Five years have passed since Commander Shepard, the Saviour of the Galaxy, or just Jane to him, disappeared into the blue energy of the Crucible and apparently took control over the Reapers. Garrus was never sure if it truly was her inside of those megalithic machines, but he would never confirm; once the Reapers had finished repairing the Mass Relays, the entire fleet had retreated back into dark space, never to be seen again.

"We need to act now," Garrus declared, both palms firmly planted on the desk at which he sat, "It's only a matter of time before the public realise what's happening."

"Realise what, Councillor Vakarian?" asked Councillor Salini, the bright white lights overhead highlighting the markings which ran along her scalp crests. She almost looked stern, with her arms crossed, but still maintained a cool aura; it was so very typical of an asari.

Garrus knew that Salini and the other Councillors around the room were already aware of what he was implying, but he said it anyways, just as a formality, "That the galaxy is falling apart. Conflicts, both internal and interspecies, have increased substantially over the past five years, and so has terrorism, which has, alarmingly, increased threefold." Garrus formed a fist in his right hand in frustration. Shepard had given them, the galaxy, a second chance; he'd be damned if he was going to let it go to waste. "But first, we need to admit to ourselves that there is a real problem arising; ignoring it won't make it go away, just like the Reapers."

A dark silence filled the room as the Councillors turned their thoughts back to the Reapers.

Garrus broke the silence, "We need to deploy Turian peacekeeping troops into Batarian space."

"Absolutely not," the Batarian Councillor, Korvan, spoke up immediately, "So far the terrorism has been managed to be contained within Batarian space. We will handle this matter internally."

"I agree," Salini added, nodding to Korvan, "Sending in troops would only worsen the situation. We do not want to act disproportionately under the public eye."

Garrus gritted his teeth. In his younger days, he would have burst out of the meeting right then and deployed himself into the action, but he was older now and those days were behind him. He couldn't afford to act rashly, not with so much at stake. "Of course," he muttered in resignation, "Fine. We will hold off on the troops. Now, what is next on the agenda?"

Garrus remained silent for the rest of the private Council meeting, deep in thought about how he was going to approach this problem. There was no way in hell he was just going to just sit by and watch as the second chance that Shepard had given them crumbled to pieces under his watch.

But for that he needed information. Hierarchy Intelligence wasn't a possibility; there was no one he knew there that he could trust with the level of discretion he required, which really only left one other choice.

He would need to rely on the services of a Spectre, but which one? No one else could know about Garrus' connection to the operations he was about to orchestrate; if word go out that one of the Councillors was overstepping their boundaries and meddling in foreign affairs through the use of Spectres, public opinion and unrest could get out of hand very quickly and it would compromise his position on the Council.

Garrus needed a Spectre with personal loyalty to him, but he couldn't think of any, until it struck him.

As the meeting ended and all of the Councillors left the chambers on their separate ways, Garrus was already making a call with his omnitool to his assistant, Verran Kol, "Set up a QED meeting with Commander James Vega, Systems Alliance. Urgent business." Hanging up after his assistant confirmed, Garrus rushed towards his motorcade, consisting of three heavy armoured skycars, with his security close by his sides.

Back in his office, it was several hours until Vega called Garrus via the QED. The device was placed at the centre of the square office, and in front of it was the grand desk at which Garrus sat.

The holographic image of Vega appeared, floating above the device. He looked a little older than when Garrus last saw him, which was at the fourth annual Shepard Memorial, held on her birthday in her honour, last year.

The Commander looked tired, he had probably just returned from a mission, but he had a look of energetic determination in his eyes, unwavering. A look Garrus wore in the past himself, once upon a time. Arms linked together relaxedly behind his back, he stood with his chest puffed out, wearing the N7 logo on his uniform proudly.

"Vega," Garrus greeted, "It's been a while. How have things been on your side?"

"Same old, Scars," Vega replied, crossing his arms with a light smirk, "You getting tired of playing politician yet?"

"'Yet'?. I've looking for an out from this position ever since I got it," Garrus replied, leaning back into his seat. He was half joking, of course.

Shortly after the end of the Reaper War, Garrus was appointed to be the new Turian councillor, replacing his predecessor, Sparatus, who had lost his life during the conflict. Garrus had hated it at first; he had only been appointed as a temporary Councillor by Primarch Victus, until Relay connections had been restored, since the Citadel had just happened to be near Earth. It was just logistics.

The plan had always been to step down once the galactic infrastructure had been re-established to a sufficient level; give the position to someone who actually wanted the damn job, he had said, but the Primarchs thought that he was exactly what the Turians and the rest of the galaxy needed. A strong and cunning Councillor with a history of excellence and a great sense of honour and service and to top it all off, his efforts had been "instrumental", as they had put it, in their victory against the Reapers. He was also known to have been one of the most trusted allies of the late Commander Shepard.

At first it had felt like he had been forcibly ripped out of the military world and rammed into a political one. Now, he just looked at it as a different way to serve. Instead of ripping through the red tape, he weaved in between the gaps; a more delicate game. Hell, he was responsible for putting up his own red tape nowadays.

Vega and Garrus shared a light chuckle before heading straight into the matter at hand. They were both busy men, after all. "Look," Garrus said, "We're old friends so I'm going to keep it short. Are you interested in becoming a Spectre?"

This noticeably affected the still relatively young Commander, but he gathered his composure quickly. "When do I start?"