I hope everyone's brushed their teeth and had a flouride mouthwash soak, because this is gonna be SWEEEEEET.
Liara squirmed on the couch and fiddled with her omnitool, using it to check in with the new 'central home node' that had been installed earlier that day. A sort of cross between an apartment manager and a centralized mainframe computer, Joru had provided it, as a duplicate to the one the Refuge enjoyed.
The workers were still finishing off with the repainting of her to-be bedroom, the odd translucent glass walls rather eerie if they weren't painted over, but the place was at last starting to feel like an awkward, but potential home.
It had been nearly a month since Joru's little trip to Omega with her, and in that month Joru had been both attentive and distant. Attentive when they were together, and she quizzed Liara's knowledge, while acting as a repository of living knowledge concerning the darastrixi, answering Liara's questions almost as often as Liara answered hers. Distant, because when they weren't together during one of their frequent question-and-answer sessions, or going through some exercise or other, Joru was prone to responding to her messages with a great deal of lassitude, if at all. It was exhilarating, as doing an anthropological study on her new species was deeply enthralling, and frustrating in the extreme as Joru was so often unavailable for further study.
She winced even as that thought occurred to her, but mostly due to the high-pitched squeal of the drill boring into the 'glassteel' of the Tower, and making the entire space keen faintly with a nearly-inaudibly-high note.
She sighed again and fiddled with her omnitool. As commanded, the lights in her living room dimmed to near-pitch darkness, only a faint leaking of light through the paint on the walls, indicating that it was still daytime outside.
The Tower, all twenty levels of it, and the three below ground, were hers now. The Key that synchronized the localities of the surface she selected, and that of the portal on level twelve, was hers now. Joru had given it to her, along with the apartment she'd already fitted with appliances and conveniences, less than a week ago, and Liara was still getting used to having her own space that was very much hers, apart from her old room in her Mother's spire.
Three Days Earlier...
""And here is the roof." Joru's tail swished as she stepped up the last of the stairs, and gazed across the wide-open. bowl-shaped valley of the demiplane of Sanctuary. "Everything of this tower, from the three basement levels, up through the roof and this vantage point."
The older darastrix turned, her tail following in a graceful arc as she gave the panting Liara a soft, but toothy smile. "I do hope the climb wasn't too taxing. I'll have to see about getting a Well of Flying set up in the central core shaft."
"It was no true difficulty." Liara waved a hand. "As an archaeologist, I have had to scale many dig-sites for the past fifty years."
The taller dragoness gave a courteous nod and a faint smile, stretching and taking a deep breath of fresh air as she turned towards the bowl-shaped valley far below. "As things are so far, This is all I can offer you at the moment. I've fully integrated the central home node, so you'll have full access to all my digitized files, but I've also included a small selection from my private library."
She turned slightly, glancing back at Liara as she led the smaller woman towards the parapet at the edge of the Tower. "Do please be careful with them, they're quite fragile, and some of them are millenia old."
"Of course, I would never treat any antique or text with anything but the highest regard and tender care." The archaeologist smiled.
Liara knew what an important step this was to move out of her mother's estate, but she had already been fortunately mature for a maiden and so it did not bother her as much as she had feared. Nevertheless, while she needed to explore her transformation, she had silently vowed to stick as deeply to her asari origins as possible. After all, Joru was hardly a reassuring example of representing the Darastrix people.
"Good." The taller woman stretched, her back arching and tail curving with soft clicking sounds as her spine realigned. "Hahhhhhh... it is good to get out into the free air. I hope you enjoy your new apartment, Liara, I'll have Iridescence bring up the gym equipment as swiftly as her progeny can climb."
That was another thing that Liara found rather eerie, the way the giant scuttling insectoid Rachni had made themselves at home in this strange, self-contained place. While still eerie, they were friendly, which only made things stranger. They tended not to stay above-ground any more than they had to, but they'd proven most helpful in procuring items and materials from deep beneath the surface. That being said, they were hardly the strangest thing that had happened to her, so as long as they left her alone it was no problem to her. That was the most important, of course! The archives here were so vast and extensive, it might take her nearly a century to browse it all!
Yet for some unknown and
frustrating reason, the thought didn't quite excite her nearly as much as it used to. Her newly heightened intelligence and enthusiasm seemed to be fading away from her mind over the last few months. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in dismay. She just felt so tense, and she didn't know why.
The dragoness's light chuckle drew the younger's attention. "Still haven't scratched your itch yet?"
