Reviewing the monitoring data collected by the Medbay’s automation on the omni-tool screen, Chakwas was glad that the matriarch had finally fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The doctor had not lied to her patient: she had indeed not used any sleeping pills now.
Shepard had performed a true miracle: the monitoring proved that the asari, despite her age, venerable even by racial standards, had recovered to a very significant degree.
Of course, not completely, but the fact that she had been able to speak so much already indicated the possibility of unequivocal success, ensuring a guaranteed recovery.
“Good thing she fell asleep,” Karin thought.
“Now, if Saren wakes up, there’ll be no need to take any measures to prevent conflict between him and the asari.
The kind that could lead to a confrontation between the former ‘senior slave’ and the ‘slave girl’.”
Accustomed to viewing such life situations with enough cynicism, Chakwas didn’t focus on the asari’s subordination to the turian.
She delved into the analysis of the monitoring data the medbay’s automation had provided.
An hour later, she stood up.
Treading carefully, she approached the asari lying on her back and, using hypnosis, ensured her patient would have a deep sleep for a few more hours.
Something told Chakwas that Saren would wake up very soon, and she needed to do everything in advance to ensure no tension arose between the patients.
Benezia would sleep, and she, as a doctor, would talk to the turian in the meantime.
Karin had no doubt that such a conversation, covering a great many things, would be necessary.
Saren opened his eyes.
His sharp hearing immediately picked out the asari’s breathing from the jumble of sounds, but the familiar surroundings of the Reaper’s “central post” were gone.
As far as his gaze could reach, he was in the medbay of a ship that had inherited many turian traditions in its equipment.
Light, quick footsteps were heard — and a middle-aged human woman leaned over him.
“A doctor,” Saren understood.
“Where am I?” the turian asked, not really believing he would get an accurate and comprehensive answer.
“Frigate the Normandy, Spectre Arterius,” Chakwas said briefly, knowing that such an answer would satisfy the patient more than any other.
“I’m the medbay’s doctor, my name is Karin,” she added.
“You…
know me?” the turian asked.
“It’s hard not to know one of the Citadel Council’s legendary Spectres, Saren.” Chakwas performed a quick manual examination of the patient’s body.
“You’re almost completely fine.”
“How did I end up…
here?
I remember the ship I was on…
fell.
The impact — and I lost consciousness.
I know it sounds…
stupid.
But I don’t remember anything else.” Saren tried to turn his head.
He couldn’t.
“The crests…”
“Our hospital beds have special indentations.
Your crest isn’t damaged.
It’s fine.
But for now, until you’ve fully recovered…
it would be best to refrain from moving your head,” said Karin, reading the readings from the screens above Arterius’s bed.
“You really did fall.
And — lost consciousness.
Our landing party evacuated you from the Reaper.”
“You identified the ship?” There was some surprise in Saren’s voice.
“It’s…”
“Every legend has some very real basis,” Chakwas replied.
“That’s just how it works here, in this world.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” the turian closed his eyes.
“You know, this is…
comfortable.
Lying like this, on my back.
And — holding my head…
straight.
Without straining my neck muscles.
I’m not surprised you undressed me.
And right now, I don’t feel many of my implants.”
“I removed them.
You won’t need them anymore,” the doctor replied, switching the modes of the medical equipment on her omni-tool.
“I only left the most necessary and safe ones.”
“I was…” Saren began.
“Now I even doubt whether it was really me all these days and months.”
“It was you, Saren.
But you weren’t fully in control of yourself, your actions, or your deeds.” Karin looked at the turian.
“So…”
“You found out I’m a Spectre.
But I probably won’t be able to return to the Corps so easily and quickly.
For what I’ve done…”
“You didn’t do it,” the doctor said.
“The Reaper was in complete control of you.
You were merely an obedient and submissive tool.
An executor of its will.
So no sentient organic will hold anything against you.
None of the living.”
“You, Karin, are so sure of that?
But how…
how did you manage to free me from…”
“Indoctrination?” Karin stepped back from Saren’s bed and sat down in a wheeled work chair.
“I only removed the implants from your body.
Including the ones the Reaper installed.”
“I remember.
I must have spent a lot of time on its operating table…
Almost unconscious,” Saren said, closing his eyes again.
“And…”
“The first mate of our frigate helped you, Saren.
How exactly he did it — I don’t know the details.
But the result is acceptable.”
“More than acceptable…
I felt like this…” Saren hesitated, but then continued, “long before I became…
what you humans call a puppet in the Reaper’s hands.
It’s…
a pleasant feeling.
And — a very pleasant feeling of freedom, lightness, and the certainty that now…
a great deal depends only on me.
