“Yes. Although there is a slim possibility that copies were made.”
Oh. Oh, no. “What?” But then she understood. “Ygara.”
“Yes. The Home Away facility had an interest in keeping the code package secret. So did Quiet Eddy. Ygara Menoris, however, sought to profit from it in any way possible. She had unmonitored possession of it for several days and—through her information broker, Octavia Suran—the ability to arrange discreet individual sales to interested parties. Short of finding Suran, who will likely have gone to ground in the wake of Menoris’ death, there’s no way to know if that happened.”
Of course Ygara would’ve been double-dealing. For a woman who’d been willing to stab a former colleague in the back, it would’ve been nothing to promise an exclusive sale to the auction participants, while still selling the same tech to someone else on the side. Cora buried her face in her hands and groaned.
The hum of the door startled her into looking up. Then her mouth fell open, as her best friend came into the room.
“What?” Janae asked, her voice wry. She carried a takeout container, which she set down on a nearby table as she settled into the room’s chair. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Which I’m not, by the way. Dead, I mean, since it’s just been eleven weeks since we last saw each other, and you’re the one who’s been in a medically induced coma.”
Cora closed her mouth. Janae was another of Talein’s Daughters, the youngest member of the team after Cora—though “young” by asari standards meant that she was still a solid two hundred years old and change. And in spite of everything, Cora was elated to see her.
“I just… wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Well, surprisingly, when you end up in a public hospital, nearly dead, word gets around.” Grinning, Janae crossed her legs and popped open the container. “You would wake up while I was off getting lunch, though. There’s a great cafe down on the mezzanine, did you know that? They have Earth shrimp. Always wanted to try those! Want some?”
Cora shook her head, still drinking in the sight. It felt as if years had passed since she and Janae and the other Daughters had been in the trenches, fighting their way through the bowels of Omega or some asari colony that had been attacked by geth.
“Janae, what are you doing here? The Daughters had a full deployment schedule!”
“I came with Nisira. And she’s the one who gave me a week off, on ‘family leave’ pay. She figured since you didn’t have any family of your own, friends would have to do.”
“Oh, my God.” Cora found herself laughing. It felt like forever since she’d laughed, too. “You know that’s going to set the rumors off again.” Even Ygara had thought she and Janae were a couple. The truth was that Janae had been more than interested, though she’d taken it gracefully when Cora had turned her down. Now that the awkwardness had settled, they could be just friends.
“Who cares what anybody else thinks?” Janae snorted and plucked a fried shrimp from the container to nibble on it. “This is sort of chewy, but I guess I can see the appeal.”
Cora got comfortable in the bed again, and they talked about the Daughters for a while—how everyone was doing, who’d admitted that they missed the weird human maiden, which of Nisira’s two hot-tempered husbands was more likely to get into a fight next and earn a patented “Mama Nisi” tongue-lashing for it. It was easy, familiar stuff, and Cora found herself unbearably relieved to have her mind taken off double-crossings and human-synthetic integration and half-crazed AIs for a while.
Abruptly Janae fell silent, though, gazing at Cora for a long moment.
“So… the Andromeda Initiative, huh?”
Oh, crap. Cora wasn’t ready for this conversation. “Yeah…?”
“Another galaxy. Forever.”
Cora rubbed a hand over her hair. “Yeah.”
Janae was silent for a few moments, but Cora could see the hurt and anger practically radiating from her micro-scales. “I hadn’t heard from you since you left. Were you even going to say goodbye before you went where I’d never see you again?”
“I’m a soldier, Janae, same as you. There’s always a chance we’ll never see each other again.”
“That’s death. And at least I’d have closure that way. But you think it’s the same, knowing you’re alive somewhere but unreachable, asleep for hundreds of years?” Janae leaned forward, scowling. “By the time you wake up, I could be dead. Definitely in my later years. A lot of asari maidens never make it to the matriarch stage, you know—especially those who take the huntress path. All this time I’ve been thinking I would outlive you, but at least I’d get to watch you have a good life and grow to a respectable old age. I thought I would—”
She choked herself off, then looked away.
