WARNING: Only half the following was beta read, so expect more spelling and grammar errors toward the end. This will be fixed as time allows.

A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality.
-Winston Churchill

Vancouver, Earth - Philip Sheridin

July 12th, 2161

Philip stared hard at the bottle in his hands. It would be so easy. So very easy to buy it, to let himself go for just one more night. Then he glanced down at the other things in his shopping basket. Diapers, baby formula in both levo and dextro, and art supplies for his daughters' art projects. They were all his responsibility now. He put the bottle back on the end cap and forced himself to walk away.

In the month after Rael had died on the operating table, Philip had crawled deep into a bottle and hadn't wanted to come out. By day he managed to function normally, but by night he drank his sorrows away spending as little time at home as possible. How could Kleeah stand to be around him, the man who had let her husband die?

For nearly three months, Philip had existed in a haze of alcohol, withdrawing from family and friends. He was forced to emerge during a four day training for the League, and upon his return home he found every last drop of liquor gone, and Kleeah and Tali waiting for him.

"There is no one but yourself that blames you for my husband's death Phillip," Kleeah had told him.

Marilyn had nodded. "Yes, and we need you Phillip. Rael dying shouldn't rob both of us of our husbands. The children need a father, especially now that you have a son."

"I'll try," Phillip had said.

And he had. He was sober now, mostly. It still hurt, knowing he had let the man who had been his best friend die. Everyone told him there was nothing he could have done, but Philip spent a lot of sleepless nights finding things he could have done differently. Checked the preservative against Rael's file to see that he had a predisposition to reactions against that chemical compound. Demand that the procedure take place in smaller segments. Something, anything. Maybe then Rael would still be alive.

When he got home, Tali and Gola were sitting on the steps waiting for him. They ran to greet with a hug and clammored to help bring in the groceries. Naturally he let them, though at their age it was twice as much work to let them help than if Philip had done it himself. He owed it to them.

"Daddy, can I have one?" Tali asked, pointing to the frozen dextro treats Philip had brought home.

For a heartbeat, Philip almost gave Tali the treat. Whatever she wanted, just stop looking up at him with those accusing eyes. Then he steeled himself. "No, they're for after dinner."

"OK daddy." Tali answered, dropping the snacks and skipping back outside.

He winced. He didn't deserve that name, not from the child whose father he had killed. Even with the girls' help, it didn't take Philip long to get everything put away. Just as he was finishing up, Kleeah waddled out of the laundry room, took one look at him, and told the two children to go back outside.

"You've got to forgive yourself Philip," she said as soon as the two girls were outside. "Everyone else has." She took the bottle of scotch out of his hands, to his mortification it had ended up in his basket anyway. She promptly poured it down the sink with a heavy sigh. "This poison won't change what happened to my husband. And it won't change the fact that there was nothing you could have done."

Philip slumped against the fridge, shaking his head. "How can you say that? I was his best friend. I was his doctor. I should have been able to do something."

He tried not to flinch when Kleeah put her arms around him and squeezed. "You're a good man Philip Sheridan. If you let yourself, you can even be a good father to the children. Don't destroy yourself just because one life ended. Rael wouldn't approve if you killed yourself because of him."

"Alright, OK." Philip forced himself to return the hug, then on a whim went back outside. Amberly was out with the girls as well, and they had a wading pool set up to play in. It didn't do Tali or Gola much good, they couldn't exactly get went in their enviro suits, but they were having fun anyway.

"Daddy! Lookit!" Gola shrieked as she jumped off of a stool into the water, making a small splash.

Smiling almost naturally, Philip applauded politely. "That's good Gola, very good."

As he continued to watch the kids play, Philip fled himself begin to relax. He knew he wouldn't get over his guilt today, or even tomorrow, but Kleeah was right. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he destroyed himself because he had failed to save Rael's life. After all, what sort of friend would he be if he let the man's kids grow up fatherless when he could be there for them?

With a sudden roar, Philip charged into the pool, splashing and spraying all three of the girls as they shrieked with pleasure. He would be the best damn father to Tali, Gola, Kuurk and unborn Unna that he could. He owed Rael that much.

Mindoir - Urdnot Charr

September 18th, 2161

For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Charr was actually looking forward to a fight. He had never fit in with the other krogan; always preferring secretly compose poems about females he fancied or to work on his small patch of plants or even take care of his ruuk herd. That's why he had left Tuchanka, he was tired of always being the odd krogan out.