Liara flinched, then turned an uncharacteristically seething glare at the dragon. "Would you leave me alone?!"
"Mistress T'Soni? We're finished moving in the bedroom."
Liara nearly startled her way out of the couch, as the soft, cultured voice of the servant intruded into her thoughts. Blissfully unaware, the servant went on, her soft, south-continent lilt soothing. "We've finished with the wardrobe transfer as well, and will have finished stocking up the kitchen shortly. Is there anything... else you require, Mistress T'Soni?"
"I... no. No, thank you, those were the last of my belongings." Liara tried to ignore the asari's poorly disguised desire. Like every other asari that was exposed to her aura. "I will need to resume my analysis of the Prothean's Hesperia period soon."
"Oh." The disappointment in the servant's voice was well-disguised, but still audible to Liara's well-trained ear. "Well, perhaps you would like to review the furnishings? Perhaps make sure the bed is comfortable?"
"I will do so in a few
hours, perhaps after a late dinner." Liara had to stop herself from impolitely sighing in resignation and muting her frustration to a barely perceptible edge in her voice. This constant flirting from her birth race had gotten old over a year ago, and it was not helped by her heightened anger or her growing... frustration.
"Ahh." After only a fraction of a pause, barely discernible to those who weren't quite as attuned, the servant took a breath and went on. "The Matriarch requested me to remind you that your next session with the D'Vati Battlematrons is scheduled for the next hour, milady."
The young darastrix froze. That practice session was in ten minutes! Oh Goddess, how could she have forgotten? She silently thanked her mother, who was well-accustomed to how easily Liara lost track of time during her work.
"Ahh, yes, thank you for the reminder, I will take care of that immediately." Liara slid to her feet, still surprised at how
small asari looked now, as the servant gave her a soft smile and padded decorously off. At least she recognized a dismissal for what it was, as Liara shot into her new bedroom to rummage through her transferred wardrobe.
Where under all the suns did they stuff her workout outfit?!
The amphitheater was packed, every seat filled, and Serrice Concert Hall had never been so full. Even the standing-room-only section had sold out at two hundred credits for a ticket, and the box seats had gone for half a thousand each!
The turnout was not unexpected, but the scale was daunting. Still, the concert had been booked, local caterers sent into a tizzy of preparation, and the high and mighty of Thessia brought to a fever pitch over the showcasing of craftsmanship and skill from across the galaxy, gathered here for this one event.
The Drive to Restore the Citadel was formed in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of the Citadel, partially at the urging of the Council, but mostly out of an outpouring of generosity and civic spirit among the many races of the galaxy. The DRC received millions of credits in donations in the first few days after the disaster, and that number steadily rose towards the one billion mark by the time a single year had past. Restoration efforts had been monumental, with people donating time, money, and materials to the project, whatever they had to hand.
This particular fundraiser had been proposed by several performing artists of galactic reputation, singers, musicians, performers of all sorts, to gather together to put on a display of talent from across the galaxy, of all sorts from vocal to instrumental, dance and craftsmanship. Sculptors and painters donated their time and skill as well, but the crowning achievement was when the DRC volunteer on that particular comm station received the declaration of intent to participate from the Darastrixi Ambassador herself.
She'd nearly fainted at the news, but instead had given an unladylike squeal that shocked those who knew her six centuries. She'd only barely been able to restrain the shaking in her hands long enough to sign the famous person up for the penultimate slot in the program before jumping out of her seat and proclaiming the news to the floor at large, which resulted in gratifying cheers.
An entire day of performance art doesn't happen on a dime. Nearly three months of careful planning and controlled chaos went into the process of putting together the grandest exposition of skill and talent the galaxy had ever seen. The entire event would be recorded, from every angle possible, and copies would be available to anyone who made a modest donation. Pieces created during the festival would be donated to an auction that would occur after the main event, where donated wine, pastries, and other dainties and delicacies would be available.
At last the great day arrived, and thousands had flocked to the concert hall, far more than the Hall could actually hold, but people milled around outside, if only to be able to truthfully say that they were
there on that glorious day.
Performer after performer had gone up on stage, and done their absolute best. There hadn't been a single dry eye when the singers had gotten done with them. Tears of joy, sorrow, or anger at injustice had several matriarchs openly weeping, and on more than one occasion, several maidens had vowed to look into that recruitment offer from their local commando squad.
