I remember a long time ago that someone really liked Pressley and didn't like seeing how I'd made him into a bit of the bad guy. Well, for that reviewer (if you're still here), you should be intensely interested to see what I've got for you here. It's time for Shepard's judgment to fall down on his wayward officers. I want to go on record, however, that I didn't write it this way because of that review per se; but because I intended to make this scene all along. Yeah, Ash might not (ever) be best friends with him, but I hope you all see the justice in how this works out for both of them. This story is all about faults and growth; mostly for Ashley, but not exclusively so.


Chapter 9

We remained at Terra Nova while the engineers fixed X57's orbit with a reorientation of the asteroid and a several careful burns on the Helium-3 torches. The Normandy needed to dump its accumulated drive charge, a natural by-product of FTL drives. We came in for a landing at a spaceport and grounding station that could allow the potentially deadly charge to make its way out and away from the ship safely.

I was fortunate in one respect; my damaged left arm was not as bad off as I originally feared it might have been. Chakwas told me it was must have been a hard hit, but that I was just hard enough myself to withstand it. The pain from the bruising became very mild in perspective to other injuries I'd withstood over the years, and it would heal completely on its own with time.

Shepard called Pressley and myself to his quarters. We entered at roughly the same time, discovering Daniel at his computer, calling up various records. "Take a seat," he ordered without glancing at either of us.

I did as commanded, taking a seat on a couch. There weren't many other places to sit, so Pressley sat down next to me. I pointedly put a few extra centimeters between us by adjusting how I sat.

Shepard finished whatever he was doing and turned. He rolled his chair over to be nearer to the two of us and able to look us head-on. "We have a problem. Any ship, any crew—any soldier knows how vital communication is. It can define the very outcome of the battle; it can save lives. Lately, I've become aware of a very serious miscommunication between myself and Mr. Pressley."

Pressley shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, I know I should have told you, but I did what I did for the safety of the crew—."

Shepard cut him off, "I'm not finished yet!" Pressley immediately lapsed into silence, chagrined. "Now, when it comes down to the operation of this ship and what her crew is doing, I should know everything at all times. No exceptions. I am her commanding officer, and I cannot lead her effectively if I'm not even aware of what is going on aboard ship. What you have done, Pressley—for whatever reasons you think justifies it—has challenged my very authority. You know what else classifies as a challenge to the CO's authority? Mutiny." He spat the word.

Pressley objected immediately. "Sir, that is absurd! I would never break the chain of command like that. I simply worry about their intentions. The aliens know too much about our ship and its classified technology from being aboard for so long. Maybe what I did was wrong, Sir, but I did it for good reasons, not because I wanted to undermine your authority. That couldn't be further from the truth. I wanted to convince you to see things from my point of view, and I knew I needed hard evidence to do that."

Shepard shook his head. "Don't you think I know how important the security of this ship is? I have vetted them each personally, perhaps not as deeply as you've gone, but still enough to know what kind of people I've invited aboard my ship. Make no mistake, Mr. Pressley, there is nothing you can say that changes the gravity of what you have done here. If you truly had this much concern about the aliens I brought aboard, I should have been made aware of it and decided if your investigations were warranted. I should have been aware of your investigation's progress every step of the way. This is inexcusable, Commander."

Pressley had no answer to that, and I relished him being torn down by Shepard more than I should have. Pressley and his stupid mission was the reason Liara wasn't speaking to me—the source of all my inner turmoil of late. In my opinion, he was getting off lightly so far.

"Now, Gunnery Chief Williams. You are just as culpable in this as Mr. Pressley. You willingly took part in this investigation, which was clearly against my policy of integrating the aliens into my crew as equals, and you kept it entirely between yourself and Mr. Pressley."

I nodded. "I was ordered to make reports to Commander Pressley, Sir."

"I know you respect the chain of command. That's what makes this all the worse. I never expected to find out that you would take part in something like this. I want an explanation, soldier."

I looked to Pressley briefly. "When he first proposed this investigation we were still fresh off the Citadel with three strange aliens aboard we'd never seen before. I didn't know them, didn't trust them, and I wanted to believe Commander Pressley was right about them. So I tried to find out for myself. I wanted to protect this ship because this is an opportunity I am quite frankly blessed to have. It was relatively simple; I talked with them, tried to ascertain their goals aboard the Normandy, I made regular reports to my XO. It didn't seem all that bad or wrong, not at first. Things snowballed from there."

Shepard's face hardened, and I could tell his opinion was swinging against me. I kept going, resolute. "I apologize for my part in this. I regret it. I've regretted it for a long time now. That's why I recently went to Commander Pressley and told him I wouldn't do it anymore. He threatened to remove me from duty, and then added that he would remove me from the Normandy. As much as it hurt to think about that, Commander, I couldn't in good conscience continue this investigation. I realized it for the ugly thing that it was, or that it had become. So I put a stop to it and accepted the consequences, whatever they are and may be."

