Mass Effect 1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This story is written for the May challenge of Aria's Afterlife. For my historical event, I picked the awakening of the Prothean scientists on Ilos. Consider the sheer, stark horror of awakening and find that not only has close to a millennium vanished for you, but you're one of the last dozen members of your species in existence. And not only that, one of the people there wasn't supposed to be there. There will be only a handful of chapters in this._

* * *

Air hissed, cold and sharp against his skin. He felt the needles retract on their automatic arms, and had a brief moment of utter confusion. Who was he? Why did he know what a needle was? The thought of it brought back rushes of disjointed memories, medical caste examining him, prodding his biotic skills, experiments he performed on faint remains of the Inusannon.

The pod opened, and Ksad Ishan opened his eyes. His body was stiff, an expected side effect of long-term cryosleep. The pod lifted, rotating, making it easier for him to stumble out, falling heavily to his knees as he fought to make his body respond. Tiny dots of blood beaded all over his exposed skin and around the edges of his carapace from the needles. He opened his mouth, voice emerging as only a harsh croak.

It was nonetheless answered by a handful of others, and within a few minutes, twelve survivors had crawled together in the corridor. Hundreds of other stasis pods lay dark and quiet. All of them were the same, bodies stiff and weak from cryosleep despite the safety measures, the electrical stimulation of their muscles and the nutrients fed to them intraveneously.

Finally, his mouth and throat cleared enough to work. "Vigil!" he shouted at the walls. "Attend me!"

From the air, nothing came, no voice or holographic display. Tsarik murmured quietly, "Perhaps it has suffered damage as well?"

Without looking, Ksad backhanded him, the force weak but the meaning perfectly apparent, and the maintenance caste cowered. "Vigil!" he shouted again, the other scientist castes around him waiting for his lead. After a minute of silence, he carefully worked his way to his feet, leaning against the wall of dark pods. "We head for the center of the facility, and find any other survivors along the way."

"Understood," eleven others stated in unison, and began carefully helping each other, even Tsarik. Until they found others, they would need every body available, and caste ranking mattered less in the face of possible starvation.

They had made it only a hundred meters or so when a rumbling, grinding noise echoed through the corridor, growing closer. They waited, flexing fingers and preparing their biotics, lacking any other weapons. They were Prothean, of course, but while even the lowest Prothean was still superior to any one of their subject races, weapons would have improved their odds against a horde.

The noise soon resolved into an automated transport car, inching along heavily. "Greetings, researcher Ishan," Vigil's voice came scratchily from the speaker on the vehicle. "Please board the vehicle, and I will bring you to one of the intact storerooms with food and water."

"What has happened here?" Ksad asked. He wanted information far more badly than food, no matter how weak he felt in body, it was nothing compared to the weakness in his mind. "Where is everyone else? You had supplies enough to keep everyone in stasis for two hundred years!"

"Yes, researcher. It has been eight hundred thirty two years, seven months, and two days since you went into stasis." Ksad nearly fell to his knees as everyone behind him made various noises of horror. "My current capabilities are reduced to seven percent of maximum operating capability."

"Do you have tools on this thing?" Tsarik asked quietly. It was out of place, but Ksad's thoughts were still whirling too badly to chastise him. "I think I can fix this enough to get us to food and water in half the time."

"There is an emergency toolkit in the rear of the vehicle, maintenance Tsarik," Vigil said in the same tone of voice. "I can answer any questions while we wait for you to complete your maintenance."

The researchers all carefully sat on the seats, the padding crumbling and falling away as they rested on it, their bodies heavy against the thin metal frames. "Give me the highlights first, Vigil," Ksad ordered.

"As you know, the Reapers were purging our colonies and planets for eighty-seven years before it was decided to enter into cryosleep. The estimates at the time was that the Prothean armed forces would gather, catch the synthetic invaders in a decisive attack at the Citadel, and then scatter to protect the remaining colony worlds, evacuating those that would not be suitably protected.

"This plan was attempted and failed sixty three years after you entered cryosleep." The VI continued to talk over continued cries of shock and horror. "Eighty percent of the Prothean forces assaulted the Citadel. They proved to be outmassed four to one by Reaper forces. They were destroyed in their entirety. Despite the loss of defensive firepower, the Reapers did not accelerate their conquest of our people.

"They systematically invaded every single world, capturing the population and using a still unspecified method to indoctrinate the population. Some indoctrinated prisoners were used to infiltrate unconquered worlds, assisting the Reapers in subjugating the free Protheans. Others were taken for harvesting of an unspecified nature."

Silence reigned. "Then the Cosmic Imperative has decided the Protheans were not destined to succeed," Marik cried, the biologist clutching his hands together so tightly the jointed creaked.

"These Reapers rule the galaxy, then?" Ksad asked acidly. "Why did you bother to awaken us?"

"The Reapers completed their subjugation of our civilization twenty years ago today," Vigil responded, synthesized voice still empty of emotion. "They then universally returned to the Citadel and vanished back to wherever they came from. Forty seven percent of my sensors aboard the station are still broadcasting on encrypted FTL channels. They have departed."

Confused silence reigned, broken only by the quiet clink of the tools Tsarik was using. "Are there any other Protheans alive anywhere?" Ksad finally asked.