I haven’t felt…
free in a long time.
Can I…”
“The first mate isn’t on board right now.
He’s busy on the planet.
Leading the landing party.”
“You…
stopped the Reaper?!” Saren was clearly deeply astonished.
“We had to,” Chakwas confirmed.
“It tried to retrieve a Prothean artifact from the planet belonging to the humans.”
“Yes…
We were…
passengers.
And the Reaper, or rather — the Reaper’s pilot…
didn’t tell us much.
We weren’t equal partners.
That’s why we weren’t even privy to many of its plans, intentions, or the reasons for many of its actions.
Yes, now I realize: it used us.
And now I understand: it used us dirty.
So, we’re currently…”
“On Eden Prime, Saren,” Chakwas replied.
“I remember.
We traveled for a very long time, flew somewhere.
On the Reaper…
there are no portholes.
We didn’t know whose territories our path lay through.
I only remember that the Reaper indicated we were moving under stealth.
Then…
I felt the Reaper being shot at.
The ship, which had been vertical until that moment, suddenly started to tip over on its side.
And — there was an impact.
I…
lost consciousness.”
“You fell out of your chair, Saren,” the doctor clarified.
“Yes…
the chair,” the turian confirmed, remembering the recent events after a few seconds of silence.
“The Reaper’s pilot had created something like a ‘working cabin’ for us.
There were two chairs in there, but at that moment…
Most likely, I didn’t manage to strap myself in.
Or…
I didn’t have time.
I don’t remember.
As always, everything happened too fast.
Most likely, the pilot expected to be able to launch, to take the ship away.
But, apparently…”
“We did our best to make sure he couldn’t launch,” Karin replied.
“Yes.
You really did that,” Arterius agreed.
“Where is the Reaper now?”
“The frigate is hovering next to it.
It’s lying…
on its side.
Immobile.”
“You managed to stop a Reaper with a scout frigate…
a single ship?!” Saren didn’t hide his astonishment.
“That…
was clearly new to the Reaper’s pilot.”
“I don’t know the details, Saren.” Understanding that the Spectre wanted to hear a full account of the battle, Chakwas replied.
“I’m not a warrior.
I’m a doctor.”
“A surgeon?” the Spectre clarified.
“Yes.
We humans have a tradition that the heads of Medbays on ships — and not only on ships, but also in station and ground medical centers — are most often appointed from among surgeons.
However…”
“I remember that tradition, Karin.” Saren closed his eyes, then opened them again.
“You operated on me so calmly and thoroughly…
The wounds…
barely hurt.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Saren.
But don’t be brave.
For now, you’re on bed rest,” Chakwas said.
“Next to me…
on the Reaper, there was an asari.
A matriarch.
Her name was…
Benezia,” the Spectre said.
“She’s here, behind the screen.
Sleeping…” the doctor nodded.
“The pilot…
he almost made me strangle her several times.
I’ll probably be tried and punished in Asari space for abusing a matriarch,” Saren whispered.
“I remember she’s one of the asari’s religious leaders.”
“I think we’ll still have time to resolve this issue, Saren.” Chakwas looked intently into the turian’s eyes.
“Now you’re in control of yourself…”
“Yes, I am.
And I will definitely apologize to Benezia.” Saren said firmly.
“The Reaper forced me to command her.
And it did everything to ensure she couldn’t resist the need to obey me.
It also often commanded her itself.
I’m starting to remember.
And I…
I feel like I’m no longer a Spectre.
And she, without a doubt, will answer to the Matriarchal Court.
And — she will also suffer.
She will bear, as they say, punishment,” the turian fell silent abruptly.
“That’s why, Saren, you don’t need to remember everything you did when you weren’t in control of yourself, even to the slightest degree.
Those memories will be harmful,” Chakwas said with emphasis.
“You’ll establish normal relations with Benezia.
A new stage of your life has begun for you now.
And about the past…
it’s better not to remember it now.
It’s behind you, Saren.”
“I suppose, Doctor, you’re giving me to understand in this simple way that I should sleep?
We sentient organics have a very strong belief that sleep is the best medicine.
A natural one,” Saren said, smiling almost imperceptibly.
“Yes,” Chakwas didn’t argue.
“Then…
Before I fall asleep, may I ask a question?” Arterius said cautiously.
“Alright, Saren,” Chakwas nodded.
“Can you help me?
Restore a more decent appearance to my face.
Although…
I’ll take it calmly if instead of ‘face’ you say ‘mug’.
It’s not about the labels, is it?”
“I can do that,” the doctor confirmed.