Shepard shook his head. "It is a shame, Gunnery Chief, that you couldn't have had your epiphany earlier. Like before we left for Therum."

It was my turn to have nothing to say. It wasn't as nice as when it was happening to Pressley. Shepard didn't say anything else for a very long time. Finally, he decided, "Mr. Pressley, I am docking your pay for seven days, and I'm placing you on a kind of 'probation' that requires a higher level of accountability. You'll be writing five times the reports, if that's what it takes to convince me you're being straight with me again. Any and all orders that go beyond the standard running of this ship will go through me. That will be the end of the disciplinary action only if I receive your promise that you will practice full disclosure with me from now on, and that I will have your full support in integrating the aliens into the crew. If you can't give me that, then tell me now, and you can request reassignment. I will not provide an endorsement, but at least you won't be any worse off than you are now aboard a different ship.

"Don't make this promise unless you intend to keep it, Mr. Pressley. If I ever have a problem again, there will be consequences for you—including a court martial and potential dishonorable discharge. I'm going to write you up for this indiscretion, and I won't be kind. Then I'm going to save it to my private files and keep it there. If we have no further altercations like this, then that report will never see the light of day. You can continue to serve on the Normandy to your fullest capacity as XO. Think about this carefully, Commander, before you make your decision."

Shepard turned slightly towards me, and I braced myself for it. "As for you, Gunnery Chief, I will not overlook this either. I need to know where you stand, and I need the truth."

"Sir, I need you to understand that I have never had anything but the utmost respect for your command. I believe the aliens are trustworthy and that my investigation into them is over. I've worked closely with them for a while now, and I trust them. Having them around hasn't been a problem for me for a long time."

"Good. You're a good soldier, Williams, and I value your moral compass in a challenging time such as the one we live in now. I'm not going to have you kicked off the ship for this, but I am going to restrict your privileges as a noncommissioned officer until such time as I feel full restitution has been made. Make sure you report to Lieutenant Alenko for his approval of anything now falling beyond your purview. I also require you to remain aboard during our next shore leave to keep the ship company." He smirked, but there was no humor in his face, only a hard glare of judgment. "Be aware you are making the same promise to me that Pressley is—and there is no measure for how hard I will come down on either of you if you fail to uphold it."

"I promise, Commander." My gaze kept unerringly fixed on his face, showing the strength of my conviction and my lack of fear to his threatened reprisals. I knew he wouldn't have further issues from me. He seemed to accept this.

"And you, Mr. Pressley?"

"Stopping Saren is the most important thing, Commander. What you've said is right, and I see how wrong I was to do this without you. I know I've hurt your trust in me, and I'm willing to work hard to restore what I've damaged. Believe me, it won't happen again."

"I'm glad to hear it. You are both dismissed; I have a report to write."

I exchanged a quick look with Pressley before standing and saluting, and then leaving Shepard's quarters. Pressley stopped me once we were outside and Shepard's doors had closed.

"What changed, Chief?" he asked suddenly.

I considered his question. "I changed, Commander," I told him. I just wish, like the Commander does, that I'd done it a lot quicker. My stubbornness has made it all the more difficult now. I was blind—blind like the Consort warned me. I was slightly shocked to suddenly discover a whole new layer of meaning to her brief sit down with me. She says a lot with a little, doesn't she?

Seeing that Pressley still looked expectant, I pressed forward. "I took my responsibility seriously, Commander, even if you aren't as certain about that as I am. I worked hard to study all the angles that I could think of. In all of that, I never expected to identify with their motivations as if they were my own. I never expected to discover they were just like me on the inside. I thought they were fundamentally different. They would have to be, to be the monsters I imagined that were responsible for Shanxi. When I realized their motivations were just as human as mine, and continued to talk with them, I discovered for the first time that I could befriend them just as easily as any human. It wasn't instantaneous or easy, but I put aside my preconceived notions and tried to accept them for who they were. That's how I changed."

Pressley nodded and then shrugged."I was getting used to the constant hostility between us. Do you think we can put it aside and work together to accomplish this mission?"

Maybe. "Do you trust the aliens?"

"Only with this mission. After that—who knows what they might do. You know how many people would kill to know what they know, both about this mission and about the ship? It's a cutting edge prototype, the next generation of frigate technology. Our stealth technology is a first this galaxy has ever seen. That buys a pretty penny where I come from, and I don't know anybody, human or alien, that is immune to greed. Like you said, they're just like us."

