15 December, 2186

Dear Father,

It's…strange, being on the Normandy without Shepard. This was always her ship. We were her crew. It's been almost six months since the Battle of Earth, but…I still miss her. I know Garrus does too. He and I haven't seen much of each other lately, though. Primarch Victus called him back to Palaven to assist with reconstruction efforts. He wanted to stay with the rest of us, but you know how turians are. Duty always comes first.

Admiral Hackett finally appointed a new Captain for the ship. To the surprise of most of us, he chose Ashley. You remember Lieutenant Commander Williams, don't you? She stuck a gun in your face at Shepard's memorial, after you made that rather tasteless joke about Shepard's love life. She's gotten more serious lately. I get the feeling she didn't WANT command. I can understand why. That spot…all of us still feel that it belongs to Shepard. It just doesn't seem right to have someone else giving orders, even if Ashley has done a wonderful job so far.

Do…do you ever miss Mother? I dream about her sometimes. I wonder if she'd be proud of us, of what we've done. We saved the galaxy and ended an eons-old cycle of slaughter and extinction. I just…I don't know. I never really understood her. And losing Shepard…I may be the only person on this ship who understands what Garrus is going through. Shepard and I…we bonded, shortly after she rescued me from the Therum dig. We never really talked about it after that, and when she started seeing Garrus I gave it my blessing, but…I still had feelings for her. I guess I just wanted her to be happy.

I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I've been spending quite a bit of time with Javik lately, and I suppose some of his tendencies are rubbing off on me. He's quite fascinating, Father. The Protheans are NOTHING like we thought. They're…strange. Savage in war, but noble in peace, at least to hear Javik tell it. Their empire spanned the galaxy, but was very tightly managed. That was part of its downfall, it seems. With the Citadel under Reaper control, the Protheans couldn't organize any sort of resistance and they fell apart. Javik is VERY intelligent, by the way, though he doesn't seem to think so. And for all his cultural posturing, I think he enjoyed watching "Vaenia" with me last night. I've also caught him competing against geth in "Galaxy of Fantasy"…and winning. Let that sink in for a moment.

I…guess I should stop talking now. The Normandy has no official XO, but with Garrus gone Ashley seems to rely on me for advice. I also need to handle some of my…private business. You know what I mean. And I think Admiral Hackett wanted to talk to me. Let no one say my life is boring…

May the Goddess keep you safe until we meet again, Father.

Love,
Liara

Liara sat back from her terminal with a small sigh. It had been a long six months. Between Shepard's memorial service, the legal battle between the Systems Alliance and the Citadel Council over who owned the Normandy (which the Alliance won, but only with major concessions to the Council), various rebuilding efforts, and the Normandy's crew being used by the Alliance as highly mobile troubleshooters, Liara had barely had time to sleep, let alone take time to relax. The last time Shepard died, the crew had gradually drifted apart. This time, it seemed like they were hanging together more tightly than ever. They were all they had left. Aside from Garrus going back to Palaven and Wrex remaining on Tuchanka to lead his people, almost every surviving member of Shepard's squads was currently serving aboard the Normandy. Even Kasumi Goto was lurking around the port cargo bay, though nobody seemed quite sure what her duty assignment was. She seemed to spend most of her time needling Javik and making smart remarks about Ashley's new position of authority.

Javik…Liara had been spending most of her time with him lately. He was fascinating, in a somewhat scary way. His mood had lightened considerably since the Reapers were defeated, and he was even helping her write her new book. But he still seemed very reserved, and he refused to discuss anything personal. At least he was trying to adapt to his new life, though. Liara had had to have some gloves custom-made so that he could touch objects without being forced to relive their trace memories, but-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Liara sighed, speaking without looking up. "Glyph, who is that?"

The information drone hummed quietly for a moment, then answered in its slightly nasal voice. "The Prothean is here to see you, Dr. T'soni."