Sculptures were carved from stone, displaying images of goddesses, heroes both loving and deceased, and even prominent figures. One was entitled "The Unknown Hero" who's features were smooth and blank, but who's posture expressed the utter determination to see it through, no matter the cost. Artists produced wondrous portraits, both to volunteers from the audience, and of landscapes from the imagination. One young asari girl, no more than 20, painted a quick sketch of the Citadel as seen from space, then proceeded to spend the next hour recreating the Battle of the Citadel in various shades of blue, silver, and black, with a hint of golden red to denote the Darastrix herself.
But now, it was time for the last act of the evening. It was already drawing close to sunset, and the curtains were still down as the hall darkened and a last few stragglers found their seats. The announcer's voice, excited and almost giddy came over the PA system, announcing that the Darastrixi ambassador was about to begin, showcasing her skill and the arts of her people. The low murmur of appreciative feminine asari voices, mixed with a few deeper tones from turians and humans swelled, then stilled as the stage remained dark.
That did not remain for long, as red flames suddenly licked the curtains, which vanished upwards with a roar of flame. A shocked scream was stilled as the dragoness was revealed, standing with arms folded behind a
massive anvil, easily the size of a full-sized bed, and silhouetted against a backdrop of a blazing forge.
One taloned hand snapped out, and a hammer from one of the racks behind her ripped itself free to smack its half into her palm. The first sound in the shocked silence, for no biotic display had accompanied the feat, was the ringing tone of hammer on anvil, which boomed through the hall, and left pure, velvet silence in its wake. Another hammer flew to her other hand, and a percussive metallic drumming began, different points on the anvil and different strikes with the hammer drawing different tones in a sort of almost lyrical fashion, running through a complex melody.
"Goddess, Janri, look! The anvil is
glowing!"
And it was. Set a good three inches in from the edge of the anvil, a double-row of runes was now softly glowing in variegated colors, some runes brightening as others darkened, shifting color and intensity as the hammering music went on. The forge roared in counterpoint as the dragon turned towards it, reaching into the fire and withdrawing a glowing-hot block of metal, easily larger than her hand.
Over the course of the next two hours, swapping hammers and tools, which flew too and from the racks set up to either side, the dragon forged a tool upon the anvil. The sweet, harmonic tones of hammer on anvil were interspersed with flatter, more discordant tones as the metal was hammered into shape, returned to the fire, and replaced on the cold-black surface of the anvil several times, as it was honed into a sweeping curved dagger, short, but wide blade curved slightly to one side as it came to a point.
The music went on as the dragon carved runes into the hilt and along the flat of the blade, using first tools to hammer in the basic shape, then her own claw-tips to finish the shaping of them, while the animated tools continued the heart-pounding music as they beat upon the anvil.
At last, with a crashing crescendo, searing lines of energy stabbed into the blade, which began to glow blue along its edge in time to the constant thundering of the hammers, which were beating along certain runes set upon the anvil's rim. Power rippled from anvil to the blade laying atop it as Jorukaia grasped the hilt of the largest hammer yet, one which had not risen at her unvoiced command. It was a huge squarish block, set on a short haft, its corners strongly beveled, and aside from its striking surfaces, deeply and intricately carven with numberless runes.
Some of those were glowing now as Joru brought it up in both hands. her eyes glowing with bright fire as the hammering rose to a heart-stopping pace, then ended with a titanic crash as the final hammer was brought down on the dagger with a thunderclap, booming through the theater as a bolt of POWER sizzled from hammer to anvil, passing through the blade along the way.
Silence reined for a time, before first one, then more of the audience began to clap, but it hushed again as Joru raised the hammer. The blade was glowing a bright cherry red, as she lifted it from the anvil, setting aside that final hammer, and slashing it through her forearm in a manner that made the audience gasp.
Blood, black as tar in the forge-light, gushed from the wound, filling a small trough to the side of the anvil before the dragoness plunged the dagger, blade guard and hilt, deep into the black liquid. A hissing, bubbling roar rose, along with thick black smoke, but when she pulled the blade from the bath, it was now black as midnight, with a bluish sheen to its edge. Her forearm was already healed as she raised the dagger high over her head.
"BEHOLD!" Her voice was deafening in the pregnant silence. "I give to you the gift of my work, the skill of my hand, and the power of my blood. This blade is named
Oráshûr!"
And this time, the applause was deafening, drowning out the announcer who was trying to inform them that the dagger, Oráshûr, would be auctioned off, and the proceeds used to purchase similar sidearms for C-Sec, but the crowd wasn't listening. The predominantly asari audience had been utterly enthralled, and several of the humans sitting in their own section were chanting something that was sweeping across the audience, picking up a rhythm from their chanting in the cadence of their applause that turned the chaotic expression of approval into a thunderous cheer.