"Unknown. Ninety seven percent of the beacon network has ceased broadcasting. It is possible more of the network is intact but in respond-only mode." The engine panel closed with a squeal. "The vehicle is operational. Tsarik's repairs have increased functionality to fourteen percent. Please hold any more questions until we arrive." Grimly, they all held tightly to the armrests of their chairs as it slowly accelerated, still slow, but without the horrible grinding noise from a moment before.

Turning away from the dark corridor, Ksad stared at the maintenance caste. "Tsarik," he said sharply, and the smaller male flinched slightly. "Why were you in the pod of researcher Loran?"

He twitched. "I was finishing maintenance on it when the alert went out. She went to find another empty pod to use, and instructed me to use hers as soon as I could fix the defective components." His head dipped in subjugation. "I completed my repairs and entered the pod twenty minutes after the alert."

"Vigil must not have realized the difference," Jorsh said from her seat beside him.

Ksad glared at her, but she met his gaze bravely. Almost disappointed, he turned away, his gaze back to following their path. The facility had decomposed little to the eye, merely lots of burned out lights and a thick layer of dust or dirt. They stopped near a random door he didn't recognize, and they carefully descended from the vehicle. "The only food supplies that have survived are hardened military rations," Vigil informed them, "but there is enough food and water to supply you for twenty seven years. After that, if the water filtration system has not been repaired to full functionality, you will either risk infection from unclean water, die of thirst, or must somehow find a way off the planet."

Grimly, they moved into the room, Tsarik calmly opening one box and distributing food packets and sealed cubes of potable water. They ate and drank in silence. "Vigil," Ksad said when they had finished, "take us to a functional beacon. We need to risk contacting anyone still present out there."

"But Ksad," Jorsh countered, "you heard what Vigil said. The Reapers were indoctrinating our people somehow." She looked at the vehicle, currently their only link to the AI. "Did they discover any way to counter the effects?"

"Negative. I can determine if anyone has fallen to Reaper indoctrination, but the only method found to stop an indoctrinated person was to kill them." They all fell silent again.

"I think it's worth the risk," Marik said, waiting for a gesture from Ksad to continue. "Look at us. Twelve Protheans? Even if we were all in physical shape to do so, we cannot repopulate our race. We might not even get this facility operational again." Tsarik nodded silently, causing Ksad to glare at him. "If there's truly no one out there, our species is _finished_," he said, pheromones drifting with his meaning, carrying visions of empty, barren cities.

Tsarik cautiously gestured for permission to speak, and after a moment, Ksad reluctantly granted it. "I cannot repair the entire facility by myself. If there are others out there, if they can join us, unless there are other maintenance caste," he paused, obviously nervous, "some must learn beside me." Several of the researchers twitched in anger, causing him to flinch back sharply, while others, like Marik, motioned for bitter acceptance.

Ksad stared out into the faint darkness of the tunnel, the occasional shaft of light coming through skylights no longer kept perfectly clear of dirt turning everything a murky brown. "We must attempt contact. I can consent to no changes until I know the fate of others of our species," he said at last. "Vigil, can you transport us there?"

"Negative, researcher. This vehicle can bring you approximately two thirds of the distance, but a flood and mud slide one hundred forty three years ago has left the only passageway large enough for the vehicle unsuitable for travel."

"How far would we have to walk, then?" Marik asked.

"Three point four kilometers." Most of them were already shaking their heads. "There are some sleeping quarters still intact within range of this vehicle, however."

"Alright," Ksad conceded, "We bring some food and water with us, and spend the next several days regaining our strength and planning." He gestured, and they moved crates of food and water, four of them needed to lift a single crate in their weakened arms. With their supplies carefully secured, they let the vehicle carry them away, into a very bleak future.


	2. Chapter 2

_Awakening, + 3 weeks_

Ksad rested his hands on the beacon, concentrating. Finally, after five long minutes, he dropped his hands in defeat. "This is the third day in a row," Jorsh said from behind him. "And still no response?"

He shook his head. "Vigil says that only five percent of the beacons are receiving. No one has responded, and my messages have been clear enough. No other messages have been broadcast, either." He met her gaze, eyes full of pain. "We are alone."

She bowed her head, eyes closing to slits as she keened for all those lost. He ached to join her, but he could not give in to his grief. There was too much to do, and not enough time to do it. He shoved past her, oblivious in her suffering, and moved to rejoin the rest of them.

Faint rumbles echoed through the hallway, courtesy of the cleaning robots Tsarik had managed to fix. He had tinkered with them while they recovered their strength, and they now worked to clear out the blocked passageways and cannibalize other technical components the maintenance caste said he would need.

"Vigil!" Ksad shouted, and after a moment one of the drones hovered over to him. "What is the status of the conduit?"

"The conduit itself remains intact. That area of the facility has been completely buried, however. All access tunnels to it were buried in the same flood that blocked the approach to the beacon." The drone continued to hover, waiting for further instructions or inquiries.

"What is the easiest way to access it?" He had only a faint inkling of a plan. His xenobiology degrees were why he had been saved, his expertise studying three of the potential species developing sentience have given them the bare outlines of this plan.

