All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king

- JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

The Citadel - Urdnot Wrex

April 10th, 2158

Getting anywhere on the Presidium wasn't easy when you were a krogan. But if you were willing to toss enough credits around and growl at all the right moments, you could get by. Especially when your destination was the human ambassador's quarters. After Udina's little speech earlier, Wrex was pretty sure most of the C-Sec officers would have given him a ride if he claimed he was assassin.

Besides, if this worked, Wrex would gladly kiss a salarian and sing love ballads to a turian.

"What the hell are you?" an armored guard outside the human ambassadors room demanded.

Wrex grinned. Good, a human. A quarian might have put up a fight. "I am Urdnot Wrex!" the ancient battle master bellowed. "Chieftain of Clan Urdnot! I seek an audience with your ambassador to create a formal alliance between your people and mine."

"Ok, but what are you?" the human persisted. "I ain't seen one of your kind before. What species are you? My translator says you're a krogan. Is that correct?"

"Yes it is, human."

"Right. Let me inform the ambassador."

The human turned away and talked quietly in his own tongue. Wrex could understand him; he made a point of learning every specie's language, you were less likely to get screwed on credits that way. Now though he was gauging if he could rush past the guard and interrogate the ambassador before backup arrived.

As it turned out, he didn't need to. "Right, I'll take you inside. The Ambassador will see you now."

That surprised Wrex. He hadn't thought that anyone that important would willingly see a krogan, even one claiming to be on a diplomatic mission. He tromped inside and cased his surroundings. Posh, but not overly so. Enough to state the power and taste of the owner, but not so much that it stepped into distaste. Wrex was impressed. Most new species either got so gaudy you could hardly look at them or so Spartan it was laughable.

"Urdnot Wrex?" a small, red haired human with a thick accent asked.

"I am. You must be Donnel Udina."

"Indeed. A pleasure." The human extended his hand. Wrex glanced down at it, then looked up and gave the human his best predatory grin. The man dropped his hand.

"I just want to know one thing, human. Did you mean what you said?"

"Pardon?"

"Did you mean what you said. That Universal Bill of Sentient Rights, and that other bit, about taking the rejects of the Council. ' Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to us.' Did you mean it?"

"Well, of course I-" The human began to bluster, and Wrex reached down and grabbed him with both claws, lifting him up so that they were eye to eye.

"I'm not asking for a load of political varren dung. I can get that from the Council whenever I want. I want to know if you were serious. If you really will help any race, or if you only accept the ones with cute kids and sob stories."

To the human's credit he didn't squirm or beg for mercy, and when the guard made to draw his weapon Udina motioned him to relax. "I meant it. Every word of it. The quarians do too. Every species has the right to life, liberty, and dignity. For too long have a bunch of power-hungry elitists run roughshod over the galaxy. Just because they were here first doesn't mean the turians have the right to arbitrarily execute another species because they don't know the clubhouse rules."

"The turians were not here first." Wrex set the human down and walked over to a pitcher of alcohol of some sort, and poured two glasses. He handed Udina one and gave the other to the guard. He took the rest of the container for himself and sat down. uninvited, in one of the large chairs, pointing for the human to sit down as well. "Call in your quarian friend, Zaal. We've got a lot to talk about."

The Citadel - Zaal'Koris

Nervous did not even begin to describe how Zaal felt when he sat down to an impromptu conference with a krogan battlemaster. Terrified was more like it. Especially when said krogan was as well armed as this one was. But Zaal was willing to hear the krogan out; it wasn't every day a krogan came inquiring about the Universal Bill of Sentient Rights. Zaal truly believed in that bill, and hoped that one day every species would be able to reap its benefits. Even the krogan.

"So, for the benefit of our human friend here, I'll give you two kids a little background. Over two thousand years ago, the rachni invaded Council space when the asari opened a Relay with knowing where it led. That's why people around here get so prissy if you start doing things like that, because the rachni proceeded to beat the pants off the asari and salarians. Back then, they were the only races on the Council, though the batarians, volus, hannar, quarians and elcor were all around, they didn't have voting rights, same as now."

