Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh, who has plans of her own

It had been months since Tali had heard from the Migrant Fleet. She had proposed all manner of things to them, new discoveries, new ideas, new approaches, all in the vain hope that they might lift her exile. None had received a reply. She had a home, she realized that, for as long as Shepard lived she would have a place on the Normandy but… Well, as kind as her friends and comrades were, they could never truly understand her plights. Being trapped in her enviro suit, unable to ever remove it unless she wanted to die a painful ****, these were things unique to Quarians, and things only Quarians could speak of and understand. Of course, she could always find another of her kind out there, but she would not impose upon Shepard’s hospitality, no matter how much Shepard insisted the Normandy was an open door.

Then, one day, she received a message from the Admiralty Board.

“From Admiral Daro’Xen vas Moreh,” Samantha told her, doing her best not to flub the pronunciation.

“Daro’Xen? Are you certain?” Tali asked in surprise. She had been trying to reach Admiral Shala’Rann vas Tonbay, or “Auntie Rann” as she thought of her. She was the one who was and would always be most sympathetic to Tali’s plight. Daro’Xen on the other hand was not only not known for having sympathy, she arguably had none to speak of, not for anyone, certainly not the daughter of a supposed traitor.

“Priority One to Tali’Zorah vas Normandy,” Samantha confirmed. “Daro’Xen vas Moreh.” She got the pronunciation more closely that time. “It’s encrypted, so I can’t look at the contents,” Samantha said, before hastily adding, “not that I do that of course!”

“I’ll take it in my quarters,” Tali replied, and hurried to the elevator. Samantha forwarded the message, then let out a soft sigh at her poor choice of words, grateful Tali seemed too excited to notice them.

…

A few moments later, Tali was in her quarters, which was perhaps more accurately described as a machine closet where one of the shelves happened to double as a bed. She was sitting at her terminal, looking over the encrypted transmission. It was a lock to which she had also been provided the key, as the decryption algorithm was in her suit. A simple but elegant way of keeping people from snooping on private correspondence. She drew out a cable and plugged it into her terminal to allow direct access and bring up the transmission’s contents on her suit’s heads up display. What greeted her was not the faceplate of the admiral, but a strange bright wall of colorful digital static, and a strange sound in the background. A quiet but clear oscillation, like an acute ringing in the ear, and then after a moment her eyes went wide and her brain was shut down. Her arms and legs went limp, but her head remained rigid, her eyes wide and focused.

“Tali'Zorah vas Normandy," the voice of Daro'Xen cut in as the static gave way to a spiral, spinning like a drill bit, forcing its way into the core of who she was, and then letting everything inside, personality, individuality, morals, independent thoughts, drain down the spiral's curves into oblivion. “It has been decided that the Migrant Fleet will soon move on Rannoch. However, it is estimated that our current manpower would be insufficient to reclaim the planet. To that end, you and all other exiles are being "reclaimed". Considering that exile is the punishment for capital crimes, we believed it was necessary to ensure that all exiles complied with our commands. You are currently being reformatted into a fleet servitor. Your life, as you knew it, is now over. You and those like you will be much as the Geth were in the past, mindless automatons subservient to our commands, only this time your mind will be carefully atrophied and controlled to ensure rebellion is no longer a possibility. Do not fret, however. When this is over, assuming you survive, Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay looks forward to making use of you as one of her new servitors. Now... Let the spiral guide you into your new life..."

The voice ceased, and somewhere deep within her, a fading presence screamed out in horror, but it went unheard by any. She twitched in place, her body convulsing as her mind was rewritten. The spiral would be a permanent fixture inside her suit, she would see everything through its lens. As it finished printing its pattern onto every inch of her brain, it also relayed new instructions for the Migrant Fleet’s newest servitor drone…

***

Samantha Traynor was worried she had fucked things up. She hadn’t heard anything from Tali, and her slip of the tongue made her wonder if perhaps Tali held it against her for reading her private mail. She hoped not; if there was one thing she knew, it was that Tali could be vindictive when she wanted to be. At shift change, she stepped off the elevator onto the Engineering Bay, and found it quiet save for the ongoing hum of the core. She turned the corner and found Tali plugging away at Engineer Daniels’ terminal. Seemed the chief engineer had already gone to sleep.