I challenged, "Why don't you complain about the crew then?" His eyes hardened into a sharp glare. I knew what I was insinuating about his choices in crewmembers, but it had to be said. "I'll tell you why. You know the crew. You may not have picked every single one of them, but you picked a lot of them. You know their service records and profiles. I've seen you in every single room on this ship at least half a dozen times. You confer with your crew, and you talk to each one of them. That's how you know you can trust them.

"But I never see you do that with the aliens. Not the same way; not as long, or as often. You barely exchange pleasantries and pass along Shepard's orders when it's asked of you. You're making all these judgments without getting to know them for yourself. It's the same mistake we both made when this whole thing started. By default, you had my respect before we got to know each other, but now, you've lost it for good. I hope your pathological need to find faults in allies you've never even really met was worth the cost."

I glared back at Commander Pressley, daring him to say anything, before concluding. "We can be 'civil' just like you're 'civil' with Shepard's team, and we can work together to finish this mission, but I wouldn't go holding out hope for anything beyond that. Excuse me, Commander." I brushed past him, continuing towards the elevator. I punched the button, and as the door rose up out of the floor to close between us, I saw Pressley walk past, looking at me funnily. I could tell he was still thinking about what I'd said.

Good.

() () () () ()

I received permission to leave the Normandy only because my armor was still damaged from that bullet that had nearly torn into my chest on Feros. While some others were enjoying a brief respite of shore leave, I was "imprisoned" aboard the ship. It was hard seeing Liara every day and not talking with her. She had yet to make good eye contact with me since that day she found out about the investigation.

It wasn't just "hard," however. It hurt. It hurt today just as badly as it hurt when she uttered an asari curse at me. Athame turn you away! I kept comparing it side by side with the blessing she'd offered to my father. The goddess receives him in love. The message was quite clear in both cases; Athame had the choice to accept you when you died. The curse might as well have been "Go to hell." The other was a blessing offered in consolation, hoping to lessen your suffering if you believed the deceased went to a better place, entered the care of a benevolent mother-figure.

Putting her words into my vernacular illustrated the weight of how badly I'd screwed things up with Liara. I knew she was patient, and she didn't utter curses at everyone who annoyed her a little bit. It made me feel like dirt to know I had driven her that far away.

When Liara and I had compared our religions, we'd found so many things in common that could compliment each other. It had given me hope that I could share my beliefs with another person aboard this ship. A while ago, during an otherwise innocuous conversation, Shepard had told me he wasn't interested in what I had to say about God and religion. It made me feel isolated. I didn't want to convert him against his will, of course. I wasn't trying to evangelize for his soul if he wasn't interested. I just wanted to be accepted, and my religion was an integral part of who I was that he simply rejected out of hand.

Liara had given me such acceptance, a ray of light that came from an incredibly unlikely direction. She was so special. She could accept anyone for who they were and inspire them to be better. I'd taken her gift to me and squandered it. There are stories in the Bible about that—seems I didn't learned my lesson very well. To some degree, it's a lot like the saying goes—you never know what you have until it's gone.

I wished I could be forgiven. I wanted to talk to her about anything—I didn't care what topic, just talk to her. She must have seen me watching her. Trying to catch her eye, trying to engage her. Yet, it never worked.

Right now, however, I could distract myself. The Normandy's Requisition Officer had given Alenko the credits for a purchase, and now I was strolling past various armor shops, checking out the brands. There were more brands on this human colony than on the Citadel. Not every human-armor manufacturer had the capital power to set up a shop at the heart of the Council races. Still, I only stopped to look at manufacturers with a good reputation, and most of them would have had shops on the Citadel. In that way, the choices between here and there were almost exactly the same for me.

I checked on a heavy suit of armor by Kassa Fabrication. It was their latest generation armor, known as the "Colossus" brand. Whereas my original Phoenix armor was mostly white with light red highlights, this armor looked considerably more badass with an all-black shell and blood-red highlights for the inner flexible layer. Its shields and armor plating ratings were unparalleled among modern armors. Alenko looked appropriately impressed too.

"How much can we spend again?" I asked slyly.

Kaidan laughed. "Not that much, I'm afraid. Let's keep looking."

"Yeah," I sighed, taking one last longing look before moving on.

We kept looking for a while. I pretended not to notice the Ursa light armor identical to the one I'd helped Liara pick out. When Kaidan almost shoved the heavy Ursa version in my face, I made up a flimsy excuse about its construction bothering me. He seemed perplexed, but returned it to the rack from which it had come.

After an hour or so of careful searching, I decided the best armor for our budget was going to be the heavy Titan line from Rosenkov Materials. It was muted black and gray, the colors fitting together in a camouflage pattern that still looked good. It was considerably less shiny than my old Phoenix—it preferred to soak up light rather than reflect it. That would be valuable in combat. I always hated the target my old armor painted on me by being bright and easily reflective. At least this was a step in the right direction.