"The simplest method would be to exit the facility, cross the seven kilometers overland, and re-enter the facility." He blinked in surprise. Of all the other planets with Inusannon ruins, this one had been chosen for their secret research base because of the rather inhospitable surface conditions, radioactive dust still thick in the atmosphere. "The radiation levels have decreased by nine percent since you entered cryosleep, but protective gear would still be required. This plan assumes that the protective gear is still in functioning condition in one of the storerooms."

Ksad frowned, considering. "How long would it take to clear the tunnels?"

"Given the current rate of the cleaning robots, seventeen years, assuming normal maintenance and no critical repairs."

"Why so long?" he asked, almost afraid to get the answer.

"The corridor easiest to clean is currently filled with a length three quarters of a kilometer long of dirt, rock, various organic components, and broken hardware pulled from other buried portions of the facility. Based on sensor readings over time, the corridors highest to the surface are likely exposed by now, and therefore could not be cleaned." Ksad started walking, the drone floating along with him. "Two other lower corridors have a greater area buried by repeated floods. I estimate it would take them nineteen and twenty four years to clear."

"You still have sensors active on the Citadel?" he switched subjects. "What is happening on there?"

"My sensors have shown Keepers still active, performing their normal maintenance. Seventeen percent of my sensors have failed due to reconstruction projects." Ksad stopped, his thoughts whirling.

"We could move to the Citadel, if we reach the conduit?" He was nearly ecstatic at the thought of it. The station had been out of reach for almost a century, to his mind, and they could go back to it!

"The Keepers activated the signal that summoned the Reapers from their unknown location," Vigil shot his optimism in the foot. "In addition, I do not know if they would take hostile action against you themselves, despite previous inactivity."

Growling, he took his hike back to the vehicle, letting Vigil drive him back to their current resting place. There were two vehicles now, so Jorsh would not be stranded.

Later in the day, when everyone had returned from their various self-appointed tasks, checking what they could of what their domains had been. With everyone grimly eating their preserved rations, he finally spoke. "We will have to go with the disruption plan." He took a bite, having gained everyone's instant attention. "The Citadel is, for now, deserted. The Keepers were, as we know, responsible for the Reaper summoning. Reaching the conduit to get us there, however, will be the work of two decades."

"What do you require from me, researcher?" Tsarik asked.

"What do you require from _us_?" Ksiril spoke up. The man had hardly spoken in the three weeks since they awoke.

He took a moment to marshall his thoughts. "Our species is doomed. Our only hope is that the next cycle's races – the asari, salarians, hanar, even those monkey types – can stop them. To do so, we have to reach the Citadel, and reprogram either the Keepers or the Citadel itself." He glanced around the room. "Four of us are experts in medicine or biology. One of us is an expert in dark matter energy. Our computing expert," he looked neutrally at Tsarik, "is lost, but with the state of this facility, the maintenance caste will be far more useful to us."

They all exchanged glances, most of them surprised. "You mean we have to learn maintenance caste tasks?" Ksiril blurted out, horrified.

"To complete our task? I will learn to do anything required of me," Marik said. "We may not be able to protect our race, but we can see them avenged."

Ksad nodded. "It is as he says. All of us will learn what is required, even me," he said, to all of their surprise. "The cleaning robots must be maintained, more of them fixed or constructed if it is within our ability." He looked to Tsarik. "What do you need?"

He considered it carefully as he took small bites of his nearly tasteless food. "There is another drone bay, near the beacon. If I can have Jorsh to assist me in taking parts from the more damaged ones, I will know within two days how many more I can make operational."

Ksad pointed at her, and she bowed her head. "One additional thing. All of us understood when we entered cryosleep, we would be expected to repopulate our race. That is no longer possible." He bowed his own head, thinking bleakly of the silent, empty coffins lining so many corridors, two of them holding his own children. "I will not dictate arrangements, but I advise no one to procreate now. This," he waved the hand holding his drink at their surroundings, "is the _best_ we could offer them."

Grimly, everyone finished their food, stuffing the packaging into the specified bag. "For now, we sleep. Tomorrow, Marik, Ksiril, Arkik, are with me, we need to check all the labs to see what we have to use, and what needs repair, to reprogram the Keeper race." They bowed their heads in acknowledgement, and the twelve of them settled down to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Awakening, + 6 months_

Side by side, Tsarik and Jorsh worked at assembling the components together. It would lack the polished finish of the machines they had been used to, but the jury-rigged synthetic helper would be a more suitable helper. The cleaning robots were just not efficient enough to move several tons of dirt and rock quickly.

Finishing, he straightened with a popping sound from his muscles. He glanced over, meeting her eyes before dropping them properly, as his caste should. "Why do you still do that?" she asked baldly.

"Do what?" he evaded, moving to the front of the robot and checking the pneumatic cylinders.

"Act like your _burrked_ caste still matters," she said, checking the rear motors. "All is golden."

"Same here. Vigil, activate the robot." The small earth-mover, half the size of a normal aircar, rumbled to life, the quiet motors seeming near deafening after the near-total silence of the tunnels and work rooms.

As it trundled out, Arkik and Toknil came rushing out of their own workrooms to investigate the noise. "It works!" the dark energy scientist cried joyfully, nearly dancing as they watched it lift the first scoop of crusted mud from the flow. "Good thing, too."

"Why's that?" Jorsh asked.