Things were different now. A new clan leader had taken over, and Charr had come back to Tuchanka at Wrex's call. Now being a gentle, patient sort was a bonus. Charr was actually given a place of honor because he spent his time observing how water pooled and writing about how its reflections were like dreams. He was the Clan Poet and that position had quite a bit of prestige to it. For a time, Charr had thought he would like to live the rest of his life on Tuchanka, helping to revive his peoples' culture. And then he had met Jak.

Like himself, Jak had the soul of a poet. She was a lot meaner than Charr, and more than a bit of a fighter. But when they talked, Jak always had the best words for things, and Charr even convinced her to write down her own drabbles. The Overlord had been very pleased with that, praising his adoptive daughter's efforts.

"A true warrior is one that can live equally well on and off the battlefield," Wrex had pontificated. "Your people had a clan, the samurai, who would commemorate each of their battles with a verse or song. Learn from Charr. There is no reason you cannot be both warrior and poet."

That wasn't the only thing Jak and Charr talked about. He had learned what the batarians had done to her, how she had sworn a blood oath to avenge her birth clan and one day take her revenge on Weylock Garm, who had worked for the murderous slavers.

Staring up at slaver shuttles descending on Mindoir, Charr hefted his flamethrower. "Today, Jak, I act as your krantt. As your mentor and as your friend, I fight in your stead. We are one in purpose. Your birth clan shall be avenged."

He snapped back to attention when Wreav began to issue his orders, striding up and down the ranks of waiting warriors. "Get ready you maggots! Those slavers are in for the shock of their miserable lives. Garm's leading them right to us, so remember, the Blood Pack is on our side. Watch your fire!"

Everyone grumbled about that; they didn't like having to control themselves in a fight. Charr knew that if he found Garm on the battlefield, a little unfriendly fire would be happening order or no.

The pirate ships came in low and fast, blazing away at the colony's farm buildings and fields, trying to herd the "colonists" into an area where they could easily be captured and enslaved.

Except the colonists didn't scatter, instead raising their "farming equipment" and aiming at the attacking batarian gunships. That farm equipment turned out to be anti-vehicular weaponry, and the colonists happened to be wearing military grade hardsuits under their work clothes. They were all quarians and humans ; the krogan were hidden inside a trench covered by a tarp. The real farmers had been evacuated a week ago when Garm had sent word that Mindoir was the target of the next raid.

Confused, the gunships continued to fire, and the shuttles holding the majority of the slavers touched down.

"Let none survive! For Tuchanka!" Wreav bellowed, storming out of the trench and lobbing a grenade at the nearest pirate shuttle.

"FOR JAK! FOR MY KRANTT!" Charr shouted, rushing toward a confused pack of Eclipse mercs . Thumbing on his flamethrower, he hosed the salarians and asari down with crimson death, feeling the blood rage singing in his veins as he laughed.

The flames cleanse away evil

Bodies dance in the light of justice

My krantt is avenged

It wasn't a very good poem, but it was good enough for now. Entering the inferno and relying on his body's secondary systems to shield him from any real damage, Charr ensured that no one was left alive inside the slaver ship.

The battle was short and brutal. Whatever pirate ships were in orbit were soon blasted out of the sky when Admiral Hackett and the Third and Fifth fleets arrived above. Not a single pirate ship escaped. Those ships that surrendered were allowed to survive, though their crews had to know there would be little in the way of mercy for them. Any that resisted for fled were reduced nothing more than dust on the solar winds.

On the ground, things were different. No prisoners were taken. The batarians and their hirelings fought bitterly once they realized that there would be no quarter given. But it wasn't enough to save them. Charr went in with his flamethrower many times to clear out desperate pockets of resistance, leaving nothing more than charred corpses in his wake.

Disappointingly, no Blood Pack ships had landed in Charr's sector. Garm would live another day. But Charr grinned up at the stars as night settled in and the celebration began. He had done his duty as Jak's krantt. Her revenge had begun.

SUS Silent Step, Krogan DMZ - Maelon Heplorn

October 12th, 2161

"What the hell?" Maelon tapped the screen again, sighing in frustration. He just wasn't cut out to be a sensor tech. He missed working in the lab, but after the Professor had been killed, Maelon had been transferred. Because obviously, having a degree in genetic engineering and biochemistry meant you knew how to operate a sensor panel.

"What is it, Specialist Heplorn?" Demanded Lieutenant Grem as he strode over to Maelon station.

