resisting the urge to slam her fist down on the table in front of her. The report was brief and lacking in detail, as could be expected under the circumstances, but the details that were present painted a stark and grim picture. Thousands dead, at least, including almost five hundred Alliance marines and dozens of scientists. A colony almost levelled, even before the theoretical damage that the four -count them, by the Goddess!- nuclear bombs that Nihlus had defused was taken into account! Large bombs, as well, Tevos had felt genuinely light-headed when she had seen that the report had listed them as having an estimated yield of fifty megatons, and while Tevos was no scientist, she had enough understanding to know that such weapons detonating could well have rendered Eden Prime uninhabitable for several millennia at least. And, perhaps most infuriating of all, an intact Prothean Beacon destroyed.
"I'm inclined to agree with you." Sparatus replied, his mandibles flaring with barely suppressed anger. "Though I suspect our reasons differ somewhat."
Tevos glanced at her turian counterpart, noting the tension in his shoulders. Unlike her, Sparatus was holding his rage in check with rigid military discipline, but she'd worked with him long enough to read the signs. He was furious, likely imagining the carnage that could be unleashed on the galaxy if humanity and the geth engaged in all-out warfare with one another.
"The geth haven't been seen beyond the Perseus Veil in nearly three centuries." Valern interjected, his large eyes blinking rapidly as he scrolled through his own copy of the report, going through it faster and yet more thoroughly than either of the others could have hoped for. "Their sudden appearance on a human colony, coinciding precisely with the excavation of a Prothean beacon? The statistical improbability is... concerning."
"Concerning?" Tevos echoed incredulously, turning her gaze from Sparatus over to him. "It's damning, is what it is! This was a targeted attack, with specific intelligence about the beacon. The information must have leaked someone must have talked, but I'll be damned if I know who! Besides us, the Alliance Joint Chiefs and President, and both Agent Kryik and Captain Anderson, there can't have been more than a dozen people that knew it existed, and most of them are the people who found it in the first place! Have the geth been watching our systems, gained access to our communication networks and relays? Is our entire system compromised by the damn things?!"
"More likely there's a leak somewhere in the chain, I would imagine." Sparatus said, his tone politely dismissive of her theories and fears, and she resisted -barely- the urge to growl something unpleasant at him. "The geth may be efficient and superb hackers, but they aren't omniscient and we're a long way from the Veil. Someone told them where to find that beacon, though not necessarily deliberately."
Valern nodded, fingers moving rapidly across his omnitool as he typed in commands. "I've already initiated discreet counterintelligence protocols, and ordered STG to begin searching for potential sources. If someone is feeding information to the geth, deliberately or otherwise—"
"What about their goals with the beacon in the first place," Tevos interrupted. "And this mysterious dreadnought that was reported? The design doesn't match anything in our databases, and Commander Shepard was right to point out that it's ability to land on the planet and return to orbit at the assumed speed is deeply concerning."
"About Shepard," Sparatus began, his mandibles twitching slightly as he brushed right past her question to focus on what he considered important at the moment. "While I appreciate Nihlus' enthusiasm for his candidate, this incident raises questions about the timing of her SPECTRE nomination."
Tevos felt her patience fraying. "Her candidacy shouldn't suffer from the destruction of the beacon. The situation was entirely out of her control, and Nihlus stressed that she had done everything as well as could be expected of her under such an unprecedented circumstance. And why are you still trying to gainsay her? I thought you liked her, liked humanity?"
"I approve of their martial ability, appreciate their refusal to be cowed, and most certainly agree with their punitive actions against the Terminus pirates and the Hegemony. My predecessors and I have long argued for more involvement in that section of the galaxy, and I for one am hardly going to complain -on a personal level- that someone is finally willing to deal with those scum." he corrected gruffly, before jabbing a talon at her in a gesture that could only be called angry. "That does not mean that I am remotely interested in accepting one of them into the SPECTREs, which damn near opens the door to invite them onto the Council! I don't care how impressive her record is or how popular she is -and I will admit freely it is very impressive and that she is extraordinarily popular with everyone but the damn batarians-, humanity is not ready for the responsibility, the authority, or the power!"
