Author's Note: Advance apologies for this being so long. There wasn't any place I thought that would make a good break point.

Chapter 38

Marshall woke up thirty minutes before the forty-eight hour deadline, wanting to do a swift patrol of the Iwo Jima to get a hint of who was staying and who was leaving before getting an official report from NMS. It wouldn't be all that hard, make a sweep of the ship, top to bottom, and see who was packing up their personal effects, and who wasn't. He already knew some who were opting out, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

He was a bit taken aback when he went to his closet, and didn't see the familiar red uniform waiting for him... remembering after that moment of surprise that a new outfit had been sent yesterday, as well as one perk to spectre life that he was going to enjoy... no formal uniform dress.

What he had been given were three all-purpose reinforced tactical shirts and cargo pants, night black in color, with his name emblazoned in gold across the left breast. They were remarkably comfortable and gave him full range of movement... and could be worn by code to any official setting. No more bulky jackets or starch ironed slacks anymore.

Even more surprising was that he could keep his old armor, and that he also had no regulations pertaining to his combat gear. Not that he had any particular plans to modify or replace his current loadout, but that he could without having to fill out three different forms to three different departments was refreshing.

Suitably dressed, he stepped out onto the bridge to begin his patrol, and he was mildly surprised right from the start... not so much by who was at their stations so much as who wasn't.

Chipper and Mayes were at their customary positions at the helm, but the rest of the bridge was empty. Marshall knew Smoke was in his quarters getting his clearance status updated by NMS, as he was now the senior officer of note. Dani had sounded like she had been approved to stay on, so her absence was surprising, as was the distinct lack of Lieutenant Michal and Ensign Keefe.

He approached the two pilots, and coughed lightly to get their attention. "So, the both of you are sticking around, eh?"

Chipper snorted dismissively, and turned back to the helm. "Of course I am. You're the first commanding officer I've ever had that's let me actually be a pilot. Why the hell would I want to go back to those sniveling, chauvinistic pigs of the Nimea Fleet? They had their chance."

"Seems wrong to end a tour of duty halfway through, ya know?" Mayes agreed. "Sure, you're not NMS anymore... but you're still my captain, I mean... not officially... but I might still call you 'Captain'... that's not wrong... is it?"

"I was not discharged from NMS." Marshall noted. "My commission was terminated. Legally, I'm on leave until my commission is reinstated, which will be whenever my spectre duties are deemed complete. So, yes, I still technically hold the rank of Captain, and it is still proper to address me as such."

"That's good." Mayes said with a sigh of relief.

"So... out of curiosity, where is everyone else?"

"Worried half your bridge crew opted out, sir?" Chipper teased. "Well, worry not. I know Jessie had sent out her letter of intent within two hours of the end of her duty shift that day. She's currently on the Citadel working out the remaining kinks in our translators. Don't worry, sir; Fluffy, Destroyer of Worlds isn't going anywhere this ship isn't."

Marshall remembered Jessie saying something about that, and figuring that while they were docked at the heart of the galactic melting pot, that she might as well get all those details worked out.

"Meanwhile, Dani is also on the Citadel. She was called to a meeting with Councilor Vael and Senator Raan. Not sure what that's about, but I don't think it has anything to do with her staying on."

"Ensign Keefe is opting out, though." Mayes said. "He wanted to make it clear that it's not anything particularly wrong with your command, sir. He just... felt like the odd man out up here, and he didn't want to be relegated to night duty to feel like he was doing anything."

Marshall acknowledged that. "Yeah, I don't blame him. Once Dani came aboard, the three of you rather formed a little team that could handle everything at the helm. Poor guy often had little to do. Well, he can always count on my commendation. As Needlepoint-enabled ships become more common, helmsmen with that experience will be more and more coveted. He'd have his pick of the fleet, I'm sure."

"Sir, as much as I'd love chatting with you, Lieutenant Commander Toole is testing out some new drive configurations, and we're supposed to be helping him with feedback up here." Chipper said.