Liara chuckled. She could SWEAR Glyph was jealous of how much time she spent with Javik. Not that she could blame it. It seemed like all she did anymore was work on her book or consult with the crew. Somebody had apparently decided she should be the ship's therapist. After just a few short months of this, she had to wonder how the Consort could have tolerated it as a career.

She shook her head, clearing the thoughts. "Let him in, Glyph. Activate the usual dictation and recording suites."

"Yes, Doctor."

The door slowly slid open, revealing Javik's imposing form. He stepped in, glancing around the cabin with the trademark casual thoroughness of a trained soldier. He stopped a few feet away from Liara, standing stiffly. "Dr. T'soni. We should talk."

Liara raised an eyebrow. Usually she had to go to HIM to start conversations. "What is on your mind, Javik?"

Javik turned, pacing the length of Liara's cabin. "I have been thinking. During the war, my people had many plans. The bunker that you found me in was one of them. You have told me of the scientists on Ilos. We had no way to communicate with each other, Liara. The left hand did not know what the right hand was doing. I am wondering…what if there are other bunkers? Other places that were not touched by the Reapers? My people numbered in the trillions, every one a soldier. There must have been at least ONE place where the power did not fail, where everything functioned properly."

Liara frowned slightly. Javik sounded almost…desperate. She spoke quietly, trying to avoid offending the prickly alien. "Javik…none of the technology we've seen your people use was designed to last this long. I understand wanting to find others like you, I do. But the odds of there being any other survivors are slim to none. If there WERE any out there, don't you think we would have found them by now?"

Javik snorted, eyes narrowing slightly in a very recognizable gesture of annoyance. "You speak of the 'odds', as if they mean anything. The odds of me surviving were slim to none. The odds of you primitives defeating the Reapers were even smaller. And yet both events came to pass. Do not speak to me of odds, asari. My people would have found a way to survive. We were at the apex of our technological evolution. If there was a way, ANY way, we would have found it."

"And yet, you all died. And WE had to stop the Reapers because YOU couldn't!" Liara almost immediately regretted this frustrated outburst as Javik rounded on her, eyes flaming, a faint green biotic aura forming around his hands.

"Show some RESPECT, you insolent…" Javik stopped, taking a deep breath. The aura vanished as his shoulders sagged. "I am…sorry, Doctor. Even after this long, the thought of being the last of my people is painful to me. I must believe that there are others. That I was not the only fortunate one."

Liara blinked. Javik never apologized. He never explained himself. He'd had outbursts like this before, but then he'd just brushed it off as nothing and asked her to leave. She spoke cautiously. "Javik…if there ARE others, surely one of them would have woken by now. You said yourself that your VI was meant to awaken you when the Reapers were gone, and it only failed to do so because it was damaged in a subsequent attack."

Javik nodded. "I am aware of what I have said. But that does not mean I am wrong. Another facility may have used different methods. Had different systems. My people were very ingenious. Our love of war drove our development, and our technology grew accordingly. We had many different ways of preserving life. Somewhere, someone must have used one of those methods and found a way to avoid detection by the Reapers. I want to find them. I want to tell them the good news, that the Reapers are gone. That the war is over."

Liara nodded, seeing through Javik's façade. She smiled slightly. "You're lonely, aren't you?"

Javik froze. "Lonely? I do not understand the concept."

Liara snorted, holding in a burst of laughter. "Javik, don't lie to me! If you're lonely, it's alright to admit it. I feel lonely quite often, even though I'm surrounded by friends. If anyone has a cause to feel lonely, it's you."

Javik scowled. "I am not 'lonely', asari. And I will not stand here and be insulted by a primitive."

Javik turned on his heel, stomping out. Liara sighed, closing her terminal and flopping down on the bed at the back of her cabin. Javik was always unpredictable. Some days he was happy to sit and talk for hours, others he would get offended at the slightest thing and lock himself in his quarters for hours or days at a time. His mercurial nature was one of the things she never understood about him, or about ANY of the shorter-lived races. Maybe it had something to do with their metabolisms? Liara made a mental note to contract some biologists to study the matter before falling asleep.

