Performing the final part of the operational intervention protocol, carrying out the necessary manipulations, Chakwas thought that the turian Spectre had been the cause of the success of the Reaper scout’s capture of the elderly asari.
And — the cause of Benezia’s transition into the category of both a prisoner and a submissive slave of that Reaper.
A standard chain was forming: Reaper — Saren — Benezia.
Yes, later, after Benezia’s meeting with Saren… If only one knew exactly how that meeting had occurred… Benezia had fallen under the increasing psychic influence of the Reaper, commonly referred to by the few narrow specialists as “indoctrination.”
Several dozen minutes — and Chakwas covered the asari’s naked body with a light canopy supported by a wire frame.
Mostly everything necessary had been done.
Now it was important to understand how the healing would progress.
Stepping away from the patients, Chakwas walked over to the work table and sat down in the chair.
She called up the full monitoring data on the wall screens.
Data that accounted for both the recently performed manipulations and their results, in static and in dynamic.
The diagnostic complex performed a re-check, the Medbay VI processed the received information and displayed comparative tables and graphs on the screens.
Reading through the indicators, pondering the revealed interdependencies, forecasting the development of the situation, Chakwas waited.
Shepard’s help allowed her to hope that in less than a few hours, first one and then the second patient in the Medbay would come to their senses, would wake up.
And — in both a literal and figurative sense — would return to this world.
No longer as husks.
But as ordinary representatives of their races.
Free from any outside influence or interference.
Since Nazara had not protested or opposed Shepard or her.
Since he had not tried in any way to block the first mate’s and the ship’s doctor’s desire to return the asari and the turian to a normal, ordinary life.
Then the interventions carried out allowed for cautious hope: very soon the patients would come alive.
And — would wake up.
Yes, the turian’s and the asari’s breathing was evening out, their pulse was no longer racing, there was no excess tension in their muscles, no “tightness” in their bones.
Yes, both patients would still have to spend several hours on complete bed rest without the right to move freely.
Karin was already convinced that both Saren and Benezia would be considerably agitated both by the fact and by the content of their liberation, in the full sense of the word, from the husk-like state.
The design of the hospital beds in the frigate’s Medbay took into account that they would be used to accommodate not only humans, but also representatives of many races now known to humanity.
That was why now both the turian’s crest and the asari’s head-tails were recessed into special indentations in the headboards of the beds, allowing the patients to hold their heads straight.
And — not to strain the muscles and ligaments of their necks.
Yes, Chakwas remembered well that for turians, the neck was a very vulnerable part of the body.
But now, here, in the Medbay, one could be sure: Saren had nothing to worry about.
Nihlus, of course, would not be long in appearing.
But here it depended on her, the frigate’s doctor, what schedule of visits for the patients — and, incidentally, quite serious patients — should be established to ensure their swiftest and fullest recovery.
Visits were important and necessary.
But that was a matter not even for the near future.
At least — not for a few hours.
Had she, the frigate’s doctor, thought that she, a few days after the frigate had left the limits of the “assembly field,” would have to operate on real, serious patients?
No, probably not.
After all, the galaxy had lived without tension for too long.
Perhaps even, as the Imperials liked to say, “drifting with the current.” And now the breath of a war that was not local, but galactic, was being felt more and more acutely.
Many apocalyptic forecasts and predictions were beginning to come true once again.
Time flowed imperceptibly.
Chakwas was fully aware of herself as a recluse of the Medbay; she liked being its sole mistress and, if possible, its sole inhabitant.
She did not need anyone’s company, and she was calm about the fact that until something extraordinary happened, none of the Normandovtsy would drop in on her.
After all, a medic existed to be always ready to provide assistance to a non-medic.
To be always ready.
And Chakwas was ready.
And this readiness had justified itself.
She had her first real, special, serious patients in a very long time.
Who now, after the performed surgical interventions, were beginning to approach the moment of their, one hoped, full recovery.
Chakwas did not want to look at the information on the desktop omni-tool screen right now about how the work on those very strange excavations was progressing.
She was used to, when completely alone, freezing, unfocusing her gaze and relaxing.
That way time flowed quickly and imperceptibly.
There was no signal from the equipment — neither sound nor light.
Karin felt that the first to wake up would be, oddly enough, not Saren, but Benezia.
Perhaps humans were indeed right in considering asari to be women?