"Oh, well don't let me interfere with business." Marshall said with a chastised smile, and stepping back from the pair. "I'll probably be checking in with the LC in a bit anyway."

Marshall retreated to the elevator, then pressed up to go to the first deck. He already knew that the brig chief was leaving, personal matters back home had gotten him worried and he wanted to get back as soon as possible, and that the Citadel would be assigning someone from C-Sec to take his place.

Khull, on the other hand...

Marshall wasn't sure if it was because the yahg were just that alien, or that Khull was just very very good at hiding his true feelings, but Marshall still wasn't quite able to really "read" Khull like he could with most people.

Khull was where he normally was, sitting in the center of his "quarters", cross legged, reading from a datapad. "Whatcha got there?" Marshall asked.

Khull looked up. "A book titled 'Fifty Shades of Gray.' I had assumed it was a book on monochromatism. I was... mistaken, but it has been... educational... nonetheless. My people have a book on the same themes; and equally detestable to the easily offended. Love in Pain, it is titled."

Khull sat down the pad. "Yahg don't see color the way humans do. Our infrared vision tends to tint everything we see towards that part of the spectrum."

"Hence the interest in color-blindness." Marshall concluded.

Khull nodded. "But in reading this particular book, I learned something else. It reminded me of that book from Parnack... and how I don't see how I can ever go back. I wouldn't be welcome, nor would any ship that would even want to return me."

"But at the same time... this entire episode has made me realize that I can't stay here forever. I've never been one to worry about what the future holds. Most of my life that was decided for me, and on Novi, I was too concerned with surviving to see the next day to give it much thought."

Marshall nodded, "That's true. But worrying too much about the future can be equally bad."

"Which is why I'd like to stay here, for as long as I can." Khull said. "Presuming I would be welcome. I think there is more I can do, as part of your crew."

"I agree, which is why I'd welcome you. Although... are you sure? From what I've seen of the Citadel. There's quite the melting pot of cultures and species. I don't think you'd feel all that out of place."

Khull didn't seem convinced. "Any salarians?"

"Yeah. A few."

"Then no thanks."

"There might be a salarian added to this crew." Marshall noted.

Khull grinned. "Now why didn't you tell me there was going to be gourmet catering?"

Marshall slapped Khull on the snout playfully. "No eating the crew."

"But salarian liver is delicious!"

"I said no."

Khull huffed, and crossed his arms. "Very well... but if any salarians try to enter my quarters, all deals are off."

"I think that's fair." Marshall said. "I'm going to check out the rest of the crew. Try not to get too homesick."

"I won't. I just need to remind myself that my people threw me one way down a mass relay."

Marshall left the brig with a chuckle, and bypassed the second deck on his way to the third. The first thing he noticed was the lack of a galley chief, which was not a surprise. Petty Officer Lake had made his decision to opt out quickly, and Marshall had not tried to convince him otherwise.

The dextro-poisoning incident had only been the first of many mistakes the galley chief had made, Lake demonstrating a complete lack of concern towards orders from above, barely paying attention if not outright ignoring them. An open contempt for that "bow legged alien freak" had not helped matters. Lake had blamed Dani for his problems, and frankly, Marshall was glad the petty officer was leaving.

Marshall took a turn to the right, towards the med bay, and stepping inside. Doctor Coyle was on top of him almost the moment he entered. "Captain, or is it Spectre now? I'll be honest, I'm not sure which is the proper protocol."

"Either works, doctor." Marshall said, looking over Coyle's shoulders around the med bay.

"Looking to see how much I've packed, sir?" The doctor asked. "I can simply tell you. None. I plan on staying, and Nimean Associates of Medical Practice has already cleared me to continue."

"I see. I'll be honest, I wasn't sure what you were going to do. I can't imagine you signed on for what we had faced so far."

