Disclaimer: I do no own Mass Effect, I do not claim to own Mass Effect, I am only doing this for fun.

Author Notes: Eminence Grise was a shake-up, wasn't it? Hah. Yea I was not going to shy away from the ramifications of things; this is proudly a character-driven story.


Episode 9: The Price of Trust

The next morning Shepard woke up an hour before her alarm was set and decided not to go back to sleep. A shower and a quick status quo review from EDI later she got ready for the day. Subsequently she expected to be the first one down to breakfast. So she was surprised when she came around the elevator and spotted Nihlus seated at the mess table, in his casuals, eating outside the XO's cabin.

He had a fork in one hand, and a datapad in the other. There were tater-shaped pieces of dark blue meat on his plate, coated in a thick glistening sauce, surrounded by tuber-like things that looked like a cross between a carrot and beet, former in shape, latter in color, and a cup of a steaming dextro-coffee within reach. Shepard did not know what to call any of it, but it smelled pretty good even to her. She glanced toward the kitchen area, Matthews was busy popping sausages into boiling water for the rest of them. He apparently turned to cooking similar-looking meals, probably so that neither levo nor dextro aboard would feel slighted.

She sat down across from Nihlus and folded her hands on the table before her.

Before either of them could say a thing Matthews was right there. He set down her mug and poured her a strong black coffee from the carafe. "Good morning, Commander. We have your choice of pancakes with either fruit jelly or maple syrup, or maybe you'd like the sausages?"

"Pancakes and jelly will do," Shepard replied.

"Coming right up!" Matthews rushed off.

"Breathe, Matthews. There are only twenty-six of us, and less than ten ought to come!" Shepard called.

The cook laughed and went to work on the pancakes. He apparently had the batter mix in the fridge, and the pan already oiled and ready for the heat.

"Shepard," Nihlus greeted, spearing another of those meat taters with his fork before sticking it in his mouth.

Shepard turned back to the turian in front of her and grinned, "Nihlus."

"Why ten?" he wondered, breaking the silence that formed between them.

Shepard hummed; now this was something. Had Nihlus developed a sudden interest in the crew? "Shifts, Nihlus. Also… some have taken to sampling the breakfast menu on the Citadel while they can." Perhaps what happened yesterday had shifted something in him. First he was eating outside his quarters, now interest in her crew? "So, how many credits are you getting from the company?" she wondered. Best keep to the small-talk without resorting to the obvious in asking about his food.

"The full coverage, twenty-five million."

"Wow. We have a millionaire aboard."

He grinned, "When you are as good as I am, the credits follow."

"I bet you have a good investment agent," Shepard rebuffed.

"I can introduce him to you," Nihlus offered.

"My expenses are covered."

"Your loss. Now, we are still going to the Library of Council?" he asked, speared another tater, and popped it into his mouth.

"If you're willing to lend me your clearances, yes. Though I'll tell you what I told Garrus yesterday, I am beginning to think that the information I want might not be there. The Quarians would have had different priorities when they went into exile, and… well, the Council left them high and dry when they needed help."

Nihlus hummed, "you have certainly done your research."

Shepard glanced at the pad on the table, was it one of the bunch she left in the OD last night? She should have known that he would look.

"Do not take it like that, Shepard. I need to look them over. I know very little of the historical context, and before Eden Prime I had no reason to do the research. I never expected to encounter a geth. As for the Quarians, I only knew what everyone knows."

"I don't suppose you would have had a reason to look for more either. They're the galaxy's gypsies." Shepard sighed.

"Gypsies?"

"It's the… other, less polite term for the Romani peoples on Earth. Hundreds of years ago they were semi-nomads, and there were prejudices against them because of that. Everyone considered settled agrarian life to be the mark of civilization. The similarity is uncanny."

"Would humanity have treated the Quarians different?"

"If we had been advanced enough three hundred years ago… would the politicians have agreed to help the Quarians keep Rannoch, or retake it? I don't know." Shepard shook her head. "I want to think that… maybe? I don't like to do that sort of guess-work. There's no point to it, and it gives me a headache."

"You clearly do not agree with the treatment they received," Nihlus went on.

"Should I?" Shepard asked blandly. "I'm not going to assume the Quarians are bad just because they wander. Past that, yes, the Quarians created a synthetic intelligence which just happened to go rogue. First, I do not believe synthetics going rogue is inevitable. We are an example of how synthetic life can cooperate with organics, with mutual trust and respect. Second, what happened still does not justify treating the Quarians as the plague. Certainly there might be bad individuals among them, but I'll argue that every species has a few bad seeds. To assume the entire species is the same based on the actions of a few…" Shepard stopped when she saw the grin Nihlus had. She realized with a start that he wanted to measure her opinion on the matter, because at the end of the day this was the exact difference between her and his former mentor. Saren was apparently willing to judge a whole species by the actions of the few.

Matthews returned to her side and set down a plate of four pancakes, a squeezable bottle of strawberry jelly, and the cutlery.

"Thanks, Chef." Shepard said with a smile.

"You are welcome, Commander. Enjoy." Matthews replied and returned to his cooking.

Shepard chuckled, she honestly though that he would be blissful beyond words if he opened a greasy spoon diner somewhere, he loved to cook and it showed. Still, if he did, they would be without a damn good cook.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Nihlus. I think it's time for some quid pro quo. You got to pick my brain, now I get to pick yours."

"Pick away." He replied.

Shepard paused, wondering if she really ought to ask what she wanted to ask. As a way to buy a moment to articulate her thoughts she grabbed the jelly, squeezed some on top of her pancakes, and spread it around with her fork. "Well if you're going to be looking for every way I'm different from your charming former mentor… I guess I'm curious, why does he hate humans so much?"

Nihlus set down his fork, the light mood draining from him like water out of a bottomless bucket. Shepard opened her mouth to apologize, realizing that the question was too invasive, and probably not something he could talk about, but Nihlus raised his hand to forestall her.