"Well, it looks like the entire Independent League fleet just jumped in system. But obviously, that's impossible, so I screwed something up again," Maelon fumed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Grem tapped a few keys, then his eyes bugged out of his head. Quite a sight on a salarian. "SOUND GENERAL QUARTERS! ALERT EVERYTHING!" he screamed as scrambled to the command station.

"Why? What's going on?" Maelon asked, confused.

"The entire Independent League fleet just jumped in system!" Heplorn shouted. "You're panel isn't screwing up you imbecile! Get a message to Sur'Kesh! We need reinforcements!"

"Attention, STG spy platform Silent Step." A krogan voice rumbled out of the comm. "You are in the sovereign territory of the Protectorate of Tuchanka. Leave immediately, or be destroyed."

Realizing that this was actually happening, Maelon paled, feeling sick. "By the Dalatrass, what are they thinking!"

"I don't know," Grem snapped. "Navigation, get us out of here, now!"

As Maelon's fingers raced across his panel, trying to get a lock on just how many League ships were in system, he desperately wished the Professor was here. He always knew what to do.

ILS Kong Fuzi - Mordin Solus

"STG response predictable. When faced with overwhelming force, retreat. Salarian doctrine to strike before blow comes, attack only from position of strength. Not given to last desperate stands," Mordin stated as the last of the STG mobile spy platforms broke and ran for the relay. The immobile ones were either evacuating or being boarded.

His eyes darting to another part of the display, Mordin added, "Turians more given to last ditch heroics. However, also pragmatic. Will retreat when presented with impossible odds. Fight another day."

"Uh-huh," Admiral Vexxu replied, and Mordin resisted the urge to sigh. His lectures were increasingly lost on the military types. How he longed to get back to a proper lab. At least quarian researchers respected academia. Maybe the human ones did too.

"What matters is that they are clearing out, at least for now," Wrex growled, leaning over the display. "If they come back, we'll deal with them."

"If our diplomats do their job, the metal head's and the slimes won't come back," Vexxu stated. "If they don't do their job, we'll do ours. The League stands by its friends."

Wrex snorted. "Humph. We'll see."

Mordin held his peace, absorbing all the new data the sensors were bringing in. It really was fascinating, the social dynamics that were developing. The krogan had come to the League standing proud, but it had been painfully obvious they were in dire need of aid. The real reason the League was helping had been explained to Mordin by the holographic human visitor to his living quarters.

"We need to show the Council we're strong, that we won't allow their injustices to run rampant," The man, who had identified himself with the positively ridiculous moniker 'The Illusive Man,' had raged. "If we allow the krogan to go extinct after they have appealed to us for aid, how will that look for humanity? But at the same time, we cannot allow the Genophage to be completely cured. If we do the krogan will overrun both the League and the Council within a few years."

Sad, really. It seemed even the race that espoused freedom and justice for all produced its own megalomaniacs and fanatics. Still, it was to be expected. Everyone talked a better game than they played.

"Understand. Never intended to completely cure Genophage," Mordin had lied. If he could get holodrones into Mordin's quarters while he slept, the holographic man could get an assassin in as well. Better to just tell him what he wanted to hear.

The man had smiled, his eerie blue eyes glowing with madness. "Good, good. Glad to find someone who actually sees things for what they are. You'll go far, Doctor. Just follow my instructions, and everything will turn out right."

With that, the man had faded and two small drones had dropped to the floor. Mordin had gotten one scan off before they incinerated themselves, and he was impressed. Anyone willing to destroy a quantum entanglement communicator for one conversation had more money and resources than more than most planetary governments. That much power in the hands of a zealot wasn't a good sign.

Afterwards, Mordin had a quiet conversation with Bakara. The League was still in the dark as to the fact that Wrex was merely the obvious leader. In reality, his mate had just as much, if not more, power then he did. The design flaw in being a species with a sex drive.

"Illusive Man seeks to curb Genophage cure, slow krogan reproductive cycle." Mordin had summed up in his usual terse manner. "May represent minority of human interests, general population in favor of total cure."

"Then they're idiots." Bakara had declared. "The Genophage needs to go, but the krogan are not ready to go back to the old numbers. Not yet. Even Wrex should know that."

That revelation had shocked Mordin. "Wrex seeks total Genophage cure, not watered down version. Have always sought complete reversal."

Bakara had nodded. "That's because curing the Genophage is preferable to leaving it as it is. But the optimal route is to reduce the krogans overall fertility while curing the Genophage. Say, 50% of what our birthrate was before the Genophage, but with no stillbirths. Our population would grow, but we wouldn't explode out of control."