“Tethys and the other old ladies in the unit are always going on about how important it is to savor the shorter-lived people in your life, while they last. That’s the whole point of the embrace eternity mantra, you know? How much time you have doesn’t matter, when you really care about someone, if you make the most of it. How can I have that with you, if…?”
“But this is better than death,” Cora said, knowing it was weak.
Janae’s jaw tightened. Quickly, to head off the storm she could see coming, Cora added, “It’s… honorable. I’ll be helping humanity establish a new frontier, securing new resources, setting up future intergalactic trade... Who knows what kind of new discoveries we’ll find there? And—”
“Since when do you care about any of that?” Janae snapped. It was Cora’s turn to flinch. “I know why Nisira sent you away, Cora. It’s because you weren’t really interested in the Daughters, even though I know you would’ve been perfectly content to stay with us until you couldn’t fight anymore. But you were looking for a cause to attach yourself to. Looking for people to attach yourself to. After what happened to your parents—” Cora flinched, but Janae continued, relentlessly. “I don’t blame you. Seriously, I don’t. But if you keep rejecting people who want to be a part of your life, it’s not our fault that you feel disconnected here. Going to another galaxy isn’t going to change that. The problem isn’t the Milky Way. The problem is you.”
Cora stared at her, struck speechless. In the sudden, reverberating silence, Janae shook her head, picked up the takeout container, and got to her feet.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” she said. “You’re my best friend and I’ll never stop caring about you, even if you fly off to the other end of the universe. But I’m furious with you right now, and I need to go get some fresh—” She grimaced, looking around at the station’s metal walls. “Well. Freshly recycled air.” She walked out.
Cora flopped back in the hospital bed, feeling like she’d just gone ten rounds in a sparring ring.
“Are you all right, Lieutenant?” SAM-E’s voice was tentative.
“No.” She closed her eyes. “Hey. What’s Alec Ryder to you?”
“I…” SAM-E sounded completely taken aback. “He is my creator, of course. Are you quite sure you’re feeling all right?”
“I mean—” Cora gestured awkwardly. “What does he mean to you? Do you think of him as a father, or a teacher, or a friend, or…?”
“I suppose… all of that. And none of it. I’m not him, after all. I’m you.”
“What?”
SAM-E tried again. “I am not the SAM unit that is integrated with the Pathfinder, is what I mean. I’m the one that’s integrated with you. Even now I am receiving data from the implants within you. I’m also patched into the hospital’s medical monitors and its cameras so that I can observe you externally. I am reading the doctor’s notes on your care at this very moment, and I watched Janae and Nisira while both were present. I am learning about you by the moment—from your brain chemistry, from this conversation, from the way your senses process information. All of this data contributes to my understanding of the world.”
“That… might just be the creepiest thing you’ve ever said to me, SA
M-E, other than ‘hang on while I give you human blood-rage.’”
SAM-E was persistent and patient. “I am not made to exist alone,” he said. “Without organics, I would have no purpose. In order to be a… a person, I need… people. Does that make sense?”
Cora considered this for a long while. It did, although part of her mind tried to resist it. Did SAM-E even qualify as a person? He didn’t have a body. But it worked once she stopped thinking of SAM-E, and started thinking instead of herself. “Like family,” she murmured, and then blinked in surprise at herself. “The people who make you what you are, even though you’re still a person of your own.”
“That analogy is inappropriate for an artificial life form, but it comes closest to describing the experience, yes.”
“Huh.” Cora laughed a little, surprised to find herself… pleased. She couldn’t articulate why. “Well. Welcome to the family, SAM-E.”
SAM-E, perhaps thoughtfully and perhaps tactfully, did not press the conversation further.
