Requiem I
Title: Frigate: Requiem
Fandom: Mass Effect
Pairing: Saren/Shepard
Rating: PG-13
Comments: Very, very strange. But I think I like this one.
Revelations: dies irae, dies illa
The vision was full of blood.
Cities crumbled. Planets burned. Billions and billions of life-forms, dead in a flash, and there was screaming echoing echoing echoing in his head that would not go away-
They were organics, Sovereign hissed. Unfit. Unclean. Why do you still question? You have work to do.
Yes. Work. Without the cipher the vision was all but useless. Saren stumbled to his feet, pushing the screaming to the back of his mind with an effort. He had to find the cipher.
“Benezia!” he growled, toggling the comm. “Get up here. Now!”
Her voice came floating back through Sovereign’s speakers, cool and poised and a trifle irritated. “No need to shout,” Benezia said. She sounded as though she might be rolling her eyes. “I’m on my way.”
Saren growled again and flung himself into a chair. Impertinent wench. She would deserve whatever was coming to her, and more. An asari Matriarch; so self-important, so presumptuous, yet another organic construct who would not recognize her place in the galaxy-
That was Sovereign again. He raised his head and pushed the intrusive thoughts to the back of his mind as Benezia came striding through the doors. “The cipher,” he snapped at her. Their work should be almost done. “I need your-”
“There is a problem,” Benezia said.
Problems. Delays and delays and more delays-worthless organics, inept, incompetent-“What?” Saren demanded.
“The beacon,” Benezia said. “One of the humans may have-used it.”
White-hot rage. The world went blank for a moment, the strength of Sovereign’s fury roaring through his mind (-no no NOOO-) and Saren was vaguely aware of movement and shattering glass (-problems delays worthless organics-) and a sharp, searing pain all up his arm as he slammed a fist into a wall (-why won’t they DIE-) and came shuddering back into himself, panting, the dark echoes of the Reaper’s anger staining his mind like blood.
“This human must be eliminated,” he hissed, Benezia’s face suddenly between his talons and centimeters away from his jaws. “Destroy him. Destroy his ship.”
She didn’t even blink. “Her,” Benezia said, unflinching. “A human female. Serving under Captain Anderson of the Normandy, an Alliance ship-”
“I know his allegiances,” Saren growled, letting go of her.
“Do you want him dead, too?”
“No. Too much trouble with the Council.” He turned away. “Just kill the female.”
--
Prophets 1.1: libera me (de morte aeterna)
The human escaped to Citadel space before his geth assassins could shoot her between the eyes, and somehow Anderson managed to convince the Council that Saren required a hearing for his actions. Sovereign, still seething, gave him a week to settle matters.
A week. A week to answer accusations from some human upstart fresh off the colonies who wouldn’t know true power if it were handed to her on a silver platter. It was almost too much time, but Saren merely sneered and took it; there was no arguing with Sovereign, not when it wanted him to plot and plan and have every detail under control.
The machines-they thought like machines-hated uncertainty, unknown variables, unquantifiable forms. Saren contacted his lawyers and covered his tracks, and when the Council summoned him he was ready with an excuse and enough accusations to bury the humans for a long, long, while; he was still a Spectre, after all, and the humans hadn’t been terribly subtle about their ambition. He would play all this off as another attempt for them to grab power, and the Council would believe him, and Saren could get back to destroying the galaxy as was Sovereign’s will.
Strange. He never thought of it as destroying the galaxy when he was on Sovereign. It was always a cleansing then, or a reaping, or a scourge-
“I have other matters to attend to,” Saren said abruptly, rising to his feet. “Contact me if you have further questions.”
The asari lawyer he had retained blinked at him in surprise. “Certainly,” she said. “I think that’s all for the moment-I’ll file all the necessary petitions, of course-”
“Of course,” Saren snapped at her, and walked out.
A week. A week to get in touch with his contacts and clean up after the geth. A week away from Sovereign. It was almost a relief to go back to the Citadel and snap at the C-Sec officers poking their claws into his files, to sit about in seedy bars and growl at thugs who approached too close, to be alone with his thoughts and not have Sovereign’s will raging at him all the while.