"I suppose I should tell you. Because he would not, especially if you asked." He began.

"You don't have to, I mean… if it's-"

"It goes back to Shanxi. The Turian fleet blockading the colony was under the Command of Admiral Desolas Arterius."

For Shepard just the mention of the name was enough to begin seeing the picture, "Saren's-"

"Brother. Ten years older."

Shepard's eyes widened, "The fleet flagship… the one that was…" she broke off; it was not a good idea to say 'blown to bits', even 'destroyed in battle' sounded crass.

"Yes. The Impera, destroyed by a core hit at the height of the battle."

Shepard could not say anything. Suddenly things made sense. The destruction of the flagship over Shanxi had been a pivotal moment in the battle to break the blockade. When the Everest scored that hit the Second Fleet got a moment to breathe and rally, both in formation and spirits. More than that though, it proved that the enemy had weaknesses and could be defeated. It was the shot that turned the tide of the battle for the Alliance.

Shepard could just imagine how it looked from the other side; to lose one's flagship in one shot was demoralizing, but to lose a brother in such a manner? That was far more personal, that sort of injury never healed. In this case it clearly not only did not heal, it festered.

"You know which ship fired the shot." Nihlus added.

"Yes." Shepard murmured. "By our accounts, the Impera was pounding into the Second Fleet, it destroyed three cruisers in fifteen minutes, and its kinetic barriers were holding up against cruiser fire. Admiral Drescher ordered the Everest to focus on it. About at the same time a fighter from the fifty-fifth fighter squad, launched by the Einstein, subsequently damaged, performed a kamikaze strike, didn't do much, but it got past the barrier, caused it to flicker… Admiral Drescher ordered the Everest to fire it main gun at about that moment. The shot was fired when the shield flickered, and it went in at just the right angle to hit the core, a one-in-a-million confluence of events." She knew more than that, she knew who pulled the proverbial trigger. Had her mother fired a split second sooner, or later, the shot might not have penetrated at all.

"Yes, that is about the sequence of events the Hierarchy reported, minus some details and precise designations."

Shepard glanced down at her food, what else could she say? While every soldier faced battle knowing they might have to lay down their life, she could understand why those left behind could find the fact difficult to swallow. Still, the galaxy was truly a small place, to have tangled the strings of their lives in such a truly bizarre manner. It was at times like these that Shepard could almost believe in the guiding force of fate, as random interaction seemed inadequate to explain such confluences.

"Do not go feeling too bad for him," Nihlus said after a long moment.

Shepard looked up, realizing that she had been staring at her food, but not seeing. "I…" she paused to gather her thoughts, "Don't worry, I'm not about to shed tears. Still, I can understand. To lose a sibling in such a manner… were I not an only child, and were I to lose my sibling in such a manner… I suppose I might feel the same way." Shepard murmured. She did feel the same way when she lost Arthur on Elysium. The rage awoke a monster inside that could and did kill without remorse. Barely a few months later she killed an innocent in cold blood, merely on an assumption of guilt. She had her taste of vengeance, and it was all vinegar.

"Truly, you are a… what is the term? A saint? We do not have a corresponding concept, so-" Nihlus added.

"I'm no saint." Saints were not supposed to have sins, but her hands were stained with innocent blood.

"From my vantage, I see someone who not only holds no real anger at someone who would destroy her career without a second thought, but she understands why he might do so in the first place. By my understanding of the human custom of elevating holy figures, your capacity for empathy would make you a candidate," Nihlus argued as he picked up his fork and turned to the tubers on his plate.

Shepard sighed, "It also requires the performance of a miracle, and I've done nothing of the sort," she argued. Perhaps that was a lame point to make, but she had nothing else. She would not air out her sins in front of him just for the sake of arguing this.

"I would consider you forgiving me to be a miracle." He whispered quietly, just low enough for her to hear.

Shepard blinked, "Don't worry, you'll probably do something to irk me again soon enough." She replied, the tease slipping from her mouth before she could stop it.

His smile widened, mandibles drawing outward, exposing glimpses of ice-pick-like teeth. "Good! I have to keep my protégé on her toes. Besides, C-sec can be your loyal servant enough for the both of us."

"Very. Soon." Shepard reiterated. "But, just for the record, if Garrus is my loyal servant… what does that make you, Spook?"

Nihlus made a rumble sound that was almost a playful growl. "I am the wealthy, tall, dark, and handsome one."

Of all the responses that she could have expected, that one was probably dead last, and Shepard laughed out loud before she could stop herself. Matthews looked over and smiled. "Well you're not short on ego, that's for sure," She muttered between chuckles.

Before Nihlus could reply, two crewmembers arrived, which effectively broke the odd mood between them, not to mention the privacy. They seemed as surprised to see Nihlus out of his quarters, but he spared them a raised hand as a greeting and they settled down with their plates with a shrug and without much further ado.

The rest of the meal was consumed in silence, but only that. Shepard could not help but linger on thoughts of Nihlus' attitude change. Was their near rupture the reason he was changing his patterns? Was it the only reason? His manners suggested some contrition, but it all seemed more 'I'll be extra nice to you for a few days so I can stop feeling guilty,' sort of contrition. He took for granted that she was not angry any more. If that was his angle then the universality of psychology was truly staggering.

In the end their party expanded to three. Garrus emerged from life support ten minutes after the crew began to arrive, in his armor, and all-but inhaled his serving of the meat taters Matthews made. Shepard would not have thought about going to the LoC without bringing him along, he was the third part of their little conspiracy club. Yet the urgency with which he ate told her that he thought they would leave him behind and he would not have it. His actions were a non-subtle reminders that last night happened, and that he did not trust Nihlus. By the time they departed, the day shift was fully awake. She left the Normandy in Kaidan's capable hands.