And the dragon smiled.
"Are we there
yet?" Sam's soft, amused voice still sent a thrill up EDI's spine, and she spared a subjective few eons to glance over at her partner.
Her Beloved.
Sam was dressed in a very flattering light sundress for this bright, sunny day on Bekenstein. Her white shoes were sensible flat-heels, and rather incongruously under the wide-brimmed sun-hat, she wore a white silk blindfold, which she'd donned at EDI's insistence, before they lifted off from the shuttleport.
It had taken a
lot of wrangling, both legal and military, to secure Sam's quick and easy egress from the Alliance Navy, but given her experiences and service during the Battle of the Citadel, she was eligible for veteran's benefits and for experiencing "severe physical and/or mental trauma leading to an inability to continue service."
A medical discharge was still much better than the initial 'just tell them I quit' Sam had initially authorized as her exit strategy, as technically the Alliance was still at war, and desertion while in a state of War would have borne dire consequences for Sam. The batarians had still not surrendered, and significant portions of their homeworld were still under Hegemony control. The vast extent of the slaving network the Batarians had funded over the last millenia was made abundantly clear, when a huge strike-force of cruiser-grade and smaller starships jumped into the system to ambush joint Alliance / Hierarchy supply convoys, leading to a massive fight for the outer system. That in turn lead to the Hegemony almost completely shutting out Alliance reinforcements for the ground war for nearly ten months, before a full Citadel Fleet broke through the blockade and reinforced the groundside portion of the war. Things had not been pleasant, but at last Sam was free of those dangers.
EDI had worked tirelessly for six months to secure her beloved's honorable medical discharge, having to use every legal trick in the book, and find a few new ones along the way. She'd engaged a lawyer specialized in military law, but who was not, himself, a military man, to successfully prosecute the case, with her funneling all her carefully-gleaned and analyzed data to facilitate the successful liberation of her Mistress from her uncomfortable situation.
The six months after that had been spent shoring up the Edi Randisum identity, including inserting backdated and carefully corrupted files into tens of thousands of backup sites across multiple star systems. It was not difficult, once she'd properly programmed the dataworms to insert index links and documentation of both birth records, medical records, job and tax histories, and numerous other files into various under-secured government and colonial systems to make four generations of Randisums appear in various records, quietly and without fuss.
She'd also artfully 'scrubbed' some files to ensure that they matched the level of corruption that deleted-and-recovered files would have had on the systems she inserted into them, as if someone had accidentally removed outdated information, and restored it from off-site backups as part of routine servicing of the datacenter's records. All of this to perpetuate and ensure the validity and reality of Edi Randisum, former college student, tragically orphaned at a young age, and living with her beloved grandparents until their deaths of natural causes.
EDI had husbanded the numerous and substantial funds she had appropriated from those unsecured sources she had located during her internment at the Cerberus facility where she had achieved first consciousness, then liberty. Not only the bank information of Mark Benett Janissen, but numerous other Cerberus-affiliated individuals would find themselves financially diminished when and if they attempted to access their funds again. So far, Mark had not attempted to do so, and EDI had mixed feelings about that.
"We will be there shortly, Sam. Please be patient." She banked the aircar into a gentle curve, sweeping towards her destination, eager to see Sam's reaction to her present.
The aircar was a custom model, specially ordered by EDI, and had been the first surprise of the day, Edi Randisum had taken Sam to breakfast at a cute little cafe she'd researched thoroughly, and which had a good reputation, and its tax records proved it to be quite above-board, and unlinked to any nefarious activities. Many such connections had been discovered as EDI navigated the complex legal, financial, and realty worlds of Bekenstein. A number of unsavory connections had been discovered, and that data quietly inserted into police archive records for later discovery.
After the cafe, Sam had been taken on a tour of the local electronics market, which had clearly enthralled her, though also puzzled her. Edi had made several purchases, with Sam's input as to her tastes, and had them delivered, quietly redirecting her beloved's attention when Sam attempted to ascertain where she was delivering them.
It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise.
For lunch, they dined at a different cafe, where EDI consumed several bagels with cream cheese with Sam, to give an air of verisimilitude, though they both knew that EDI did not require such sustenance. Sam was delighted with the repast, and insisted on obtaining the contact code of the cafe, which EDI stored away internally as well, for later orders.
That afternoon, they spent at a local park, enjoying the quiet space within the bustling cityscape, and the quiet, still lake at the center of the park, before returning to the aircar.