The doctor arrived a few moments later and, much to Cora’s chagrin, explained all the things about her condition that she’d managed to get SAM-E to skip. But there was good news, too: she was to be discharged that very afternoon. “Your medical VI provided us with excellent advice,” the woman said, as she handed Cora the big plastic baggie that contained her armor, weapons, helmet, and bodysuit. “I don’t know if we would’ve been able to get you back up to a hundred percent without its help. I’ve never encountered this model of VI before—is it a mod?”
“Yes,” Cora said. “No. Uh, experimental prototype. Proprietary, corporate. I’m testing it.” That had the virtue of even being true.
“Well, let me know when it’s on the market. That thing’s a literal lifesaver.”
“I know,” Cora said, and fortunately the woman didn’t notice the amused look on Cora’s face. Then Cora thought of something that had caught her attention earlier. “What are the guards for, though?”
“Oh.” The doctor grimaced, glancing through the window at the two human men flanking the door. They wore hospital security uniforms, and carried no visible weapons, but their martial purpose was obvious just from their stances and positioning. “I’m given to understand that you had some trouble the last time you were here on Tamayo. A reporter? And those Homeward Sol protestors.”
“The—” Cora blinked. Then she remembered the man who’d accosted her in the cafe. Who’d been with a group of people carrying placards. “Oh, them. Wait, ‘Homeward Sol?’” There were a million reasons for people to use the word “Home” as part of a name, but…
“Right, them.” The doctor sighed. “They’ve been here for weeks now, trying to get media attention by picketing any shuttles leaving Sol space. You know the type—xenophobes and Earth-centrists. Like the Reds, but without the illegal drug trading. They support themselves by inciting high-profile individuals to punch one of them in the face, and then filing a lawsuit. It’s how they get their funding.”
Cora groaned. So al-Jilani’s interview had made her high profile enough to earn the attention of scammy bigots.
“Anyway, we didn’t want them bothering you during your recovery. But, ah…” The doctor looked uncomfortable. “I can’t guarantee they haven’t found the berth where your shuttle is docked. I don’t know how they keep getting access to our ship manifests. And you’ve got several weeks of rehab ahead of you before you should engage in any strenuous activity.”
Cora sighed. “Thanks for the warning. Now I’ll make sure I handle them without any punching, if they try me again.”
“A wise choice.” She winked and left.
* * *
Dressed, armored, and feeling almost like herself again, Cora stepped outside of the hospital to wait for Janae on the balcony. Tamayo Point was almost peaceful from up here, the noise of its main level muted by distance, and after a while Cora found herself leaning against the balcony railing, trying to process everything that had happened.
She should feel accomplished. A sense of closure. She’d fulfilled her mission for the Initiative, to the greatest degree possible. She’d gotten twenty people out of Quiet Eddy alive, with only herself as a casualty; if she’d still been in the military, they’d probably have given her a medal. Wasn’t that why she’d joined the Daughters and mastered biotics—to help people? Use her powers to make a difference in the galaxy?
But if so, then why did she still feel so out of place? Gazing at the hum of activity down on Tamayo’s main level, she felt different from that day—had it only been eleven short weeks ago?—when she’d been fresh off the ship from asari space. Now the people around her just felt like people—not alien anymore, but not familiar, either. Not a part of her.
You keep rejecting people who want to be a part of your life.
Janae’s accusation rattled around in Cora’s mind, echoing, making her ache with guilt. Which… was wrong. Cora scowled; damn it, that couldn’t be true. She’d served in the Alliance and in the Daughters. No one could survive in a military unit without bonding with her squadmates. It just hadn’t been…
A light step warned her—deliberate, on Janae’s part, since any huntress could move in total silence if she wanted to. Then she settled against the railing beside Cora, letting out a sigh that echoed how Cora felt.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “What I said to you before was unfair.” The knot of frustration inside Cora began to unravel at once. She hadn’t known that she needed to hear that. “I just… It was bad enough knowing you were heading to human space, where I could at least keep in touch with you via vidcalls and extranet messages. This, though… This means losing you for good. And when I got here and found you half-dead in a hospital bed, that just drove the horror of the whole thing home.”