As they walked out of the dock and toward the Skycab kiosk, she was fully aware of the glare war happening over her head. If she had not squared things away with Nihlus already, she would have been genuinely worried about Garrus compromising any act of 'we saw and heard nothing'. Still, it was something that both made such a valiant attempt at maintaining normalcy, both around her crew, and now in a semi-public place. Then again, there were parts of their native communications she could not hear, so for all she knew they were communicating the animosity out of her hearing range. She knew full well that she would have to deflate things, and the long cab ride to the library would be about perfect.

Shepard took her usual seat on the driver's side, and input their destination to the VI. Nihlus took the front passenger seat, leaving Garrus the back. When the doors closed and the Skycab took off Shepard waited only a good minute for it to climb before she broached the latest minefield topic.

"I think we need to have a talk, the three of us. Just to clear the air," she said as she turned in her seat just enough so she could sort of face Nihlus and see Garrus out the corner of her eye. There was no way to breach the issue with any modicum of grace past blunt. "Nihlus and I reached a certain understanding regarding last night."

"I see," Garrus replied.

"I never intended to do as Saren told me," Nihlus added.

"So what lies did you tell her?" Garrus wondered.

Shepard blinked, oh man, had she just stepped on a mine?

"I never lied! I gave Shepard a complete recording of my conversation with Saren. If anything happens to her candidacy now, she will have evidence against both of us." The Spectre rebuffed.

"None of that gives me a reason to believe you." Garrus snapped back.

"Shepard believes me. That is all that matters," Nihlus replied.

The look Garrus gave the Spectre was full of undisguised loathing.

"Whoa, hold up." Shepard raised a hand to catch their attention, "I deserve some say in this."

Both turians turned to her.

Shepard sighed, it looked like her bluntness was about to trigger a war. "Garrus, I appreciate your concern, but we did come to an understanding, and I am more than capable of defending myself."

"I did not suggest you could not, Commander. I simply do not understand why you allow this farce to continue."

"I…" Shepard broke off, was there was no way out of this? She knew that to diffuse the situation, she would have to tell them the reason behind her high tolerance of Nihlus' behavior. She was not willing to do that, because it would arm Nihlus with the knowledge that he owned her career. Come to think of it, it would probably make Garrus trust him even less. Suddenly there did not seem to be a solution to his conundrum. "I have my reasons; I ask that you respect my decision."

Nihlus had that accursed grin on his face: proud, triumphant, and not helping the situation.

"I understand, Commander," Garrus replied, though his tone of voice gave away that he was once again deferring, backing down because she effectively pulled rank.

Shepard hated pulling rank, but there was no helping the situation between them. The tension was far from broken; in fact, it felt like her intervention only made things worse. Garrus was unhappy, and Nihlus might now actively seek to understand her reasons. When she glanced at the Spectre, she realized he was watching her again. That intense look in his eyes unnerved her more than she cared to admit.

"It is her decision." Nihlus broached. "Though, I suppose I should tell you why my loyalties are where they are, simply so this does not continue to be a problem. Saren mentioned it; I owe Shepard my life. When I made a mistake, she shielded me, and took a bullet through the shoulder. A little to the side and it could have killed her. I recognize my debt, and I will not dishonor myself by repaying it with betrayal."

Garrus remained quiet.

Shepard noted the way he stiffened in his seat. Even she was surprised with the admission Nihlus just delivered. "I did not realize that meant so much," she said.

"It does mean so much," Nihlus replied. "Though Saren would have me ignore it. He does not accept the validity of an honor debt when the one to whom it is owed is not a Turian."

"He does not believe Humans have honor," Shepard mused.

"Yes. It is one more thing we do not agree on."

"I suppose I must accept that," Garrus said quietly.

"A smart decision. You being loyal to the Commander is to be expected, but do not overstep your bounds. I am not the enemy, and I will not tolerate suggestions that I am a traitor."

Shepard chose to back out of the talk at this point. This was not where her human sensibilities would be appreciated, but she could see where some of the tension came from. Turian culture as a rule placed a premium on discipline and hierarchy, but underneath it all, there was an honor-shame dynamic as well. Personal behavior and morals as the currency of honor mattered. Nihlus was hostile to Garrus because the latter effectively suggested Nihlus had no honor at all.

As the Skycab entered the transverse tunnels across the Presidium and the light of Widow vanished, the small lamps inside the car flicked on. Shepard turned back to the windshield, her mind far away, as she pondered the other ramifications of the honor debt. Nihlus' candid admission to making that mistake resonated in her.

Suddenly she felt pulled to two sides, uncomfortable with otherwise necessary dishonesty. It was stupid, hell it might even be something he wanted. She should not forget Nihlus' capacity to manipulate, but in the end, it all came down to trust, and she did not have enough to open up. She did not want to arm Nihlus with the truth, call it self-preservation. Still, guilt was like some sort of bug gnawing away at her insides. Her gut insisted he was not the enemy, no matter how much he could come off as such.

There was no conversation for the rest of the ride. Nihlus and Garrus turned to trying to ignore each other's presence, but from time to time she felt one of their gazes on her. Shepard did not feel like talking at all. She wanted to bury herself in work, distance herself from the problem. She believed distance created clarity. She needed clarity right now.

Once they arrived at the familiar plaza, Nihlus steered right toward the library's third floor. There they found a big secure booth where all three of them could work without getting too into each-other's personal spaces. Shepard ended up seated between the two turians, and she suspected it was entirely by design. They were using her as a buffer. Well if it kept them from arguing, she was willing to play the no-man's land.

The clearances Nihlus had were tied to his biometrics, in this case, his voice print, so one set of codes was only good for one terminal. He authorized the terminal for them, but was otherwise still catching up on the rest of the material they compiled. Shepard was none too surprised; he did not strike her as an academic. The authorization process was a good limit for security purposes, but it made for a rather awkward work process. They did not mean to let a Spectre divulge classified information like this.

