Chapter 48: Move Along

Citadel, Widow

Serpent Nebula

March 10 2186

18:12 Hours

One man's junk is another man's treasure.

That was a Human saying, so it would seem.

Javik gave a lot of thought to it, because in a figurative and in a literal sense, it applied to himself. He himself was a relic of a forgotten past, probably the most valuable relic in the history of this cycle if the obsession with Protheans was anything to go by. He was of no use to practically every intelligent being in the galaxy save for a few, but only he would go with a warrior that knew of his plight. The Shepard human was the closest.

The Protheans, as he'd come to realize, were the focal point of galactic history when talking about the passing of time. It would seem that the galaxy revered his own as the creators of the Citadel and the Mass Relays. He laughed at how foolish this cycle was. How they couldn't decipher the truth, it made him shake his head. It was beyond obvious, and still people wanted to deny it.

Humans, Turians, Asari, Salarians, Elcor, Hanar, Drell, Quarians, Krogan, Volus, just the most important of this galaxy's cycle. They were no Prothean Empire together or apart, but they were the only things standing between the Reapers and galactic genocide. That alone should have guaranteed his cooperation from the start.

But he wasn't ready.

The Reapers, those vile machines with no heart, they were the enemy that had slaughtered his people. He wanted vengeance. He wanted blood spilt. He wanted all of the Reapers dead for the billions that they massacred throughout the hundreds of years of war, and he wasn't about to ask for help.

But the commanding officer of this ship was firm that he play with the team, even if he wasn't enthusiastic about it. He was reluctant, but he knew that he couldn't defy every soul on this ship. Better to have allies than to have enemies, and he could be certain that at least a few others aboard hated the Reapers. Still, despite his understanding of needing to be a team player, he didn't like it one bit.

The Normandy was docked with the Citadel, once the heart of his cycle, now the heart of another cycle. More than anything, he wanted to see its wonders with his own eyes, see glimpses of what the mighty Prothean Empire once was. He doubted that he would find much there, but to be there alone surely would suffice.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave the ship and go see what his people had once controlled.

It just reminded him too much.

No, he would remain in here until such a time when he was ready to disembark and see the Citadel, and he wouldn't be talking to many in the meantime. Only the Human commander had the gall to enter without fear.

Though there were two other aliens aboard this vessel that he sensed weren't afraid of him either.

The larger one, the Sangheili, as he came to know, claimed to be of another galaxy, and in Javik's eyes, it was truthful. He certainly hadn't seen a species like this one in his time, either through his own memories or that of the memory shard he carried.

The other one, the more ancient one, the Forerunner, he was… an anomaly, something Javik couldn't identify so easily. On the surface, he was unique, calming, even compassionate to an unnecessary point, but on the inside, a much deeper mystery lurked, one that was protected by armor and an outer facade.

These two reeked of blood, but from different things. One had the scent of living blood while the other had the traces of tainted blood, something that was not pleasing at all. Though curious, he wasn't curious enough to pry. Everyone had their histories, their pasts, and just as Javik didn't talk about his, he didn't feel compelled to force these other two to reveal theirs, unless they shared it themselves.

"Marvelous, is it not?" A voice of calm. "A pity that they live in ignorance."

Javik inclined his head to the source of the voice. "There is a saying amongst them. Ignorance is bliss."

"A blatant lie." A laugh, but not a pleasant one. "Ignorance is death."

"Agreed." Javik closed his eyes, took in a breath, then exhaled. "They should be doing more to stop the Reapers."

"They will." The alien, the Forerunner stepped up to stand beside him. "The best teacher is the one that forces them to see the reality around them."

"But will there be a galaxy to save at that point?" The Prothean regarded the Presidium with wonder. "Or will this become yet another smoldering wreckage."

"Who knows?" A shrug of shoulders. "It might just a smoldering wreckage to make them see the truth."

"Perhaps." That very idea didn't seem to disturb the two of them one bit.

A lifetime of war between them had very much numbed the two. Acts that a normal person might denounce as immoral or horrid might just be commonplace and expected for the two of them.

"So how does it feel to stand here? Surely, this place elicits certain… emotions, even from someone as stoic as you are."

"What do you think?" Javik's tone became irksome. "This place is a constant reminder of the loss of my people."

"You're still alive, are you not?" Guardian tried. "Does that not matter, that a Prothean still lives, after what your race has suffered?"