"The surface is still radioactive," Arkik muttered disdainfully. "The mud is from the surface, ergo it is also radioactive." Once the beacons had failed to contact anyone, they had almost completely ceased traversing the narrow passage through the mud, but they all still winced at the thought. "It's not too bad, though. With the medical facilities still somewhat functioning, none of us should develop cancer for a century, at least."

"Nice to know," Jorsh shot back. "Come on, Tsarik. We have enough to build a second one of those, right?"

Pulling up his omni-tool, he swept his eyes quickly over the lists of working components they had managed to salvage so far. "Almost, we're short a motor." His quick glance at her was sorrowful. "Unless one of the non-functioning vehicles has a motor that is intact enough to salvage and repair, we would have to remove it from the one functioning." Their second running vehicle had already been cannibalized to make _this_ robot run.

Toknil was still watching the little machine steadily shift the mud from the hallway into the empty storeroom prepared for that purpose. "How much time does this save us to reach the Conduit?" he queried their AI.

"Barring any major equipment breakdowns, the Conduit can now be reached in seven years, four months," Vigil responded. "Current estimates state that only three percent of my original sensors aboard the Citadel will still be functioning at that time."

"Better than zero, which was the estimate yesterday," Jorsh replied brightly. "Vigil, inform Ksad of our progress. What is the next task to complete?"

The AI took a moment to sort through a dizzying list of priorities, all weighted by their impact on Ksad's chosen mission. "Ventilation to the biological specimen labs is still impeded. Specialist Baknar has requested Tsarik's aid." Jorsh muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath, and they gathered their tools to set out.

Due to a dwindling supply of fuel, the vehicle had quickly been made off limits for personal transport, which meant they were left hiking up to ten kilometers to make repairs. Outside of their area, unless they had to go hunt for parts, the decision had been made to allow the facility to continue to decay. The home and work place of three hundred thousand Protheans, the size of a small city, left to rot like the rest of their race had.

The ventilation shaft was not quite so far as that, luckily, and a mere three kilometers later, they had reached it. Baknar was kneeling awkwardly under a panel, fingers tight around her tools as she swore at it. "Jorsh!" she exclaimed, trying to hide her displeasure at the other female's appearance. "Tsarik, thank you. I let one of the cleaning robots into the ventilation shaft, and it's stuck, and I can't get this panel loose."

Ducking her flirtatious gaze, he calmly maneuvered her out of the way to examine it. "These fasteners are corroded in place," he said simply. "Drill them out, you might have to cut the whole panel out."

"Cut it out?" she exclaimed. Despite four months of learning from him, the astronavigation specialist was still horrified at any jury-rigged repair that didn't look properly Prothean – polished, elegant, on top of functional.

"All the filters for the lab are two floors below us," Jorsh explained, rubbing it in. "It's just going to draw air from inside the facility in addition to outside."

"Most of the filters," Tsarik said, trying to defuse the situation. "The anti-rad stuff is higher, close to the surface. But it doesn't matter. If it doesn't look right to you, get some spare adhesive and put it back in place." He was already moving for the door, aware of but not wanting to watch the two females shoot daggers at each other.

Outside in the hallway, Jorsh caught up to him quickly. "What's the next task?"

He flicked his omni-tool, sending her a list of components. "We need more of these. The cleaning robots are burning through them faster than I like, and our supply of spares is tiny. The storerooms in section 116 should have several."

"What are you going to be doing?" she asked, perusing the list.

"Our food supplies are running low," he said simply. "I'm going to get one of the hand carts and move some more crates."

"Why? Because you're the lowest caste here?" she asked, clearly angry. He simply nodded, and she stepped close, grasping his shoulder with one hand, causing him to go completely still. "Why can't you let your caste ranking die with the rest of our species?"

"Because I am not yet dead," he whispered, and when he pulled gently away, she let him go, her fingers still trailing over his arm as he moved to walk away. His peripheral eyes caught a flash of Baknar vanishing back into the room. As he walked away, he fought to put thoughts of both of them out of his mind. He had work to do, and too many ghosts looming over his shoulders to enjoy their attentions. The eight kilometer walk, pushing the cart, should help. Over the years, he had become quite adept at turning off his conscious mind, letting his muscle memory do the work, and right now, that was just what he needed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Awakening, + 15 months_

Tsarik stood in the back of the crowd, uncomfortable as Ksad shouted. "This is reckless in the extreme!" he all but screamed at Ksiril and Jakir, the male nervous and trembling, the female standing tall and defiant. "You would subject a child to suffer here, the way we are? This is _no place_ for a family!"

She summoned her biotics half a heartbeat faster than he did, throwing their leader against the wall, stalking over to him angrily. "The _choice_ to quicken an egg belongs to the female, _always_, not you, caste leader," Jakir said firmly. "And yes, I choose to. Yes, our life here is grim. It is bleak. But it is _my_ life, and I will do with it as _I_ choose."

With this declaration, she finally released her biotics as she walked back to Ksiril. Ksad rose slowly, obviously gathering his temper. "And you?" he addressed the viral specialist. "You agreed to this?"

He inclined his head slightly, still nervous. "She chose me, as is her right. Yes, I agreed to it. Why shouldn't I? What else have we to do in this _burkked_ place but work, eat, and sleep? You may be able to survive on such a flat mental diet, caste leader," Ksiril muttered, ducking his head slightly, "but not all of us can."