I tried it on a second time, deciding I liked the way it assembled around my body and fit snugly. In the changing room as I took it apart, I removed the inner padding to better accommodate my breasts, replacing it with a thinner one and trying it on again. Kaidan waited silently out in the front of the shop.

I decided it fit almost perfectly now. I tried a few stretches to test my range of motion. It was actually a little better than my old Phoenix armor had allowed. Satisfied, I removed the armor fully and brought it up front to get Kaidan to pay for it.

Gathering the armor together in a sack, we departed the shop quietly. "Thanks for helping me today," I offered.

"Yeah," Kaidan answered. "I have to say, I was dreading this." He added a little levity to his tone as he explained, "I thought you'd be a little more like normal girls—you know, how they can go ballistic when you get them within fifty feet of a store with the intention of buying something."

I shrugged. It wasn't horribly humorous in my opinion. "I never got along with that crowd of girls. I was always more of a tomboy."

"Well, I'm just glad it was over quick and painless. Thanks, Chief."

"No problem, El-Tee," I answered back, shooting him a smile.

"We don't spend a lot of time together considering the size of the Normandy."

Astute observation. What's your point? "No, I guess not."

Kaidan led the way as we turned a corner and had to walk single file briefly to get past a glut of pedestrians. I caught up alongside him after they'd passed by. "I debriefed Corporal Dennon and Fireteam One after the mission on X57. They were really impressed with your command on the asteroid. As Private Deleon put it so wistfully, 'Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'.'"

Now I laughed. "She didn't say that."

"On the contrary," Kaidan shot back, "she did."

I sobered. "Wow." I couldn't think of what else to say. I was feeling pretty good, though, and that was a refreshing change of pace.

"Anyway, it made me realize that you're a good officer and a natural leader. It made me feel more than a little guilty that I didn't find this out earlier by talking with you personally. I think we should work on fixing that. Together, you and I are in charge of every marine on the ship. We set the examples. We should set the example in our communication between each other, not just our leadership."

I nodded. It made sense, and I agreed that communication was our weak point.

Changing topics, Kaidan asked, "You want to stop for some food before we return to the Normandy?"

"You know I'm not supposed to do that," I reminded him, even though I secretly desired to eat some real good human food before being restored to my gilded cage.

"I know," Kaidan cut in quickly, "but to be honest, I wasn't expecting us to finish in only an hour and twenty minutes, and I see it as a godsend, because this means I can stop for some real food while we're here. I'll even cover for you if anybody finds out." Kaidan smiled.

I smirked back at him. "Another biotic binge?"

"You know it," Kaidan played it up effortlessly. "So, food?"

"Yes, food," I agreed quickly.

We found a small restaurant with a wide selection of entrées. I ordered a good soup while Kaidan ordered a large pasta dish along with a side of steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and extra bread. I helped him clear some room on the table when the waitress brought over our meals. I tried the soup and smiled. It tasted heavenly. This was almost good enough to be worth the court-martial if Shepard found out about it.

Kaidan volunteered to share some of his breadsticks. I accepted gratefully and tried it. I gave an enthusiastic report."I like it!"

He smiled. "Me too. So, you used to be stationed here, huh?"

"Yeah," I explained, "under Lieutenant Hawke. I hated it. He drove me like an animal most days."

"Trying to get the most out of his soldiers, perhaps? Whip them into shape?"

"More like trying to whip me out of shape. I think he wanted me to give up."

"Yeah? Why?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons," I evaded. It wasn't personal; but I couldn't be close to Kaidan like I had been to Liara. It hurt enough losing someone like that once; I didn't need to fracture the pieces I had left. Not to mention, it just didn't feel the same with him, but I couldn't really explain that feeling even to myself.

"Huh. Hawke, huh? You know, I've had more than a few tough instructors in my time, too. Especially a turian by the name of Commander Vyrnnus. I knew him many years ago, before I was in the military. He introduced himself to me by saying, 'I was at the helm of the dreadnought that killed your father.' I heard him use that line on a couple of us kids at Jump Zero."

"What were you doing on Jump Zero as a kid? And what was Vyrnnus doing there?" I asked, confused.

"I was being trained in biotics. It was a new field at the time, and nobody knew how to deal with us and our gifts. They brought in Vyrnnus because they wanted to start a program training biotic soldiers, and who better to train us than another biotic. This was back before the program was run by the military; instead, we had a private company called Conatix in charge of our training program."

"Vyrnnus must have hated that assignment."