“But you, Saren, currently have a direct need to rest.
Without sleeping pills.
And I sense this question isn’t the last.”
“Yes, Doctor.
I sense that a fellow turian is present on board your ship.
And I suspect it’s Nihlus Kryik.
My student and an active Council Spectre.”
“Yes,” Chakwas nodded, confirming the correctness of Saren’s assumption.
“He is indeed on board the Normandy.
I know the Citadel Council ordered him to oversee both the use of the prototype frigate and the removal of the Prothean beacon from Eden Prime.”
“So the Council has extended its reach to these artifacts,” Saren said with a hint of clear displeasure.
“Trying, without knowing it, to get ahead of the Reapers.” The turian was silent for a few seconds.
“Only…
the information obtained from the Beacon, if it was indeed obtained by the smart-alecks under the trio of Councilors, would hardly have been as simple as expected.
Or — pleasant.
For the Councilors,” the Spectre clarified.
“One could say that,” Karin confirmed.
“But the Reaper nearly beat Nihlus and us humans to it.
Most likely, the Reaper and its pilot are not interested in the sentient organics currently living in the Galaxy fully investigating the contents of this artifact.”
“The Reaper’s appearance…
has thrown reality into disarray,” the Spectre said vaguely.
“I agree.
It caused significant damage to Eden Prime and its infrastructure.
During landing, and even more so during the crash.
There was a geth landing force on board.”
“Yes.
The Reaper…
subjugated some geth unit.
Maybe several dozen.
Plus — several geth dropships — carriers.
It’s a semi-machine.
So it was incomparably easier and simpler for it…
to come to an agreement with those machines, driven by networked AIs, than for us sentient organics,” Arterius admitted.
“Spirits, I just can’t get used to being free.
And — to having talked with you for so long already.
And — not feeling my fatigue increase…
This is so new to me that I’m at a loss…
You’re right, Karin.
I need…
to doze.
And — to think about many things.
I promise I won’t…
hold any grudge against Benezia.
And I will definitely apologize to her.
Definitely,” the turian repeated.
“I think I already understand that she has no need to apologize to me: I am still more guilty before her than she is before me.
We were both truly utterly lacking in autonomy in our actions…
It’s…
terrifying.
And I’m glad it’s over.
I need to think about many things.
I’ll probably doze.
Hardly sleep.
And, most likely, I won’t get up without your permission, Doctor.
But…”
“We have sufficient means to provide you with clothing.
There’s a turian colony on Eden Prime.
And your fellow tribesmen will most likely not refuse to give or sell us a full male wardrobe,” Karin chuckled.
“Rest, Saren.
And remember — you promised to behave properly.”
“I will, Doctor.
I will.” Arterius closed his eyes for a few seconds as a sign of agreement.
“Will you perhaps allow me to see Nihlus sometime?”
“I will.
In time.” Chakwas stood up from the chair, moved away from the bed, and drew the curtain of the screen.
“Rest.”
Half an hour later, Benezia opened her eyes.
Chakwas leaned over her:
“How did you sleep, Benezia?”
“Thank you,” the matriarch whispered.
“I haven’t slept so fully and deeply in a long time.
When I was…
not myself…
such sleep was an unattainable happiness for me.
Or…
an unacceptable luxury.
He,” the matriarch glanced towards Saren’s bed, “has he woken up?”
“Yes.
I spoke with him.
He’s fine, stable,” Karin confirmed.
“And…”
“He very much wants to apologize to you, Benezia.
He understands he was wrong about many things concerning you,” Chakwas said.
“That wasn’t him.
He was controlled either by the Reaper or the Reaper’s pilot.
So…
I’m even somewhat surprised he wants to apologize,” the matriarch replied.
“He’s a man, Benezia.
And men — often regardless of race — tend to act that way in certain cases,” the doctor said.
“If they feel they are wrong, many of them consider it necessary to offer their apologies clearly, distinctly.
And — openly.
Especially if the recipient of the apology is a lady.” Chakwas didn’t use the word ‘woman,’ and the matriarch appreciated that.
“Among us asari…
there are many who share the view that we are not an ‘it.’ Not genderless, to put it simply,” said the elder T’Soni.
“Social role, Benezia, is not gender.
Or rather — it’s not determined by gender alone.
Among us humans, too, many women never give birth in their entire lives.
Yet no human stops considering them women,” said Karin.
“The right to bear a child and the right not to bear a child is, first and foremost, a right of choice for every human woman.
It is strictly individual.
And it is rare for society or the state to directly and harshly demand that a woman fulfill her function as a continuer of the human race by force.”
“You…” the matriarch began cautiously.