"Do you think I am as uncaring as the storm?" Ksad hissed out. "In those pods out there, dark and silent, lie my own children! You cannot give yours a future. The Cosmic Imperative has already sentenced us to death, and all we few can do is try to cripple our executioner before he can take the next species in line." Fists clenched, outer eyes closed, he stared at the rebellious couple. "Bah, do what you will," he finally whispered. "Just don't let it slow down your tasks. We must complete our task while we have the strength to do so."

Turning away, Ksad walked out of the room, too heartsore to stalk away. His anger had fled to his grief, as it sometimes did. He was not simply their leader, but also the oldest among them, just finishing his second century of life. He had perhaps another fifty years of health before his body would start to fail from old age. And despite his own incredible knowledge of the medical arts, it was unlikely they could save him once that began to happen.

Tsarik also slipped out of the room as the others talked, most of them giving Jakir cautious congratulations. Quickening an egg was not a simple task at the best of times, and how the two of them had managed to construct a proper nest escaped him. "Tsarik, wait," he heard Jorsh call down the hallway, and he obediently stopped and turned. "Where are you going?"

"The air filters for this area need to be replaced," he said quietly. "They are one month past their normal life cycle."

"Air filters? Is that really what you're concerned about?" It was, and it wasn't; he was equally concerned with avoiding her and Baknar as much as possible before they got any ideas. "Fine, go to your maintenance, then," she scoffed dismissively when he did not answer. As was proper for his caste, he waited until she turned away before continuing on his path.

He was closing the cover, the fasteners squeaking in protest, when two hands ran up his back, teasing along the edges of his carapace, and he stiffened. "Please, desist," he said quietly, and the hands stilled a moment before withdrawing, and Baknar walked into his sight. "Do you need my assistance?" he asked, perfectly deferential.

"Why are you always so proper?" she asked, leaning against the side of the ventilation shaft, watching him finish closing it up and carefully bind together the used filters.

"You are superior caste," he explained lifting the bulky things and settling his jury-rigged strap onto his shoulders to carry them. The water filtration, now optimal, should run another forty years before it required more maintenance, and would quite possibly outlive all of them. It was a thought both sobering and breathtaking, to think that his works would outlive his species.

"The Cosmic Imperative has killed the castes, as surely as it killed our race," she said, reaching out a hand he deftly avoided by stepping towards the door.

"Why do you still follow Ksad then, if he is not your caste leader?" The question was meant to be rhetorical, as he stepped out of the room, but to his surprise, she followed him and answered it.

"Ksad is still the smartest and most experienced of us all. He came up with the plan most likely to succeed." She motioned acceptance. "I follow him because it gives me the greatest chance to gain vengeance."

"Then why do you continually stalk me and disregard his orders?" Tsarik blurted out, at once weary of the constant careful dance of words and glances and subtle pheromones coloring the air.

"Our world is ended, and I find that I want one thing of my own, one thing not taken because the Empire demands it of me," she said grabbing his shoulder and whirling him around. "Why can't I find something to take for myself? Why must you continue to resist?"

He stared her in the eyes, all four of them, and flooded the air with his grief and his memories. "Ksad is not the only one who has family lying in those pods, dead for centuries before we awoke again." He pulled away roughly, feeling her talons scrape his skin. He stalked away, looking for the mind-numbing salve of mindless repairs and constant maintenance. Because then maybe he could put away her face, eyes lit up with glee as she showed him the nest she had built, hidden away in between the pipes, forget his laugh as he teased her for not building it in her quarters like any modern Prothean would. Forget the bleak fact that either she had climbed into a pod, forced to leave their egg to wither and die of cold, or else stayed with it, growing and dying of age or suicide, and his child with her, the only waking people on the planet.


	5. Chapter 5

_Awakening, +4 years_

Tsarik stopped, narrowly avoiding trampling Molir, the little spawn. He had been rather cold to the child, and to Jakir, but at least that had finally gotten the message across. Baknar was now paired off with Arkik, and they both seemed much happier as a result. They had even been discussing where to build their own nest and quicken their own egg. Ksad still disapproved, of course, but their years of frustrating research had at least caused him to mellow somewhat – this time, he did not shout.

Pausing outside the laboratory, Tsarik set down the box of parts, peering through the fogged glass. Cautiously, he rapped lightly at the door, waiting for a clear signal to enter. The last thing he wanted to do was burst in and interrupt some sensitive viral research. Two minutes went by, and someone inside tripped the latch with their biotics, causing the door to retract.

He picked up the parts, moving inside. Over in one corner, Ksad and Arkik were arguing over how best to test this latest version, something to do with infection rates that went completely over his head. Marik was motioning him over, and he carried the parts to a cold storage unit in one corner of the lab. "I think it's the blower," the botanist explained. "It's still chilled all the way at the back, but the cold air isn't circulating."

He nodded, pulling out his tools and quickly disassembling the unit enough to evaluate it. Marik watched him for a moment, then crossed the lab to join in the argument. Unlike some of their work-related fights, this one was still fairly good-natured, Ksad as usual pushing for perfection while Arkik fought for good-enough and Marik tried to mediate.