"I'd imagine so," Kaidan hedged, "but really, I got myself into the boiling water. I stood up to Vyrnnus and told him that my father wasn't even in the war. Ever since then he had a personal grudge against me. All of us teenagers had it bad; I just had it worst of all. They were some pretty brutal conditions considering I was still just a kid—a scrawny teenager—and growing up. He wouldn't let any of us get so much as a cup of water without using our biotics."

"Sounds brutal," I empathized. I needed no imagination to think of an alien holding a grudge against another species; it was how I'd been for years before coming aboard the Normandy. How much I've changed, but Liara doesn't know and won't let me explain. Maybe she's right. Maybe I only think I'm above it now.

"Usually, when it comes to those brutal assignments, you gotta find the silver lining or the lesson to make the hardship worthwhile; make it mean something. What I learned from Vyrnnus was priceless. Aliens are jerks and saints, just like us. You have to look at them as an individual, not just as a different race."

His final words instantly made me recall my last conversation with Pressley. Briefly, I considered the possibility that this trial with Liara was for my own personal growth, the 'silver lining'. Perhaps, I reasoned, but haven't I already changed? Shouldn't it all be over now?

I finally answered the lieutenant. "Believe me, I know," I grumbled. I ate some more soup to fill in the space forming between us. Kaidan did the same with his own food.

My mind kept coming up with questions, and they were eating away at me like acid. Did Liara misunderstand, or did she know where I was on a personal level even better than I? Was I too close to myself, and the situation, to judge it correctly?

Sure, I didn't want to investigate the aliens on the Normandy anymore. Was that really such a big step? I'd already done it, and found nothing. That made it easier to trust them. Maybe I was better than Pressley—but I'd always been taught that I wasn't supposed to compare myself to others to appease my conscience. They were human, so they were fallible. I have the perfect example of God to follow. He's the measure, not Pressley.

"Chief?" Kaidan prodded. "You there? You disappeared on me."

"Huh?" I asked, and then attempted to recover. "Oh, sorry. I have a lot on my mind lately."

"You wanna talk about it?"

I wish I could. "Oh, I dunno," I equivocated. "Not really; it's personal."

"Don't worry about it," Kaidan winced, answering quickly. "I won't push you."

I couldn't come up with a response at first. "—Thanks. I'm sorry for treating you badly in the past, especially the last time we were sparring. I was more than a little wound up."

"It's fine," Kaidan told me.

"No, it's not. I'm really sorry for the things I said and did. You didn't deserve it. You've been a great officer, and I know you really care about everyone on the ship."

"Thanks Chief. You're not too bad yourself, at least usually." He smiled to let me know he didn't truly mean the last part literally. "And if you're fishing for something more, then yes, I forgive you, too."

I nodded, thankful, smiling out of one corner of my mouth briefly before returning to my food.

With that issue laid to rest, however, it became even harder to ignore the other one. It took only a short time of quiet eating for both of us before I couldn't keep my question internalized any longer. Keeping it in only let it tear at me even more. "Ok, fine. Am I a bigot, El-Tee?"

Kaidan seemed shocked. I pressed forward, "No, really, I need to know, because I think I'm a lot better now than I was before I came aboard, but if I really am, then why does she hate me?"

My eyes widened in surprise. I'd just said it, let it out there, in the wind. Damn your unfiltered mouth! Kaidan knows, knows what's really hurting, and he can imagine why that is. I gulped. I didn't know what else to do. We stared at each other for a pregnant pause that could put an elephant to shame.

Kaidan recovered first, but proceeded slowly and carefully. "A bigot? Where's this coming from? Who's 'she'?"

I turned my eyes away, staring to the side at other tables with patrons eating their meals, looking much more comfortable than I felt right now. "Nobody. It's not important. Please just do me a favor and forget I said anything," I pleaded quietly.

Kaidan forced a cough. "Whatever's going on, it's really bothering you, isn't it?"

I nodded weakly.

Kaidan frowned with disappointment; he'd obviously been hoping for more than that. He seemed to put some thoughts together before speaking next. "I don't see how anyone could call you a bigot, Chief." He paused, as if trying to decide about something. "Let's go really far off the record here. Mind if I call you Ashley, at least for this conversation?"

I looked at him sideways before saying anything. "Ok," I agreed, guarded.

"All right, Ashley. I don't see how anyone could call you a bigot. Bigots are intolerant jerks who either think themselves the closest thing to a god in this universe, or who think they know him and are blessed with a manifest destiny to pulverize any contradicting philosophy there is.

"Where, in any of that, would you fit in? I've never heard you push your religion on anyone else—and I know you're religious because you occasionally mention God when you talk. I've seen you integrate with the multi-racial side of the crew—our Prothean expert and krogan mercenary especially. Considering how they live on separate ends of the spectrum when it comes to bloodlust, it really surprises me that someone would call you narrow-minded.