“Very well may be,” thought Chakwas, standing up and approaching the asari lying supine, who was already trying to open her eyes.
Benezia’s gaze — cloudy, unsteady, unfocused — nevertheless fixed on the face of Chakwas, who was leaning over her.
Approaching the bed, Karin managed to read the instrument readings: the patient’s awakening was normal.
“Wh-where am I?” the matriarch breathed out, trying to somehow focus her gaze, striving to see the surrounding objects in more detail.
“You are on board a military vessel, in the Medbay,” Karin replied quietly.
“Nazara…”
“He… let you go.” Chakwas did not want to go into details right now, clearly sensing that the asari was not yet capable of processing them normally.
“I… feel strange.
I remember a blow.
The floor suddenly swapped places with the wall and I… lost consciousness,” the asari whispered.
“Who are you?”
“A doctor.
My name is Karin,” Chakwas responded simply and clearly, reading the readings from the instruments placed on the bedside datapads out of the corner of her eye, but paying more attention to examining the patient.
“I… I don’t feel any underwear or clothes on me.
Did you…”
“When the ship hit the ground, you were seriously injured, Benezia.
I operated on you.
That’s why you’re now covered by this canopy.” Chakwas touched the light, durable fabric of the cover with her hand.
“I wasn’t alone inside… the Reaper…”
“Saren Arterius is also here, in the Medbay.” Chakwas held a mirror up to the asari’s eyes.
“Don’t turn your head, just look…”
“He…” the asari looked into the mirror at the sleeping turian.
And — looked away, “also…”
“Yes.
Injured,” Chakwas confirmed.
“He also fell.
I had to operate on him too.
He’s fast asleep now.
And he can’t hear you…”
“I… feel strange, Karin.” Finally, the matriarch’s gaze gained clarity and sharpness.
“My vision… has returned.
I can see you clearly enough now.”
“I’m glad,” Chakwas replied.
“As for how you feel… You have emerged from the Reaper’s influence, Benezia.
And very soon you will regain your former freedom and wholeness.”
“But… I was convinced that…” the asari said timidly.
“It is impossible to break free from a Reaper’s indoctrination influence,” Chakwas said calmly and quietly.
“Everything is relative, Benezia.”
“How do you know me, Karin?” The asari’s gaze clearly showed amazement and surprise.
“I am a medical officer in the Systems Alliance Navy.
And you are on board a military combat reconnaissance vessel.
It wasn’t difficult for us to make inquiries.”
“And you now know…” the matriarch continued.
“A lot,” the doctor did not deny.
“About you.
And about him.” Karin indicated Saren with a glance.
“May I ask you, Karin.
I would like…” Benezia, as the medic understood, was quite predictably embarrassed.
This embarrassment was perfectly understandable: both men and women of different races, and asari who considered themselves genderless, did not want to be seen “half-taken apart” and “taken apart.” And such “taken-apartness” and “half-taken-apartness” was so common for patients in hospitals and infirmaries.
“He is fast asleep, Benezia.
But if you wish.” Chakwas pressed several sensors on her wrist omni-tool — and Saren’s bed was separated from the rest of the Medbay space by a screen.
The asari calmed down a little.
“He… He nearly strangled me several times…” Benezia said quietly.
“And now I remember it… especially clearly.
He… He nearly killed me… Several times he tried to kill me.
And I knew, and I know now — that terrible giant ship demanded that of him.
Saren… became a slave to that ship.
And then… I became its slave too…” The asari matriarch closed her eyes, falling silent for several minutes.
Chakwas was a little surprised that the asari, elderly even by the standards of her race, had not only woken up quickly enough, but had also spoken so many words aloud.
And as for what she remembered, having barely woken up, come to her senses — a great deal — Karin was not just sure — she was convinced.
Benezia opened her eyes, her gaze touching the doctor’s face:
“Did you… operate on me?”
“Yes,” Chakwas nodded.
“Our ship is small; I am a trauma surgeon.”
“I don’t understand.
What happened?” The asari’s gaze swept across the Medbay.
“We’re both here… probably for quite a while?”
“Yes,” Chakwas confirmed.
“You were unconscious for a long time.
Both of you.”
“So it turns out that he… is also free from the Reaper’s influence?” the asari asked barely audibly.
“Yes.
Just like you, Benezia,” Chakwas replied.
“But…” the asari hesitated.
