Private Kolyat Krios, Human Systems Alliance Marine Corps, waited where he'd been told to wait with antsy apprehension. Upon disembarking the vessel that carried him from Basic to be picked up by his new CO—a Commander Sheffler, who apparently needed or wanted a reconnaissance specialist—he'd been instructed to wait here for the man to show up and collect him. Then the grizzled veteran herding the rest of the group took off.

Kolyat exchanged a final wave with his friend Hank before Hank and the rest disappeared into the elevators.

Kolyat looked askance at his 'sea bag' (apparently the human military clung to many old traditions when it came to the names of things), then at his own reflection in a pane of plastiglass. He still felt odd in the strange blue uniform, but he couldn't back out or quit. It was even stranger to know that, right now, everything he owned (more or less) had been issued to him by some third party. Anything personal that didn't fit within shipside living requirements had been put in a box somewhere, and the box put in a warehouse somewhere with his name on it. He'd never considered himself acquisitive, but he felt strangely stripped-down with regards to personal belongings.

When the doors at the far end of the bay hissed open, his stomach jumped, then lurched and landed in a nauseous heap. He'd told Shepard he would be here, and when, and hoped that the first salute he gave to an officer outside of training might be to her. It was a piece of sentiment he wasn't sure what to do with, so he neither discussed it nor attempted to unravel the 'why' of it.

For all he knew, she might not even be on the Citadel. She was a busy woman, after all. But part of him had hoped to see a friendly face…

"Kolyat!"

The call came from, not the elevators, but the stairs. Looking a little winded, as if she'd just run the stairs (possibly because the elevators were not efficient…or maybe she just needed some exercise) was Shepard. Vakarian loped out after her, looking amused, followed by the biotic, Alenko.

By the time Shepard had crossed the room, EDI and the fragile pilot emerged from an elevator.

Alenko excepted, they were the crew who knew his father, Kolyat realized, although everyone but Shepard hung back in a group, content to simply see him in his new uniform and new role. He knew they were here for his father's sake.

Kolyat shook himself mentally, then saluted to Shepard, who, with a grin, returned it crisply.

"You look good," she said, giving him a judicious once over.

"Thank you, Captain. It was…an experience."

"It's not over yet."

Kolyat wasn't sure if this was an assurance or a commiseration. Either way, he took it as a kind thing to say.

She was not, he realized, wearing her fatigues, but her dress blues. So was Alenko. So whatever they were doing suggested it had been important.

His heart gave a funny beat of pleasure that she'd been willing to curtail or cut short, or just sprint from the meeting to come see him. He had too many memories of 'other things' being more important. Thinking about them brought the inevitable tang of bitterness at the memories, and the sense of having lost so much time.

"How was Basic? They treat you right?" There was something in her tone that suggested she really wanted to know if he got more than his fair share of crap.

Kolyat chuckled. "I really don't know, as I seem to have brought my own trouble down on myself."

"How so?" she crossed her arms, head tilted to one side.

Kolyat sighed. "I lost my temper."

She winced, but nodded in commiseration.

"You did warn me," Kolyat allowed. "The DI was in my face, shouting as they do. Then, the next thing I knew, I bowed my head and folded my hands. When he demanded what that was all about, and after a minute, I told him I was saying sutras for his soul. While I was simply in…the word I used was for a furnace for removing impurities—did that translate?" He didn't trust translators to be able to handle obscure topics.

Shepard nodded with a grin.

"While he must surely be in hell. I pitied him for his being stuck there, while I would eventually get out."

"Wow."

"Yes," Kolyat nodded, muscles aching in remembrance. "They started calling me 'Padre' after that." Strangely enough, the act of defiance—or maybe just the unflinching acceptance of his punishments—seemed to endear him to his class. He'd never expected to be given a nickname, but Padre had stuck. It had been a bit uncomfortable asking for Hank to clarify, but Hank had been happy to explain anything confusing.

'It's a compliment. Meant to be, anyway. Just means you've got more faith than most. Don't worry about it.'

"Where'd they assign you?" Shepard asked.

Kolyat reached into the outer pouch on his sea bag and produced his orders, which he handed over to her.

Shepard took them and skimmed them. "I know Sheffler," Shepard declared, handing the orders back. "He's a good CO. He'll put the final edge on you."

That didn't sound encouraging in and of itself, but she said it as if it ought to be. Not knowing what to say, Kolyat fell back on simple courtesy. "I'll look forward to it."

Shepard's smile was bittersweet as she patted his shoulder. Kolyat knew she was looking at him, but seeing his father. "Don't worry, Private Krios. You'll get it done," she said quietly.

"Thank you, Captain. I intend to."

"And I think that's your ride." Shepard indicated the elevators which had just admitted two humans in Alliance fatigues, one tall and muscular, the other slight and young-looking.

"Thank you, Shepard. For all you've done."

Shepard gave him a half-smile. "Keep in touch when you can."