"Anyway, who cares what 'she' or anyone else thinks. What do you think?"

"I think I was in the wrong for years, and I was blind to it," I spat back.

"Hey, we all have flaws like that. That's why we need other people."

My mind triggered on his words. Something poet John Donne had said a very long time ago, long before I was even born. I mumbled it aloud. "No man is an island."

"Exactly," Kaidan jumped on it, leaning forward towards me. "What's important is where you are today, not where you've been. We all have things in our past we aren't proud of, and we all need help along the way."

"Ok," I accepted his answer. My cheeks burned faintly. "Thanks, I think I needed to hear that. I'm—sorry for getting us off on this tangent."

"I'm glad you did," Kaidan stated. "I know I'm a superior officer, but I also want to know what's going on with everyone under my command. You know how it is; you can't lead effectively otherwise."

"Yes, I do." A lifetime in the military, working under and over other soldiers had taught me that lesson. I turned back to my food. My appetite began to return to me. Kaidan ate some more as well, but he had a huge lead on me already.

Kaidan waited a while longer before restarting conversation between us. "On a more professional note, you're not the only one who's feeling depressed. Morale's slipping from the last mission."

I nodded. "The batarian ship got away."

Kaidan cleared his throat contemptuously. "We should have had them—if we'd been only a little bit faster getting to the mako and chasing them down. Unfortunately, stopping a terrorist attack isn't proving to be the boon the crew needs. What have you heard among the rank and file?"

I remembered some of the things I'd heard among the crew, especially Fireteam One. "It's a good thing we stopped X57, obviously. We cut it close though—another hour and its orbit would have been irrecoverable. The crew knows as victories go this one was rather slim. The fact that the instigators may have escaped just makes it all the more hollow of a victory. They think it might happen again. Hell, I worry it might."

Kaidan shook his head. "We need to do something before our morale slips too low. This mission is too important to risk, and I think the pressure's wearing on everyone. We've been going from colony to colony—first Therum, then Feros, and now Terra Nova—and there's not one rousing success among the bunch. We're barely getting by."

"We need to show the crew we can do better than just get by," I stated.

"Let me know if you figure out how."

I nodded again, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence. We both ate ourselves full, and Kaidan paid for the meal before we resumed heading for the Normandy. I could see her sitting serenely on a pad with her mako bay door open, marines guarding the entrance with standard issue assault rifles. We had to pass through a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire to access the pad. Kaidan and I offered our identification to the guards, who checked their databases and returned them to us. Soon we were inside the fence and descending some steps down to our ship's pad.

I approached the two marines, nodding to them. They snapped off a salute to us, and we returned it with speed and precision. We walked inside together before heading our separate ways. I placed my armor in my locker to charge its capacitor, and then walked back to the arms locker. Opening it, I pulled out my sniper rifle and looked at it.

The rifle unpacked to full combat mode, becoming longer and bulkier, but ready to kill. I checked that it had no ammo block inside it before hefting it up to my shoulder and looking through the optics at my empty workstation.

I pulled back on the bolt, and then shoved it forward again, testing myself. I repeated the motion. I began fully pantomiming the procedure, including pulling the trigger. I pretended to shoot miscellaneous items standing on my table. The shooting was repeated a dozen times before I stopped, lowered the weapon, and turned it to look at the side with the bolt.

This weapon was old. Really old. It'd been assigned to me when I arrived at Eden Prime; I'd trained with it for months. However good I got with it, though, it would always have a slow firing rate, because of that manual-action bolt.

So far, I'd been pretty much ignored that it was behind the times. Now that I thought about it, however, and how much I'd relied upon it on X57—it didn't seem so smart to be hanging onto a weapon like this. I should have one of the newer models—semi-automatic, increased heat issues, but still possessing a far superior firing rate than this weapon. They had faster muzzle velocities—which meant more damage and maximum range, as well as an extension to accurate range. I decided I'd speak with the Requisitions Officer about it.

I let the weapon pack itself back down to its carrying form. I placed it gently back on its clasps in the arms locker, and then I closed and locked it tight. Briefly, I caught sight of Shepard and Wrex out of the corner of my eye. Surprised to see them conversing freely, I decided to wander over and join their conversation.

Wrex seemed pleased to spot my arrival. He drew me into their conversation immediately. "So Williams, you never got around to explaining why you've never been on a ship before. I don't know a whole heck of a lot about the way the Systems Alliance runs things, but people as good as you are natural leaders for a marine team on a frigate."

"Oh, well, I...," I faltered. It'd been a while since I stopped to think about my grandfather; I couldn't remember when the last time had been any longer. Commander Shepard looked to me, and we stared at each other for a short time before Wrex caught on.