-

Admiral Steven Hackett sat at his desk in the Normandy's Executive Office, formerly the conference room, originally the tech labs. As the senior surviving Alliance military officer, it was his duty to maintain and direct not only his Fifth Fleet, but all Alliance military resources. It was quite the job, but he found it as rewarding as it was challenging. He'd originally intended to take the Normandy as his flagship after the cleanup began, but the moment he came aboard he could sense the atmosphere. This ship wasn't his, and it never would be. For that matter, it wasn't really an Alliance ship, never mind what colors it flew. This ship belonged to Commander Shepard and her crew, and to try and take it from them would be disrespecting everything all of them had done for humanity. So he'd given command to the senior human officer aboard and asked only that she give him space for an office. The Normandy was a powerful symbol now, a symbol of the power of the combined Citadel races, and he knew that every time a missive came from this ship, it gave a morale boost to the other units scattered throughout the galaxy. It relieved them to know that the Normandy was still out there, keeping the peace and putting out fires before they could start.

Hackett was knocked out of his reverie by the chiming of the door connecting his office to the CIC. The door slid open to reveal Ashley Williams, wearing her decidedly non-regulation Spectre uniform and looking like somebody had crammed a heavy cruiser up her ass. She seemed constantly intimidated by him, probably because of the so-called "Williams curse". He'd never blamed General Williams for surrendering, though. He had been a good man, and his decisions were always tactically sound. It was a pity such a damn fine officer had to lose his career that way, though. On the other hand, if that stigma hadn't existed his granddaughter might never have ended up in command of the most advanced ship humanity had ever produced, serving alongside some of the most capable and fearsome warriors in the galaxy.

Hackett glanced up, tone deadpan. "At ease, Lieutenant Commander. Stand any straighter and somebody's going to mistake you for a hat rack."

Ashley flushed, dropping to an at-ease posture. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"What did you need, Commander?"

Ashley sighed. "Sir, I know you assigned the Normandy to border patrol and putting down rebel krogan enclaves, but I really think we could be put to better use elsewhere."

Hackett raised an eyebrow, motioning to a chair in front of his desk. "Sit down, Commander. Let's hear your proposal."

Ashley sat nervously, trying not to fidget. "Well…think about it. This ship's meant for stealth and recon. It's even right there in the name, "SSV Normandy, Stealth/Reconnaissance 2". And our crew…we're not exactly your standard Marines, sir, even if some of us started off that way. We're trained and experienced in precision strikes against MASSIVELY superior forces. It just doesn't feel RIGHT to sit in the ship while Joker and EDI blow up fortresses from orbit. We need something that actually uses our skills."

Hackett watched Ashley calmly, voice quiet. "So…you're suggesting that I authorize you to go out and pick a fight, Commander? Seems pretty foolhardy, especially with how fragile the peace is right now. The salarians and turians are on the verge of war over the genophage being cured, the asari are still too weak in military terms to keep any sort of order, and EVERYBODY's nervous about the recent krogan expansions. I think allowing you to go around starting new wars before we've cleaned up the old ones is just asking for trouble."

Ashley groaned. "No, I DON'T want to go start a fight. I just don't want to be stuck on the bridge while all the good stuff goes on down below! I'm a Marine, damnit! I don't want some smug flyboy and his robot girlfriend having all the fun!"

Hackett raised a silent eyebrow, giving Ashley a moment to calm down.

Ashley went pale after a moment, looking mortified. "Oh…oh, God. I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to snap like that, I swear!"

Hackett sighed. "Just remember to ask for permission to speak freely next time, Commander. And you may be surprised to hear that I've been thinking about reassigning the Normandy anyhow. To diplomatic duties."

Ashley groaned. "Are you KIDDING? You CAN'T turn us into a glorified taxi! …sir."