Doctor Coyle raised a curious eyebrow. "You mean the combat? I'd be rather foolish to think that signing onto a military vessel did not carry the possibility of conflict, and I am no fool, Captain." He turned to his left, towards his desk. "I served my tour of duty in NMS, just like any other civilian. I was so devoted to the country's cause that I volunteered as an emergency medical surgeon during the Oceanic War."

"I didn't know that." Marshall replied. "It wasn't listed in your dossier."

"Seattle Hospital denied my volunteer claim. Didn't want to risk their most valued physician. So I volunteered under a psuedonym, worked under the table, and cited a sabbatical for six months. I'm sure everyone knew what I was really doing, but with no legal paperwork connecting me to my service, the NAMP had no grounds to issue an investigation."

"Discovered you liked being a military medic?" Marshall suggested.

The doctor shook his head. "On the contrary. I began to resent it. Patching kids up just to send them back out into the meat grinder, and for what? A bunch of data discs?" He shook his head rapidly, the motion moving downward into a repulsed shiver. "It didn't get any better once I returned to my official duties, and I started seeing patients from both nations again. I didn't see patients anymore... I saw slabs of meat that were just going to get thrown away in the next conflict."

"Going to Sedin will do that to you." Marshall scoffed.

Coyle leveled a steely look on the Captain. "I wasn't just talking about them. You think Nimea was the peaceful non-aggressor? Hell, our country started two of the wars, and arguably the third as well. You taught history. I figured you'd have known that."

Marshall cringed at the jab. "Okay... so then why accept a commission on a Nimea ship?"

"Because I realized my thoughts weren't healthy. I needed to get as far away from Reticuli Prime as I could. Or do you think premier physicians with six figure salaries normally take positions for a fifth of the pay and a tenth of the resources?"

Marshall couldn't let it go without a jab of his own. "You have. Twice now."

"And a point for the captain at last." The doctor said with a single laugh. "I finally found what I was looking for in the aftermath of Eden Prime. Those children came to me malnourished, mistreated, damaged physically and emotionally. By the time they left, they were already starting to laugh. We took them from a terrible place, and put them into a better one. For the first time in years, I felt like I actually made lives better, rather than patching them up for the next war. That's what I want to feel. That's what I feel here. We are, in however small a way, trying to make this galaxy a better place... and I want to be a part of that."

"And you will for as long as you want, doctor." Marshall declared, clapping Coyle on the shoulder.

"Now if you don't mind, Captain, I am told I have several more alien physiologies I am required to add to my ever expanding encyclopedia of knowledge. "

"Understood. I'll let you get back to it."

From the med bay, it was yet another deck down. He took the turn to engineering first, and to the domain of Lieutenant Commander Lance Toole.

The chief engineer was another enigma. Sometimes, they had a great rapport. Other times, there was a degree of distrust and suspicion between them. It was something Marshall really wanted to sort out before they jumped off into the unknown again.

Lance was hunched over an open panel that contained power lines to the drive core, on his knees and up to his elbows in the inner workings of the drive. It was quite unusual for a crew chief to be getting his or her hands dirty in such a fashion, that sort of grunt work was reserved for the assistants in most cases.

Marshall coughed to get the engineer's attention. "Is this a bad time?"

Lance didn't even look in Marshall's direction. "Not at all. Just doing a little tweaking of the battery charge coil. I think I can get the core to run five seconds longer before needing to shut it down."

"One never knows when five seconds will come in handy."

"Exactly." Lance finally straightened, stood up, and turned to face Marshall, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into the waistband of his slacks. "So, what can I do for the Council's newest Spectre?"

"Trying to get a sense of who is staying and who is going before official word comes through" Marshall explained. "Probably pointless, considering I'll be getting that news within the hour, but who knows?"

"Well, I'm not going, if that's what you're wondering." Lance scoffed, as if insulted at the very idea he would. He spun his head towards the drive in the rear of engineering. "I'm not a researcher. I was good at it, make no mistake, but it's not who I am. I'm a ship engineer. This is as much my home as Paradisio Cove. I belong here, on this ship. This is my engine room, and I'll be damned if I walk off and let any one else touch it."

