As far as Starlight’s charts and maps could tell her, the planet did not have a proper name. Nobody had bothered to give it one. It was not even a proper planet- -it was actually a small moon orbiting an enormous pale-blue gas giant that had a few volus satellites in decaying orbit that had not been inhabited for at least three hundred years. The only signal was the slow, fading telemetry of those satellites and the much stronger signals of several resource-acquisition probes that bore the identification code of a ship called the “Normandy”.

There was good reason why the moon was not inhabited, though. As starlight walked over the mossy, spongy ground while trying to avoid the numerous puddles of iridescent, bubbling sludge, she examined readings of the atmosphere.

“Holy buck,” she said, her voice slightly distorted by her helmet as she addressed her companions. “Do you have any idea what’s in the air here?”

“Can it even be called air?” said Jack, visibly uncomfortable with every inch of her skin covered by her protective suit. Behind her walked Lyra, her robotic body fully exposed save for her face which was covered in a semi-abstract, mask-like helmet followed closely by Zedok, dressed in her mother’s black asari commando armor. Darien, meanwhile, was standing waist-deep in a puddle and slowly sinking. Beri, in turn, was behind him, muttering to herself about Darien blocking her path.

“Sort of,” said Starlight. “Well…no. Twenty seven percent hydrogen sulfide, eleven percent sulfur dioxide, six percent various nitrogen oxides…the rest is water, noble gasses, and carbon dioxide, with the carbon dioxide being dominant. I didn’t even know they made planets like this.”

“Yup,” said Lyra, looking up through the gnarled and soft-barked alien trees that spread upward into the toxic haze above. “She is definitely here.”

“I do not know what those names mean,” said Darien as Zedok pulled him from the puddle. His face shifted toward a sound as something long with many legs moved through the tree canopy. “But is it safe to breathe? This mask is uncomfort.”

“Hell no,” said Lyra. “The carbon dioxide alone would kill you in one breath. Look.” She held up her hand. “My parts are corroding. And this is my own alloy blend. I’ve never seen this happen before.”

“We should probably hurry up, then,” said Jack. “Right now, we’re like quarians neck-deep in a krogan cesspool. One pinprick and we’re a rotting stain in a suit.”

“Actually, I think this atmosphere would preserve us pretty well,” noted Starlight.

“It probably would be safer to have taken the ‘ship’,” said Zedok. “Not that I’m complaining. Traipsing through a toxic wasteland is definitely my idea of a good time. Clearly.”

“I can’t,” said Starlight. “This place is covered in missile installations. Lots of them.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” asked Lyra.

“Not to mention the yahg vomit,” added Beri, shivering.

“It’s not his fault!” said Zedok, coming to Darien’s defense. “Yahg are incredibly perceptive, and they don’t deal well with rapid motion. They never even developed atmospheric flight. It has to do with all those eyes.”

Before Zedok could go into detail about the nature of yahg vision- -something that Starlight would actually have been interested if she had had the time to listen- -they came to an area where the forest suddenly broke. The floor of decaying, slimy vegetable matter and roots suddenly gave way to pitted, blackened stone that rose upward into a rocky crag. Prominently visible on the top of the hill was what Starlight immediately thought of as a mansion- -aside from the fact that it was actually just an exorbitantly large aggregation of various prefab buildings joined into a kind of parody of a castle.

“That’s hideous,” said Zedok, approaching Starlight from the side.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Sjdath has definitely been here.”

Starlight nodded in agreement and started to ascend the hill toward the “building” on the top. There was no true path, and the front was steep and cliff-like, but the back had a much more gentle slope. Starlight still eventually decided to levitate herself, but the others were able to manage the climb adequately.

Finding the door took slightly longer. The prefabs had numerous exits, all of which had been sealed when they had been locked together. Once Starlight saw the main door, though, there was no doubt about its purpose. A large bay door- -the sort that would normally be over a garage- -had been replaced with an enormous dark-colored wooden door, complete with a huge iron knocker in the center.

“It makes me wonder if she’s compensation for something,” said Jack, contemplating the iron ring.

“Probably,” said Starlight. She looked up at it herself. “So. Who wants to knock?”

“If I may,” said Darien, stepping forward. “This device seems to be proportionally better for me.”

Starlight stepped aside. With her biotic abilities, she could easily have moved the heavy ornament herself, but she figured she should let the yagh be useful for something.