Grunting, he peered inside the unit as one of his tools hit a blockage in the air duct. These particular units were primitive, but that also made them much easier to repair. They had largely run out of functioning spare parts by now, everything needing to be constructed from scratch or jury-rigged. The duct was too narrow for his hand, and pulling on it with his biotics wasn't dislodging it either.

Frowning, he peered into it again, biotic power glowing weakly around one hand. He still couldn't see. Fighting the urge to grumble, he looked through his tools, pulling out a long, narrow hook he normally used on power conduits. Over the next minute, he carefully forced the hook up, past the obstruction, and then yanked sharply.

Something sounded like tearing fabric, and his hook emerged with one half of a toy he recognized. Fishing around with the hook netted him the other half of the toy, and with the obstruction removed, he reassembled the unit swiftly. The next step was to check the airflow, but to do that meant opening the unit, which still contained several microbe dishes with experimental viruses and bacteria.

He turned towards the others, but they were still in their argument, and Ksiril, the fourth member of their team, was nowhere to be found. Hopefully that meant he was taking Molir back to the living quarters where he belonged. Nervously, he waved a hand, trying to get Marik's attention, when he heard the sound of the door opening.

Whirling around, he saw Molir climbing into the cooling unit. "Child, no!" he shouted, drawing the attention of the researchers. Cursing angrily, Ksad yanked the boy out with his biotics, but the damage was already done. His hand was locked onto a tray full of samples, and when he came flying backwards to float around the singularity, so did the sample tray. Crying out in horror, Arkik and Marik lunged forward, trying to rescue the samples before they broke open. Laughing gleefully, Molir swatted one of the sample dishes, sending it flying across the room to shatter against one of the microscopes.

"Vigil! Emergency containment!" Ksad shouted, as his partners grabbed the rest of the experiments. Once the dishes were safe, he dropped the singularity, letting the child fall painfully to the floor. As he started to wail, their leader stalked over to him, one fist raised menacingly. "Be quiet, or by the Cosmic Imperative, I will kill you myself." Trembling, he subsided into quiet hiccupping, hands clenched over his mouth.

"The broken container is from sample V207F3," Arkik said nervously.

"Please, researcher," Tsarik blurted, unable to help himself, "what does that mean?"

The other man stared grimly at him. "It was one of our viruses designed to destroy the Keeper nerve tissue," he explained. "We don't know how it will affect Prothean nerve tissue."

The rest of their band had already come running, crowded outside the door. Ksad used Vigil to relay messages outside to them, including dire threats against Jakir for her willfully foolish offspring that were hopefully not meant seriously. If he actually carried through on flaying the environmental specialist alive, Tsarik's workload would increase greatly. Assuming that swarms of engineered viruses didn't devour his nervous system, of course.

The rest of the day passed nervously, Tsarik doing what he could to maintain the equipment, while Ksad monitored all of their vital signs. At some point early the next morning, Marik gave out a shout, waking Tsarik from his sleep in the corner. "What is it? Are we going to die?" Arkik groused from his own corner.

"No! Well, maybe, I don't know, but _look at this_!" he cried, eyes glued to one of the microscopes.

Tsarik stayed in the corner, though he was now standing, watching as they took turns examining whatever was happening. "Incredible," Ksad murmured. "Which sample did it cross-contaminate?"

"B198H4, which was out for disposal," Marik said. "But look what they do! This is a breakthrough?" He was almost dancing in glee, and even Arkik had cracked a smile.

"Researchers, could someone please explain that? For the others, as well as myself?" Tsarik hesitantly asked, blinking in shock as Ksad rushed across the room, grabbing him by the hand, and pulling him over to the microscope.

"Look closely, do you see the purple streaks?" He peered closely, blinking as it came into focus, long purple strands with clusters of small blue dots, and nodded carefully. "The purple are clones strands of Keeper nerve tissue. The samples were a priority as high as the rest of us. The blue are a bacteria strain, now infected with that virus." Tsarik pulled away from the microscope, letting Arkik go back to studying it. "Those bacteria have attached themselves not to all the nerve tissue, but to specific nodes."

"The Keepers are tied together somehow, a kind of biotic melding," Marik explained. "They're not sapient anymore, but they are linked – it's how they work together in concert for repairs and alterations to the station. We think it's also how they alerted the Reapers to come."

"We will need to do more experimentation, but we should be able to short-circuit their connections with this," Ksad explained. "If they cannot 'hear' the signal that tells them to summon the Reapers, they will not act. They will simply continue their repair cycles on the Citadel, and the Reapers will rot in their little hideaway."

Tsarik nodded to this, though he was still confused. "Was your task not to kill the Keepers?"

Arkik scoffed. "If we kill them all, the Citadel will fall apart. Which would stop the Reapers, yes, but it might also disable the entire mass relay network when it does. If we can just deafen them, that will be better."

From one storage cabinet, Molir knocked hesitantly. "Does that mean I can come out now?" he asked quietly.

"No," all four adults said in unison.

Ksad nodded brusquely, moving to a tray and picking up a resterilized needle. "Time for the next set of tests. If another day passes with no sign of infection, in all of us, we can leave safely. It will still take us years to properly develop this bacteria to a weaponized form for dispersal, but," he cracked a rare smile as well, "it is a breakthrough. I think we all deserve an extra ration of alcohol, if we get out with no nerve damage."