The engineer then gave Marshall a suspicious eye, and asked, "Why? Were you hoping I would?"

Marshall shrugged. "Never had a single problem with the ship's operation. Your work has always been top notch. Do I need to consider anything else?"

"I think we do." Lance said flatly. "I won't lie, I was suspicious that you'd be an effective captain. I'll also be honest when I say I'm not entirely convinced. All it takes is one moment of duress, and years of discipline is completely undone."

The engineer took a deep breath, and then said, "But... I suppose if anything would have broken you, that mess down on Eden Prime would have, wouldn't it? Perhaps I've been too suspicious of you... you deserve the benefit of the doubt."

Marshall shook his head. "I have plenty of people keeping me clean, LC. I suppose one more shouldn't be that much of a bother."

"On that related note; I probably should inform you, as the Iwo Jima is now currently in service of the Council and that as a spectre you operate outside traditional NMS protocol, that I no longer have any mutiny protection afforded to me. This ship is all yours now."

"Well that's a relief." Marshall deadpanned sarcastically. "Because you had been holding that over my head at every opportunity."

"It is a relief. For me." Lance corrected. "Now I have no reason to question your every move, and can focus on what's important; keeping this ship the pride of the Nimea fleet. Which, by your leave sir, I'd like to get back to doing." He snapped a respectful salute at the conclusion of his words.

Marshall returned the gesture. "Carry on, LC."

As the door opened, Marshall very nearly clapped Seven across the side of its head, as the geth had been literally waiting centimeters away from the door. "Christ, Seven; we have got to get some social courtesy subroutines running through your system... or something."

"I extend apologies, Brasser-Spectre. The ship tracking system had identified you on this deck. Proper courtesy would suggest I wait for your business with the Lieutenant Commander to conclude before intruding."

"Yes... but..." Marshall decided he had better things to do than explain the social customs of doorways. "Nevermind. What can I do for you, Seven?"

"Prime Platform 391 has granted permission for me to continue serving under your command, pending your approval."

"Are you sure you want to stay? I bet you'd be quite popular on the Citadel."

"There have already been twenty-nine queries from Citadel authorities requesting my presence." Seven confirmed. "My preference, however, is to let you have right of first refusal."

Marshall smirked. "That didn't answer my question."

Seven had another one of its awkward silences. Marshall sometimes wondered if other geth behaved that way, and how it must feel to be on the other side of such moments. As fast as the geth processor operated... did it feel like years waiting for a response?

"No. It did not." Seven finally concluded. "I would prefer to continue with the organics that have already become accustomed to me and not require another period of acclimation."

"Then you're welcome to stay aboard." Marshall acknowledged. "In fact... why don't you follow me for a bit? There's a couple matters of business that still remains, and I might as well take care of both of them in one fell swoop."

With the geth falling in step behind him, Marshall made his final visit of his patrol, to the armory, and something he knew he had to face whether he liked it or not... and he rather didn't.

Lieutenant Valanov had told him within the hour of his announcement that the armory chief was going to opt out. It had not been an easy decision despite how quickly the armory chief had reached it, but Tolstoy had family that he could not leave indefinitely, especially since he had already promised he wouldn't be gone more than a year.

Marshall didn't fault Tolstoy for the decision. God, a part of him strongly wished he could do the same himself. But at the same time, it was going to be hard to picture an armory without the playful wisdom from the man who had become the Iwo Jima's elder statesman.

Tolstoy was already packed with both bags slung over his shoulder by the time Marshall entered the armory. The soon-to-be former armory chief looked up quickly, and said with a laugh he didn't entirely feel. "You're not going to try and change my mind, are you?"

Marshall shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it. I couldn't even bring myself to try keeping you from your family any longer. I do want to know if there is anything you need from me before you leave. Is NMF going to give you any trouble over your benes?"