Darien wrapped his hand around the knocker, pulled it back, and let it fall. It slammed into the wooden door with great force. There was certainly a sound, and the forest behind them went silent. Despite that, Starlight detected motion behind the door- -but not anything with a biological signature.

The door suddenly shifted, being pushed open from within and revealing the darkness beyond. A figure stepped out of the darkness, and Starlight immediately knew what she had been detecting. The figure was not a female vorcha, but in fact a tall and heavily armored baterian battle android. Its ornate camouflage paintjob was slightly scuffed and painted over with badly matched colors, although the harsh curves of baterian script could still be seen crossing its angular chest.

The droid’s narrow head turned toward the group outside and its various lenses irised inwards, focusing on each one of the being standing outside.

Starlight stepped forward. “We are here to see Sjdath,” she said, somewhat nervously.

The android looked down at her. It paused for a long moment, and then spoke in a heavily accented artificial baterian voice.

“Subjects identified and threat level quantified.” It stepped back and gestured with one long arm toward the dark prefabs beyond. “Please, come with me.”

Starlight looked back at the group, not sure if following the robot was such a good idea- -but Lyra decided for her, pushing past into the structure.”

“I am afraid I will have to stay outside,” said Darien. “The halls in there are too small for me.”

“Are you sure?” said Zekok.

“Yes.” He waved them toward the android. “Besides. The sun will set soon. I really would like to see sunset.”

“Okay,” said Zedok, hesitantly. “But don’t go anywhere. And DON’T remove your helmet. Got that?”

“Yes, boss.”

Zedok followed the others into the structure, and the android closed the door behind them. The room was immediately dark, and Starlight was forced to project a combat drone with an internal light source to act as a lantern. The android did not seem to care; it walked past them into the complex beyond.

The android’s motion was swift and precise, but at the same time unnaturally mechanical and awkward. It was quite obvious that it was powered by a simple VI. It was certainly nowhere near as complicated as a geth or an Alliance synth, but Starlight could assess quality robotics when she saw them. This model was built for combat, and though severely out of date it had been either well preserved or well-maintained before it had ended up here.

From the light of the combat drone, it was possible to see that the internal contents of the prefabs were sparse. Largely, they were empty, save for occasional piles of half-completed machines or large, rusting equipment. The walls were lined with what appeared to be art as well, although the diverse collection was neither expensive nor good-looking. Starlight could not help but wonder what this place smelled like, even if it was impossible to know. Despite the presence of atmosphere seals on the prefab doors and corridors, the air inside was just as toxic as that outside.

“I’ve never seen one of these things in person,” said Beri, observing the combat android. “They haven’t made them in decades.”

“Let me guess,” said Jack. “They’re illegal, right?”

“Everything the baterians do is illegal. At least they’re not the Alliance, though.”

“I don’t like robots,” said Lyra, eyeing the machine suspiciously. “We don’t have them in Equestria, and for good reason.”

“No,” said Starlight. “Instead, you have a population of farm-bred slaves.”

“Slaves bred for extreme docility. Robots? There’s nothing docile about robots.”

“Geth are okay though,” added Zedok. “I like geth.”

The combat drone entered a wide, dark room with an uneven floor and stopped.

“Kommisar Sjdath,” it stated in a pleasant, monotone voice. “Guests have arrived to see you. Should I have them executed as with the last group?”

There was a clicking of clawed feet from the shadows, and Starlight increased the glow of her combat drone. The light fell on a female vorcha in a long skirt approaching, flanked with two more baterian droids. She immediately looked up at the group, her pupils narrowing sharply in the bright light. Her eyes immediately flicked upward toward Starlight, and then Jack.

“No,” she said. “No no no no.” She pointed to them. “You. What the hell are you doing here? Why are you on my planet? Go away! I’m retired!”

“You’re planet?” said Beri, somewhat indignantly.

“Yes my planet.” Sjdath paused. “Wait. I don’t know you. You can kill her.”

“Sjdath,” said Starlight.

Sjdath sighed, taking a deep breath of the toxic atmosphere. “Fine,” she said. “The turian can live.”

“Acknowledged,” said the robot, lurching forward and walking past Sjdath to continue on with whatever duties it had been attending too early.

“Your planet?” said Lyra. “When did that happen?”

“It’s technically a moon,” said Beri.