"After eighty years of getting the shit kicked out of them and with things looking like the Council and all the other races were about to go extinct, the salarians discovered the krogan. We were in the middle of a self-imposed nuclear winter, and frankly we weren't ready culturally for the level of destructive power the salarian and asari gave us when they uplifted us to fight the rachni. In a few decades, the krogan had turned the war around. We're tough, fight nasty, at that time bred fast, and could survive damn near anywhere. In just about 200 years, we had wiped out the rachni.

"At first, everything was alright. The Council gave the krogan a bunch of worlds in thanks for our service, and the krogan set about colonizing the galaxy.

Pausing for a drink from his pitcher, Wrex continued, "Problem was, all the Council had taught us how to do was fight. And when we started getting bored after a few centuries, we did all we knew how to do: Fight. For us, we didn't have any other culture. The salarians hadn't bothered with things like making sure we had the social structure or cultural self-restraint not to go on a galaxy-wide rampage. After all, we had no other purpose. Every race in the galaxy had just spent the last 600 years telling us how great fighting was, and how the krogan were the best fighters around. We just following the old orders, but we weren't listening to new ones.

"It was stupid of us, really. If we had beaten the Council, which we most certainly would have if the turians hadn't come along, eventually we would have wiped ourselves out. Unless of course we realized just how dangerous our path was on our own. I sort of doubt that, seeing as where things are now, but that's in the past. Anyway, the Council found the turians. They needed us to stop the rachni, and now they needed the turians to stop the krogan. It was a bloody ten years. We fought the turians to a standstill, neither of us gaining a real advantage over the other. Then, the salarians came up with a solution.

A deep growl resonating in his chest, Wrex explained. "They developed the Genophage. It's not a sterility plague, it's worse. Out of 1000 pregnancies, 999 will end in still-birth. You quarians think you know pain, but have you ever seen the mountains of krogan children that never were? I have. The turians deployed the Genophage as soon as they had it, and within a century, the krogan were defeated. It's been over 1400 years now. The krogan are still scattered, still a bunch of warlike idiots. But now instead of fighting because we don't know any better, it's because we have no hope. In another few hundred years, our race will be extinct. So why bother?

"I want to change that. I tried once before. I was the leader of Clan Urdnot, an ancient, proud, and powerful clan. But when I said we needed to make peace, to focus on breeding and rebuilding our culture, my own father tried to put me down. I gave up on my people. But maybe you haven't. So tell me, O morally superior ones, will you help the krogan? Will you give my people hope? Or will you be like the rest of the Council's lap dogs and watch us fade into oblivion?"

For a moment, neither Zaal nor Donnel spoke. Then Zaal cleared his throat. "I can't say that we can give you a cure for the Genophage, Urdnot Wrex," the krogan's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Zaal pressed on, "but I can promise you we will do everything in our power to see to it that the League extends a hand of friendship to the krogan people. My race was not the only one to be used and discarded by the Council. Again, I don't know enough about biochemistry or medicine to promise a Genophage cure, but we will do what we can."

Abruptly, the krogan stood and made for the door. "I'll hold you to that. You'll hear from me again, and if you go back on what you just promised my people, I'll see both of you dead." With that, the krogan stomped out, leaving a confused Zaal and Udina.

"What the hell was that about?" Udina demanded.

Zaal shrugged. "Damned if I know. I'm almost disappointed. Having the krogan on our side would be a major moral victory, not to mention a powerful ally."

"I'm not certain we've seen the last of that one. Though I can't say I'll be too sad if we have. I about pissed myself when he picked me up like that."

"I'm not surprised. Krogan tend to have that effect on people."

Arcturus - Admiral Vexxu

April 12th, 2158

"... And so, the quarian nation does hereby forever pledge itself to eternal brotherhood with humanity. In all things, we shall be as one. Our home shall be your home. Our triumphs shall be your triumphs. Your defeats shall be our defeats. We do pledge this as founding members of the Independent League, now and forever, in sight of the Ancestors and all future generations. Keelah Se'lai. We have found our homeworld."