Thinking about it made her realize just how much of what Nihlus did was out of the norm. He never told the Council about EDI, he brazenly let Garrus divulge compromising information in his presence, now he looked to be acting against his former mentor. As far as turians went, Nihlus lived as the exception to all the rules. Yet, with all of that, she could not bring herself to trust him with the truth. Her paranoid half said he might not bother to keep anything she said too close to his chest. She did not want to think about it like that, but invariably she thought about it like that.

Then there was Garrus. He effectively threw away his career in C-sec because he believed he was doing the right thing. He suspected there was something more to the Normandy before they became allies, yet told no one. He tried to help her with Nihlus. Did he deserve her distrust simply because she could not bring herself to fully trust Nihlus? That was hardly fair, and the bug gnawing at her sank its jaws deeper and harder.

An elbow brushed her forearm on the table and Shepard jumped, instantly snapping out of her thoughts. Garrus, whose elbow it was, recoiled at the suddenness of her movement.

"My apologies, Commander," he said.

"It's alright; I was lost in my thoughts," Shepard replied, sparing him a smile before turning back to her pads. That was technically not a lie, the operative words of her life.

Seeing his expression then, she thought it best to tell Garrus the truth later after all. Maybe it would deflate some of the tensions and put them on even footing. After all, Garrus quit C-sec because of politics, yet a game of politics ruled her life. Even if he could not help, he would probably understand why her hands were tied. He might not like it, and maybe it was not too late for him to realize he was not trading up from what he had in C-sec. At the very least, the guilt would not gnaw at her as hard. With the decision made she could focus on doing her job.

Two hours passed before Shepard sat back in her seat again and sighed. As she watched Garrus send one more batch of data to download into pads, she was sure they had about what the system could offer. In the end, her suspicions had proven to be right on the nose. There was very little in the closed collection about the Geth as a fighting force.

The war on Rannoch had been a brutal, over ninety eight percent of the Quarians died. Only seventeen million escaped. The Quarians did not share information on the Geth, and she would not blame them. Whatever was there was second hand, but it was still quite interesting.

A Salarian Special Tasks Group had visited Rannoch clandestinely shortly before the Quarians fled. The Council had also sent in a group of Spectres. Working independently, the two collected whatever information they could, mostly documents on the basic purposes and usages for the Geth, as well as their networking capabilities, and some schematics. The STG material was predictably not on file, because the Salarians were if anything more paranoid than brilliant. The Spectre materials were there, but they were now almost three hundred years old, and thus under the shadow of being out of date.

"This is about the time I start wishing I thought to collect some parts back on Eden Prime," Shepard noted wryly.

"Unless one of us is hiding a few degrees in engineering, we would not get much out of said parts," Nihlus replied.

"Don't need a degree to take something apart and compare it to some of these schematics. Also, EDI could probably compare the hardware on the basic level." Shepard replied.

"Is there something EDI cannot do?" Nihlus wondered.

"Hmm… you know, humor, I think. But she seems to be learning," Shepard replied. Deviousness too, but Shepard did not mention that, because that would be below the belt, even if she was just teasing him.

"You think the Geth changed over three centuries?" Garrus asked.

"I do. Three centuries is a long time and the Geth do not have our limitations. Organic adaptation has to rely on random genetic mutation, which could take thousands of years to pass to the population. Even then it would be minor changes. Synthetics? They can change their bodies radically and readily."

"You are focusing on that black unit."

"Yes. The schematics we got show the Geth to be of a general one-headlamp configuration, with a very tight sensor array behind said lamp, and the size and build of an adult male Quarian with three-digit hands. The black one was a clear sign of adaptation. It had more lights, a marked size difference, and its weapons were grafted right on, not hand-held. It seems like a weapon platform by design, but is it a unique unit; something only deployed in special circumstances? Or is it a command unit, something attached to a platoon as part of standard deployment? The likelihood of it making an appearance can change how a unit should set up or respond to an encounter."

"That is something to think about," Nihlus hummed.

"Standard Hierarchy tactics would be to use heavy ordinance. If its shields can withstand infantry weapons, how would it handle mines, grenades, artillery, or airborne fighter fire?" Garrus said.

"That is certainly a possibility. But not all operations have the luxury of such breadth of options. I am used to operating in a five-person group, with only the gear on our backs, which limits what we can do. To counter it, I prefer to know my enemy's strengths and weaknesses before I engage them. By necessity I keep my tactics adaptive and flexible." Shepard knew that such an approach might be considered Salarian, but really, all is fair in love and war. A single, concise military doctrine was limiting at best, a weakness to be exploited by a clever tactician at worst.

"I can attest to her tactical flexibility. She used a LOKI as an improvised grenade once. Ordered Alenko to throw it with his biotics and then shot its head off. Who would have seen that coming?" Nihlus added, grinning.

"A biotic-tossed LOKI is just an extra fancy target drone. Though, maybe… the inspiration makes it one of my finer shots." Shepard added.

"No maybes, Shepard, it was. Give or take two-hundred-fifty-nine batarians," Nihlus said, "and on that, when I saw you shoot the Geth on Eden Prime with Williams, it became clear that shooting all those Batarians in ten hours was not only possible, but you made it look easy."

"What is so shocking about that?" Garrus wondered.

"Nihlus is not a sniper, but I think he means the timing," Shepard explained. "Two-hundred-fifty-nine kills in ten Terran hours comes up to about one kill every two minutes on average. The batarians came in groups, twenty to forty at a time, in intervals."

"Still, not one of them came even close to the place where the civilians were hiding. Whatever is involved, you make it look easy." Nihlus argued.

"Spoken like a true amateur," Garrus said, his mandibles flicking in amusement.

Nihlus glared at Garrus in reply.

