From now on I'll try to respond to your reviews, because the way I see it, if you have the time and effort to write me I seem like an ass not to write back.

Black Talons has finally been updated if you're interested in that.

And I've got a new one-shot about Kal'Reegar posted, because killing the awesome man off in an email was a crime on Bioware's part.

"From our findings, it seems the humans have made a series of alliances with several groups, primarily the quarians and a handful of powerful krogan clans."

The Councilors looked disturbed when the STG agent before them recited his report.

"Unnecessary to mention the size of quarian fleet, but krogan numbers are worrisome." The salarian sniffed, drawing in air, "The Alliance has at the very least thirteen hundred krogan at disposal, possibly more. Then batarians attacked a human colony out in the Terminus, which means the Hegemony has ended their self-imposed exile to Khar'Shan. All points to batarian expansion. Human and quarian forces are mobilizing. It seems as if war is likely to break out."

"This news is," Valern searched for the right word, "alarming, to say the least." Then he smiled, "But interesting. In such little time, humanity has already forged new partnerships. Resourceful…ingenious."

Black eyes lighting up, the STG seemed to agree. "Hmm. Yes. Would love to see how this all plays out, if this didn't have major implications, of course."

"Before we focus anymore on what humanity is doing in the Terminus," Sparatus spoke up, voice hoarse from previous bouts of yelling with his colleagues, "lets try to deal with those on our doorstep, first."

About-facing, the STG agent knew his job was finished. While the situation here on the Citadel was troubling, he had his own issues to tend to.

Ponder role in genophage, perhaps? He thought. No. Enough pondering. Living in past unhealthy. Then he smiled. Still need to contact nephew. Haven't answered last message, deserves to know how his uncle is doing.

"Commander Solus?" The turian's voice made Mordin Solus freeze in place, throwing an eye over his shoulder. Sparatus continued, "Watch over the situation involving the batarians closely. Get your unit ready to act, if need be."

Stumbling into his home, Zynn threw aside his bag and dragged his feet over to his tiny living room. This was the first downtime he had gotten in weeks, plus after seeing Girav dead at Kyrix Point…it shook him up.

He fell into the only chair in his apartment, sighing as he did. Every muscle was sore, his mind was clouded, his eyes hurt.

All he needed was sleep, maybe some booze, or that pretty girl down the hall who always gave him what humans called the 'sex eyes' every time he walked by. Unable, or unwilling, to do any of these, the Sergeant flicked on the vid-screen in front of him.

He didn't like what came on.

"As you can see, with so many corporations - especially human corporations - pulling out so quickly and all at the same time has left its mark on the stock market. Nearly every major business venture will see a dip in their value, and when I mean dip, I mean a rather sharp dip. Experts suggest selling-"

He switched the channel, only to find another newscaster.

"-several hospitals have run dry of medi-gel, effectively dooming many patients for otherwise treatable problems. The Council has said they have their best scientists working on a replacement for the miracle drug, but no word on their progress. The death toll so far is believed to-"

Shutting off the vid-screen, the turian leaned back and rubbed his temples. Sleep is what he needed. Bringing up his omni-tool, he selected the favored choice of meds for a C-Sec officer in dire need of rest. It helped him get a couple of winks during trying cases, maybe it would help him get through this hell.

Welnea used to be around for him when hard times came through, there to help him forget all of his cares in the world…but now she was just another bad memory that the Sergeant needed to forget.

Zynn slumped over in the chair before he knew it.

Harsh images played in his head, back when he was a rookie…when Girav was his Sergeant.

"Come on, kid. No sleeping on the job." The turian poked a rough finger at his colleague.

"S-Sorry, sir. Long day." Private Zynn Nordum apologized with a shaky laugh, "My girl is just really happy for me. Proud that I got through the academy."

Girav huffed, clucking his tongue, "You haven't earned anything yet, rookie." Suddenly the older turian smiled, his eyes locking onto a drunken krogan stumbling down the street. He was shouting obscenities and complaining about the lack of fish in the Presidium's lakes or something. His smile grew wider as his eyes turned to his rookie, "You really want to impress this girl?

The rookie immediately saw the shambling beast and shook his head, "Oh no. No no no. No." Girav's smile looked like it was going to snap his mandibles in half. The much younger turian kept shaking his head, "Sir, you can't be serious!"

Reclining in his chair and throwing his hands behind his head, Girav merely chuckled, "Better hurry. He might hurt somebody."

Time seemed to leap forward in Zynn's dreaming mind.

Corporal Nordum and Lieutenant Allud carefully approached an obviously distressed salarian, pistols drawn, pointed at the ground.

"Stay back! Stay back!" The amphibian screeched, holding up what looked like a black pipe in his hand. He kept claiming it was a homemade hand grenade, and he intended to use it. "Or I'll blow everyone here away!"

