Author's Note: Man, I am getting tired of my working schedule. On the upside, another major inspection behind us, and no more on the horizon in the near future. As always, I love reading reviews, especially now that this fic has topped 1000 followers! Thank you everyone for reading!


Pontius looked up as his door chimed. Gratefully setting aside a datapad, he rose to his feet, rolling his neck in a stretch before sitting back down. "Come," he called out, signaling the door to open.

It wasn't the asari he'd been expecting, wasn't an asari at all actually. The Salarian Dalatrass swept into the room, her bodyguards taking up positions opposite the pair of C-Sec outside his office. "Well, isn't this a surprise," he said. His left hand waved her towards a seat, his right just below the level of the desk. It wasn't the hand-carved wooden desk Sparatus left behind, but the smooth curves of chrome and glass were more his style. Also, it was strong enough to stop an assault rifle.

"I'm here about your demands on my government," she said, sneering at the polished bars of the chair before sitting down. His monitor flashed as the built-in sensors read her pulse, pupil dilation, skin hydration level, and of course indoctrination-free. "All these damn scans are ridiculous. I am here to formally protest your demands upon the STG."

Pontius leaned back, letting his left hand also fall to his lap. "In case you hadn't noticed, we've been attacked. Batarian raiders have made a point of focusing on the asari, true, but they haven't spared salarian or turian interests either. The only reason we haven't seen a full assault by the rest of the Batarian Navy is the three fleets of Hierarchy and Alliance ships pointed straight at their homeworld."

"And you want me to sacrifice my STG members finding a way to make starting a war easier on you," she spat back. "Not to mention, trying to dictate to me who the new salarian Councilor will be!"

"Actually, that last part wasn't me. That would be the new asari Councilor." As if on cue, his door chimed again. The Dalatrass whipped around to look as the door slid aside to reveal an asari. Unlike most of her race, she wasn't dressed in skin-tight clothing with one too many missing pieces, but rather in a straight, almost severe, black dress that almost completely concealed her figure. Despite that, she stalked into the room, bringing the primitive part of his brain awake with the promise of hunting. "Dalatrass, meet Councilor Rila."

"Ardat-Yakshi filth!" The salarian was on her feet, backing away as one hand pulled out a tiny holdout pistol. "What is the meaning of this?"

Still seated in his chair, Pontius fought the urge to trill an old-fashioned victory cry. "The Asari Republic believed that in such a time of turmoil, a more predatory mind was needed to take on the batarians and prepare for the Reapers." She continued her measured pace forward, ignoring the trembling pistol pointed at her abdomen. "So, after a discussion with my mother, I stepped forward as a candidate."

One more step by the Dalatrass, and Pontius' hand reached out, hitting the pressure point at the base of her hand and grabbing the gun before it fell to the carpet. Her retreat sped up until she bumped into the corner, away from both of them. "Why the demands of who to pick as Councilor? Trying to decide your next meal?" If salarians could spit the way humans did, no doubt the carpet would have a wet spot.

"I did my best to pick available candidates who didn't appear particularly … yummy," Rila said. One step away she stopped, leaning forward, hand against the window above the Dalatrass' head. "But don't mistake my message. It's a request, not an order. Send whoever you want … but if they're not on that list, you might want to have a second choice in mind."

Staring up as the purple tongue slid over soft asari lips, the salarian shuddered. Whether it was in terror or attraction, even she couldn't be sure. Either way, it galvanized her to action. Shoving aside the ardat-yakshi, she fled the room, racing down the corridor as her very confused bodyguards hustled to catch up.

Pontius gave her a moment before very slowly clapping his hands together, human fashion. Rila flinched at the sound, turning to put the solid wall at her back. Her eyes stayed squeezed closed tightly as she fought with deep, shuddering breaths. "That was some of the best acting I've ever seen in my career," he said. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a green bottle. "Need a drink? This one's Terran."

"Please, thank you." On much less steady legs, she stumbled over to the chair and slumped down, taking the tumbler and downing half of it in one go. Or, almost, as a moment later she coughed, spraying the desk and Pontius' glass with droplets. "Sorry," she squeaked between coughs.

He waved it off, setting the glass aside to be cleaned before pulling out another and filling it with turian brandy. "It's quite alright. Honestly, what do they teach you in that monastery?"

She snorted, taking a much smaller sip of her alcohol. "Not as much as I learned from that Blasto movie, actually. It's a good life for an intellectual researcher, but all my knowledge of galactic politics is mostly theoretical." Her empty hand plucked at the thick fabric draping her body. "I had hoped that picking the least sexual outfit in my new wardrobe would help, yet the reaction is nearly the same from anyone who knows what I am."

He smiled at Rila, setting down his own glass. "There are two responses to that. Be what they expect you to be, or be the exact opposite. Anywhere in the middle will just confuse them, and it's much harder to string along someone who's confused."

Her face twisted. "Damnit, I don't want to be the boogeyman of the asari! I only signed up for this because my mother convinced me that my studies and training could be used to help the galaxy. She had to submit a formal request to the rest of the Justicaari to let me leave the planet in the first place!"