The assembled humans and quarians stood and gave Vexxu a standing ovation as she walked over and affixed her signature to the massive parchment. That sealed it. The Independent League was official, the Systems Alliance and the Migrant Fleet were dissolved. Together, they were one people.

More speeches were given and further handshakes, hugs, and laughter shared. It was a historic day, in more ways than one. They had just received word that the Citadel had formally, albeit reluctantly, recognized them as independent and the war was over. The turians were withdrawing from Watson, where they had successfully defeated the flotilla of small craft with some daring maneuvers that had forced the League's ships to retreat. It would take a long time to fully recover and integrate, but they were well on their way.

The only thing that could have made this day better in Vexxu's mind was if her friend Stephen Hackett were present. Out of all the humans, Vexxu found herself liking the gruff middle-aged man the most. His no-nonsense style, wit and superb tactical and strategic sense made him a good companion. Vexxu wondered absently what Hackett thought of her, and if she was attractive by human standards.

The Citadel - Hackett

April 20th, 2158

Hackett couldn't help smiling. This was a great day. He hadn't believed the two silver tongued kids would be able to do it, but do it they had.

"As such, the Citadel Council formally recognizes the Independent League and its member species as a free an independent power, not affiliated with the Citadel but bound by intergalactic agreement and law. These agreements include..."

Letting the political talk wash over him, Hackett turned his mind to the future. The border was a generous one, allowing the League to keep all their colonies. In a move that had nearly caused the turians to pull their head spikes out, humanity had freely offered to become signatories of the treaty of Farixen, limiting themselves in the dreadnought count.

"You idiots!" Julieus, the turian councilor, had raged. "Don't you see! Dreadnoughts are meaningless! We need to limit the number of carriers they build, not the number of dreadnoughts."

"There is no treaty pertaining to carriers." Giffen, the salarian leader, had snapped. "You turians have already made a mess of things. The League is showing galactic good will. Accept it."

Hackett grinned widely. Julieus had been right. The League had no interest in building massive fleets of dreadnoughts. Sure, a few would be useful, they were good for orbital bombardment and attacking fixed defenses, but carriers were the real power. GARDIAN lasers were good, but they couldn't hope to stop an entire bomber wing's disruptor torpedoes, and it was far cheaper to lose a few bombers than risk losing a cruiser or dreadnought to do the same thing.

And now that the quarians were looking in to remote controlled bombers using quantum entanglement communicators, they wouldn't even be risking pilots. Without the need to keep a pilot alive, bigger engines, stronger barriers, and a larger payload could be added to the small craft. It was an exciting new technology, and one that harkened back to the UAV's of the 21st century. True, drones wouldn't be able to replace everything, but they could be a good start.

That brought to mind Vexxu, and Hackett felt himself smiling at the thought of her. She was quite a lady, and it really was too bad she wasn't human. She was just the sort of woman Hackett had waited his whole life for. Well, not really waited, just never had the time. When you were a career military man moving up the ranks, relationships didn't last. There had been a few women over the years, but none of them had been serious. When most of the people you knew were in your chain of command, it just wasn't possible for romance to happen.

Vexxu's not in your chain of command, and you're not in her's. She outranks you, but she's over the home fleet and you're in the expeditionary forces.

Forcing himself back to reality, Hackett pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. What would Vexxu think if she knew Hackett was fantasizing about taking her out to dinner and wondering what she looked like out of that suit? She wouldn't approve of such frivolous thoughts, that was for sure.

When the time came, Hackett waved and smiled and shook hands with his turian counterpart, Reegulus Ceezar.

"You know, you humans gave us a hell of a fight. I'm disappointed you won't be joining the Citadel. You would have done us some good. Things need to be shook up once in a while. I've been trying to find a way to rejuvenate our military tactics and bring new ideas to a place where nothing new has happened in almost 1000 years," Ceezar commented.

