The transmutation of all organic beings to synthetic was not painless. Garrus remembered the feeling clearly (all his memories are clear now, for better or for worse, and he wishes Thane was still around, now that they finally have something besides love of guns in common) the stiffness as his body turned first to ice and then fire as synthetic matter metastasized through the blood and bones of his body like white hot cancer. He knows he was lucky, not everyone caught in that galaxy wide explosion of green was able to survive the change. Many couldn't handle the update, and crumbled where they stood, their minds fried, bodies giving off the hot smell of burnt meat. Others fell catatonic, their green eyes locked on something only they could see. The Citadel has a whole research ward developed to them now.

The physical transformation had been much easier for the Geth. But the psychological aspects were another story, and though the majority were still working with the Quarians to rebuild Rannoch, the time when the Geth were a Consensus was gone for good. A sizable faction had pulled away to found their own colony, removed from the Quarians. And a few outliers had gone startlingly, violently mad.

But the worst part (and everyone agrees on this, though its become taboo to talk about it) is the reaper creatures. The husks, the scions, the abominations, the brutes, the marauders, the cannibals and the banshees, have all had their consciousness restored. They know what they are. It makes Garrus sick to think about it, when he considers all that they've already been through. All they've done. Death would be preferable to living with the knowledge of the way their lives have been tainted, their bodies used and defiled. And apparently many of them agree with him, because every day thousands of them take their own lives.

And those were just the ones given a choice.

It starts on Tuchanka. Thinking about it now, Garrus can almost make it seem logical. After all, for thousands of years the Krogan had been systematically taught one lesson again and again: on Tuchanka, only the strong survive. Their hatred for all signs of weakness made it easy to dismiss the reaper troops as soldiers that had failed, that have not earned a second chance. With the Genophage over, they finally have a bright future to look forward to. The reaper creatures have no place in it. Wrex initiates a planet wide extermination.

Garrus didn't believe it at first, no matter how many reports came in. He even contacts Wrex, though looking back he wonders what he was expecting. A denial? An explanation?

"Damn it, they're victims! They are survivors of the worst atrocities this galaxy has ever seen. We should be helping them!"

"I am helping them, Garrus. This is the only way anyone can help them," Wrex said, his gravely voice calm.

"Wrex," Garrus struggled to keep the rage and disgust in his subvocals from overwhelming his voice, "How can you do this? These are your people! We fought the Reapers to save them. Now you're becoming something worse than they were."

Wrex growls, and Garrus can hear his anger. " Don't talk to me about my people, kid. My people are used to dying for a cause. We fought the Rachni, we fought your ancestors, and we fought the Reapers. We've always known what failure meant. The weak are cut down and the strong remain. Anything less dishonors their sacrifice. "

"But we can rehabilitate them!" Garrus shouted back furiously, "Spirits, if you won't help your own people at least refrain from slaughtering ours. Every Brute is part turian. Let the Hierarchy reclaim its citizens. "

Wrex growls louder. "I'm getting pretty sick of sniveling pyjacks who come whining to me about 'rehabilitation', while their own leaders slaughter thousands behind their backs."

Garrus froze. "You can't mean that. The Primarch-"

"I mean The Primarch, the Alliance, and even the damn Asari Matriarchs know exactly what I'm doing. And they are grateful," Wrex spat. "You know why? Because every husk, marauder and banshee my program exterminates is one less reaperized body they have to deal with back home." He laughs, bitterly.

"And none of them have the quad to come out and say it, but you can bet your hump they're doing the same damn thing. Only quietly. So no one has to feel uncomfortable. Well," he sighed and his voice slipped deeper into bitterness "maybe I can't help my people, but I won't lie to them. Not so you and the rest of the galaxy can sleep easier at night, pretending everything's okay. They deserve better than that."

Garrus was quiet for several minutes. "If this is," and he broke off, mandibles twitching. He tried again. "If what you've said is true, I'll have to look into this."

The Krogan snorted with exasperation. "I'd start by taking a long hard look at whatever 'rehabilitation' program you think you've got going back on Palaven."

Garrus swore. His mind raced back to the Primarch's offer. Why hadn't he looked closer? Or was it that he had simply not wanted to know.

"Wrex," he said struggling with the words, "I'm sorry. You're right, about a lot of things. But I still don't believe that wholesale slaughter is the answer. There must be another way."

"Listen kid," and in Wrex 's deep voice he heard the unmistakable inflection of pity. "I know its been rough on you, this war. In a way, you lost more than any of us did. But you've spent too much time on the Normandy."

Garrus stiffened and was about to launch a furious retort when Wrex's next words drained all the fight out of him.

"Shepard was, well. Words don't really go far enough, do they?" He sighed. "She had a way of making the impossible happen. Finding the best case scenario, every time. Thing is, outside the Normandy, the galaxy is real short on best case scenarios. What it does have is people trying their damnedest to work with what they've got."

"And I know if she were still here, she'd be all on my hump giving me the same damn speech you just did. But she's gone. And all of us have to do the best we can with what we've got left."

Garrus didn't have much to say after that, and after a few meaningless pleasantries the call ended. Words from years ago echoed in his head.

"Why don't you head back to the Normandy, kid? If you stay here in the real world, you might have to learn something."

The Alliance, the Asari matriarchs, the Hierarchy. He'd have to start with Palaven. It would be hypocritical to start anywhere else. Despite his best efforts he started thinking what he would find, what new atrocities were waiting for him on his homeworld. He was abruptly exhausted. For the millionth time he groped for the bottle of turian brandy on his desk, before remembering, again, that since the Synthesis it was impossible to get drunk. He poured a glass anyway to keep desperation at bay and tried to focus on ways it could be worse. Wrex hadn't mentioned the Batarian Hegemony. Whatever was left of it. After the destruction of the Bahak system, they'd probably be happy to get back whatever reaperized batarians they could find. Privately Garrus thought that if anything cannibals were an improvement on the original model, but he kept that thought unspoken. There was no one left to appreciate his gallows humor.