They didn't know what he even wanted. He just appeared on the street a few hours ago and then started shouting about the 'human plague' that was sweeping the station. People passed him by with little care, apparently used to his ramblings. Everyone took him seriously once the grenade appeared from his baggy jacket.

"Just calm down," Girav said coolly, "we're all friends here."

The salarian backed up further against the wall behind him, brownish-red eyes going wide, "NO! Not. Friends. No ape is a friend." His thin fingers wrapped around the black cylinder in his hand tighter, his whole arm shaking.

Sheathing his pistol against his hip, Girav approached the salarian with both hands low, palms up. "See? I'm not armed. Not a threat to you. I just want to help you, sort this whole thing out."

Zynn was close behind, sidearm ready, talon pressed up against the trigger.

The Lieutenant spat a curse and whirled around, shoving Zynn backwards.

A deafening boom rocked the Corporal's eardrums, an unseen force throwing both officers into the air.

Ears ringing, the younger of the two officers pulled himself to his feet. The salarian was gone, the wall he pressed himself against was scorched and stained with flash-fried blood. Then he saw Girav. His armor was blackened, smoking from the heat of the blast. The shoulder pauldron looked as if a group of varren had attacked and chewed it all to hell.

The Lieutenant suddenly jolted, shakily gasping as blood dribbled down his chin, "C-Corporal!"

Zynn immediately was at his superior's side, carefully taking an arm and helping him to his feet.

"How bad is it?" Girav coughed.

The younger turian could only manage a joke as helped Girav to their nearby car, "Well, you didn't get any prettier, sir."

Time shifted forward yet again.

Gavin smiled at them, brought the turian and his asari date their drinks. The human smiled as he announced, "Dextro vodka imported from Palaven for the cop, '27 Thessia White for the lady." Rubbing his hands together, the man asked, "Need anything else?"

Opening his mouth, Zynn was cut off when soft violet hands wrapped around his talons.

"We're fine, Gavin. Thank you." Welnea said with her usual bright smile. As the bartender grinned and walked off, bright green eyes turned to the man sitting across from her, his gray orbs staring right back. The intricate red tattoos that covered Zynn's skin had faded slightly. He always promised her he'd get them redone or repainted, but he never got around to it.

His talons squeezed her hands tight, "So, how was work?"

A grin creased Welnea's cheeks and she quickly stretched across the table, planting her elbows down as she whispered, "Lady Sha'ira called up the human ambassador today."

"Really?" That surprised Zynn. Most humans seemed to distrust the asari as much as turians. "Did he…y'know?"

Leaning back in her seat, Welnea chuckled, "No, I don't think he used her for sex. She contacted him first, wishing to offer him guidance. It seems she wanted to keep it secret though, as Lady Sha'ira used a secure connection to contact Ambassador Rowe."

The cop immediately smiled, "And how would you possibly know that she contacted him, then? It was a secure connection after all."

Taking a sip of her wine, the asari feigned a look of innocence, "Are you suggesting I hacked into my superior's computer, officer? I haven't read up on the current laws but," she leaned in again, slipping her hand around the back of his neck and pulled Zynn in close, "I'm willing to accept any punishment you believe is necessary."

Drawing in her scent, lavender with a hint of lemon, Zynn pressed his forehead against hers. As she massaged the back of his neck, he shivered under her expert touch.

"Spirits…" He exhaled. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Welnea closed her eyes. "Oh hush," she commanded, and when they opened again, they were as black as the void of space. "Kiss me."

The Sergeant awoke with a start, hand going to a gun on his hip that wasn't there.

He felt her straddle him almost immediately, felt that warm pressure that he had once been so familiar with. He saw her, right before his eyes. Violet hands worked along his chest, full lips against his forehead.

This isn't real, his brain quickly reminded him as he wrapped his talons around her hips, catching her lips with his. What he saw, what he felt. It was all empty. The Welnea before him was a ghost, a shade.

A side effect of the meld, the fingertips of her consciousness still twirling along inside of his own.

He didn't care. Comfort was comfort.

No matter how hollow it was.

"Clear the firing range!"

Placing the briefcase before him, Jortun'Reegar glared at the abomination restrained at the far end of the range. Geth infantry unit, Seventh Generation. Superior kinetic barriers, reinforced armor plating, capable of self repair and maintenance over extended periods of time. A unit of marines captured it out in the field, somewhere on the planet Haestrom. They ripped out its transponder, effectively cutting of the geth's chances of calling for help. And now it was at the mercy of the Scientific Research and Development labs.

Its singular optic glowed a vibrant white, its calculating gaze examined Jortun's every move.

Ignoring its stare, the quarian opened the case, and withdrew today's experiment. What he held in his hands was an impromptu weapon his father had crafted while out on deployment, and with his significant pull within the Migrant Fleet Marines, sent it to Jortun at R&D.

