On the Kelek’miin, John Shepard walked down the hall leading straight to Admiral Raan’s office.
It had been three days since the ship had left the Sol system, along with countless other Migrant Fleet vessels. In just ten days, they would finally arrive at Rannoch.
So better he finished this meeting as soon as possible.
Hopefully, she’ll have some answers. Soon, he arrived at the entrance to Shala’s office, where two armed guards with red realks stood watch. One of them nodded, likely acknowledging something he’d just heard on a private comm channel.
“Admiral Shepard.”
“Yes?”
“Admiral Raan will see you now.”
He nodded, then stepped into Shala’s office. At her desk, she was typing on a haptic display, studying information on the three holo-screens before her.
“Ah, Shepard,” she said, closing them. “Welcome. Have a seat.”
He sat in the chair across from Shala’s desk. “Thank you for taking the time to arrange this meeting. We have much to discuss.”
“Like what?”
He took a deep breath. “Well, recently, on the night before our departure, Tali told me that once I arrive at Rannoch I’ll have to prove my bond to her in front of every Clan Master.” He tilted his head. “What happened, Shala?”
Shala leaned back into her chair. “Ancestors help me.” She sighed. “Yes, before we left, Koris and I spent so much time arguing with the Conclave and the Clan Masters, trying to convince them that Tali’s bond to you is real, and that your presence on Rannoch would be a great boon to the quarian people. But…”
“But your word was not enough?”
“It wasn’t,” Shala said, “and neither was the recording I sent them of our conversation about human relationships.” She cleared her throat. “Whilst most are indifferent or even supportive of your relationship with Tali, and can see its prospective political benefits, others, from the more ‘conservative’ clans, find the notion of a quarian bonding with an alien insulting.”
He sighed. He should have expected this. “Insulting?”
“Yes,” Shala said. “Insulting. They believe that non-quarians can never understand or feel anything like Silz’asul felz, and that tolerating a ‘false bond’ for political gain would only be a stain upon every clan’s honor – an insult to the ancestors themselves.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Keelah, when I said that we can not allow ourselves to become friendless and hated like the batarians, they only said that aliens are unreliable allies, that we’d only be repeating the mistakes of our ancestors if we ever depended too much on them.”
Closing his eye, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. The mistakes of your ancestors?”
She leaned forward and put her hands on her desk. She huffed through her nose. “Believe it or not, Shepard, the asari used to be our greatest friends. When we made first contact with them, they thrust our civilization into an age of unprecedented peace and prosperity.” She let out a sarcastic laugh. “We were overjoyed to discover that they were so much like us, and that we could even bond with them. But oh, how things change.”
“What happened?”
“The Turian Hierarchy,” Shala said bitterly. “That is what happened. When the turians became a major interstellar power, their first primarch did everything possible to halt our expansion, and to ensure that we would never gain a seat on the council.”
He leaned forward, giving Shala strong eye contact. “Why?”
“Because he foresaw us as a competitor for habitable worlds.”
Momentarily, he looked at the ground. He gulped. “I take it coexistence was impossible.”
“Yes,” Shala said. “Impossible. A terrible cross-species plague made the turians see us only as vermin. Constantly, our cultures clashed. And every year, tensions rose.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Eventually, those tensions culminated into The Great Humiliation.”
“The Great Humiliation?”
“It’s not a war the council species would ever tell you about,” Shala said. “To them, it is a brief, insignificant conflict that ended in a peace treaty, one barely worth mentioning in their historical records. To us, however, it marked the beginning of our decline, of when we became more and more isolationist.”
“And eventually created the geth?”
“Yes,” Shala said. She sighed. “Keelah, through it all, we expected the asari to do something to quell the rising tensions, to treat us fairly with the turians, and help all parties reach a reasonable compromise.” She let out a bitter laugh. “But the turians were their new favorites.”
“And what happened when the Morning War broke out?”
“Exactly what you’d expect,” Shala said bitterly. She growled. “We begged and begged the asari for help. But they did nothing. They only lounged on their garden worlds, in their luxurious, shining cities – giving us nothing but excuses!”
“That’s horrible.”
“Indeed, it is,” Shala said. “After the Morning War, many clans began to wonder whether our future would have been brighter, had we never met another intelligent race, relying only on ourselves for our prosperity, our security, and our survival.”
“So if, hypothetically, humanity became a powerful, influential member-species of the Compact,” he said, “the dominant race of the relay network, then are some afraid of what would happen if we ever betrayed or abandoned you?”
“Yes,” Shala said. “And many clans are still weary of your kind, Shepard. On one hand, humans have committed atrocities like the Idenna Massacre, and on the other, there are humans like you. Ancestors, humanity is so unpredictable.”
“Then why test my bond to Tali?”
Momentarily, Shala looked at the ground. She exhaled. “I must confess that I arranged it. When you prove that human-quarian bonds are truly possible, and that you can help us gain favor with humanity, you just might end the political deadlock on a number of issues.”
“You have a lot of confidence in me,” he said. Momentarily, he smiled. “Thanks. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.”
He cleared his throat. Now, what about the bonding ceremony? “Anyways, there’s something else that I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“What?”