“When I bought it,” said Sjdath, giving a harsh look at Beri.

“Bought it?” said Jack. “The last time I talked to you, you were buried under debt to Aria. Where did you get enough money to buy a damn planet?”

Sjdath smiled. For starlight, it was somewhat uncomfortable seeing her without the mask that allowed her to breath in oxygen-based atmospheres. Her mouth was terribly wide, with a number of sharp teeth. “You remember that Cerberus agent? The one that broke into my ship and stole Starlight?”

“It’s not something I can forget,” said Starlight, darkly. It was the second worst moment of her life.

“Well, the freak left something behind. Chewed off her own arm to escape. And do you know what was on it? A portable gravity rotor. A mass core the size of a marble. Do you have any idea how much such a thing is worth?”

“A lot?” guessed Zedok.

Sjdath nodded. “And then the gods blessed me a second time. I had offers on it, but took it to auction. Three salarian syndicates, two asari companies, a batarian consortium, and the zetans- -and they got into a bidding war. You know how the salarians are with technology. And on top of it, I sold the arm itself to Binary Helix. Whatever gene-mods Cerberus came up with belong to them now.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jack. “We’re talking about Robette? You know she doesn’t have genetic upgrades, right? She was born like that.”

Sjdath blinked. “Oh. Well. That’s Binary Helix’s problem now, not mine.”

“I take it you paid back Aria, then?” said Starlight.

Sjdath cringed. “Well…we have a repayment plan.”

“And the robots?” asked Zedok.

“Excellent pieces, aren’t they?” said Sjdath, proudly. “I got them on excellent sale. Apparently, one of them went rogue and slaughtered an entire platoon. Problem was, they couldn’t figure out which one. I got them surplus.” Sjdath leaned forward and whispered, pointing at the robot on her left. “I’m pretty sure it was that one!”

She turned and started walking suddenly. Starlight looked at Jack, confused, and they started to follow her.

“Sjdath?” said Starlight. “It’s good to see you.”

“A preface. That is what that is. You want to ask me for something.”

“Yes,” admitted Starlight. “We’re planning a mission, and I need friends that I can trust. And I trust you.”

“I don’t know why,” muttered Beri. “Vorcha are even less trustworthy than humans.”

“Says a member of Saren’s race,” hissed Sjdath. “Is not betrayal a sacred vow for your kind?”

Beri immediately began reaching for her pistol. “How dare you- -”

Without turning around, Sjdath waved her hand. There was a surge of orange light around it as she snapped her fingers, and Beri was immediately thrown into the air by a biotic blast.

Starlight and Jack froze.

“Sjdath…” said Zedok. “Since when can you- -since when can ANY vorcha do that?!”

“Since about a year ago.” Sjdath turned her body slightly and pointed to several spots on her chest, the hardened scars of holes that had been punched through her body five years earlier. She looked up at Lyra. “Part of your gift, I think.”

“That’s my magic,” said Lyra, in awe. “How did you- -”

“Because I am vorcha, and we are the future.” Sjdath looked down at Starlight. The corridor ahead of them had been built with skylights, all of which were overgrown with mold and grime. Despite this, the greenish light of the system’s setting sun still poured through, lighting Sjdath from behind.

“As to your question,” she said. “The answer is: Hell. NO.”

Starlight was taken aback. “But…but why?”

“Because I’m OLD! I was already seven when I first met you. I’m eleven!”

“Come on, Sjdath,” said Jack. “You know that’s a lie, and so do we.”

Sjdath looked at her innocently, and then smirked.

“Sjdath?” said Starlight. “What does she mean.”

“An extension of the pony-Lyra’s gift. My biology? Accelerated. Improved. It’s not just the biotics. My lifespan has been exponentially increased. I could possibly live to forty, fifty, even sixty years. I’m virtually immortal.”

“Just another reason why you shouldn’t breed,” said Beri, standing up slowly.

Sjdath shrugged.

“But then why won’t you come with us?” said Starlight. “I know you can’t fight, but nobody knows physical technology like you do. Not even me. You would really be an asset.”

“Why?” Sjdath pointed at Jack. “Because I know her. There’s a reason why I hired her, and a reason why she was my best mercenary. And anything she’s doing is probably going to cut my immortality quite short.”

“But- -”

“NIET. I’m rich, and I’m retired. I have my planet- -”

“Small moon,” corrected Beri.