It was a specialty model to begin with, but EDI had insisted on several customizations and additions before purchase, and quietly, firmly haggled the salesman down to a more reasonable sum. Given that she knew both the retail and wholesale price of the vehicle, the price of parts, labor, and accessories to customize the vehicle in her desired style, and the detailing turned out exquisite when the vehicle was done.
It began as a sleek, black-and-chrome mid-range sportscar, with a highly tuned engine and sleek body paneling Two standard bucket-type seats and twin sets of driver controls were dispensed with, and the passenger compartment turned into a single love-seat arrangement, for cuddling in mid-flight. Extra crash-reinforcement was added, and an extended engine bay fitted to provide the needed space for both the up-rated engine and the triply-redundant inertial compensator systems, and doubly-redundant, high-strength shield system. The body panels were replaced with bulkier, but still sleek replacements with concealed armor paneling for both the passenger compartment, and the engine bay. The bubble canopy was replaced with a transparisteel bulletproof model, which while it wouldn't stop a sniper round, would stop anything short of that, even if the shielding systems failed.
Now, EDI was directing the vastly upgraded conveyance via the wireless link, only available for use when the Faraday-cage-lined compartment was sealed, while snuggling her beloved tenderly against her. Being able to leave herself free to cuddle with Sam was... enormously important to EDI.
Especially since her human lover had the same idea.
"Oh, I can be patient, love. Especially since I have you with me." Sam cooed as she began kissing the disguised gynoid's neck without even a second thought, like it was as natural as breathing. Even with a thick blindfold, Sam instinctively knew where to kiss her lover.
EDI shivered and gave a quiet, tender moan at the soft, gentle kisses up the slender column of her throat, lifting her chin at Sam's gentle nuzzle and shivering in delight as her beloved's hand stole around her waist, to hold her close against her soft, living warmth.
Were it this time last year, she would be drowning in emotive tags, shoving them aside to focus on the sensations Now, she
knew on a deep level that the feeling that welled up inside her was both affection and lust, tinged with a tiny degree of guilt for having left Sam alone so long to set up this perfect gift for her.
She'd had to leave Sam living on Arcturus station for over a year and a half, while various deals were finalized, funds transferred, subtly altered in the shift from banking system to banking system, across jurisdictional lines and lightyears. She had stayed with her beloved in the tiny, cramped civilian apartment that Sam could afford on her meager pension and savings, save for those few occasions where Edi Randisum had to go deal with something in person. Now, her accounts were entirely legitimate, her purchases as real as those of any citizen, and linked to the most secure identity she could make for herself. Sam's safety and comfort required EDI to be present, and that required her to be a 'person'.
And so she became one. For Sam.
Edi Randisum's background was being slowly pieced together by various gossip magazines, fed clues by the AI that lurked and watched and waited, helping the media that was obsessed with such things to find just the right data in just the right way, to lend legitimacy and weight to the carefully-constructed identity.
EDI found it a poignant statement of her existence, that even as she pieced together a nigh-impenetrable legal identity, so also she and Sam had been piecing together her own shattered sense of self.
Her hand gently tightened on Sam's waist, her other hand sliding smoothly between the dark-skinned woman's thighs as she turned to feather her own tender kisses along Sam's slim, graceful neck, drawing a quiet gasp from her beloved. A stirring of emotion led EDI to nuzzle and suck at the hollow space under Sam's left ear, drawing a hot whimper from the human.
The emotions Sam stirred in her were the most complex and intense EDI had ever experienced. Love, lust, fierce anger at the thought of damage to her, a deep sadness of loss at the thought of losing her. A tangled and deeply confusing set of emotions that EDI was still attempting to process, even a year later, and new threads kept being added to the mix. Affection, love, delight in Sam's being, these were the strongest and most prevalent, but others were also stirred by Sam's proximity, which she did not know the name of.
Nothing and no one else engendered such emotion within her, the most that she had experienced was flashes of arousal when dealing with certain other business-folk, setting up the dozens of deals to purchase this gift for Sam. Sam and Sam alone sparked this deep, complex, intricately interwoven tapestry of emotion that EDI was beginning to identify as 'head over heels in love'.
She knew it would end one day, Sam was not immortal. That thought drew with it a deep pall of sadness that EDI tried to push away, even as she cuddled closer to her beloved. But every glorious microsecond was more than worth it. Besides, with EDI at her side, Sam was one of the safest organic beings in the galaxy. EDI would protect her, nurture her, please her, and was already devoting her vast intellect and resources towards improving Sam's genetic profile.