The Reaper would have called it doubt. It didn’t matter. He had to be careful with his thoughts, on Sovereign. He had to be careful with everything. Saren bared his teeth in a snarl and tried to remember what he was working for.
Oh yes. The extinction of all organic life.
But some would be saved and he would pick the chosen. Out of habit, he did not wonder if it was enough.
--
Saints 1.1: ignis divine
Saren left the Citadel a few days before the hearing was to begin; his week was up, after all, and in any case he was a Spectre and far too important to be loitering about, waiting for something so trivial as a hearing brought against him by some human. If any species deserved to die first, it would be the humans; arrogant, foolish, came Sovereign’s thoughts, they must all die in the Reaping, all these organics-aberrations, all of them-
“Anderson will try to stop us,” Saren warned.
Foolish. Nothing can stop us.
Unquantifiable forms. Anderson wasn’t one of them. Saren knew Anderson. He knew what the human would do, how the human would react-paltry thing, Sovereign sneered, what can he accomplish?-and “Yes,” Saren said, from the Reaper’s communications room as he waited for the hearing to begin. “But if he knew, he would try.”
A burst of irritation, and then a burst of static as the holograms crackled into life around him. Then do your duty and discredit him, the Reaper snapped, and coiled away from Saren’s mind as the hearing began.
Unquantifiable forms: Anderson wasn’t one of them, but Shepard was.
Commander Jane Shepard of the Alliance fleet. The human female who had used the beacon. He had almost forgotten about her after she had failed to die-but here she was now, the hologram frail and hollow, and the woman was staring up at him narrow-eyed through the real-time connection the Council had set up.
“Saren Arterius,” Shepard said. “You were on Eden Prime.”
“Must I listen to these unfounded accusations?” Saren demanded, turning to face the council. The turian councilor looked sympathetic, the asari looked worried, and the salarian-as always-looked bored. “I have business to conduct elsewhere, and these humans come here bringing no proof.”
A man stepped forward. “There were witnesses.”
“Captain Anderson,” Saren drawled. “Somehow I knew you would be involved. One witness, according to the report, and he was half-asleep and hiding behind crates. Hardly someone I would consider trustworthy, councilors, even if this accusation had not been brought by humans. Why would I attack Eden Prime?”
“You hate humanity,” Shepard said, and all of a sudden her eyes were blazing. It was a wonder she had survived the beacon, with that sort of defiance.
“With good reason,” he retorted, and the asari councilor held up her hands and snapped out “Enough!” before Saren could say more.
“The charges are dismissed,” she added, tapping at her keyboard. “There is insufficient evidence linking Saren Arterius to the incident at Eden Prime.”
“Return if you find any actual proof,” the turian councilor said. His mandibles were twitching impatiently. “We are not here to indulge your idle speculations, Ambassador Udina. Saren, you are dismissed.”
“Thank you, Councilors,” Saren said, and Sovereign terminated the connection.
He could feel Shepard watching him as her hologram faded. Time and space and planets between them, and still she looked ready to hunt him down and cut his throat. “The human,” Saren said aloud. “Shepard, the one who used the beacon. She’s going to be trouble.”
Sovereign hissed, displeased, and fury blazed through Saren’s mind to the edge of pain. The beacon should have killed her, Sovereign said. Your geth should have killed her. And yet she lives-
“She will die,” Saren ground out.
Make sure of it, the Reaper said, drawing its thoughts back enough for Saren to breathe.
--
Revelations: dies tribulationis et angustiae
He dreamed about her-or maybe they were both having the same vision-because it was bloody, chaotic, and there was screaming in the darkness between the stars. But Shepard was there, liquid fire in her eyes when she looked at him; you, she said, you’re in my dream.
You’re in mine, Saren snapped at her, as around them suns burned out and planets died.
Do you hear the screaming, Shepard said, and Saren said, always.