"You know, Shepard? Williams told you her story?"

"No, but I'm a little more familiar with—things. When her transfer papers came through from Eden Prime a while ago, I realized the same things you just pointed out. Her list of crap assignments doesn't make any sense for a soldier receiving such high feedback from others in her unit. Suffice it to say, I did some digging, and I think I figured out what's in-between the lines in her file. I won't say anything, though, unless you want me to," Shepard addressed the final part to me.

I took a deep breath. So much as I wanted Shepard to do it for me, the truth was I should have told both of them this story a long time ago. It was hard, but I worked up the courage to press forward myself. "My grandfather was the only human in our history to surrender to an alien force. He was overwhelmed by a turian strike force that took control of Shanxi's orbit and threatened the lives of the civilians below if he didn't. While his decision saved lives, it doesn't change the fact that the Williams name is tarnished throughout the military because of it. That's why I get stuck on garrison duties."

Wrex saw in me that I had more to say, but difficulty saying it. To keep me going, he prodded me, "Is that all you're going to say?"

I shook my head once. "Almost everyone called my grandfather General Williams. He was completely dedicated to military service, and it showed, even in his private life. Shanxi changed things for my family. My grandfather was unofficially forced into retiring from the military. He didn't talk much after that." I paused, remembering the hard edges to my grandfather's face as he clamped his teeth together. I saw him do that a lot as a child, mostly when discussing things I was too young to understand or didn't bother to pay attention to while at the dinner table. I remembered that he was forced to work construction to make ends meet after that. I didn't realize it then, while I was young, but when I'd gotten older I began to realize how badly it must have hurt his pride to go from being a general to being a simple foreman.

"He died a dishonored warrior?" Wrex asked, his tone deadly serious.

"Not to me." I glared at Wrex as if to communicate the true weight of my words. He seemed to understand.

"Good," he pronounced, convinced. "The only tragedy worse than a warrior being stripped of his status is when his own family turns their back to him as well. That is the worst fate there is for a krogan—dying humiliated and completely dishonored."

Wrex seemed to contemplate something, arguing with himself before finally reaching a decision. "After the Krogan Rebellions were quelled by the turians releasing the genophage to ravage our people, I was placed in charge of a small tribe—tribe Urdot. There were very few warlords from the Rebellions that survived. Jerrod, my father, was one of them. He advocated the krogan go to war with the Citadel races in retaliation.

"I thought different. The genophage changed things for the krogan, and we no longer had the luxury of extreme war and high mortality rates, not like we did during the Rachni Wars. I convinced my tribe and many tribes near us to focus our efforts on breeding—at least for one generation. Jerrod said I was dishonoring the krogan by turning us into settlers instead of soldiers. He arranged a crush—a meeting on hallowed ground, a cemetery for our dead ancestors. Crushes are intended to be peaceful meetings on neutral ground where no one would dare violate the land by bringing weapons or killing the opposing krogan. I knew there was a chance it was a trap, but I also knew I had to accept. There are some things you just can't reject out of hand; a crush with your father is one of those things."

Wrex went quiet. I wasn't used to him pausing the middle of a story—I could tell this was probably his most difficult story to tell. Shepard cautiously asked, "What happened at the crush?"

"Well, we each brought a small squad with us to the crush. I watched carefully for any signs my instincts were right, but everything looked normal. Still, I never let down my guard; my father was a warlord, and he knew how to stage a surprise attack. He tried to convince me to see things his way, and would not listen to anything I had to say in response. When it became clear I wasn't going to cooperate, his soldiers leapt from the graves like krogan undead! My men were killed, and I escaped—but not before I sank my dagger deep into my father's chest. That is why I left my homeworld, and that is why I'll never go back. After that, I was finished with the krogan. We'd stopped being the respected warriors we once were, and at some point we came to glory only in senseless violence."

"I had no idea, Wrex." I was at a loss for words. "That's when you became a mercenary?"

"Yes," Wrex answered. "Williams, one warrior to another, in some ways I know the pain you must feel over what happened to your grandfather. I sympathize." He paused, letting it sink in.

I nodded, not knowing what to think or say, but feeling deeply indebted to the krogan for his words. "Thanks Wrex. You—it means a lot, coming from you."

Shepard chose another question. "You'll never go back? Surely you must have other family besides your father. Don't you miss them?"

That's a good question, I realized. I never thought to ask! Does he have a brother or sister? With the genophage, I guess I just sort of assumed he was completely alone, but that might not be true...

Wrex shifted his weight with what I interpreted as a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You trying to make me cry, Shepard?" He paused for effect before continuing. "I've got some—unfinished business—with my family, but that's all."

My eyebrows jumped up with interest at this revelation. "What kind of business, Wrex?" I asked.