Hackett forced himself to keep the grin on his face. "Well, glad we could be of assistance."

Ceezar shrugged. "Don't take that the wrong way Admiral. I respect your people. The turians respect your people. I think we could have been friends, given time. Maybe we still can be."

Like hell. Remember the Belari. Hackett thought. What he said was, "Maybe someday." What he meant was, I'll see you dead first.

Clan Urdnot Fortress, Tuchanka - Urdnot Wrex

April 24th, 2158

"Who walks upon Urdnot Lands? Identify your-URK!"

"Shut up, you soft plated pup. I am Urdnot Wrex. And I am here to take my birthright."

Another one of the guards lifted his weapon and moved forward. "Who?"

Wrex bashed the guard with his head plate hard enough to drive the krogan to his knees and kept moving. "Kids these days. Don't remember anything."

Both the guards fell in at Wrex's flanks, no longer trying to stop him. Whoever this stranger was, they wanted to see what Wreav would do to him.

Inside the ruined fortress of his clan, Wrex paused for a moment and inhaled deeply. He was home. He had sworn he would never walk these halls again, but here he was. He could smell the fires, burning away refuse. He could see the stained walls and the hear the crack of weapons as warriors drilled. He could smell the varren dung and hear the barking of the kennels. The rubble was a little older and more worn, but it was much the same. No one had bothered to improve anything while he was gone. That was going to change.

"Wrex? Is that you?" An ancient krogan, older even than the seven-century old battle master, approached.

"Shaman. Still showing these idiots the ways of the ancients?"

"Indeed. I thought you were dead."

"Ha! Like my old man could kill a varren pup. No, I shook the dust of this world off my boots and gave up on our people."

The shaman nodded, his bleary eyes narrowing. "They why have you returned? You must know your broodbrother, Wreav, leads us now. He will kill you if he sees you."

"Because I found hope for our people," Wrex responded." You've heard of the humans?"

The shaman shrugged. "I heard the turians got their asses kicked. Got a chuckle from that. Beyond that, I don't dwell on what exists beyond Tuchanka."

"They strike me as a people who practice what they preach. And I aim to call them on the carpet about their little moral crusade for the hopeless and downtrodden. It could change everything for us."

For a moment, the shaman regarded Wrex, then he nodded. "I'll go announce you. Wreav can't attack without losing serious face if you're a challenger."

"Thank you, old friend. "

Wrex waited while the shaman shuffled into the main hall. The two guards looked at each other, then the one Wrex had kicked in the quad spoke up. "What do you mean, moral crusade? And humans? Are you saying we're going to war with the turians?"

"Just the opposite. We're making nice."

Neither of the guards knew what to make of that, and before they could decide what to do, the shaman's roar echoed through the halls. "Sons of Urdnot! A challenger for the Clan leadership approaches! I, the shaman of Urdnot, have heard his claim and it is just. He has the blood of battlemasters of old in his veins and his arm is strong and his claws sharp!"

Wrex started forward as a new voice spoke up. That would be his beloved brother, Wreav.

"I lead Urdnot! What right does this stranger have to the clan leadership?"

"Shut up Wreav. You always did like the sound of your own voice," Wrex bellowed, leaping over a pile of rubble and landing before the chief's throne.

"Wrex?" His brother asked, pausing in astonishment.

"Get the hell off my chair." With a swipe, Wrex knocked Wreav ten full meters, then walked over and put his foot on Wreav's chest before the snarling brute could rise. "You're not dead, which means you're useful to me. I've got a whole race to unite, and not much time to do it in. So here's the deal. Either you swear to follow me to glory right now, or I gut you like the spineless runt you are."

"What do you mean, a whole race to unite?" Wreav spat. "You abandoned this clan and your claim to its leadership. You have no place here."