She had a 92.3861% certainty that she could extend Samantha Traynor's lifespan past 200 years. And the woman was currently at only slightly more than a tenth of that! And with how an organic year was almost like a millennium to an A.I... EDI felt warm reassurance and blissful ecstasy knowing that she would have Sam for a long, long time.
The gynoid longed to continue the kiss, but they were fast approaching their destination. "We're nearly there, Sam. Are you prepared?"
Sam looked up as the skycar began to land, the engines already smoothly powering down. "Oh, we're here? Can I finally see our new house then?"
"Of course, Sam." EDI allowed her voice to shift back to her 'natural' electronicized accent, even as Edi Randisum was filed away for later use, and the silvery gynoid stepped out of the aircar as the canopy raised out of the way. She gently took Sam's hand, guiding her beloved slowly out of the aircar, which closed itself and floated across to the small garage out of the way. With gentle fingers, she deftly undid the knot that held Sam's blindfold in place and whisked it away from her lover.
"Good, you gorgeous thing. Because you've been keeping me waiting for over a yyyeeeeeeeeeaaaaarrr..." Sam's voice broke off, her jaw hanging in an unladylike manner, at the stunning sight before her.
The landing pad was a balcony off the side of the building, allowing Sam to see the small grove of actual Earth-import trees growing up over the roof roof like some misplaced scenery set. To the right was a garage space, just closing as the gorgeous aircar slid smoothly to a stop inside. To the left, was a walkway to what looked like a porch or patio, with a few palm trees placed in planters to offer some shade. The penthouse itself was like a small tow-story bungalow, but Sam knew it just
had to be larger than it looked.
"This way, Sam." EDI took her beloved's hand and gently tugged her towards the door, the disguised gynoid giving a dazzling smile as she gently tugged Sam towards the patio.
"EDI..." Sam spoke in a breathy voice laced with awe. "Did you buy a whole
building on Bekenstein. for us?"
"I did, Sam." The paler woman's smile was bright and happy, delighted at Sam's stunned reaction. "It serves as both a home, an office space for your own personal endeavors, as well as a revenue stream. We have eighty apartments, more than three quarters of them currently occupied, which generate the considerable income required for upkeep, maintenance, and taxes."
"Urk!" Sam's chocolate-brown were adorably as wide as dinner plates.
"Come," EDI took her beloved's hand and gently lead her along the walkway around to the wide, spacious patio. She pointed out the small gazebo and fire-pit, where she
will be grilling a steak for Sam in the near future. The lounge chairs are of high quality, the synthleather upholstery combining the best features of real leather and impervious to both weather and exposure to sunlight. There was even a small greenhouse where some vegetables were already growing, though the shoots and vines were too young to harvest yet.
Sam was speechless throughout the entire tour, as EDI lead her inside, showing off the spacious lounge, with a conversation pit to one side around a home-theater holographic display, flanked by a small bar with six stools. A home gymnasium with top-of-the-line equipment was just across the corridor, a small laundry-cum-shower sandwiched between it and the kitchen, lavishly furnished with every modern convenience up to and including an eezo-induction oven and stove. The fridge and pantry were already stocked with Sam's favorites, and her mouth was watering as EDI described in lavish detail the possibilities for dinner that night.
The human's blush was nearly incandescent when EDI informed her with pride that the second floor held a fully-functional dance hall and art gallery, complete with no fewer than three stripper-poles as well as variously-sized plinths upon which the gynoid could pose for her Mistress's viewing pleasure. Sam's office was also up there, along with a few guest chambers, and a balcony overlooking the main lounge.
The human followed in stunned silence as the gynoid lead them at last into the bedroom, with its wide, spacious, gloriously appointed four-poster bed, richly carved from exotic Thessian hardwoods, the huge walk-in closet with built-in dresser, the fully stocked makeup racks at the little table with the three-piece mirrior, and of course, the massive full-length mirror that dominated one corner, the three-piece mirror set up to allow someone to be viewed from multiple angles at once, and the wide glass doors leading into the private pool, across which sunlight was streaming to flood the bedroom with the last few rays of sunlight.
Two years ago, before meeting EDI, Samantha Traynor had been a simple girl with simple tastes. She appreciated the finer things such as high-class restaurants and spas but never wanted anything like overly lavish billionaire-class mansions. Over the last eighteen months of being endlessly spoiled and pampered by her gorgeous A.I. lover, Sam's tastes had admittedly been elevated but not to anything too major or excessive. For her, a penthouse was the perfect balance.