Shepard smiled a little, after all, this sort of competitive taunting she could appreciate. "I do think we're getting a little bit off topic here," she said, to steer them away from any hostility that might come up if someone said anything more.

"The download is done," Garrus announced.

"We could probably make do with what we have. Come to think of it, I should at least try and get access to whatever the Alliance teams salvaged from Eden Prime." Shepard said. Her best chances lay in mentioning this to Admiral Hackett. He expressed interest in her assessment, and though the military would classify whatever they salvaged, if there was a way for her pay-grade to get at it, she would have it.

"Sounds like a plan," Nihlus stated.

That was the end of it, Shepard helped Garrus organize the datapads and put the terminal back in standby. She stuck the pads back into her messenger bag and they left with no one wiser to what went on inside that secure booth. Shepard led the way, and once they stepped out of the library she paused, looking toward the fountain. Somehow going back to the Normandy now felt a little like heading for the space port at the end of furlough, like fun is over and it is back to business. The Normandy had been Citadel-bound for so long that it almost began to feel like a vacation. She shook her head and turned toward the Skycab kiosk.

"So, back to the Normandy?" Nihlus asked, following on her right.

"For me, yes," Shepard replied, patting the bag at her side for emphasis, "I need to contact the Admiral, and I think we'll be pulling out as soon as the final leave rotation is done. I've not scheduled any for tomorrow. Also, we should talk about the smuggling ring."

The Spectre nodded his head. "You really do not take time off," he noted.

"Well, with all that's happened…" she shook her head. Between Eden Prime and then this new self-elected assignment, she did not have the time. "I've had six months of desk duty before the Normandy, that's practically leave. If either of you wants time off, just tell me."

"After the piles of paperwork at C-sec, I consider this time off," Garrus said.

"Spectres are either on assignment, or we are not. The time in between is all the leave we get," Nihlus said.

Shepard did not say anything as she came up to the Skycab kiosk and keyed a sequence to summon a vehicle.


The ride back to their dock was quiet, but not tense. Nihlus was working on something on his omni-tool, and Garrus spent the time reading over what looked like his notes. Shepard herself pulled out the pad containing schematics and spent the whole ride staring at them. She was no engineer, but schematics were a little like a map, and she was good with maps. The Spectre that had done the work three hundred years ago was an asari. She annotated and attached field notes based on observations, which were very interesting. The more Shepard turned them over, the more convinced she became that the Geth had changed over three hundred years.

The basic units back then normally included no weapons or kinetic barriers. Units that had shields were purpose-built for security work. They were resilient enough to withstand harsh environments, even the void of space. Internal batteries provided power for two standard Rannoch days, which equated to about sixty-five Terran hours. If a unit worked in the sunlight for most of that time, the photovoltaic polymer in the outer panels provided another seven hours, bringing the total up to seventy-two before the unit needed a couple hours in a dedicated induction charging station, though in its absence they had a low-draw standby mode, which allowed complete solar charging.

The Quarians had specialized units for all manner of jobs. The Spectre added a schematic for a firefighter unit. This caught Shepard's attention and told her that relying on her cloak around the geth might be a bad idea. Firefighter units had standard infrared sensors, originally used for search and rescue, as well as locating closed off rooms that might explode in a backdraft if carelessly opened. She would err on the side of caution and assume that something like that would prove useful once the geth had to learn to fight.

She tucked the pad away when she felt the Skycab dip out of the high speed lanes and head toward the Normandy's dock. In a few minutes it landed, but before she could swipe her chit across the meter, Nihlus beat her to the punch. Without saying a word he got out of the car, ignoring the VI driver's stock message confirmation of the transaction's success and well-wishes for their day. Shepard and Garrus followed.

They passed beyond the ticket gates, yet before they could even get to their dock waiting lounge, Shepard spotted a woman standing by the neon sign next to the door. A camera drone hovered over her left shoulder, and that was all the information Shepard needed.

"Who squealed to the reporters?" she murmured without braking pace, knowing full well that her companions would hear her. The reporter would not see her give pause, no matter how much Shepard hated reporters. They were second only to politicians on her list of people she wanted to avoid.

"Commander Shepard," The woman greeted as they approached. "Khalisah bint Sinah al-Jilani, Westerland news. Would you answer a few questions for our viewers?"

"A few," Shepard replied. That was about the most polite thing she could say right now, because anything else might come out as if she was chewing glass.

"Of course, I understand you are busy," the woman replied as she tapped commands on her omni-tool to activate her camera drone.

Out of the corner of her eye Shepard saw Nihlus and Garrus duck out of the camera's angle just before the drone's light went on and focused on her.

"This is Khalisah bint Sinah al-Jilani, Westerland news, and today I bring you an exclusive interview with Lieutenant Commander Shepard." She announced for the benefit of the recording. "Now, Commander, you are a recipient of the Star of Terra for your actions of Elysium, correct?"

"Yes," Shepard replied.

"You have also been called the White Death of Elysium of course. Now word is that you were recently named the commanding officer of an Alliance frigate, the Normandy, something special by what I hear."

"If by special you mean just out of the yard, new, then yes."

"So you were not put in command of a top secret vessel?"

"All Alliance vessels are shrouded in secrecy, standard military practice," Shepard replied with just a hint of affected nonchalant flippancy.

Khalisah looked about as pleased as someone sitting on a cactus right now. Clearly she was not getting the information she wanted. Shepard one, reporter zero, Shepard thought to herself.

"Moving on, Commander. Is it also true that just recently you have become a potential future Spectre? A prestigious position to be sure, but our viewers would want to know, what do you think of it?"

Shepard tried her best not to let her gaze flicker to Nihlus. If she saw his grin right now, she might just lose her poker face. "Spectres are the best the galaxy has to offer, chosen for their skill and dedication. To be evaluated for the corps is already an honor."