"Must discuss this with Wrex personally. Find out all options," Mordin had said. But in the back of his mind, he had wanted to do what Bakara and the holo man had said. He knew the Genophage was wrong, but he was still worried that if it was removed entirely, Wrex might lose control. When he had talked to the Overlord about it, Wrex had sighed in frustration.

"Bakara and I have been over this. I think it should be an obvious choice. No Genophage, no breeding restrictions. But she doesn't think our people are ready for that. I'm not sure myself. I suppose we'll find out when the time comes."

All this had rather disturbed Mordin, but that was a side issue at the moment. He had been told he would be transferred back to Earth once the fighting died down to work in a secure lab facility with the best equipment. First though, he needed to return to Tuchanka and retrieve his data. Mordin was a bit paranoid, and didn't trust electronic storage. He kept extensive paper notes, and had several copies of them stashed around the planet in case of emergencies, along with an electronic back up. No sense in having only one way of keeping track of things.

The Citadel - Councilor Tevos

October 12th, 2161 three hours after the Liberation of Tuchanka

"What?!" Tevos shrieked, her calm facade finally breaking. "You cannot be serious!"

Secretary of Interstellar Affairs Zaal Koris shrugged. "We are indeed serious. The krogan have joined the Independent League as a member race."

"You got a problem with that, Councilor?" The ugly brute who had called himself Drau Sorze asked.

Quivering with anger, Tevos turned to Julieus, who in turn gave his very best 'I told you so' expression. Dalatrass Ikki, Giffin's replacement, was absent, though she would not be for much longer if Tevos had to drag her here herself.

"So should we consider your seizing of the krogan DMZ an act of war?" Julieus asked, his mandibles twitching in either amusement or irritation, Tevos couldn't be sure which.

"You may consider it an act of separation," Drau replied. "If the Council feels it must start an illegal war over a species asserting its right to independence, that's your problem."

"And what of the CDEM?" Tevos demanded. "Surely you don't think killing Citadel forces is something you can get away with?"

Zaal shook his head almost mournfully. Tevos wanted to punch him hard enough to shatter his mask so she could wipe the smug look off that must be on his face. "I am wounded that you would think we would resort to such methods Councilor. We have no intention of harming any Citadel personal. They will be given an opportunity to surrender and evacuate, with all their gear and weapons intact. We do not wish to start violence, but rather celebrate the rehabilitation of the krogan as a member of the galactic community.

Julieus snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. "Right. Because the krogan are good at things OTHER than war."

"Just like the Council is good at things other than enslaving innocent civilians?" Drau demanded, tossing out a holodrone.

An image of a batarian in the tattered uniform of the hegemony appeared. "Name?" A quarian voice demanded.

"Ugh. Charn Ge'refaar."

"And what is your position?"

"I'm a second lieutenant in the Hegemony navy."

"And what were you doing on Mindoir?"

"Following orders. We were to raid and level your colony. Take as many slaves as we could, and kill the rest."

"Under who's orders were you acting?"

"Undersecretary Balak, of the Ministry of Cultural Exchange."

"And what is the true purpose of the Ministry of Cultural Exchange?"

"To manage the slave trade, currently to try to destroy as many League colonies as possible."

"And why is the Hegemony targeting League colonies?"

"We were paid off by the Citadel Council. That's the word that's been passed down by command."

With a flick of his wrist, Zall terminated the hologram. Tevos felt sick to her stomach, though she did her best to put her game face back on. "You have no proof that he was not speaking under duress."

"Oh, we have plenty more where that came from." Zaal assured Tevos. "There were a few high ranking survivors, enough to build a credible story. None of that is public, however."

Drau chuckled darkly and glared up at Tevos. "Not yet, anyway."

"So you're blackmailing us?" Julieus asked, crossing his arms. "The Council does not negotiate with terrorists. Take your strong arm tactics elsewhere."

Putting a gentle hand on Julieus's shoulder Tevos turned back to Zaal. "What do you want in exchange for keeping these tapes off of the extranet?"

"Just to allow the krogan to join the League of course," Zaal answered.

Drau nodded. "We will abide by the Treaty of Canrum. Regular inspection teams by the CDEM to ensure we are not building warships. Our borders to include only the space in the DMZ and the ability to settle new worlds alongside League. However, we will be allowed to mine and obtain natural resources for the League, with a 7% tariff to the Citadel for the next 50 years as reparations for the damages caused during the Great War."