That was… strangely compelling reasoning, but that was the idealism that still existed with Javik that spoke to him like that. He thought that that part of him had died out when he had… killed some of the most important people in his life.

It was foolish, it was dangerous, and it was deadly what he felt, but it felt so good to just let the idea sit in his head and take over if only for a single moment.

He was here, he was alive, and he was still fighting the good fight, a sentiment that even he had to admit held more value to him than he otherwise let on.

"The Citadel…" Javik trailed off for a single second. "It's a place that was only a memory, something that I glimpsed."

"Painful memories." Guardian summed up the Prothean's thoughts. "Understandable, but they are only painful memories when we make them so."

Another thing that was true, but how could one who was the last of their race simply say that and mean it? How did the last survivor tell themselves not to look back with a gutted heart at the memories that once made them happy?

"Then maybe I am destined to live out a painful existence." Javik had no answer, and so resigned himself to the same fate. "Some of us are not meant to find peace."

"Maybe. Maybe so." Guardian backed up the conversation. "But if this cycle survives the Reapers, what will you do."

"Find peace with my men." Javik knew this answer already. "The last Prothean will have spoken, and thus my purpose will have been fulfilled."

"Is that not a waste of the gift you were given? Being made the voice of your race is not a title given lightly."

"My race is dead. You should understand; you are also in my predicament."

"But at least I intend to do what I can in life." The Forerunner continued on. "I can share the knowledge of my people so that future generations do not need to make the same mistakes we made."

Both of their gazes shifted to the deck below where a Humans were busy loading and unloading supplies, ammunition, and other necessary things for the battles to come. They worked, even knowing that their chances were dwindling away.

The Prothean's jaw was set in a hard expression. All of these primitives fought fully aware that they could die, that all of them could die. Why didn't the fear of extinction drive them to more insanity?

What were they fighting for?

"They fight for themselves." Guardian seemed to read his mind. "For the people that they care about. That's why anyone fights, even when survival is not guaranteed. They have something to fight for."

Now that was a reason that Javik could understand and agree with. He had once possessed the same reasons to fight. Hundreds of thousands of his kind were once his to protect. With them gone… there was little left.

Friends… family… the things that he once had, the things he once treasured, they were all taken away from him.

By the Reapers.

His hatred was renewed, and his biotics begun to flare, even as he kept his power restrained.

Javik had nothing more to say, and he had nothing more he wanted to say. He lapsed back into his silent anger.

What did he want in life? To see the Reapers destroyed.

That was his only purpose.

Nothing more.

He would not regain what he had lost.

James

The way James saw it, life was at its best when you were fighting for your own survival. It made you think about all the good things in your life.

James certainly did not want to miss out on expensive booze, because regulations sure didn't permit him to drink while on the Normandy. It was a slight drawback to being there, but it was the Normandy, the war ship of one Commander Jane Shepard. Most people would kill just to get a spot on the ship carrying the most important warrior in the galaxy.

He was lucky to tag along, to be able to fight with a celebrity, to be associated with said celebrity. Virtually everyone who had served aboard the Normandy could count on some sort of fame.

James was even more lucky that the place he was in happened to have quite a few sights to take in, not including the stages where a lot of the action was taking place.

Oh yeah, beauties everywhere he looked. If he had more time, he might even chat one up, see where it went, but the Normandy was bound to leave soon, so he couldn't really afford to be held up for long, so he'd stick around for a bit longer before returning to his post.

He needed to savor these good times before he was put into battle again, not that that wasn't a good time either, just not the calm type of good time.

James stood up straight and took another look around.

On the one hand, while enjoying himself was certainly a welcome change of pace, he had to agree with Joker on one thing: these people were clueless. None of them had even a remote experience related to the war.

The soldier then turned his eyes to the entrance, and lord and behold, there was something that he never expected to see. Either his eyes were deceiving him or he just saw Aria T'Loak sitting on a couch at the other end of the club.

Aria T'loak was infamous throughout all of Citadel Space, and James would be willing to bet all of his credits that every single species knew about her. She was the ultimate criminal queen, a ruler that none had dethroned yet.

There was also a rule that supposedly existed on Omega, the only rule.

Don't fuck with Aria.

What the hell is she doing here? James asked himself mentally. Maybe the Reapers kicked her out of Omega. Whatever the reason, she looked PISSED.

Although it really wasn't his business nor his concern, something told him that maybe Shepard ought to know about this.