"Yes, but it remains a fact that two and a half decades after humanity entered the galactic community, you are the first candidate for the position," Khalisah went on, "some are saying that the Council is merely placating humanity with this overture, and your nomination will be rejected in due time."

The warning alarm went off in Shepard's head, but she did not miss the fact that the reporter did not know about Captain Anderson's candidacy. Her sources were good, but not flawless, not on the inside. "The Spectres protect the galactic community, but in every case their races have been part of said community for a century or more before individuals were entrusted with the responsibility of policing its borders. Furthermore, the demands of the position are exacting, for every candidate who makes full Spectre, there will be dozens who do not. In that sense, humanity is right on the curve on both accounts." Shepard could see Khalisah's little smile fade as she probably realized she would get nothing from her.

"So would you say the Council is fair in their treatment of human concerns?"

"Yes. Humanity is part of the galactic community, our concerns are on the Council's agenda, but we are just one race of many with concerns." That might be the most untruthful statement Shepard had yet to utter, given what she knew, but she would not feed this hack.

"Yet you were also there on Eden Prime when the colony was attacked by the Geth," Khalisah continued, her tone becoming a little more direct in the accusation. "Twenty people died over a Prothean artifact. The Council's investigation into the attack failed to satisfy the concerns of our colonists, and the people back on Earth."

The alarms were shrill again; Khalisah looked to be on the attack. Shepard thought this was what she had been angling for since the beginning. "What happened on Eden Prime was tragic, but the truth is quite simple. The Geth attack was spurned by the artifact, nothing more. Prothean artifacts are always a hot commodity. The Geth are an advanced space-faring race, same as any other, they want Prothean technology too. The issue is that they chose to use force to obtain said technology. As for the Council's official investigation, it focused on whether the Geth had help. The investigation yielded no evidence that they did. This is in the open proceeding records, hardly a secret."

"You truly believe that, don't you?"

"What I believe does not matter. These are the facts. Facts will be facts regardless of my belief in them." Shepard replied.

Khalisa was not pleased. Shepard could not be happier. She did not enjoy being on the receiving end of this nonsense. Khalisa wanted her to sound like a naïve idiot. Turnabout was fair play.

"Of course. Well, one last question then."

Finally, Shepard thought. She had a strong urge to fry the camera drone with an overload, but contained it. The reporter, or more likely her network, would come after her for damages. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nihlus staring at her, his arms folded. The piercing look was colder than ever, his eyes looked positively dark and stormy. She had to get rid of this reporter.

"What does the Alliance intend to do in the event of further Geth aggression?"

"We will protect our colonies from acts of aggression, whether they come from old or new enemies. Now personally, I've never let these things slide. If the Geth pose a threat to anyone in front of me, I'll have a weapon loaded and ready."

"Yes. I suppose it makes sense that the White Death would say that. Thank you, Commander. This talk has been most illuminating."

Shepard kept her face perfectly blank as the reporter powered down her drone. The urge to fry the little floating bugger was still there, but Shepard could not do it without the reporter knowing. Somehow in the pit of her stomach she suspected that she should have shot the reporter down, refused to talk, but that would have been more damning if anything. Khalisah would find a way to drag someone's name through the mud regardless of whether or not they answered her questions. Failure to answer might actually make it worse.

She watched the reporter walk off, drone in tow. Khalisah was going onto her mental list of reporters to watch out for from now on. There was no mistaking the woman's agenda. The undertone of the interview was, from the build up to the finale, all about making her look bad. Khalisah was not the first, nor would she be the last who would try that. The whole Westerland News network was a conservative morass of twisted facts and conspiracy theories that fed the collective psychosis of people who saw not getting what they wanted on a silver platter as irrefutable evidence of a conspiracy against them. No matter what Shepard did, she would never convince them otherwise, they would dismiss anything she said as proof of her involvement and benefit from the conspiracy.

"That was… ugly," Garrus noted as he approached.

"If she comes back to ask more of those sorts of questions, I am frying the drone," Nihlus said, his arms dropping to the sides.

Shepard chuckled, she could not help it. She saw Nihlus' brow plates rise a little as he spared her a look. "I thought of doing that myself." She confessed.

"Should have."

"Nah. The Network would come after me like a rabid varren for the damages."

"I see. Well I do not have that problem." Nihlus grinned. "They can not make me pay, but I will enjoy watching them try."

Shepard shook her head, amused at his antics, and moved toward the door leading to their dock. As far as she was concerned, she wanted the day over. Hell, she wanted off the Citadel. They had clearly spent too much time here, in one place, if the reporters were starting to figure out where the Normandy docked.

Shepard stepped into the waiting lounge and stopped cold. There were two corporals guarding the entryway that led to the gangways serving the Normandy. But the lounge was not as empty as it should have been. Seated at the end of one of the rows of underused passenger seats was a perfect stranger.

"Please tell me he's not another newshound," she murmured.

"I see no camera drone," Nihlus replied.

The man must have heard voices because he looked up and then jumped out of his seat. "Oh! It's really is… wow! Commander Shepard! The White Death of Elysium!"

Not a reporter, Shepard thought. Still, she was not going to say this was much of an improvement. She approached him slowly, keeping some distance. "I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here, seeing as I don't know your name."

"My name is Conrad, Conrad Verner. I am so honored to meet you."

"What can I do for you, Conrad?" A fan, Shepard could handle adulation slightly better, but it still felt awkward for her. At the very least the awkwardness was different. Verner was unlikely to start asking compromising questions she could not answer.

"Oh! Yes. I was hoping you would sign something for me. My wife would be absolutely thrilled!" he grabbed a long cylindrical case off the seat next to the one he had been sitting on and popped the top. Shepard heard the faint whine of a sidearm powering up, whether it was Nihlus' or Garrus' she could not tell, but someone was jumpy.

Verner ignored everything as he slipped his hand inside and pulled out a roll of actual paper. "Your feat on Elysium was the stuff of legends!" He explained as he began to unroll the paper. "Now, this was very difficult to obtain, a real treasure."