“After I pass the test,” he said, “I suppose that my bonding ceremony with Tali will be next. But what exactly will happen? Is there any etiquette or customs I should know about, any–”
Shala held up her hand. “You don’t need to worry about that. I will conduct the bonding ceremony as soon as everything is in order. During it, all you’ll have to do is exchange a few words with your lifemate, and present your pal’tec vis surden. Compared to human mayruyez, quarian bonding ceremonies are much shorter and simpler.”
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“That’s good to know.”
“And as a formality,” Shala continued, “both you and Tali will have witnesses to verify that your bonding is genuine. Kal’Reegar has already agreed to be yours, but Tali…we’ll have to see. After the test, I’m sure somebody will agree.”
“I’m sure they will,” he said. He stood up. “Well anyways, Shala, thank you for your time. But I’d better get going.” So close to finishing the first draft. He touched his left shoulder with his right hand, the traditional quarian greeting. “Keelah Sel’ai.”
Shala laughed and returned the gesture. “Keelah Sel’ai.”
And then he left Shala’s office. On the way to the crew deck, he checked the ship time on his omni-tool, and in about two hours, Tali would be done with her daily duties as an Admiral. She never seemed to like them. Every time she returned to their quarters, she always seemed so drained and exhausted. How long can she keep this up? He didn’t know. Whatever happened though, one thing was certain:
Whether she resigned as Admiral or not, he would always ease the stress of her burdens.
----------------------------------------
On the crew deck, Tali’Zorah walked down a hall, heading for Kasumi’s quarters. Keelah, finally, her duties for the day were done. Soon, she’d get to spend some time with John. But first, she’d better check up on Kasumi.
And ask her some long-due questions.
Soon, she arrived just outside Kasumi’s quarters. The door opened with a metallic whine, and she stepped inside and found Kasumi sitting cross-legged on her sleeping mat, reading a thick, dusty book.
“Kasumi?” she asked. “What are you reading?”
Kasumi closed the book. “Tali. It’s great to see you. Oh, I was just reading a classic of human literature – an omnibus of The Lord Of The Rings .”
She tilted her head. Why are humans so fascinated by rings? “The Lord Of Rings ? Keelah, why write a story about the master of circular objects?”
Kasumi burst out laughing.“It’s Lord Of The Rings , silly. And it’s about a lot more than just the master of a bunch of rings. No, It’s about a group of friends who go on a long, dangerous quest to destroy a terrible object, the source of a…uhm…” Briefly, Kasumi looked away and gripped her chin, as if lost for words, before her eyes widened. “An evil spirit. Yes, the source of an evil spirit’s power.”
“Is it a ring?”
“Of course,” Kasumi said. She laughed. “What about your people, Tali? Do you have any great works of literature?”
She sat beside Kasumi on the sleeping mat. Looking at the deck, she sighed. “Most of our literature was lost during the Morning War. But a few works survived.”
“Oh really? Like what?”
“Like the Zendaerias , our greatest tale of love and war.”
“Ooooh,” Kasumi said, facing her. “Tell me about it.”
She took a deep breath. “It’s a story set during the quarian iron age about the power and beauty of Silz’asul felz , about how it pushed one man to unite every clan south of the Krael empire, all to reclaim his lost kingdom and save his lifemate.”
Kasumi leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”
She summarized the Zendaerias from beginning to end. The whole time, Kasumi listened to her carefully. And when she finished, Kasumi smiled.
“Sounds like Velana is the quarian Helen of Troy.”
“Helen of Troy?” Keelah, when she eventually mastered Inglish, she would definitely read all of these works of human literature. She shook her head. “Anyways, Kasumi, how are you holding up? Again, I can’t thank you enough for doing this.” Momentarily, she looked at the deck, then began wringing her hands. “I know that quarian ships aren’t the most comfortable, but–”
“Don’t say another word,” Kasumi said. “I chose to be here, remember.” She let out a weak laugh. “There’s no way I’m going to miss your bonding ceremony.”
“Oh, uhm…speaking of that,” she said. She gulped. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Really now?” Kasumi asked. “Well ask away. I’m all ears.”
“Well,” she said, “when we get to Rannoch, John and I will have to pass one last test to prove that our bond is real. After that, we’ll likely have our actual bonding ceremony. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?”
“I don’t know what to give him as a symbol of our bonding,” she said. “I know that humans exchange rings during mayruyez , but that they're usually made of metals and stones you consider to be valuable.” Momentarily, she looked at the ground. “There’s no way I can get him one.”
Kasumi gently gripped her shoulder. “Tali. I’m sure Shep wouldn’t care about having some fancy ring as a symbol of his bond to you. If anything, I bet he’s worrying about the same thing – about what he’s going to get you .”
“I know, I know,” she said, looking at the deck. “It’s just…” She sighed. “I don’t want him to feel that he has to completely quarianize himself, that he has to abandon all of his human customs.”
“Tell me,” Kasumi said, “instead of rings, what do quarians give each other at bonding ceremonies?”
“Well,” Tali said, “the man gives his lifemate a pal’tec vis surden .”