James activated his omni-tool, then stared at the device for a second. What was he going to say anyways?

Shepard, I found Aria in this bar on the Citadel. James let those words sink into his head. Nah, doesn't sound quite right.

Shepard, don't call me crazy, but I just spotted Aria. That one made him reconsider too. No, now I definitely sound crazy by trying to tell her that I'm not crazy.

He tried another three more starting lines for a call, but none of them quite made the cut, and now he looked like an idiot staring at his omni-tool for no apparent reason.

Okay, maybe now's not a good time to call Shepard. James reasoned with himself. After all, I'm in a club. Shepard will probably think that I've drank a few too many and mistaken an Asari for Aria.

James shut off his omni-tool and took a long drink from his cup on the bar.

"You still hung up on Aria?" The Turian bartender asked. "You lookin' to get some of that?"

"Uh, no. NO way." James lifted his hands in protest. "I'm good, but even I know when something's out of my league."

"Good man." The Turian laughed. "I know more than a few idiots who've tried."

"And how did that work out?" James inquired, interest in his tone. "Messy?"
"Surprisingly, no." The Turian explained, "But that's not to say those poor suckers didn't lose something important."

"Do I want to ask what they lost?" James had a feeling he knew the answer already.

"Better to just not even think about it." The Turian offered a hand. "I'm Rilus."

"James." The human shook the hand without hesitation. "You don't sound like one of those human-haters."

"And good thing for you too." Rilus grabbed a cloth and began to wipe the table surface of the bar. "Because if I was, I would've served you a dextro drink instead. Plus, we're all kinda in the middle of a war for survival."

"And that doesn't concern you at all?" James wondered where this conversation was going. "Like, at all?"

"Oh, it scares the hell outta me." Rilus grabbed a few glasses and prepared some bottles. "Spirits, I've seen more than a few soldiers in this place. They've all asked me the same thing, and I haven't changed my answer."

It wasn't surprising that the Turian could pick out a soldier from the bunch. All Turians had served in the military at one point or another, or at least had some form of combat under their belt.

"Wouldn't that, you know, be a red flag to you?" James narrowed his eyes slightly. "Most soldiers don't spit nonsense."

"If there's one thing that I know about life, it's this." Rilus stopped what he was doing to fully engage in conversation. "We're all going to die one day. Whether it be by old age, gunshot, pissing off an Asari commando, or Reapers and their indoctrination, we all end up the same: dead."

"That doesn't make me feel better." James muttered with a critical eye.

"I wasn't finished." The Turian rolled his eyes. "That being said, we've all got the right to enjoy life as much as we can."

"Better." James commented. "Much better."

"It's all we can do." Rilus offered. "The important question is this: do you have a reason to fight other than being told to do so?"
James paused at this. He thought he had a good reason to fight, he truly thought that he did. Deep down though, what was he fighting for besides his own survival and some celebrity loyalty to Shepard?

"You can't even answer that question." Rilus already knew his thoughts. "You wouldn't be the first."

"Are you sure that you're not some kind of mind reader?" James felt strangely uncomfortable. "Are you reading into my life right now?"

"No to both of those questions; when you've run a bar for years, you learn to read behaviors." The Turian relayed. "I'm no expert when it comes to Humans, but I can read Asari just fine, so your kind isn't too far off."

"Guess not."

The blaring music within the club did more than just drown out silence; it suddenly became very intense, very palpable. Every thundering beat echoed, every synthetic note resounded clearly, every flash of light blazed, every person's body darkened and brightened.

"You know, you could lighten up." Rilus suggested seriously, not a trace of sarcasm or snark on his tone. "That is why you're here, right?"

"Who said I'm uptight?" James shrugged as he crossed his arms. "This is my normal mood."

"No, it isn't." Rilus just shot him down without hesitation. "Something's got your, what do Humans say, smock in a bunch?"

"Yeah that sounds about right." James chuckled at this. "You're probably one of the most friendly Turians I've talked to."

"I get that a lot, and you what? I don't mind. So what if we Turians and Humans didn't get along at first? Doesn't mean we can't be friends now, especially now given all that Reaper stuff goin' on."

"Man, if only everyone thought like you, things might just be a hell of a lot better in the galaxy." James looked at his drink before taking another swig. "I don't know what's so damn hard about teamwork."