“That means…”
“It means you could not be held accountable.
And — you cannot be responsible for your actions committed under such,” here the ship’s doctor placed a special, noticeable emphasis for the patient, “pressure.
And we have no desire to hand you over to the law enforcement agencies of the Asari Republics.
Or the Turian Hierarchy.
There are no grounds for that.
And — there is no possibility — you are undergoing treatment.
And it will be… quite long.”
“So what exactly happened?” The matriarch was seriously determined to get an answer to this question.
Chakwas sighed almost imperceptibly.
She really did not want to tell the matriarch right away about what had recently happened on Eden Prime.
Benezia did not take her eyes off the doctor’s face and understood that she was hesitating:
“I remember, Karin, that we had to take the Beacon from the planet.
That’s what the ship’s pilot wanted.
And we… were forced to obey.
We… witnessed how the ship moved through the Galaxy to the planet.
The pilot called the planet something, some kind of code or cipher.
But… We had no real way of understanding what planet it was or where it was located.”
“It’s Eden Prime.
One of the first human colonies.
An agricultural planet.
With Prothean artifacts,” Chakwas said honestly.
The asari froze.
“We… were brought to territories under humanity’s control?!” she breathed out.
“You could say that,” Chakwas confirmed.
“The two of you together — or even separately — couldn’t have done anything anyway, as I understand it — neither resisted nor contributed.
So consider that you were both powerless, forced passengers on that ship.
The pilot decided everything.”
“But why… Why did we end up…” the asari struggled to formulate her question, and Chakwas did not rush her.
“Why did we suddenly find ourselves…”
“The ship’s pilot was collecting Prothean Beacons.
Most likely — from all over the Galaxy.
The Beacons contained a warning.
About a great danger.” Chakwas remembered the images transmitted to her by the frigate’s ECM service.
The very images that the archaeologists and the marines guarding the scientists had already seen.
The doctor remembered her conviction that this was far from all the information contained in the Beacon.
Perhaps it would be possible to extract more.
In time, of course.
“The ship’s pilot did not want this warning to be received and understood,” Chakwas continued.
“So he secretly approached Eden Prime.
We managed to detect his advance into humanity’s area of responsibility.
We managed to note his approach to Eden Prime.
And — we managed to prevent the Beacon from being taken away.”
Glancing at the patient and at the displays of the bedside instrument complex, Chakwas was convinced that the asari — if not recovering with astonishing speed, was at least coming to a certain, very significant norm, so she continued her story.
“And…” impatience was clearly felt in the elderly asari’s voice.
“We had to stop the ship’s attempt to leave the planet.
Using on-board — and not only — weapons.
The result was the ship crashing onto the surface of Eden.
Both of you were extracted from the depths of the ‘shrimp.'”
“The Reaper,” the matriarch clarified.
Karin nodded:
“Yes.
You were transported on board our ship.
You were both unconscious…”
“I was… completely suppressed,” the matriarch whispered.
“And now… I don’t understand.
I feel as if those days spent under the oppression of the ship pilot’s will… never existed in my life.
I feel free.
Before, I was absolutely convinced that getting rid of the Reaper’s dependence… was impossible.
And now… I feel as if I never met.
Neither Saren, nor the Reaper.”
“We managed to pull you out, Benezia,” said Chakwas.
She really did not want to tell the asari, who had barely woken up, about Shepard right now.
And — about his abilities.
“You… pulled me out… and Saren… not alone?” The matriarch looked intently into Chakwas’s eyes.
“Yes.
I — mostly — dealt with your… physical problems,” Chakwas did not lie to the patient.
“The mental problems, including — the problem of your complete dependence on the will of the Reaper-ship’s pilot… was eliminated by another member of our crew.”
“I felt… A presence nearby… A man, a human,” the matriarch whispered quietly.
“So it’s true.
He was here.”
“He was,” the doctor confirmed.
“He helped me a lot.
And you.
Both of you.”
“I don’t doubt it,” the asari swept her gaze once more over the accessible space of the Medbay.
“Are we… just the three of us here?”
“Our ship hasn’t left the planet yet.
We still have other tasks here.
And the ship’s commander hasn’t given the order to depart yet,” Chakwas clarified.
“As for the Medbay, I, as the chief doctor, am its absolute mistress.
And the members of the ship’s crew and team know that I never turn the process of treating patients into some kind of show.