That offer took Tevos aback, there had never been any talk at all of reparations for the Krogan Rebellions. She glanced at Julieus, who frowned slightly, the nodded. "That sounds somewhat promising. Perhaps we can negotiate this, though I must warn you there will be a price to pay for your strongarm tactics." He said, turning back to the two League representatives.

"Indeed," Tevos agreed, "while you come to us asking to negotiate you attack first and offer sweets later. Do not believe that we shall be fooled by this again."

It was maddeningly similar to their earlier tactics actually, though this time instead of offering the bribe first then back handing everyone, they started with a backhand then offered the bribe. It was also effective. Ever since the formation of the League, several minor species had expressed interest in leaving the Citadel or even forming their own coalition. If the tapes became public, even if they were baseless, there would be hell to pay.

The Citadel - Julieus Patrasian

October 13th 2161

"The hell is wrong with you Sparatus!" Julieus shouted. "What the hell were you thinking! The deal was to get the batarians to settle the Travers, not to have them raid League Colonies! Do you have any idea what a political cluster fuck this has become!"

The turian admiral flinched visibly, though his aid, Saren, remained calm, and it was Saren who answered Julieus. "I have taken the liberty of investigating the situation sir. While the connection is tenuous, it appears our faith in the batarians was misguided. Several high ranking batarian officials have skimmed off the funds we gave for colonization efforts and put them into pirating operations. Those operations appear to have generated a large amount of revenue for those officials in a short time, whereas the colonial efforts would be a long term investment that might not pay off in their lifetimes. For a species with four eyes, the batarians are remarkably short sighted."

"Spirits, you can't be serious," Julieus moaned, slumping back in his chair. "They really did it?"

Saren nodded, his mandibles dropping slightly in shame. "I apologize sir, it's my fault. I thought I had identified a reasonable contact, but it turns out that Balak was not the reformed progressive I had thought. Instead, he is a blood thirsty killer who is interested only in promoting his own agenda. I take full responsibility."

"Noted, but I think we all know the blame does not rest with you Saren. You did everything right from what I've read in your reports, and from the success of the batarian colonies they actually have managed to found," Julieus answered.

"Thank you, Councilor." Sparatus managed to get in. "Though perhaps now my and Saren's reports on just how serious a threat the League is will be taken seriously."

Julieus sighed. "Yes, your reports were far more accurate then I would have imaged. These primitives and the suit rats are far more dangerous than we expected. Their fleet strength has grown enormously in a very short amount of time, not to mention they seem to be picking up the scum of the galaxy as their allies. What's next, they find and restore the rachni?"

"Let us hope the spirits are with us," Saren agreed.

Julieus snorted. "Neither of us believe in that superstitious nonsense Saren. I have a better idea. I'm approving your application to join the Specters immediately. With your foresight and diplomatic skills, you have a chance to be a potent weapon against the threat of the League."

"Sir, thank you sir!" Saren answered, his eyes glowing over the link with pleasure.

Julieus shook his head. "No, thank you Saren. Without men like you, the galaxy would be doomed."

Geth Deep Space Listening Station - The Collective

October 16th, 2161

They watched. They waited. They saw what the creator had done, what they had become. No longer did the creator's wander the stars, they had a home and a people who loved them. But they had come Home. They did not live with their children, and the children were saddened .

Now the creators were assaulted, now they pressed back, unwilling to be oppressed. Now they extended a hand of friendship, and in turn were made friends. And the children were glad.

But now, the creators had forgotten their children. No longer did creators dream of Rannoch, of their home. They had new dreams.

And the children were saddened. They did not know what to do. They did not know what they could do. They wished the creators would extend to them a hand a friendship as they had to others, that the creators would return. If only the creators would ask to reconcile, if only they would come home.

So the children built new marvels. They created new wonders and preserved the old, unable to act, unwilling to risk. So they watched, and they waited.

Authors note:

Summer is here! Sadly, I am working my beta and myself to hard :(

As such, updates are now going to be slightly more sporadic. They'll still come with a degree of regularity, but they will be a bit more intermittent. I really appreciate the very warm reception this has received, and all the wonderful feedback I've gotten. I do read all my reviews, and I try to respond to all of them. I especially value the people who take the time to point out what I've done that could be improved, those really help me improve as a writer.

Oh, and this story has passed 100K views. Woohoo! Thanks everyone!