Wrex sighed heavily. "Before I left, I made an oath to my father's father. I swore to recover my family's battle armor. It was taken from him after the uprising."

"Who has your family's armor now?" Shepard asked.

Wrex studied the both of us a moment before answering. "Originally it was taken by the turian military. We weren't allowed armor or weapons after the war. Now, it's the in hands of Tonn Actus." The krogan spat the name venomously. "He's turian scum who collects relics from the war. He's made millions selling krogan artifacts that were stolen from my people. He's got several bases where he stores his goods—all fortified and well-guarded. I just don't know which base has my armor."

"Where could we start looking?" I asked on impulse. I wanted to help him fulfill his oath—he was my friend, and I was not afraid to admit that to myself.

Shepard shook his head. "We don't have time to waste trying to find Tonn Actus and bring him to justice—we have larger fish to fry."

I brooded. I really wanted to help Wrex, but Shepard had a point, and I had no counterargument.

"You don't need to worry about finding him," Wrex corrected the Spectre. "I've already found him. He's at his base on Tuntau. It's a planet in the Phoenix system of Argos Rho."

"See?" I questioned rhetorically. "Commander, Actus is a criminal. We have a chance to stop him and help Wrex at the same time. What else are we going to do? Wait here for Saren to leave the shadows and strike another colony? I can't do it. I need to feel like we're doing something to make this galaxy a better place."

Shepard wasn't convinced. "Chief, I'm a bit surprised your so gung-ho about this."

"Look, Sir, I know what's at stake with Saren. We all do. But we can't just sit on our asses here and wait for the geth to pop up on the grid again. If we can't track Saren, then we need to keep busy some other way. We need to keep ourselves sharp and battle-ready."

"We just had a battle, Chief, with an asteroid full of batarians."

"It's not just that. Lieutenant Alenko and I were discussing falling crew morale—maybe this mission could be the boost we need. We need a victory, Sir. A real one! Something we can point at and be proud of. The crew has to feel like we're accomplishing something. We have to go on the offensive—constantly being limited to responding to our enemy is wearing us down. Why not this?"

Shepard considered it for a minute before replying. "I applaud your enthusiasm, Chief. It's a fair point—sitting and waiting for something to happen is wearing on us all. If I went along with this—what's your plan?"

That seemed relatively straight forward to me. "We storm Tonn's base and take him into custody. He tells us where Wrex's armor is."

Wrex added, "If you agree to go down there, Shepard, just promise me one thing: you'll let me be in the team that storms the base."

I implored the Spectre to change his mind. "Sir?"

Shepard looked back and forth between us twice before speaking again. "You're my two best soldiers. I have every confidence you can do this mission. I'll agree to take you there, but both of you must realize our primary mission takes precedence, no matter how close we are to Actus when we get the call. If we get reports of more geth, we're pulling out immediately to check it out. Clear?"

"Clear," Wrex agreed.

"As crystal," I confirmed.

"I'll schedule us to depart within two hours." Shepard grinned suddenly. "On a personal note, I have a lot of frustration with this last mission to blow off as well. That batarian ship getting away—well, let's just say I pity anyone who gets in our way."

"It won't be the same, but it'll help," I promised, sharing his mischievous grin.

"Then it's decided," Shepard concluded. "I'll brief the crew. We're off to Tuntau."


Personally, while we didn't get into it, I see a lot of open-ended opportunity for Pressley's redemption and growth. At the very least, no matter what he does, we see how Ashley is affecting him, and how her change of heart can help others around her take a critical lens to themselves.

Tuntau? Nowai. Yeswai. :) Next chapter I'll be going AU in a different direction though. Tuntau will be much easier than it is in the game. Why? Why not... Wrex has a personal stake in this one. I'm sure he'll find a way to show us how ferociously he'll fight for something personal.

It feels good to have this one done and out of the way. It's a bit of a respite for the crew that desparately needs one, even if it's far from perfect, especially for Ash. The dialogue with Kaiden characterized Ashley's situation so perfectly for me; showing how she's thinking about herself, her former preconceived notions, and what she desires most. Or did any of you fail to notice how there's only one person's opinion on this ship that she seems to even be considering? *Hint Hint Cough Cough* Hahaha.

The road to self discovery is always longest for the stubborn people like Ash, but no one can ignore or deny the truth forever, and that's a promise.

Chapters 10-11 were the hardest ones I've ever had to write for this story, thus why eight and nine took their sweet time to be released. Thankfully, however, things are really coming together. I hope you really enjoy the next couple, as I've built them up in my mind to be the real test of success. If I can't sell a believable Ash/Liara relationship to you, it will become very obvious in these next several chapters. If I can... Well, I really hope I can!