Hackett scowled slightly. He was starting to miss Shepard's casual acceptance of whatever orders she was given. "I can if I damn well please, Commander. And if you'll tone down the outrage for a moment, I'll explain exactly what you'll be DOING."

Ashley gulped, simultaneously restraining frustration and anxiety. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Good. Now, this will be a single mission, of great importance to the Alliance. You're going to pick up an old friend."

Ashley tilted her head, eyes alight with curiosity. "Who's that, sir?"

-

Garrus Vakarian adjusted the collar of his ceremonial armor, feeling distinctly nervous for the first time since London. The black armor fit his body like a glove, the blue and silver highlights glimmering slightly in the muted lights of the Council Chambers. The armor was a gift from his father, rather unexpected since this occasion wasn't something he would've expected his father to support. He'd refused to remove his custom visor, though, which frustrated both his father and C-Sec to no end. Still, if there was one thing he'd learned while serving beside Shepard, it was that you never knew when you might come under attack. And he'd be damned if he was going to try to fight off armed assailants without targeting assistance.

Garrus stepped up to the dais, facing the Council on their balcony across the gap. It was only three years ago that he'd stood here, facing down Saren Arterius in a battle for control of the Citadel. He'd still been with C-Sec back then, a cowboy cop with delusions of grandeur and no idea of the conflict he was about to be thrust into. Since then he'd been a soldier of fortune, a vigilante, a crusader, and an important government figure in the Turian Hierarchy. And today…

Councilor Sparatus cleared his throat, the nanomechanical fibers growing through his fringe as a result of the techno-organic melding glimmering in the muted lights. "Garrus Vakarian. The Council has requested your presence today to discuss your history of service, both to this Council and to the galaxy as a whole. You have been a credit to your family, your government, and your race. You have shown yourself to be an individual of exceptional skill and dedication, willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of others. And your sacrifice has not gone unnoticed."

Councilor Tevos took over, smiling at Garrus. "In light of your character, your history of service, and your actions while serving on the SSV Normandy under Commander Shepard, this Council formally extends to you an invitation to serve in the Special Tactics and Recon Division, with full rights and privileges as a personal emissary of the Council."

Councilor Valern nodded. "This offer is not made lightly, General. As you're no doubt aware, being a Spectre is more of a burden than a privilege. You will be faced with hard decisions. Sometimes impossible ones. And you will be expected to make those decisions, and to live with the consequences. We have never expected anything less from our agents…and we have never extended this invitation to someone we did not consider worthy of the responsibility."

Sparatus spoke again, tone solemn and calm. "Do you accept the Council's offer, General Vakarian?"

Garrus took a deep breath. He'd tried to join the Spectres once, before he'd even met Shepard. His father had blocked his application, disapproving of the broad authority Spectres were given. Now…now he could finally live his dream. But after seeing what Shepard went through, how hard that responsibility was on her, was he really sure he WANTED it?

Garrus blinked, surprised by a voice from behind him. Meridus Vakarian stepped forward, his voice low and even. "If it please the Council, my son appears to need a moment to consider his response. We are also still waiting on several invited guests, who I have just been informed are on their way up."

Tevos nodded. "We can certainly wait a few moments more."

Garrus sighed, closing his eyes. He spoke quietly. "You aren't going to talk me out of this, Dad. It's what I want."

Meridus snorted. "Garrus, I haven't been able to talk you out of anything since you left home. And I'd be a fool to try now. But…" His voice softened slightly, the closest Garrus had ever heard him come to a kind tone for his son. "But I AM proud of you. I don't agree with the existence of the Spectres. I think they're a phenomenally bad idea and completely destroy the idea of law and order. But they're the best of the best, and everyone knows it. And you're being asked to join them. ASKED. You didn't apply this time, they're coming after YOU. What father wouldn't be proud of his son for reaching that level of achievement?"

Garrus smiled slightly. "Thanks, Dad. Now, what's this about visitors?"