Shepard froze as she came face to face with an all-too-familiar recruitment campaign poster, a real blast from the past. Staring back at her was herself, six years younger now, clad in white armor, with Vincent slung over her shoulder. The poster was produced after Elysium, and at one time it was on every holo-roundel by Alliance recruitment offices, and even in some shopping malls. Shepard had been the face of a new recruitment campaign geared toward women. Another attempt to even numbers, as the Alliance's ground forces were seventy-five percent male, and the fleet officer corps was split sixty-forty.

So much for handling adulation, this was quite possibly worse than probing questions she could not answer. Nothing could have prepared her for seeing that poster again. It was a reminder of the worst period of her life. Shepard knew full well that the look she gave the camera was only fierce because it contained a great amount of anger and hurt. Where Verner managed to get a print copy on actual glossy poster paper was beyond her. The poster had vanished quickly following her fall from grace.

With one hand holding up the poster, Verner reached into his pocket and brandished an old-fashioned black marker, "Would you sign this? Please?" he asked.

"Sure…" Shepard said, fully aware that she sounded a little numb. She took the poster carefully and moved over to the nearest wall. Verner was all too eager to help her prop it up so she could sign the bottom right corner. She added a simple 'For Conrad Verner, - Lt. Cmd. J. Shepard' and flourished with a stroke from the bottom of final letter of her last name and elaborated the curl on the top of her first name's initial.

Verner took the poster, keeping it open so the ink could dry, "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" he gushed.

"You're welcome, take it easy." Shepard replied as she handed back his marker as well. Odds were the marker might end up part of the memorabilia too. Still, who was she to step all over someone who was perfectly happy floating in fantasy land? Verner seemed more clueless than dangerous. She did not want anyone to see how the sight of that poster bothered her.

Verner all but bounced back to his seat, where he reached into the tube case for a transparent frisket sheet, covered the signature, and re-rolled the poster. He slid the roll back into his protective tube as gingerly as if it was a five-hundred-year-old masterpiece. With the tube sealed, he slung it across his body and smiled.

"Again, thank you, Commander. I will not forget this." With that said he rushed off, and out the doors.

Shepard smiled; some people were just ridiculously easy to please.

"A celebrity Spectre." She felt more than heard the presence of the two turians behind her. "You know, I do not think we ever had one of those before." Nihlus continued. "You could-"

Shepard flipped up a hand, holding up her index finger, "Not. Another. Word." Nihlus obliged, but she could see the big grin on his face. "This is going to be one of those rare times I order you to do something and I expect you to obey. You are not to discuss -or even mention- that incident, or that I have a fan, or that I made his day by signing a poster. I was being nice. Nothing more."

"Sure." Nihlus replied, smiling even wider.

"Garrus, I need your silence as well." Shepard glanced toward the former detective.

"Understood, Commander." Garrus replied, though now he sounded amused as well.

Shepard spared Nihlus a look, which she hoped was enough of a warning. She was not kidding about the order. The last thing she needed was everyone to know she was that much a goody-two-shoe. She turned, clasped the strap of her bag tight, and marched toward the doorway leading to the Normandy. She wanted off this accursed station, before she was accosted by something else.


Half an hour later, and back on the Normandy, Shepard felt about a thousand percent better. This was her sanctuary; no reporter could reach her here. She came down to deck three and paused before turning right toward life support. Sure, her day was a bit long and full of people she would have loved to avoid, but she promised herself that she would be honest with Garrus. The door was closed, but not locked, she tapped the console. Barely two seconds passed before the door opened and she stepped inside.

"Commander, need me for something?" Garrus asked. He was seated at the table, facing the door, clad in a Prussian blue and slate grey tunic outfit, his casuals. His hard suit was disassembled, lying on the floor behind him in rather orderly rows of individual parts and plates. The back unit, where the suit's computer was housed, was on the table in front of him, and his omni-tool was up.

"I was hoping to talk, but if you're busy…"

"I am never too busy if there is something you want, Commander. This is nothing, regular maintenance and calibrations on the shield emitters."

"Ah, may I sit down?" she motioned to the chair across from him.

"Of course."

She was being needlessly polite, but this was after all his private space aboard the ship, even if the ship was hers. "Erm… don't take this the wrong way, but will you be alright with C-sec armor?" she wondered.

Garrus chuckled, "This may look like C-sec armor, but I upgraded about everything in it. Do not mention this to Kryik, but my armor is probably up to Spectre specs."

Shepard nodded. "That's good. Well I came here because I wanted to… level some things."

Garrus was typing something on his omni-tool, but he looked up as she spoke.

"I wanted to explain why I tolerate Nihlus as much as I do." She continued.

Garrus turned his omni-tool off, "Commander, you do not have to. This is your ship, your command. It was not my place to second-guess your decisions or expect an explanation."

Shepard shook her head, "Well, yes, but I don't like to issue unnecessary orders. I do not believe in unnecessary discipline rigidity either. A commanding officer has to give as well as take."

"That is a personal ethos?"

"Yes." Shepard replied. She really ought to stop beating around the bush. When Garrus said no more, Shepard glanced at him, and noticed that he was watching and waiting for her to go on. She cleared her throat a little, just to get rid of the little bit of nerves. "Well this is probably obvious, but the Alliance really wants that first human Spectre, and I'm the only candidate they have right now. Really, Nihlus' nomination… no one expected it. There's pressure." She paused, as if to let him add anything, but he remained quiet, still listening. "To put it simply, I never had the option of saying no. When Saren told Nihlus to sabotage me, I could not act because I thought an accusation might only cause Nihlus to denounce me sooner."

"I thought that might be the case… well, the cannot-denounce-him part. Also, he knows about EDI."

