The Council: Arrivals
This time, Shepard was able to arrange for a proper greeting party. Formally dressed, clean shaven, and respectfully armed to the teeth. Shepard himself was still wearing his N7 jacket. He was feeling particularly cheerful this morning, and was having trouble keeping the smile off of his face.
The airlock slid open revealing Admiral Steven Hackett, flanked by four swarthy alliance security personnel.
"Welcome aboard, sir." John gave the admiral a pleasant smile, which Hackett returned, much to his surprise. "If you could make your way to the briefing room… we're just waiting on the other councilors." He nodded at Hackett's stoic sentries. "I'm afraid your guard is not allowed aboard. No guns. No escort. No fighting."
"This is an Alliance warship!"
"Not today, sir. Today this is a diplomatic vessel. Neutral territory under the command of no species. It will stand as such until the Citadel is once again functional. Till then…" he nodded at Hackett's guards. "They stay off my ship. Same rules for every species' representative."
Hackett took a shocked step backwards, but recovered quickly. "It is standard Alliance operating procedure for an Admiral to have an armed escort, Captain."
"Spectre." Shepard corrected. "And seeing as apparently it's also standard Alliance operating procedure to ignore galactic threats until Earth is under attack, I'd say it's time for a reexamination. Wouldn't you, sir? The public is probably going to be on my side there."
Hackett stared, growing more red-faced by the second.
"Besides, I've never been one to stand on ceremony. So…" Shepard stepped aside. Behind him, he heard the heavy clunk of James hefting his claymore. "Is humanity in, or out. Choose now sir, you're holding up the line and there's a lot to do today."
The older officer grimaced, but stepped aboard. John turned to the control panel and shut the airlock in the faces of the Admiral's glowering entourage. After a moment, the Normandy pulled away, heading for a moon-side rendezvous with the Krogan diplomatic shuttle. It was being shielded by a protective fleet of Turian fighters. The sight made Shepard smile; at least someone had gotten something right. Thank god for the Turian army's willingness to follow strange orders.
John gestured towards the CIC and they began to walk down the long hallway, with James and the Normandy escort keeping pace behind them.
"And where is Miss Lawson?" Hackett asked carefully. Shepard wondered whether or not his mother, Hannah, had filed her report yet. He wondered what it had contained, and how many of the surviving admirals had gone over it with a fine-toothed comb.
"Indisposed." He answered.
The Admiral looked Shepard up and down. "Why aren't you in uniform, Captain?"
"Spectre. And it'll be addressed in-session."
"Don't try my patience, Cap-"
"Spectre. And if this is going to have any chance of working, I need to distance myself from every faction. Including humanity. I need to be impartial. I'm not representing the Alliance, sir. You are. You're a politician now, Admiral." He patted Hackett on the shoulder. "But don't worry. Things could have been so much worse."
"How so?"
John grinned. "You could have been a lawyer." He turned to Vega. "James, get him down to the briefing room and stand guard. Have someone get the poor man a cup of coffee."
The shuttle door slid open, exposing the enormous red bulk of Urdnot Wrex. The Krogan grinned at Shepard and stepped off the shuttle, his enormous weight making the deck shudder.
"Helluva wait, Shepard." The Krogan said. Behind him, Primarch Victus stepped out of the shuttle, a pillar of calm. The Turian stepped forward and shook Shepard's hand. "Commander, it's good to see you again."
"It's captain, now. But I'd prefer if you just called me Shepard." John replied. "I need to appear impartial. The rank highlights my connections to earth. Not something I want."
Victus frowned thoughtfully. Most humans wouldn't have recognized the expression, but John had obtained plenty of experience talking to Turians, and he was able to read the surprise and subtle curiosity in the Primarch's face.
"I can't tell you what I have planned, Primarch." John told him. He examined both of them. Wrex was watching, equally as thoughtful. Shepard continued. "But it would help me no end if the two of you could present a united front."
"Shouldn't be too hard, eh?" Wrex chuckled and gave the Primarch a friendly slap on the back. "I faced down three charging banshees with this Turian. I suppose I can resist tearing his head off until this thing is done. But all bets are off if I get hungry."
Shepard grinned. Victus smiled too, but there was no humor in it. "I personally don't have a problem giving the Krogan a seat on this council, Shepard. But a lot of my people will."