One open hand hit the surface of the desk like a shot, and Pontius leaned forward. "Listen to me, Rila. If you act, let me repeat, act, like they expect a fearsome asari vampire to act, it allows you to control them. If you act the opposite, it also allows you to control them. This job?" He waved his glass around at the rest of his office. "That's what it's about. Control.

"There's nearly a trillion sentient beings who depend on us to keep things running. They don't really care about the Reapers, or the destruction of Omega, or who's sitting the posts of Councilor. They really care about the next Blasto movie, or whether their newest restaurant got closed by health inspectors, or what to buy their kid for their birthday. Our whole job is to sit here and try, try, our damnedest to make sure they can."

He leaned back, taking deep slow breaths to calm his emotions. "Admittedly, I'm used to playing a lot of roles. It's something you do when you go undercover. You don't have that experience, but you do have a lot of knowledge of things I don't. It's part of why I didn't protest your election, despite your, ah, condition."

"I'm not going to snap in the middle of a session and sex-kill you," she said, scowling through her glass.

"Of course not. You've been working on self-control since before my grandfather was a hatchling." He grinned, and hooked one thumb at the corner. "But she didn't know that. And that's what I'm talking about."

Rila turned to stare at the closed door. "Play up the desire for the ones who fear it. Ignore it and act like a geth for the ones who want it."

"Well, mostly. Sometimes it's good to go with their expectations. Your monastery did have its own cliques and social fighting, didn't it?" Pontius stared at his empty glass, tempted to pour another one.

"Yes," she said slowly. "So you're saying, I have to know how to approach each clique, like the older Sisters would do."

He nodded, setting the glass aside and taking her empty one as well. "Exactly, only you don't always know which clique they're a part of until you start that first moment of communication. But that's the kind of thing you have to work on anyway." Pontius started to rise to his feet when his console beeped. "Well, isn't that interesting. I think we have our third Councilor."

As soon as he answered the call, the salarian on the other end began speaking. "Greetings, Councilor. This is Dalatrass Mordin Rinnea, and I've just been informed I will be representing my species. I look forward to working with you, and should be on the Citadel in two days."

"Nice to hear from you, Rinnea. I'm here with Rila, the new asari Councilor. How's the FTL comms aboard your ship? There's plenty of business I'd like to get out of the way before you arrive, if that's possible." Pontius kept his smile professional as Rila came around the desk to stand behind him, inside the pickup range of his unit.

"My house is known for our engineering and computing knowledge. If my ship doesn't have the best comms around, I'll eat turian food." A faint smile spread her lips. "What's the most important?"

"For starters, a vote to incorporate a new race into the Council, based upon their contributions to Citadel space, but then several economic measures regarding the war against the batarians and preparations against the Reapers."

"Sure, let the volus in." Pontius trilled a quiet chuckle at her joke. "Alright, I know you mean the humans. Their efforts to save Dekunna and Omega, and their full support in this batarian scuffle are sufficient, I think. Do they have a Councilor in mind?"

"I'm not sure, but that's why I wanted to get it out of the way," he said.

"Unless the asari objects, that makes it a unanimous vote. Invite them in, and send the economic data to this address. I'll look it over tonight," Rinnea promised. "In the meantime, I need to make sure my daughter is capable of running things on Sur'Kesh."

"We look forward to meeting with you in person, Councilor," Rila said.

With no more than a wave, Mordin Rinnea cut the channel. "Well, that's interesting," Pontius said. "I don't know if you're aware, but the Dalatrass was recently trying to convince a Spectre to assassinate one Mordin Solus."

"Why would she then give this seat to his clan?" she asked. "A Councilor is only marginally less powerful than their leader."

"With turians, that's a fairly wide margin, but I get your meaning. I can think of two reasons. One is to make up for that kind of faux pas, placating the clan leader to make her more likely to crack down on his latest project," he said.

"What's the other?"

Pontius hesitated a moment before answering. "Get her out of the way, distract the house of Mordin as a new Dalatrass takes over at home, to allow her a better shot."


Shepard sighed as the Normandy docked again at Arcturus. Anhur was behind them, there was only one other major Hegemony target outside the Kite's Nest, and though she knew stopping the batarians was important, somehow Shepard just couldn't bring herself to care.

When the airlock opened, she left immediately, Legion, Tali, and Garrus following behind her. Amusingly, they all walked through the crowds here the same way they would on a hostile mission, diamond formation with Garrus at the back. Perfect for punching through a group of Eclipse mercs or drug runners.

They cooled their heels outside of Hackett's office for almost half an hour, waiting for him to return from a meeting with the Prime Minister. Upon his eventual arrival, they followed his wordless gesture into his office, waiting for him to start up the white-noise generator and scan for bugs first.

"I read the reports. Good jobs down there," he began. "But you're not going to be in the next phase of the Batarian Conflict. There's a more important job that you'll all need to be involved in."

