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Mass Effect: Memorial Wall

Terminus

Member
Author
Thane Krios​
Jacob Taylor walked out of the CIC and into the Normandy's elevator. As the door slid shut behind him, he hit the button for the third floor, which housed the crew quarters. Jacob would be staying on the ship for a short time while it ferried him to the Crucible. He would have liked to have had some down time on the Citadel, but the Cerberus attack on the station had changed his mind. He wanted to get back into the fight now. He had discussed things with Shepard, who had agreed to give Jacob a lift to the Crucible, where he intended to provide security for the thousands of brilliant scientific minds working on the colossal superweapon.

His work as a security chief for Cerberus not only gave him the basic qualifications to perform the same role on the Crucible, but his knowledge of the terrorist organization's tactics made him a valuable asset. He was accepted almost immediately, Shepard's good word dispelling any issues people might have with his ties to Cerberus. So now, Jacob was looking to squeeze a few more hours of comfortable civilian life out before he was back to the life of a soldier. The elevator controls dinged, letting him know he had arrived.

He stepped out of the shaft, and made to walk down the hall towards the crew quarters, familiar with ship's layout from his previous tour aboard the Normandy. However, he stopped short as his eyes fell on a huge marble slab that covered the wall directly in front of the elevator. He stopped to study it, noticing the names inscribed in the stone in crisp, white lettering. A memorial wall. He knew one when he saw one. Curious, he scanned it, his eyes resting on one name in particular: Thane Krios.

Jacob recalled the details Shepard had given him regarding Cerberus' attempted assassination of the council. How Shepard's team had discovered Valern, the salarian councilor, first. And how the Cerberus agent Kai Leng had appeared, with the intention of killing the councilor. Shepard had recounted how Krios had seemingly appeared from nowhere, attacking Leng, and giving Shepard time to secure Valern while the two assassins fought. Jacob had later watched security footage of the fight, and recognized the drell's deadly skill from serving with him during the Collector mission.

Jacob remembered first meeting Thane aboard the Normandy, immediately after the assassin had been recruited by Commander Shepard. After reading the dossier himself, Jacob questioned the decision to recruit the drell. Jacob had no love for guns-for-hire, and in his eyes, an assassin was no better than the hundreds of mercenaries he and Shepard fought on a daily basis. Though Thane had offered his help for free, Jacob couldn't forgive him for his long, and successful, career as a hired gun.

Despite his qualms about the man, Jacob had learned to at least rely on Thane during battle, though he never fully trusted him. But, whatever he had thought when first meeting Thane Krios, watching Leng's blade pierce his chest was surprisingly hard for Jacob to take. He had seen plenty of men die, but for a reason he couldn't quite place, Thane's death stung far more than he thought it would. Jacob couldn't help but feel a small surge of respect for the drell after hearing it wasn't even the stab wound that killed him. He died several days later, the extreme blood loss simply aiding the terminal disease he had. "Tough bastard, I'll give you that." he mumbled to himself.

Jacob thought about how Thane had died, risking his life to protect another. He had to admit, that sort of action didn't really fit the money-driven, cold-blooded killer label he had fitted to the assassin. Maybe Shepard was right. He thought reluctantly. Maybe he did surprise me. Jacob continued to look at the name for a few moments, before coming to a conclusion. Yeah, I suppose he did.
 
Disclaimer: This chapter is actually by a buddy of mine, DeltaKilo over on SB.

Can This Unit Understand the Soul?
Although exploration of the Normandy was unnecessary, Legion found that simply roaming about to be somewhat pleasing. He didn't know why he desired to do such a thing, it was like using a piece of Shepard's armor, something within his programming and consensus compelled him to perform obviously inconvenient and unnecessary tasks. It would take less than a second to upload the schematics of the Normandy SR-2 and if he really needed to 'see' what was inside a particular room he could easily watch the video surveillance from where he stood. So what was it that drove him to physically walk his platform throughout the ship and use his visual optics to observe his surroundings? Why was it so aesthetically pleasing?
He had just finished his walk through the CombatInformationCenter and had entered the elevator. During the descent to the Crew Deck, Legion asked the question to himself over and over again, but he could not reach a satisfactory consensus. The elevator doors opened and Legion was beginning to continue his walk when he stopped short in front of the Memorial Wall.
Legion visually scanned the many names inscribed in the marble. He could never understand the organics desire to place the names of the deceased in stone. Perhaps it was a side effect of the weakness organics exhibit from inevitable truth that all organics eventually die. Something that he knew he wouldn't ever comprehend. Even if his platform were ever to be damaged to the point inoperability, his 1,183 programs would be uploaded to the nearest geth construct. There was never a moment in time were he ever was…
No. There was.
There was a moment.