"Really?" Wrex laughed, grinding his foot into Wreav's chest. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like I deserve to lead it. I left because you idiots couldn't get organized, couldn't see the future. And I lost hope because there was none to be had. Well now I've found a group of idiots gullible enough to be willing to help us. And I'll be damned if I let the entire krogan race go extinct when I can do something about it."

From the shadows, a voice spoke. "What do you mean, you found someone to help us?"

Wrex turned as a female in shaman's robes walked out of the shadows. Wrex bowed, to the degree that was proper for a clan chief and not a millimeter more. "I mean I've found potential allies. People who might be able to cure the Genophage if we can get our act together."

"Define getting our act together," the female demanded.

Wrex gave her a toothy grin. "Well, for starters, we're going to need to come up with a better reason to live than fighting and credits."

"I see." The female said, her eyes narrowing behind her veil. "Tell me more."

Wrex was only too happy to do so. By the time he was done, he had the entire clan backing him, and a promise of support from the female shaman. He could do this. He would drag the krogan back to the sunlight, whether they wanted him to or not.

Madrid, Earth - Ramon Gerado

May 2nd, 2158

Puffing at his cigarette as the sun set red behind him, Ramon swirled his glass of Aberlour a'bunadh and smiled at his guests. "Thank you all for coming. I've asked you here because out of all the individuals I know, you best understand what is needed for our peoples to survive."

Unna'Xevish nodded. "Yes, even with the peace treaty, we are still under threat from the other races. They don't trust us, and many of them are going to be looking for revenge."

"Indeed," Henry Lawson agreed, sipping from his own glass of scotch. "It is up to us to save the sheep from sleep."

"And how do you propose to do this?" Colonel Oleg Petrovsky asked.

"With science, naturally." Darro'Xen sniffed. "Surely such a rich group of individuals didn't ask me here to smoke those awful things and drink fungal vomit."

Ramon hid a smile. Xen was brash, but she was smart, possibly smarter even then his old friend Henry, though not as wise. "From a variety of different sources. None of which are going to be openly sanctioned by any government. But strength for humanity is strength for the quarians, and strength for the quarians is strength for humanity. If we are going to stand up to the Council races and prove our own superiority, we're going to need a group that is willing to get its hands dirty."

Oleg nodded and set his glass of vodka down. "You mean a black file program. The League is open to such an idea?"

Ramon passed around an archaic piece of parchment. "That is from Prime Minister Hyoori and Admiral Xevish. It's permission to form such a program. I'll be funding it mostly out of my own pocket, but I'll need help."

"I'll give you whatever you need," Henry assured his friend. "Business has been good for both of us."

"You mean unlimited funding for whatever projects I desire?" Xen asked, her eyes glowing with sudden intensity. "No moral oversight, no one saying I can't do something because it would be too dangerous?"

"Exactly that." Xevish agreed. "Do you think the salarians turn down projects because they are immoral? Do the turians abstain from developing weapons because they break Citadel conventions? The laws are in place so that the Council can protect itself. They believe themselves to be above the law."

"This... Organization. What do you propose to call it?" Oleg asked.

"We will be the guardians of secrets no one must know. We still stand before the gates of Hades and destroy all who would threaten our people. We will be Cerberus, Guardian of the Underworld," Ramon answered.

"I don't care what you call it. Give me funding, and I'll work miracles." Xen replied dismissively.

"You'll have it," Xevish assured the scientist. "In fact, you and Mr. Lawson will be working together."

"Yes, I currently have a project we may be able to repurpose as a way to bolster quarian immune systems and get you out of those suits," Henry said. "And that's just the beginning."

Ramon smiled. "To Cerberus, then. Remember the Belari!"

"To Cerberus! Remember the Belari!"

Authors Note:

In canon, Jack Harper is the name of the Illusive Man. However, I decided to re-imagine things likely, and Ramon is going to be Timmy for us.

I also want to thank everyone for their awesome reviews and feedback. I do try to get back to everyone, and hopefully I haven't missed to many of you. I appreciate all your ideas, and while I might not use them, I do try to read all of them.