The wall picture vanished, replaced with an image of the Crucible. The construction had been concealed behind large swaths of photo-absorbent cloth, helping to power the construction grid while keeping out most spies and amateur snoops. These shots were from inside the construction site, looking out a window at the massive structure. Geth, quarian, and human workers crawled over the outside like ants.

The view shifted with a sudden jerk, moving to rest on the office desk, and a familiar face filled the screen a moment later. "Anderson!" Shepard said. "That's looking good."

"I've been managing nearly ten thousand people, and that's not counting the geth. Give me a warship any day," he said with a smile. "But we're almost done. So what comes next?"

"Well, that's the hard part," Shepard said. "And here's where I get worried, especially in light of my most recent dreams. The Protheans thought the Crucible was a super-weapon, only then never finished it. They got it from the Inusannon from the cycle before, and presumably they got it from the cycle before them. Only problem I have is, why didn't the Reapers ever succeed in erasing the knowledge of it?"

Hackett was staring, stony-eyed, probably already following her chain of logic to the end. "The Reapers always made sure to leave a little bit of something behind for the next cycle. They had to encourage us to follow the technology they wanted us to use. Yeah, they didn't destroy the Mars archives because the Protheans sealed the relay off with rock, but they also knowingly left behind Vendetta. So, why leave behind the Crucible?"

Silence hung heavy for a moment. "My best guess has to do with the options the Catalyst told me. Synthesis – turn the whole galaxy into organic-synthetic hybrids. You know, like husks. Control – upload myself into the Citadel and take control, only I doubt that would have happened. More likely it would have stashed me aside as a useful data file to keep the future cycles from getting that far. Or, of course, destroy the Reapers, the geth, and probably every piece of eezo-related technology in the galaxy.

"So I think there's a good possibility the Crucible is just a Reaper-planted booby trap." Shepard sat in silence, glancing back and forth between Hackett and Anderson and the occasional look at Garrus.

"Shepard, do you really think we hadn't thought of that already? Of course it's a trap." Hackett shook his head. "That's why we're going to spring it. Our way."

"Tali, as the daughter of an admiral and a respected engineer in your own right, you'd know best. Which quarians should we have on hand when we bring the Crucible in?" Anderson asked.

"I, uh, well." Tali paused for a moment, probably clearing her throat or talking to herself with the suit speaker off. "As much as I dislike her, Daro'Xen is the closest expert we have on artificial intelligence. My father would also be a good choice, thanks to his, um," she paused to glance at Legion, head bowing, "experiments on the geth."

Legion nodded. "We concur. Both admirals could list other names in their fields. The Consensus will also supply a unique geth platform incapable of signal communication to test the network. That way, the Catalyst AI cannot seize control of the entire Consensus."

"From a psychological profile, it might be useful to have Mordin Solus present as well," Garrus added. "He won't know the technology, but he's a genius when it comes to anything medical. Assuming you can psychoanalyze an AI."

"Doctor Verner will be on hand as well," Anderson said. "But since you're the only one who's actually been there, we want you along."

Shepard stared at Hackett, her eyes feeling gritty and cold. "I can bring my squad, right?"

"As long as your ship is under physical communication lockdown, yes. I know you trust it, but I don't want to find out the hard way that this Catalyst can take control of the Reaper components." Hackett nodded, and held out a datapad. "ETA on the Catalyst launch is three days. Until then, Normandy will report to Baja Shipyards for any maintenance, resupply, and of course, shore leave."

"I'll give Mordin a call, make sure he'll get here in time," Shepard said. They rose from their seats and turned towards the door, but she hesitated on the threshold. "Sir, what do we do if the Reapers are already on their way?"

The admiral's eyes were cold, hard, and surprisingly tired. "Then we'd better hope we can turn their trap around on them, Commander. Because unless you can try again, we're all going to die." He turned away, Anderson's somber face replaced with a pastel flower painting, and the door closed in her face.

"Shepard? Are you alright?" Tali's voice shook her out of her reverie, and she pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the door for a moment.

"Sure. Just the fate of the galaxy riding on my shoulders. No pressure, right?" She nearly jumped when two quarian arms enfolded her in a hug, before those were topped by turian arms.

"Shepard, we can do this. You can do this. The Reapers won't know what hit them," Garrus said.

"After all, you've united everyone in the galaxy, Shepard," Tali said. "You made peace with the geth."

"It would be more appropriate to say she made peace with the quarians," Legion said. All three of them stopped to stare at him. "That was a joke."

"Very nearly," Shepard muttered. "Thanks, you two. I needed that."

"That's what friends are for, Shepard. Not just trying to hook them up with obsessed quarian marines," Tali said, letting go of the hug and looping one arm through Shepard's.

"What's wrong with Kal'Reegar?" Shepard asked.

"Ugh! He can't go for five minutes without talking about guns!" Tali complained.

Garrus looked back and forth between the two women. "So, what's wrong with Kal'Reegar?" he asked, grinning as the quarian groaned even louder.