Although he never desired his platform to be destroyed, he could always find reassurance that there was always somewhere he could upload himself. But when he went along with Shepard to the Collector base in the Galactic Core, he was light-years away from any geth constructs, from anything he could use to save himself. If his platform were to reach inoperability, all of his programs would be deleted. He went back to that moment, fighting the Collectors in their own base. That moment when he didn't simply desire to not be destroyed, but he actually, for the first time ever, was afraid.
He experienced something no other Geth had experienced before. Something that he considered only organics could experience, even if it was for a short time.
Mortality.
When the Normandy crossed through the Omega 4 relay, Legion was mortal. He could have died at any moment. And yes geth have died before, but only when there simply wasn't enough memory space within the available hardware to save them all, even then they all were sure that they would be saved until their deletion.
But Legion knew what it was like to know that at any moment he could be destroyed. And yet, despite the obvious and more logical option of staying within safety, he chose to go with Shepard. Because he believed in the cause.
Legion believed that stopping the Collectors from harvesting human organics was more important than self preservation. He questioned if he would be willing to sacrifice himself. To ever willingly destroy himself for a greater cause. For either the geth or the organics.
He began building a consensus.
"Legion?"
"Creator Zorah."
"What are you doing?"
"We are building a consensus."
"On what?"
Legion paused for a moment.
"No data available at this time please try again later."
Legion turned around and headed back to his station. He was going to need time and privacy until a consensus could be reached.
 
Mordin Solus​

Urdnot Grunt would never admit it, but he was tired. Weeks of hard, seemingly endless fighting on Tuchanka had worn him down. After pushing Cerberus forces off planet, defeating the Reaper guarding the Shroud, and spreading the Genophage cure across the planet's surface, Grunt's body was happy for some downtime, even though his brain wanted to keep fighting. The Normandy would be staying on Tuchanka for a few days to repair, refit, and refuel, so Grunt had decided he would pay his old home a visit. The Alliance had made some changes, switched some rooms around, repainted it, made some upgrades, and a bunch of other things Grunt didn't really care about. Luckily, the changes weren't so bad that he didn't know his way around.

From the airlock, he walked down through the CIC, oblivious to the stares from the Alliance crew. He entered the elevator, and first checked out the place where he used to stay, the cargo hold on the engineering deck. It hadn't been changed very much, just different emblems on the crates stored there. He stopped in by engineering, and was surprised to find the engineers from when the ship belonged to Cerberus. They chatted for a little bit, offering congratulations on the victory, and for the curing of the Genophage.

Afterwards, Grunt visited the area below the main engineering section where Jack used to stay. He had liked Jack, the diminutive human being surprisingly powerful. They had shared a common interest: killing things. Usually large things that others found difficult to kill. He smiled as he remembered fighting alongside her during the battles against the Collectors. Good times. Having seen all he cared to of engineering, the krogan decided he would take the elevator up to the next level, which housed the crew quarters. More importantly, it housed the mess hall. Grunt was starving. Maybe, if he had time, he could stop to chat with some of the crew. But food first. He had his priorities.

Grunt punched the button for the 3rd floor, and waited for the ridiculously slow elevator to reach his destination. Finally, the door chimed, and slid open. He walked forward, only to stop for a moment as he noticed something that hadn't been there during his time on the Normandy. A large, flat slab of black stone covered the wall directly in front of the elevator. Words were inscribed in pure white lettering in columns on the stone's surface. Not just words, he noticed as he inspected. Names. He read through the list, not recognizing most of them. Then, his eyes fell upon one he did: Ashley Williams. He remembered Shepard talking about her sometimes. How Williams had sacrificed herself on the planet Virmire to destroy Saren Arterius' krogan cloning facility.

Grunt continued reading until he saw another name he knew. This one he was far more familiar with. Mordin Solus. He had heard of the salarian's sacrifice in order to cure the Genophage. It was then he understood. The list was made up of the names of the dead. The humans were honoring their fallen. This was something Grunt could relate to. Something he could respect. It strengthened his trust in his human battlemaster. With a grunt of approval, he returned his attention to Mordin's inscription. Grunt hadn't given the professor much thought yet. Mostly because he didn't want to. The salarians had been despised by all krogan for so long. To think that a salarian could be such a great hero to the krogan felt...strange. It was hard for him to reconcile it with the hatred that had been bred into him.

