Chapter 13: The Benefactor

While Starlight and Sbaya sat on the bride of her unnamed ship on Omega and while Scootaloo, Six, and Seven loaded weapons on a distant, obscure world, the all-white Pegasus Artum sat beneath the regal plumes of a Tuchankan fan tree. Far out on the edge of Agrostation Six’s horizon, he saw the nearest star skirting the horizon, filling the planet with a dim glow and creating an impressive sunset on the horizon. Part of its right flank framed the Hall in stark relief against the rich color, and upon seeing it, Artum found himself almost wishing that he had been bred to be an artist.

He looked up across the manicured gardens at the pair of statues that he was closest to. The extensive gardens had a number of statues dedicated to the heroes of the various worlds that made up the Council, but this one was Artum’s favorite. There were two statues, built onto the same opalescent marble pad: one, in a slightly silvery metal, of a turian; the other, in a darker, bronze-like material, of an asari. They stood side-by-side, and though their statues were made of different substances and represented different species, they matched perfectly in a way that always had and always would astound Artum. Their detail was immaculate, with the turian having a superficially harsh expression- -complete with extensive scarring on the right side of his face- -even though his seemed to present a kind of boyish mischief characteristic of one much younger than himself. The asari, likewise, was dressed in the robes associated with an Ardat-Yaksi, and though she appeared aloof and somber, her statue as a whole seemed to exude a strange, pleasant calm.

For the better part of an hour, Artum had been alone in the garden, save for the occasional maintenance drone. After some time, though, he became aware of a presence standing near him. He turned and tried to focus his eyes. What he saw was a woman standing in the long shadows of the sunset. Even with his poor vision, Artum could see the reflection off her helmet and the semi-organic metal that grew from within her body.

Artum turned back to the statue, but addressed the other Councilor. “You knew them, didn’t you?”

“I did not know Falare,” said Locutus, her accent still apparent even though her largely artificial vocal system. “But I knew Vakarian. I knew him very well. He always used to stay in the forward battery. Always doing ‘calibrations’.” She paused. “I think I even kissed him once.”

Artum looked at her. “I’ve always been curious. Just how much of you is still quarian?”

“Very little,” she said. “But enough.”

Artum smiled. “I’m not sure about that.”

Locutus turned to him, the luminescent elements of her geth optics shining through her silvery faceplate. “I oversaw their extermination. I am not a quarian. I am geth.”
“‘I am geth’. That alone is proof. But do you know how I really know?”
“How, pray tell?”

“The helmet. Your body is almost entirely mechanical, and your blood is saturated with geth nanites. You can’t get sick. You could take it off any time you wanted. And yet you never have, have you?”

Locutus stared at Artum for a moment, and then looked back to the statue and the sunset. “I am the only geth who can defy consensus,” she said. “So…perhaps you are correct, at least on some level.”

From across a flower bed, Artum noticed a pair of asari approaching him. As they got closer, he was able to recognize them as Samara and Lordraia.

“Oh wow,” said Lordraia in awe as she looked up at the statue. “That really is them, isn’t it?”

“Councilors Vakarian and Falare,” said Artum proudly. “The Councilor who negotiated the peace treaty with Equestria, and the Councilor who sacrificed herself to cure the Ardat-Yakshi.” He paused, and looked up at Falare’s statue. “That, and how she acted as the mother for the first of us to be brought from Equestria.”

“I know,” said Lordraia. “I remember them. They helped take care of me when I was little. They were like my older brothers and sisters.” She smiled, then frowned. “But…she didn’t look quite like that. I mean, she did, but…it just isn’t her. The way she smiled, or how her touch felt- -or the way dad would stop and look confused when something unusual happened, or how his eyes got so misty when he talked about the Normandy.”

“Indeed, to have known them in life must have been a great honor.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” said Locutus, now leaning against the gnarled trunk of a very old tree whose ancestors had dwelt on the now defunct planet Earth.

“You are aware,” said Samara, pointing up at the tree that Artum was beneath, “that this tree is carnivorous?”

“I am,” said Artum. “But it is kept well-fed.” He stood up and looked directly to the Justicar. “Am I to assume that you will be leaving us.”

“Yes,” she said without a single moment of doubt. “The commando unit has just arrived.”

“Won’t you reconsider?” said Lordraia, “I much more appreciate having you here than the commandos. They’re so…military. Very stuffy.”

A sadness crossed Samara’s face as she looked at her granddaughter, but then without hesitation, she insisted. “I must go,” she maintained. “The Councilor has been killed, and you were injured. The offenders, likewise, escaped me. You must understand, I take this as a profound insult. And my disgrace must be rectified.”