I think you'll have fun with this one, kid. The note had said. Used this thing to kill an armature. Just be careful though, it packs a hell of a wallop.

Hefting the weapon, he dug it into his arm and wrapped both hands around it tightly. The weapon thrummed to life in his hands, the coils that wrapped around the barrel began to glow neon blue.

"Sosen, begin recording."

"As you wish." The VI simply whispered. Two hover-cams appeared out of recesses in the wall, one watching Jortun, the other fixated on the captive geth.

"Beginning firing test at," a quick calculation in his head, "twenty meters." He raised the gun, "Firing in three…two…one."

Pure lightning and superheated plasma was thrown from the coil-wrapped barrel, arcing several meters forward, but no where near the mechanical test subject. Jortun fought against the sharp pushback the weapon was giving as he marched forward, "Ineffective at twenty meters! Closing to fifteen!"

The geth's optic widened ever so slightly, it gave off a mechanical hiss and then a series of distorted clicks. Stray arcs of electricity made contact with its shoulder, cracking the armor that encased the geth's shoulder and revealed several tubes wrapped tightly around each other like muscle.

"Minimum contact and damage at fifteen meters!" Heat began to seep through the gloves that wrapped tightly around his hands, the coils turned white-hot.

Suddenly the geth's shoulder exploded in a fountain of sparks, the milky white 'blood' that seemed to be a trait among all geth units sprayed forth, painting the wall behind the machine. Its clicks of worry turned into mechanical wails. Snake-like headed whipping back and forth, the machine attempted to rip itself free of its restraints as it was slowly engulfed in streams of lightning and plasma.

Soon its arm melted off at the elbow, the plating that covered its chest shattered into a thousand molten pieces. The machine's head exploded in a brilliant ball of reddish-white flame, engulfing its entire body.

Jortun immediately released the trigger, the weapon starting to burn his hands through his gloves.

"Sosen? Log in effective range at fifteen meters or closer." A hovering platform lifted up from the floor, where Jortun gently laid the weapon upon it. "Have this weapon sent to Colonel Xen for further testing, see if she can improve upon its design; fifteen meters is too dangerous when it comes to the geth." His eyes examined the firearm one final time. "She'll have fun with this one."

"Right away, sir."

The platform, with the gun in tow, sped away as Jortun approached the metallic corpse with interest.

The range is too short, he analyzed with a grin, but Dad was right. This thing makes up for it with pure destruction.

"That was quite a show, Mister…?"

Jortun whirled around to find a human clad in Alliance armor standing before him, hands behind his back.

Scanning. The suit VI whispered to Jortun. Name: Charles Ryker. Rank: Staff Commander

"Reegar. Jortun'Reegar vas Rayya nar Iktomi." The quarian speedily replied. "Can I help you, human? By all accounts, no one should even be in here save for the R&D crew…which you obviously aren't a part of."

A chuckle, icy blue eyes behind a thin visor narrowed, "Sorry for intruding, Mister Reegar. But I wanted to know…" Ryker approached the geth slowly, roughly picking up its severed arm off the ground. Holding it up by its fingers, white 'blood' poured onto the floor. "What would happen if that weapon was used against an organic?"

"There wouldn't be an organic left." The quarian curtly replied, scanning the carcass with his omni-tool.

Ryker liked the sound of that. Dropping the severed limb, the Commander leaned against the wall next to Jortun, "Despite previous arrangements, it seems the batarians have decided they want mankind's attention, and in turn, the quarian's as well."

Ignoring the human's ramblings, Jortun extracted what was left of the geth's memory core. He knew it had wiped itself clean when it was apprehended, but maybe by examining what was left he could figure out a way to counteract the memory wipe of any future geth.

When Ryker didn't get a response, he simply watched the man work. His three-fingered hands moved deftly over the geth, dismantling what was left of it piece by piece. It was quite an impressive sight. Suddenly the quarian paused once he realized Ryker wasn't going to leave.

"What do you need, human?" He questioned with an annoyed huff, labored breath beginning to fog up his visor. "I'm sure there's something far more productive you could be doing than simply watching me."

Ryker grinned behind his helmet, "I've been told you're lead director for experimental technologies here in the Flotilla."

"Oh Keelah…" Jortun hissed, "I am one of three directors. Colonel Xen and Legate Zurran are also overseers when it comes to the development of tech." He glared at the human with silver eyes, his frustration and irritation about as subtle as a fireworks display.

"I see…well I was directed to you, since you were overlooking a project that has acquired my interest."

"I feel so honored, human." Jortun hissed as he marched to the far side of the firing range, straight for the exit. "And which 'project' caught your esteemed interest?"

Ryker followed the alien, his voice felt like ice as he spoke, "The EMP."