He thought of the scientist's work on the Genophage modification project. How he had helped to keep his people weak. He remembered Mordin's claims of trying to keep the balance right, so that the krogan did not go extinct. The thought brought anger bubbling forth. The salarian's cure had been simply to clear his name! To put his species in a more positive light! Grunt fumed. Bastard got what he deserved. But that thought made him stop. Why did he die in the first place? Surely such salarian scum would never actually give his own life to save the krogan. Right? Then why did he sacrifice himself, even after Shepard had informed him of the STG sabotage?

Grunt groaned. He wasn't cut out for this philosophical deep-thinking crap. But he had to figure it out. His curiosity drove him. Maybe the man had truly cared about the krogan. He looked at the name once again. He thought of the rejoicing Krogan all over Tuchanka. He thought of his own renewed spirit, his vigor, his sense of purpose. He hadn't felt so good since being accepted into Clan Urdnot. Maybe...just maybe...a salarian hero wasn't so hard to believe after all.
 
Miranda Lawson​

Jack had to admit, she hadn't had so much fun in a long time. As terrible as Shepard's dancing may be, it did nothing to detract from her enjoyment. After a long night of partying, Jack and the Commander had made their way back to the Normandy to crash. Exhausted, they had made their way through the CIC, drawing more than a few stares. Shepard took the elevator up to the captain's cabin, leaving Jack alone. She decided that she didn't want to sleep below engineering, like she did in the old days. A nice, comfortable bed in the crew quarters sounded good right now.

She hit the elevator controls, selecting the third floor. After a stupidly long descent, the doors finally opened up to the crew deck. She shambled through the doors, almost tripping over the small groove in the floor between the elevator and the deck. However, as she turned to walk down the hall towards the crew quarters, she stopped and turned to look at the large slab of marble covering the wall directly in front of the elevator. Names were carved into silver plaques and fastened to the stone. She scanned the lists of names, seeing several she recognized turn up. Legion. Mordin Solus. Thane Krios. Ashley Williams, that woman Shepard would sometimes mention. And, Miranda Lawson.

A list of the dead. Jack realized. She had heard the stories of each death, the sacrifice each of her old team mates were forced to make in this damn war. She looked back at the last name she had read. Lawson's. She had hated the Cerberus bitch from the moment they had met. They had butted heads on several occasions, but Shepard had always managed to make them cooperate. The Commander had always had that effect on people, capable of building a successful team out of humans and batarians, or turians and krogan, or quarians and geth. Jack gave a small smile as she remembered that the last two were actually true.

Despite Shepard's leadership skills, Jack and Miranda had barely tolerated each other. Though they would fight alongside one another, they would not go out of their way to help each other out. Not that either of them had needed it. Jack had to admit, the Cerberus cheerleader had been a hell of a fighter. Though not nearly as powerful a biotic as Jack was, she made up for it in other skills. She was very proficient with firearms, and also possessed "technical skills," as the cheerleader had called them. Essentially, murder via omni-tool, as Jack saw it. But perhaps her greatest weapon had been her determination. She never backed down, something that had led to many of their confrontations.

Jack had heard the report from the Sanctuary mission. Another instance of Cerberus' unspeakable crimes. What bothered her most of all, however, wasn't the disgusting experiments: It was that Miranda Lawson had been trying to shut the operation down; that she had died shutting the operation down. From the beginning, Jack had (accurately) pinned Miranda as an excuse-making Cerberus lapdog. She stood by the organization steadfastly, no matter what evidence was shoved in her face. But, evidently, she had seen the error in her ways. She had been on Horizon, fighting her father of all people.

Despite being able to kill her father and rescue her sister, Miranda had been ambushed and fatally wounded by Kai Leng, the Cerberus assassin. She had died in Shepard's arms, asking for only one thing: that her sister be kept safe. Jack couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought. She had never really bothered to try and get to know Lawson. It was easy to just see her as a heartless bitch. Hearing about this personal, caring, human side of her...it hurt. Jack realized that they weren't too terribly different from each other. Both had been fighting against some higher power that had shaped them into what it had wanted. And they both had fought with all their might to escape.