“Disgrace? But you saved Artum’s life! And only one of them survived- -”

“Lordraia,” said Artum, raising a hoof. “She is a Justicar. Her ways are her own. I have known few of her order, but I know that they act with absolute conviction. She chooses her own path.”

“Oh,” said Lordraia, looking greatly saddened but clearly accepting Samara’s decision. “I see.”

They started walking back toward the Hall. As they did, Artum noticed that Locutus was following them.

“You do not need to return with us, vas’Geth,” said Samara.

“No, I don’t. But I don’t really have much else to do.”

“Or is it that you favor people that the organic portion of your brain can still remember?”

Locutus’s eyes narrowed. “My ‘organic portion’ remembers what I tell it to, and nothing more.”

Lordraia looked over her shoulder at the geth and shivered slightly. Artum knew the feeling. There was something about the reanimated part-quarian that was disturbing on a deep level that was oddly hard to place.

They walked for several minutes in silence until Lordraia fell in step with Artum.

“Artum,” she said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any quills, would you?”

“Quills?” he said, somewhat surprised by the request. “Well, yes, I have several. Not on me, of course…well, in a sense…” he flexed his wings slightly, making the tips of them just slightly visible form under his clothing.

“Oh! I don’t mean like that. I just wanted to write something.”

“With a quill? That seems archaic. The Equestrians themselves barely even do it anymore. It would be much easier to type it.”

“Well, yes, but…well, I was hoping for something more personal. You see, I want to pen a letter.”

“A letter? To whom?”

Lordraia paused, but decided after several seconds to answer to question. “To that girl. Sbayadvlad.”

“The half-yahg?” Artum smiled, as this was somewhat amusing. “Why?”

“Well…she was just so shy and demure and polite, and she looked simply adorable in the dresses I had her try on. I could tell they weren’t her presence, of course, but she was such a good sport! And she really does have scales. On her back. She let me touch them.”

“And you can’t stop thinking about her,” mused Samara.

“No, I can’t. I really just want to…write her a letter.”

“That is clearly not a euphemism,” mused Locutus from behind.

“Only as much as ‘assisting with calibrations’.”

Artum almost laughed, not at Locutus and Samara’s exchange but rather at the confused expression that Lordraia had. She, apparently, did not remotely understand what they were talking about. His humor did not last long, though. When he entered the outer edge of the Hall complex, he immediately sensed that something was wrong. He was not sure what, exactly, but the cooridor did not seem right. By this time, the sun had almost completely set, and only a small amount of light was passing through the large windows on the right side of the path. The lights had not been turned on, either, and even stranger was the fact that not a soul seemed to be around.

The others did not seem to notice, and Artum did his best to dismiss it as him simply being spooked. That was a problem sometimes faced by ponies, a result of an increased perception and sensitivity to their environment. It was disturbing, though, because breeders almost never spooked.

When he reached the end of the hall, though, his suspicion was immediately confirmed. From an area where almost no light reached, a figure stepped forward. Lordraia cried out in fright, and Samara reached for her sword, but Artum simply froze, almost unable to accept what he was looking at.

The figure stared back at him with four luminescent, unblinking eyes. As Artum grew more accustomed to the low light, he saw its chitinous brown body and the sickly red muscles visible between its joints. It smelled strange; not strictly unpleasant, but like something extremely old and yet somehow still very much alive.

Artum had never witnessed a Governor before, and he had not realized just how terrifying and unpleasant they were- -but at the same time, he stood in such awe of this creature that he found himself unable to look away.

The Governor’s insect-like mouthparts clicked as it spoke in an indecipherable sequence of sounds that Artum doubted were any kind of language at all. Then it extended one of its hands, opening its fingers to reveal a small disk placed in the center of its palm.

The disk immediately hummed to life, bursting forth with light. Artum stepped back as a hologram formed, drawing itself through the air out of deep blue lines. At first, it began abstract, but quickly formed shape that stood more than twice as tall as the Governor. It took the form of a biped, although its representation was abstract, like a hybrid of some kind of crustacean and a machine. The last component to materialize was a pair of large, round, blindingly bright eyes.

Artum almost fainted. “B…Benefactor,” he said, barely noticing his stutter. The entire situation had suddenly come almost surreal, as though he were no longer in full control of his body and just watching these events unfold. He felt himself bowing deeply.

“Councilor Artum of Thessia,” said the projection. It had no mouth, and its voice did not appear to come from it but rather to simply permeate the air in the area.

“Acting Councilor,” corrected Artum, even as he immediately realized that correcting the Benefactor was and extreme faux pas.

The Benefactor just seemed to stare at him for a moment. “No,” he finally said. “The Councilor is dead. I am therefore promoting you to the station of Councilor.”