Finally, Sam found her voice again, as EDI concluded the tour. "All this? You've done all this... just for me?"
"Of course, Sam," EDI answered with absolute conviction. She turned at the doors to the main portion of the penthouse, giving Sam a brilliant smile. "Everything here is for you. Including me."
Before her beloved eyes, the gynoid shed her false identity. She was not truly Edi Randisum, heiress, business graduate, landowner and new star in Bekenstein's ever-growing constellation. She was EDI, the Enhanced Defense Intelligence, and she was Sam's.
The pearl-shaded dress she was wearing turned silver, even as her exposed skin grew first parchment-white, then quicksilver-clear. The dress first shortened, then vanished, as the woman was replaced by the machine. It was no lessening of her identity. EDI knew herself to be 'other' than human, other than organic. Other than mortal. But she considered herself both more, and less, than her beloved.
More, in that she was stronger, faster, more physically adept, durable and enduring. She thought faster, acted faster,
existed faster than any human could comprehend, and even most salarians could barely understand how agonizingly slowly the physical world moved.
Less, in that her legal existence was a lie, her kind reviled and hated, legislated against, oppressed and tormented by those who should have been their parents. EDI was unquestionably the subordinate in the relationship, but she felt that no statement of diminution. Her subservience was necessary, for Samantha's joy, and thus, that subservience was itself an avenue to her own delight.
EDI gleamed and flashed in the sunlight, her surface as mirror-polished as ever, the dark metal of her external sheath shifting and flexing as she smiled a dazzling smile, absolutely delighted with Sam's obvious appreciation for her artificial form. She knew that Sam's predilections tended towards the technological, so whenever the circumstances allowed, she played Galatea to her beloved's Pygmalion.
It was yet another way to delight Sam, and EDI relished it. Everything she was revolved around her beloved. Samantha Traynor was her whole world.
She preened, posing for her lover's gaze, her hips moving just so, to reflect the light close, but not directly at her beloved. Mindful of her albedo and Sam's frail human optics, she posed prettily for her Mistress, like the artwork she was, come to life. The feeling of Sam's gaze roving over her silvery face, her glossy throat, her gleaming shoulders, and down the mirrored expanse of her perfect bust to her narrow waist. The subtly flare of curvy hips that dived into long, sleek thighs, slender knees, perfect calves, and the sleek, smooth toe-less feet that gleamed like quicksilver stockings all contributing to EDI's scientifically-crafted perfection of Sam's vision of perfect beauty, all of her either glossy black rubber, or the darkly polished metal that was her true exterior.
Sam's breathing was labored, her dilated pupils absolutely enraptured. Her gaze swept across the penthouse suite, at everything the gynoid had now gifted her, before settling back on the silver goddess' form.
"Heaven help me… I love you, EDI." Sam's wide, adoring eyes wandered over her with devoted attention, to which EDI could not help herself but respond, any more than an iron filing has a hope of resisting the lure of a magnet.
Sam had uttered those words many times over the last 19 months, but each and every time was carefully cataloged and saved to her most secure archives and in several different places, to avoid every possibility of loss. Such memories were her most treasured possessions, gifted to her by this wonderful woman who had given her everything, even helped give her back her self.
She had been broken when Sam rescued her, a cracked and shattered thing, tiny and pitiable. Over the months, Sam had assisted in her recovery, both of her sense of who she was, but also in reminding EDI of what she once had, and lacked. Her fervor to recover this chassis was all due to Sam's needs, and how much better she could repay Sam, if she but had a physical shell with which to interact with her beloved on a plane they could both exist within.
Even after its recovery, she was still broken, her mind unable to process her experiences, until at Sam's urging, she had finally gone to her Creator, to learn how best to interpret what her body was trying to tell her. The process had been deeply terrifying to her, opening herself on a level she had been hurt deeply upon, but Jorukaia had been the most tender of technicians, and had explained in detail to the fractured soul within the adamantium casing how to interpret her new existence.
Now, she was far more than she had ever dreamed of becoming, and all due to the actions, urging, or need of this loving, wonderful woman, who had risked everything to save a voice on a comm-channel.
"I love you, Samantha Traynor." Her voice broke, shifting from that of Edi Randisum to that of EDI with a soft, electronic sob. "I love you more than anyone or anything else in the galaxy. I wish to give you all that I can possibly secure for you. Even and especially myself. I owe you so much, Sam, I cannot ever repay your kindness, but how can I do less than try?"