“- -and I’m over the whole gallivanting across space. I don’t need to. This is final, Starlight.”

“Oh,” said Starlight, disappointed. “I had been looking forward to working with you again…but okay…”

Sjdath stared at Starlight, and then sighed. “Actually, though, I might have something that can help you.” She put two of her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. Due to the somewhat chitinous nature of her body and the acoustics of the strange air, it was an eerie sound.

At first, nothing happened. Then Starlight became aware of a rapid galloping from the skylit hallway behind Sjdath. Carefully, she looked around Sjdath- -only to be tackled by a large quadruped.

“Ack!” cried Starlight, charging her horn for a devastating biotic blast- -only to see that the creature atop her looking down with a single brightly-lit eye.

“The Starlight Glimmer!” said the geth excitedly. “We have missed your presence greatly, and as such we are greeting you with great vigor!”

Starlight looked up, her mind taking a second to process what she was seeing. “Armchair?” she said.

“Indeed. We are.” The geth backed off of Starlight and helped her up. He was comparatively large, being slightly larger than a human, but it was masked by the fact that his body was optimized for walking on four legs. He looked almost like a large, metallic dog, complete with a small tail.

“Armchair…but how…how are you even…what the hell?”

“When I retired,” explained Sjdath, “I didn’t need a ship anymore. Armchair wasn’t ready to leave, I suppose- -”

“So we uploaded ourselves into a mobile platform,” said Armchair. He gestured toward himself. “This design is unique, of our own design. It was inspired by the observed efficiency of your own frame.”

“Um…thank you?”

“You are welcome!”

Starlight looked up about Sjdath. “But…if Armchair’s a…dog?...Then what happened to Arachne?”

Armchair and Sjdath looked at each other. Then Armchair turned his luminescent headlamp toward Starlight. “He is with us.”

“Yes, but where?”

“You misunderstand. He is with us.” Armchair leaned back on his hind legs and pointed with one long finger at a section of his chest that was not made of metal. Starlight moved her combat drone closer- -and saw that a substantial portion of the lower half of his body was made of bioluminescent chitin.

“You- -you didn’t,” said Zedok, looking as though she was about to be sick.

“Arachne is our closest friend,” said Armchair. “And he refused to leave us, even when we were transitioned to a mobile platform. As such, he contributed to our design.”

“Bodily sacrifice is not a major taboo for rachni,” said Sjdath.

“So he’s…he’s in there?”

Armchair nodded. “His neural architecture has been retained and linked to our core processes. He is one of us now, the working equivalent of a geth. This is of great benefit to us. His creativity and intuition are boundless. So many new ideas…and the songs. We can hear their songs. Always, and forever.”

“It’s just a little…disturbing.”

“You’re a living starship engine standing with a pony head in a robotic woman’s body and a hyper-violent biotic weapon,” noted Jack. “If anything, this is less disturbing than anything else we’ve done.”

“Armchair,” said Sjdath. “Starlight wants to go on a mission. I’m not going because I’m not a massive idiot. How do you feel about it?”

“Traveling again?” said Armchair, excited. He turned back to Starlight. “Yes! More experiences are necessary to improve our programing architecture and enable procreation of system processes! We would be glad to help! But we are afraid that we are not a ship anymore. Reconstruction would take…”

“Not a problem,” said Starlight before Armchair could calculate it out. “I have a ship. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” said Sjdath.

“Sort of,” confirmed Jack.

“We also have a yahg,” said Zedok.

“A yahg?” said Sjdath. “Where? You didn’t let it in here, did you? It will mess up the carpet.” She paused. “Armchair, do I have carpet?”

“We do not want to check.”

“Well, either way.” Sjdath waved them away. “Well, go. I have work to do.”

“Work? But I thought you were retired.”

“Retired work. Eating things. Complaining. Slowly fermenting. Perhaps I will lay eggs to spite the turian. Who can say?” She paused, and then seemed to remember something. “And if you see Si’y, tell that cheating ublyudok that if he even gets near my planet again I will bite off ALL of his tentacles this time!”

Everyone in the room who knew both Sjdath and Si’y shuddered, except Lyra- -who apparently had a far stronger constitution than the rest- -and Armchair, who was either to naïve to understand or just did not care.

“Right,” said Starlight. “Will do…”