Meridus smiled back. "You'll see."

Garrus looked up at the Council. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I am prepared to answer the Council's request."

The Council, however, were not looking at him. Garrus turned to see what they were staring at, then blinked, shocked. The entire crew of the Normandy was assembled on the stairs leading up to his platform, each and every one wearing their dress blues or some version of a formal outfit. Ashley stood at the head of the crew. She barked an order without turning. "Ten-hut!"

The entire crew snapped to attention as one, saluting Garrus in unison. He hesitated a moment, then returned it. On the Council balcony, Sparatus cleared his throat. "Your answer, General?"

Garrus steeled himself one last time, hands behind his back. "I would be honored to join the Spectre ranks, sir."

All three Councilors nodded, tapping their consoles. Tevos spoke, tone formal. "Garrus Vakarian, this Council hereby confers upon you all the rights and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. You are assigned to join the crew of the SSV Normandy and assist in their diplomatic and military operations, with clearance to pursue other missions as you see fit. This Council is adjourned."

As the Council filed off the balcony, Garrus turned to Ashley. He tried to fake nonchalance, but the relief in his tone came through loud and clear. "Lieutenant Commander. Fancy meeting you here."

Ashley smiled. "Hey, Garrus. Ready to cause some trouble?"

Garrus chuckled. "Believe it or not, I think I am. Six months of bureaucracy…almost makes me long for the days when I always had an enemy to drop and we could run around the galaxy punching out reporters with impunity."

Ashley snorted, holding in a laugh. "Yeah, well, that bitch deserved it. Of course, she's got a news show on ANN now. Loves to brag about 'practicing her hand-to-hand' with Shepard."

Garrus grinned, tone playful. "Y'know, this visor records everything. I think I've still got video of that 'practice'. And if I don't, you KNOW Liara held on to it."

Ashley shrugged. "We can ruin her life later. For now, the Normandy needs a Gunnery Officer. Tali tries to do it, but…engines are her thing, not guns. Think you're up for some more calibrations?"

Garrus raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. Garrus Vakarian, Master Calibrator."

Ashley laughed, shaking her head. "A turian with a sense of humor. STILL not used to it."

Garrus nodded, giving Ashley a somewhat more serious look. "It'll be good to be back on the Normandy. Are you sure you're okay with it? I don't want to step on anyone's toes."

Ashley smirked. "Don't worry about it. Just watch out for Tali. Kasumi claims she's been playing 'Fleet and Flotilla' nonstop since we got word that we were supposed to pick you up."

Garrus chuckled uncomfortably, not sure how to take that. "Truth is…I'm a little nervous about coming aboard. A lot of memories, you know? It just…won't be the same without her."

Ashley nodded solemnly, giving Garrus a sympathetic look. "I know. But at least you've still got the rest of the crew. And the ship itself. I'm still using the starboard observation deck for my quarters. Figured you'd want the Loft."

Garrus smiled, the expression having a definite sad edge to it. "Y'know, I forgot the engineers called it that. Thanks for the thought, Williams."

"Any time, Garrus." Ashley smiled, heading for the elevator. After a moment's thought, Garrus followed, excitement slowly rising in his chest.

In the dark of the interstellar night, Javik sat on the circular pad in the center of his quarters. The ship hummed quietly around him as it slipped silently through the ether, all stealth systems engaged as it scanned nearby planets for traces of Clan Karhon, the rebels the Normandy was currently hunting. Javik could hear the on-duty crew moving about the upper decks, one part of his mind tracking the noise in true predator fashion. Most of him, however, was focused on his own space, and the secret he had been keeping for the last week. The memory shard floated in front of him, pulsing gently. He hadn't shown this to the asari yet. She would call him delusional, or try once again to get him to discard the archive stored inside the shard. He couldn't tell her what it meant that the shard was active again, or what the particular pattern meant. Somewhere out in the galaxy, one of his people had activated a distress beacon.

Someone was alive.