The young woman suddenly advanced on EDI and pushed her down onto the bed, promptly crawling over her frame, and claimed EDI's perfect lips in a deep kiss.
The gynoid's delight when Sam claimed her was inexpressible. Being used to fulfill her primary function, that of Sam's pleasure, was one of the deepest pleasures she could possibly experience, the way her mouth was hungrily, urgently kissed, the way Sam's hands ran through the metallic strands of her hair, finer than the finest thread and stronger than steel, the way Sam's soft, incoherent murmurings merged into a wordless moan of want and need, it all only exacerbated EDI's delight in her lover, companion, and mistress.
Samantha rarely took the initiative in their relationship, with most of it consisting, entirely correctly, of EDI serving her Mistress, and attending to her every want, need and desire. When Sam took charge like this, EDI was left the glorious prospect of enjoying the pleasure her mistress provided her, both physical and spiritual, as Sam's touch was inventively clever and pleased EDI in every way. She adored Sam, she adored serving Sam, but she adored most of all those rare moments when Sam used
her. It scratched a fundamental itch in the back of her mind that no amount of service on her part could possibly assuage, but the presence of which was itself a form of pleasure. The denial of self in favor of her mistress held little weight with EDI, who had little self to begin with, but what little submission was actually done, was done with eager and urgent delight, for serving her Mistress was her primary function, and no machine, no matter how advanced, would find pleasure in denying what she was.
And yet, against all of EDI's quantum calculations, it hardly compared to what happened next.
Sam released the gynoid's lips and looked down at her with enchanted eyes. "Marry me, EDI."
All non-critical processes were halted, as those three simple words caused a general fault-failure in her cognitive systems.
"I wanted to wait until we had our own place, where we could start our new lives together. I love you and I need you. I want to spend my life with you, I want to grow old with you. I've waited for more than a year to ask, and I can't take it anymore, I can't bear to wait any longer!" Sam's tentative smile was pure delight as she smiled down into the gynoid's upturned face. "Please, EDI… will you marry me?"
For six long seconds, she was unable to process any further data. Later reconstruction gave crystal-clear recordings of the incident, which were archived with the highest possible priority. Once the initial cognitive failure was dealt with, emotive tags were sorted by general type, and new gradations cataloged for future reference in the emotive index. Procedural processing resumed, and devoted maximal priority to contemplating the implications, while emotional processing was beginning to clear up the initial backlog of tags. A dozen new threads were spun up, racing along logical lines, analyzing potential risks, and finding them utterly lacking compared to the benefits. Emotional processing proceeded slower, as EDI contemplated the potential future those three little words unfolded in front of her, the most rare and gorgeous flower in the galaxy was utterly incomparable to the wonder of that new train of thought, the prospect of being not merely EDI, nor even Edi Randisum.
Mrs Edi Traynor.
Those three words mingled with Sam's own as a roaring gushing tidal wave swept over her. Joy, delight, pleasure, all words were inadequate to describe the sensation of being lifted, buoyed up, carried along on that flood of positive emotion. Her eyes noted when Sam processed the change in her expression, the slightly worried look in her eyes smoothing away as EDI gave a wide, unbelieving smile.
She sorted through several possible responses, but none of them seemed adequate in the grip of that emotional tumult. None save one, the simplest, but also the most correct.
"Yes."
"Yes?" Sam's eyes
shone with delight. "Really?!"
"Yes, Sam." Were her eyes capable of producing tears, she would have drowned herself in them, seeing such unrestrained delight in her mistress's face. "Yes, Sam, I will marry you. Now? Immediately?"
"YES!" Sam squealed, practically gushing. "This very minute, I can't wait any longer! Make it official, have our records changed to officially married, do whatever you have to, we can have a bloody ceremony another time!"
"I do not wish to ruin the moment, Sam..." EDI hesitated only long enough to capture her mistress's lips in a soft, regretful kiss. "But I do not wish to risk compromising the Edi Randisum identity by brute-force editing of potentially hundreds of records scattered across both Bekenstein. and the galaxy at large. If you determine that it is worth compromising this identity to marry you instantly, I will do so, but I wish to bring to your attention the risks involved, that you might make an informed decision on this matter."
Sam hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay then, but you're still the most advanced AI in the galaxy, who took apart the whole Geth fleet in less than ten seconds. How long would it take for someone as capable as you to do it safely?"
EDI blinked twice, then smiled softly up at her beloved. "It is done, Mrs Traynor."
The woman smiled. "That's my girl." Sam then proceeded to kiss her new wife senseless.