"I agree," Arkik muttered. "I can't wait to see this in action! The pain from this must be excruciating!"

Tsarik said nothing more, simply extending his arm for the blood draw.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Nearly to the end, now. One more chapter, and their story will be complete._

* * *

_Awakening, +7 years_

Ksad had them all gathered together outside the lab, and stood proudly. Arkik and Ksiril flanked him, and he raised his hands. "My friends, I believe we have completed our research. Three strains of unique bacteria, two viruses, all of them with success on every strain of cloned tissue we have. What comes next is going to be extraordinarily difficult."

He met the eyes of everyone, even the three children, before centering his gaze on the wall behind them. "Someone must go to the Citadel and release the samples for full testing. Someone who can reactivate some of Vigil's sensors, and help us prepare for our full plan of action."

There was quite a bit of restive movement, but it took several moments for any of them to speak. "What is our full plan now, caste-leader?" Jakir asked nervously.

Ksad sighed, his eyes closing. "We must journey to the Citadel, reach all of the protein vats that feed the Keepers, and infect all of their food supply. Ideally, of course. At a minimum, we must contaminate at least half."

Avod frowned, consulting her omni-tool. "The records we have of the Citadel are centuries out of date now, but there were eleven protein vats known. Two for each ward, and one on the Presidium hidden in the Emperor's Tower," the architect said, voice calm despite the twitching of her eyes. "I volunteer to go," she added.

"You can't," Morrin protested, taking one of her hands. "Our child is barely hatched, and you would throw yourself into danger?"

"I know the construction methods used, better than any here," she said calmly. "Who else could reach the vats?"

"I could." Tsarik took a moment to realize it was his voice that had spoken. Ksad was watching him with interest now. "Maintenance caste are used to finding entry points, and despite what I have taught everyone, I am the one best qualified to repair or replace Vigil's camera links." The VI was down to a mere 3% functioning cameras, a bare handful, scattered through the Presidium and two wards.

"We hardly have enough spares to function, and the Keepers have cleared or recycled all of our food production on station," Jorsh countered. "What good will sending one person and a dozen cameras do for us?"

"We must be sure that our developed diseased work," Ksad said instantly. "Cloned tissue is all we have to test, but there is degradation in the process. If they do not work, or do not work sufficiently, we must know _now_, before we leave our facilities." His voice was grave. "There is no returning to Ilos. Any ships we had were long since destroyed by the Reapers or the indoctrinated."

"So you send a volunteer to death?" Jorsh bit out, harsh, fear scents coloring the air, visions of Tsarik, starving to death in the middle of the Presidium while Keepers simply stepped around or over him as his body decomposed.

"If they work, I will send us all," Ksad said simply. Everyone's face was on his, again. "We will cripple the Keepers. We will prevent the Reapers from appearing to do this to the next cycle, those races we examined and experimented upon, before we abandoned them to the war." He sighed heavily. "And then, most likely, we will die. Your children may yet found enough Protheans for our race to survive."

"How will we survive there, then?" Marik asked, ever pragmatic. "We have enough packaged food to last years, but transporting it all? And what happens when it runs out?"

"Seventeen storerooms are still intact, containing crop seeds," Vigil informed them. "They have mostly been freeze-dried and need only thawing and planting. Arable land on the Presidium should be sufficient to feed a population up to seven hundred thirty one adult Protheans. The amount of arable land on the wards are unknown."

"I will need three days to gather all the components and tools I forsee needing for this task," Tsarik said into the silence that followed. "I will also need training in how to properly distribute these samples, when I reach the protein vat in the Emperor's Tower."

"You will have your training, and we will all be working to transfer the supplies up. Yes, even me," Ksad said with a touch of humor. "We will send you two crates of food, plus your electronic supplies."

"The passage to the Conduit is not clear enough to allow for vehicles," Vigil informed them. "However, the dirt has been cleared enough to allow for personnel to transit."

Barok stepped away from the group. "I will go ensure it is clear enough to transit, caste-leader," she said proudly. "May the Cosmic Imperative grant us success."

They all echoed her, as the terraforming specialist trotted away quickly. "Father, may I see it work?" Moril asked excitedly, clutching at Ksiril's hand.

"We will all be there to watch, child," he murmured kindly. "But for now, we have carts to push and supplies to move."

* * *

_Three weeks later_

They all stood well back, staring at the four crates placed at the base of the Conduit. They had been carefully weighed and stacked carefully. Now, for the first time ever, it would be tested, sending not just material, but personnel, directly from a planet to the Citadel. Such a system, had they even another century before the Reapers surprise arrival, could have been constructed, allowing them to maneuver outside the relay network.

Toknil was the closest thing they had to an expert, having worked on it before their cold sleep, and he had carefully taken a whole week to inspect every component and review all the computer protocols. He looked at Ksad, and nodded. "Everything is ready, caste-leader," he said, and held up his omni-tool.

Ksad drew in a deep breath, holding it and focusing on all the mixed signals in their environment, before slapping the hologram. The rings spun quickly, and with a flash of light, the boxes vanished. "Vigil, was it successful?" he asked, voice strained and nervous.