She looked at the name, understanding why Miranda had joined Cerberus. As perfect as she was, as capable as she was, she needed someone to look after her, someone to protect her. She had just run in the wrong direction. Jack stopped to wonder about herself. She supposed the same could be said about her. Luckily for both of them, they had run into Shepard. But in the end, even the Commander couldn't protect Miranda Lawson. Jack sighed. She had been right about Miranda. She'd been nothing but a Cerberus puppet when they had first met. But she had seen the error of her ways, and not only that, she had tried to do something to make up for it. In Jack's opinion, that deserved a little respect. She may have been an ice queen, but at least she stood for what she believed in. Those kind of people were hard to come by these days. "Not bad, cheerleader," she muttered. "Not bad..."
 
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Jack was always one of my favorite characters from Mass Effect.
 
Jack​

Miranda Lawson gave a sigh of relief. It was finally over. Cerberus was no more, no matter what garbage spewed from the Illusive Man's mouth about the idea living on. His fleet was crushed, and his base of operations seized. Alliance forces had recovered a trove of valuable data from the base's servers; data that could help fight the Reapers. And perhaps the biggest victory was the retrieval of Vendetta, the Prothean VI. They now knew that the 'Catalyst' needed to activate the Crucible was, in fact, the Citadel itself. However, the Reapers had taken the gargantuan space station, and moved it to Earth. Miranda was puzzled by that. She hadn't aware the Citadel could even be moved.

The next step would be the final one. It was finally time to retake Earth. The fleets of the galaxy were gathered at strategic points, ready to charge through the Charon relay, and into the final battle against the Reapers. Until then, however, Miranda intended to rest. She had been onboard the Alliance flagship during the battle, advising Admiral Hackett on Cerberus tactics and strategy. They had won fairly quickly, but the battle was still harrowing; she was dead-tired. Though there were dozens of ships she could stay on in the Alliance fleet, there was one in particular she had wanted to bunk on.

It felt good to be back on the Normandy. After spending some time catching up with Shepard and Joker, she had decided to go down to the crew deck to get some shut eye. Liara T'Soni had taken her old office, so it appeared she would be sleeping in the crew quarters. After wrapping things up on the CIC, Miranda stepped into the ship's elevator, and slapped the button for deck three. If she hadn't been quite so exhausted, she would have been overflowing with impatience at the agonizingly slow ride. But in her worn-out state, she simply waited quietly, letting her disciplined posture slip a little as she leaned back against the elevator wall.

The elevator chimed, letting her know she had reached her destination. The door slid open, but Miranda remained leaning against the wall for a few moments, not really wanting to move. She stared forward out of the open door, and noticed that she was not staring at a blank wall. Instead, a large marble tablet filled up the wall space in front of the elevator. Rows of plaques inscribed with white letters lined the stone slab. Curiosity overcame her desire to sit still, and she left the elevator, walking towards the stone. Upon further inspection, Miranda noticed that the inscribed words were in fact names. Reading through them, she began to recognize some, and came to understand the nature of the monument: a memorial.

Miranda recognized several of her old teammates from her time on the Normandy: Thane Krios, killed by Kai Leng while defending the salarian councilor. She winced at the thought of her trusted comrade being killed by a Cerberus assassin. Mordin Solus, sacrificing himself to cure the Genophage. Legion, also giving his life to give the geth souls. So many dead. She couldn't help but think to herself. People she had grown to respect and care for, perishing in this impossible war. One more name caught her eye; one that she didn't particularly want to think about.

Jacqueline Naught. Guilt once again filled her. She had read the report of the attack on Cronos. Of how Shepard's team had encountered Jack, and had been forced to kill her. Jack had been captured by Cerberus during the attack on Grissom Academy, and had been engineered into one of their Phantom assassins. The last of a long list of crimes Cerberus had done to her. She remembered their constant arguments on the Normandy during the Collector mission, how she had always defended Cerberus when Jack had brought up the experiments done to her.

Her arguments rang hollow in her head as she read the woman's name. She had been fighting for so long against everything, and she had finally lost. The tormentors from her childhood had ended up being her executioners as well. Miranda hung her head, ashamed that she had so adamantly fought against Jack's accusations. They had been absolutely true, not just in the case of Jack's childhood, but in examples that continued to the present.

Miranda had never liked Jack, even putting aside the convict's hate for herself. She had been unpredictable, perpetually angry, and prone to random acts of violence. During her time with her, Miranda had blamed her for these faults. But now, she realized that Jacqueline Naught could have turned out to be a very different person than she had been. She was who she was because Cerberus had made her that way, taking away her chance for a normal life. And she had been affiliated with that, defended it, even.

Miranda looked back to the name, and felt tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry..."
 
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