As for the fact that we are only three here… I don’t feel lonely, Benezia.
That’s the nature of my work.
You are both the most complex patients in recent days.
So, naturally, we made sure you recovered in silence and peace.”
“That’s probably… right.
What you did, Karin,” the matriarch said.
“I just can’t get used to my… free state.”
“You only just woke up, Benezia,” said Chakwas, glancing at the indicators on the bedside instrument datapads.
“So…”
“I can’t believe I’m… free,” the matriarch breathed out.
“So many days… What’s today’s date?”
Chakwas named not only the day, but also the month and the year, eliciting a quite expected expression of sincere amazement on the patient’s face.
“Goddess!
I spent that much time under the Reaper’s control?!… I can’t believe it.
Although… I understand that it’s… quite possible.
When you’re locked in such a… shell… Time moves completely differently,” the matriarch said thoughtfully.
“Now you are free, Benezia.” Chakwas sat down on a chair standing next to the bed on which the elderly asari lay.
“And you have to get used to your free state.”
“You’re right, Karin,” the matriarch closed her eyes for a few seconds.
“You said this is a military vessel?”
“Yes.
The Normandy.”
“I remember.
The turians sometimes mentioned its design on the Extranet.
A two-century lag.
And…”
“It was built, handed over to us.
And here we are, learning the ropes,” said Chakwas.
“The first long-range flight and — such a thing,” she did not particularly hide her feelings and emotions from her interlocutor.
“And… What am I to do with him now?” The matriarch, turning her head with effort, looked at the screen separating her bed from the bed on which Saren lay.
“He is also free.
And now he will have no claims against you, Benezia.
You are both adult sentient organics, so… Each of you — both you and him — will have to find your place in this world.
Already as individuals free from external influence.
It’s… a lengthy process.”
“And…” the impatience, or perhaps curiosity, in the asari’s voice continued to grow.
“For now, you will remain in the Medbay.
Both of you.
Later, when you are stronger, you can return wherever you wish.” Chakwas did not continue, understanding that the asari must decide for herself where she wanted to live after such a “return.”
“To be honest, I’m scared, Karin,” the matriarch did not hide her fears and outright dread.
“I’ve committed so many crimes… Without meaning to.
I’m afraid…”
“You committed those acts while under external influence, Benezia,” Chakwas replied to her interlocutor.
“The strongest, inescapable external influence.
You were in no way free in your actions.
You had no other choice, no other possibility.
So…”
“But they won’t believe me.” Benezia tried to begin telling who she was, but Chakwas stopped her with a short gesture.
And the asari fell silent, understanding that insisting further was not advisable.
“You… found out almost everything about me?”
“We are intelligence, Benezia,” said Chakwas.
“And, if necessary, we have more than enough opportunities to find out a great deal about every sentient being.
We are aware that you are a full member of the ‘Council of Asari Matriarchs,’ commonly called the Matriarchy.
We also know that you are one of the religious leaders of the race.”
“And you know that I have…” the matriarch whispered timidly.
“An only daughter.
Who is, at this point, over a hundred years old.
Her name is Liara,” Chakwas confirmed.
“I haven’t communicated with her for a long time.
By your reckoning, it’s fifty years.
Half her life, Karin,” the matriarch said quietly.
“Forgive me, but I… I am surprised, amazed, and, I won’t hide it, delighted that I can speak with you so freely, calmly, and at length.
I understand that you operated on me, that I am lying on a medical hospital bed, that you have almost completely restored my body.
But… I would like to learn more about the man who was able to return… myself to me.” Embarrassed, the matriarch closed her eyes.
“Will he be able to come to me in the near future?”
“He is very busy right now, Benezia,” Chakwas replied.
“We have work here.
That needs to be finished.
The ship’s command has not yet made many important decisions.
And without them, we cannot safely and quickly leave the planet.”
Chakwas half-rose, turning one of the screens towards the asari lying supine.
She switched the screen image from medical indicators to a neutral static screensaver.
“I will tell you about this man.
I think he will not fail to visit you.
When you are strong enough.”
“My clothes.
They were, without a doubt, damaged in the fall.
And…”
“I won’t hide it, Benezia,” the doctor replied.
“I had to cut your dress.
I tried to cut along the seams, so if necessary, it can be restored.
Your headdress…”
“Something like a ritual-ceremonial headpiece, Karin.