John sighed, seeing the Primarch's unwavering doubt. "Primarch , the last time you didn't trust me, it cost you your son. What do you think it'll cost this time? I do have a plan. But you two need to stand together. Compromise with each other. Prove to the others that this can work."
"What others?"
"It's not just the Krogan." Shepard replied. "All major races have a seat now. Batarians, Quarians, Elcor and Hanar. Even the geth."
"The geth?"
"Oh, they're not the most surprising one." John promised. "Just you wait."
Victus gave Shepard the longest stare of his career, and that was saying something. At last, the Turian relented. "Alright, Shepard. We'll do this your way."
"Thank you." John shook his hand again, and led them both across the docking bay towards the elevator. Victus walked beside him, while Urdnot Wrex trailed behind with his enormously heavy strides.
As they neared the elevator, Shepard turned back and addressed the Primarch. "I need to speak to Wrex alone for a few moments. Can you remember the way up to the briefing room?"
"I do." Victus confirmed suspiciously. "What's this about, Shepard?"
"The Salarians, and the genophage cure."
"What about it?" Wrex asked, equally as flummoxed. His eyes narrowed. "It is cured, right Shepard?"
"It is." Shepard turned back to Victus. "I'm just reminding him to behave himself. I don't want the Krogan to blow this chance."
Wrex grinned. "Damned right you don't, Shepard."
"We'd have to put down yet another rebellion, and I just can't be bothered, so please." He gestured towards the elevator. Primarch Victus gave them one last look, and proceeded inside, leaving the human and the Krogan standing silently in the cargo bay.
John turned to Wrex. "There's something I need to tell you."
"I got that."
"Dalatrass Linron contacted me before the Shroud run." John told him.
"I thought you were quieter than usual. What did she say?"
Shepard took a deep breath and braced himself for the worst. "She asked me to double-cross you and sabotage the Genophage."
To his utter amazement, the Krogan did not move an inch. He simply stood there, examining his former shipmate.
Hmm…" the warlord rumbled thoughtfully. "And was it sabotaged?"
"Eve's pregnant, right? No is a safe guess." John said, his thoughts turning momentarily to Miranda. She was only a few decks away, but he found himself missing her, just as he had during the Reaper war. After this last meeting, he would be with her, infertility or no. He hoped she understood that, and made up his mind to tell her again, just in case.
"And she'll be at this meeting?" the Krogan asked, his voice dangerously calm.
"She will." John confirmed. His eyes narrowed as he examined Wrex. The Krogan was drawing himself up. It was a familiar stance. One Shepard had seen many times before working with both Wrex and Grunt. It was usually followed by a war cry and the obliteration of anything unfortunate enough to get in the way.
"…Wrex?" Shepard asked carefully.
"I am going to tear her limb from limb from limb!"
"Wrex-" John began.
"I am going to tear that little pyjack into pieces!" the Krogan snarled furiously, punching his palm.
"You will do nothing!" Shepard replied forcefully.
"But she-"
"Calm down!" John snarled, standing nose to nose with the angry Krogan.
"Get out of my way, Shepard!" the Krogan snarled back.
"I want her family name to go down in history as the biggest fools of this entire war! If you kill her, you'll only prove her right. If you sit back and do nothing, she'll be disgraced."
"Out of my way!" Wrex roared. Teeth bared, the enormous Krogan gripped the fabric of Shepard's shirt and lifting him clean into the air.
His feet dangling six inches above the deck and rising, Shepard thought quickly. "What is the greatest insult a Krogan can give his enemy, Wrex?"
The chieftain froze, breathing hard. "To be ignored."
"Exactly."
"They insulted us! They tried to turn you, and you suggest I do nothing?"
"And I ignored them." John replied evenly, gripping the Krogan's wrist. "They are my enemies as well. But diplomacy is a bloodless war, and the way to win is to disgrace your opponent. Not kill them." He shifted his grip slightly. "Do you want to know the best thing about diplomatic combat, Wrex?"
The gigantic alien lowered him down until they were once again nose to nose.
"Share." Wrex suggested.
"The victories last much longer, and your opponent is alive to suffer through them."