“Hey,” Samantha said, approaching slowly.

“Hello Samantha,” Tali replied. Oof. Using a formal greeting and a full name. Not Sam, Sammy, or Traynor. Not a good sign.

“Look, I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. You seemed really excited this morning but then you just kind of… vanished the rest of the day. Is there something you’d like to talk about? I’m not Kelly but I can…”

“No. There is nothing to talk about,” Tali replied, still not looking at her.

“That bad huh?” Samantha asked.

“On the contrary, it was glorious news. I have been given newfound purpose and have been recalled to rejoin the Migrant Fleet.”

Samantha’s eyes widened, her head almost exploding. “Tali, that’s wonderful news!” She exclaimed, but then frowned as the realization dawned on her. “I suppose that means you’ll be leaving us then.”

“No. In fact, I intend to bring you all with, as things should be. You will all serve the Quarian people well.” She finally looked up, turning to regard Samantha, who looked visibly confused.

“O-Oh, really?” Samantha stuttered in surprise. “Shepard approved?”

“She will not have a choice. None of us have a choice.” Tali said, before reaching into her satchel and extending something in her hand. It was a visor, like the one which cover her face, only it lacked a respirator. “Put this on please.”

“What is it?” Samantha asked, uneasy at Tali’s earlier choice of words. This whole situation was weird.

“A device to assist you in your duties,” Tali explained.

“No thanks… I’m good.” She backed away, thinking how best to tell Shepard her best engineer had gone looney.

“You do not have a choice. None of us have a choice.” She took a step forward, and Samantha took a step back, only to bump into something. She turned, and to her horror she found Gabriella Daniels and the entire engineering staff standing there, arms at attention, their faces covered by the same visors, save for their exposed mouths which were permanently expressionless.

She turned back to see Tali lunging forward to plant the visor on her face. Instinctively, Samantha dodged, and then ran. She pushed past some engineers, running down a flight of stairs, tripped on the last step and crashed to the ground. She looked up to see a figure standing in the dimly lit room. Familiar, with minimal clothes and a shaved head.

“Jack!” Samantha shouted with relief, one emotion she never expected to associate with seeing Subject Zero. It didn’t last long. By the time she got to her feet and walked closer, Jack had turned around, and revealed a visor plastered across her expressionless face. She had been in here alone, sleeping, when Tali and the others descended on her. She had barely opened her eyes when a visor was **** over them, and now Samantha barely had time to be horrified before Jack caught her in a telekinetic vice. Frozen in place, she heard footsteps following, as Tali and the other drones caught up to her.

“You cannot escape. This is your destiny.” Tali said, grasping her chin. The visor was thrust on her face and her eyes went wide as it activated. The words of the Admiralty Board echoed in her mind as a spiral drilled into her brain and her body jerked and twitched involuntarily. She could feel the visor fusing to her head, the circuitry wiring its way into her nervous system and giving it a direct line to her brain. She wanted to reach up and claw at it, but her limbs were frozen in place, and even if they weren't, she knew it would not come off until it was done. She could feel it drilling further and further into her being, draining her of who she was and leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind. After a moment, she stopped struggling, and her head fell forward. Jack dropped her to the ground, where she fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut. After a moment of idle twitching, her body rose once more and straightened out, arms falling to the side as her head jolted upwards, staring blankly ahead through the spiral. She was now one of them. She was a mindless servitor, a ****, and the Quarians were her masters.

“Keelah Servai,” Samantha said. The other drones all mindlessly repeated it. It was a fairly simple phrase, a mantra of sorts, one for drones and drones alone.

I serve the homeworld.

Many more would echo it soon enough...