“A what?”
“Roughly, it translates as ‘symbol of souls united’,” she said. “I think the closest equivalent for humans would be a medallion.”
Kasumi’s eyes widened. “Oh. And where do you keep it?”
With one hand, she touched her chest, where her heart would be. “We keep them in special pouches on the inside of our suits. Usually, they’re made of scrap metal, but there are jewelers amongst my people who turn such scrap metal into works of art.”
“That’s beautiful, Tali,” Kasumi said. Kasumi let out a weak laugh. “Time and time again, you quarians prove to be the most romantic aliens in the galaxy.”
She chuckled. “Or maybe you humans are just love-starved.”
“Maybe we are,” Kasumi said, laughing. “Maybe we are.” Kasumi cleared her throat. “But here’s an idea: why not make John a ring out of scrap metal?”
Her eyes went wide. “Make one myself?” She smiled, then began wringing her hands. She looked at the deck. “Keelah, I’m no artist, Kasumi.”
“It doesn’t have to be a work of art,” Kasumi said. “I have no doubt that Shep will love it no matter how it turns out. You want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because what that ring will represent,” Kasumi said, “will make it more beautiful than any work of art in the galaxy.”
She laughed. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Kasumi said. Kasumi leaned forward, then put one hand on her shoulder. “So what are you waiting for? Get to work.”
Smiling, she stood up. “Thank you, Kasumi. I’ll get started as soon as I can.”
“Take care, Tali,” Kasumi said. Kasumi let out a contented sigh, then continued reading her book.
“Take care.” With that, she left Kasumi’s quarters, then headed to her own. Later, she would definitely search some of the waste bins for scrap metal. Even though she was no artist, she would do her best to make a ring that John deserved.
----------------------------------------
On the crew deck, in quarters barely large enough for two people, John Shepard was sitting on his sleeping mat, typing away at his omni-tool, finishing the last paragraph of the first draft of his book. When he wrote the last sentence, he closed his eye, then let out a deep, contented sigh. A warm, blissful sensation rushed through him, and his limbs felt lighter.
Finally, it was done.
Now, with all the feedback he’d received from so many, he only had to edit and redraft his work until he could make it no better. Such an effort might take him years. But nonetheless, in pouring out his thoughts and emotions, in recounting his life from his days on the SR-1 until the end of the Reaper War, he had cleansed his mind.
Now, his guilt and shame were kept buried somewhere safe and secure.
They would never threaten to destroy him again.
Just then, the door opened with a metallic whine. And Tali stepped in.
“Keelah,” she said, “there you are.”
He stood up, then wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed her visor. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I finished the first draft of my book.”
“That’s great, John,” she said. “What are you going to call it?”
“Hhhm, not sure,” he said. “Haven’t given it much thought. But I’ll think of something.”
“How about: Commentaries On The Last Reaper Cycle ,” she said. “It sounds fitting for such a work.”
“I guess it does,” he said. Gently, he pulled away from her, then sat on his sleeping mat. He smiled. “God, finishing my first draft, Tali…I can’t describe how amazing it feels to have poured out all of my nastiest thoughts and emotions.” He laughed. “I haven’t felt this happy for so long.”
“Keelah, tell me about it,” she said, sitting right next to him. “We only have one obstacle left to conquer, and then…” Momentarily, she looked at the deck and laughed. “And then it will all be over. No more fighting. No more war. Just peace.”
“Oh, speaking of that obstacle,” he said, “I just had a chat with your auntie a few hours ago. And she told me some…concerning news.”
“Like what?”
“Well, apparently,” he said, “the Conclave and the Clan Masters have been arguing non-stop about our bond and its implications. Apparently, they’re stuck in a political deadlock, divided into two camps.”
“What camps?”
“The first camp,” he said, “are the progressive quarians who support our bond and think it’s good for human-quarian relations.”
“And the second camp,” he continued, “are the conservative quarians who see our bond as an insult to the ancestors themselves and think human-quarian relations are not worth improving because quarians should learn to rely only on each other, not aliens.”
Tali scoffed. She clenched her fists, then growled. “ Fre’eg eating bosh’tets. ”
“I know, I know,” he said. “In any case, I’ll pass their stupid test, and show them I have no intention of being a burden to the quarian people.”
“You won’t be,” she said. “Keelah, in time, I have no doubt that you’ll become the Veil Republic’s most honored alien citizen.”
“Only time will tell, love,” he said. “Only time will tell.” He sighed, then checked the time on his omni-tool. They still had time for a language lesson, and then a vid afterward. “Anyways, soon, it’ll get pretty late. What do you say we have another language lesson, then watch a vid right after.”
Meeting his gaze, she held his hand, then gave it a light squeeze. “I’d love that.”
After a one-hour language lesson, he watched the romance vid From Lightyears Away with her. Barely half an hour in, she started singing her heelrou and cuddled into him. He smiled and wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her close.
Yes, when he and his beloved got their house, he couldn’t wait for the many nights they’d spend cuddled together, watching vids on their couch. It was a luxury he never thought he’d get to enjoy, but one he would never take for granted.
One no mere test would take away from him.