I understand, for humans it is… unusual.
But… I’m used to it, and on the Reaper, when I was not myself, I somehow didn’t particularly think about my appearance.
So I now understand that all this time I practically didn’t change into anything else and, accordingly, didn’t change my headdress either.
Is it damaged?” the matriarch inquired.
“Slightly.
If necessary, we will repair it.” Chakwas, without getting up, pressed several keys on her wrist omni-tool, and one of the doors of the wall cabinet nearest the bed opened.
“Here it is.”
“Almost undamaged,” the matriarch examined her “cap” with a sharp gaze, and the ship’s doctor was convinced that the asari’s vision had fully returned.
Her brain was receiving all the basic information in sufficient, necessary volumes.
“The dress is probably worse?!
Well, I understand.
Dragging me from the Reaper to the…”
“Shuttle,” Chakwas clarified.
“And then — to the frigate,” the matriarch continued.
“A below-average pleasure.
Probably…”
“You were brought here by the man who later restored your psychosphere, Benezia,” the doctor noted.
“Him,” she indicated the screen with a glance, “was brought on board by one of the marines.”
“In his arms?” the asari clarified.
“I… I didn’t feel then that I was being… carried on a stretcher.
Probably, him,” she looked at the screen behind which the turian lay on the bed, “was also brought not on a stretcher.”
“You’re right.
You were both brought here in someone’s arms,” Chakwas confirmed.
“Almost immediately, he,” the doctor entered several commands on her wrist omni-tool.
Benezia saw an official portrait of John Shepard.
Almost the same as the one in his personal, top-secret file — began restoring your psychosphere.
How he did it — even I, a doctor, cannot explain in detail.
He is capable of it and he can do it.
It is unlikely that he himself will be able to explain it verbally to any sentient being.
That is, quite probably, one of his abilities, which he possesses, has, wields — call it what you will.” Chakwas, with light touches on the omni-tool’s sensors, scrolled through several portraits of the first mate on the screen.
“He is… young.
And, despite his outward youth, he is… Experienced,” the asari noted, peering at the images presented to her.
“Yes,” the doctor nodded in agreement.
“He is truly unusual.
He holds a high marine and special forces rank.
And now he is the ship’s executive officer.
And at the same time — the commander of the marine detachment.”
“Two such positions for one person?!” the asari was genuinely amazed.
“In our asari marine corps, that is not practiced.
At least, I know nothing about it, despite a sufficient level of clearance.”
“We are amazed ourselves,” Chakwas did not deny.
“He joined our crew quite recently.
Right before our departure for Eden Prime.
And then… A lot changed on the ship and in the crew, I won’t hide it.
For the better.”
“And it changed for the better for me, Karin,” the matriarch whispered.
“And why can I lie on your bed like this, holding my head straight?
After all, the head-tails…”
“We anticipated that such an inconvenience might occur for asari.
That’s why our hospital beds, which equip the Medbays of reconnaissance ships, have recently been fitted with recesses into which your head-tails are placed.
He,” the doctor looked at the screen, “has a similar problem.
But he also has no difficulty: his head crests are also recessed in a similar indentation.”
“It’s… comfortable.
It’s like a specialized pillow.
For the most part, we are deprived of such a luxurious opportunity to hold our heads straight when lying supine,” the matriarch said.
“I never cease to be amazed that I am able to speak so much and so freely aloud now.
Although… I understand that I have barely crawled out, literally, as you humans say, ‘from the other side.’ I understand that the space I visited is very similar to ‘the other side,'” the elderly asari noted sadly.
“Nevertheless, Benezia, you need to doze off.” Chakwas moved the screen back to its previous position.
“Sleep.
Sleep restores strength best of all.”
“And you won’t…” the matriarch looked at the doctor, who was already walking back to her work table.
“There’s no need for that,” Chakwas smiled almost imperceptibly, turning around.
“You have recovered sufficiently.
And now you are quite capable of sleeping on your own.
Without any sleeping pills.” Chakwas sank into her chair.
“I’ll close you off with the screen.
Get some sleep,” she pressed several keys on the desktop omni-tool, and panels of a partition slid out from the wall, unfolding into working position.
“I will sleep, Karin.
Thank you,” the matriarch said quietly, watching the white opaque plates separate her bed from the doctor’s work table.
Closing her eyes, Benezia herself did not notice how she fell asleep.