Tolstoy shook his head. "If they were, you'd be long gone somewhere else by the time they did. I don't see why they would though. I've fulfilled my part of the agreement, and they've granted my tour closed."

"Well, let me know if the brass tries to weasel out of it." Marshall declared. "I don't care where I am."

"Understood, Captain." Tolstoy extended a hand for a shake. "I want you to know how much of an honor it was serving under you."

Marshall took the offered hand. "The pleasure was mine, Lieutenant."

"I'm not a very big fan of 'goodbye', which is why I'm hoping I can slip out of here before the deadline." Tolstoy said.

Marshall shook his head. "Too late. There's already a good clump of crew at the airlock waiting to wish everyone who is leaving off. You're gonna have to talk to 'em."

Tolstoy frowned. "Damn it. Oh well... time for parting, comrades. Pray I make it off the ship, then pray I make it home safely."

"Done and done."

An exchange of salutes led to Tolstoy's departure to the elevator and the end of his service career.

His departure was followed by a fairly anxious Ensign Larisa Grimes. "Captain... Spectre... sir?" The ensign asked. "Who is going to be the armory chief now? Are we getting someone from the Citadel?"

"I believe we are adding someone, but that person won't be the station chief." Marshall said.

"Then who is going to be in charge down here?"

Marshall grinned. "You are... Lieutenant."

Grimes's eyes turned as wide as saucers. "M... me? Seriously?"

"It was a tough decision, Lieutenant. Both you and O'Carter had been lauded by the departing Lieutenant Valanov, and you both had shown aptitude in combat as well. But I think NMF made the right choice. The uniform tech already has added the pips to your other uniforms... just let him have your current one when you change tonight or tomorrow."

She saluted crisply. "Yes, sir. I won't let you down, sir."

"I'm sure you won't."

The freshly promoted lieutenant then asked, "Sir... you wouldn't happen to know any information about the person we're adding to the armory staff, would you?"

Again, a sly grin played across Marshall's face. "Indeed I do." He jerked a thumb back behind him, where Seven was still dutifully standing. "I know our geth friend here has been assisting with non-essential tech repair. Since I've been informed that our tech is no longer going to be proprietary, I figure it might as well help out with everything, right?"

Seven added its thoughts to the matter. "I could not impose in such a manner without the approval of Grimes-Lieutenant, Brasser-Spectre."

"I say it's about damn time." Grimes said, hands on her hips. "Be a good thing to get you fiddling with something more than omni-tools. I expect to see you 0500 tomorrow morning. There's a lot to get done before we break dock."

"Yes, Grimes-Lieutenant." The geth answered.

Marshall left the armory with the feeling it was going to be in good hands. He then went back to the third deck to join the rest of the well-wishers. From there, it was to his quarters where he anticipated to be greeted by the official list of departing crew and possibly the new crew incoming.

Instead, he found a message from a Doctor Karin Gartier of Huerta Memorial Hospital on the Citadel, requesting he return her attempted communication as soon as possible. Out of curiosity, he signaled the ID in question, and was taken aback at how promptly the woman on the other end answered.

"Spectre Marshall Brasser?" She asked.

"This is."

The doctor heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, I am so glad this message got through to you. Councilor Hackett's office said they'd pass word along, but you know how these things are. Important stuff takes priority, and minor things get lost. Honestly, I wouldn't have bothered at all... but this is important to me and my patient so..."

"Doctor." Marshall interrupted. "You've found me. It's okay."

"Yes. Yes, so I have." Doctor Gartier said, biting her lower lip in embarrassment. "My apologies for rambling. I have a patient, as I mentioned; he doesn't have much time left, and he requested he get the chance to speak with you. He's a well respected man, sir, and one of the few surviving human veterans of the Reaper War. I thought it would be important to do all I can to fulfill what very likely will be his final wish."

"A noble endeavor indeed." Marshall agreed. He liked seeing medical care experts who went to such lengths for their patients, even the ones near death. "Tell me, does this patient have a name?"

"Mr. Jacob Taylor."