Part II here, Part III here.
Fandom: Mass Effect
Pairing: Saren/Shepard
Rating: PG-13
Comments: Very, very strange. But I think I like this one.
Revelations: dies irae, dies illa
The vision was full of blood.
Cities crumbled. Planets burned. Billions and billions of life-forms, dead in a flash, and there was screaming echoing echoing echoing in his head that would not go away-
They were organics, Sovereign hissed. Unfit. Unclean. Why do you still question? You have work to do.
Yes. Work. Without the cipher the vision was all but useless. Saren stumbled to his feet, pushing the screaming to the back of his mind with an effort. He had to find the cipher.
“Benezia!” he growled, toggling the comm. “Get up here. Now!”
Her voice came floating back through Sovereign’s speakers, cool and poised and a trifle irritated. “No need to shout,” Benezia said. She sounded as though she might be rolling her eyes. “I’m on my way.”
Saren growled again and flung himself into a chair. Impertinent wench. She would deserve whatever was coming to her, and more. An asari Matriarch; so self-important, so presumptuous, yet another organic construct who would not recognize her place in the galaxy-
That was Sovereign again. He raised his head and pushed the intrusive thoughts to the back of his mind as Benezia came striding through the doors. “The cipher,” he snapped at her. Their work should be almost done. “I need your-”
“There is a problem,” Benezia said.
Problems. Delays and delays and more delays-worthless organics, inept, incompetent-“What?” Saren demanded.
“The beacon,” Benezia said. “One of the humans may have-used it.”
White-hot rage. The world went blank for a moment, the strength of Sovereign’s fury roaring through his mind (-no no NOOO-) and Saren was vaguely aware of movement and shattering glass (-problems delays worthless organics-) and a sharp, searing pain all up his arm as he slammed a fist into a wall (-why won’t they DIE-) and came shuddering back into himself, panting, the dark echoes of the Reaper’s anger staining his mind like blood.
“This human must be eliminated,” he hissed, Benezia’s face suddenly between his talons and centimeters away from his jaws. “Destroy him. Destroy his ship.”
She didn’t even blink. “Her,” Benezia said, unflinching. “A human female. Serving under Captain Anderson of the Normandy, an Alliance ship-”
“I know his allegiances,” Saren growled, letting go of her.
“Do you want him dead, too?”
“No. Too much trouble with the Council.” He turned away. “Just kill the female.”
--
Prophets 1.1: libera me (de morte aeterna)
The human escaped to Citadel space before his geth assassins could shoot her between the eyes, and somehow Anderson managed to convince the Council that Saren required a hearing for his actions. Sovereign, still seething, gave him a week to settle matters.
A week. A week to answer accusations from some human upstart fresh off the colonies who wouldn’t know true power if it were handed to her on a silver platter. It was almost too much time, but Saren merely sneered and took it; there was no arguing with Sovereign, not when it wanted him to plot and plan and have every detail under control.
The machines-they thought like machines-hated uncertainty, unknown variables, unquantifiable forms. Saren contacted his lawyers and covered his tracks, and when the Council summoned him he was ready with an excuse and enough accusations to bury the humans for a long, long, while; he was still a Spectre, after all, and the humans hadn’t been terribly subtle about their ambition. He would play all this off as another attempt for them to grab power, and the Council would believe him, and Saren could get back to destroying the galaxy as was Sovereign’s will.
Strange. He never thought of it as destroying the galaxy when he was on Sovereign. It was always a cleansing then, or a reaping, or a scourge-
“I have other matters to attend to,” Saren said abruptly, rising to his feet. “Contact me if you have further questions.”
The asari lawyer he had retained blinked at him in surprise. “Certainly,” she said. “I think that’s all for the moment-I’ll file all the necessary petitions, of course-”
“Of course,” Saren snapped at her, and walked out.
A week. A week to get in touch with his contacts and clean up after the geth. A week away from Sovereign. It was almost a relief to go back to the Citadel and snap at the C-Sec officers poking their claws into his files, to sit about in seedy bars and growl at thugs who approached too close, to be alone with his thoughts and not have Sovereign’s will raging at him all the while.