They stood in silence for several seconds. "Transmit successful. The crates arrived with a net gain of only forty kilometers per hour." _That_ was a little more worrying. Ships, of course, gained or lost momentum depending on the skill of the pilot on lining up their craft with the relay, but due to the mass involved, even those gains were minor at best.

"I believe I can do it," Tsarik said grimly. "However, I would ask that the samples be given additional padding. Should one of them break due to momentum upon arrival." He didn't need to finish the sentence, and Arkik was grumpily shredding an old set of clothing to wrap the fragile sample containers.

Twenty minutes later, he stood under the Conduit, staring up at the matte grey surface, rising above him like a skyscraper from his position. Truly, it could have hardly been more than ten stories, but from his launch point, that was more than enough. "I am ready," he managed to say, despite his quaking voice.

The world dissolved into light and the rushing of wind.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: This was a fun little fic to write. This was done for the May contest in the Aria's Afterlife forum; the challenge was to take any important pre-humanity event in the ME universe. The sacrifice of the Ilos scientists is hardly touched upon on the games, and after you leave Vigil, it's never brought up again, yet without their work, humanity would have come out into a universe devoid of any other spacefaring civilization. Hmm. On second thought, maybe we could have beaten the Reapers if that happened._

* * *

_Awakening, +8 years_

Tsarik stood in the light of the Presidium, looking down at their crops. An all vegetarian fare was hard on them sometimes, even if it had sufficient protein. He leaned against the rake, smiling slightly to himself. Truthfully, none of them had really know what was involved in planting and growing and harvesting crops – the farming caste was small, and had largely been automated with VI-controlled machines, not working by hand.

He squinted off into the distance, seeing the movement of one of the elevators. It opened a minute or two later, revealing Ksad, Arkik, and Jorsh, all of them jubilant. He waited until they were close enough to hear him clearly. "Was it a success, then?"

"Far easier than the last one," Ksad said proudly. "That makes seven infected protein vats now. Two wards left to go, but I feel I can call our mission a success."

From behind him, he heard someone come jogging up, and turned to see a very worried Baknar approaching them. "What's wrong? Did the Keepers start uprooting the crops in field four again?" Ksad Arkik called out.

"No. They haven't touched the crops, but they have started systematically destroying all of the cameras linked to Vigil," she panted out. "I ran here from the houses after one of them pushed me aside to reach and remove the camera there."

They all had fear pheromones racing at that. The Keepers had never before taken any action to move someone. They would go around, or stand there and wait patiently – for hours, depending on how determined the person obstructing them was – and then continue their task. "Back to the houses," Ksad ordered, and they took off at a jog.

As they approached, they could see Morrin and Avod, both of them holding farming rakes, swinging them wildly to keep a pair of Keepers at bay, as the two insectoid creatures were trying to herd them into the building where they currently lived. Ksad shouted, sending one Keeper tumbling with his biotics, causing it to explode in the middle of field two. Morrin slapped the other Keeper in the face with his rake, piercing one of its eyes and cracking the exoskeleton.

"Why did that one explode?" Tsarik blurted out, unable to help himself. "They never exploded before! Is it because of the infections?"

"I have no way to be certain," Ksad said, picking up a rake himself as Jorsh shoved the other Keeper away long enough for the two to join them. "Before they disabled the cameras, they must have found the quantum entangler Vigil was using to access the cameras, because it's not responding to my queries."

"What do we do, then?" Jorsh asked, her voice quavering with fear.

Ksad drew himself up proudly, holding the rake as though it were a rifle. "We die with honor, if that is our fate," he said, hurling it into the Keeper as it moved to pursue them.

Backing into the housing, Arkik and Avod blasted another Keeper into a wall, causing it to explode and shower them with caustic bug guts. They flinched back in pain, and Tsarik grabbed one of their watering jugs, cleaning them off before it could eat all the way through the exoskeleton.

In the hallway leading to their room, Ksiril and Marik lay dead, harsh burns covering their arms and faces. "Find the children," Ksad ordered, turning towards a side door that led further into the building. "See if you can lead them somewhere else, maybe they won't follow you onto the wards!" His biotics flared, and two more Keepers exploded somewhere beyond him. "I will hold them off as long as I can!"

They ran into the rooms, finding Jakir guarding Moril and the other two children. "What is going on?" she said, taking in the minor injuries.

"The Keepers are attacking us," Jorsh said quickly. "They are penning us in here, and have destroyed the link to Vigil." She looked wildly around the room. "And now we have trapped ourselves."

Tsarik shook his head, removing a tool from his belt and moving over to one of the wall panels. "We should be able to escape through the maintenance shafts," he said, removing the fasteners and yanking the panel off the wall.

He didn't see the blow, only felt a brief moment of extreme searing pain. The others cried out in horror as the Keeper activated a welding torch, burning through his brain before the maintenance caste had a chance to react.

An hour later, all of the Protheans, the last fifteen of their race, were dead.

A week later, all evidence of their existence had been recycled and repurposed.

A month later, cross-mixing between all of the protein vats had infected every Keeper on the Citadel, the carefully designed bacterium thriving in the slurry, feeding into each and every new Keeper clone as it grew. So that fifty thousand years later, when the Reaper known as Nazara tried to activate the Citadel's relay into dark space, the signal came, and not a single Keeper heard the sound.


End file.

Mass Effect, Drama, Tragedy