"Everything." Rilus straightened out his uniform a bit. "If it were simple, we wouldn't have to be outdoing each other. Doesn't matter what the Citadel Council says, we're all trying to outdo each other. Asari, Salarians, Turians, Human, we're all trying to be the best."

"I get it, a little competition never hurts anyone." James could say that from personal experience. "But at a time like this? Isn't saving your own ass more preferable than to being a braggart?"

"You clearly aren't a politician. Some of them just don't care so long as their own interests are met. What happens in the war might not matter so long as it doesn't affect them personally."

"So what's it take?" James questioned with a frustrated tone.

"Well, people like Commander Shepard, I guess." Rilus got out some more glasses. "I mean, based on what I've seen in the news, she's a woman on a mission, and someone, she always gets it done."

Yeah… James silently agreed. She always has a way. She's just that badass.

Arbiter and Shepard

"So tell me a bit about your homeworld." Shepard queried. "You haven't talked too much about yourself."

"Why do you want to know?" Thel's mandibles adjusted. "My homeworld does not exist in your galaxy."

"No, it doesn't but I'm curious." Shepard acted like she didn't need a reason to ask other than curiosity. "Come on, it can't hurt to tell me. What am I going to do with what you tell me?"

"I could think of at least several things you could do." He conveyed to her with a predatory look.

"Don't give me that look." She lightly slapped his arm. "Do I look like a mass murderer?"

"...no, you do not." He conceded that point to her, but his discontent didn't vanish. "... my homeworld is Sangheili. It's a place that values warrior disciplines above all else. Our people pride ourselves as warriors above all others."

"Is it required to be a warrior of some kind?" Shepard inquired, now ensnared into the conversation.

"No, but it is highly encouraged to be a warrior." Thel sifted through his own memories of training in combat. "The training is not kind, but any true warrior would tell you that true training is never kind, regardless of species."

"That's a universal truth right there." Shepard had no reason to disagree. "What was your training like?"

"Our training?" Thel sounded confused at first, then confident. "It begins at a very young age. From childhood, all fit and able males are to begin training. For the Sangheili the first and most important career is becoming a warrior in some capacity. Everything else is treated as secondary, a hobby."

"Everything?" Shepard questioned him. "But that isn't healthy for any society. There won't always be battles and war."

"A fact that I have been quite outspoken about." Thel's response came as a sign of resignation. "Not only that, but we adhere to a strict code of honor, one which demands that we be the best warriors possible. Spilled blood is considered a massive dishonor. Being captured by the enemy is also considered dishonorable. There are great deal of dishonorable things that we Sangheili strive to never meet, but if we are to meet them, the primary solution to solving this dishonor is to simply commit suicide. If not that, then charging the enemy would be the only other option."

"How is that good for war?" She was quite flabbergasted. "War and battle guarantee wounds and death. Death would be so prevalent no matter where you went."

"True, and that has always been a concern of mine, but it is not so simple to eradicate countless years of history." His words were regretful as well as analytical.

The human commander took a mental step back to process what she had heard. She had heard a lot of amazing and fantastic things about other races. That was the fun part of learning about new species and their culture, but for all the cool and interesting things she learned about alien culture, there was always a dark side as well. She'd be a fool not to know of this reality, but it didn't make it easier swallowing the pill.

The idea that wounds would compel a warrior to become suicidal or feral was just so against what any military should be commanding their soldiers to do. Soldiers had a job to do: complete the mission and keep your brothers and sisters alive. That was it, the bottom line for any soldier serving their species. How could a soldier serve the greater good if he was dead. Even a wounded soldier was expected to carry out their duty. Suicide and going out in a blaze of glory was stupid and selfish.

"You do not need to accept what I say." Thel almost read her thoughts. "I did push for my kind to rethink our identity. While our warrior blood and pride will remain, how we conduct ourselves in battle and war will change. It will take nothing short of a miracle or a revolution for us to become anything else."

"Does it really have to come down to fighting?" Shepard sighed as she stared down at the precinct. "I'm no politician, but even I know that eventually, we'll have to come together with discussion rather than with guns."

"One day, it might be so, but when the galaxy faces the possibility of extinction, rationality can be warped and even done away with."

"Ain't that the truth."

Okay, so maybe asking about the Arbiter's species wasn't such a good idea. She was always being made to do something for someone else, and when she wasn't doing that, she was fighting the war against the Reapers, and when she wasn't doing that, she was saving other people from danger. Though she could never say nor would she admit it, she really did need to take a break. There was only so much she could at once, so she needed to make the most of this downtime before their departure.