The Reaper would have called it doubt. It didn’t matter. He had to be careful with his thoughts, on Sovereign. He had to be careful with everything. Saren bared his teeth in a snarl and tried to remember what he was working for.
Oh yes. The extinction of all organic life.
But some would be saved and he would pick the chosen. Out of habit, he did not wonder if it was enough.
--
Saints 1.1: ignis divine
Saren left the Citadel a few days before the hearing was to begin; his week was up, after all, and in any case he was a Spectre and far too important to be loitering about, waiting for something so trivial as a hearing brought against him by some human. If any species deserved to die first, it would be the humans; arrogant, foolish, came Sovereign’s thoughts, they must all die in the Reaping, all these organics-aberrations, all of them-
“Anderson will try to stop us,” Saren warned.
Foolish. Nothing can stop us.
Unquantifiable forms. Anderson wasn’t one of them. Saren knew Anderson. He knew what the human would do, how the human would react-paltry thing, Sovereign sneered, what can he accomplish?-and “Yes,” Saren said, from the Reaper’s communications room as he waited for the hearing to begin. “But if he knew, he would try.”
A burst of irritation, and then a burst of static as the holograms crackled into life around him. Then do your duty and discredit him, the Reaper snapped, and coiled away from Saren’s mind as the hearing began.
Unquantifiable forms: Anderson wasn’t one of them, but Shepard was.
Commander Jane Shepard of the Alliance fleet. The human female who had used the beacon. He had almost forgotten about her after she had failed to die-but here she was now, the hologram frail and hollow, and the woman was staring up at him narrow-eyed through the real-time connection the Council had set up.
“Saren Arterius,” Shepard said. “You were on Eden Prime.”
“Must I listen to these unfounded accusations?” Saren demanded, turning to face the council. The turian councilor looked sympathetic, the asari looked worried, and the salarian-as always-looked bored. “I have business to conduct elsewhere, and these humans come here bringing no proof.”
A man stepped forward. “There were witnesses.”
“Captain Anderson,” Saren drawled. “Somehow I knew you would be involved. One witness, according to the report, and he was half-asleep and hiding behind crates. Hardly someone I would consider trustworthy, councilors, even if this accusation had not been brought by humans. Why would I attack Eden Prime?”
“You hate humanity,” Shepard said, and all of a sudden her eyes were blazing. It was a wonder she had survived the beacon, with that sort of defiance.
“With good reason,” he retorted, and the asari councilor held up her hands and snapped out “Enough!” before Saren could say more.
“The charges are dismissed,” she added, tapping at her keyboard. “There is insufficient evidence linking Saren Arterius to the incident at Eden Prime.”
“Return if you find any actual proof,” the turian councilor said. His mandibles were twitching impatiently. “We are not here to indulge your idle speculations, Ambassador Udina. Saren, you are dismissed.”
“Thank you, Councilors,” Saren said, and Sovereign terminated the connection.
He could feel Shepard watching him as her hologram faded. Time and space and planets between them, and still she looked ready to hunt him down and cut his throat. “The human,” Saren said aloud. “Shepard, the one who used the beacon. She’s going to be trouble.”
Sovereign hissed, displeased, and fury blazed through Saren’s mind to the edge of pain. The beacon should have killed her, Sovereign said. Your geth should have killed her. And yet she lives-
“She will die,” Saren ground out.
Make sure of it, the Reaper said, drawing its thoughts back enough for Saren to breathe.
--
Revelations: dies tribulationis et angustiae
He dreamed about her-or maybe they were both having the same vision-because it was bloody, chaotic, and there was screaming in the darkness between the stars. But Shepard was there, liquid fire in her eyes when she looked at him; you, she said, you’re in my dream.
You’re in mine, Saren snapped at her, as around them suns burned out and planets died.
Do you hear the screaming, Shepard said, and Saren said, always.
Part II here, Part III here.