“I- -I- -” Artum was at a loss for words. It was exquisitely embarrassing; all his training and the countless generations of breeding that had led up to him seemed to have been forgotten.

“Who…who are you?” asked Lordraia.

“Who do you think?” said Locutus humorlessly. “Did you actually think the Council meant anything in the galaxy? That someone wasn’t pulling the strings?”

The Benefactor turned to her. “Locutus,” he said. His eyes shifted again. “And Samara. Hello.”

“Hello,” said Samara. She, unlike Lordraia, seemed unusually accepting of the Benefactor’s presence. Perhaps because both she and Locutus already knew him, and knew him from long before he had been forced to exist in his present form.

“Why are you here?” asked Locutus. “It surely wasn’t just to promote the horse.”

“No.” The Benefactor looked back at Artum, and the Pegasus felt himself shaking. Something about the glare of those excessively bright eyes was tremendously unnerving. “I have information.”

“Information? On- -on what subject, Benefactor?”

“Thebe.”

Artum winced. “Yes. As you are surely aware, it is under investigation, both the attack and the trafficking of Reaper technology- -”

“I am currently willing to overlook the latter,” said the Benefactor. “For now. That said, the problem is more pervasive than you are aware.”

“Pervasive?”

“The organization that attacked the Council has been under my observation for some time. I now believe that they are responsible for numerous thefts throughout the galaxy, with their primary target being Reaper and high-technology artifacts.”

“For what reason?”

The Benefactor paused. “Unknown.”

“Unknown?” said Locutus. “There’s something you don’t actually know?”

“Concerning Thebe, yes. I know very little. I am at a loss to why. It is as though they don’t fully exist. But my losses have been substantial. Many pieces I thought were secure, and even several entire Governor craft have been stolen. With all hands.”

“Governors- -but that should not be possible,” said Artum. “The Governors are under your control- -”

“The Governors act on an independent system from my primary architecture. We currently hypothesize that they were overcome by a kind of information virus in their General.”

“Then the threat is severe,” said Lordraia, stepping forward to the Benefactor. “But that is something we already knew. What can we do to protect our galaxy?”

“I require further information.” He turned to Samara. “My source on Omega has confirmed that the Thebe organization has allied itself with the Equestrian criminal Scootaloo. She is to be considered part of their organization. If you wish to find Thebe, I recommend starting with her.”

“Are you giving me an order?” she asked.

“No. I am asking for your help. This Governor contains the information that you will need to track her. Locutus and her listening network will assist.” He turned to Locutus. “And that IS an order.”

“Hunting down a threat to your Empire? Yes. I can do that. If the sanctions on geth territorial expansion are removed.”

Artum turned sharply, staring at Locutus aghast and in disbelief that she would try to negotiate with the Benefactor himself.

“Or I can assume direct control of the necessary assets and do it myself,” said the Benefactor. “This galaxy has already demonstrated time and time again that it is incapable of governing itself. It would not be a stretch for me to assume control of the entire geth collective.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

Locutus sighed- -a strange artificial sound, considering she had no lungs. “Fine. Fine! I’ll help.”

“As will I,” said Samara. “Our goals align favorably.”

“Thank you,” said the Benefactor. “But be forewarned. Based on my observations, this Scootaloo is unusually competent. Not only is she allied with Thebe, but I have indications that she is currently working with the offspring of Robette d’Bordeaux.”

“D’Bordeaux?” said Lordraia. “Why do I know that name?”

“Because she was one of the worst and last members of Cerberus,” said Artum, darkly. “Her record was so heinous that the Alliance itself had her beheaded for crimes against humanity.”

“Beheaded?” said Lordraia, blanching. “They- -they beheaded her?”

“Supposedly, it was the only way they could get her to stay dead.”

“And her daughters are nearly as dangerous and depraved as she was,” added the Benefactor.

“It will not be a problem. I already have two Spectres assisting the Equestrian High Priestess in tracking her. I can devote more if- -”

“No. I do not know Thebe’s extent or its capacity. Nor do I even know its motive or goal. The only part of the organization that is active and exposed at this moment is the part concerning Scootaloo. If too many resources are put into finding her, I fear that both she and Thebe will be forced back into the shadows. We need to move quickly, but carefully.”

“There is no one better for the task than Samara,” said Lordraia.

“This, I know.”

With that, the Benefactor’s hologram dissipated. The Governor stood still for a moment, and then lowered the projection disk and began awaiting orders. Artum looked up at Lordraia, and then they both turned to Samara. Without saying a word, she nodded and walked silently past Locutus toward the hanger where her ship was already waiting.

Author's Note

In case you had not already noticed, about 90% of this story is someone talking to a hologram. Also, I don't like quarians.