Tevos stared at Sparatus, noting how his chest heaved slightly with the force of his outburst. She had known he had opinions about this, strong opinions he offered stridently, but he had never been this unrestrained or passionate about it before. She exchanged a quick glance with Valern, who gave her the briefest of nods.
"Whether humanity is ready or not is becoming increasingly irrelevant," she said quietly, the words bitter on her tongue despite her own appreciation for the younger species. "The fact remains that they are here, they are involved, and they will continue pushing for greater recognition regardless of our preferences. Commander Shepard's candidacy represents a controlled integration rather than the alternative."
"And what alternative would that be?" Sparatus demanded, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"The alternative where humanity decides they don't need our approval or the Citadel after all, my friend." Valern replied, setting down his datapad and meeting his fellow Counsellor's eyes. "STG projections suggest that within the next thirty years, the Alliance will match or exceed turian military production capabilities per capita. Their economic growth already outpaces the volus in several sectors by the same measuring stick, and I'm sure I don't need to describe to you how talented they have proven to be in most fields. You're also well aware of humanity's opinion on the quarian and krogan issues. If humanity decides that they are be deliberately snubbed, after everything they have endured since joining the wider galaxy, they could very well try to form their own power bloc. Something that, again, you're well aware that plenty of humans would very much prefer."
"Yes, I am well aware of that, but I'm not sure giving humanity more power is the best way to handle the situation." Sparatus retorted, before holding up one hand as both Tevos and Valern started to open their mouths. "I'm well aware of the calculus here. I'm well aware that bringing them deeper into our involvement was my idea to begin with, that it makes it easier to have some modicum of control over them, and that they have very powerful supporters behind them amongst the Citadel races. I'm even aware of the fact that the younger Shepard is, by far and away, the best SPECTRE candidate humanity could possibly offer. That does not mean that concerns over their aggressive expansion and desire to gather power and influence are unreasonable. To quote a human phrase I have heard more than once: 'If you give a mouse a cookie, it will want a glass of milk'. Humanity has been given many cookies, and many glasses of milk, and still they hunger for more."
Tevos sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she nodded a bit reluctantly. "True enough, but I think we're past the point where we can reasonably deny them this particular... cookie." She paused, allowing herself a small smile at the human idiom, not so very different from the sort of thing she had learned as child back on Thessia. "Especially given Nihlus's continued insistence on Shepard's qualifications. And I'm sure I don't have to explain why sidelining the humans during any investigations into all of this would be a terrible idea."
"The beacon is destroyed," Valern noted, his voice clinical but pointed. "And while that is regrettable, the fact remains that Shepard led a wildly successful operation against an enemy of almost entirely unknown capabilities without any forewarning or reinforcements, dealing extraordinary casualties to the enemy force and keeping her own to an astonishing minimum. And, might I add, secured the beacon undamaged as far as any of these reports or preliminary footage can indicate, regardless of what became of it after the fact."
"…the two of you are determined to see this through. Fine. I won't protest for the moment, but I reserve the right to do so after we receive the full reports and any subsequent information or occurrences." Sparatus sighed, rubbing his right mandible tiredly. He was silent for a long, long moment before shaking his head. "I hope we do not regret this, my friends."
"Don't worry so much, Sparatus! Our three races have led the Citadel for centuries or more! We are certainly capable of keeping things under control as long as we guide events, rather than try to stop them entirely. Shape the river's flow, don't build a dam. All that will do is create a flood." Tevos told him bracingly, pleased by his acquiescence and making a mental note to do something nice for him sometime soon. A bottle or two of his favorite brandy, perhaps. "Now, we should get ready to receive Nihlus and Shepard in the Chamber. The Normandy exited the relay some time ago, so they should be formally requesting their hearing any moment now. A hearing or two, some assurances of our genuine concern over these events, and everything will be fine."