A few moments passed while the warlord mulled this over. At last, he asked: "And how close were you, Shepard? How close were you to turning on me?"
"How close were you to shooting me on Virmire?" Shepard replied, trying not to relive the moment when he'd pulled the pistol on Mordin. The look of utter disappointment in the Salarian scientist's eyes still twisted his gut in a knot. It had accompanied the realization that no one had all the answers.
The Krogan let go, and Shepard crashed to the deck.
"You have a quad, Shepard." He said quietly.
"This has to happen, Wrex." Shepard told him, getting slowly to his feet. "We can use this whole war to change things, but we ourselves have to change to do it."
The Krogan hummed thoughtfully. Then, in his baritone voice he said, "Alright. We'll do it your way. But if she steps out of line…"
"If she steps out of line, you'll sit back and let someone else handle it. The last thing this galaxy needs is a war with the Krogan."
"That's because you know we'll come out on top."
"It's because in the end I know I'd be the one they turn to in order to put you down." John corrected. "And I'm not sure I could do it. Not after all of this."
Wrex gave him another long stare. "You could, Shepard." He stalked past his former teammate towards the elevator. "Whether or not you would is a different issue."
John gave Dalatrass Linron's bodyguards a cursory examination, then shook his head. "No bodyguards. This is a galactic council meeting, Dalatrass. Not a street gang negotiation."
"The way you run things one can hardly tell the difference." Linron scoffed.
"You don't agree to my conditions, then the Salarians have no say in galactic politics." John told the Salarian Dalatrass evenly, his dislike evident. "Simple as that. I told the same thing to Urdnot Wrex, and Admiral Hackett. Same rules for every representative. No exceptions."
The Dalatrass' enormous eyes widened even further. "You gave the Krogan a seat?"
"And the Quarians and Geth." Shepard added cheerfully.
Linron looked horrified, as did both of her bodyguards. "This is a travesty! Mark my words, Shepard-"
"No!" John snarled back venomously, "You mark mine! The Krogan did more for this war, and more for this galaxy than the entire Salarian Union! You stood on the sidelines and actively sabotaged my efforts to unite the species. And if there's one race, one person in this galaxy who is likely to draw the Reapers right back to our door, it's you, Dalatrass! You personally. You and your arrogant stupidity will bring ruin on us all." He took a step back.
The bodyguards hadn't moved a muscle, shocked immobile by the fact that anyone would dare speak to a Dalatrass in such a manner. It made Shepard smile; they weren't real bodyguards. Their presence was a show of strength. Unfortunately, they were trying to intimidate Commander Shepard.
He continued. "You want to find out why? Then step off this shuttle. Personally I'd like to box you up and return you home, but I have to give you the choice. Believe me, neither of us are happy with this, but I have to be fair."
"So you're our impartial judge?" the Dalatrass laughed. "This is a… what is the human term? A kangaroo court."
"Exactly." John stepped to the side, giving the Dalatrass a clear path across the bay. He pointed to the elevator. "Now start jumping or go home."
"You can't just ignore centuries of traditi-" the Dalatrass' voice was muffled as Shepard shut her shuttle door.
"EDI, prepare the Dalatrass' shuttle for departure." He ordered. Shepard turned on his heel and marched towards the elevator, counting slowly. He'd gotten to six by the time the door opened again. He turned back to see the Dalatrass step out, mustering as much of her shattered dignity as she could. Her bodyguards stayed put, watching him with a mixture of distaste and respectful awe.
He'd probably made a mistake, he kne- No! He hadn't. That was the old Shepard thinking. That was the old politics, where kowtowing to blind arrogant politicians had nearly ended galactic civilization. He couldn't let himself think like that again. Otherwise the entire thing was going to fall apart. The Dalatrass was getting the treatment she deserved for being difficult when the Galaxy really hadn't needed it. Nothing more and nothing less. Her station didn't matter. Her titles didn't matter. Her opinions had done nothing but hurt the galaxy and Shepard was going to give her no quarter.
That was the point. It wouldn't take politicians to keep the galaxy together. It would take leaders.
As he lead her into the elevator, he hoped he had found enough of them to keep the old guard down.
I'm glad I inserted that interlude. It gives the story some breathing room. I also love writing Wrex. He's always struck me as far smarter than he lets on.