She posed a new question. "If we win this war, what will you do?"

"What I need to do: find my brothers in arms." He was resolute. "They are out there somewhere, and I would be dishonoring them and myself if I did not continue my search for them."

"But what if there's not a way to get back?"

"There is a way to get back. I arrived here and I can get back. I might not be able to explain it, but if it happened, then it is possible."

It was a response that was to be expected, but it didn't really sit well with the commander. It wasn't like she held any real power over this hulking alien. He probably could kill her in a dozen different ways that she wasn't aware of. Getting past that likelihood, he had duties of his own, she knew. Duty bound any warrior to his people, thus him leaving was not a question, but an inevitability.

More importantly, what was she going to do when the war with the Reapers was over? She was going to win this thing because failure was definitely not an option. The galaxy had been suffering through these extinctions for god knew how long, but what then? How would the galaxy move forward without the certainty of galactic genocide? What would each species do? What would Commander Jane Shepard do?

Well, retirement sounds like a good starting point. She clasped her hands in thought. But maybe not sitting around all the time. That would get real boring fast.

"… do you believe that peace is possible?" It was a question out of left field, but it still came out.

"Possible? Yes, I believe so. Probable? Likely not." His grave tone gave away a conflict of thoughts. "As long as there are differences, the possibility of conflict is always present."

"I see." She did see, but she didn't want to see.

"... if you are so eager to end your war, then make sure you have something to look forward to when all is said and done. I know that once I return home, I will return to a home questioning our place in the universe. For so long, the Sangheili have been bogged down in dogma and zealotry and fanaticism, all of it to serve gods that did not truly exist in our reality, only in our minds. The burden of uniting my race and reshaping its future will be one that I shoulder willingly. In this way, my warrior spirit will never truly due, for I will be fighting for something that will yield positive results for the future."

As flamboyant as his words were, there was something to take from them. Everyone had a reason to fight in this galactic war, and assuming they all survived, they would be returning to that reason for fighting and treasure it some more. If someone did not have something to fight for, then the thing to do would be to find a reason to fight. In this way, a soldier's mentality would never be useless.

"Then I'd better find something worth fighting for when I retire."

"A warrior never stops being a warrior once they have fought in numerous battles and engagements. If you have pushed passed impossible odds before, then you can find something worth fighting for."

"...thanks for that. I guess I needed to hear it."

"We all need to."

With nothing more to say, the two of them looked over the railing, viewing the Citadel in all of its splendor. This place could one day become a warzone. No place in the galaxy could ever be called safe, not anymore. What they were doing was trying to unite a wary galaxy against the physical manifestation of death itself. The grim reapers that Humans had talked about in legend was knocking and only their best efforts would have a snowball's chance in hell of seeing and end of victory.

They needed to be reminded that they couldn't go on like this forever.

I want to give all of you my sincerest apologies for taking nearly two years to update this story. My primary reason for not coming back was a lack of ideas. This was partially due to where Halo and Mass Effect were during that time. With Andromeda being a mediocre game and Halo only now just returning to something more recognizeable, there's a spark back in me to try.

I have also changed as a person considerably. One of the genres is romance, but now I'm not sure that's the right way to go about this whole thing. For one thing, I've realized how much I've strayed from canon sources and established lore. I want to adhere to that more. Getting back to the point, I feel that I want Arbiter and Shepard's relationship to be more along the lines of Maka Albarn and Soul Evans from Soul Eater, intimate and close, but not in the romantic or sexual way.

As for this chapter, it's one of those. While some of you might be dismayed by this chapter of conversation and talking, I want you all to take a step back and realize that these chapters mean something for character development. While high-pressure situations reveal our true natures, we can also gleam a person's characteristics by looking at how they respond in normal conversation too. It's not always about the fate of the galaxy. It's about the connections that are formed, the ones that keep us sane in an insane universe.

Again, I want to say that I'm truly sorry for leaving so many eager readers hanging, and I think each and every person who's come to read and still keeps reading. This was the story that lifted my confidence as a writer and convinced me that I can be awesome at this.

So what's the buzz guys? Although I'm outlining new ideas going forward, I would love to hear ideas from anyone who wants to help make this story better. Send my ideas via review or PM, whichever you're comfortable with.

Thank you for reading once again, and I hope to see you guys again.

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall."

Confucious