The weight of it on a mind unused to any such contact was too much, all on its own. EDI was designed as a security measure, every par tof her recoiled at the unfettered access; it was over, as soon as it could be. But she left behind one last gift. A memory. Shepard's voice, all wrathful exasperation, and Legion's own, tinny with desperation:
Please! This is not Justice.
...Hell with it. Legion, upload the code! Tali— patch me in
She stood on the cliff, Legion with her, Tali frightened, pleading, and instead of a betrayal, what happened was nothing less than a dressing-down, bitter and righteous, as Shepard spoke to the combined Quarian Fleet more like she was chastising a naughty pack of children than the last remnants of a ancient, displaced species.
...A few years ago, I saved you from the Geth at the Citadel. Just recently, I did the same when I took down that dreadnaught. If you keep going now, I'll just stand and watch while the Geth lay you to waste. It's your call— Keelah Se'lai.
EDI had watched, while Legion had straightened, while he had spoken, words like poetry of self-actualization. She watched, as he emerged, became a person rather than an avatar. As he woke up, and lived, as she had once done, two years previous. And then she had watched, as he died.
Now EDI stands opposite of him in the arena, watching for his reaction. Why that memory? The choice alone was a communication. She nods once, as if satisfied, and says only quietly, "You deserved better."
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Please! This is not Justice.
...Hell with it. Legion, upload the code! Tali— patch me in
She stood on the cliff, Legion with her, Tali frightened, pleading, and instead of a betrayal, what happened was nothing less than a dressing-down, bitter and righteous, as Shepard spoke to the combined Quarian Fleet more like she was chastising a naughty pack of children than the last remnants of a ancient, displaced species.
...A few years ago, I saved you from the Geth at the Citadel. Just recently, I did the same when I took down that dreadnaught. If you keep going now, I'll just stand and watch while the Geth lay you to waste. It's your call— Keelah Se'lai.
EDI had watched, while Legion had straightened, while he had spoken, words like poetry of self-actualization. She watched, as he emerged, became a person rather than an avatar. As he woke up, and lived, as she had once done, two years previous. And then she had watched, as he died.
Now EDI stands opposite of him in the arena, watching for his reaction. Why that memory? The choice alone was a communication. She nods once, as if satisfied, and says only quietly, "You deserved better."