Cora pushed herself up from the railing and turned to face Janae. “I ended up here because I was ready to die to save twenty people,” she said. All at once, it was clear in her mind. Janae blinked. “Because I could save them. It wasn’t something I set out to do, certainly wasn’t anything anyone asked of me. I’m not even a soldier anymore. But when I got there and saw what was happening on the ground, I couldn’t not do it. I was the only one who could, so I did. Do you understand?”
Janae’s frown deepened, but slowly, she nodded. “You’re never not a huntress, once the spirit is in you,” she said. “Stepping up whenever needed. No questions asked, no hesitation. I get that.”
“Because I was needed. Yeah.” Cora took a deep breath. “The asari don’t need me, Janae. The Alliance has plenty of biotics, plenty of soldiers, and we’re not at war; they don’t need me. I’m one of the most powerful biotics in my species, and nobody in this whole damn galaxy needs me.” That was painful to say, but it was the truth. “The Initiative does, though. This guy, Ryder; he does. Andromeda does.”
“If you’re serious about making the future happen, I’ve got a job for you,” Alec Ryder had said. And… Cora blinked, realizing belatedly. Something within her had responded to that.
Janae folded her arms, her expression carefully neutral. “What if I say I need you? The Daughters need you?”
Cora sighed. “That would be a lie, Janae. I’m not half the commando you are. I won’t live long enough to ever be a true huntress.” She half-smiled. “And anyway, it’s a pain in the ass to get shampoo on Thessia.”
That cracked the neutrality. Janae burst out laughing. “I told you a million times, just shave off that ‘hair’ of yours and get your scalp dyed! We could both get stripes, to match! It would be so cool.”
“You would look cool. I’d look like a zebra.”
“Those Earth equines I’ve heard of? Oh Goddess, you’re right!” They both dissolved into giggles at the notion. But then Janae stepped forward, opening her arms. Still chuckling, Cora embraced her, though her laughter faded as Janae pressed her forehead against Cora’s and sighed. “These people better appreciate you as much as we do, Cora.”
Cora shut her eyes and
let her biotic field rise in natural response to the presence of another. Janae did the same, her field meshing gently with Cora’s own, and they stood there for a while, both of them reverberating with one another’s presence.
“If they don’t, I’ll just sic you on them,” Cora murmured.
Janae shook her head and stepped back, blinking quickly as she let her field go quiescent. Cora had to look away too as she did the same. “You’re off, then?” she asked, her voice sounding suspiciously tight.
“Yeah,” Cora replied. “My mission’s done.”
Janae nodded, then hooked her arm through Cora’s as they turned to leave together. “I’ll walk you to your shuttle.”
“Could get ugly. Protestors.”
“Oh—” Janae scowled. “You mean those noisy bigots who’ve been getting in people’s faces all over the place? Please, let them try me.”
“Janae, so help me, if I wake up hundreds of years in the future and learn that you spent the rest of your life in jail, I will drag myself into whatever passes for the asari afterlife to give you grief for an eternity.”
* * *
When they got down to the private-shuttle docks, and found the berth for Cora’s, there were no protestors in sight. Quietly, as Cora looked around for them, SAM-E said into her ear, “I took the liberty of notifying station authorities that the Homeward Sol protestors might be carrying explosives.”
“You did—?” Cora forgot herself and spoke out loud, then blushed and caught herself. Janae looked at her oddly. “Sorry. Chatty VI.”
“I took care to use the word ‘might,’” SAM-E said, a little sheepishly. “Technically it isn’t a lie. Station security should investigate, then release them unharmed when they discover no credible threat.”
Cora had to fight the urge to groan, but she couldn’t deny that SAM-E’s deception had bought them a little peace. Reaching the shuttle, she stopped and turned to Janae. “I’ll write until I go into cryo-sleep. Weekly.”