"Yes. For whatever reason, Nihlus hasn't mentioned EDI to anyone." Shepard replied. "But let's be honest, it is not like he is blackmailing me. Even if the Council found out… EDI already exists, and it'll be over my dead body that they'll shut her down."

"I understand she is an invaluable ally."

"Yes, and she's also a friend." Shepard countered, knowing that EDI could hear them. "My biggest issue is that I simply do not have the luxury of losing my candidacy, failing to make it."

"Why is that?"

Shepard sighed; this was the hard part, the truth. "I'm snarled up in strings," the metaphor seemed oddly appropriate. She was just a marionette for the Alliance. "I've made mistakes. The biggest one almost got me a discharge. Captain Anderson got me into ICT on a technicality, mostly so the situation would cool. Still, couple years later, here I am, an N7, and as far as the Alliance is concerned, my name is still mud. I've been accused of getting ahead merely on patronage, not skill or merit."

Garrus leaned back in his seat. "You do not wish to leave the Alliance?"

Shepard shook her head, "I grew up on warships. I swear the earliest memories I got are hull breach drills. I knew that as soon as I hit eighteen I would enlist. I wanted to be just like my mother." She chuckled, thinking back on it. Somehow once she started talking, things got going, it became easier. Garrus was a good listener, and she wanted to think he understood as well. After all, turians went into mandatory military training at age fifteen. "My life is complicated. The Alliance crew aboard already knows this. It is only fair that you should know as well."

He nodded, and Shepard could not help but smile. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her chest.

"Your obligations bind you as surely as they bound me," Garrus said after moment. "I knew where I would end up too… well beyond basic military service. My father is in C-sec too, senior detective in another division, a legend. He has friends in the right places. The sort of places that got my application approved immediately."

Shepard straightened in her seat. Garrus had no idea where the similarities stopped, did he? "Does your father know about why you chose to leave C-sec?"

"Yes," Garrus replied, but then he stopped, took a deep breath, and let it out in what sounded like a sigh, "He knew about it ten minutes after I walked out on Pallin."

"I get the feeling he's not happy."

"To say the least. Last time we talked, he said Pallin would restore my job if I went back. He thinks I am wasting my time, and nothing good will come out of it. My father is not a fan of Spectres."

"Too much danger?"

"There is no such thing as too much danger for us. We do what we have to. No, my father's problem with Spectres is too little oversight," Garrus corrected. "He would tell you that Spectres are not much better than the criminals they bring down. Too much power at too little accountability."

"Ah," Shepard replied. "And what is your take on Spectres?"

"I think they are needed. C-sec is buried in red tape. It ties our hands when it comes to the worst crimes. Then we have a poor record with lawyers whose job it is to find a single insignificant procedural inconsistency in an otherwise solid case and use it to get a whole thing thrown out."

Somehow Shepard thought he was speaking from personal experience. That was an awfully specific complaint. "So basically only every lawyer?"

Garrus chuckled, "Yes. Well… Spectres have the power to mete out justice when C-sec cannot. If there are individuals who abuse that power, they have to be dealt with, but as a whole, Spectres do a necessary job."

Shepard thought she understood where Garrus' shoulder chip came from. Saren definitely looked to be the sort who abused his power. "Well if may? I can certainly see validity in your father's argument. Additional oversight or maybe some systemization could not hurt." The problem with the whole corps really lay in the personal ethics of individual members. Shepard thought that she could see the line, and not cross it. "Still, I agree with you as well, Spectres are definitely needed. C-sec's jurisdiction is confined to a certain region, what happens when a criminal runs the border?"

"Precisely. Too many criminals have gotten away on that technicality."

Shepard smiled again, but before she could say anything else there was a scratch on the intercom. "Erm, sorry to interrupt, Commander." Joker cut in. "But Admiral Hackett is on the horn. Sounds urgent."

"Got it Joker," she replied. She heard another scratch as the link closed. "Duty calls, I think." Shepard got up from her seat.

"Of course, well I best finish this." He motioned to his armor. "I have a feeling I am going to be stress-testing my upgrades in the near future."

Shepard nodded, and made her way to the door. If the Admiral wanted to speak to her urgently, then she had a feeling that Garrus' words would prove to be prophetic before long.


Author Notes: Random authorial note up there was not random. I was not about to sweep the fallout of that episode under the rug at the first opportunity, and there was some more basic ground to cover. I admit this one of those filler-y ones, but it really, really was done for essential framing and staging. I promise!

General Notes:

Shipping – As I said in a reply to someone on my AO3 reviews… this story was initially meant to be a Shakarian, however now that I have 27 eps complete (as of writing this note), I can see it more readily evolves into a Shyik. I just think I somehow ended up giving them more chemistry than initially planned, any opinions? Please leave a comment if you got any.

Chapter Notes:

Blood Colors – Ever notice how vertebrate life on Earth largely has red blood? Haemoglobin is kind of universal, since if you go back up the evolutionary chain, vertebrates all have a common ancestor. Well I was thinking with Turians being blue-blooded, the same principle might apply there, that is vertebrate life on Palaven might all have blue blood. Also, there are creatures with blue blood on our planet, with Hemocyanin, but those are invertebrates.

Ship Prices – This number got me pondering, how much would a ship the size of the Defiant cost, and thus be insured for? I established that the Normandy cost 2.5 Billion, but she's a very special ship. The Defiant was much smaller, with far less fancy tech, bought used, and I reckon the Turian economy would be far more regulated than our capitalistic "free market", thus prices would be capped.

Desolas' Admiralty – I am aware that in canon Desolas was a general, but this is one of those parts where my canon changes things around.

Castis Vakarian – I mined canon deeply on this after ME:A came out, and realized that ME:A was kind of the tip of the iceberg. The comics gave us a bit more on Castis Vakarian, like the fact that he was still in C-sec in 2183, and retired only sometime around 2185. I decided to keep those bits as cannon as possible. There is plot to be had in these details.