“I’m not married.
Or rather, as many of my acquaintances claim, I’m married to my job,” Chakwas chuckled.
“But that doesn’t bother me or the people around me.
I’m still a woman.
And I’m treated accordingly.
They take care of me, help me, provide for me, insure me, protect me.”
“You do the same yourself…
As a doctor,” the matriarch clarified.
“And that’s also true,” Karin didn’t deny.
“For my part, I also take care, insure, and protect.
Both women and men.
Of any age and any social standing.”
“You, Karin, have…
a romantic interest…
The commander of this frigate,” said Benezia.
“Yes,” Chakwas sighed.
She was beginning to like the perceptiveness and experience of her matriarch patient more and more:
“You’re right.
But for now…
we’re only good, albeit close — acquaintances.
David Anderson doesn’t pressure me.
He’s not rushing to follow the standard script — engagement, wedding, marriage, family, household, children.
All of that will come, but for now…”
After a few seconds of silence, Chakwas said:
“Too much has changed, Benezia, after our ship and crew had to fire on the Reaper…
I’m afraid the wedding and everything else…
is now being pushed back.
Into the very distant future.”
“You…” the matriarch continued to probe.
“Also have a feeling of impending doom, Benezia.
A war with machines like that.
Blood, pain, death.
This war…
I feel it very acutely now, it will start very soon.
And it will be…
hard and long.
The outcome of this war…
I wouldn’t dare predict it now.”
“There will be no prisoners in this war, Karin,” the matriarch whispered.
“Yes.
If indoctrination is used…
There really will be no prisoners,” Chakwas agreed.
“The choice will be: either — enemy, or — friend.
There won’t be anything in between — like prisoners of war or civilian detainees — anymore.
There’s no feeling that a sentient organic has a chance to change their position, to return to their former status,” the doctor expressed herself somewhat floridly.
“Then…
how and why did he and I,” a glance towards Saren’s bed, hidden by the screen, “return to a normal state?”
“How — I doubt I can give you an accurate and complete answer to that question, Benezia,” said Chakwas.
“And why…
While the war in the Galaxy hasn’t started yet, and I personally have no doubt left that it will be a galactic war, we sentient organics, the living, still have a choice.
But later, when the war with the Reapers, with ships like that — begins…
Then there will only be an ‘either-or’ choice.
Either we defeat the Reapers, or the Reapers defeat us.”
“You are right, Karin,” the matriarch replied after a pause.
“I, an asari, as you humans often say, am elderly.
But…
I know the human race poorly.
We are a long-lived race, you are a short-lived one.
There are too many differences between us, according to our common racial opinion.
But now, most likely, a time is coming when these differences will have to be overcome.”
“Exactly, Benezia.” Chakwas didn’t nod, but the asari clearly understood that her interlocutor agreed with the expressed opinion.
“Amazing,” the matriarch listened to her own feelings.
“I feel…
rejuvenated.”
“Quite possible, Benezia,” said Chakwas.
“I am…
very pleased that the first person I saw, after returning to a normal…
state, was you, a human woman.
I don’t know how I would have reacted if the first person I saw was, for example, Saren, who had also returned ‘from there.'”
“Among us humans, it is customary for the doctor to be a woman in most cases.
For many reasons.
Sensitivity, emotionality, tenderness, the ability to empathize, and so on,” Chakwas said quietly.
“That’s why on military ships, most medics are women.
While the majority of warriors, of course, are men.”
“And the one who carried me out of the Reaper on his back…
Can you tell me more about him, Karin?”
“I can.” Chakwas briefly told the asari about Shepard.
The matriarch listened attentively, often closing her eyes briefly in agreement, enjoying the peace and the fact that she was now in complete control of herself.
In sole control of both her body and her mind.
“That’s what he’s like from my point of view, Benezia.
Captain of the Systems Alliance Navy Marine special forces, John Shepard,” Chakwas concluded her story about the first mate.
“I understand that I’m supposedly a difficult patient.
But could I look at — once more — his portrait?”
“Why not?” Chakwas turned one of the medical screens towards the asari.
“Look,” she entered a code on her omni-tool and handed Benezia a small remote control.
“Screen control,” the doctor explained.
“Yes…
I’m used to this.
I need to…
work my fingers,” the matriarch said quietly.
Chakwas nodded, stepping away from the bed: she felt the asari wanted to be alone.
Her Shepard had somehow interested her…
And Karin suddenly realized that the matriarch…
had fallen in love.
Or rather — had come to love this man.
A perfectly ordinary thing after a sentient organic, risking themselves, saved another sentient organic’s life, body, and soul.