Freezing mid-step, the quarian immediately turned a pressed a finger against the human's chest. Anger immediately seared into his tone, "How the hell does a bosh'tet human like you know about the EMP?"

Looks like I hit a nerve, Ryker thought triumphantly.

"What," the Commander said as he brushed the quarian's finger away. "Didn't expect a 'bosh'tet human' to be able to hack your personal logs? Interesting reading, by the way. You really love abusing geth, don't you, Mister Reegar?"

Jortun growled, but refused to speak, silver orbs staring down blue.

"If you don't mind," Ryker began, smile returning. "I'd like to see your little undertaking for myself. If not, I can always contact security about the exorbitant number of living geth you've kept aboard the Grand Admiral's ship."

"No!" Jortun suddenly shouted, losing control of himself for only a moment. Quickly inhaling, the quarian pulled himself back together quickly, "I need those geth, Commander Ryker. It's imperative for our eventual reclamation of Rannoch."

"Well than," the human motioned towards the exit. "Lead the way, Mister Reegar."

Four geth were magnetically bound to panels that were erected from the floor. They surrounded a large spherical object in a diamond, each machine approximately ten meters away from it. The sphere gave a low pulse every other second, which kept the captive robots entranced.

Suddenly the sphere lit up like a purple star, bathing the four geth in almost blinding light.

Their glowing optics went dark, all went limp, heads sagging over to one side or the other.

"Incredible!" Ryker whispered, eyes wide. No geth had ever been successfully disabled by a electromagnetic pulse before, ever. The machines had advanced so quickly after the Morning War that such tactics had proven to be ineffective. But there they were, beyond the protective barriers, seemingly inactive.

Immediately, Jortun rapped his finger against the thick glass, "Don't hold your breath. Look."

Ryker's eyes shifted back to the machines, who began to stir, their eyes glowing white as they powered back up.

"As you can see, the pulse can only disable them for a rather short time. The longest I've been able to log was roughly two and a half minutes, but I overloaded the EMP's core, nearly shutting down the Rayya in the process." The man chuckled as he hooked his fingers around one another, "You wouldn't believe the lengths I had to go to in order to convince everyone it was a mere power fluctuation."

The Commander eyed the device with great interest. "I have much bigger plans in mind than merely disabling geth, Mister Reegar."

"I still don't see the logic in taking the Citadel." Ensign Kalesh'Narl thought aloud as he looked over the Koarra's readings. "I don't see why the humans are willing to start a war with the Council races over one space station."

Karlan tried to ignore his subordinates as best he could while his eyes stared intently out the viewport, trying to silently observe the other ships in his lance go over their maneuvers.

"The Citadel isn't just any space station, Kalesh." Lieutenant Teth'Murdan spat back quickly. "Do you have any idea how much power you hold if you control the Citadel? You are the very center of galactic commerce and trade, and perhaps most importantly, you are the central point in the mass relay network. Humans have this saying; 'All roads lead to Rome'." Teth speedily read over a status report and then flicked it away from her screen, "All relays lead to the Citadel."

"But that doesn't fix the poor logic of taking the damned thing," Kalesh immediately responded as he shifted in his seat. "Okay, let's say we somehow successfully take the Citadel and force the asari, turian, and salarian fleets out of the system entirely. What then?"

He threw his hands to accentuate his point, accidentally smacking his screen in the process, "You're basically backing yourself into a corner once you have the station. It doesn't protect you from the inevitable retaliation at all! What are the benefits?" The Ensign sighed, "Plus, overthrowing the Council isn't a good idea. Total anarchy would reign!"

Just the mere mention of the Council left a sour taste in Teth's mouth, "The Council? They're a corrupt group of bosh'tets that care only for themselves. Otherwise, they would've helped us fight the geth three hundred years ago." The rage in her voice was becoming apparent. "Instead, while millions of us were getting slaughtered during the Uprisings, they banned us from the Citadel, telling us to never return! If they had done their damn jobs right in the first place, maybe none of this would've ever happened!"

Karlan finally interjected, "Lieutenant, calm down, please."

The woman tensed for a moment, then her composure returned, "Yes, Admiral. Sorry, sir."

Rising from his chair, Karlan marched across the bridge. He wondered what the Grand Admiral was thinking right now, about this whole mess.

To what extent would the quarian people be dragged into seemingly impending conflict between mankind and the batarians? How much of the fleet would be forced to fight alongside the human's in a war they had no business being a part of? How many men and women would have to die for the humans?

All these questions troubled the Admiral. But with this trouble came one relief.

It seems as if the Alliance's grand plan to take the Citadel was put on indefinite hold. And this wait, however temporary, would give Karlan and the rest of the Admiralty some time to find a way to convince the Grand Admiral to follow a different path.

It was the best he could hope for at this point.

Peace.